#its a bad short term fix

[zanmor]

And they're doing their damndest to make it happen at the post office.

[ifyourereadingthisblinktwice]

i need to stop forgetting things exist the fucking second they leave my field of vision. why is is impossible for two things to occupy my mind at once especially when im tired. like. i feel like a sim. i feel like actions are being canceled and i just. move on. and completely forget what i was doing moments before. i fucking hate it

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[guinevereslancelot]

i'm literally so dumb

[thatdeadaquarius]

sagau with the language barrier issue except... the creator is sick and tired of trying to ask for things so they do everything themself.

and it gives their followers mass anxiety bc they can't even ask what you're doing... bc they know they won't understand anything...

SUCH A GENIUS NARVI 10/10 GOOD WORK SORRY IM SUPER LATE BUT THIS IS *chefs kiss*

Like, that's literally how I feel like I first played Genshin LMAO

Also this has a cont. Part 2 at the bottom bc tumblr fucking hates me UPDATE I FIXED IT THANK FUCK

Paimon was like "and then we go to Mondstadt- ! NO, not Wolvendom, to Mondstadt! NOT THE THOUSAND WIND TEMPLE WITH ENEMIES OUT OF UR LEAGUE, ENTER MONDSTADT FOR THE FIRST TIME BEFORE U EXPLORE THE REST OF THE MAP!! >:("

SO MANY IDEAS YET SO LITTLE WRITING SKILL GUYS HELP-

Also warning this is ROUGH in terms of spelling and editing and im so sorry abt that! I have my art show today so you're welcome to come back if you want to see it a little more readable tomorrow lmao

Edit Update 4/6/23:

Revised and fixed all the bad spelling and grammar (hopefully) so make sure to give another read if you havent read the cleaned up version lol

I dont have a beta reader so its just me trying my best ok-

Everything was like kinda chaos tbh at first

WOW- MY FIRST 1,000+ NOTES POST??!?! U GUYS, WHAT ARE R YOU DOIN??!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH!! IM GLAD U GUYS ENJOYED IT SM!! Also look out for more encoded stuff in the future since i mentioned wanting to continue stuff like this + ARG stuff :) <3

Edit 9/7/23: 2,000+ NOTES?? THANK YOU???

Like u wake up under the Irminsul, and u think ur hallucinating a goddamn gacha game for like a solid 5 minutes, or ur lucid dreaming, 

but once u actually took what felt like hours to process that u might actually be in fucking Genshin Impact-

Nahida came running from, somewhere?? Its kinda just very floaty dreamy in here so, unclear, she’s beaming with a giddy little smile (💘)

It’s… so much more than what her game model could manage.

I mean, you knew that, of course you did, but- to see the tiny goddess smiling in person, her cute chubby arms waving in the air, her cheeks all plump with baby fat from her excited smile, pretty green eyes that sparkle only in the way excited toddlers do-

It was just…wow. 🥺

You can’t help it, her sheer carefree excitement, exactly like a child but you know that she must be really overwhelmed with joy if shes letting herself act like that so blatantly, you feel ur muscles tug gently into a smile, you try to muffle it but ur happiness leaks out anyway

She's panting as she stumbles on short chubby legs to reach you.

After just staring at you with those big green clover eyes for a few seconds, she physically shakes her head to knock herself out of it,

Nahida places her hand over her heart, and bows elegantly, going back to looking at you with a small but bright smile, her voice is kind of quiet, muffled in a soft way, much like her game depiction,

“Hzozn! R'ev yvvm dzrgrmt gl nvvg blf! R wrwm'g gsrmp blf dlfow wvhxvmw fmgro R dzh zg ovzhg z uvd gslfhzmw bvzih low!” *

…Nahida begins to look a little concerned… her eyes get impossibly bigger.

…Oh no.

♧

Nahida had apparently quickly spread the news that you can’t understand them, but luckily it seems like all the characters still know you!

Alhaitham is pretty much a constant by your side, you knew he was vaguely studying linguistics in the akademiya… but that knowledge still didn’t prepare you to be intensely stared at with his diamond pupils for hours. 💀

Then he’d tap your shoulder or something, and you quickly picked up that he wanted you to just try and say something.

Then he would scribble for hours.

Turns out they can understand you about as much as you understand Teyvat language (s? You can’t even tell if there are multiple languages, that’s how unrecognizable this language is, damn)

The more extroverted or friendly people, like Venti, Yoimiya, Kazuha, Jean, Noelle, Amber, Xingqiu, Hu Tao, Zhongli, Ganyu, Barbara, Beidou, Collei, Ayaka, Gorou, Nilou

At least attempt to talk to you, and try very hard to watch what you gesture with your hands or body language

They're pretty much ready to play charades at all times for you lol

Interestingly enough, they only ever understood you when you typed in the chat (with other ppl)

But even then not immediately, 

Sumeru scholars basically had to make a whole new department (regardless of how much you play with others) to decipher your ancient language (to them) like those old clay tablets with cuneiform we’re still translating?

Like that, your words appear in elemental magic heavy places (so like that abyss lang. It’ll appear on walls or structures, so like Andrius’ stone colosseum? in Wolvendom gained some of your chat replies inscribed and glowing a rainbow of colors on the top edges of the walls)

Much like the abyss language you see throughout genshin, most Teyvat scholars (across nations/internationally) agreed your language is the oldest form of language known!

It’s like modern languages having roots in older ones, like English with Latin, greek, or German roots, or Sanskrit and the Prakrit for Hindi language today

…so of course no one really speaks the root languages anymore, because they’re so old, so those ancestors who spoke those languages would have little to no understanding of their modern counterparts…

◇

Occasionally if you turned your mic on for whatever reason there would be a gentle whisper on the winds in Mondstadt of your voice,

or your laugh in the waves washing ashore in Inazuma and Fontaine,

your startled noises or screams from battling bosses mixed with the landslides in the mountains of Liyue

So they know what you sound like, but that doesn’t mean they understood your language :/

Nahida had been hoping that you’re actual physical form being here would help improve the language barrier

But unfortunately, those things remained the same, but at least you were physically here to talk to now and give more content for the scholars to study rather than them having to make do with your snippets of language from chats

…so needless to say, it took you a long time to realize they viewed you as a god of sorts.

You kind of knew something was up when at least two allogenes were by your sides at all times, or eremites would replace them if they really couldn’t stick around

You figured they knew you weren’t nearly as combatant-ready as they were at all times, hell you obviously didn’t have a vision hanging off you somewhere, and you only really had a knife strapped to a belt, courtesy of the Thirty Corps

You are still kind of convinced that the people of Teyvat, or Sumeru at least, are just pretty polite (and in the allogenes case, very kind or friendly, even people like Alhaitham or Cyno, resting bitch faces they have, seem to soften a little when they’re walking around with you… maybe you’re just imagining it…)

And as much as you would love to wait until they understand you to do something more fun, as you can see the frustration on Tighnari’s face (and his ears try to flatten back hehe) as he looked like he was debating heatedly with some of the Sumeru sages who insist you stay in the city

…so why not go?

It’s not like they’re going to get it anytime soon, and it’s still too frustrating for yourself to charade things or draw things for them because you can’t even hear their guesses 💀

You can totally handle being like the traveler too, 

You still have access to your inventory afterall! Plus, lucky for you, you still find a pass for the Serenitea Pot in your little pocket dimension!

So now you have somewhere to sleep at night, and while most of your stuff went to the traveler’s pack, the things like Primogems

(which.. Okay now you really want primogems bc theyre so pretty and shiny irl)✨️

And other high-level things, or just objects of no use for the traveler (so basically all your hoarded level up stuff and infinite amount of weapons lol) came along with you

So you did have to wander the first week or so around the city and even commission the Adventurer’s Guild to grab you food supplies to cook with

Filling up, along with a few big waterskins, you’re off!

...and everyone collectively has a heart attack!

◇

When you show up in Ghandaraville essentially all “✨️💖☺️✨️” on Tighnari’s doorstep-

He chokes on the tea he’d been sipping on before he opened the door lol

He looks a little frazzled so you try to just gesture with “calm yourself small animal” energy with your hands

“Tivzgvhg Oliw! R'n- R- sld wrw blf-?! Mvevinrmw, xlnv rm, xlnv rm, ivhg! ...R mvvw gl hvmw z nroorlm ovggvih mld gl ylgs gsv vmgriv xrgb lu Hfnvif, gsv Zxgrmt Tizmw Hztv, zmw gsv Nzgiz nlhg orpvob…” he began out looking at you and talking and gesturing to his small dining table (the game sucks, his house looks great and has lots of cool rooms filled with interesting plants… oooo…so pretty...) 

But then he kinda just devolved into rambling, no need to understand, you can read the vibes and just know that's what he's doing lol

Collei eventually ducks in, and she looks a little panicked?

She’s quickly followed by Cyno, pushing past her to call out into the house,

His voice seems hard and stressed, looking at Tighnari, “Grtsmzir, szev blf hvvm gsv Tivzgvhg Oliw zmbdsviv, gsvb dviv hvvm xlnrmt gl Tszmwziezeroov ozhg-” 

Cyno stops and blinks.

Collei’s mouth is slightly dropped open, she also just, blinks.

You blink. 

Tighnari blinks tiredly, he looks like he’d rather be done for the day, you think.

The doctor sighs, and moves his head to nod towards the other dining seats.

◇

Sumeru foods are so much better looking in real life, and they’re so good too, your practically bloated by the end of dinner, 

As a thank you, bc u cant say it obv, you just gesture for Tighnari to stay sitting, and he gives you a raised eyebrow and a suspicious ear twitch

But stays still, and you reach out to finally hit the eight-pointed star hovering over his, and all playable characters chests at all times.

Like you suspected, it brings up a holographic character menu, but rather than his full model, it kind of hovers in front of Tighnari’s face, replacing his old 3D model self with framing the real thing for a portrait just in front of his face

The poor Denro user nearly jumps a foot out of his chair as he looks in shock at your screen, you do the same “chillll boy” gesture with your hands and press his shoulders for a second to remind him to not run off or panic

Cyno and Collei had done the dishes and put up leftovers, and are now standing behind Tighnari, watching with equally wide eyes,

“...Dszg ziv gsvb wlrmt gl blf?

Cyno’s voice is even deeper and quieter than usual, you feel goosebumps run up your spine

“Ziv blf tvggrmt yovhhvw, Nzhgvi Grtsmzir?!” Collei’s sweet voice is also hushed like she’s witnessing something sacred, Tighnari gently shakes his head negatively in response, his shoulders shrugging,

“Nzbyv? R uvvo... z orggov hgilmtvi, zmw nb Erhrlm rh zxgrmt fk zh dvoo…”

Though he’s replying, Tighnari’s eyes haven’t once left your ancient magic? technology device? hovering in front of him,

and as he crosses his arms and squints to try and look closer at everything floating in front of him, you can see the childlike gleam of awe in his green eyes, (so cute) in fact, now that you glance up and look, both Collei and Cyno have the same quietly excited and fascinated sparkle in their eyes too

With a displeased sneer, you chuck his old level one bow into the material grinding spots, hope he wasn’t attached to that…

Oh well, he’ll like the new one better, afterall, with no characters, all your best weapons and artifacts are ready to use!

With a small smile of reassurance, you finally finish gearing Tighnari up, tap a miniature version of that 8-point star in the corner like an “X” button, and it retreats like a classic TV set📺 turning off into his chest, he startles but then carefully stands

You decide to just start making decisions bc its worked out so far ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

And grab his hand and haul him out into the forest, Collei letting out a surprised squeak, her and Cyno hurrying after

You reach the nearest clearing, and gesture at Tighnari like a bow and arrow firing, he gets it, and your glad he already trusts you, because he doesn’t take long to summon his bow

He takes aim at a smaller tree about two cars length away

You can feel them all holding their breathe, as Tighnari charges it with Dendro, the arrowhead glowing, (it looks so cool and badass irl god you feel envious even tho ur already here-)

The ranger lets it fly, it streaks neon green, whistling through the air, it hits the tree-

and it fucking explodes.

Vines and leaves and the trees roots all rapidly swell like theyre filled with water, like it literally got hit by a superhero with plant powers, which, not that far off actually.

The green floating Dendro seeds make a ring around the tree its so full of elemental energy-

You give a wild grin, you still got it, hell yeah. >:)

Your grin widens as you look over at Tighnari, Collei, and Cyno

Cyno has a smirk lighting up his face, eyes eager, Collei’s jaw has dropped and she’s just frozen staring as the tree finally settles from the burst of the dendro powered arrow

…Tighnari has lowered his bow, and his mouth is only slightly open, his ears perked straight up into the air, shaking with excitement? Happiness? Interest? You don’t know how peopl-animal-hybrid ears work,

and you STILL cant talk to any of them to ask what they thought, so looks will have to do >:/

Tighnari is the first to move, his head snapping over to look at you, the brightest, kinda feral tbh, smile taking over his face-

“Blf pmld, dv xzm'g fmwvihgzmw blf, zmw blf fh, bvg R xzm'g dzrg gl hvv dszg rm gsv dliow blf'iv tlrmt gl wl mvcg. Blf'iv znzarmt."

… and you just 🙂? Cool!

And give a thumbs up👍LMAO

☆

Bonus:

Alhaitham was literally running around Sumeru City trying to find you when you left, tho you did try and leave a translatable-in-3-to-5-business days-note, he didn’t have time to translate that because you were gone.

Or worse, lost in the city, and he would never forgive himself if he lost you, esp as Acting Grand Sage-

Kaveh got a letter a day and a half later from Tighnari letting them know you were having a sleepover in Ghandarvaville lol

Kaveh also had to hunt down Alhaitham to give him said news, then force his roommate to go sit or lay down for the rest of the day to recover lmao

(Haitham honestly kinda freaked Kaveh out bc he’s never seen him that... desperate, it was like seeing a statue emote lol)

♡

ARE YOU KIDDING WE ALMOST HIT LIMIT AGAIN?!

Bro has anyone else had this problem???

I literally had to switch from PC to mobile and copy and paste it there to get all my shit in and tumblr not throw a hissy fit???!!!

FUCKING TUMBLR- SUCK MY BIG FAT- 👹👹 UGH

ANYWAYYYY SO I FINALLY CAVED 

And started doing ciphers for when you dont get teyvat’s language! I meant to do something fun like this for awhile but I wasn’t sure if that would be kind of annoying, but if you’re interested in learning what they actually say (which the whole point of this is that dw it doesnt rlly matter lol) here’s a hint:

*hint = Atbash

:> good luck!

Wish me luck on my art exhibition today!! Then I’ll be homefreeeee 😭

Safe Travels,

💀♒

♡ the beloveds ♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist

[ilovetoxicfictionalmen]

I’M HERE TO HELP

Pairing - Jonathan Crane x fem!reader

Summary - Your emotional instabilities and impulsive behaviours slowly kills all of your relationships. So you check yourself in for therapy with a doctor who uses unorthodox methods to fix you.

Warnings - BPD, mental illnesses, emotional and physical insecurities, emotional manipulation, emotional abuse, dubcon, dark, angst, p in v, oral both receiving, m! masterbation, daddy issues, toxic relationships, illegal methods, toxic reader.

Word count - A WHOPPING 8.9K

Notes - Heavily inspired by my own personal struggles with BPD. Very long, completely packed with angst and dark themes. A slight AU were Jonathan is your average therapist and not at Arkham. I don't really write longer pics so I'd really appreciative your thoughts. No fear toxin was used in the making.

Borderline Personality Disorder. 

There were no medications to cure you of this mental illness. The only treatments were exercises, meditation and talk therapy. 

Everyday, you experienced a series of insecurities, issues and habits that all stemmed from your childhood. A traumatic relationship with your father had left you to grow up to be yanked between emotionally codependent and unavailable. Your life was full of mood swings and feeling disconnected from who you were. All of your relationships were either short term or on and off. One minute you’d love them and the next you’d despise them. You had no control on how you felt about others. Their images were constantly changing like a series of short ads on the television. 

Everyone was black or white, they were either good or bad for your existence. It left your social interactions to be quite unstable and chaotic. Because you liked to push people away frequently to see how badly they cared for you. It was based on your skepticality and distrust in their words. But could you blame them for leaving with how often you’d self-sabotage your happiness? 

This whirlpool of intense emotions, thoughts and behaviors left you lost in your own mind. One day, you wished you never woke up and the next you'd be high on life. There was no stability in your life, you lived on impulses which you would quickly regret and those actions would replay in your mind for hours. 

You liked to binge drink, take drugs and partake in reckless sex. The thrill of living on the edge was the only feeling you wanted to feel for years. But when you accidentally formed a relationship with a mutual friend named Peter, you got too attached. It freaked you out and well, you acted impulsively and cheated on him. It painted your bad persona clearly to your friends. You were in desperate need of help. 

Your therapist, Doctor Jonathan Crane, was here to help. 

Sensitive, timid, hesitant. Those were your clear characteristics Doctor Crane saw within the first few minutes of meeting you, he jotted them in his notepad as soon as he could. Your initial shyness was cute, you were cute. Even underneath the oversized hoodie you chose to wear that day, which you immediately regretted when you saw him. 

Doctor Crane preferred the mind over the body. Human’s physicality has barriers. Its capability could only be reached so far. However, the mind could be explored to great depths. Every dot of matter in the brain could create a chain reaction in your physical actions. The mind truly ruled over the body. 

Your story was interesting to him, fascinating even. It was gripping for Doctor Crane to find out what made you who you were. How much of an impact your childhood had altered you, broken you. A tiny part of him felt sympathy for you and a large part felt empathy. You were a pretty face begging to be discovered, to be fixed. But he wasn’t even sure yet if he wanted to fix you, he liked the way you were torn. 

He wrote your list of fears on a separate page. 

Abandonment

Commitment

Vulnerability

Judgment

Rejection

Emotional Intimacy

You were no virgin, but emotional intimacy frightened you immensely. The idea of another knowing you completely felt too overwhelming. You had many promising suitors, but your standards seemed to be as high as a tower. So you’d partake in casual sex and sabotage any chance you had at finding true love. Contradictory, it left you feeling empty and alone. But the thought of being held by another, letting your emotions take toll over your body made you feel sick in your stomach. 

The emptiness inside of you begged you to do something, so you bit the bullet and decided to get help. Here you were now, sitting across from your therapist, awkwardly looking at the ground as his eyes lingered over your body. 

Today, you wore a plaid beige skirt that rested just above the knee, which didn’t fail to perfectly hug your soft thighs. The black blouse you wore was perfectly in between modest and sexy. Not to mention your polished mary jane shoes accompanied with the white socks made you look like a fucking naughty school girl begging to be bent over. 

At least, these were all a part of Doctor Crane’s observations. 

Today’s session was different however, he picked up on your behavior immediately when you kept your head low as he warmly welcomed you inside. Your honeyed voice lacked desire, you looked exhausted, broken perhaps?  

“How are you feeling today? You look quite… Taciturn…” Doctor Crane pointed out as he looked your appearance up and down. He leant back in his seat and straightened his shirt. His slender index finger pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. 

A weak smile spread across your lips momentarily, he wanted to know how you were. No, stop thinking that way… Your mood was like a sheet strung up to a clothesline in the wind. Constantly switching up on you, blinding you on what was right and wrong. 

You had been seeing Doctor Crane for months now. A friend of a friend recommended him and his bio did not fail to describe his level of expertise. In fact you were afraid you wouldn’t be able to get a slot in with him. The therapy started off well, great even. It was worth the pot of anxiety that stewed in your stomach before you built up the courage to get out of your car. 

However, he was wickedly gorgeous. It was like he was made with poison and the more you admired his charm the more it destroyed you emotionally and mentally. Doctors were only meant to be attractive in soap operas or pornos. Real therapists were supposed to be old and borderline creepy. However, Doctor Crane almost looked too young to have his doctorate and a record of accolades that hung from his wall. His beauty was immensely intimidating, his high levels of confidence was a reflection of how little you had in yourself. 

Your psychiatrist certainly had a way with words. It was almost as if he knew you better than you did. The zone was free from any spec of judgment and you fell completely open to him over a short few sessions. Before every session, you found yourself pairing the best outfit you could to try to catch his attention. Apply your makeup as seductively yet modestly as you could. You trusted him completely without realizing. That’s when he knew the real treatment could begin. 

-

The exercises came into play by your sixth session together. That session, your therapist presented a new floor length mirror he had brought. It was odd, but you admired the piece nevertheless. When your session was half way through, he instructed you to stand.  

“Now, I believe you’re ready for some physical exercises” he smiled innocently to you. 

It was simple, stand in the mirror and look at yourself. At first, it was funny, but quickly the discomfort grew as the silence sank in the room. Then you were staring at yourself with pure disgust. Your arms gradually wrapped around your waist as you blinked more frequently, your body swayed gently. 

“What do you see?” He asked eventually, still sitting on his seat, notepad and pen in hand. 

“Myself” you mumbled as you tugged your skirt down as much as you could. 

“Could you be a bit more descriptive?” He cocked an eyebrow towards you, a drip of humor on his tongue.

Shortly after, you came clean on what was on your mind. “I look filthy. It’s disgusting” you admitted shamefully, looking down to the floor. 

“And why do you feel disgusted?” your therapist inquired as he wrote down his observations. 

“Because, look at me… I’m hideous” you answered, your cheeks feeling flustered. 

You weren’t asking for compliments, your honesty was raw emotions. Sometimes you’d look at yourself and see a complete stranger and you’d wonder how people could ever talk to you, let alone want you. You blinked back your tears and stood on wobbly feet. His words were falling deaf on your ears again, you were too focused on your thoughts. He sighed and placed his notepad down on the table. 

“Look at how insecure you still are…” Doctor Crane cooed in a slightly demeaning way as he stood up from his seat and gradually stood behind you. 

There was silence for a long time. The both of you looked at each other through the mirror, almost as if you were both daring each other to make the next move. 

“Do you see someone lovable?” He asked, his face slowly inching closer to your ear. 

“No” you replied, emotionless. 

“Why not?” He furrowed his eyebrows, his body almost pressing up against yours. 

“Because I don’t deserve it” you answered. 

You felt dull again, the emptiness had ripped a hole in your body yet again. Doctor Crane analyzed your stern, lifeless expression. It could happen so easily, your switch up. It was enthralling with how many triggers you had, you were a tennis ball being whacked from one emotion to the other. 

“You’re too harsh on yourself… Far too harsh” your therapist tutted his light scold at you. One of his hands rests on your shoulder to comfort you. 

“What do you see?” You asked him, raising your chin up in an act of hope. 

“Don’t look away from the mirror” was his answer in an emotionless yet stern tone. 

A swift look of confusion planted on your expression. But regardless you obeyed his simple order and remained silent as you stared at him through the mirror. 

His hand slipped from your shoulder to across your chest in an anticipating speed, his pressed fingers spread apart at the same pace. Even though his hand was running across your upper torso, your heart was thudding in your chest so powerfully that he could feel it pump that far away. His hand stopped on your opposing shoulder and gently tugged you back to his chest. 

“What are you doing?” You croaked out, your throat dry and tight as you looked at the two of you. It was almost as if you were in a headlock, but it was gentle.  

“An exercise. I’m helping you get comfortable with yourself” he answered confidently, his cold face pressed against your heated one. 

Your body was as stiff as a board. He sighed to himself when his free hand ran down your body. 

“Relax… For once, let go of the thoughts and focus on your physicality” he ordered softly, almost sounding like a beg instead. His tone was soothing, almost hypnotic. 

So your mind obeyed him immediately. You body fell back into his like your bones had snapped into jelly, he was practically a crutch at this point, you’d fall to the ground if he let go of you. His hands gently caressed your hip, it felt soothing, comforting, secure. 

“Wanna know what I see?” He murmured. 

You murmured back and nodded your head. There was this mixture of fear and thrill painted across your expression. Both of you could see how badly you wanted to know, but how frightening the process was. Yet it was clear with how much it aroused you by how your cheeks darkened. 

“I see a pretty girl, who needs to be looked after. Taken care of. Someone who only wants to be held by another” he answered honestly. 

Your eyes swelled up with tears at his simplicity. When your breathing got rougher as the thoughts swarmed in your mind like a thunderstorm he whispered soothing tones by your ear. Both of you were still staring into the mirror. 

“Look at how smooth your skin is. Your face is faultless. And these curves… They are so sexy, is that an improper word to use?” Jonathan grinned at you, a slight chuckle at his deviant comment, both hands now planted on your hips.

His crotch was pressed against your rear, but he wasn’t erect. Honestly, you weren’t sure if it was reassuring or if it made you more insecure. His lips rested against your ear as you steadied your breathing. 

“Why are you saying this?” You gasped lightly. 

“I told you, it’s an exercise” he answered with a shrug of the shoulders. 

-

That was the day you learnt that Doctor Jonathan Crane was far from your traditional psychiatrist. He tested the modern norms and values of therapy. He used distinctive methods to assist with your progression. Methods that were best kept behind closed doors for both of your reputations. At first you were reluctant to a lot of them, stiff in the bones at the ideas of it. But he persuaded you otherwise, all you had to do was trust him, because it was for your benefit. 

So, you turned your head to the uneasiness of his treatment and trusted him. At the end of every session, you’d end up in a physical or emotional exercise. Some exercises were far more concerning than others. 

Which now, had led you to be so whipped by him, so mesmerized by. A common thread in people with BPD was for them to have a person that they depend on emotionally, for comfort and validation. They called it a favorite person. 

You grew very attached to your psychiatrist who eagerly wanted to help you and you rued at it every night. It wasn’t the type of love you craved it to be, it was obsessive. The both of you knew it. You’d think about him constantly, smile as you recall your past encounters together. Then you’d find yourself crying over the fact that you could never have him. You didn’t love him, you loved the person your mind had created him to be, yet you did love him. Your mind felt like a thunderstorm of confusion with him. No matter how badly you wanted to, you couldn’t let go of him.

You liked the routine you had with him. The security you felt when his arms were around your body eased all of your anxieties. Even though it was always only momentarily. You knew what he asked of you wasn’t right, especially when you’d count the times that he had purposely made you cry, but you did it anyway. Because he wanted you, even though it was only for the moment. 

Doctor Crane clicked his fingers to snap you back to reality. You blinked heavily and looked up to him. It was intimidating with how stern his expression was right now. You already knew that he was trying to piece you together like a puzzle. 

“Yeah, I’m alright” you replied to your psychiatrist. Typical for your response to be vague, you sounded tired, he jotted that down.  

But your smile wasn’t real. It was obvious by the way you were fiddling with the end of your skirt, something was irritating you. He noticed this habit from your first session together.

Doctor Crane was not stupid, but apparently you were dumb enough to think he was. The game was already in motion and you were waiting for the perfect opportunity to cut him off. Being sick was off the table, you would have canceled if you were, actually, you probably wouldn’t have given your condition. 

Regardless, he knew what moves were up your sleeves. The same cards you played on everyone. You wanted him to see you this way. Another desperate cry out for attention, for reassurance, as per usual. Mentally you had to be begging for him to drop to his knees for you. You were self sabotaging again. But it was the first time you had ever tried to do it with him. 

Last week, Doctor Crane canceled your appointment an hour before it should have commenced. A family emergency. Like he had anyone important enough for that. It was just a little experiment of his, to see how truly attached he already knew you were. 

It must have driven you insane. He wished he got to see how much you cried, or how out of touch you were for days. Because despite him constantly claiming otherwise, you thought he was wrapped around your finger by this point and it saddened you to remember how restricted your relationship was with him. His theory looked to be revealingly correct.

“Something’s on your mind… Did you want to tell me?” He asked, tilting his head towards you like you were a dog begging for attention. 

Oh how you hated the way his attitude could switch up on you. One minute he was loving, the next he was neglectful. Little did you realize, he was acting how you’d act to everyone else. 

“Yeah” you murmured with a gentle nod. 

He nodded for you to continue on. When you didn’t continue on, by your voice being stuck in your throat, his left eyebrow cocked. “I want this to be our last session together” you spat out your confession, gulping down your fear as you finally made eye contact with you.

You wanted to read his initial reaction, but the man’s face was carved by stone. It only overfilled your stomach with dreading anxiety and made your heart pound in your chest heavier.  

“Oh really? But I enjoyed our sessions” Doctor Crane pouted to you, he closed his notepad and placed it on the coffee table. 

His legs were crossed in a slutty manner as he tilted his head to you. You laughed nervously, he was always toying with you now, you couldn’t let your emotions persuade you otherwise. 

“So did I” you replied quietly, you face cringing at your response straight after, your thighs pressed together. Now with that, you caught his perfect blue eyes linger down to your thighs, only for a quick second. It could have been missed if you blinked at the wrong time. 

“So, what’s the reason?” He questioned. His fingers continued to tap on his knee as he watched you nervously bat your eyes around. 

“Because I’m going to work it out with Jaime” you spat out before you could think. 

-

Jaime was this guy you started seeing during your sessions with Doctor Crane. He was a coworker of yours and the tension had slowly been brewing over time. With your therapist’s help, you felt like you should try to open yourself to others besides him. So you did, you went on continuous dates. Yet you were too scared to tell Doctor Crane, this gut feeling told you he wouldn’t like it. 

When you were confident enough to share the information in your next session, you did not expect to walk out of the clinic with a flipped opinion on Jaime. Doctor Crane pointed out the facts. You liked the idea of him. He was promising, he looked at you in awe and not in desire. He cared about your future together. Jaime was the type of guy you’d take home to meet your parents. He was financially responsible, family oriented, involved in the community and took care of you. 

So Jaime ticked all of the appropriate factors, but Doctor Crane questioned what you really liked about Jaime. It left you lost for words, what previously you felt you could write an essay about, your mind fell blank. 

He followed this up on your fear of being sexual with him still. 

“You’re not into him. Four dates and still nothing? You’re just trying to fill the loneliness inside of you” He sighed, sounding disappointed in your actions. 

“No… No…” You defended pathetically. 

Your mind was racing at this point and there was no emergency stop lever. Hands rubbing together in an anxious manner as you blinked hard. 

“Fine, let’s do an exercise then” he clapped his hands together dramatically. 

You looked at him confused as he moved over to the lounge sofa. His hand gestured for you to follow, hesitantly you did and sat next to him. Through a stiff posture, you looked over to him as he casually leant back into the cushioning, his hands caressing his thighs. 

It came out before you could properly process it. A part of you thought it was a joke and then the next thought it was a hallucination. You stared down in a transfix, your throat clogged and mouth dry. 

“Pretty… Isn’t it?” He hummed as he stroked his huge size, his gaze panning up to you. A sly smirk was planted under his dark eyes. 

As your logic broke out, you whimpered and went to stand up but his hand latched onto your thigh quicker. 

“Relax, I don’t want you to touch me. I just want you to watch me” he clarified, as if it made this any better. “Don’t take your eyes off of me, okay?” He mumbled his demand as his eyes moved back down to his length. 

He was larger than most. A vein that poked out of his sensitive skin, which looked to be a couple of centimeters long. Typically, he was cleanly shaved as his hand wrapped around his firm member. All you could do was stare, in desire, in disgust, in disorder, in awe. 

You therapist looked back up to you, he pictured you dropping to your knees, humping your soaked cunt on his polished shoe as you begged him to fuck you, to make you orgasm. Fantasied you screaming his name out as he buried himself deep inside of you. 

He had to bite onto his lower lip to hold back his groans. As your thighs pressed together, you felt your core tingle, the vibrations grew bigger around your sensitive area. Both of your eyes shot up to each other simultaneously.

“You like this? Watching me stroke myself” he murmured, a wicked grin on his face as he observed your wide eyes. 

“Y-yeah” you shuddered, your head nodding in agreement. This massive urge inside of you fought to wrap your hands around his size, but you felt too intimidated to do it. 

“Dirty girl” he moaned lightly as he picked up his speed. 

As his climax almost reached its peak and his cock twitched, he swiftly let go of his member and maneuvered you onto your back. You gasped out in a mixture of shock, fear and pleasure as he roughly pulled up your top and aimed his length at your stomach. 

After a couple of vicious strokes, Doctor Crane snarled as his white ropes sprayed across your soft flesh. Your eyes darted up to his blue eyes and down to his throbbing member repetitively, your body stiff underneath him. He hummed in a low tone as his strokes came to a halt. 

He tilted his head at the pretty sight and breathed out. Your eyes connected once more and he chuckled to you.  

“See, how could you be into him? You just watched me masterbate and let me finish on you” he spoke in a nonchalant tone. 

-

He was calling your bluff, but the fact that you had the audacity to bring up his name angered him. Made him feel a wave of jealousy even. Nevertheless, he would still be up for the challenge. He snorted to you, his eyes studying your facial expressions. There was nothing you could do but awkwardly rub your chin and look away from your therapist. 

“You’re a horrible liar” he pointed out with a sly look. All you could do was lower your head in shame. “I thought I was helping you” he hummed, head tilted to the side as he waited for you to look back over to him. 

“I don't want to see you anymore” you divulged with a grunt, growing frustrated with his investigations. 

“Why not?” 

“I just don’t want to” you spoke slowly, every word had your jaw clenching. 

“This hasn’t got something to do with our last session together, does it?” He asked, a cynical smile growing on his lips. 

All you could do was shake your head. He was getting under your skin, he was meant to be a therapist for crying out loud. Why was he being so mean to you? Why did this have to mean so much to him? 

The matter in question was your last session together. 

-

You walked into the room highly overstimulated, unfocused, irritated with your burden of a reality. The past few nights you had been crying endlessly. The thought of him was constantly on your mind. He was an enigma, the impossible puzzle in stores that no one even bothered to attempt. Every move you made with him had you stepping back twice as far. Thinking of him made you so overwhelmed, because you didn���t know what he wanted from you. It was some twisted game in his mind and you were too naive in the beginning to think it was something else. 

He touched you, held you, caressed you, whispered sweet words into your ear, kissed you. Your therapist had explored almost every inch of your skin. His hips had rocked in sync with yours. You’ve seen him in completely vulnerable positions. Yet there was nothing that kept you together except for you booking in another appointment. 

He continued to remind you that he didn’t want you at the end of every session without saying as he walked you out the door. A constant reminder that these were only exercises. You were exhausted and ready to raise the flag. 

There was something real hidden underneath all of this. A twisted sensation that connected you both as one. It was a gut feeling, and you’d be damned if you tried to wait the sensation out of your body. At this point, it was all or nothing. 

“Act on it” he told you with an approving nod. 

You had just opened up to him with your scenario. Which he instantly knew was based around him despite you being highly vague. He read your expressions and body language clearly. You were overwhelmed, emotional, depressed, anxious and aroused. 

“What?” You frowned at him, a mixture of confusion and hope. 

“Act on your impulses” he clarified, straightening himself in his seat. There was a pause as you tried to read his expression, questioning if he was implying what you truly wanted to do. “Do it” he encouraged, flashing you a toothy grin. 

His legs spreaded on the chair, his hand tapping gently on his thigh, you could see it from where you were seated, the bulge in his trousers. Hesitantly you stood from your seat, he nodded to reassure you. Through a wobbly stance, you gradually approached your therapist, your heart pounded and thoughts raced like hotrods. 

As you stood before him, he admired the fear painted on you. You gulped down your thoughts and closed your eyes as you straddled him, his hands crept up to your hips as you took his short dark locks of hair in your hands. 

This was different from last time, you held the reins right now. Too afraid to look at him this closely, you leant down and kissed him. He welcomed your tongue into his mouth as his hands slid up and down your lower back, sending sensational shocks amongst your nerves. 

You moaned into his mouth and gently tugged at his roots. His hands wrapped around your back and he rocked his hips up and down slowly. When you finally opened your eyes again, he was looking right into you, as if he was studying every single thing you were doing. It discouraged you and you separated your lips and gulped, your hand wiped around your mouth. 

“Don’t be afraid… I’m right here, I’ll look after you” he promised you gently. 

You weakly smiled at him and found yourself slowly slipping down off of him. As you landed on your knees, your hands ran up and down his thin thighs. He sighed quietly as he watched you undo his leather belt. He helped you by raising his hips so you could tug down at pants, his cock flopped out onto his stomach. 

You’ve never touched it before and it sent vibrations up your core. It felt suspenseful, the quick look you gave before you wrapped your hands around him. He moved forward on the seat and you gave him a couple of lazy pumps. Slowly, your lips pressed against his tip and he groaned in approval. 

You closed your eyes as his length slipped into your mouth. Quickly, his hands gently held onto your cheeks. 

“No no… Don’t look away from me, I want to see those pretty eyes of yours” he ordered kindly, a sweet smile on his mouth.

Your eyes fluttered open and your mouth smiled around his length. As you hummed around his size, it sent vibrations down his sensitive member. At a slow pace, your mouth bobbed up and down, taking in a little more than the last time. His hands looped into your loose, soft hair as he encouraged you to go a little bit faster. Doctor Crane liked it when you thrummed around him, how you’d hollow your cheeks and the way you batted your eyes up to him. 

“Oh, such a good girl… You’re doing a fantastic job” he praised in a mixed tone of condescending and admiration which made your thighs press together.  He carefully lifted his body up from the chair and his trousers started to slip to his ankles. His legs stood apart as he guided your head. Your hands ran up the back of his thighs and rested just below his glutes.

One hand slipped out of your hair so he could untighten his tie enough so he could pull it off. His hands slowly pulled your mouth off of him, you made a pop sound and for a second he thought he was going to finish right there and then. Even though you were breathing heavily, you were smiling so gleefully at him, he couldn’t help but to look at you in awe momentarily. 

“Here… Wear this, it’ll make you look even prettier” he requested as he slipped and tightened his red tie around your gorgeous neck. 

His hand wrapped from the tip of the tie and gently tugged your mouth back towards his throbbing, wet member. Eagerly, you took him back into your mouth completely. Your fingernails tickled at his hamstrings as you found a smooth rhythm to bob at. 

“You’re so good at this… Can I go a bit rougher?” He gasped out. 

He didn’t even give you a moment to respond. He tugged the tie harshly towards him repetitively as his tip would hit the back of your throat. Your nails dug into his flesh as you squint your eyes shut, tears naturally swelled up. 

“No, I told you to look at me” he ordered more firmly this time, his free head patting your cheek to get your attention. 

You obeyed, but blunk repetitively to try to wash away your tears. He was groaning out gently, he didn’t expect you to look so beautiful this way. It felt almost native to him to have you here in this state. 

His size was twitching frequently in your mouth, he could feel how close he was. As his mouth fell open in pleasure, you couldn’t help but to smile again despite the painful speed you were going at. Because you were pleasing him, he was happy. 

“Can I finish in your mouth darling?” He asked in a gasp. 

Immediately you moaned around his shaft and even though Doctor Crane didn’t know what you were trying to spit out, he took it as a yes. When he felt his climax tip over, he pulled your face to his lower region, your nose pressed against his lower abdomen as he held you still there. His seed shot straight down your throat, only a couple of ropes got caught on your tongue. 

His blue eyes rolled back and he moaned out loudly. As his hand around the tie instinctively pulled as far as he could and his other hand slipped back into your hair and caressed your scalp. When his eyes fluttered back to reality and his post orgasm state settled in, he still held you around him, wanting it to last one more longer. 

Gradually, the tie slipped out of his hand and he tugged you off of him. Your body slumped down as you breathed out hard and swallowed the remainder of his semen. You took off the tie and rubbed the friction burn around your neck and soreness that pulsed on your mouth. 

However, when you looked back up to him, your smile quickly faded. 

“And that’s time…” He spoke emotionlessly, his eyes glued onto his watch. 

He had already tucked himself back into his trousers. Whilst you sat on your knees looking like a sweating mess. When he held his hand out, you mistook it for a kind gesture of helping you up. But he only wanted his tie back. As he tied it back around his neck, you sat frozen on knees, head laying low. 

His voice snapped you out of your thoughts. “Sweetheart, come on. I have another appointment” he sighed, his voice sounding distant. 

When you looked up, he was by the door, his hips leant to the left with his hands resting above them. You blinked away your tears and stood up on wobbly feet. Quickly you grabbed your belongings and sniffled as you approached him. 

As you went to open the door, his hand rested on your shoulder. You couldn’t help but to look up to him with a sliver of hope. 

“That was good progress today, I’ll see you next week” he nodded to you, his expression emotionless. 

He opened the door for you before you could even try to utter a word. As you walked out and turned around to see him one more time, he shut the door before you could. 

When he canceled on you the week after, reality hit you like a train traveling at high speed. He was using you, you were only a playtoy and it was a matter of time until he grew bored of you. The irony was how your therapist was destroying you instead of fixing you.  

You drove recklessly the whole time, wishing that you would just end up in a fatal crash. He told you to stay away from recreational drugs and alcohol early on. But that weekend you went out and impulsively took more than you should have. You ended up grinding with strangers, closing your eyes and picturing him and then you’d drink more to try to forget about him, even though it was just for the night. 

You don’t know how you got home the next morning, better yet how you didn’t have a single scratch on your body. It felt a sign that you needed to let him go. That he was the toxic venom in your life and loving him would kill you. 

He was the two end balls on Newton's cradle, his behavior to you was constantly switching. The way he kissed you, held you, caressed you. It all meant nothing. Especially when it came to comparison of how he’d shout at you, belittle you, scream even on occasions. Some sessions you’d end up having a complete meltdown in his arms and he’d apologize for taking the exercise too intensely. 

Everything he was doing to you was illegal. This wasn’t normal, this wasn’t healthy, this wasn’t proper treatment. He was only making your condition worse. He was taking advantage of you and you had been stupid enough to allow it for so long. It was time to take off the rose tinted glasses. 

-

Doctor Crane was correct yet again. You were not back in contact with Jaime. You only needed an excuse to get out of this cobweb of painful emotions and it was the best idea you had. His blue eyes were shooting daggers at you as he waited for your answer. 

“You could have canceled over the phone but you’re here… Why?” He frowned towards you, moving forward in his seat to get a view. 

You clicked your tongue and blinked back your tears. Your body was running high on adrenaline, it was hard for you to process anything that was happening around you. Doctor Crane could see how overstimulated you were, how hard this must have been for you. 

Your head remained low as you began to speak. “I will-”

“Look at me when you’re talking” he resisted his snarl through his demand as he cut you off. 

As you clicked your tongue again, your head shot up in anger. He couldn’t help but to grin, you’ve never looked at him with such fury. The fire inside of you made the blood run to his cock. 

A thousand words stormed through your brain. Everything that you wanted to scream at him banged against the walls, desperately trying to break out. It was hard to know what you wanted to say first. But then a thought of reflection sparked and within a click, your angered expression disappeared. Your torso relaxed as you blinked at him. His dark eyebrows furrowed to you as you calmed your breathing. 

“Goodbye Doctor Crane” you exhaled, a soft satisfied smile on your lips. 

For once, you could read his expression enough, he was taken aback. His eyes widened, only slightly, but nevertheless they widened. As his mouth slowly opened and head tilted, as his mind raced to spit something out, you stood up from your seat and turned to the door, gulping down all of your nerves. 

For a moment, he couldn’t help but to admire you walking away, the way your hips would swing. He couldn’t deny the fact that he was proud of you, for finally standing up for yourself. But he knew one thing, you were going to walk out that door and never return. 

Doctor Crane would be damned if he allowed you to leave him, especially on your own terms. A quick flash of fear mixed with excitement washed over his face and he acted impulsively for once. A sudden rush of desperation and desire compelled his thoughts. He jumped from his chair like a predator in pursuit of its prey. 

Before you could reach for the knob, you’re forced up against the door, not softly yet not too roughly to leave a mark. You gasp out as his hands run over your body animalistically. Doctor Crane’s mouth pressed to your jaw as his arms tangled around your body. 

“Doctor-” you whimpered and he couldn’t help but to moan out your name. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked quietly by your ear, his words hissing like a viper. 

Tears begin to shed again from your sore eyes. Why couldn’t he just let you leave and move on. 

“Stop…” you chortled, shaking your head at the thought of staying in this any longer. 

“Let’s talk about this” he pleaded in a humorous tone as he tried to guide you back to the middle of the room. 

But you stood firmly, your hand could just hold onto the doorknob. When you shook your head again he grunted and kissed your neck. 

“I don’t want to” you shivered, you wanted to sound confident but your emotions were failing you.

Doctor Crane kissed your neck repeatedly to try to convince you otherwise. It only made you whine and struggle against him. His lips pressed to your ear as his head nuzzled against yours, your knees couldn’t help but to buckle. 

“I thought you liked me…” 

“I can’t do this” you bit back your moan as you felt his erection hump against your ass. 

Naturally, your back began to arch as you pushed your head back against his. Whilst being under this seductive trance, he pulled you back towards his chair and fell back onto it. You sat on his lap, you back pressed against his front and his tongue rolled over your earlobe. 

“You’re so overstimulated right now… I can feel it running through your skin. You can’t even see how badly you’re acting. I bet you can hardly process what I’m saying” he grinned as his hands ran up and down your body, too greedy to stick to one spot. 

“No! Let go of me please! I want to leave!” You cried out, his fingers swiftly swam into your mouth to silence you. 

“Darling… Darling, you’re not okay. I need to help you. I legally can’t let you leave in this state, for your safety and others” he disclosed, a mischief look on his face. 

As his free hand snaked up to your tits as the other continued to pump his fingers into and out of your mouth. Your body squirmed on his, but you didn’t try to jump off of him, your body felt tired and aroused. 

“Fuuuck, you wore such a slutty outfit today. You must have really wanted to get my attention” he snickered as he pulled his fingers out of your mouth and you gasped out. 

“Doctor please… Please let me go. I-I” you stuttered as your eyes remained shut. 

“Stop thinking… Let your impulses take over” he spoke calmly. 

“No I can’t!” you argued, shaking your head at the thought of submitting to him again. 

You hated yourself. Because for days you were so determined on ridding him out of your mind. Finally letting go of his abuse. You were going to fix the part that he purposely broke in you. But here you were again, back on his lap. 

He sighed out and kissed your heated cheek again. 

“Look at how emotional you are. My poor insecure girl, I bet you’re all built up down there” he exhaled deeply as his wet fingers traveled down under your skirt and your body froze. 

“No… Stop, you’re upsetting me” you sobbed as his hand danced around your panties. 

He breathed out, his hand slid down to your thigh as he pressed his forehead to your hair. Silence filled the room as he hummed quietly, you sniffled a couple of times. 

“I know… If it changes anything, I’m sorry” he admitted, his arms wrapped around your waist. 

A beat. 

“Really?” You asked in a hopeful tone, your head turned back to him. 

Doctor Crane’s expression was completely emotionless except for his eyes as he slowly nodded. They were wide and glistening. Slowly, your body shifted back around to face him and his hands rested on your lower back. 

“Yes, I fail to remember how subconscious you can be” he explained, his fingertips playing with the end of your skirt. You felt skeptical, but he looked so innocent with his eyes raw with emotion, how could you not forgive that. “Let me make it up to you” he whispered as he leant in to kiss you. 

You allowed it, your arms wrapped around his neck as he kissed you passionately. You whimpered, your body shivering as his hands ran up your thighs to your ass. 

“I don’t want to do another exercise” you gasped as you broke the kiss. 

“This isn’t an exercise” he said sternly, his hands squeezing your rear. 

“What is it?” You furrowed your eyebrows. 

“Something far more memorable” he shrugged his shoulders gently as his fingers unbutton your blouse. “Now, let’s get you out of this pretty outfit” he instructed. As you pulled your shirt off, his fingers trailed over the perfect blue bra you wore. “So arresting” he admired, his top teeth grazing over his lower lip. 

He kindly ordered you to stand up as he unclasped your bra. His blue eyes lingered on your bare torso as he dropped to his knees to unbuckle your shoes. After he assisted you to take off your socks, he slowly pulled down your skirt and panties as one to the floor. 

He breathed out as he looked up to take in your perfectly imperfect figure. Your existence was like a piece of kintsukuroi, you turned to be more beautiful after being broken. 

He had never seen you naked before. Never seen anything besides the beauty of your stomach or thighs. Your body shivered and subconsciously you pulled your arms to your chest and your thighs crossed over as you watched his dark eyes, dripping with lust scan over you. After you did that, his eyes snapped up to yours and he tutted to you 

“No, no… Never hide yourself from me, ever” he commanded firmly as his arms reached up and repositioned yours back to your sides.

You whimpered but nodded regardlessly as his hands met in between your thighs and pushed them apart. He admired your cleanly shaved region and his hot breath fanned you momentarily before his cold lips pressed to your gushing folds. 

“Tastes so delightful” he complimented before kissing you there again. 

You held back your moan, it got stuck in your throat and he looked up to you. Purely wanting to see your reaction as he flicked his tongue over your clit. You mumbled out, your hands instinctively gripped into his hair for support. As his hands caressed your glutes, you couldn’t help but to feel a similitude to your last encounter together. His tongue lapped at your entrance, zigzagged up and down your folds as your eyes began to roll back. Naturally your hips rocked and fingertips massaged his scalp as he began to kiss your cunt in a sloppy manner. 

“Such a cute pussy” he commented in a lustful tone before his tongue shot inside of you. 

You cried out as you roughly tugged at his roots. His slippery tongue was darting in and out of you. The vibrations were sparking up your nerves as you couldn’t try to hide your moans any longer. Your toes were curling on the floorboards, breathing unsteady as your eyes blinked heavily. 

“I-I need… I need to” you stammered out, lost for words as your sight began to blur.

“Need to finish? You’ll ask nicely then” he demanded with a grin as he looked back up to you. 

You cried out in frustration as you heaved. “Please… Can I come” you whimpered softly. 

Usually, he’d prefer to tease a bit longer. But you looked so sweet, he couldn’t find a reason to say no. 

“Come on then, let me taste your sweet orgasm” he encouraged before his tongue attacked your bundle of nerves again. 

Shortly after, you screamed out, your back arched, head snapped back, toes tried to dig into the floor as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. It was music to his ears, as he greedily ate you out completely. You were whimpering words as he licked your cunt clean, your eyes forced shut from pleasure. 

Doctor Crane slowly stood up and rubbed his bulge, smiling at your post orgasm state. It wasn’t until you felt the cool sensation of the desk on your rear when you relaxed how far in the room you had moved. Your back fell onto the wood as you breathed out, his pants open enough for his throbbing cock to hang out and be stroked in his hand. 

“You go so mindless when you climax, it’s quite fascinating” he pointed out as he lifted your legs over his shoulders. 

You smelt of jasmine and rose, the perfect mixture of sweet floral and seductive muskiness which made his nostrils flare. Whilst he smelt of a perfect blend of rose petals, musk, precious woods and floral citrus which made Jonathan feel like he was the aftermath of a rain shower to you. 

You gulped as he pressed his tip to your recovering core. “Do you like me?” You blurted out as a wave of doubt crashed over you. 

“I fuck all of my patients” he chuckled lightly which made your face drop. “That was a joke” he sighed as he pressed the back of his hand to your heated cheek. “You certainly have my attention” he admitted with a soft smile as he lined his cock to your entrance.  

He wasn’t even sure if he was capable of those emotions, at least in a traditional sense. He knew that he loved every bit you hated of yourself, addicted even. There was this primal urge to take care of you, to look after you felt like a captivity he desired to be in. 

He liked how much you subconsciously feared him, which always resulted in you wanting to please him, to get some form of reassurance, of love. It was nice, knowing that someone was addicted to him like he was a drug. The feeling of being loved was comforting, in his own taboo way. 

As he roughly thrusted himself instead of you, your hands fell back and you knocked something off the desk. Your head snapped back to see what but his hand turned your face back to his serious expression. 

“How many times do I have to tell you. Keep your eyes on me” he warned as he continued to fuck you.

“But-” you opposed as you leant back more and gripped onto the edge of the desk. 

“Don’t worry about it” he grunted with his hips pistoning into you. 

You nodded eagerly with your mouth wide open. 

It was as if your eyes could speak the way he looked at you. The inquisitiveness in him always wanted to know what you were thinking. But at the same time, he merely liked to look into your pretty eyes. It almost gave him comfort that he was finally truly seen by another. 

You were alluring to him. Apparently made from the same toxin he was, because he was an addict for you. He was obsessed with discovering every single atom of you. It felt like his life mission to know everything there was to know about you. Yes, he took it too far with you on many occasions. But he just needed to uncover your triggers. He needed to know what to protect you from and how to keep you attached to him. 

His arms straightened besides your shoulders. “That’s my good fucking girl” he praised as his cock twitched inside of you. 

By the force he was going at, it was hurting you, but regardless, you felt your cunt drip immensely. His mouth hung open as his blue eyes fluttered lightly. 

“What do you call me?”

“Huh?” 

Doctor Crane repeated his words sternly after every thrust. You blinked and stammered for a moment, his cock distracting you from the correct answer. 

“Daddy?” You guessed unsurely. 

“No… Your father left you. But not me, I’m right here sweetheart. Call me by my name, because that’s what lovers do, isn’t it?” Jonathan smirked as his pace picked up, his own eyes began to roll back. 

You whimpered and called him by his name. In return, he moaned back your name and called you a good girl before kissing you. Through swollen eyes, you panted underneath him, his mouth pressed to your jaw. 

“You can be so mean to me” you whined pathetically as you struggled to keep your eyes on him. 

“I know” he replied blankly. 

“Why?” 

“It’s all a part of your treatment” he sighed, silencing you with his lips before you could ask any further questions. 

When your lips eventually separated, his hips were still thrusting into you viciously. Your region felt full and another orgasm was trying to latch onto your sensitive nerves. One arm shot up to latch around his neck, holding his face closer to yours as you stared deeply into his eyes. 

“I love you” you admitted in a trance of lust, comfort and pure raw emotion.

“I already knew that” Jonathan groaned back to you. 

You were dreaming if you believed you’d be able to get a confession out of him. If anything, you should be grateful enough to get this much out of him. But Jonathan couldn’t deny his attraction, his fixation towards you. 

You were in his dreams quite frequently. Jonathan saw you at home, being a perfect housewife and an exceptional lover for him. He had thought of going back to teaching at the university instead, that way you’d be able to make him breakfast, pack his lunch and have dinner ready for him by the time he returned home. His salary would be enough to protect you both financially, so you’d be able to quit your job and focus your life purely on him. Just as your condition compelled you to. This way, he’d be able to look after you always, and you'd be able to look after him. 

“I’m so fucking addicted to you. You’re my favorite little obsession” he confessed with a wicked smile. 

The type of look that made your stomach turn, realizing how big of a hole you had dug yourself, you may just never be able to climb back out of it. As a natural instinct urged you to get up and make a run for it, Jonathan forced you completely onto your back. 

You grunt out from the pain as he pressed himself completely inside of your pulsing walls. Jonathan’s tongue ran down your face. 

“You know BPD is incurable? You’re always going to need someone to look after you” he implied as his movements turned slow and painful as your cunt clenched around his size. 

“You scare me so much” you admitted through a wobbly lower lip. 

“Darling… That’s the whole point of it all” he replied calmly. 

“But don’t stress, I’ll always be here to help you” Jonathan assured your insecurities. 

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The housing emergency and the second Trump term

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveill ance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/12/11/nimby-yimby-fimby/#home-team-advantage

Postmortems and blame for the 2024 elections are thick on the ground, but amidst all those theories and pointed fingers, one explanation looms large and credible: the American housing emergency. If the system can't put a roof over your head, that system needs to go.

American housing has been in crisis for decades, of course, but it keeps getting worse…and worse…and worse. Americans pay more for worse housing than at any time in their history. Homelessness is at a peak that is soul-crushing to witness and maddening to experience. We turned housing – a human necessity second only to air, food and water – into an asset governed almost entirely by market forces, and so created a crisis that has consumed the nation.

The Trump administration has no plan to deal with housing. Or rather, they do have plans, but strictly of the "bad ideas only" variety. Trump wants to deport 11m undocumented immigrants, and their families, including citizens and Green Card holders (otherwise, that would be "family separation" and that's cruel). Even if you are the kind of monster who can set aside the ghoulishness of solving your housing problems by throwing someone in a concentration camp at gunpoint and then deporting them to a country where they legitimately fear for their lives, this still doesn't solve the housing emergency, and will leave America several million homes short.

Their other solution? Deregulation and tax cuts. We've seen this movie before, and it's an R-rated horror flick. Financial deregulation created the speculative mortgage markets that led to the 2008 housing crisis, which created a seemingly permanent incapacity to build new homes in America, as skilled tradespeople retired or changed careers and housebuilding firms left the market. Handing giant tax cuts to the monopolists who gobbled up the remains of these bankrupt small companies minted a dozen new housing billionaires who preside over companies that make more money than ever by building fewer homes:

https://www.fastcompany.com/91198443/housing-market-wall-streets-big-housing-market-bet-has-created-12-new-billionaires

This isn't working. Homelessness is ballooning. The only answer Trump and his regime have for our homeless neighbors is to just make it a crime to be homeless, sweeping up homeless encampments and busting homeless people for "loitering" (that is, existing in space). There is no universe in which this reduces homelessness. People who lose their homes aren't going to dig holes, crawl inside, and pull the dirt down on top of themselves. If anything, sweeps and arrests will make homelessness worse, by destroying the possessions, medication and stability that homeless people need if they are to become housed.

Today, The American Prospect published an excellent package on the housing emergency, looking at its causes and the road-tested solutions that can work even when the federal government is doing everything it can to make the problem worse:

https://prospect.org/infrastructure/housing/2024-12-11-tackling-the-housing-crisis/

The Harris campaign ran on Biden's economic record, insisting that he had tamed inflation. It's true that the Biden admin took action against monopolists and greedflation, including criminal price-fixing companies like Realpage, which helps landlords coordinate illegal conspiracies to rig rents. Realpage sets the rents for the majority of homes in major metros, like Phoenix:

https://www.azag.gov/press-release/attorney-general-mayes-sues-realpage-and-residential-landlords-illegal-price-fixing

Of course, reducing inflation isn't the same as bringing prices down – it just means prices are going up more slowly. And sure, inflation is way down in many categories, but not in housing. In housing, inflation is accelerating:

https://www.latimes.com/opinion/story/2024-03-08/inflation-housing-shortage-economy-cpi-fed-interest-rate

The housing emergency makes everything else worse. Blue states are in danger of losing Congressional seats because people are leaving big cities: not because they want to, but because they literally can't afford to keep a roof over their heads. LGBTQ people fleeing fascist red state legislatures and their policies on trans and gay rights can't afford to move to the states where they will be allowed to simply live:

https://www.nytimes.com/2024/07/11/business/economy/lgbtq-moving-cost.html

So what are the roots of this problem, and what can we do about it? The housing emergency doesn't have a unitary cause, but among the most important factors is fuckery that led to the Great Financial Crisis and the fuckery that followed on from it, as Ryan Cooper writes:

https://prospect.org/infrastructure/housing/2024-12-11-housing-industry-never-recovered-great-recession/

The Glass-Steagall Act was a 1933 banking regulation created to prevent Great Depression-style market crashes. It was killed in 1999 by Bill Clinton, who declared, "the Glass–Steagall law is no longer appropriate." Nine years later, the global economy melted down in a Great Depression-style market crash fueled by reckless speculation of the sort that Glass-Steagall had prohibited.

The crash of 2008 took down all kinds of industries, but none were so hard-hit as home-building (after all, mortgages were the raw material of the financial bubble that popped in 2008). After 2008, construction of new housing fell by 90% for the next two years. This protracted nuclear winter in the housing market killed many associated industries. Skilled tradespeople retrained, or "left the job market" (a euphemism for becoming disabled, homeless, or destroyed). Waves of bankruptcies swept through the construction industry. The construction workforce didn't recover to pre-crisis levels for 16 years (and of course, by then, there was a huge backlog of unbuilt homes, and a larger population seeking housing).

Meanwhile, the collapse of every part of the housing supply chain – from raw materials to producers – set the stage for monopoly rollups, with the biggest firms gobbling up all these distressed smaller firms. Thanks to this massive consolidation, homebuilders were able to build fewer houses and extract higher profits by gouging on price. They doubled down on this monopoly price-gouging during the pandemic supply shocks, raising prices well above the pandemic shortage costs.

The housing market is monopolized in ways that will be familiar to anyone angry about consolidation in other markets – from eyeglasses to pharma to tech. One builder, HR Horton, is the largest player in 3 of the country's largest markets, and it has tripled its profits since 2005 while building half as many houses. Modern homebuilders don't build: they use their scale to get land at knock-down rates, slow-walk the planning process, and then farm out the work to actual construction firms at rates that barely keep the lights on:

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/its-the-land-stupid-how-the-homebuilder

Monopolists can increase profits by constraining supply. 60% of US markets are "highly concentrated" and the companies that dominate these markets are starving homebuilding in them to the tune of $106b/year:

https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=3303984

There are some obvious fixes to this, but they are either unlikely under Trump (antitrust action to break up builders based on their share in each market) or impossible to imagine (closing tax loopholes that benefit large building firms). Likewise, we could create a "homes guarantee" that would act as an "automatic stabilizer." That would mean that any time the economy slips into recession, this would trigger automatic funding to pay firms to build public housing, thus stimulating the economy and alleviating the housing supply crisis:

https://www.peoplespolicyproject.org/wp-content/uploads/2018/04/SocialHousing.pdf

The Homes Guarantee is further explained in a separate article in the package by Sulma Arias from People's Action, who describes how grassroots activists fighting redlining planted the seeds of a legal guarantee of a home:

https://prospect.org/infrastructure/housing/2024-12-11-why-we-need-homes-guarantee/

Arias describes the path to a right to a home as running through the mass provision of public housing – and what makes that so exciting is that public housing can be funded, administered and built by local or state governments, meaning this is a thing that can happen even in the face of a hostile or indifferent federal regime.

In Paul E Williams's story on FIMBY (finance in my back yard), the executive director of Center for Public Enterprise offers an inspirational story of how local governments can provide thousands of homes:

https://prospect.org/infrastructure/housing/2024-12-11-fimby-finance-in-my-backyard/

Williams recounts the events of 2021 in Montgomery County, Maryland, where a county agency stepped in to loan money to a property developer who had land, zoning approval and work crews to build a major new housing block, but couldn't find finance. Montgomery County's Housing Opportunities Commission made a short-term loan at market rates to the developer.

By 2023, the building was up and the loan had been repaid. All 268 units are occupied and a third are rented at rates tailored to low-income tenants. The HOC is the permanent owner of those homes. It worked so well that Montgomery's HOC is on track to build 3,000 more public homes this way:

https://www.nytimes.com/2023/08/25/business/affordable-housing-montgomery-county.html

Other – in red states! – have followed suit, with lookalike funds and projects in Atlanta and Chattanooga, with "dozens" more plans underway at state and local levels. The Massachusetts Momentum Fund is set to fund 40,000 homes.

https://www.nytimes.com/2023/08/25/business/affordable-housing-montgomery-county.html

The Center for Public Enterprise has a whole report on these "Government Sponsored Enterprises" and the role they can play in creating a supply of homes priced at a rate that working people can afford:

https://prospect.org/infrastructure/housing/2024-12-11-fimby-finance-in-my-backyard/

Of course, for a GSE to loan money to build a home, that home has to be possible. YIMBYs are right to point to restrictive zoning as a major impediment to building new homes, and Robert Cruickshank from California YIMBY has a piece breaking down the strategy for fixing zoning:

https://prospect.org/infrastructure/housing/2024-12-11-make-it-legal-to-build/

Cruickshank lays out NIMBY success stories in cities like Austin and Minneapolis adopting YIMBY-style zoning rules and seeing significant improvements in rental prices. These success stories are representative of a broader recognition – at least among Democratic politicians – that restrictive zoning is a major contributor to the housing emergency.

Repeating these successes in the rest of the country will take a long time, and in the meantime, American tenants are sitting ducks for predatory landlords, With criminal enterprises like Realpage enabling collusive price-fixing for housing and monopoly developers deliberately restricting supplies to keep prices up (a recent Blackrock investor communique gloated over the undersupply of housing as a source of profits for its massive portfolio of rental properties), tenants pay more and more of their paychecks for worse and worse accommodations. They can't wait for the housing emergency to be solved through zoning changes and public housing. They need relief now.

That's where tenants' unions come in, as Ruthy Gourevitch and Tara Raghuveer of the Tenant Union Federation writes in their piece on the tenants across the country who are coordinating rent strikes to protest obscene rent-hikes and dangerous living conditions:

https://prospect.org/infrastructure/housing/2024-12-11-look-for-the-tenant-union/

They describe a country where tenants work multiple jobs, send the majority of their take-home pay to their landlords – a quarter of tenants pay 70% of their wages in rent – and live in vermin-filled homes without heat or ventilation:

https://www.phenomenalworld.org/analysis/terms-of-investment/

Public money from Freddie Mae and Fannie Mac flood into the speculative market for multifamily homes, a largely unregulated, subsidized speculative bonanza that lets the wealthy make bets and the poor pay their losses.

In response, tenants unions are popping up all across the country, especially in red state cities like Bozeman, MT and Louisville, KY. They organize for "just cause" evictions that ban landlords from taking their homes away. They seek fair housing voucher distribution practices. They seek to close eviction loopholes like the LA wheeze that lets landlords kick you out following "renovations."

The National Tenant Policy Agenda demands "national rent caps, anti-eviction protections, habitability standards, and antitrust action," measures that would immediately and profoundly improve the lives of millions of American workers:

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1JF1-fTalW1tOBO0FhYDcVvEd1kQ2HIzkYFNRo6zmSsg/edit

They caution that it's not enough to merely increase housing supply. Without a strong countervailing force from organized tenants, new housing can be just another source of extraction and speculation for the rich. They say that the Federal Housing Finance Agency – regulator for Fannie and Freddie – could play an active role in ensuring that new housing addresses the needs of people, not corporations.

In the meantime, a tenants' union in KC successfully used a rent strike – where every tenant in a building refuses to pay rent – to get millions in overdue repairs. More strikes are planned across the country.

The American system is in crisis. A country that cannot house its people is a failure. As Rachael Dziaba writes in the final piece for the package, the situation is so bad that water has started to flow uphill: the cities with the most inward migration have the least job growth:

https://prospect.org/infrastructure/housing/2024-10-18-housing-blues/

It's not just housing, of course. Americans pay more for health care than anyone else in the rich world and get worse outcomes than anyone else in the rich world. Their monopoly grocers have spiked their food prices. The incoming administration has declared war on public education and seeks to relegate poor children to unsupervised schools where "education" can consist of filling in forms on a Chromebook and learning that the Earth is only 5,000 years old.

A system that can't shelter, feed, educate or care for its people is a failure. People in failed states will vote for anyone who promises to tear the system down. The decision to turn life's necessities over to unregulated, uncaring markets has produced a populace who are so desperate for change, they'll even vote for their own destruction.

[gofishygo]

nikto + reader blurb

notes: mostly fluff, sex mentioned but no explicit scenes, slight body horror (nikto's scars), canon typical violence [mentions], god i love it when characters manage to heal and come to terms with their past and fall in love

honestly hoping n praying that nikto learns to live the softest n slowest life ever after meeting reader.

he's never gotten a day of comfort in his life, not after those interrogations. scared away both women and men in and outside of the military ever since then- face and body already nothing short of brutish and jagged angles, a bulk of muscle and fat that shadowed over every figure, weathered down to a near-macabre sight at the result of warfare. now the right half of his gum is exposed, torn apart by shrapnel and knife carvings that dragged across his face. sliced-off nostrils, yellow teeth poised at the world that had wronged him like a vulture preparing to feast- it was his unfortunate charm, the one that left him so often kicked out of brothels and whispered about in bars and revered in the barracks, smoking freely without disturbance in places where such had been outlawed years ago. of course he sees you- all keen and watching innocently, so starry eyed that it seems to blind you from his nature.

nikto would look down at his hands and see them as none further than machines. structured with bone and flesh to take down targets, but a puppet to the whims of the other voices that thrived only in his head. he was no more than the manifestation of his disorders, only set to take down the corpses that kortac had pointed at, the ones that kortac claimed to have wronged him.

and then you truly slip into his life, all doe-eyed and star-crossed. he thinks its none other than blasphemy, some sort of sick joke when you practically glue to him at the coffee shop, fixed on the crossword puzzles between his calloused hands. prodding around and occasionally chirping answers, some curious, but unfortunate, little thing that ended up right between his jaws. and he tries to spit you out, brush you off- your greetings at bars, parks, streetsides, alleyways none other than ignored with cold eyes and a masked face. but your laugh, sweet words- it trickles between cracks, melts the solute of stone, and soon enough, you're in his bed at seven am, tucked under his arm. he'd given you what you've wanted; held your body as gently as he had the ability to, growled some praise in your ear, let you sob into the pillows.

so he doesn't expect it when you show up at his door once again, oh-so-lovely smile on your face. certainly even more surprised when you keep coming, and cant deny the way his head goes a little fuzzy when he sees the notes you leave while he's in deployments, how you fold his sheets and put some flowers in a vase you'd bought that rested on his kitchen countertop. he leaves the door unlocked now, gives you the keys, and lets you in when the nights are cold.

you teach him things- how to tell if he's dreaming. learns to see his hands as more than accessories to murder, uses them as indicators to split his reality from the ones owned by his voices. you're teaching him how to make coffee and trim flowers and all he is learns is how to look at the world without staining it with blood. but it's okay- you help steady his shaking hands, hold the kettle of boiling water with him, and the weeks eventually unfurl into years.

and now, he wakes up next to you every morning, stays in bed cuddling with you until you reluctantly have to shove him away because although he's retired you still have a job, and he waters the plants and feeds the dogs outside, waiting only until you and the furry critters are well away to smoke. but it is not out of stress, no longer to rid himself of his heads, and more of a bad habit now. and the hole that the lack of conflict has left in him is so filled with you and your smile and your patience, with taking care of the garden, making coffee, helping with your paperwork. the never ending spurr of his voices still keeps him up at night sometimes, leaves him twitching. but it allows him to watch you fall asleep, feel your pulse under his cupped hand, even through the throbbing pain.

this is what life is meant to be like, maybe. taking off his mask and unbuckling the straps so he can feel your lips against what was left of his.

[seiwas]

sellie bee! for your game > touya + flicker?? (if you feel comfortable writing for him again, your touya from the shoto fic was so beloved to me) 💕

amber!! thanks for sending in a lil prompty 🥺 ofc i would write him again!! for you!! anything!!! 🥺 my touya from that fic is also so dear to me 🥺 i'm glad you like that little guy 🥺

help me get back into the writing groove! send me a character + any word and i'll write a short blurb about it!

contains: non-canon au, childhood friends

touya + flicker

there's a light by your bedside, one that flickers when its loose wire finds itself tangled around the leg of your bed frame. it doesn't happen all the time, but it's always bothered touya, ever since you were kids.

"fuyumi says that when lights go on and off like that they can go boom," he mimics an explosion with his hands, not quite knowing the term for it yet at 5.

(when you recall the memory, you realize that he must have meant a spark, not the flickering of lights.)

it bothers him so much that he figures out a way to fix it by age 10. he uses a small claw clip, a translucent gray plastic you've seen on his mother many times before. he clips the wire to your bed frame that way, keeping it in place.

it's a bandaid solution, because time creates cracks on the plastic, the metal spring falling apart despite being fused at the hinges.

(and again, looking back, you should have noticed that time had left its mark on touya the same way.)

the light flickers again.

"you'll have shitty eyes if you don't change it," he moves the wire aside until it stops. at 15, touya's become jaded. what once was a twinkling set of aquamarine is now a dull pair of teal, staring straight at you as he speaks.

you know it has something to do with his family, but you don't ask unless he talks about it.

(in hindsight, maybe you should've. because when touya runs away from home the following year, you only catch glimpses of him in the next ten years.)

he visits you at 17, taller and dressed darker than what you're used to. his hair is dyed a jet black, a few cuts and bruises scattering the expanse of his arms. he sees that your light is still flickering and fixes it like muscle memory, not once acknowledging the fact that it's been two years since he's seen you last.

"you can stay with me," you offer him, desperately.

he gives you a wry smile, "can i?"

and you know it's not really a question. you'll be heading off to college soon; there's no real place where you can keep him.

when you move into your dorm in the first year of uni, you leave your lamp behind but find that the lights in your shared bathroom flicker just as bad. it makes you think of him, in the lonely hours especially.

you're surprised when you bump into him at age 20, near campus, barely recognizing him at all. for a brief moment, you see the same shock mirrored on his face, but it disappears when you blink, and when you say his name, "touya—"

"dabi," he corrects you.

it's at 22, when you move into your own apartment and bring the same light from your childhood bedroom, that you find your thoughts floating back to him once more.

you offered right before graduating, the last time you saw him―told him you'd be moving into a new place and he could stay with you there. no one would know about it, no one would bother him.

but touya is a flight risk, appearing in and out of your life like the flickering of your bedside light. you outstretch your hand and he bats it away instinctively, withdrawing from you until he feels like you won't bring it up again.

you do though, every time. the next year, the year after that, when you're both 25. you look for him more consciously now, finding that he's always somehow nearby―by the potted flowers on your windowsill that remain alive despite week-long work trips; by paid for cups of coffee in cafes, the doors whooshing shut as you look for who it could possibly be from.

you've known touya for almost all of your life, and giving up on him isn't an option at all. your heart can't take it, the same way you can't bring yourself to fix your bedside light, its flickering an odd source of hope that he might one day be so fed up, he'll have to come and fix it himself.

and then he'd have to stay―to keep the flickering at bay. to keep the light working. one day.

[fleshwerks]

Thank you for your rant posts on DAV. They’ve been cathartic to read as they echo so many of my own issues with the game and how it treats its own lore and insults its fanbase. I feel stupid for caring about the oppression of mages and elves given how they sanitized and wrote out these cornerstones of the Thedas setting and it sucks! Im glad I’m not alone.

I had very little hope for this game given its mess of a dev cycle and how the company has bled talent, I thought it would be a very messy narrative as a result. And it is! But it’s worse, because it’s not just messy, it commits the greatest cardinal sin of writing: it’s boring.

I think you nailed it. I'm at the same point as you, especially as someone who's huge into DA lore and the intrauniverse sociopolitics, as well as the expected (foolishly) aspect of your deeds mattering, either positively or negatively.

I have a whole ass Inquisitor who can now stop feeling bad in his steppe-sky burial about his indecisiveness during his tenure as an Inquisitor: BECAUSE NONE OF IT MATTERED ANYWAY. 'Oh, you delayed some suffering for like, what, 7 years? 7 years is nothing when you're doomed anyway. I can already hear the argument "but what you do even in short term matters, too."

Yes, in real life. But I don't do RPGs for real life. I play RPGs to be able to fantasise about doing a bit more than I can do in real life.

On top of it just about everybody being so blasé about what's going on. This is the worst blight ever, two actual gods are loose, but here we are at the dinner table, arguing about Taash' mom being a strict, traditional jerkass and Bellara joining the list of people who hate themselves for having ADHD, and holding her hand through it. Boring.

Veilguard commits another sin: everybody blames themselves for everything, but it either gets fixed for them, or they're feeling sorry and do the thing they feel so sorry about anyway.

My kingdom for a character who can go 'it is what it is, I'm not perfect, but I'm not sorry for existing and having an impact on this world, especially if the impact is caused by something I couldn't really control; all that matters is what we do next.' Which would open up the world at wide: tackling things that make your personal issues microbial in comparison. These people don't have the luxury of crying into their chicken soup. Not to say these things can't be addressed, but in Dragon Age, characters are supposed to support the overarching plot and the worldbuilding. Instead, the world puts itself on hold until you've solved Lucanis' granny issues or whatever.

If you've ever watched campaign 3 of Critical Role, that series has the same issue. The cast is made up of people who by and large have no real connection to the world or the overarching plot, and a large part of the viewerbase has come down onto the same idea: if the characters don't really care and only keep reacting, and reacting with quippiness and laughs and occasional 'oh no, that's bad, right? Anyway,'... why should we care?

Why should I care? Because everything I cared about as a player has been deleted, and the cast of Veilguard is mostly just dicking around until the plot reminds them that hey: we have the worst apocalypse going on since Solas deleted Elvhenan. Can we like... react more to it? We can do the therapy sessions later when people have stopped dying.

Disclaimer: I fully acknowledge that I'm going off on a tangent and I'm most likely projecting and reading into it too much/not reading into it enough. But that's the problem. Most players will play it once. You can't rely on subsequent playthroughs to make someone care.

Worst part is, companions aren't even boring. They're just miscast for this particular plot, exacerbated by what BW did to all the established lore. The tonality of the game itself and its place in DA canon is just wack.

I'm likely being incredibly unfair, but there's something to investigate here, because if you've failed to bring players into the lore and invest themselves in such numbers, it isn't just Mari here talking shit, it's a wider problem. Lest we forget, your fiction, your work stops being 'only yours' the moment you publish it and allow people play with your toys. The author is king, but the author is only the king of their own version of their story. The moment it's read and played by many, it's not just your story anymore, it's everybody's, who's engaging with it.

God dammit my English literature and language degree is catching up with me, I've turned into That Guy. Uck.

[tainted-liquor]

˖ ࣪Everything I Needed To Be ʚɞ

Pairing: 1610Miles x BlackFem!Reader

 TWs: Miles is basically going thru ghost grief, right person wrong timing, mentions of death, Unhealthy (NOT toxic,) relationship habits, emotional immaturity.

Genre: ANGST!!! (There’s a fluffier version coming soon I swear)

。    ✧    ⁺      。  。    ✧    ⁺      。  。    ✧    ⁺      。  。    ✧    ⁺      。

Four days had passed since you had last spoken to Miles, your boyfriend. You’re not even sure if boyfriend is the right term anymore. The boy you had once grown to love for his nerdy and alluring demeanor suddenly became inimical and detached. There was no longer a look of ever-lasting love behind his warm and auburn eyes, but a gaze engulfed by rage The arms that once lazed around your shoulders found themselves drilled by his sides. It didn’t take a Harvard degree for you to put two and two together, and it tore you apart limb by limb.

Miles had stopped loving you, and there was nothing you could do about it.

You sat with your head pressed against your painfully cold window pane, clutching your oversized teddy bear as you counted the raindrops speckled across the glass. Your eyes were wet with tears, your beautiful face ruined with trails of salt and emotion. It had been a whole three days since you neglected to fulfill your daily needs, such as eating and sleeping. The wind banged its fists against your window, whistling tunes of torment as you sniffled through the silence. 

You tore your gaze off of the outside for a moment, staring off into space as the candlelight from your nightstand flickered across your features. Its warm embers painted your skin, taunting you with its deep flames that once reminded you of passion and romance. You sighed, exhalation shaky as you turned to your phone. No texts. No calls. Nothing.

But when you went to run your hand across your face, that familiar ding rang through your ears as you turned to face your phone screen. Your eyes practically squeezed your phone, flipping it over to read the little message Miles had sent you.  

“Hey.”

“Can you open the door”

Read 8:27 PM

You grunted, shuffling to your feet and hoisting yourself off of your plush pink bedsheets. You pried yourself off of your fluffy teddy bear, sighing softly as your expression immediately sank further than it had before. There were only two things about to happen.

He was about to break up with you or tell you that he was sorry.

And deep down, you prayed that he would break things off. Maybe he wouldn’t be as cruel to keep dragging your heart along the abrasive pavement and bury you away with the love he once had for you. The last two months have been nothing but agony, and you prayed whatever divine god or goddess ruled would mark the end of your teenage romance.

You scuffled down the carpeted stairs of your apartment, wincing at every creek and crack that resulted from your intentionally delicate footsteps. Miles knew you were sensitive, he knew you would crumble like bad pottery under the slightest change in tone. So why had you become the object of his disdain? You bit back the tears that lined themselves along your eyes, carefully pulling back your front door to reveal your boyfriend. Your face found itself numb, paralyzed with your desolate frown. There were bags under your eyes that could carry 175 dollars worth of groceries; to put it short, you looked like a beat dog.

“Hey…” you muttered, pushing back the door and allowing Miles full entry into your home. His face softened as soon as he got a clear view of your face, but quickly resumed its drained expression.

“Have you been crying?” He asked, completely ignoring your greeting as he got closer to your face, squinting directly at your eyes.

“Nah, nah I’m straight. My eyes water when I yawn.” You fixed your face at the speed of light, rubbing your eyes and stretching your arms up towards the heavens. You plopped down on your couch, bringing your knees to your chest as you rested your head on your shins. Miles shifted somewhat close to you, maintaining about an inch or so of space before sighing to himself.

“Did I do something? You haven’t texted me in like…a week,” He began, hunched over with his hands folded in between his knees. The room flooded with uncomfortable silence. It was suffocating; it felt like you were drowning on land, your limp and sea-sick body thrashing violently against the waves of reality.

No matter how nerdy, sweet, and charming he was.

Miles was just a boy.

“Are you…serious?” You asked, raising your head from your slouched posture to look at him with watery eyes. He sucked his teeth before sucking in an unnecessarily deep breath.

“Can you just tell me what I did? I don’t wanna do the whole—”

“So you can distance yourself from me. Not texting me in almost a month, STOP ACTING LIKE MY BOYFRIEND ENTIRELY, but me not texting you in four days is enough for you to show up at my door on bullshit? Yeah no, get the fuck out before you wake my mama up.” You spat, blinking away the tears as you stood up from the couch.

“Nah, nah nah nah nah nah, come here I’m not doing this tonight. You talking bout I’m on bullshit but you out here crying in the dark?” Miles groaned, quickly getting up to follow you to your back porch. 

“So? How the hell would you feel if I started treating you like you treat me? I mean you’re here right now after four days, so obviously you wouldn’t feel good.” You snapped, attempting to close the back door on Miles. He held the door back with his one hand, holding your wrist carefully with the other. “Get the fuck off me, Miles.”

“Cuz you’re not being fair! You know I've been stressed out lately, and it’s been affecting my mood! I just—” Miles shouted, his eyebrows knitting together as he looked down at you from the dark veil of the moonlight.

“I don’t care how fucking stressed you are, stress doesn’t give you the right to treat me like shit!” You yelled, throwing your arms up in defeat.

“Wow, so my stress doesn’t matter to you?” He spat, a face of disgust painting his features as he stood with his arms folded across his chest.

“That’s not even remotely close to what I said! I said stress doesn’t give you the right to mistreat me. Like if you don’t love me no more say that!” Your face was wet with tears as the pressure in your neck grew painful. Your voice was shaky and broken, but that didn’t matter since there was a bigger issue.

“You don’t even know what I’ve been going through! There’s shit that you just don't understand—“

“So help me understand, Miles! Explain it to me! You don’t even talk to me about your day! It’s impossible to understand when you’ve stopped communicating!”

It was like talking to a brick wall. There was nothing you could say that would help HIM understand how you felt. 

“I don’t need to tell you everything!” He shouted, sighing as he slid a hand down his face. “God you’re so…you get on my nerves!”

“So when you treat me like shit, go from a literal ray of sunshine to whatever fucking…MONSTER YOU ARE NOW, I’M GETTING ON YOUR NERVES? God I wish I never met your sorry ass! How the fuck do you go from lovey-dovey to basically avoidant and quiet?” You yelled, now garnering the attention of your neighbors, who had turned on their porch light next to you. Your eyes widened as you covered your mouth, quickly shuffling back into the house with a deep exhale. Miles, much to your dismay, was still behind you and seething with rage.

“I was—!” He began, quickly quieting down and making a mindful note of his tone. “I was everything I needed to be. You don’t know what it’s like to be thrown away from everything you’ve known and—…and just THRUST into rejection! To finally be surrounded by people like you, and get told you don’t even belong! I’m sorry I haven’t held your hand when I DON'T EVEN FEEL LIKE I SHOULD BE ALIVE!” He whisper-yelled, eyebrows furrowing as his jaw tensed.

“What are you even talking about, Miles?! ‘People like you’” you recited in air quotes, “you mean BLACK PEOPLE? If things weren’t going great at Visions, you could’ve just—“ You began, extending your arms in front of you in defense. 

“See? You don’t understand.“

He knew he was being cruel. He KNEW he wasn’t being fair, but he didn’t care. Sure, he may have stopped his dad from dying. SURE, he went on about how he gets to choose what his life looks like, but he was terrified of you dying for just loving him. He already broke his canon with Gwen, and shit came crumbling down when all he wanted to do was save his dad. But when he laid his head down at night, all that played behind his eyelids was your cold, and limp body lying in his arms. 

He hadn’t even noticed that he began distancing himself from you until you brought it to his attention. Shit, he couldn’t even tell you how long it had been since you texted him. 

“Miles.”

“What?”

“I can’t do this anymore.”

The two of you stood, motionless and silent. You were only about a foot or so from each other, but it felt like you were miles away. The warm but painful tears silently coursed down your face as you struggled to even recognize the boy in front of you. 

“You disgust me. And I hope whatever or whoever you deal with next never has to see the borderline monster you’ve become.”

It was quiet, but it pierced his ears like a gunshot. Now it was Miles’ turn to fight back tears, and god damn did he fight. His head hung low as he fidgeted with the nylon fabric in his pockets, attempting to control his uneven and shaky breathing.

“Get out. I don’t want you anywhere near me. Please get out.” You begged, speed walking to the front door as you held it open. The glossy red oak glimmered slightly as the dim lamp illuminated its backside.

“Wait, c’mon please I’ll explain everything, just let me—“ Miles stammered, suddenly snapping back into his right mind as it all sunk in. You hated him.

“No. I’ll never understand, remember? Now please, get out.” You urged, gripping the front of his jacket and pulling him forward, then carefully ushering him out of your house. There wasn’t even any time for him to protest, the door had been closed from the second he was safe from its hinges. And there he was, standing in the cold rain and wind as the world around him continued to spin. There was no time for him in this world, just like how he made you feel.

[king-crawler]

Haunted Dreams

AKA. a very short & spooky Wreck-It Ralph oneshot i wrote in 1 day 870 words -- [Ao3 Link]

Game Central Station isn’t a scary place during the day. 

The hub is always bustling with characters, people from all sorts of games, all kinds of different eras. A place for everyone to congregate and travel. Pretty noisy too, always filled with 8-bit chatter. Can’t forget the Sonic PSA that’s on loop for hours and hours… That thing is practically ingrained into everyone’s heads by this point. But Game Central Station gets dark at night- dark… and unusually quiet. The power strip lays behind the shadows of cabinets after the sun goes down, casting it in darkness. By this time, everyone is usually settled back at their own games, at least those who decide to sleep. Not Clyde though, as ghosts don’t tend to sleep.

It was a late night at Tappers. He went less so for the drinks because of non-corporeality and such, more so for the company. He makes his way back to Pac-Man, floating past the empty outlet, which unfortunately always has to be passed by on the way back. Unlike the other terminals, this one lacks any of the usual scrolling LEDs overhead… no game. An abandoned venue… During quarter hours the empty socket is actually quite a beautiful sight, albeit bittersweet. Broad rays of sunlight would shine down through the slits- ‘God rays’ as some call them, something treated with reverence by everyone. But almost as if to balance it out, after sunset it becomes an abyss. No… It’s darker.

Not just in terms of absent lighting, but… it feels threatening somehow. Not even the ambient orange glow of Clyde’s spectral form could provide any comfort near that looming archway. Not after what had happened there… After all, it had only been a year since the incident. 

Like echoes in his mind, he remembered the vases of flowers around the entryway in memoriam as people grieved. Many people actually had a chance to talk to the racers of RoadBlasters, congratulating them, welcoming them to the arcade. It was common courtesy to do so whenever somebody new got plugged in, but this instance was only for one night. The residents of Pac-Man were especially on edge after it happened. Their game was briefly unplugged and replugged the same day so it could be moved next to Fix-it Felix Jr; to fill that new empty space. It was an extra scare for sure, thankfully nobody was inside. But now, they live their day-to-day lives knowing they share a plug with what used to be…

Clyde regretfully glanced at the skidmarks on the tiled floor. The others made a solid effort to scrub it away, but you could still make them out if you knew where to look. He didn’t like thinking about it, he frequently hovered past and shoved those thoughts to the back of his mind. But this time it felt… different. Like tonight the void was beckoning him. Suddenly, he heard… something. A sound that was strange and faint at first… the rhythm of rickety creaking and whining. Is it getting louder..? 

…

In an instant, his semiphysical form was instilled with paralyzing dread. That’s impossible. 

An unplugged outlet can’t have a train car. It’s by design, it’s supposed to travel through the cord. And yet… there it was, idly rattling down the track. Terribly rusted and scratched up, appearing to be mere moments from falling apart. And there, on the far end of the train car, was a pale figure enshrouded in darkness. It sat hunched over, its face turned away.

A chilling, staticy feeling filled the dead air between them, or maybe that was just Clyde getting lightheaded. Everything about this felt terribly wrong, like he’d seen something he wasn’t supposed to. Like if he someday remembered this, something bad would happen. As much as he wished he could, he simply couldn't pull himself to look away, or even blink- not on the offchance that whatever was inexplicably happening might cease to exist on second glance. 

The train whined as it docked at the station. After a moment of silence that felt like hours, the figure’s head began to slowly turn, its face overshadowed in pitch darkness by the rim of its helmet. That damn helmet. Even if it was only his name being circulated, nobody could forget what he looked like, even if they wanted to, thanks to the recurring nightmares. The awful, unforgettable sound of his voice being butchered and bitcrushed, cars being torn apart into an unrecognizable jumble of code and colors… They could only watch.

It was only now that Clyde realized everyone deemed Turbo to be dead for their own sakes. They couldn't bring themselves to imagine what might have happened to him otherwise. It was too much. The thought he could’ve turned into something else. 

In a daze, Clyde arrived back in the ghost pen, the other ghosts off somewhere else in the Pac-maze. Suited him- they always acted like he was the underling anyways. He took the isolation as an opportunity to do something he hadn’t done in a long time. Sleep. If he did, maybe he could convince himself that what he saw tonight was nothing but a bad dream. 

Just as everyone else had.

[doevademe]

Hi! Been re-reading some of your future-fic oneshots. I'm just curious to ask: considering Nico as someone tired and settling for Will and canon Will (uhm, the fandom writes him well sometimes), what do you think would be the last straw (for either of them, or both) for a solangelo break-up? Is it possible even with only a very minor (or none at all) intervention from Percy?

Would love to hear your thoughts!

Okay, let's do a deep dive into Will and Nico and their relationship, and how, as they are written, they are already doomed as a couple.

However, if you want the TL;DR: Nico and Will are incompatible from a fundamental level. Their personalities and hobbies require way too much compromise to work together. In my future fics, Percy just sped up the inevitable. There's is no one "last straw" as there is an ever increasing pressure that eventually becomes unsustainable.

First, let's look at the dynamic they develop from their first on-screen interaction in BoO: Will nags Nico, tells him he's wrong about his own feelings of isolation and loneliness, and proceeds to basically gaslight him that people never shunned him and he did it to himself. Nico, who has been alone for so long, takes this as a show of concern and affection, and develops an infatuation with Will.

Fast forward to ToA, and it's more of the same. Nico is gloomy, or sarcastic, or a bit morbid, and Will is bothered by it. He's bothered by who Nico is, and decides to "fix him". Nico, meanwhile has grown dependent on Will as his other relationships grow distant (Percy, Hazel, Reyna, and even Hades), and begins feeling jealous of Will even touching others. Needless to say, that's a very toxic basis for a romantic relationship.

When tsats comes around, we get the relationship at its worst. The very first scene is Nico saying he is into fictional bad boys, and Will being disappointed in him. We see that Nico is now watching his every word, glancing constantly at Will to make sure it doesn't displease him, and Will is happier that Nico is "better", though worried he might relapse, lose him to "the darkness" inside him.

Will in tsats is just the worst. He's useless on the quest, he tries to make Nico turn his back on the Underworld (the closest thing he has to a home), he whines, and he simps for Persephone while his boyfriend is right there. Some of it is an intentional flaw, but most of it we're meant to read as romantic and genuinely "sweet".

At the end, Will "learns" that he needs to accept that Nico will always have some darkness in him, and he just needs to "shine brighter" for them both. This doesn't really solve their problems as a couple: They have very little in common, Nico's too dependent on Will and has isolated himself from family and friends, and Will's newfound "acceptance" is tied to seeing Nico as inherently negative.

This relationship is simply not sustainable in the short or long-term, and eventually it will give. Either Will gets tired of having Nico around disrupting his sunny energy, or Nico lashes out over being "the problem" Will has so graciously decided to burden himself with.

A break-up is not only inevitable, it's the healthiest thing either of them can do. People would say to try couple's therapy, but therapy can't make people suddenly like hobbies or personality traits they find repellent. Will is in love with the idea of a "fixed" Nico, and Nico is in love with the idea of a boy that likes and fights for him.

The break-up catalyst can be anything: One nag too far from Will, Nico doing a morbid joke too many, just waking up one day and realizing they were never really in love. Either way, it's not a matter of how, of whether Percy is there or not, it's a matter of when. When does it become too much for them to keep pretending they want the same thing out of this relationship.

[curioussubjects]

alright looking back at the blight-related answers in the ama, there's really only one that is really bugging me:

When Solas bound himself (or, depending on your ending, was forcibly bound) to the Veil, it severed the connection that the Blight had to the waking world. The reality is that the Veil has been leaking ever since the Magisters first entered the Black City, and the dreams of the Titans gave it its terrible and awesome power. Now that the Veil is fully repaired, the Blight lacks that motive force, and being so close to the epicenter of that change has stripped the Blight in Minrathous of its vitality. It's calcified now - dead - and Bellara/Neve no longer suffer its effects. If they'd been anywhere else, further from that epicenter, it would've likely been different and they still would be looking for a cure. But without that power behind it, it's less dangerous and deadly than it's ever been before. So while it isn't generally 'curable', it's less of a short-term death sentence than it has been previously. As for how Solas cleansed the idol - another ritual. This one was much smaller scale, but a lot more dangerous.

gotta love how solas can cure the blight except when he can't because it's not convenient to the plot i guess

bellara/neve getting cured because of PROXIMITY is too cute for words and it seems much more likely to me that the real reason is either the dev team or bioware/ea execs thought killing two companions was too much.

which, btw, is why these q&as/interviews are so frustrating: often the real answer isn't something that can be said bc it'd make someone in the dev team/bioware/ea look bad and that's bad for business. it's all a bit of a farce, that way. you can tell the difference, too, with how answers that clarify technical/logistical difficulties are much more reasonable and satisfying.

also i hate the whole blight has been leaking all this time thing because surely if that's the case then there should be progressively more blight all over the continent.

also some follow up questions: how did solas binding himself to the veil fix the leak and not just the imminent collapse of the veil (elgar'nan was the last surviving anchor)? and since we're here, didn't you say there were still evanuris alive if only just in body? wouldn't their life force sustain the veil still? and is every warden present in minrathous during the final battle against the evanuris cured of the blight? what is the AoE of this magical proximity blight cure? wait wait john where are you going come back

[kitchen-spoon]

God I need a Steddie gilmore girls au.

Steve as lorelai and Eddie as luke.

Its my first watch so i’m at the start of their on again off again. But even just a one shot of their first fight.

They have only been together a few months after being friends for years and having so much tension and love built up between them. Steve’s parents are renewing their vows they are on good terms because of Dustin or maybe Eleven? She would fit better but I know their relationship isn’t explored often (could do sibling steve got custody of) I’d love max but she is so not at all like rory.

Anyway. They go Eddie comes everything goes to shit. Tommy shows up because Steve’s father went to him. He wants Steve with someone ‘propper’. Both of them have been sort of awful to him. But Eddie loves Steve so he goes. Tommy realizes he cant get Steve from Eddie he gets drunk and sloppy with a last ditch effort.

Eddie’s had enough because Steve felt bad for Tommy because his father died and they had a bad relationship but he’s inherited the company. (Another reason why Steve’s father pushed Tommy). They drank and talked about old times. Nothing happens! It’s innocent! But Steve feels guilty and ignores Robin’s advice and doesn’t tell Eddie until that night.

Eddie leaves, Steve chases him but Eddie says he needs time. Steve feels like he is dying, he cant wait. He could fix it all if he could explain it! He was stupid so stupid he knows. But he pushes too hard and Eddie draws the line. He had said months back he was in. All in for all of it. He wanted to do this seriously. But it had become too much. Steve was too much and always would be.

They are both heartbroken. Steve is devastated, Robin worries and tries to help but Steve just forces himself to focus on the salon. Meanwhile Eddie is snapping at people at the garage he inherited from Wayne who had to retire because of his hip.

Steve cuts his father off in the process. So does eleven or dustin. Neither of them will speak to him but they are polite and kind to Steve’s mother. Eventually it breaks his father who goes to Eddie and admits he is wrong. He gives not so much a blessing but a admittance of defeat, knowing he truly cannot do anything about Eddie.

Eddie doesn’t even close and clean up properly. He just flicks the lights off and rushes over to Steve’s. Steve who was previously watching sad 80’s breakup movies in his old high school gym shorts and a swim team t shirt a few sizes too small is shocked to see him. But Eddie doesn’t wait and surges forward connecting their lips in a kiss Steve instantly melts into.

[ghostieyanyan]

You know I think Jamil is one of those characters I can envision as a yandere. If you’ve seen Aladdin, you’d know that once Jafar took over the kingdom, Jasmine became his slave? I like to imagine that overblot Jamil kept MC around instead, dressed them up in that red slave outfit and put shackles on them which sounds really kinky. Jamil would like to keep MC around as a slave but is also like crazy about them even before their overblot because MC was kind to him and didn’t treat him like a servant. Maybe he teases them a little bit to rile them up. Kinda like a glorified pet but also lover at the same time

Yes yes YESSSSSS!!!! without a doubt i love overblot jamil so much... its kinda bad xD

~My Jasmine~

Overblot!Yan!Jamil x mc

(i drew mc fem so it’ll fit the jasmine outfit. the red one, chef kiss. also chapter 4 spoilers. also sorry for my spelling and grammar mistakes. this is why i draw qwq)

~~~~~

i feel like jamil had a love at first sight with mc. like when they met in the kitchen and they offer to help with cooking and hearing his troubles. like yes, he wanted to used them at first but after like a few minutes he fell HARD. 

He knew he wanted mc as his queen/king but he, of course, needed Kalim to be out of the picture. With him as housewarden, he’ll be highly respected with his beloved by his side. and Kalim? well he’ll be gone, who knows maybe he’ll be kicked out of NRC too. If Jamil plays his cards right.

But noo... you just had to run from him and fall into those slimy octavinelle’s hands. They even had to mock him when they came by! Stupid slimy-.

During his Overblot!

yes yes yes! he will totally have you as a pet. his personal play thing. even with this power, he’ll be bored, so entertain with him.. 

no? you don’t want to play with him? what’s going to happen to your friends? oh, that’s the last thing you should worry about. master has to teach you how to behave. He can’t have a pet that bites that hand that feeds it, right?

I think at first he wont actually use his unique spell, it'll be a waste to just force you to behave when he can just train your body to behave first and you’ll stay like that for the long term. instead of the short term option, right? Let’s just hope you body and mind can take it.

but hey! if you be good, he’ll treat you. maybe he’ll feed you and look inside your pretty lips. Or he’ll keep you safe from those roaches that insist on coming back and steal what rightfully belongs to him. 

Just don't leave his side. K, pet?

~~~~~

for nicknames, i thought of pet and desert flower but then i was like wait... i know a flower, jasmine! but now after finishing the drawing, idk how i feel about it? cuz its an actual name.. so ya sorry if you don't like it. i really dont want to fix it rn TWT also i didn't know if i should keep his bangs so i did one with and one without. so yay. i’m actually very happy with his picture, it might change in a few days but rn, i love it. i hope you guys love it too. ^^