#he's obsessed with them AND he covets their power

[bhaalsdeepbat]

Astarion: Finally, we're catching up on our puppet master. And the hunt ends at Moonrise Towers.

screaming crying throwing up over this line with durge and romanced astarion on my duo run. they both start as puppets, then are free enough of their former masters to make their own choices, then they both have a choice: chain themself to their master or be free.

with durge that's either resist or become bhaal's chosen. If they resist, they're marking to certain death. To be free of Bhaal is to die, and I think they're acutely aware of that. To become his Chosen is to extend the amount of time they live, but they know it won't truly be living, if they live their life in service to another.

with astarion it's to break the cycle of abuse and be more than what nearly 200 years of empathy-breaking hell - Sisyphus pushing up the boulder but make it seducing people, eating rats and insects, night after night, knowing everyone you touch is doomed to die - made him OR unchain himself to everything Cazador did by killing Cazador without ascending, allowing him the safety of his abuser being gone so he can finally start feeling and healing without the ever-present threat of becoming a slave to Cazador again.

Their romanced "bad" endings all require someone to become the other's puppet. If Durge becomes Bhaal's Chosen, they force Astarion back into servitude and make him no more than a puppet after taking over the Absolute to start slaughtering the world in Bhaal's name. If Astarion Ascends, Durge either agrees to the loss of their independence and personhood by becoming a spawn OR the relationship falls apart.

I don't have anything else to say I'm just screaming about this lmao

[neyafromfrance95]

"if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you."

oh and gaze back into her he does.

when the abyss she has gazed into with hatred for so long gazes back into her with love, what does that say about the complex depths of her own identity and feelings?

galadriel basically wills sauron into life after she turns her back on heaven for him, and then she calls for him to bind himself to her.

and bind her to himself he does. over and over again. just like she has devoted herself to slaying the darkness of him, he now covets to own the light of hers he worships. her obsession became his yearning. they were already bound cosmically, by the sea and by nenya, by connection they share. but it was not enough, he intended to merge their beings, to become intrinsic parts of each other. so he binds her by the blood in an act that is disturbingly erotic, a symbolically sexual act, as it is consummated through violent penetration. he opens her up and slithers in, consuming her.

and there are dimensions to this. sauron still wants her to give herself to him willingly when he asks for nenya. this is his ultimate goal, he is desperate for her to let him "heal" her, to the point he is brought to tears. pain -> reward is his love language, and i'd say he hates hurting her while she refuses his gifts, and yet he still gives them to her in the form of binding her to himself, his darkness, and most likely to her greatest desire - power.

galadriel is metaphorically ravished and reborn, she is both killed by sauron and birthed by him into something new, his mirror, drowned witch thirsty for power. the symbol of their bond both on her finger and just above her heart - his eye, always with her, perceiving her.

now they are bound for all eternity, and those indeed are the seeds galadriel herself has planted.

all of this is of course a metaphor, a narrative device. as sexual subtext is an effective tool of storytelling, a tangible way of showing galadriel's complex relationship with the darkness, ambition and power. and on a more metaphysical scale, a metaphor for an eternal push and pull of the dark and the light, for the intertwined nature of these concepts.

[toto-the-cactus]

Primarchs + Daughters (2)

Finally finished the damn part two. Been kinda busy here and there with my new job but lo and behold, the one yall asked for. Soon enough, yall find out why it took me a while writing this one for the two main guys I had to add here.

Part 1 - Part 2

Konrad Curze

A’right, I’ll open this one with the fact we all know that this man shouldn’t even be legally allowed to have children. I’m gonna be real for a hot second and admit that I stared at the screen for HOURS not knowing what to write because any poor little girl that is born from this guy will have the dubious privilege of being the most sheltered and hidden secret the Primarch ever kept close. With all those visions of death and inevitable doom mixed with the sudden power rush that fatherhood gave him, it left in its wake a perfect storm for this lunatic to develop a paranoid and obsessive need (NEED) to keep his daughter safe; something hard to achieve when he already knows the essence of his Legion. His fatalistic nature regarding his own future would suddenly clash violently with the Primarch’s new found protective stance concerning his child. It's almost sad to consider that this poor man GENUINELY wished to avoid becoming the monster his visions showed, but knowing that he’ll be balancing in the thin line of one day hurting his precious girl (or worse than that) it'll put him in the hard decision of having to let go of her eventually. He is no Perturabo, for that matter. In the rare and far away moments of lucidity, I can see Konrad choosing to protect the innocence and life of his child by trusting in the last person ANYONE might expect the Night Hunter would seek help: Vulkan. Honestly this is just plain sad, man.

Sanguinius

This is it! The golden boy, yall! We all know the kind of person Sanguinius is, but add a precious little daughter in the equation and all you get is the perfect example of textbook girl dad. No matter how busy this man is, somehow he’ll squish some playtime with his baby and enjoy every bit of it. Seriously, this guy acting like a dedicated father is worth being in a stockphoto image. His baby girl asks him to play tea party? Some astartes will find their Primarch hunched over, awkwardly holding a comically small cup between his thumb and index while his precious princess pretends to pour more tea for herself. The daughter of Sanguinius doesn't go a single day without knowing that her papa loves her a lot and when the man isn’t around, the Blood Angels Legion are close to keep her company to the point that even she calls them ‘big brothers’. No one is safe when she wants to play dress-up. The single problem I see with Sanguinius when raising his little girl is that he sins of being completely oblivious to the more mortal side of his daughter’s needs. He easily gets so wrapped up in his role of The Perfect Angel that he doesn’t realize his tiny princess has boundaries that are being constantly crossed, but since she feels the need to prove that she can be like her father, endures all those problems and refuses to seek help about anything. It becomes a kind of toxic mix considering how much Sanguinius is loved and adored by others, to the point that his daughter becomes like a coveted gem too by relation, making her need to prove her own ‘perfection’ an unconscious action the older she grows. I’m not even gonna touch with a ten feet pole the “fun fact” called the Red Thirst on this one because, let's be fair, that would require for me to write more than 3 pages with ONLY Sanguinius and his daughter in the spotlight and that’s only assuming his baby girl didn’t inherit it. I specialized in visual arts and marketing, not psychology jfc.

Ferrus Manus

It took me a while but after some investigating and more reading I can safely put this man in between the Papa-tier and ‘tough love’ guys. His practical mentality and belief of the strongest are (oddly enough) healthily separated from his parenting skills. This is one of the few Primarch that can see their daughter as an individual of their own and makes sure to be as present as possible in her life but the loyalty of this man to the Emperor is his own flaw. Not in the case that he’ll choose the Imperium before his little girl, but because it’ll put him in the dreading and guilty notion that he’ll always prioritize his daughter despite his oath to serve for the Great Crusade. Most of his brothers (except maybe Jaghatai and Konrad) just assume or don’t even think about the long term future of their daughters or simply presume that they will become a great part of the Imperium’s well oiled structure. Not exactly their fault since they never grew up with anything resembling normal. On the brighter and wholesome side (whiplash change!), this is a man who finds handmade gifts more meaningful and always makes sure to explain the reason behind them mostly out of the enjoyment of watching his little princess look so amazed at her papa’s skills. More often than not, Ferrus’ belief of the strongest would falter a little as he perceives the true fragile nature of his daughter and, even if she share the resilient blood of a Primarch, that isn’t enough to convince him that she isn’t vulnerable but instead of letting the worry fester, he’ll try to teach the girl the art of fighting. That’s where the ‘tough love’ kind of guy I mentioned comes out to light. He will not spare kind words during those moments of teaching, as he wishes for his princess to prevail any difficulty but he’ll make sure to always end any sort of training with “I love you so much that the idea of one day not being there to protect you, pains me beyond any form” to make sure that his harsh actions have a reason behind. Honestly, it's the kind of father-daughter relationship that possesses so many shades that makes its own drama novel. Good thing that uncle Fulgrim is always there to smooth the hard edges that may come in the future and makes up for the lack of spoiling the little girl deserves. Ferrus is not amused by it. Forgot to mention that the Primarch will be even more motivated to take off the metal of his hands, for he has yet to truly feel the warm and soft flesh of his baby’s hand. It's the one feeling he keeps missing and craves so much.

Angron

Oh man, another of the hard ones. Okay, if I managed with Konrad, I can tackle this bitch too. You need to comprehend that we are talking about a guy that has been so intimate with the meaning of pain that it's amazing he’ll be capable of ranging through other emotions that don’t involve fury into that combo too. That being said, this whole shitshow of being the father of a young girl can only be described as sad AND tragic. First off, Angron’s daughter wouldn’t even be allowed to leave her chambers at The Conqueror for obvious safety reasons and having her stay on Terra can’t be an option too, as Angron would rather be death than leave in a silver plate this one single pittance of good he helped to create under the light of the Emperor. That being said, any little girl born from Angron would be terribly isolated and one can’t even blame the Primarch for that as he, despite his disposition, finds his daughter as a genuine reflection of what he could never ever dream to have or be. That sometimes results in him feeling short and spontaneous moments of anger from the impotence of not being able to be close to his daughter, let alone console her with anything resembling compassion. This is a man that is horribly aware that he’s away from one sharp stab of the Nails to his brain to end up killing his little girl in one single swat of his hand. The moments of anything resembling fatherly love are few and very tense, for Angron has to constantly be focused on not letting the pain control his actions and that always looks as if he’s dismissing his child’s love language or actions. What else can I say that most people don’t know already? This is just a sad story waiting to end in tragedy and had it not been for how Sanguinius ended during the heresy, I can see The Great Angel taking Angron’s daughter under his care as the only consolation and promise to his corrupted brother before his demise. After becoming a Daemon Prince, Angron’s only genuine and foggy memory of his little girl is her crying while calling him with heavy despair. Goddamn I almost tear up with this one.

Roboute Guilliman

Look at my big nerd! One of the few guys that actually is humble enough to feel more human than any of his brothers… sometimes. I gotta say it, Roboute has the vibe of what happens when someone incredibly autistic suddenly becomes a parent; expect lots of books to try and be prepared for what entails to take care of a mortal baby. He’ll have a wholeass strict routine of activities and diets that you AND the baby must follow to ensure both of your health along with “fun facts” regarding a toddler’s development that half of the time lack the keyword ‘fun’ in there. Honestly, Euten will be a BLESSING sent, for she’ll be the one railing back the most extreme attempts of her adoptive son to try and raise his little princess like she was just another task of paperwork. Over all his quirks, the Primarch of the Ultramarines is absolutely trying his hardest to be a good father just as the one that raised him, but this is a man that half of the time ends up clumsily trying to spend time with his little girl only for it to backfire as he simply doesn’t understand how to entertain his daughter. Good thing the child will simply be happy to spend time with her papa despite his weird personality. More often than not, some of the astartes will see the young lady at her father’s chambers in a little booster chair beside him, doodling on some papers to pretend that she’s a big girl helping her papa with his very important job. It's probably the most adorable sight anyone can ever get the chance to see. Just like most of his brothers, Roboute isn’t that good at expressing his love towards his daughter with words, so he simply let his little princess be on his lap and hug her as if it will be the last time.

Mortarion

I’ve written enough of this man being a father that you all can get a wild idea of how he will be when confronted with parenthood. Even if he believes himself to be undeserving of anything resembling happiness thanks to his perception of being nothing but a tool of the Emperor, this guy will only need to see his precious little flower and feel like everything in the world can be forgotten, including his ever festering negative emotions. His daughter is the single light of love that he selfilish believes is his right after such torturous upbringing although that mentality rarely affects his princess, as he simply shows nothing but care and tenderness towards her. He may be a nervous trainwreck, fully aware that his Legion and himself aren’t exactly safe-hazardous, but that never has stopped him from doing his utmost best to protect the little girl from anything that may hurt her. Like most of his traitorous brothers, Mortarion would not hesitate to bring entire worlds into devastation if it meant that his family can be safe, even if that’ll end up making a terrible gap to grow between him and those he loves. It's quite terrible and sad to know that, unlike Fulgrim or Angron, Mortarion was the closest to his daughter and showered her with as much genuine love as he could in an attempt to avoid being anything like his supposed father (adopted or creator equally), so when he turned into a Daemon Prince, the festering and rotting resentment that consumes him sometimes simmers down when he remembers the laugh of joy his little princess often released when he would carry her up in his arms. Oh yes, some good ol’ gut-wrenching emotional damage, teehee.

I will not apologize for being a mean bitch by writing sad shit. XOXO

[cheekylittlepupp]

You all know A Astarion's epilogue outfit, but have you ever wondered whether it's bats or dragons? Me and @egooppidum were wondering that today and we came to the conclusion that it's 100% dragons. The symbolism is SUPERB. Hats off to Larian for this.

Brace yourselves this might be a bit long ~

"Red dragons are covetous, evil creatures, interested only in their own well-being, vanity and the extension of their treasure hoards. They are supremely confident of their own abilities."

"Rarely, red dragons would adopt a protective yet patronizing manner towards creatures they saw as inferior that lived within their self-imposed borders" - Oh you precious dark consort, how lucky you are to have the greatest vampire lord as your master, for him to bless you with his eternal gift, turn you into his spawn, his right hand.

"Red dragons believed that if a being was not strong enough to protect what it had, then it did not deserve to keep it. This applied not just to treasure, but to life. They despised weakness among their own kind." Literally ANY line from him when he talks about his former 'weak and pathetic self'.

Him being obssessed with power and how that's the only important thing in this world. This would be huge if I added all of those lines tbh.

"Red dragons were known for their swift and fiery tempers—if angered, they would explode into a destructive rage and become even more impulsive and vengeful" - Practically his entire dialogue when you break up with him after the ascension or declining to become his spawn. Even subtly threatening you

"Such rages were in part due to their fragile pride and feeling that any loss, insult, or defeat meant a loss of status if not addressed—causing chaos and destruction assuaged wounded pride and mitigated lost status" - He sees himself as the best version of himself right now and the fact that you reject him, in any kind of way wounds him greatly. This is why he starts hurling insults at you, to hurt you back, to try and cover up the fact that you just shattered his ego

"They were the most avaricious and were constantly looking to expand their hoards with treasure, they were the most obsessive collectors." Recall how he calls you his treasure and how you’ll be together forever, he will have you forever. He is in fact obsessed with wealth. He would also like to sequester you in a deep chamber in his lair, I mean palace and keep you all to himself.

"They would also boast about their magnificent hoards." Him at the epilogue party. ESPECIALLY in the non romanced version.

"Preferring their own company and engaging with others only when it had purpose, they were solitary creatures and cared little for news of other types of dragons, though they did look for news of other red dragons in their area and of affairs in the world in general. They used other charmed creatures as messengers, informants, and spies to bring them information"

"And of course they were recognized by their scarlet and crimson scaled hides" self explanatory really ~

"The vanity of red dragons was often revealed in their prideful postures and the looks of disdain with which they regarded all others"

"To have is nothing, to keep is all."

"In fact, in many ways, they were most like hoursecats" I had to add this, it's too funny

Okay I'm stopping here because This will be massive if I don't shut up. We can replace "red dragons" with Astarion and it would fit perfectly. I'm leaving you guys the link for the red dragon wiki, have fun with it ~

https://forgottenrealms.fandom.com/wiki/Red_dragon

[mayullla]

Title: Obsessive Passion

Character(s): Witch's Apprentice (Unnamed character/original work)

Summary: You didn't know how much jealousy and hatred he had in his heart and you didn't know how desperate his love was too. He was greedy and was even willing to break you so that you would love him back. Tags/Warnings: male!yandere, fem!reader, apprentice!yandere x witch!reader, both are adults, general yandere themes, brainwash/hypno, drugging, manipulation, dubious consent, 3.4k words

You were a famous witch in the kingdom. Many sought you out for your spells and potions, and the things created by your hand were highly coveted. You were a woman who had reached fame for her talents in magic, knowledge, and powers at a young age. Many sought you out, including the royal family. However, instead of seeking more fame and money, you chose to leave the public eye and live a quiet life away from the capital. Only a few trusted friends and acquaintances knew where you were. You still made many potions and helped whenever the situation required it, but for the most part, you wanted to make time for yourself. You wanted to research and create spells and potions of your interest instead of what was requested and demanded.

With you, you took your apprentice, a man who had talents similar to yours, yet not as fully developed. Many said that he would not be able to achieve what you have due to his lack of mana, but you believed that he would be able to do more, even with that weakness. You knew he was smart, smart enough to figure out how to overcome that hurdle.

But maybe you should have been more careful with him.

You didn't know of the crazed love he had for you, a lust mixed in with unchecked jealousy and hunger. He loved you, he was so madly in love with you that sometimes he felt that it was driving him insane.

You were, in a sense, his savior, someone who took him out of a dark hole and showered him with positive love and attention. You were the one who saw his potential even with his lack of magic when others tossed him aside due to his limits.

It was an innocent crush at first, his heart beating faster when you got close to him as you helped him figure out a new spell that he was trying to create. He was deeply touched when he found out that you created a spell to move your mana to him when he started to run out, effectively stopping him from making progress in a lot of his work and studies.

To him, whenever you poured your energy onto him, he could not help but feel a shiver down his spine. His face flushed into a dark shade of red, perverted thoughts in his mind. All you needed was skin-to-skin contact, holding each other's hand, or you should hold his shoulder. But to him, it was more than that, more than a hug, more than a kiss. It was far more intimate than that when he felt your magic coiling with his, mixing together in his body. It was addicting.

It was difficult for him to hold himself, some days when you saw him panting so heavily after it, he had to make an excuse of some sort.

However, he also had too much anger and too much pride. He resented those who looked down on him, their judgmental eyes ranking his worth in their minds. You were the only one who looked at him in a different light.

You always told him to think of the good for the kingdom, that even when they looked down on him, he could show them what he could do and then their thoughts would change. You were always too kind and so positive.

You weren't naive. If you were, you would have long become a mere pawn of someone malicious, working endless hours for something empty, rather than being free to do whatever you want. But he had always been the more sly one.

That was what he loved about you but also hated. He hated how talented you were compared to him. He hated that you were more powerful than him, that he was in a sense below you. Because you were gifted, you had access to all kinds of magic spell books, even those that belonged to the royal library, while he was not even allowed into the room. He hated your magic because you had so much, unlike him.

He hated your pity.

You did know of his anger, anger towards the world and around him, but you never knew the extent of it. While you also believed that he could do more, you didn't realize what he could already do.

It was just headaches at first when you woke up. Headaches that would never go away no matter what you did. No potion or spell would cast away the pain in your head. Some days it was a numb pain that you could still function throughout the day, but with a few momentary breaks here and there. Sometimes you could go through your day like normal with a very light headache. Sometimes you could do nothing but sit in one place the whole day, unable to think because of the painful throbbing that almost felt like your skull was cracking.

Moments like those always made you mentally note to create another seal for your mind so that you could avoid these sorts of headaches in the future. But by then, it would be too late.

Your apprentice had taken care of most things while you had those serious headaches, giving him work that he could do when you weren't able to do them.

But while doing those tasks, he always took time to take care of you too, handing you tea that was supposed to soothe headaches. While it didn't work for the most part, you appreciated his gesture. Maybe if you were a little more aware and less in pain, you would notice something about the tea that he gave you.

Deep in your sleep, you would never notice how your apprentice would loom over you, having a smile on his lips, cheeks flushed as he played with your mind.

Being famous, you had always been careful of hidden threats and placed many seals in your body to protect yourself. One was on your mind, a seal that you had placed to protect you from any mind magic and dark magic. Much to your apprentice's amusement, he found it very cute that you were that cautious when dark or mind magic had become so rare.

It was taboo and illegal to dabble in such magic after all. Many who were found to be able to do so were mostly killed and burned on torture stakes. It had been years since someone could use such magic. Most magic of that sort was inherited after all, yet when they continued to kill most who could, there was no heir for such magic.

But it wasn't like all dark magic was gone.

He could not help but laugh when he thought of it, how you were so overly cautious of such magic yet took in an apprentice who could use dark magic. This was something you did not know, nor did you know much of. This was what he had over you.

Your seal, while effective if magic was used suddenly to get in your mind, was weak if it was something gradual, slowly chipped away. You would never notice it, not when your headaches started to worsen and worsen the more he chipped your little seal.

It felt like your mind was ripping apart, yet you could not wake up, a sleep potion that paralyzed you, keeping you in deep slumber no matter what he did to you. The torturous pain would be nothing but a nightmare the moment you wake up. He could not help but pity you a little, yet also find a certain thrill to it. A certain satisfaction that he could make you like this.

That he held power over you.

Your body reacted greatly to the broken seal, stiffening as sounds left your mouth, no matter how much he tried to minimize the pain. When it was forcibly broken, there was bound to be some backlash. Yet just as quickly, the sleep potions dragged you back to sleep, unable to react to the shattered seal, unable to see him right above you.

He could not help but laugh, holding it back as he covered his mouth with his hands. His lovely teacher, the teacher who trusted him so much, now at his mercy. He would finally watch you fall from your little stage right under his arms, weak and nothing like the powerful witch you were.

It was a complicated seal that he created just for you, drawn with magic above your head. It was made just for you, like the spell that you had created for him. It would replace the seal that he had broken, and you would be none the wiser. Even if you checked the seal, you would see and feel that same seal that he had broken still there.

One by one, he would change your thoughts, amusing himself in your confusion as he continued to slowly change your mind to his liking, doing things for his pleasure, yet none the wiser.

It took a while, but when you woke up, the headache you had for weeks was suddenly gone.

It was surprising when you realized that you didn't feel like someone was hitting you constantly with a hard, dull hammer every time you even blinked. You were suspicious of the change, but you also felt nothing more than relief. Even when you checked the seals that you placed in your body, nothing was strange.

Yet you just could not help but feel that something was off. That something was not right, but you just could not place a finger on it. You checked the potions and cabinets in the house to see if you misplaced something or if something was stolen, but it wasn't the case. Your apprentice took care of most of the cleaning and potion making while you were resting in bed. Anyone who visited your apprentice had given them the requested items and potions without any problem, but something just felt off.

"Is something the matter?"

You were startled by his voice, jumping a little as if you were caught doing something you shouldn't do. Turning to him, you could not help but frown. "It is nothing, I am just a little confused right now. I can't help but feel like I am missing something."

You honestly replied to your apprentice, wondering and maybe hoping that he had the answer why you were like this. "I am not sure," he answered, having a worried look on his face, wondering if he had made a mistake while you were resting. "Did I make a mistake of some sort?"

Looking at his thinking face, probably trying to calculate expenses or thinking where stuff in where, you shook your head, raising your hand to stop him. "No, it is fine. Thank you for taking care of everything." Seeing that soft smile on his lips, you decided to give your worries a rest.

Yet it always lingered in the back of your mind. As days passed, you started to pay more attention to your apprentice. When you were in the middle of your own research, your mind sometimes thought of him unconsciously, wondering what he was doing and where he was. If he was in the room, you became overly conscious of him. Your eyes could not help but look at him some days, falling into a daze until you snapped out of it with him calling you with a worried look on his face.

It wasn't like you ignored him in the past; you tried to teach him when you were not caught up with your own research. In fact, you were able to give more time to him after you moved to the village, having more time to do whatever you wished. You invested more time into helping him train and learn.

However, this was different.

Your mind just could not think straight sometimes, finding it hard to concentrate when your mind kept thinking of him. He was your apprentice, and while not really far in age, sometimes you thought of him more as an assistant. He was mature and helped you a lot too back then when you had so much work to do. Even now, when he followed you to the countryside, he continued to help you when you needed it. He was reliable.

It wasn't on purpose when you unconsciously started to look over him more often, seeing and checking what he was doing. You took even more time away from your own research to help him learn more about magic and his own research. A quick learner, you always thought, when he picked up a lot of the things you taught him. He was faster… way faster than you when you studied magic around his level.

As more days passed, you started to think that he was better than you, clearly way more talented than you. More often than before, you would compliment him. You complimented him a lot before too, yet you started to do it more and more often. And every compliment seemed to remind you that he was far better than you, that he was better than you.

But it never changed the fact that, unlike you, his magic reserves were smaller than yours. You frowned at the predicament. You were still researching how to help your apprentice's problem, yet you still didn't find a way to fix it. One's own limits were decided the day they were born, and not much could change to make it larger or smaller. The only way you could help your apprentice was to give him your own.

A light touch on his hand or arms, you concentrated on moving your own magic to him. Yet even that took a long time.

Pushing all your other research away, you started trying to find a way to make the transfer quicker and more clean, as there were moments when magic would just leak out and largely go to waste. You were fine with it, to be fair, born with large reserves that it was difficult to use them all in one day anyway, yet you just could not forget your apprentice's face, the jealousy in his eyes when he looked at you.

"Good job. You are doing so well." Compliments continued to leave your lips. Yet as soon as it did, darkness coiled in your stomach as you patted his head. He… he was better than you… Far, far better than you.

You looked down at his sitting form, a smile on his lips, your hand still on his hair as you zoned out deep in thought. "You should really stop patting my head," he told you in a cheery voice, "I am not like some elementary kid who should be rewarded with head pats." You thought for a moment. Looking at him, you could not help but think that it was true, he was far too old for such a thing, but just that you had a habit of doing so.

As soon as you thought that, you tried to take your hand away from his hair, unconsciously wondering if you offended your apprentice or not, yet your hand was stopped by a larger hand. "Ah, I didn't mean it like that!" he said, looking almost surprised when his teacher suddenly started to avoid him. "It is fine to touch my hair, you know… I don't mind," he told you a flush on his face, looking else ever as he tried to hide his cheeks with one hand, "I always know that you like touching my hair, don't you? What I mean to say is that you can touch it whenever... but I am not a kid."

Yes… nothing was wrong… Nothing was wrong at all.

From there, it spiraled again. You were able to function in your daily life, but there were just moments when your memories blanked, and you barely remembered anything. At one point, you thought it was the tea that you were drinking, the one that your apprentice would always make for you.

You were suspicious of the liquid inside your cup, pausing as you stared at it with narrowed eyes. "Is something the matter, teacher?" You looked up at your apprentice, who was looking at you in wonder, an eyebrow raised as he tilted his head. "Do you not like the tea? I made it as you have always liked."

"It is nothing," you said, moving the tea closer to your lips. The smell hit your nose, the same fragrance that you were always familiar with. For a moment, you hesitated, but when you were watched by your student, you chose to take a drink of the tea…

"It is adorable how cautious my teacher is." Your eyes were glazed over as you blankly stared at the floor. Your fingers that were holding the teacup lost their strength, letting the glass fall to the floor and shatter. "Clumsy. Clumsy~" Your apprentice had a mocking tone as he looked at your sitting form. There was no recognition in your eyes, whatever sliver of it was quickly dragged back into the haze. "What would you do without me?"

Moving in front of you, he spelled the glass teacup to rise from the floor and mend itself. When it was placed onto the table, it looked as if it was never broken from the start.

Looking at you, he moved his hands to gently grab your face, forcing you to look at him. "But then again, I always loved my teacher. So much so that it drives me insane sometimes." Your unfocused eyes stared back at him, making him feel chills that he was the one who caused this. That he was the one who made you like this.

He could not help but burst out laughing.

My precious teacher… my precious, precious teacher!" He kept on chanting, in the middle of a quiet forest where there was nothing to hide. His eyes were red with lust and lovesickness.

"My cautious little teacher, slowly you will fall into my arms, and when I finally have you all to myself, I will chain you to me so that you will never be able to leave me. I will make you think of me just as much as I think of you." One by one, he told you all the things he would do to you when you finally could not think for yourself. When your mind breaks and shatters, he will never mend it; instead, he will accept it into his heart.

Then he will create a piece with it that is submissive to him, that yearns for him, that begs for him. One that places him in a high stage that demands others' attention, yet he will give none to them when his eyes are on you, just as he had forced yours to his. You will tell others that he is your heir and that you will be fully retiring.

He will be the one to take care of you, he will take all your magic from your body, greedily taking everything, leaving you unable to even sit up from the bed. He will take care of your body, telling you how well you have done, letting you rest as he fulfills orders for potions and creates spells without limit, looking for you again and again when he runs out.

He will make you sign a contract to become forever his, he will make you sign your name into something that will relinquish everything that belongs to you and give it to him. He will make you give up your talents, your knowledge, your wisdom. He will take everything and gobble it up, as you scream in pain and anguish he will comfort you in his arms and hushed loving words.

You will be his and nobody will be the wiser. Nobody will notice how broken you become as you can do nothing but follow his orders, when you will tell others that he has now inherited your shop and that you will instead become something of a sort of helper. Nobody will know that it is hard for you to make simple potions as he teaches you how to make an easy potion, when you barely even have enough magic to use for yourself as he continues to steal from you.

He will make you clingy, he will make you feel useless and desperate just as he had felt as he looked at you in the past.

You made him insane, and he will show you what it was like as you drowned in his love.

[lexsssu]

Again (Uchiha Sasuke)

TAGS: Sasuke/F!reader, yandere, obsession, dirty thoughts, breeding kink, oneshot Ao3 ver. | Ko-fi | Commissions (OPEN)

“Kaa-chan told me to remind you to eat and to give you this! She said it’s your favorite.”

Gingerly taking the bento being offered to him, something flickered within Sasuke’s lone visible eye which disappeared almost as soon as it appeared. Even without opening it, he was already sure of its contents. 

You were the one who made it after all.

“Please give her my thanks when you get home. I’ll drop this off myself once I’ve cleaned it,” the Uchiha makes sure to use his left hand as he receives the lunch box, a small shiver running down his spine as a brief image of you happily preparing this meal for him appears in his mind’s eye.

“Will do, Oji-san! And thank you again for today’s training session. Please come visit us at home whenever you can. Kaa-san always looks forward to your visits. She always says you don’t visit enough,” Shinachiku’s soft laughter reminds Sasuke of how much he takes after you than Naruto.

From the shade of green in his eyes, to the way his smiles aren’t as blinding as Naruto’s and yet exudes the same strength and softness yours does. Shinachiku Uzumaki is his father’s son, but no one can ever deny that he is also his mother’s child.

He could’ve been your child.

All of them could have been yours.

If only you hadn’t been so weak.

If you simply had the power…then perhaps she’d have been yours.

Not Naruto’s…YOURS!!!

When both he and the young genin separate for the night, him to his lively home filled with the happiness and laughter of family, Sasuke on the other hand retreats to the lonely Uchiha compound. He is all too used to the dreary atmosphere of the place he once called home, his steps never faltering as he entered the main house’s kitchen and sat himself at the dining table.

Inside the 3-layer bento were several onigiri with various fillings, namely umeboshi, salmon, and bonito flakes. A tomato salad that definitely was one of your own homegrown ones (because he has never seen, smelled, and tasted any tomatoes more delicious than yours). The tomato soup was still warm and felt even warmer as he ate it as slowly as he could, savoring the myriad of flavors contained in such a seemingly simple dish. 

Though he wasn’t fond of sweets, the avenger couldn’t ignore the slice of strawberry shortcake you packed for him. The first bite of cake reminded him of the sweetness of the youth he spent with you despite his hyperfixation on killing his own brother at the time.

If he’d known the truth that early on then perhaps he wouldn’t have wasted all his time chasing after Itachi.

Naruto wouldn’t have had the chance to take you for himself if Sasuke understood that you were worth much more than his misguided revenge. 

Even though Naruto left for training with Jiraiya, the blonde was more than happy to regale him with tales of how the two of you would do your best to send each other letters despite how they constantly went from place to place. Somehow, you always found yourself to him, and he to you.

It made Sasuke sick.

Don’t even get him started on all the flies that buzzed around you while he and Naruto were gone.

Despite most of the original rookies having settled down, the Uchiha was very much aware of how these same men gravitate towards you before Naruto went and made his formal claim. 

That know-it-all Nara, the arrogant Hyuga, even Gaara of the Sand were almost always seen around you.

Hell, even that damned swordsman from Kiri who’s now currently its Mizukage was too close to you. Don’t even get him started on Haku who’d more or less become your guard dog ever since you saved both him and Zabuza all those years ago during that mission in Wave. 

As much as he despised their attentions on you, he knew deep inside of him that all of them saw the very same thing in you that drew them all in like moths to a flame. 

And he HATED it.

Hated that they all coveted you when none of them deserved to have you.

Sasuke’s last thought as he closed his eyes was that of you.

Always YOU.

The Sakura blooms you gifted him smelled so nice…It was a good thing he placed them on his bedside table, because he could close his eyes and pretend that it is the scent of your hair. 

He could pretend that it is his hands that run across the soft pink strands as you sleep.

He could pretend that he is the one who feasts upon your delicious cunt each night. His cock forcing your soft and pliant walls open again and again as your nails drag across his back, leaving angry red lines that serve as proof of how much he pleasured you. That it is his potent seed that fills your womb to the brim, globs of semen dripping from your pussy as he makes sure to pour loads and loads of his love within you.

Wouldn’t that be perfect?

Not only will he revive the Uchiha clan, but knowing that you carried his seed and nurtured them within you…he could burst from happiness just from the mere thought of it.

Sasuke falls into a deep sleep, soothed by the images of a reality that could have been.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Even though Sensei told us not to have breakfast, I still think the last thing we should do is train on an empty stomach. So I made us all some breakfast and even lunch!” 

Sasuke is once again presented with a bento filled with onigiri, but this time the hands holding onto the container were more slender as slim digits softly yet firmly gripped the lunch box. 

“I’m not sure which filling you prefer, but I have different fillings with me so you can choose which one you like best,” ever the thoughtful person you were, you selflessly offered the last Uchiha the food despite how antisocial he’d been towards you despite the time you’d spend together as classmates at the academy.

In his first life, Sasuke simply scoffed at your attempts of kindness towards him. Batting you off at every opportunity as he believed himself above such camaraderie when his only goal in life was to enact his revenge.

Not anymore.

Without saying anything, the raven-haired preteen grabbed the Okaka rice ball just before Naruto could take it.

“Hey, what’s the big idea, teme?! I was gonna get that one!”

“...Tch. Then you should’ve been quicker, dobe.”

“Why you little…!”

The sound of your tinkling laughter and Naruto’s disgruntled mumbling was music to his Sasuke’s ears.

He may have managed to get you the first time around, but not this time.

Uchiha Sasuke didn’t know who or what had flung him back into the past, but Indra knows he won’t ever make the same mistakes he did before.

[shima-draws]

Okay so a few things about the ending to the DLC. Spoilers below obviously

-Really REALLY disappointed they didn’t go with the whole toxic possession arc thing with Kieran and the new mythical (Pecharunt?) TO BE FAIR that was more of a fan theory than anything but it was one that made a lot of sense and had a lot of evidence to back it up. I guess I got too attached to the idea and was inevitably let down when the game didn’t go in that direction. Still it would have made more sense to give that extra edge as to why Kieran’s treating everyone so awfully,, and having him finally break free of that control during the final fight VS Terapagos would have been SO sick. Either that or before we even get to Terapagos Carmine calls Kieran out and that’s when he finally fucking explodes and rages and vents about his inferiority complex—and THAT is what summons Pecharunt, those negative feelings that it probably feeds off of or smth idk. Then we’d get a split second of Kieran finally being back in control and begging for help. And then Carmine realizing her brother has been under the influence of this Pokemon the entire time and. Okay I’m getting off track into AU territory now lmao sorry moving on

-Switching back to the Terapagos fight, I really enjoyed it! It wasn’t too long of a fight to be drawn out, but it was just long enough that it didn’t feel anticlimactic (also the MUSIC? STELLAR. Pun intended). ALSO ARGHFHH the five stages of grief Kieran goes through in that fight to finally accepting that he’s been going about this the wrong way and has been an awful friend and the way the LIGHT COMES BACK INTO HIS EYES I ALMOST CRIED. This is 10000x more emotional and powerful if you choose to bring Ogerpon with you and fight with her bc that really just. Hammers in the fact that despite all the bad blood and bitterness, Kieran still chooses to fight alongside you and the Pokemon he coveted so much…AND he even processes things enough to fully let go of all his hatred and anger and allows you to catch Terapagos because he KNOWS you’ll take good care of it and after all this time he still trusts you even though he’d probably hate to admit it. #GOOD WRITING

-Something really scary I realized. Kieran brought a Master Ball with him to catch Terapagos. 1. Where did homie even get that. 2. The fact that he was READY and didn’t even give Terapagos a chance to react, that he was essentially catching it against its will (which probably led to its power going out of control), that he was enforcing his own twisted desires and beliefs onto it and not considering its feelings (sound familiar? Looks at Ogerpon). BOY. 3. We’ve only ever seen ONE other person use Master Balls in SV. The AI Professor. I don’t know if this is significant in any way but if the Pecharunt theory WAS true that would make them so so similar and that’s eerie to me. Two characters controlled by something greater than them that they can’t fight…can you imagine how INSANE the dynamics would be listen to me

-Another thing I was kinda disappointed about was Briar? I guess I was just picking up on the vibes that she was actually a villain and would try to steal Terapagos from the player, but I probably gave Nintendo too much credit on that one lol. I do like that she’s not inherently evil, she’s just too absorbed and obsessed with her research to really pay attention to what’s going on around her. BUT. They should have pushed that WAY further. Either commit and do the full villain arc where she snatches Terapagos from Kieran right after he catches it to use it for her own purposes, or pressure him into Terastallizing it so much that it makes him uncomfortable. I want to see Lusamine levels of unhinged obsession. What she had was just a little bit too excited about Area Zero, not a full blown unhealthy and dangerous thing that puts everyone around her in danger.

-Following up on that. Drayton. I kept expecting him to also go villain arc IDK LOL I guess I want everyone to be gay do crime in this DLC 😂 But I seriously kept thinking he was just using the player to knock Kieran off his throne so he could take it right back from us. But no he actually genuinely cared about Kieran and kept pressuring us to beat the Elite Four so WE could knock some sense into him since Drayton wasn’t strong enough to do it himself. Which is a very sweet sentiment, I think :’) But am I the only one who was like bro calm down right after the fight where he was getting up in Kieran’s face and calling him ex-champion…..either he’s way too honest and doesn’t realize he was being cruel OR he was doing it on purpose to be a silly goober (but everyone else was like DUDE. LOW blow.)

-I still have questions. HELLO. HELLO. The notes in Area Zero mentioned the professor meeting a child with a white(?) book? Is that the Scarlet/Violet book? We still don’t know how the whole time travel paradox happened and why Heath talked about meeting Paradox Pokemon DECADES before the professor even brought them to Area Zero through the time machine? What is with the weird ass crystal tree sitting in the middle of a lake in the depths? Is there any significance to the Crystal Pool in Kitakami being connected to terastallizing and Area Zero? I’M JUST. AGHHH. I’m fairly certain we’re getting more content, maybe an epilogue to the DLCs but I’m going CRAZY I NEED TO KNOW NOWWW

-Also isn’t Area Zero like. Top secret hush hush. Why did Geeta let Briar publish a whole ass book about the HIDDEN SECRET of Area Zero that was miles under a closed off SECRET lab. I thought they were denying Briar access to Area Zero for YEARS, probably because they didn’t want her blabbing to the public. Idk. Maybe my memory is fuzzy on that one. Just feels very contradictory fhhdd

-The small little subtleties of Kieran regaining his regular personality as we went down….I ADORED that. His little smiles and him unable to contain his childish excitement and Carmine smiling at him with a knowing look bc after all this time her brother is FINALLY acting more like himself. And Kieran trying to brush it off like “wh-whatever” like he’s some sort of edgy teenager pretending he doesn’t care. GAHHHH it was so cute I wanted to cry 😭

ALL IN ALL it didn’t QUITE meet my expectations but it was still really good, especially considering this was all DLC content. Nothing will ever EVER top the main story of SV but the entirety of TTM and TID came pretty darn close. Kieran my sweet baby boy my blorbo I’m so glad you got your redemption arc and that you finally came to terms with your perception of strength and how it affects others. Baller DLC Nintendo do it again 👏

[enaelyork]

Howdy!

I just discovered your blog and I am excited to read your Cooper Howard stuff.

I have a (18+) request for Cooper Howard as The Ghoul. Could I have him, the reader, and Lucy, traveling to New Vegas together and the reader and Cooper can't get a moment alone togther. Like Lucy accidently keeps interrupting or won't take the hint to leave, so Cooper at one point just says to her to leave so he can fuck the reader. Lucy feels so bad and leaves, and then the reader and Cooper go at it lol.

No worries if you can't do the request, I just want to say your an awesome writer!

Thanks❤️

Hey Anon ! Thx you so much for this request !

I reeeaaaaalllllly like this awkward plot. Here we go ! You u enjoy it.

Pls be cool, english is not my first langage.

+ 18 DNI / Cooper Howard/ The Ghoul x Reader / P in V/ Fingering/ Piece of violence/ Unprotect sex.

Banners by @saradika

Word : +/-2.6 k

My ask for Cooper Howard is Open

You wanted him.

There was nothing consistent with this need. Firstly because your first altercation wasn't anything like a love affair (unless hand-to-hand combat fell into that category), then because...Damn, he's more irradiated than a hundred power plants nuclear weapons combined.

But it was eating you up.

Eating away at every bit of your mind and reason. Every movement he made, every word that escaped his mouth made your stomach twist. It seduced you in all its horror, in all its brutality and you loved to consume yourself in this deep obsession.

And him too.

Oh yes. Him too.

You didn’t immediately notice what was happening until that evening. At the end of a grueling journey through the wastelands, you decided to take a break to spend the night in a less dangerous place. And through the flames of the pyre lit in the center of the small makeshift camp, you had seen his eyes. The look he gave you struck you to the core. You had not given in to his gaze, to the devouring glow that it contained in the shadow of his hat. He abused you psychologically, so much so that his mere presence next to you tortured you. The fascination that he skillfully distilled in your veins was no longer enough to contain the attraction you felt for him, and he played on it. As for who would be trapped first in these torments, you had no intention of giving up ground easily.

- There's a reserve there. You say, pointing to the cabin on the top of the hill. I'm going to look for something to burn.

No one had refuted the idea, not even Lucy who sat on a stone cuddling Dogmeat without even seeing what was happening before her eyes. This child was so innocent that she did not recognize a predator when he cohabited with her, much less the issues that were taking place under her nose. The shelter had provided a rare moment of peace during which you allowed yourself to breathe. On the table you were facing was a pile of old paper and some dry wooden rulers, enough to burn. It was a bargain to grab and you quickly put the whole thing together in your hands.

-I want to hear it.

The cold of his breath caressed your neck and made what you were carrying fall at arm's length. Without turning around, your eyes rolled towards the shadow that towered over you in all its height. He was so close to you that one movement would have been enough for him to grab you by the hip and flip you onto the table and, damn, that idea was more interesting than it should be.

Him. There. Behind you. Probably way too close.

-Hear what ?

- What you want. I want to hear you beg me to do it.

The laughter that left your mouth spread throughout the room, surprising even you with its brutality. It was the smartest thing to do, the healthiest reaction, and probably the best option you had left to not give in to him. Without a word, you turned around to lock your eyes with his, your hands firmly anchored in the old wood of this crumbling table to keep them at a safe distance from what they coveted.

-I never do that. To beg. Yet your eyes screamed otherwise and you sincerely hoped he was too blinded by his pride to understand it. Your irises lowered to scan it up and down as if it were an impregnable vestige.

-You can use your guns, a rope, or even your teeth. You will never hear me do such a thing, especially to you. I know how much pleasure it gives you.

- Oh, believe me, there are a lot of things that would give me pleasure right now.

There was nothing worse than this precise moment, suspended in the storm that has been brewing above you for too long. The storm swirled with your every glance, every moment his body was near yours, but nothing had yet managed to trigger the lightning.

Leave.

Your instincts proclaimed. Leave before you die in his arms. And probably that was what you wanted most in the world.

- Only in fairy tales do monsters and princesses love each other. And this world is not one.

However, your arms were already too close to his neck, his radiating your hips and pulling you to him without you putting up the slightest resistance.

It wasn't a fairy tale.

His burning scent consumed your nostrils and your heart was about to give in for good.

- In this world, monsters like to destroy pretty things.

A nervous laugh escaped your lips which you tried to keep away from his, but your butt was already hitting the wood of the table behind you when, suddenly, a noise made you jump.

- You are there ?

-Holy shit! He cursed, leaping away from you before propelling himself towards the door, a bloodthirsty impulse waving his hands as he opened the door to reveal your traveling companion.

Lucy.

Her eyes were full of innocence from long years in a shelter. Her smile and the sigh of relief she heaved when she discovered you in the shed made you want to laugh. She had no idea what had just happened.

- Oh damn! I was terribly afraid of never finding you again.

She exclaimed, putting an end to any possible attempt at approach. While Cooper nervously contained his desire to strangle her, you advanced towards him, a perfidious smile on your lips.

- I never liked spectators…

This is how the little game began.

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

There are worse things than fear. Worse than impatience There is frustration. The one that itches, that annoys, the one that deflates the ardor that takes hold of you as the days pass. A frustration answering to the sweet name of Lucy. It is difficult for you to express to your friend the desire to see her leave. Not forever. Just a few moments, the space that would allow you to put an end to this duel between him and you.

To the looks. To provocations.

And his growing rage for your teammate. You were angry with him, with the way he spoke to her, his resentment which constantly burned his lips whenever he spoke to her. Lucy had taken the team's instructions literally without giving anyone a break.

She had only followed an order that came from him. But in a sense, this charade amused you, allowed you to understand that you were not the only one to be a slave to your impulses. He wasn't so scary after all. So weak in his humanity, at least in what remained of it. In a way, this fact reassured you that you were attracted, and it was pure madness. Then came this famous day. The route had taken an unexpected turn. An ambush set up in a ruined housing estate had seriously delayed you. Worse, while trying to hide, you had fallen into a hole, scraping your neck and abs against an iron rod.

- Are you injured? Oh, god, you're hurt !

Lucy had torn a section of her suit to quickly wrap the bleeding wound on her neck before arriving to safety. Once away from the danger zone and inside a building whose structure had reasonably withstood the disaster, she invited you to sit down as if you were about to die.

- I'm fine, I assure you.

- I really have to check.

Cooper hadn't said a word. It was a silence heavier than the chaos itself. A heavy silence, from which one could expect to see the worst horrors ensue. He had taken the chair away from the one you were sitting in and hadn't even laid eyes on you. An unpleasant tingling was felt in your neck when Lucy applied a treatment there, then tied the fabric again at the height of the wound. Tearing you away from the strange worry that was emerging within you. - You need to take off your top.

He was there. He had done nothing, not even for a moment had he tried to watch over you.

But that’s what a team does, right? Cannon fodder and fuck fodder, that's all you meant to him. And now that he had to slow down, that he had to take care of you, he seemed immersed in deep thought, probably looking for a way to get rid of you.

- There is nothing. I assure you.

- Do not joke. Do what I tell you. The space between those few seconds seemed eternal.

Not with him. Not when he's in this room.

This is what you should have answered, instead you saw yourself witnessing disaster. Your hands tugging at your t-shirt before taking it off, letting it fall to the floor, eyes focused on him.

Free fall.

A few seconds, his eyes on yours, his gaze wandering over your bare skin, the tingling of the scratch on your stomach blending into something else entirely. And a shot fired into the void, startling Lucy.

- Do you see that gun, Mclane? Lucy nodded, lips quivering.

- If you don't leave this room immediately, the next bul' that comes out of his barrel will end up in your skull.

- But…but…I didn’t… She paused for a moment, glancing over at you before turning back to Cooper, horrified.

- Don't worry about that, I'll take care of it.

- Oh my God. Oh my God, I,.. I,…

- Come out now, Lucy, please hurry up.

There was no need to give the blush time to flood her cheeks. She was too pure, too carefree to witness this. Because war was declared now, and nothing would stop it.

A second later, his hand closed around your aching neck, pushing you against the table.

- Say it.

- Bastard.

His burning hands ran over your skin, incandescent, they transformed your blood into magma. It was pure madness, but nothing was delicious than the violence with which he held you in this position, his hips firmly fitted to your ass.

- Oh, stop, someone had to tell her, right?

- I almost died.

-And whoever tried to do that ended up with their skull exploded. This is how it works and if you want to know… You could feel his breath on his neck, his hand searching for the opening of your pants. You could have easily pushed him away, but it was just to contradict him. Because you wanted him, almost as much as he did and for far too long.

- I wouldn't have hesitated to shoot her, too, if she had continued to bother us.

- Liar.

Your words died in a hot breath, his fingers already making their way through your panties, sliding along your warm pussy. You guessed the smile that distorted his mouth as you discovered the extent of what he provoked in you.

- I need to fuck you. He whispers in a harsh, trembling voice into the crook of your neck. I only think about this. Only you and it messes up my priorities.

- Do it, then.

- Before, I want you to be at my mercy.

You giggled. It was out of the question to give him anything, yet his fingers caressing you made you less certain of your convictions. Your hips rocked to his rhythm and he was heavily satisfied with what he felt.

- So wet. So impatient. How long has it been, huh? How many times have you been touched while waiting for this moment.

- Too much.

Your hands moved to your back, reaching for the buckle of his belt, stroking the obvious erection in the seat of his pants. He wasn't going to bring you to your knees, at his mercy, without paying the consequences. You needed it, anyway.

Need to feel him inside you. Need it to make you forget the horror of the world in which you were moving. Because you didn't like reality, it was unbearable for you to think about the future that this disgusting world had in store for you. The waves his fingers sent through your body were so violent that you looked for support to stay upright. But he didn't see it that way: you had no right to stop petting him without asking his opinion. So, holding you firmly with one hand, he grabbed the second to invite you to continue.

-You can't just collapse like that, sugar. Not now, not after what you promise me.

The orgasm he provoked in you tore your soul apart. There was no way Lucy could have missed the sound of your voice, no matter where she had taken refuge to escape it. She heard it and it would probably haunt her for the rest of her life.

For a brief moment, he pulled away from you to turn you around to face him, taking off your pants, probably tearing a few sections of them in the process. Then, lifting you up to allow you to wrap your feverish legs around his waist, he pinned you firmly against the table.

His mouth crashed onto yours, devouring all of the air that tried to escape your lips. You bit him almost to blood, desperately, greedily. It was like your life depended on his mouth and what he was going to do to you. He devours you without respite, crushing my lips in a destructive kiss, then kissing your face, your neck, your jaw and your closed eyelids. His erect penis tickled the entrance to your vagina and this sensation made you lose the little reason you had left.

- Please. Please…

- Please what? He slowly rocked his hips to let his cock slide down the length of your sex.

-Please fuck me.

He laughed nervously. He had managed to get what he wanted. Like always. He had you and all your passion. You had never had to beg anyone in your life, but the world had changed and you had met Cooper Howard, two parameters which alone had transformed you greatly.

- I won't be delicate.

- Go ahead, I won't be the one begging you to spare me.

You felt dizzy because your body was calling for it. His hand came to rest against your throat as he stood up in front of you, dominant and impatient. You knew this was going to be exactly how you both wanted it to be, like animals, in a dingy old shed while some poor girl waited for you outside. Your bodies finally collided with rare violence, extracting a grunt of satisfaction and pain from you. His hips pounded against yours like his life depended on it, his fingers still firmly placed on your clit.

It was too much, too much.

Him, his gaze which never stopped contemplating your pleasure.

What he provoked in you. The expression he wore. You could no longer contain the slightest sound emanating from your mouth, so as if to save what was left of you, you brought a fist to your lips, muffling every cry that tried to escape you. But that wasn't how he saw things. Still pounding into you, he removed his fingers to grab your wrist, pulling it away from your mouth to pin it firmly to the table.

- Let it be heard. I want her to understand that she must never interfere between us again, understand?

You no longer had enough strength to speak, but your head was bobbing up and down frantically. You didn't care anymore if she heard anything, at this point in the situation the desire that was swelling throughout was so depraved that you were ready for him to fuck you in front of his eyes.

He was close, you could feel it in the way his hips met yours. It was painful and delicious at the same time, but there was no way you were going to cum without him. Not without seeing the orgasm distort the features of his face. And he didn't resist much longer, exploding in a deep, throaty pleasure, propelling you with him away from all this mess.

Then silence.

A moment of floating in which you slowly let yourself be drawn into. He had gotten what he wanted.

You too.

He stepped aside, giving you the chance to stand up before adjusting his hat on his head again. You glance at each other before guessing the satisfied smile that appears on his lips, the situation made you want to laugh.

Nothing was less certain than the fact that Lucy was still able to look you in the eyes now.

[walkietalkiemaniac]

GSNK characters are so insane. This girl becomes an unpaid artist on the manga of her crush, this guy starts dating a horrible girl cuz he wants to protect other men from her, this guy becomes psychosexually obsessed with his job cuz hes in a position of power over the one person he covets, adores, admires, loves, hates, respects, dislikes and so he also works at the Unpaid Labor Factory Manga to pay for her plays. all of them are so in love it makes them look stupid

[randomfoggytiger]

Disproving CSM's Conjecture in En Ami

CSM postulates that Scully and Mulder aren't together because she doesn't fully trust him; that, although she's drawn to powerful men, she is afraid to open herself up to them.

"You'd die for Mulder, but you won't allow yourself to love him."

The problem is, he's wrong.

Because CSM mixed up her fatal flaw with Mulder's.

Self-Denial and Self-Sacrifice

CSM's theory: Scully rules herself by denial, and Mulder offers himself up as the sacrificial lamb. How is he wrong?

Scully's flaw is self-sacrifice, putting everything she covets from life on hold to join Mulder on his quest (comedically summed up in Bad Blood's "I do it all for you, Mulder! All for you!") The Starbuck-Ahab complex she harbored since childhood-- expressing her love through devotion-- kept her in the car the first year; but the Truth soon became as much about her losses as it did Mulder's tragedies. Unlike Mulder, however, Scully strives to have a life uncomplicated by mess and trauma and the constant grind. So, she sits in the car, year after year, waiting for her partner to adapt to their changing dynamic (which he did not do for almost six of those years.) Her own fears and insecurities are placed under the bootheel of the work; but when life becomes too complicated or emotionally clouded, Scully strikes out in confused rebellion (e.g. Never Again, Milagro, and All Things.) Moreover, Scully is the one who sacrificed what she held dear-- stability, a family, something other than 24/7 monsters and conspiracies-- to bear the cross of Mulder's quest, not the other way 'round. (Her realization-- that she does want this life-- and shift does not occur until All Things, a few episodes after En Ami.)

Mulder's fatal flaw is self-denial (and self-punishment): he set aside a normal life out of a determination to find or avenge his sister. If Mulder was self-sacrificial, he would have let Scully walk out of his life a thousand times over and born that heartbreak silently, alone; instead, he stormed out after her and broke down his walls to convince her to stay. Furthermore, his self-denial is ever present even in tender moments, drawing away from emotional vulnerability once danger is past and shying away even faster if Scully draws attention to the present moment. Mulder is the one to deny himself love and a life with Scully (Home, Detour, Dreamland I, Arcadia, etc.), not the one who sacrificed everything he wanted to stay on his quest-- this is what he wants. (The change from obsessive pursuit to measured search begins in The Unnatural, changes wholly in Amor Fati and Millennium, and reaches its conclusion in Closure.)

CSM's Observations

The reality that CSM observed both agents for years and years and came to the exact opposite conclusion is baffling.

He concluded that Mulder sacrificed normalcy for the Almighty Mission, projecting his own Messiah complex onto his 'protege' and patting himself on the back whenever Mulder was, yet again, tossed to the jaws of Death for the "greater good." He also concluded that Scully stayed in the basement because of the raw power she smelled on Mulder, keeping a cold yet lustful distance because she was afraid to risk her womanly love on the all-consuming passion of his might.

How very dime store novel of Old Smokey.

Both assumptions are, of course, very wrong.

Mulder Dreaded "More" While Scully Hoped for It

Scully gave many unsubtle hints through the series that she was ready for more with Mulder: her willingness to go down with him in Tooms, her overt jealousy in Syzygy, her pointed inquiry about his family genetics in Home, her displacement and hurt in The Field Where I Died and Never Again and The End and The Beginning and One Son, her "we just keep driving" in Dreamland I, her unspoken 'secret' that was practically ripped from her chest in Milagro, her flirting in The Unnatural, her IVF request, and on and on.

Scully is by nature reticent with her emotions, fearful to fully open up lest she be hurt or become a burden; but in Mulder's case, she's reiterated over and over (Irresistible and Elegy) that their relationship falls into the latter, not former, category. In Emily she is, once again, "alone"; however, the context to her statement is vitally important. In the hospital, she hoped for Mulder to claim a place by her and her daughter's side as co-parent; but when he uncomfortably withdrew instead, it proved that he still wasn't ready for "more." Scully was alone in places Mulder couldn't fill; and so, she said goodbye to that hope, alone; then to her daughter, alone; and bore the little girl's death, alone. The burden of her fully opened heart was too heavy, she assumed, for Mulder... and in a way, she was right-- not until Fight the Future, when forced to confront "them", did Mulder finally acknowledge it. Until then, sacrificially tucking her heart back inside her chest-- for both their sakes-- was what Scully deemed the best course of action. She sticks around for her own reasons, as she says in Memento Mori; but those don't exclude the hope that Mulder will someday "settle down, live something approaching a normal life." (Her plans change in All Things-- but she's not there, yet.)

All those years, it was Mulder who was more emotionally distant. He was content with his life, happy to spin tires down the tarmac forever with his partner. Mulder was willing to deny himself into eternity if it meant not having to sacrifice an aspect of the life or career he was comfortable with and nervous to change for 'more.' It's why he was so afraid in Fight the Future and so proud of himself in The Unnatural (the warmup), Amor Fati (the big swing), and Millennium (the victorious homerun.) Scully is the only one-in-five billion he has: in the past, he could tease about passing genetic muster, about his boyish agility, about so much more, but to act on it? It took him four years to initiate a hug (post here) and seven years to approach a label of sorts for their relationship. Mulder's an overly cautious man, more pessimistic than optimistic when it comes to people sticking around; and any traditional, long-term relationship he'd witnessed had broken down or was held together by deadened respect and a few bratty kids.

Now it's Season 7, he's learned his lessons, and they're here, together.

Or were, until Scully dipped on a sketchy roadtrip with their enemy.

Conclusion

The most unrealistic part of this episode (amid a host of several others) was that Scully, despite hearing the drivel CSM peddled the entire drive, decided that he had anything worthwhile to say.

Thank you for reading~.

Enjoy!

[coffee-430]

I saw your event. Congrats on your 100 followers! Can I request for prompt 11 with a Zhongli and xiao(separate). Reader is female and uh— this is embarrassing but can it please be smut?

Thank you and have a nice day/evening.

—100 Followers Event!

No. 11: "You were my first, so you shall be my last." With Yandere Zhongli and Yandere Xiao

Characters: Zhongli, Xiao (separate)

Warnings: yandere themes, non-consensual touching, obsessive behaviour, double penetration (Zhongli), rape, kidnapping, mentions of blood

Note: Reader is fem as requested.

— Zhongli

Life with the Geo Archon was luxurious— as one would say— his feats and earned riches was something everyone envies and wishes to covet.

But not you.

You have always been on the minimalist side, opting to spend your time more in the outdoors of your home and sitting upon the quiet meadows— underneath a tree.

A soft tune of a bird was enough to humour you, as well as the sight of a few faunas dallying around was enough to entertain you.

You weren't interested in any gold or whatever riches were there that existed.

But sadly, one day, you fell in love with the brutish and power seeking God of the Rock.

He caught your eye just as you caught his.

His lifestyle was very much the opposite from yours and that intrigued you to the core. From peeping behind a tree to watch him train— to eventually talking to him and becoming acquainted with each other.

You caught his eye, just as he caught yours.

Every moment spent with him was always filled with a mixture of fear and thrill on seeing him do his daily conquest on territories he had set his eyes on.

Disgusts also fill you, but it would always quickly go away just as it came whenever he brushed a strand of your hair behind your ear with a bloody hand.

His piercing amber eyes were always so dominating and intimidating to what unfortunate figure it would land its sights. But it was always the opposite with you.

Instead of a cold and calculating gaze— he was soft. His eyes turned soft the moment he saw you. Offering you a simple gift that you would always gratefully take from his bloody hands.

Despite feeling uncomfortable being with him, you push through. Because no matter how violent and terrifying he was, his physical behaviour was always different with you.

So different that even Guizhong noticed it and the teasing words would always make you blush and deny such assumptions.

But, from mere acquaintance to friends, soon— you two became something more.

It was like being in cloud nine every single day.

His touches were gentle, his words were sweeter than honey. He asked you to move in with him— live with him and reside within the comfortable warmth of his grand abode.

He treated you with such care it was tooth achingly sweet.

Every moment spent with him— every kiss, every hug, every passionate night with him was something every woman wished to have.

Until,

The day came.

Where you saw just how maddeningly sweet he was, that it was beginning to make you understand why your whole being itches for you to leave.

And you should've listened from the start.

You should've never signed that contract.

His touches were still gentle, but they had a tinge of possessiveness in them. His words were sweeter than honey but they had a tinge of disturbing meaning to them.

Every kiss, every hug, every passionate night, every moment with him was once so wholesome— now turned possessive and controlling. He applied his brutish and cold behaviour into your relationship and that made you feel suffocated.

Eventually, things got worse.

Your every movement was monitored, you weren't allowed to take even a small step outside, and your interaction with anyone turned from limited to no contact at all. Unless it was him.

Life with the Geo Archon was luxurious— as one would say— his feats and earned riches was something everyone envies and wishes to covet.

But not you.

You hated every single bit of it.

Every kiss, every hug, every passionate night, every moment with him was once so wholesome— now turned forced and abusive.

He applied his brutish and cold behaviour into your relationship and that made you feel hysterical.

Every night in your room was spent with his forceful behaviour. What was once such a passionate lover's dance turned into a torturous and nightmarish cycle.

And it got worse when the heavens above showed signs of a full blown war approaching.

Your screams were left unanswered and no one bats an eye, simply prefering to appease the Geo Archon to avoid getting themselves kneeling at the end of his spear.

He became more cruel, more strict, more greedy.

Forcing you to muster up the courage to finally run away. And never looking back.

How did you do it? You couldn't recall and didn't care. You were far too busy to flee away and into your new profound freedom.

All hell breaks loose the day you went missing. That it was considered too brutal to even write down in history.

And he has never been happy since then. He made a vow to be much more firm with you once he catches you back.

Holding a grudge with irritation and frustration that you dared to break your contract with him.

A grudge that he still carries with him till the present time.

And that would mean now.

Currently, you were walking in disguise. Living amongst the mortals that dwelled most of the land, interacting with them as if you were one of them.

It was another normal day for you— except, it wasn't. You happen to meet a curious fellow on your way to your usual market, and he strikes up a rather interesting conversation between the both of you.

Aether was his name.

Funnily, you thought his name was something you had heard before but had forgotten where.

Perhaps you were just imagining things.

Yes.

Lately, you have been feeling odd. As if your guts were telling that something big was about to come. Though, you merely brush it off and thought nothing of it.

Such a foolish move, no?

"The usual please." You smiled, handing over the precise amount of mora towards the merchant in front you.

She smiled in return and gave you what you bought. "Thank you for your purchase, please come visit again, (Y/n)."

"I will." You waved her off and went on on your way. Thinking of what to do for the day as you walked—

"I knew it."

"—?"

As if a wave of coldness struck you hard, you froze in your spot.

That voice— "For centuries I have searched for you," That oh-so familiar voice...

"For centuries I had left no stone unturned, for centuries I walked the land through every nook and cranny,"

Your eyes widened, feeling a gloved hand being brought down onto your shoulder. And it almost made you drop everything you were holding.

—!?

"But after all that," The voice was close. Close next to your ear.

"I have finally found you, (Y/n)."

You screamed when the man threw you on to the hard cold floor.

It all happened so fast. You were frozen in fear the moment you realised who you had encountered, and that encounter led you being dragged against your will and being thrown inside his humble abode.

He didn't waste anymore time as he got on top of you. "Years all gone to waste in search of you." Zhongli hissed, gripping both your wrist and making you unable to move despite all your struggles.

"But now, I have finally got you back." Slowly, he leaned closer to your ear. "And this time, I'll be sure to tighten my hold. I'll never let you go again."

"Argh!" You screamed in pain and tried kicking him away, but he was far too strong for you.

"Please, let me go! I don't want to go back!" Yelling at the top of your lungs was useless, and it also hurt. But what else could you do? Other than struggling there pathetically and pleading with him with eyes full of tears.

The sounds of clothes ripping of both yours and his filled the ambience of the room. Your desperate cries and his sounds of emotions being released after years of bottling it up— pretending to be a simple minded man who blended with the mortals— now turned into a beast unhinged released from its cage.

"P-Please not this— I don't want this!" You've done this before, and nothing worked. So why still do it?

The brunette growled and his amber coloured eyes stared down at you with such a piercing gaze. "You were not meant to leave me. You broke our contract."

"Ah—!!" A pained scream burst out from your lips, tears violently ran down your face as he began violating you like before. Your bare body was once again tainted by his dragon-like hands, and his cocks ravaged you like there's no tomorrow.

"You were my first, so you shall be my last." He whispered, moving his hip like a wild animal as you wailed there, taking it involuntary.

"And I intend that you see through it."

The moment you signed that contract was the day you had sealed your fate. It was your own fault. The signs were there, but stupid you ignored it as you silently prayed it was simply a trick of your own imagination.

But now you are beginning to beg to differ, aren't you?

Zhongli came and forced you to take his seed from within. You reached your own climax too— against your will, and your vision began to be blurry.

You don't know how many times he has filled you with his disgusting substance but you were certain you passed out from exhaustion, and he was still going.

You concluded that there was no escaping, and this was your punishment. The punishment for leaving and for being so naïve. Now you face the consequence, as you suffer the wrath of the rock.

— Xiao

You wept as you were pinned down by force on the bed.

An unhinged demon growled on top of you, grinding your thigh between his legs. You whimpered and shook with fear.

This wasn't how you planned your night to go.

You promised yourself you would simply be ending things on good terms with your lover— but everything suddenly went downhill the moment you mentioned leaving him.

You cried as Xiao growled above you.

"You dare think about leaving me?" He spat. "After all the trouble you went through just to have my heart— you now wish to throw it all away?"

The Yaksha exclaimed, tightening his grip on you. You cried and tried to plead with him.

Achieving Xiao was one of the biggest achievements you have ever earned, and loving him was a bonus. He was everything you had dreamed of, except for his cold side personality that he often gives off— but you managed.

All was swell really, until you accidentally found out about karmic debt he had been struggling to get away from for years. And in secret, you did your research and found out more about it.

Since then, you have become more distant— more cautious around his person. Fearing what he'll do if whatever curse that he was avoiding gets to him.

And he noticed it too.

Your silly little head forgets that he was no human, and such a creature as he possessed eyes that of a hawk.

He saw how you were more aloof with him, in comparison to your human friends. Xiao began to overthink things that maybe perhaps you had finally regretted ever being with him. But you had placed so much effort into being acquainted with him, and you were just to throw it all away in just a snap?

How stupid of you.

"X-Xiao please, let me expl—"

"Silence!"

"Ah!"

You yelped in pain, as he seethed in anger. "You spent all those times chasing me deliberately no matter how many times I pushed you away,"

He neared your ear, "And now that I have reciprocate your feelings, you dare to leave me?"

Your heart beat thumped so fast in your chest, that you fear you would die with your heart bursting out before Xiao could have his way with you.

"After I finally decided to love you, you want to end it all...?"

Now, you just feel guilty because of what he said. But you knew it within you that you had every right to break everything up.

"Was everything just a joke to you?"

Xiao's eyes glinted with an unsettling intensity as he clutched on your wrists, using his body weight to prevent you from getting away.

"You can't leave me, (Y/n). We were meant to be together, forever."

The atmosphere thickened with tension as your plea echoed, "Please, Xiao, let go." But in Xiao's distorted reality, love had become an unrelenting grip, refusing to release its hold.

Suddenly, your clothes were ripped to bits. With one hand, he held you steady while the other forced you to reveal yourself bare in front of him.

With eyes widening, you shouted, "Wha— Wait no! This is t-too far!"

You stared at him, but all you could see was an unsettling determination in his eyes hinted at a perilous obsession that refused to release its grip.

Your desperate scream echoed through the room, "Let go, Xiao! Stop!" But Xiao, blinded by obsession, remained steadfast, his love morphing into a disturbing possession.

The room filled with a heavy disturbing tension as you struggled to free yourself, fear etched across your face.

Ignoring your plea, he continued to obsessively profess his undying love, leaving an eerie chill in the air, a stark reminder of a relationship unravelling into unsettling territory.

"Let me engrave it into your mind." He whispered, "You were my first, so you shall be my last."

In a dimly lit room, a place where no one could hear you nor disturb you from where you were, Xiao— your once beloved Yaksha— violated you against your will.

"..ah...ngh..." The demon grunted as he kept on pushing himself inside you. "Ha..so..tight.."

While you were weakly sobbing and taking it forcefully. You had no more energy left, and even if you did, there was no way you could push off a very strong non-human creature on top of you.

Tears streamed down your face as you trembled in the dimly lit room. The air was heavy with tension, suffocating your senses. "Please, just let me go," you pleaded again— knowing it was hopeless, your voice quivering.

He continued to touch you, in ways that only a genuine lover could. But he was no longer genuine, not anymore.

His thrusts were that of an animal. His pants and grunts fill the room, along with your pained sighs and cries. A mixture of both pain and the involuntary wave of pleasure, crashing upon both of you like a tidal wave.

You did everything you could to rebel against his movements, but none seemed to work, and defying him was only hurting you more. But you were determined to try despite the excruciating pain.

"Ah— ah..." Tears that could fill a river made your sight blurry, but he didn't care. He'll only bother to wipe them once he is done with you, but that will have to wait.

"Mm~ this..." He pants. "This is for your own good, ngh...~" Or so he says, clearly he was deep into his delusions.

"This would've been much more pleasurable had you not come to spoil what was on between us."

And he was pointing fingers at you, as if blaming you for the things that were happening to you.

Eventually, his thrusts began to lose its rhythm for a bit— indicating that he was close. And the moment you fear what'll he do next was about to come true.

Your sobs grew louder, a desperate symphony of fear and resignation. You knew, deep down, that escape from his delusional grasp seemed impossible.

A whimper escapes past your lips, trying to squirm away from him for the last time. "Please— ugh...ah— fu—" You cried, "Not i-inside....."

"Quiet." He snapped, "Mh, fuck..." He was close to reaching his climax, and sad to say, so were you.

"Bear everything I gave you, it's the least you could do for attempting such a foolish move of leaving me." Grunting, Xiao held you steady and pushed his cock deep inside your cunt.

Your body moved against your will and you hated every bit of it.

"Stop, I don't want—"

"You don't have a say in this."

He came with one last harsh thrust, making you arch your back as you cried out in forced ecstasy.

He spilled everything inside of you, tainting you with his torment from the inside.

You caused so much trouble in being with him, and his love was what you wanted right? So why are you crying like a pathetic child when he has given exactly what you wanted.

In the distorted realm of his twisted affection, you knew that freedom was an illusion, and the only certainty was the perpetual torment of a love gone horribly wrong.

[fabricated-misslieness]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: raphael (bg3) x archdevil male reader

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: puppy eyes are a very valid/viable form of manipulation

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1,277

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: long exposition for short scenario, devils, pacts, some brief description of violence, underlying manipulation, i love you's

ᴍᴀʏʙ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: in honor of killing raphael for the second time (ily gale) the inspo

☾⋆☆⋆☽

To be an archdevil of the hells, you have to have a certain charm, per say; a devil's tongue, able to make both pacts with lowly, pathetic mortals, and other devils that covet your position, plus everyone in between.

A horrid task is making a pact, really, to ask for a treasure in exchange for something so slight, especially when they could hardly see the imbalance in the transaction.

When the supplicant who wished for power because he was so tired of rolling over for nobles died, you smiled with his soul in your grasp; he had managed to make a name for himself, and now you had a hero in your hall. When the devil sworn to you broke his pact and thus turned his fire immunity into a vulnerability, you enjoyed watching his skin char when he dove into his favorite lava bath.

Perhaps it wasn't so horrid after all, actually. With the many souls that now stomped your halls, you had an infinite supply of jesters. Watching a most old soul fade away into nothingness is always fun, too.

Most archdevils agree that suffering brings them satisfaction, but that is often the most lively thing about them. Zariel, for one, is always focused with her blood war, and Mephistopheles is in love with his vaults, and each only want more souls or artifacts to feed their obsession. Neither one even thinks to branch out! They're all so boring.

Mephistopheles's darling son, though, he's different. Narcissistic as any other devil, perhaps, but to a higher, more interesting degree; and boastingly ambitious, too. Always planning. It's lovely to see him in thought, despite how scarcely he lets himself be seen in the vulnerable process of thought.

And he knows you watch him, has, since the first time you laid eyes on him, but he lets you.

As Mephistopheles's boy, certain things are expected of him, the most daunting of all being that the son will never surpass the father. Cambions can be stronger than their fathers, but for Raphael to beat the ancientness that is the Archdevil Mephistopheles? Hardly perceivable.

Perhaps—no, that is why he is so interesting to you. So ambitious, to want the hells for himself, even when you know he will never be able to surpass the power of his own father.

You love watching him try.

Raphael, however, has always goaded you into helping him. Since you believe he won't win, you know that whatever you do to aid him will bring him nothing except disappointment and you, at best a slap on the wrist from Mephistopheles, at worst death when you visit the Material Plane.

In the beginning days of his plot, your help had always been both miniscule and hard-earned: a heap of souls for a sliver of your power in a pact baring similarity to a warlock's. Though, as time went on, Raphael's keen eye caught onto what made you concede, or the more amusing mortal word, fold, and oh was it foolishly simple.

It was always apparent between the two of you that the entirety of his life, his thousands, is only a shadow to your ten thousands. Its what made him so pathetically small in your eyes. He was still young, to you.

Oh, and his human form! It was so little and so mortal.

"A living mortal in my hall in the hells? Oh, it is only you, my dearest!" The cage of brown-red bone that protected your ever-ardent veins still protruded from beneath your flesh in the form of spikes, through your bumpy, fire-scarred flesh; but you were careful in kneeling before your favored, human form of Raphael.

You were still taller than him, kneeling, and Raphael looked most exquisite looking up at you. The cambion didn't need to dress up his words with a mouth-watering glaze. He already had you in his grasp. "My love, I've come to ask something of you."

"Again?" You click your tongue, shaking your head and nearly hitting him with your thick, wild horns. "You must learn to be independent one of these days."

"Oh," When he's rid of the interjection of exasperation, his bottom lip draws over his top lip; a pout. "I know, my dearest, but you must understand!"

"What must I understand?" You leave your hands in fists over your hips, leaning back straighter to look at him with the most stern expression your monstrous face muscles can offer.

Even with your knowledge of him being, well, a devil, you are still so careful to touch him, especially so in your ascended fiend form. Raphael steps closer, between your kneeling legs, placing his hands over your fists. "I really do need your help this time. I cannot do this without you."

You huff, your fists breaking to hold his hands properly. "Tell me, my love, what do you need of me?"

"My father has a new relic in his collection. Oh, it is so precious!" He emphasizes his point with the bounce of his heels, "Extremely powerful, as I'm sure you've heard, my darling; the mortals have lost their magic recently, yes? The foolish mortal Karsus and his foolish ambitions, but his crown is very much real, and very much powerful, especially for a human."

"So I've heard, sweetheart. What are you saying?" If you had any eyebrows, they would've furrowed.

"I need it. I need it, for myself, it'll be the most splendid gift!"

Your head draws back, and for a moment, your skin burns hotter, in such a way that even he can feel its temperature raise, that it must be so potent and high a change that a flame-retardant lover can feel it. Had this been the first time Raphael has asked for something of such great power from you, he'd have thought his plan was over.

"Mephistopheles would kill me, Raphael, shove me in a portal to the Material Plane, or the Ethereal Plane, or even the Godly Plane just to see me die the most gruesome death." You do not exaggerate, he has seen it first hand more than a handful of times.

"Oh, but my love, my dearest..." Raphael doesn't follow up his most adorable pet names, like one normally would. He doesn't plead his case, doesn't beg for it. Instead, he widens his eyes, and he stares, and there's just something about the way the glare of the candelabra glints in his eye that—

Oh...

Gods, he's just adorable, isn't he? So much better than a hellhound begging for a scrap of your meal, its head on your thigh, because this is your dearest Raphael.

Devils have delicious red eyes, but Raphael's human form has this just sweet pair of brown eyes, what is it, chocolate? They're gorgeous.

And his head can barely crane up high enough to look you in the eye, even when you're kneeling for him.

You huff, look away from him, but it's already too late. For the love of Tyr, Mystra, Ilmater, and the gods you'll never praise, why must he look so exquisite? With a deep sigh, you turn back to him, forgetting his delicateness as you place your wide palm over his tempting face. "Fine. Fine, my love, I will ask."

Raphael kisses your palm, lifting it off his face, and he smiles so nicely as he continues to pepper kisses along your burning knuckles. "Thank you," He says, spewing word upon word of his gratitude, "thank you, my love, I love you so much."

"Yeah, I know." You sigh once more, but you fold, leaning your head down to encase his head between your horns. "I love you too, my dear."

[neyafromfrance95]

sauron and galadriel must be a central dynamic in s3. for the sake of a good storytelling.

i want to argue that sauron and galadriel's push-pull dynamic needs to be continued in s3 for a narrative consistency with previous seasons and for their 3rd age dynamic to make sense.

sauron is obsessed with galadriel, and i believe it is for 3 major reasons:

subconsciously, sauron is predisposed to an urge to serve and worship, and he sees galadriel as a perfect leader, a perfect replacement for morgoth.

she refuses to be his queen, so she becomes his silmarils. not only does nenya represent galadriel for sauron, but it is subtextually underlined that sauron tries to recapture her being in his creations, it is the feeling of being bound to her that he covets. he never stops groping to see her, whether it is to possess or worship her doesn't matter as it means he never stops desperately desiring her.

she is his mirror. the only one he genuinely connects with. theirs is the most significant relationship for the both of them, but especially for sauron, as she is "the only one" for him. he disregards and discards everyone except for her. he binds her to power through nenya, and at some point, she binds him to the light when he is truly repentant for causing her darkness.

galadariel is devoted to sauron as well:

galadriel's priority till the end of the 3rd age is both ruling her kingdom *and* opposing sauron. she never stops fighting him. and we know that while at some point she closes her door on him, she herself wanders around his mind. who is to say they don't have the mind-palace power-plays till the very end?

he represents her darkness, her desire for power, her unreasomable ambitions, her pride and greed. she is tempted to indulge in all of this till she resists the one ring, thus she is tempted to let sauron give her her heart's greatest desires, even if deep down. only by actively choosing good every time can she be the lady of the light - the great leader actually worthy of following. so we have to see her internal battle, the darkness trying to pull her under but her fixing her gaze upon the light.

she simply loves him. yes, it's clear halbrand hasn't left yet by the way seeing him shatters her during the fight, but there is a reason to believe he never leaves at all. even after resisting the one ring and accepting that she has to leave the middle-earth, she recites the very first thing he told her "the tides of fate are flowing." and does so with sadness in her tone.

trop greatly emphasises sauron and galadriel's cosmic connection, it is destined for a reason. and they are bound to each other in several different ways.

it can be argued that s2's most significant parallel means to intertwine their beings and fates even tighter:

adar says that only blood can bind.

sauron gets stabbed by morgoth's crown and is "reborn" in the beginning of the season.

galadriel gets stabbed by morgoth's crown and is "reborn" in the end of the season.

nenya's foreshadowing of sauron obsessively calling galadriel comes true when sauron starts talking to galadriel in her mind.

all of this, down to the symbolism in design, basically establishes the red tread of fate binding sauron and galadriel.

[purplerakath]

Cobra Kai and Accidentally Going too hard on the Iron Dragons

So the Iron Dragons are kind of... a problem. The showrunners and writers had an idea for them, but the execution went a little too hard at it, and we kinda need to deal with it.

Cut for spoilers and also talk about SA and how writers don't understand SA when the victim is a man and the abuser is attractive and female. (But I'll keep that to the end, and warn before I get into it if you wanna read about Axel and Wolf first.)

Dr. Frankenstein's Axel

So Axel is the most sympathetic of the three, he's big and powerful but also a victim (of Sensei Wolf) and generally just weird. Not intended to be harmful, but that how big and powerful he is isn't the end of who he is.

And yet they botched the landing.

See, if he was big and powerful and used what Sensei Wolf taught him to try to 'protect' Sam that'd put him in the tragic monster camp. That he cares for the only person to give him kindness, but shows it through the tools he has at hand: violence.

However he's covetous of her when she isn't in actual threat. So it reads more possessive and sinister than the writers probably meant. Having him menacingly stare at Miguel. Which is probably an emotional beat they didn't mean to hit.

Of the two botched landing, this is botched less, but in the same direction. They know what they wanted, but didn't land the nuance well.

Sidebar: Axel's physicality, as in how large and imposing he is, how good he is at violence, is a part of the tragedy. He was shaped generally scary and honed to match that impression. When he didn't need to be.

Sensei Abusive Jerkface

So Sensei Wolf is meant to be evil, and he's meant to be evil in direct mirror to Johnny. This works. He's in the grown-ups world so he's allowed to be more out and out evil because he's why the kids aren't alright. (Kreese, Kim, and Terry are also more overtly evil than say Tory, Kenny, or even someone like Kyler.)

Sam seeing him be abusive to Axel in the same ep that Johnny is getting all uppity and Cobra Kai-y with the kids (because Daniel is kidnapped) is meant to draw this comparison.

This one they did not botch the landing. He's bad and he's the level of bad you expect.

Zara (without the SA)

So Zara is meant to be selfish and two-faced, she's a girl's villain. She flaunts herself and is egotistical, but she has the skills to back it up. She acts nice in public but cuts with words the moment she doesn't have 'her' audience. She's in the same vein as Yasmine from S1 but actually will kick your teeth in.

And her sleeping with Robbie is meant to be her undercutting Tory off the mats mostly for fun, and because she can. And if a pissed off 'thinks Tory has already cheated on him' sober Robby slept with her, it'd be tacky and Robby would feel bad and it'd make Robby and Tory awkward for the rest of the season (which is the intent).

The issue is a Robby who has believed Cobra Kai lies sleeping with Zara sober would come off as an asshole, and the show decided to hedge that bet. Having him be drunk to make him more likely to go along with it makes sense, there can't possibly be anything else going on here, right?

The intended girl is loathsome, she's meant to be about as endearing as S1 Yasmine (compare to say S1 Moon who is far more endearing, or S3 Yasmine who has a soul). She's intended to be very satisfying to see get her comeuppance. But they made her worse than intended due to a stupid social standard.

Conclusion

Conclusion before the Zara SA stuff for people who don't wanna read that.

The intentions behind each character, abusive jackass teacher, abused well meaning large boy, and self-obsessed bitch (not super fond of the language but that's essentially the point the writers were trying to hit here) are good antagonists for the season. We don't need Axel to be villainous in the same way Kwon is, because we have (well, had) Kwon for that.

But they missed the mark by yards (Axel) and miles (Zara) on the execution. Making them far worse than intended. The same mistake, but on massively different scales.

And now Zara (with the SA)

So the problem is that they (the writers) did not realize if they swapped the genders around how BAD this looks. Because there is a fundamental disconnect in society as a whole that consent laws DO MATTER. Consent laws matter when the girl is hot and the boy fundamentally cannot say yes. This is the third show I've run into that hit this plot point, and this is the third show to miss the mark.

Even The Fosters, which had a male character who was too drunk to consent sleep with a female character sober enough to know better, focused less on the 'he's too drunk to consent' part. The show was more focused on the 'she is around a decade older than him, he is a minor, and she's a manipulative abuser playing everyone in her orbit like fiddles. She is also dating his dad.' So while the show did say 'sleeping with fully smashed boy bad' it didn't focus on that being the whole of it.

The other example, Degrassi, had a protagonist do this shit. Then it plays out as 'he's a cheating cad' when he had dumped her, and only slept with her because 'he was both blackout drunk and had lingering head trauma' which made him pliable. The writers did not see the line they were crossing due to a fundamental social idea that 'all boys are down for sex even if they can't say yes.'

They wanted to absolve Robby of his responsibility. So he would be well and truly without weight in making 'this mistake' (the writer's thoughts). Which in turn means a setting where he could not consent, and so the writers accidentally wrote a rape plot. They didn't mean to, they didn't mean to have Zara be THAT evil.

But here we are. The only advantage Cobra Kai has is we're not suppose to like Zara. We're not even suppose to like her as much as S3 Tory. Who is a messy complicated thing to root for, who does very bad things but she's been through it.

So... congrats, Zara is the worst teenager on the show. Don't attempt to redeem her ever.

[dre-the-farter]

A Skunk's Sub

Kasai Tomoyo, a 22-year-old Japanese student with a penchant for blending masculine and feminine styles, padded through the quiet dorm room, the floor cool beneath his bare feet. His wavy black hair, kissed by streaks of yellow at the tips, bobbed gently as he moved. The soft light of early evening streamed in from the window, casting a warm glow across the space. He was a picture of grace in his pink shirt and white thigh-high socks adorned with pink bows, his slender frame and toned muscles hinting at the hours he spent at the gym. Kasai's eyes, a striking ombre of orange and brown, danced with excitement as he approached the open hamper.

The scent of sweat and exertion wafted from the pile of laundry, and he couldn't resist the urge to dig through it. His roommate, Ren, had left his gym clothes in a tangled mess, and Kasai's heart raced as he found the coveted item: a pair of sweat-drenched shorts. He brought the fabric to his nose and inhaled deeply, his cheeks flushing as the potent aroma filled his nostrils. It was a scent that spoke of strength and virility, and it made Kasai's pulse quicken. He'd never admit it to anyone, but the smell was like a secret addiction for him.

Ren, the proud owner of the gym shorts, was a Skunkette, a rare human-skunk hybrid. His scent was unlike any other, a powerful and distinctive blend that seemed to cling to everything he touched. Kasai knew that Ren was oblivious to his little habit, but the thrill of discovery made it all the more exhilarating. He often found himself captivated by the way Ren's tight pants and booty shorts hugged his curvy figure, showcasing the generous thighs and thicc ass that were the talk of the dorm. Ren was a creature of routine, and after his rigorous workout sessions, he'd collapse onto his bed, his clothes sticking to his damp skin, the room echoing with the occasional sound of a proud fart escaping him.

Kasai had always been intrigued by the male Skunkettes, who had a reputation for being proud and shameless farters. The intoxicating smell of their gas was said to be ten times stronger than a human's, and even more so when they were asleep. It was a trait passed down from their male ancestors, a biological oddity that set them apart from both humans and skunks. Ren's farts, in particular, were a spectacle to behold—or so Kasai had heard from the whispers that floated down the hallways. The thought of experiencing them up close, of feeling their heat and potency, was both terrifying and tantalizing. But Kasai was not one to let fear hold him back from his desires. With a sly smile, he set his plan into motion, eager to get closer to the source of his obsession.

One evening, after a particularly grueling workout, Kasai waited patiently for the sounds of Ren's heavy footsteps to fade into the background, signaling his descent into slumber. The room was filled with the faint aroma of protein powder and male musk, and Kasai's anticipation grew with each passing second. When the room was still, Kasai tiptoed over to Ren's bed, his heart hammering in his chest like a drum. Ren lay there, sprawled out and snoring softly, his thick, curly tail twitching slightly with each breath. The sight of him, so relaxed and unguarded, made Kasai's stomach flip. He knew he had to act fast.

With the grace of a cat, Kasai climbed onto the bed, his knees sinking into the soft mattress. He inched closer to Ren's ass, his nose quivering at the prospect of the smorgasbord of scents that awaited him. Ren's gym shorts were pushed up slightly, revealing a hint of the treasure trove beneath. Kasai took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart, and leaned in. The fabric of the shorts was damp with sweat, and the scent was like a punch to the face—potent and overwhelming. He could feel his own body responding, his cock growing hard against his will. He closed his eyes and took another breath, his cheeks flushing with the intensity of the smell.

As he pressed his face closer, Kasai's heart skipped a beat when Ren's ass cheeks began to clench and relax. He knew what was coming and held his breath in anticipation. With a soft, yet surprisingly powerful sound, a cloud of greenish-brown gas escaped from the fabric. It hung in the air for a moment before dissipating, leaving a trail of scent in its wake. Kasai's eyes went wide, and without a moment's hesitation, he leaned in, his nostrils flaring as he took in the full brunt of the fart. The smell was indescribable—a mix of the gym and something uniquely Ren, something that made Kasai's knees go weak. He couldn't believe he was doing this, but he couldn't stop either. The urge was too strong, and the thrill too exhilarating.

The farts grew in frequency and intensity, and Kasai found himself lost in the experience, his body reacting in ways he never thought possible. Each release brought a new wave of scent, and Kasai's arousal grew with each one. He was in heaven—or hell, depending on how one looked at it. Ren's body shifted slightly in his sleep, but he remained blissfully unaware of Kasai's presence. Kasai felt a strange mix of excitement and fear—what if he was caught? But the thrill of the moment overpowered his doubt, and he continued to inhale deeply, his face buried in the sweaty fabric, his heart racing faster than ever before. Little did he know, his secret obsession was about to take a turn that would change their relationship forever.

As Kasai reached for a pair of panties, his hand brushed against something warm and firm. His eyes snapped open, and he realized with horror that Ren's tail was coiled around his neck like a snake ready to strike. Ren's eyes were open, a knowing smirk playing on his lips, and he was watching Kasai with a glint in his eye that Kasai had never seen before. Kasai's heart stopped as he realized his roommate wasn't asleep—he had been watching him this whole time. Panic set in, and he tried to pull away, but the tail tightened its grip, not allowing him to move.

"I knew it," Ren murmured, his voice low and smug. "I've had my suspicions for months now. You just couldn't get enough of my scent, could you?" He chuckled softly, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Don't worry, I don't mind. In fact, I think it's kind of hot." Kasai's face burned with embarrassment as he realized that Ren had not only caught him in the act but had been watching and recording his late-night escapades. The thought of his roommate seeing his most private moments made him squirm, but he was trapped, unable to move or even look away from the amusement in Ren's gaze.

Ren's tail grew tense around Kasai's neck, and suddenly, Kasai felt a warm, wet sensation against his cheek. Ren had lifted his tail, and the tip was now resting against his skin. "You like my scent so much, I'll give you something extra special," Ren whispered, his voice thick with lust. Before Kasai could react, the tail spasmed, and a jet of thick, sticky fluid shot from his asshole, splattering across Kasai's face. The smell was unbearable, a concentrated version of everything that had drawn him to Ren's laundry. His eyes watered, and he gagged, but the tail didn't let go. It was as if Ren had marked him, claimed him as his property. Kasai's mind reeled, trying to process what was happening, but his body was responding in a way that was anything but repulsed.

The fluid clung to his skin, the potent scent invading his nose and mouth, making him gag and drool at the same time. His cock was rock hard, pressing against the fabric of his pants, and his heart raced with a mix of fear and arousal. Ren's tail tightened around his head, forcing him to inhale deeply, taking in the essence of his Skunkette roommate. It was a declaration of ownership, a claim that was both terrifying and strangely erotic. Kasai's world narrowed to the stench of the skunk spray and the heavy weight of the tail holding him in place. He was Ren's now, and there was no going back.

Ren chuckled, his hand coming to rest on Kasai's back, his fingers digging gently into the soft skin. "You're mine, little slut," he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. "You've been sniffing around for so long, I figured it was time to give you what you really wanted." Kasai whimpered, his eyes squeezed shut, the tears mixing with the spray on his face. He felt so exposed, so vulnerable, but he couldn't deny the thrill that shot through him. He had always known that Ren was in control, but now it was undeniable.

The tail loosened its grip slightly, allowing Kasai to breathe a little easier. "Now that you're mine," Ren said, his voice dropping to a seductive purr, "you're going to do whatever I say, whenever I say it." Kasai nodded frantically, his body responding to the command. He was eager to please, eager to be used by the only person who truly understood his darkest desires. "Good boy," Ren praised, his hand moving to caress Kasai's cheek, smearing the spray even further. "Now, clean up. You've got a mess to deal with."

Kasai's eyes snapped open, and he saw the grin on Ren's face, the mischief in his eyes. He knew what was expected of him. Slowly, tentatively, he reached up with his tongue, licking the sticky fluid from his cheek. The taste was bitter, almost metallic, but he found himself savoring it. His face was a mask of submission as he leaned in closer, his tongue sliding over his nose, his eyes never leaving Ren's. The Skunkette watched him, his smirk growing wider, his own arousal evident in the bulge in his tight shorts.

"That's it," Ren encouraged, his voice husky with need. "Lick it all up. You know you want to." Kasai didn't need any more prompting. He leaned in further, his tongue tracing the path of the spray down to Ren's ass, where it had originated. The taste grew stronger, more intense, but he didn't stop. He wanted to show Ren that he was willing, that he accepted his new role. His tongue circled the hole, lapping up the sticky residue, his eyes closed in pleasure. He could feel the warmth of Ren's body, the tension in the muscles of his thighs, and he knew that his roommate was enjoying this just as much as he was.

Their relationship had taken an unexpected turn, one that Kasai never could have anticipated. But as he serviced Ren's ass, cleaning him with a passion that surprised even him, he knew that he had found his place. He was the Skunkette's toy, to be used and enjoyed at his whim. And as much as his mind screamed in protest, his body sang with a newfound freedom, a release from the shackles of societal norms and expectations. This was his secret, his dirty little pleasure, and he would cherish it for as long as he could. The stench of the spray lingered in the air, a constant reminder of his new role, but Kasai didn't care. He had never felt more alive.

A year had passed since that fateful night, and their dynamic had evolved. Kasai had moved from being a mere roommate to being Ren's devoted submissive. Every meal was carefully crafted to enhance Ren's natural gassiness, each bite packed with fiber and protein. The smells grew stronger, the farts more frequent, and Kasai grew more eager to serve. He'd watch in awe as Ren strutted around in his tight pants, the fabric straining against the powerhouse that was his thighs and ass. The other students in the dorm had noticed the change in Kasai—how he always hovered around Ren, his eyes never leaving that perfect, rounded target. But they didn't know the truth. They didn't know about the nightly rituals that unfolded behind closed doors.

The dorm had become their playground, their love nest of scents and power. Ren had even started to train Kasai to recognize the different smells of his farts, to differentiate between the ones that signaled hunger and the ones that signaled satisfaction. It was a strange form of intimacy, one that bound them closer than any couple Kasai had ever seen. He knew Ren's body like the back of his hand—or rather, the back of his nose. And Ren, for his part, had grown more protective of Kasai, his possessiveness a constant presence that was both terrifying and thrilling.

One evening, as they sat side by side on the bed, Kasai looked up at Ren with adoration. "Master," he said, his voice soft and submissive. "Your meals have been exquisite. Your thighs and ass are more succulent than ever." Ren smirked, leaning down to kiss Kasai's forehead. "Good," he said, his hand stroking the femboy's hair. "But don't think for a second that I've gone soft on you. You're still my fart sniffer and ass cleaner, and you'll serve me as such." Kasai's cheeks flushed, and he nodded eagerly, his heart racing at the thought of the night's activities.

Their bond had grown stronger, and with it, so had Kasai's tolerance for the smells that once made him gag. Now, they were like sweet nothings whispered in his ear, a secret language that only they understood. Ren had taught him to appreciate the nuances of each fart, the way they varied with his moods and diet. And Kasai had learned to crave them, to anticipate them with bated breath. As he knelt beside the bed, his nose mere inches from Ren's ass, he felt a sense of pride and love swell in his chest. He was the Skunkette's property, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

Their relationship was far from conventional, but it was theirs, a testament to the lengths they would go for one another. Ren's hand rested on Kasai's shoulder, a gentle reminder of his dominance, as he leaned back, letting out a long, slow fart. The scent filled the room, thick and potent, and Kasai leaned in, his nostrils flaring. This was their life now, a dance of power and submission played out in the most intimate of ways. And as he inhaled deeply, feeling the warmth of the gas against his skin, Kasai knew that he had never been happier. He was Ren's, through and through, and he would serve him with every breath he took.

[nshtn]

Obviously I'm new to your blog and your writing etc. so for the uroboros headcanon request - what's your own personal favorite hc you have for Uroboros Wesker? Anything special that diverges from canon or where you take liberties? Do you consider one of your hcs to be unique to your interpretation? //chinhands

[ Albert Wesker AU info & HCs ]

[ psychological / behavioral, personal, silly ]

They are so derivative of the canon that at this point the canon is merely a cloth to unravel and make yarn to sew into what I perceive, loosely framing events around how my Wesker approaches things differently. It's not his biggest canon events that change, but much of the perceived filler and the ways in which he processes them.

I'm going to use this post to make a grander explanation and debut! Please, feel free to send follow-up questions for clarification. I adore writing for him and want to flesh him out <3.

ᴺᵒʷ ᵖˡᵃʸᶦⁿᵍ; [Mood Music]

| ↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ |

| ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▯▯▯ |

TW for childhood trauma/C-PTSD, mentions of murder (and canon-typical violence), medical trauma...

Psychological:

He has alexithymia, learned sociopathy & psychopathy, raging C-PTSD from "familial" trauma, and an obsessive personality disorder with strong roots in maintaining unity and control.

Alexithymia: He struggles to identify positive emotions within himself that aren't crackling and popping. He prefers to drift in a none-too-powerful neutrality and sterilized apathy that feels safe because it's known. Emotions he is capable of easily slotting into, explaining, and approaching include confusion and interest, boredom and focus, confidence, anger and disgust. Emotions he most often forces down, struggles to identify (and thus properly express) or cuts away near-automatically include being ecstatic, fear, sadness and grief, empathetic compassion or sympathy, embarrassment and any kind of romance.

Sociopathy & Psychopathy: Wesker was not born as these things, he was made into them - manufactured. He has been spared no forge or flame, and has the deeply honed ability to cease feeling emotions that cause him to lose sight of his goals or disrupt his focus. This comes at the expense of fueling homicidal thoughts that rebound with the intensity of that repression. The only emotion he cannot bury to its' hilt is interest, which always springs back up later, a cockroach he can swat but cannot crush. Early into his career as a bio-weapons virologist, he is high-functioning. By the events of Resident Evil 5, he has degraded into manic and low-functioning.

C-PTSD: Growing up under Spencer's Umbrella indoctrination was nothing short of physical and psychological torture highlighted with the lingering current of medical trauma and social deprivation. Beatings would continue until morale improved, and food, water, and entertainment were privileges. Handlers, not parents, cared for him, and were routinely, purposefully cycled. Being angry or academically successful was the only thing that came with it no coattail of the hot iron of punishment. As a result, Wesker is socially maladjusted, icy, goal-married and purpose-driven, hair-splittingly sharp, pessimistic and sardonic - by many metrics, Project W's goal of fitting his initial hyperempathetic square of a personality into their round, clean-shaven peg of purpose was successful. However, not by all metrics...

Obsessive Disorder: Wesker was always genetically shackled to obsession. He has high glutamate and GABA - like many savants - and has all of the neurochemical changes associated with obsessive-compulsive behavior. Having obsession rewarded has led him to covet it and view it as a boon, allowing him to expend unhealthy focus on his goals. It, however, also plays into his inability to suppress interest and ultimately causes him to naturally slot into a compulsive need for control over even the most mundane aspects of life.

Despite this, he is not terribly violent nor does he spit forth the expected volley of constant rage. He does not enjoy the messy, frantic planning of execution and disposal; he prefers to approach situations with multiple level-headed plans of action, each plan more drastic than the last, until it reaches the point at which no other possible solution exists but utmost violence.

When he is forced to solve his problems with violence, though, he does not shy from dirty tactics and has no codex for honor in death. He will employ any tactic necessary to secure his unyielding success, whether that be causing global catastrophe, mass murder, planting spies, the violation of the geneva conventions, or any other long list of canon-typical violence native to the ultimate chase of his ideals.

There is only one thing that Wesker does not directly involve himself in when the need arises, though he is willing to do so indirectly: the involvement of children. He is not Spencer. (In fact, when in direct contact with children, he is rendered docile.)

Personal, unsorted:

He refutes a perfectly white labcoat and his choice of dress is intentionally obstinate and spiteful.

Wearing a full white labcoat fills him with inescapable dread and a feeling of childlike vulnerability that he avoids at all costs. Even in his early Umbrella days, he finds a way to get his hands on a light blue one, yellow, anything...

His later, freely-made choice of full black attire is a presentation of his internal doom-and-gloom and a psychosexual liberty - his tacticool skintight choices are intentful, he very much likes both the look and feel of tight, restrictive attire and the shine of latex and leather.

Wesker has suspicious scars. He hides them.

'Experimentation' on his form as a child as a form of punishment for rebellion has left his hands and the tender veins of his wrists compromised by ugly, threatening pockmarks. Thus, gloves.

He has had his appendix pre-emptively removed by Spencer to reduce the chance of downtime later.

He was sterilized early to reduce the chance of straying from the path of Project W, but it did not hold. This is, however, a point of insecurity for him irregardless.

His relation to Spencer was never terribly positive, the man's control over him less so, but following the reveal of Project W he has an unmatched, broiling, tossing-turning-spitting-boiling hatred.

He murders Spencer in a much more personal, slow and torturous way than his canon counterpart.

He goes into a manic depressive state that ultimately leads to the creation of Uroboros and his downfall as a result of this, though he was already veering towards a similar path because of his nurture as an imperfect man-made monster.

I am a Wesker Sweet Tooth truther, sorry (though he is picky as a result of a rebellion against childhood's near-Soylenting).

He exerts an unhealthy calorie-counting control over his diet, but depressions and S.T.A.R.S-era forward see him progressively loosen this to account for the occasional sweetie.

Big into anything that takes absurd skill to make, like Petit Fours, Macarons, Baked Alaska and Crepe Cakes (minis!) Ordered, scantly made; the time cannot be found to practice this, but in another life he might have been a profound baker.

Secretly appreciative of funnel cake and You Tiao, but they're a once-a-year thing, if at all.

Tried dehydrated ice cream from an MRE once. Chasing the mouth-feel stim ever since, he's experimented and found a hidden cache of joy in the fiber-rich bland sweet'n'salty of sprouted young coconut.

He personally makes Springerle around Christmas and carves out time to do so, then packs one or two into his diet to come as they soften. They are sweet and dense, satisfying his urge for a biscuit and a sweet in one in the initial four to six months following, and they're advantageous to make.

Likes spicy to kick him awake in the morning. Strong chai tea is a nicety. Loose-leaf pilled and snooty.

Wesker's relation with William Birkin was one of admiration, equality, intellectual debate and, eventually, feelings of great interest.

His feelings were not fully returned out of an abundance of fear and caution, but they were occasionally entertained and experimented with before the arrival of Annette. It was simply infeasible.

Birkin was an intellectual equal, if not a superior. He has fantasized of the duo they could have been had he dosed Birkin with Uroboros. Birkin was one of few willing to debate virology with him and tone-match his icy arguments, even capable of winning.

He never stopped admiring Birkin, leading to the incorporation of G into Uroboros. It is an incorporation that finds its' roots sleeping with subconscious grief, what-ifs and could-have-beens he cannot afford to acknowledge with neither time nor the sanity to grapple them.

Wesker's relation with Chris Redfield and Jill Valentine were initially sour and resentful of their normalcy and outward, unlimited expressions, but quietly bloomed forth from this into crestfallen admiration, friendship, and ultimately, deathly obsession (for Chris, this also included love). [When not pairing him with a reader, of course].

Team Alpha were his piggies. His toys to break, his toys to play with, mind and mold and mentor. The Mansion Incident was easy enough to sleep Team Bravo, but the most uncommon emotion was fished from his depths and chained to his demeanor with Team Alpha: empathy, compassion.

Chris was his favorite, though. Physically equal, matching his sardonic wit in a natural easy charm as cool as he was cold. Chris' planning and teamwork skill eventually superseded Marini's, and then it grew to crux even his own. The curiosity sparked and ignited furiously at the idea that his intellect alone could not amass the sheer unity and control Chris could command signed with love and feeling.

Spencer's gift of infection is Prototype Leech Progenitor, and holds the name Progenitor 0067, which is why it is printed out as PG67A/W [Progenitor 0067 Albert/Wesker.]

It's startlingly stable, but it begins to unravel as time drags on. It is made unstable by emotion in a manner not entirely dissimilar to T-Phobos, both enhanced and injured by rage and subconscious desire; mutation increases laterally with low dopamine, high norepinephrine, and an uptick in cortisol and cholecystokinin. It is inevitably bound to cause negative side-effects as negative mutations begin to fester unchecked.

Its' primary symptom of infection includes thermochromic bioluminescence of the iris and keratinous growths. The iris' melanocytes are invaded by the virus and begin to respond to nerve endings' temperature signalling with aptly-named luciferase and rapid uncomplicated hypervascularization, leading to a red-yellow appearance.

It does not have the stabilizing matrix of Ebola genes, much to Wesker's chagrin.

It is compatible with Uroboros in a very odd way that no other virus is because of how much of its' gene expression is genetically leech.

He survives the events of RE5.

He mutates into a very large and very feral Uroboros monster with hundreds of whipping appendages, but, notably, his body remains and does not explode into a Mkono or Aheri. Here's a chibi version of his monstrous form.

Feed the feral beast enough biomass and the man's consciousness nestled within will be hooked and fished to the surface.

He requires ~5,000 - ~6,700 calories a day to maintain baseline non-feral consciousness, and far, far more to regain his intellect.

Silly:

He can sing very well.

Very much a shower hummer. Brisk cold showers cannot hold back the tide of humming Don Henley's Inside Job under his breath.

S.T.A.R.S-era saw him purchase a Walkman F15. (In fact, it would not be rare to catch him humming as he slavered over paperwork during this time, nor was he bashful of it).

He likes Jurassic Park as a book and the automatons and quadruped suits in the movies, but does not like the movies' plot portrayal.

He finds it shameful that they stripped most of the allegories and paleontological accuracy to focus on Dinosaur Scary. Absolutely a feathered theory truther who thinks Thomas Henry Huxley had it right.

Those velociraptors were utahraptors to him. No other explanation in his mind, don't try to play him for a fool.

He struggles to read subtext in books and prefers writing that isn't flowery.

He's got the same affliction as Einstein - he's autistic. He was spared any kind of clear, visible regression or failure to thrive of other skills unlike most savants. In fact, all of Project W's prospective pupils are autistic savants. Flowery, emotion-welled text gels with neither his genetics nor his upbringing.

His accent is Umbrella-manufactured and specific to it.

Diphthongs from repeated 'o' are transformed into 'au', like British, but 'r' and 't' are both retained entirely. It has its' roots in British Received Pronunciation, the traditional 'posh upper-class'ccent'.

He actually tamps it down somewhat... it's normally pretty strong. Exposure to S.T.A.R.S also transformed it into its' own filtered beast.

It shines through to a crippling degree the angrier he is. Bile-spitting Wesker sounds like he's going to roast you for your stock holdings and tea choices. (S.T.A.R.S-era Chris and Marini found this hard to take seriously)

He's a yapper level 100. So is Birkin.

You are sooner to die from thirst after receiving a disciplinary monologuing longer than any published TEDTalk (spoken as if it were copied from an official document) than you are to be murdered for simping or being pissy. He entertains debate, but is so debate-minded and source-pilled that you will be verbally beaten into submission if for nothing else than the glorious feeling of academic domination (unless you're Birkin).

He is normally quiet unless provoked into said monologue, with a deep and judgmental inner voice that never ceases.