#i needed that actually. i really needed that break from reading. and to read a garbage book after the break. it was a palate cleanser

[gifsbysimplysonia]

Authors who apologize for a high word count make me want to hug them so hard. THANK YOU for high word counts cuz to me, that means that your muse was on absolute fire and the fact that you did the work to follow that muse every step of the way AND share it with us? What a gift and an honor so again...thank you.

For anyone looking for a "quick summary" of my feedback?

Never has a GIF been more accurate cuz this story is DEFINITELY A PEARL CLUTCHER!

Ahead there be

THE SHEETS are chilled, crisp to the touch, cold enough that shivers tickle their way across exposed skin. A sigh is heard, loud enough for wandering ears as a figure moves about in the unmade, blanket muddled bed. The window had been left open, and as a result, cold air had poured into the room.

I live on a 2nd floor in a little hot box of a room, so this description is so detailed that I could feel it all and I'm jealous :)

Logan was not your boyfriend; he wasn’t even a friend. While he was cordial with the others in the mansion, he remained cold and indifferent toward you.

Ohhhh, one of these, eh? When the MMC acts like this, more often than not, it's cuz he thinks it's better to act this way then pursue OTHER feelings so I wonder if that's what we have here....

Though, you were only human and Logan fucking Howlett was a man worth embarrassing yourself over, especially when he looked like he did. He wasn’t, your mind huffed. He was, your heart retorted.

OMG I so relate to what she's going through and it's so precious to see her head and heart at war, over a dude who "doesn't like her."

Scarlett hues dust your cheekbones, lips bitten until they’re swollen and shiny with spit. Your breasts ache from inside the confines of the pink, lacy shirt, made worse with each labored breath you inhale as perky nipples brush the material. Your hole feels incredibly empty, the need to be filled overpowering. Your clit, puffy and neglected, throbs with pure, searing need. Another wave of aching pleasure from your wetness breaks your resolve— a shaky hand slipping from its place on your stomach down, down, down until cold fingers meet the mess between your thighs.

Again, the description is so meticulous that I can feel every bit of what's being described and WHAT TORTURE!

You were split between wanting to sink down onto his cock and rut your swollen nub against the curls that nestled the base of him and stuffing his dick down your throat, gagging around him until he came and coated your throat with his spend.

Cuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuz, me too??? LORDT.

The 8.5 K words is - NO JOKE - quite smut centric. I'm not sure I've read that many words that were actually smut centric? But there are involved and erotic descriptions of her masturbating to thoughts of Logan and they are DELICIOUS and I won't quote anymore cuz YOU NEED TO GO READ FOR YOURSELF! But imagine the horror when someone comes KNOCKING AT HER DOOR right when she finishes?! I think we know where this is going, don't we?

Logan could fucking smell you. It’s a heady aroma thats so completely you, that his body feels deranged, just about ready to march up those steps and break down your door. He shakes himself loose from the metaphorical shackles of you and begins the journey to his room, trying to block out how delicious and syrupy you smell.

You know what's funny? Having read my fair share of super soldier smut as well, the MMC being able to smell the woman's arousal comes up A LOT. And it's such a weird mixture of feeling absolutely mortified but also really turned on (because the MMC is always aroused by the smell, fantasy come true).

From here on out, the storytelling focuses completely on the carnal which is ABSOLUTELY WIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIILD. I'm not sure I've ever read smut this long in my entire life.

AND? It's good quality smut allllllllllllllll the way through. You gotta like it filthy, dirty talk (speaking of what they want to do to each other in explicity terms), and extremely detailed. I felt hypnotized all the way through it.

Logan is an excellent mix of gruff, rough, dominant and completely enamored of his partner. And his partner is a good foil for him because she wants him JUST AS MUCH, is vocal about it, and is as eager to please. These 2 have strong feelings for each other that are outlined in the story preceding the smut, and then reinforced once they are together. Logan in particular is in what I refer to as "worship" mode. He can't stop declaring "mine" and even in his own thoughts, thinking about the way she looks and how he wants to keep her to himself. When the emotions / connection between 2 characters is so well laid out for me as a reader, it intensifies ALL the physical stuff going on, and since this story is MAJORITY SEX? You can imagine how intense of a read it is!

It's an excellent pairing, and again, I've not read this much smut that is both out of this world with how detailed and involved it is, but also grounded in really good characterizations that kept me absolutely hypnotized to the end of this story. PLEASE GO READ IT, GUYS, BECAUSE WOW DOESN'T EVEN BEGIN TO COVER IT!!!

I legit am sweating lol

@logansbaby thank you so much for creating and sharing. What an absolute masterpiece!

GUILTY AS SIN - Logan Howlett

❥ summary: the entire time you’ve known logan howlett, you’ve tried to keep your longings locked. then, one night, all that effort goes to waste when you’re confronted about your feelings.

word count: 8.5k (IM SORRY!!!!)

pairings: logan howlett x fem! mutant reader

content warnings: 18+ CONTENT MDNI, masturbation, dirty thoughts, light choking, multiple orgasms, oral (reader and logan receiving), spitting, sixty-nining, scent kink, like one spank, underwear stays ON, slight hint of arousal from crying?, creampie, p in v (practice safe sex ty!)

❥ a/n: guys…… am i…. a whore? (yes) do i need to be locked up? (also yes). i started this when i was on my period so maybe that’s the reason this is so filthy? anyway i don’t know how it got to 8k of smut but it DID and i have nothing to say about that… also reader has a mutation it’s not super in depth but her hair changes to red in certain situations and she has red light/energy she manifest in her hands, kind of confusing but it’s okay. anyway please please enjoy and let me know your thoughts <3

— ˚｡⋆⟡♡⟡⋆｡˚

‘I keep recalling things we never did

Messy top lip kiss

How I long for our trysts

Without ever touching his skin

How can I be guilty as sin?’

Guilty as Sin? - Taylor Swift

— ˚｡⋆⟡♡⟡⋆｡˚

THE SHEETS are chilled, crisp to the touch, cold enough that shivers tickle their way across exposed skin. A sigh is heard, loud enough for wandering ears as a figure moves about in the unmade, blanket muddled bed. The window had been left open, and as a result, cold air had poured into the room.

Despite the fact that goosebumps adorn your body, it felt as though you were on fire. Huffs escaped parted lips, a charged hum zipping through your veins that only intensified each time you moved. You’d been trying to sleep for the past couple hours, trying to ignore the need thrumming through you, but had only managed to fail.

You turn on your side for possibly the twentieth time, but the position only worsens your state as the flesh of your thighs squeeze unintentionally, a wave of brief relief sent to your throbbing core. Tears brim your lashes, damp with frustration because fuck, your body was humming with lust and everything was so, so sensitive.

This was all Logan’s fault.

The man has been gone less than a week and yet, your body was practically vibrating with need, trembling with desire.

The feelings you harbor make you feel shameful and guilty for a handful of reasons.

Logan was not your boyfriend; he wasn’t even a friend. While he was cordial with the others in the mansion, he remained cold and indifferent toward you.

You pretended it never bothered you when he pointedly ignored your greetings in passing or refused to partner up with you. You didn’t understand what you’d done to upset him, to warrant his treatment of you as if you were the most annoying person on the planet. More often than not, you are the subject of the man’s pointed glare.

So, logically, your heart shouldn’t race at the mere thought of him. Nor should desire pool between your thighs whenever images of his sweaty form cloud your mind.

By definition, you were immensely smart; a genius with how you could understand what others could not.

Though, you were only human and Logan fucking Howlett was a man worth embarrassing yourself over, especially when he looked like he did.

He wasn’t, your mind huffed.

He was, your heart retorted.

A memory comes forward, one that has your cheeks blushing, your chest rising a little faster than before.

A couple weeks ago, you’d been up late, struggling to sleep and with the way it evaded you, wandering the halls had been your solution, in hopes of tiring yourself out.

But when you had walked down your hallway, you froze at the sight of a shirtless Logan in his room, the door left ajar.

A towel covered his head as he scrubbed away the wetness in his hair, and you desperately hoped he hadn’t noticed your presence. Water dribbled down his muscular body, and your eyes greedily watched each droplet descend down, glistening against the tan stomach you wanted to bite. What really had you drooling, however, was the thick, prominent vein that crept down into the waistband of his gray sweatpants. Said pants had your eyes wide with the prominent bulge tented in the material.

When you just barely caught yourself from moaning, you had dashed back to your room right away. You were wide awake still, but for a completely different reason. All you could think about was tracing your tongue along that vein.

If you’d fucked yourself that night to the thought of him and his glistening torso, no one had to know.

So theoretically, if you gave in to your cravings, it wouldn’t be the first time, but it certainly wouldn’t make you feel any less guilty.

Scarlett hues dust your cheekbones, lips bitten until they’re swollen and shiny with spit. Your breasts ache from inside the confines of the pink, lacy shirt, made worse with each labored breath you inhale as perky nipples brush the material. Your hole feels incredibly empty, the need to be filled overpowering. Your clit, puffy and neglected, throbs with pure, searing need.

Another wave of aching pleasure from your wetness breaks your resolve— a shaky hand slipping from its place on your stomach down, down, down until cold fingers meet the mess between your thighs.

A gasp sounds, melodic as it swirls with heavy breathes, fluttering around the room as you brush over your clit. Even through the material of your underwear, the slight pressure of your fingers made you mewl.

Flashes of Logan dance behind closed lids, your imagination running wild while you messily swirl over your bundle of nerves.

You wanted him so, so bad, in every way possible, it actually hurt, both your heart and core.

Your mind submerges your consciousness with thoughts of him; his pretty hazel eyes, the slope of his nose, the tufts of his brown hair. The muscles that were constantly on display, his thick thighs that you wanted to ride until you came all over him, and the huge bulge that was ever present in those flattering jeans of his (and if it was a reoccurring fantasy of yours to ride that delicious bulge over his jeans until you both came from just dry humping, again— no one had to know).

Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t stop thinking about Logan.

Him hovering over you, dog tags swinging in your face as he fucked you hard. Him picking you up and taking you against the nearest surface, lips trapped in an erotic kiss. Him prying your thighs open as he licked up your pussy, tongue dipping into your hole to lap up all the desire pooling, his lips wrapping around the swollen bud and sucking violently. Him holding your face lovingly as his hips thrusted his cock deeper into your throat, groans spilling at the gag you’d let out.

You were split between wanting to sink down onto his cock and rut your swollen nub against the curls that nestled the base of him and stuffing his dick down your throat, gagging around him until he came and coated your throat with his spend.

You didn’t even bother to remove the damp underwear, instead circling the engorged bud over the material— and oh, fuck. The roughness of the lace mixed with the delicious rubbing of your fingers send little moans tumbling from parted lips.

Your unoccupied hand slips under the shirt covering your chest and only settle once your nipple is pinched between determined fingers, rolling the pert bud in tandem with the amorous touch of your hand on your sex.

Pleasure nips at your pelvis, and if you were a little more aware, you’d be embarrassed at how fast you to reaching your peak. But, as it is, your brain is completely hazy with wanton thinking and the only thing on your mind was lessening the ache that pulsates deep within you.

And fuck, you’re so fucking needy for logan that you try to pretend it’s his fingers abusing your clit, his fingers tugging at the sensitive buds of your chest. You want his tongue between your thighs, licking up your desire and sucking your puffy bud into his pretty mouth.

Chest rising rapidly, you feel overwhelmed at the fantasies swirling before your eyes. Its far too much— the mix of your filthy desires and your fingers rubbing your nub have your legs quivering as wetness coats your hand.

“Logan, Logan, Logan—“ The chant of his name mindlessly falls from you, the feeling of your orgasm washing over you, threatening to pull you under those soaring, unforgiving waves of pleasure.

Eyes snap shut, ears ring with white noise, and your hips hump your hand pitifully— you were an absolute, writhing mess against the sheets.

The hair messily strewn around your pillow shifts then from its natural state to a dark red. Even with your eyes shut, you could feel the vermillion light whirling at your fingertips, begging to be released.

Your mutation was not one of subtlety.

Searing bliss coils in your lower tummy, your button tingling with the after effects of the orgasm that crashed into you. You sigh, because even though you just came, you felt far from satisfied. Your body buzzes with sweltering hunger, all the way from the top of your head down to the tips of your toes. Even if you fuck yourself dizzy with another orgasm, you knew it won’t satiate your body. Not completely, anyway.

Before you could slip your fingers inside your weeping hole, a loud knock echos through your room.

You still; desperate and hoping that if you ignored the noise, whoever was knocking would simply go away. But when another rhythmic thump comes a few seconds later, you huff.

It’s well past midnight at this point, so who in their right mind would be going about and slamming their fists on your door?

Apparently, you arent moving fast enough when the person has the nerve to knock for a third time, hand a little heavier than before. A growl, tinged with annoyance, slips out as you fling yourself up and off the bed.

You stomp to the door, ready to tell the person on the other side to fuck off.

But when you actually swing open the mahogany door, all the anger simmering beneath your heated skin disappears, along with your breath, as your eyes take in the sight before you.

Logan Howlett stands before you, seemingly angry as a frown etches deep on his face. He glares at you, hazel eyes swarming with exasperation and something unknown.

And little did you know, all of your craziest, fatal fantasies were about to come true.

❥

The moment Logan steps into the mansion, finally back from the complete shit show of a mission Charles had sent him on, he tenses instantly.

His fingers clench into fists, tight enough that the skin turns white. The adamantium claws threaten to poke through his knuckles as he inhales deeply.

Big mistake.

That sweet, sweet scent swarms his heightened senses, the intoxicating smell nearly making him dizzy. His heart speeds up, his stomach flutters, and his cock twitches in the confines of his jeans.

Logan could fucking smell you.

It’s a heady aroma thats so completely you, that his body feels deranged, just about ready to march up those steps and break down your door.

He shakes himself loose from the metaphorical shackles of you and begins the journey to his room, trying to block out how delicious and syrupy you smell.

He decides then, as his body finally moves up the steps, that ignoring you is the best option.

But as he gets closer to the hallway he shares with you (just his luck, by the way!), he realizes that plan is a joke.

He feels his control slipping, especially as the heady scent grows stronger, tinged with something else— something erotic and salacious.

Logan curses, his entire being rigid.

You’re aroused, the smell seeping under the crack of the door giving you away instantly.

The idea of you whining as your pussy drips slick between your thighs has him grinding his teeth, fingers flexing and unflexing in an attempt to harness the control back to his body.

Though, it goes out the window entirely as his body is apruptly outside your door, unconsciously drawn to the very essence of you.

There’s a reason Logan has kept carefully crafted distance between the two of you.

The minute he was introduced to you, a new member of the x-men and teacher for the school, he knew he was fucked.

From the first look shared between you, he knew.

A pretty smile had graced your lips, eyes filled with joy as you greeted him, a hand outstretched in his direction as your hair swayed with your movements. In your cute, little outfit (a pretty, white lace dress that kissed the tops of your thighs, matched with baby pink pumps that accentuated your legs), he thought you looked like a princess.

He had stayed frozen, however, because he was assaulted with the fucking smell of you. It was nothing like he’d encountered before, and he’d been around for over a century.

Your scent was so fucking sweet, vanilla and honey permeated his nostrils and right in that moment, he wondered if you tasted as sweet as you smelt.

He knew that he had to keep his distance, otherwise he’d become addicted to you in every sense. If he let himself, he’d worship the very ground you walked on. He couldn’t risk having the walls he’d spent so long building to crumble.

And in an instant, he was angry that his body had reacted this way to someone he’d never even met. He was angry he wanted to press sweet kisses on your face while simultaneously wanting to fuck you on his cock until you screamed his name.

So, with that, he’d made up his mind.

He had simply glared at you, refused to acknowledge your existence and stormed out of Charles’ office. And since that day, he’s tried his hardest to pretend you didn’t exist— if only to ease the way you constantly haunted his every thought.

He pretended it didn’t kill him to see how your face would crumble at his rude behavior, at how he avoided you at all costs. He couldn’t help it, though, because if he treated you how he wanted, like the princess you were, he’d never let you go.

A sudden noise shakes him from the depths of his mind, that carnal, sensual essence growing stronger by the second.

“Logan, Logan, Logan,” your honeyed voice whines, all airy and light.

And it’s almost comical how the telltale snikt! sounds immediately after because what?

What the fuck? He thinks, mind utterly destroyed at the revelation that not only were you seemingly fucking yourself, but you were moaning his name.

Logan growls, low and dangerous as his claws reveal themselves, cutting through the skin of his knuckles. His body feels unnaturally hot, practically set on fire. His cock now uncomfortably hard in his jeans, lustful essence bubbling at his tip and no doubt staining his boxers.

With the wafts of your pretty aroma and sounds of your lewd whimpers, he knows he can’t resist you any longer.

His hand lifts, claws retracting as his heavy fist slams on your door.

And the sight of you, face shiny with a sheen of sweat has him choking on his own saliva.

Tonight was the night his control finally snaps, despite months of work put into avoiding you.

Logan knows his animalistic side is about to be released; he’s going to fucking ruin you.

❥

You gulp, a hand resting on the door frame as you stand frozen because honestly, what the fuck?

You deduce that the universe hates you because why? Why would the man you’d been thinking of while masturbating be right in front of you?

It only dawns on you when Logan’s gaze swipes over your figure that you’re basically naked. Clad only in your blushed, frilly top and the matching underwear, the latter soaked with both your arousal and release.

You shrink beneath his eyes, warmth simmering hot on the apples of your cheeks, and your mouth opens and closes, yet no words follow.

“Uh— Logan, hey!” Your voice is shaky, and whether it’s from the power of your release or the nerves that bumble beneath your skin at the man before you, you couldn’t tell. All you know is that you want the ground to swallow you up whole.

Logan doesn’t respond, just continues to stare at you in a way that you don’t understand. You assume he’s just gotten home from the very long mission, and confusion settles over you as to why he was at your door, especially considering how he badly despises you.

You’re about to voice that exact thought when Logan beats you to speaking.

“I heard you.” His gruff tone is coated in something darker than you’d ever heard before.

For a moment, you’re perplexed, brows furrowing and raising before your eyes go comically wide.

And— oh, oh.

“Can smell you, too.”

Heat licks at your whole body, embarrassment threatening to envelope you entirely. Tears of horror tickle your lash line, because this was probably the most painful moment of your life. Not only does the man hate you, but now he’s heard you moan his name as you came all over your fingers? How pathetic are you?

You open your mouth, an apology heavy on your tongue. You need to say something to quell the panic flooding your body— you’re never going to get over this

Though, before you can even speak, Logan slams his mouth onto yours.

He holds your head softly, a deep contrast to the way his lips melt over yours. A moan slips from your open mouth, the feel of his lips sucking at your bottom lip feels immensely intense and so, so good.

Your arms wrap around his neck, fingertips tangling themselves in the hair at his nape like you’ve wanted to do since the very day you met him.

“Logan—“ you whimper against his mouth, trying and failing to understand what the fuck was happening as he slips his tongue inside your wet, warm mouth. “Logan.”

He ignores you, grunting against your spit, slick lips as his hands travel down your curves, until they find purchase on your ass, gripping hard. A choked gasp spills from you as he suddenly paws at you, picking you up effortlessly in his strong arms.

The idea of him holding you up with no hesitation has your hips shuddering forward without your permission. Vaguely, you feel him move past the threshold of your door, slamming it shut before pressing your body up against the wood.

Logan switches between licking your tongue and sucking meanly at your lips, until they feel full and swollen with his attention. You’re pliant— almost willing to let him do anything he’d like to you.

Almost.

As good as his tongue feels dancing with yours, confusion still settles over your mind. Perhaps this was a dream and if that’s the case, you never want to wake up.

“Wait—wait.” You pull back, the questions swirling inside probing you until it’s impossible to ignore.

“Huh, baby?” Logan groans, teeth pulling at your bottom lip before sucking at the swollen skin.

Babybabybabybabybaby— the pet name clouds your senses for a second, a rush of arousal pooling at your hole. You want to cry at how that simple, simple word makes you feel.

“Stop that.” You mumble, pulling your head back and lips out of his reach.

Logan stares at you, silent but waiting as he waits for you say whatever is on your mind. Frankly, he wants his tongue to be buried deep in your cunt right about now, but, details.

“What is going on?” Breathless, the question settles between you, causing Logan’s brow to raise.

“Well, my tongue was just in your mouth—“ you slap his chest, face turning warm at his bluntness.

“Not that. I’m— why are you here? Why are you kissing me when you can’t stand me?” Your voice is quiet, insecurity present in your tone. Nimble fingers grasp the dog tags that rest on his chest, and you’ve never been grateful for it.

At that, Logan’s face scrunches up, confusion floating around his irises, lips curving downward.

“What are you talking about?” If it wasn’t for the genuineness in his voice, you would’ve smacked his chest again at how clueless he was.

“What do you mean? You’ve made it very clear how you feel about me; you’ve despised my entire existence the moment we met— wait, I can’t even say that because you didn’t even have the decency to greet me!”

Frustration hovers over you heavily, enough to snap you out of the lustful spell Logan often inflicts upon you. You slide down his body, ignoring the quiver of your cunt when you make contact with his jean clad bulge. You push at his chest, needing distance to ensure you actually get your words out and don’t end up back with his tongue down your throat.

“I don’t hate you.” Logan grunts out, staring at you as you pace the wooden floors of the room. Vaguely, he’s paying attention, but he can’t be blamed for the way his eyes focus on the way your ass shifts with each step, the plush skin so inviting as the lace cup each cheek. “What’re you on about?”

Frankly, Logan’s pissing you off. The vague answers are getting on your nerves, enough that you feel yourself snap.

Your hair swiftly turns bright red, a scarlet blossoming over the strands until they coat them completely. Your emotions could never quite be concealed, not with the way your hair would turn different variations of red when you were angry, furious, sad, happy, aroused.

“You’ve been a dick to me, treating me like shit for no reason and now you think you can just waltz in here and kiss me like that? You think you can pretend to want me when we both know that’s not true?”

Balls of fiery, red energy bloom at your fingertips, and though you stand in your pretty pink assortment, you look the part of threatening.

It’s too bad the abrupt display of your mutation, mixed with fiery words, has Logan’s cock jerking with want.

“Sometimes, I question whether or not you’re actually a genius.”

And just like that, you feel the words like a punch to the gut. You’re so mad, so blind by the intense emotions you feel for Logan, that you feel those pesky flames of energy moving up your wrist and forearm, a telltale sign of your anger.

“Fuck you, Logan.” You hiss, your fingers hot with the heat coursing through them.

What pisses you off more, to which your hair and eyes darken to a dangerous maroon, is the fact that Logan wears a faint smirk, watching you with humor as if you aren’t showcasing how pissed you are.

“Are you done yet?” Logan takes a step closer, uncaring of the way your mutation flares furiously at his presence.

“Logan, leave me alone. I don’t need you to sit here and pretend to want me. I don’t need you to make fun of me, either.” Huffing, you glare up at the man before you, who stares back just as pointedly.

You turn around, back facing him as you go to enter the attached bathroom when all at once, you’re spun back around by a hand on your nape, your neck in a delicious tight grip as Logan pulls you into his body, smashing his mouth on yours for the second time tonight.

Your body betrays you, a desperate whimper ebbs out at how fucking good Logan’s lips feel on yours.

His teeth bite down on your top lip, before suckling sweetly to combat the pain flourishing there. You moan, mouth falling open as he messily kisses you. The intoxicating taste of him swarms your tastebuds, his tongue swirling with yours in a way that leaves you dizzy with need.

A string of spit connects between your mouths as Logan pulls away, chuckling meanly when you promptly follow the warm wetness of his lips. A rough hand grips your throat again, tight enough to leave you feeling breathless but delicious enough to make your cunt squeeze around nothing.

“So that’s what you think, princess? That I don’t want you?” Logan’s fingers flex around your throat, gripping at your jaw to capture all of your attention. As if you were anything but than enamored with him. “You think that’s what I’ve been doing, huh?”

You can only stare up at him as your heartbeat rings loudly through your eardrums. A hand goes to tug at his shirt, an attempt to steady yourself, but Logan’s faster as he grabs your wrist.

“Answer me.” He whispers hotly as the hand holding yours captive moves to intertwine your fingers.

The touch of him, the hold on your throat and roughness of his fingers in yours, renders you speechless. You’re so overcome with your emotions that you can only manage to nod. The weight of you goes limp in his hold, silently begging him to do something to satiate the hunger burning every inch of you.

“Words, baby. Got nothing to say now, huh?” He taunts, his grip leaving your neck in favor of thumbing at your lips.

“Yes— I, it’s what it’s seemed like, what you’ve made me feel. Thought you hated me.”

Logan’s nose twitches, no doubt smelling your arousal as it leaks into the material covering you, ruining the lace.

“Couldn’t be more wrong,” He groans, pushing his thumb past the soft of your lips. His knees nearly buckle at the feel of your mouth closing and sucking his thumb, tongue rolling up against the skin as though it was his cock instead. “Shit, baby.”

You whine around his finger, eyes fluttering up at him in a way that has his dick aching for you.

“Fuck, been dreaming about you since the day we met. Been dreaming of you in every way possible.” He admits, a smile tugging at his lips at the way you freeze, lips leaving his thumb with a ‘pop’.

“What?” It’s a whisper, barely audible but he heard it all the same. The butterflies in your stomach are now having a complete rager, bolts of anxiousness kissing your skin.

“Of course.” Logan leanes down, pressing a kiss to your wet lips. “Knew the second I saw you you’d ruin me, so I just… stayed away. I never meant to make you think the worst. M’sorry, honey.”

This was not the way you’d expected tonight to go.

It’s as though all the confusion, anger, and sadness drain from you and, in its place,its full of the tremulous feeling of the admission.

And despite the fact that you’d fucked yourself thinking about him, and he’d heard, you feel incredibly shy. You drop your head to his hard chest, your hands squeezing his own where he holds them.

“I don’t know what to say.” You utter, brain all muddled and no other thoughts come forth as Logan haunts every inch of your mind. You feel like an idiot, even though Logan had acted like a dick for the better part you’d known him.

Logan simply lifts your head, invading your senses as his nose bumps yours.

“You were a dick.” It’s spoken factually, making him huff against your face.

“I know.”

“You could’ve kissed me months ago.”

“Can I kiss you now?”

His quick reply leaves you flushing, but when you nod, his lips are back on yours instantly, in their rightful place.

The kiss is messy; hot, wet, and dirty. Logan groans when you jump up, strong arms catching your thighs in a tight grip. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you lose yourself in the thrilling taste of his mouth. You unconsciously start humping him, dragging your drenched panties across his hard dick.

You suck on his tongue before capturing his lip between your teeth, nails dragging down his shoulder blades. A loud, feral growl escapes Logan, and without another thought, he throws your pliant body on the bed.

And at the sight of you, Logan feels like he’s about to come right then and there. In your skimpy outfit, so much plush, soft skin is on display. The hair tumbling from your shoulders has turned a dark cherry color during your kiss, and your hands are tickled with red energy that’s twirling up your arms, not unlike the way vines thread onto an old home.

This time, though, he knows you’re not upset, but instead, aroused.

He can smell the way your slick seeps from your fluttering hole, how it sticks to the skin of your thighs.

And fuck, he wants to sink his face right in front of your pussy and inhale until he’s woozy with the complete perfume of you.

So, that’s exactly what he does.

Your eyes widen as Logan drops onto the floor in front of the bed, yanking your body to the edge. Your lower half is completely in his grip, and he stares at you for a moment, eyes hazy with lust. Then, he’s pulling your pussy all the way up to his nose. The feel of him so close to your puffy lips has you clenching, even more so when he lowers his head and fucking sniffs you.

“Fuck, baby. Been dreaming of this since the minute I saw you. Smells so fuckin’ sweet.” Logan inhales deeply again, smattering messy, open mouthed kisses to the skin of your upper thigh. “You don’t know how many times I’ve wanted to throw you over my shoulder, get you alone and eat this pussy.”

“Logan!” You whimper out. The sound is completely feeble but you couldn’t care less, not with the way he’s sucking bruises into your skin. “Please, please.”

Spurred on by your whines, he sinks his canines into the skin, where your thigh meets the lips of your core.

Pain simmers into pleasure as the sting is followed by his tongue. Rosy splotches decorate your upper thighs, a preview of the bruises that will glaze the skin tomorrow. Logan does this until he’s satisfied with how his teeth imprint the skin. It’s as if it’s his way of solidifying that you’re his, like he’s staking his claim with his bruises smattering your thighs.

At some point your hand finds purchase in his hair, pawing at the tufts and tugging his face closer to where you need him most. He groans, the pain at his scalp sending jolts of desire throughout his body.

He sneaks a look up at you, and shit, you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. Your head is thrown back, sending those rebellious, red strands fluttering around you. Your hips are canting up to his mouth, and the smell of you, mixed with the previous orgasm you’d worked out before he interrupted, sends his senses in overdrive.

He knows he’d tortured you both enough when you can’t stop shivering with need, when his own hips brush against the edge of the bed. Without hesitation, Logan licks a long, wet stripe up your clothed pussy, suctioning around your enlarged clit.

The taste of you, heady, sweet, and so distinctly you, floods his tongue. He knew you’d taste good, but this? Oh, he wanted to drink you up all hours of the day.

With a growl, Logan tuggs the lace aside and loses it. He sucks, licks, and mouthed at your cunt like a man starved. His tongue dips into your hole before licking up and down your slit.

Moans of his name sound around the walls of your room, along with the filthy noise of his lips sucking your swollen button.

You’ve never felt like this before; the way he’s eating you out has your entire body on fire, and if you could see yourself, you’d see how ruby colored lines swirl all around your hands, how your hair practically glows with the intensity of your feelings.

He’d been attracted to you the minute he saw you— but the way you look when your mutation is at work? The way your hair grows shades of intoxicating reds and the way the fiery energy glows from the tips of your fingers to your elbows? Oh, how it fucking wrecks him. He just wants to keep you captive in this bedroom for all of eternity, if only to see you like this all the time.

“Feels so fucking good, fuck.” You’re a blubbering mess, hands tugging Logan’s hair hard, resulting in a moan that vibrates your pussy.

“Mine.” He grunts, and you gasp at the sensation of saliva as he spits directly onto your clit. “My fuckin’ pussy.”

Then, he latches his soft lips around your puffy bud and sucks hard. His dirty words and lucious mouth have your thighs shivering, hips bucking with insatiable need.

Like you’d done when you were alone and thinking about him, whimpers of ‘Logan’ slip past bitten lips as you rut against his face.

“That’s it, baby, say my name. Taste so fuckin’ good.” He humms against the slick, swell of your pussy.

A stream of ‘fuckfuckfuck’ is audible from open lips, forming an ‘o’ as the rush of delicious, hot pleasure pours over you completely.

As you come down, the pleasure fizzles out and overwhelming bursts of overstimulation bubble over you. Logan continues to lap at your wetness, groaning at your taste.

“S’too much, Logan.” Shaky hands grip his brown locks and you try and fail to bring the man away from your throbbing hole. His tongue laps at the taste of you, dipping in as deep as he could to savor every last drop. “Oh, fuck.”

“Taste too fuckin’ sweet, baby. Can’t help it.”

Logan grips tightly at your thighs, cruelly pinching at the flesh as he devours your pretty clit.

He can’t get enough, and seemingly, neither can you, with the way you buck into his warm, slick mouth despite the crushing pleasure. The material of your underwear snaps against you as Logan’s grip loosens, but he still eats you out as though there was no barrier.

His soft lips and dangerous tongue make it difficult to do anything but take the mind-numbing pleasure.

He’s content to stay here; between your gorgeous thighs and ravage your cunt all night, pull orgasms from you until you forget everything except the syllables that make up his name.

Except, the words that come from you have him still against you, his cock jerking and responding immediately to the addictive tilt of your voice.

“Logan— Logan, wanna suck your cock. Please.”

It was as though you were made for him— every inch of you riles him up like no one else has before and he has to take a deep, deep breath to refrain from coming in his jeans like a damn virgin.

With one last lick up your lace covered cunt, his face is suddenly above yours, the sight is lethal. The entirety of his lower face wears your wetness with pride, glistening and gleaming in the lowlight of the room. His eyes look animalistic, the hazel taken over by the black of dilated pupils.

Logan looks at you like he wants to fucking destroy you. You know without a doubt you’d let him.

A sweet kiss is pressed against your lips, a warm caress of his tongue on yours, the musky taste of your pussy causing you to part your thighs further. You whine once more, because you crave the heady taste of his cock; your mouth salivates at the thought of his tip heavy on your tongue.

“Easy, honey. Can smell how bad you want it.”

If you were less intoxicated by lust, you’d be mortified at the knowledge Logan can smell your arousal right now.

“Logan.” Pathetic whimpers and moans against his mouth have him pulling back, gritting his teeth to force himself to get a grip. It doesn’t work, not with the way you’re spread out below him, face pretty with a tiny that vaguely mimics the hue of your top and panties.”Please.”

How is he meant to last when you sound like that? All fucked out from just his tongue alone?

“C’mere’.” Logan mutters, tugging your body all the way up his chest, maneuvering you until your pussy is hovering above his mouth, facing his cock.

Completely fucked out, saliva pools in your mouth at the sight of his bulge, massive even in the confines of jeans.

You’re confused as to why Logan has put you on his chest, but it makes sense when he pulls your thighs down, mouth finding your wet, sopping sex once more.

You cry out, hips jolting at the way his tongue push the fabric away from your puffiness, immediately wrapping around your clit. At the way you were shaking on his face, unmoving besides the subtle thrusts of hips, he stops.

“Lo—“

“Go on then, baby. Suck my cock, just like you wanted.”

And oh, you both feel the slick that follows after those rasped words fill the air.

Only once you undo that damn belt buckle and pull both his jeans and boxers down, just enough to see the way his cock bounced out, wet at the red, swollen tip, does Logan resume licking up your pussy.

Fueled by the return of those talented lips, you lean forward without another thought.

Licking from base to tip, a moan vibrates against his cock as you hum, a taste so distinctly Logan making you feel light and warm. You lick up and down him sloppy, spitting on the tip of him as you slick his dick up, before finally wrapping your lips around him.

“Fuck.” His growl is borderning on feral; his teeth finding purchase on your asscheek and biting, an attempt to ground himself. It only serves to have his hips jump at the feel of you whining on him, sucking him down so fucking good. “Fuck, knew you’d be good with that pretty fuckin’ mouth.”

He’s so focused on the way you’ve started bobbing up and down the length of him, overcome with euphoria at the warmth and wetness as you suck and swirl your tongue, that he’s stopped his attention to your pussy, something he’s only reminded of as you wiggle impatiently over him.

“Sorry, princess, you’re driving me fuckin’ crazy.” He grits out, fingers gripping the flesh of your thighs at the little ‘hmph!’ you let out, pulling off his cock.

Though he can’t see you, he knows there’s a string of spit that spans from your swollen lips to his pulsating cock. He shutters, overwhelmed by you entirely, before burying his face into your weepy cunt.

”Oh! Logan, feels so good!” With a pathetic little whimper, his cock fills your mouth again as you sink down, satisfied with the way his tongue is licking at you.

A blend of moans sound as he wraps his lips around your puffed clit, as you ease his cock into your throat.

Logan’s eating you out in a frenzy, crazed by the tang of you soaking his mouth, chin, and nose. Despite the warmth bubbling in his stomach, he’s determined to make you come on his tongue again.

When thick fingers nudge into your hole unexpectedly, you mewl at the blissful feeling.

Logan’s fingers work steadily inside you in tandem with the way his mouth suckles divinely at your button. You’re an absolute mess— grinding down on his face, riding his digits, gagging as Logan’s hips match the pace of his fingers, grunts vibrating against you as he fucks your throat.

Logan curls his fingers in a way that has you seeing every fucking color of the rainbow. You come, moaning around the base of his cock and rocking back and forth on his fingers and mouth, muffled sobs spilling from your stuffed mouth.

When he feels you shivering on his tongue, overstimulated and sensitive, he pulls away from your center, the soaked fabric of your panties falling back into place once more.

Your mouth is still full of him, lips lazily sucking him down as your body tries to get ahold of the white hot pleasure still coursing through you.

“C’mere, baby.”

It’s a soft whisper against your thigh, but it settles over you, his soothing voice swirling around your shaky body like a warm blanket. Letting his cock fall from your lips, you scramble as fast as your body allows before you find yourself straddling Logan, staring down at the man with cloudy, wet eyes.

And maybe Logan is sick— because the sight of tears spilling over your cheeks has his cock unbelievably hard, a growl threatening to tumble out at the way your pretty, crimson hair spills over your shoulders.

Still, he wants to make sure you’re okay.

“What’s wrong, honey?” Logan watches at the way a small smile graces your features, even as tears continue to glisten your lash line. “You okay?”

“Nothing's wrong, just feel so good.” Your voice is a little hoarse, no doubt from the way his dick was fucking your whiny mouth. Your voice is still the sweetest thing he’s ever heard, those few words going straight to his dick.

Logan feels his own lips tug upwards as you speak. Even though he’s fucked you silly and stolen two orgasms, he tenses with desire as he notes the want dancing in your irises.

“Good.”

“Mhmm.”

There’s a beat of silence, a moment where hungry eyes lock in on one another, sensual energy threatening to burst.

Then, in a flash, lips are locked and tongues whirl together familiarly. It’s a hot, lewd kiss filled to the brim with desire— the passion almost too much with how it lights up every inch of your bodies, a fire threatening to spread.

Neither of you are sure who moved first— but it doesn’t matter because the way Logan’s hand wraps around your hair, creating a makeshift ponytail in a tight grip, steals your attention.

If someone were to see the two of you, they would see how desperate and needy you both were.

You’re kissing Logan’s top lip, biting before soothing the sting with a sweet, soft suck. Your thighs are spread over his own entirely and your position has your cunt settling over his cock nicely. Logan’s free hand grips the skin of your ass tight, guiding as you grind against him, the soaked panties catching on the tip of him with each thrust. The fingers tangled in your hair are unforgiving, tugging harshly as Logan grunts into your open mouth.

You’re both a mess of passion and lust— and your body thrums with the idea of his cock inside you.

“Such a good girl, that’s it. Fuck—“ Logan nearly whines, the feel of your wetness on his bulge has him trapping your lips in another all consuming kiss.

Your hands, lit up with energy, find purchase in his pretty hair, yanking as he kisses you vulgar, because everything is somehow too much and not enough.

“Logan— need you. Need you so bad, baby.”

Logan wants to eat you up entirely— somehow you’re still not satiated, rubbing your slick all over his lap and begging him for more. If he was a better man, he would’ve fucked you already. As it is, he likes it a little too much hearing you beg for him.

“Shhh, you got me, honey. I’m right here.”

“Fuck me, please. Need you inside, Logan.”

There’s tears in your eyes again, ready to spill over if the ache between your thighs isn’t soothed in the next five minutes. You’re clinging to him, hips stuttering because it’s just not enough and you both know it.

“My poor baby.” He sighs, the words somehow a mix of condescending and genuine and it makes you cry out. “So needy, huh?”

“Just for you.” The way you say it, it’s a message you both understand— you need him in every way possible, not just sexually.

He wonders if you know just how badly he needs you, especially now that he’s got a taste of you.

“I’m yours—“ you start, but it’s cut off by the squeak you emit when you’re suddenly flipped over, Logan’s muscular form hovering over you, his dog tags swinging between you.

“You’re mine.” It’s not a question, but a statement and it sends a thrill over you.

“Yours.” You’re nodding, eyes wide and so fucking pretty that it makes Logan squeeze his hands, the metal of his claws threatening to break through the skin.

He pulls his shirt off then, pride filling his chest at the way your eyes glaze over, a lip taken between your teeth as you stare at the vein that leads to his cock, which is pulsing with the promise of release.

He doesn’t comment on your lustful eyes, instead tracing his fingers down your body, until he reaches the hem of your baby pink lace. It doesn’t leave much to the imagination but Logan might break something if he doesn’t see your tits in all their glory.

You get the message, leaning up and slowly pulling the fabric from your chest, your breasts and midsection on full display. If he hadn’t already eaten you out twice, you would’ve moved to cover your taut nipples. Instead, you grip the chain of his necklace and pull him back down with you, sighing when you’re chest to chest.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?” He says, pecking your lips once, licking a stripe down your throat. Wetness coats both nipples as his tongue swirls over them. “Do you know how badly I’ve wanted to have you under me?”

You moan, nails digging into his shoulder blades at the fluttery feeling his lips bring, deep enough to elicit blood from his skin. Logan groans, head tipping back as his hips thrust down suddenly, the tip of his cock ramming into your clit.

“Fuck, Logan.” Your hands span the expanse of his back, scratching each time he bumps your button just right. His jeans are still on, resting just below his thighs and something about the way he couldn’t even get up to properly take them off makes you shudder.

He’s rutting against you now, dick rubbing filthy over your panties and it dawns on you then that he hasn’t come yet, too preoccupied with taking care of you.

Determined, you slide one hand onto his asscheek, pushing him further into you, while your other grips his chin, pulling his mouth to yours in a slick, open-mouth kiss.

“C’mon Logan, fuck me, please.”

Logan turns into something animalistic then— flipping you over without warning, caging you between his arms. Your gasp is audible as he yanks your wet lace to the side, before thrusting forward, and fucks his cock into you with one thrust.

“Oh my god, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me—“ the feel of Logan finally inside you had you absolutely fucking drunk on the feel of him.

“Tryin’ to, baby.” He grits, arms flexing beside your head, fingers intertwining with yours as he sinks into you, inch by inch, until you were filled to the brim.

Logan’s body covers yours, lips pressing all over your shoulder blades to soothe the little whines you let out at how fucking full you felt. It’s everything you want and more— you want to memorize the feel of him, every ridge and vein as he bottoms out.

“Baby,” he grunts, fingers flexing with yours as he stays still, for your sake. “So fuckin’ tight, so fuckin’ wet.”

And it was true— despite the fact that he’s huge, he slipped in easily because of the mess you created, a slick mix of your come and desire that seeps from you.

“Logan, fuck me, please.” You ask so sweetly, as if you weren’t impaled by his cock right now.

With that, he slips out of you slowly, before fucking into you hard, deep. Then, he fucking ravishes you— creating a steady, fast paced rhythm and fucking you dumb with his cock.

You’re a whiny mess. Your hair grows darker, hands glittering between his grip each time he slams into you, each time your cunt squeezes around him.

Completely cock drunk, your back arches, ass up and hips slamming back against his with your cheek pressing into the mattress as you sob.

You’re so fucking needy that his own thighs are wet with your desire— he growls at the sight, fucking you even faster.

“You’re mine. Have been since you came here.” Logan growled, releasing your fingers in favor of gripping your hair and pulling you up until you were pressed into his chest. “My fuckin’ girl.”

“Yours!” You cry, tears rolling down your face. Your entire body jolts with pleasure, and you feel like you couldn’t breathe, not with how euphoria threatens to smother you. “M’so close!”

“I know, honey, I know. Can feel you fuckin’ squeezin’ around me.“ Logan moans out, pushing you back down into the mattress and finding purchase on your hips, pulling you back hard. “Gonna come all over me?”

You don’t answer, instead crying out as you feel a sharp flash of pain on your asscheek, Logan’s hand swift and quick. The pain mixes into pleasure when he rubs at the red skin, pressing sweet kisses on your back.

He wishes you could see yourself right now; maybe then you would understand why he was so intoxicated by you.

Your pretty body is bent over, ass up and face in the sheets as whimpers seep out. The lace that drove him crazy is yanked to the side, grazing his cock each time he drove deeper inside you. You’re so beautiful like this, he wants to keep you forever.

Sweet, little ‘uh,uh’s’ fill Logan’s ears as he speeds up, pulling you back up once more against his chest. He wants to be as close as fucking possible, the feel of your skin on his almost searing.

You turn your head back, lips seeking out his own. He kisses you, sucking at your lips as he continues to fuck you vigorously.

The fluttery feeling of your cunt squeezing around him suddenly sends him over the edge— low groans falling in your open mouth as hot, searing spurts of come coat your walls.

Knowing that Logan had lost it, finally giving into the temptation like you’d been doing all night, has you whining as your own orgasm surrounds your entire being.

“Baby—“ Logan thrusts shallowly, riding your orgasms out as long as he could; if he could, he’d never leave this feeling behind. Seemingly, you agreed as your nails dig into his forearms that hold you up, eyes squeezing shut at the overpowering bliss tingling everywhere. “I got you, it’s okay.”

“Logan, fuck!” It comes out as a huff, head against his sweaty neck, body completely limp in his hold.

You’d never been so incredibly sex-dazed in your life. From this moment onward, Logan has ruined you for anyone else.

Though, you hope there isn’t anyone else.

Logan kisses your head before untangling from you; a smirk dancing across his usually gruff features at the little whine let out as he pulls out. He gently rolls you onto your back, laying your head tenderly on the pillows. It was such a stark difference to the rough way he’d fucked you minutes prior, but butterflies flutter around your stomach all the same.

You watch his eyes trail lower, landing on the mess between your thighs.

Logan is mesmerized by the sight; your pussy is destroyed , so wet with his come seeping out of your hole. Mindlessly, he lowers himself until heieye level with your sex. Sans any warning, his fingers are thrusted back inside.

He ignores your hiss in favor of trying to push his come back inside, to keep you full of him. His eyes meet yours, watching as your chest rises as you observe him. There’s a glint in your eye that has his heart stuttering.

“I want to kiss you.” You whisper, soft and a little bashful, as if he didn’t have his fingers inside you. You look too fucking perfect, hair returning to its original color, eyes cloudy with unspoken words, a smile gracing your face.

How could he deny you when you looked like that?

Logan kisses your clit once, enjoying the way you jump before removing his fingers.

With those same digits, he sticks them in his mouth, sucking the flavor of you both and humming. He could hear the way your heart picked up at his actions. He releases them with a loud ‘pop’, before finally coming back to you.

He hovers over you, and like you’d done earlier, soft hands pull at the chain until his lips melt with yours in a soft kiss. Logan pulls back, resting his head on yours, eyes connecting with yours.

“Hi.” You giggle then, nose bumping his in the proximity.

“Hi, baby.” Logan kisses your lips once more, before rolling beside you. You would’ve whined at him if it weren’t for the way he immediately pulls you onto his chest.

With your limbs tangled, a kiss pressed to your forehead, you think this could be heaven and if so, you never wanted to leave.

It was quiet for a moment— the two of you content to listen to one another’s heartbeat, the breaths that fall from lips. Then, you break the silence, because of course you do.

“Logan?”

“Hmm?”

“Just so you know, I’m expecting you to take me out before you get me like this again.” You mutter against his slick chest, where your head rests as you wrap yourself around the man like a koala.

A deep laugh fills the room, chest rumbling because what the fuck?

He’s fucked you, with his mouth and cock, and now you’re laying on him as his come seeps out of you and you’re demanding him to take you out?

He was going to in the first place, but he thinks it’s cute you decided for him.

Logan may be a man that’s been alive for almost two centuries, practically immortal, but it’s completely possible you’ll be the death of him.

˚｡⋆⟡♡⟡⋆｡˚ fin

tags: @strangererotica @cevansbaby-dove @morganyourone @asiancupid

[pencil-n-pen]

Princess ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚

⊹‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

leon kennedy x fem!reader

Summary: Being an independent woman and a full time student is all fun and games until final’s season. Luckily, your not-quite academic rival Leon Kennedy is there to pick you up when you fall.

cw: Female pronouns and description used for reader but nothing detailed (no skin color, eye color, hair type, body type, etc.) This is basically just an x reader for my independent eldest daughters who do nothing but their absolute best all the time everyday and deep down want a hot guy with beefy arms to let them relax for a minute. So i guess expect the related issues that come with being an eldest daughter?

Tags/tropes: hurt/comfort, dom! leon if you squint, leon’s very touchy, leon being a gentleman!! probably ooc, i kinda struggled finding his voice :/

wc: 3.3k

a/n: wowee so i’m not rlly looking to be a full time author or anything but i could NOT get this idea out of my head and i figured i could give back to the tumblr fic community <3 here’s to everyone who wants hurt/comfort without smut, incest, or a needlessly specific reader! hope everyone’s recovering well from finals!

— ‎ ‧₊˚ 𓂃౨ৎ

The first time it happened, it honestly, truly, was an accident. A mistake, if you will. You would never willingly fall asleep on a random guy at a party. That is all kinds of bad for a number of reasons.

However. There were some… extenuating circumstances.

Finals. They’re a make-or-break for the first semester. Mostly just a break. In the sense that you contemplated how upset your parents would be at you if you dropped out and if the subsequent disowning would be worth it.

You did finals the same way you did everything. You worked. Studied. Borderline obsessed over it. Romanticized it so you could push through when the other’s resolve started dropping. Stayed home. Your friends bemoaned your “no-fun attitude” but they’re crying over their grades and you’re not, so.

Well. Actually you’re definitely crying over your grades, almost every day in fact. But not because they’re bad. Just because you’re tired. Really tired. The kind of tired that makes people have public breakdowns. But you can’t afford to have a public breakdown because you have to succeed at college and you have to work in order to stay on top of your bills and be able to send some money home to your family and make sure you have time to call your parents and make time for your sister to call you and vent because you didn’t have a you at her age and you wish you did so you have to be there for her and your friends need you to be there for them not to mention planning for how you’re going to use your degree after you graduate and—

Most of the time you try not to think about it.

So finals were over. And everyone wanted to celebrate. And you did, you promise. You’re totally the party girl type. Totally. (Maybe if you say it enough times it’ll come true?)

You don’t hate parties. You like dressing up and going out. It’s fun! It’s just… not your idea of an unwind. Not after you nearly ran yourself into the ground for a month straight for the sake of academic validation. You’d prefer to sleep for 72 hours straight. And maybe watch a movie at home in the sweatshirt you cried over your textbooks in. Maybe over a glass of wine? You’re not really sure. Relaxing never really goes well for you. It’s either depression-bed-rotting or full productivity.

Needless to say, you weren’t exactly thrilled to find yourself at this party. You’re not really sure how your friends convinced you.

But you’re here, in makeup and an outfit you like (you’re thankful this isn’t one of the ‘put on a tight dress and dance’ parties) and you just honestly want to go to bed. It’s a house party, so it’s not nearly as crazy as some of the other parties you’ve been (read: dragged) to, but still.

You’re on the couch, ignoring the smell of alcohol in the air and pretending the pounding baseline of the music coming from the speaker in the kitchen isn’t starting to give you a headache.

Ada Wong, a girl you’ve hesitantly dubbed your party friend, is sitting on your left, while the guy you can never quite tell what he is to her, is sitting on your right.

Leon Kennedy.

On a good day, Leon Kennedy is a smart, brooding, annoyingly capable guy who you share some of your classes with. On a bad day, he’s the bane of your existence. On a really bad day, you fantasize about all the ways you could kill him and turn the experience into a really good term paper.

It’s complicated. You’re smart. He’s smart. You tend to clash because neither of you like backing down from a challenge.

But right now, in this moment, at this party, the only thing you can think about is how fucking tired you are and how warm he is.

The music is so loud it drowns everything out in your brain. The few thoughts that make it through the overwhelm of sound are fuzzy and staticky. The cling and slip around in your head like syrup. The worst parts about parties are, funnily enough, working to cancel out the main reason you can’t fall asleep in your own bed at night: overthinking.

That and the fact that you haven’t sleep in forty-eight hours. An energy drink and an iced coffee count as a full nights sleep, right? You’re sure the heart palpitations are normal.

You manage to keep up with the steady flow of the group conversation, but as the night wears on, talking becomes harder and harder and just plain processing the words being said slowly turns into an impossible task. At some point, someone else squeezed onto the couch— you think it might be Chris? Ada did say he was coming late— so now you’re pressed against the one and only Leon Kennedy, and he’s radiating heat like a furnace.

Like you, he opted for a slightly more casual approach to the house party. Of course, he’s a guy, so his wardrobe was probably never that big, but still. It’s nice to see someone else in a sweatshirt and jeans.

You at least put on your favorite jeans! You call them your hot jeans, for self explanatory reasons. So what if you’re wearing an oversized sweatshirt? It’s cold!

You jolt in place, not realizing your eyes had slipped close and the conversation had continued on without you. Something prickles in the back of your head. An instinctual sort of thing.

Don’t fall asleep in public places.

Don’t fall asleep at someone’s house you don’t know.

You know the owner of the house, you think. You’ve been here once or twice. But you don’t know everyone at the party and where your friends have gone because they’re not in the group talking here and you should probably stand up soon, to wake yourself up, don’t let your friends down, don’t be that girl who falls asleep at the party, don’t—

You jolt again.

Wake up. You tell yourself. Leon’s looking at you out of the corner of his eye, but you ignore it.

It feels like a record skip. You’ll blink, and the conversation isn’t the same as when you first closed your eyes. The song isn’t the same. Were the lights always this bright?

“Whew!” Ada whistles from above. When did she stand up? “Someone’s got final’s exhaustion written all over their face!”

The group laughs and you do too, but it sounds different. Leon doesn’t. Why isn’t he laughing?

You jolt again. Harder this one. A full body shake. You wince as your knee knocks into Leon’s.

“Sorr—“

“Stop that.” He grumbles, and oh. A warm, solid hand snakes around your waist and pulls you closer. Closed to that warm, stupidly comfortable side.

This is wrong. It’s Leon. It’s Leon. You can’t. And this is a party, and your friends are here—

“Stop being stupid,” You can feel his chest rumble from where your cheek is pressed flush against it, and when did that happen? He picks up your left arm and drapes it across his stomach, then picks up your right arm and wraps it around his lower pack. “Squeeze.”

You listen, and wow. Who has time to go to the gym this much and be an academic rival? You feel like you’re slacking. Maybe you need to make time to get some—

“I can hear you thinking,” He says, voice deep and rumbly. It’s honestly a miracle you can hear him over the music. It’s probably because your face is pressed against his chest. If you strain, you can feel the dull thud of his heart.

“You have a heart?” You say, half-delirious with exhaustion. It comes out more as a question than a statement

“Mhm,” He rumbles. “I am in possession of one. Great observation princess.”

You frown into his chest. “Why are you always so mean? You call me that stupid name. I’m not a princess.”

“I’m not mean. Whoever said princess was a mean nickname? You decided that on your own.”

“Then how come you call me that?”

“Because,” He huffs, repositioning to a more slouched position that’s more comfortable for your neck. The arm tightens around your waist.

It’s nice. It’s possessive. Protective. No one’s ever really done that for you before. Usually it’s you doing the protecting.

You don’t want to relax. You can’t. You can’t.

“Because,” He continues, “Princesses need to be taken care of. Especially smart, stubborn princesses who never pause for one second. Not even when they should.”

You should get up. Apologize for how weird you’re being. Have another coffee or energy drink. Join the party. Do something that isn’t this.

“Go to sleep,” He says, his voice like a warm blanket settling and slipping into your mind. “Nothing‘s going to happen to you while I’m here. No one is going to be mad at you for sleeping. And if they are, I’ll kick their ass. Go to sleep.”

It’s easy to give in after that.

You sag, boneless. Like a puppet with it’s strings cut. You inhale deeply, breathing in the deep, rich scent that’s distinctly Leon.

Just for a few minutes. Because Leon’s watching. He won’t let something happen to you. Just for a few minutes. You’ll get up soon. You will.

He tucks you closer to him. “Sleep.”

You’re out like a light.

—

“No way, she’s actually asleep?”

“Holy shit Leon, did you drug her?”

“I did not.”

“Well, thanks, for whatever weird magic-spell you cast. Seriously. We’re all starting to get worried about her. She doesn’t take any breaks and she doesn’t let anyone help. Last week a librarian found her asleep on the printer. Fully standing.”

“Hmm.”

“I’m going to start inviting you to our apartment if it means she’ll actually get some fucking sleep. It’s unsettling finding her in the same position as when I left like, six hours beforehand.”

“Don’t worry. She’s in good hands.”

—

It’s horrific, running into him in the library.

What makes it more horrible is the fact that you’re ugly crying silently in the English textbook section, because it’s always empty. You’re ugly crying in the English textbook section of the university library and Leon Kennedy just walked into the aisle.

You sniff, lifting your head from your knees to stare up at him from the ground. He has a knack for finding you at your lowest, it would seem.

“We’ve got to stop seeing each other like this, princess.”

“Oh?” You sniff hard, running a hand across your face as if that will clear up your red rimmed, puffy eyes, the tear tracks on your face, or the flush on your nose. The action at least wipes away the snot. “I wasn’t aware you ever fell asleep on me at a party. Did I ever find you crying in the English textbook section of the library?”

He tilts his head. “Why the English textbook section? It’s one of your best subjects.”

“It’s the emptiest section. Plus, anyone looking for an English textbook at this hour isn’t going to bat an eye at me.” You wrap your arms around your legs and hug them to your chest. “What are you doing here?”

“One of your roommates called Ada. They said you haven’t been home since this morning. They thought you might’ve been at hers, or with me.”

You snort. “It’s like they don’t even know me.”

He rolls his eyes. “I think they were hoping you’d be there. I think anyone who knows you knew you’d be here.”

“Crying in the English section?”

“In the library, dumbass.”

He stalks forward, leaning back against the bookshelf across from you and sliding his hands into his sweatpants pockets.

“Tell me. Is your pathological avoidance to asking for help conscious or not?”

You kick out, one shoed foot catching him in the shins. “Dick.”

He shrugs. “Just want to know. I can’t exactly gloat over scoring two points above you if you’re not in top form. I want a fair fight.”

“Is that what you're here for?” You ask suddenly, everything in your body going rigid. “You think this is funny?”

“No,” He says calmly. “I’m here because you’re being stupid again. You know what’s not healthy, or smart?”

He gestures to you. You, sitting on the floor, tears drying on your face. “This. Going out to parties to make your friends happy when you should be at home, sleeping. Studying for so long you end up looking like your boyfriend of eight years just broke up with you. Come on, princess. Where’s those brains you brag about?”

“They’re up here,” You tap your forehead. Against your will, your eyes burn, tears welling up, your face tightening. “And they’re tired.”

You drop your head into your hands, forgoing your silent crying of earlier in the place of open mouth sobbing. You can’t help it. You’re just so tired. So done with it all. With trying to keep up, with trying to make space, with trying to make time. With doing your best and it not being enough. You’re tired of being tired.

“Annnd there it is. Come here.”

He lowers himself to the floor next to you, tucking you close in a similar fashion as that night at the party.

“Come on, same thing as before. Hold onto me. Give yourself a minute.”

You wrap your arms around his middle, same way as last time, burying your face into his shoulder. Someone could see. Someone you know might see you crying and think—

He reaches a hand up and pulls the hood of your sweatshirt over your head.

“There. Now no one can see your face. Stop worrying. Just cry, princess.”

You sniffle. “I’m getting snot on your sweatshirt.”

“It’s had worse on it.”

“Gross.”

You can practically feel the eye roll. “Can you stop being dirty-minded and focus on something productive? Like crying? Or not crying, if that would make you feel better.”

You shift, so your head is lying against his shoulder instead of smashed into it like before.

“Why do you care if I feel better?”

Why do you care?

He shrugs against you.

“Told you,” He pushes your hood back a bit, tapping you on the forehead with his pointer finger. “My competition’s no fun if she’s not taking care of herself. How else is she gonna kick my ass?”

“I can take care of myself just fine. I don’t need you to swoop in here, Leon.”

“Mhm,” He says. “And i’m sure you do great at it, considering you’re still alive and kicking my ass at those stupid socratic seminars. Consider this… self-care. In the face mask, getting your nails done way.”

“Who taught you self care?”

“Ada. We have face mask nights.”

You jolt up. “Is she—“

“She’s not my girlfriend, we’re not fucking, no she’s not going to be upset or care in any way about this. Calm down.”

You begrudgingly settle back against him.

“If anything,” He continues. “She’ll be excited to see you at more parties in the coming months.”

You frown. “I never said—“

“You only go to parties if your friends physically drag you or when you feel confident enough in your grades and the general state of your life. It’s really easy to tell which version of you shows up to the party. It’s the way you dress.”

“How so?”

He shifts slightly. Guilt twinges in your stomach as you realize how uncomfortable he must be.

“You wear your pick-me-up pants when you’re dragged there. The ones that make your ass look great.”

You sit up with a gasp. “My hot pants?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Is that what you call them?”

Your brain catches up to the rest of what he said. “Hold on. Did you just say—“

“I said what I said. I’m assuming there’s a reason you call them your hot pants.”

He smirks, and you flush.

“Moving onto more pressing matters,” He tilts his head at you. “You have two options this evening. Either I take you back to your place and you sleep in your own bed, or you come to my place and we binge watch the Oceans movies until you fall asleep.”

“How did you know I like the—“

“The icebreaker for club thing. You said they were your favorite movies.”

You look up at him. “You remembered?”

“You were wearing your hot jeans.”

“You’re the worst.”

He scans your face for a moment, eyes sparking with mirth and a little something less innocent. “Maybe.”

You sigh and lean back against him, exhaustion from all your crying hitting you at once.

“Nuh-uh, no sleeping here. You gotta pick one. My place or yours?”

You frown into his shoulder. “Ugh. Fine. Yours, but only because I wanna watch the Ocean’s movies. You better not have a disgusting frat house.”

“I do not. I do have popcorn and ice cream.”

“Ada bought those, didn’t she?”

“Nope,” He says, nudging you with his shoulder to stand. You clamber in gracefully to your feet, your head starting to pound. “Chris likes to have movie nights. It pays to be well stocked.”

Your cheeks warm as a large, steadying hand finds its way to the small of your back. “How many of my friends are you friends with?”

“I was friends with them first.”

“Ass.”

He chuckles incredulously. “For having friends?”

“Yes,” You say, letting him pull you to his side while you walk to your table where you left your stuff. Probably not the best idea to leave your entire net-worth unattended, but whatever. You were going through it. “How dare you.”

“Mmm. I see. My apologies, princess. I’ll tell Chris and Ada.”

“You get on that.”

You can’t help but smile as he helps you pack up your things, passing you items across the table and carefully zipping up your pencil case.

“Don’t touch my papers, I have a system.”

“Is the system absolute chaos?”

“Shut up.”

Once everything is packed up, you zip up your backpack, but before you can sling it on, Leon’s arm darts out and snags it right out from under you.

Your expression grows pinched. “I can carry my own bag, Leon.”

“I know you can.”

“Give me my bag.”

“No.”

You groan. “Why do you want to carry my bag?”

“See, there’s this thing called chivalry—“

“Oh my god, shut up. When have you and chivalry ever been synonymous?”

He shrugs. “Ever since I met the girl in the hot jeans who regularly kicks my ass academically.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Mmm,” He hums, wrapping an arm around your waist and walking you towards the doors to the library. “And you’re stubborn. Come on. Brad Pitt and George Clooney are waiting for you.”

You sigh dramatically, hiding a small smile in your hand.

Maybe you could get used to this.

♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ

[reignpage]

I see that you have answered what the eden!au boys get turned on, what does their girls get turned on? (My glorious, precious bossy wife(sukunas reader), I wanna know EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU!)😫😫

So many questions 😫 I’m kidding keep em coming

Goth!reader: honestly nothing and everything

Sometimes Gojo just be talking dumb shit and she’ll start sliding her hand up his thigh and says ‘go on baby, keep talking’ or he’s just lying on the bed watching TikTok as they laze around for a bit and she’s climbing over his body and suffocating his face between her thighs (he is NAWT complaining)

Receptionist!reader: when he defends her from mean clients

Seeing his usual smile disappear from his face and be replaced by this deadly energy makes her so wet she has to find an excuse to go into his office and disappear for like an hour (cue the staff taking their lunch break early lol)

Art!reader: seeing him working as cursed womb

Now that she knows and they’re together, she gets to join him. She just sits back and hands him the things he needs and watches him become so serious, so certain and assured, unlike the usually bored looking quiet guy who slouches. When he finishes, he turns to her and asks what she thinks but she’s already got a hand down her trousers

Gossip!reader: okay okay I haven’t mentioned this because I honestly wasn’t sure if this is too ooc but Toji wears reading glasses

He is a business major after all lol so he does have to do some work y’know essays and shit. She has to resist the urge to snap a pic and post it on The Bulletin for the world to see. Because it’s so rare for him to work, she does wait until he’s finished and right after she’s kneeling between his legs and giving him a reward. It encourages him to work more often

Physics!reader: when he shows off his strength

You expect nerds to be physically lacking but Nanami Kento is not. It can be something simple like pulling her close, carrying heavy things, or when he wears short sleeves and he crosses his arms and his muscles bulge. It’s literally him breathing and she’s becoming flustered. Nanami just assumes she’s got a high libido but it’s actually cause he’s so damn hot 24/7

Prez!reader: when he does something he really shouldn’t do

For example, at the Ryomen estate, during a family dinner that reader attends, a relative talked shit about her or said something really passive aggressive about her clothes or her upbringing. Sukuna lunged across the table and beat them black and blue and no one dared stop him, they just carried on eating and making idle small talk. Reader forgave him for everything there and then but never told him lol

[alllgator-blood]

Disappeared for a bit but I'm still here, I just got overwhelmed and learned I should probably take this blog less seriously

I'm using the new year as an excuse to come back on here and try to not ditch my account for another 6 months-- I'm NOT good at posting stuff online to a crowd of more than like 5-20 followers, I originally wrote a huge long-winded draft describing all of my thoughts in great detail. It was too long. I guess all I want people to know is I'm somebody who's spent years making art that I knew nobody will ever see, so it's incredible and overwhelming to have thousands of eyes on my art all of a sudden? It's both the coolest thing and the scariest thing ever to me simultaneously, I'm by no means a Popular Artist but I went from virtually no interaction for years to suddenly tens of thousands of cumulative notes on my posts so it's huge for me. And I haven't adjusted super well to it, entirely due to my own shitty brain chemistry.

I don't want anyone to feel like I'm ignoring their messages or like I don't appreciate the fact they go out of their way to give me their thoughts/send me ideas, genuinely this is the most support I've *ever* had for my art and it's so so fucking cool. It's led me to create so much more than I thought possible! I used to run ask blogs for a couple very niche video game fandoms, and I prided myself on being able to draw full comics for EVERY ask I got, answer EVERY message and went into this blog assuming I could still do that. Um....safe to say I cannot....I have like 200+ asks and I think I drafted a dozen or more that I answered but felt my art was too low effort. I felt so bad I couldn't put maximum effort into everything, and I've been beating myself up over it to a point where *no* asks are getting answered, and this blog went from a really fun thing I actually woke up early just to check on, to something I wanted to avoid like the plague for the past week out of guilt. DUE TO NOBODY'S FAULT BUT MY OWN, everyone has been so chill when I've had to take breaks so idk why I feel the need to hold myself hostage.

So I'm gonna try and take it easier, give myself a break when my personal life goes horribly, close my ask box periodically if I feel overwhelmed, maybe hop on here like once or twice a day rather than compulsively refreshing every 5 minutes...I hope that makes things better. I realize I should probably just *do* that without announcing it, but I have no self discipline and unless I announce I'm gonna do something, it's not gonna fuckin happen lmao.

Anyway if you read this far, here's the first panel of a sequel comic I made to the christmas one I posted last time I was on here, this one is *very* representative of my mindset the last week and will hopefully not reflect how I feel now that I survived december. I know for a fact there's mentions I haven't gotten to check yet so I'm gonna do that after laying down for a bit, here's to a chill 2025 where my social anxiety doesn't eat me alive

[why-animals-do-the-thing]

perhaps a bit of an odd question: so, when I'm scrolling tumblr on mobile, I have a habit of downloading most images i come across, so that I can send them to people who don't use tumblr, especially memes and animal photos. however, i also have severe memory issues, and I may end up forgetting where i got certain images. i know for the photo repository one of the rules is to not repost the photos without any modification- which i might forget, or forget which images on my phone fall under that rule. and while i would guess that that rule doesn't apply to stuff like direct messages or texts, i might forget to tell the person I'm sending it to, who might repost it elsewhere without being aware, or months after downloading i will just forget and use one of the photos in a post I'm making because it felt relevant.

this is something i can pretty easily solve myself by just blocking the photo repository blog, or tags relating to it, but I'd rather not do that because i do really like seeing the photos and all the info and stuff. and i would assume it would be an insane amount of work for you to add something like a watermark to every single photo, so I'm not really sure how to go about this. i like seeing the photos, but i don't want to accidentally break the rules.

You clearly care deeply about doing the "right thing", so, what that tells me is that you're not actually the target audience for that rule. I appreciate all the thought you put into this message. Let's talk about it!

I've been reconsidering if requiring people to get permission for reposting images is the best policy to have and I'd like people to weigh in.

My original reasoning was this: the more I can ensure that reposts are affiliated with credit, the better I can control copyright on the images on the site, and therefore have more ground to challenge any scrapers/fake accounts/AR groups that yoink them for nefarious purposes. The easiest way to do that seemed to be to have people ping and ask, with the expectation of saying yes almost all the time.

But there's a couple problems with that, I think, in practice:

People don't like emailing strangers (I forget this! I have done it for work for so many years it isn't uncomfortable anymore).

This isn't how the internet works. (Tumblr has a specific microculture that encourages crediting creators and not stealing! Once this is shared more widely on other platforms, I don't expect it'll be the same ecosystem).

It actually undermines organic spread of content! (You're less likely to make an excited post about a cool photo if you have to send a maybe-scary email and wait for a response). And I do want there to be lots of eyeballs on the photos.

Realistically, @nexus-nebulae, with the policy right now? If you slipped up and reposted something without thinking, I'd just ask you to add credit to the post so it directs back to the site. The goal of this whole project is community access and engagement - I want to you to enjoy the photos, and send them to your friends! I'm just trying to also protect it from the awful that a lot of the internet has become.

But, I'm also wondering it it makes sense to swap the policy to say that it's fine to re-post images on socials as long as they're appropriately credited and/or linked back to the repository. This isn't the policy yet, but if you're reading this please tell me what you're thinking.

Non-edited image use (like putting them in a scientific paper, using them to build a curriculum unit, or putting them on board game cards - these are just random examples) would still need to be requested; but that's an entirely protective stance and if you ask, my goal is to always say yes.

So OP, please don't worry too much. Enjoy looking at the animals, do your best, and I'll be happy. :)

[hypnopreppy]

New Year, New you

Chet mumbles to himself as he checks his email. It’s New Year’s Eve and Chet could care less about partying or shooting off fireworks. All he wants to do is get some last games in before the new year. Taking a break from gaming, he decided to check his email.

“Hm? What’s this?” Chet clicks on an email he just got.

New Year, New You

“It's probably some stupid scam,” Chet says to himself. Curiosity getting the better of him, he opens it and decides to read what it has to say.

ARE YOU TIRED OF THE SAME OLD YOU? ARE YOU SICK OF FAILED NEW YEAR'S RESOLUTIONS?

“Actually yeah I am,” Chet agrees.

THEN LOOK NO FURTHER THAN Optima! THIS BRAND NEW ONLINE PERSONAL COACHING SYSTEM IS JUST WHAT YOU NEED TO FIND THE NEW YOU!

“Optima?”

HAVING BEEN TESTED AND VETTED BY THE WORLD’S LEADING NEUROSCIENTISTS, Optima, PROVIDES UNPARALLELED CHANGES FOR A NEW AND IMPROVED YOU.

NO HARD WORK. NO GIMMICKS. JUST CUTTING EDGE TECHNOLOGY FOR YOU! GET RESULTS IN SECONDS!

“Seconds? Really?” Chet wonders what it would be like. His life is kind of boring for the most part.

THE NEW YOU IS JUST ONE CLICK AWAY! READY TO TRANSFORM?

CLICK THE LINK. WE DARE YOU.

Chet’s mouse hovered over the bright red button at the bottom of the page. “Is this real?” He asks himself. As he contemplates clicking it he reads some small text below the button.

Act fast! This offer vanishes at midnight.

He looked over at the clock. 11:59PM

“Oh shit!” He says. “You know what? Fuck it!” Chet clicks the link with a few seconds to spare.

The next screen brings him to a gray screen with black loading dots in the center. For what feels like an hour, Chet just stares with anticipation. What’s going to happen? Are they gonna take my money? His mind is running with questions.

Suddenly the screen goes black. A cursor comes on and types out “LOADING STEPFORD PROTOCOL…”

“Stepford? What the-” Chet is immediately cut off by the next words.

“WELCOME CHESTER WINTHROP”

“How the hell does it know my-” Before he could finish, the screen changed again, filling his room with bright flashing lights. 

“Whoa…” Chet was enthralled by the lights. 

The flash of colors featured words that he could barely make out.

RELAX

RELAX

RELAX

Chet felt an uncontrollable urge to just relax. The lights are so pretty, why not relax?

NO THOUGHTS

NO THOUGHTS

NO THOUGHTS

Chet’s mind stops running, the only thoughts being the words on the screen.

OBEY

OBEY

OBEY

Chet obeys.

DELETE PERSON

DELETE PERSON

DELETE PERSON

Chet is gone.

YOU ARE CHESTER WINTHROP

YOU ARE CHESTER WINTHROP

YOU ARE CHESTER WINTHROP

“I am Chester Wintrhop,” Chester mumbles.

YOU BEHAVE

YOU BEHAVE

YOU BEHAVE

“I behave.” 

YOU ARE COMPLIANT

YOU ARE COMPLIANT 

YOU ARE COMPLIANT

“I am compliant.”

YOU ARE OBEDIENT

YOU ARE OBEDIENT

YOU ARE OBEDIENT

“I am obedient.”

YOU ARE A GOOD BOY

YOU ARE A GOOD BOY

YOU ARE A GOOD BOY

“I am a good boy.” Chester repeats.

DRESS PREPPY

DRESS PREPPY

DRESS PREPPY

“Dress preppy.”

Unbeknownst to Chester, the reality around him warps to match his new self. His gaming computers and desk shifted to be minimalist with a laptop, his posters replaced with a simple pastel, and bed neatly done.

Chester himself also experienced change. His unruly hair suddenly became cut and brushed, his hoodie and sweatpants replaced with a collared shirt tucked into khaki pants. His slippers were replaced with boat shoes.

After a few hours of conditioning the video ended. Chester rose from his seat smiling, transformed into his new self. Chet, the unkempt gamer was transformed into Chester, a servant of the community and missionary to the Stepford Protocol.

“Golly, it’s late! I have volunteer work tomorrow!” 

[peachyscenes]

nine to five | office workers!enhypen x fem!reader

notes: SMUT!! so mdni and proceed with caution/at your own risk! porn with some plot. you 🫵, my dear reader are in fact the same person for the rest of this piece/mini-series (not sorry lol). enhypen are pervs! like freaky pervs! decelis corp is lowkey highkey a sex service company lol. you must really need this job but it's ok because same. not required, but i encourage you all to read part one and two to give them love 🫶🫶

a/n: me when my final for a class was monday the 23rd and christmas eve was tuesday and then christmas was wednesday and now new years is TODAY 😭😭

taglist!: @vixialuvs @chubbypeach2111 @jungwoosbaey

reblogs are appreciated!!

Welcome to Decelis Corporation! As the new member of the creative department, you're tasked with developing new ideas to help promote the company and bring in new investors! Though the creative department is not as big as the other departments, you and your seven teammates are just as capable and incredibly skilled! Though, no one told you just how skilled they were... And unfortunately you made the mistake of not reading the fine print when signing the contract...

All members are welcome to explore the services provided by Decelis! By signing this contract, you are consenting to every and all services at your own expense (refer to the employee handbook for the list of services)! Please note that services outside of office hours will not count as overtime unless a request has been submitted by the team leader!

Thank you for joining Decelis Corporation! We hope to have you for a while!

Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII

Part III: Jake, Data Entry Clerk

There's a small part of you that can't help but feel smitten whenever Jake comes to you about something. His charms are different from your other coworkers. His smile is infectious and his eyes quite literally sparkled when he asked you to hand some files to Sunghoon before you went on break. Jake Sim is so polite and sweet that you almost never question him.

You're walking into Decelis when you notice that the elevators are down and a couple of people outside of it discussing its condition. Quickly, you seek out the front door receptionist to figure out why.

"They've been acting up since yesterday in the evening. At around 6:00pm I think. The technicians have been working on it early this morning. You'll have to take the stairs." She gives you an apologetic smile, and you can only thank her and return the gesture because at the end you know it's not anyone's fault. Thank goodness your company actually cares. Fortunately, your department is only on the third floor, so while you did have to climb a bit (and shamefully you were absolutely winded), it definitely beats being on the higher floors.

Upon entering your department, you're immediately bombarded with tasks to do (courtesy of Jongseong). You want to complain about how you just got here, but you're suddenly reminded of the last time you ran your mouth to Jay.

Your bum aches at the reminder.

You decide to just listen, so you get settled and begin to work on your files. About an hour goes by when there's a knock on your desk. You look up to be met with Jake's blinding smile.

"Working hard or hardly working?" You sigh and smile back at him.

"I wish it was the latter."

Jake snorts. "Tell me about it." He looks around the office before grabbing a nearby chair and sitting across from you. You look around too, curious as to what he was searching for. You notice that Jay's desk is empty.

"Jay's been on our asses for the last two weeks. I can't believe Heeseung threw us to the slaughter." You giggle at his dramatics. Heeseung had to extend his week for a business trip, meaning that he'd be back next week.

"It's not so bad. He hasn't scolded anyone yet."

"Yet. I bet it's gonna be Riki this time. I noticed that the coffee pot is a quarter away from being empty." You look over to the said individual's desk and lo and behold, a fresh cup next to him.

"To be fair, he, Jungwon, and Sunoo do have a presentation later this afternoon. I guess he's feeling stressed."

Jake shrugs before turning to you once again.

"Speaking of afternoon... how about you and I get lunch together? I saw that didn't bring anything."

"Isn't your lunch an hour before mine?"

Jake nods, but gives no further explanation. He simply smiled, waiting for you to answer him.

"Okay, let's get lunch together."

You never questioned Jake. He was simply charming. Not even when his staring was lingering, or when he'd accidentally brush up against you. He was polite.

It's finally your lunch break when Jake shows up at your desk. There was an email about the elevators finally working, but it's advised that the stairs keep being used. Jake, ever the persuader, said that the elevator was fine.

"Decelis hires the best of the best. Everything will be fine."

You both hadn't even made it off the third floor when there's a stutter in the elevator's movement and then a complete stop. You wait a few seconds, two minutes, when you both decide that the elevator are down. Again.

Jake had called Jongseong to let him know of the situation. You're not in immediate danger, so there's no need to rescue you both, but the wait would be long, mostly likely your whole work day.

"I'll give you both a two day extension for the work, but I would prefer if it got submitted on time." You can hear the annoyance in Jay's voice and it took everything in you to not tell him off. Jake thanks him before hanging up.

"So much for my lunch." You grumble. You lean against the elevator wall, slightly annoyed.

"I'm sorry, Doll."

What?

You whip your head up upon hearing the pet name, and you're met with something different. A smirk.

This Jake is different from your usual one. While his eyes still sparkled, they had a hint of something more mischievous. And his charming smile is replaced with a dangerous expression. One that has you hypnotized.

"It's my fault that we're in this mess. Don't you think?"

"I-I guess..."

Jake closes in on you, and due to the limited space of the elevator, he stands in front of you pretty quickly.

"What if I make it up to you. I'll buy your dinner later. And..."

"And...?" His smirk grows, and you're sure that you just fell in his trap.

"Let me eat your sweet pussy."

It doesn't take much to convince you. A couple kisses here and there and you're letting Jake take off your dress pants before he drops to his knees.

Jake kisses up from your ankle, occasionally licking and nibbling at your skin. He keeps eye contact with you as he makes his way up.

"Heeseung said your pussy is sweet. I've been fantasizing about how you taste since."

"Y-You talked about me?" You feel breathless as he passes your knee and his hair brushes the front of your mound.

"We all do. You're so pretty, how could we not?" He reaches the front of your underwear, and teasingly gives you a kiss on your clothed pussy. Jake gently brings one of your legs up to his shoulder before leaning in to inhale your cunt through your underwear. He lets out a guttural groan, biting his lip and leaning in to give you a tentative lick right above where your clit is.

You feel your heart quickening. Seeing Jake from this angle made you feel something. Something primal and his stupid, pretty doe eyes that somehow still held stars in them did not help. You wanted to see him cry so bad. You wanted big, fat tears to fall from his apple cheeks. Your hand finds its way into his hair and you pull his head back, causing his brows to shoot up and a slight blush to show on his face.

"If you wanna taste, you gotta beg Puppy."

Jake feels his stomach turn at the tone of your voice. It does something to him and he can only let out a whine at the sudden change of roles.

"Can I taste your pussy, Miss?"

"Do you deserve it Pup? You said it was your fault..." You elicit another whine from him. His voice heightens in pitch.

"I didn't know the elevator would go down-!" Another sound, this time a whimper when you tighten your grip in his hair.

"Watch your tone."

"M-M'sorry Miss! Please! Let me taste you! I promise to be good, I promise! Please let me taste your pussy!"

You don't say anything. Instead you move his head to your clothed cunt and press his face against you. He lets out a muffled 'thank you!' before lapping at your cunt, soaking the fabric of your underwear with his saliva. He keeps his hands to his side as he works his tongue on you. Your legs spread further to accommodate to his body that leans more into you. His tongue is warm and long.

You feel him lick what he can and when you look down, his eyes are staring right back at you. You moan when his tongue comes back to where you clit is. Jake slightly pulls back to throw a dollop of spit onto your clothed pussy before diving back in. His eyes roll back when he feels your own slick start to leak through.

He whimpers when you pull him back to see his work. Your folds are sticking to your underwear, making your pussy visible to him. The color of your panties do not help him. You wore white today, so the fabric almost blends in with your cunt, making every crease visible to him.

"Can I please take off your panties Miss?" Jake looks up at you pathetically and you can see his tears begin to form at his waterline.

You pretend to dwell on his question before giving him the okay. Jake's hands shoot up to the sides of your hips, ready to yank your panties down, when you stop him. You take his hands and place them on your thighs.

"M-Miss?"

You smile at him. Your hand cups his cheek, lovingly rubbing the apple of it with your thumb before running your thumb down to his mouth and opening his jaw. You slip your thumb into his mouth and Jake automatically sucks on it. You thrust your thumb into and out for a bit before taking it out. You run your thumb across his lower lip before speaking to him.

"Take them off with your teeth."

Jake doesn't hesitate, and immediately leans in to take your waistband in between his pearly whites. Jake slowly sinks down, tugging your panties off. He makes it to about your knees when you stop him. You gently tug on his hair and pull him back. He lets out another whine, and you can only giggle before leaning down to kiss him on the lips. Jake moans into you, using the opportunity to shove his tongue into your mouth. You thread your hand through his hair you you both kiss. His hands knead your thighs. You break the kiss to speak to him.

"That's enough. You've been so good to me Jakey."

You stand at your full height, taking off your panties before slinging them at him.

"Keep them. You're such a good boy."

You lean back against the wall of the elevator before spreading your legs. Jake immediately goes in and begins to devour you. His previous ministrations have your pussy dripping, his tongue was sliding easily between your folds. You moan when you feel his tongue circling around your clit and sucking on it. You push his face even further into you and Jake moans. His tongue doesn't miss a single inch of your pussy and you moan when you realize just how bad Jake wants you. You keep Jake in place on your cunt and let out another moan as he buries himself, his nose bumping against your clit.

"You love my pussy, right Jakey?"

Jake moans in response as his tongue laps at your hole. The raw taste of you is better than what he imagined and he doesn't think any other taste will satisfy him after this. His tongue prods at your hole, teasing it before delving into it. He thrusts his tongue in and out, feeling just how warm and sweet you were.

No wonder Heeseung and Jay like you so much.

Jake fucks you with his tongue and you feel yourself starting to lose your mind. Your moans begin to get louder and louder. Your legs want to clamp around his head and trap him, but his hands prevent you from doing so. They're rubbing at your thighs so gently, calm. The complete opposite of how his mouth is ruining you. Your chest heaves and before you realize it, you're coming on his tongue. Jake helps you ride out your orgasm, switching between sucking on your clit and licking your folds. A final touch to your clit has you whining and you have to gently push his head away from between your legs.

Your legs feel like jelly when he stands, and had it not been for the arm that wraps around your waist, you would've definitely fallen to the ground. Jake holds you close to him for a moment, basking in the afterglow of your orgasm. You're about to ask him if you could help him with his boner when you notice the wet patch at the front of his pants.

Jake looks down and a slight blush appears on his face out of embarrassment.

"I really enjoyed myself."

[redfagdiver]

Nasty style

Sunny side up

With a little paprika on top

Missionary

Squirting on it and then leaving, like a fish

While listening to mambo number 5

After getting tinified by a mad scientist

Fucking someone who doesn't know they're trans yet

Necromancy

In front of an American flag

While riding a bike

Dr. Seuss style

Fucking someone named egg

Gentle foot massage

Film a porno with it

Covered in chocolate

Waiting for the egg to fall on them from a Rube Goldberg machine

Getting isekai'd and bringing back a dragon egg and fucking that

Microwave

Throwing it into the ocean like the necklace from Titanic

Being rude to it

Gangbang

A classic omelette

Putting back inside the chicken that laid it

Putting it back inside themself

Inviting the egg's husband to watch

Dropping it into a volcano

Finding it in an ancient tomb first (sarcophagus)

Egg on a spoon race

Just Having Fun With It

Making

Ladling it out of a soup

With the Easter bunny

Sensually making out with it

Burying it in the sand and waiting for it to grow into an egg tree (this one doesn't work)

Gun

In a shady back alley

On the red carpet

Using it as a bowling ball

Ballroom dancing

Artificial insemination

Thinking it just died and crying over it until their tears seemingly bring it back to life

Egg salad

Sonic the hedgehog style (they won't tell me what it means)

Like a rack of ribs

Inside a grand piano

Taking it through customs

Pretending they're not related to it

Throwing it out and making instant noodles instead

Nibbling on it like a lil mouse :3

Just vibing with it really hard

Telling it a secret every so softly

Wrapped up in banana leaves (the chef not the egg)

Doggy style

On an airplane

Keeping it between their ass cheeks for a reaaaally long time, like, way longer than you think. I mean that, whatever amount of time you're thinking of right now, double it AT LEAST. And if you're wondering how they can keep it there and still go to the bathroom, believe me, they have their ways, ways so wicked and deranged I couldn't talk about them in any capacity without getting banned from Tumblr or worse. Actually, I probably should've mentioned this earlier but you probably shouldn't be reading this at all, the chefs might come after me if they know I'm divulging their secrets, but the world has a right to know. Plus, OP started it, if you're going to start telling on them you have to go all the way or you're giving them even more power, and believe me, you don't want that. If I get deactivated in the next few days, you'll know why.

In public (secretly)

In public (explicitly)

While holding on to their last thread of childhood wonder

With a nice rosé

While vehemently denying that they're doing it

In a bog

On a log

With a frog

Wearing clogs

Eggnog

Re-enacting that part of the beauty and the beast song where they go "I need six eggs. That's too expensive!"

Breaking twitch streaming guidelines

Ultimate frisbee

Throwing it at the ex-chefs dedicated to spilling their secrets, killing me- I mean them instantly

Making it pass through their entire digestive track intact

Drawing a sexy face on it

While doing your mom

Deviled (literally)

Slicing it in half real cool like a samurai

In New York City

Like in a soap opera

Leaving it on the sidewalk for someone else to find

Trapping it then leaving it on the sidewalk for someone else to find

With the help of the pope

In a movie directed by Zack Snyder

Under the moonlight and the starry sky, wondering what they did to earn such perfect company

Skydiving

During an alien abduction

The worst way you can think of

Poached

Poached in the worst way you can think of

Anal

Making sure to post someone else's unfinished Tumblr post

While wearing sunglasses

While not wearing sunglasses

While wearing the hat they earned for knowing the Hundred Ways, thereby creating a paradox

Asking really niceys

As fast as they can

Almost as fast as they can

While calling their friend from college they haven't heard from in a while

Replacing people you had to take out with highly intelligent bots on social media so it looks less suspicious

Just straight up inserting their appendage into it and thrusting in and out

Scrambled

While watching the whistle blower blower you just killed take their last brea

The folds in a chefs hat represent the hundred ways they know how to fuck an egg.

[moonbaby26]

Title: Breeding Grounds

(Chapter 20 of Doflamingo’s Marine Series)

*Crossposted to AO3 Here*

Chapter Pairings: Doflamingo x Fem!Reader

Chapter Warnings: language, animal behavior/breeding comparisons, but otherwise pretty clean actually except for some nudity, petting, and kissing. in other words, reader finally gets a little break? *gasp!* 😅

Chapter Synopsis: Doflamingo had made prior arrangements to personally pickup the serum he commissioned from Caesar for you. But on a whim, or perhaps a growing need to never be parted, the Heavenly Demon decides you’ll be accompanying him on this trip as well.

Chapters: 1,  2,  3,  4,  5,  6,  7,  8,  9,  10,  11,  12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20

Fic Masterlist

——————————

——————————

It was only one day since the news had first broken worldwide about Doflamingo’s marriage proposal to you and his resetting of your relationship’s chaotic timeline in the colosseum.

Just one day since that man had cornered you in an oversized closet and confessed to killing his own marine double agent of a brother in supposed self defense, while in the very next breath saying he wanted to make a family with you instead.

Only one damn day since you were made to swallow pool water and further irritate your injuries, only to swim to him and force his paralyzed body out of harm’s way just as he’d intended.

“You still refuse to read about us?” Doflamingo’s taunting voice now carried from the bathroom, in reference to that newest newspaper on the nightstand.

“I was there. I don’t need to read Morgans’ take on it.” You answered only because you felt you had to. Doflamingo would just press more if you didn’t.

And the warlord’s resulting chuckle came easily through that still open bathroom door. “Public perception is all part of the game, love. Don’t discount its uses so easily.”

He had been up long before dawn. Back and forth between this royal suite and his office down the hall you assumed.

But he’d insisted on you waking and showering with him. So you now lay on the bed afterward, still wet and watching him with instinctive caution.

His back was to you, not a piece of clothing or towel to cover him at all. Purposeful you were sure as he stood before the full length mirror, performing such a disconcerting imitation of a normal man’s routine.

You could see his tight ass of course, his waist, and the backs of his thighs. All toned and far too perfect while he just made small talk with you like it was something normal, moving a long razor blade up along his throat and jaw as he did.

The Heavenly Demon was shaving.

And you couldn’t yet admit that whatever thick cream he’d lathered along his skin had smelled amazing too before you’d come over here to  wait on his bed.

Yes, you supposed you’d never seen even a hint of blond stubble across that lean face. As far back as you could possibly remember he’d always looked clean and well groomed.

But it didn’t make it comfortable to witness.

Still wholly bothersome to you somehow as Doflamingo tilted his face this way and that, getting every contour carefully with that blade.

Maybe it felt better to him than his strings. Maybe he preferred the moisturizing aspect of the lather or its scent as well. Maybe he just liked to feel pampered.

Yet even a view of the best ass in Dressrosa, both literally and figuratively, couldn’t distract you forever.

Your mind was still churning, wondering what fresh trauma really awaited you next.

“Doffy.” You said, with your hand tightening into the bedsheet.

And you saw his head turn. Just enough for his good eye to look back at you. He was wiping the bottom of his face with a washcloth after rinsing off the razor blade by then.

“When are you going to let me use a phone again?” You asked somewhat without warning. But quieter than he deserved. Because you still weren’t wanting to fight again yet. You had to recover at some point. You had to at least try to anyway.

But he had taken your snail after the incident with Crocodile. And you’d noticed his own snails were never left alone with you.

He was controlling all lines of communication out of this castle. Even as he’d made such a show of claiming to trust you at the pool yesterday.

But Doflamingo didn’t say anything back at first. He tossed that washcloth, leaving it for the maids to clean up later. And then he was walking towards you out of the bathroom.

You still weren’t used to how fast he could really cross a room. Even if he was in no particular hurry with those long legs.

“My eyes are up here, darling.” He chided, watching you intently.

Your eyebrows lowered at the callout. “Well, wear underwear for once.” You retorted. His length was swinging with his strides even at full rest. “Who wouldn’t look?”

“I don’t like underwear.” He smiled, pleased for the acknowledgement of his size. “It chafes.” But his equally uncovered eyes glinted with the hint of further mischief. “I can stand something smaller though. G-strings and thongs aren’t so bad. Care to see some examples?”

“You’re trying to change the subject.” You correctly pointed out at that, though with an embarrassing heat creeping into your face regardless.

“Nice mental image isn’t it?” Doflamingo reached the bed’s edge with another taunt, before turning and flopping right onto his back beside you.

It actually made you come off of the bed just that slight amount as the force of his weight went briefly through the springs below.

You splayed one hand out behind you for balance, somewhat sitting up. And then his still wet hair was in your equally naked lap as he rolled over onto you.

“You really should be looking at this like a vacation instead of manufacturing things to complain about.” He fussed a little, but with no real bite to it before a string picked up your other hand to set it onto his face.

“Stop doing that.” You huffed.

“Then learn to take a hint. I told you I get headaches on the left side.” He moved his face, that blind eye partly closed while he pushed his temple further against your palm.

“You’re having one right now?” You asked skeptically. He was going to do anything to keep from discussing his clear isolation of you, wasn’t he?

“Just help me.” He sounded more impatient there, edging back towards petulance.

But you were stubborn too, even though you still had to be careful. You kept talking even as your fingers did move by your own freewill then. You massaged Doflamingo’s temple and into his high hairline above that milky left eye. “Are you going to let me contact HQ again or not?”

Both his eyes started to close fully as you’d rubbed him. He only frowned a little when you’d still spoken.

“You just can’t leave a good thing alone, can you?” He asked. But noticeably relaxed despite the retort, letting your hand continue to work. “Careful what you wish for, darling. Because you may just get it.” He continued. “I didn’t tell you. But I decided we’re going out today. And you won’t be the only white coat once we get there.”

————————————

“He’s off island? Where?” Vergo questioned, albeit in his usual monotone.

“The young master left for Punk Hazard earlier today with that girl. He said he didn’t wish to be disturbed.” Gladius answered with similar evenness.

But Vergo did hesitate briefly at that on the other side of the snail, considering the weight of this new information. “It’s risky to go there now. The rank and file are already up in arms about all of this. Did he give a reason?”

“No. It seemed impromptu. One of his whims. But I assume he doesn’t like leaving her alone here with us either. Not after what happened before.”

At this suggestion, Vergo did finally offer a little more emotion in his words. It was a tone of judgement towards his fellow officers actually. “Yes. I heard about Trebol’s screw up. He should have known to wait for Doffy, and not to take anything into his own hands when it comes to her any longer.”

“Yes. But it has been just one thing after another since the young master found her again.” Gladius had always liked routine and order. The last few months had been far from that.

“Doffy always knows what he wants. He’s invested so much into this already. It’s our responsibility to support him no matter what.” Vergo contended, voice getting even a bit more stern in response.

“Yes, Vergo-san.” Whether Gladius added that term for the more senior officer out of genuine respect or just the new wish to hurry the call along was unclear.

“But that’s not what I called about. I wanted to warn him about Orlinde.” Vergo carried on regardless.

“What about it? That’s already done.”

“No, it isn’t. Because whatever amateurs you hired to take care of it are now leading a trail right back to Doffy.”

And at only this was Gladius then at concerned attention while Vergo continued. 

“After they left Orlinde, your hires apparently decided it’d be best to go get drunk on a nearby island and start running their mouths. The navy already had informants all over those bars. One of which reported that a crew was bragging about getting paid well recently for a big job in the area. A young crew with smiling faces tattooed on more than one of them.”

“Goddammit.” Gladius’ quill like hair began to lengthen already as his fist tightened near the snail on the table. “It was that fool Bellamy then. He can’t control his own people! I’ll have to deal with it.”

Yet there was another pause on the other end of the call to this.

“The Bellamy Pirates? What about them?” Vergo questioned, abruptly puzzled in that infuriating way he could sometimes be.

To which Gladius only bristled further, no longer having time for this at all. “You just said it, Vergo! Young idiots with our jolly roger! Who else would that be? Bellamy the Hyena was who we sent to burn down Orlinde!”

The snail quieted yet again.

“But that isn’t who the navy has identified on these reports right here in my hand. By the time a marine ship got to the port that the informants said these pirates were docked, some kind of fight was already going on. The only vessel seen with a smiling jolly roger escaped beneath the surface before the marine ship could stop them. A yellow submarine.”

“The Bellamy pirates don’t have a damn submarine. The young master would never waste that kind of beri on them.”

“I’m aware. This report says some new group called the Heart Pirates are the ones that razed Orlinde to the ground. Because they were the ones that escaped in the submarine. I don’t yet have any photos of their jolly roger or that vessel though. But no one else in the marine files has a smiling face quite like Doffy’s for their signet to get confused for his. So I assumed…”

“Never heard of them. And if they’re really using our symbol without permission, then they’re already dead. No one gets to do that.”

“Hmm.” Vergo still sounded contemplative. “If you truly don’t know them, I’ll look into this further then. Maybe it is just a lucky case of misidentification. And they can take the blame instead.”

“Maybe.” Gladius offered, beginning to calm down at the idea that this may not be the level of problem it had originally seemed.

“Oh, I’ll make sure the evidence points the way we want in the end.” Vergo confirmed though. With falsifying things to pin a crime on a whole other pirate group not being beneath him either. “Don’t tell Doffy for now then. He’s busy enough. I’ll figure out who these Heart Pirates are and get back to you.”

———————————

He had given you no real choice of course. Lingering at the open window in his bedroom not so very long ago.

You were either going to get into his arms like a good girl. Or he would have thrown you out of that window to start this journey anyway. Though, perhaps more gently than at the pool yesterday.

Because Doflamingo was in a very good mood. Again riding these highs of having so many successes all at once.

He had you soundly in his possession. There was already a ring on your finger and a marriage certificate on file in Mariejois. The newspapers were still clamoring to explain it all. And the final piece was now what he was on his way to Punk Hazard to acquire.

Also, he knew the Nefertaris had tried to call yesterday to extend some sort of invitation to the two of you. He knew Tsuru had abandoned her post in Lyra and that her warship was now at full sail on its way to Dressrosa.

Everyone was reacting to him.

But no one was stopping him.

He stayed rather low on his flight path this time. Not too high over the ocean, where the air was still warm as it rushed past you both.

He was doing his best to slow down and smooth out the transitions from one set of strings to the next. Keeping the ride far less bumpy as he released one group of strings just to be pulled further on by the subsequent ones which ran all the way up to the clouds.

There was so much precision and timing in every single movement that he doubted you would know to appreciate it as he watched you put your head down against his chest.

Not out of affection he assumed, but just from you trying to turn your face out of the wind again. 

Even with the borrowed pair of Baby 5’s goggles that he’d made you protect your eyes with, the nonstop blast of air got tiresome he was sure.

The only thing he didn’t like was how difficult it was to hold a conversation even at these lower speeds. You’d both be yelling over the wind, and that would hamper the romantic mood he would prefer to be setting.

Doflamingo knew well the risks of bringing you with him today. But, after seeing that protective look in your eyes yesterday as you’d forced his paralyzed body up from the pool steps, and now knowing Tsuru would be here soon…he didn’t want to lose any moment he had left to really be alone with you.

Even in exchange for the much shorter time it would have taken him to go to Punk Hazard alone on his errand at full speed.

And this was now an excuse to spend more time with you in slightly more neutral territory. 

It was a date.

Which he was considering as having already begun as he leaned his head back down as well. He kissed the top of yours when you’d buried it against him now.

Doflamingo could generate strings from any part of his body. He didn’t need his hands free to keep pulling against the clouds. Nor did he need to hold you up at all though. He’d already put plenty of near invisible tethers between your body and his so that you couldn’t have fallen this time even if you’d tried.

Your bodies were practically stitched together as one of his hands massaged down your back again.

He felt you squirm a bit as his fingers had teased down either side of your spine, and that made him smile.

He knew you hated this lack of control. And being told what to do and where to go by him all the time now.

Very soon you’d understand that everything had a purpose though. And that he could reward you just as easily as he could punish you.

Yet today was meant to be a reward.

——————————— 

You’d never known yourself to be afraid of heights. You could climb a ship’s rigging as quickly as anyone. Far up above deck with only seagulls to then keep you company as you’d helped to make repairs whenever needed.

Yet this was wholly different. And your stomach couldn’t seem to forget the last time you’d been dropped all the way from the clouds.

Doflamingo had told you to dress for duty. Back in your full marine attire, the white fabric fluttering as you now stayed coiled against his open shirt.

And he’d practically thrown a bag you’d never seen before at you earlier, telling you to carry it while he carried you.

Yet he’d been grinning all the while as he’d opened the bedroom window and hopped onto the windowsill like an overgrown spider to beckon you to him.

He hadn’t said where he was taking you. Only that there would be other marines there. Of course that only left so many options in your mind.

Yet all you’d known for sure is that what started as an invitation would have become an absolute demand if you hadn’t taken his hand as you’d eventually stepped up into that open window with him.

The last time you’d flown together, it’d been sunset and soon nighttime. So even through Baby 5’s slightly scratched goggles, you’d gotten to briefly see a much clearer aerial view of Dressrosa today.

With his hand cupping your ass just against the bottom edge of your skirt all the while anyway. You’d had to ignore his pressing fingers copping a feel even as the city and then the outer cliff face of Dressrosa had passed beneath you both to leave only open ocean again.

There wasn’t much talking after that either. Just the rush of air and the occasional sound of his strings plucking and snapping as he forced the two of you along.

But he never quit rubbing you, touching you. Maybe not even willfully at times. He would look up sometimes from the distraction of you though, like checking on the clouds that were still in the distance. 

He was charting his path you thought, confirming it as still passable. Weather could change in the New World so quickly.

Even the biggest ships could get into trouble fast when things went wrong. Yet you never thought for a moment that someone like him wouldn’t have contingency plans.

Doflamingo seemed perfectly at ease. 

Enough so that you’d finally tired of watching only open water. You’d put your face back against him fully to get it more out of the wind.

And then you’d felt him kiss the top of your head in response.

Those wandering fingers had teased along your spine not long after too, pressing just hard enough to make you nearly shiver.

He was clearly enjoying this. 

But were you?

Well…he wasn’t hurting you. You weren’t fighting one another. And no one was yelling or specifically upset in this moment.

You could still feel the rhythm too when he moved from the tension of one batch of strings to the next. But after awhile it was more like coasting over gentle swells of waves rather than being jarred too much this way or that.

Like being in your bunk during an easy day at sea. It was comfortable. 

It almost felt safe.

—————————

“Wake up, sailor. Land ahoy.” Doflamingo’s voice rumbled against your ear.

And you weren’t asleep. But you hadn’t moved for long enough that you couldn’t be insulted at his assumption as you did open your eyes.

Your head was back up, gaze focusing through those goggles for so much vibrant green to be the very first thing of note in the far distance. 

And no boat traffic below at all as you tried to identify where in the hell you now were.

But Doflamingo suddenly banked left before you could think much more about it, making you grab his shirt in reflex as if that would have actually done anything to help you.

He laughed immediately when you’d startled, his altitude dropping while that lush jungle rushed closer and closer.

You still saw no identifying landmarks, yet he seemed to know exactly where he was going. 

“We’ll head around the back side.” His lips were nearly to your ear again, voice just loud enough to be heard before palm fronds were soon rustling in his wake beneath the two of you.

And then you saw the first security fence pass below in a blur. And another and another, bisecting the thick jungle in seemingly random intervals.

About the same time that you heard a mechanical wail far in the distance. A type of siren you easily recognized then.

It was a marine security alarm as that mix of additional surprise and possibly even dread settled within you.

There was only one place this could then be within the range you could guess you now might be from Dressrosa.

But your transportation only chuckled darkly to that new noise. “Heh, they’ve added better snail cams then. Coming in this way used to work fine. Though I am usually faster than this…”

And he rolled, slowing further with those words. But still flying the two of you along as he reached within his feather coat. He pulled out a baby snail, waking it as he keyed in a quick number on its shell.

Doflamingo’s other arm tightened further around your waist, still holding you like a bad habit while that snail trilled for a bit.

As soon as the line did connect, the siren could also be heard louder in the background from it before a flustered voice broke through.

“Hell- oh, turn those damn things off already! I can’t hear! Hello!?” The mystery voice complained loudly.

“It’s me. I tripped the sensors.” Doflamingo spoke right over the other voice. “Tell them to calm their asses down, Caesar.”

“Ah, Jo-,” The voice sounded even more excitable then. “I mean, Doflamingo! But…you’re early!”

“Heh.” You saw that cocky little smirk you already knew too well. “Is that a problem? I won’t be coming by the lab until later though. We’re heading for the lake right now.”

“Wha…we?” The other was struggling to keep up. The sirens were still going off fully in the background.

“Me and my fiancée of course. We’re just taking a little break from the paparazzi and all our well wishers back home. So keep your nosy bodyguards inside.”

——————————

“I absolutely do not have clearance to be here. Just so you know.” Were the first words out of your mouth as your boots finally met the ground again. You were very glad to remove the goggles as well, pulling them down to hang around your neck so that you wouldn’t have to carry them.

That thick jungle initially seen from above was now what you were both standing within. 

Everything looked the same though. It’d be so easy to become lost you were sure.

But Doflamingo was just grinning once more as he now shouldered the mystery bag he’d had you carrying the entire time before now.

“Welcome to Punk Hazard, love. Home of unspoiled wilds, diverse flora and fauna, and the most egregious of the World Government’s human experimentation.”

You didn’t fail to notice the almost chipper way he’d said that last part too. But he just began to walk afterward, expecting you to follow.

Doflamingo’s head was down and slightly forward to keep from scraping against all those palm fronds and vines in the dense overhang of foliage.

He really didn’t care about your clear worries of not belonging here though. But why would he? He was a warlord. In all honesty, this island was likely considered part of his own jurisdiction to protect. If something went very wrong here, Doflamingo would be the nearest government weapon to call in to handle it.

But to only a captain like you, even setting foot at a place like this was all a bit much. Initially at least. Maybe nothing was really too insane to you any longer once it had enough time to settle. Yet you still couldn’t help but ask, looking up as you had to move quicker to keep pace with his longer strides. “Is Dr. Vegapunk actually here today?”

And Doflamingo scoffed a little at your continued worry. “Why? Are you a fan of his or something? He’s still just a man. An oversized brain floating around in a bag of meat like all the rest.”

“Lovely.” You answered with a roll of your eyes to that, stepping over tree roots while Doflamingo cut more brush out of the way with a few flicks of his fingers.

“Don’t blame me for unpleasant truths. But shut up for a minute.” He chided anyway as if his voice wasn’t still the louder of the two of you. “I landed out here so we wouldn’t scare them off.”

Them?

And he was starting to crouch further as he still moved forward, like an apex predator now lurking through the jungle.

But he reached back, taking you by the hand again. 

Which was still a gesture that did something to you every time his larger hand closed that warmly around your smaller one.

Doflamingo was soon pulling you along, his thumb rubbing across your skin as he did so. Like it wasn’t even a choice any longer, but a reflex or a need for him.

That simple touch distracting enough to you actually that you were watching his grip instead of straight ahead, and bumped into him when he abruptly stopped again.

“Look. There’s a damn hoard of them out here today.” His voice was quieter then as he ignored your having just run into him. He pulled you around in front, to peer through the sudden end to all the trees. 

There was a very large clearing just ahead. Flat in comparison to all else, with a body of brilliant blue water framed against even more jungle rising steep behind it.

This had to be the lake he’d spoken of to the person on the phone.

And the “them” were apparently the peppering of tall pink all throughout those tranquil shallows as your eyes widened.

A small sound of disbelief left your throat. Even if you knew better than to give in this quickly. You were still in uniform. You were still at one of the most infamous facilities in all the world. This was not shore leave or the time to goof around.

But you had never seen even a single one in person. Your home island had had no zoos. And even books could only be read if stolen by you.

If you hadn’t seen something yet in your time sailing with Tsuru, then you hadn’t seen it at all.

And oh, how Doflamingo must have realized that from the depth of your reaction as his smile grew from ear to ear. “I told you I didn’t keep any at the palace. But I never said I didn’t know where to find them.”

He crouched down further too, squatting almost to be more at your eye level. “You know, we never got all three of our days in Scylla like we’d planned to either. We got shorted on visiting their aviary and gardens together. So consider this my substitution until we can go back there, darling…let’s relax a while and enjoy it.”

And at that, he moved back past you gently, still keeping his full height lowered as he lead you out by the hand.

The two of you soon crossed a stretch of soft grass together to reach the banks of the lake.

Many slender necks rose up to watch your approach, but the birds did not take flight.

“I’ve only ever flown over this valley, not stopped at it. No humans come out this far from the labs. These birds may not even know what the hell we are.” Doflamingo reasoned quietly, still smiling as he looked out over that water and all the examples of his very namesake within it.

He and you both were keeping your movements slow and deliberate without even needing to discuss it.

You didn’t want them to leave. 

But when you were on the bit sandier, yet fully flat bank of the lake, he finally let go of your hand before he slid that mystery bag he’d taken from you earlier off of his shoulder.

You were glancing back and forth, as curious as the birds then while he unzipped it.

“Monet packed this for us. Let’s see how well she did.” He offered, though sounding already pleased and expecting just what he wanted all the while.

The first recognizable thing was a blanket. Very tightly rolled to have fit within the bag. But also impressively large when he stretched it out on the bank.

The fabric was long enough even for him as he then sat on it while continuing to dig through the bag.

“Well come here, love.” He didn’t take long to invite you over either, noticing you still standing there on your own for a moment.

This newest intimate scene was so surreal for you all over again of course. But you did listen. You sat down beside him on that soft blanket while more things kept emerging.

A wine bottle, two cups, and what appeared to be hand wrapped packages of food came out from the bag next.

He opened and laid each thing neatly out too, as purposefully as if setting a table before the two of you on the blanket. There was even silverware that you recognized with his signet on it from the palace.

“How long did you plan this?” You asked with increasing disbelief.

“Hmm?” But you could tell he was trying not to laugh. He was being playful now. “Why would I have to plan time with my own wife?”

And the word remained far too new for you. Even with that engagement ring still on your finger. No one else really knew you’d already signed those papers. That legally you were already wed.

Just legally you thought.

You stared at him long enough though that he smirked again before more legitimately answering. “I had an errand to run here tonight anyway. But I didn’t decide to fly in earlier and make an afternoon of it until this morning. I’ve got a theory that you’re entirely different when I get you alone in neutral territory. Am I on to something with that?”

He was so effortless when he wished to be.

You barely even felt his arm snake around behind you until he’d abruptly pulled you closer. Hip to hip then on the blanket before he bent down to steal a quick kiss.

His face was practically nuzzling yours while he smiled again after. “I have to take care of you too though, don’t I?” He said. “You still barely eat whenever my crew is around. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.” And he pinched the flesh of your hip a little. “I’ve already mapped out every curve of yours, darling. I see when you’ve been skipping meals. But I want my woman to have the energy to fuck and fight whenever she likes…”

Even just that much attention brought some new heat to your face too. It was objectification in a way, yet very personal all the same. And he kissed you again, like he couldn’t help it at all as his hand then wandered over your thigh to squeeze that too.

He was massaging the fabric of your leggings beneath your skirt soon enough. As if he’d prefer it not to be there at all while his tongue moved into your mouth.

That embarrassing warmth just kept rising in you too with every further movement of that long muscle against yours. Until finally he broke the deeper kiss like coming up for air. “Damn, that’s not even fair. Trying to distract me again…” He accused. But he was chuckling. 

He was enjoying everything actually, kissing you even once more before turning his gaze back to the food from behind those glasses.

“You’ll have to give me your opinion on this. I told the head chef everything I could remember of that ravioli we had in Scylla.” He said to you, then unwrapping the first package of food as he still sat side by side with you on the blanket.

And you stared. Because it did look just like it. The same size and shape entirely while Doflamingo handed you a fork.

Yet he just started opening the wine bottle next while he bid you to have the first taste of that lobster filled delicacy.

“Shit, it’s really good.” You confirmed immediately, after stabbing one and putting it in your mouth to chew. The cream sauce alone was probably something a person could drink if allowed. It was that flavorful.

“But the same kind of good?” He questioned, as if this was suddenly the most important thing in both of your lives.

And it was something else unspoken. You had just stabbed another of those ravioli onto your fork after swallowing your first one. He still had the wine bottle in one hand but was looking only at you.

You didn’t think to do it. You just did it, as you offered that ravioli up to him on your fork. And he took it as if it were second nature, bending down enough for you to feed it to him.

The Heavenly Demon let you move it into his mouth as he gladly accepted it, pulling the cream sauce with it to clean off your fork with his lips.

“Well?” You asked him as his cheeks moved while he chewed. That nagging warmth in your chest still spreading even more while you watched him.

“Fuck, I’m going to have to give him a raise.” Doflamingo answered before even swallowing.

He was right too. About that and more.

Because you were different with him when outside of your normal territories. You both were as he poured the wine next. He had completely relaxed.

And every single piece of that ravioli ended up eaten between the two of you. As well as the dessert he’d also brought.

It was those flowers made of pastry layers overlapping like the petals of a rose. The ones he’d had to tell you the name of again of course. Flores de hojaldre.

He’d remembered that you’d never gotten to actually try one the last time they’d been presented to you, though you had admired them. 

During that very first dinner together in his palace. The one that had dissolved into a screaming argument and drugged sex instead that you hadn’t had much say in.

You still knew better than to see this gesture as a real apology though, even as he smirked at you while you’d tried one and messily ended up with a bit of powdered sugar on your face before he’d wiped it off for you.

He ate them far more cleanly than you too as he’d explained how they were made and how he preferred his with powdered sugar and honey, but no fruit. Though he’d said even in Dressrosa recipes varied wildly, with some savory varieties existing as well with fish wrapped into the pastry layers instead.

It’d just been so low stakes by then. Sitting here, drinking wine and talking about pastries of all things while watching the still wary flamingos walking around in the water before he’d finally laid back on the blanket when done eating.

“You really never experienced much as kid, did you. Besides just surviving in that brothel?” He asked you.

A question not entirely unexpected as you looked down at him and his sunglasses now reflecting that sunny sky above.

“We didn’t have pastry chefs, no.” You answered easily. “Or exotic birds.”

He smiled a little again, but it was not a mocking one for once. “I didn’t always have those things either.” He eventually offered back. “I was without them for more years than I had them.”

And you raised an eyebrow. You weren’t sure if he was inviting you to pry further or not. Maybe you were too honest for your own good though. 

You weren’t even supposed to be having alcohol while in uniform either. But you finished your cup, finally just damn asking him. “Is your past some kind of big secret or something?”

Yet you then found yourself laying right beside him no sooner than those words had left your mouth.

He hadn’t used strings. Just his arm around your middle again after pulling you down, and his other now back behind his head.

You were both laying there together on the blanket then, looking up at the passing clouds that abruptly.

He rubbed your side before he spoke again. “I had it all. Then I lost it, and I had to fight for it all over again.”

“You were born wealthy?” He didn’t seem defensive. So you just kept going. Tentatively, but still trying to understand more if he’d let you.

“Very.” Was his next simple answer.

And you believed him. You thought of the pet swans he’d once mentioned, and the ways he’d carried himself amongst the other nobles in Scylla. The graceful waltzes and the condescending words to others.

But also his story of being a young boy fleeing violence with his father and brother. Starving in the war torn area where he’d first met Tsuru. 

“Did your home country have a revolution?” You asked even more quietly, feeling warm again against him.

The government didn’t always rush in in every case you knew. Sometimes they wanted islands to fall depending what ulterior motives might really be at stake.

They’d left Charybdis crumbling for ages now.

“No.” Doflamingo clarified though. Yet his hand tightened on your hip again. He turned his head so he could look at your face.

You saw yourself in those red glasses again.

“I have more enemies than you realize.” He said instead then, just staying like this beside you. “They’ll be your enemies too if anything takes a turn.”

Your eyebrows furrowed a little. It felt like you’d already experienced that with Crocodile in just the first few days in Dressrosa. But you still asked anyway. “Who?”

Doflamingo turned his face even more then, so that it touched yours. His skin was still quite soft from whatever lather he’d used this morning. His scent was heady and pleasant.

“All the way at the very top, my love.” He teased then, his voice quieting further like these words were truly only for you. “The gods have an axe to grind when it comes to me. And that feeling is entirely mutual.” 

“Just because you robbed the Dragons’ tribute ships?” You responded just as quietly, as his lips started to brush your temple. 

The sheer balls of that heist only a few years ago had been the final straw that put Doflamingo’s name in everyone’s mouths across all the seas.

You remembered Tsuru being beside herself, furious as she’d cursed in her office when Sengoku had called your crew with the news first. Even before it ever made the newspapers.

The sheer audacity of the Donquixote family to pillage a world government transport ship filled to the brim with beri meant as heavenly tribute had been a terrible embarrassment to the marines at the time.

But that was also the very same stunt that had had Doflamingo bullying his way into the seven warlords’ roster not long after.

And then he’d become a king.

And then he’d taken you.

You were hardly as valuable as the riches owed to the gods, or the ownership of an entire country though.

Yet he seemed so content here and now. At least enough to roll over onto his side, facing you with his whole body then. 

He pulled his feather coat around you both, bringing you against his chest. “Oh, they hate me for far more than just taking my cut retroactively.” 

It was an odd choice of words, and your face likely said as much.

“Not yet.” Doflamingo smiled to your expression of additional question however, choosing not to explain that particular answer any further. “I only just got you back into a good mood after all.”

“Is that what this is supposed to be? My attitude adjustment?” You countered, accepting that that would be all for now then. But you were also watching that smart mouth hovering near yours again. He was still holding you against his chest, enveloped in pink together.

“Mmhmm.” He purred warmly. “You love this. It’s why you’ve been too busy staring at me instead of noticing what visitors have been creeping up on us all the while. No sudden movements, darling.”

But you raised your head anyway. Not understanding what he meant until you surprised both yourself and the birds.

It must have seemed like your disembodied head abruptly rising from the pink feathers that would otherwise be so familiar to them.

Because there was an immediate flutter of wings, with the curious birds that had gotten this incredibly close then startling as they ran into one another after your surprise movement. 

They were all legs, necks, and wings then. But they still didn’t fully leave. They stumbled and bounced off of one another in their confusion. It was the most awkward thing you’d ever seen out of an animal so beautiful.

But that wasn’t the thing that tilted your brain into genuine humor.

It was the sound they made as they did this. They’d been fairly quiet in the distance all the time before, warily watching you both while they’d only walked and fed in the shimmering lake waters.

But in this upset of being frightened enough to fall and stumble, their small exploratory group now broke out into a cacophony of indignant honking.

It was so loud and ridiculous. A sound that didn’t match their exotic, elegant bodies at all. It was as embarrassing as a common goose now having a fit before you.

And you burst out laughing with that unexpected contrast. Which only made them honk more, and you laugh further, feeding one another’s reactions.

You finally had to bury your face against Doflamingo’s shirt to quiet yourself with your shoulders still shaking a little.

His arm tightened around you again as soon as you did, and you could hear that huge smile without looking up.

“Hell, maybe I do need to bring a few home with us then. That’s now only one of two things I’ve ever heard pull a real laugh out of you.”

Yes, you never did this. Not around him at least as you had to regather yourself.

The birds still hung around though after they eventually settled back down. The ice broken so to speak now that they had seen you both up close and neither of you had actually harmed them.

You turned your head to watch them again even as your cheek stayed against the warlord. “I can’t help it…they honk. No book ever said anything about that.” You told him.

And now he chuckled, that lighter kind even though it still rumbled up from his chest. “You’re such a cute little mutt sometimes.”

That term that should have been insulting, wasn’t either right now. Not when you could hear the real pleasure in his own voice still.

The happiness.

Doflamingo was happy.

Yet he was already ready for your full attention again too. His hand came up, catching your jaw to make you lift your head back towards his own.

Enough so that he could kiss you once more. Again and again actually, but slow and soft while the birds remained around you.

And with you both still nestled in all Doflamingo’s pink feathers yourselves, you may as well have been another pair of them here on the lake’s edge. Oblivious to the rest of the world in this brief escape with your partner.

——————————

“You’re a voyeur! I never want to hear your holier than thou admonishments again!” Caesar  scolded the other scientist gladly. Not seeming to take into account how fully his own golden eyes had never once looked away from this security monitor now either.

“It’s unexpected isn’t it?” Dr. Vegapunk only answered with a question, not insulted at all as he had stopped holding any weight to Caesar’s habitual outbursts years before now. Of course he was interested in what he was now seeing. But not for the reasons Caesar accused of.

Donquixote Doflamingo had arrived dramatically to the island earlier as he typically did. But after a brief call to announce himself, he’d just stayed to the virgin wilds this time. On the other side of the mountains from the laboratories.

The warlord had never lazed or lingered like this before today. Everything was always business, in and out as fast as possible. And he was always alone.

Yet not right now as Vegapunk and Caesar still watched a distant view of you and the so called Heavenly Demon in one another’s arms, being a bit intimate again while laying on a large blanket.

Even the flamingos had surprisingly accepted this new oddity, just walking around unbothered again and preening or resting near you both on the banks of the lake.

“Is this very strange to you as well Caesar? You know him better, don’t you?” Vegapunk asked that additional question with his brows still furrowed in wrinkles all the way up his tall forehead. “I had assumed she would only be a pawn in his control unwillingly. Yet he doesn’t appear to be using the parasite ability of the String-String fruit.”

And Caesar made a noise, pale face flushing slightly as he saw the pink of Joker’s tongue edge against your face. “Well, maybe she isn’t wholly stupid!” Caesar had always assumed the majority of marines were. Because who would willingly sign up to be fodder for any and all enemies of the government? “She wants to be rich, obviously! The treasury in Dressrosa is worth submitting for!” Caesar projected his own desires with that idea of course.

But Vegapunk still looked doubtful. He was watching far more than the obviously budding hormones and physical aspect of these interactions.

He’d seen the two of you talking and laughing too, though even his advanced snail cams couldn’t pickup the actual words from this far away.

But he could see the gestures and the body language the same as any biologist might while observing courting animal species. While you fed one another, and nested together. It was all a process.

And in the thoroughness of his ever analytical mind, Vegapunk was determining this as an anomaly. An already mated pair on far more equal footing and with a higher level of consent than the two of you had any natural right to have.

Because he now knew what Doflamingo really was. It was all over those incestuous lineage factors he’d stayed up all night sifting more thoroughly through.

The Donquixote name itself, and even the epithet of Heavenly Demon were obvious clues to begin with. But names could be falsified, public personas created at random.

The real proof was in the fact that there was only one land in all the world with exactly those same poor genetics, brought on from centuries of no immigration and no mixing of bloodlines outside of an original nineteen families.

Vegapunk had never seen a Celestial Dragon who could accept the company of a human in this way.

This was something new.

“Caesar, go ahead and call that man to tell him his medicines are ready early. But I want to have a private word with him before they leave.”

———————————

    T⨂  BE 

CONTINUED

———————————

Thanks for reading!

Author’s Note: Yes, Punk Hazard (pre Caesar blowing it up anyway) does have a flamingo lake! 🥰 It was one of my greatest joys to find out. Even though it’s probably just an anime filler scene. It’s shown in Brownbeard’s flashback. Episode 589, timestamp 13:36.

Also, those flower pastries…I am obsessed with the google images of them. I want one. 😩

[wangxianficrecs]

Rewind 2024 - A few more recs...

WangxianFicRecs - Rewind 2024

Before the year ends, here are a few more recs of stories of 2024 that found their way into our inbox! I wish you all a Happy New Year and hope, that we can discover lots of fun fanfics next year as well! - Kay

Follower Recs

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Think I've missed the 2024 Rewind follower recs but I've been absolutely loving this story!

WIP Modern Cultivators AU where WWX and LWJ have just agreed to a betrothal contract - for supposedly purely political reasons but in actuality because they fell hard and fast for each other during the prior fic in the series. POV switches between the two of them as they face up to (and increasingly embrace) the concept of being cared for and loved for being exactly who they are. Beautiful writing and brilliant characterisation, every update feels like a treat ☺️ @slothwithwifi

🔒 I'm Much Older Than I Thought I'd Be

by MajorEnglishEsquire (@chuckwinchester)

E, WIP, 81k, Wangxian

Summary: “Now. Before we break for the evening, as the topic has arisen between Lan Xichen and myself, directly, in accordance with an inquiry from the Lans,” Uncle passes him the copy of a draft agreement. “I wonder if you recall your lessons on the cross-clan arrangement of cultivation partnerships.” Picks up after The Further I Go, The Less I Know.

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Hello! I want to submit this fic for Rewind because I love cherry magic AU and lwj pov is so rare. It’s very funny to listen to wwx pining in his head and lwj panicking over it. - Anon

My Heart is Yours to Fill or Burst

by anancites (@ananc1tes)

E, 67k, Wangxian

Summary: On his 30th birthday, Lan Zhan gets struck by a mysterious curse: suddenly he's a mind reader! As much as he dislikes most people talking too much, hearing their unfiltered thoughts is even worse. To top it all off, he learns that his old friend Wei Ying might not be flirting with him just to be a nuisance. He might be flirting with Lan Zhan because he's actually really into him? (a WangXian AU very loosely inspired by Cherry Magic)

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Delightfully hilarious. I read it over a month ago and still laugh sometimes when I think about wwx in this. @alyseofwonderland

Living Art

by relenafanel (@relenafanel)

E, 8k, Wangxian

Summary: Broke artist Wei Wuxian takes a hard look at his finances and shrugs his way into becoming a content creator on OnlyFans. Jiang Cheng sighed. “These columns are negotiable. If you want to keep this subscription, you have to replace something to break even.” Wei Wuxian stared at the spreadsheet. He hummed in thought. “I need to break even.” “Yes.” “In order to keep my OnlyFans subscription I need $65 a month. On OnlyFans.” “No,” Jiang Cheng said quickly. “If I become a content creator and earn $65 a month--” “I am begging you--” “Then I can keep the subscription. Thanks A-Cheng!” The account in question? Hanguang Jun's Reading Livestreams.

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🔒 Only with Time

by adrian_kres (@Bichen-Suibian)

E, WIP, 66k, Wangxian

Summary: Thirteen years ago, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji were arranged to be married as is tradition. Throughout their thirteen-year-long "courtship," things were not always as they seemed. Now, newly married, old secrets have ripped open wounds they thought were closed, and they must work together to rebuild a trust they never had and a love they always did but couldn't see. Told from alternating points of view between LWJ and WWX with frequent flashbacks to memories of their "courtship". Updates weekly.

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Proud Author Spotlight

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I can't believe I almost forgot to shout-out my own fic that I started this year! It's a modern AU with cultivation where Wei Wuxian loses his hand, gets taken in my Wen Qing and her family, starts a prosthetic start-up and schemes to take down Wen Ruohan from the shadows feat. Wen Yuan having a big sister, Wen Zhuliu redemption and all the Found Family vibes!

Black Sun

by thelastdboy (@thelastdboyy)

E, WIP, 51k, Wangxian

Summary: Within one afternoon, the Yunmeng Jiang Clan became a mere branch of the Wen Clan. They lost their estate, all of their assets, and Wei Wuxian – He lost an arm. All to appease Wen Ruohan. To the Jiangs, the name Wen became a curse to be hissed out between gritted teeth. To Wei Wuxian, the name Wen became something dear after Wen Ning and Wen Qing saved his life and took him in. Years later, Wen Ruohan and his sons have long since died under mysterious circumstances and Wei Wuxian has been branded a traitor to the high society of the cultivation world. Together with the remaining Wens, he turned to the civilian world and revolutionized the medical field by developing prosthetics controlled by spiritual energy. Enter: Lan Wangji. After their fight against the Tulu Xuanwu, his leg never really recovered. Years of countless surgeries and feeling as if he was living inside a gilded cage while being patronized by his family passed, until Lan Wangji finally took his chance and absconded. To Yiling.

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(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for these hard-working authors if you like – or think others might like – these stories.)

[revelboo]

so what im getting from that sparked up post is that theres a possibility that starscream, reader, and soundwave are gonna be playing some weird, sexy hot potato with the baby. im only half joking on that buT DAMN YOU LEAD UP TO THAT SO SMOOTHLY???? LIKE I WAS READING THE POST AND JUST GOING LIKE "ok, yeah, that happened, and then That happened and then-" and just. goddamn. ALSO TF1 BEE AND THAT LAST BIT FROM THE LAST CHAPTER YOU DID FOR HIM DIDNT HAVE TO HIT THAT HARD, GOD??? GOD. im breaking the laws of reality to hold him, i know readers not there yet but i am and im having a mental standoff with him on whos knocking who up first

So far, Star is the only one fully bonded at this point. Sounders has a partial bond. I like the idea that spark bonds are pretty much nonexistent by this point in the timeline because it’s too risky to tie yourself so completely to someone during a war. Star and TFP Megs didn’t realize they could bond to a human. Sounders had seen it was possible and decided it was worth the risk, but most of the Cybertronians have no clue at this point. I’d think that spark bonds would have started becoming almost a taboo even before the war- the senate painting the bonds as blasphemous when really they just didn’t want the lower classes bonding. If one parter dies in an accident, you end up losing two workers and hurting production.

😂 Y’all making me think and actually world build my Transformers smut instead of just BSing it.

Also: sorry about the Bee! I needed to lay some groundwork for why he is the way he is and that he’s not actually okay at all for what’s eventually coming. Because he’s not getting abandoned ever again, no matter what he has to do to ensure it.

18+ Mass displaced mech 🌶️

The Coma Kid Pt 5

TFO B 127 x Reader

• “Are you warm enough? I could hold you, I’m warm.” Offering his hands to you, he tries not to wilt when you immediately lean away, that smile of yours so brittle. “Okay, yeah. No holding.” Hands folding into his lap where he’s sitting on his berth watching you stare up at him with no small amount of suspicion from your blanket nest, he fidgets. That pull, that urge to touch you chiming through him. Almost painful to ignore. You have to be able to feel it, too. Which means you’re uncomfortable. Rocking forward, he scoops up you and your nest despite your startled gasp and deposits you into his lap. “I just need this. Sorry.” Hooking a servo around your middle, the tension eases, but that insatiable need to touch you just grows hotter.

• Teeth gritted against that hollow need twisting through you at his servo slides against your stomach and under your shirt. And that ache shifts infuriatingly, becoming lust on steroids. Completely unfair and unwanted. Because at this point you’re so frustrated, you’re not sure if you’d go through with your escape plan if he leaves you alone for a minute or if you’d give yourself a helping hand instead. What is wrong with you? Actually, what did he do to you? Because whatever this is, it’s absolutely some weird alien BS. “Okay, no,” you gasp as that servo slides up further and you squirm out of his grip, pitching backwards and he grabs for you. Back hitting the berth as he falls forward and you close your eyes expecting to get crushed. Not to have the air driven out of you and to somehow not die.

• Mass displaced, he freezes as your eyes open and just stare at him. Your lips parting as he doesn’t move from where he’s sprawled on top of you, snared by those eyes. “Sorry,” he whispers, but he can’t bring himself to move. Shifting slightly against you, settling his hips into the cradle of yours just to feel how you fit together. Like you’re made just for him. For the first time that he can remember, he’s lost his words. Speechless and shaken. Wonders what your mouth would feel like against his. If you’d let him kiss you. Finding your hand, he interlaces his servos with your fingers and pins it by your head. Wanting, but unsure if he’s allowed.

• Swallowing as his mouth opens and closes and he’s silent, that hungry need lifts through you. Whispering deviant things. Like that you could ease that ache with him and then escape. It couldn’t hurt anything. Those servos of his would feel better than your own fingers. Breath catching as he lowers his head like he’s going to kiss you, you turn your head away and his mouth brushes your cheek and jaw. Over to your neck as his hips rock against yours. “Stop that or-”

• “Or?” He whispers against your soft skin. You’re not struggling, not pushing or shoving at him. Mouth sealing against your throat and sucking until you arch into him, like you want him to mark that soft skin as his. “Just let me take care of you. Be such a good mate.” Sitting up when you shiver but don’t protest, he runs his servos against you, trying to figure out the layers of your coverings before just tugging the lower half down your legs. “It’s okay.” Afraid you’ll stop him at any moment, he stretches out between your thighs and nuzzles against you. “Let me have this. Just a taste, okay?”

• Breath catching when he vents against your bare skin, there’s a shiver of alarm. That you’re playing with fire knowing you’re about to get burned. Knowing you should stop him, kick him in the face if need be, but when that glossa slides against you, you make a ragged sound of need instead. Big hands sliding under your butt and squeezing as his glossa tunnels inside you, your hips lift, buck. His bright optics staring up your body as he laps at you and you let your head fall back unable to deal with the intimacy of him watching you while his mouth is on you. Biting down on the pad of your thumb when his mouth slides against you, sucking, nipping, and licking until your release rushes unexpectedly through you and you cry out feeling his glossa drive inside you again. And that hollow need grows instead of diminishing.

Previous

[yoonia]

— Dia’s tumblr wrapped 2024 

I know it’s super late for me to share this, but just as many would say, it’s better late than never. Thank you so much for the lovely people who tagged me to do this: @beomcoups, @shadowkoo, @kingofbodyrolls ♡

2024 started off smoothly…until it didn’t. The final quarter of the year has always been a hard time for me and it wasn’t that much different this year. As you can probably notice that I’ve been mostly absent ever since the end of October and I deeply apologise for that. I also regret not planning things properly and for not keeping up with my goals this year but that only means that I'll be dragging my WIP list towards the next year.

Thank you so much for everyone who has been there for me this year, and those of you who have stuck by me despite my inconsistencies. I really appreciate your presence on my blog, whether it’s through your likes and kudos, your reblogs, your comments and replies on my contents, and the kind words you sent me through my ask box. You guys have made it worthwhile for me to be here even after all these years, and I don’t think I can thank you enough for that. Here’s to mark the end of our wild journey through 2024 and enter the new year of 2025. 

OVERALL FIC STATS 2024

Number of fics posted: 4 (four) one-shots, 2 (two) ongoing series, 3 (three) ficlets

Number of fics revamped: 2 (two) completed fics, 2 (two) ongoing series

Number of words written: 448,057 words (dang, no wonder I felt so burned out lol)

Number of fics in progress: 32 (oh, boy…) 

FIRST FIC OF 2024

❥ A Christmas Fix 01 & 02 —  posted Jan 31st & Feb 1st | 1,926 & 1,226 notes

My thoughts: This was…quite a journey. It’s been a while since I wrote a rom-com story and I was pleased to have been given the chance to write this idea through a collab. The final outcome wasn’t too disappointing either, since I enjoyed writing it and reading it afterwards. I’m glad everyone loved this story as well.

MOST POPULAR FIC OF 2024

❥ The Stand-In (Revamped version) — posted Aug 13th | 4,267 notes

My thoughts: Okay, yeah…I cheated a little. But to be fair, this fic did get a lot of notes this year before and after the revamping process. I loved this story so much that I felt like it deserved a major makeover and I’m glad I managed to do it this year.

LONGEST FIC OF 2024

❥ The Bedroom Hymns — series, ongoing, last updated Sept 9th | 50k++ words | I’m too lazy to open each chapter to count the notes I’m so sorry lol

My thoughts: I know…I know, I need to update this one again. I had to take a break from this series because this fic literally became my main focus this year that a lot of my WIPs kept getting pushed back just so I could finish more of this. I had to stop at some point to finally set free my WIPs. I have to admit that I also lost my motivation to write this due to the lack of notes and responses that I got with each update no matter how much time I spent working on it (tacky, I know…but it is what it is). I still love and enjoy writing this, so more chapters are coming. I can see this fic becoming my main focus again in 2025 until I’m done with it.

LAST FIC OF 2024

❥ The Forsaken II: Tears of the Sea — posted Oct 24th | 712 notes

My thoughts: Holy hell…this fic. Who would’ve thought that I’d be revisiting siren!Taehyung this year after…3 years?? Thank you, whoever it was that sent this during my birthday event. I never expected to write a full fic for this to continue the original story and to answer a lot of your questions, but I’m glad I did! 

Honorable mention: 

❥ Our Imperfections — posted Oct 30th | 92 notes

My thoughts: This was the last thing I actually released before I dipped into the void but I couldn’t count this as a fic as this was considered a ficlet or, in a more common term, a drabble.

PERSONAL FAVOURITE FIC OF 2024

❥ Blooming Wallflowers — posted Sept 25th | 927 notes

My thoughts: I had one of those rare moments where I found myself enjoying the writing process of a story so much that things simply kept flowing until it became a full story. This one went twice the size planned (and commissioned) but I have no regrets. At all.

Honorable mention: 

❥ Maps (revamped version) — series, completed, posted Sept 6th, 7th, & 11th | 1,4k++ notes (again, I’m too lazy to open each chapter lol)

My thoughts: I initially planned to release something else for DPR Ian’s birthday this year. But then I started revamping the graphics for his old fics instead and decided to revamp the whole series while I had the chance. This one has always been my fave work that I wrote for Christian, so diving back into this to do a makeover and give it a major upgrade felt absolutely fulfilling. 

2024 SPECIAL EVENT

❥ 𝖙𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖋𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖆𝖉𝖊: yoonia’s 2024 birthday bash

My thoughts: Once again, I can’t thank you guys enough for joining this small event of mine. I promise that I’ll have another event in 2025 so please stay tuned! (see you in March!) 

Fave reads of 2024

I have to admit that I haven’t been doing a lot of fic reading this year. But I’m happy that I got to dive back into reading some fanfics during my birthday event and found some lovely gems that I truly enjoyed

The Taste of Sin by @shadowkoo

Vignette: Duty by @cybrsan

The Athlete by @beomcoups

A Lover's Redemption by @writtenwhalien

Dandelion by @shina913

The Wood by @sailoryooons

Minted by @kithtaehyung

Mr. & Mrs. Yoon by @monamipencil

On The Ropes by @raplinesmoon

Top Ten Tracks of 2024

Loved — B.I

People — Agust D

Make You Mine — Black Violet

Gemini — Cheyenne 

Close To Me — Mamie, Eloy, Trippy Bass

HUH?! — Agust D feat. J-hope

Love — Lana Del Rey 

Reasons — COTIS 

Watch Me Burn — Michelle Morrone 

Die First — Nessa Barrett  

GOALS FOR 2025

Write more. Tackle more WIPs each month. 

Finally finish my old abandoned WIPs (About Time, Blood Moon Rising and the Shifters Series, Chance Encounter) 

Finish writing and officially release my original stories/novel as a web-series

Try to do better with planning and scheduling and keeping up with them

Finish revamping Carousel and release the novel version on Ream

Read more. Both published books and released fics

Focus more on my personal health, mental and physical 

Start job hunting again

I know I’m late for this, so I’m passing this over to the writers who are tagged on the list above (if you haven’t done this yet) and also tagging a few who come across my mind right now (only if you want to!): @ressjeon @lo1k-diamonds @pars-ley @minisugakoobies @inkedtae

And also tagging randomly anyone who feels inspired to create their own tumblr wrapped! 

[zoobus]

Otome Isekai Roundup

With the new year, I feel the need to make some kind of year-in-review list. So even though I've largely stopped reading comics (the desire to read ebbs and flows every six month), here are the otoisekai that stuck out to me the most in 2024

Crimson Lady/Resetting Lady

What can I even say about the GOAT? As we crawl towards a conclusion, the despair only grows. Death is the only answer, death must be avoided at all costs.

The Villainess Who is No Better than an Extra Cross-dresses to Be a Love Interest

I never talked about this one, namely because I'm not sure how to describe it without focusing on its wokeness. But it is woke. It's bizarrely, strangely woke, as well as genuinely enjoyable, but I keep getting fixated on all the genre-unusual progressiveness, like

BELIEVABLE female crossdressing in a shojo manga

her older brother is fat, a good person, and nobody ever comments on his weight (this point is the most shocking to me honestly)

Older brother is loudly supportive of his gnc sister and male cousin

Unclear if MC is gay, transmasc, or just doing this out of survival, but it says something that becoming a love interest was her *first* response

Boy the MC bewitched in girl form as a child is thrown off by her handsome appearance as an adult, yet awkwardly asks if she wants help breaking her engagement with a man

I forgot, originally he was the stock "sexist love interest who dials it back for his one true love" type, but this one shatters the mold not by making her the one girl he isn't mean to, but instead having him step back from his feelings and step UP as a genuine, actual, fr ally and continuing their friendship. Insane upgrade.

And it all feels pretty organic! They'll hint at complicated feelings from the people around her without grandstanding or molding medieval-y types into 21st century values

Like I can't emphasize enough how weird it is to see a child drawn like this and they're not evil

Behind Her Highness's Smile

I never talked about this one for the opposite reasons of the above. Um. Extremely horny ethicsplay* thriller about a mentally-challenged princess forced to marry a duke (who, in turn, was forced to marry a mentally-challenged princess). What if you were the abused sexy sensual prisoner princess forcibly married to a smoldering tall dark-haired duke AND you had brain damage.

Let me say that I enjoy this story sincerely and that her issues are not played lightly, but it is absolutely going for eroticism. Like oh nooo, you're not mentally competent enough to consent 😉😉 the duke could do whatever he wants and you're too dumb and doll-like to do anything about it😉😉😉 also your maids roofied you😉did I mention your sick bastard brother-king made you like this? And that he takes immense pleasure in that fact?🤫

But I know what you're thinking. Because I was thinking it. For chapters and chapters. "Surely this is a ruse. They didn't actually write a mentally handicapped female lead, not when it's already so horny. This is just to add to the fucked up atmosphere that feeds into everything because there's no fucking way anyone would keep to this premise. Wow she's really committing to the bit lol, not giving an inch. If I were gullible, I would believe they're actually going to fuck. Wait. Was that guy supposed to represent the writer talking to the reader? Hey?"

Did they? Read to find out :)

*I've always hated describing stories as problematic (positive). Ethicsplay, like the story is fucked up. They know it's fucked up, YOU know it's fucked up, and that's why you're here reading it.

A Splendid Revenge Story of a Super-Dreadnought Cheat Villainess

I don't have a lot to say about this one other ​than it's a refreshing revenge-centric OI. It's not treading new ground, but it executes the genre's tropes well. The villains are exaggerated caricatures of hubris, brazen leeches who've forgotten whose blood they've been surviving on, each with their own distinctive brand of arrogance introduced at a measured pace to keep the true hero's OPness from getting boring, all with a unique stylistic flair.

Princess revenge stories are frequently derailed by dull romance or the desire to reinvent capitalism, so the fact that Super-Dreadnought commits itself to smiting Lunaria's enemies without straying from the path makes it a high recommend.

Turning the Mad Dog into a Genteel Lord

I realized I don't have enough screenshots to prove my controversial opinion (that this is less puppy dog bf fantasy and more crypto-age reggressor/caretaker right up until they knew it would mess with the overall light and goofy tone), and I can't say those kinds of things without proof. so. I'll save that for another day.

Anyway. Plot: Priestess Diarin, who is so hot I have more screenshots of her than any of the men, has to tame an abused beast-like 6'8 shredded ex-child soldier into a noble. She's the only one who can change him, she's the only one he can be vulnerable with. Middling plot, heavy slapstick/reaction face-based humor, but everyone is sexy and there are mild to moderate sadist-on-the-art-team impies, so. Recommend.

On an unrelated note can tappytoons please stop picking up manwha with good art? Their translation choices make me unreasonably mad.

If they draw shoes like this, please let Lezhin handle it? I can't take the comma stutters and obvious tone neutering.

[tyrantisterror]

At Sea Without a Map Post-Script

After two months of so, my little writing experiment At Sea Without a Map has come to an end. And because I'm vain, I not only felt compelled to share it, but to talk about it in depth after the fact, so here we are. This is going to be long, though, so I'm not only going to break it into sections, but put it all under the cut for the sake of your dashboard. So go ahead and dive into the depths of the Sea of Monsters with me one more time!

Part 1: Never Stop Blowing Up

The writing process of Wizard School Mysteries Book 3 was really strained - not because of the book itself, mind you. When I was actually able to work on it, Book 3 came together really well - I think it required the least substantial rewrites of any my novels thus far. It's just that real life was kind of beating the shit out of me while I was trying to get it done - or maybe the better metaphor was that it was just slowly but steadily draining me of energy all the time. I'm honestly surprised I got the book out in roughly the same amount of time as the first two - by the way life had been treating me, it should have taken longer.

But when I got done with it I was accutely aware of how tired I was. I still had the creative drive, but fuck I needed something simple as a palette cleanser - something easy, and more importantly, something that was allowed to be bad. I needed something creative to do that was surplus to requirements and fully within its rights to suck ass so long as I had fun making it.

Around this time, I decided to rewatch Dimension 20's Never Stop Blowing Up. Brief explanation of what that is: Dimension 20 is an actual play show, i.e. a recording of people playing D&D and other TTRPGs. I'd say its reputation is built on the contrast of its main DM, Brennan Lee Mulligan, who makes these meticulously crafted campaign plans, and his chaotic band of improv comedian players who promptly derail those plans spectacularly. Like, a good deal of the show's humor comes from Emily Ashford or Ally Beardsly doing something so off-the-wall that it shatters whatever the scene was going to be and creates a far more absurd and zany spectacle in its place. Which is why Never Stop Blowing Up is pretty notable, because it's the one campaign where Brennan himself is the agent of chaos, fully unleashing his own brand of madness that the players struggle to keep up with. And fuck does he seem to have fun with it.

Of course, all of the analysis above is purely from the outside looking in - it's likely that a lot of the "chaos" is played up for the audience. But still... there is something to the idea of a person who's been working on meticulously structured stories letting loose and just doing something extremely stupid.

So I decided to give myself a Never Stop Blowing Up moment - a short story that would be simple by design, with no standards to live up to or goal beyond "have fun telling a silly little story." I then came up with a few key criteria:

It can't be set in the Midgaheim/ATOM universe. I don't want the burden of figuring out where this story would fit among others.

It's gotta be a romance. People who've read my books might have picked up on the fact that I like to write about people falling in love, for the same reason I like to write about fire-breathing reptiles and friendly monsters (i.e. I use writing to indulge in things I'll never experience in real life). I've only used romance as subplots in my fiction before, and tend to feel a bit guilty if I focus on it too long - like I'm being self indulgent. Well, this is all about self indulgence, so the romance should be front and center.

It's gotta be SIMPLE, episodic even. Not complex plotting required.

I almost chose my xenomorph romance for this, but I had developed its outline to the point where it would be too complex to fit. I then considered a sort of superhero story that could be pitched as "what if Bringing Up Baby but Katherine Hepburn's character is a Harley Quinn-esque supervillain and Cary Grant's character gets turned into some sort of horrifying genetic mutant in the first ten minutes." That one hit a weird roadblock when I got to the character brainstorming phase (the first phase of any writing project I do) - I was trying to figure out what the mad scientist who turns out Cary Grant-figure into a mutant would be named, came up with the name "Dr. Skullfuck," immediately realized that having a character named "Dr. Skullfuck" is a Mark Millar-ass writing move that I could not allow myself to do, but then couldn't stop thinking of the name "Dr. Skullfuck" and giggling, which just brought all thinking to a grinding halt on that project.

(I'll still probably do it someday, though - just, you know, without Dr. Skullfuck)

Inspiration struck again, though. I'd been getting into Epic: The Musical, a musical retelling of The Odyssey, and it put me in the mood for a sea monster story. But, more than that, it got me thinking about one particular archetype from sea monster stories - but that brings us to the next part of this Post Script...

Part 2: It Was Always About Calibani

Ok, so, one of the big changes Epic: The Musical made involved Odysseus's encounter with the sirens, and before you read more of my rambling, I'd like you to watch two animatics for the two songs in question here:

A summary: one of the sirens takes the form of Odysseus's wife to try and tempt him into getting in the water, Odysseus tricks her into giving him directions, captures her and the rest of her kind, and proceeds to have his men slaughter them horribly. In the OG story the sirens don't die - nor does their song involve imitating a man's wife, for that matter, it's just a really pretty song.

This is done for an important narrative purpose - Epic: The Musical is focused on analyzing the moral ambiguity of Odysseus, and how it is constantly challenged by the impossible choices he is forced to make in his attempt to get home. At this point in the musical, Odysseus has decided to stop trying to be a compassionate man, shirking all mercy in favor of utter ruthless pursuit of his goals. These two songs are meant to be unsettling as hell - this is the beginning of a series of heartless choices by both Odysseus and his men that will culminate in the mutiny and complete annihilation of Odysseus's crew, as well as Odysseus himself being so hopelessly stranded that nothing short of divine intervention will save him.

I bring this up because when I first heard these two songs - specifically while watching these two animatics - it, like... it devastated me. I was so horrified and sad, so shaken by it. And part of it was for the reasons outlined above, but admittedly that wasn't the gut reaction I had. No, my immediate reaction was, and I quoute my own broken brain verbatim here: "You can't kill the sirens! They're not for killing, they're for loving!"

...now, those of you who know me are probably not surprised by this very stupid sentiment coming from me. One of my more popular posts is just me talking about how down bad I would be for various folkloric monsters whose whole shtick is "looks like a pretty lady but Watch Out." But as a person filled with immense self loathing and doubt, my brain immediately looked at that very stupid sentiment I expressed and said, "Wait, no, that's fucking dumb, I'm fucking dumb. The sirens are remorseless murderers. These sirens in particular preyed upon a man's love for his wife, who he has not seen in twelve years, to convince him to let them kill him. They are, by all standards of morality, Very Fucking Evil, and if they were not women you would not feel bad about them getting killed."

And as my brain argued with itself over this topic, I got to thinking about the various monstrous/othered sea women of The Odyssey - not just the sirens, but the witch Circe, the nymph Calypso, the monsters Scylla and Charybdis. And I thought about the others of their kind in other myths and folktales - selkies, mermaids, etc.

There's an archetype of sea monster that focuses entirely on one specific anxiety sailors are prone to, namely the fact that (for a good deal of human history) being on a boat meant spending a lot of time away from women. The horror of this monster is how it uses that desire for female company to tempt people into danger - like a mirage, it leads you to expose yourself to danger in pursuit of an illusory comfort.

But, unlike real world mirages, these monstrous sea women DO exist in their stories. More than that, they're often, like, sad and lonely. Their narrative purpose is just to be a temptation, but that doesn't change the fact that they do have lives of their own in these worlds. And, softie that I am, I can't help feeling sad for them, especially the ones who actually seem to want the same companionship the sailors they tempt want. Sailors don't stay with their Circes, they don't marry their Calypsos. The sirens live on a barren rock, alone, Scylla is left to wallow in misery at her monstrous form, and the selkie always has to leave for fear of being trapped by a person who won't love her on her terms.

I realized I had my hook for this simple, easy, silly little sea monster romance story: I was going to give a sea woman the happy ending she'd never get from anyone else.

Sailor may be the protagonist, but make no mistake: At Sea Without a Map was always, always, ALWAYS about Calibani.

The goal with Calibani was simple: I was going to set up a fairly standard Monstrous Sea Woman, but where other stories would let her be in one episode of the travel narrative and move on, this one would stick around. She'd be an unambiguous predator of human beings - an open and admitted maneater - but she would have no true malice to her. She, like all predators, eats what she can get to survive, and it just so happens that she's adapted to eat humans. And the story would pose the same question to the reader that my brain posed to me during Different Beast: is there any way you could make a siren-style sea monster sympathetic? Can you make a normal person who doesn't have my particular brain rot look at a maneating siren and think, "You're not supposed to kill her, you're supposed to love her!"

One of the few unavoidable plot points of At Sea Without a Map was that Calibani and Sailor's relationship would become romantic. What kind of romance it was could have varied substantially - it could have been one-sided, it could have been toxic, it could have been far more tragic OR far more comedic. But it was always, always going to be a romance of some sort - the goal of this experiment was to make you, the reader, love Calibani. All else was icing on the cake.

I decided to base Calibani's personality on Miranda from The Tempest - i.e. a sweet girl who is both wordly and naive, who understands the strange setting of our "lost at sea" story far better than the audience viewpoint character does, but views the mundane world of the audience viewpoint character with wonder and naiveté. In fact I almost named her Miranda outright... except I already had a character in the setting I chose for this story who had that name, and as an allusion to the same Shakespearean character no less. So I settled on naming her after Miranda's adoptive sibling (of sorts), Caliban - more fitting in some ways, as Caliban is a fish-human hybrid who is arguable more native to the magic island in The Tempest than Miranda herself.

(Calibani isn't the only Tempest name homage, either - her mother, Sycorax, takes her name directly from Caliban's unseen but oft-spoken of witch mother. Dr. Antonia Warefore takes her first name from Antonio, one of the human villains in The Tempest who hopes to use being lost at sea as a way to perform a coup. And the mothman Iriel takes her name from Ariel, the wind spirit in The Tempest who aids the wizard Prospero in controlling the magic island. If Sailor has a "real" name, it's probably either Ferdinand or Miranda, the two lovers who manage to blend civilization and the wilderness together with their romance.)

Visually, I wanted Calibani to not be any common archetype of sea monster woman, but rather something that evokes the popular images while still being her own thing. She's not a mermaid or a siren or a selkie - she's basically "what if a sea serpent was also a girl." In-universe, she's chubby because she, like all marine megafauna, needs blubber to survive. Out-of-universe, she's chubby because I've found that routinely drawing cute chubby girls is good for my mental health.

Part 3: CYOA

Now, while we live in a post-Muncher society where shame and cringe are emotions only the cowardly should experience, I am nonetheless Very Catholic about expressing my own feelings of, like, liking girls and shit. I cannot help feeling guilty when publicly expressing adoration of women without, like, an excuse - it's gotta be a joke or something, you know? I can't be genuine about it, or else Jesus will beat me with a cane for disrespecting women with my lecherous gaze.

But luckily I've cultivated a loyal audience of fellow monsterfuckers, which meant I had an excuse lined up: if I made this a choose your own adventure type deal, a story with audience participation, then you all would be my accomplices. And Jesus can't cane all of us! He doesn't have enough hands! I found a loophole bigger than his stigmata!

Plus I love collaborative story-telling - there's a thrill in not having total control of where the narrative is going. As Brennan Lee Mulligan must know, there's a joy in having to deal with the chaos thrown your way by letting others grab the figurative ball, even if just for a moment.

Part 4: Offbeat Melody

Since I did not want to set this story in Midgaheim, I decided to steer myself away from a vaguely medieval setting altogether. But I also didn't want to limit myself with the need for "realism" that putting it in a normal sea would require, and making a new setting whole cloth would start pushing this project into "not easy" territory.

Luckily, I had a setting lying around that I hadn't played with in a while, which just so happened to have a location that was PERFECT for the sort of Never Stop Blowing Up style madness I was aiming for. For a few years I ran a Monster of the Week TTRPG campaign called Offbeat Melody, and one of its core setting elements was taking the goblin universe hypothesis in paranormal science (yeah it's a real hypothesis) to an illogical extreme. We had specifically seen glimpses of the Sea of Monsters in Offbeat Melody, i.e. the parallel universe where monsters like Nessie, Ogopogo, Champ, and the like all hail from. Well, why not have a whole story set there? It's literally a universe devoted solely to creating sea monsters - what better place to strand our modern Odysseus?

Offbeat Melody was always sort of a Never Stop Blowing Up project, or at least NSBU adjacent. Some of my most unhinged story-telling moments are in that campaign - you could make a supercut of just the "commercial breaks" in the various sessions and it'd basically be an I Think You Should Leave episode. Taking one obscure corner of its multiversal world and exploring it in detail was perfect for this project.

Part 5: Monster by Monster

With our main romance as sorted out as could be for a CYOA story, it was time to figure out the "episodes" of this sea voyage. I settled on there being ten to roughly align with The Odyssey - just in terms of number, mind you, not in a one-to-one comparison. The first was, obviously, Calibani herself, which left nine more slots for me to fill with monsters. Let's go through them together in brief:

Tree Storks - any lost at sea story eventually has to get its protagonist into an island at some point, but this immediately begs the question, "Why don't they just stay on the island where it's safe?" The answer to that question has to be, "it's not safe there, actually." The Odyssey does this quickly and cleverly with a one two punch: the first island seems safe until you realize the food on it brainwashes you into forgetting everything except your desire to eat it, and the second island is full of delicious sheep but also giants who will eat you just as easily as they eat the sheep. When other islands show up in the story later, you immediately regard them with suspicion, because you don't know HOW they're going to be fucked up, but they definitely will be. My goal with the second episode was to establish the same sort of danger - that land is NOT safe, that islands WILL be fucked up and dangerous in ways you might not expect.

I also wanted to establish that this is not just a sea of monsters, but a very WEIRD sea of WEIRD monsters. It couldn't be any old monster on this island - it had to be one that was unique, unexpected, and maybe just a bit silly while still being menacing.

I've always felt that there's a lot of un-mined horror potential in storks, cranes, and herons - any bird with a long neck and spear-like beak it uses to stab smaller creatures from above. Just imagine yourself in a frog's place in the world - tiny, going about your business, when suddenly something shoots down at you from above and impales you before you even feel the shadow fall over your face. Or perhaps you did see the shadow - some of these birds spread their wings to create shade specifically to attract fish, and then spear the poor little bastards.

Well, what do people often look to islands for when out at sea? Shade - the shade of a palm tree. And palm fronds kinda resemble feathers, don't they? Wouldn't it be both ludicrous and terrifying is there was a stork big enough to mimic a palm tree - and wouldn't that be a DEVIOUS trap for a sun-drenched sailor to fall for? So the Tree Storks were born.

The Globster - I made a list of sea monster archetypes in the early planning for this project, and one I wanted to include was a kraken, i.e. some sort of tentacled sea beast. But I didn't want to do JUST a big squid or octopus, or even a riff on them. I wanted to take the idea of "big sea monster with lots of tentacles" into a stranger direction.

Since the Sea of Monsters is explicitly the home universe of lake and sea monster cryptids, I thought it might be fun if ASWaM's kraken equivalent was a globster - just a big ball of rotten meat. I love drawing monstrous faces, so I decided it'd just be, like, MADE of hideous rotten faces, all melting and congealing together, with its tentacles doubling as the tongues of its many mouths. A perfectly wretched image that, like the Tree Storks, would do well to establish how Fucked things could get in this setting. Plus similar monsters had appeared in Offbeat Melody, which would make for a fun sense of familiarity for the, like, five or so readers of mine who had listened to that campaign before.

Captain Peter & the Dolphin - Another thing I did in the early planning stages of this project was make a list of the different sea voyage stories I know and love, the most contentious of which is The Life of Pi. That's a story that I love on a literal level but kind of hate on a figurative level - its whole theme/message is that doubt is the worst thing you can have, that if you don't commit to believing something with zealous conviction you are a coward. As a person who thinks doubt is valid, that "I don't know" is sometimes the ONLY truly valid answer to a question, I have issues with that message.

But I can't help loving the beautifully ludicrous idea of a non-anthropomorphic tiger sailing the ocean on a big Odyssey of its own. Like, if that story didn't actively hate me for being agnostic, it would be one of my favorites.

So I decided to, you know, just steal the idea of a tiger Odysseus. The tiger in The Life of Pi is named Richard Parker. Richard Parker also happens to be the name of Peter Parker's dad. Hence we get Captain Peter - the figurative son of Richard Parker, if you will. And to ratchet up the absurdity of a tiger Odysseus, I made him a pirate and the sole sailor of his voyage. Somehow, this tiger has manned a boat on his own.

Captain Peter was intended to be the hero of another story - a sign for the readers that it IS possible for a stranded person (or, in this case, tiger) to survive out here. To that end, he had to rescue our heroes from another threat, but not one that would be interesting enough to take the focus off of the tiger pirate. Originally I planned for that threat to just be a big shark, but I ended up liking my shark design too much to put it in a role that small, so I quickly designed a nasty dolphin for the role instead. I think that worked out well, honestly.

Dr. Neptune - Episodes 5 and 6 were the mid-point of this journey, so I wanted the two monsters of those to escalate things significantly. I figured episode 5 was probably a good place to FINALLY give some meaningful exposition on what was going on, and there are a lot of stories about mad scientists doing weird shit on islands in my big list of sea voyage stories I love. So we get Dr. Neptune, a classical brain-in-a-jar mad scientist who's affable enough to give more-or-less accurate exposition but loony enough to be a problem. This also felt like a good spot to remind the reader that Calibani is not just a girl with a tail but rather a Sea Monster herself, and one that we'd been making stronger by allying with.

With his human-but-not-quite nature and cyclops eye, Dr. Neptune could sort of be seen as the Polyphemus of this story, couldn't he?

The Crocodisle - One of the sea monster archetypes on my list was "the island that's actually a sleeping monster," of which there are many in mythology and folklore. My favorite is the Jasconius from the voyage of St. Brendan, mainly because it's more or less benign and actually comes back to help St. Brendan and his crew at the end of the story. I always love when I can find an old story with a friendly monster in it.

When thinking of my own spin on the island monster concept, I remembered the only Magic the Gathering card I had as a kid, which I still have and love to this day: The Sandbar Crocodile. This card already inspired Crocogon's color scheme in The Atomic time of Monsters, but I felt I could go to that well again one more time, and so made a crocodile that wasn't just a sandbar, but a whole damn island to itself. And, like Jasconius, it turns out he's pretty chill.

I did not think of the pun name "Crocodisle" until I was actually writing the chapter in question.

The Femdom Mermaids - These three were a late addition to the roster. When I had Calibani bring up mermaids early in the story, I realized as soon as I wrote her rant about them that we'd HAVE to meet some later on in the story.

The readers had significantly shaped Calibani and Sailor's romance by this point, and I decided that it could be useful to have a chapter that was devoted to showing definitively how these two were good for each other. I thought the mermaids could provide a good contrast: have them act out a seemingly more benign take on the monstrous sea women trope (they abduct our hero to protect and care for them!) only for it to quickly feel MORE deranged than Calibani's comparatively simple desire just to eat him.

The spirit of Calibani's rant about mermaids was taken from weird* girls I knew in high school complaining about cheerleaders, so I wanted the mermaids to look like the sea monster equivalent of popular kids to Calibani's chubby weird girl. Two of them got the names of famous beauties - Helyne = Helen of Troy, Clio = Cleopatra.

(*when I say "weird" I mean it in a complimentary and affectionate sense)

Bob, meanwhile, kinda... rebelled, I guess? Before I had names for them, I listed "bob" by her as just, like, a descriptor for her hair cut, but then I liked it as her name, and once she was named Bob she became more than just a mean popular girl. She was a weirdo too, the little punching bag of the two mean popular girls who did their dirty work and smiled through their abuse because hey, at least they included her. It gave the trio an easily defined dynamic, helped make two of the three more visibly nasty, and gave us comic relief in an arc that could very well have gotten too uncomfortable otherwise.

And I guess it worked - readers REALLY loved Bob, and were very vocal about it, and I realized mid-arc that I had accidentally made her too likable to just leave in this arc. So Bob got to be rescued from her awful friend group thanks to readers like YOU.

Lord Ironteeth - yeah, this was the shark that was too cool to be a minor threat. When I drew his noggin, I realized he would need a chapter of his own, one with gravitas. I decided he'd specifically be the threshold guardian -once we beat him, we'd know for sure how to get home, even if there were a few more threats in store.

Spindle Inc and Sycorax - when I was a kid I used to have this recurring nightmare about being on some sort of underwater sea station that had this huge sea serpent trapped inside it. I'd look at the sea serpent from a window within the station and see it coiling in its tank, only for it to look at me with fury. In that glance I would suddenly realize two things with absolute clarity: first, it was going to break free and kill everyone, and second, we deserved that destruction for what we had done to it. The terror of the dream was less that the sea serpent was going to break free, and more the guilt of knowing that all the mayhem that was about to unfold was our fault to begin with.

I thought that would be fun to homage with the penultimate chapter of this story. OBVIOUSLY the sea serpent was Calibani's mom, obviously the trauma of its capture was why Calibani grew into a predator that specializes in hunting humans, obviously we would have to free the sea serpent despite that running counter to Sailor's goal of getting home. Easy, easy, easy plot point to include.

Spindle, Inc. is the primary antagonistic force in Offbeat Melody, so they easily slotted into the role of the arrogant humans who captured this monster for nefarious and selfish motives. They could tie a lot of other plot threads together too - Dr. Neptune was a scientist who worked for them as a contractor only to get screwed over (i.e. they stranded him in the Sea of Monsters, expecting him to die, and then used his research to make their own base of operations in it), we'd learn of him through a spindle briefcase left behind by some unfortunate rogue agent who got eaten by the Globster while he was trying to escape, hell they could even be one of the possible origins of Sailor themself (more on that later). Very useful villains, Spindle.

The Abyssal Mother - I knew the last sea monster would need a lot of punch to it. I briefly considered just a big whale - the Moby Dick to Spindle's corporate Ahab - but it felt underwhelming after all that came before. So I went for arguably the most dramatic possible sea monster, a full on Cthulhu-style elder god. If you're a frequent follower of this blog, you might know I have particularly high standards for Eldritch Abominations, so I realized this was going to be a pretty big challenge for me to live up to, and decided to keep the cthulhu in question reserved to the last few entries as a result - the less it appears, the less it has to live up to.

I realized I had a good angle when my experiments with the Cthulhu "squid for a head" concept ended up having a face framed in shadow - you know, the same visual that our protagonist has in most appearances. That provided some very juicy parallels between the two that made this final monster feel particularly noteworthy to me, ones that I'll leave you to ponder, since they tie into...

Part 6: Themes

I did not set out to have a theme in this story. I just wanted to make a sailor and a sea monster kiss. That was my only goal.

But I really don't begin with theme in ANY of my writing. I figure out topics I want to address, but for all my novels I feel like the themes didn't start coming together until about halfway through the first draft, when enough of the elements of the story had been set down and interacted with each other enough for me to realize what I was saying with them. A huge part of my second and third drafts for my novels have focused on making the themes of my stories more concrete and unified.

Well, ASWaM is very much a first draft of a story, but it's a simple enough story that I think the theme found itself pretty well despite lacking subsequent drafts to refine it.

ASWaM is about doubt and direction. It's about being adrift in a world that is in many ways hostile by nature, about not feeling like you're where you're supposed to be or even WHO you're supposed to be, and about setting off aimlessly in the hope that maybe you'll find your way to that mythical land of "what my life is supposed to be."

When I began the story, Sailor had amnesia and wore clothes that obscured their identity as a way to make it easier for anyone to step into Sailor's role. Sailor had to feel like You, the Reader, and so we don't know their name, their gender, their eye color, their hair color, even their skin color (note that their hands are always wearing gloves, and their face is always in shadow).

But it also meant Sailor is, well, undefined, at least at the start of the story. Sailor doesn't know who they are, what they are, how they came to be. Sailor feels distinctly that they should be Something Else, should be Somewhere Else, should be Someone Else, should not be who/what/where they are. Sailor is plagued by doubt, by a need to go in a different direction, by a need to be other than they are.

This initially contrasts with Calibani, who begins the story very confident that she is doing exactly what she was designed to be doing and acting exactly like she should be. As they interact, they begin to shift each other in opposite directions - Calibani questions her existence and nature, sometimes to a self destructive degree, and Sailor begins to find something about who and where they are that they like. They find a healthy middle ground together - doubtful enough to want to be better people, but with love for themselves that allows them to not feel the need to up-heave their lives entirely.

I knew at the start that I would build an expectation for there to be some answer to the question of who Sailor is and where they came from, because those are the questions that begin the whole narrative. I brainstormed a number of answers to those questions, but once I got a few chapters into writing the story and saw this theme of doubt developing, I realized I couldn't answer them. From a thematic standpoint, the doubt HAD to remain. So I gave hints to possible answers, bits of evidence to support the possibility of them being true, but never planted a smoking gun that answered it for sure.

Sailor can't know the answer because NONE of us know the answer. Outside of blind Life of Pi style faith, you cannot know for sure that you are living the life you're supposed to live. All you can do is figure out whether you're happy with the life you've got, or if you need a change. Sailor will never know who they are supposed to be, but they did learn who they are, and they love that person now.

For those curious, the possible Sailor origins are:

Occam's Razor: they're exactly what Dr. Neptune theorized, i.e. a human who got stranded in the Bermuda Triangle (or the Devil's Triangle or any other number of paranormal triangles) and fell into the Sea of Monsters. The trauma of that experience gave them amnesia. It's just brain damage and bad luck.

A Spindle Experiment: Dr. Warefore mentions that Spindle has been trying to find a way to make a human who can evolve like the denizens of the Sea of Monsters. Sailor may well be an attempt to do just that, perhaps one they wrote off as a failure and abandoned (they do that a lot)

A Deep One: Sailor is the offspring of one of the denizens of the Sea of Monsters (most likely the Abyssal Mother herself) who has somehow been tricked into believing they are human, to the point where they seem to be human to everyone else, even other monsters. Maybe a human summoned a sea monster to breed with on earth, and Sailor ended up being subconsciously drawn back to the Sea by their blood. Maybe Sailor never actually lived on earth at all, but was only made to THINK they had as part of the transformation into a human.

The Platonic Ideal of a Sailor: the Sea of Monsters is full of archetypal concepts, and arguably a sailor trying to find their way home is just as archetypal as any sea serpent, mermaid, or kraken. Our only proof that humans aren't native to the Sea of Monsters is Dr. Neptune, and he's not as reliable an expert as he claims to be.

This theme of doubt and direction also made the compass more important to the narrative than a simply mechanic for audience participation - a compass, after all, gives direction, and the feeling that Sailor is not where they're supposed to be, that they need to head in a different direction, is ultimately the catalyst of the plot. The compass is, in many ways, the antagonist of the story - the force that keeps Sailor from accepting themself. I realized this a little after I started making the different directions have personalities - initially they just represented broad concepts (North = follow conventional wisdom ala the North Star, South = preserve your short-term self interest at all costs, East = act with curiosity and be willing to take calculated risks, and West = throw caution to the wind and do anything that seems novel and exciting), but over time they became little characters themselves.

Since it was our thematic antagonist, I decided to pepper in some ideas about what the compass might be in-universe - and, in a move that would no doubt frustrate the compass, we also don't know for sure which of those is "correct." Is the compass a poltergeist, some amalgamation of dead sailors who try to steer other lost souls home? Is it a malign entity that leeches off of those desperate enough to seek its aid, living through them while pretending to aid them? Is it a device Spindle made to lure sailors to their clutches, OR to guide their experiments in human/monster hybrids? Was it a cursed item that forced a sea monster to assume a human shape? Who can say - the compass sure can't, it can only tell you a direction to go in.

Part 7: Q&A

Since this was an interactive story, I felt it was only fitting to add one last interactive element to this post-script write up, and some of your happily obliged me by sending in questions.

When I noticed how fast readers were falling for Calibani, I figured there was a good chance we'd end up staying in the Sea of Monsters. By chapter 7, I figured it was more or less a given, and by the end of the Lord Ironteeth encounter I was almost 100% sure Sailor would remain at sea. There was always a chance, though - while a look at the polls shows that the audience got more and more on the same page towards the end, there were always dissenting voices, and the desire to get an answer to the question of Who Sailor Was remained strong, as a number of people kept trying to find angles where they could get that AND stay with Calibani.

I was surprised early on by how easily the audience fell in love with Calibani, to the point where I made a few posts commenting on it. I mean, I shouldn't have been - as I said earlier, I have cultivated an audience of fellow monsterfuckers on here, and I know at least a few of them saw my bait and knew they could get me to be freaky in a way we found mutually agreeable (thank you all again for helping me escape being caned by Jesus for being horny).

Like, we REPEATEDLY ignored developing the plot in the Tree Storks chapter for several days just to spend more time with Calibani - something that I enjoyed immensely (this whole thing was an excuse for me to write and draw a cute chubby sea monster girl as much as possible aftter all) but also knew as a storyteller was not what most would consider a good story call. I like how it turned out, but it defied conventional narrative wisdom, you know? I was surprised.

On the other side of the coin, I was also surprised by how the audience NEVER chose an option that was humorously disastrous. I gave plenty of them, and, like, generally in collaborative storytelling there will be at least one moment where your collaborators decide to do the really, REALLY stupid thing that makes everything spiral out of control really quickly. I figured at least once the audience would choose the troll response, but no, you guys worked hard to keep Sailor and Calibani alive. You refused to let them hurt each other, refused to let them throw themselves into danger, refused to imperil them for your own chuckles. It was very sweet and unexpected.

I say "you refused" but to be fair it's not like NO ONE voted for the troll options - they generally got a handful of votes, just one that was beaten by a landslide of more reasonable options. Hopefully those of you who voted for the troll options enjoyed Bob throwing you a bone by disintegrating Dr. Warefore - that was my consolation prize to you.

Yes. I knew at the beginning that there would be two endings for this story: either Sailor leaves the Sea and goes home, or Sailor stays there forever. Or, you know, Sailor dies as a result of you guys choosing several stupid options in a row, but as stated above you guys avoided those scenarios pretty decisively.

Had Sailor gone home, the following would have occurred: first, they would forget everything that happened in the Sea of Monsters. Second, they would wake up in a hospital, having been found in the Atlantic Ocean by a human-recovery charity run by... oh, isn't that funny, some tech company named Spindle Inc! Spindle would foot the medical bills and even offer Sailor a job, but Sailor would decline because even now they're still not sure what Spindle even does. Sailor would go back to their life and find it familiar and utterly mundane, but not particularly happy. Their father died when they were 18, their mother was never in the picture, they have no siblings. They worked an office job and were sort of a nonentity - that position has long since been filled, but Sailor gets a new job and lives out much the same life: simple, mundane, dreary. Every now and then they get a pang of desire to leave, to go to sea, but they push it out of mind. They never even see the ocean again as long as they live.

Sailor would have gotten the normal life they thought they were supposed to have, the normal memories and name and identity, the mundane life of a normal person. And they just had to trade everything they found in the Sea of Monsters to get it. A question is answered, a direction is followed, but is it the right answer, the right direction?

Well, I think doubt would have remained.

I had a very vague idea for there to be some sort of man-eating giant in, like, a crystal castle. He got cut to make way for the mermaids.

I wanted to fit in a big whale and a giant crustacean, but there wasn't room or an interesting angle for me to want to make room for them. Saved for a possible sequel, I suppose.

I also wanted to have a scene with, like, DOZENS of sea monsters, including some of the ones from Offbeat Melody, but the goal of "this should be EASY you dumbass" made me kill that idea pretty quick.

Thank you!

The primary inspirations were:

The Odyssey and Epic: the Musical

The voyage of St. Brendan

The many "weird shit happens on an island" movies in Toho's filmography, i.e. Godzilla vs. the Sea Monster, Son of Godzilla, Yog Monster of the Deep, Matango, etc.

The Island of Dr. Moreau

The Boy and the Heron

Ponyo (specifically Ponyo's parents - I wanted Sailor to have the same desperate energy as that wizard who fucks the giant sea goddess)

The Life of Pi

Slay the Princess (perhaps most obvious in the use of second person narration, multiple voices in the protagonist's head, and falling in love with a creature that has tried to kill you at least once)

I'm going to use this to springboard to a related point in a second, but first a genuine yet humorous answer: Yes, absolutely yes, I am enough of a big romantic sap that I would give everything about my life away to be with a person who loves me and explore a world of monsters in a heartbeat. Hell, I would have jumped in the water the minute Calibani asked and died with her fangs in my neck and a smile on my face. I am dumb this way. Do not follow my example.

On that related point, though... Most stories like this, I daresay ALL stories like this that I know of, end with the hero abandoning the fantasy world in favor of reality, never to return. And that seems like the proper choice and lesson on the surface - we don't want to tell audiences to give up their real life in favor of a fantasy, after all. That's encouraging escapism, and that's not healthy!

But, like... textually speaking, the fantastical world IS real to the characters in these stories. And it's often not really an escape - was Sailor's life devoid of conflict and suffering in the Sea of Monsters? Fuck no! It's just that they figured out how to deal with that conflict and suffering - they built skills and a support system, they adapted, they learned how to overcome what was there.

I think it can be argued that sometimes the return to a "normal" world is, in itself, an escape - the idea that your life can spiral into chaos but that's ok, you can just reset everything and go back to The Way It Was and Should Be is just as unrealistic and unhealthy an idea as You Should Escape to A Better World. Sometimes your plans for your life fall apart, sometimes you're thrown into a place you never intended to go, sometimes you have to learn skills you never anticipated needing and ally with people you never thought you'd befriend to deal with problems you never dreamed you'd have to overcome. And sometimes it's ok to look at your derailed life, your Not Where You Should Be life, and say, "Well, I've learned how to live here... maybe I can stay."

Especially if there's a cute chubby sea monster girl who loves you.

Bob was never supposed to appear past chapter 7, but about halfway through that chapter I realized the audience and I myself would be heartbroken if we didn't rescue her. Definitely for the best - she provided some well-needed comic relief in the final chapters.

This is gonna sound snarky, but, yeah - there were 58 choices with four options a piece, and we only chose one of the four. While some of the options would have similar results, almost none would have had identical outcomes. And some would have been VERY different.

Like, to go back to the beginning: when Calibani attacked, we could either throw a net on her, harpoon her, try to drive around her, or hide below deck. We picked the net, but for the other three options:

Harpooning would result in us hitting her in the thigh, causing her enough pain that she collapses on our deck and we, horrified at the violence we committed, just sort of push on. Calibani would be wounded for at least the next chapter, perhaps longer, and significantly weaker (and probably harboring a great deal of hidden resentment while also being genuinely scared of Sailor). She would be vulnerable during the stork attack, forcing Sailor to take a more active role in that chapter.

Trying to steer around her would result in us essentially fighting her with our boat, resulting in the boat capsizing and Calibani getting tangled up in it. We'd wake up alone on Stork Island and have to travel in search of our boat, alone and vulnerable among man-eating trees. We'd run into Calibani again, also beached and in trouble, end up recruiting her to help us get our boat out of the sand.

Hiding below deck would end in a sea storm that leaves us inside our boat as it's beached on Stork Island. We'd fend off the storks alone, and run into Calibani once we get our boat out to sea, as she got away more or less unscathed.

All of these would have majorly changed the trajectory of our relationship with Calibani and our identity as Sailor, despite seeming to have the same component parts on the surface. Now account for how similarly slight changes in the other options could have gone, and we could have had a very different story indeed.

Part 8: Our Girl

I just think she's neat!

[tbmkit]

A Deep Dive on "The End" of Las Nevadas

to start things off, this is my own interpretation of his dialogue. i explained how i feel about the stream here in this post. going off of that, i am going to break down the way quackity (who, for clarification sake i'll just refer to as alex) interpreted him. this is gonna get into random theories and probably get like, a little personal and im going to sound crazy but im also autistic and super invested with a bunch of free time... but i think the whole way this stream was carried out had a double meaning to it, and i will examine it here. not proofread, we 're going in raw. so, let's begin with...

Section 1: The Different Personalities of the Quackities

for starters, i want to examine the personalities of each character. obviously, im not taking much (aside from a few bits) into account from the other streams. this was all carefully crafted in one stream to get each persona down, rather than on-the-fly acting. each one has a sort of "archetype" to dissect.

q!quackity, who is quiet, reserved, skittish - yet smart and observant. he uses longer words, and spends more time observing the conversations, then jumping in for the "kill"

k!quackity, who is battered from the betrayal hes gone through, he feels hurt yet he doesnt feel anger. its internalized, he doesnt trust the others, however he mentions that they need to build trust to get out of the "cube"

ln!quackity, who is extroverted, boisterous, the physical incarnate of a bruised ego. he holds his head high not realizing his neck is always exposed, ready for someone to rip him to shreds if they hit the right vein. he's an asshole, making fun of the others, holds himself proudly on his achievements. but he's the only one that cries. q!quackity is anxious, but he doesn't cry. ln!quackity does.

and... alex. a self-proclaimed introvert, who is kind and observant, who forces himself to get out of his comfort zone, something he called a "finish line." a writer, a director, someone who loves telling stories. and this one, happens to be a story of different personas of his, with one being killed off.

and with that, we get into the topic of what i believe the stream represents. if you'll join me for a long read, i think this stream represents his growth as a person and a content creator, in a very extreme and especially vulnerable way.

Section 2: Pre-Quackities Dialogue

an interesting point about ln!quackity is that his dialogue is very turbulent. he goes from being confident to anxious and scared in a moment's notice.

from...

Slime! Was this you? Did you do this? I didn't mean to do this- the the.. I wasn't… malfunction! An explosive went off! I don't know where I am! I might've done some [stupid] stuff, but it's not- it's not fair to pin it on me. You saw it- you saw it- you saw what everyone did to me…

at first, he's very confused. a topic he brings up later is how he always wins, or rather how the house always wins. he succeeded in killing himself, thus the surprise. he didn't really mean to succeed, he thought he'd fail just like all the other times. that's what he's used to.

then...

I don't know who you are, and you certainly don't know who I am either. […] If you have any answers for me, just let me know, please. Alright fine- whoever put me here, get me out! Or just kill me! That was the point of what I was trying to do!

his ego pops in - "you certainly don't know who i am either" weighing his importance. he can't die, he's just so vital for his country. his carefully crafted country. but he can't stand not knowing what actually happened - did he finally succeed? for once in his entire life? no, surely not. he wants to get out - he didn't really mean to kill himself. just one more chance, he wants. but if he can't have one more chance, he just wants it to be over. either keep fighting and fighting or finally give up, even if you just succeeded for the first time in your life.

finally to...

We can make a deal, alright? Let's do a little bit of gambling, let's make a deal! […] You let me out of here, I… do you want me to do good deeds? I'll do good deeds! […] I'll do it, just let me go… just give me a sign…

"ha! gambling, casinos, money! that's my personality! you guys know me, mr. casino man! ring any bells yet?? you guys know that's what i'm all about!" he cries. that's where his power is held - material possessions, easy wins, his comfort zone. something he can easily control. he tries to paint himself as a "better" version of himself by offering his material possessions, anything to save his ass. something he can live without, something he's comfortable losing because he'll just gain it back double in the end.

Section 3: Pre-Monologue

the first thing ln!quackity says to k!quackity - apart from being taken aback by being called a gringo - is

A foreigner?! Where are you from?

now this might come off as one of the farther reaches in this post, but i feel like this was mean to represent ("this" as in, the way ln!quackity treats k!quackity as a whole) the switch to spanish content that alex did. i feel like ln!quackity is very offput by k!quackity because it was a hard switch for alex to make, given how people in the public - and in private - treated this switch. throughout the stream, ln!quackity treats k!quackity with ambivalence - not with hatred or disgust, but also with an underlying fearful tone - as he does not understand him when he speaks spanish. however, ln!quackity does speak spanish. he spoke spanish all the time. hell, the casino is called el palacio (which you can see on the signs inside), we got el rapids, mexican l'manburg, flirting with schlatt... this is just a front. he just doesn't want to communicate, even acknowledge him speaking to him. his ego gets in the way, not wanting to acknowledge this. q!quackity does not speak spanish, this was clear given the lore of qsmp with elquackity. however, ln!quackity is known as bilingual. so why would he try to hide that part of him? you tell me.

You see? I was also betrayed! And actually I was the one doing the torturing, but I have the better story here.

"hah look at me im so badass! who gives a fuck if you went through so much shit! i also did that shit but to someone else! that also kinda happened to me but who cares!" says the deeply traumatized individual who perpetuates a cycle of abuse.

Tone it fucking down. You don't know who you're speaking to.

he says this directly after being called out by the other two. he, again, deems himself as more important. he's the badass one, he's the one that is more "successful," he gets all the fame and credit. thus, when someone tries to tell him that he's full of shit, he immediately puts up his defenses - the ones he's been crafting for all his life, through the endless amount of trauma he's gone through. did he ever back down? show emotions? no, he hasn't. he's always just been a powerhouse. even when his friends and partners betrayed him, he used that to fuel his drive, not knock him down.

I win. That's my job. My job is to make people think they win. I'm a multimillionaire because I run an extremely successful casino business. I also am the president of the richest country in my world. But you know, the more success, the more people want to kill you. And if I'm here right now it's because they succeeded - although I do think the people responsible might be dead soon as well, because if I truly am dead, then they fucked up. So yeah I'm not worried about it at all. Just a bunch of cowards that stormed my casino, probably shot me, they'll get caught.

here he goes again, flaunting his achievements. whenever someone tries to wiggle through the cracks of his ego, he spits out the same recycled speech about his achievements. everyone wants him, everyone wants what he has. but does he truly want it all? is it to make up for what he had lost, or maybe it's to hide his emotions or his insecurities? will they all be drowned out by material possessions? "the more success, the more people want to kill you," so, himself, since that's who killed him in the end? with how much he's been gaining, does that mean that his will to live dwindled too as he got everything he ever wanted? but of course, this is all one big lie to cover up the fact that he was the one with a bounty on his own head.

Q!Quackity: If you are as successful as you say you are, I would imagine that you would already be on edge for someone trying to kill you. […] so how exactly did you inflict your own death?

bonus! with the context above, i feel like q!quackity picked up on his suicidal tendencies, and is thus asking, "hey, since you have it all and i kiiinda feel like we all killed ourselves here, and you said the more successful you are the more people wanna kill you, doesn't that mean you wanna kill yourself?"

Section 4: The Monologue

Fine. You wanna know how I got here? I fucking destroyed it all, I fucking did it. I fucking did it. I sat on my fucking throne and I lit it all on fire and it was fucking beautiful. You know why? Because you can't trust nobody. You can't fucking trust nobody. Alright… alright… I come from a world where you can't trust nobody. Your neighbour will backstab you for a piece of bread if he has to. There are no friends where I came from, okay? And people will sell you out in a fucking second. I tried it all, I tried politics, I tried businesses, and I never won. You know what made all those fail? You know what made every fucking attempt of mine fail? Trust! You can't trust people! They will kill you! So if I can't win, I did what I had to do.

the first half of the monologue is all about being betrayed. "how did i get here? / i destroyed it all / it was beautiful" for someone who prides himself in his material possessions, this doesn't feel like he'd be happy about getting rid of it all. his entire country, what he loved. las nevadas is his comfort zone. that's why he was confined to it, he never left, nobody entered, truly. sure he had some of his friends, but they betrayed him in the end. he ended up hurting them and they left, or they hurt him regardless.

this is where alex comes into play. this monologue was intentional, this was raw and vulnerable. it represents ln!quackity, yes. but, underlying is alex throughout it all. it's not a hidden fact that he's had a lot of people that ended up betraying him, and others in his life as well. so many people took advantage of his trust and kindness. they wanted to commodify him, use his fame, get a bit of clout, get his money, all for themselves. ln!quackity didn't want to be on top of the world, he rose so high up that from below everything looks so small and lost sight of where he was. this represents the ego. it's so easy for your ego to get ahold of you, but when you're so high up, you get knocked down, all the way to your death...

I fabricated my wins, I created my own country, I built my circumstances. Me! Nobody else! Because nobody else thinks like I do! Nobody can! So there comes a point where it's over, at some point you fucking lose.

the aforementioned fall. las nevadas was his comfort - the only place where nothing could go wrong. everything went his way, and only his. the house always wins, it's his comfort zone. he crafted it himself. "nobody else thinks like i do / nobody can" represents his internal struggle. his insecurities that he had to build four walls and a roof over, hidden away from sight in a city of different buildings. he thinks hes the only one that feels this way, he doesnt think anyone can feel the amount of pain he does. life is a chore for ln!quackity, he chugs through it and never once could he rest. but, he finally got to. and now that he has it all... what else is there left? his insecurities and shame that he trapped himself in with all this time. he's forced to sit with them, ponder, grow attached to them yet still hide them from everyone. nobody can know how he feels, nobody can know what he thinks. he never opened up, he never got in touch with his emotions and thus

My partner, my great business partner… I built him, piece by piece, I gave him the personality that I wanted! He learned from me, he is who he is because of me! Yet he has the audacity to abandon me? To abandon what I built? To defy me? He called me a bad person and guess what? I am a bad person. And I'll fucking own it til the day I die. Everything gets destroyed, I'm not gonna wait for a fucking traitor to put me in my grave, that's my JOB. So yeah, I inflicted it, I'm here because of me. I'm here because of me, nobody else. *starts crying*

this is where it gets tricky. my personal interpretation that fits with the theme is that slime represents alex. ln!quackity - or rather, his ego - molded slime into what he is - a copy of ln!quackity. a hollow imitation of the ego. ln!quackity made slime into precisely that. he was a blank slate, he had so much power over him, and thus he finally had someone who could think like him, without the pain that ln!quackity felt because slime felt none. not until ln!quackity hurt him - his own ego hurt alex, in this sense. the fame, his career had hurt him.

"to abandon what i built / to defy me" taking a step back to keep your ego in check, to finally realize what matters in life, is an act of defiance. to humble yourself, to realize you're nothing more than a person that feels hurt by his environment (calling back to: "I might've done some [stupid] stuff, but it's not- it's not fair to pin it on me. You saw it- you saw it- you saw what everyone did to me…" which he said when he was alone, begging for his life, for a second chance to go back to where he felt safest) it was such a strong revelation that it made ln!quackity cry. finally, he could cry.

ln!quackity, in his own eyes, is perfect. he's what everyone wants to be. money, fame, achievements... but the moment he realizes hes hurt he comes back down from his pedestal. he's not the badass everyone wants him to be, he's not the king of the land, he's scared and sensitive. he just wants to be loved, but every time he is, he gets hurt. so why love when you can hurt? that's why he's so rude and abrasive. because why love when hurting is easier? hurting is the norm, hurting is comfort. las nevadas is a nation that encapsulates nothing but pain.

Where do you guys think you are? What is this to you, just a little game? Just a little more entertainment? Look around us, look at this, look at this sick joke, we're puppets! They think it's real! None of this is! And maybe that's the game, we just need to play it! Who's it gonna be, huh? What am I meant to do? How do I win today's game? I'm not gonna give these bastards a show, I want out!

obligatory "who do you think we're actually talking about here?" fourth wall-breaking segment. you should be able to piece it together here. ln!quackity doesn't want to be part of the show anymore - q!quackity and k!quackity run it now.

Section 5: Post-Monologue and Closing Thoughts

Oh my god, oh my god… Okay… I'm alive- I'm alive… I'm alive, I'm alive… What am I doing? What am I doing? Okay… I need to… I need to leave, I need to get out of here, I need to walk out, I need to walk out…

wait, ln!quackity is alive? he's not hurt? he's... alive? hm. that must've all been in his head. a near death experience, some divine intervention... maybe he does get a second shot! "i need to get out of here..." he wants to get out of the comfort zone, but... letting the ego out, where he's going to suffer? let ln!quackity, the character built on legacy, suffer in a place where he has nothing? the outside? where he wouldn't even dare to-

Slime: Looks like everything is running well. Yeah. Everything's going pretty… pretty great. Slime: You look so tired. I uh… yeah, yeah I uh, I am. Slime: I came back to see you one last time. I didn't like how we had to end. Yeah, no uh… I thought about it, no hard feelings and you know what… you were right actually, this time you taught me some valuable lessons. Slime: After I left, I learned a lot. More than I ever thought there was to know. From more people that I ever thought there were. That sounds great. Slime: I came here to say goodbye, Quackity. It felt… important. Where are you going? Are you going somewhere? Slime: I want to go see it, Quackity. Everything belong this land. I don't think I belong here anymore. Wow, yeah. You deserve it, wow… look at you. Traveling the world, I'm excited for you. Slime: I've learned all I can from this place, Quackity. I'm very excited to go. And maybe even now, someone or something can learn from me. Wow, well yeah. Stay uhm, stay safe man. And remember, don't trust too many people. Slime: Quackity, thank you for teaching me what it's like to be human. Yeah… thanks. Slime: Goodbye, Quackity from Las Nevadas.

he realizes the pain is what makes people alive. you can reconcile with it, you can embrace it, you can live with it. slime was confined to las nevadas for so long that he learned how to live. why can't ln!quackity? what makes slime different? ln!quackity has been immersed in nothing but pain and suffering... and k!quackity too! q!quackity! they are all fine, they can do amazing things, but... they have nothing. they lost it all, but why was ln!quackity the one that's stuck? why did he finally crack?

it's because they love. and slime, well, he loves the world. he loves learning, teaching about life. he has a passion, he wants to experience life. he wants to be free. ln!quackity never wanted to be free. he wanted a place to call his own. with slime leaving... he has las nevadas all to himself. everything he ever wanted, all the money in the world, yet he's alone. he was never loved, only used. it's just a hollow tomb. it was built as an homage to people he loved, but they never loved him. nor did he love himself. all it stands to be is just a reminder that ln!quackity will never be loved.

"you look... so tired." "yeah... i uh- i am."

he doesn't have to keep fighting. he doesn't have to keep relishing in pain. he's happy that slime is traveling the world, thanks to him. he took bits and pieces of ln!quackity - not everything - but just enough to keep his chin high. he is his own person, using the lessons that ln!quackity taught him. slime is ln!quackity's legacy. after the conversation with his other two selves, and with slime in the real world, he realized that in order for him to be at peace, he doesn't have to keep on hurting. the pain that he shared with slime, as the lessons he taught him, inspired slime to be his own person. the pain that ln!quackity went through is what made slime realize that he, too, is human. relishing in pain and not using that to keep going makes you a victim to your own surroundings. the pain becomes comfort, and you can never leave. it's nothing more than a tomb.

and thus, the final lines said are:

"quackity, thank you for teaching me what it's like to be human." "yeah... thanks"

slime taught him how to be human as well. and to be human is to not let pain consume you and to keep forward. make amends with it, keep it in your back pocket. those are memories, it's part of your legacy. but what the other quackities could do that ln!quackity couldn't, is remind themselves that they can be better.

q!quackity, though skittish in nature, is observant and uses his knowledge to get under ln!quackity's skin and finally make him snap and realize his emotions. q!quackity represents intellect, even if he is naïve at the same time.

k!quackity, just as smart as q!quackity, is a fighter. he is observant, but he doesn't use that as much to his advantage as he has strength to back him up. he is strong and he knows it, he can lead a revolution, he is strategical. less naïve than q!quackity, he's more cautious of the posing threat that ln!quackity is. q!quackity helps him as his first instinct, showing that the two work together in tandem naturally.

with both sides working together in harmony, where does ln!quackity come in? he represents arrogance, denial of his emotions, his bolstering ego... there is no room for that to grow as a person. he had to die. the room falls silent as he kills himself, no protests. and, q!quackity and k!quackity will make it out alive. they will be coming back. which shows that they do work together to get out. not by killing themselves, but allowing themselves the best parts of each other.

so, as a finale... what does this mean as a whole? i think, although alex really loves ln!quackity, i think this stream was meant to show his journey as a person. he has said he is very grateful for what he has and where he's gotten, and i think keeping yourself humble and counting your blessings is something that you have to grow into. when you're young, you do stupid mistakes. you're naïve, you trust too easily and people take advantage of that. at the end of the stream, ln!quackity says

"don't trust too many people"

as opposed to what he said earlier, talking about himself:

"you know what made all those fail? [...] trust! you can't trust people! they kill you!"

without letting people in, ln!quackity was his own demise. he never learned how to trust, how to love, and thus he could only die alone in the end. but, slime can. he will learn how to love, how to care for, and how to trust others. don't be naïve, but don't be alone, otherwise you will be your own demise in the end.

and thus, this stream was a way to show alex's journey as a person. he said that he was really counting his blessings and being thankful for everything in his life. he can't redo the past few years, but he can move forward with the lessons he learned. that's something he has been talking a lot about lately, and i think this was his own way of interpreting it through characters he loves so dearly. he had to kill off his pride to grow. moving on is the hardest part, and what's even harder is learning how to begin again after everything. but, at the end of the year and going into the next, he will face troubles. he will face challenges.

but he will grow and learn, as he is human, as we are human. we all feel pain, as well as love. we need to learn, we need to grow. and we cannot shy these away from each other - they need to balance each other out and work in unison, as they should.

[aleki-lives-here]

I read that one long meta post I just reblogged and a fanfic snippet of the tech working with MB's POV was born. So here.

Part 1??? (I might have a few more ideas for snippets from this POV)

[Look at this

Attachment: funky_graph.image.]

Ginson was really supposed to be working. Te didn't need the fines for getting distracted at ter workplace, te really didn't, but when did Minoa do anything but be distracting? He'd be the death of ter, Ginson was sure.

[What's that?]

[Come on, its work. Just take a look]

Te gave in. [Huh.]

[Fascinating isnt it? It f-ing shifted the whole statistics up with that stunt]

[What happened there?]

[Well thats what I hoped youd tell me :}

Attachment: unit.link]

Ginson glanced at the clock. (Well, te did the feed equivalent of glancing, which really was more like briefly shifting your attention to a background process and suddenly knowing the time. Te always found it annoying that there just weren't the right words to describe what working in the feed felt like.) Te wasn't supposed to take a break for another half hour, but, damn it. Te was nothing if not curious. And Minoa was right, it was work! …almost, in any case. Ginson wasn't the statistician, te worked with constructs directly, as individual Units.

So te loaded the profile and wasn't surprised when ter clearance was enough to access everything. Of course it was one of ter Units. Minoa wouldn't have come to ter if te didn't have what he wanted to know.

Ginson poked around the data, then sent an excerpt. [Client chance of survival predicted at 8.27%. Extraction successful.] Te wondered if it came across as bragging. It sure felt like bragging: that was ter SecUnit! And look at its performance!

[ :( no juicy detail?]

[That's Unit's logs, not your serials.]

[Awww :( ]

Ginson minimized the connection, focusing on the logs of the SecUnit te was actually working on. Te was trying to figure out if a more thorough memory purge was in order. The contract it returned from wasn't the kind of occasion that made such measures mandatory, but it was nasty in the “clients involve their SecUnits in petty infighting” kind of way, and te hadn't yet booted the Unit on to check its performance reliability, but considering its history and age and time since last memory purge...

[There cant not be smth special about the unit.] Minoa sent, because of course he wasn't going to leave ter alone. [Its performance baseline level’s better than most for the last half year, ignoring the spike (which, woah but could be just luck). 

Whats so special about it??

Every other unit is gonna look like theyre underperforming if this goes on XD]

Ginson sighed. The NDA didn't really prohibit ter from talking to another company employee working with the same Units about the information he might actually find useful in his job. And it's not like there was any privacy concern. Te didn't know why te was hesitating, alright? Te'd put a lot of work in here (including unpaid overtime ter manager praised with the kind of smile te hated, it's not like te did it for her, and if she was so happy with ter performance she could hint to the supervisor that a raise is in order, which she hasn't), just to erase the effects of the incident. Bringing it up after that felt… wrong, somehow.

Which, of course, didn't make any sense. And Minoa wouldn't leave ter alone until te admitted, so. [It was from Ganaka Pit.]

[!!!] Came an instant reply. [Damn

Werent they all nonfunctional after that?

How the f did you do that?? :0]

[Memory purge.]

[Ha! Keep your secrets, tech magician

Technician = tech magician. In your case]

Well. It's not like Ginson wasn't proud of ter work here. Te’s done a really, really good job with this one. 

(Te knew that couldn't be the reason for the Unit’s better performance. Returning it to the baseline functionality? Sure, that was ter. And that was a damn good achievement in itself. But te knew te hadn't done anything that would explain the sudden climb of the statistics that happened months after the incident and the repairs. That was the Unit itself.

Ginson wasn't looking too hard into how it achieved that. What mattered was that it worked, and it worked well.

It looked good on ter resume.)