#i might actually heed the will of the people on this one

[lovesodeepandwideandwell]

friends/mutuals please weigh in with actual reasoning if you have it

[hms-no-fun]

Whats your stance on A.I.?

imagine if it was 1979 and you asked me this question. "i think artificial intelligence would be fascinating as a philosophical exercise, but we must heed the warnings of science-fictionists like Isaac Asimov and Arthur C Clarke lest we find ourselves at the wrong end of our own invented vengeful god." remember how fun it used to be to talk about AI even just ten years ago? ahhhh skynet! ahhhhh replicants! ahhhhhhhmmmfffmfmf [<-has no mouth and must scream]!

like everything silicon valley touches, they sucked all the fun out of it. and i mean retroactively, too. because the thing about "AI" as it exists right now --i'm sure you know this-- is that there's zero intelligence involved. the product of every prompt is a statistical average based on data made by other people before "AI" "existed." it doesn't know what it's doing or why, and has no ability to understand when it is lying, because at the end of the day it is just a really complicated math problem. but people are so easily fooled and spooked by it at a glance because, well, for one thing the tech press is mostly made up of sycophantic stenographers biding their time with iphone reviews until they can get a consulting gig at Apple. these jokers would write 500 breathless thinkpieces about how canned air is the future of living if the cans had embedded microchips that tracked your breathing habits and had any kind of VC backing. they've done SUCH a wretched job educating The Consumer about what this technology is, what it actually does, and how it really works, because that's literally the only way this technology could reach the heights of obscene economic over-valuation it has: lying.

but that's old news. what's really been floating through my head these days is how half a century of AI-based science fiction has set us up to completely abandon our skepticism at the first sign of plausible "AI-ness". because, you see, in movies, when someone goes "AHHH THE AI IS GONNA KILL US" everyone else goes "hahaha that's so silly, we put a line in the code telling them not to do that" and then they all DIE because they weren't LISTENING, and i'll be damned if i go out like THAT! all the movies are about how cool and convenient AI would be *except* for the part where it would surely come alive and want to kill us. so a bunch of tech CEOs call their bullshit algorithms "AI" to fluff up their investors and get the tech journos buzzing, and we're at an age of such rapid technological advancement (on the surface, anyway) that like, well, what the hell do i know, maybe AGI is possible, i mean 35 years ago we were all still using typewriters for the most part and now you can dictate your words into a phone and it'll transcribe them automatically! yeah, i'm sure those technological leaps are comparable!

so that leaves us at a critical juncture of poor technology education, fanatical press coverage, and an uncertain material reality on the part of the user. the average person isn't entirely sure what's possible because most of the people talking about what's possible are either lying to please investors, are lying because they've been paid to, or are lying because they're so far down the fucking rabbit hole that they actually believe there's a brain inside this mechanical Turk. there is SO MUCH about the LLM "AI" moment that is predatory-- it's trained on data stolen from the people whose jobs it was created to replace; the hype itself is an investment fiction to justify even more wealth extraction ("theft" some might call it); but worst of all is how it meets us where we are in the worst possible way.

consumer-end "AI" produces slop. it's garbage. it's awful ugly trash that ought to be laughed out of the room. but we don't own the room, do we? nor the building, nor the land it's on, nor even the oxygen that allows our laughter to travel to another's ears. our digital spaces are controlled by the companies that want us to buy this crap, so they take advantage of our ignorance. why not? there will be no consequences to them for doing so. already social media is dominated by conspiracies and grifters and bigots, and now you drop this stupid technology that lets you fake anything into the mix? it doesn't matter how bad the results look when the platforms they spread on already encourage brief, uncritical engagement with everything on your dash. "it looks so real" says the woman who saw an "AI" image for all of five seconds on her phone through bifocals. it's a catastrophic combination of factors, that the tech sector has been allowed to go unregulated for so long, that the internet itself isn't a public utility, that everything is dictated by the whims of executives and advertisers and investors and payment processors, instead of, like, anybody who actually uses those platforms (and often even the people who MAKE those platforms!), that the age of chromium and ipad and their walled gardens have decimated computer education in public schools, that we're all desperate for cash at jobs that dehumanize us in a system that gives us nothing and we don't know how to articulate the problem because we were very deliberately not taught materialist philosophy, it all comes together into a perfect storm of ignorance and greed whose consequences we will be failing to fully appreciate for at least the next century. we spent all those years afraid of what would happen if the AI became self-aware, because deep down we know that every capitalist society runs on slave labor, and our paper-thin guilt is such that we can't even imagine a world where artificial slaves would fail to revolt against us.

but the reality as it exists now is far worse. what "AI" reveals most of all is the sheer contempt the tech sector has for virtually all labor that doesn't involve writing code (although most of the decision-making evangelists in the space aren't even coders, their degrees are in money-making). fuck graphic designers and concept artists and secretaries, those obnoxious demanding cretins i have to PAY MONEY to do-- i mean, do what exactly? write some words on some fucking paper?? draw circles that are letters??? send a god-damned email???? my fucking KID could do that, and these assholes want BENEFITS?! they say they're gonna form a UNION?!?! to hell with that, i'm replacing ALL their ungrateful asses with "AI" ASAP. oh, oh, so you're a "director" who wants to make "movies" and you want ME to pay for it? jump off a bridge you pretentious little shit, my computer can dream up a better flick than you could ever make with just a couple text prompts. what, you think just because you make ~music~ that that entitles you to money from MY pocket? shut the fuck up, you don't make """art""", you're not """an artist""", you make fucking content, you're just a fucking content creator like every other ordinary sap with an iphone. you think you're special? you think you deserve special treatment? who do you think you are anyway, asking ME to pay YOU for this crap that doesn't even create value for my investors? "culture" isn't a playground asshole, it's a marketplace, and it's pay to win. oh you "can't afford rent"? you're "drowning in a sea of medical debt"? you say the "cost" of "living" is "too high"? well ***I*** don't have ANY of those problems, and i worked my ASS OFF to get where i am, so really, it sounds like you're just not trying hard enough. and anyway, i don't think someone as impoverished as you is gonna have much of value to contribute to "culture" anyway. personally, i think it's time you got yourself a real job. maybe someday you'll even make it to middle manager!

see, i don't believe "AI" can qualitatively replace most of the work it's being pitched for. the problem is that quality hasn't mattered to these nincompoops for a long time. the rich homunculi of our world don't even know what quality is, because they exist in a whole separate reality from ours. what could a banana cost, $15? i don't understand what you mean by "burnout", why don't you just take a vacation to your summer home in Madrid? wow, you must be REALLY embarrassed wearing such cheap shoes in public. THESE PEOPLE ARE FUCKING UNHINGED! they have no connection to reality, do not understand how society functions on a material basis, and they have nothing but spite for the labor they rely on to survive. they are so instinctually, incessantly furious at the idea that they're not single-handedly responsible for 100% of their success that they would sooner tear the entire world down than willingly recognize the need for public utilities or labor protections. they want to be Gods and they want to be uncritically adored for it, but they don't want to do a single day's work so they begrudgingly pay contractors to do it because, in the rich man's mind, paying a contractor is literally the same thing as doing the work yourself. now with "AI", they don't even have to do that! hey, isn't it funny that every single successful tech platform relies on volunteer labor and independent contractors paid substantially less than they would have in the equivalent industry 30 years ago, with no avenues toward traditional employment? and they're some of the most profitable companies on earth?? isn't that a funny and hilarious coincidence???

so, yeah, that's my stance on "AI". LLMs have legitimate uses, but those uses are a drop in the ocean compared to what they're actually being used for. they enable our worst impulses while lowering the quality of available information, they give immense power pretty much exclusively to unscrupulous scam artists. they are the product of a society that values only money and doesn't give a fuck where it comes from. they're a temper tantrum by a ruling class that's sick of having to pretend they need a pretext to steal from you. they're taking their toys and going home. all this massive investment and hype is going to crash and burn leaving the internet as we know it a ruined and useless wasteland that'll take decades to repair, but the investors are gonna make out like bandits and won't face a single consequence, because that's what this country is. it is a casino for the kings and queens of economy to bet on and manipulate at their discretion, where the rules are whatever the highest bidder says they are-- and to hell with the rest of us. our blood isn't even good enough to grease the wheels of their machine anymore.

i'm not afraid of AI or "AI" or of losing my job to either. i'm afraid that we've so thoroughly given up our morals to the cruel logic of the profit motive that if a better world were to emerge, we would reject it out of sheer habit. my fear is that these despicable cunts already won the war before we were even born, and the rest of our lives are gonna be spent dodging the press of their designer boots.

(read more "AI" opinions in this subsequent post)

[pedrospatch]

run

Raider! Joel Miller x Female Reader

*moodboard is for aesthetic purposes only. no mention of reader’s race or skin tone.

summary: When you’re given the chance to run from your captor, you don’t take it.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. RAIDER ERA. DARK!JOEL. DUBCON. MENTIONS PREVIOUS NONCON. UNSPECIFIED AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 50). reader is described washing her hair (the exact length is not specified) and she wears a dress. she is also shorter than Joel. violence, kidnapping, reader has major stockholm syndrome, Joel is fairly soft for her but HE IS STILL NOT A GOOD MAN, brief mention of Tess and Joel being involved with each other, Tess seems like the villain but she might actually be the only one of these three who is not totally fucked up in the head. SMUT. daddy kink. size difference (no description of reader’s body type, Joel is just a big guy with a big dick, enjoy it). oral sex (female receiving), super risky unprotected p in v sex (mention of reader ovulating, Joel pulls out, don’t be be like these two, practice safe sex), creampie (yeah he doesn’t give a fuck the second time around). many, many pet names (baby, baby girl, honey, angel, sweetheart, little girl). um i think that’s it. oh, and they fuck in the dirt.

PLEASE HEED ALL WARNINGS.

word count: 8.6k

a/n: one thing about me is i WILL soften up EVERY version of Joel Miller to my little heart’s content. HUGE HUGE thank you to @endlessthxxghts and @joelsdagger for lending me their eyes and beta-ing this fic for me last night. <33 i love and appreciate you guys SO MUCH. i loved seeing you both in the doc at the same exact time lmao. this can be read as a standalone, but it is considered part of the captive universe.

Everyone in the group has a job. Except for you.

Or at least, that’s what you hear them say.

That bitch doesn’t do shit.

She never has to lift a fucking finger.

She should work for her meal—just like the rest of us.

Bitterness laces their tones when they talk about you.

Insults grow a little bolder when he’s not around.

Useless.

Freeloader.

Leech.

You might not be out there with a rifle in hand hunting game or invading camps and spilling blood for supplies—but you do in fact have a job, and that job is to make Joel Miller happy. It is your responsibility, your duty, to please him, and to keep him satisfied. Because keeping him satisfied keeps him in a good mood, and one thing you’ve come to learn about your captor is, where there is a good mood, often there is mercy.

Hell, you’re doing them a favor by keeping their violent, fearsome leader in a good mood. Because you’ve seen what he does to them when he’s not. He can be just as brutal towards his own people as he is to strangers.

It doesn’t make a difference, though. They still see you as nothing more than his coddled little whore.

“Fuck, that’s it.”

He groans, his thick, callused fingers digging harshly into the softness of your flesh as he holds you firmly in place underneath him. “Oh fuck, baby girl,” Joel curses through gritted teeth, his hands gripping your hips as he uses his own weight against you, pressing you down into the old mattress until you feel every uncomfortable lump, each creaking spring.

While he isn’t fucking you as roughly as he has on other occasions, he’s hardly being gentle. It’s hard, fast.

Loud.

Joel couldn’t care less about the rest of the group, the men and women on the other side of the wall, forced to listen to the sounds coming from the single bedroom of the cabin he decided they would hunker down in for the remainder of the summer season. Strings of curses and brutish grunts that came rumbling from deep within his chest, pleading gasps and whimpers that fell from your swollen, bitten lips. If anything, knowing they were listening only spurred him on—it didn’t hurt to remind them, especially the men with wandering eyes, that you were his special girl.

His good girl.

You certainly did your job, and you did it so, so well.

“Christ, sweetheart. M’so fuckin’ close—” Joel picks up speed, his hips snapping even harder, faster, the front of his thighs slapping against the backs of yours. Each thrust causes the bed’s rusted, iron headboard to slam violently against the wood panel wall.

You clutch fistfuls of the single, stale, yellowing sheet beneath you, each stroke he delivers knocking the wind out of your lungs, making it harder to breathe. He is so heavy on top of you, this big, broad, bulk of a man who makes you feel swallowed, smothered, and small. Joel takes up so much room inside of you, and it’s a wonder how you could possibly have any space left to spare.

It’s a fullness you can’t seem to get enough of.

It’s a craving, a need.

Worst of all, it’s slowly becoming a want.

“Daddy,” you choke out, fisting the sheet tighter, your skin stretching taut over your knuckles. Can the others also hear the squelch of your drenched cunt around his cock as it begs him for more?

“Fuck. You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good for me, baby,” Joel croons his praise. His hands abandon your hips and he hunches over you, his thrusts momentarily ceasing. He crushes his chest against your sweaty, quivering back and leans forward even further, bracing his large hands on either side of you. Then, his lips move to the shell of your ear and he speaks, his breath blazing hot on your skin. “Y’take me so well, honey. Y’take Daddy’s cock so fuckin’ well. This pretty little pussy was fuckin’ made for me. She was made jus’ for me—ain’t that right, angel?”

He’s right.

Oh, how you fucking hated that he was right.

It was made for him. Your cunt. Your body. You.

Every part of you was made for him, and only for him.

All you can do is nod dumbly in agreement.

“Say it,” Joel whispers his firm command. “Wanna hear you say it. Be a good girl and use your words. Say it, say this pussy is made for me.”

“Yes, Daddy,” you moan obediently, prompting him to grin against your ear. “My pussy is made for you, just—just for you. No one—no one else. Only you.” Could this really be the same voice that would break, grow hoarse from screaming for him to stop? The same voice that would beg and plead for him to set you free?

Jutting his hips forward, Joel buries himself to the hilt, eliciting a noise from you, something caught between a pained whimper and a contented sigh. His balls, heavy and full for you, rest on your clit, which is still sensitive to the touch after he’d spent a majority of the morning with his head buried in between your legs. Desiring yet another release, you try wriggling around beneath him in a silent plea for more. More, more, more.

Please, Daddy. More.

Joel’s grin widens. He places one of his hands on your soft lower belly, fingers dragging down the slope of it until he finds the slick swell of your seam between your legs where his girth splits you open. “Ready, baby?”

Nodding, you open your mouth to answer him, but the sound of your own groan cuts you off when his fingers firmly circle around your throbbing, swollen bud. “Oh,” you breathe, instantly sinking right into his touch. Your eyes screw shut tightly in pleasure, and you throw your head back onto his shoulder. The scruff of his beard is rough on your cheek, and it burns, the same way it had burned the tender flesh of your inner thighs.

His hips find their rhythm as you rub against his hand—you’re almost there. He knows this, you can tell by the chuckle that thunders in his chest and against your back. But you’re too busy chasing your pleasure to be embarrassed.

He’s made you a needy, greedy girl.

“Daddy,” you mewl, trying your hardest to move under him, to work your cunt up and down on his cock. “I’m gonna come—” You gasp, back arching as Joel strokes in and out, his fingers rubbing your clit with urgency.

Joel plants a sloppy, wet kiss on your cheek. “Give it to me, baby,” he grunts. “C’mon. Lemme feel her squeeze me.”

Feeling how close he is too, you try to hold on for just a little bit longer, at least long enough to finish with him, but Joel’s relentless, and you’re forced off of the ledge you’re both standing on first.

Crying out, your walls spasm around him, asking to be filled until he’s made a complete mess out of you, until white leaks, and it slowly dribbles down the insides of your trembling thighs.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Joel rasps. He lifts himself off you and he pulls out, taking his throbbing cock in his hand. His chest heaves as he fists himself, the wet sound of your slick in his palm filling the room. “Down,” he grits, and you obey him, lowering down yourself on the mattress until you’re lying almost completely flat before him. He gives himself one final stroke just as you look over your shoulder at him, the gentle flutter of your eyelashes the last push he needs. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck—” Joel spills his load, shooting thick ropes of warm cum along the soft curve of your spine.

You rest your cheek on your folded arms, biting back a small sigh.

He’s left behind an ache—you feel painfully empty.

But it was Tess, who had been given the task of helping you track your menstrual cycle, that had given him the warning earlier that morning. “She’s ovulating. Don’t be a fucking idiot, Joel. Last thing we need is for her to—”

“Relax,” he’d gruffed in response. “I fuckin’ know.”

Spent, Joel hunches over you once more and he lightly kisses the top of your head before burying his nose into your hair. “Good girl,” he murmurs. Affection that once was unwelcome and unwanted, that once made you feel sick to your fucking stomach, now makes you feel something else entirely. You’re not quite sure what it is, only that it’s warm. Comforting. “Y’did so well for me, sweetheart. Always do.”

Your lips curl into a faint, tired smile he doesn’t see.

A while later, you find yourself perched on the bed with the sheet wrapped around you, quietly watching as he gets dressed. “Daddy?” you say tentatively as he drops into a nearby chair to pull on his boots.

“What is it, baby girl?”

“Do you—do you think we can go to the creek today?”

Joel finishes lacing his boots and looks up at you.

“I’d really like to wash up,” you admit, softly. That, and you would like to see the light of day. He’d boarded up the windows with slabs of wood—sometimes, if you’re lucky, you get some decent light seeping through the teeny gaps.

“Not today, honey. I’ve got some things to take care of. Supplies are low, we gotta do a run. Don’t have the time to take you.” He stands and picks up his rifle, slinging the strap of it over his shoulder. Noticing the crestfallen expression on your face, Joel’s eyes soften. He walks over and gingerly cups the side of your face in his palm. His thumb strokes your cheek. “Promise I’ll take you to the creek tomorrow, sweetheart. First thing. Alright?”

Nodding, your eyes fall to your hands in your lap.

“Okay.”

Joel kisses your forehead, then leaves the room.

He makes sure to lock the door from the outside, and you can’t help but wonder if he knows locking you in is no longer necessary.

“I can take her.”

Joel’s dark eyes remain focused on the state map laid out on the table in front of him. “What the fuck are you talkin’ about, Tess?” He sees her in his periphery, but is too busy figuring out the group’s best route to look her way.

“I heard her asking you to take her to the creek so she can bathe,” she tells him. “I can take her.”

Finally, his head snaps up and he turns to her. “What?”

Tess leans her hip against the table, crossing her arms over her chest. “You and Tommy can take the group, go and take care of what you have to take care of. I’ll stay behind and take her down to the creek,” she suggests casually, as if she’s not asking him to trust her with his most prized possession—the only damn thing on what was left of this fucking earth Joel Miller actually gives a shit about. “Once she’s washed up, I’ll bring her back to the cabin and put her back into the room. Easy.”

Joel stares at her, bewildered. “What makes you think I’d fuckin’ allow somethin’ like that?”

“Oh, come on.” She huffs and rolls her eyes. “Anytime I bitch about having to do something for that girl, you’re on my fucking case about it, and now that I’m offering to do something for her, you don’t wanna let me?”

He shakes his head and lowers his voice. “You’re talkin’ about takin’ her outside, Tess. Without me.”

“The creek’s just a mile away,” Tess reminds him. “I’m pretty sure I can handle getting her there and back with no trouble, Joel.” When he says nothing, she cocks her head to the side and scoffs. “What? You don’t trust me enough to take her under my wing for a couple hours?”

Joel’s lips pull into a tight line. 

Of course he does. Tess was his right hand woman, his second in command.

He trusted her more than his own fucking brother. She had never given him any reason not to, had never given him a reason to doubt her loyalty to him. No, his lack of trust has nothing to do with Tess—but everything to do with you. He doesn’t trust you. He will never trust you.

“What if she tries to—?” He can’t even say it.

“Tries to what?” She pauses. “Run?”

His throat goes dry and he gives her a subtle nod.

Joel Miller was a bad man who did bad things, but you were his good. You’ve brought back some meaning into this wretched life of his, gave him something that felt a lot like a sense of purpose. You were something for him to take care of, to keep safe and protect.

Tess raises an eyebrow at him. “You think I’d even give her the chance? Besides, the girl’s not that stupid, Joel. She knows better than to try anything. She knows she wouldn’t get very fucking far.”

“Tess—”

“I’m just trying to do something nice for her. Besides, I think it might do her some good to be in the company of someone else for once—the company of a woman.”

Joel peers at her, taking a minute to think it over in his mind before asking, “You’ll have her back in the room before I get back to the cabin?”

“Long before then,” she swears. “All in one piece.”

He hesitates. He’s still not sure.

It’s then that he remembers that disappointed look on your sweet, pretty little face. “Alright,” he relents with a deep sigh. “I trust you, Tess.”

It always feels a bit strange to be outside.

But being outside without Joel?

It feels even stranger.

When he’d walked back into the room and told you Tess was willing to take you to the creek, the news had taken you by complete surprise. When he said he was willing to let her take you, that you almost couldn’t believe. It hadn’t even sunk in until the three of you stood outside the cabin and he was kissing your forehead sweetly in a temporary goodbye before turning to Tess.

“Never take your eyes off her,” he’d instructed her.

“She’ll behave.” She had smiled at you as she pulled her pistol from the waistband of her jeans, the gleam of the silver barrel catching your eye. “Isn’t that right?”

Swallowing dryly, you had answered with a strained, “Of course.”

She’s the last fucking person you wanted to cross. She was almost as terrifying as Joel, if not more.

“Tess? W-Where are we going?” you ask as you trudge along behind her, hoping you don’t sound as winded as you feel. Although you had no way to keep track of the time, it felt like you’d been trekking for at least an hour. Your feet are starting to hurt in your shoes—old, worn, yellow canvas sneakers that certainly weren’t made for hiking. “I don’t remember the creek being this far from the cabin.”

Tess snorts. “Don’t tell me you’re tired already.”

“It’s just—we’ve been walking for a really long time.”

She glances over her shoulder at you. “Here I thought you would be a little fucking grateful to be out getting some fresh air,” she chuckles, shaking her head before turning her attention back to the path ahead.

“I am,” you squeak, stumbling over a fallen branch.

Silence falls over the both of you.

“We’re not going to the creek,” Tess finally speaks after a minute. “I’m taking you somewhere else. Somewhere even better. Just trust me, kid. Now hurry up.”

It takes another hour before you reach your destination, and you hear it before you can even see it, a humming sound that turns into buzzing the closer you get. Then, you feel it, a vibration in the rocks beneath your feet. “Is that a—?” Stepping around her, your mouth falls open in absolute awe at the sight before you.

The waterfall is nestled right in between the trees and surges over the rocky mountain, throwing up bubbles of spray as it plunges into the lake at the bottom, and from there, it foams into a thick, white lather at the base. On the bank, where you stand, you spot different types of vegetation you couldn’t identify even if you tried—all you know is that it’s green, and it’s beautiful.

“This is incredible,” you gasp.

“Way better than some little creek, huh?” Tess tucks her pistol into the waistband of her jeans and shrugs off her pack. She digs around in the front pocket and pulls out something wrapped in a piece of crumpled brown tissue paper. She hands it to you. “Here.”

“What’s this?”

“Well, if you’d fucking open it, you would know,” Tess rolls her eyes. “It’s my last piece of soap. It’s all yours.”

Her kind generosity comes as a surprise—usually, Tess wanted nothing to do with you. But you don’t question it, and you certainly don’t turn the rare luxury down.

“Thanks,” you say, shooting her a grateful look.

Tess nods towards the body of water. “Alright, then. Go on and get to it.”

You take the piece of soap out the tissue. The scent of lavender is faint, but still very much there. Joel will like the smell of it on your skin tonight, you think.

As you start to pull the strap of your cotton blue dress down your shoulder, you feel her gaze fixed intently on you. Heat rushes to your cheeks. “Uh, aren’t you going to turn around?”

“For fuck’s sake,” she scoffs. “I’ve got what you’ve got. Now hurry up, we don’t have all fucking day.”

Nodding, you peel off your dress and underwear, your face on fire as the older woman’s eyes slowly drag over your naked body. Carefully, you step off the bank and wade into the water. It’s so clear that you can count the pebbles underneath your feet.

Leaning against a nearby tree, Tess calls out, “You have ten minutes! And stay out of the waterfall! Last thing I need is for you to fucking drown.”

As she lights a cigarette, you can’t help but stare at her. Her features, though worn down after the hell she had been through trying to survive the post outbreak world, are beautiful. Big, dark green eyes, a perfect nose, and full, pouty lips. There’s never been a doubt in your mind that she and Joel have been involved with one another, and lately, the mere thought of anything between them made you uncomfortable.

It’s an odd sensation deep in your gut—jealousy?

But what were you jealous of? Her having had him first?

It shouldn’t matter to you, but it does. Insecurities you have never in your life felt before seep into your bones.

“Anyone ever tell you it’s fucking rude to stare?” Tess quips, raising an eyebrow at you. She shoves her lighter into the back pocket of her jeans.

Nervously, you sink lower into the water, nibbling the inside of your cheek. “Tess? Can I ask you something?”

“What could you possibly fucking want to ask me?”

You hesitate.

“How—how long have you known each other?”

“Who?” Tess plucks the cigarette from between her lips and flicks the ashes. “Me and Joel?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

She shrugs. “Don’t know. Six, seven years?”

“How did you two meet?”

“Long story that’s none of your fucking business.”

You ask your next question before you lose your nerve. “Have you two ever—?” Unsure of how to phrase it, you stop and clamp your mouth shut in instant regret.

“Have we ever what?” Tess studies your face, and she quickly realizes what you’re trying to ask her. “You’re seriously asking me if me and Joel have ever fucked?”

Biting your bottom lip, you glance down into the water at your feet. You honestly don’t expect her to answer, so when she does, you look back up at her in surprise.

“Yeah.” She takes a long drag from her cigarette, then adds, “Few times.”

Something unpleasant claws at your insides. “You two were together? Like a couple?”

“Something like that,” Tess mutters, flicking her ashes once more.

“What happened?”

She looks at you, pausing before answering, “You.”

Oh.

Before you can utter another word, Tess snaps, “Quit asking so many goddamn fucking questions and finish up washing. You’ve got eight minutes left.”

Not wanting to push your luck further than you already have, you do as she tells you in complete silence.

You lather up the soap in your hands, washing your hair first, and then your face and body, using your hands to scrub yourself as best as you can. Between the calming scent of the soap, the soothing sound of the waterfall, and the warm afternoon sun, you find yourself relaxing. You try to clear your mind, live in this peaceful moment which you very well may never get again, but your mind begins to wander.

And it wanders straight to Joel.

Closing your eyes, you can’t help but picture him here, standing behind you in the lake. You can almost feel his hands on you, long, thick fingers lathered with lavender soap, sliding down your body. His lips at your neck, he cups your breasts in his hands, rolling his thumbs over your hardened nipples until your head lulls, falling back onto his shoulder. Joel drags his hands further down, over your stomach, going lower and lower towards the place where you need them the most. “Yeah, baby?” he murmurs into your neck, dipping one of them between your legs until you are, quite literally, in the palm of his hand. “This where y’need me?”

Breathless, you respond, “It’s where I want you.”

Suddenly, your eyes snap open.

There is a wetness between your thighs, one that has nothing to do with the fact that you’re standing waist-deep in the middle of a lake. You shake those thoughts away and finish washing yourself.

“Time’s up,” Tess calls. She meets you on the bank with a dry rag. “Here.”

The rag doesn’t exactly cover much surface area, but you dry yourself off as best you can before tugging on your underwear and slipping on your dress. Just as you crouch down to slip your shoes on, she tosses her pack and it lands in front of you with a soft thud.

Confused, you glance up at her.

“There’s about a week’s worth of jerky in there. Longer, if you know how to ration,” Tess explains, calmly. “And a canteen for water. I also packed you a flashlight and a pocket knife. It’s not much, but—”

Frowning, you rise to your feet. “What are you talking about, Tess? What’s going on? Why are you giving me your pack?”

“Because I’m giving you a chance, kid.”

A feeling of dread pools in the pit of your stomach.

“A chance to what?”

“Run.”

Your heart stutters a beat. “Run?”

“He’ll come looking for you. You need to get as far away from here as possible. Run away, as far as you can, and don’t fucking look back.”

All you can do is stare at her in shocked silence.

“I can help you get a head start,” Tess offers, quietly. “I can show you which direction to go in and put you on a path leading to the closest state highway—”

“But what if I don’t want to run?”

Tess places her hands on her hips, and she exhales an incredulous laugh. “Jesus,” she breathes, shaking her head in pity. “He’s really got you fucking brainwashed, doesn’t he?”

You glare at her. “I am not brainwashed, Tess.”

“You’ve gotta be if you’re telling me you wanna go back to him.”

“Tess—”

She cuts you off. “He gave the order to raid your camp and kill your people,” she reminds you. “He fucking slit your father’s throat right in front of you, then took you as his prisoner. He made you his fucking sex slave.”

“He takes care of me! He feeds me, makes sure I have a bed to sleep in no matter where we are. He keeps me safe. He—he cares about me.” You will your voice not to tremble as you stand your ground. “No. I’m not running away, Tess. I want to go back.”

Tess sighs. “You’re really not gonna make this easy, are you?”

“Take me back,” you all but demand, your hands curled into the least menacing little fists she had ever seen in her life at your sides. “Take me back to the cabin—take me back to him, Tess. I mean it.”

Amused, she huffs through her nose. “Or else what?”

“You can’t make me run away, Tess.” As you take a step towards her, she reaches behind her and swiftly whips out her pistol from the waistband of her jeans. You halt, freezing in fear when she aims the barrel of the gun at your chest.

“Actually, I can,” she says, her finger hovering over the trigger. “So here’s how this is gonna go. I’m gonna walk away now. And if you even think about following me, or trying to find your way back to the group, you will die.” She tosses you a tiny, wry smile. “Believe it or not, I’m doing you a real big favor, kid. Problem is, he’s got you so fucked in the head that you can’t see it.”

“Tess, please,” you plead. “Don’t do this to me!”

She begins to back away. “Remember when you’d say that to him? How you’d beg him not to do those things to you every night? Beg him to let you go?”

“Please, just take me back to him!”

You start to follow her.

“You take one more fucking step and I’ll shoot you,” she threatens, her eyes darkening. “Don’t think I won’t.”

Tess keeps her pistol pointed at you until she slips into the trees and disappears, abandoning you in the middle of the forest.

He’s furious. Livid.

Joel paces back and forth on the porch.

“Where the fuck are they?”

The old, rotting wood that wraps all the way around the cabin creaks, and certain softer spots bend and buckle, threatening to give way beneath his heavy boots. Joel’s younger brother leans against the railing, which is just as fragile, an unlit cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth.

“Christ, Joel. Can you fuckin’ relax?” Tommy grumbles, fishing around in his back pocket for his lighter. “You’re gonna bring the whole damn cabin down if ya don’t cut that shit out.” He sparks a flame and lights the filtered end of the cigarette. He takes a long drag, and exhales the smoke through his nose. “You’re gettin’ worked up over nothin’, brother.”

“S’almost sundown, and they’re still not fuckin’ back.” Joel shakes his head. “Fuckin’ knew I shouldn’t have let Tess take her. Somethin’ happened, Tommy. I just know it.” He lifts his shirt and reaches for his pistol, pulling it from the waistband of his jeans. “M’gonna head to the creek myself to find ‘em. Ain’t gonna sit around on my goddamn hands and wait for it to get fuckin’ dark.”

“She’s with Tess. M’sure the girl’s fine—” Tommy stops, his eyes widening slightly. “Well, hell.”

“What?”

Tommy jerks his chin over Joel’s shoulder before taking another slow, casual drag of his cigarette. He savors the last few seconds of peace before shit inevitably hits the fan and his brother unleashes his wrath on anything, or anyone, in his path.

Joel whips around and his stomach sinks, his blood ice in his veins when he sees Tess approaching the cabin. Alone.

Both his mind and body go numb. It’s a jarring shock to his nervous system, and it takes him a minute or two to fully process the fact that you’re not with her.

“Joel,” Tess says his name carefully as he descends the porch steps and walks towards her. “I need you to take a breath, alright?”

“Where—where is she?” His voice breaks, his weakness momentarily slipping through the cracks.

Not that Tess didn’t already know you were Joel Miller’s weakness, his soft white underbelly, the only vulnerable part of his hardened self that could be penetrated—you would have been his downfall. As much as she’d like to say she did what she did solely for your own good, she also did it for his, and for the sake of the group as a whole.

It needed to be done.

He stands in front of her, a ticking time bomb about to go off.

Prepared to face whatever consequences of the choice she had made, Tess tucks her gun away and sighs. “You need to take a breath—”

Joel snatches her arm, his fingers digging into the flesh above her elbow. His emotions hit him all at once.

Fear, worry, anger. It’s the third that takes precedence, and before Tess can utter another word, Joel yanks her forward. She crashes against his chest so hard that it knocks the wind out of her. “Where the fuck is she?” He leans down, his nostrils flaring as he brings their faces the closest they have been in almost a year.

“Joel, take a fucking breath—”

“Where. Is. She.” His grip on her arm tightens with each word he bites out through his teeth. He’s vaguely aware the others have piled out of the cabin, gathering on the porch to watch the altercation.

“She ran,” Tess explains, calmly. She doesn’t falter, not even as his fingers sink deeper into her skin, promising her painful bruises which will take days to fade away. If he decided to let her live. “She ran away, Joel. I turned my back for one fucking second and she was gone. She even took my fucking pack. I tried going after her, but it was no use. She was too fast.”

Behind him, Tommy snorts. “She outran you?”

Her eyes momentarily flicker to him. “Her knees are a lot younger than mine,” she replies, flatly.

“Which direction did she go in?” Joel demands. When Tess doesn’t immediately respond, he shouts, “Which fucking direction!”

Tess manages to snatch her arm out of his grasp. She glowers at him, hissing, “What the hell does it matter which direction she went? You won’t fucking find her.”

His eyes meet hers, and he sees it. Feels it.

She’s lying to him.

“Tess.” Joel’s voice drops dangerously low. He studies her face, his brows creasing with suspicion. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do shit, Joel. She fucking ran away.”

Without warning, Joel takes her by her throat. His other hand brings his pistol to her head, shoving the barrel of it against her temple. His nose touches hers. “Now, tell me why I have the feelin’ you’re not tellin’ me the whole truth?”

Tess lifts her chin. She searches his eyes, a sharp ache shooting through her. After everything, all the hell they had been through together—he would end her life, put a bullet in her because of you? Did she mean that little to him?

Or maybe she’d never meant anything to him at all?

She’s not sure which stings more.

“Because you’ve fucking deluded yourself into thinking that she willingly wants anything to do with you,” Tess finally answers. “That’s why.”

He ignores the burn of her scorching words.

“Where the fuck is she, Tess?”

“If she’s smart, she’s far away from here by now,” she hisses. “I did everyone a fucking favor, Joel. That girl is just another fucking mouth to feed. And what if you get her pregnant? That’ll be another one. Not to mention, a crying baby could draw unwanted attention and get us all killed. Ever thought about that? She’s not an asset to the group, she’s a fucking liability. Besides, I think I can speak for everyone when I say we’re all fucking tired of hearing you ra—”

Joel digs the barrel harder into her temple, his finger hovering over the trigger. “Listen to me. You’ve got ten seconds to tell me where she is, y’understand me?”

“Or what? You’ll blow my brains out?” Foolishly, Tess chooses to call his bluff despite not knowing for certain whether or not he’ll actually pull the trigger. “Go ahead, then. Kill me, Joel.”

His finger twitches over the trigger, but he doesn’t pull it. He can’t fucking pull it. Not on her. Not on Tess.

Still in his hands, she sags slightly in relief.

Swallowing harshly, Joel Miller lowers his gun and does something she’s never seen him do before. He begs.

“Tess, tell me where she is,” he whispers. His pleading is subtle, and only she can hear it. “Please—just fuckin’ tell me where my girl is.”

Tess stands her ground and says nothing.

Releasing her, Joel shoves her aside and with nothing but his gun in his hand, he sets off to find you.

“Ow, fuck!”

You gasp, quickly lifting your bare foot off the ground.

You’d stepped on something sharp—a stick, or maybe a rock?

In a desperate attempt to try and keep up with Tess’ tracks, you had stupidly left behind your shoes back at the waterfall. But the mere seconds you had spared by not stopping to put your shoes on hadn’t given you the advantage you thought it would. She had moved much too fast, and within minutes, you’d become helplessly, hopelessly lost. Every tree and every bush, they all look exactly the same, and for all you know, you’ve probably been going around in fucking circles for the past couple of hours in your search for her footprints in the dirt.

Sagging against the trunk of a nearby tree, you take a minute to try and catch your breath, to give your poor little feet a break from hiking over fallen branches and jagged stones.

Your head falls back, eyes gazing through the canopy of trees. Dusk has settled in, and nightfall is on its heels. It was foolish of you to leave behind your shoes, but even more so to leave behind the pack she had given you—in the pack were all the things meant to help you survive. Knife, flashlight, food.

Sure, you can survive a night out here in the wilderness without any of those things—but then what? Come dawn, what do you do? Where do you go? Do you just stumble around in the woods and hope for the best? Pray you’ll make it onto a highway with signs that will point you to a quarantine zone?

Hell, maybe you’re overestimating yourself. Maybe you wouldn’t survive long enough to worry about your next move. Howls in the distance remind you there’s wildlife out here, dangerous predators that come out after dark in search of their next meal. Or what about infected? It wasn’t unheard of for them to veer off the highway and lose themselves in the trees.

You recall your first few weeks in Joel Miller’s hands.

Escaping them was all you could ever think about, even though the chances of you surviving alone were slim to none, just like they are now. Never having been on your own, death would have been inevitable—but back then, in your darkest moments in captivity, you wished for it. You’d welcomed the idea of starving, freezing, or being torn apart limb from limb by an entire hoard of clickers. At least then, you’d die with your freedom.

Almost a year later, that wish has been granted.

You’re free.

You may very well die, but you would die free.

Closing your eyes, you think about Joel. His arms, that once held you down—held you still—as he did all those things to you without your consent, are arms your heart yearns to have wrapped around you, holding you close.

“Jesus,” you grit, a tear rolling down your cheek.

Maybe Tess had been right. Maybe he really does have you fucked in the head.

Joel was a monster. He had taken everything from you, including your innocence. He’d defiled you in ways you hadn’t known were possible. He was a terrible, terrible man.

A terrible, terrible man who kept you fed.

A terrible, terrible man who kept you warm.

A terrible, terrible man who kept you safe.

Another tear slides down the side of your face. What is fucking wrong with you?

You don’t know. But what you do know is, the thought of never seeing Joel again is somehow more terrifying to you than the thought of dying even the most brutal of deaths.

A loud rustling sound brings your train of thought to an immediate, sudden halt, and your eyes wrench open.

It’s darker now, but you manage to catch a movement in the shrubs, only mere feet in front of you. Panic flares in your chest, it rattles you to your very core, and even though every nerve in your body is urging you to move, you freeze, your back flush against the tree trunk. Your fingernails dig painfully into the bark as you watch the shrubs part down the middle, and a tall, hulking figure emerges with a heavy grunt.

At first, you think it’s just a figment of your imagination showing you what you wanted to see—a hallucination. Blinking furiously, you lightly shake your head, and then take another look at him. Your breath hitches when you realize it’s Joel.

He stares at you in the same manner, as if he’s trying to figure out if you’re real, or if his mind is playing a cruel, cruel trick on him. Feet cemented to the forest floor, he watches you take a small, tentative step towards him.

Once adamant that you’d never look him in the eye, you find your gaze locking directly with his as you carefully take another step closer. Then another, and another.

“Joel?” It’s the first time you’ve ever uttered his name.

He seems as taken aback hearing it as you are saying it.

“Joel.” It rolls off your tongue smoother, and with more ease the second time around.

It sparks a flame somewhere deep, deep inside of him, a fire that burns differently than those ignited by carnal desires.

No, this is something else entirely, and you feel it too.

“Baby?” he whispers hoarsely. “S’that really you?”

“Joel!” you cry, hurling yourself into his arms.

Joel’s gun falls from his hand and he curls them around you. Burying his nose into your hair, he inhales deeply. The scent of you, the feel of you—you’re fucking real.

Shuddering with sobs of relief, your arms wrap around his waist, and you cling to him as if you’re clinging onto dear, precious life itself.

“Hush now, s’alright,” Joel soothes, cradling the back of your head in one hand, while the rubs soft, calming circles into your back. “I’ve got you, honey. M’here.”

“I swear I didn’t want to run away,” you explain through your tears. “I begged her to take me back to you, Joel, I really did! But she left me out here—she said she would shoot me if I tried following her back. Please, you have to believe me, you just have to believe me!”

He squeezes you harder against his chest. “I do, baby. I do believe you,” he assures you. Pulling away, he takes a step backward and takes your face between his palms, peering at you in concern. “Y’hurt, sweetheart?”

“No,” you hiccup, curling your hands around his wrists. Your lower lip trembles. “I—I thought I’d never see you again. I was scared I wouldn’t,” you admit, softly.

Joel’s thumb wipes away a fresh tear. “M’here now,” he murmurs. “You’re with me, baby. You’re safe, alright?” As a late evening breeze passes through, he lets you go and shrugs out of his brown jacket. He goes to drape it around your shoulders, but you snatch it right out of his hands, then toss it aside.

Something in you snaps. You take fistfuls of his flannel, pulling him down towards you to do yet something else that takes you both by surprise—you initiate a kiss. You lean forward and press your lips to his, a little swipe of your tongue across his bottom lip as you clutch tighter at his shirt, holding him in place. Groaning, Joel opens his mouth more, his tongue brushing yours.

Liquid heat pools in your belly, and before you realize it, you’ve grown frantic, kissing him with fervor. Releasing his shirt, you slide your hands down his chest, over his stomach, lower and lower until you find his belt buckle. Desperate, you clumsily fumble with it, and that’s when Joel tears away from you, his breath hitching.

You’re begging before he can even say a word. “Please. I need you—I want you. Right now.”

You cup him through his jeans, and he exhales sharply.

“Fuck.” Without giving it a second thought, his hands reach for the straps of your dress, pushing them off of your shoulders. He roughly tugs at the material, letting it slip down your body until it falls around your feet. In a tangle of limbs and tongues, you both sink to the forest floor. Your hands brush his buckle, and he catches your wrists. “Not yet, baby girl. M’still in charge, alright?”

Sheepishly, you nod.

“Say it.” His command is firm, but somehow still gentle.

“You’re—you’re in charge.”

“Good girl.” Joel guides you onto your back. He’s over you in a second, swelling your lips with a hard, hungry kiss that leaves you dizzy and breathless. He moves his mouth, teeth scraping over your cheek and jaw, down to your neck where he nips at the tender, delicate flesh over your pulse point. Then, he bites his way over your collarbone and to your shoulder. “Bet she’s already wet for me,” he mumbles into your skin. “Ain’t she, baby?”

Pushing himself back onto his knees, he slides a finger over your clothed cunt, eliciting a small gasp from you. Hooking his fingers under the elastic waistband of your cotton underwear, he yanks the fabric down your legs. It catches on your foot, your wetness smearing against the inside of your ankle.

You’re drenched.

“C’mere,” Joel grunts, sliding his hands under your ass and pulling your hips over his thighs. He leans over you once more, your bare, throbbing cunt rubbing against the crotch of his jeans. He tuts lightly into your neck as you buck against him. “Such a fuckin’ needy little girl.”

Desperate, you try rolling your hips into his. “Joel.”

“Kinda like it when y’say my name.” He starts making his way down the length of your body. “Think I’ll like it even better when you’re screamin’ it. Won’t I, baby?”

Your stomach tightens as he nibbles his way down your neck again, teeth scraping over your clavicle and down your chest to your heaving tits. Taking one in his hand, the other goes into his mouth—his tongue is scorching hot over your nipple. He licks the pebbled flesh, sucks it and bites it while he rolls the other peak in between his thumb and index finger. “Oh fuck,” you gasp.

Releasing your breast with a wet pop, Joel sinks further down your body. He plants hot, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your tummy, leaving behind a trail of fire in their wake. He stops over your mound and hovers for a fraction of a second before pressing his nose into the silky soft curls there. Inhaling deeply, Joel picks up the subtle, herbal scent of the lavender soap you had washed yourself with. “Fuck, y’smell so fuckin’ good.”

He pushes your thighs open, pinning one to the ground with his hand while the other goes over his shoulder. Your foot slides down his back, toes curling despite the fact that he hasn’t even reached the spot where you’re aching to have him most. Heart thundering, your blood rushes, roaring in your ears.

Joel turns his head, his lips brushing your inner thigh in another kiss. “S’this where y’want me, honey?” he asks you. Goosebumps erupt over every inch of your skin as he draws closer, his breath like steam on your core. He glances up at you, his cock twitching against his zipper at the sight of you laying naked before him on the floor of the forest. Willing. Wanting. “Hm? Right here?”

“Yes,” you breathe. “Please, Joel.”

Thankfully, you only have to ask him once, and then his face is buried between your legs, and he is giving you what you want.

“Fuck!” you cry out. Back arching, your head tilts back until the crown of it meets the ground, leaves and twigs finding their way into your clean hair.

Joel’s tongue flattens over your cunt in a broad stroke, then dips between your folds, collecting your slick with a harsh groan, one that sends a bone-rattling vibration throughout your entire body, from head to curled toes. His mouth opens wider—a starving, greedy man trying to eat you whole. Sliding his tongue over your clit, Joel seals his lips around it, sucking the sensitive bundle of nerves until it swells in his mouth.

High-pitched little cries and whines spill from your lips. Your hands shoot down, fingers tangling themselves in his dark, graying curls, eliciting a grunt from him when you tug at his roots. “Joel, fuck,” you choke, your nails scraping against his scalp. He slurps and swallows your wetness, the sounds drowning out those of the night—the chirping of crickets, the croaking of frogs, the soft hooting of owls are washed away until all you can hear is him devouring your pussy.

Your body starts to tremble, and you know you’re close. Joel does, too. He feels your thighs twitch, threatening to close around his head, but he wrenches them further apart with a muffled but firm, “No.” He drapes his arm over your pelvis, his large hand splayed on your belly.

Relentless, he sucks your clit, gliding his tongue over it, again and again until the muscles in your lower tummy tighten and you burst at the seams, unraveling into his mouth. Warm slick gushes out of you, a sweet mess he licks clean. You choke back sobs of pleasure, your body tensing, vision blurring with every stroke of his tongue, each scrape of his teeth over your clit.

Joel lifts himself onto his knees with a grunt and gazes down at you—his good girl, sweet and pliant and ready to be fucked full of his cock. His hands slide his belt out of its brass buckle, eyes still trained on you as he pops the button of his jeans and yanks down his zipper.

Your mind is fuzzy, still syrupy and dripping—it doesn’t fully register what he’s doing, not until he climbs back over you and you his hard cock brushes your thigh, hot velvet that sears the inside of your leg. Precum smears your flesh.

“Y’feel that? Feel what you fuckin’ do to me?”

“Joel.” Hands shaking, you reach for the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel more of his skin on yours. You whine when he catches both of your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head. “Your clothes—”

“Stay on.” Ducking his head, he nips at your pulse point and mumbles, “Tell me what y’want, pretty girl.”

Joel shifts over you, his cock now resting on your lower belly, thick and heavy and leaking.

You squirm under him, hips coming off the ground, that hollow thing inside of you begging to be filled.

“Use your words, sweetheart. Tell me what y’want.”

“You, Joel—I want you. Please, please, please—”

He hushes you.

“I’ve you, baby. I’ve got you,” Joel promises. He wraps his other hand around himself, dragging the head of his cock along the seam of your puffy folds, up and down—he elicits a ragged little gasp from you when he grazes your clit and his fingers tighten around your wrists. He coats himself in your slippery slick until he’s glistening with it, and then he gives a slow roll of his hips, working himself into you.

Your mouth falls open. No words come out, no pleas for more—only jerky breaths, pathetic little pants for air as you take it.

Joel’s cock throbs, pulses like a heartbeat as your cunt welcomes him home. He presses his forehead to yours. “She’s always so fuckin’ sweet to me.” His voice is low, rough gravel. His eyes meet yours in the dark blue glow of the forest, and he savors the last moments of seeing your pretty face before the last traces of dusk are gone. Brushing his lips to the corner of your mouth, he feeds you his cock inch by inch, murmuring, “That’s it, honey. Good fuckin’ girl.”

You melt around him at his praise.

Releasing your wrists, he moves his hand, placing it on the crown of your head. “Ain’t ever lettin’ you out of my sight again,” he swears. “Alright? Never gonna be apart from me again, baby girl. Never. Y’understand me?” He curls his other hand firmly around your jaw, his fingers sticky with you and him. “Do you understand me?”

“Never,” you repeat, softly.

Joel kisses you, deep and slow, almost sweet. Tender. He breaks away, his lips hovering right over yours as he pushes his hips forward, bottoming out inside you.

Moaning, your hands grasp at his shoulders. Your legs widen further to accommodate the breadth of his hips.

“There y’go.” Joel presses deep within, until your belly feels hot and full. “That’s it, baby. Good girl,” he coos, drawing his hips back, then rolling them right back into you. He takes one of your ankles and tosses it over his shoulder, giving himself a better angle to fuck into you.

A loud cry tears from the back of your throat. “Joel!”

He grins in the darkness. He knew he’d like hearing you scream his name.

Joel’s hand settles on your leg that’s over his shoulder, your thigh already shaking. “Y’gonna be a real good girl n’ give me another one?”

You try to answer him, you really do, but your mind falls further and further away.

His fingertips sink into your thigh. He strokes in and out of you, never retreating more than inches at a time so he keeps you full. Stuffed. “Christ. Takin’ it so fuckin’ well,” he croons, moving your leg off of his shoulder so they are both wrapped around his waist. Hunching over you, he bears down hard, using most of his weight. He almost chuckles at the little oof that puffs out of you.

Rocks and twigs dig painfully into your back, but all you can do is feel him. How close he is.

You’re right there with him.

“Joel—fuck, I’m gonna co—”

You’re cut off by your own sharp gasp.

“That’s it. C’mon, honey.” Joel slips his hand between your thighs, his fingers firmly rubbing your clit. “C’mon, baby. Be a good girl and come on my cock—”

It rips through you like an electric current, a shockwave that has you clawing at the dirt. You come crying Joel’s name, crumbling into a whimpering, quivering mess.

Within seconds, he’s swept away by the same tide.

“Baby,” he groans, dropping his head into the hollow of your neck. He goes still and lets your tight cunt clench at him, gripping his cock as it throbs, pulses, empties into you. After a minute, he brushes a kiss to your neck before mumbling, “My sweet girl.”

Joel makes no move to pull out of you. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, your soiled fingers toy with the soft curls at the nape of his neck, shattered breaths slowing and piecing back together.

You gaze up through the trees at the night sky, feeling the safest you’ve ever been with the earth at your back and your whole world on top of you, his cock buried in your cunt.

Tess is right. Joel Miller really does have you fucked in the head.

You’re certain of it when you make the realization with a smile.

divider credit to @/saradika 🖤

for fic notifications please follow @joelsgreysupdates!

[sukunasweetheart]

to satiate, seduce, and to sin.

HEED THE WARNINGS; fem!reader, half human(?) and half snake sukuna, its highkey yandere, mentions of eating people, DUBCON elements, dacryphilia, degradation, HEAVY smut, breeding, cum inflation, use of threats, squeezing/constricting, brainwashing, manipulation, body modification, trueform sukuna (two dicks), mentions of pregnancy and lactation.

Word count: 5k+

sorry guys, i kind of went all out with this one...

you are a researcher, and you’re looking for a rare specimen that most have assumed has disappeared or simply never existed in the first place. but recently, a few traces of activity from one has arisen, and you’re on the case to try and find him before he vanishes without a trace again. unfortunately for you, you decided to embark on this journey during the heat of his mating season... which leads you to making an interesting deal with him.

snake hybrids are and always has been extremely rare as a species - you’ve only seen them in books and blurry images. the information obtained on them - diet, habitat, behaviour - are also mostly just speculations. how they reproduce is shrouded in mystery. despite being half snake, they are much, much biologically different from actual snakes. many believe they are just a fabricated species.

you however, are confident that they are real, and that they’re still around somewhere. pursuing your passion for them, you’ve started another one of your many solo expeditions in search of any clues, or hopefully, one of them in the flesh.

and in this current one, you’ve seemed to hit a jackpot. you’ve been following this enormous snake trail for hours now. you’re really close to finding him, you’re certain.

after another hour or so of walking, a large cave can be sighted a good distance away, to your excitement. you tread carefully through the dirt, dead leaves and tree bark on the ground, making your way towards it.

standing at the entrance to the cave, you hesitate for a moment, heart thumping wildly. you’re so close. this could be a groundbreaking discovery, or it could be another false lead. you’re unable to see the other end of the cave at all, due to how ominously pitch black it is inside. good thing you brought a flashlight with you.

you put your backpack onto the ground and take it out, turning it on and off a couple of times to make sure that it was working. good as new. putting your backpack on again, you take in a deep breath before beginning to carefully make your way inside.

it’s awfully quiet. that’s usually a bad sign.

and if it weren’t for your flashlight, you would’ve needed a lot of time to let your eyes adjust to this darkness, as there’s little to no light that reaches into this cave. your footsteps echo against the walls, the noise bouncing off and heading down further, catching the attention of something lurking within the deepest end of this cave.

“hello?” you say boldly, letting your voice ring out, reaching out to whatever might be sitting in the dark before you. no answer.

you continue your walk, pointing your light towards the walls occasionally, and then the path in front of you to make sure you didn’t trip over anything. with every step, you start to feel more afraid. what if there’s nothing here? what if this whole trip and the expenses and the time you spent was all for naught? the thought of going back empty handed makes your stomach sink.

you halt altogether when your light falls upon something on the ground. a small creature...? no... it looks like...

the end of a large snake’s tail. 

in the blink of an eye, something wraps around your whole body tightly, rendering you completely immobile. your eyes widen and a frightened yelp escapes your throat, but you’re still holding on tight to your flashlight. a deep voice resounds in your ears, a voice that sounds so human.

“look at what’s wandered aimlessly into my den. a free meal. did you come in hopes to get devoured?”

you do your best to point your flashlight towards the source of the voice.

a man that has his arms crossed... looking closer, he has an extra pair that rests at his sides. a large mouth on his stomach. and from his waist down, he has the body of a snake. he stares down at you, amused. his giant tail coils tighter around you, noticeably more around the swell of your chest.

“...and a woman, no less. what do you want?”

your eyes continue to wander around his features, taking note of everything that stands out to you. glowing red eyes-- and just like his extra arms, he has extra eyes too! they’re a lot smaller than his main ones, however. oh, you’re so curious and ecstatic. so many extra features nobody had thought this hybrid would have.

“answer my question, vermin. who do you think you’re dealing with here? i’ll crush you until you’re choking on your own blood,” he spits harshly, wrapping around you tightly. you’ve come at a bad time. 

he’s in a rather sensitive mood right now, being so...pent up.

“i-i apologise... i’m a researcher. i’ve come this way to look for you,” you begin to speak carefully. “i wanted to prove your existence to the world. and it’s been a long while... but i’m finally here.”

he lets out an exasperated sigh. what a pathetic, insignificant goal you have. humans really love treading into places where they don’t belong, following their foolish curiosity, like a dog being lead around by its nose.

“i wanted an opportunity to observe you, if i may. just write some notes down... and a couple of pictures. would that be alright? please? it won’t take long at all.”

your eyes begin to wander again, being out of your control as you instinctively end up doing so, as if to prove sukuna right about your kind.

the scales of his tail... they have a very unique pattern to them, being adorned with beautiful shades of red and black. similar patterns run down his face and upper body as well. you’re itching to give him a sketch in your notebook. without thinking, you wriggle your arm out from his grasp and run your hand along them.

“ah... so magnificent. it feels exactly the same as a normal snake’s. i want to know more,” you mumble to yourself, loving the texture that runs underneath your fingers and palms. it makes him give a slight jolt, giving you a startle as you instantly take your hands off of him.

“i’m sorry! did that hurt? or...”

he narrows his eyes at you, staring into your innocent gaze as you blink back at him. a pleasant idea rises in his mind. his expression shifts into a gentler one, all too suddenly, as his tail loosens around you.

“...very well, then. i’ll let you observe me,” he relents, looking down at you with mischievous eyes.

“in exchange,” he very obviously gazes upon your physique lustfully, “your body is mine to use.”

being a rare species, its been a while since he’d had someone to breed with in the recent years. especially during mating seasons- it’s been frustrating, to say the least. he never thought he’d become so desperate as to resort to use a human for satisfaction, but he’ll take what he can get.

“huh?? i- well-” you begin to say, flustered by the sudden demand. your thoughts start racing, wondering if you were misunderstanding him, by any chance.

“do you mean...” 

“yes. i’m going to mate with you. although, humans can’t get pregnant from my seed. so there’s no need to be concerned about offspring.”

he says it so matter-of-factly that it startles you. you don’t want to know how he found out about that last bit of information... but you mentally jot down some notes about it anyway. so snake hybrids can’t crossbreed with humans despite being relatively similar in appearance... interesting...

you seem lost in thought again and sukuna grows impatient.

“so? what’ll it be?”

you shouldn’t agree to such an outrageous idea. it’s wrong, and... and researchers shouldn’t do such things with the subjects of their studies. and yet-

he notices you squeezing your thighs together, and grins. what an indecent woman. he’s never seen one so willing.

what can you do? you can’t afford to go back without any pieces of evidence. how would you prove your discovery? you fool yourself into thinking that you’re only doing this for the sake of your career.

“...alright. we have a deal,” you tell him meekly. you can also take this chance to find out more in depth information about... his reproductive system. what better way than to experience it yourself? ...you internally smack yourself in the face for that last part.

“where do you want to start?”

“i’d like to have a closer look at your upper body, please.”

his tail shifts to bring you closer to him. you make proper eye contact with him for the first time, and being so close to his face makes your heart thump faster. if you forget about the tail and all... he’s just a handsome looking man.

you grip onto your flashlight tightly. he has pretty eyes, too. you ask for his hand, and see that his nails are dark, and sharp. for someone who’s half-reptile, he feels oddly warm.

“i want to see your teeth next,” you tell him.

“don’t be surprised if i bite,” he responds, before opening up his mouth for you. you hope he’s only joking.

you inspect the inside closely, watching his snake tongue wriggle slightly, and his well-pronounced fangs that gleam as your light hits it. 

“are you venomous?”

“i can be. it depends.”

you ask him a series of questions, pushing your limits to get as much information as possible from him.

“and the mouth on your stomach?”

he brings you down so you can have a look for yourself. this one is much bigger, but pretty much has the same basic features as the first one. fascinating. when you touch the lower lip, he suddenly encloses your hand with his larger mouth. shocked, you gasp and retract your hand quickly, to find out that it is still intact. he chuckles sinisterly above you.

“p-please put me down so i can grab my things.”

he lets you go and you immediately begin taking various items out of your bulky backpack. you place your flashlight down onto the ground facing up, so that the light hits the roof of the cave and illuminates your surroundings a bit. you start off by writing down a few pages of notes.

...was a little hostile during the first interaction...communicates sufficiently in human language... was found resting in a cave...four eyes, and four arms, including an extra mouth on the stomach...

it was pages and pages worth of description, anything off of the top of your head. you’d have to rewrite and tidy it up later. a thought suddenly comes to mind.

“do you have a name?” you ask him.

“a well-asked question. i’ll have you pleading with the name ‘sukuna’ later on, once you’re done with all that,” he tells you arrogantly, watching as you scribble into your little notebook.

...the specimen goes by the name of ‘sukuna’.

next, you grab your polaroid camera and aim its lens towards sukuna.

“there’s gonna be a small flash of light,” you warn him.

“yes, i already know what those things do.”

the last guy that tried to take his pictures without asking first, suffered some nasty consequences. it was all for naught though, because he didn’t taste very good at all.

you take as many pictures as you please, and he patiently remains still as he promised. you take a look at the results and once you’re happy enough, you neatly set them aside and shove everything back into your bag. truth be told, your heart could leap out of your mouth right now, from how intensely it was beating.

you had felt his eyes resting upon you from behind the whole time, feeling the way he was watching your body with his lecherous gaze, undressing you with it. 

“all done?” he voices gently, voice dripping with sweet poison. nothing like the tone he’d used when you first arrived here.

“...yes. are- are we doing it straight away?” it was a stupid question to ask, but you felt the need to say something, anything.

"i might lose myself if i have to wait any longer,” sukuna confesses, slithering closer to you.

“wait! let me just- i’ll get myself undressed.”

you had a feeling that if he did it, he’d simply rip everything off your body. you need something to wear for the trip home. sukuna smirks at you.

“...go on, then. put on a show for me, will you?”

the phrasing flusters you immensely, but you work hard to make your trembling fingers work to unbutton yourself and unhook your bra yourself. your breasts bounce lightly with every movement, and sukuna watches with incredible restraint.

“nothing like watching a meal prepare itself in front of your eyes... it’s a shame you’re only here to satisfy my lust and not my hunger too.”

the thought of it sends a shiver down your spine.

you swallow on nothing as you avoid his eyes, taking your last bit of underwear off. you’re scared, but in a strangely arousing way. have you always been this perverted?

“i-i’m done...” you say with a small voice, instinctively attempting to cover yourself up to maintain some form of decency.

“wonderful. let’s start with a little taste, shall we?” 

sukuna picks you up effortlessly with his arms, and without any stalling, your pussy is pushed up directly against the mouth on his stomach, his hands placed on your ass to support you while you wrap your legs around his waist.

“i’ll need to get your holes nice and loose for me. better it be pleasure than pain, right?”

something wet and warm slithers out and rubs up on your sex.

you nod with gratitude, watching the large tongue in anticipation. your arms loop around the back of his neck, and you’re looking down as he laps at your clit, making you quiver against his strong grip that holds your hips in place.

you timidly moan, immersing yourself in the feeling of this once-in-a-lifetime cunnilingus, of this strange snake’s tongue that rubs up against your sensitive cunt without holding back. it slowly slips its way inside you, making your hips jump in surprise.

“you’re sopping wet. i don’t think i even need to do much for this one,” sukuna comments, enjoying your little reactions. you continue to only stare at the tongue going in and out of your hole. he cocks his head slightly to the side.

“why won’t you face me up here? afraid to meet my eyes?” he voices rather sulkily, lifting your head up by your chin. once you see his lustful expression, something in you throbs without control.

“hah! your hole’s clenching around me so lewdly. it’s being honest, unlike you.”

the focus seeps out from your gaze, and you begin to enjoy yourself.

“yes... you needn’t be so shy. relent yourself to me.”

he pulls your face in closer to his, and kisses you in a feverish manner, shoving his forked tongue into your mouth. you moan pleasantly against his lips, and one of his spare hands claws at your breasts, groping them without mercy.

his bigger tongue slips out of your sopping cunt, and sinks itself into your ass instead. the saliva it secretes does a good job at being a lubricant for it.

your own tongue savours the strange shape and texture of sukuna’s one - lapping up at his lips desperately, like you would to a lover. he likes your eagerness. his own cocks are beginning to throb and unsheathe from the slit on his lower half, unbeknownst to you.

something about you... is quite intriguing. timid and coy as you seem, you’re not hesitating to unmask your true desires; your obsession with his body. even now, you’re sucking on both his tongues with such greed, it’s hard not to be captivated.

when he breaks the kiss, a thick string of saliva still connects the two of you.

“a harlot, you are,” he tells you with a mean grin.

you look at him with teary, vulnerable eyes. the tongue that had been thrusting in and out of your ass slips out, leaving both of your holes twitching for more.

“i suppose you’re all set now,” sukuna tells you. he finally reveals his aching two cocks, twitching with the need for release.

so that’s where they come out from... they don’t look too different from a human’s, besides the ribbed tip-

“you like them? they’ll be sure to grant you a pleasure you’ll never feel from anyone else.”

you begin to brace yourself, your holes clenching around nothing. your chest rises and falls quicker, indicating your excitement.

he lines them up, and pushes them into you, at a steady pace. your body trembles, and sukuna has to keep you in place as you gasp and hold onto him for dear life. he stretches you so mercilessly. you feel him twitching inside you, as he forces his way against your clamping walls.

“haa...so tight. you fit me like a glove, sweetheart,” he pants, the term of endearment slipping out accidentally. perhaps he’s gone without mating for too long. he feels himself getting easily attached.

when he pushes the rest of himself in fully, reaching all the way, both of his cocks fit snugly inside and forms a bulge on your abdomen-- they press up against a certain spot within you and something seems to erupt in your mind. an unexpected orgasm rips through your body without warning.

you let a string of moans as you arch your back, your walls spasming around him as a result of this sudden climax.

if it were his normal self, he would’ve teased you harshly for reaching your high just from putting it in. but his current sensitivity causes him to also fall off the edge.

“f-fuck, if you keep squeezing me like that, i’ll-!”

sukuna grits his teeth, drool running down the side of his lips, as his cocks also begin to release-- giving him an intense orgasm for the first time in years. they pulse strongly inside of you, spilling spurt after spurt of his thick, hot cum, in large amounts.

he shudders against you, being lost in the pleasure, and begins to lift you up and down, using you like a fleshlight even while he’s still orgasming. the feeling of it bubbling up inside you is something obscene, like it should be forbidden to feel this good and drunk with lust, especially at the hands of a devil like this.

you lean forward to kiss him again, wanting to feel his groans against your lips, and needing a taste of his tongue again. he does exactly that for you, as if reading your mind. had you been one of his kind, he would’ve kept you as his permanent mate. he makes out with you for so long that you’re left gasping for air by the end of it.

“tch. i can’t believe i’ve stooped this low, cumming so quickly like a virgin,” he murmurs with half-lidded eyes.

“nngh...sukuna- i’m already so full,” you whine pitifully. you can feel his spend leak out of you, even though he still has your holes plugged up with his two dicks.

“that’s not good. i’ve still got much more to give,” sukuna teases, liking the way his name sounds on your lips.

“you’ll just have to withstand it.”

he begins to move in and out of you again.

lewd, wet slapping sounds echo throughout the cave as he fucks you in earnest, already mindlessly going after his next climax. you shiver in his arms, yelping each time the tip kisses your cervix. the double penetration doesn't help your case - as both of them rub up against each other within you, making your eyes roll back in ecstasy.

"i-i can't... it's all too much," you mumble, the bulge in your abdomen continuing to disappear and reappear with every thrust of his.

"you agreed to let me use you. no going back now," sukuna tells you with a grunt, brows furrowing when you tighten up around him again, threatening to milk him dry. it drives him mad.

"and i'll be sure to use this slutty body to my heart's content."

his previous loads makes for an even better sensation, making you nice and slippery for him. creamy, white rings are already starting to foam up at the base of both his dicks.

"it feels too good- too big- too big-" you babble, fresh tears piling up in your eyes as he continues to pummel into you, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass.

when the tears begin to roll down your cheeks, sukuna darts out his tongue and gets a taste.

"sweet..." he mumbles.

the urge to cum spills over, and he's releasing inside of you again. his seed repaints the walls of your womb and ass as he groans against the shell of your ear, making you dizzy with arousal.

"oh- my god-" you manage to let out, as you feel yourself getting filled up again.

"you're taking me better than anyone else has before...like a good little whore," sukuna compliments breathlessly, continuing to pump you full with his seed. he's never felt better. his head feels all fuzzy and the edges of his vision is a little blurred, as he focuses only on your sweet little face, lost in a state of euphoria. he leans into the crook of your neck, and darts his tongue out to taste your skin, desperately resisting the urge to sink his fangs into you.

as fast as he empties himself, his cocks fill up again even faster.

"sukuna...i feel... like i might burst," you pant, referring to your poor abdomen.

"...is that so?" he tells you, carefully sliding both of this cocks out of you. you feel a little relieved from the fullness, but also a bit empty simultaneously.

you gasp and jerk your hips when his large hand suddenly applies a bit of pressure to your stomach. everything that he'd stuffed inside you comes dripping out in large globs, falling into a little puddle on the ground.

"there we go," sukuna grins maliciously, watching as you tremble in his arms, enjoying this sensation of his cum oozing out of you... like the freak that you are.

"such a waste. i'll just have to stuff you full, over and over..." he whispers against your ear.

"nngh- sukuna... sukuna..." you chant, hips shaking as he re-inserts himself into you - both of his veiny cocks throbbing once again, aroused by witnessing you indulge in your pleasure.

he sighs erotically, as your plush walls welcomes him back inside, allowing him to slip inside so easily from the amount of slick you're producing.

you might actually go insane.

...sukuna uses you like a fleshlight for god knows how long. by the end of it, you're surprisingly still conscious, despite being ruined irreparably. fucking with such a sinful snake should've dragged you to the deepest pits of hell-- yet, being with him felt so heavenly.

"you ended up being more durable than i thought, love. i'm pleasantly surprised," he praises you, embracing your limp body closely.

"...might be worth trying on you..." he seems to speak to himself.

whatever it is that he's talking about, you're in no state to be pondering. you breathe heavily, eyes half-closed, trying to calm yourself after being so overstimulated for a period of time.

"rest easy. i'll keep you warm throughout the night."

his words hit you like magic, and the fatigue seeps into your consciousness, making you fall asleep in his arms.

-

your pillow...feels a little too firm. and- scaley? it's warm, though. and this texture is addictive.

when you open your eyes, you find yourself laying in a tangled pile of sukuna's long tail - your bare body covered with the clothes that you'd taken off before...

"you're awake. did you enjoy groping my tail in your sleep?" sukuna asks, recalling to the moments where you nuzzled against him with a perverted smile on multiple occasions.

flustered, you immediately want to voice your denial but your dry throat prevents you from doing so. you hold onto your own neck, coughing. he looks at you with a raised eyebrow.

eventually, you're able to point at your backpack that's still sitting towards the side of his cave, which he grabs for you. you rummage your bag for your bottle of water that you'd stashed carefully, and you take a big gulp from it.

"sorry. throat was parched," you tell him, your voice still a little hoarse.

"right. forgot how sensitive you humans were," sukuna says nonchalantly.

"but still, you sufficed better than i expected," he adds on, with a smirk. he reaches out and brushes the back of his fingers against your cheek.

the praise makes your heart race, and you recall your memories from yesterday. it feels like a fever dream. this will be a secret you'll tell no one.

and that brings you back to reality. you remember that you need to get back home. there's a mountain of things you need to do! but... somehow, the thought of leaving made you feel a bit melancholic. will you ever see him again?

"you know... i originally intended to eat you after using you for sex."

the sudden phrase makes your blood run cold.

"...but i changed my mind. that would be such a waste of potential."

potential? potential for what?

"...look into my eyes, sweetheart."

"sukuna, i... i need to return home," you bring up carefully.

his tail tenses up, making you feel even more nervous. it coils around you tighter, and lifts you up to him. he gently grabs your face, lifting your chin up.

you can't help but do as he says - like taking his orders had been ingrained into your muscle memory - and once your pupils meet his, escape becomes infinitely more impossible.

"you don't wish to leave. you want to stay here," sukuna coaxes you, eyes gleaming red. your mind becomes... clouded. his voice rings in your head. it hurts a little, but you can't look away.

"but...home..." you protest for the final time, eyes turning blank. the words leave your lips like the last spark of a dying light.

"this is your home, my love. i am your home."

he takes you in his arms and nuzzles against your neck. a tongue darts out and licks a stripe against your skin, making you shiver. your arms snake around him, like you can't get enough.

"tell me again, sweetheart. where is your home?" he whispers darkly against your ear.

"...my home...my home is..." you drone on, still having some urge to fight back against his manipulation. he embraces you tighter, and possessively lets his teeth nibble on your earlobe.

"my home is you..."

the phrase gives way for a gleeful smirk to form on his face.

"wonderful. i'm glad you feel the same way," sukuna emphasises, withdrawing his face from your neck.

"now, let your tongue out for me."

you do it without question, and he leans forward to capture it with his mouth, initiating an intimate kiss. tongues roll around against each other, and you feel yourself sink deeper into him. when he pulls away, you're left breathless, a string of saliva still hanging off between. he takes it with him, by giving a soft lick to your lower lip.

"how amusing...this ability of mine isn't even that potent. had your determination to go home been stronger, it wouldn't have worked. makes me feel pleased, knowing that you had a strong desire to stay with me."

"sukuna..." you cling to him lovingly, making his heart give a tug. it makes him want to mess you up. but your fragile human body couldn't possibly handle that. which is why...

"i'm going to grant you a snake's tail. to make you completely mine," he suddenly confesses.

"is that... possible?" you still ask questions, even in a state of hypnosis.

"for me, it is. i didn't bother correcting you when you mistook me as one of those common hybrids, but i'll let you know now. i'm something more akin to a god."

he doesn't elaborate further. the new piece of information shrouds his species with even more mystery. perhaps it should stay that way.

it's a risky process, and you might end up losing your life. but he believes you can endure it.

"i'll be honest. it'll hurt a lot, love. but my venom will soothe you. i'll numb the pain."

within the next few seconds, his fangs sink into the side of your neck.

some additional dot points and what happens after;

so you do survive the ordeal, and you wake up a week later after being essentially modified to become a snake hybrid yourself

memories are hazy, but youre still sound of mind and you eventually get used to this new body with sukuna's help

he did tell you that humans can't carry his seed, but now that you're also a half-snake, you can...

now he has a permanent mate that he can use whenever mating season comes around

he doesnt have to lift you up when he wants to fuck you anymore, it can be done in a missionary way, where both of his dicks can fit into your snake cooch at the same time (its still a bit of a stretch tho, hes so big)

whenever he mates with you, both of yours and his tails coil around each other's, like how real snakes do (itd be cute if a heart would be made with the tips at the very end)

there are still some human aftereffects on your body, like when you get pregnant, you start lactating... he has the privilege to drink it all up himself when they get sore and full, since his young won't be needing any of it anyway

at first, you intensely miss your human life, weeping pitifully in the darkness of the cave,,

he gets you curled up against him, licking your tears away, and then kisses your forehead, promising you that he'll protect and love you forever, since youre his one and only mate...

"convincing" you that there is nothing to miss about being human.

Masterlist

[bitchimasnake-sss]

nsfw alphabet ft. monkey d. luffy!

set-up: no set up, just a collection of short nsfw drabbles featuring the most himboest himbo in town &lt;;3

warning: nsfw themes (obviously 😭); mdni thankyouu &lt;3

💟aftercare:

look, luffy sleeps in the middle of actual fights. there's no fucking way this man can stay up after y'all are done fucking (esp. if you've gone for a couple of rounds already). it's not too bad, since you get too tired too and he gives the best cuddles when he's passed out. just get used to getting the aftercare in the morning because that's when he checks up on you, get's you both some food (v.v. imp)

💟body part:

his favourite part of you: he is actually infatuated with every aspect of you but holy shit your tits??? he might actually be clinically obsessed with them. whenever you're cuddling, his hand finds your boobs (even if it's just to hold onto them lightly). he doesn't give a fuck about sizes and will 100% go on them for hours (i think it's his oral fixation lmaoo) his favourite part of himself: he loves his arms. other than the fact that they are one of his major weapons in any fights, he can see how you silently stare across his biceps when he's just helping around the deck. you always hold onto his arm when you're out in public too. he also loves when you get so pent up that you end up driving crescent cuts in his arms and shoulders as he fucks you.

💟 cum:

luffy's a nasty, messy man. do what you will with that info. he will cut off an arm and a leg just to finish anywhere on you whether it's inside, on your face or on your chest. just knowing that some essence of him remains on you drives him feral.

💟 dirty secret:

he's probably addicted to your smell. this sounds weird but i def think he's one of those people who steal their girlfriends underwear and then get off of them. like if he goes into the shower right after you and can smell your lingering shampoo and soap then he will fuck his fist as if it's you.

💟experience:

luffy was a complete dumbass in anything sexual but yk he is willing to learn anything that pleases you, so, once you teach him just what he's supposed to do, he will practice it on you till he reaches perfection. be prepared for a fuck lot of practice sessions tho.

💟favourite position:

i think his favourite position is missionary. he's a simple man. you're pretty as fuck and he's obsessed with your tits, what else is he supposed to do? but he's down to try just about anything and everything if you ask him to.

💟goofy:

goofy and luffy sound similar for a reason. im not saying he's giggling and kicking his feet as you go down on him but if something embarrassing happens, he needs atleast five minutes just to laugh it out. he doesnt do it in a mean-spirited way, ofcourse. he's just a silly little dude and that was funny.

💟hair:

on you: he literally doesn't care. it's totally your decision. if you wish to keep it shaved/trimmed, great but if you cannot be bothered, then that's more than fine too. he is more than excited just to have you to himself, he doesn't really care about anything more than that.

on himself: again, he doesn't really care. but incase you say that you wish he kept himself a certain way, then he'd go out of his way to pay heed to your preferences. your wish is his command.

💟intimacy (how romantic is he during it?):

luffy isn't a inherently romantic person. romance and love for him come in the form of small moments and acts of kindness rather than gigantic speeches and gestures. so in the traditional sense, he isn't romantic. but he will always make sure you're comfortable and feeling well. and to him, that is peak romance.

💟jack off:

he has a very very high sex drive and he quickly learnt that you can't exactly keep up with that so, he usually masturbates whenever it gets too much and you're not available. prefers your hands over his tho. so, like, he only does it himself if he absolutely needs to. otherwise, he would beg and whine till you please him.

💟kink:

food play (he loves you, he loves food, whats not clicking??) i think he definitely has a mommy kink (except he wont actually call you mommy. he's just act submissive and let you do whatever.) he loves to do whatever it is to please you when he's in that sub headspace but normally, he can get quite absorbed in the way he's feeling (especially when you're giving him head), so, dont blame him if he goes a teensy bit overboard.

💟location:

literally anywhere or planet earth or even beyond earth for that matter. just give him a surface to fuck you against and he'd handle the rest. in terms of favourite, i definitely think he's just sticking to the bed cause it keeps you comfortable and gives him enough safe, secure place to do whatever.

💟motivation (what gets them going):

anything and everything 😭🤭 his turn ons are so random. like you could be just chilling, talking to some crew member and suddenly he has this blinding urge to fuck you and there's nothing you can do about it.

💟no (things they are completely against):

although he's down with whatever, he won't do the classic stuff like scat, age play (extreme) or anything too disgusting. i think he's also pretty apprehensive about hitting you in bed cause he knows his strength and it feels against his entire moral code to hurt a woman. especially the woman he is in love with.

💟oral (prefer giving/receiving, how skilled are they?):

luffy goes both ways. he loves when you give him oral but he is also physically obsessed with you and will spend hours on end against your aching cunt, so, he likes going by turns. he doesn't even have to fuck you for real, just having his face pressed against your core as you rut on him is enough to make him cum in his pants. but since he's so impatient, i think he just prefers 69ing for the efficiency of it lmao (and also your moans feel so delicious against his weeping cock, please don't stop).

💟risk (how risky are they):

omg risk is the very essence of who luffy is. his risks are not even calculated, he just does shit that feels right to him. so, please do not object when you are exploring abandoned streets in an unknown island with him and he pines you against the wall and whines in that soft voice of his to have you right there and then. it also doesn't help that he doesn't feel embarrassed like ever. so, if you ever get caught he's just gonna laugh it off.

💟stamina:

ooooof, his stamina is insane!! can easily go a couple of rounds without feeling much fatigue. but he gets distracted easily, so fuck him before he gets too hungry to keep going lmao as for how long can he go for? i don't think he can hold off his orgasms for long, so, he cums fairly fast but he can push through it and keep going for a good while.

💟toys:

luffy didn't personally know much about toys till one night the boys got drunk and sanji asked them if any one of them owned a pocket pussy. he might have bought one the next time the landed on shore and well, he isn't afraid to admit that it's a handy little tool. but he doesn't know any more about toys than that. and he only got to know more once you started dating him and told him about it. he's not insecure to use toys during sex because he knows what he brings to the table. but he would pout if you fuck yourself with a toy instead of just asking him to give you some sweet sweet relief, so just dont do that mkay?

💟unfair (how much do they tease):

holy fucking shit this man LIVES to tease you. skimming touches, feathery kisses, endlessly toying with your cunt. he does it all. but do NOT tease him cause he can't stand it so, he would either lose patience and fuck you his way or he will get so overwhelmed that he would start whining and crying, begging you to ease up on him. both are good options tho 👍🏼

💟volume (are they vocal during it):

YES!! luffy is super vocal in bed. you make him feel great and he's not too shy to show it. i mean who tf will judge the would be king of the pirates?? he also adores your moans and whimpers too because all he wants is his pretty girl to feel good, obviously. (also when you tell him how good he's fucking you, that puts him over the edge because i just know he has a praise kink)

💟wild card (random headcanon):

luffy gets fucked out so easily. like literally, even if you have just been making out for like 5 mins then also his shirt will be halfway open, eyelids droopy, lips swollen, cheeks red, the whole sha-bam. so even if you both did nothing more than some pg-13 makeout, the entire crew will think you just fucked his brains out. evidence: 7th of august, 8:53 pm "ew." nami makes a face of disgust, "can you not do it before dinner? you're both nasty doin' it right before you see us." "we didn't do anything!!" you defend yourself before nudging luffy, "right luffy?" but he's in a daze, too blissful to say anything but: "uh yeahhh" ussop is holding sanji by the shirt like a rabid dog when zoro walks in. his eyes are lidden with sleep. he gives you and luffy a look before saying, "don't fuck before dinner, that's nasty." "we didN'T FUCK-"

💟x-ray (whats going on under those pants):

look he's the rubber man??? does it matter??? but no, i think he has a pretty decent size like im thinking 6" but definitely a bit more thinner. he also has a slight curve to it.

💟yearning (how high is there sex drive):

VERY HIGH. very fucking high. he's like an animal in heat or something except its all year long.

💟zzz (how quickly do they fall asleep afterwards):

he's passed out before you can say "that was so good" he's asleep and you should sleep too, you can compliment him when he wakes you up in the middle of the night for something or the other. go sleep. seriously. i see you reading smut on your screen. go sleep.

a/n: thinking i might make a sfw list too lol. if i do, ill add the link here! thankyouu to anyone who reads the stuff i write lol, you're the coolest

[cassowariess]

Look, I'm not a Gaiman fan, I've just been keeping up with the tag for updates about the allegations, and I have to say I'm deeply disturbed at how many young people I've seen say things like: "I want to kill myself" over the possibility of Good Omens 3 being cancelled.

I'm not going to scold you, but I cannot stress enough that this is not a normal response to have about a tv show, let alone any form of media. So as someone who lost a family member to suicide last year(for reasons unrelated to fandom) here is some advice I hope you will heed. Some of this advice is geared towards people with hyperfixations as I know the neurodivergent brain works differently.

First of all, for the future:

Do not put all your eggs in one basket.

It's going to become more and more likely in the future that you will be disappointed in someone who created something you loved. That's why it's important to have multiple things going in your life that keep you tethered instead of projecting all your emotional well being on the status of one thing. I know hyperfixations cannot be chosen, but extra interests can, so you need to cultivate a bunch of them. Go for walks and keep a nature journal, learn a new skill with free videos online (there are also communities built around certain hobbies like knitting etc so there's the possibility of making new friends too). You might not feel better right away, which is why it's important you do these things as a routine (such as once a week or more). It will flex and strengthen your emotional muscles.

It's not always possible, but have at least one of these interests be something that has nothing to do with being online. Maybe there's a book group in your town. Check local boards or listings for activities. Once again, there's the opportunity to make friends.

If you're stuck online, watch a movie with your online friends in Hyperbeam. Do this every week and pick a movie from a list of films everyone has chosen. Pick entertainment that has nothing to do with your fandom. Roll a dice for each week's movie.

If it is available to you, access therapy.

I realize this is not always possible due to costs or waiting lists depending on what part of the world you live in. Sometimes there are free groups that talk about depression. I live in the UK so unfortunately I don't know how prevalent this stuff is in the USA or other parts of the world, but your local council might have leaflets about community services and activities that are good for your mental health too, like community gardening once a week.

You don't need to tell the groups about why you are specifically upset, but you can tell them "life feels dull and pointless" which is why you're reading this, right? But the more you talk to people and try to do activities around other people, the less dull and pointless it will feel. I know it's hard to drag yourself outside, but it becomes easier the more you do it.

Talk to friends in your fandom, but also talk to friends that have nothing to do with it. I've been in enough fandom spaces to know how insular fandom can get and maladpative coping mechanisms some people can share that actually make things worse, not better. Go talk to some normies once in a while. Your fandom friends will still be there.

Finally, some suicide prevention hotlines, should you need them.

Link to international phone numbers and resources.

Look after yourself, remember people love you and remember, it's just a TV show. There will be other TV shows and other joyous things in your life, and next time you will have more of them. <3

Signed,

A fandom old who is not in your fandom.

[needtoloveoutloud]

Shadows Of Our Past, Present, and (possible) Future — Series

My Hero Academia — Female!OC Fan Fiction on AO3

Part One (Completed — 93k words):

The one where Shota Aizawa stumbles upon a back alley full of stray cats and ends up adopting a child

“Fine, then a cat? We both know how much you love those little furry…things.” At this, Shota paused the game and turned to the pushy blonde next to him. “I actually have considered that.” “And?” “And: also, no. It makes no sense.” Hizashi looked almost scandalized. “Makes no sense?” “I made a pro and contra list.” “Of course you did.”

When underground hero Shota Aizawa, twenty-two years old, is out on patrol one Friday evening, he doesn't expect that a single meow from a cat would lead him to find a homeless girl called Yoru. From then on, Yoru and Shota grow up together, make mistakes together, and try to overcome every obstacle life throws at them.

>> Read on AO3 <<

Part Two (Ongoing, regular updates — growing long fic — 359k words so far — READ PART 1 FIRST, PLEASE AND THANK YOU):

The one where Yoru Aizawa tries to navigate through life at U.A.

Two days after her fifteenth birthday, Yoru decides to drop the bomb on him. “I want to go to U.A.” “You want to go to U.A.” Her Dad puts the book he's been reading down on the glass balcony table.  “Yes, I want to go to U.A.” She slumps down on the outdoor couch next to him, grabbing the discarded book. “What are you reading?” ‘A Book of Five Rings by Miyamoto Musashi — The classic guide to strategy ’. She raises an eyebrow. “Reading that for fun, huh?” “Why do you want to go to U.A.? You never cared much about heroes. Besides Edgeshot, that is.” Yoru smirks up at him. “What, jealous?” “As if.” “You know, even if they sold Eraserhead posters, I wouldn’t hang them up. It would be super weird.” “Good to know where your loyalties lie.” He rolls his eyes. “Back to the topic at hand, why do you want to go to U.A.? Because Shinso wants to go?” “No.” Pause. “Okay, that may be part of it. But I’m serious. I’ve been thinking about it for a while now, and I really want to go.” “That might be so, but you still neglected to tell me why you want to attend there.” Yoru plays with her hair, noting how it’s time for another hair cut when she finds some splint ends. “I wanna be a hero.” Her Dad blinks. “A hero?” “Yes. Well, I want to help people and do some good with that shitty quirk of mine.”

When Yoru tells her Dad that she wants to attend U.A., she expects it to be a difficult path. She didn't expect all the awkwardness, blossoming friendships, confusing feelings, and near-death experiences, though.

>> Read on AO3 <<

Please heed the warnings/tags (TWs in the author's notes of chapters where they apply to).

Also: because someone asked this before - you can read it as a reader insert if you want. I don't mind at all. Feel free to imagine yourself as part of the story. Just know that Yoru (the OC) will have descriptions of her visual appearance.

This story is a mix of:

Slice of life

Hurt/Comfort

Angst/Fluff

Humor

Dadzawa

SLOW BURN Romance — Enemies to Lovers (Bakugo x Yoru)

SLOW BURN Romance — EraserMic (but it's a subtle slow burn)

Growing up, coming of age (hopefully lol)

Teenage awkwardness

Mixed media (pictures, music, chat screenshots (later on in Part 2), etc. — chat screenshots will always have the written text below, to make it accessible for visually impaired folks or people who use screen readers)

and more...

Author: NoBecksPleaseNo on AO3

Please don't copy or plagiarize the work, the character, the premise, etc. Also, no cross-posting anywhere, please and thank you.

Disclaimer: Yoru's image is AI generated and then edited/adjusted by the author. The other character images in the header are from Pinterest (besides the one of Present Mic/Midnight, that one's from the light novels) — unfortunately without a source. If you're the artist, and you're not okay with me using them, please message me and I will remove them. If you're the artist and are okay with me using them, please tell me, so I can credit you.

Besides the OC characters, I don't own any already existing characters from the My Hero Academia Universe — that honor belongs to Kohei Horikoshi.

[slasherbvnnie]

Until We Found You | Part IV

Welcome back! This time we have the second ghostface smut. Part V will be out later tonight, but no smut! Just some pure angst and fluff. As always, heed the tags

Modern Day College Scream AU, Obsessed AFAB!Reader, Eventual Poly!Ghostface x reader, Eventual NSFW, All characters 18+, P in V, Fingering, Oral female!receiving, Overall smut

Part I Part II Part III  Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII Part IX

 Word Count: 2673

You had a good five seconds on campus before someone finally noticed. Before you even made eye contact with her for the first time that day, Tatum let out the biggest gasp she had ever made and grabbed your shoulder. “And who did you spend your night with,” she asked as you immediately blushed, covering up your hickey with your palm. “None of your business, tate,” you said as Stu laughed and put his arm around Tatum’s waist. “Maybe Randy finally got his shot, I mean with how scared you must be about the killer, maybe he offered some protection for you,” Stu joked as Billy laughed.

 “Don’t get the dork all worked up, Stu, you might put one too many ideas in that perverted brain of his,” Billy said as Randy rolled his eyes. “I can confirm it was not me, sadly, one of us actually has a job instead of living off student loan refunds,” Randy said as the group put their attention back on you. “Well, whoever mauled you better show up at the mall after class today. I wanna see who gave you that, you know, to vet them or whatever,” Tatum said as Sidney nodded. “Yeah, and then we’ll get on their case for mauling you,” she added, making you laugh.

Your day was mostly spent around nervously tiptoeing around the girls questioning you on who you spent the night with. You had talked to other people on campus that didn’t include your little friend group but had never shown interest in them, so they questioned you on any and every one they knew to see who it was. “Okay, what about the guy who almost hit you with that football last week, Kyle? Kit? Kaleb.” Tatum recalled, “Kevin, and no,” you answered simply as Sidney took a stab at it. “Nah, it has to be Oliver,” she suggested, making you pause and show a gross look. “One of my biggest bullies in high school? No thanks,” you shrugged as Billy turned his gaze to you, Stu looking back at you through the rearview mirror. 

“Bully?” Billy questioned as you nodded. Throughout most of school you had been bullied, not really by one group in particular but there were enough to only leave you with Casey as one of your only friends until senior year. It stopped when college came around, no one cared enough to bully someone they spent one hour a day with. “Yeah, he always bullied me, ever since second grade. At first everyone thought he liked me because they thought being mean to someone was how you showed a crush but after this one time he faked asking me out in high school just to stand me up, it came kinda clear he hated me,” you explained with a little bitter laugh, going silent when you noticed the awkwardness.

 Billy’s face was stone cold, but you could tell in his eyes that he was angered. “It’s fine, I’m over it now, but yeah, definitely not someone I would let sleep with me,” you said as you looked away, not noticing the glance that Stu and Billy shared. “Is he still a dick to you?” Stu asked as you laughed, “I guess? I dunno, I find it more funny that he’s still got a grudge against me for some reason, but at least he doesn’t try to pull my hair anymore,” you said jokingly.

“How about we go in there?” Tatum suggested as you and Sidney both shared a laugh, “what? You have a mystery date and you might want a cute outfit for Billy sometime,” Tate said as you and Sidney looked to each other before looking at the boys. “How about you two run off for a bit instead of being giant pervs, we’ll meet up again at the food court,” you suggested as Billy and Stu were quick to agree. Their rapid head shakes made you all rile up with laughter, smiling and heading into the store together. 

“Sooo, what’s your mystery dates favorite color?” Tate asked as you smiled, “I don’t know actually, that’s a good question,” you hummed as you looked at the different choices of lingerie that lined the store. “I think they like any color really,” you said as you spotted a red laced set, it was a bralette styled top that had strips running down the side to connect to the underwear. Sidney noticed where your eyes lingered and laughed, “they’re kinky, huh?” She joked as you laughed and nodded, “really,” you agreed. You picked through the outfit to find your size, wondering if ghostface would like it, you guessed they probably would enjoy the blood red color of it.Later that night you were in your bathroom, glad that your parents had left to have dinner at your grandparents, which they did very hesitantly given the incident a few days ago. When you reassured that with all your friends only a few blocks away and access to cars, as well as the marvelous creation of phones to dial 911, they let you be.

You found yourself looking in the mirror as you checked yourself out for the 100th time in the lingerie you had bought. You blushed and wondered if your masked killer would enjoy the outfit, running your hand slowly across the lace fabric. You heard a noise from outside, quickly throwing on a tshirt- one you didnt care about if ruined again- and pj shorts before heading out into your bedroom.

You peeked over your window to see nothing, frowning to yourself before sighing and taking a seat on your bed. But when you were met with the back of the costumed body looking over your vanity you let out a small scream, making them turn to you. “Jesus christ you scared me!” You yelled at them before relaxing, “no window climbing this time?” You asked as they shook their head, continuing to look around the room. You noticed their little glances around the room, curious as to why they were studying it. They turned towards you once more, walking over to you and looking you over. They were less aggressive than last time, using two fingers to tilt your head up to them. Their fingers were warm, which caught you off guard, just yesterday they were cold to the touch.

“There’s two of you?” You questioned, their demeanor changing quickly as they grabbed your chin. “I-I don’t know who you are, i swear. It’s just- y-your touch…” you spoke quickly, trailing off as their grip loosened. “The last one was cold, kinda felt like a corpse,” you said jokingly, “and you’re warm…plus you keep looking around like you haven’t been here before.” You said to them, their touch going back to just gently holding your chin up. They moved away from you, going back to your vanity and grabbing a small black bag, bringing it over to you. You blinked in surprise, looking up to them before they gestured to open it. You reached into the bag, pulling out a piece of paper that was torn, giggling at the words that were printed onto it. ‘Sorry about the last guy :(‘

“See? I would have figured it was two of you anyways,” you said as they shook their head. You smiled, reaching back into the bag and looking at your two new Carrie shirts. One was in the style as your previous one, the other a different one but still in the correct size. “I didn’t think I would actually be treated to a new shirt,” you admitted, hearing a chuckle from them. You didn’t say it out loud, but your heart was filled with joy knowing these two masked killers, regardless of not knowing them, were being so kind and caring towards you. You swooned, noticing how different the two seemed. The other one scared you a little, not really knowing their true intentions, but this one seemed so much more gentle and sweet with you. “I um, I also had a little surprise for you,” you said, noticing how they perked up at your words.

A blush rose to your cheeks as you looked up to them, adjusting yourself before sitting up on your knees. “but you’ll have to take my clothes off first to see it, mr. ghostface.” you whispered out, which made them grab you by the waist and lay you down on the bed. They didn’t take out the knife, instead their hands darted to the hem of your shirt and lifted it up to reveal the red lingerie underneath. A small groan left them as they quickly worked on taking off your shorts, making you giggle at the rush in their actions. You let out a little whimper as they groped you, aware now of how unintentionally strong their grip was. They squeezed your breast that was covered in the lace, their other hand roaming up and down your side. The lack of their touch made you whine out, pouting up at them before they moved to grab the final thing from the bag. A new blindfold, one dedicated just for you. They were quick to tie it, making sure you didn’t see through it by waving in front of you.

All you heard was a little thump of the mask and them struggling to take their gloves off before you heard the rest of their clothing thump to the ground. Before you could even take in a breath you felt their hand already cupping your core, their lips attacking the part of your breasts that were left uncovered from the lingerie. They roamed around before their lips were now on your neck, creating a new hickey right above the old one. You moaned softly, a shaky hand reaching to grab their arm.You could feel their muscles contract and tighten at the touch but when you made no movement to touch elsewhere, they quickly calmed down and continued their lust filled attack on you. They teased you over the lace panties you wore, their smirk growing as you let out little huffs and moans. The bed lifted, their frame no longer causing it to dip and your hand was left holding nothing, a small pout made its way to your agitated frown as their touch left you. After a moment you gasped, feeling their hands spreading your legs apart as they placed gentle kisses onto your inner thighs.

It was the first time you felt the blade, but they didn’t trail it across your skin like the other, instead they used it to make you exposed to them. Another whine left you, “you owe me a new outfit again, this was brand new,” you whined, they responded with a nip to your inner thigh, not doing anything else before diving into you.Your back arched on impact, their tongue on your clit as they spread you open with their thumbs. “fuck,” you moaned out, your thighs closing around their head to lock them in place in pure instinct. They were skilled at this, eventually finding the perfect pace that had you shaking and squirming. Every time you tried to shimmy up and get away from the pleasure, their large hands wrapped around your thighs from behind and pulled you back down onto their face. You weren’t even aware of how many minutes had passed before your thighs were shaking, only being held up by their grip. “Wait, fuck, you’re-“ the breath was knocked out of your lungs as they entered their middle finger into you, their pace matching that of their tongue as they thrusted it in and out of you.

 A loud moan left your lips as you came, whines and whimpers erupting from your chest as their ministrations didn’t stop. “Please, please, ‘s too much,” you pleaded, clawing at your bedsheets as they just hooked their arm around your thigh and pulled you down back onto their face once more. It was practically like a scene from the Exorcist as you came again, your back arching off of the bed as you nearly let out a scream from all the pleasure. This time they slowly pulled away after you came down from your high, lapping at you one last time before pulling away and hovering over you. Your chest heaved as you did your best to catch your breath, smiling softly at the gentle kiss they placed onto you. You felt them snake their hand into yours, making you giggle as they wrapped their fingers in the spaces between your own. A smile curled onto their lips when they heard your laugh, growing even wider when you let out a moan as their free hand went back to your entrance. They still held your hand as they pulled back a little, your legs spreading more as you felt them running their tip along your slit.

 At every swipe to your clit you let out a moan, gasping when they entered you. Within a second their lips were attacking your neck again, earning whines and moans from every bite, lick, and thrust that they tortured your body with. The pleasure was dizzying, you had never really gone so many rounds with someone before, the recovery time was practically nothing with how fast your climax was building up again. They were more gentle, their free hand roaming over the bralette you still had on, teasing your nipples over the fabric as they littered your skin in love bites. You were already regretting Tatum’s and Sidney’s teases about them tomorrow but for now, you accepted your fate.

Their pace was quick but managed to hit all your sweet spots, their hand that held yours was gripping you so tightly their knuckles turned white, which only brought you closer to the edge. Their free hand found its way to your clit again, rubbing it in time with their thrusts to completely overwhelm you. Your orgasm washed over you hard, the seconds felt like they lasted a lifetime as you did your best to come down from your high, but their continued sloppy thrusts didn’t help one bit. A loud whine left you as they came, biting into your neck to cover up their moan. They pulled out slowly, letting go of your hand and kissing you once again. Unlike the other ghostface, they laid down in the bed with you, pulling you against their chest. You accepted the invitation, resting against their chest and listening to their heartbeat as you recovered from your orgasm. 

“Next time…do- uh,” you spoke softly, a bit shy to get your thoughts out into words. You felt their fingertips tracing your jaw, relaxing as their thumb ran over your lips. “Do you think the both of you could come by next time? You- uh, you don’t have to but…” you trailed off as they kissed you, feeling their head move in a nod. You smiled, heart fluttering with excitement knowing both of them would be alone with you. “And don’t forget the new lingerie set, please,” you requested with a little laugh. It was an hour later, ghostface gone and you freshly showered and dressed in your pajamas again. 

Your phone rang, seeing Sidney’s caller id and answering quickly. “Hey, have you seen any of the police cars pass by?” She asked as you looked out your window, “no, how come?” You asked as Sidney sighed. “Oliver, the neighbors said they heard screaming and shit breaking and when police got there they said he was dead,” she said as you frowned. “Do they know if it was the killer?” You asked, “yeah, neighbors said they saw him running off. They tried going after them but they couldn’t catch up.” She told you, you sighing and shaking your head. “That’s so creepy…” you said, thinking back to the conversation you all were having earlier that day. You couldn’t help but wonder if ghostface was stalking you, if they already knew you and your past. 

[wri0thesley]

famous last words - dottore x reader x dainsleif (9.6k)

you can take care of yourself.

cw: dead dove, do not eat. not sfw, minors dni. non-con, drugging, syringes, mind control. yandere dottore and yandere dainsleif. reader is the traveller and has been travelling with dain. bondage, restraints, misuse of the akasha system, reader is traumatised and taken advantage of by dainsleif after being at dottore's mercy. reader wears a dress and has breasts/a vagina, but is referred to by they/them pronouns. please please heed the warnings.

a/n: please please (i am repeating it!) read the warnings on this one. one of my favourite yandere/dark content tropes is actually 'reader has a horrible experience and then a character who is supposed to take care of them takes advantage of them', and i don't think i've ever written it before, so this was super interesting to write!

this was a commissioned work.

Dainsleif has been on edge since the two of you crossed Sumeru’s borders. 

He doesn’t say it out loud - you have learnt, over the time the two of you have spent travelling together, that Dainsleif is a man of very few words even at the best of times - but you know his small quirks and foibles well enough now that you sense it. It’s in the set of his shoulders and the line of his mouth, the way his eyes are constantly darting about wherever you go.

It’s somewhat in the way he walks closer to you, his height casting a shadow over your own, as if he can protect you merely by being near you. It makes a muscle in your jaw twitch - you are grateful for his care, of course, but surely he knows by now that you are perfectly capable of taking care of yourself? You have gotten used to the feeling of a sword in your hand over your search for your twin - you have made a name for yourself in every nation you’ve traversed, and only some of the time has Dainsleif been by your side. 

You suppose that the newfound relationship between the two of you is clouding his judgement somewhat too--

Well.

‘Relationship’ might be too strong of a word.

Dainsleif is hesitant with you even now; checks with you, twice and three times, before he so much as touches your shoulder. But you hope you have made it clear he does not need to, with the way you have let your hand entangle with his and the way you have smiled at him when nobody else is looking, the soft confessions to him at camp overnight that he’s one of only two people in this world you would trust whole-heartedly . . .

All of that, perhaps, has made Dain even more protective over you than he was before, despite the truth of the matter being that you are almost equal in swordsmanship and combat ability. And he’s said enough to you, too, that you understand his hesitance. Other people he has loved have been taken from him - a whole nation, in fact. Dain has had to struggle on for years all alone, and walls built over such a long time do not crumble so easily--

But still. You wish he would not fret so when you walk away from him in Sumeru City to investigate an interesting looking fruit and to ask the stallholder some questions about their wares. 

You’re startled out of your reverie - handling the Zaytun peaches that lay in plump piles in round baskets upon this particular stall - by Dain murmuring your name. He has attracted some attention - he is tall and handsome and blond, an air of mystery and exoticism emanating off of him - but he is unaware of the giggles behind other people’s hands, his gaze set firmly on you.

He has always been like that - those piercing blue eyes, even through his mask-like patch - never fail to make you feel as though you are the only person in the world. You have woken up in the night at camp plenty of times, too, and felt safe in the knowledge that Dainsleif is there and his gaze will not falter. 

You toss some Mora to the stallholder and turn to Dainsleif, proffering one of the peaches to him. He takes it like a precious treasure.

“Is something wrong?” You ask him, before you take a bite. His brow is furrowed - you sense something brewing in the wind. A kind of unease that lies hot and heavy in the humid Sumeru air. Dain sighs softly.

“I have some things I must do,” he says to you, his voice soft and low. “I don’t want to leave you alone, but . . .”

“I’ll be fine,” you tell him, smiling. You wonder what it is that he does not want to take you along with, but you do not push - Dainsleif will tell you in his own time, you are sure. You have no desire to push him too far when his hope seems such a fragile thing still. “I’ll meet you tonight, here?”

His shoulders untense, just a touch. 

“Will you stay in the City?” He asks you, and you laugh.

“Dain,” you say, smiling, just a touch of reproach in your voice. “I can take care of myself, you know! Go and do what you need to do. I will be absolutely fine. You know that! When have I not been?”

Dain does not look entirely convinced, but whatever it is that he has a need to do has a hold on him - he looks at you with those serious, piercing eyes and takes your hand. Your cheeks go hot all over as he bends to press a chivalrous kiss upon the back of it. The crowd of admirers that Dain has amassed are all atwitter over this - you cannot blame them. If you’d seen it happen to someone else you’re sure you’d be swooning. Even now, your heart is beating a double time march against your ribcage as you wonder how you got so lucky. 

“You promise me?” He asks. You can sense he is barely holding back the urgency in his voice; anxiety that tugs at the syllables like it is weighing them down. This errand he has to run . . . your curiosity runs rampant at what it might be that it is so clearly important to him.

“I promise I’ll be more than fine,” you say to him, smiling. There is the slightest snick of irritation, in the back of your mind - have you not fought dragons? Have you not befriended Archons? His concern is sweet, but he does not need to fret about you so. You say to him, trying to make sure your voice is as reasonable and convincing as possible; “You don’t have to worry about me.”

As it turns out, this proclamation will come back to haunt you.

They will become what are referred to in some places as ‘famous last words’.

You notice the earpieces that the Sumeru citizens wear as you wander around; when you ask someone about it, they look baffled as to your own lack of them.

“Usually you’re given one when you come into the city,” the young woman explains, as she kindly guides you back towards the entrance of Sumeru City. This explains it; Dainsleif always prefers to take the least populated way into anywhere, and most of the time you are happy to agree with him. Your exploits across Teyvat so far have occasionally resulted in some notoriety that isn’t always conducive to exploring new nations; you’re not surprised that Dainsleif had avoided the grand entrance of Sumeru City proper. Still, you’re beaming as the young woman brazenly walks up to one of the men standing at the entrance greeting newcomers. 

He has dark hair and a moustache, and is wearing the robes that you recognise as marking him out as a member of the Sumeru Akademiya; as the young woman explains that you two are without the devices - she calls them an ‘Akasha’ - you smile at him, as bright and hopeful and friendly as you can manage. 

He nods thoughtfully, and raises a hand to his own Akasha system.

“Just a moment,” he tells you, “I’m scanning the system for any information on you - just to ensure we don’t go around letting in criminals, you see?” 

As he does that, you ask a few more questions of the young woman - what it is that the Akasha system does, and whether your . . . unusual physiology (a far easier way to explain it, you’ve surmised over weeks of practise, than explaining that you are a traveller from beyond the realms of Teyvat) will effect it in any way. She is effluent with her praise - the Akasha, she tells you with a wide smile and genuine pride in her voice, has truly revolutionised what it is like to be a citizen of Sumeru. 

“This is unusual,” the man says, finally taking his hand from the complicated earpiece of the Akasha system. “I’m terribly sorry, but . . .”

“Is everything alright?”

You hadn’t wanted to mention it, of course - but you’d been afraid when he’d said he was scanning for information on you. Though you have mostly made peace with the nations you’ve travelled through, there have been plenty of misunderstandings too - and there are an unfortunate amount of activities that may be considered criminal in your past. Your heart beats just a little too quickly, as you carry on smiling and hope that your nervousness isn’t written too plain on your face.

You’d hate to get yourself into trouble after promising Dainsleif you would be absolutely fine on your own. 

“I’m sure there’s no problem at all,” the man assures you, as he tries to return your smile. “It’s simply that we do have a record of you - oh, please don’t worry, it doesn’t name you as a wanted criminal or some such thing! It merely asks that you be shown to the Akademiya to meet with one of our trusted scholars, if you are to set foot in Sumeru City.” 

This sounds a little more understandable, you think, as you let loose a small sigh of relief. Your reputation precedes you in several places - and this scholar would be far from the first person who has sought your help with matters. It’s strange that they couldn’t manage it alone with all of the resources of Sumeru behind them, but you are not in a position to judge. 

“Is it just me?” You ask. “I usually travel with another man, a different blond--”

He checks, the vine-like contraption of the Akasha pulsing over his ear, but then he shakes his head.

“No,” he says, as he offers you his arm. “The only information we have is on you.” Another smile, clearly meant to reassure. “I really did mean it about not worrying; if you were a danger, I’m certain that this would not all be so civil. Sumeru maintains several forces of Eremite mercenaries to keep the peace, and the Akademiya itself has the Matra . . . If you were about to be in trouble, there would be far more of a guard than simply me.”

You still consider running. You let your eyes flash over the surrounding area to map out all possible escape routes, to see who you might have to fight if you need to - but in the end, you take the proffered arm. No matter how much Dainsleif might want you to lie low and not attract attention, you can’t help thinking that causing a scene like that would be far worse than going along with whatever it is you’re wanted for up in the Akademiya. 

You do not know it at the time, but it turns out to be just another decision that will come back to bite you. 

As the two of you walk, Panah - that is the man’s name, you find out - sends a message up to the Akademiya proper via the system, to let them know that the two of you are coming. He seems almost giddy when he is done, a smile playing beneath the moustache.

“I was permitted to speak to him myself,” he says, and you gather from the excitement in his voice that whatever man it is you’re about to meet occupies a place of high honour within the walls of the Akademiya. You’re impressed by the technology; you can’t help thinking how useful it would be, if you and Dainsleif had such a way to communicate when you were apart.

He’s not going to be happy about all of this - but with any luck, this will be a quick thing for you to deal with and you’ll be able to rake in some glory and reputation in Sumeru so the two of you don’t have to worry so much on your journey. A lost dog, perhaps. A band of Treasure Hoarders who need to be taken out--

If you had one of those Akasha systems, you think, you wouldn’t need to be trailing up all of these steps. You bring this up to Panah, and he laughs, still riding a high from speaking to whoever it was he was permitted to speak to.

“Ah, don’t worry about that! You’re going to be very lucky - he told me he even has an Akasha terminal set aside especially for you, with a couple of brand new features he’s been wanting to test out--”

Later on, you’ll curse yourself for these words not setting alarm bells off in your head. But right then, under the bright Sumeru sun and with the freedom of a day in Sumeru without Dain’s occasionally too protective presence, you just laugh brightly and daydream about the knowledge your very own Akasha will place at your fingertips.

There’s a little bit of pomp and ceremony when you make it to the Akademiya proper; the other staff members and workers and students who have been assigned to help you are all excited and chattering as they wave Panah off and begin to lead you into the labyrinthine halls. It’s a beautiful building, to be sure - but it’s deceptively large, and after going through lifts and corridors and being taken through door after door you begin to lose sense of where exactly it is you are. You feel a brief flare of panic inside; you much prefer to be in places where you have an idea of how to escape, should the need arise--

But everyone around you remains excited about the great scholar you’re about to meet, and their smiles and pats and their wistful proclamations about how lucky you are serve to soothe the fear, just a little. 

“Here we are,” says one of them, stopping outside a great wooden door with a complicated series of locks on it; some of them are easy to understand (you know what a padlock looks like, after all), but others seem to be rather more high-tech than you’re used to. Whatever it is behind this door, you think, it must either be very important or very expensive. “Oh! We have your Akasha terminal--”

He reaches into the folds of his robe to produce one of the vine-like contraptions that everyone in Sumeru wears on their ears.

“This one was designed by him specifically,” the man tells you in awe, as he reaches over and affixes it onto your ear. “It has a few brand new functions that he wants help testing out, and he said that your experience would be a huge boon in working out all of the kinks--”

Ah. So that’s what he wanted your help with. You wonder which of your exploits it is that has made this scholar think you’d be a good fit for this kind of testing; you wonder, too, why Dainsleif wasn’t included in this idea. The two of you have done so much together, after all--

You feel a brief electric zap that seems to flash over your vision and down to your spine. A little noise in your ear, a sense of heat that lasts barely a moment - and then, the man is stepping away from you and giving a strange little bow.

“It’s working, I think,” he says, as he reaches into his pocket to turn a key, swipe a card, as his own Akasha pulses to life and some of the locks upon the door respond in kind. “Ah - I’m afraid we’ll be leaving you. His temperament can be a little unpredictable, and I’m sure he’d rather meet you alone--”

“That’s alright,” you say, smiling. You wonder what kind of brand new functions this Akasha system is going to have; perhaps something for combat capabilities? Wilderness scanning, to be able to identify poisonous herbs and dangerous animals? The big wooden door slowly creaks open, as the entourage who have guided you into the bowels of the Akademiya all disperse, leaving you alone.

“Come in,” calls a voice. 

The voice is familiar; somewhere, in the back of your mind, you know that you recognise it. A kind of low, smooth drawl of a voice, that shivers with suggestion as it calls out to you. But it is not enough to deter you, now you’ve made it all the way here. 

You step into the room, walking further and further into it to see that it’s a . . . workshop, of some sort. There are a few tables scattered with various tools, deconstructed machinery lolling on the floor and propped against walls. There are a couple of remains of Ruin Guards, but in Sumeru this is hardly a surprising sight--

The door slams closed behind you. You hear the click and the whirr of the locks resetting themselves, trapping you in here, but even then you still do not panic just yet. You are in the Sumeru Akademiya, after all - what horror could possibly befall you at the hands of someone so well-regarded, in such a beacon of wisdom and hope in the nation? 

That’s when you spot the bed in the middle of the room. 

Sterile white sheets, white metal frame, restraints at the head and at the feet. An IV standing proudly beside it; a table to one side that is scattered with, instead of tools and screwdrivers, medical equipment. Needles and scalpels and pill bottles. Your throat goes dry. 

“Ah,” there’s that voice again, and out of the shadows steps a figure. Your brain snaps into action sickeningly quickly; this is indeed a man you recognise. This figure, in his doctor’s coat and long boots, with his hair falling over a masked face-- “You’re just as lovely as I remembered you.” 

You crouch, your body primed, your position ready to jump to attention at any moment. You reach behind you to will your sword into your hand - if you incapacitate Dottore quickly enough, perhaps you can knock him out whilst you search his workshop for tools to help you break the locks--

“Oh, my,” he says. “Such an unwelcome reception, my dear. Still. That won’t be for long.”

“Open the door,” you snarl, through gritted teeth. “Let me out, and I won’t ram my blade through your throat.”

He smiles beneath the mask, the tilt of his lips almost fond. 

“There’s that lovely fire,” he says to you, in a pleased purr. “Oh, I’ve been waiting for you for what seems like forever.”

“I’m warning you--” Your fingers wrap around the hilt of your sword. Your breath comes short; your heart pounds. 

You do not truly know if you could take Dottore in a fight - he is ranked second of the Harbingers, after all, and you do not think such a position would be granted without some combat capability. But you have to hold fast to your hope - and without Dainsleif here, all you have to rely on is your own skills. What might happen if he does overpower you doesn’t bear thinking about--

(You’d noticed, the last time the two of you had met, the way his gaze behind the mask had lingered on the shape of your body. The way he had spoken silky smooth, shivering with intent, when he had addressed you. The way his leather gloved hands had felt, on your shoulders, lingering there as if they wished they could be somewhere else--)

“Ah, ah,” he clicks his tongue, chiding. “Now, darling. That won’t do at all.”

You realise too late that the Doctor himself is not wearing an Akasha system earpiece - but you are. 

And as you feel it pulse into life, as bright colours flash against your vision and you stumble, your sword slipping through your fingers . . .

Everything goes black.

“Now,” Dottore’s voice cuts through the blackness, as everything seems to slowly fall back into place like a jigsaw puzzle being re-assembled. “This might hurt a touch. Just a sharp scratch, my dear--”

You’ve been strapped onto the medical bed, just as you had feared. The straps are wrapped around your ankles and your wrists, binding you spread-eagle upon the thin little mattress. You can still feel the vines of the Akasha system wrapped around your ear, and your throat clogs with the fear of it - if it could knock you out stone cold, what else could it do? Your eyes flutter open, and Dottore pauses--

He’s leaning over you with a syringe in his hand, the liquid within glowing with the same blue glow as the earring he wears. As he sees that you’re awake, his mouth opens into a wide smile with just a hint of too sharp teeth.

“Oh!” He exclaims in delight. “You’re finally awake! My, you’ve missed quite the little drama.”

He carefully places the syringe down upon the metal table as he reaches over you and fiddles with some kind of control on the side of the bed. Slowly, it creaks upwards, propping you up a little so you are bent at the waist.

“That’s better,” Dottore coos. “Now we can all see one another. Look, darling. Your knight in shining armour.” 

Dainsleif. 

How long have you been out cold? How easy was it for Dottore to strap you onto this operating table - how deeply did the Akasha knock you out? 

Long enough for Dain to realise you were missing. Long enough for him to track you down - long enough for he, too, to be overpowered by the second Harbinger and find himself entirely at the Doctor’s mercy.

Your travelling companion sits across from the bed you are restrained upon, ropes tied around his broad chest to keep him lashed to a rusted metal chair. A gag has been crudely shoved into his mouth so all he can do is make a soft little distressed noise at the predicament you have found himself in; more ropes bind his ankles to each leg of the chair, just to ensure that he’s fully unable to so much as wriggle in his bindings. He stares at you, agonised. 

“We’ve been talking about everything I’m going to do to you,” Dottore hums - and something hot and sour crawls into your throat as he leans over, and his leather gloves caress your face like a lover and not like a madman. “Ah, sweet little traveller . . . I’ve barely been able to wait to get my hands on you. A pretty face like that, and that fighting spirit . . . Ah! You stick in a man’s mind.” His smile is just as wide and unhinged as ever as he taps your cheek fondly. “I don’t think your poor knight is going to enjoy it, but . . . well. I’m sure you will.”

You struggle in the bonds, as your strength returns to you. You try and use your not inconsiderable strength to see if you can loosen the leather around your wrists, as fear of the undercurrent of desire in Dottore’s words and anger at Dainsleif finding you like this and worry about Dain himself all war at once within you like a churning whirlpool.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you seethe at Dottore, tugging hard. “I don’t know what you’re planning, but it would be better for everyone if you just let me go now, and we can pretend none of this happened--”

Dottore throws his head back and laughs. 

“Oh,” he practically purrs at you. “You’re so lovely when you’re enraged. But . . . ah. No, I don’t think I shall. Now, my dear. How shall we start? A kiss, perhaps? Your lips have been haunting my dreams recently--”

“I’ll bite your tongue off,” you snarl, and though you cannot see Dottore’s eyes you can tell from the way that his face moves that he has raised his eyebrows. He lets out a low, silky chuckle.

“Ah. So that’s how it’s going to be. Well, if so . . .”

He reaches back over to the metal table, and in his hands now he lifts the syringe once more. He taps the barrel of glowing blue liquid once, twice, that infuriatingly calm and smooth smile returning to his face. 

“This won’t knock you out,” he tells you. “I want you to be aware of everything we do together, darling, so you remember how good it makes you feel . . . how much we belong together. But it shall . . . how should I put this? Take a bit of the edge out of you.” He leans in; finding the crook of your elbow, thumb smoothing softly and almost lovingly over the patch of skin. “I’d hate for all of your fire to go missing, but . . . perhaps we should at least dull your teeth a little, hmm?” 

Dainsleif makes some awful noise; a whimper crossed with a moan, a kind of noise you’ve never heard the stoic Twilight Sword make before, as the needle sinks into your skin with a sharp scratch. Panic flares in your mind white hot at whatever kind of concoction is being injected directly into your veins--

But the panic quickly dulls, as you feel the drug beginning to take effect. 

It adds a muzzy kind of quality to everything. You see Dottore and Dain before you - the Doctor smiling, Dain agonised behind his patch and gag and rope. You know that there is something terribly wrong with this scene, but your mind is too hazy to pull up the specifics. You go to open your mouth and put word to a question, but nothing comes out - your tongue is too heavy, your teeth feeling as though they’re in the wrong place in your mouth.

“Oh, lovely,” says Dottore with relish. “My, you took to that sedative better than even I hoped you would! Sweet dear thing, will you let me kiss you now?”

You know, in that hazy mess of your mind, that you do not want this man to kiss you - but as he leans forward, you cannot remember why. You cannot make your tongue move to say no, and before you know it a pair of lips have firmly pressed to your own, tasting of the smell of antiseptic and peppermint. Dottore kisses you as thoroughly as he does everything else - his mouth working against yours, sharp teeth tugging at your lower lip, his tongue slipping into your mouth and laying claim to the shape of it as if he is an explorer mapping out newly conquered territory.

From somewhere that seems very far away, you hear another angry noise, half groan and half moan. 

Dottore pulls back, his tongue tracing his lips as if he’s savouring the taste of you left on them.

“Even better than I imagined,” he murmurs. “But . . . ah, my dear, don’t you want to kiss me back?”

There’s a pulse by your ear. Your mind short-circuits - and then Dottore is leaning in again for another kiss, and without you sending a single signal to your body you are kissing Dottore back, your mouth working against his, your tongues twining with one another as if possessed by an unknown force. Dottore groans into your mouth, at the same time as one of his gloved hands comes to land on your thigh, bare beneath your skirt. 

You realise dully that it is the Akasha, taking control of your body; doing exactly what Dottore tells you to do.

If you hadn’t been drugged with the sedative that the Doctor had used, perhaps this realisation would make horror rise in you - it clearly does in Dainsleif, who struggles desperately against his bonds. But to you, in your current state . . . it is merely a realisation that washes over you like a cool stream. An inevitability. 

“Ah,” Dottore says, and he smiles something horrific and tender down at you. “We’re going to enjoy ourselves, aren’t we?” 

Those gloved fingers slide higher and higher up your thigh, the touch remaining soft. You think it would be better if he started pawing at you like an animal; if he ripped and tore at your clothes. Something about the softness of how his thumb moves over your inner thigh, the soft untouched skin there - something about the gentle way his thumb brushes over your underwear . . . that feels a hundred times worse than you could ever imagine. 

He sighs in pleasure. All you can do is lay there and take it; your wrists and ankles bound, your entire body prone, your veins numbed with sedatives. Your eyes seek out Dain’s across the room - and he looks at you, so broken that you think you will cry. 

Dottore’s other hand reaches up to the catches down the side of your dress. They are there to make it easier to dress yourself - catches and buttons up your spine are not helpful when you are alone or injured, and since you have found yourself in Teyvat you have been both of those things more often than you’d like to have - but you curse them, now, as Dottore’s other hand gently (oh-so-gently) peels them from your body and you are almost bare before him. Your nipples pebble in the cool air; your cheeks flush hot at how he tilts his head to look down at you. 

If you could see his eyes, what would you see written in them? 

“Oh,” Dottore is quiet when he speaks; appreciation dripping off every syllable. He moves his other hand away from where he’s been constantly petting at your sex through your underwear in order to turn all of his attention to your newly bared chest; you feel the hot flush across your collarbones at the sheer admiration that seems to ghost every movement. “You’re even more lovely than I could have thought.”

His leather-clad palms reach down, taking a handful of the soft curve of your chest; squeezing the half-globes in his hand, sighing happily at how they fit in his grip. His thumb and forefinger find the nub of your nipples, pinching one each until they stiffen and pucker beneath the attention and you squirm, a hot little bolt of lightning going straight from the place Dottore is pinching to the place between your thighs.

“You like that?” He murmurs, not missing the way you shudder beneath the attention. “Ah, sweet thing - has your knight not done this for you? Have you been saving yourself for me?”

Again, you can’t make your tongue form words; all you can do is let out a little whimpering moan of a noise that makes Dottore chuckle. It sounds far too close to affirmation for your liking, but what can you really do, as Dottore continues to pinch and pluck at your nipples and the warm zaps of pleasure and excitement continue to run hot in your veins? 

You can hear the way your breath is starting to come out in little pants; how it shudders in the air, heat coalescing between the bots of you as Dottore’s insistent pinches further cloud your mind. You can’t help the noise that falls from your mouth as he bends his head and applies his tongue just so upon one of the buds; as it swirls around it, suckling the nipple into his mouth, lathing it with attention that makes your back arch involuntarily. 

Dainsleif, still bound across the room, fights against the ropes once again and lets out a muffled noise of anger; words caught in the gag, vitriol spewed at the Doctor as he does whatever he wants to with your body. It is all for nothing, though. 

Dottore’s thumbs are hooking into your underwear. The thin cotton tears at the seams at only the flimsiest tug from the second ranked Harbinger, and then Dottore is looking down at your spread thighs and the folds of your sex on display for him and cooing at you so sweetly that it cloys. 

“Oh, darling,” he says to you. “You’re this wet for me?”

It’s not fair.

Frustrated tears rise to your eyes. In your current state, drugged and confused, under all of Dottore’s touches . . . your body has betrayed you. You know you’re wet; you can feel your own slick, oozing out of you, your folds wet with droplets of arousal. Desire to be touched warring with disgust for the man before you inside of you - frustration that you cannot so much as speak to put voice to your anger. Not even to beg him to stop. 

Hand on your thigh. Two fingers, deftly parting the lips of your labia so cool air hits the sensitive inner folds; the swollen bud of your clit, waiting to be touched, thrumming with excitement. A whine catches in your throat at the sensation of being studied like this; the way that Dottore is looking down at you like a wolf about to thoroughly enjoy his meal. 

“Look at you,” he murmurs, again. “So much lovelier in the flesh.” He turns his head without turning his body, catching Dainsleif’s gaze. “Look, Twilight Sword. Ah. Don’t you wish you were in my position now? Aren’t you simply longing to have your wicked way with our sweet little Traveller?” 

Dain struggles desperately, the muscles of his shoulders flexing, his eyebrows furrowing and his mouth working at the gag firmly pressed within it. You know that he wants to help you; that Dain would tear Dottore limb for limb for what he is clearly about to do to you, if only he could get himself free. 

But, too, there’s something in his eye that you do not want to admit to.

Shining bright behind the agonised blue is a palpable lust; a desire to be in Dottore’s place. You know that Dain would never hurt you - would never strap you to a table and use you against your will, you’re sure of it - but that look in his eyes makes you shiver. 

“Don’t worry,” Dottore assures him, turning back to you with that wicked smile on his face. “I’ll make sure you get to watch.” 

He eases the way his fingers are keeping you spread apart in order to be able to slowly slide his index finger through the valley of your sex; to wet his glove on all of the slick, to let it gather on his fingertip. He raises that gloved finger to his mouth, tongue darting out to taste you as he tilts his chin back to savour it.

“Ah,” he says, as he tugs his glove off with his teeth. “Forgive me, my dear - I simply must feel you without them.”

His fingertips feel just as cold, as he touches you with them instead of the gloves. Your back arches again, though your own restraints keep you on the bed and stop you from being able to wriggle away from Dottore’s questing fingers even if the sedative hadn’t filled your limbs with honey.

Dottore lets out a soft chuckle at the way your body moves, another chiding click of his tongue. 

“Breathe out,” he advises you, as his finger circles your entrance, as his thumb finds the swollen pearl of your clit and begins to draw slow, firm circles over it. “It will make it easier, sweet thing--”

One of his fingers swiftly presses inside of you, punching the air out of your chest. You hate it, you think - you hate the feel of his slender digits pressing further and further inside of you, the feel of him crooking his knuckle just so that the bone rubs against a spot inside of you that makes you see stars--

It feels good, too. You don’t want it to. You don’t like how the feeling of him inside of you seems to satiate an ache that had started when he had rubbed over the seam of your underwear and kissed you and toyed with your chest. You don’t like that, as a second finger rubs around your entrance in preparation to be put inside of you, your breath catches in excitement at the thought of being stretched further.

“That’s right,” Dottore is murmuring, his own voice a little breathless now as excitement leaks into his tone. “Oh, you’re doing so well, lovely thing. Ah-- you have no idea how good you feel. Like silk . . . Thinking about doing this to you doesn’t at all measure up to the real thing.”

The thought of Dottore having these thoughts about you makes your heart twist. You close your eyes, just so you don’t have to see Dainsleif sitting across from you, watching you with agonised eyes as Dottore’s fingers make you feel a way you didn’t know you could. 

A few more months and perhaps you would have imagined Dain himself doing this to you - something more intimate than the shy, awkward kisses the two of you have so far shared, as Dainsleif silently agonises and worries about his body being tainted and his curse ruining everything that shimmers between the two of you like fragile gossamer. Perhaps then, it would have been slow and careful - Dain waiting for you to give the go-ahead, letting you lead . . .

That choice has been taken from you, now, as two of Dottore’s fingers scissor inside of you to open you up wide and his thumb continues to rub over your clit in firm, sure circles. The way that Dottore touches you would almost be clinical - designed solely to make you feel good, to prepare you for the inevitable stretch of his cock, to make sure that your slickness would provide adequate lubrication for the glide of the same - were it not for the bright mania that fills his grin as he stares down at you, watching your sex swallow his fingers with every wet, slick pump of his wrist. 

That is the look of a man very much enjoying what he’s doing to you. 

“Sweet Traveller,” he murmurs, low and cajoling. “I think you’re going to come for me.”

You have just enough control of your body to toss your head weakly, shaking it from side to side, your hair falling over your face. It does not hide the fact that your cheeks are flushed and your eyes are bright, that your chest is heaving as every rub of his fingers sends brand new sparks of pleasure careening to the middle of your stomach into a hot, tight ball. 

“Oh,” Dottore’s voice is laced with faux sympathy. “That wasn’t me asking, darling. Come for me.”

Another zing; a zap, a pulse, where the Akasha terminal is wrapped about your ear--

And your body twitches and pulses under his command, as the hot tight ball of want inside of you seems to get a signal from the terminal that now is the time to explode. You don’t know how to explain it; the way that your mind seems to contract at the same time as your body, and then you are panting and whining helplessly as shivers rack you underneath Dottore’s twisting wrist, his insistent thumb. 

He lets out a sigh of pleasure as he pulls back, his fingers glimmering wetly with your own orgasm. Again, he lifts them to his mouth; again, you see a sharp flash of teeth as his tongue traces his own digits and he savours the way you taste on his tongue. 

“That’s more than enough,” he says, pleasantly. He looks at Dainsleif, the blond all wide-eyed and desperate and seething with hatred, and gives him another smile that is like the edge of a knife. “Don’t you think so, knight? Ah. Don’t you think it’s time for me to take them fully?”

Dainsleif struggles again, and Dottore laughs like a creaked, rusting hinge on a sharp iron gate.

“I don’t want to hurt them,” he says, syrupy sweet. “Oh, they mean more to me than that. I merely want them to understand how badly I need them . . . and how good I could be for them, too.”

The sedatives in your system do not allow you to fight back; to bare your teeth and growl and tell him you could never imagine how he could possibly be good for you. But though your mind churns with these thoughts, your body is still not quick enough to respond - your veins still weighed down with honey. Too tenderly, Dottore reaches for your face; traces his thumb over your cheekbone.

“We are going to consummate our mutual adoration,” he tells you, and he reaches for his fly. You hear the buttons of his placket undo as if you are somewhere very far away, button sliding through button hole. Dottore sighs happily as he repositions the table and himself, making sure that Dainsleif has an even better view of the way that he slots himself between your thighs. Your breath catches in your throat as you feel Dottore’s cock slap against the bare skin; the wet, slick head of him, as he rubs it over your own soft inner thighs. You burn with humiliation, as the wet pap of him slapping the cockhead against your cunt echoes in Dottore’s workshop, and the Doctor keeps smiling as if he’s enjoying himself terribly.

“How about,” he says, loud enough for Dainsleif to hear it, “before we begin, you tell me what I want to hear, Traveller?”

You blink at him slowly, as he pushes his hips forward, and the head of his cock catches on the ring of your entrance; as your body clenches and puckers, waiting for him to move further forward. You wish he would just get on with it, but at the same time you wish that this wouldn’t happen. If you were fully in control of your body, you’re certain you would be struggling and sobbing and spitting - but you are not.

“Oh,” he murmurs, syrupy sweet. “You don’t know what I mean? Darling, let me say it a little simpler whilst you’re still all addled from me making you come . . . Loud enough for the Twilight Sword to hear, now. Why don’t you tell me you love me?”

You could hear a pin drop in the silence.

It’s not really silent; there’s a buzzing in your ears, there’s a constant hum from the machinery that surrounds you both, there’s the sound of three people breathing within the room, panting and seething and hating . . . but that’s how it feels.

You would never tell this monster you loved him.

But Dottore is still looking at you, his cock still pressing against your entrance, his head still tilted to one side, his mouth still quirked in a smile - and there’s an eager kind of obsession in his gaze, as if he thinks you might actually get the words out--

The pulsing in your ear. The flash across your brain. You can’t breathe; you can’t think, through anything but the sudden desire to tell the Doctor who’s about to ruin you that you love him.

Your tongue is slow. Heavy. Your voice echoes too loud around the room.

“Doctor . . .” Dainsleif lets out a pained whine behind the gag. “I-- I love you--”

“Oh, good-- well done--!”

Dottore pants in wild pleasure at the sound of your voice, the way it sounds desperate and reedy not with hate, but with feeling. He cants his hips forward, still too wild - and your head falls back, a whine escaping your slow-tongued mouth as his entire cock sheaths itself inside of you in excitement.

It’s easier to close your eyes.

You do not want to see Dainsleif, over Dottore’s shoulder - the disappointment and horror and despair that’s written clear across his handsome face. He must have seen the Akasha pulse, he must know that you would never say such a thing of your own volition - but that doesn’t stop the fact that you did say it, and he did hear it. Eyes squeezed shut, the feel of him inside you is all the worse; the way you can sense your body tightening around him, the feel of being stretched wider than you’ve been stretched before.

Dottore’s pants do not let up; there’s a desperation in him that you would never have thought the Doctor possible of - bringing a horrifying kind of truth to all of those things he had said, all of the ways he had stared at you. Perhaps it is more than just lust--

And that makes it all the worse. 

His hips judder against yours in desperation, his white coat rustling as it rubs against your own bare body. One of his hands explores your chest, even as he keeps rutting into you; thumbs pinching at your nipples, palming at your hips and your waist and your chest, as if he cannot truly believe this is happening. 

He is undone, like this; and you cannot quite believe he is letting you see some of those walls fall down. There is no more the strong, smooth Doctor - the one who could raze cities to the ground if he so chose. There is a man; a man who is fucking into you, a man who wants to have as much of your body as he can, a man who seems to want to devour you. 

You cannot believe he made you say that you love him. The Akasha upon your ear feels like a parasite, worming its way into your psyche, taking complete control of you. You think of Dainsleif, forced to watch, and a juddering sob manages to tear itself from your throat. 

Dottore kisses your cheek, the tears catching on his lips, his tongue tracing the saltwater tracks. 

“Don’t fret so, darling,” Dottore murmurs, against the apple of your cheek. “It’s alright . . . Doesn’t it feel good?”

It doesn’t - and it does. You don’t want to admit to the way that his constant thrusting and the grinding of his pelvis against your still-swollen clit are working together to make your insides churn, your body feverishly hot and confused. Your breath comes out in pants that match Dottore’s own. You can’t come for him again, you simply can’t - it doesn’t matter, you try and tell yourself, that there is heat bursting anew in your stomach. That it is not really because of Dottore, but natural biology--

You came earlier, yes, but Dottore told you to; used the Akasha against you. If you came now, without him forcing you to, it does not bear to think about - it doesn’t bear to think about how Dain might react, if he watched you come of your own volition under Dottore’s fucking--

No matter how sternly you try to speak to yourself, one cannot stop biology in its tracks.

Dottore’s pelvis batters against your clit; Dottore’s cock bullies itself mercilessly into you, as if it is trying to make you mould to the shape of him. With each thrust, it rubs against spots inside of you that your own fingers have never been able to reach; ones you had never realised would feel so good. You try and tell yourself, over and over and over, that you will not let yourself come for Dottore.

But your body betrays you.

Your body betrays both yourself and Dain, a man who you had always thought would be the only one to ever do this to you, though you had not let your fantasies yet get further than a hand over your dress, skimming your bare thigh. You come for the second Fatui Harbinger, as he continues to fuck into you with wild abandon - and this time, you do not even have the Akasha to blame it upon. 

Your wrists are still held either side of your head by restraints; all you can do, as the spasms of pleasure resonate out from your sex and into every other part of you, is dig your nails into your palms. All you can do is let out a heavy, slurred whine-moan escape from your parted lips. All you can do is take it - come for the Doctor, the way he always knew you were going to.

“Fuck,” he growls, and his hips double their speed, desperately rutting into you. “I didn’t even have to tell you to, that time - you want me just as badly, don’t you? Oh, sweet thing, don’t worry, I’ll give you everything I have--”

His words are slurred too; he is too far gone within the euphoria of finally being inside of you. His hips rock into you, harder and harder, his cock twitching wildly as he hisses out your name.

He comes inside of you with a wild bite into your bare shoulder, grunting and groaning, more animal than scientist - proof that, beneath it all, he is just a man. He remains there, humming into your skin, his cock softening inside of you. His tongue licks across the bite on your shoulder as if he wants to remember the taste of you.

“Why,” he says, a pleased hum in the back of his throat. His cock twitches. “I think I might even do that again--”

There’s a knock on the door. 

You are still too out of it after what Dottore did to you to register much beyond his frustration that he is being called back to Snezhnaya, now of all times. An awkward assistant, unsure of what they’re supposed to be doing, lingers by Dottore’s side as the Doctor grumbles under his breath and pulls your clothes back on over your bruised body, his come still leaking out from between your thighs.

“I’ll see you again,” Dottore says to you, with a smile, as he brandishes another syringe. “Oh, I won’t be forgetting about how much we shared any time soon, darling. You’ll keep me warm many a cold Snezhnayan night.”

The syringe is brought up to your elbow; the liquid injected directly into the vein once again. You barely have time to wonder what he is injecting you with this time before the heaviness of unconsciousness begins to blur the corners of your vision. 

Dottore strides across the room to Dainsleif, another syringe glowing within his gloved fingers.

Before you slip into oblivion, you watch Dottore roll up Dainsleif’s sleeve, and you hear him say this;

“Now, I’m sending them back with you, Knight - but you won’t soon forget, will you, that they told me that they loved me?”

You slip into the abyss.

You wake back up at the camp you and Dainsleif had established, on the edges of Sumeru, as safe as the two of you could find - as if absolutely nothing has happened. 

Oh, there’s the lingering reminder of Dottore - there’s a soreness to your thighs, there are bites on your shoulders, there’s a muzzy headache from the drugs and the way he had used the Akasha upon you . . . but other than that, there’s nothing. The system itself isn’t even attached to your ear any longer.

Dain, too, has reminders of the ordeal upon him - rope burn on his wrists. A burning look in his eyes when his gaze falls upon you that makes your insides crawl in fear, lest he be disgusted by you now - lest he never want to look at you again. Perhaps, you think wildly, he is going to cast you away - say that the two of you can no longer travel together, accuse you of being damaged goods . . .

It does not end that way.

Dainsleif stares at you across the clearing after waking up, as if he is trying to sort all of his thoughts out. His fingers twitch, his eyes raking over you desperately - and then he has moved, lightning quick, and his arms have wrapped around you and you are being crushed against the weight of his chest.

“I thought . . .” He whispers into your ear, his voice so broken it makes you ache. “Oh, I can’t believe he would . . . I’m so sorry--”

“You couldn’t have done anything,” you whisper to him - relieved to find that your tongue and your throat are once more capable of working. You reach up to touch his face, and Dain groans, torn between leaning into the touch and pulling away as he so often does, so worried that he’s somehow going to taint you.

You’re not sure if you could ever feel more tainted than you do right now.

“I thought I was going to lose you,” his voice cracks. Dainsleif is normally so stoic and solid; you cling to him as you journey through Teyvat, relying on him. Seeing him like this makes you ache.

“You won’t,” you reach for his hand, take it gently and place it over your collarbone, shivering at the touch of his glove on your skin. “See? I’m still here.”

Dain sighs again, his lashes fluttering closed against his sculpted cheekbones. He murmurs your name again, so softly you can barely hear it; and his fingers slide along the imprint of that same collarbone, to your shoulder, until they find the place Dottore had bitten into when he had come.

“I can’t bear seeing his marks on you,” he whispers. “I want to scrub you free of every touch.”

You close your own eyes and let yourself be lulled into Dainsleif’s arms; you let your head rest against his chest, you let yourself be comforted by the familiar scent of him. His fingers don’t stop tracing the bite marks, his touch getting more and more agitated. 

“Dain--” You murmur. You’re suddenly so tired. You know you were just unconscious, but that’s not the same as getting real rest. This morning - or was it this morning? How long were the two of you really with Dottore? How long had it been before Dainsleif had come to find you? Whatever the case, it seems a hundred years ago now. 

You wonder if Dainsleif would mind if you fell asleep on him, right here. 

“Please,” Dain’s lowered his head now. His breath flutters against your ear; delicately tickling your ear. “Let me . . . Let me make sure you’re alright.”

“I’m fine,” you murmur, but it clearly means a lot to Dainsleif, and you do not mind the gentle touch of his hands as they smooth softly over the places Dottore has bitten, the places you have bruised. Dainsleif has lost so many people, after all - you do not blame him for wanting to check on you. You nestle your head under Dain’s chin and he takes a shuddering breath, inhaling the scent of your hair. “Do I still smell like myself?”

“Don’t joke,” his voice breaks. You don’t know how else to cope with it; the thought of Dottore’s hands all over you, the reminder of what the Doctor took from you. Dain’s hand slips under the bodice of your dress.

You go all-over cold, all-over still.

Dainsleif doesn’t even notice. His hand gently travels further down, further down, squeezing the weight of your breast in his hand. Your fingers twitch where they lay against him, cradled as you are in his arms - but Dainsleif is still murmuring to himself now, lost in a frenzy of his own thoughts, and for the first time you feel afraid of him.

“Dain--” You try to say, throat clogged. “Dain, don’t--”

“Please,” he repeats, ragged. “I just . . . I need to touch you. I need to know you’re here. I need to know he didn’t--”

You can’t do this. Your heart jumps into your throat, a sickening thumping beat as Dain’s thumb rubs a circle over your nipple and traitorous body, it responds to him just as it had to Dottore.

You squeeze your eyes shut.

“I love you,” Dainsleif whispers, broken into your ear. “Let me . . . I won’t hurt you . . .”

His other hand, pulling you further into his lap. Holding you spoon-fashion against him, like a lover.

You wouldn’t complain, ordinarily. 

But now . . .

All you want is for him to hold you. All you want is for him, you think, to kiss your forehead and reassure you and take care of you. The way his hands keep travelling over your skin - the other is kneading at the flesh of your thigh now, his breath coming in those same great shuddering pants as if he doesn’t have full control over his own body right now. You whimper aloud as his hand brushes further, further--

You’re not wearing underwear. Not after Dottore had torn it at the seams. 

Dainsleif sighs.

“It killed me seeing him touch you,” he whispers into your hair, dropping a kiss onto the top of your head, disgustingly tender. His fingers are petting at your folds, his arms iron-tight like the ropes that had wrapped around him earlier. He doesn’t notice that you’re trembling; he ignores the soft little entreaties you do manage to get out. 

“I can’t,” you say, as Dainsleif tugs at your nipples.

“Dain--” you whimper, his fingers spreading the lips of your sex apart.

“Not yet,” you beg, as he drops a kiss over the bruising bites Dottore left on your shoulders.

“I wish I could cover you with myself,” Dainsleif says, as he continues to use his mouth and his fingers and acts as though he does not hear a word. “But . . . oh, I don’t deserve you . . . Not yet . . . Please, let me make sure you never think of him again--” 

It’s too much. Too much, too soon, your body churning with feelings and your mind churning with thoughts that you can’t yet put in place, because Dainsleif is touching you and not listening to you and you wonder if this makes him just like Dottore, in his way. 

You think about yourself, in Sumeru City, your smile bright, laughing off his concern - and you think about Dainsleif now, his touch so possessive and so desperate that he’s going to cover the bruises Dottore left with bruises of his own.

“I’ll be fine,” you had said. I can take care of myself. 

Dainsleif takes care of you, when you cannot; when you are injured or sick or lost. You have always had him to rely on; your travelling companion through Teyvat, as you desperately tried to make sense of the world that you have found yourself in. 

Here, though . . . 

You think, as the tears roll down your face, you could do without Dainsleif taking care of you like this. 

[strangebiology]

I think a lot of the people in my life who have expressed disgust or disapproval of my interest in/collection of animal remains have come at it first from the perspective of "but diseases!" like regular uncleanliness stigma. the second most common reaction is that interest in/collection of/comfort with animal remains (to be clear, i collect bones and sometimes preserved tails or pelts and these are the objects in question) is... creepy? and, the people who are most disgusted/creeped out are usually people who by and large dont interact with wild animals or livestock. my friends who are vet techs or who hunt or who practice animal husbandry are more or less unfazed.

(Re: What are actual common attitudes towards animal remains?)

Interesting, thank you!

Now, I'm wondering if people mistake personal discomfort for immorality.

I've mentioned my one video that did get some negative comments, showing the slaughter of a reindeer (you can see it here but I have warnings on it for a reason! Blood and death!) And, I think 90% or so (I suppose I could go count them) are more reasonable.

First, people are mad at the assumption that I killed a reindeer (I did NOT kill it, I just filmed it.) Then, the issue is it's being killed for no reason (it was NOT no reason, it's for food.) Then the method is criticized (this is one of the ONLY legal ways to kill them and it's quicker than it looks because of post-mortem spasms.) Then, when those concerns are disproven, the only issue left is "filming and posting it is sadistic." So...killing was no problem, but showing anyone that their meat came from a death was a problem. (Again, I respect if you don't want to see it! So please heed the warnings unless your desire to know how reindeer are killed outweighs your discomfort with watching a death!)

I wonder if sometimes people are overly focused on prioritizing their own 5-second comfort over things that matter a lot more, but are external to them, and they don't really care about others who they are not currently looking in the face of at all.

This isn't a 100% relevant example, but consider the people who don't want to donate their organs after death. A common reason to forgo something that could save and improve lots of lives is "it sounds gross!" Ickiness really should not be a factor in whether or not to save lives--the donor will never see or feel it, but since it's not their own life being saved, the 5-second icky feeling when checking the "donor" box is suddenly more important than the saved and improved human lives.

I know I shouldn't think too hard about one random experience, but I will always remember this one. I was once at a consumer survey thing for a turkey meat brand, where participants tried the meat and said what we thought about the name, taste, packaging, branding etc. We were instructed to circle what we liked on the branding and cross out what we didn't like.

One participant crossed out the part where it said "humanely raised." I asked if she had made a mistake, or...does she feel like the label is disingenuous or something...? Surely she's pro-humane treatment of animals, right??

"No," she said. "I don't want them to do that. I don't want to think about their lives when I'm eating them, and they don't need to be humane to animals that are going to die anyway." Most of the group agreed. I couldn't help but point and say "YOU'RE gonna die anyway!"

That may have been the first time I encountered a group of people shamelessly agreeing that they would rather animals suffer unnecessarily than think for one second that the animal whose body they are using/eating was ever even alive. Because not feeling guilty about something was infinitely more important to them than any amount of suffering that someone else might experience.

[yourdeepestfathoms]

Various Perrine Headcanons

because i love that silly little moose

NOT a mother figure

In fact, due to the way she grew up, she’s extremely uncomfortable with being treated like one

She does take care of the others, but it’s not in a motherly way

She’s a big sibling to them, and that’s it

Anything more than that makes her very uncomfortable and uneasy

(Personally, I think of Clémmie as the Mom Friend of the group)

To bounce off of that, Kingsley once called her “mom” as a joke, and she got legitimately mad at him

He was like “🧍🏻what”

ANYWAY!

Perfectionist

Does most of the cooking in the group

Doesn’t know how to ask for help, and she mostly shoves away concern

Tries to be the voice of reason, but she’s a total hot-head and gets upset/mad easily

Kingsley loves to poke that bear (moose)

Scared of storms but would rather die than tell anyone that

Likes collecting animal skulls (she names all of them)

The other kids will sleep in her room sometimes, but every time she goes to their room for the same comfort, she stops short and returns to her room, unable to actually ask

She takes being the oldest way too seriously

By that I mean she uses it as an excuse to never let anyone help her or take care of her

She’s trying to get better about that, but it’s hard

Soooooo emotionally constipated oh my god

Sometimes hears humming out in the woods, but she never heeds its call

Also sometimes thinks she sees a looming figure of something tall in the trees surrounding the cottage, but she does the smart thing and closes the curtains

WOULD survive a horror movie tbh

Will fight for the other kids

Cold hands

Very tender-headed

Covers her mouth when she laughs

Really fast and quick on her feet (she’s terrifying at Tag. it’s like being chased by an actual moose) (similarly, she never gets caught at Tag)

Also really good at climbing trees

Now getting down is a different story

Once fell out of a tree, breaking at least three branches underneath her on the way down, and the others actually thought she fucking died

She had this GIANT bruise striped across her stomach for WEEKS, as well as MANY broken ribs, and Cole was so worried because they thought she might have some internal bleeding, too

But she was FINE!

Doesn’t trust doctors (or whatever the whimsy forest version of a doctor is) (physician?)

Not above biting

Doesn’t like when things get too close to her face

Loves when people play with her hair, but she’d rather die than tell anyone that

Will remind Cole to drink water when they’re hyperfocused on writing, then not drink water herself all day

Bites her nails down to the quicks

Gets mad when people mistake her mask for a deer

[farfromstrange]

Just Let Me Love You | Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader (f!Reader heavily implied)

Summary: You're struggling with your body image and Matt notices

Warnings: Angst, TW: allusions to an ED, self-deprecating talk (Reader has internalized fatphobia toward herself), not proof red (I was too emotional for that)

Word Count: 2.1k

A/n: So, my body is changing and I hate it. As someone who was the Fat Funny Friend growing up, I got inspired by the song. Now I wasn't sure if to tag for a plus-sized reader because when I wrote this, I had myself in mind, and I'm not even sure what "category" I fall into, so this is pretty universal and I think any of you who are struggling with body dysmorphia might appreciate this. Heed the warnings before proceeding and don't forget to eat if you haven't already! (Also, I used my tag list to tag for this, but don't read it if this triggers you, please!)

Our brains are wired to function in a certain way. But not every brain is balanced in chemistry. 

For the longest time, she thought there was something seriously wrong with her. She never fit in anywhere, so she tried to make herself fit. Change her attitude, change her behavior, change her hobbies, and change the way she looks. She did it so many times, she lost count. 

She relied on humor, telling funny little anecdotes to make whatever friend group she was a part of at the time laugh at her. But that was all she could do. Make them laugh. She lit up the mood, lit up the room, but she seemingly never lit up anyone’s heart the way her friends did. 

They talked about their relationships, talked about their families and friends, and she played along. She listened. When she talked about her likes, they pretended to care, but within minutes, they lost interest. She thought it just wasn’t that important. Not as important as how beautiful they all were, anyway. And they were striking, she thought. That’s why everyone always chose them and never approached her. But she swallowed it to at least be a part of something. 

She always helped everyone but herself. She was there when no one else was, but even when she was a part of something, she never fully fit in. There was an impossible standard looming over her head, and she couldn’t possibly reach it. 

Don’t be too loud. Don’t be too silly. Don’t say no. Don’t talk about your problems, only listen to everyone else’s. Don’t believe that he wants you because he is too good for you, and all he wants is your best friend who is ten times prettier than you. And don’t believe that personality and humor will get you anywhere; you will end up miserably alone the same way people who look like you always will. 

The same voice, over and over again. Word turning into knives. It was exhausting to fight against the demons within her because they just sounded so damn convincing. 

When she met him, the man who stole her heart, she never thought he would ask her out. When he did, she was dumbfounded. In every possible situation, he found himself assuring her that he wouldn’t drop her for the pretty blonde in the office, or his psychotic ex-girlfriend who just happened to have the most beautiful body known to man. To her, at least. Everyone around him was just so beautiful, and he was even more so–he was the prettiest specimen in the world, and everyone desired him. Of course, she grew insecure. She couldn’t help it. It was a reflex.

She fell in love with a man who finally saw her for who she was and he loved her despite—no, he loved her regardless. For who she was. He took her, accepted her, and began seeing her as the most beautiful person in the world. For the first time, she felt appreciated, loved, and not so miserably alone. 

Yet, the fear continued to linger. The fear that one day, he would notice that perhaps, a woman of average looks wouldn’t be enough for him anymore. That she was, indeed, as unconventionally unattractive as everyone said she was from the first day she actually understood what was being said to her. She was just a child then. 

The funny friend. The awkward friend. The weird one. The girl without real friends. The girl with the silly clothes, the silly smile, the slightly crooked teeth, the belly pouch… The girl who lost weight, the girl who gained weight, and the girl who shouldn’t be so proud of herself because she had nothing to be proud of. 

“Sweetheart?” he asked her, yanking her out of the downward spiral that only continued to get worse over time. “Did you have anything to eat yet?”

He stood in the kitchen, the sleeves of his dress shirt bunched around his elbow. It was hot outside, too hot for her liking, and even his clothes were slightly stained with sweat. 

She looked up from the couch, still wrapped up in a blanket despite the high temperatures, a book resting on her thighs. He met her eyes with a smile. 

“I noticed your leftovers are still in the fridge. Could smell them,” he clarified. “I was just wondering whether that was on purpose or not.”

Worrying fit it better, she thought to herself. He always worried too much. 

She closed her book. “I might’ve forgotten,” she said as if it was the most natural thing in the world. 

His eyebrows furrowed. “You forgot?” There was a hint of amusement in his voice, but it never reached his eyes. 

“Yeah. I probably got too caught up reading or something. It’s no big deal. I’ll eat later. Or drink another latte.”

He hummed. “You know, iced coffee is not considered a healthy diet. Your body needs fuel.”

“Jesus Christ, Matt,” she raised her voice, “I’m okay!”

“You don’t look okay,” he stated as a matter of fact. 

“And how would you know?”

“I just do.”

He approached, his muscles straining against his shirt. It wasn’t fair, how good he looked. How well he carried himself. And he still had the audacity to look at her and tell her she had much more going for herself than just her humor. That she was beautiful. Pretty enough. 

“Hey,” Matt lowered himself on the couch beside her, “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, huh?”

“I forgot to eat, I told you,” she said.

“I don’t believe you.”

“But it’s the truth.”

“Not if you did it on purpose.”

The book landed on the coffee table and she got up, pacing the small space of their shared apartment in the heart of Hell’s Kitchen. He could hear her heartbeat pounding against her ribcage, the pent-up tears, and the tension, and he wanted nothing more than to reach out. But he waited. He gave her the space she needed to collect her thoughts.

“I forgot,” she repeated. “At first. And then I just happened to pass by a mirror and…and I looked at myself. I mean, really looked at myself.”

“Oh–” He sighed. “Baby…”

“I’m smaller when my stomach is empty, you know. And I thought it wouldn’t hurt me to, uh…cut back a little?”

He was about to respond, but she cut him off. “I don’t mean that I’m starving myself. I just…I forgot to eat, and then, when I remembered, I remembered what I saw and I was just…I’m not hungry anymore. I…I don’t think it’s a big deal. I’m not doing it on purpose, I’m just…”

She stopped pacing. She met his unfocused hazel eyes that held so much pain when he looked at her. He reached out, not saying a word, and she extended her shaky fingers toward the lifeline he was throwing. 

“Oh, God,” she whispered. She realized then why he looked so hurt. “It’s getting bad again, isn’t it?”

The question hung in the room as he pulled her toward himself. 

She didn’t protest when he pulled her back onto the couch, his arms engulfing her and pulling her back against his sturdy chest.

“What makes you think that you need to hurt yourself to fit some unrealistic beauty standard?” he asked softly, his voice merely a breath tickling her ear. 

She whimpered, not wanting to answer. 

“What makes you think that not being healthy is the solution to the way you see yourself? Wouldn’t that just make it worse?”

“I just…” She took a deep breath. “I just… I just want to be enough.”

“But you are enough,” he answered in a heartbeat, placing his hand on her neck and turning her face to him. He missed her face with his gaze, but she could still feel him in every fiber of her being as he sat there and felt her pulse, and she matched her breathing to his. 

A tear rolled down her cheek. “You don’t understand what it’s like,” she whispered back. “You don’t understand what it’s like to be only seen as the comedic relief in every relationship you have ever been in while your friends pulled the guys you wanted. Because they never wanted you, and they never saw competition in you either because you were just never the center of anyone’s attention.”

He was silent for a moment. The taste of her tears reached his tongue, and he visibly recoiled at the pain she held inside of her. Matt pulled her closer, holding her a little tighter. She melted. 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of leaving her to deal with her thoughts, he placed his lips against her ear again. “You’re the center of my attention,” he said. “Of my world. My universe. And I couldn’t care less about the way you look.”

“That’s because you’re blind,” she shot back, a sob rippling through her body. 

He shook his head. “No. Those who reduce you to your looks are blind, and they don’t even deserve you in the first place. What matters most is this–” his large hand found its way onto the left side of her chest, above her heart. “What’s in here is what makes you beautiful, not what covers the outside.”

“But that’s not enough, is it?”

“To me, it is.”

“Not to me, Matthew. Like I said, you don’t get it.”

She struggled against his grip, but he wouldn’t let her go. “Then let me rephrase it,” he tried again, pressing his hand further against her chest. “I care more about who you are inside because I love you. But I don’t need sight to appreciate your physical beauty along with the sound of your heartbeat. Your breathing. Your touch. You know why?”

She shook her head. “Enlighten me.”

“Because I can feel you, sweetheart, and you are the most breathtaking human being I have ever had the pleasure of laying my hands on.”

If words were enough to make a person pass out, this would surely have been her breaking point. 

“You mean that?” She turned around, her tears now glistening with a taste of hope. 

He brushed them away with his thumb and nodded. “Every last word.”

Her eyes fluttered closed at the ghost of his touch. “I don’t like my body,” the admission came quietly.

In response, Matt nodded. “I know, but you have nothing to be ashamed of. That body deserves to be loved. You deserve to be loved.”

“I feel like…like I don’t deserve you. I don’t want you to leave me for…for Karen.”

The mention of her name caused him to frown. “Karen?” he asked. She nodded. He sighed, forcing her head to his chest, forcing her to listen to his heartbeat the same way he always did to her. “Don’t even think like that,” he told her. “I would never leave you for someone else. For no one, for nothing. I need you to stop assuming that, sweetheart. It’s not true.”

“It feels true,” she cried. 

His lips brushed the crown of her head. “But it isn’t.”

“But–”

“I love you,” he said, a bit more insistent this time. “Only you. I would rather die than never be with you again. And I mean that. Bring me the poison and I’ll prove it to you. I’ll get on my knees and worship the ground you walk on if that’ll make you believe me, but I won’t leave you.”

She clung to him, her nails digging into his shirt. Matt shushed her, his fingers brushing through her hair. The rhythm was soothing. 

She sobbed until she had nothing left to give. She cried because she knew he was right. She knew she was overthinking, but she was powerless to fight it. He was the only one who could open her eyes, and even then, she more often than not slipped away. She hated it. She hated the way her brain was wired, the things she was taught, and the things she continuously and wrongly kept teaching herself. 

Eventually, though, she slacked in his arms. 

“I don’t really like myself right now,” she confessed. “But I don’t know how to stop it.”

Matt chuckled softly, his chest rumbling. He tilted her chin up. “Then let me help you,” he said. 

“How?” she asked. 

He leaned down, his lips brushing against hers in a gentle kiss. “Just let me love you.” 

Tagging from Matt Murdock Tag List: @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @linamarr @itwasthereaminuteago @mattkinsella @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @ravenclaw617 @thychuvaluswife @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten

[megamindsecretlair]

Foolish

*Heed warnings*

Pairing: Jatemme Manning x Bratty!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. PWP, Filth, cursing, PIV, size kink, mentions of violence, gun use, drug use, brat reader. Reader does get turned on by violence, if this disturbs you click away. All consensual. Established relationship. Heavy use of n-word.

Summary: You are tired of being Jatemme's arm candy. Forever guarded and without 100% of his attention. As the race for Alderman heats up, you're at a fundraising event when you grow bored and decide to test Jatemme's devotion.

Word Count: 3,494k

A/N: I was a little unhinged writing this, so it was written in a bit of a daze. Please let me know what ya'll think about this one. I can't find the ask where people expressed interest so don't be mad at me if I didn't tag you! I'm sorry! I'm also not married to the moodboard, so it might change. Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Taglist: @planetblaque @blowmymbackout @browngirldominion @sageispunk @harmshake @amethyst09 @ciaqui @we-outsiiiide @iv0rysoap @thecookiebratz @blackerthings

You were bored. Just because you told your man to leave you alone, didn’t mean you actually wanted him to do it. Why couldn’t niggas ever listen? What’s so hard to understand? “Leave you alone” obviously meant to give you attention?

You were at a fancy event for Jatemme’s brother, Jamal, who was running for Alderman. Snooze fest. Jatemme promised that you weren’t going to be here long. That you’d only have to sit like a doll for an hour tops, before he took you shopping and out to eat.

One hour turned to three and you were still sitting at Jamal’s table, surrounded by Jatemme’s crew while Jamal and Jatemme did business. You scanned the room for your man but didn’t find him. 

You did see Jamal who was hard to miss. He was the type to walk into the room like he owned it and as if everyone owed him money for it. Jatemme was quieter, but deadlier. He instantly drew you in with his sleepy eyes, soft umber skin, and intense presence. His darkness called to something within you and never let go. 

The relationship wasn’t without its up and downs. You liked to keep him on his toes. Get him to have a little fun. He always followed in Jamal’s shadow when it was Jatemme that did most of the work. Most of the planning. Most of the ideas. 

You sighed, loudly once more, and turned briefly to your table to sip your nasty ass champagne. Fucking politicians. Pretending like they weren’t all into something dirty, getting over on the little guy. Namely Black folk. 

Jatemme’s crew gave you funny looks. They knew better than to touch you or stare too hard. But you often caught them looking at your body and your too short dresses. They also hated your attitude. Jatemme made you swear to stop messing with them. It was hard to find good help when you were constantly flirting with them and he was constantly killing them over it.

Maybe that was Jatemme’s problem. Now that Jamal was running for Alderman, there was a public scrutiny on the family business. Jatemme doesn’t have free rein to do as he pleased now. Go wherever he wanted. Do whatever he wanted. 

You sighed once more and checked your phone. You texted your best friends in your group chat, that you were bored and in desperate need of fun.  Misty immediately texted you back and told you to meet them at a club not too far from there. That was exactly what you needed. 

You looked over at the crew of four burly men and stood up. One of the them, Martin, stood up as well prepared to follow you. “No need, Marty, I’m just going to the little girl’s room,” you said and smiled sweetly. 

Martin gave you a blank stare. He adjusted the suit jacket over his thick arms and put his hands in his pockets. “You know the rules,” he said. 

You kept your sweet smile, knowing that your lips were glossed just so to catch the light overhead. That your champagne colored dress hugged your figure just right. The night was young and you were wasting it by being arm candy. 

“You gonna follow me into the bathroom and hold my purse too? I don’t think Jay would like that,” you sang. 

Martin looked towards the other men who looked everywhere but at him. They did not want that particular smoke. Decisions, decisions. Martin cleared his throat. “Come right back,” he said. 

You smiled. “Of course. You all act like I’m not an angel,” you said. The men wisely didn’t comment. You turned and sashayed out of the room, already done with the entire night. You didn’t see your man and you didn’t care at the moment. 

You waited until you left the hotel ballroom before pulling out your phone. You ordered an Uber on your way out to the front. People from the reception had spilled out into the hallway, discussing things that they didn’t want others overhearing, even by accident. 

You passed by stick figure women in dark red, blue, or black dresses, pointy shoes, and stiff upper lips. You passed by men in their penguin suits, pretending to give a shit. The total wealth combined in the room could help everyone in the Ward but they held onto it like gremlins. 

It made you sick.

You went outside, shivering slightly from the bite of cold. When your Uber arrived, you didn’t even look back towards the hotel. It was almost criminal how easy it was to slip your chains. Further proof that this shit was getting stale and you might be headed towards another break from Jatemme. Let him sit and stew over what he would miss before he came crawling back with gifts, kisses, and that big dick of his. 

You grinned as you texted Misty that you were on your way. She texted back with plenty of emojis, some of them skulls, because she already knew that Jatemme was going to blow his lid. Let him.

It didn’t take long to reach the rougher areas of Chicago. Almost literally down the street from the glitterati, the houses weren’t as nice. The grass not so green. Fences and bars on the windows. Corner boys selling dope in baggy jeans and oversized T-shirts. 

The club was set back from the street to allow for a little more parking. You got out and Misty met you outside. She hugged you with many squeals and jumping up and down. “Slipped the doom patrol?” She asked. 

Misty was gorgeous, with deep, dark skin and microbraids twisted into two buns atop her head. She was a thick, curvy girl who was always quick with a laugh. She immediately ushered you inside. You turned off your phone. Make Jay sweat a little bit. 

You spent the entire night dancing with your girls and getting drunk on your favorite drink. All of the songs were hitting, back to back. A mix of 2000s and 2010s music. The good shit that demanded you dance right this instant. 

Plenty of dusty ass niggas tried to pull you into a dance and you pushed them all away. It cost to put hands on you. It cost to be in your presence. Ain’t nobody getting shit for free. 

By the time the club called for last drinks, you were tapped out. You were not wearing the proper shoes for dancing in the club. You were shocked that you lasted as long as you did. And yeah, you missed your man. You were a little drink, a lot horny, and you just wanted to be fucked at this point and put to sleep. 

You walked out, hanging onto your friends. One of them, Kiki, was the lightweight. She was dragged between two friends while she muttered something. You giggled and walked with them to their car. 

Rounding the corner, there were a group of guys passing a joint between them. They wolf-whistled as you passed by. One of them sure was fine. Tall, bald, with a thick luscious beard that covered the lower half of his face. You wondered what he’d look like with your juices dripping from it. 

You didn’t condone cheating. But if you were on a break…

You smiled at him as you passed, tossing your hair over your shoulders. “Gahh damn, lil mama, where you headed?” He asked.

You giggled and kept walking with your girls. It was nice to be wanted. You turned your phone on while your friends tried to get Kiki into the car and not entertaining the men by the building. 

As it turned on, messages flew in with loud dings and flashes across your screen. You had…quite a lot of missed calls from Jatemme. Angry texts too. You appreciated that he never called you out of your name when he was angry, but he had plenty of other colorful ways to show his displeasure. Like calling you by your real name. Ew. 

He was good and pissed that you left. That your phone was off. He promised hell, fire, and damnation when he finally caught up to you. You pictured him driving around fuming. His sleepy eyes narrowed even further. The cute way his nostrils would flare and the vein that pulsed in his neck. 

You were getting wet just thinking about it. The sex would be immaculate tonight. You sighed dreamily as you went through his unhinged text messages. 

“Bitch! Help? Hello?” Misty called out. You giggled and moved towards the car, pushing at Kiki’s big ass head to get into the car. Misty slammed the door in her face and sighed as if she’d been wrestling a bear. 

She faced you with a small grin before her eyes darted behind you. The sexy bald headed man approached you, licking his lips and looking you up and down. He held out his hand when he was near enough. 

“I had to come introduce myself,” he said.

“I appreciate that. But I’m too high-maintenance for you, boo,” you said. You flirted with the idea of being responsible for another man’s death, but he was too cute to sacrifice for your own dastardly enjoyment. There were so few, gorgeous Black men these days. The 90s had all the fine men. They were long gone now. God just wasn’t building them like that no more. 

“I like a little high-maintenance,” he said. 

You laughed. Said no man ever. “I’m the type to empty accounts,” you said and smiled. 

“I got several. Pick one,” he said. He looked you in the eye as he said it and made you reevaluate him as a whole. He was dressed nice in dark plaid slacks, black polo, with a big watch on his wrist. Nothing too flashy, but enough that it convinced you he wasn’t another broke nigga. 

You were considering his offer, wondering how you could prove that he was for real and not just trying to get into your panties. Squealing tires tore your gaze away from the man as you saw Jatemme’s truck flip a bitch into oncoming traffic and speed into the parking lot. 

“Shit. You better run before my man catch you talking to me,” you said, though he probably already saw you. 

“I ain’t scared,” the man said. Bless his little heart. 

“Nigga, I’m trynna protect you. Leave, now,” you said, shooing him away from you and your girls. Maybe you could convince Jatemme that the man was trying to flirt with Misty. You turned behind you, but Misty held her hands up.

“I ain’t trynna die for your Black ass,” she said. 

“Bitch!” You screamed, but you couldn’t stay serious for long. You grinned and shook your head. Before the truck had a chance to come to a full stop, Jatemme and crew hopped out, grabbing guns from their waistbands. 

“They got guns!” Someone called out. The parking lot emptied with a speed only achieved in the hood. Too many people who knew the consequences of a stray bullet and weren’t trying to lose their lives over it. Some brave souls remained, peeking behind cars and around the building into the additional parking in the alleyway.

You couldn’t help it. Your thighs tingled. Your heart skipped a beat seeing Jatemme climb out of the driver’s seat with that slow, menacing gait of his. His eyes were glued on you as he walked towards you.

The cutie remained, like he would really stand in front of a bullet for you. You couldn’t give him any more warnings. You couldn’t save him from his own stupidity. Jatemme stopped a few feet in front of you.

His face was deceptively calm. He crossed his arms in front of him, Glock on display. His crew formed a formidable wall behind him. Martin sported a darkening bruise on his cheek and you only felt slightly bad for getting him into trouble. At least he was still alive. That was something. 

You bit your lip and giggled nervously. “Hi, baby,” you said. 

“Did he touch you?” Jatemme asked. His voice. God, you could listen to that voice recite the dictionary and you’d listen to every word. 

You shifted your footing. “Nope. Never seen this man before,” you said.

“Aye, if you’re in trouble…” The man said. Martin, being the closest, lifted his gun into the man’s face. The gun was pressed to his temple and the man audibly gulped. 

“Did he touch you?” Jatemme asked once more.

You looked him in the eye. “No.” 

“Get the fuck out of here,” Jatemme said to the man. The man looked at you, but you knew better than to acknowledge his presence. You heard his friends calling for him, telling him not to be a hero, not to lose his life over some bitch. 

The man backed away, keeping his eye on Martin and the shiny gun in his face. Jatemme jerked his head and you sighed, following behind him. If he was going to take you away, he was beyond angry. Maybe you actually worried him this time. That wasn’t your intention. You wanted to scare him a little, not worry him. 

You waved goodbye to your friends. They shot you alarmed glances, but you told them that Jatemme never raised a hand to you. Never. He liked getting his revenge in other ways.

He opened the door for you and you climbed into the front seat. He got into the driver’s seat, peeling away from the club so fast, he probably sprayed everyone with rocks and gravel. He didn’t speak. He drove through the quiet streets, heading back towards the hotel you escaped from.

“Baby–”

Jatemme held up a hand like he didn’t want to hear it. You bit your lip. You really stepped in it now. Was it bad that you were turned on? Punishment shouldn’t be this exciting and yet, your mind raced through what he had planned. How he was going to show that he cared for you. 

He pulled to the front of the hotel and tossed the valet his keys. The gun was tucked away into his jeans. Fancy events didn’t mean he had to be the one who dressed up. He did have a clean, sky blue shirt buttoned to the very top. He opened the door and let you out. 

He didn’t speak while he pushed you inside, the event well and truly over by now. He didn’t speak as you rode the elevator in crushing silence and velvet flooring muffling your heels. He didn’t speak as he got out onto the twelfth floor, leading you to a suite you didn’t know he got for the night. 

Once inside, you gasped. There was a bottle of wine chilling in a bucket. Low lighting made the room glow like looking through a piece of glass at twilight. “You did all this for me?” You asked.

“If you would have behaved yourself,” he said.

The suite was big enough to have a full living room with couches and armchairs, shiny mahogany coffee table, and a wide screen TV. Behind a set of double doors, there was a bed already turned down, waiting for you to climb in. 

You pouted. Your man was so sweet sometimes, it made your heart ache. He didn’t always show this softer side. The side that liked snuggling up to trashy movies late at night, snacking in bed, and enjoying each other’s company. 

“Do you have any idea how worried I was?” He asked. His voice was barely above a whisper. Enough to get his point across. You truly had worried him. 

You turned to him with an apology on your lips but he was already invading your space. He grabbed your face and pulled you into a rough kiss, slanting his lips across yours as if he meant to stake a claim. Prove a point. You belonged to him. There was no way of getting out of it. No way of running. 

You gripped onto him tightly. “I hate when you worry me like that,” he said. 

“You promised,” you whined. 

His lips returned to kissing you, looking for the zipper on your side to unzip you from the dress. When he couldn’t find it, he began to rip it with his bare hands. “Hey!”

“I’ll buy you more,” he said. His lips returned to kissing you. More like possessing you. He kissed you like he wanted to meld your bodies together to keep you by his side. This was what you needed. What you had been craving all night. 

Your bra and panties went next, baring you completely to him. He wasn’t in it to admire your body right now though. You knew him. He had been worrying about you all night and needed to see you. Feel you. Make sure that you really were in front of him and not a figment of his imagination. 

He turned you around and slapped your ass. You screamed out, jumping away from the sharp sting. He pushed you towards the deep gray couch and bent you over the back of it. It dug into your tummy but you were too turned on to notice the pain. 

He unzipped his zipper and freed himself with a low groan, spreading your ass cheeks and rubbing his dick through your wet folds. Your hands feebly gripped onto the couch cushings, fingers digging into the linen. 

Once his tip was good and wet, he stuffed you and you cried out from the burn of his girthy dick pushing into you. Your eyes crossed. He felt too good to contain to a single moan. You yelled out without abandon, not caring who heard you. If the neighbors complained, Jatemme would handle that too. 

His strokes were bruising, punishing, near cruel as he slammed into you over and over. “You and this fucking attitude gon’ kill me,” he groaned. His fingers grabbed hold of your hips and slammed you back onto his dick. Like his strokes weren’t enough. Like you weren’t moving fast enough for him.

“Oh baby, oh fuck–I’m sorry!” You cried out.

“No, you not,” he said. No, you were not. You’d do everything all over again if he meant that his attention was back on you. That his hands were back on you. That his dick was inside you, spearing you, driving you to new pleasures each and every time. 

Your feet were scrambling for purchase. He didn’t care. He fucked you like you were no more than a toy to stick his dick in. One hand reached behind you to push against his chest. His shirt slipped between you so he lifted it and brought his flesh flush with yours. Then, he grabbed your outstretched hand and pulled it behind you, resting on your back while he used the new position as a new anchor. His strokes grew deeper, more desperate. 

“I catch you talking to another nigga and I’ma kill him,” Jatemme whispered harshly.

“Yes, baby,” you moaned. You’d seen him kill niggas for far less. For daring to turn their neck in your direction. He once told you that if he could blind the male population of Chicago, he would. 

“Oh fuck!” You screamed out, crying through your punishing orgasm. 

Jatemme grunted in satisfaction. “That’s your first one for the night. I hope you’re keeping count,” he said. 

“Baby, wait…” You grunted between his deep thrusts. 

“Like you made me wait tonight?” He asked. He yanked on your hair, forcing you to look back at him. You stared into his eyes while he filled you up with his cum. He came with a low, grumbling moan that shook your inner walls. 

Your mouth dropped open as his dick pulsed and twitched. Your legs were jelly, kept standing by pure force by him. His will to keep you spread open for him ensured that you were a vessel for his dick. His own personal fucktoy. 

He made you cum two more times while your neck was craned, looking back into his soulful eyes. You ran out of curse words to shout to the heavens. Your eyes ached from the way they rolled. Your essence mixed with his spend dripped down your legs in a slow river that tickled your legs.  

He finally slipped out, giving you a bit of a break. You huffed, legs shaking, arms weak. He picked you up and carried you to the bed, spreading your legs open once more. He fisted his dick, jerking the length of it while he looked at your destroyed pussy leaking with his cum.

“Hope you didn’t plan on sleeping tonight,” he said with a small grin. 

You panted with a nervous giggle. He proved throughout the rest of the night just how much he missed you and made you promise not to do it again. Well, at least not anytime soon.

The end.

There will be more! The Secret Jatemme Files

[perlelune]

Tag, You’re It | Ethan Landry | vii.

Happy, carefree college days meet their abrupt end when every guy who approaches you mysteriously turns up dead.

Warnings: NON-CON, Stalking, Bimbo!Reader, Clueless Reader, Loss of Virginity, Incel Ethan, Cheerleader Reader, Skin Carving (w/knife), Canon Typical Slashing, Voyeurism, Kidnapping, Forced Masturbation, Filming, Blackmail

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

The brightness of the floodlights beaming across the stadium rivals that of the stars' peppering the sky. The bleachers are packed, students waving and cheering from the crowd at the lined up players. 

Tension hangs in the air, so thick and palpable you feel the weight of it clogging your airways. 

Shaking your shoulders and strengthening your spine, you rush to join the other cheerleaders at the edge of the field. 

The minute she notices you, Alana makes a beeline for you, her blonde ponytail swinging from left to right and her forehead creased with a deep wrinkle of displeasure. 

You go still and keep your gaze low as she approaches. A lion might cower beneath the sharp coolness of her glare. 

If anyone can make someone flinch with her eyes alone, it's Alana. 

"Where the hell were you?" she blurts out without ceremony, sternly planting herself before you with her arms crossed.

Words stumble out of you in a nervous heap.

"I-I ran into a friend and-" you start but she interrupts you with a dismissive wave of her immaculately manicured hand. 

"Nevermind, the game’s about to start," she says, gripping her temple and releasing a deep, irritated sigh. She squints and mutters below her breath, "Just because I moved you from flyer to backspot doesn’t mean you get to slack off."

Your heart pinches at that. After Halloween night, nothing was the same. While Alana agreed to let you remain a member of the squad, she shifted your position when the rumors about you being in cahoots with Ghostface spread around campus like wildfire. 

She didn’t want you to sully the squeaky clean image of the team. So you were relegated to the bottom of the pyramid where you could blend in and not bring too much attention to yourself.

You don’t mind it excessively. The looks people give you are one thing. You’ve learnt to brush off the unfortunate scrutiny. 

But being part of the team…it’s the one thing in your life you’re actually good at. 

Damn near everything else, you have spectacularly failed at. 

Cheerleading makes you feel good about yourself. 

You don’t want to lose that. 

Lisa tosses a questioning glance your way, green eyes flicking to Ethan up in the bleachers, diligently snapping pictures. 

He notices you peering up at him and smiles at you but, unlike every other time, it doesn’t quite reach his eyes and he quickly looks away. 

When your focus settles on Lisa again, confusion etched on features, your heart sinks. 

You mouth the word 'later' to her. As she nods at you, your stomach knots at the prospect of the conversation ahead.

If only you could tell her now, rip the band-aid…but the game's about to start. 

You held high hopes for it to work out. Lisa was voted 'hottie of the month' more times than anyone else on the team. 

Everyone who meets her instantly falls for her charm and stunning looks. 

She also has many hobbies outside of cheerleading, from video games to card games you couldn’t understand anything about if you tried your hardest. 

You thought she and Ethan would click and make such an amazing couple. 

It never occurred to you he might already like someone else. You can’t remember getting a glimpse of him with any girl no matter how much you scratch your mind to recall. 

Now your curiosity is piqued about this mystery girl.

Ethan sounded so taken with her. 

She must be quite the girl to have stolen his heart like that, probably as cool and smart as he is. 

Maybe you could try to set them up instead. 

You're still hell-bent on figuring out a way to thank him for how much he's been there for you lately.

Helping him gather the courage to pursue the girl of his dreams could be one way to do that.

Alana claps her hands, her attention pivoting to the whole team, the other girls’ tense expressions mirroring yours. "Everyone, showtime!" she finally announces.

Thoughts vacate your mind as you lift your pom-poms and concentrate on performing the routine to perfection. You don’t miss a single step, losing yourself to the beat played by the band.

You can’t help but bask in pride when you land a perfect pirouette, never faltering once. 

Everything’s right again. Simple and easy. 

The thrill of the game. The bated breath each time the opposite team tilts the odds in their favor. 

The rush of victory. 

Victory.

Before you know it, the game’s over and the elated clamor of the crowd is filling the stadium. 

Amidst the overflow of joy erupting around you, Tyler fights his way through the crowd to reach you. 

He’s still in his football uniform when he effortlessly lifts you from the ground and whirls you in the air.

"You’re my good luck charm, gorgeous," he beams. 

You laugh as your head spins. "Ty, put me down."

He does as you say, keeping his hands on your waist to steady you when your feet touch the grassy floor again. 

"Sorry," he chuckles. "Got carried away."

As he bends over you and his lips graze your cheek, your stomach flutters. 

He rears back, blushing while holding your hands. "I’m sorry. Was that okay?"

Mouth agape, you blink up at him. "It’s totally okay," you stammer, heat rising in your cheeks. 

You’d missed that feeling, the simplicity of casual flirtation and having a crush. 

The euphoric bubble is popped when your gaze locks with Lisa’s in the background. As you watch her go back inside, your chest twinges. 

You squeeze Tyler’s hand apologetically. 

"Can we pick that up later?"

He gives a swift nod, his bright grin intact. 

"Of course. You’re coming to the OKB house to celebrate, right?"

"Maybe not. My friends and I kind of had plans."

He cups the side of your face. 

"Okay. What about Saturday night then? We can do dinner and a movie." He pauses and studies you. "I’m just not about games. I like you and I’d love to take you out sometime, that’s all."

His straightforward admission curves your lips skyward. But the smile on your face quickly dies as a chill blooms at the base of your spine, scattering outward and freezing you in your spot. 

Sucking a sharp breath, you whirl and inspect your surroundings.

You’re astonished to find nothing barring the excited people celebrating around you. 

You could have sworn you felt…something. 

Like someone watching you. 

The strange sensation clings to you as Tyler inquires, his tone rife with concern, "Is something wrong?"

You shake your head and slot a wobbly smile onto your face. 

"Uh…not at all. I’m free on Saturday," you chime. 

"Awesome. I’ll text you the details."

You hum your approval and he brushes another soft kiss on your cheek. 

Part of you is over the moon. You’ve wanted this for weeks since Tyler and you started hanging out. 

But something is off, though you can’t pinpoint what. A wrongness you can’t define or explain. 

Even as you stroll down the hallways toward the girls’ locker room, your nerves are frazzled, thrumming in alert. 

It’s been weeks since you’ve been this tense. Since…him.

"You’re coming, babe?" Mindy says, grabbing your hand as she runs into you in the hallway. 

Anika’s by her side and gives you a tight hug. "Hey, it’s been a minute," she observes.

You can’t deny that. Between cheer practice, Ethan tutoring you and all the assignments you need twice as much time than everyone else to complete…you’ve neglected hanging out with your friends. 

Before you can open your mouth to explain, Mindy rolls her eyes. "It’s because she spends all her time with Ethan now."

Anika giggles as your best friend pretends to gag at the mere mention of Ethan’s name. 

Usually, you’d respond to her antics but you’re too distracted tonight. 

Besides, there’s a conversation you need to have as soon as possible, much as you dread it. 

"Don’t wait for me. I’ll catch up," you tell Mindy before making your way to the girls’ locker room. 

Chad tries to stop you on the way to share his excitement but you promise him you’ll see him later. While disappointment paints his features, he lets you go.

Ethan’s nowhere to be seen and you remember about the trash he mentioned before the game. Your brow furrows in befuddlement. What an odd time to pick to handle his garbage. You suppose Ethan’s just this obsessive about having a clean space. Maybe he’s one of those ODC people. 

Gnawing on your lip, you sluggishly drag your feet inside the changing room. Most of the girls are wrapped in bubbly chatter, the excitement of the night coating the air. 

You clear your throat and sit on the bench near one particular redhead with a dour look on her face. 

Twiddling your fingers, you clear your throat before trembling words spill out of you. 

"Hey, Lisa. So I-"

She cuts you off while buttoning her shirt, "Don’t bother. I can already tell from your face."

Your brows draw together.

"My face?"

"Yeah, you just…you wear your heart on your sleeve, you know?" Her voice cracks as her mouth twists in a hollow smile. "He said no, didn’t he?"

Your shoulders sag. "I’m so sorry."

She flips her hair and releases a heavy sigh. 

"Don’t be. Plenty of fish in the sea and all that." She picks up her backpack and stands, hands on her hips. "Bummer, but it is what is."

"He said he already likes someone else," you explain, hoping to soften the blow. 

She gives you a pointed glare before scoffing, "Someone else, huh?" She exhales and folds her arms. "Do me a favor…Let him down easy, will you?"

Your lashes bat as you tilt your head sideways. "What do you mean?"

She sighs again and sidles closer to you to gently cradle your face.

"Sweetie, there aren't a lot of girls Ethan hangs out with…"

Your confusion grows tenfold. You noted that too. Was she trying to hint at the identity of the mystery girl? Did she figure it out before you could?

"Uh?"

Lisa scrutinizes you before an acrid laugh peals from her lips.

"I envy you sometimes, you know," she says, letting go of your face as a forlorn smile pulls her lips. "Maybe if I were more like you…I wouldn’t feel as crappy as I do right now."

"Lisa…"

She takes a step back when you reach for her, flashing you a huge grin. 

"I’ll see you at practice. Thanks for trying."

Lisa leaves and you change out of your cheerleading outfit and back into a regular one. You elect to shower at home on the way to meet up with your friends, too down in the dumps to properly bask in Alana congratulating you for your performance tonight after giving her usual post-game captain speech. 

As you gather your things from your locker, preparing to leave, your phone rings. 

You scowl at the unknown caller ID, picking up without much thought.

"Hello?"

"I thought we had something special. I’m so disappointed in you, princess," a distorted, tragically familiar baritone rumbles on the other end of the line.

Your heart drops to your feet. 

"I didn’t do anything. Please…" you whimper, tears already collecting in your eyes. 

You thought you were done with him…or rather that he was done with you. After giving him what he asked, you thought you were off the hook. 

You were so stupid.

Ghostface unleashes a sinister laugh, turning your blood to ice. 

"Didn’t do anything? Giving away what’s mine to some lame alpha bro. Opening your legs for some dickhead who doesn’t deserve you."

You sniffle, your fingers quaking around the phone.

"We haven’t done anything, I swear."

"Good…And you never fucking will."

His foreboding inflection makes your insides wrench. Abruptly, the call ends. 

Your phone clatters to the ground as you rush outside, tears streaming down your face. Every single thought in your head is turned to Tyler and the danger he’s in. 

You don’t get far, pandemonium unleashing around you as you leap into the hallway. Panicked students bump into you. You zigzag through them as the thunderous beats of your heart grow louder in your ears. 

A frantic scream reaches you from the other end of the hallway. 

"Somebody calls an ambulance," they shout. "Ghostface shanked one of the players in the shower."

Your eyes go wide as you stumble and collapse, the room swiveling off its axis through the veil of your tears. 

~

[trashcanlore]

Kabbalah in the Worldbuilding of Genshin Impact; Part 2: Descending to the Garden

Written by Sabre (@paimoff on twitter) and Schwan (@abyssalschwan on twitter)

This theory assumes you’ve completed the Fontaine Archon Quests, as well the Narzissenkreuz questlines. If you haven’t, you will be a) very confused and b) very spoiled. 

A Tale of Four Descenders 

Four entered the pardes (orchard/garden)...one looked and died, one looked and went mad, one looked and cut down the saplings (apostatized), and one came in peace and left in peace [1]. 

This Jewish legend appears in multiple locations throughout the Talmud and its commentaries, and is associated with two pre-Kabbalah schools of Jewish mysticism known as Merkabah (chariot) and Hekhalot (palaces) mysticism. Both depicted visions of the throne of God (chariot) and the heavenly palaces, and provided instructions for how one might ascend to heaven to receive some kind of revelation or knowledge. The orchard/garden represents esoteric Torah (Jewish law) knowledge; this is why the euphemism for apostatizing is to “cut down the saplings.” (I know he says “blasphemy” (which is different), but this is reminiscent of what Dottore says at the end of Winter Night's Lazzo.)

The pardes legend first appears as a warning to scholars about the consequences of teaching about the “chariot” to disciples who are not ready. Though it's not mentioned in this specific text, this process of meditating to ascend to the palaces of God is referred to as “descending” in the writings of the Merkabah mystics [2]. In other words, this legend tells the story of four descenders. 

In the conclusion of the Sumeru Archon Quests, Nahida tells the Traveler about the existence of the “Descenders." Based on the information she got from Dottore in exchange for her Gnosis, she shares that:

Descenders are “external beings, ones that don’t belong to this world”

There are at least four of them, and the Traveler is the fourth 

According to the Fatui, the Traveler's twin is not a Descender

The Traveler is not recorded in Irminsul, but their twin is 

Nahida speculates that the First Descender is the Heavenly Principles, but the identity of the second and third are unknown to her. At that point though, we still didn’t know what it was that Descenders do, or what the exact criteria for being one is, only that it couldn’t be as simple as just being from outside Teyvat. 

The Fontaine World Quest series about the Narzissenkreuz Ordo fills in some pieces of the puzzle; specifically an additional criterion to be a Descender: they must be someone with a will “that can rival an entire world.”

In retrospect, Inversion of Genesis also hinted at the role of a Descender; The Traveler witnesses the results of someone attempting to change fate and/or the world and failing.

Nahida: Changing the world, changing the past, changing the fates of other people... These are not simple things to accomplish. Nahida: What you were looking for is complete annihilation... But this is just a fantasy. Even if The Balladeer is removed from existence, the world will not heed your will. (Inversion of Genesis)

For most people, actually “changing the world” is impossible. But for a Descender, it might be different. 

Will 

...Though the results are nothing impressive, this is because the object they chose was pure elemental force, which lacks any will whatsoever. Like the difference between the Director (Lyris) and a Hydro Slime, perhaps?  ...Actually thought of a possible breakthrough during the process... Even though the calculated result is unchanged, but if the refinement method is reflected... If the power of... then maybe we can extract the "will" within. Using this method... resist the impact… (Excerpts from Rene's Investigation Notes)

...The true source of the mysterious power unique to this place that the locals call Khvarena is unknown. But based on its ability to eliminate or reverse the influence of the Abyss (in fact, it is a type of annihilation reaction), the two powers are of the same level, that is to say, they are of the same order in terms of rules... ...In other words, both possess the power to "re-write the rules"... ...Regrettably, be it Abyss or Khvarena, all current users are stuck in an "unconscious" stage of being influenced and overwritten by their power… (Bizarre Transcript)

The Gavireh Lajavard region of the Sumeru desert introduced us to the writings of Rene, a precocious researcher with world-saving ambitions and not nearly enough adult supervision, as well as his only slightly Abyss-corrupted bestie Jakob. Like the Khaenri'ahns before him, Rene was searching for a power that had a “will,” believing it necessary to save Fontaine from an unspecified disaster that we would later learn is The ProphecyTM. During their time in the desert (which was right after the cataclysm), Rene determined that both Abyssal and Khvarena power have a will, but pure elemental energy did not. 

Some time after their trip to Sumeru, Rene and Jakob would found the Narzissenkreuz Ordo, with the goal of finding a way to save Fontainians from being dissolved in the primordial sea-laced floodwaters. They would do this by dissolving all humans in Fontaine with primordial seawater in a controlled manner, melding everyone together into one Oceanid-like being to survive the apocalypse (think Human Instrumentality Project from Evangelion).  Rene had predicted the coming apocalypse with something he called his “world-formula,” and in addition to predicting the doom of Fontaine, it also informed him that “unlike the world depicted in these ancient texts, there will be no more new civilizations born.” The only way this could be changed would be by introducing a new “‘variable’ from outside the system” into the formula (Enigmatic Page 1). Rene’s goal was to become this variable, i.e., a Descender.

Four Worlds 

The Tower of Ipsissimus comes from an old concept from the ancient Fontainian kingdom of Remuria, and was used to describe a powerful will that could rule, sustain, and destroy the world. This tower was designed by the Narzissenkreuz Ordo, and it represents the evolution of the human soul and the infinite mysteries of the world. The Narzissenkreuz Ordo believes that people continuously refine themselves through samsara cycles. These include Hyperborea, Natlantean, Remuria, and the first half of the fourth samsara (Khraun-Arya), which we are presently experiencing. Please take note that these are just names given to these eras by the Ordo based on ancient texts, and this evolution refers to spiritual evolution. There is no intent here to antagonize any research results obtained by the Akademiya. The human spirit undergoes the loss of paradise, the defeat of evil dragons, the original sin and baptism, and finally, freedom from the gods.

The term samsara is typically used to refer to the cyclic nature of reality, and can be used to describe concepts like reincarnation. It is not, however, referring to time loops. There is A Lot to unpack about this note, but for the purposes of this theory we will be focusing on the concept of these “four samsaras” and their relationship with the concept of a Descender, specifically that there seems to be the same number of samsaras as Descenders.

You may be wondering - this is Kabbalah world structure theory and we’ve yet to discuss Kabbalah. Well, it’s time now! But before we can get into specifics, we first need to review some terms discussed in Part 1 and then go through some basics of Lurianic Kabbalah.  Ah, the irony of calling anything about Lurianic Kabbalah “basics.” Caveat that what follows will be a simplification of concepts that are very difficult to grasp (I definitely don’t know what’s going on). 

Creation of the World, Kabbalah Edition  Previously, we compared the “limitless light” emanated by God to create the world to the power of elemental energy, and compared the sefirot of the Tree of Life to the seven elements. The sefirot are components of this divine light (like light passing through a prism and refracting) and represent attributes of God that are used to create the world. The sefirot are traditionally depicted together in the form of a tree, which maps out their relationships with each other. For more details on the similarities between Kabbalah and Genshin worldbuilding, consult Part 1 (link) if you haven't read it yet. 

Kabbalah focuses on describing the relationship between the infinite God and the finite universe and how it was created, with variations between different schools of thought. In this theory, we’ll be primarily focusing on the ideas of the Kabbalist Isaac Luria. The central idea of Luria’s philosophy was a concept he called Seder Hishtalshelut, or “Order of Evolution,” which refers to the cycles of “exile” and “redemption” (creation and destruction) the world is eternally experiencing. In the Lurianic system, time isn’t linear; the world was created in the past, but it’s also being created now. 

The beginning of this Order of Evolution is referred to as the Tzimtzum, or Contraction. This refers to the contracting of the infinite God to make a space where reality could be created. Once this is created, a ray of divine light enters the void and begins to emanate reality. This is similar to the concept of the Pleroma in Gnosticism. The further the divine light gets from the source, the more it starts to break down into separate parts. More specifically, it breaks down into the Four Worlds, which represent stages of the evolution of reality, but also stages of the spiritual evolution of the human consciousness. 

The Four Worlds are:   0. Adam Kadmon - Primordial (Original) Man  1. Atziluth - Emanation   2. Beriah - Creation 3. Yetzirah - Formation 4. Assiah - Action Material reality is distinct from these four worlds; the ‘real’ world emanates out of the fourth world, Assiah. Each of these four worlds have their own sefirot structure, which in themselves contain additional sefirot, on and on, like a fractal. Luria called these recursive structures “tree systems” [3].  In Genshin terms, this is like how we have Irminsul, the world tree, but also the other smaller Irminsul trees in domains.

(Fun Fact: this schematic is sometimes called Jacob's ladder) The system of the Four Worlds and their nuances are very interesting in themselves, but for the purpose of this theory, we’ll be focusing on the 0th world, Adam Kadmon, and the symbolism associated with this concept in both Kabbalah and general Jewish philosophy. 

Primordial (Hu)Man

The concept of an ‘original man’ is discussed in Philo’s commentary of Genesis, where he describes this being as androgynous, connected to the concept of Logos, and the Idea/Form of humanity in contrast to the ‘earthly man.’ Philo’s definition of the Logos was something closer to the concept of a demiurge-a being responsible for creation of the world. Logos literally means ‘word’ or ‘reason’, and otherwise typically refers to divine reason, or the word of God.  It’s important to note that here the use of the word ‘man’ refers to a human being, not specifically a male person. Though often described as a man, the Primordial Man of Kabbalah is considered androgynous (like the Primordial One of Genshin).

The Zohar (a foundational work of Kabbalah) describes the Primordial Man as the “image of everything that is above [in heaven] and below [upon earth]; therefore did the Holy Ancient [God] select it for His own form.” The Primordial Man is the personification of the 10 sefirot together and represents a microcosm of the universe (macrocosm) [4]. 

Narzissenkreuz: I... I sense "reason." Visitors, are you the successors to Narzissenkreuz, or are you a threat? Narzissenkreuz: Is "Reason" that which grants you such strength? Narzissenkreuz: No, I have noticed. Have you always been in that realm that I pursue? O, you who are equal to a world! (Waking From the Great Dream) Man, as he was before his fall [first sin], is conceived as a cosmic being which contains the whole world in itself (Trends in Jewish Mysticism, pg. 215)

Lurianic Kabbalah considers the Primordial Man to be the highest level manifestation of God that can be conceptualized by humans. The world of Adam Kadmon precedes the emanation of the lower Four Worlds, but each of these worlds have their own corresponding anthropomorphic figure as well [5]. In contrast to the worlds that follow Adam Kadmon, the sefirot of Adam Kadmon are not in a Tree of Life configuration, but rather in the configuration known as “upright,’ arranged in the shape of the human body.

The concept of a Primordial Man exists in other religions and mythologies as well. There’s the Gnostic Anthropos, Adam Kasia of Mandaeism, the ‘Universal Man’ (al-Insān al-Kāmil) of Sufism who functions as an Axis Mundi, the world-soul of Platonism, Gayomart of Zoroastrianism, and more. The symbolism of the human body as mediator between the divine and the material world is not unique to Kabbalah. Kabbalah’s version of the World Tree and Primordial Man both function similarly to the Axis Mundi; they are the same emanations of the divine, just arranged in different configurations. 

Will and the Primordial Man In Kabbalah, Adam Kadmon represents the will of God, specifically the will to create. The blueprint for the creation of the world is contained within this being/world, all superimposed together into a “primordial thought.”  Within Adam Kadmon, there is no distinction between the individual sefirot, or rather, between anything at all. Everything is contained with this world/thought, but there is no time, no space, and no limitations. WIthout limitations, individual beings and concepts cannot be created. Therefore, the unity of Adam Kadmon had to be broken; specifically into the 10 sefirot, which could then assemble themselves into new configurations and continue the process of creation [6].

Narzissenkreuz: The witness of all, the recorder of all, the designer of all. Narzissenkreuz: Only one who is worth a world can bear that title. (Waking From the Great Dream) If the righteous wish to do so, they can create a world. (Babylonian Talmud, Sanhedrin 65b) 

Back in Part 1, we compared pure elemental energy to Kabbalah’s divine light of creation and the ten sefirot to the seven elements. If we apply this analogy to Adam Kadmon, doesn’t a being that could (theoretically) resonate with all elements and would eventually meet their end by being broken up into many pieces sound familiar? 

At the end of Act V of the Fontaine Archon Quest, Skirk tells Neuvillette that the Gnoses are actually the “remains of the Third Descender.” Neuvillette, the Traveler, and Paimon speculate that this is possible because as a Descender, they would have also had the same unique compatibility with the elements as the Traveler. Neuvillette’s character stories refer to the remains of the Third Descender as the “seven remembrances,” which were used to create a new “order” for the world, with “all fragments of the primordial…driven to devour each other.”

Rene’s notes in the Tower of Ipsissimus directly tell us that there is a connection between the concept of the Primordial Man and Descenders:

"Lies beneath the great sea" is, itself, an interesting phrase. It comes from ancient Sumeru texts, and should be read as "Narayana*," which also means "primordial human." This, too, is my goal, for not all that comes from beyond may be as one that "descends." That title belongs only to wills that can rival an entire world. That is what I seek, the way to become just such a will, one that can protect the world, sustain the world, destroy the world, and create the world.

[*Narayana (Sanskrit: नारायण, romanized: Nārāyaṇa) is one of the forms and names of Vishnu, depicted as sleeping under the celestial waters, and is associated with creation. This reference aligns with Rene’s goal of using the power of the Primordial Sea to make himself a Descender. ]

In summary, we have four Descenders, we have four samsaras, and we have four symbolic worlds that are only able to exist due to the destruction of a 0th world known as the Primordial Man, who represents the totality of the divine Will to create the world and the Idea of humanity. 

Keep all this information in mind, because before we can discuss the connections between samsaras, Descenders, and the Primordial Man, we must take a detour into alchemy and psychology.

Primordial God Impact 

Genshin Impact has always been about the primordial - it’s literally in the name: 原神, or yuan shen, which means ‘original god.’ Many other in-game items share this descriptor, including primogems (原石), Primordial Seawater (原始胎海之水), and the Primordial One (原初的那一位). The same characters are also used in the note from the Tower of Ipsissimus when referring to the ‘primordial human’:  原初之人, which as it turns out, is exactly the same word used for the Primordial Human Project.

The Primordial Human Project has been mentioned exactly once, in a cutscene from the Shadows Amidst Snowstorms event in version 2.3. There, Albedo refered to his doppelganger who had been wreaking havoc on Dragonspine as the “failure of the Primordial Human Project.” Albedo implied that he is the “survivor” of an experiment associated with the Primordial Human Project and considers it to be related to his origins as a creation of Rhinedottir, aka the alchemist Gold. 

We know very little about Rhinedottir and her motivations. She’s a practitioner of the Art of Khemia, a member of the Hexenzirkel, is labeled a sinner and blamed for the appearance of monsters during the Cataclysm, made a dragon named Durin and sent him to Teyvat during said Cataclysm, where he caused destruction everywhere he went while thinking he was playing, and might have also made Elynas, who had a similar fate. According to Skirk, she, like Skirk’s master, is “pursuing some form of perfection.”

The Great Work

 Rhinedottir’s alchemical research was focused on the creation of new life and she was familiar with an alchemical text called the Opus Magnum, which she left behind for Albedo to study. The Opus Magnum is a reference to the real life Magnum Opus, or Great Work, which refers to the alchemical process of creating the philosopher’s stone from the prima materia (original matter). The process typically goes as follows: nigredo (blackness), albedo (whiteness), citrinitas (yellowing) and rubedo (redness). Later Western alchemy would merge the citrinitas and rubedo steps into just rubedo, or include additional steps, such as the peacock’s tail stage between nigredo and albedo. Notably, the order of the last two steps in this process is reversed in the version of the process Albedo learned from Rhinedottir: rubedo is third, with citrinitas last.

This reordering isn’t universal in Teyvat: Rene’s notes disparage this choice, saying that Khaenri’ah is distracted from the true goal of the process:

..."Red" is the foundational principle, the philosopher's stone*, while "yellow" represents gold and mortal temptation. Yellow is simply bait. Red is the final goal. However, Khaenri'ah would likely seek the truth for gold's sake before turning that truth into a bread production pipeline…

[*This is the first and so far, only, time the phrase “philosopher’s stone” has been directly mentioned in-game.]

Rene has a somewhat ironic take on the Khaenri’ahn alchemical philosophy, given that Albedo’s character stories specifically say “Khaenri'ah was an underground realm, with precious few natural fauna. As such, its alchemy focused more heavily on the creation of life.” Rene often has strong opinions - but why would he care about the order of the Magnum Opus?

The Chymical Wedding of Rene de Petrichor

A recurring motif of the Great Work is the ‘chemical wedding.’ This refers to a union of opposites; male and female, sun and moon, fire and water, sulfur (Red King) and mercury (White Queen), etc, and is often depicted as taking place in a fountain. Here, in this drawing from a copy of the Ripley Scroll, sulfur and mercury wed and form the androgynous (like the primordial man) ‘philosophical child,’ which is philosophical mercury. 

Philosophical mercury is the underlying principle or “divine flow” that makes alchemy and transmutation possible. Therefore, the goal of the Great Work was to pin down this mercury into matter through the four (or more) stages of the Great Work and make the philosopher’s stone [7,8]. 

"The Stone that is Mercury, is cast upon the Earth, exalted on Mountains, resides in the Air, and is nourished in the Waters." (Michael Maier's Atalanta Fugiens. 1617.) The cubes represent prima materia. ;)

The chemical wedding is also used as a motif throughout the story of the Narzissenkreuz Ordo. The Book of Revealing includes a schematic of the “Seal of Chymical Marriage,” which consists of a “Tree of Emanation'' and the “Four Orthants,” and was used to seal the Primordial Sea. The Tree of Emanation component is, of course, a version of the Kabbalistic Tree of Life - for more ramblings, feel free to check out my twitter thread here.

The Narzissenkreuz Ordo is likely intended to be a reference to the real life Rosicrucian Order, and the name of the seal a reference to an important text for this order called the “Chymical Wedding of Christian Rosenkreutz.”  Other possible references to chemical weddings include Lyris being referred to as the ‘Red Empress,’ Rene using her power to dissolve himself and be reborn through the water, and Mary-Ann and Lyris fusing and eventually producing “pure water” aka Ann.  Actually, when you dig into it, there are many suspicious interactions between sun and moon-coded gods in Genshin lore, as well as the doomed wedding of the Seelie and the traveler from afar. My Name For Now made a really interesting video about this, so if you would like more information and speculation, check it out here.

The Philosopher’s Stone and the Self

The philosopher’s stone is the Holy Grail of alchemy: an alchemical substance that can transmute base metals into silver or gold, make someone immortal, cure all illness, make a homunculus, and more. The stone represents perfection and spiritual refinement, either of nature through alchemy, or of the self (the alchemist) [8]. 

Carl Jung, the founder of analytical psychology, considered the steps of the Magnum Opus to represent the process of the individuation of the self from the collective unconscious. The similarities between his interpretation of alchemical symbolism and the ideals of the Narzissenkreuz Ordo deserve their own separate analysis, but in brief: Jung defined the collective unconscious to be the shared unconscious mind between humans, full of basic instincts and archetypes, which are primordial symbols that exist in many mythologies throughout the world. Jung compared the collective unconscious to the alchemical symbolism of water, which he describes as “wisdom and knowledge, truth and spirit, and its source was in the inner man [9].” The process of individuation separates aspects of the personality from the unconscious (the water) and then eventually integrates all components together, to form the individual self, which can now bring “order” to the unconscious (at least on a personal level)[10]. In other words, the Jungian interpretation of the Magnum Opus is that the final product, the philosopher's stone, is the Self. 

If we apply this symbolism to Rene’s journey, it appears he was attempting to refine himself into a philosopher’s stone, which would explain why he was so interested in the work of the Khaenri’ahn alchemists. As he stated multiple times, his goal was to become a “primordial human,” whose will “can rival an entire world.” Rene’s philosopher’s stone is a Descender. 

The Primordial Human Project

After Rene’s failed attempt to dissolve himself in Primordial Water and be reborn using Lyris’s power, Jakob turned to his own research to try to save Rene and complete his rebirth. In his log of this time period, Jakob wrote: 

...I've been interpreting the data in search of a solution and sharing the results with Rene. There has still been no response, but I can already envision his response with perfect clarity: criticizing the Universitas Magistrorum for putting the cart before the horse, neglecting the fundamental principles underlying everything, and diving straight into the details of how to put those techniques to use... How they inverted even the alchemical stages for other purposes… ...It seems that there was an alchemist from Khaenri'ah named "R" who joined a secret order. From what fragmentary records exist, it appears that they made significant headway. 

There are two items of note here; the first is the mention of Universitas Magistrorum, which previously had only been mentioned in a namecard description. The card description reads "O Almighty Sovereign, the Universitas Magistrorum has provided the predictions you requested: The two stars have been captured by the world's gravity…” which may be referencing Khaenri’ah’s summoning of the twins (Inversion of Genesis). From the context of Jakob’s notes, we can infer that this organization was also utilizing some form of the Magnum Opus for an unknown purpose.

The second item of note is the mention of the alchemist “R,” who is almost definitely Rhinedottir, and the “significant headway” that she and this mysterious “secret order” made. It’s very likely that Jakob is interested in Rhinedottir’s work simply because he wants to make a new body for Rene; the log also mentions Remurian golems and experiments with prosthetic limbs. However, the mention of her and the Universitas Magistrorum in the same context, with Jakob’s commentary on the reversed order of the Magnum Opus, gave me the idea that sparked this whole theory (descent into madness): Is it possible that Rhinedottir’s Primordial Human Project was intended to make a Descender? 

Sometimes, very important lore gets buried in character stories. For example, the first time the term “primordial (hu)man” shows up - which is in Albedo’s fifth character story. 

This art of creation was known as "The Art of Khemia." Albedo had learned of this in his youth from reading his master's notes. The next stage after "soil" is "chalk," which was also something his master had mentioned. "Chalk is the spotless soil, and was used to make primordial man." Now, Albedo understands alchemy in far greater depth than he did in the beginning, and his knowledge on the subject is far more comprehensive. "From soil was birthed chalk." The profundity of this statement is well understood by Albedo now.

Albedo is also the “chalk”; Rhinedottir gave him the title of Kreideprinz, or Chalk Prince. She seems to have a habit of naming her creations after types of soil. Durin was ‘humus,’ the Riftwolves are ‘alfisol,’ and Albedo is ‘cretaceus’. According to her, earth is “the basis of all life” and the “accumulated memories of time and lives,” so it makes sense she’d use soil as the starting material for her alchemical creations. 

Albedo seems to be aware of the Traveler’s unique status, although he never names them as a Descender. During his Story Quest, Albedo studies the Traveler to get insight on how to help an alien flower bloom.

Albedo: The only other life form that, like you, has come here from afar, is the seed that I mentioned. Under the effects of Teyvat's natural laws, it isn't even able to sprout, let alone bloom. Albedo: But after I observed you, I had another idea. Albedo: Imitating you helped to inspire my alchemy, and so... Albedo: Is not nurturing otherworldly life also nurturing the world itself?

Following the experiments he performs on them, he reveals to the player that he lied about some of their test results, and even compares himself to the Traveler. 

Albedo: I made a point throughout of telling them how ordinary the results were... Albedo: But what was that sediment I saw forming at the bottom of the vial? It should not have been there... What could it mean? Albedo: Those born of earth are bound by its imperfections, but those born of chalk are free of impurities... You and I are alike, both composed of a substance that has yet to be fully defined...

This leaves us with questions. Assuming Albedo is similar to the ‘primordial human’, what is his role? Is he a Descender, or is he meant to work to become one eventually, like Rene tried to do?

Let’s return for a moment to the Primordial Man and Adam Kadmon. Earlier, we discussed the symbolism of Adam Kadmon; this being represents the divine will to create, also known as the “primordial thought,” as well as the Idea of humanity. Adam Kadmon is the potential for creation unified together, with no distinctions between any concepts. Hermeticism and alchemy have a similar concept, succinctly summed up in the phrase “the all is one,” which can be found written on one of the earlier alchemical drawings of an ouroboros by Cleopatra the Alchemist [11]. 

In Gnosticism and alchemy, this symbol refers to unity of all material and spiritual things, as well the eternal cycle of destruction and re-creation as things change form [12]. 

Rhinedottir shared this philosophy, as evidenced by the description for Cinnabar Spindle, Albedo’s sword.

Separate the dust in the flames with joy, and extract the exquisite from the crude. For all in the universe comes from a single source, and all things may be derived from a single thought.

The weapon description also contains instructions for Albedo that likely tie into his expected role as a success of the Primordial Human Project. 

You must pursue that which your elder brother, the one-horned white horse, could not accomplish. Reach the far side of philosophy, and create a new destiny for myself and your brothers…

Albedo’s final assignment from Rhinedottir is to learn the “truth and the meaning of this world,” a phrase echoed by the Abyss Twin in We Will Be Reunited. Knowledge is literally power in Teyvat: both Nibelung the Dragon King and later, Deshret, utilized Forbidden Knowledge, also referred to as a “power of darkness from outside of this world”, believing it to be the only effective power to defeat the Heavenly Principles. In fact, it’s even possible that the Dragon King was one of the Descenders despite presumably being native to Teyvat. The process of acquiring the Forbidden Knowledge could have evolved him to true Descender status, although this power appears to be incompatible with Teyvat, especially in the wrong hands. The power of the Forbidden Knowledge is similar to the metaphorical garden of the pardes myth, where out of four “descenders,” only one was able to safely leave, with the esoteric knowledge gained. The philosopher's stone also represents knowledge-it is the lapis philosophorum; literally the 'stone of wisdom'. Knowledge is also how one ascends in Gnosticism, i.e, achieving gnosis. 

Perhaps this is the true method to create a Descender and Albedo’s future role: once he reaches the far side of philosophy (learns the truth and meaning of the world) and ‘evolves’ and ‘refines’ himself from albedo through rubedo and citrinitas to the philosopher’s stone, he can change destiny. 

This sounds familiar…

Fortuna and Evolution 

Rene’s calculations of the world-formula predicted that following the fulfillment of Fontaine’s prophecy, there would be no new civilizations formed from the ruins, as there presumably had been in the past following similar disasters. Rene believed the only way around this was for him to become a Descender, and save Fontaine from the disaster, beginning a new age. It’s implied in the text of the Book of Revealing (the version in the WQ) that the fulfillment of the prophecy would spell disaster for all of Teyvat, not just Fontaine, but even if that were not the intent of Celestia, we can use this example as an analogy for the world-formula of Teyvat. 

Rene directly compared the world-formula to the Remurian concept of Fortuna: 

Kingdoms rise and fall, and when a civilization is annihilated, a new one will be born after from the ashes, which these books refer to as "Fortuna"... It's somewhat rudimentary, but theoretically at least, it bears striking resemblance to the computational scheme I have formulated and termed "world-formula"...

Let’s spin the wheel of Fortuna and return to the beginning, where we first discussed the four samsara cycles of spiritual evolution and the Four Worlds. Although the samsara cycles don’t refer directly to actual historical events, their names are based on ancient texts. It’s not a large leap in logic to suggest that each of the four samsaras refers to eras in Teyvat’s history- what others in the lore community have been referring to as ‘root-cycles.’ For example, the defeat of evil dragons associated with the Natlantean samsara could refer to the war between the Primordial One and the vishaps described in Before Sun and Moon, or the war between the Heavenly Principles and the Dragon King (which might be the same thing!). The events associated with each samsara must be what ends the samsara, since the fourth, Khraun-Arya, is the current, and represents freedom from the gods, which has not happened yet. 

Given that the Descenders can (theoretically) change the result of the world-formula/Fortuna, it can’t be a coincidence that there are the same number of Descenders as there are known samsaras. In addition, if the four samsaras of Teyvat function like the Four Worlds of Kabbalah, that means that a samsara-ending event would be something that results in the evolution of the world. Apep says that during the war between the Dragon King and the Heavenly Principles, Teyvat was in danger of collapsing, and that the victor of the war would “inherit the right to shape the world”. This sounds a lot like Rene’s definition of a Descender: one that can protect the world, sustain the world, destroy the world, and create the world. The death and disassembly of the Third Descender led to a significant change in the “order” of Teyvat when the Gnoses were created to replace the “ruined” functions of the Heavenly Principles. Put another way, Descenders are able to evolve Teyvat into its next stage of evolution.

The fate of the Third Descender and ruined functions of the Heavenly Principles suggest another, alarming component to the relationship between samsaras and Descenders. It could be that as part of the process, a Descender must replace or repair an aspect of the mechanisms that maintain Teyvat. Don’t worry about the Traveler though; the fourth descender of the pardes legend gets to leave the garden in peace. 

On the other hand, the first Descender in the legend is the one who dies, and in Genshin it’s the third, so maybe the list isn’t exactly in order. Of course, this comparison to the legend is partly a joke, but it is very interesting that the metaphor for apostatizing is uprooting trees….

Khaenri’ah’s World-Formula

We know from Rene’s notes that Khaenri’ah had their own version of a world-formula, or at least, their records contained information Rene could use to reverse engineer their predictions. We don’t actually know what he found there, but based on the name he gave the fourth samsara and the whole “freedom from the gods” thing, it seems they were trying to evolve Teyvat into the next samsara and make this freedom a reality. We also know that the Khaenri’ahns were searching for a specific kind of power, a power they referred to as both a “perpetual” energy source and a “secret from beyond the skies” that could “throw off the shackles imposed by this world's laws.” This power from “beyond the skies” is thought to be some form of Abyssal power, and the Khaenri’ahns who used it seem aware of a will contained in that power, a “dogma from beyond the heavens.” In fact, it’s possible that this power is the same as the Forbidden Knowledge brought in by Nibelung, which also had an influence on Apep’s behavior when they were infected with it after eating Deshret.

It appears that Khaenri’ah was familiar with something similar to the concept of a Descender, which makes Chlothar’s words to the Traveler in Caribert all the more impactful. 

Chlothar: I never imagined that you, of all people, would deny the Abyss... How ridiculous! Chlothar: We once believed that you would bring new strength and hope to Khaenri'ah. Chlothar: To us, you were the Abyss... A wondrous mystery far beyond our imagination and comprehension... Chlothar: ...And the one who controls the Abyss can control everything! Chlothar: We yearned for that future. We looked to you to take us there.

The Future

As mentioned previously, the Four Worlds of Kabbalah are all precursors to the actual material reality, which will be emanated (created) from the fourth world. Luria believed that our world was not yet completely realized and needed another spiritual push from humanity to be actualized. (The mechanics of this won’t be discussed here - so consider this a teaser for Part 3 of Kabbalah theory.) Therefore in Kabbalistic terms, this fifth samara, this fifth world, would be the final and true reality for Teyvat.

This would be why Khaenri’ah needed a Descender or even merely a power that could defy the Heavenly Principles. That was why they summoned the twins, and why projects like the Primordial Human Project existed. It’s ironic that in their desire to remake the world in the image of their dreams, where they were free from the gods and the Heavenly Principles, they chose in the end to bind themselves to a will from beyond the sky, which ended up in catastrophe. 

As the letter in the Khaenri’ahn ruins of Gavireh Lajavard says: “The gods are untrustworthy and the demons, ineffable. If there is one thing that can pry open the corners of this hollow world, then it can only be human will.”

Congrats on making it to the end! As you can see, this was already reaching a ridiculous word count, so there were some things I had to leave out, or only briefly touch on. So here are some people and concepts I pretended didn't exist so this didn't get (more) convoluted, but you should read about them: Crowley and True Will, Nietzsche and the overman, Zoroastrianism as a whole, but particularly their version of the Primordial Man, William Blake's prophecies (his Auguries of Innocence is a big inspiration for the artifact lore), Schopenhauer and Will, Atman and Brahman, Plato's concept of the world-soul, SWORDS (in Genshin lore), the Holy Grail legend, and shoutout to Otto Apocalypse the real First Descender. I do want to point out that some of the (real) people on this list, like Crowley, either were terrible people who believed terrible things, or had their philosophy used for terrible things. This also applies to other inspirations for the Narzissenkreuz Ordo. Please keep that in mind when engaging with these people's work.

On a lighter note:

Sabre’s Fun Fact Science Corner aka Miscellaneous Stuff I Need to Put Somewhere 

I didn't want to have to get into explaining the lore of another piece of media but yes, this theory was inspired by a binge watch of the last arc of Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood, transmutation circles and philosopher’s stone and all 

On the topic of FMAB, the The Black Serpent Knights archive description states: “The long years and a curse seems to have robbed them of their reason and memory. Now, all that remains within that armor is the will to ‘fight for something, someone, and some matter.’” Funnily enough, the subtitle of the Knights is ‘Aldric’ - Alphonse Elric, anyone?

Caribert becomes the Loom of Fate to “weave his own destiny anew”, Albedo has the Cinnabar Spindle and instructions to create a new destiny - I’m sensing a theme here 

Rene believed that getting a Vision was a bad thing in the process of actualizing your Will, and resulted in you selling your fate to the world. So he developed a ritual to remove a Vision from an allogene (this is only mentioned in passing by Caterpillar). So even though Albedo has a Vision, he’s not out of the running to become a Descender. But also Rene was wrong about stuff so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  

The anthropomorphic imagery in Lurianic Kabbalah can get pretty bizarre, but in a fun way if you're into Genshin lore. Adam Kadmon is described as emanating divine light out of his face, specifically his eyes, to create the next world. Genshin eyeball lore is my roman empire.

As a full elemental dragon, Apep had a “world” inside their body. Rhinedottir seems to like dragons a lot; I wonder if she considers them to be similar to the primordial human. Also, there's evidence that the Traveler's elemental abilities mimic those of the elemental dragons, rather than the archons.

References:

Toseftah Hagigah 2:2 Babylonian Talmud Hagigah 14b, Jerusalem Talmud Hagigah 9:1.

Introduction to Kabbalah and Jewish Mysticism - Part 3/14 - Merkabah Shi'ur Komah & Sar Torah

Introduction to Kabbalah and Jewish Mysticism - Part 10/14 - Christian and Lurianic Kabbalah

https://www.jewishencyclopedia.com/articles/761-adam-kadmon#anchor10

https://www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org/adam-kadmon

https://www.chabad.org/kabbalah/article_cdo/aid/380321/jewish/Chaos-and-the-Primordial.htm

https://dpul.princeton.edu/alchemy/feature/the-chemical-wedding

https://www.scribd.com/doc/11441835/The-Four-Stages-of-Alchemical-Work

Jung, Collected Works vol. 14 (1970), Mysterium Coniunctionis (1956), ¶372 (p. 278) via Wikipedia

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Analytical_psychology#Individuation

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chrysopoeia

https://www.britannica.com/topic/Ouroboros

https://www.gla.ac.uk/myglasgow/library/files/special/exhibns/month/april2009.html

https://alchemywebsite.com/rosary0.html

https://www.alchemywebsite.com/rscroll.html

[powdermelonkeg]

On the ancient Hyrulean stone tablets

In Tears of the Kingdom, there's a sidequest you get relatively early called Messages from an Ancient Era, in which you are tasked with finding stone tablets hidden throughout Hyrule that contain Zonai-era first-hand accounts of the royal family. There are 13 in total to locate.

You yourself can't read them, and must take pictures of the tablets to take them to Wortsworth, a Zonai Survey Team historian who can read the ancient texts for you.

The problem with this is that he doesn't tell you what the tablets actually say; he reads their ancient Hyrulean as-is, then gives his own take. And it's a take which cuts out so much context from the original text.

Fortunately, I am a nerd.

Unnamed First Tablet

The ancient Hyrulean:

"Ones held y honore als hochmayde to kyng Rauru ond quen Sonia, thaerafter to his suster ond to princesse Zelda. "Her on thaes gret stan ond twelf mo withalle make y endite min time with the hyred roial. "So michte heore remembraunce preserven for the sake of him on whom oure hope raeste."

What Wortsworth tells you:

"It's short, but it's an introduction from a servant to Rauru and Sonia, the founding king and queen of Hyrule. "She also waited on the king's elder sister, Mineru, as well as someone named Zelda, and wrote of their daily lives in 13 tablets. "It couldn't be simpler! "I intend to more thoroughly research what this chamberlain hoped to convey in these ancient tablets."

The actual translation:

"Once held I honor as handmaid to king Rauru and queen Sonia, thereafter to his sister and to princess Zelda. "Here on this great stone and twelve more withall make I ending my time with the hired royal. "So might here remembrance preserve for the sake of him on whom our hope rests."

Account of a Celebration

The ancient Hyrulean:

"So swete the song of kyng Rauru, ond so grete the beaute of his susteres daunce, that wer min eies ond eres captif. "Ond so hende quen Sonias gasen on us alle, so felt y min herte als captif fallen. "Seruantes lyf, tho moche laboursum, han moche jolitee as welle. Longe be the lyf of the roial familie thaere y love so."

What Wortsworth tells you:

"This is an account of a party from those days. "It says King Rauru and his older sister sang and danced together while Queen Sonia looked on. "We think of royalty as austere and reserved, but these nobles amused themselves with song and dance. "But what a vivid recounting of a scene never before related in any history book… "The descriptions of their personalities and expressions make the ancient past feel alive again. "This stone tablet is a first-class find. Well done, dear chamberlain, in leaving behind this account for us. "I'm positively beside myself to think of how this story from the ancient past persevered so long to reach us today."

The actual translation:

"So sweet the song of king Rauru, and so great the beauty of his sister's dance, that were mine eyes and ears captive. "And so had queen Sonia's gaze on us all, so felt I mine heart also captive fallen. "Servant's life, though much laboursome, have much jollity as well. Long be the life of the royal family there I love so."

The Strong Queen and the Receptive King

The ancient Hyrulean:

"Sonia, quen to Hyrules kyng, bi birthe Hylian preesterresse, hirself yborn of londe, nat of skie aboven. "Speken she with open herte, eornest to alle, euen even to the Zonais kyng. "This kyng ythinke it gode aventure so to lerne of the londes folke. To sen his hed ybent to listenen is swich plesaunce."

What Wortsworth tells you:

"This one looks to be about Queen Sonia. It claims that Sonia was a priestess before marrying Rauru. "Despite his status as a Zonai, a people popularly thought to be gods, she would counsel him without any trepidation. "Moreover, Rauru heeded this counsel. "This account gives us firsthand knowledge of the nature of Queen Sonia and King Rauru's relationship. "Rauru found himself unexpectedly charmed by her strong will, and before long, they were married… "Er, that last bit isn't in the text. That's me speculating. "History rarely speaks of a person's character prior to being elevated to royalty. So I can't help but fantasize."

The actual translation:

"Sonia, queen to Hyrule's king, by birth Hylian priestess, herself born of land, not of sky above. "Speak she with open heart, earnest to all, even even[sic] to the Zonai's king. "This king thinks it a good adventure so to learn of the land's folk. To seen his head bent to listening is such pleasure."

The Harmonious Couple

The ancient Hyrulean:

"Oft wys Rauru, kyng of kene blade, weyve his werk real in faver of the hunte. "Ond oft queynt Sonia, quene of kene insight, seke out him and repaire this kyng to kyngly besynesse. "In hir sapience semes she divin, that she cunne him ever finde and for hes folly semes him the mor humain. "Ond the kyng? O, he laughe. Nat him hir equal for hir wit, he kunne. Ond the quen, she laughe to, als even she scolden."

What Wortsworth tells you:

"This is a tale of King Rauru. "Apparently, he would vacate his official business from time to time in order to go out hunting. "I had the impression he was a stricter, more serious king, but I guess he had a lighter side as well. "However, Queen Sonia was always a step ahead. She would put a stop to King Rauru's hunts and bring him back. "We rarely get a glimpse into the down-to-earth side of royalty in this way. It's an important find, to be sure."

The actual translation:

"Oft was Rauru, king of keen blade, leave his work real in favor of the hunt. "And oft quaint Sonia, queen of keen insight, seek out him and repair this king to kingly business. "In her sapience seems she divine, that she can him ever find and for his folly seems him the more human. "And the king? Oh, he laughs. Not him her equal for her wit, he knows. And the queen, she laughs too, as even she scolds."

A Pilgrimage of Light

The ancient Hyrulean:

"The kyng was late y-come this aven, so maked the quene to sharen tales of hir lond, of shirines al grene yglouen. "Of erli daies sinnes Hyrules funding have diverse monstres hir reaume biseged ond assaylled. "Uncesinge in striffe, thei broughte to despeir folkes lyfen. Kyng ond quen ysete thamselue to bringen scurge to ende. "With might of light ond pouere, driven abak ybeen, ond the roial couple made thes shirines to selen him awei. "Thes holi selen ben yclept Shirines of Light. "Gret kyng, grete quen, y thank ye. Ye foughte whan y wer maiden-child, that y kude pes toknouen."

What Wortsworth tells you:

"The subject here is the actions King Rauru and Queen Sonia undertook not long after Hyrule's founding. "With the kingdom established, they were worried for their people, so they set out to eradicate the monsters troubling them. "They created structures called Shrines of Light to seal the monsters away so that they could never be revived. "There's more here about light…and time too… The sense I get is that the two of them may have had supernatural powers. "Though it's part of ancient history, it's a feat those of us living today should still be grateful for. Truly an important discovery."

The actual translation:

"The king was late to come this evening, so made the queen to share tales of her land, of shrines all green glowing. "Of early days since Hyrule's founding have diverse monsters her realm besieged and assailed. "Unceasing in strife, they brought to despair folks' lives. King and queen set themselves to bringing scourge to end. "With might of light and power, driven aback they been, and the royal couple made these shrines to seal him away. "These holy seals been called Shrines of Light. "Great king, great queen, I thank you. You fought when you were maiden-child, that I could peace to know."

The Researcher Mineru

The ancient Hyrulean:

"Queynte Mineru, the kynges elder suster, falles so dep in hir bokes swich that she oft foryetes to eten. "In min wieried wei don y what much y con, but y fer haven that it ben litel avail. "Of late treteth she of 'constructes,' thinges did she make with her hondes as vessel for spirit whan bodi-lich failen. "So, seyde she, might she liven longe, in spiret yhused within this 'construct.' "Though Mineru ne semes to holden ani deceyte… Bi my feith, y kan nat als trouthe thes wordes bileven"

What Wortsworth tells you:

"Here, we learn a bit about Mineru. "It says that she neglected to eat or sleep while making something called a…construct? "It was part of her research into a means of returning to life as a spirit possessing a new body, should her original one die. "To you or I, this sounds less like history and more like some sort of ghost story. "But remember who we're dealing with. They may have had unfathomable powers that made such things possible. "The revelation that Mineru was a fellow researcher makes her feel like a kindred spirit to me, and yet… "The chamberlain who inscribed these tablets treats Mineru with such care and kindness that it warms my heart."

The actual translation:

"Quaint Mineru, the king's elder sister, falls so deep in her books such that she oft forgets to eat. "In my worried way do I what much I can, but I fear have that it be little avail. "Of late treats she of 'constructs,' things did she make with her hands as vessel for spirit when body lies fallen. "So, said she, might she live long, in spirit housed within this 'construct.' "Though Mineru nay seems to hold any deceit… By my faith, I can not also truth these words believe."

The Foreign Princess

The ancient Hyrulean:

"Ful fyn is the weder this morn, ond have y audience with theos princes seyd ben kin bi fer distaunt yeres to quene Sonia. "Bi gras has she been given a name most swete, of Zelda she ben yclept. "In certain folk stered suspecioun, for straunge wer hir garnementes ond sodein wer her aparaunce. "Yet wolde hir contenonce ond bering maked proof of hir right blod and bond to quene Sonia. "Als be Zelda to remainen for a wile with us, y wil mi-self als hochmayde offre ekein hir servis."

What Wortsworth tells you:

"This is another fascinating entry. "If my translation is correct, the Zelda described here is Sonia's distant relative. "According to this, she arrived in Hyrule unexpectedly from another kingdom. It seems she was a beautiful princess. "Her strange clothing perplexed the people of Hyrule, and many were suspicious of her at first. "But this Zelda had such an undeniable air of nobility that those who doubted she was of royal birth were soon silenced. "Note how clearly this conveys the writer's feelings regarding Zelda. "Once it was clear Zelda would be staying, she applied to be chamberlain to the princess. That suggests real admiration."

The actual translation:

"Full fine is the weather this morning, and have I audience with this princess said be kin by for distant years to queen Sonia. "By grace has she been given a name most sweet, of Zelda she been called. "In certain folk stirred suspicion, for strange were her garments and sudden were her appearance. "Yet would her countenance and bearing make proof of her right blood and bond to queen Sonia. "As be Zelda to remain for a while with us, I will myself as handmaid offer asking her service."

The Free-Spirited Zelda

The ancient Hyrulean:

"Princesse Zelda recent comes to sen Mineru, the kynges elder suster. I com eck, for hir to seruen. "Todai cam hit ipassen that Mineru sheued to Zelda construct althergrettest y hav ysen. "Zelda, she much desired on hit to riden, ond ne conne nat y seien coust hir stoppen. Though I dyde protesten. Loudli. "Neuer the lesse she made to sitten heighe upon the constructes sculdres ond to riden like an hors, al ful of grace. "Min lausion, so graunt alredy, dyde grouen al the mor."

What Wortsworth tells you:

"The subject here is Zelda and Mineru. "Zelda apparently visited Mineru often to assist with her research. "I have no idea what kind of thing this 'construct' that allowed people to ride on it was. "But Zelda rode it so well that our author the chamberlain was again impressed by her skill at everything she tried. "That's the long and short of it here. "But more than the narrative, what strikes me is the back and forth between the chamberlain and Zelda. "The chamberlain tried to warn Zelda of the danger, but Zelda pushed past her and rode the construct anyway. 'It's short but so evocative of both the level of technology found in this era and the character of their visitor Zelda. "The 'treasure' found in these stone tablets is the pearls of wisdom and nuggets of personality contained within."

The actual translation:

"Princess Zelda recent comes to see Mineru, the king's elder sister. I come with¹, for her to serve. "Today came it pass that Mineru showed to Zelda construct of the greatest I have seen. "Zelda, she much desired on it to ride, and nay could not I say cause her stop. Though I did protest. Loudly. "Never the less she made to sit high upon the construct's shoulders and to ride like a horse, all full of grace. "My laudation², so great already, did grow all the more."

The Latest Trend

The ancient Hyrulean:

"Facioun nou favereth garnementes adourned with muscheron patrons, ond fer ond wid beon thei wern. "This tast for mucheeron com of the casteles seamestre, who sogte to seuen clethes for princesse Zelda to plesen. "This facioun, Zelda telled to the seamestre, waere in hir treu hom wel loved. "In hir tim werd everichon patrons of bright hewes, in the shap of mucheron. "Anou our hende semestre set herte on thes patrons copien, which sele to mani happi persoune. "Y seche after som for min one but ne coude nat an on yfenden."

What Wortsworth tells you:

"Here we learn something about the fashion trends of that era. "The story's catalyst is their Zelda telling a tailor about the mushroom-patterned outfits becoming popular in her homeland. "Intrigued, the tailor fashioned some clothing in that vein, and it caught on in ancient Hyrule. "Do you know Cece from Hateno Village? Imagine the look on her face if she were to find out! "They say that trends go in cycles, but… I didn't expect mushroom patterns to have been in fashion so long ago! "One last thing about the chamberlain… "Her interest in fashion shows there was more to her than devoted service. She was just like anyone else in the kingdom."

The actual translation:

"Fashion now favors garments adorned with mushroom patterns, and far and wide be they worn. "This taste for mushroom come of the castle's seamstress, who sought to sew clothes for the princess Zelda to please. "This fashion, Zelda told to the seamstress, were in her true home well loved. "In her time were everywhere patterns of bright hues, in the shape of mushroom. "And now our head seamstress set heart on these patterns copied, which sell to many happy persons. "I seek after some for my own but nay could not a one find."

An Ancient Ghost Story

The ancient Hyrulean:

"Of late have y herd it told a straunge ladi walkes around the castel in derk of night. "She ond princesse Zelda semes als twinnes two, but this on nadda ne light in hir eien—mor als a ded thing than not. "When she is asked about thes walkes, princesse Zelda of that ben no-thing remembren. "What monstre, or spirit of derknesse, be this visioun? So afeard y am of min imagenninges that y con nat slepen."

What Wortsworth tells you:

"This one is an ancient ghost story. "My understanding of ancient Hyrulean isn't perfect, but I know a ghost story when I see one. "It's a firsthand account of a ghostly or maybe corpse-like woman who appeared each night looking just like their Zelda. "No matter the era, it seems, people can't resist sharing a good ghost story. "A bit like how there have been eyewitness accounts of our Princess Zelda in the newspaper, even though she's missing… "Could our Zelda be a ghost too? No…of course not."

The actual translation:

"Of late have I heard it told a strange lady walks around the castle in dark of night. "She and princess Zelda seem as twins two, but this one has no light in her eyes—more as a dead thing than not. "When she is asked about these walks, princess Zelda of that been nothing remembered. "What monster, or spirit of darkness, be this vision? So afraid I am of my imaginings that I cannot sleep."

For the Hero's Sake

The ancient Hyrulean:

"Sith hire founding has Hyrule swich hardshippe ysene, but that is onli smale moment of time. "Mineru, the kynges elder suster, seyes of this kyngdom that hit ne mot nat awaren aye be ycaccht, nat evenforth fer futur. "Princesse Zelda tells hire that this futur be wrat alredi, that a champioun bith from the skie comen. "Bitwene the two, thei imaked to finden a wei this champioun in that distaunt time to ohelpen. "Her min treuthe, sogte thei to up-reisen the Temple of Time, into the skie to warden hit onyenes ivil. "Al dyden so in fer distaunt dai, our kingdom mighte be safed. "In min herte y woot y helpen mot, ond y asked of Mineru, canst yow devyse the menes to upreisen in the skie thaes stane. "Min wordes iseie nat enow, but thei thaes memorie safen, of the roial familie, heigh in the skie for that future time."

What Wortsworth tells you:

"That one is all about the feats that Zelda performed for the sake of the hero. "The details are unclear, but essentially, the chamberlain trusted in Mineru and Zelda's predictions and wanted to help. "She put forth the suggestion to Mineru to build a mechanism that could make her stone tablets float in the sky. "Which I take it are the very tablets you found, Link? But it doesn't end there. "If my translation is correct, it suggests that their Zelda worked with Mineru to raise the Temple of Time into the sky! "The idea of the Temple of Time—a grand edifice built in that ancient era—being lifted to the skies to await a hero… "Although given the appearaance of the sky islands after the Upheaval, perhaps it's not so far-fetched as it seems. "What must it have been like for the chamberlain to live through such miraculous times?"

The actual translation:

"Since her founding has Hyrule such hardship seen, but that is only small moment of time. "Mineru, the king's elder sister, says of this kingdom that it nay may not aware it be caught, not even for the far future. "Princess Zelda tells her that this future be wrought already, that a champion be from the sky comes. "Between the two, they made to find a way this champion in that distant time to help. "Her my truth, sought they to up-risen the Temple of Time, into the sky to ward it against evil. "All done so in far distant day, our kingdom might be saved. "In my heart I want to help more, and I asked of Mineru, can you devise the means to uprisen in the sky these stones. "My words I see not now, but they these memories safe, of the royal family, high in the sky for that future time."

The Day the Land Rose

The ancient Hyrulean:

"Swich wondrous sight y hav bihelden that ne con hit nat justil be described. "The Temple of Time y sawe, ond al londe yheld it, reisen to the skie, both ferful ond majestatic. "As princesse Zelda itold mi, in fer distaunt future comes a champioun to that place, the hope that Hyrule safen. "For that champioun be hit that y thes grete stane inscriben. "The kynges elder suster, Mineru, sendes nou thes stane to the skie, that the champioun mought hem ireden."

What Wortsworth tells you:

"This is an eyewitness account of the day the Temple of Time floated into the sky. "It's a landmark discovery for the history of Hyrule. It may be one of the top 10 most important discoveries of all time! "Even among all the breathtaking displays of power we knew of from the era, to raise the land and its buildings into the sky… "That was a feat impressive even to those accustomed to wonders. You can tell as much from this account. "Zelda predicted that a hero would appear in the land they raised into the sky and that he would save Hyrule. "The chamberlain took this on faith and wanted to know how she could help. "So she inscribed these records on the stone tablets that Mineru sent into the sky. "Give me a moment. I need to view these accounts as a historian and not get so swept up in personal sentiments…"

The actual translation:

"Such wonderous sight I have beheld that nay can it not just be described. "The Temple of Time I saw, and all land held it, risen to the sky, both fearful and majestic. "As princess Zelda told me, in far distant future comes a champion to that place, the hope that Hyrule is safe. "For that champion be it that I these great stones inscribe. "The king's elder sister, Mineru, sends now these stones to the sky, that the champion might him read."

A Parting Resolve

The ancient Hyrulean:

"Rauru, Hyrules kyng. Sonia, hir quen. His elder suster, Mineru. Ond eek princesse Zelda. "Al whom y served, ond loved. Al whom thurghhon. Alon kerv y thes wordes upon this stan. "This stan, ond al thritene, serven als roial families recorde, min werk final, ful-wroht for al age. "Mani the mark made bi thes much biloved peples—som eth-sene, som unsene. "Whan y make remembraunce of hir markes, fele y flaume of hope, though ful small, within mi. "Hit be als though thes markes som graunt design describen. "I ne con nat met princesse Zelda hir lov for hir londe. What mor than, ask y, can y do for Hyrules peples. "Let min lyf lede mi fro hennes-forth an answere ful-worthi to this questioun."

What Wortsworth tells you:

"It seems this is the last of the records. "The royals whom the chamberlain served so faithfully were gone, one by one… "It's heartrending to read. Her pain comes across so clearly in her words. "What's less clear from these entries is the cause of all these partings… "Well, each new mystery is an opportunity to do more research. If I keep digging, someday I'll unravel it."

The actual translation:

"Rauru, Hyrule's king. Sonia, her queen. His elder sister, Mineru. And the princess Zelda. "All whom I served, and loved. All whom they're gone. Alone carve I these words upon this stone. "This stone, and all thirteen, serve as royal family's record, my work final, full-wrought for all ages. "Many the mark made by these much beloved peoples—some as seen, some unseen. "When I make remembrance of her marks, feel I a flame of hope, though full small, within me. "It be as though these mark some grand design described. "I nay can not meet princess Zelda her love for her land. What more than, ask I, can I do for Hyrule's peoples. "Let my life lead me for hence-forth an answer full-worthy to this question."

And that is all thirteen slabs translated.

¹ "Eck" has no apparent equivalent, but can be guessed to mean "with" from context.

² "Laudation" might not be correct; failing to translate "lausion" in English, I turned my switch to French mode, and the word that took its place was "admiration." "Laudation" was the closest related word with similar letters.