#direction nulle part

[baheuldey]

WrackWagen III, 2024, acrylique sur toile, 35 x 49,5 cm

[synchodai]

I get this impression that House of the Dragon doesn't get that "named" heirs aren't really the norm in Westeros. If it were that easy for someone to just give everything to their favorite child, Randall Tarly wouldn't have needed to force Sam to go to the Wall and Tywin could have simply chosen Cersei over Tyrion as heir of Casterly Rock.

If we look at the history Westeros borrows from, the concept of "naming" heirs wasn't really a thing in medieval England. Landed gentry didn't have direct say over the order of succession until the Statute of Wills in 1540. Before then, land and subsequent titles could only be inherited through agnatic primogeniture.

Agnatic primogeniture prioritized the living, eldest, trueborn son. Claims can only be passed on patrilineally. This means that a grandaughter can inherit a claim of her grandfather's titles through her father, but a grandson cannot be given the same through his mother. However, if his mother finally does have land and titles under her own name (not under her father's), only then does her son and other children enter the line of succession.

The reason it was like this was because it kept land and titles under one family. Daughters are less preferred because when they are married, they become part of their husband's family — meaning that any titles they receive will be inherited through a new line. This wouldn't be an ideal situation because it gives two families claims to the titles. The more claimants there are, the more unstable the hold the owner has.

In other words, agnatic primogeniture was practiced for stability. Because back in the day, titles weren't just property or land. They came with governorship over a people, so a stable and predictable transfer of titles was necessary to avoid civil conflicts and questions of legitimacy.

A landed lord or lady wasn't given the right to designate heirs for a few reasons:

Most of them were vassals who oversaw the land in the name of someone higher up. It technically isn't even theirs to give away (see: feudal land tenure).

The wishes of a human being are less predictable than having a determined line of succession based on birth order. What if he becomes incapable of declaring an heir either through illness or disability? What if he's captured and a bad actor forces him to name this person heir under threat of violence?

People died unexpectedly all time. This was before germ theory and modern medicine — child mortality was extremely high. With no refrigeration technology, a single poor harvest could mean dying from starvation. Bandits, cutthroats, and raiders were a constant threat. They could not afford to rely on a person choosing a different heir every time the old heir drops dead, because the landed lord/lady could die just as suddenly.

Even 21st century families stab each other in the back over who gets grandma's house — so imagine having an uncertain line of succession in the middle ages over a life-defining lordship and without a modern-day court system to mediate.

Going back to HotD, whenever Targaryens did go against the established line of succession, they could only have done it by consolidating the support of their vassals. Only royalty seemed to have the power to bend agnatic primogeniture, but even then they were beholden to it.

When Jaehaerys I ascended the throne over Aerea, it was mainly because there were those who saw Maegor the Cruel's act of disinheriting Jaehaerys as null and void. This restored Jaehaerys place in the line of succession above Aerea.

And when Rhaenys was passed over for Baelon, Jaehaerys had to convene his lords and offer compelling reasons as to why — her young age, her lack of an heir, her Velaryon last name, etc. It wasn't a given that just because she was a woman that she was ineligible. If he was doing it purely out of misogyny, he still had to legally justify his misogyny in order to strip away her rights.

Even after consolidating support, the book mentions Jaehaerys I and Viserys I's respective hold on the crown was still weakened. Even though their claims were backed by reasons cosigned by a powerful majority, they still had to ensure the security of their rule through other means. There were people who doubted their right to rule, and those people had to be placated with gifts (by Viserys) or intimidated into submission (by Jaehaerys).

So we come to Viserys I who never gave his vassals a reason why Rhaenyra should supercede his three sons other than, "I said so." Had he convened with his lords and maybe made the argument that a first marriage takes precendence over a second one, then maybe he could have set a new precedent and gathered support.

But no, he didn't. He relied on the power of his own words and the lords' personal oaths — oaths that he didn't exactly plan how he would enforce posthumously.

And the Realm did not choose to adopt a different succession law after Jaehaerys's designation of Baelon in 92 AC or the Council of Harrenhal choosing Viserys on 101 AC. If those two events did change anything, it was that now women were exempt from the line of succession for the crown and only the crown. It did not set the precedence that monarchs could freely choose heirs. It did not upend the whole system; it only made a tweak, as most lawful policy-changes do, by carving out at an exception. It was a committee, not a revolution.

Before and after the Dance, no other monarch, lord, or lady "declared" an heir that went against agnatic primogeniture, save for Dornish who have cognatic (equal-gender) primogeniture instead. Ramsay had to get rid of Roose Bolton's living trueborn son AND be legitimized by the crown in order to be recognized as heir (only a crowned monarch can legitimize baseborn children which is another world-building pillar a lot of people miss). Randall basically had to force Sam to abdicate because he wanted his younger brother to inherit instead. And of course, Tywin despite his intense hatred of Tyrion is forced to acknowledge him as his heir.

The rigidity of the line of succession is a major and constant source of conflict in the series, so it baffles me that people really thought that characters could just freely choose their heirs. That's why we have a civil war. It wasn't a misunderstanding. It's the expected consequences of someone carelessly going against a foundational tenent of the society they inhabit.

[girlbeyondthegrave]

I Watched Beetlejuice Beetlejuice a Third Time: More Things I Noticed

Here’s my previous list for those that haven’t read it. Enjoy!

A lot of people on this post I made thought that the dog in the MacArthur Park sequence was Taco from the Ghosthouse segment where Beetlejuice appears in the audience. I am sad to report this is not the case. Taco is a chihuahua, and the dog that appears is more of a terrier. However, some people on Reddit wonder if the dog is the one that ran out in front of the Maitlands’ car and killed them. I haven’t rewatched the first movie yet to check.

When Beetlejuice stitches Lydia’s mouth shut, she’s more exasperated than afraid. She literally tries to yell, “COME ON!”

Beetlejuice looks so offended on Lydia’s behalf when Rory calls her codependent. Like, “Is he serious right now? Get him, babe!”

Beetlejuice appearing before Delia can finish summoning him furthers the eavesdropping theory I made in my earlier post, and if we go off that theory, we can explain by Beetlejuice wasn’t that bothered by being summoned away at the wedding. He’s overheard Lydia’s desire to take her relationships slow and her reluctance to marriage. (Which is most definitely because of him and the fact that the last living person she loved tragically died—even if their relationship was over before that point.)

In the film, Beetlejuice is the ONLY person that agrees to help Delia find Charles, which we see her do at the end of the movie. This means that Beetlejuice kept his word and helped Delia, and he didn’t keep her away from Charles after the wedding fell through.

“MacArthur Park” plays when the studio intros roll, during the wedding sequence, and the end credits—three times when we have three different iterations of Beetlejuice and Lydia’s dynamic, fun fact. This is meant to be their song, and although the song is about a doomed relationship, this part sticks out to me: “After all the loves of my life / You’ll still be the one.” It doesn’t matter if Beetlejuice gets the timing right. It doesn’t matter if Lydia marries him. He considers her “the one.” He’s always going to wait for her, as conveyed by “Right Here Waiting.”

Astrid opens pages about violation 699 and summoning sandworms via trapdoors. I understand that was meant to “foreshadow” later events and explain why she knew how to do those things, but the terms for 699 are barely on-screen, so it’s hard to catch the part where it lays out how bringing Lydia illegally into the afterlife makes her contract null and void.

When Delores appears at the church, there’s a huge gust of wind, and the Handbook moves, but NOTHING ELSE MOVES with that precision until Delores moves Lydia away from the altar. This is kind of a stretch, but I personally think it’s possible that Beetlejuice saw Delores, and he purposefully sent the book in Astrid’s direction. If we go off my eavesdropping theory, he clearly knows Astrid is a smart girl. Plus, he stopped her from getting to the book earlier, so he knows it’s a threat.

When Beetlejuice has a dramatic entrance or exit, it’s very intentional. He does a whole dramatic couple’s therapy bit for Lydia and Rory. He does the earthquake through the model with a slow rise from the smoke. But we’ve also seen him appear in straightforward ways, too, like how he appears randomly to spook Delia. Beetlejuice controls his entrances and exits, and so his dramatic exit at the end is intentional. He allows Lydia to send him away. He makes a big show of it. Lydia has been manipulated by Rory for years. He’s tried to control her and stifle her. When Beetlejuice lets Lydia send him away and makes a big show of it, he’s demonstrating the amount of control he’s giving to Lydia. He goes because SHE wants him to, not because he can’t stop her from saying his name.

(Editing to say that this post confirms the dog is Tim’s dog.)

[brailsthesmolgurl]

RETRIBUTION

SEQUEL TO DAMNNATION. kindly read the prequel to get a better idea on the story's direction. I know I promised an alternate ending, where angst is not involved, but I want to prolong this pain for you masochists :> Enjoy this long, hefty, and incredibly hurtful read. But, it is okay my lovelies, I shall have a good-comforting parallel-universe ending written for you guys this week. SOOO pls do keep up with my profile :)

The legend goes on, with the God of the Sea failing to protect his beloved. His fate was decided for him by his people, but now, he shall take fate upon his own hands and remake his own endings. But, does fate falter? Even to a God?

Warnings: Angst Angst Angst Angst, Spoiler to Rafayel's Lore and I put in some of my own zesty twists to the lore, Deaths and Bloods and some okay maybe not some descriptive gore.

Rafayel walked across the sandy paths of Lemuria, in his human form, with his beloved laid peacefully in his arms. Rafayel did not even bothered to shift back into his merman form as he wanted to dedicate the mundane's death to his people. Or rather, to show how much he loves her, by being a shadow of her, a human, walking amongst Lemuria. A promise he had always given her.

"You promise to show me Lemuria someday right?" He remembered the way her face would light up when he tells her stories of Lemuria. From how Lemurians had sourced for various kinds of sea stones from different parts of the ocean to build their homes to how Lemurians were created, to what do their daily routines consists of and many other kinds of stories that a man could ever dream of hearing from an actual Lemurian.

There was not a moment that y/n was ever bored of it. Instead, whenever he visits, it naturally became a conversation starter. Y'n would ask him of the most random things. "So do Lemurians possess any gardrobes?" Rafayel nearly spat his tea out, snapping his head towards her when she mentioned about toilets as they were having snacks in the middle of the night within her chambers. "Or perhaps they just do their business wherever they are allowed to---" Before she could even finished, Rafayel would have his hand on her lips, to silence her before she continue ruining his appetite for the rest of the night.

The swipe of his fingers on her pale lips reminded him of those days. She is no longer smiling now, eyes and mouth closed, her skin looked ghoulish under the water, skin reflecting light whenever the lightning above struck the surface of the sea. Rafayel's face is a sheet of calm demeanour, but the soul that lays beneath the hunk of this man is a roaring sea, just like how he summoned for the storm before he stepped foot into the vast ocean.

Fishes and various kinds of sea creatures that used to swim along the pathways are not seen nor found within miles of Rafayel's sight. None of them were brave enough to be within his presence as they knew the aura that Rafayel had emitted. It is no doubt that sea creatures are much smarter than Lemurians. Every step he took made the sea creatures scattered further away, burying deeper into their hideouts, scared for their lives.

Rafayel stood in front of his kingdom, eyes pinned against the marble white towers that he calls home. Cheers and laughters could be heard from the banquet hall, where the Lemurians were probably herded, awaiting for his return for a grand celebration towards the revival of Lemuria. But Rafayel was far from a celebratory mood. "We have arrived, my love." His voice monotonous, no hints of happiness nor giddiness, nor sadness, nor disappointment. Just numbness. A man with feelings bears empathy and sympathy, but, a man without feelings bears emptiness, null and void of all emotions.

He continued his course, holding onto y/n tighter in his arms. He had the initial thought of wanting her body to rest within his chambers before he commits bloodshed. But, having an audience might not be a bad idea. Instead, Rafayel wanted this. He knew that she could not be able to tell nor see, nor to be there to stop him, but he wanted her soul to watch him commit this, to execute damnation upon his kind. All he wanted, was to show her how much he loves her, to the point he is willing to do this, to be a mad man.

The heavy doors leading to the banquet hall slowly opened with a chant of a spell. Rafayel's eyes staring straight ahead, his once two-toned irises had now dissolved to be a dark maroon colour. His guess was right, all of the Lemurians were gathered within this hall, laughters and conversations filled the environment. But, almost abruptly, the laughters and conversations seized, and Rafayel could care less about the whispers that started to take place within the silence.

It did not took long before some of the Lemurians sensed something was off and they started swimming towards the heavy doors. Rafayel chanted something under his breath and the doors slammed right in front of their faces. The ones who tried to escape were shocked, but none of them made their move to question why the God of the Sea had a dead girl with a gaping orifice on her chest within his arms and why did he chose to present himself in a miniature form of a mere mortal. Practically the size of an ant compared to the average 2m Lemurians surrounding him.

"Your highness!" Arvia was initially cheerful, emerging from the crowd before he spotted the girl the God was holding onto. He stopped in his tracks, wanting to turn back before he felt a strong force pulling him towards Rafayel. Arvia faced Rafayel, eyes bulging when the invisible force coiled around his neck. "Your highness.... please!" The young merman coughed, the crowd watching in horror.

"You were the messenger weren't you?" Rafayel asked, eyes looking past the young merman, not even sparing him any last bits of attention.

"I was only...executing...what...was being....told..." The merman replied, his breath getting more restricted by every passing second. "I did...not...know...of...the ceremony. Please...I just want to save---"

"Your highness, no!" A mermaid appeared from the crowd, with blonde hair curling like tendrils on land, hazel eyes staring at the young merman before darting over to Rafayel's figure. She happened to be Arvia's mother. "He did what he have to...To save us all." Her sentence made Rafayel's right eye twitched slightly, fueling the God's wrath even more. "Then," Rafayel turned his head and angled it upwards to stare at her right into her eyes. His dark eyes could quite literally burn a hole through her soul as she finds herself talking back to a God. Not just any God at this moment, for he has taken his stance as a vengeful God. "Should it be justified? That I am only doing this to save my beloved?" Before the mother could even say anything, Rafayel only exhaled his breath and Arvia's head immediately got cut off clean by the invisible force. The head's eyes blinked a couple of times, floating upwards towards the surface, while its body sank onto the sea floor, twitching as it goes down. Blood seeping out into the ocean waters, creating symbols guided by the waves.

Lemurians within the banquet hall went into immediate panic, screaming and screeching, wanting to leave the banquet to save themselves. Rafayel looked up, watching as the Lemurians tried to flee. Like a bunch of fishes trapped within a fisherman's net, pushing against one another and fighting for whatever that is left for their puny lives. His voice was hushed, but clear enough to be heard within the hall. "Don't worry my people, you shall only feel the hurt that I had felt." And all of the screams halted.

...

Amund dragged himself across the sea floor, a trail of blood painted by his very own body fluids. The man was in agonizing pain, nearly to the point of passing out. Just a while ago, he was getting all cozy within his own chambers before he heard loud screams that travelled through the sea rifts. But it did not took long before it stopped so he took no mind to it, figuring it was just another norm for those celebratory parties. Not segregating the mischievious ones from the docile ones, that is just an invitation for a mishap to happen at a party.

He heard a swoosh coming from the side of his house and his door slammed open to reveal the God of the Sea, in his mundane form, covered in splatters of blood from head to toe. Amund's jaw dropped when the screams finally registered into his head. The screams may just be caused by this man standing right in front of him. The very girl Amund had tortured set securely within Rafayel's arms. Rafayel's unusual calm demeanour is not part and parcel of his personality, which further solidified Amund's questions to himself.

"Your high---" Amund was literally smashed through the walls of his house and the merman landed roughly onto the sand pile behind his house. Rafayel walked through the hole, eyes still hollow and face expressionless. "Pleas---" Another slam through another wall. And this repeated for a couple of times, until Amund was laying on the sandy pathway in the village, blood pooling out of his mouth. He tried to escape, pushing himself up and trying his best to get his tail to wag so he could generate enough momentum to give him a boost off of the ocean floor.

"It was a fairly easy instruction." Rafayel spoke, finally. Maroon eyes boring into Amund's skull. "And yet, you failed." Rafayel knelt down, showing Amund the girl he was holding onto the whole time. "You had deeply failed me, Amund. And you had failed Lemuria." Rafayel stood back up on his feet, licking his lips and looking back towards the towers that he had walked out from. "For what you had done to her, death would only be the easy way out for you." Rafayel's eyes turned a darker shade and Amund let out a blood curdled scream, begging for his highness' mercy.

It has been a while, with Amund crawling on the sea floor. Dirt and rubble trapped under the old man's nails. Some of his nails however, were ripped off due to him being tossed around---his failure to hold onto anything to slow down the impact, caused some of his nails to be ripped right off of his fingertips during the impact---with Rafayel's invisible force whenever he tried to plead for the God's mercy.

Rafayel had managed to pluck out the merman's scale, piece by piece. Lemurians scale are used to make lethal weapons not only on land, but also in the waters. Yet, they are the hardest to harvest as pulling off ONE scale would equate to a human ripping off their whole scalp in one go. So, one could only imagine the pain Amund is going through currently. Amund could barely crawl, eyes swollen from the sand that had entered his tear duct and hoarse voices turned into silenced croaks.

If Rafayel was not holding onto his beloved, he would have easily been the one to pluck out Amund's scales one by one. Rafayel's blinding rage had deluded his mind, as he watched the merman who is the reason behind his lover's death. "She was going to be my mate, my lifetime mate, for this upcoming season, do you know that?" Rafayel scoffed, tears stinging at the back of his eyes.

"But you had to just test my patience, and my capabilities as the God of the Sea. Hence, what you had experienced today, shall never equate to the pain you made me go through. For you had taken my fate, my people's fate upon your own hands." He gave Amund a good kick and the guy groaned in agony, facing down as he regurgitated blood. "What I did today, was nothing but a mere taste of what I am capable of. AS A GOD." His last sentence carried a strong surge of disgust, his bloodlust psyche temporarily separated his status between Amund, an ordinary merman and himself, which is made to be a God.

"I curse...curse her." He managed to choke out and Rafayel's eyes widened, immediately leaping forward to grab the merman's head to face him. The merman croaked out his very last laugh, taunting Rafayel's actions and the last sentence of his was spoken in Lemurian, a rendition of a chant to curse y/n to be reincarnated into a sea witch.

Rafayel's blink of an eye sparked his evol, and he stood there, watching the eternal flames that was casted on Amund burn the merman from what was left of him into a pile of dust, waiting to be consumed by the planktons that lives within the sea water's ecosystem. Tears unknowingly flowed down his cheek and trickled onto his lover's face. The show is over and so is his wish to see her to be a mundane again in her next life. Rafayel held her corpse closely and tightly to his body, soft sobs finally leaving his lips as he faltered to the sea floor.

...

Hundreds of years has passed. And hundreds of years, Rafayel had travelled the seas to search for her. To at least sense any signs of her presence. Ever since the massacre, Rafayel was tied down by his own guilt, for not only failing to protect his lover, but also being the sole reason for the extinction of Lemurians. How uncanny, a legend that tells the tale of a God seeking vengeance upon his own kind just because they had killed his one and only lover. That tale would surely be pure nonsensical or would and could possibly generate pure hatred from anyone who hears it.

Rafayel could care less, like how he heard the screams of his people in their very last moments, the sound of blood and tears splattered across the once white and pristine walls that they were confined within. The sound of Amund begging not to be killed---with his throat slowly giving up on him---the last curse that he uttered and the last sounds that had bubbled from him when he was lit up with Rafayel's evol.

A hint of humming caught his ears and the man stopped his movements, ears twitching in directions to catch onto the tune. A tune only he has ever whistled. With a gesture, dolphins came surrounding the God in circles, by command. "Find out the source for me, yeah?" Rafayel asked and the circling dolphins chirped in return before they dispersed into all directions.

Rafayel's heart skipped a beat, out of nervousness? He had no idea, he still has not gotten used to the idea of his heart being whole again. Because his heart has only been whole only when he was with her. He does not need a whole heart, he only needs her to fill in for the whole of his heart. And for that moment, he shall forever await.

One of the dolphins returned, whistling back to catch the God's attention. Rafayel looked up, and without hesitation, grab ahold onto the dolphin's fin and he was led towards the source of the humming. The dolphins brought him through the kelp grounds, where his people would usually come by to forage for food when they migrate to the northern side for warmer waters during the changing in seasons.

The dolphin led him to the side of the cliff, where it plunges down to the deepest part of the ocean. Creatures beneath those waters are indespicable, and no Lemurians had ever dived that deep. And that includes the God of Sea himself. The humming came again, this time further confirming that the source of the sound came from down below. Rafayel turned around to look for the dolphin, but the poor creature had left him all alone the moment it dropped him off here.

With a deep breath and a puff of his chest, the purple haired God swam deep into the dark waters below. All of his senses heightened to the max as he himself would not expect what he might encounter. Legends were told that there lives a sea serpent so huge that it could engulf the whole world if it awakes. And that was the only legend that still kept Rafayel on edge till now.

His fear dissipated almost instantly when he spotted a faint light in the far distance within the dark. You see, Lemurians although are half-fish and half-man, they do not possess infrared vision that allows them to see in the depths. Within the depths, Rafayel's flames do not work as well as this is the place where Gods are not exactly welcomed. He sped up his swimming when he noticed the light bounces further down into the dark. Pause. Then the light comes back up, but this time, at a very high speed.

Noticing a huge shadow, Rafayel turned and immediately started charging full speed towards the cliff again. But due to the darkness of the waters around him, the God found himself entrapped in the darkness, bumping and hitting himself against the cliffside. The bone-crushing, chomping sounds that came from behind him made him not-one-bit curious to see what was actually chasing him. Right when he was about to be gnawed by a creature, he heard a voice calling out in a language he had not heard of and he blacked out.

...

"I think he is waking up." A voice whispered next to Rafayel. "His eyes are fluttering."

"Is it? Oh yeah, he does look like he is awakening." Another voice intruded, deeper, but not enough to be known as a man's voice.

Rafayel slowly opened his eyes, before he was met with two snailfishes. One with a red while another is tinted with a blue hue. His eyes darted in between the two fishes as he was trying to comprehend if they were the ones talking earlier.

"Good morning." The red one spoke and Rafayel gasped, moving away from the fish. His pupils blown out as he was shocked. He has seen fishes all of his life, but he had never encountered talking fishes. EVER. But making spells to make fishes talk is definitely a skill only a sea witch possesses. This gave Rafayel a thought, maybe she felt lonely down here so she made herself some friends.

"You scared him Red." The blue one spoke this time, and it swam closer towards Rafayel, using its spiny fins to mimic how a mundane would usually talk. Gestures, as what was taught to the snailfishes, is a common courtesy of good body language to humans. But given the snailfishes had never been in contact with any humans, they took the closest resemblance to what their highness looked like. Rafayel looked just like a human to them.

With parted hair and two eyes, a nose and a lip. He is obviously a human to their knowledge. "We are not going to hurt you." The blue fish gestured it's small fins in circles, speaking slowly for each word, afraid that the man before it would not understand them. "Our master ask us to care for you as she went out to gather some food."

"Who is your master?" Rafayel asked as he sat up, kindly hoping that it was the girl he had awaited for many years. "Where is she?" His excitement made him winced, his head still hurts, a side effect of a sea witch's spell.

The feel of the water temperature shifting made the two snailfishes swam off to one of the tunnels. Rafayel took this time to observe his surroundings. Contrast to the dark waters he was in just now, he is currently in a cave like structure, with huge seaweeds and some pebbles laid out beneath him and a sea lantern hung up at every corner of the cave to provide some decent lighting. For a moment, he did not believe that he is in a sea witch's abode.

The walls had paints on them, some forming artworks of the seas above, and some were writings written in what Rafayel assumed to be sea witch's language. Rafayel stopped at one of the drawings, it was a rough sketch of Lemuria. Seeing the sketch, his breath hitched in his throat. The past memories of his massacre surfacing again but he forced it down. Not willing to show weakness in such a foreign territory. Below the sketch, there were symbols that Rafayel could not read. But he decided not to further crack his head.

The fishes returned and Rafayel's heart dropped to the bottom of his tail when he was met with her. The girl who he had always been waiting, the girl he had committed massacre for, the girl that had made him suffer with loneliness for the past hundred years. Y/n is now in front of him, but other than human legs, it was swapped with a black and singular long tail, resembling one a Moray eel has. Her once brunette curls took on a much darker shade, the same as the waters below here. The curse happened after all, for she had became the sea witch of the depths.

"You are awake." Y/n spoke and oh how he missed her voice. The voice that produces the best laughters and asked the most silly questions. Yet, with this version of her, her voice held none of those characteristics he remembered. It was deadpanned, the lack of emotions nearly made Rafayel winced. With his lack of a response, the sea witch looked towards both of her friends. "Does he happen to be a mute?"

"He spoke to us just now, but more like engaged us in a question or two." The blue snailfish chirped, swimming back to the side of Rafayel. The same fin that used to make gestures came to give a pat onto Rafayel's cheek and the merman turned to look at the fish in question. Seeing Rafayel's reaction, the fish hurriedly swam back to its master. "He is a human as you described right? Right, master?"

"Not quite, Blue." Ironic, Rafayel thought. It is very ironic of her to name things exactly based on the way they looked. It has always been a habit of hers. She placed the seashells she had harvested neatly onto the floor and she swam over to have a closer look at Rafayel. "I think, his origins are of a mermaid." Her eyes are now a different shade of colour, black irises match the shade of her pupils. Another staple for a sea witch. "I apologise for the black out you had to experience earlier on. I had to cease the Angler Fish from rising towards the surface as I did not want it to disturb the ecosystem as of above."

"Do you know of my name?" Rafayel asked, a glimmer of hope shined in his eyes as he really wished for her to remember at least a slither of memory of him. For he had been her one and only lover in her past life. But with the way she raised an eyebrow and tilted her head, his hope got extinguished like a fire that could not be ignited.

"What do you seek for, Lemurian?" Y/n swam back towards the pile of sea shells she had collected and she grabbed one of the bottles from above her shelf. Examining the shells one by one before placing them into the bottle, only the ones that has spots on them would be chosen while the other would be tossed aside and the two snailfishes seem to be having a feast with the leftovers.

The turn of her head got her to look him right into his eyes. The warm glow emitting from the sea lantern casting a soft glow on her face. Just like the time when he held her in his arms, on top of the rock. He tore his eyes away from her, his cheeks burning from how affected he was from her gaze. But he answered her. "I came here for a potion. A potion to cure me from my wandering heart." ...

It took y/n 100 days, a cycle between 50 days and 50 nights to produce the potion that Rafayel had requested for. Shortly after the interaction, Rafayel had returned back to the shallow seas, as he could not bear to watch the love of his life not knowing him for who he is and who he was to her.

His last words to her before he departed to the shallows was, "Once the potion has been completed, I shall meet you at the sea stacks by dawn. The one far north." He said, index finger pointing towards the said direction. His eyes does not meet hers before he left. That was how heartbroken he was. His heart wearing him down day by day as he waited for the potion to be crafted.

During the 100 days of wait, he kept going back and forth between the waters and land to keep himself occupied. But the land served him better as the mourning of the princess had ended long ago. When the princess went missing, the King sent out every single one of his troops to search for the lost princess.

Rafayel purposely placed her back onto the sea stacks so she could be found easily. Knowing the God, he would have kept her by his side even if she were to be nothing but a bag of bones, but he knew, her people would want to know of her whereabouts. Even if it would only bring them to her corpse. He could not give himself anymore liberty to take her away from her people, like how he had singlehandedly perished the people of his kingdom. He did not turned his head back at all once he had left her there, swimming away in full speed so that he would not be discovered and caught, and to save himself from crying anymore.

The beloved princess' death was mourned by all. Every citizen within the Kingdom's grounds were in tears, regardless if its a man or a woman, an adult or a child. That was how loved she was. Her people mourned for her for nearly five decades, and that was how long Rafayel refused to surface and to walk on land. Every time he closed in to the shores of her kingdom, the sounds of the cries of her people would strike his ears. He became so used to it that he would visit the same place every day, by dusk, just to silently cry and mourn with the people of her kingdom.

He would not even go anywhere near his kingdom either. For it was filled with the bones of his people. The people that he used to cherish, that he would always go back to. But now, all he returns to, is a dead and eerie silence. The bloody stains of his people had now hardened, taken over by sea crustaceans as Lemurian blood offers a lot of benefits to the sea creatures. If any Lemurians lived past that day, Rafayal would definitely earn the title of 'The God Who Went Deranged'.

The day has finally came, where they shall rejoice by the sea stacks. Rafayel was already waiting there since dusk, body floating above the waters, facing up towards the bright skies painted in pastel yellows and reds. Blobs of clouds that seemed so edible Rafayel wished he could fly instead of swim. A bunch of bubbles surfaced next to him and he slightly turned his head, watching as she emerged from the waters, holding two vials in her hand. Her face expressionless and cold as the first time he had met her in this life.

"Here." She handed him one of the vials and he took it, repositioning himself from having to float, to facing her directly. "Are you sure this is what you desire?" Her question caught his attention, his mixture of lilac-lapis orbs stared into her obsidian ones. "Because your memories will be perished forever, do you know that?"

Rafayel looked at the vial, the contents of the fluid is watery, and takes on a sheen of coral-like pink. "My mind is set." His eyes caught her again. "This is what I had desired when I met you that day." His words although does not hold any meaning to the sea witch, but it held meanings that one could never fathom, within the God of Sea's memories.

"This is usually done between two, one to forget while the other to contain the forgotten memories." She explained, holding up the vial to her eye level as she continued. "And since you do not have anyone you want to consume this with, I shall be the one to contain your forgotten memories."

As expected, Rafayel knew she was going to say this. He had never once mentioned anything about the Lemurians being extinct. Neither did she asked. Always putting people ahead of herself, her nature still seeped through from her past life that it has easily become one of her core personalities even till now. Rafayel silently sighed in his own mind when he looked at this woman in front of him. The lover that he had sworn his life to, became the lover that was seemingly a stranger to him.

"We shall consume this together, and with a chant of a spell, hence the void of the memory shall take upon its place." Rafayel pulled the cap open, mirroring her actions and they drank the mixture together. Rafayel winced at how bitter the content tasted but y/n seemed unaffected, as sea witches are not equipped with a sense of taste as most of their potions tasted wicked as their personalities had always been portrayed to be. "Well enough to start?"

"Hu-Ayr-Tey Ta-Fa-Fu-Lei." Rafayel chanted and he watched as y/n's eyes widened. Finally, a reaction from her. Not in the way he had hoped for a reaction of course. You see, Rafayel, being God of the Sea, although had never travelled through the deep waters and had never knew of the Sea Witches' language, but the spells equipped by the sea witches were born out of a God's nature. Should there be benevolence, there shall be malevolence. Just like how Rafayel's massacre is a proof of a God's malevolent nature taking place physically, a sea witch's spells are born out of a God's mentally twisted nature.

"What have you done?!" She held onto her neck, feeling herself struggling to breathe as her neck is closing up on her. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!" She raised her voice, looking at him with anger that starts to paint her face a shade of red. "How do you know of this spell?!" She was in disbelief, eyes shooting daggers into the merman in front of her. Rafayel showed no amusement though, his eyes although were entirely focused on her, his heart crushed.

Fate in general, creates thousands and millions of possibilities towards one's ending. For a God, fate should easily be nothing but a just another miniscule issue within their palms. But for Rafayel, the moment he fell for a mundane, was the moment he signed a blackmail for himself. He has to gamble with fate now, just like with any other mere mortal. The only advantage he got is that he could look into the near future to help him better plan out his upcoming course of actions.

This happening now, marks one of his course of actions. The fate he had chosen was to kill y/n with his own hands, so she could be reincarnated to be a human in her next life. Then, he could take place as a man, on the land, seeking for her love and attention, just like how a mere mortal would. Yes. Rafayel, the God of the Sea, would risk his status of being a God just to be a human, just to be with her. "This is the only way." He spoke to her, as he watched her slowly lose her memories to swim, her tail, now a pair of legs, flailing clumsily in an effort to save herself.

The spell that he had uttered, does not only make her forget her own identity, but it makes her forget everything, wiping everything off of her memory and giving her a clean slate. A reincarnated soul would always remember bits of their past lives, that is how deja-vu and realistic dreams come about. But this spell would wipe her memory of her past life as well. As bad as it sounds, Rafayel sees this as the only viable way for him to live his next life, having to protect her. All the other courses of action, would only lead to more bloodshed and he grew tired of it.

The tears came flowing again, watching his beloved struggle to breathe as she started to choke onto the seawater that is rapidly entering her lungs. Rafayel could only watch, he could not interfere as it would ruin the course of her next life. Heart wrenching, gut punching, every other word of torturous feeling would describe him perfectly at this moment.

Y/n reached out her hand to him, desperately looking at him and clawing for him, seeking for his help to drag her out and onto solid land. But his refusal seemingly made her accepted her fate. Her pupils then slowly stopped moving, her body slowly stopped thrashing and twitching as she continued descended deeper into the waters. A scene that reminded him deeply of Arvia during his last moments.

Once the bubbles had stopped surfacing out of her agape lips, Rafayel swam down as fast as he could, and he held her cold body in his arms again, closely studying her very last moments. Her eyes were opened, in a state of shock and acceptance, lips blue like the shade of his lapis-coloured eyes, tail had now taken form into two legs, her body stiff and hollow like how she was when he first found her in the past 100 years. The curse was finally broken, but it also broke Rafayel. With shaky breaths, he uttered. "In your next life, I promise you. I promise. You shall only ever hear of my name as to be Rafayel. I shall no longer...be the God of the Sea."

Parallel Universe Ending is Out: Salvation

I love doubling the damage sometimes, this one-shot had became somewhat of a small series. I enjoyed using a bit of my gore movie visual experiences within this piece of writing. Thank you for the ones who wished for a sequel. I hope this makes you bawl your eyes out.

But do not worry, I am already starting on a not-so-angsty ending that takes place in a parallel universe. I don't think this series would continue on as I think it is best to leave it to you lovelies' vast imagination.

As usual, any requests you want me to write? I can write it for ya :)

Have a good day and pls cry for me lovelies :)

[bet-on-me-13]

Jazz joins the Suicide Squad to save Danny

So! Danny got caught by the GIW. And it was Public too.

Jazz can see absolutely no way to save Danny. The GIW Base is heavily fortified, she has no help aside from Tucker and Sam, and public opinion is against Ghosts, so nobody would want to help her protest his Capture. Maybe a few teenagers from the high school, but absolutely none of the adults would help.

So she does the one thing she can. She contacts Amanda Waller.

Waller had previously approached her Parents about buying some of their tech off them, for her "Specializes Task Force" to use in case they ever came up against a Ghost.

From the short interaction Jazz had with Waller, she knew one thing.

That Woman would do ANYTHING, to protect the Government she worked for.

All Jazz needed to do, was offer her something that outweighed the value of capturing Danny. Information. The Infinite Realms, the True Biology of Ghosts, the Psychology of Ghosts, the Power Structure of the Realms, and so much more. Waller needed to know everything she could about the Realms to feel secure, to feel like her Country was safe. She needed Information.

And Jazz had that in spades.

As the daughter of the Leaders on Ectology, and a friend to multiple Saptient Ghosts, including the Kings and Queens of various Realms, she was uniquely qualified to provide all this information.

And Waller was impressed. But she still felt like she needed a little more, and seeing as Jazz was a highly trained Martial Artist due to her Mom, and had been taught enough about mechanical engineering by her Dad to constitute a Major in in, she saw potential.

She saw a Pawn. Perfect for placement on Task Force X. Her Suicide Squad had been missing an extra member recently, and Jazz was the perfect fit.

So they made a Deal.

Danny Fenton, also known as The Phantom, would he released from Government Detainment, alongside any other Sentient/Sapient Ghost in their possession. They would he protected from further Detainment until further Notice, and the Town of Amity Park would be left alone by the GIW Indefinitely.

In return, Jazzmine Fenton would be hired on as Amanda Wallers On-Call Consultant for anything related to Ghosts and the Realms. Additionally, she would be employed as a Part Time Member of Task Force X, answering the call of Duty whenever is is directed as her, No Questions Asked. (Or the deal would be null and void)

But she would Endure it. Because she and Waller had one thing in common.

She would do Anything, to protect her little brother.

[dairy-farmer]

Dom/sub au where everyone has some sort of designation and it’s part of life.

Tim doesn’t know he’s a sub. His parents were never around to help him figure it out, he’s two grades ahead so he doesn’t really interact with his peers, and he doesn’t really have friends his age. He (mostly) listens to Batman in the field, but that’s because he’s his boss.

(He doesn’t realize that the way he takes care of the Waynes is from his sub instincts. Without exposure or directions from adult figures or peers to properly express it, it’s subtle enough that nobody even really notices)

He’s never been put down even in platonic or familial ways. He’s always so lonely he just thinks that achy wrong feeling is either that or anxiety. He has no idea it’s his body and mind needing to submit. He’s never gone down and never felt the need to dominate so he assumes he’s a null.

But then at Titans Tower that changes.

Red Hood fights him. Kind of. It’s clear pretty quickly that Tim is outsized and outclassed, but Hood just keeps toying with him. Hood maneuvers him around the room, tells him to keep his staff up, puts him in holds and tells him to get out of them.

It’s more than sparring but less than all out fighting. Hood’s certainly not kind but he’s not nearly as cruel as he could be. Tim is confused and a little scared, but Hood is big and confident and firm and Tim follows along without even realizing it. It never occurs to him that it wouldn’t even be that difficult to put a stop to it.

Tim is on his feet when Hood reveals he’s the actual real life Jason Todd. The actual real life Jason Todd that Tim has admired and loved and built up a friendship with in his head.

And Tim looses his defiance and his fear, because it’s the actual real life Jason Todd standing there and really, Jason could’ve hurt him a lot more but instead toyed with Tim and put him through his paces and his presence takes up the whole room and

Tim drops.

He drops to his knees and straight into subspace for the first time, and Jason, who is very firmly on the dominant end of the scale looks at this cute little sub who dropped to his knees just from seeing Jason’s face.

His mouth is parted and he’s swaying towards Jason, just waiting for direction. The sudden total submission is heady and intoxicating.

And he’s been stalking this kid so he knows he’s not getting put down on the regular like he should be, and if nobody else is then he gladly will.

jason todd will see robin drop into subspace and be like 'is anyone else going to take this sub' and not wait for an answer ❤️.

[old-school-butch]

Hello again <3

I sent you an anon that you replied to on April 1st, which was me asking how ex-TIFs are received back into womanhood. Your reply gave me a little foothold which ended up very comforting as I started coming out rapid-fire to all my friends as detrans. this is primarily a message for other people in my situation, who are afraid and might want a template of what you might expect will happen once you do come out with it.

Predictably, most of my friends dropped me; I've 3 friends left. Two of which continue to support trans people but can accept that i have different opinions (as long as i'm "not mean") and one of which has seen the gender critical arguments, accepted them, and agrees. So, heavy losses, but not total losses. My two siblings seemed to sigh in relief and reveal that they never believed in genderism at all, which is odd, because in my 10 years of being trans not one of them challenged me on it. my mom fell into heavy guilt over "letting me" do all this, although i was 18 when i took testo and 19 when i got surgery, so she really could not have stopped me, legally. i suppose she mainly grieves knowing that had she had the right arguments she could have saved her kid this, but i've told her she is not to blame and i hope she recognizes that.

i haven't received any real harassment, not from anyone that i PERSONALLY know, though my family has received... harassment targeted at me? my sister had a classmate begin sending her copious pro-trans propaganda (contrapoints videos) which she instructed should be sent onward to me (sis did not comply). hilarious how my 10 years of direct experience is suddenly null and void and i'm assumed to know nothing about transness.... 6 months ago i was helping people sensitivity-write trans characters. now, i'm told i can't speak for the trans experience at all, and that i do not know what it's like to be a transmasc person. told that i need to listen to the arguments more carefully, that i don't LISTEN, when i literally lived this for 10 whole years. girl, on god? they tell me i don't get it and need to educate myself. and have empathy of course.

but in general, detransing, i've discovered that there are PLENTY of people who do not actually believe in genderism but who will play along simply out of fear or social pressure. my friends aside, who i knew through "queer" circles, everyone in my family (expect my mom) has revealed they never actually believed in it. i think this might contribute to why trans people bully dissenters so badly. they know this is the truth, that no one really buys it. i think, subconsciously, i have known that too. i never downloaded grindr, i never went into the men's bathrooms. i knew that despite testo and surgery and pronouns i could never challenge men as an equal in their eyes.

interestingly, making new friends is not that hard. I lead with the fact i'm detrans and "don't believe in all that shit" and people are VERY eager to be able to, suddenly, voice their real opinions without being called transphobic. they begin with probing questions, uncontroversial statements like "i agree they shouldn't put males in women's sports..." but if you continue to agree and not punish this daring on their part, they will reveal, with much relief and enthusiasm, what they really think. most people, normal people, really do not believe it all? i'm a brash person and can take irl confrontations quite well, hence i feel safe putting myself up as a transphobe off the bat. and people are very into this. so. the old ass saying, just be yourself.... normal people will not volunteer anti-genderist opinions on their own but when i continue to state thing after thing they open up and agree and eventually feel safe enough to admit their own thoughts. making friends, especially with non-gendie women, hasn't been that hard.

i'm going to write another message about same-sex attraction in the genderverse, but it's also a can of worms so i will make it separate from this one. again, thank you so much, for having anon on and listening, and letting us listen to each other without fear. i would hug you. to be continued

Thanks for the follow up!

My only comment is that I think most people play along out of kindness, it's not all bullying and fear, but that does impose a silence on everyone so everyone feels quite alone with their doubts.

[satans-codpiece]

Ramattra Lore Collection

All screenshots collected Aug 2023 - Nov 2023

[this post brought to you in May 2024 by me forgetting i had stuff in drafts]

Ramattra is 28, built March 29th (Overwatch official website)

-Ramattra was "created early in the Omnic Crisis." -Commander class of omnic, with innate battle knowledge -Ramattra was "seeking direction" -Ramattra was at Shambali for years before recruiting Zenyatta (Overwatch official website)

-Ramattra recruited Zenyatta at an omnic rights protest (Overwatch official website)

-At the time of Uprising, Null Sector had followers -Uprising was denounced by the omnics of London -Null Sector went underground after Uprising (Overwatch official website)

-Ramattra struggled with the concept of sentience as a gift -Ramattra recruited Zenyatta. I believe the "Mondatta" in 2nd paragraph is a typo as developers commentary & concept art show Ramattra recruiting Zenyatta. (General Invasion entry, unlocked after Gothenburg)

-Genji believes Ramattra possesses "no self-preservation and suicidal recklessness" (Resistance - Genji)

-Genji and Ramattra have never met, but Zenyatta spoke of him often -Zenyatta believes Ramattra left "with doubt clouding his soul" (Liberation - Genji)

-Before leaving Shambali, Ramattra was almost killed by humans in Nepal -R-7000s are largely in hiding or dead (Ramattra: Reflections)

-R-7000s were "never made by human hands" -R-7000 parts are only available through other R-7000s' destruction (Ramattra: Reflections)

-Ramattra directly blames Mondatta's teachings for not improving the world faster (Ramattra: Reflections)

-Ramattra and Zenyatta were at the monastery together for 3 years (Ramattra: Reflections)

-Ramattra wants to hurt humans who hurt omnics (Ramattra: Reflections)

-Ramattra curses! (Ramattra: Reflections)

-Even when acting "gently" Ramattra can hurt humans -Ramattra feels guilt and anger about this (Ramattra: Reflections)

-Ramattra was well known as an omnic liberator (Ramattra: Reflections)

-Before Uprising, Ramattra believed omnics needed to stop waiting on a savior and save themselves. (Ramattra: Reflections)

-Ramattra chose his own name to honor Aurora, but also associates it with his mistakes (Ramattra: Reflections)

-Ramattra showed Nameless, Zera, and Lanet his omnium 2 years before Uprising -Ramattra's omnium is "buried by thick slabs of ice and stone", goes "through a shaft of ice", and is largely underground -Ramattra's design aesthetics are similar to Anubis's, "built by machines for machines" -Ramattra was designed and built at this omnium

-Ramattra notes the power of united omnics even against their will -but Ramattra also wishes to inspire omnics to find unity

-Zenyatta wanted to fight, but Ramattra talked him out of it -Ramattra "nearly got Zenyatta killed."

-Ramattra rejects letting omnics fight in Uprising because they are not expendable

-Mondatta denounces Null Sector

-Ramattra says Mondatta is a traitor to the omnic people

-Ramattra can slip into rages given the right provocation (confronting slavers + dishonoring Lanet's death)

-Ramattra will make omnics join him

[corvodumpy]

explain blaseball to me like I don’t know what baseball is

In the most simple explanation possible (simple does not mean short), it was a baseball simulator where the fans could bet on the teams with fake currency. The teams were all original teams and the players were randomly generated from their names, stats, position, down to their preference in coffee and pregame rituals. Fans would pick a favorite team and use the money they gained to buy raffle tickets, which were submitted into an online election system.

The election page contain simple things like "improve one of your players batting stats", "trade a player with the season winning team", or massive rule changing things like "The Top 4 Teams of the Regular Season must run an extra base next season" or "Every Season, a random team from each Subleague will become the 5th Playoff team. A best of 3 Wild Card series will happen on Fridays."

Fans would often work together to pool their raffle votes on what they wanted. The winners were pulled at random but the more votes you submitted the better your chances. The game took harsh turns into cosmic horror very quickly. The first season allowed fans to vote to "open a forbiden book" which resulted in the book cursing the game as a whole, causing solar eclipse weather which caused the umpires to occasionally turn into mindless killers who would randomly incinerate players mid-game. These deaths were permanent and the player was immediately replaced with no fanfare.

Fans often got very attached to their teams players, drawing art of what they look like or writing up stories about them, so their deaths often really meant something to a lot of people. Fans would often find ways to manipulate the simulation to do weird things, or try to push their team in interesting directions to reach some goal. The game devs often noticed what the fans were doing and would play into their games to cause many funny "monkeys paw" results.

One of the most famous involved a player named Jaylen Hotdogfingers. She was killed when the forbidden book was opened because she was the best pitcher in the league and it wanted to punish us. There was an option in an election one season to "steal the 14th most popular player onto your team" and fans quickly noticed you were still allowed to claim dead players were your favorite. Jaylen was listed as playing for the "Null" team because she was obviously dead, but it still counted as a real team. Fans succeeded in trading with this "null" team and jaylen was brought back to life. Fans refer to this as Necromancy.

When she started playing, she returned to pitching, but she started causing "Hit-By-Pitch"s, which was not a standard part of the simulation at this point. Players hit were marked as "Unstable". Eventually, an unstable player was incinerated, and that instability spread to another player activly in that game, and text read out "[PLAYER] was incinerated, A Debt was Collected."

So jaylen was spreading some "mark for death" on players on purpose to repay whatever God controlled this game for bringing her back from the dead. This lead to a domino effect of death until this debt was repaid that many fans call "Ruby Tuesday."

Overall the game had a few main plots, one involving us challenging/killing one of the gods of this game, the other fighting against the "boss" turning the game into a profit hungry hellscape. The fanart was insanely good, the unique stories every fan had about their team and players were always fun, and a lot of good was done for many different charities. Many fans would get together and make music, resulting in a band and record lable.

All fan communication was done through an official discord or team specific sidecords, so live games had live fans watching in real time. It really was a "you had to be there" thing, a real cultural event. Fans have done everything they can to preserve it. Nothing will ever match the energy of the live discovery of events in a live chat, but the messages are all still in there, and there's a website to replay the old games exactly as they were. And the blaseball wiki is a blast to scroll through even if you never watched it because all the player and team pages are filled with the stories fans made up.

Anyways Goobie Ballson did nothing wrong

*coughs up blood and dies*

[apomaro-mellow]

Hot for Teacher(s) 11

Part 10

The smell of a pup was usually a fresh, neutral scent on their own until they officially presented and it ripened with the unique scent of adolescence. It was why scenting one’s child was important. A way to mark them as your own for the whole world to know. And it was typical of parents to do this before seeing their child off somewhere, particularly school.

Shawn never really noticed before now how sometimes his classmates would smell just a little different, depending on who scented them. He wasn’t the only one with one parent but Daniel got to see his mom on weekends, and Elodie still talked to her dad. Shawn was the only one with a single parent with no contact with his other. And he wasn’t complaining. But now that he noticed, he wondered if other people noticed his single note of a scent.

No one had ever made him feel bad about it but maybe they were just being nice about his situation…

Eddie greeted his students in the morning, usually with a high five or a fist bump. “Warm up’s on your desks, make sure you have a sharpened pencil.”

Elodie got to her desk before unpacking and looked at the worksheet. “Do we get to color?”

“What do the directions say?”, Eddie asked, encouraging her to read.

“‘Color…your fa…vorite food’. Yay!”

Eddie told her good job before seeing to the other students and making sure unpacking by the cubbies went without any drama. It all seemed to be going well, so he turned his back. Of course, that was when he heard shoving and the beginnings of a wailing cry.

Shawn was at his desk while Mr. Munson tried to soothe Yasmin. She bumped her head against his leg like she was much younger than six, a move that would normally get an adult to scent her and assure her she wasn’t in trouble. Mr. Munson just gave her a pat on the head and reminded her that the cubbies had names and she couldn’t just put her things wherever she wanted, but also Daniel shouldn’t toss other’s belongings onto the floor.

Mr. Munson was really nice like that, giving head pats, and high fives, but he never scented any of the students. That would be weird. But would he scent Shawn? Where did they stand, now that he was dating his dad?

After school, Steve came and he rubbed Shawn’s cheeks. “You’re like my cute mochi thing. What do they call it? The white thing?”

“Cinnamoroll?”, Eddie and Shawn said in unison.

“No, the other thing. The rabbit.”

“That’s Cinnamoroll, Dad. Now please release my cheeks”, Shawn said.

That just made Steve squish them together more. “No, there’s something else. And I’m pretty sure that’s supposed to be a dog anyway.” He let Shawn’s face go and looked up at Eddie. “We still on for tonight?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world”, Eddie promised.

Shawn waited until they were in the car before asking. “What’s tonight?”

Steve smiled. “He’s coming over for dinner.”

“What’re we having?”, Shawn asked, trying to look nonchalant as he played with his seatbelt.

“I was thinking cockroach legs and frog’s eyes”, Steve said, snickering at the look of disgust that he caught in the mirror. “Well what would you serve then?”

“Make your own tacos. I saw you taking out ground beef earlier.”

“You know what, that could work”, Steve agreed. Nevermind that Shawn also would’ve seen the different vegetables on the counter, as well as various sauces which could only be used for tacos. Christopher Nolan, eat your heart out.

Eddie would be spending the evening with them as it was decided that he should do so without it being a date. He and Steve knew they worked well together, now it was time to add Shawn to the mix. He would only be his teacher for a few more months after all. And then in a few years, he would probably be Steve’s. So keeping them apart for that reason was about to be null and void.

Steve had Shawn finish his homework at the table while he started cooking. Eddie arrived about half an hour later, knocking at the door. Steve sent Shawn to get it only because he was washing his hands from touching raw meat and he recognized the roar of Eddie’s van by now. 

“Well, if it isn’t the man of the house”, Eddie smiled when Shawn opened the door.

“Are you here to sell cookies?”, Shawn teased.

“Hmm, no cookies, only pie”, he said, bringing one from behind his back.

Shawn shrugged. “That’ll work.”

He let Eddie in and they joined his dad in the kitchen. Eddie greeted Steve with a kiss, who smiled when he saw the dessert Eddie brought. 

“You didn’t have to.”

“I didn’t. Safeway did.”

Dinner was a fun affair. Probably the only low point for Shawn was when the two of them randomly broke out into a song that he didn’t know and even danced along to it. Did they not see how embarrassing they were? The tacos were good though. Shawn liked to put a ton of cheese on his. 

“Hey, you got something there”, Eddie said in the middle of eating.

“Where?”, Steve asked, trying to look at his own face.

Eddie put a swipe of sour cream on his nose. “There.”

Shawn laughed enough to shake his own taco (#3) and make half the ingredients spill out onto his plate. After eating, Shawn helped by bringing the dirty dishes to the sink and helping Steve wrap up the leftovers while Eddie got to washing. Shawn got to take his slice of pie to the living room so long as he ate at the coffee table, leaving the two adults alone.

They were shoulder to shoulder as they washed and dried. At one point, Steve put his head on Eddie’s shoulder and they paused for a moment, soaking it all in. It was only one night but this one night boded well for their future. Once the dishes were done, they joined Shawn, who had taken up the middle of the couch. Without a word, they sat on either side of him. Shawn had it on a kids’ sitcom, but honestly it didn’t matter what they were watching. 

Steve and Eddie’s arms were across the back of the couch so that they could touch, leaving Eddie’s side open for Shawn to lean into. Shawn let out a yawn, full and tired. Then he bumped his forehead against Eddie’s chest. His eyes bugged out, looking at Steve for a sign, approval, something. He didn’t want to spook Shawn by using his voice though. Steve’s eyes were glistening a little as he nodded. 

Slowly, Eddie brought his arm down and rubbed his wrist against Shawn’s hair and cheeks. Steve could just barely hear the coo of contentment. When they were sure he was asleep, Eddie gathered Shawn in his arms and carried him to his room, Steve leading the way. 

“Wait for me in my room”, Steve whispered so that he could give Shawn a bit of privacy while dressing him down in his pjs.

Eddie waited faithfully, sitting on the edge of the bed when Steve finally came in. They spent the night sharing slow kisses, building each other up while using just their hands to finish the job. It was still a school night, after all.

From then on, Eddie took some time to scent Shawn while he was fully awake, sometimes even at school. The other students didn’t think much of it but the week after just happened to be the school-wide spelling bee. A few parents were in attendance. Steve couldn’t make it, as it was the middle of the day, but Eddie promised him pictures.

Shawn took first place, almost stumbling on the word ‘lightning’ but pushing through. The awards were given and parents congratulated their kids, getting pictures as well. Eddie kept himself available, only about half of his students’ parents showed up. Shawn showed his trophy to a friend who was standing by their dad.

He knelt down by Shawn. “You want me to get some pics for your dad, kiddo?”

“Mr. Munson’s gonna text my dad, right?”, Shawn beamed.

“That I will”, Eddie promised.

It was such a benign interaction that Eddie didn’t think a thing of it. But in that moment, the other parent caught a whiff of Shawn, who smelled too similar to Mr. Munson. And texting a parent? On its own, not strange but he’d been careful not to give out his personal number to anyone. He communicated mostly through emails. Sometimes a flyer in the kids’ folders. It was all just adding up to something fishy in his opinion…

He voiced as much to his wife when he got home and she just didn’t see it.

“Are you trying to say Shawn’s dad slept with the teacher so he could win the spelling bee?”

“I mean I’m not saying that exactly, but it seems kind of rigged, doesn’t it?”

She called their daughter down from her room. “Is your friend Shawn a good speller?”

“Yeah, he can even spell some second grade words. They ran out of first grade words to give him.”

“Well, your daddy didn’t mention that.”

“I just think we shouldn’t rule it out.” A lot of the parents knew each other, at least in passing. So it was no secret that Steve was single. Of course, most would never suspect he was dating his son’s teacher but considering the scent he was carrying…

As this was brewing on Eddie's side, from Steve's past a familiar face approached closer and closer.

Part 12

Fun fact: that actually happened at my school's spelling bee. Two of my first graders spelled so well, they had to move on to second grade words. Don't praise me though, they came to me that smort.

Taglist

@anne-bennett-cosplayer @aol19 @lololol-1234 @gregre369 @attic-cat-blog

@hippieg1rl420 @spectrum-spectre

[kardilier]

Challenging prehistoric gender roles: Research finds that women were hunters

It's a familiar story to many of us: In prehistoric times, men were hunters and women were gatherers. Women were not physically capable of hunting because their anatomy was different from men. And because men were hunters, they drove human evolution.

But that story's not true, according to research by University of Delaware anthropology professor Sarah Lacy, which was recently published in Scientific American and in two papers in the journal American Anthropologist.

Lacy and her colleague Cara Ocobock from the University of Notre Dame examined the division of labor according to sex during the Paleolithic era, approximately 2.5 million to 12,000 years ago. Through a review of current archaeological evidence and literature, they found little evidence to support the idea that roles were assigned specifically to each sex. The team also looked at female physiology and found that women were not only physically capable of being hunters, but that there is little evidence to support that they were not hunting.

Lacy is a biological anthropologist who studies the health of early humans, and Ocobock is a physiologist who makes analogies between modern day and the fossil record. Friends in graduate school, they collaborated after "complaining about a number of papers that had come out that used this default null hypothesis that cavemen had strong gendered division of labor, the males hunt, females gather things. We were like, "Why is that the default? We have so much evidence that that's not the case,'" Lacy said.

The researchers found examples of equality for both sexes in ancient tools, diet, art, burials and anatomy.

"People found things in the past and they just automatically gendered them male and didn't acknowledge the fact that everyone we found in the past has these markers, whether in their bones or in stone tools that are being placed in their burials. We can't really tell who made what, right? We can't say, 'Oh, only males flintknap,' because there's no signature left on the stone tool that tells us who made it," Lacy said, referring to the method by which stone tools were made. "But from what evidence we do have, there appears to be almost no sex differences in roles."

The team also examined the question of whether anatomical and physiological differences between men and women prevented women from hunting. They found that men have an advantage over women in activities requiring speed and power, such as sprinting and throwing, but that women have an advantage over men in activities requiring endurance, such as running. Both sets of activities were essential to hunting in ancient times.

The team highlighted the role of the hormone estrogen, which is more prominent in women than men, as a key component in conferring that advantage. Estrogen can increase fat metabolism, which gives muscles a longer-lasting energy source and can regulate muscle breakdown, preventing muscles from wearing down. Scientists have traced estrogen receptors, proteins that direct the hormone to the right place in the body, back to 600 million years ago.

"When we take a deeper look at the anatomy and the modern physiology and then actually look at the skeletal remains of ancient people, there's no difference in trauma patterns between males and females, because they're doing the same activities," Lacy said.

During the Paleolithic era, most people lived in small groups. To Lacy, the idea that only part of the group would hunt didn't make sense.

"You live in such a small society. You have to be really, really flexible," she said. "Everyone has to be able to pick up any role at any time. It just seems like the obvious thing, but people weren't taking it that way."

Man the hunter

The theory of men as hunters and women as gatherers first gained notoriety in 1968, when anthropologists Richard B. Lee and Irven DeVore published "Man the Hunter," a collection of scholarly papers presented at a symposium in 1966. The authors made the case that hunting advanced human evolution by adding meat to prehistoric diets, contributing to the growth of bigger brains, compared to our primate cousins. The authors assumed all hunters were male.

Lacy points to that gender bias by previous scholars as a reason why the concept became widely accepted in academia, eventually spreading to popular culture. Television cartoons, feature films, museum exhibits and textbooks reinforced the idea. When female scholars published research to the contrary, their work was largely ignored or devalued.

"There were women who were publishing about this in the '70s, '80s and '90s, but their work kept getting relegated to, "Oh, that's a feminist critique or a feminist approach,'" Lacy said. "This was before any of the work on genetics and a lot of the work on physiology and the role of estrogen had come out. We wanted to both lift back up the arguments that they had already made and add to it all the new stuff."

Lacy said the "man the hunter" theory continues to influence the discipline. While she acknowledges that much more research needs to be done about the lives of prehistoric people—especially women—she hopes her view that labor was divided among both sexes will become the default approach for research in the future.

For 3 million years, males and females both participated in subsistence gathering for their communities, and dependence on meat and hunting was driven by both sexes, Lacy said.

"It's not something that only men did and that therefore male behavior drove evolution," she said. "What we take as de facto gender roles today are not inherent, do not characterize our ancestors. We were a very egalitarian species for millions of years in many ways."

[celestial-toys]

A Vivid Imagination

In today's story- you take a nap on the couch, and your favorite pair of pants give Sun an identity crisis. In other, somehow related news, he and Moon get caught up in thoughts of what they'd like to do to you.

Pairing: Sun and Moon + Reader Word Count: 2,673 minors DNI - 18+ content below the cut

Contains: [sex] [threesome] [fingering] [afab!Reader] [sub!bottom!Reader] [implied null!Sun & Moon] [soft dom!top!Sun & Moon] [chubby / plus-size Reader] [Eclipse makes an appearance but not in the traditional sense] [Porn With Plot]

Sun and Moon might be a little bit obsessed with getting you off.

Maybe a little bit.. addicted to how easy it is to make you cum, even with with nothing but their hands to work with. They can’t get enough of it.. it just does something to them. They’ll take any appropriate opportunity they can get to rile you up and bury their hands between your plush thighs, fingers sinking into your wet heat and homing in on the spots that make you whine for them.

You certainly don’t mind it in the slightest, and you’ve made that quite clear to them on multiple occasions. You’ve given them permission to play with you as much as they’d like, as long as they always remember to ask nicely first.

So, as Sun slinks his way through the house one evening, he finds you on the couch, apparently having fallen asleep. You’re sprawled cross it with your legs spread apart, eyes closed and head resting on one arm, finally relaxing after another long day in your office spent staring at that goddamned computer screen, and Sun’s mind is already wandering to ways he could help you relax even more.

You're wearing a soft, oversized black cowl neck sweater and a pair of those gaudy split-print clown pants that were supposed to look like a mix of the designs that their fictitious counterparts wore in-game. He feels a strange mix of emotions at the sight of you wearing “his” pants. He can’t tell if it’s possessiveness or jealousy but it’s mixing in with his sexual desire and his fans have to kick up a notch to keep his temperature stable. He wants to take them off of you for two very different reasons.

On one hand, they’re simply a barrier between him and what he desires. One that he’d like your permission to remove. While it was enjoyable sometimes to keep you clothed and have you grind yourself against him, begging, panting, and whining until you soaked them so thoroughly you’d have to take them off anyways.. it wasn’t quite as fun as having direct access to the most sensitive parts of you from the very start.

On the other hand, though.. the clown clothes also serve as a reminder of a number of other, much less exciting things. Sun remembers how he used to take the opportunity to mock them nearly every time you wore them, never really getting much more of a response from you than an eye roll in return, until one day when you’d apparently had enough and decided to tell him why you wore them so much.

-

“Sun, I’ve had these pants since long before I created you. When the two of you were nothing more than pixels on a screen and an insane pipe-dream in my mind, I would collect things that resembled the two of you. Because.. I mean.. who doesn’t collect merch of their favorite characters, right?”

He remembers the way you began to look embarrassed at the confession, but kept explaining nonetheless.

“I had no way of knowing at the time that one day you’d actually be standing here in my living room mocking me for them, but..”

You paused there, giving him a pointed look before continuing.

“..even if I had known that.. I probably would have still bought them anyways.”

At that, you looked down, running your hands down over the tops of your thighs, over the red and yellow stripes and the blue and yellow stars. Sun never forgot the look of fondness that graced your features as you did so. It made him feel something that he couldn’t name at the time.

Before he could come up with one of his signature snarky responses, you spoke again.

“It’s kind of funny, honestly. They also serve as a nice reminder of how far we’ve come. I wore them quite often during all those late nights I’d spend at work, fussing over the two of you, you know.”

Sun’s faceplate shifted a few clicks to the left, curious if you were about to drag him down a trip on Unpleasant Memory Lane. The expression on his screen changed, his default features fading to black and leaving nothing but his signature yellow smoke billowing across the screen. You knew him well enough at that point to know that that meant he wasn’t a fan of where the conversation was going. Sighing, you stopped yourself before you could get too far into all of that.

“Regardless of any of that.. these pants were here first, they’re comfortable as hell, and I happen to love the way your original designs looked. You’re gonna have to come up with a better reason than them being an eye sore for me to stop wearing them.”

You got up from where you’d been seated, walking over to him just to make a big, playful show out of poking him in the chest as you spoke.

“You know, lots of people would be flattered to see their partner wearing their clothes.”

Sun brought his eyes back from the void of his screen just to roll them at you, and his rays took one lazy spin around his faceplate before he responded.

“Those aren’t my clothes though. You know I wouldn’t be caught dead in those things.”

You smiled up at him as you took a step back, and you took in the sight of all seven skinny feet of him before saying,

“Well, I can’t very well fit into your actual pants, now can I?”

You gestured to his impossibly tall, slender frame, and then to your much shorter and wider form before giving a dismissive laugh and returning to your prior spot on the couch. After a moment of standing there taking in your words, Sun finally decided to drop the subject.

-

Ever since then, somewhere, in the back of his mind, he’s wondered if.. underneath your jokes about your size differences.. if it actually bothered you that you couldn’t fit into most of their clothes.

He truly hopes that it doesn’t.

In spite of his relentless mocking of the iconic clown pants, nowadays part of him is actually glad that you have something to wear that feels like it’s theirs. He wants you to have something that reminds you of them.. both the (ridiculous) idea of them from the past, and the real-life version, standing here, zoned out in your living room today.

Before he can get any further carried away in his thoughts and memories, a notification flashes across his HUD.

[ 𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚛 𝑴𝑶𝑶𝑵𝑫𝑹𝑶𝑷 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚏𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜. ]

[ 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚃𝚁𝚄𝚂𝚃𝙴𝙳 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝. ]

[ 𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚜? ]

Sun pulls his attention back into reality and his monitor silently rotates on it's axis, scanning the room. His optics quickly land on Moon, who is currently leaning against the doorframe leading in from the kitchen, arms crossed and looking at him expectantly.

Sun rolls his eyes in exaggerated annoyance and mirrors Moon’s stand-offish position, leaning back against the opposite wall.

[ 𝕒𝕔𝕔𝕖𝕤𝕤 𝕘𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕕. ]

Moon smiles.

[ 𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒔 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏, 𝑺𝒖𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒆? ]

[ 𝕪𝕖𝕒𝕙. 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕚𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕥𝕖 𝕟𝕚𝕔𝕖 𝕦𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕝 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕟𝕠𝕪𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕡𝕠𝕡-𝕦𝕡 𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕣𝕦𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕞𝕖. ]

It’s now Moon’s turn to roll his eyes.

[ 𝒐𝒉, 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒐𝒏, 𝑺𝒖𝒏. 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒗𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒂𝒔𝒕 6 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒕𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 39 𝒔𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒔. 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒆𝒓𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒅𝒊𝒅𝒏'𝒕 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒏𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒖𝒍𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒚 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒕. ]

[ 𝕚’𝕞 𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕠𝕨𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕜𝕖𝕖𝕡 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕤 𝕥𝕠 𝕞𝕪𝕤𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨. ]

[ 𝒊 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘. 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒊𝒈𝒖𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒊'𝒅 𝒃𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒑𝒖𝒍𝒍 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 𝒃𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆 ******* 𝒘𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒔 𝒖𝒑 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒑.  ]

[ 𝕒𝕤 𝕚𝕗 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕕𝕠𝕟’𝕥 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕒 𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕜 𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕠𝕣𝕕 𝕠𝕗 𝕕𝕠𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕖𝕩𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕝𝕪 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥? ]

[ 𝒚𝒆𝒔, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐 𝒅𝒐 𝒊𝒕. ]

Sun lets out a loud, annoyed sigh, the first actual sound to break the silence in the room, and both bots look to your dozing form on the couch to see if it might have woken you. You don’t stir, and the tension slowly drops from Sun’s shoulders.

[ 𝕕𝕠𝕟’𝕥 𝕥𝕒𝕝𝕜 𝕥𝕠 𝕞𝕖 𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕓𝕖𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕣. 𝕦𝕟𝕝𝕖𝕤𝕤 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕨𝕒𝕟𝕥 𝕞𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕣𝕖𝕧𝕠𝕜𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕒𝕔𝕔𝕖𝕤𝕤 𝕒𝕘𝕒𝕚𝕟? ]

Moon holds his hands up in mock surrender.

[ 𝒂𝒍𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕.. 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒆, 𝒃𝒖𝒕.. 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒍𝒚, 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒏'𝒕 𝒈𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒖𝒑 𝒊𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆? ]

Sun doesn’t feel like explaining how your stupid clown pants nearly sent him into a spiral revisiting the complex history of his identity issues today, nor does he have the desire to drag Moon into it, so he tells a half-lie.

[ .. 𝕚 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕙𝕠𝕨 𝕓𝕒𝕕𝕝𝕪 𝕚 𝕨𝕒𝕟𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕒𝕜𝕖 *******’𝕤 𝕡𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕤 𝕠𝕗𝕗. ]

Moon’s expression shifts from one of concern into a look of confusion as he tries to make sense of why Sun had been standing there, looking so conflicted, if that’s really all that he’s been thinking about.

[ 𝒐𝒉 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚? 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕'𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒍? ]

A few tense seconds pass before Sun responds.

[ 𝕞𝕙𝕞. ]

Moon doesn’t buy it for one second.

Still, he lets the lie slide for two reasons. For one, there’s no getting the truth out of Sun unless he actually wants to share it. The second reason, though.. is a bit more of a selfish one.

Sun isn’t the only one that wants to take your clothes off, and if he is willing to elaborate on his supposed thoughts.. then Moon isn’t going to turn down the potential opportunity to join in.

If Sun’s gonna lie to him, he’s gonna have to commit to his story, too.

[ 𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒏.. 𝒅𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒇𝒖𝒓𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒆𝒙𝒄𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒗𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝑺𝒖𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒆? ]

Sun looks almost taken aback for a moment, surprised that Moon let his half-lie slip by so easily, until he suddenly smirks at the realization of what Moon is hinting at.

Well, if Moon is willing to let it go and move on to some far more pleasant thoughts.. who is Sun to deny him?

He thinks it over for a moment, taking in your soft sleeping form, and when he looks over to Moon for confirmation of his request, he finds his lunar counterpart’s gaze already cast over you with that familiar, cautious desire in his eyes.

Sun fiddles with a few internal settings before initiating the process.

A few moments later, an identical alert pops up on both of their HUDs at the same time.

[ 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝙴𝙲𝙻𝙸𝙿𝚂𝙴 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝚃𝙾𝙲𝙾𝙻. ]

[ 𝚆𝙰𝚁𝙽𝙸𝙽𝙶: 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚌𝚎𝚎𝚍, 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚗-𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚊𝚕 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎. 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚜 𝚊𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚍. ]

[ 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚌𝚎𝚎𝚍? ]

[ 𝑴𝑶𝑶𝑵𝑫𝑹𝑶𝑷 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙲𝙴𝙴𝙳. ]

[ 𝕊𝕌ℕ𝔻ℝ𝕆ℙ 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙲𝙴𝙴𝙳. ]

[ 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚜’ 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚖𝚎𝚍. ]

[ 𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐.. ]

-

There’s no stopping the next flood of thoughts they get. Their motions now in sync, every sensation, thought, and emotion felt simultaneously between them, their gaze homes in on you. Still sleeping, unaware of the growing desire you spark in your partners when you shift a little and your legs fall even further open. Unaware of the show they’re preparing to put on in their combined headspace.

Thoughts of how you're already on display for them, if you'd just let them pull those damn pants down..

They know you're not wearing underwear. You rarely do.. not in the evenings like this. It gives them easier access. Just one less thing to get in the way with how most nights they approach you begging to touch you, pleading to help you feel good. They just want you to feel so goddamn good for them. They can't help it.

They can already imagine just how wet your cunt’s gonna get for them.. and those fucking sounds, god, the sounds you’ll make when they finally touch you. The way your breath will hitch when they trace a finger gently up between your folds, your slick immediately coating their digits, helping the smooth silicone glide effortlessly up, further and further, agonizingly slow. They won’t give you what you want right away. Where’s the fun in that? Besides, it always feels better when there’s some anticipation involved.

They’ll trace slow, teasing circles around the base of your hard little clit until you can’t take it anymore. When your voice takes on that desperate, pleading edge and one set of their hands has to hold your hips still to prevent you from moving around under their slow, calculated pleasure, they finally show you some mercy. One wet thumb reaches up and runs up along the underside of your clit, so slow, so gentle, over and over again.

Never going any faster, never changing pace, just a rhythmic stroke across your most sensitive bundle of nerves, soft yet relentless until you start whimpering again. They'll pull away for a moment to soothe you like always, reassuring you.

One of them will climb up onto the couch with you, pulling you into their embrace as they cup your cheek, directing you to look at them.

"It's okay, Sunlight.. we know.. it's intense, isn't it?“

You’ll nod your head vehemently, over and over, desperation and want clearly written across your features as you make some sweet, shy noise of agreement.

“Mhm.. but you know we've got you, right?"

Instead of returning their attention to your clit, as they await your response, two long fingers will slip inside of you, meeting little resistance as your hips buck and your walls tighten around them in an effort to bring them further inside.

Your eyes meet theirs and once again you nod your head in acknowledgment, a quiet little whine of “please, please take care of me..” falling from your lips.

You know they’ve got you.

They’ll smile. An identical, love-drunk, hungry grin will spread across the screens of both of their faceplates. They’re so close, bodies caging you in against the too-small couch such that you can feel the hot air escaping from their vents against your skin. They’ll speak again, one of their hands finally returning to give you the attention you desperately need.

“That's right, Starlight.. just let it feel good. We know you can take this for us. Let us see how wet you can get, yeah? How much of a mess you can make.."

They know you’re sensitive. They'll be sure to take good care of you.

-

A pop-up flashes in the center of their vision.

[ 𝙲𝙰𝚄𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽: 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚎𝚡𝚌𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚜. 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚐𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝙰𝚂𝙰𝙿 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚊𝚕 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚖 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚢𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚖. ]

[ 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜. ]

[ 𝙳𝙸𝚂𝙴𝙽𝙶𝙰𝙶𝙴 𝚘𝚛 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙲𝙴𝙴𝙳 ]

Both bots release reluctant groans into the quiet room, the only other sound being that of their fans working overtime trying to keep their temperatures down.

Then, they notice how you begin to stir from your little nest on the couch.

[ 𝑴𝑶𝑶𝑵𝑫𝑹𝑶𝑷 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝙳𝙸𝚂𝙴𝙽𝙶𝙰𝙶𝙴. ]

[ 𝕊𝕌ℕ𝔻ℝ𝕆ℙ 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝙳𝙸𝚂𝙴𝙽𝙶𝙰𝙶𝙴. ]

[ 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚜’ 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚖𝚎𝚍. ]

[ 𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐.. ]

As soon as they finish the short separation process, they’re making their way over to you and dropping down on their knees in front of the couch, asking for your permission in record time.

You blink open your tired eyes and can't help but smile a bit when you see the both of them with their long fingers anxiously hovering over the waistband of your pants. They lock eyes with you and with a quick “Can we? Please?” they don’t even need to specify what they want. You know, and you’re happy to oblige them.

You hate to say no to those puppy dog eyes, anyways. Especially when they’re looking up at you like this, deep beautiful shades of burgundy, desperate and pleading.

You want to give them what they want, after all.

It just so happens that most often, what they want is to see how fast they can have your legs trembling, hands searching for purchase on any part of them you can reach, whining and repeating their names over and over like they’re God and you’re praying.

A/N: FYI, this story takes place in my ‘[Not] Made by Design’ AU, if you’re curious as to why the hell they’re behaving so differently from canon. It’s intentional! Also, I made a slight change to the wording of the sexual part of this, compared to the version of it I posted on AO3. It's inconsequential, really, but I figured I'd mention it. If you'd like to see the original and/or read more on where the original inspiration came from, you can find it here.

[prime-adeptus]

it’s so sweet, knowing that you love me

Everything feels better when Genji is with you.

( genji shimada x gender-neutral reader | ~0.8k words )

content: emotional hurt/comfort, some fluff, established relationship (can be read as either romantic or platonic, whichever you’d prefer :)) genji loves u <3

etc: divider by cafekitsune; tagging @angelshub @bitchcraftinc @enchantedforest-network @ghostqueue; cross-posted on ao3

“I have not seen you around recently.”

You look up to find Genji leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. Quite some time has passed since you first met him. If you were younger, you would’ve jumped out of your skin at his unexpected arrival, but you didn’t. Instead, you didn’t bat an eye, far too jaded to be surprised by anything anymore.

“I’ve been busy,” you say.

Your words feel practised, dishonest, though they aren’t entirely false. Between the increasing Null Sector attacks and the pressure Soldier: 76 has been putting on you, time has felt like it’s been slipping out of your hands. You wish you could be as uplifting as Lena, or maybe as relaxed as Cassidy. It’s never been in your nature to relax, you suppose, having been raised in a disciplinarian family. Yet here you are, curled up in your blankets as you wallow in self-pity, looking the most pathetic you ever have in front of him. 

He doesn’t seem bothered by it, something you can’t decide whether to feel thankful or upset about. Guilt begins to seep into your system as he takes a seat on the edge of your bed. As if he can sense your spiral into pessimism—he probably can, he’s known you for long enough—he laces his fingers with yours, the metal cool against your skin.

A beat of silence passes.

“Genji?” 

He hums, waiting for you to continue.

“I’m sorry.”

You don’t like him seeing you in such a state. Genji caresses the back of your hand with his thumb, seemingly lost in thought for a moment. It’s hard to discern what he’s thinking. He’s been keeping his mask on more frequently, just out of habit, but a part of you wishes you could just see his eyes on you one more time.

“I know you didn’t mean to ignore me,” he speaks up, turning his head in your direction. “But I have missed you. That’s why I came here.”

You manage a weak smile. “I missed you too.”

“Cassidy has been asking for you as well.” There’s an amused lilt in his voice. “He said it’s sad not having his favourite sharpshooter around.”

That gets a chuckle out of you. “His favourite sharpshooter?”

“Yes. And mine too.”

Heat rises to your cheeks at how easily he says it. The fact that he’s holding your hand isn’t helping much, either. Still, it amazes you how a simple two words can make you feel the lightest you’ve ever been. You missed this. You missed him.

“Don’t say it like that,” you mumble, flustered. “I’m trying to mope, Genji.”

“I am not allowing it.” He lets go of your hand and you’re already missing his touch, your bottom lips slightly jutting into a pout at his sudden movement. It doesn’t last long, though, now that he’s shifted his position so he’s laying his head on your lap. “And I was only telling the truth.”

“Shut up.” There’s no actual malice in your words. Even without your other hand coming down to cup the side of his face, you think he knows that very well too. “You can’t just come in here and get me all soft and mushy, you know. You’re so mean.”

“I am mean?” he retorts in mock offence. “I tell you that I miss you, but I am mean.”

“Yeah. The meanest.” You giggle, bringing his hand up to your lips to press a gentle kiss on it. With a pleased sigh, you feel your worries ebb away and let yourself sink into the comfort he brings you. “I’ll probably come back tomorrow. I’m feeling better anyway—”

“You will come see me first, yes?”

You playfully nudge his head away, avoiding his gaze again because somehow it’s like second nature for him to make you feel this way. Like you’re a blushing protagonist of a romance story. In a last ditch attempt to keep your cool, you clear your throat and say in the most deadpan tone you can muster.

“Actually, I think I’ll see Winston first.”

“You would prefer him over me?” You can practically hear him sulking. “And you say that I am mean.”

You find yourself smiling at how natural it feels to fall back into this kind of rhythm with him despite all your setbacks and isolation. It makes your heart swell in joy, being cared for and understood by someone like him. 

“Hey, get up,” you urge him gently. He does so without question, though he still tilts his head at you curiously. You scoot forward, finally leaving the mass of blankets to throw yourself in his arms, pressing a kiss to where his cheek would be. “I love you, Genji.”

He lets out a content sigh. “I love you too. You don’t have to push yourself so hard.”

You fall into a comfortable silence. In the embrace of the one you love, you’re slowly lulled to a peaceful slumber until he speaks up again, this time sounding genuinely concerned.

“But you will come see me first tomorrow, right?”

Your laughter is all he hears.

[yandere-genji]

Do you plan on writing for Ramattra cause I have a lot of thoughts

my first full ramattra piece, i hope you enjoy!!

nsfw

TW: dubcon, yandere

contains: kidnapping, blood, injuries, fingering, human pet, mentions of reading being young and pretty, mention of doomfist/reader

reader is gender neutral

Drones whirled above your head, obliterating everything in sight. You kept yourself hidden amongst the rubble and searched for any sort of sanctuary. Most structures in the town square had been dusted by now, mounds of debris and glass in their stead. Running behind whatever cover you could find, you were fortunate enough to find a storefront still standing. The hum of lasers harmonized with the cries of warriors and civilians alike and you sprinted through the street. As noise began to taper off in the opposite direction of the little building, you could feel your heart pounding with you feet as you ran to safety.  

Once inside, your hands shook frantically and you tried to force your nerves to calm. It was no use, nothing could relieve you from the horrors you had just witnessed. Without thought, you wrap your arms around yourself and collapse to your knees. At any moment, omnic forces could come barging through the broken glass windows of the store front and wipe away your very life. But you couldn’t fight, couldn’t do anything but sink into yourself and try to process the carnage you had just witnessed. 

You shuffled yourself behind the cashier’s counter. that. Coins still littered the counter top. What had happened to the people in this shop once the omnic forces fell upon the city? Were they just far enough from the locus of the attack that they were able to escape? Or were they shot down by the drones that you witnessed kill so many others? 

You remember how quickly tensions rose in the city once Null Sector declared they would incite their war on cities like yours. Next to Kings Row, yours was among the highest rated in anti-omnic attitudes. You had seen it, too, especially before the attack. People openly mocked the threats from the Null Sector. Omnics, they can only follow orders, how would they be able to win any fight against humans? You heard from a far away discussion amongst your coworkers. Omnics would never be able to gain the upper hand, that was the general opinion. Whatever empty threats Null Sector was spewing was all bark and no bite. Omnics were far too passive to make a move. 

You were raised alongside omnics your whole life and had received nothing but kindness from them. Really, you had seen no difference from them to yourself and never quite understood the stigmatization. In fact, most were more sensible than the humans you knew. Sure, your family had tried to explain to you that omnics can’t really be compared to humans, and they were nothing but a liability - rogue computer programs. But you didn’t feel that way. The only thing their rhetoric had done was open your eyes to how desperate humans were to claim superiority over others. 

A part of you thought maybe you were getting what was coming to you. For being complacent in a society that profits from the suffering of others. You were always too scared to interfere when insults or fists were thrown to those poor omnics who would cross the line in any way, dare to question societal norms. You were no better as a bystander than the bullies you admonished in your mind but were too cowardly to confront. 

“What a pitiful little city,” your thoughts were interrupted by a metallic voice, “It brings me great pleasure to bring them to their knees.”

They were inside. To your right. Blocking the door. 

“And with Talon by your side, you will be able to dust much more impressive cities than this,” another metallic male voice responds, “This is just a taste.”

You were surprised the pounding of your heart didn’t give away your position to the omnics just behind the counter. Metal scrapped against the linoleum floor as they walked past you, farther into the shop. 

“I have grown so tired of waiting, brother,” the first omnic spoke, voice a bit deeper than the other, “To see these plans come into action…it moves me.”

He seemed to be droning into some monologue that dissipated as they continued into the shop, the opposite direction of the very exit you were scanning for. Carefully, you shuffled onto the floor trying to be as quiet as possible. Thankfully, their footsteps echoed louder than the fabric of your clothes against the floor. The door was right there, right in front of you.

But maybe you were too eager and grew louder the closer you were to freedom. Or perhaps you were just unlucky, and the omnics decided to turn around at the worst time. But you were caught, cold hands clawed into your skin as you were pulled up into the air by your ankles. You yelped, weeped, and writhed under his hand. 

“Ha! And what have we here! Another bug to squash. Look at how you wiggle like a worm,” he was enjoying this, you were going to die at the hands of a killer.

Though you wanted to plead your case, your words were choked by your sobs. It seemed to amuse him even more, his laughter was like nails on a chalkboard with the way it pierced your ears. Fresh, warm blood tickled your legs as it streamed down from the hands gripping you. You heard the male omnic beside him scoff in disgust. 

“Please, Ramattra, I prefer to keep out of the dirty work,” you look over to him and he seemed like just the type. Dressed to the nines in all black that matched the glossy black metal of his hair. 

“Another obstacle in our path to freedom, brother,” he lifted you higher in the air and your eyesight lined up with his wide chest, “what shall we do with a pest like you?”

“Let the damn thing go,” the other omnic spoke, “It’s just a human, and a young one at that. We have more important matters to attend to.”

“No,” Ramattra spoke, his tone dark with intent, “This human would show us no such mercy if they were in our position. No matter how innocent or young they may seem, I know their cruelty. They’re nothing short of beasts with insatiable appetites.”

“Please,” you managed to whimper, “Please…I wouldn’t hurt you, ever. I just want to go home…”

Your pleas hiccuped back into sobs. You must’ve looked a mess, tears running down your forehead onto tiled floor. Your face as red as the blood that trailed down your leg. Whoever Ramattra was, he was not going to be your saving grace. The other omnic, however, might be the one to let you free. Even if only because of the fact he didn’t want to get himself dirty with your blood.  

“Ugh, pathetic little thing. A pleasant appearance, though. I can always use an extra pet for Akande. He’s always looking for another toy to play with, it seems,” he was eyeing you, now. You didn’t like the way his eyes roamed your body like he was inspecting you. 

“He would treat it too well,” Ramattra began, “A human from this degenerate city should be treated just as harshly as they would treat an omnic.”

“Trust me, it is not pleasant what Akande does to his concubines,” he chuckled to himself and your eyes widen in fear. Whatever fate you were going to get out of this encounter would be nothing short of agonizing. These omnics were treating you worse than a dog, debating whether or not you were worth keeping alive. 

“I want it sedated. Then we will decide what to do with it,” Ramattra demanded as he dropped you to the ground, “If you obey, I may spare your life.”

You froze, leg pulsing and burning with pain around your newly freed ankle. The wound was open and blood pooled around you. Your mind went dizzy, everything was fuzzy. You felt drunk, your pulse quickened. This was it, you tried to focus on anything around you, tried to get a vision of the world around you before you bleed out. Nothing could come into view, but you could hear the omnics discuss something among themselves. You heard the hum of their voices, growing fainter and fainter as the world went black. 

———

When you regained consciousness, you eyes seemed to be sealed shut. But the stinging in your ankle kept you awake, you wouldn’t be able to go to sleep with the  pulsating pain from your calves to the rest of your body. It was dark, wherever you were, and smelled like rust. Computer monitors and holo-images illuminated the room in a dim glow. You could heard the familiar sound of metal against metal behind you. 

“Awake, are we?” Ramattra’s voice startled you and you jumped, “You may consider yourself lucky, human. But let me assure you, you’re anything but.”

Before you could react, his face met yours, his cold metal grazing over your warm flesh, fog forming on his forehead where you met. He looked like the visage of death himself, white as a skull with beads of glowing red. You stared into the dark slits of his eyes, mouth agape and mind running with ideas of how to escape the situation you’ve just found yourself in. 

“Nothing to say?” you could feel his hatred through his gaze, like he wanted you to burst into flames. 

You lips shutter when you spoke, “I’m sorry.”

You didn’t know what for, but it was all you could think to say. You felt more sorry for yourself in that moment than anything else. Sorry that you had been born and raised in the wrong place at the wrong time, sorry you didn’t die with the city you left behind, sorry you got yourself into this mess. 

Ramattra growled in response, “You will be.” 

Hands like steel gripped your throat, slammed you down onto the floor. Your cheek hit the ground and you could feel a crack in your nose before it began to bleed. Again, he threw you against the floor as if for good measure and you coughed out a groan. 

“Your people have tormented mine for far too long,” he dragged you by the neck and pinned you against the wall, legs dangling in the air, “I’ll make sure you get your comeuppance.”

You coughed, blood spraying from your nose and onto the rags around his neck, “I’m sorry.”

He slammed you against the wall again and you felt the back of your head ring in pain, “You think that will save you? Begging for forgiveness?”

He freed you from his grip and you fell to the floor, hands reaching up the feel the mark across your throat. You could feel the skin already swelling. It was going to leave a nasty bruise. For a moment, you were able to catch your breath, but it didn’t last long before a swift kick to your stomach had you gasping for air. 

“Go on then. Beg.”

“Wha-?” the moment you hesitate, you’re met with a fist to the face that knocks you back down, “Please, please, I’m so sorry.”

“Louder,” he almost sings when he speaks, lifting a clawed foot over your torso and threatening to put weight on it.

“I’m sorry!” you’re shouting now, as much as you can muster through the blood, saliva, and tears, “Please, I don’t want to hurt anyone. I never meant to hurt any-“

He pulls you up by the collar and onto your knees while looking down at you, staring at the mess you’ve become, “You humans are all the same. You spin the same tale, always the innocent victims of the world around you, right? Oh, you poor thing. How mistreated you are.”

You fall to the floor, unable to lift yourself up when Ramattra lets go of you. You’re tired, what little fight you had at the beginning of this encounter was completely drained. But it seemed like Ramattra still had a lesson to teach you as he dragged your limp body across the room, onto what looked like some sort of examination table. 

It’s the softest thing you’ve felt since you woke up, a welcome sensation as you lean against the firm cushion. You lift a hand over your injured side, right where Ramattra had struck you. You couldn’t tell if you had been sweating profusely or bleeding again. All of the pain was beginning to overwhelm you. 

“If I could, I would’ve stopped it,” you began, thinking out loud, “I don’t know why they do it, I never understood why but I couldn’t stop it.”

“What on Earth are you talking about?” Ramattra scoffed, hand firmly holding your calf just above the injured ankle, “Speaking as if you’re the victim in all of this. You’re only in pain because of the pain you’ve caused.”

“You’re right,” you concede, wincing when your ankle stung alive again, “I’m no better than anyone else. I should’ve stopped them. No one deserves that…”

You believed what you were saying, it was a deep insecurity that lived inside of you for a long time. Your cross to bare, the guilt of watching it all happen and doing nothing. But in this moment, that internal struggle was manifesting itself. The justice that those suffered omnics so rightfully deserved was now your burden. 

“My brothers that were bound by the ways of your city - your people - have now been freed. They celebrate now in the rubble of what you once called home. All shattered to pieces to be rebuilt in the name of our liberation,” he spoke to you with great pride in his voice, spoke more to himself than anyone else, “The world as you know it will cease to exist, I will see to that myself. As for you…”

He looked down at you. Really looked down at you. Like when you look to wipe gum off the bottom of your shoe. Something to rid oneself of, that’s what you were in his eyes. If you had made it this far, maybe he had some sort of plan for you. 

“I hope you’re right,” you say just above a whisper, fearful to misspeak, “Where I’m from…that’s not the way it should be. And I’m just a coward that was too scared to say anything about it.”

“That much is certain,” his voice soften, “You still are a coward. Letting me do to you as I please without an ounce of protest. Most would try to fight or flee, yet you don’t. There must not be a single thought in that pretty head of yours.”

Pretty? You’re confused, heat rose on your cheeks as you registered what he said. Though it was an insult thrown to you by your captor, the word itself wasn’t one you were used to hearing. You couldn’t help but feel flattered, however inappropriate at the time. 

“I’m sorry,” feels like you were always going to be sorry as long as you were here, “There must be some way I can reconcile with all the pain that I’ve caused besides…this…”

You gesture to your injured body and you could see the way Ramattra obliged you. His eyes trailing over your injuries, observing the marks he had made. He was slow and silent, deliberating over your words, hopefully thinking of some way to honor your request. 

“What a hopeless soul you are. Need me to tell you how to repent, need me to make you realize the wrong that you’ve done, to knock some sense into you. Still, you have the nerve to ask me my command,” his words were harsh but his voice was almost jovial, “I see you’re the type of human to be kept as a pet.”

He seemed to be enjoying this, judging by the tone of his voice. Just as he enjoyed digging his fingers into your ankle when he had first caught you. Something about seeing you hopeless appealed to him. If that’s the case, you might as well try to lean into it. 

“A pet? What do you mean?” you play along, furrow your eyebrows and put on a breathy voice. 

“Curious, are you?” his voice lowers, silky smooth yet metallic, “Yes, plenty of talon members have their own human pets. Nipping at their heels endlessly, at the beck and call of those who own them. I suppose it’s a fitting punishment for someone like you.”

It seemed to be working, but the direction of this conversation was anything but in your favor. Though it was probably a marginally better punishment than death by Ramattra’s beatings. And Talon…it sounded familiar but you honestly had no clue what he was talking about. Some sort of Null Sector faction or something? 

“What sort of work is involved as a…” you pause for a moment, it was difficult to formulate the words the more real the discussion was becoming, “human pet?”

He chuckled lowly in response, takes a moment to think before answering, “One might think to say comfort, but the word sounds far too optimistic. I imagine stress relief would be a more suitable term.”

“I’m not sure I understand…” but you do, just don’t want to admit it.

“Good lord, you really are dull,” he brought a hand to your side, “Do you need me to demonstrate it for you?”

It’s not a question and you’re given no time to respond when he pulled himself onto the examination table. His body loomed over you, his shadow casting everything in darkness. You swallowed, thickly and muscles tensed. He hooked his fingers onto the waistband of your pants, pulling them off. The cold air left goosebumps on your exposed thighs and you began to panic. There was that fight in you he was talking about. But before you could wiggle your way out from under him, another arm - massive, purple - pinned you down by the throat. Then another just like that one pinned your right wrist, then your left. 

He makes quick work in removing your underwear and pulling them with your pants down to your ankles. You were completely exposed, body shaking and breathing becoming increasingly more difficult. He hums, warm and curious, like he had never seen something quite like what he was seeing now. You feel a glossy, slick finger rubbing the inside of your thigh. It’s cold and you flinch at the touch and you hear a small oh. It seemed like he was experimenting with you, observing the limits of the human body. 

That same glossy finger stretched the entrance of your hole, you can’t help the whimper that escaped your lips. It burned, fire building higher and higher the deeper he pushed inside of you. It was worse when he pulled back, the emptiness making you need something to fill it but wanting anything but to feel that burning sensation. He brought another finger inside, and it felt impossibly tight. If he were human, the pressure might’ve suffocated his skin. But the tightness wasn’t an issue as he kept pumping in and out of you. 

The sensation started as painful as the burning soreness on your throat, but the more adjusted your body had become, the less painful it was. Your whimpers began to die down, becoming breathy sighs. It seems that wasn’t enough for Ramattra because he curled his fingers up into you and elicited a scream, both in pleasure and in pain. It felt good, he hit somewhere deep inside of you that you hadn’t reached before. 

“Like that, did you?” his tone was different than ever before. It was playful, like speaking to a dog. A pet. 

You breath comes out in a stutter, trying to recover from that sudden feeling. It hits you again, making your eyelids flutter. He curled into you deeper, and then began to scissor his fingers into you. You could feel a knot forming in your core and shamefully your hips followed the motion of his fingers. The last place in the world you wanted to be fingered until you were a drooling mess would be in some omnic’s lair, but fuck did it feel good having Ramattra’s cool, slick metal fingers pumping in and out of you. 

“Please,” you whine, “I’m so close…”

“Are you?” he spreads his fingers inside of you again, stretching you and you pray for something to fill the emptiness, “Good.”

He stops, pulls out of you and the air feels so much colder. Your hips roll instinctually, searching for some sort of friction to get you off, but you don’t find any. Left high and dry, desperate. Ramattra’s large, purple hands keep you in place but he lifts his body off of the table. But your body craves for him, for the release that only he can give you. 

“Please!” you almost scream it, and your cheeks become red with shame. You didn’t even recognize your voice. But Ramattra wasn’t impressed, even his larger hands left your body. 

“That’s enough satisfaction for you today,” he pulled you by the wrist off of the table, clothes still pooled around your ankles, “You haven’t earned the right, understand?”

Your mind was so pliable in that instance, you would say anything that might get his fingers back into you, “Yes.”

“Yes, master.”

“Yes, master.”

“Good,” he walks toward you and for a moment you think your plan must’ve worked, “Now, put your clothes back on, pet.”

You do as you’re told, disappointed at the command. Your mind sobers up a bit and you’re starting to realize what’s really happening. This image that Ramattra had for you to be his comfort slave. Then you remember the sensation you had felt just moments ago. A part of you was eager to enter into this arrangement but the other part of you that could still feel the stinging in your ankle, the dried blood on your skin, was not. 

“Does that gives you a further understanding of what your purpose is?” his voice interrupts your thoughts. 

“Yes, master.”

“That’s right,” his hand cups your face, squeezes your cheeks, “You are a toy and I will use you as I please.”

You didn’t even know where you were. Your home was destroyed, presumably with everyone that you knew. Could you be considered a prisoner or war? As far as anyone knew, you were dead with the rest of them. There was nowhere for you to go. No one was going to save you. The only option you had now was to pray for the mercy of your captor and buy yourself enough time to escape in one piece. 

“Yes, master.”

[daily-klingon]

Basics of tlhIngan Hol

It's been 40 years, as of 2024, since Star Trek III: The Search for Spock was released. This was the first time people got to hear Marc Okrand's (Okrandian) Klingon.

There were two earlier sources - the Klingon spoken in 1979 in Star Trek: The Motion Picture by Mark Lenard, and the Pocket Books novel "The Final Reflection" by the late John M Ford, which gave us klingonaase terms such as klin zha, komerex zha and the mortal insult tokhe' straav willing slave.

But this was the first time we heard the Klingon we are familiar with: the Klingon of Qapla' and jol yIchu' and So'wI' yIchu'Ha' and qagh.

From this, it took little over a year for The Klingon Dictionary to come out - and that changed everything.

The Klingon Dictionary teaches you the basics. I recommend you get yourself a copy. Get them from World of Books, or from Simon & Schuster direct. Give them your money, not that damnable Quark wannabee running Amazon.

Here is where you can start - where this blog began.

A quick note, and a bit of a pep talk.

The letters of the Klingon alphabet.

(Audio) How each letter is pronounced.

(Audio) The sounds of Klingon.

(image) The pIqaD Klingon script.

Fun Fact: The Klingon language term for Klingon language is tlhIngan Hol.

In this blog, you have all the resources you'll need to learn about Klingon words, such as its nouns, verbs, adverbials, numbers, conjunctions, exclamations, and so on.

It's all juicy stuff, but there is ten years' worth of material to go through, so as I keep digging through the backdated articles, I will be putting them up here.

Qapla'!

Lessons

Here is a master post of links to the 40 tlhIngan Hol Lessons I posted near the start of this blog.

Lesson 01 https://daily-klingon.tumblr.com/post/175446775456/lesson-1-nuqneh Lesson 02 https://daily-klingon.tumblr.com/post/175481520338/lesson-2-klingon-alphabet Lesson 03 https://daily-klingon.tumblr.com/post/175515959610/lesson-3-nouns Lesson 04 https://daily-klingon.tumblr.com/post/175550214445/lesson-4-pronouns Lesson 05 https://daily-klingon.tumblr.com/post/175583074672/lesson-5-verbs-part-1 Lesson 06 https://daily-klingon.tumblr.com/post/175616767690/lesson-6-verbs-part-2 Lesson 07 https://daily-klingon.tumblr.com/post/175654688659/lesson-7-sentences-1-basic-grammar Lesson 08 https://daily-klingon.tumblr.com/post/175684287384/lesson-8-sentences-2-prefixes-1 Lesson 09 https://daily-klingon.tumblr.com/post/175722608132/lesson-9-sentences-3-more-prefixes Lesson 10 https://daily-klingon.tumblr.com/post/175753884887/lesson-10-verb-prefix-tables Lesson 11 https://daily-klingon.tumblr.com/post/175789127315/lesson-11-prefix-practice Lesson 12 https://daily-klingon.tumblr.com/post/175823138190/lesson-12-the-null-prefix Lesson 13 https://daily-klingon.tumblr.com/post/175857197685/lesson-13-giving-commands Lesson 14 https://daily-klingon.tumblr.com/post/175890482710/lesson-14-to-be-or-not-to-be Lesson 15 https://daily-klingon.tumblr.com/post/175924893210/lesson-15-that-is-the-question Lesson 16 https://daily-klingon.tumblr.com/post/175960308740/lesson-16-identity-crisis Lesson 17 https://daily-klingon.tumblr.com/post/175995638975/lesson-17-plurals-1 Lesson 18 https://daily-klingon.tumblr.com/post/176030463767/lesson-18-plurals-2 Lesson 19 https://daily-klingon.tumblr.com/post/176064659769/lesson-19-plurals-3 Lesson 20 https://daily-klingon.tumblr.com/post/176098872201/lessons-20-this-and-that Lesson 21 https://daily-klingon.tumblr.com/post/176132911396/lesson-21-whats-yours-is-mine Lesson 22 https://daily-klingon.tumblr.com/post/176167872136/lesson-22-captain-my-captain Lesson 23 https://daily-klingon.tumblr.com/post/176203846315/lesson-23-plurals-roundup Lesson 24 https://daily-klingon.tumblr.com/post/176239453160/lesson-24-necessary-evil Lesson 25 https://daily-klingon.tumblr.com/post/176276543408/lesson-25-there-is-a Lesson 26 https://daily-klingon.tumblr.com/post/176312738185/lesson-26-if-then Lesson 27 https://daily-klingon.tumblr.com/post/176346831056/lesson-27-open-questions-1 Lesson 28 https://daily-klingon.tumblr.com/post/176381795536/lesson-28-open-questions-2 Lesson 29 https://daily-klingon.tumblr.com/post/176417408536/lesson-29-open-questions-3 Lesson 30 https://daily-klingon.tumblr.com/post/176455516255/lesson-30-open-questions-4 Lesson 31 https://daily-klingon.tumblr.com/post/176491286423/lesson-31-open-questions-5 Lesson 32 https://daily-klingon.tumblr.com/post/176563184226/lesson-32-while Lesson 33 https://daily-klingon.tumblr.com/post/176598282790/lesson-33-before-and-when Lesson 34 https://daily-klingon.tumblr.com/post/176632537218/lesson-34-noun-suffixes Lesson 35 https://daily-klingon.tumblr.com/post/176669451460/lesson-35-verb-suffixes Lesson 36 https://daily-klingon.tumblr.com/post/176706751130/lesson-36-numbers Lesson 37 https://daily-klingon.tumblr.com/post/176743531383/lesson-37-the-a-which-b Lesson 38 https://daily-klingon.tumblr.com/post/176781246045/lesson-38-proverbs Lesson 39 https://daily-klingon.tumblr.com/post/176815724043/lesson-39-adverbials Lesson 40 https://daily-klingon.tumblr.com/post/176851881273/lesson-40-conjunctions

[undeadfvckgirl-base]

Important for anyone who was a part of Introject Island!

If you are just waking up this morning to find the server gone the admins have deleted the server after being called out about their behavior towards their mod team and shit talking members behind their back, many of you would not have seen these screenshots as it was deleted almost instantly I was one of the mods. If you dont recognize me I am Rubik and introject island was a horrible experience with the admin team. The server was fantastic and the regular members were awesome. I loved all my conversations with all the members even the ones where you didn't quite get it the first time. The admins however were very lacking in their ability to take care of situations and often didn't do anything at all. One day the admins went to meet up together and gave the mods admin roles thus giving us access to a channel for the two of them by accident where they openly shit talked their mod team and other members they thought we might disagree on shit talking and claimed they hated their mod team. As a mod who was told I was great and that they were so happy to have us on the team it broke my fucking heart to realize they didn't give a fuck about any of us. I loved being a mod and being included in the server but its gone now and its because the admins refuse to take responsibility for their actions. Me and some of the old members plan to remake a server to try and get everyone back if you know anyone from that server please direct them here about the server and wait for the new one to be up with the former mods and former members.

My dms are open for the invite to the replacement server

Below the cut is screenshots we have of the admins owner channel and my response to the whole thing.

Important Disclamer: This post is not a call out post and even if it was I do NOT condone harassment or hate twords these people. Leave them alone. I will not be responsible for your choices to go after people when a situation is over with and I wish to move on. This is for the people who lost their friends suddenly and unexpectedly this week and a way to reconnect and not lose everything. Not to hurt someone. But they have a right to know what caused this.

Small fact about this. Evie and Peonies are dating. They also lies to us and said they would accept purgatorys application. We are also not dating we are qpps which is something else entierly to us

Here is graveyard shit talking Cyn (amber) and not even bothering to call null a mod but a "new member" not incriminating but kinda just rude. Also venting in journals wasnt a rule stated until after this

This screenshot speaks for itself (context Cyn left randomly due to mental health problems and came back shortly after and this is what the OWNER had to say about it)

I hope this explains everything about the situation and id be happy to elaborate more