#free real estate. for me in particular
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roasted s’more
#epithet erased#molly blyndeff#ee molly#molly ee#fuzzy arte#inktober#its for the fire prompt! done early because it was also combined with a school hw prompt of fear#fear and fire? oh boy#free real estate. for me in particular#rare that i work in black and white but i think it turned out good :]#i actually gave her fingernails and i like Never draw fingernails so :0 !#yayyy :3#click for higher quality it may look like ass since its scribbly
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Yo shout out to the time Mori brought a wholeass railroad company in Stormbringer. Bonus points for this banger of a side character, customer service hit him hard.
#I LOVE THIS YOU DONT UNDERSTAND#here’s the thing for me: seeing so many different perspectives even just for a second is a humanising sonder-esque thing for asagiri to do#this is just a civillian caught up in this nutcase world! i dont even see anybody in particular as a side character to me in bungou#bsd#bungo stray dogs#bungou stray dogs#mori ougai#stormbringer#bsd stormbringer#mori took over the mafia and said oh it is so free real estate he is having so much fun
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God, I hope I manage to get people reading this fic even a HUNDREDTH as invested in this character and the family I completely invented out of whole cloth for him who have been living rent-free in my head for like two years now and steadfastly refused to make a story work until now, because I needed to get a good bit out of my head before I went to sleep, made myself cry because I cry ABSURDLY easily, and now it’s like four hours later and I need to actually get to FUCKING BED ALREADY but words keep coming, my fic is too sad, and I use a CPAP that already finds my face shape tricky and don’t want to combine that with my messy crying.
I’m just saying, it’s not fair I inflict this on myself while WRITING it. Rereading it later, sure, I’m fine with that, but writing it? What am I doing, using these characters as an outlet for emotional catharsis? Gross. Inefficient. I can’t keep writing when I need to routinely stop and wipe my eyes.
#writing with regalli#wips#I haven’t even gotten to the part that’s making me sad just to think about#no but seriously this is an actual problem for me that has happened more than once#if it works even a fraction as much as I’m hoping it will it’ll be SO GOOD and I will be SO PROUD OF THIS#but see I’m already invested and other people are not because you know. OCs.#I am deeply and profoundly attached to these OCs who have literally no implication in canon#seriously even the canon character in question is just a step or two removed from blank slate#and by this point I could write an entire fucking NOVEL in which there are maybe a couple hints of a second canon character offecreen#and then it ends with him meeting a third.#if someone talks shit about AUs not potentially engaging with the themes of the source material I fucking might.#like a really good AU that tries is DEEPLY concerned with where characters change and where they stay the same when this changes#and this particular threat of spite would be very much invested in the setting and deal with themes#but while looking at a spot that’s particularly thin in a movie that is admittedly more Vibes than plot and going ‘It’s free real estate’.#I can’t do AUs like that I struggle with differentiating character voice enough. but you know what I can do?#THIS BULLSHIT. and I am genuinely proud I can.#but it does bring a lot of anxiety when the emotional core is around characters who /I/ care deeply about#but who no one else has ever heard of because they are mine#god though THIS is the first idea I wanted to do this holiday prompt challenge for and it is WORKING for me.#the others have been aggressively Not at times and another one will be the full climax but this one actually fully fits the prompt#without the association that already existed in MY mind but which I will have to sell to not feel totally shoehorned for readers#which is admittedly a big ask under the circumstances#because the association would not be obvious if you DIDN’T know I had in fact had this idea for ages#and why would you? I have not brought it up before
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i see y’all out here with your “Harrowhark Nonagesimus, MD, Chief of Orthopedic Surgery” and. let me just say. leaving aside the fact that No One, regardless of pedigree or skill, is granted a faculty appointment in leadership over a surgical subspecialty in their twenties (because even with some manner of Doogie Howser situation you wouldn’t be done TRAINING to CERTIFY in a surgical subspecialty until your 30s in the US or your 20s elsewhere)... you are all, all of you, sleeping on the Superior Choice of Medical Subspecialty for Harrow:
one in which Absolutely Nobody outside her field understands her work, and most other doctors think she’s at least a little bit weird.
The medical equivalent of subspecializing in Arcane High Magic:
Harrow is a Rheumatologist
#i will be taking no arguments on this at this time#the locked tomb#i will not write this au#but it's free real estate for anyone else#also#although there are a lot of stereotypes out there about medical specialties#and orthopedic surgeons in particular have a lot of stereotypes circulated about them#y'all orthopedic surgery is physically often extremely demanding#specifically demanding of upper body strength#and no one is convincing me harrow has been lifting enough in ANY au to use some of that OR equipment
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i’m so confused, how is anyone supposed to believe that house doesn’t have feelings for wilson when he is literally always trying to cause something so that wilson and his partner end up breaking up? Like, i’m on s5 ep5 (halfway through) and house has been spying on wilson relentlessly, and we just found out that wilson is also dating a hooker, and house is telling his private investigator to find out embarrassing things about her to force her to back off.
(my guy isn’t even trying to sound rational, he’s not even saying “to force her to get away from him/ let him go/ move away” he’s on full-on jealously mode)
“find her, find her family, find her client number nine. Just give me something to use to force her to back off”
His words, not mine.
And like wilson said, house is a drug addict and he goes to prostitutes for his own pleasure, so he has no right to be judgemental. And yet he is. But maybe it’s not just that particular woman that he has an issue with, it’s just everyone and anyone wilson dates, marries, hooks up with or is even vaguely interested in. Literally everyone and anyone. He has dated a doctor, nurses, been married to a doctor, a real estate broker, so it’s not like house sees this woman as inferior and that’s why he’s acting this way, because he’s literally treated every single one of wilson’s love interests as such.
House just- he wants wilson all to himself. He’s his only friend, the only person he knows (or at least hopes) actually loves him, the person that truly knows him and yet is still there for him, who has stood by him through everything, who knows all there is to know about house’s fucked-up mindset and ideas and thoughts and whatever, and yet he still stays with him. He can’t let him go.
“I’m not even sure anymore if we get to choose who our friends are” - s5 ep4
They have this codependent and toxic relationship in which, whether they like it or not, they need each other to fill some kind of void inside of themselves. They are all the other has, the are the realest thing the other has. And that’s just…more than a platonic friendship.
Like, don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that to diminish the worth and value of platonic relationships, not at all, platonic are be just as important and complex and fierce as romantic relationships, but it just doesn’t fit in their case. They don’t need to shove each other against the wall just to make it absolutely fucking clear that their bond goes beyond friendship, beyond the realm of romance, beyond any and every imaginable, tangible human connection. Their souls have been tied together ever since the very first time they laid eyes on each other, for better or for worse. They are connected on a psychical level.
This probably just made no sense whatsoever and im sorry if this is completely wrong i just thought i’d let out my thoughts before they slip away from me😔 feel free to comment/ repost your own takes!
#house md#hilson#greg house#house x wilson#james wilson#gay#hate crimes md#commentary#analysis#they NUTS NUTS NUTS#I HATE THEM
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For any fandom(s): 12, 15, 16, 19, 23! 💌
As always, you spoil me! 💌
12. Compliment someone else in your fandom
GOD I HAVE TOO MANY FRIENDS TO COMPLIMENT
@beezonia comes up with the coolest AUs and designs. I’m always blown away by their Pokémon team compositions — they’re spot on to the point I consider it its own form of character analysis!
@purplecatghostposts is the genius who showed up out of the blue and took us all by surprise with their amazing prose. Soap, reminder that the reference to Copycat in consider the spare legally binds you to pay for my therapy.
@trishacollins is single-handedly remediating to the lack of platonic bedsharing between the cousins and I can’t thank her enough! She’s also one of the chillest and most approachable people I know.
@luckychatons is our favourite entrepunpurr and constantly lifts our mood with the cutest, most joy-filled sketches! Patting her OCs on the back because they sure need it.
@graythegreyt is such an awesome artist you’d almost forget they’re also one hell of a poet who wields mythological references like Odysseus wields his bow. Did you know they wrote me a poem inspired by God Games? I think everyone should know they wrote me a poem inspired by God Games.
@hartwign is a talented translator and draws hair like no one else. Seriously. I want to run my hands through the cousins’ hair and nestle in there forever.
@phieillydinyia is the picture of dedication! Can’t recommend Candle In The Wind enough, it’s a roleswap rewrite of the Miraculous movie that includes the songs. How cool is that. Thank you for your regular comments on my fics, they always make my day!
@alexandriaellisart words cannot express how much I love your depiction of Feligami. Your writing has made me tear up so many times! AND YOUR ART LOOKS SO SOFT AND COLOURFUL. What a double threat!
@faiirygrahamdevanily we need more fics about the Sentiplot as a metaphor for othering experiences and you’re doing God’s… I mean, Duusu’s work with yours!
@bbutterflies did you know your piece for Sentitwin Week is the best characterisation I’ve ever seen of Felix? This is what people mean when they say a picture is worth a thousand words. And of course your Adrino is always brilliant!
@bittersweetresilience not only are you an extraordinary writer, but you’re constantly looking for new ways to express your love. Always GIFing and weaving and canonising tags and making AMVs and running zines… I can’t wait to see what you do next!
And there’s so many more people I’m forgetting! To say nothing of my friends outside the Miraculous bubble! People are amazing!!! 💖
15. The character that always makes you smile
At the end of the day, it’s all about Clive. He’s been my muse for nearly 15 years! 💙🕊️
16 was answered here! 💖
19. Your current fandom(s)
Professor Layton, forever and always. I can’t wait to share my Big Bang fic and the amazing art that I was blessed with! 💙💛
RWBY, even if I’m lurking more than participating… I love love love love RWBY, yet it doesn’t strike my creative and analytical chords the way Miraculous does. Sometimes you just need to let yourself be swept into a story, you know? Although, it did teach me a couple of writing tricks I’ve used for other fandoms!
EPIC! Wisdom Saga coming soon! 🩵🦉 It makes my little mythology nerd heart supremely happy. The music is a banger and you can feel the knowledge and passion of all the people involved in this project. Jorge in particular is always so excited to share his progress, engaging with creators, explaining his musical choices in a fun and pedagogical way… And the lyrics! It’s free real estate for a fanfic author looking for inspiration and/or titles!
I’d love to start Monte-Cristoposting like I’ve been Cyranoposting and Draculaposting, but I’m afraid of spoilers so for now I’m just screaming in your DMs. As you know. I’m also slowly getting into Honkai: Star Rail, and I’d like to pick up Pokémon Black and White again because a N character study would look great on my AO3 resume.
And of course, Miraculous! 💚💜❤️ It’s the most creative I’ve been in years and it’s all thanks to these sad beautiful silly genius kids. Heart emoji, peacock emoji, sob emoji, etc.
23 was answered here!
Thanks for the ask! 🖤🪶
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October 25th
Pregnancy, Papa Emeritus I x Reader
Masterlist
Words: 2.7k.
Warnings: Pregnancy; pregnancy sex; (consensual) groping; cunnilingus (I absolutely did not steal this scene from a previous Primo fic I wrote and change it up slightly, I don’t know what you’re insinuating but it is unappreciated and how very dare you); praise kink (y’all should know me by now); body worship; mild breeding kink; multiple orgasms;
Taglist: @sodoswitchimage @enchantedbunny @bitchywitchygardener @thew0man @sodomiser @the-did-i-ask @copias-sewer-rat @gehrmansbignaturals @deetz-ghuleh @onlyhereforghost @zombiesnips-blog
🔞 MDNI 🔞
If Primo had his way, he would have you bed-ridden and away from the prying eyes of the rest of the Ministry. He wasn’t ever a possessive man, nor was he territorial, yet all that changed when you fell pregnant with his child. He hated members of the Clergy even so much as breathing in your direction, let alone looking at you or, Satan forbid, trying to hold a conversation with you. When other people made a reach for your pregnancy bump, he found himself slapping their hands away with his cane. That you were grateful for.
Apparently all personal space went out the window when you became pregnant, your baby bump was free real estate for strangers to touch without permission apparently. But you were always the bad guy when you told them to back off. You loved that Primo listened when you complained about it, and you were incredibly grateful that he was willing to take on the persona of the gumpy old man if it meant you could get some space.
However, behind closed doors, Primo was almost as bad as the rest of the world when it came to your personal space. He fussed, he worried, but he also groped. He simply could not keep his hands off you. Some of it was innocent, especially when he would come up behind you and gently lift your bump, giving you some respite from the heavy burden you had been carrying for so long. But most of the time his hands were just downright naughty with the places he gripped onto.
Your breasts were a particular favourite of his hands. Your pregnancy had made you grow everywhere, tits and ass included, and he was certainly a huge fan of this. The way you were now multiple cup sizes bigger, heavy with milk for your unborn baby - all maternal and ready to sustain the life you were creating. Not to mention the way you jiggled when you moved, the way your ass wobbled as you wandered around your chambers. He couldn’t help himself most of the time, he just had to have his hands on you.
The particular maternity dress you wore today was really pretty, and comfortable for you especially in the coolness of the Italian autumn. But it was particularly triggering for you partner given it showcased your breasts in the most perfect of ways, and fell over your hips giving you a tempting shape that he simply could not resist. All you were doing was standing there pouring yourself a glass of water. But that was a crime in Primo’s eyes that couldn’t go unpunished.
You felt his wandering hands over your hips, gloved digits stroking the clothed flesh and meandering upwards to cup your heavy breasts. His lips, hidden beneath his thin paint, caressed the back of your neck, tickling your sweet and sensitive spot. You giggled at the sensation, but couldn’t deny the instant arousal that flooded your cunt the second you felt his hands on your body. His arousal evident by the hardness pressed against your lower back, and transferring into you.
“What’s got into you?” You asked, turning your head to look at your partner over your shoulder.
“You look positively delectable, fiorellina.” He complimented, his voice muffled by your skin.
“You do realise we have meetings and many other things to do today, right?”
“Frankly, my dear,” he swivelled your hips and turned you around so he could see your face, “Non mi importa. Not when I want to ravish the mother of my child as she deserves, no?”
His lips met yours and grew more passionate the longer he was attached to you; his hands became more and more impatient with the clothes that were separating your body from his. Your own hands moved to grip his robes, pulling them upwards to have access to his hard cock. Primo hated wearing undergarments with his robes - they were long enough to cover everything so why would he bother with them? Though, with your pregnant belly, it was particularly difficult for you to play with him in the way you usually would - or even wanted to. “Papa.” You complained through kisses. “I can’t touch you.”
“To the bedroom, fiorellina. Let me touch you instead, sì?”
You nodded and wandered off to the bedroom, removing your panties when you got there and sitting on the bed to help you kick them off completely. When he walked into the bedroom, he helped you out of your dress, gently pulling the fabric off of you and kissing the exposed flesh. He always wanted to make sure you knew how he loved and appreciated you, even if he was rougher with you than he ought to be. Undressing you and giving you tender kisses was his way of doing that. Your bra was the next to go, and Primo groaned at the sight of your nipples, enlarged and erect, just begging to be played with and sucked on. He gave you one final kiss before sitting you back onto the bed.
“Lay back.” Primo ordered you, removing his mitre and placing it on the dresser where it usually sat. You did as he asked, lying back and watching him disrobe - naked in an instant. That thought always made you laugh.
He situated himself between your legs, staring at your glistening folds and taking in the glorious sight of them, wet and ready for him. Your swollen clit, red and aching, screaming at him to wrap his lips around them and provide you with the most pleasure. You were always ready for him at a moment’s notice before the pregnancy, but the hormones had made you ravenous and insatiable. Not that Primo was complaining, of course. You made him feel young again with the amount of times you wanted to mount him and take what you needed from him. He was always more than happy to oblige, enjoying his pregnant wife bouncing on his cock first thing in the morning.
He first placed kisses to your calves - gentle, soft pecks that were barely there, but sporadically timed so you didn’t know when they’d land. His fingertips delicately caressed any exposed flesh he could reach, adding another layer of sensation to the already soft touches. Though, you knew your thighs would be painted black and white from his paints transferring.
“Always so good for your Papa.” He whispered, his deep voice gravelly with decades of use. “Always so obedient and helpful.” His lips now had moved up to your pubic mound. You could feel his breath flow between your folds before he’d placed a kiss just above them, making you shiver in anticipation for that final touch.
Papa, at times, felt like a walking stereotype given his unmatched patience and languid movements. He liked to blame his age, but you knew he enjoyed torturing you slowly, like he was sustained from your frustrations alone. And so, when you had grown impatient and considered sitting up to tell him to let you please him instead, his tongue finally made contact. But this time it had no softness to it - this time he was brutal in his movements.
The initial lick was broad and rough, causing you to scream out unexpectedly. But this was soon followed by his lips suctioning themselves around your clit and sucking as hard as he could, giving you overwhelming pleasure that bordered on pain. With his mouth still closed around your clit, the tip of his tongue continued to work it in multiple directions, almost erratic with his ministrations. He continued like this for what seemed like eternity; his head even moving in all directions when he sucked on your sensitive bud to keep your pleasure as lively as possible. Usually, such intense pleasure would have your hands flying to his bald head, but your rather large pregnancy belly stopped you from reaching him, and so you had to make do with the sheets below you, gripping onto them as tightly as you could for purchase and to keep yourself from floating away. All the while he remained face-first in your core, unrelenting and unwilling to stop until you reached your peak.
He pulled away briefly so that he could spit on his fingers, placing them inside you and tapping upwards as his mouth worked on your clitoris. He fully intended to be inside you today, and needed to stretch you out to accommodate his size. Though, of course, you appreciated the deep burn that came with his cock filling you up, he couldn’t bear to hurt you, especially while you were hyper-senstive with the hormones your body was pumping through you to create and sustain life. Your walls were extra slippery today, and your g-spot so tender that a single touch had your hips bucking upwards quickly at the shock, despite feeling him stretch you. You called out, much louder than intended at the feel of his fingers perfectly abusing that spot inside you, dragging the utmost pleasure from your body and playing you like a fiddle he’d been playing for years.
“P-Papa!” You breathed, your body feeling like it was on fire. Your hands shifted from the sheets to pinch and play with your nipples. “I’m so close, please - fuck! - Please don’t stop!”
Primo only grunted in response, adding a little extra vibration when he did. He refused to stop what he was doing because he knew you’d lose that feeling. Instead, he upped his movements and heightened the intensity, causing you to finally tip over the edge and climax all over his face. Your back arched and your mouth fell open, with a string of expletives tumbling out of it. And Primo only stopped when you sat up and pushed him away.
He certainly was a sight to see emerging from your wetness; his paint around his mouth had completely dissolved, showing you his swollen pink lips, soiled with your cunt. There was a lazy smile on his face, and a cackle in his throat at the sight of your exhausted face, your eyes half-closed in sleepiness and your mouth wide open as you tried to breathe in as much oxygen as your lungs would hold.
“Are you ready for me, fiorellina?” He asked you, kneeling on the bed and placing your thighs over his.
“Yes, Papa. Please fuck me.”
He groaned at the way your voice moaned the last three words, bottom lip catching between his teeth and eyes roaming lower and lower until he was staring at your cunt again. His cock was placed at your entrance, ready to push his way inside you; and fuck, when he finally did? It felt like magic.
Your sensitive walls welcomed him with proverbial open arms as he slowly sank deeper and deeper into the warm recesses of your cunt. The head of his cock gently kissed your cervix as though it were welcoming him home after being apart for so long. Every inch he fed into you felt delicious as it stretched you out to fit him like a glove; a torturous yet spectacular feeling until his hips were flush to yours and his mouth released a breath of relief followed by a sharp hiss. The noise you made as you felt him breach you went straight to his cock, making it twitch as it was going in, causing you to moan even louder. Had someone been playing with your clit, you were sure you would have cum instantly.
“Papa!” Your voice was a desperate whine, a plead for him to be closer to you, or even start moving inside you. You needed him to do something.
“I know, baby girl. I know. Feels good, doesn’t it?”
You shudderred. “Please move!”
The first thrust was so intense you thought you were about to pass out, but all it was was a gentle movement. Your hands immediately moved back to the bed, clutching onto the sheets so tightly, you were ripping them from their tucked state. The second thrust felt just as good, and the third had your eyes rolling back. Soon enough, Primo had picked up the pace, rhythmic yet gentle movements that had your lungs gasping for air and your brain turn to mush. You, an educated and powerful woman, now lay a puddle of hormones and pleasure on your shared bed by the cock of a man significantly older than you.
The more he thrust, the more unbearable the feeling became. Your screams as an outlet to the sheer pleasure were not working anymore, and you’d now resorted to wrapping your teeth around the silk pillowcase that kept your head comfortable below you. Your back arched off the bed as much as it comfortably could, losing your mind even more now that his hips had picked up the pace. You were blissfully unaware of the way you looked, or how much you were making him suffer.
You were divine; a Goddess sent as a reward by Lucifer for all his hard work. Your body, carrying life that he’d helped create jiggling beneath him with the gentle force of his hips. Your thighs wobbling at the movements, your breasts, heavy, round and full, nice and plump and begging to be played with and sucked into his mouth. You always looked absolutely delicious, but right now you looked so tempting he almost wished you weren’t pregnant so he could fuck another baby into you this very moment. He released a deep, gutteral groan from your walls tightening around him after he’d told you that.
“Gonna keep pumping you full of kids, keep you knocked up as much as I can.” He continued. “You want that, fiorellina? You want me to keep fucking babies into you? Keep showing these fucks around the Ministry who you belong to?”
“Yes, Papa!” You screamed when you were finally able to release the pillow from your mouth.
His thumb came down to your clitoris and began rubbing circles in the tender bundle of nerves there, causing another scream to come out of you. “You can give me one more, can’t you?” He asked, his voice gentle and soothing.
You were almost sobbing. “No, Papa. I can’t.”
“Yes you can, fiorellina. Give me one more. Papa’s almost finished. One more.” He felt you tighten around him one more time as both his hand and his words tipped you over the edge. Your ears rang, your vision went white, your body tensed as he worked you through your second and final orgasm of the night. It felt as though you were exploding from the inside out, the feeling so powerful and incredible you could hardly breathe. All the while, despite the ringing, you could hear Primo in the distance somewhere talking you through it. “È tutto qui. That’s it, fiorellina. Breathe for me. Such a good girl for Papa. Cazzo! I’m gonna -”
Primo could barely finish his sentence before he stilled inside you, one final thrust that had him burying himself as deep as he could and emptying himself completely. Your sensitivity had you twitching each time he did, tightening involuntarily around him at each movement causing his orgasm to occur stronger than it usually did.
He pulled out and collapsed next to you, the room filled with nothing but your exhausted grunts and gasps for air at such an intense session. Eventually, when you were both strong enough, you made eye contact and laughed at each other despite nothing being funny. You wanted to move towards him and cuddle into him, but your body wasn’t responding the way you wanted it to today, so you settled for reaching for his hand.
Once you’d both calmed down, you began a conversation, filling the silence with more intimacy and sweetness as you still lay there recovering.
“Oh,” he said, remembering something important, “I will be home late tonight, fiorellina. My fratellini want an Uno night so I promised them I’d be there.”
“Good, it’s about time you got to spend some time with them. I know Papa Terzo has been down recently since they deposed him.”
“Sì. Thank you for understanding, amore mio.” He turned onto his side and cupped your opposite cheek, kissing the one closest to him. ��Ti amo.”
“I love you, too.” You told him. “Now go tend to your garden. I need a nap. You’ve broken me.”
“Mi dispiace, fiorellina. Sleep well.”
Previous Day ⛧ Next Day
#mel writes#kinktober#kinktober 2023#ghost kinktober#ghostober#the band ghost#ghost bc#ghost#ghost band#ghost the band#ghostober 2023#papa emeritus#papa emeritus i#papa emeritus 1#papa primo#primo#papa emeritus x reader#papa emeritus i x reader#papa emeritus 1 x reader#papa primo x reader#primo x reader#papa emeritus x reader smut#papa emeritus i x reader smut#papa emeritus 1 x reader smut#papa primo x reader smut#primo x reader smut#primo smut#papa primo smut#papa emeritus i smut#papa emeritus 1 smut
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AU where Geralt gets his wish when he asks life to take Jaskier off his hands: Geralt gets isekai'd to an AU where Jaskier never met him and thus didn't spend 20 years cleaning his reputation and those of other witchers/nonhumans by extension
some headcanon highlights of this AU (feel free to use or discard):
this world is Awful, the way they treat Witchers in general (and Geralt in particular) is HELLA bad. Refused service and entrance in more than half the towns he enters and being paid poorly if he gets paid at all, people terrified and hateful towards him
He finds out Pavetta jumped off a tower after her mother had Duny killed (guess you're finally free of that child surprise, Geralt...)
Calanthe has become an unhinged warmonger having nothing to lose, particularly against elves, who are even more decimated than usual
Eskel was killed as result of witcher propaganda getting MUCH worse after the raise of the white flame + the whole Blaviken thing
Vesemir is a shadow of himself, living alone in Kaer Morhen, not having talked to anyone for years
Lambert moved permanently with the cat caravan and blames Geralt for Eskel's death
less witchers in general (with a lot having died or retired since continuing in the current conditions is unsustainable) means a lot more monsters, particularly Necrophages and Wraiths
Yen is disfigured and severally weakened/borderline disabled after getting majorly cursed from eating that infant dragon's heart + several botched attempts at making it better (maybe they can use the djinn to fix the timeline?)
#it's free real estate prompt just tag me so i can read
#the witcher netflix#the witcher#jaskier#geralt of rivia#geraskier#geraltxjaskier#yennefer of vengerberg#prancing plotbunnies#it's free real estate prompt just tag me so i can read
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You sound so intelligent, how can you not realize that Voldemort and Harry could never work because it is IMPOSSIBLE to fall in love with your own REFLEX??!
Oh! Thank you? I think?
I'll give you this, anon: kudos for introducing me to a brand new criticism of Tomarrymort and also for having me scratching my head trying to understand what you meant.
I imagine that you're referring to my usage of "mirrors" in this post. If so, what I said was:
"I like [Tomarrymort] because they’re narrative mirrors who parallel each other blatantly and, even when they don’t, they always seem to rhyme, at least."
A "narrative mirror" isn't a 1:1, line-by-line reflection of another character. We use this term to refer to characters who have narrative similarities in their backstories, experiences, values, principles, etc, and whose similarities serve a narrative purpose. Harry and Voldemort, as narrative mirrors, illustrate one of the core theses of the books, namely the value of forgiveness and love ('love as sacrifice' in particular, as @saintsenara is, quite correctly, fond of pointing out). I'd also argue that, through Harry and Voldemort, the books more generally explore what it means to be human, through the aforementioned love and forgiveness, yes, but also through their drastically different views and experiences with death and grief.
If this is what you meant, then of course a character can fall in love with their narrative mirror (introducing here the obligatory disclaimer that, of course, love is unpredictable and fantastic and fanfiction is even more so, and neither has to bow down to what we consider "possible" or even "reasonable"). Of course narrative mirrors can "work" in a relationship.
The ways in which Harry and Voldemort mirror each other are also the reason why they understand each other so well, a fact that does not go unnoticed in canon by either of them or by their respective allies (as I also mentioned in their previous post).
There are strange likenesses between us, Harry Potter. Even you must have noticed. Both half-bloods, orphans, raised by Muggles. Probably the only two Parselmouths to come to Hogwarts since the great Slytherin himself. We even look something alike.
Their similarities, and this degree of understanding and grudging respect they develop for each other, makes for a very strong base from which a relationship, toxic or not, could easily spring forth.
It's free real estate, anon.
(That they're narrative foils as well only makes the whole thing juicier.)
#eve.docx#eve.txt#tomarrymort#soulseeker#unironically got a little flustered by 'you sound so intelligent' like? oh? you think so? shucks#asks#anons
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A Manor of Shadow and Blood
Genre: Regency Gothic AU
Pairing: EXO x Reader
Summary: A stormy night brought you to the manor in the middle of the woods. Nine strange men occupied its halls. They won't let you leave. A dangerous secret haunts this estate. Learning it might either be your saving grace or it could lead to the last breath you ever take.
Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5
**
The fever took over almost as soon as you left the bathroom. Your feet had become heavier, like lead refusing to be moved. Your vision went black before you made it to the bed. Consciousness came and went, images you weren't sure were real or not blurred your vision. A man wiped your forehead with a cloth. Another fed you salty broth. Two more held you upright as someone changed the sweat-soaked pillowcase. The last image you remember was the lingering presence of someone near the doorway. All you could register was his short black hair and white tunic. He turned from the bed and walked out of the room as you fell back asleep.
*****
A long groan rumbled your throat as your eyes blinked open. The fever that had consumed your body was gone. Your rough tongue scraped the roof of a mouth desperate for moisture. Every limb was sore from not being used. A small pain still pushed at your head, but it was bearable. Only a small measure of light broke the edges of the curtain. It was either barely dawn or the very end of twilight.
"It would seem you're past the worst of it."
You gasped at the unexpected voice. Junmyeon emerged from the shadows and stood at the edge of the bed. He tilted his head, the upper half of his face still cloaked in the darkness.
"I was sick," you stated to no one in particular. Perhaps in mere confirmation for yourself.
Junmyeon nodded. "You had a fever for two days".
"Two days!" you gasped. You were supposed to arrive to your aunt today. If you didn't show–
An echoing thud interrupted your thoughts. You sat up slowly, groaning at the protest of your arms and torso. Junmyeon kicked the familiar chest on the floor again. Excitement pushed away all remaining consequences of the fever. It was your trunk with all your things. Soon, you could be on your way again, with a harrowing tale for your worried relative.
"We found it this morning," he explained. "Along with the driver."
Your heart leapt. "He's–"
"Dead. Probably broke his neck from the fall." His voice was void of empathy. Death–at least the kind not directly in contact with himself–did not affect him. "The carriage isn't salvageable. and the roads are still practically swamps.”
Each breath you took in came faster and faster, more shallow than the last. How could the roads still be unfit for travel? The room began to tilt. "So, what does that mean for me?" Perhaps you would have to wait for a replacement carriage or for your aunt to come get you herself.
He looked to the door with a resigned expression. "You will stay here until we deem fit."
"What!" You scrambled out of the bed. Your knees buckled as soon you feet touched the rug. Going so long without proper nutrition and being sick with fever left you weak. Junmyan caught before you could be injured, sweeping you up into his arms. A mild shiver chattered your teeth. Through your thin nightgown you could feel the icy chill of his fingers. How one's skin could be the temperature of snow, you didn't know.
He laid you back down on the bed with a rather smug expression. "Traveling isn't in your best interest. You need to regain your strength."
You swallowed thickly. "And after that?"
The only answer you received was a smile.
"You can't keep me here!"
"Eat," he ordered, gesturing to the small table in the corner. A silver tray with fresh morsels sat and waited to be consumed. "You're free to roam the manor as you choose, but remember: there is nothing for miles, not even an inn. You'll meet a hungry wolf before coming across another human." He bowed as if he were a gentleman and left you alone to accept your circumstances.
*****
A small amount of strength returned to you after eating. Although fasting in protest could have been effective, you pathetically couldn't resist. Food had always been a favorite weakness of yours.
The next form of protest you tried was keeping to your room. But after a few hours of not a footstep outside, you concluded self-confinement was only useful if someone noticed.
From your trunk you pulled one of the more plain dresses that had been packed for you. It wasn't too difficult to dress yourself. The true trouble came for your hair. Despite being in bed for several days, no knots caused you pain. That, however, was the extent of your talent. Charlotte, your maid, had been the one to curl and pin your hair in the latest fashions. The best you could do was tie it back with a plain blue ribbon. Squaring your shoulders, you yanked the door open with force and shelled out of the room.
Up and down the different halls, you tried to make sense of the layout. This manor expanded in nearly every direction. You went upstairs and down again, unsure of where you were. The bit of light that managed to fight past the thick curtains that hung in front of every window grew in strength. But though the day grew older, you saw none of the residents. No sound alerted you to any being close. It gave you an eerie feeling. It was as if you were alone but an ever lingering presence haunted every corner.
You took another random left turn. And stopped.
The front door was just on the other side of this hall. You scanned the area around you. Your ears strained to hear anyone that could possibly be near. Not even a bird sang outside. You took a step. Then another. And another. One at a time, you paused between each step, waiting for one of the lords to suddenly appear and drag you back to your room.
Huh. Your room. As if your stay here would be forever permanent. You prayed that they would soon grow bored of you and send you on your way. All this could be was a terrible joke because they had no other way to occupy their time.
You'd reached the door. Possible freedom lied on the other side. Yet, your fingers hovered above the handle. Junmyeon's warning waded through your mind like a morning fog. Nothing for miles. Surely if that was true, the driver would have stopped rather than continue on in the storm.
And then there were the wolves. You knew of their existence. And how a human could be just as satisfactory as elk if they thought they could overpower whoever they came across. To them, you would certainly make easy prey.
"Doors only move when one opens them."
With a shrill gasp, you whirled around and pressed your back against the door. The one who drew your bath last night–Jongdae–was leaning against the entrance to the side parlor. He stared at you with a bored expression, his arms crossed over his chest.
"Where did you come from?" you demanded. You had looked in the parlor as you passed. No one was in there.
He waved an uncaring hand in the air. "Around. I heard you walking and when it stopped, I came to see why.”
"You heard me walking?" You'd put slippers on before leaving the room since your boots were still caked with mud. You could hardly hear your own steps against the wood boards.
Jongdae merely raised an eyebrow, refusing to explain. You huffed. The previous fright in you disappeared. Pushing off of the door, you shuffle past him and into the parlor. Your feet were beginning to pulse after walking around for hours. You sat in one of the cushioned chairs to give them some relief.
Before you could blink, Jongdae was seated in the chair across from you.
"How did you do that?”
Smug, he leaned back in his seat, crossing one leg over the other. "Would you like a tour?"
"Not if you refuse to answer my questions," you scoffed.
The corners of his lips curled upward. "I think it might be better if you figure it out for yourself. Over time."
That earned another huff. You especially disliked the insinuation that you would be here for a long while. Hope still flickered in you like a warm ember, desperate for fuel.
Jongdae stared at you quizzically. "Why didn’t you run?”
"Because, there isn't anywhere to run to," you answered quietly. You were lucky to make it here in the first place. Regardless if you were imprisoned or not, you were thankful to be alive.
Still eyeing you with that studious share, he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his thighs. "Is there another reason you don't want to leave?"
You swallowed thickly. It was impossible for him to read your thoughts. He couldn't possibly know that something else held you back. "It's safe here–”
"We both know this place isn't safe for you," he snapped. "Your instinct should be to run as far as you can.”
"B-but the wolves..." your voice trailed off, overshadowed by the thumping of your heart.
"The wolves are nothing compared to here." He stood and all seriousness melted away as he stretched his limbs. "Or maybe they aren't. Perhaps that simply depends on you." You flinched as he reached for you. He didn't pause and his fingers passed your face, instead pulling at the ribbon in your hair until it came loose and dropped the fabric in your lap. "I wouldn't wear your hair like that.
You frowned at him. The men here weren't exactly the epitome of current style. "Why?"
“Keep pulling it back like that and you'll have your answer." He dared to wink at you before strolling from the parlor.
It took a little while to find your room again. Part of you wondered if you should have accepted Jongdae's offer of a tour. Another part stubbornly insisted you would find your own way eventually.
Sitting down at the small table, you pulled the curtain back. Your room was on the second floor, which gave you a decent view of the grounds.
Unlike most of the forest you remember seeing, this area was void of life. The trees were bare, their branches rigid and spindly. No birds or other woodland creatures scurried about. There was plenty of grass and garden hedges, but somehow all of the beauty was sapped from their blades and leaves. A few stone benches and structures were scattered about the estate, but whatever stunning carvings they used to present had been worn away. A sadness had overtaken this land, infected its very core. Not even the sunlight–now making its way to the other horizon–felt warm. How could anyone live amongst this?
All your strength gained through breakfast waned. You didn’t need sleep, per se, but rest wasn’t a terrible idea. Leaning back, you tucked your feet under you and shuffled into the corner of the chair. Your eyes slowly closed–
And snapped open at the soft knock from the door. You scowled at the door. It replied with another knock. With a huff, you stood and crossed the room, pulling the door open with force. "Yes?"
Junmyeon smirked at your hostility. "It's time for dinner."
You looked down, but his hands were empty. No new silver tray in sight.
"Dinner is with us."
Your throat tightened as his words sunk in. With them.
He motioned with his head. "Come."
"I have to change."
His eyes raked you up and down, then he raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
Why? Because you always charged for dinner when you weren't dining with only your family. It simply wasn't proper to wear what you were tramping around in all day.
When you neither spoke nor moved, he reached behind you and pulled the door closed, pushing you out of the room and into his chest. He chuckled at the contact. You shoved him away. His amusement didn't waver. "The dining hall is this way."
Understanding that the only way you would eat was by following him, you complied. He led you to one of the familiar staircases, but then down a hallway you didn't recognize. The dining hall sat on the other end. Past the grand entrance was a long, dark red table that ran the length of the room with the ability to seat at least twenty. An old chandelier hung from the ceiling, a few of the precious crystals missing. A roaring fire clicked and cracked on the opposite wall.
"You'll sit here." Junmyeon startled you as he pulled a chair just to the left of the head of the table. All the other available seats were occupied. With your chin held high, you accepted, letting him push the chair in. Then he sat at the head.
There were four chairs on each side of the banquet table, haphazardly spaced, and a lone chair at the other end. To your immediate right was the one named Yixing. He stared at you with narrowed, interested eyes that somehow made his already sharp features lethal. You dropped your gaze instantly, finally noticing the food in front of you. Your eyes lifted... no one else had a meal, only a goblet full of wine.
"Has everyone else eaten?"
"Mm," Junmyeon hummed over the rim of his glass. When the goblet left his mouth, a faint red smear remained behind. He licked his lips slowly to wipe it away. "We don't typically... eat dinner, but thought of it as an opportunity to introduce you.”
A few chuckles echoed around the room, but the joke was lost on you.
"Eat," Junmyeon motioned to your plate. All eyes were trained on you. The silverware clinked and clattered as you picked up the fork and knife. Would the food be poisoned? Did they get some sick enjoyment from this? You cut off a small bite of chicken. Each bite was slow, testing the flavor. It wasn't beautifully seasoned, but you couldn't taste any bitter poison underneath. You swallowed and cut another bite.
Satisfied, Junmyeon motioned to the man on his right. "This is Jongin.”
"You have a pretty name," the man purred. You merely stared at him and continued to eat. He laughed from his chest. "Then Chanyeol." This one bowed in his chair with a flourish of his arm. "Jongdae." He winked. You scowled at him. "Sehun." This one didn't look at you, looking bored as he leaned back lazily in his chair, sipping from his glass. "Kyungsee at the end."
Kyungsoo, who had been staring at the table, his chin resting on folded fingers. He glanced at you but immediately looked away when he met your gaze.
"That one is Minseok," Junmyen went on. The one named Minseok smiled at you with an eerily feline grin. "Baekhyun." He, too, grinned at you in a way that sent a chill down your spine. "And next to you, I'm sure you remember, is Yixing."
You didn't look at him again. Putting down the silverware, you gave your attention back to Junmyeon. "When can I leave?"
He scoffed before he could take another sip of wine. "I already told you. Until we deem fit."
"You can't keep me here!"
"Maybe you should have considered that before you came here.”
"You might enjoy it here," Baekhyun hummed.
"I doubt it," you snapped back.
Chanyeol leaned forward onto the table. “Do you have family?"
You swallowed nervously. "Yes."
"You should ask her if she has a lover," Jongdae crooned. When all eyes jerked to him, you carefully slid the knife over to your right hand under the rim of the plate. By luck, you had decided to wear a dress with sleeves. You just needed to conceal the knife until you were back in your room.
"Do you?" Jongin asked of you, a little too interested for your comfort.
You glared daggers at Jongdae. "No, I don't."
His lips curled gleefully. "I don't believe you." He shrugged. "Then again, maybe it's not a lover that you’re trying to avoid."
"My aunt is expecting me."
"And she'll keep expecting you," Junmyeon growled.
A hand flashed out of nowhere, snatching up your wrist and catching the knife before it fell to the floor. "I wouldn't do that," Yixing warned. You tried to yank your wrist back, but he took the opportunity to bring you closer to him.
Junmyeon sighed. "Yixing.”
Revealing who was in charge Yixing released your wrist, but he put the knife in front of him. Small indentations appeared along the blade that weren’t there before. A perfect fit for a hand.
You stood with such force that your chair overturned behind you.
"Finished already?" Jongin teased.
You gave a single hard nod and stormed out of the dining hall. None of them stopped you.
"This is going to be fun," one of them chuckled. A chair scraped hastily against the floor and you hurried faster to your room.
#exo#exo gothic au#exo regency au#exo vampire au#exo ot9#exo fanfic#exo fanfiction#exo series#exo x reader#exo x you#exo x female reader#exo x fem!reader#suho#kim junmyeon#xiumin#kim minseok#zhang yixing#lay#d.o.#do kyungsoo#park chanyeol#byun baekhyun#kim jongdae#chen#kim jongin#kai#oh sehun#A Manor of Shadow and Blood
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Hello! Welcome to the Robo Blog.
I'm Robonitrogen, THE white pansexual guy of your and everyone else's dreams.
I'm not gonna state my name or age here because internet creeps.
I don't feel strongly about anything in particular other than the obvious stuff like lgbtq+ rights and things akin to that. So talk to me about whatever.
I am the one who finally forced @real-british-empire to admit she was a cat girl and I take great pride in that.
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I married into the gimmickverse. My family is as follows.
Perfect darling husband @the-real-gmail
Father-In-Law @fistfulls-of-basil
Amazing Step-child @maryland-officially
Step-grand son @mid-maryland
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Current tags for my blog are as follows:
The Pinnacle of Edits
Robo's psych obsession
Robo workout and weightloss stuff
Gmail and robo
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I love talking to people about anything, message me about anything and I will be happy to debate or agree or converse with whatever you want to. This includes n/sfw stuff if you feel so inclined.
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My favorite pieces of media are in no specific order
Psych, the TV Show.
Ratatouille, the Movie.
Avatar, the last Airbender, the TV Show.
The comics of the DC universe.
Jojo's Bizarre Adventure, the Anime and Manga.
Community, The TV Show.
Elden Ring, The Game.
Hardcore Leveling Warrior, The Webtoon.
The Greatest Estate Developer, The Webtoon.
If you like Psych, moot me RIGHT NOW NOW NOW NOW I fucking love psych so much it's the best tv show ever, shawn spencer, my goat.
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I'm gonna list some other stuff here that I'm into. If you're into it as well, follow, moot, or message me.
Sonic The Hedgehog
Percy Jackson
Heroes Of Olympus
The Good Place
Brooklyn Nine Nine
RDR2
RDR
Minecraft
Terraria
Genshin Impact
Roblox
Incremental games
Cyberpunk 2077
Cooking
Cats
Warhammer 40k (haven't played it though)
D&D
BTD6
Pokemon
Naruto
Dragon Ball
The Rising of the Shield Hero
The Daily Life of the Immortal King
Webtoons
Manwha
Rainbow Six Siege
Jujutsu Kaisen
The BatFamily
A multitude of animes I can't currently think of
That's basically it, I'll probably add more stuff if I remember.
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I'm currently on a weight loss journey so I'll be posting about it from time to time. Currently down about 15 pounds and have started working out.
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Feel free to vent to me, I'm accepting of everyone and their various quirks, and will do my best to be comforting.
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Idk how to access it or if its even out yet, but guardian recustomiation makes me wonder something
Do u think Guardians are capable or transitioning? Like if Drifter started taking estrogen & didn't die for 2 years while it took affect, would the next resurrection restore him to how he was before or after the 2 years?
We don't know the specifics for this particular question, so I'd say it's free real estate. If you want it to be possible, then sure! I think it would be possible for the Guardian and Ghost to work together and essentially for the Ghost to store a new copy of their Guardian after significant changes. Maybe the whole no-dying for years wouldn't even be needed.
Reminds of this bounty from Drifter actually:
This is what it says if you have the fem model. The Taken "Queen" and "King" will be reversed if you have the masc model. So yeah, absolutely!
Also the customisation can be accessed from the screen where you pick your character. Hover over them and you'll have an option to modify them.
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For the ask game, i would love to see your opinions on Virgil!
Ask and ye shall receive!
The smaller dots mean a particular option didn't resonate as much with me but still did a little. Virgil was my vent fic muse back in the day and also still a little bit now. Fun fact: I am an anxious mess most of the time so really he's just free real estate. I will put that guy in situations and no one can stop me.
Funny thing is I think he's the most stable side at the current point in canon which is like... someone please help them. But I think it has somewhat to do with him being closest to having a complete arc (until new stuff is revealed perhaps). His current issues have been addressed for the most part, save his history with the 'dark' sides.
He's also an easy comfort bc in my opinion he's the simplest of the sides (what you see is what you get), likely due to his hatred of lying. He's anxious, he's Anxiety, that's his thing. He's also Virgil and he's emo and I can vibe with that. Someone has to be stable (kind of) around here!
On my list of things I'm excited for, number two is seeing how his deal with Janus and Remus plays out and seeing how big of a role he'll play when the next (last?) 'dark' side shows his face. This is big for me personally. I need to know! Also how is he going to feel about Patton working with Janus? They were besties and honestly I hope it's messy bc I love drama that doesn't effect me, it's my toxic trait/j. But I would also love if Virgil put aside his feelings about Janus to support Patton bc that's his famILY and he needs help.
I am always open to hearing other people's opinions and I love talking blorbos so I'd love to hear if you or anyone feels the same or differently!
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Not shipping related for once. This is a funny cute little scenario I had in my head. It involves Mamakechi and BabyGoro!
We know Mamakechi was a sex worker, and still had her job when Goro was growing up, as she would "bring men home"
For this headcanon Mamakechi would be an employee at---whatever modern Japanese sex clubs or brothels are called.
As her only source of income, what if even after giving birth, she'd still have to work there and bring him along?
Most of her fellow employees don't like it, because this is obviously no place for an infant and it might scare off the clients, but hey, what other options are there if daycare isn't affordable?
So one of the employees that isn't occupied usually has to take Goro and care for him while Mama works.
What if there's one employee in particular that unlike the majority, does not mind Mamakechi having to bring her baby along, and LOVES it?
I don't have a name for her, but this fellow worker, I dunno let's say she's unfortunately infertile so she'll gladly take any interaction with a baby she can get because she's unable to have one of her own.
Mamakechi having a baby was a dream come true for this woman, "free real estate", oh does she adore Goro.
Right when Mamakechi clocks in with Goro in her arms, this lady is right there ecstatically BEGGING Akechi-Chan to let her watch the baby. "Oh, please please please, Akechi-sama, my bff, fellow employee, goddess of beauty, wonderful mother, giver of gifts, angel of earth, etc, please let me watch the baby for you? 🥺"
Her enthusiasm is---overwhelming to say the least, but Mamakechi will take all the help she can get, plus this is the one employee that doesn't scold or roll their eyes when having to be on temporary babysitting duty, so why not?
Mamakechi meekly accepts, and before she can fully finish her sentence, Baby Enthusiast practically snatches Goro from her and into her own arms. Cheering and profusely thanking her, and bouncing in place, while smooching and smothering an understandably VERY bewildered BabyGoro with love.
Unamed Employee OC, considers herself Goro's "unofficial Godmother" and will drop EVERYTHING once she senses Goro in the building.
Yes, not "hear", "SENSES"
This woman has developed a sixth sense to detect the exact MOMENT Mamakechi steps through the door holding Goro.
Currently in the middle of having sex with a client, on top of her?
*suddenly senses Mamakechi and BabyGoro have entered the building*
"Oh, look at that, times up---"
"Bullshit, we just started, I paid for you, you don't get to tell me what to-----"
Suddenly gaining the ability of super strength, she yanks the guy out of her, and now bridal style holding him, cheerfully rambles about "Thank you for your patronage, come again, I hope you enjoyed, Master ❤️ " and yeets him out the nearest window. Calmly dusts off her hands, then RUSHES downstairs for BabyGoro.
Meanwhile on Mamakechi's side, she pauses from talking with an employee and they both look up to the ceiling, hearing running footsteps, numerous noises of crashing and things shattering, followed by employees yelling at whoever the cause was, and the cheerful voice of a particular employee and owner of the running footsteps calling out the baby's name: "GO-CHAAAAAAAAAAAN"
The door flies open, OC faceplants to the floor, but quickly recovers, completely unfazed. "WHERE'S MY UNOFFICIAL GODSON?! GIVE HIM HERE, GIMMIEGIMMIEGIMMIE!"
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Halloween Week of Horror (Games)
It’s that most horrible time of year, and I've decided to explore the spooky world of text-based games. My list of games is cribbed from this post and this post.
GAMEIFY HORROR // DAY 1
DAY 2: 13 laurel road, unbecoming, what girls do in the dark, the open house, return
13 laurel road
an interactive fiction game about the relationships we have with places and reconciling with trauma. You play as a young man named Noah who has been tasked with picking up some things from his cousin’s old house.
This one was surprisingly affective, given that there is no objective horror—no jumpscares, no mysterious noises, no ghosts beyond the perfectly ordinary ones that plague all of us.
Still, the set up (a young man, tasked with grabbing some things from the old family house) and the conclusion (coming to terms with the intergenerational cycles we fall into, giving you the chance to break free from them) worked wonderfully for me. In particular, I liked the way the game conveyed Noah's internal conflict---the refrain of "I won't think about that," and the way that you as a player aren't quite clear who is still alive as you move through the abandoned family home.
...I am a little disappointed that there weren't ghosts though.
SPOOKY LEVEL: 1/10, mostly for ambient horror and decay
OVERALL GRADE: B-
unbecoming
a sonically-textured interactive horror fiction exploring cycles of trauma and unspeakable forces of nature in a mythic rural American landscape.
Well, damn. I think that’s the second time I’ve put that in my notes, but also—damn. Damn does this game deserve it. Despite the lack of images (just text, white and sharp except when bleeding into red) it felt extremely well-realized, lived in. Maybe it's just because I know these places, have been to these farms, have looked at Dust Bowl photographs of children on buckling front porches, but the scenery was its own character---which is amazing when there's no actual scenery.
Not to mention that the story gets into one of my soft places and digs---the fraught ritual and cycles of repeated harm; the kind of blurry boundaries that make such effective horror. Family as obligation and a horror story you can't always escape. Not to mention how the gameplay makes you complicit in continuing that horror...
SPOOKY LEVEL: 5/10, not necessarily overtly, but uh. There is a giant hungering pit, and corpses in beds.
OVERALL GRADE: A-
what girls do in the dark
This little game is based off one of the greatest fears they had as a teenage girl: showing up late to a stranger’s slumber party.
Of all the games on this list, this was the first one that—as soon as the credits rolled—I immediately wanted to play again. I wanted to see if I could get a different ending, if I could somehow "win." There’s just something about those haunting scraps of “maybe you could have saved yourself...” that tantalize you, and make you want to try for a happier ending.
....not to mention that I have a well-documented weakness for deals with the devil.
I'll also add that the almost MS DOS style prompts ("TAKE [ITEM]" "OPEN DOOR") were devastatingly effective; a way of narrowing your choices while also giving you the illusion of choice.
SPOOKY LEVEL: 3/10, given the blood and the creeping horror
OVERALL GRADE: A-
the open house
We at Northtree Real Estate (in partnership with Optix Dynamix Labs) are proud to present our new, state-of-the-art, open house simulator! Come and take a quick tour of 15615 Hollow Oak Lane, a familiar and comfortable showcase home in one of our premier developments!
This particular game is just cool as hell. As someone who (like many millennials) has been addicted to Zillow and other house-hunting websites, this landed with immediate effect. What if scrolling through virtual walkthroughs on your local house hunting website opened up a portal to the unknown? What if it showed murders immediately after they were committed? What if, as you go further and further into this virtual house, you were going out---into something vast, unknown, and chilling?
Amazing, clever, wonderful.
SPOOKY LEVEL: 5/10, largely for unreality and a couple creepy images that still linger with me.
OVERALL GRADE: A
return
a text-based horror game about coming home
The more of these games I play, the more it becomes clear that what I like is horror that verges on the inexplicable—dream logic and images that refuse to resolve into reasonableness. I loved that here: the static, the mycelium, the pier with its strange dead-already fish, the self that guides you through the next cycle. What does it say about our horror stories if there is no going home? If it's just cycles of returning and rebirth and horror we can't escape?
(Sidenote, I am in love with Carver, and the little bit woven in about cybernetic/android assistive devices was tantalizing.)
Again, it's amazing how these text-based games manage to convey so much, so richly, with just words. Or maybe I just have an overactive imagination.
SPOOKY LEVEL: 7/10, just because the sense of unreality is so strong, I wouldn't recommend it for anyone who doesn't enjoy that
OVERALL GRADE: B
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" Am I my history I have endured ? Am I the job I do not want ? I do not know anymore . No one has painted me in over 400 years . "
THE VAMPIRE ARMAND from INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE , non-selective & written by Lev exclusively show based
rules & info under the cut
RULES -
basic ettiquette is expected: no godmodding, ic is not ooc, etc.
beware triggering themes such as slavery, gore, violence, toxic relationships, past abuse and similar themes
if you write Louis or Lestat, I am very open to shipping but please discuss with me first before assuming an established relationship. Mentions of these relationships in the past is fine, and I'm lenient for Louis in particular considering they're together for a lot of the time on screen.
I am non selective, which means I am open to writing with anyone. Please don't feel like you have to know anything about my muse's canon to write with me. Feel free to send me a dm if you have questions about my muse or wish to plot first.
the best way to start writing with me is by sending me rp memes.
if you decide to unfollow me please (soft)block me
BASIC BIO -
Armand is a 512 year old vampire. As a mortal child in Delhi, named Arun then, he was sold into slavery by his parents. He was rescued by his future maker Marius de Romanus from a brothal when he was 16. Marius renamed him Amadeo and would eventually Turn him when he was in his early 20s.
Shortly after Marius was killed by a vampiric cult named 'the children of satan', they abducted and traumatically inducted him to their beliefs. After almost 3 centuries they sent him to Paris to become its coven leader. Which he remained for 2 centuries, until shortly after WWII.
Armand then lived in various places with his lover, Louis De Point Du Lac, spending their time on art collection and real estate and finally setlling in Dubai. Until Armand and Louis' break up, which has left him alone for the first time in 77 years.
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