#mass effect 3 continues to hurt my feelings.

[perryabbott]

So... Take care, Major.

[messydiabolical]

i’d once read a Mass Effect take that has been stewing in my melon ever since, about Wrex and him demanding a cure for the genophage during the war in 3. (I think it was on twitter but I can’t remember for sure. Just the idea of it stuck with me.) The general sentiment was that this was a dick move on his part, that there were “bigger problems” and this wasn’t the time and it was cruel and manipulative of him to put Shepard in that position. He should have helped out first and Shepard would have helped him back once the war was over. A lot of people chimed in agreeing, saying how they stopped liking Wrex after that. It bothered me for a bunch of reasons I didn’t feel I could adequately articulate, but i’m gonna try now. Prepare for my meandering thought style! The governing bodies of the Mass Effect Galaxy have repeatedly proven that they believe themselves superior to other species and know what’s best for everyone. They don’t let all species have a say in the council, always look out for their own species’ interests in so much as it pertains to keeping things as they are, and will happily go along with literal genocide to aid this. They approve of secret police and biological warfare espionage tactics. They weaponise bureaucracy to hide their cruelty behind ‘oh red tape has us bound, sorry uwu’.   I’m going to try to remain pertinent to the Wrex subject but as one great example of these governing bodies ways of dealing with percieved outsiders: The first contact war is a great example of how ludicrous and fascist things are.. ‘It’s ilegal to use this thing so we’re going to kill you for it’ without so much as a heads up. How were humans supposed to know that, exactly? The governing bodies of this place do not care about anyone outside their own self interests. Fall out of line and they will work to end you. Until you prove you might be useful or of interest to them in some way (or a threat). And then of course we later learn the asari were breaking these laws themselves, hoarding this tech to stay superior. Classic. Anyway, back to Wrex. Wrex knows this. Wrex has seen how the krogan are regarded and treated, the dangerous monolith species, outsiders who can never be let in, never forgiven, never given a chance to grow or change. For a long arse time. “But the krogan were getting out of control and also committing genocide, the genophage was a last ditch resort to stop a galactic war” … And it’s been hundreds of years since then. That 'last ditch resort' wasn’t used as a stop gap, a reset to even out the playing field so that new negotiations and relations could be developed. It was used to end the krogan, and has been actively maintained to continue that, ever since. Do you really, truly believe that if Wrex petitioned the council/ world leaders to negotiate reversing the genophage, they’d even let him have an audience with them? And if they did, do you really think these people, with their history and all the shit they pull, would listen and be reasonable? I can already hear the responses, that weaponised bureaucracy (“you raise an interesting point Mr Wrex but unfortunately we are recovering from a war don’t you know, please come back in 300 years for review, we are very interested in discussing this further then!”) Wrex is old, wise and knows exactly what is up. The only way the governing bodies of power were ever going to have a listen, was if he had something they needed. The war with the reapers provided that. And even then, he knew that they wouldn’t listen outright; having Shepard’s voice was a way to get the foot in the door. It makes my heart hurt to think about that honestly; how dehumanising (dekroganising?) it must feel to be the ruler of your people and know that you have to rely on your alien friend to even get someone to listen to you, when what you want to say is an extremely reasonable “hey committing genoicde against my people sucks, stop that now”. Anyway, Wrex was right, this was his one chance to save his people and he took it. Good for him.

[secretlythepits]

4 Months or 2 Years

When my mom was diagnosed with lung cancer, she was told she had 4 months to live. She had 11 masses in her brain. She tried full brain radiation but it didn’t have much of an effect. When we saw her oncologist, we expected a transfer to hospice.

Instead she threw out chemo and said maybe Mom could live for 2 more years. Mom never wanted chemo because she had witnessed its brutality on her brother and sister. We questioned quality of life and her oncologist spoke about her patient who just called her from a trip to California.

We left the appointment dumbfounded and went to a cafe to discuss it over sale and Nanaimo bars. We had already literally settled everything up with the funeral parlor. We had accepted the hard truth. At lunch Mom decided to try chemo, but her heart wasn’t in it. I think she felt like she had to for her girls. It just didn’t feel right, but what do you do with that information? You can’t crumple 2 years into a ball and make a basket in the trash can.

She did one round. It was awful. That’s not what this post is about. She died 4 months from her diagnosis. I think the 2 years was never really on the table. Don’t let anyone tell you hope is always a good thing. It can wield tremendous cruelty through delusion.

My mother died 7 hours before I was getting on a plane to take over her care. There are more than medical decisions that get made based on what an oncologist says. For 4 months, I could stay the whole time. I wanted to. I planned to. But 2 years was a different story. My kids couldn’t be away from their dad for that long. My sister had to work and care for her family too. My sister and I decided to rotate care. I started homeschooling my kids so we could be wherever whenever.

4 months or 2 years?

You make different decisions. Financial decisions. Logistical decisions. Communication decisions.

I have an idea of my husband’s timeline, but nothing definitive. There’s a giant question mark about immunotherapy that is unknowable from the onset. There are strong statistical probabilities.

This is what I’m wresting with now and I’ll use my mother’s timelines for a framework. To be clear, these are not my husband’s timeline projections, but the idea is the same. Is the end sooner or later?

Do I speak up about issues in our marriage and push for my needs?

4 Months:

No. Forgive and let go. Focus on the fundamental love and don’t add an emotional burden to him. I could do this easily in this time frame.

2 Years:

Yes. That’s too long to let hurt fester. It will bubble up anyway. There’s also a real possibility of resolving some or all of it, which would be amazing. I cannot suppress my feelings for years. I would be consumed with anger and resentment.

Do I put my goals on the back burner to prioritize his?

4 Months:

Yes. I will have more time and his is finite. Also, I’d want to maximize our time together.

2 Years:

No. I can give up some but not all. What if 2 years is 3 years or 4? I am coming off of a 3 1/2 year brain infection. I lost so much time. Then I immediately had to support his first cancer journey. And before all that, it was my mom dying. I’ve had nonstop emergencies for 6 years and I clawed my way from the edge of death. I can’t just turn over all my next years. My time is finite too.

But here’s the tricky part. He will only get worse. So, although it makes sense to be tending to him now as this is new and we are figuring things out, I might miss the only realistic opportunity I have to keep my life from being swallowed up by caregiving. The only certainty I know is that later will be worse.

How much time do I devote to building my finances?

Ah, maybe these are the same for both timelines. I’m struggling with being present to the moments and bucking down to focus on providing. Do I continue building my business, the dream I worked so hard for, that got dashed so many times these last 6 years? Or do I chuck it, take some classes to get a certification that would lead to a job I would hate, but would provide a stable income? He could have an emergency and no longer work at any moment. But, that’s also unlikely. Arg!

I hate that I am back in this 4 months or 2 years place. It was torture for me. I remember people telling me I couldn’t make a wrong choice.

I felt like I couldn’t make a right one and it paralyzed me.

Now that I think about it, in the end, I decided to make the choice that was best for me. The toxicity of extended family dynamics was too much for me. I decided mom made her choices (smoking) and I had an equal right to make mine (removing myself from a situation that unhinged me). Mom also wanted space to process after the onslaught of visitors. She needed some solitude. So I left and went home to calm down and recenter myself in my life and in the family I created. Rotating her care was practical but also gave me breathing room that I needed. I could have and would have stayed if we knew it was just 4 months, but I can’t deny that something really important happened to me when I took that break. I think I would have broken without it.

This is stream of consciousness so I didn’t know I’d land on the paragraph above. I just wanted to say what I was trying to figure out, what was hurting my heart. But now I think I landed on a compass. And it rings true because I feel my North Star blinking.

I have to continue to live my own life.

I always knew that. Always know that. The reason that truth felt out of reach is all the social conditioning around being a support. Women are expected to give up everything to be a caregiver, while one of the predictors of imminent divorce is a wife’s serious diagnosis. I am experiencing a personal crisis that exists within the context of our societal dynamic and it would be disingenuous to pretend I was immune to the influences of the patriarchy. And the thing is, I know what to do. It’s more of fear of judgement for doing what I know is right.

Two truths exist simultaneously:

I want to take care of him. I really, really do.

I want to take care of myself. I really, really do.

Why does one of those feel like a mandate and the other a source of guilt? Why the dichotomy?

Why is love for myself always supposed to be second place?

One thing is for sure: with 2 dead parents, a dying spouse, and kids to look after, nobody is going to take care of me

but me.

[animereaderinsertwriter]

Previous - Chapter 3- Series Masterlist - ao3

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Tags/Warnings: romance, smut, light angst, strangers to lovers to disgustingly in love, medic!reader

Word Count: 25k

tag list: @kurxxmi , @jorbinx

After retaking Wall Maria

After the battle to retake Wall Maria, (Y/N) wasn't sure which was worse: the insidious whisperings of the masses, always somewhere between fact and falsehood, or the pure and unadulterated truth. 

"They say those soldiers came back wrong," came the whispers, the hiss of them overtaking the usual buzz of the marketplace as (Y/N) passed. "They say they sent their comrades to slaughter to retake the wall, and now they're as good as monsters themselves, good only for bloodshed."

Of course, there were other whispers— "How brave and valiant!", "So few returned, but those who died did so in victory!", "Humanity has hope!"— but (Y/N) knew the truth. The truth was all those whisperings and more; it was a new era, with the deaths of hundreds as its harbinger. The weight of that fact settled heavily on her shoulders even as her daily duties remained the same, making the days in the infirmary feel hours longer than they were. Day after day, her mind wandered to what was to come, and she found herself more tired, more burdened than ever.

Levi's continued absence only served to further exacerbate the effects of (Y/N)'s heavy heart, such that it was.

Following the battle, Levi wasn't in touch for several days. (Y/N) wasn't worried, since word had reached her that he had escaped unscathed— he would come to her when he was ready, not before— but she didn't know what to expect from him once he did get in touch. Levi had lost so much in such a short period of time… Would he be despondent, so sad and heavy-laden with care that he could hardly speak? Or would he be angry at the unfairness of it all, lashing out just to feel something? It was even possible that he might try to go on as if nothing had happened, despite the undercurrent of overwhelming sorrow he must surely feel… 

(Y/N) didn't know which it would be, and had no way to tell. Perhaps that— the not-knowing— was the worst of all her troubles. 

When correspondence from Levi did finally arrive, (Y/N) had thought she would feel a bit of relief, if not sheer happiness; alas, as she opened the letter he had penned, she felt only reluctance and anxiety which was only exacerbated by the clipped, vague contents enclosed. The letter read,

'Bright-eyes,

Saturday, 4:00 p.m. Be dressed and waiting for me, I'll be by to pick you up. The dress for the ceremony is formal. 

All my love,

Levi.'

The note didn't settle well with her in the least. 

Vague and clipped— and presumptuous, if she did say so herself— it was indeed.

'Who does he think he is,' she thought to herself as she read and reread the note, fighting the urge to wad it up into a tiny little ball, 'Commanding me to make myself ready for him without so much as a "by your leave" or a "how do you fare"? Not a word of explanation, not a single note since the battle besides this one, and he expects me to jump when he says jump? Ridiculous!'

No matter her feelings on the subject, however, (Y/N) knew that her hurt was talking over her head; which was why, seeing as how it was Wednesday, she at once began frantically searching her closet for something that might render her presentable for a formal event. 

"Formal," she muttered to herself, digging through drawer after drawer. "What do I have that's formal?"

After much digging, cursing, and near-rending of cloth, (Y/N) finally found the one acceptable dress she owned— one that her father had bought her after she graduated from the Academy of Medicine— and tried it on to see if it would still fit. Fortunately, it still fit well enough despite being tight in places that it hadn't been before and loose yet in others, and as she studied it, she was reminded of how fine a dress it truly was. 

Made of silk and tulle, the gown was a study in champagne-gold; the neckline dipped into a flattering sweetheart shape, and sheer netting allowed (Y/N) the comfort of coverage from her neck all the way down to the sleeves that stopped at her forearm, and added the pleasing aesthetic of intricate beading over her exposed skin. It was truly a flattering garment, and (Y/N) couldn't help but feel like a child playing dress-up.

"It'll have to do," she said, smiling at her reflection and then wincing at the pinch of the underwire in her strapless bra. "After all, it's such short notice, and I haven't got anything else so nice."

But what if it was too nice? 

Levi had given no indication of how formal was formal , so (Y/N) had no way to know if she would look like an equal, a peer to the other guests, or a gaudy, two-bit tramp in her nicest dress. Once again, it was endlessly frustrating, the not-knowing; if Levi had been standing before her, she might have taken him by the shoulders and shook him until his teeth rattled. 

Unfortunately, however, Levi was nowhere to be found, and time waited for no one. Before (YN) knew it, Saturday was upon her, and it was with a vague sense of trepidation that she shrugged, twisted, and pulled her way into the gown, still unsure as to whether or not her attire— or her presence at the ceremony at all— was appropriate.

"Shit, fire, and damnation," she swore as she twisted and contorted herself painfully to try and wiggle the zipper into the correct position at her nape. "I'll never wear this stupid thing again if I can get it on this one last time!"

When (Y/N) did finally get the dress on, she might have crowed for joy, if only that hadn't been the exact moment that she realized she had forgotten to do her makeup before getting dressed in order to keep the dress safe from makeup-related mishaps. 

"I'll just be careful," she told herself as she looked at her box labeled 'war paint.' "Very, very careful."

And she was. 

With great caution, she applied soft shades of browns and golds, lining here, shadowing there; as gently as she could, she glossed her lips, tinting them ever-so-slightly so that they looked freshly-kissed, but no more. To finish the look, (Y/N) clasped the locket Levi had given her around her neck and fastened the emerald earrings that matched it in her ears, allowing the weight of them to settle easily on her skin. 

"Perfect," she muttered, smoothing her gown as well as she could. "Let's have a look, then…"

As (Y/N) stepped back to get a full view of herself in the mirror, she half-expected to see a reflection of the anticipation and anxiety that had burrowed itself in her gut; what she found there, however, was the farthest thing possible from the meek, miserable critter that she felt she was. 

"I'm beautiful," she said to herself, touching her cheek as though to make sure her reflection would follow the movement. To her surprise, it did. "I really am beautiful."

And she was. 

Once she slipped her feet into a pair of soft, probably once-white slippers (they were a sort of cream now, after years of use, but they were comfortable and who was looking at her feet anyways?), there was nothing to do but wait for Levi to arrive and hope she didn't wrinkle the hell out of her pretty outfit when she eventually gave in and sat on her couch.

The things we do for love, she thought to herself as her the underwire in her strapless bra began to seek blood. He'd better hurry, or I'm going to take all this garb off and take a nap.

***

After what had happened on the battlefield that Shiganshina had become, Levi hadn't thought anything could surprise him. Erwin's death, the uninhibited slaughter of over half of the corps, the secrets found in Grisha's journal— it had taken away his capacity for shock. All that was left was bland, dispassionate acceptance of facts as they were presented, and a world of faded grays. 

At least, that's what Levi thought up until the very minute (Y/N) opened her door, and it was like he was seeing in color again for the first time. 

"Hi," she said, blinking at him with wide eyes peeking through thick, lengthened lashes, and his voice died in his throat. 

(Y/N) was truly resplendent. Her eyes— so bright that he felt blinded by them— were enhanced by subtle shadows and shimmers from makeup, and her lips glistened sweetly with color as though they'd just been kissed. Her breasts, though mostly covered by the neckline of her dress, rose and fell as she breathed, belying her composed exterior, and it was all he could do to keep himself from pushing her back inside and undoing all her hard work. 

"Levi?"

Worry bled through her tone then, and Levi could have punched himself for being struck dumb in a moment where she would need the most reassurance. 

"Uh… sorry, bright-eyes," he said, reaching forward to place a hand on her cheek, and he was concerned to note the undercurrent of sadness in her expression. "I was just— things are—"

Levi sighed, then started again. 

"You're beautiful," he said, and he knew he'd finally gotten it right as a hint of a smile played at the corners of her mouth. "You're beautiful, and I was speechless. You look like a queen."

"You're not so bad yourself," she replied softly, running a hand over the starched fabric of his formal wear. "Handsome as ever, not a hair out of place— and I like that color on you."

Levi wanted to want to laugh, but it felt just out of his reach. 

"Thank you," he said, his hand lazily falling from her cheek to trace the curl of beading just above her breast. His hand— and his eyes— lingered there for quite a while before he remembered himself and drew away. "We should probably get going. Don't want to be late for the award ceremony."

"You never did explain exactly what all this was about." (Y/N)'s voice was deceptively light as she took the arm he offered her, and Levi knew she expected some answers. 

"They're giving the survivors an award… there will be a dedication for the deceased, and a dinner to follow."

(Y/N) nodded, seemingly satisfied, and they continued to where Levi had a carriage waiting for them. He opened the door for her, and after the slightly amusing affair of gathering her dress and stuffing it in the carriage alongside her, they both managed to find their seats and signal for the driver to take them on to where the ceremony would take place. 

"I didn't really think about the logistics of travel in this thing," (Y/N) commented, gracing Levi with one of her adorably embarrassed smiles. "Half of it is in your lap."

Indeed, Levi had a face full of tulle, casting a golden haze over anything he had hoped to see, but it was entirely worth it. 

"You can blame my lack of foresight," he said, as close to teasing as he could manage. "I should have thought to fetch two carriages, one for us and the other for your dress."

(Y/N) laughed at that, really laughed. It was the most wonderful sound Levi had ever heard, and he found himself overcome with emotion at the happiness the sound of her joy granted him.

He had never done anything to deserve this woman, not one thing in his whole miserable life; and yet he had lived, he had survived to come back to her, to have her and to hold her and to love her. Those men that had made their final stand with Erwin… they had sweethearts. They had families. They had lives… but none of them got to make it home. 

Levi grit his teeth against the burning in his nose and the prickling of his eyes.

"Oh, my love," (Y/N) sighed, her laughter still coloring her voice. "Why are you upset?"

Levi froze. He knew his face hadn't betrayed his feelings, and he was certain he hadn't made even the slightest sound so as to give her any ideas… 

"Levi, I can tell when you're in the mood for a fuck from a mile away when the wind's fair… you think I can't practically hear your teeth grinding from the other side of the carriage?"

"My little enchantress has learned telepathy now, has she?" he asked, trying and failing to keep the thickness out of his voice. "How wicked of you."

She sighed, though it sounded fond. "Not telepathy. Empathy, Levi."

Empathy. Could she really empathize with him when he hardly knew his own feelings?

"Let's make it through this damned pomp and circumstance, and I swear I'll tell you everything," he said, hoping the desperation he felt didn't bleed through his voice. "I just need to hold everything together until then. After that, I'm all yours."

"Of course," (Y/N) replied, her voice soothing as her delicate slipper brushed his ankle. "Anything you need, I'll be here for."

The rest of their ride was silent, but Levi was comforted by (Y/N)'s words of assurance more than he would have been by further conversation. 'Of course,' she'd said, as though it were never a question, as though she was nearly hurt that he'd considered it might be one; 'Anything,' she'd said, as though she really, truly meant anything at all. Not for the first time that day, he found himself longing for the moment he and (Y/N) were alone, shut away from the world… even if that moment would present its own challenges. 

When the carriage finally stopped, it was another mildly amusing affair to extract (Y/N) and her dress without wrinkling it or letting it snag on anything. It took a bit of work, but eventually she made it out, laughing all the way. Her joy was infectious, and the moment she turned a smile as bright as summer sunshine on him, Levi knew it had been worth the cramped ride to see her looking and feeling so lovely. 

"Shall we?" he asked, his spirit renewed, and (Y/N) linked her arm with his and allowed him to escort her onwards. 

More than ever, Levi was glad to have (Y/N) at his side in the interlude of socialization between their arrival and the beginning of the ceremony; her presence grounded him, gave him strength, and as others began to arrive, her talent for holding a polite and intriguing conversation about nothing at all was a true blessing. Levi wasn't required to do much more than nod and speak an occasional greeting the entire time, and once more he found himself entirely grateful to (Y/N) for being nothing less than perfect. 

Thank you, bright-eyes, he thought as he watched her charm everyone around them with both her beauty and her wit. You might not be wearing the crown today, but you really are a queen among women. 

Even when Levi was expected to present himself to the queen— to Historia— for the ceremony, (Y/N) was his anchor in treacherous waters, despite not being directly at his side. When it was time for him to leave her, she pressed a kiss to his cheek as he went. To anyone else, it would seem to be just that— a kiss, nothing more— but before she pulled away, (Y/N) whispered the tiniest of encouragements against his skin, a flame to warm him against the freezing cold of the world around him:

"For the fallen," she said, echoing the same words she'd proclaimed to a crowd the night that they first met, and he understood what the words meant from the moment of their utterance. 

They would do this— he would do this— suffer the indignity of honor and recognition for blind fucking chance, accept an award that he hadn't earned with any true merit. He would do it because the fallen could not. In their stead, he would accept the honor and the fame and the glory, and he would dedicate it to each and every one of them in his heart. 

I'm going to marry her, he thought not for the first time as he took his place, kneeling before his monarch. If we survive the hell that is coming down the pipeline, and if she'll have me, I'll marry her and build that little cottage just for us, and if anything comes to disturb us… 

Well, we'll make do. 

***

The evening passed more quickly than it had a right to. There was a meal, some dancing, and more wine than (Y/N) thought strictly appropriate, but overall, it was exactly as one would expect— stiff, formal, and mournfully pensive. (Y/N) navigated the environment well enough for one who had little experience with such, and had Levi not felt so strange and distant while standing next to her, she might have even been able to relax. As it was, though, Levi seemed to her a fraction of a second away from a meltdown in the middle of the dining hall, and as soon as (Y/N) thought it appropriate, she leaned over to whisper her thoughts in Levi’s ear.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” she asked, her fingers trailing over his arm as she spoke. “I’m feeling a bit tired.”

(Y/N) couldn’t have slept if someone had whacked her unconscious with a crowbar, but what Levi didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

“Sure,” he replied, and his hand settled over hers, rough, warm, and reassuring. “Just let me say some goodbyes.”

With that, he stood from his seat. (Y/N) made to follow him, but as she walked past a group of chatting officials, a hand reached out and grabbed her arm. When (Y/N) turned to see who had touched her, she found herself face-to-face with a young woman with brown hair, glasses, and an eyepatch.

“Hange-san,” (Y/N) greeted her, dipping her head in recognition. “You have my congratulations and condolences on your promotion. I understand that Erwin was a dear friend to both you and Levi, and I’m sorry for his passing.” 

“Ah, so you know me,” Hange said in reply, her expression a strange mix of happiness and the deepest sorrow. “By the company you’ve kept tonight and what I’ve heard from Levi, you must be the precious (Y/N) that our favorite pesky captain has managed to keep locked away in some ivory tower— one far away from the carnivorous Scouting Legion, anyways.”

(Y/N) smiled. “I don’t know about that, but yes, I’m (Y/N). I’ve been begging Levi to introduce me to you for ages, but for some reason, he keeps putting it off.”

“I’m not surprised at all,” Hange chuckled, but her eyes remained just the smallest bit sad. “He’s secretive like that about things that are precious to him.”

(Y/N)’s heart thumped painfully in her chest, but Hange wasn’t finished. 

“I wanted to thank you for being there for him,” she continued, watching on as Levi spoke to a few others, presumably saying farewells. “He’s not easy when he’s like this, but having someone that understands him takes a bit of the burden from his shoulders. I saw how you guided conversations, taking control of what was said and speaking in his stead when things got uncomfortable— you can’t possibly know how much that meant to him. He hates useless small talk and face-saving, and for you to offer him a reprieve from that is huge.”

(Y/N) couldn’t help it; she blushed. 

“No need to thank me, really,” she said. “I just did what I thought was appropriate.”

Hange grinned. “If you say so.”

Across the way, Levi looked back at (Y/N) and motioned for her to come to him. (Y/N) turned back to Hange, ready to make her excuses and join her lover, but Hange spoke first, placing a hand on her shoulder. 

“Take care of him,” she said, her expression unreadable. “He has a heavy load. I know it’s a lot to ask, but if you will shoulder some of it yourself, I will be forever indebted to you.”

(Y/N) nodded. “I’ll do everything I can,” she promised, looking over to an impatient Levi. “You don’t have to worry; he’ll be just fine.”

"Go to him," Hange replied, her hand falling away from (Y/N)'s shoulder. "Whatever he needs, make sure he has it."

"Of course. Goodbye, Hange-san," (Y/N) said, smiling lightly as she went. "It was nice to meet you."

"Likewise," was Hange's farewell, and then (Y/N) was arm-in-arm with Levi, who curled his hand possessively around her bicep.

"You always get into so much trouble when I'm not around," he said as they stepped out into the street. 

"Trouble?" (Y/N) laughed, moving her hip to bump his. "I was only getting acquainted with Hange-san, whom you have refused to let me meet until tonight."

Levi grunted. "So I saw. What did she say?"

(Y/N)'s mind raced to come up with a plausible lie. 

"Ah, she just wanted to say hi."

Levi turned a look on her that could have drained the ocean, but there was humor in his eyes.

"If you didn't want to tell me, you could have just said."

"Oh, alright, she stopped me to tell me about her plan for world domination,” (Y/N) teased, and Levi graced her with a sad little smile that she wanted to capture in a bottle and keep to herself forever. “I didn’t tell you because she plans to off you soon, since you pose a threat to her reign as Supreme Leader.”

“You’re outrageous,” he said, guiding her to where they would wait for their carriage. “What am I to do with you?”

(Y/N) raised her eyebrows. “Hug me, love me, squeeze me, and spank me when I’m bad?”

“Don’t make suggestions you don’t intend to be taken seriously, bright-eyes— I may spank you yet for that mouth of yours.”

Before the conversation could go any further, the carriage was pulled around, stopping directly in front of them, and Levi stepped forward to open the door for (Y/N) to enter. Thankfully, prior experience proved a great teacher for the matter of (Y/N)’s dress; they were able to stuff (Y/N), her dress, and her captain all in the same carriage once more with relative ease, and before long, they were on their way back to (Y/N)’s apartment, where she knew Levi would want to pass the night.

Between the two of them, she thought, they would probably polish off the last of her whiskey, staying up and talking things through, and then once all had been said, they would let their bodies speak for them. Perhaps it was wrong that she longed for that portion of the evening— where they were laid bare, body and soul— more than the talking, more than starting the path to processing the massive grief that followed humanity like a thunderhead, but in the time that Levi had been gone, she had missed him terribly, and she couldn’t help but want the reassurance of his hands and mouth on her body.

“You’re thinking very loudly tonight, bright-eyes,” he told her as the carriage began to roll to a halt. 

“Sorry,” she replied sheepishly, mashing down her dress so that Levi could reach the door handle of the carriage. “I can’t help it. After all, there is a lot to think about these days.”

“No need for an apology,” he murmured as he helped her down, pulling her close as the carriage took its leave. “In fact, I’d love to hear what thoughts you’d like to share aloud.”

There was a familiar heat in those fathomless gray eyes, and (Y/N) knew he was thinking the same thing she was.

“Why don’t we skip to dessert?” she asked, tugging lightly at his uniform jacket. “I’ve missed you, my captain.”

“And I’ve missed you,” he said, and then the time for talking had passed, their mouths occupied with other, more important work.

Never had they shown such affection publicly, but it seemed that Levi had found cause to cast caution into the wind and kiss her breathless in the middle of the street. It was no gentleman’s kiss either— rather, it was one of filthy promise and wandering hands— but (Y/N) didn’t have it within her to be embarrassed of it, or care one way or the other whether or not anyone was watching. All she wanted was to touch and to be touched, and if they could make it to her apartment door without breaking their necks, she knew that they wouldn’t make it to the bedroom. 

“Where is your key?” Levi asked, resting his forehead against hers as her back finally hit the cold metal of her door. “Please don’t tell me you've lost it again.”

(Y/N) certainly had not lost her key again. She had very much learned her lesson a few weeks prior when she’d lost it the first time; she and Levi had waited outside for an hour before her landlord showed up, and then Levi had made sure to give her some appreciation for the act of waiting as he’d edged her for what felt like an eternity until she could give a satisfactory answer for where the damn thing probably was.

“I’ll give you one guess,” she said, pressing one of his hands to her breast, and he grinned as he felt the imprint of it through her clothes.

“And how am I supposed to get to it through all that netting?” he asked, pressing slightly harder against her breast— right against her nipple— sending electricity down her spine. 

“I suppose you’ll have to unzip me,” she replied, turning so that he could reach. “Gently, though, the fabric tears easily.”

(Y/N) needn’t have worried. Levi’s hands were warm and tender against the skin of her back as he worked the zipper, and once it was down, his pleasantly calloused hands circled her to grip each breast.

“Perfect,” he said, pressing kisses to her neck as his right hand found the key. “Absolutely perfect.”

As (Y/N) predicted, they didn’t make it anywhere near the bedroom before their clothes came off. As soon as they door was shut behind them, Levi was unzipping her dress further and helping her step out of it. Shortly after, Levi’s jacket went missing, followed by his shirt, his belt, and his pants. Eventually, they were both entirely naked and writhing against each other on (Y/N)’s plush carpet, and when Levi entered her— holding her hips up to have her opening meet his cock as he knelt— she hardly knew which way was up. 

“The picture you make right now,” he said, his thumb stroking her hip almost lazily as he rocked into her. “You’re a vision.”

He was one to talk. Naked above her, he made quite a picture. If it weren’t for the heat of his touch, the flush on his cheeks and chest, and the wet redness of his lips where she had sucked and bit at them, (Y/N) might have wondered if he weren’t hewn from marble. His hair was falling into his eyes as he watched her watching him, and when he supported her hips using only one hand to brush those inky black strands from his face, she nearly came on the spot. 

“Levi,” she panted, her breasts jiggling with the force of his thrusts, “I love you. I love you so much, I— oh. ”

“I love you too, my bright-eyes,” he said, and his thrusts quickened as he chased their pleasure. “More than anything.”

However much (Y/N) might have wanted to stay there forever, drunk on the feeling of the magnificent cock and the man attached to it making love to her, all good things must come to an end— in this case, literally. Levi gave her warning only in the way he threw his head back, immersed in the sensations she pulled form him, and he spilled inside her, grinding his cock in and in and in even as his orgasm ended, relishing in the feel of her around him. Ever the considerate lover, when using his poor, spent cock became too much, Levi replaced it with four fingers and his mouth on her clit, and it wasn’t long before she was clenching around him and crying out his name like it was a supplication.

“I’m going to have carpet burn on my knees,” he sighed, stroking idly at her inner thigh, his head and shoulders framed by her knees as they came down from the high of their first round of the evening. 

“But not on your cock, so be thankful for the little things.”

“Oi, my cock is plenty big.”

(Y/N) giggled. “That’s so not what I meant. It’s not like you heard me complaining earlier.”

“You wouldn’t, you wicked thing. You wouldn’t say a word, you’d only lie there and laugh at me internally.”

(Y/N) vehemently denied it— no one would dare laugh at the esteemed Levi-heichou— but her laughter might have made her response seem less credible. As it was, Levi rolled his eyes and kissed her knee before moving to stretch out beside her, choosing to reach out and play with a strand of her hair rather than tease her further. They lay like that for a while, basking in the afterglow and each other's company, but the moment was soon to fade as Levi's expression changed from warm happiness to a distant sort of pensive.

"I have something to ask of you, bright-eyes," he told her, rolling to his side to see her more clearly. "It's something that I have no right to ask, but I have always been a selfish man when it comes to you."

(Y/N) reached hand out to his chest, and laid it flat to feel his beating heart. His skin was soft and warm beneath her touch, and he looked as soothed by the action as she felt. 

"Just ask," she said, her stomach fluttering in anticipation. "If I can give it, it's yours."

Levi looked away. "Don't be so quick to agree before you know what I'm going to say."

(Y/N) frowned.

"Levi, what is it?"

"I want you to go back to the farm with your father for a while."

The words landed like a slap to the face. (Y/N) sat bolt upright, indignation in her heart and probably on her face, but Levi's hand shot out to catch her wrist, keeping her from moving away entirely. 

"That came out a little wrong," he said, his eyes pleading. "It's just… there are things I can't tell you, and it's not safe here— not for you or anyone else. Change is coming, and danger nips at its heels."

"So you want me to run away?" she demanded, her hurt and fear threatening to choke her. "You want to send me away and lock me up in an ivory tower like some sort of princess who can't get her hands dirty—"

Levi cut her off, his expression shuttering closed. "I want you to live."

(Y/N) thought back to the world she had come from, mucking the stables and feeding the horses, arranged marriages and no say in what she wore or how she lived, and she knew she couldn't do it. 

"I am living," she said, drawing her legs to her chest. "To go back would be like dying."

"Eren Jaeger is dangerous and completely unpredictable. I won't have the woman I love waiting here like a sitting duck for him to fly off the handle and bright the fight here—"

"What fight?" (Y/N) demanded. "We're literally behind three walls and we have the hole in Wall Maria plugged up! What more can titans do to us now that we've finally begun to win?"

Levi's expression darkened. He looked as though he was considering something that he knew better than to say but would say anyways, and when he opened his mouth for a rebuttal, (Y/N) knew that her estimation had been correct.

"The fight isn't against titans anymore," he said, his eyes boring into hers. "It's with the nations— the many and powerful nations— that exist outside of this island. They hate us, these nations, though one more hates us more than all the others. Titans— or rather using titan spinal fluid to change those of our bloodline into titans— were that nation's attempt at wiping us all from the face of the earth."

(Y/N) felt the color drain from her face. "Genocide? Who would do such a thing?"

"The nation known as Marley," Levi replied. "We know nothing about them except that they apparently hate us. It's the same situation all over again for the Survey Corps, this time with Hange and myself at the head— we'll no doubt be venturing into unknown lands if we can reach them, infiltrating Marley to try and understand them the same way we did the titans."

(Y/N) was reeling. "My God. This is unbelievable."

Levi shook his head. "That doesn't make it less true, or the threat of Eren's desire for vengeance less real. If he decides to make a move before Paradis is ready, it could mean our downfall. At this point, I'm not sure if I could even stop him."

"No, not that. It's unbelievable that you want to rush headlong into danger, into a nation that would rather have you and everyone else squashed into a giant bloodstain while you're asking me to go hide myself away instead of staying at my job and my home— where I'm needed, where I can make a difference."

At that, Levi looked pained. "I know. I told you, I'm a selfish man. It's in my nature to want to protect you at any cost… but I understand if you can't, or won't. Realistically, we could all be dead by tomorrow and no one would be the wiser, but I—"

He paused, looking away. 

"I want to keep you safe until I can buy us that plot of land in the middle of nowhere, build that cottage for us to live in, and put a ring on your finger for everyone to see, if you'd have it."

(Y/N) was speechless. 

"You… you would want to marry me?" she choked out, finding her voice again. 

At that, Levi gave her a reluctant little smile. "Who else?"

An idea dawned on (Y/N).

"Levi— this is a lot to process right now, and I—" 

He held a hand up. "Take all the time you need to think, there's no rush on this— on any of it— right now."

"No, you don't understand," she said, a smile growing on her face. "There is a way that this can work. All it will take is a little compromise."

The concept, as she explained to Levi, was simple. (Y/N)'s father was a man of tradition whose only goal was to see his daughter situated in a fine marital match so that she could live out her days in peace and comfort, and therein lay the solution. Were (Y/N) to find a suitable match on her own and enter into an engagement, she would then become the tentative property of her fiance— in this case, Levi— in her father's eyes, and that was over half the battle with returning home. The rest (Y/N) could fight for herself. 

"But, naturally we don't have to do anything rash," she said, uncertainty creeping into her tone. "And I won't leave while you're still here. If you aren't comfortable with that, we can fake the engagement, or just forgo the plan altogether, I guess, I don't really—"

Levi stopped her with a hand to her cheek and a soft smile. 

"Why would I ever want to fake such a thing?" he asked, and (Y/N) flushed. "I love you. I think I loved you from the moment I saw you. There is no disadvantage to this, not for me."

"Then I suppose that's what we'll do," (Y/N) said, and Levi pulled her close to rest her head on his shoulder. "Things will be the same until you leave for Marley, and then you'll go and I'll head out to my father's. And from there… well, I guess we'll make do."

"We will," Levi replied, his voice rumbling deeply in his chest. "I'll come back to you, bright-eyes— you can count on that."

And so it was.

[full---ofstarlight]

tagged by @gwynbleidd and @thedeadthree to do this uquiz!! did my bg3 girls, nyx, and then also two d&d characters because why not <3 <3

ocs as types of suffering

--

delvyre coppersmythe || bg3

Self inadequacy

You crack under the weight of your own percieved inability. How can you be enough for anyone else when you're just barely enough for yourself? Insecurity causes you to have little back-bone, and so you fail to reach your full potential when it comes to what you're best at. You sabotage opportunities with fear you'll fail before you've begun. It hurts to never feel like your best is enough, but setting your standards too high or too low ensures it.

desdemona vryn || bg3

Despair

The tunnel never had a light. You wish for nothing because you know you'll receive nothing, and your hopes died out long ago. The only thing that keeps you going is the thrill of emptiness you feel when things don't turn out your way. It's bitter. It's proof. Proof that you don't feel this way for nothing.

nyx shepard || mass effect

The Giver

Your energy depletes as you hand it out to anyone passing by your basket. People walk by and take, but no one ever leaves. You're constantly running on low when people keep asking you to give. You'd give your soul away for free, and then what left do you have of yourself if you can't say no?

araiya woolenherd || d&d

Lonliness

Your heart feels full of the connection you feel you lack. No matter how many people are around you, strangers or not....someone is missing. You don't know who, what, or if you'll ever find them. You're unsure if there's a person out there who'll really satisfy your life, so really what's the point of continuing to look?

sirrus montague || d&d

The Blackhole

There's a hole where your heart used to be and nothing is filling that hollow void. You could drown in a world curated for you, and still nothing seems to fit. It eats you alive knowing you're unsure how to satiate the hunger of your soul. It's barely hunger, it's more like a blackhole.

--

tagging @n7viper @criffyzou @sun-marie @dekarios @birbycakes @mattressdemon@yappatadwinks andddd you at home if you want to play (go ahead and tag me so i can read about ur little people hehe)

[lovelywingsart]

//AU// Fire and Dust

-- Karl Heisenberg X OC (AFAB, She/They) --

We're deep into it now.

(Sorry for not the best written thing, there's... Alot going on :'D BUT have the next chapter! It's kind of a hack job of editing but y'know ALSKFJSDAK-)

**Remember, check out the Masterlist for more! <3**

-----

Warnings?: Bargaining, end battle, major character death

Summary: The fight between Heisenberg and Winters is 'a sight to see' in the words of Duke, and the two fathers come to an understanding...

Until the unthinkable.

Loud crashes and mild explosions filled the thundering fields as metal and bullets collided, the sound of rotating saws meeting moist ground only muffled by the rain falling in small cascades. Beast versus what appeared to be human, sparks flying with every dodge and weave and pulse of power. Heisenberg moved slow yet effectively, every swing of the massive mechanical arms aimed to kill- but Winters was just a tad too fast each time, despite some odd swipe catching him enough to bleed. He had already tossed the damned machine the father used off to the side, altered to supposedly not be affected by his power, and somehow the man was just as much of a nuisance on foot, if not more. But it wasn't the thought of killing his abuser that kept him going- no, the determination to keep his own family safe was the driving factor in all of this, and so he continued to fight.

The mass of flesh and metal jerked with a groan as a piece on its side damn near exploded off from the continuous shots it withstood, and a rumbling laugh filled the arena.

"That one hurt... I promise." Heisenberg droned on with a booming mechanical voice, once again rearing back to swing forward, the motion of the arm propelling him forward as Winters sprinted away with a surprised yell. But he quickly hunched over once his arm was brought back, taking heavy whirring breaths sounding as if he were breathing through a fan. While he really couldn't feel the pain, he still felt the exhaustion. The mutation had already rendered him slower despite the small bursts, and the damage he had taken until this point affected whatever the hell currently kelp him alive at that very moment, be it the Cadou or sheer force of will.

Despite his wheezing, however, he managed to lift scraps and panels, fanning out his power to send the hurtling towards the man with a grunt. The grunt turned into a malicious chuckle as Winters was caught in the shoulder, sending him stumbling back and onto the ground. But the cackle lessened into more wheezing as he suddenly leaned forward, the large 'arms' resting against the ground.

"So this is the power of 'fatherly love', huh?" he taunted, managing to move his body slightly. He circled the man slowly which wheezes, only managing to hold up the 'arms' when Winters aimed his shotgun and fired. The bullets did nothing as he shifted for them to bounce off the metal, and he stared at the man with a deathly pale, unblinking eye.

"I'll show you the fucking power of 'fatherly love'..." He snarled, a sudden anger entering his voice that made Ethan back away. He watched as the mutated creature reared its head, suddenly bringing more thick metal sheets around him in defense with more pulses of his power. "I'll kill you before you hurt them!!!"

"H-Hurt who?!" Ethan yelled, managing to catch his breath enough to run back for some extra space.

The sheets shifted and pulsed as the amalgamation of flesh and parts spun them around him, his breaths coming as enraged growls as he peered from between them with a chilling glare.

"You were hunting my boy... My SON while you destroyed everything!!" He roared, and the man visibly froze.

"... Your... son??" he said, his voice that of disbelief. "The kid in the factory?!"

He only moved once more as the metal sheets were thrust out with a growling yell, avoiding one that came too close for comfort as it embedded itself into the soft ground.

"'That kid' is my son!! You dare hunt him down like a goddamn sheep!!!"

"I wasn't 'hunting' him down-!!"

"BULLSHIT!!!"

Another lunge with one of the saws, only to reel back with a grunt as the corner was shot in self-defense, resulting in a small pop of sparks. But he regained what stability he had, staring down the father who lowered the gun while backing up.

"You hunted him!! Chased him around the fucking place when he was goddamn terrified!!!" He roared again. "Destroyed his only defense!! Waving your goddamn guns around while he ran and destroying my army in the process!! I don't give a fuck about them now, that was his HOME!!!!!"

"I wasn't hunting your goddamn kid!!!!!" Ethan finally yelled back, holding out his arms to gesture around them and to the factory. "I thought he was a survivor from the attack! I was trying to HELP!!"

"By waving a fucking gun in his face?!"

"I did NOT-" he started, though once again dodged the smaller saw that had gone into the ground in front of him. He pointed the gun again with shaking hands, but didn't shoot.

"I did not wave it in his face!" He stated harshly, taking more steps back. "I was defending myself��from your damn robots! I didn't even know he was there until he ran! I thought he wandered in and I was trying to help, but he kept running!!"

"He was scared!!"

"So was I!!" Ethan managed. "Look, I'm fucking sorry!! I thought he was lost!! But I swear to you I wasn't going after him!!"

"HA! And how do you expect me to believe that?!"

"Because!!" He said desperately, and he saw the head of the creature lift slightly in mild disbelief. "If I'm trying to save my own daughter, why would I put another kid in danger?! I'm not like her!!!"

Heisenberg froze.

Ethan... wasn't like her.

... And neither was he.

There was a split second of calm as both men heaved, the shifting mass of scraps resting along the ground as Heisenberg attempted to catch whatever breath he had. But he kept his 'arms' down, the saws resting against the moist ground as the rain lessened to a small misty drizzle around them. He looked up at the man currently lowering the gun he held, feeling his breath tremble.

"I just... want... them safe...!" He said near desperately, his droning voice cracking ever so slightly. If he could have cried in this form, the burning feeling in his chest told him he would have done so.

"My son... deserves freedom. More than either of us!!"

"Th-That's what I'm trying to do...!!" Ethan yelled back, his voice exhausted as he dropped the weapon to his side. He watched as the mutated man lowered his head with a rumbling growl in mild disbelief.

"I tried to tell you, I'm on your side here!!" He continued, gesturing to the surface building that acted as the face of the factory. "I've been trying to tell you that since I got here!!"

Heisenberg let out a droning groan, though his own distress began to grow and show itself just slightly as he felt what was left of his energy slowly ebb away. He couldn't keep it together much longer.

"We've been trapped... He's been trapped. For fucking years." he started. "Forced to live in fear of that bitch... forced to hide him, god forbid she steal him from us! She doesn't give a damn about any of us, not even your Rose."

"I know that...!" Ethan said desperately. "Thats why I want to stop her!! I want to save my daughter, and help the others! They've already agreed to help me, I need you to stop being an asshole to help me, too!! Not by using my daughter, but by fighting like you were already planning!!" He nodded to the building, and the mutated creature followed with his pale gaze. "I saw all the freaky shit... I know damn well you're smarter than this! Now help me, and you'll be free just how you wanted!"

The mutant was silent, managing to catch his breath just slightly. He knew the man was right, and he fucking hated him for it... Hell, he hated himself for the entire situation. His partner was right, Winters was right, they were all right... for once, he knew he was in the wrong and it killed him.

His head lowered again, and he looked back at the factory fully as quiet sounds of moving boxes and hushing caught his attention. It was as if he could feel eyes on him... But not in a way that made his skin crawl. In fact, it comforted him slightly- and then he saw the source, hidden behind debris.

They made it out.

He let his guard lower ever so slightly as he turned back to look at Ethan, feeling the motors in his chest tremble with an ever-growing exhaustion. Even the father could see the unintentional relaxation of the pieces, the 'body' shifting as if it wanted to lay down and give up.

The mutant was tired and wanted it to stop, and he could tell.

"... Fine..." he managed, turning towards him fully. "Fine. Only because I want them safe..."

"They will be..." the man said. "I want my daughter back... But I'm not going to tear your family down to do it. I'm not a damn monster."

Heisenberg was silent for a moment before letting off a near relieved, shaking groan. He could see the father step forward hesitantly as he slumped over. Now he couldn't move... Forward, maybe, but he couldn't lift his 'arms'. The exhaustion of this form has caught up tenfold, and he felt he would have only been able to let off one more surge of power if he did, anyway...

"... Let me... see them..." he managed, seeing Ethan nod before starting to turn slightly towards the factory- only to stop as a low rumbling sounded from the ground.

"What the-"

Ethans words were stolen from his mouth as the rumbling increased, and both watched as the ground suddenly erupted with black mold tendrils. The mold surrounded the building itself, and the rush of panic was enough to get Heisenberg moving.

"NO!!!!-" he started, though was halted immediately with more tendrils that exploded from the ground near his wheels.

He let out a panicked and pained yell as they hit his side with enough force to tip him over into a heap, surrounding and wrapping around the metal body. He could only squirm in attempts to fight back as the tendrils flooded through the scraps and pierced the stretched flesh, managing to push himself back up only slightly before his already blown senses started to fade.

No... NO... This couldn't be, he just-

A piercing, burning pain entered his 'chest', and he realized mere seconds too late that it was the mold itself. He could hear gunshots that sounded almost distant now, feeling the tendrils retreat slightly as they were hit- Winters was trying to get them away...

But they kept coming.

Another agonized cry ripped through his mechanized voice as the tendrils squirmed into the body, squeezing, crushing and prying pieces apart, hearing Ethans yells before his senses dulled almost entirely.

All he heard before the blackout was a distant wailing scream as the pain replaced all sense, and the scrap heap exploded with a force that sent the father flying back and started a fire that spread along the pieces.

The iron stallion had fallen, the only sounds heard now being a menacing cackle and cries coming from two sources-

The baby who had just been 'revealed' from the mold, and a now newly grieving mother who hauled her son away as quickly as she could.

[clericofshadows]

get to know your fanfic writer!

I was tagged by @rotschopf-thedrow <3 thanks!

When did you post your first ever fanfic?

I'm new at posting fic lmao so my first was back in April of this year,

First Character(s) you wrote?

For posted fic? My Shepard, Regis.

Main Character(s) you’re currently writing?

Regis Shepard/Zaeed Massani, since I'm focusing a bit more on ME2 at the moment. But after that it's back to Regis Shepard/Kaidan Alenko/Zaeed Massani for some more stuff between them :).

Character(s) you haven’t written about before but plan to write about soon?

Jack, Grunt, and Garrus. Going to attempt to establish some interesting dynamics (Regis and Jack) and try to set up some reasons in fic-canon as to why Regis has a few suicide mission deaths (Garrus, Grunt, and later Legion). Maybe. We'll see how it goes.

Fandom(s) you’re currently writing?

Mass Effect, although with the release of Phantom Liberty I want to get into CP2077 stuff with my V and Viktor Vektor <3

Platonic pairing(s) you’re currently writing?

Regis Shepard and Miranda Lawson. It may not look like it now, but they're close to becoming some semblance of friends.

Also a bit of Regis and Kasumi and Regis and Wren, my N7 Fury OC turned Shadow Broker.

Your top AO3 tags?

Excluding relationship tags...

Communication

Hurt/Comfort

Grief/Morning

Hey I've spent a lot of time ensuring my triad is healthy AND making them suffer :)

Current platform you use for posting?

AO3 and Tumblr.

Snippet of the WIP you are currently working on?

trust doesn't come cheap, aka where Regis learns who brought his body to Cerberus and confronts Miranda about it, among other things.

“But you do have me, and I’m here however you need me,” Zaeed replied, leaning in close.  Regis closed the distance between them, more free and open with his affection now that he met up with Kaidan, that they were able to clear the air and open the possibility for more.  That their triad can and will continue one day. Zaeed pushed him up against the wall, the same spot where Regis first saw him on Omega, threatening a target. The feeling of the cold, hard panel sent a shiver down Regis's spine, heightening the intensity of the moment. Regis let out a pleased sound, letting Zaeed take over despite where they were, submitting to his advances. Regis moaned against his lips, about to grind up against him, but someone cleared their throat a short distance from them.  “I wouldn’t say this is the best time and place, Commander.”    “And why is it that you care, Lawson?” Regis asked with a hard glare, his earlier desire replaced by irritation at the intrusion.  She stood with an arched eyebrow, a hint of curiosity in her expression. She folded her arms across her chest, seemingly unfazed by the situation, her confidence unshaken. Changed out of her normal Cerberus dress “whites,” she wore a long khaki coat belted around her body, a clean and pristine look that suited her well. Out of all the fucking people to interrupt… but perhaps this was a good opportunity to go ahead and get that damn conversation out of the way.  Zaeed slowly pulled away, tilting his head to the side as if to ask if Regis was going to go ahead and deal with what he learned from Aria.  Regis nodded, answering the silent question. “I assumed you wouldn’t want the crew to gossip about your love life,” she replied, keeping her expression neutral.  “Or perhaps even beyond that.  Word travels fast about you.” Regis wouldn’t have called it concern, the barb at the end seeming to signify she was talking about the Alliance being aware of him… and all his connections there.  As if she was baiting him, dangling the knowledge that she knew about his relationship with Kaidan. And what that could mean if he were to learn of this "affair." “You’re right.  Word does travel fast about me.  Shame that it took me a while to learn who exactly handled my body here on this fucking station,” Regis said, watching her eyes widen in recognition.  The truth hung in the air between them. She stepped back.  The gravity well stirred.   “I knew your word was full of shit, but I never expected this,” he continued, staying against the wall.  “We are going to have a long talk.”

I think I've seen most of my fellow writers tagged so... if you see this and want to share, go ahead :D

[words-and-threads]

So I've been having this problem in BG3 where I try to port over my OCs from my freeform text roleplays. The problem is they're the kind of characters who make plot happen and they don't fit very well into a plot that's pre-written. What's more, I as a player want to see as much of the content as possible and I'm not going to do that if loose cannon Tommy over here starts blasting or wary Ioannis won't stick his neck out for the grove.

Making a new OC who facilitates my goals has also been a challenge because I just don't quite know where to start. There are parameters for such a character dictated by the dialogue options, backgrounds, and in-game consequences as well as the world itself. So I found myself thinking back to other RPGs where I created OCs and looking for the difference, and the answer was simple: narrow down the options.

In Dragon Age and Mass Effect, your backstory is either fully pre-written or there are a few canon events that ensure your character will be in the right position and have the right skills and temperament to continue the story. It's not perfect, to be sure, but it does help give one a direction if, like me, one is obsessive about characterization. Especially in a game like Baldur's Gate 3 where the other origin characters are so well fleshed out, I want my OC to at least feel coherent.

SO! I have written some more detailed character prompts with a few main criteria in mind. The character must be logically possible in the setting. They must be a reasonably functional adult with some understanding of the world's social expectations. They must have some interest in other people, team spirit, and willingness to get involved with the events around them. They must have enough combat experience not to freak out when there's blood everywhere. Finally, their background should explain the skill bonuses that background provides. This still leaves a lot of creative space but I think a character based on these prompts should generally be able to fit into the game with minimal difficulty.

I don't know if anyone else has had the same problem, maybe you're all better at this than me, but in case they're useful to someone, here they are.

I've done 3 backgrounds so far, the Charlatan, Entertainer, and Soldier.

Charlatan – you were working in the city when you were abducted.

You learned to lie and steal early out of financial necessity, as well as some other sharper skills. It started with picking pockets and crooked street games, but you eventually graduated to more elaborate cons. You’re still cautious, keenly aware of the risks of your work, and you keep your poker face steady and your cards close to your chest. Whether the people you meet are a useful resource or a threat depends entirely on how well you manage them.

You have always been the life of the party. You were so lively, in fact, that you were eventually cut off from your primary means of support. You’ve bounced from one party to the next ever since, living off your charms. It’s not your fault people like you and want to give you things, even if the “you” they’re giving them to is entirely fabricated. And if people decide they don’t like you, for instance because they caught you taking things they didn’t give you, it never hurts to have a weapon or a spell handy. Well, it doesn’t hurt you anyway.

You trade in information, saying, doing, or being whatever is necessary to get it. You’re a consummate professional and a near-perfect actor who doesn’t let their personal feelings interfere with their work. Those who know you for more than a day or two (and there aren’t many of them) would doubt you even have feelings. You do, however, know how to look at the bigger picture and will act on your own if it seems likely to bring long-term benefit. 

Entertainer – you were working in the city when you were abducted.

Early on, you developed a passion for stories that eventually drove you to an explorer’s life. Everywhere you go, you learn from the people there and share the wisdom you’ve found with them. You have a great sense of perspective and good advice for all situations, resulting in a measured and practical demeanor.  While you prefer to resolve conflict with an appropriate fable, you have learned to defend yourself with force when necessary.

You live for the adulation of the crowd. You have a big personality and a showy flair for your artistic discipline. Every movement screams “tadaa!” Your ambition for bigger crowds and new rapt faces has led you to a few dubious places, but you’ve learned to fight off would-be showstoppers with that same flair.

Your art is violence. Whether on the battlefield, in the arena, or in the middle of a bar brawl, you inflict damage with the grace of a dancer, the care of a painter, and the passion of a musician. Some find you off-putting, but those who can appreciate your skill and commitment are more than welcome to share in your glory.

You never intended to have adventures. You were happy to work away at your discipline, sharing with a small crowd, making a comfortable living. When disaster struck your community, you had no choice but to take up arms. You remain an unassuming, sensible person and a reluctant fighter, but you can hold your own and won’t hesitate to stand against those who threaten you and yours.

Soldier – you were on leave in the city when you were abducted.

You joined an army or mercenary company for a cot to yourself and maybe even a new pair of boots. You were inexperienced, but scrappy and committed to proving yourself. In time, you learned combat skills, strategy, and how to get along with 5 other people sharing a tent, all of whom snore. While you do know how to mind your business, the sense of order instilled in you by your training makes it hard to ignore larger problems in the world around you.

You joined an army or mercenary company to dodge the law, angry relatives, or some other dire consequence. You had some skills already, but you’re still a bit secretive and twitchy. Your commanders know better than to ask and your comrades, well, some of them have their own secrets. A squad at your back gives you the courage to take risks and you give the same loyalty to them that you get. You have a soft spot for people in tough situations. After all, once that was you.

You were already a strong fighter in your own right when you joined up with a mercenary company, but you saw the value of having someone to watch your back. There was an adjustment period as you got used to following orders, but your commanders find your experience useful even if they could do without your ego. Some of your comrades still see you as an outsider, but some, especially the younger ones, are awed by your tales of derring-do. Overall, you make it work.

[honeysuckle-venom]

I've been having a bit of a rough time the past week or so. Dancing on the edge of psychosis, dipping in and out of it, trying to avoid falling into it head first as I do difficult and triggering therapy work. But I've also been making significant progress, especially in today's session. The food issues that I have are...not exactly an eating disorder? I mean, it's not not an eating disorder. But it's closer to food based OCD and food based delusions that mimic orthorexia in their expression than anything else. And I made major progress today in therapy in figuring out what's going on there.

My food stuff got a lot worse this fall, as I dealt with discovering I had liver tumors and spent months unsure if I had cancer or another life threatening condition. I don't, thankfully, but it was an incredibly scary and honestly traumatic experience, particularly when combined with my preexisting medical trauma. And then when we learned that the tumors are benign I just kind of...didn't deal with any of that and pushed it all aside, especially as they began to shrink now that I'm off the medication that caused them. And all of the terror and helplessness of that experience has been transformed into food based compulsions and delusions, for several reasons. Because I have an eating disorder history and a tendency to use food in that way, because I've had food based compulsions and delusions in the past, because our culture tells us that food is both the cause and cure of any and all health conditions, because doctors throughout this experience were telling me to lose weight and follow certain diets, etc etc etc. But there's one piece of the puzzle that I didn't put together until today when my therapist brought it up.

My tumors were caused by oral contraceptive medication. For years every single day I ingested something that, unbeknownst to me, was causing dangerous tumors to grow in my liver. If we had not discovered them in time and I had continued to take my medication there's a very real chance they would have ruptured and I would have died. Something that I thought was good for me that I was ingesting was secretly hurting me and causing my body to betray me. Of fucking course I now have delusions that the things I ingest will hurt me/give me diseases/cause my organs to rot: that essentially happened to me! Of course I'm afraid of putting things into my body and the effects those things might have, of course I'm obsessive about the potential health effects of different things that I might put inside me! Of course I need to feel in control of what I ingest, of course I panic when I feel that I'm breaking rules that keep me safe, of course my contamination and poisoning delusions have been acting up, of course! I'm a paranoid schizophrenic with a preexisting eating disorder and delusions of being poisoned since I was 3 years old, and then I discover that something I've been swallowing every night was causing masses to form in my organs? No fucking wonder I reacted this way.

The food stuff has been so bad lately, and trying to untangle it in therapy has honestly been making it temporarily worse, but I feel like this was a significant breakthrough today and I'm hopeful that understanding more of what's behind my incredibly intense and irrational fears and behaviors around food will soon lead to being more able to start recovering from those fears and behaviors.

[rawliverandgoronspice]

for the ask game: 5, 25, 26

Heyy thank you so much!!!

5. What's a tag you never want to use for your works even when it applies?

So I have never... not applied a tag, I think? I mean, if we're going to be completely transparent: I have once written a story that involves a lot of really icky themes and situations, but that are not in any way meant to be titilating. So I guess in these kind of contexts, I don't tag all of the sexual content the way other fics tend to do, because I don't want to attract the "wrong" kind of audience (aka people who expected a... certain type of experience and who would end up with a very depressing one instead). The tagging system in Ao3 can be really great and helpful in some cases, and kind of a headscratcher in others. RIght now I'm also facing the complicated case of: one of the biggest tags of one of my upcoming fic is a MASSIVE spoiler, but it would attract a lot more people if I did put it in from the get-go!! And I don't know what to do about it.

25. Is writing the whole thing beforehand better or worse than writing it as you go?

Hmmm. I have done both. I think both have advantages and inconveniences.

If you write as you go, you have the ongoing momentum. You can use the comments to fuel your motivation to continue, and you stay in the flow of things in a far more effective way. It's also better when you want to get stuff out without long-term commitment to the idea, which is a fine thing to do honestly. But, on the other hand, you lack full control over the experience, and you have to let go of the quality threshold you can reasonably aspire to reach. And if, like me, you just *do not* write linearly, you can end up with a very patchy draft where you have chapter 3 ready to go, but chapter 4 isn't. Chapter 5 to 7 is tho!! but then you have nothing, except for a couple of scenes and then the last one. And now you have to trudge through Chapter 4 to release the rest of it even though you'd much rather write something else, which could affect the quality of Chapter 4, which could have been much better if only I had waited for the "natural time" for me to come back to it. I think Descant suffered from this a couple of times, for example (but that's honestly an extremely Me problem)

On the other hand!! Writing everything at once allows you for a degree of control you just cannot have otherwise. I have done this several times, the most notable being the actual seven years I took writing Halfway Home, my Mass Effect fanfiction. When I reread it today (when I manage to push myself to do it, we'll come back to that), I just cannot deny how polished it is on a line level, and how I would have hurt the story if I had, as I originally planned to, released it one chapter at a time. Doing this allowed me to refine my craft and understand my story in a way I would have never ever accessed otherwise, and I have become a much better writer for it. But the cost of that was also quite great. I think there is such a thing as overworking your project, and I did cross over that limit while working on Halfway Home; some chapters have lost the flow and the easiness and spark of their first draft counterparts and became instead construction projects, where the goal was sturdiness rather than emotion, and I'm pretty sure you can feel that burnout in the finished product in places. Another thing is also: when you have worked on a project for that long and when that project ate such a huge part of your life, you can tell yourself that you don't care about reception, but there's a degree of that sentiment that has to become a lie. It's impossible not to feel a sense of grief once you see seven years of your life packaged and released and getting lost in the natural release flow of Ao3. Not to mention the risk (turned into a reality in my case) that the fandom will straight up die and interest will completely wane by the time you actually do put that project out.

Of course, this is a very extreme case, but I think my current stance on things is: trying to aim for a mixture of both? I feel confident enough in my writing toolbox that I know I can afford to lose some of that final quality and polish if it means not hurting myself creatively in the long run, only to gain an additional 5-10% of quality most people would not have noticed. So I'm kind of a 60% writing ahead of time / 40% writing as I go kind of person. My next project will not be fully completed when I begin to release it, but I will only do that when I'm confident its bones are sturdy enough to support its own weight to survive on its own out there, in the Big Wild Ao3.

26. What would you describe as OOC?

Oooo the big bad question. Hmm. I think my opinion is kind of weird a little less scientific than I would like, but I believe that every character has an internal emotion and/or yearning that makes them tick and gives them energy in whichever original canon context we find them in. I don't have to agree with every author about what that original energy/yearning is, but if the case made is compelling enough and this energy is carried over in other contexts, I am willing to accept most behaviors if the internal argumentation makes sense to this sort of original point from which every canon and fanon branch spread out. I think people lose me when their take become disconnected of that original appearance and begins to ride the wave of Popular Fanon, by which I mean: fanon archetypes that are not specific to the media we are talking about, but just general idea such as "brooding guy who secretely cares a lot", "very jealous love interest", "huge protective teddy bear"... I realize a lot of this has to do with allowing characters to have interiority, honestly. A lot of what I believe to be OoC trends have to do with a complete disinterest in some characters' internal lives to serve a fantasy crammed into a mold that doesn't necesserily fit, and without the work being done to make it fit or to make the necessary adjustments to make it specific to the characters involved. I think it's also why I'm not super big on general tropes or AUs in most fandoms --not because all of them are bad or even do this at all, some play with conventions and specificity very very well, or that the practice is worthless, who am I to decide that honestly (and it's not), but because the very appeal of them tends to be flattening characters in very indistinct shapes that can be easily swapped and replaced with each other, and this is not why I, personally, tend to be interested in fanfiction as a medium.

[quietwingsinthesky]

More titles!! (no pressure)

- AITA for """"being insane"""" about My Little Pony

- ah yes. me, my partner, and their 1000 dollar four foot tall blahaj

- Goin' faster than a roller coaster >:)

- googly eyes and other things your stomach can't digest

- that awkward moment when you realize you've been dead for days

- r/relationship_advice: my (cute) neighbor keeps trying to kill me but I'm immortal

- Report: Average Male 4,000% Less Effective In Fight Than He Imagined

- ball handler https://youtu.be/bh9KvSDxU5w

- jailbreak

- I love you but we need to talk about the goat

LIGHTNING ROUND PT 2

terrible early 2010s creepypasta involving hyperrealistic ponies with knives

2. this is about raphael. we all know this is about raphael. it's their blahaj and they love it and it WILL be sleeping in the bed with them and gabriel thank you very much

3. crack reinvention of lucifer's s5 approach towards sam, in which he is trying his very best to get angel-married to a guy he just met, after being stuck in a cage for centuries, and every other archangel is going D: because this is not actually the normal way to approach a vessel. sam gets many shovel talks and has no idea why.

4. mass effect fic about baby krogan. 'nuff said.

5. godstiel doesn't manage to kill raphael! it's a miracle. except. no one can see them. or hear them. and as the world continues to collapse in on themselves, they are forced to watch as their brothers are destroyed and heaven falls and there is nothing they can do about it (raphael whump yippee <3)

6. samwena stanford au where. idk. rowena is around and doing witch shit and sam goes 'oh shit i better take care of that'. he is so out of his league it isn't even funny, but also he's very cute and a milf magnet and so she's taking him as her new boytoy (and then along the way acquires far more feelings than she expected. so does sam.) this all makes the 'dean coming to get him in the pilot' plot a lot more complicated.

7. Michean fic where michael goes to fetch his true vessel himself instead of sending zachariah. dean keeps stabbing him. he won't even let michael get started on his speech about how this is all god's will and inevitable and the right thing to do as good sons, he just goes straight for the stabbing. and like. it doesn't actually hurt michael. but still. it's rude.

8. (ajslajdklasjdlk that clip) anyway in honor of this. sastiel blow job fic. with. ball handling :) sam is getting those balls in his mouth and no one can stop him

9. correct me if im wrong but wasn't crowley stuck in the dungeon in s9 when gadreel killed kevin? been forever since i watched s9 i do not like it lmao BUT. my point is. kevin & crowley team up. they hate each other. unfortunately if they do not do this one or both of them will die. plus at this point kevin is so fed up with sam & dean that he's like. Fuck it! At least Crowley would pay me for this shit! because crowley actually values his assets <3 actually hold on is this evolving into like a crowley sugar daddy au what is happeni-

10. castiel gets turned into a goat. sam knows this but he has also been cursed and cannot tell anyone that castiel is, currently, a goat. dean does not know about either of these things and shenanigans ensue as sam is really, really insistent that they need to get goat!castiel into the impala. (goat!castiel is not helping because he has discovered the vinyl impala seats are very yummy.)

[geemosses]

Stressed

I'm so stressed. And it's like, all the time. I don't know what to do about it anymore. I used to be better at managing it. But right now it just feels overwhelming. Maybe I just need to vent, so I guess I'll write about it. That's something haven't tried before.

A lot of it has to do with my job. I work as a Software Engineer at Amazon. They recently announced a "Return to Office" (RTO) mandate, along with multiple rounds of layoffs. Everyone has to go back to the office 3 days per week. The justifications they provided are weak, and everyone knows it. Some nonsense about absorbing company culture and easier collaboration. Never mind the fact that we've all been "collaborating" just fine, doing our jobs well enough for the last 3 years while the vast majority of Amazon's corporate employees work from home. And never mind the fact that Amazon is still in a very strong position financially.

The empty words are what really piss me off. As if we're all too dumb to understand what's really happening here. Amazon, like many tech companies, hire lots of people during the pandemic, expecting endlessly cheap money to fund endless growth. Now that all of that has fallen apart, Amazon wants to cut down the work force, aka balance the bottom-line. But they can't ruin their carefully crafted image in the public by laying off massive numbers of employees.

So instead, they make working at Amazon intolerable, in the hopes that people will leave voluntarily. It's short-sighted if you ask me. The ones that will be the first to jump off this sinking ship will be the ones with the most options. I, for example, have worked at Amazon for 7 years and have been promoted to Senior Engineer in that time. I'm by no means the most talented engineer Amazon has to offer, but I'm still certain that if I leave, it will hurt.

Through it all, one word keeps coming to my mind: Unionize. How much better would life be at Amazon if I were part of a union? Individually, I have no power to change anything about Amazon. But collectively, Amazon employees would wield immense power. We could demand the flexibility to continue to work from home. We could demand more transparency into compensation packages and work towards greater pay equity for women and people of color. We could demand better treatment and working conditions of our workers in fulfillment centers. We could negotiate for better benefits. We could demand a voice at the table - on the board or on the 'S-Team'. We could demand better justification and transparency for pushing through mass layoffs even while the company remains profitable, and push back when their words turn out to be as empty as they have been this past year.

For the last decade, high demand gave tech workers so much power., but if the last year has made one thing abundantly clear, it's that all of us are vulnerable. It doesn't matter what nice words they write to try and make it sound less painful, to try and make you think they had no choice. The truth is, you don't really matter to them. You can be reduced to nothing more than a line item on a spreadsheet, just waiting to be crossed out when investors come calling for bigger pay days. Through all of that, only one entity has the power to fight back and protect employees: a Union.

Even as I write this though, I fear retaliation. I fear that Amazon will be able to link this post back to me and find a way to cut me like they have so many others in the past, for daring to even think the word union. Funny how a company can wield fear so effectively, barely even saying a word.

[bluepoodle7]

#FakeGameBattle #JohnDoe #IfDoeWasAIllbleedBossAndHowToDefeatHim #Ending2InMyAU #ZableFable

Ending 2 Zable Fable would be the most scared of Doe since a knife is in play.

She would "die" but get up from her dormant shifter half and fight them off or teleport out of there to not hurt Doe.

Maybe fight Doe Illbleed style with her dual shot water gun she/they copied.

This would play in the battle but mainly from Janet.

Rootin-Tootin Love - SiIvaGunner: King for Another Day - YouTube

How a Illbleed stage and battle would work.

Mostly having the character enter a stage that looks like their house feeling safe but weirded out because they hear noises like scrapping & monster noises.

Your character opens the door to see Doe just there with a knife in hand then the battle begins but with the twinge sfx.

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

I image if John Doe was a Illbleed boss with a stage.

The traps would be sight and smell based with a few hearing ones.

Have like mini doeballs attack you when your sixth sense goes off thinking its a item that you need.

Then you try to read the diary entries but you can't read them and have to find a decoder in the stage to finally read all the entries which unlocks the boss with a cutscene.

Doe would definitely have three Tv traps.

One where his is distorted and scary.

Another one where it's a chibi version of Doe doing something cute. (If you marked the trap right.)

You just do the got it pose without noise and continue on but you can still watch him do it.

(If marked.)

The battle

-----------

I can also imagine John Doe's hair grabbing you & swinging you around if you fight close contact with Doe.

I imagine the other close contact weapon would be a pocket knife similar to Doe's.

Also having red glowing eyes similar to Stakataka as a warning.

Doe Illbleed style boss battle would be in his room but similar to the Queen Worm Level.

John Doe would attack the player with the knife and you can dodge them then later shoot Doe's fake body with water to slowly melt.

Then you see Doe freaking out and jumping into his trash.

This slowly heals Doe in battle that you need to spray the trash to "clean" his room to defeat him.

Bonus if you water gun spray Doe mid jump in the trash pile healing up or already in it.

But this would be the queen worm like stage Doe would hide in the trash in his house to heal up.

If you get close to the pile he will jump up and stab you but Zable's got those Illbleed controls in this Au.

Have a cutscene of his fake body melting in a face melting gruesome way then scuttling off as a hairball squeaking and bumping into things for a B movie effect.

A alternate Zable Fable or a Yousona that is scared of John Doe but can fight back be like.

I imagine when using the horror monitor of X-ray glasses on John Doe it just shows Doe's hair ball form similar to the anatomy.

Might make that part of the Au.

This is basically the Illbleed boss fight with John Doe in the Au if my art was good.

John Doe Illbleed Au Feel

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

John Doe's Illbleed stage in this Au feels like it would be a long walk similar to the ending to level 3 near the end to make you bleed out while also having traps that make your heart rate go up while having traps that make you bleed.

Maybe have Doe's vehicle hit you.

Also having the meat from level 4 randomly put in the level but it's censored for some reason like it's glitched out.

Every let's play the meat gets swapped out from chicken, beef, & pork but a fish one gets added.

The fish is just a fish head with a skeleton lower half frozen.

I can see Doe's house room level run out of messy hiding spots like it takes the level a little longer to reload those spots.

So I would make John Doe summoning a few Doeball little regular guys but be shown eating one to heal himself to represent him regaining body mass.

While your character can't heal in battle but the enemy can similar to Bullstinger mixed with the Cashman Cashman Juniors mini spiders enemies that are hard to hit since they are small but the water gun will work like the flamethrower but is a water version.

Doe would teleport like Banballow but can be pause menu stunned like Banballow, The Woodcutters, and Mary in the overworld chase scene.

I would make two endings one where you reject John Doe and you fight him off like classic Illbleed boss with a level to match.

Using his fake human form to pretend to be a rescued character but will be a trap you need to mark to avoid the boss battle that you can't fight.

The other route would be that you like him but the game still acts like a Illbleed level but Doe will want to talk saying it was a misunderstanding to fight you but he will be in his true human form texture.

Then the cutscene will act like a B movie love story but a new monster will replace John Doe and John Doe will be added as a rescued party member.

The photo taken will be the regular guy form in the picture but stretched out like his true form is inside of the fake body that bleeds fake blood.

You can also swap out the characters to use in the new boss battle but if you play as Doe the workers will make up a new monster but will glitch out in the middle of the battle.

This is due to the monster not fitting in the level theme while also being rushed out to be made that voice lines or sound effects don't exist while also will just freeze up and T-pose to expose the weakpoint that is a plug tail that you need to unplug to defeat the monster.

Another method is unplug and plug it back in to make the boss kind of works but it walks to where the worker that is controlling it to kill them.

The workers will freakout that they might be fired or killed due to this happening but your character will just shrug it off then walk away awkwardly to the clear end goal.

I can see the Illbleed worker in this au freaking out that you befriended the boss of the level that when the new boss gets introduced then the game will hastily play a intro backstory for the boss from the company that is made up with the narrator messing up saying the story.

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

I image John Doe being like Cork saving a Yousona from danger in his own little way.

I wonder if a Yousona is in really deep danger would John Doe save the yousona in like Dante's inferno or Persephone?

Mostly this version from HBO that I remembered as a kid.

Video not mine but link is there.

ATotW Fav. #2 - Persephone - YouTube

John Doe really be Hades kidnapping a Yousona like Persephone in the little time loop Doe makes.

And eating the pomegranate seeds is like the Ending 4 and the underworld is his house.

These posters would be a good Illbleed style poster but parody the names again and have Doe's true face appear randomly on the poster but make it hidden like a easter egg.

Images not mine but links are there.

Ending 2 | JOHN DOE Wiki | Fandom

Snek plays Illbleed (No Commentary) (Sega Dreamcast 2001) Part 1 (The Homerun of Death) - YouTube

CLEAR - YouTube

Wikihow Dog Sprayed By Hose | Know Your Meme

Meet John Doe (1941) - IMDb

[artcalledoddities]

My Blessings My blessings From sneezed Are ample Break a back Did you feel great gum I think not Left foot implanted Heart condition mass employment Live the life How really was it? My blessing Gif JPEG Hospital bed side effect Not meant to be wanted I had followers Ask the last tenant Da ant Da ant Da ant Grade F Lower than quarter quartered star Were you present for likings Give UR feel Picture Of 10 in series Da dude Shot and broken Grab a prescription You got fat And I missed out My blessings for burps and blurbs I thank those of all kinds I’m an eater Big plastic The little one Episode 10 Quarter in After blisters but I wrote burps and blurbs Not really listening Junkie Red velvet Commercial break No shoes Bring money Same shoe from 2010 On feat fear feet In skin Dum Jo Banjo Jeff An so on and on He knew a house Garage to room Paint the snap shot No funny stuff House shopping by self Contractor next door Make a Sell In fashion My blessing Or not at home Is he mine or just urs ? ?’s Seller My blessings Shakespeare was the writer For all to follow Please come on my face Don’t spit I applied both I’ll scratch my eyes Why did he state what was in garbage can! That was Neil Not bow Difference in males Games lesbians play Fear&Guilt Tha sisters Sinnister Unreal Unreal Unreal Unreal Unreal Unreal Unreal Unreal 2six (too sick) F Mouth to mouth Look into our eyes From a side Witness Presented mark Life in play In many parts Choke on heroin I never poppied A dream of parts Thirty some thang in Buyer’s market Extraphaganze A new gazelle In a red room Live for ten You must live for tin Don’t recycle Sounds in the rains Confetti dropping’s We never yay yah nah mastered a tea party We had plenty of Screens And ghosts After tenth I miss you An episode Continues I’ll be alone again But not in my dreams There’s no one to stop them You’re there But not even you Net me I see you in my Blessings Red And later sooner to love My life My love a wanted wanted sooner I live Can’t hurt me red Fuck ur doors I hate the weather My eyes sting I wanted hand in hand No listening A new movie will Envelope the minds Signed sealed delivered Like or Love MovieCritique I give A - 3 love For Haunted Hill House Please hue What shades? Faermence of shadow still o ettes? Take care be kind Look into grey I am home Incline I added later the definition

Of

Snant!

[randomclam24]

I have a lot of excess energy that I might have put toward personal projects. The problem with that is the prospect of them ending up in development hell. Not only that, because it's just built on excess energy, there's no real check on whether or not the effort exerted is worth it.

In a sense, I did in life what I did because I didn't want to put all my eggs in any other basket when obviously there were more pressing things beforehand.

It's weird. The more the situation changes, the more I feel maturity coming on me almost in my stead. I think more level-headedly where otherwise I would quite literally be putting aside that kind of judgment for the sake of seeking out inspiration.

To an extent, the "more level-headed" assessment of things is directly objectifying.

After some thought, really, how much is "maturity" still used in a sense that could be used to mean self-actualization? As opposed to meaning, have the right opinion, in itself.

I don't have a method to this.

I found somebody did a restoration of the Donkey Kong Country OST of Stop & Go Station. That was one I considered for a level in a project at one point, where the song was something to contemplate before the creative process. (These were just going to be free mod games.) In this case, it's not necessarily dated because the sentiment had something to do with how I had absolutely no bearing on where the world is headed.

Donkey Kong Country - Misty Menace [Restored] - YouTube

I don't know how cringe works, so if this hurts to view, turn it off immediately

My life as an atomized thing isn't even that important.

But there were more OSTs comparable to that one in effect. Basically there was a secret ending where in my mind I was starting to predict that fate was something really dark. In short, there was a depression involved at the end. Talking to my old coworker on the project, she convinced me to delete the final map, which hadn't even had anything serious put into it as of that time.

I feel like arrests including to myself will start very soon.

I could attempt going back through the lineup of music that is now defunct in what remains of that project. But - it gives a very strong feeling which is unique. It's very creepy.

The material doesn't even live up to that caliber, but the music itself is powerful.

Update

Only one other song really holds up, but let's not talk about that.

Also, I found a lead that what really got me about "liminal space" images might have just been what is called nyctophobia images.

Update

Maybe not that.

There's also autophobia.

Update

There's literally nothing special about "autophobia" images. Nyctophobia is just fear of the dark.

There were some liminal spaces that had something to them. There are all these categories, but I don't think that captures it.

Update

Honestly, all I think there is to it is when you have a space that looks like it was meant for kids which I don't trust. That implies a regressive state that is positively terrifying.

6/4 night

I just wanted to point out I can't sleep.

I checked everything. Yes, Pirate Doom really is it for right now.

6/4

It still is. In reality, the two sources Rage on Nightmare mode and Silent Hill 3 also on hardest monster difficulty are run by the establishment, and in the case of Silent Hill 3, people just couldn't handle it if done anyway, and in the case of Rage, it's easy for the establishment monitoring me to continuing fighting the muties as a permission by proxy to start the mass culling of 4channers.

Update

No, Silent Hill 3 in today's society would be explicitly pro-tranny, with the way things are run.

So in that sense, it's not different from Rage being pro-police-state - bearing the meaning behind John Carmack's "Toxic and Proud" statement.

Basically, in keeping to Pirate Doom as opposed to that, I'm just trying to say keep it simple, stupid

Update

Life has absolutely no purpose. I think I'm going to hang myself from the boredom, the inevitable crippling boredom

I may as well have been abandoned

Update

I feel like I did after I talked about the Kanye lyric, "no one blames the plaintiff" and how that resonated. I don't want to just embody an evil spirit. Back then I just said I didn't want to start trouble for its own sake. I just want people to know.

But if conversation already has to start from the statement that it's a rigged system you can't work with, why doesn't conversation then carry on from that point? The only way to say this comes coupled with saying, no, we weren't what *we* were chocked up to be, when this system is something completely inhuman, to begin with. Why compare ourselves with what it expects of us? It's not even real.

Today I've been thinking about what it would actually mean to just say, I'm absolutely not associated with you people, because all I hear is how the white man sits in his Pokemon jammies and cries himself to sleep, like the Pokemon jammies part wasn't added.

Who the fuck is going to laugh at that?

Anyway expect arrests of anons

Does Anonymous identify with establishment (mostly boomer) conservatives, let alone establishment (mostly boomer) liberals, etc.?

Everyone acts like this will all be absorbed in the absolution that is sex, like we're all the ideal one body of the church in the end.

Are there people who really believe this?

4chins has actually sunk into complete uselessness as of lately. I was about to say, it's just slow enough, I'm about to just hop in my grave

Update

All I can do is sit here in my Pokemon jammies. I'll have to kill myself.

Update

Having just finished Pirate Doom on UV, how could I say my life has changed?

It's good

Update

Well? Is it time to give up the ghost?

Yes. I'm just kind of getting bored.

Update

I only just now heard of the saying boomers had, which is, live your best life. Implying I'm not already doing that, in this state right now, when the alternative was

[angelamajiki]

PAIRINGS: Father! Yandere! Enji Todoroki x Daughter! Reader

CW: yandere, incest, soulmate AU, fluff, slight angst, nsfw, kissing, praise kink, virginity kink, size kink, bathroom sex

A BNHarem Collab!

AN: my longest piece to date! the prompt this month was sex work, so i decided to stretch the prompt and do sexual slavery. wanted to go for a softer version of daddy endeavor, so please enjoy <3

5.2k words

The mark on his wrist was one that was shared with yours. Enji had given up on finding his soulmate, deciding that his career and legacy were far more important than some silly marking on another’s body. Love was something he thought he could go without. But when he saw your bright eyes gaze up at him, your chubby hand wrapped around his index finger, his heart had fallen hard—such a sweet, gentle thing. No traces of fear, of disdain, of disgust for him as a human being. Just pure curiosity and unconditional love. His heart leaped for his little girl.

Enji was determined, then and there, that he would never fail you, not like he forgot the others.

Oh, what plans he had for you, his precious princess. He couldn’t wait to spoil you, to marry you and start a new family once you were old enough. Rei realized this as well. Her youngest daughter, her last hope at salvaging her broken family, was to be had by her husband. The thought frightened her, especially after seeing the adoring look in her husband's eyes when she saw him cradle you for the first time. It was so unlike the stoic nature he held for the other children when they were born, only caring to see that they were healthy before leaving off back to his agency, never giving them more than a fleeting touch. It was nothing like when he held you, snarling at any nurse who dared to take his soulmate from the grips of his arms.

Something that had Enji’s conviction more so than his career was something to be feared. Your mother swore to herself that she would not let her husband ruin you.

Once he fell asleep with you tucked in the crook of his arm, a social worker came and collected you to be sent to a foster home and be set up for adoption. It was better than falling into the hands of the monster of a husband.

After the death of Touya, the pair decided to have one more child in hopes of fixing their broken family, but Rei now knew it was for naught. Nothing could save them know, especially now that Enji had nearly burned the building down when he discovered that his little girl was gone, just hours after he had finally found you.

Rei alerted the commission as well for your protection, that utter bitch of a woman. They very well couldn't have the number two hero caught in an incestuous bond with his daughter, now could they. All information of your whereabouts was hidden from him, blacklisting him from working with any foster children, lest he loses his hero license. Enji may have lost you for the time being, but his patience grew as he did. They couldn't keep him from you forever. You'd be reunited one day; he knows it.

The first time he saw you again was when you were fifteen. It was your birthday and the day he had become the number one hero officially, plenty of reason to celebrate. Usually, he would have taken the time to sit near the rose bush he planted in your honor in his courtyard on your birthday, renewing his vows to find and love you to the best of his ability. Enji took great pride in keeping your memory alive with the bush for his beautiful little rose gone too soon from his grasp. But there you were, mere meters from him.

The foster home you stayed at took you out for dinner when he was meeting with Hawks after the billboard awards. Your eyes were unmistakable, a perfect cerulean just like his own. He was so close, yet so far. My, how you had grown since he saw you. Unlike him, you bore your mark proudly on your wrist, not ashamed to admit to the world who your soulmate was. Not like you actually knew who it was anyway.

Enji was prepared to leave Hawks at the table; a new flame lit under his ass, one far more exhilarating than the thought of being the number one hero. He was up and on his way to speak to you before Nomu attacked him. Damn villains, they'd pay for separating the two of you once again. But his conviction only grew stronger. It wasn’t hard to find you after that; he knew what city you were living in. Instincts lashed out at him, demanding that he go sweep you up and hide you away. No, no. That would make you frightened; he can't have that. He’ll watch from the sidelines, waiting until you were of age to make a move. He was curious to see just how life as a foster child was treating you.

Growing up in the foster system had been a nightmare from hell for you. A cursed child is what they saw you as when your skin sprouted flames every time it was touched by the human hand, burning everything and everyone who came in contact with it. From the moment your quirk manifested, you were an outcast, an untouchable, unlovable freak. Someone destined never to feel the touch of their new parents, their lover, their soulmate.

It wasn't long before you realized that you would remain in the foster system until you aged out. Who would adopt a child they couldn't hug when they cried, hold their hand when they crossed the street, snuggle up to when it was chilly outside? Any potential parent was taken aback by your quirk once you reached for the warm touch of mommy and daddy, only to singe their hand or burn a hole in their shirt.

You learned quickly that your touch was something to be feared, that you were something to be feared. You supposed that’s why you looked up to him so much. So much so that you thought about him late at night when the loneliness seemed to drown you in the sea of your insecurities.

Endeavor was the only one who could understand you, understand your quirk. If only your soulmate mark could match him, maybe you feel the warmth of another human being without hurting or mauling them with your power. Abrasive he may be with the media, but there something about him that was so comforting and endearing to you. In your eyes, he was simply misunderstood, a gentle giant amongst the mass personalities of the other pro heroes.

Watching his interviews brought you comfort when you were lonely, his merchandise made you swell with pride and confidence, and his posters on the wall reminded you that you were never alone. It was a silly crush, but it made you feel better about your miserable life.

You even got to see him on your birthday! Well, not exactly. You happened to be in the same restaurant when your foster parents took you out for your birthday. It was apparent that they just felt bad for you, having looked after you for 15 years only to still have custody of your sorry ass. You were almost certain that they were going to kick you to the curb the morning of your 18th birthday.

Too bad they never had the chance. That fate would have been much kinder than the reality you faced now.

Once the Paranormal Liberation Front had effectively ripped society up by the roots and let the tree of life rot for the world to see, your foster parents packed their shit and left the country while you were at school. You’d been alone in the world ever since and were snatched off the streets, ready to be sold into slavery by the villains of the world. Your quirk was the only thing keeping you from being bought like a bitch from the auction floor.

Enji, on the other hand, was more than eager to do just that. After his public smear campaign by his allegedly dead son, he was dead to the world, finally abandoning his family for good in hopes of finding his beloved daughter. His life was dedicated to searching for you, having managed to track you down through his vigilante work. He likes to lie to himself and say that he’s continuing to fight for the greater good, but Enji does it just to have the chance to see your sweet face again. There wasn’t much to go off of, but he’d rather see his fiery end than to give up. That's how he found you at the auction.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

Another auction night was approaching, which meant another night of humiliation and being displayed like a slab of meat for a crowd of degenerate wolves. Your quirk was the only thing keeping you from being sold; no one wants a fucktoy they can’t touch. It reduced you to physical labor for your captors, but you were better fed because of it. That didn’t mean they still didn’t try to sell you.

After being stripped down into nothing but a collar, leash, and a muzzle, you were brought to the stage and shoved in front of the ravenous, roaring crowd. You could feel their stares seep into your bones, the grime from the floor on your bare feet only adding to the overwhelming sensation of disgust you couldn’t even begin to describe.

The crowd’s excitement was raucous, jeers and shouts echoing off the halls of the underground auditorium. Masks covered their faces for the sake of privacy lest a vigilante break-in and hunt them all down. Even in the lawlessness of the world, heroes were still crawling everywhere to trail after even the slightest scent of villainy. Doesn't mean they’ll win, but hey, the death of a hero is just the same as the auction was to them.

“Up next, a darling girl with a fiery quirk!”

That was your cue. A handler had a fierce grip on your leash, giving it a few tugs for good measure as the crowd laughed at your stumbling. The auctioneer began to list your qualities and physical attributes, including your quirk.

“And she’s a virgin!”

Added for good measure, the crowd fell silent after listening to the abilities of your quirk. You couldn't hate it anymore; it's what was keeping you from being someone’s onahole until the day you kicked the bucket.

“Can I get $10,000?”

Ah the starting bid. The silence was relieving. Just a few more moments and you'd be off that damn stage.

“No? Going once, going twice, going-”

“One million.”

A booming voice came from the back row, the depths of the shadows to further hide the masked man who just bought your life. Why did it sound so familiar?

“Outstanding! One million dollars for the young lady!”

“Going once.”

It couldn't be.

“Going twice.”

This can't be happening.

“Sold for one million!”

No!

You were supposed to be unwanted, just like you have been your entire life! Yet some mysteriously familiar man outbid the entire auction for little ol’ you.

“Off the stage, bitch.”

The handler snarled, yanking you off the stage and causing you the fall and bruise yourself in the process.

“Watch it!” He spat, picking you up by the roots of your hair. “The merchandise needs to be handled carefully before reaching the customer. Let's hope he doesn't mind some bumps and bruises. For your sake.”

“That won't be necessary; I'll be taking her as is. Immediately, if you will.”

The mysterious man stood had already made his way backstage and behind you, standing formidably over your stark form. Your hair was released, dropping you back to the floor.

“Excellent, sir! I’m more than happy to get this welp off my hands.”

A brief exchange was made while you recovered on the floor, shaking in fear as the situation weighed heavily on your already broken self. The handler took the money and returned to the back room, leaving the two of you alone together.

The stranger crouched down to you and extended a hand to brush the stray hair out of your face, touch remaining tender and gentle when you flinched harshly.

“My poor girl, what has the world done to you?”

His coat enveloped your body as he scooped you up in his arms. The scent of him comforted you more than you would have liked to admit. Teakwood and coffee grounds filled your senses as he held you flush against his chest, leaving the auction house with a renewed sense of vigor.

You were placed in the backseat of a car before he dressed you in simple pajamas.

“Rest. You deserve it.”

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

At some point in the car ride, you let yourself fall asleep only to wake up in a cozy king-size bed wrapped up in a soft blanket next to a warm fireplace. The false sense of comfort lulled you for a few moments before your situation hit you like a ton of bricks. The anxiety you'd had known your whole life had finally kicked back into gear, forcing you out of bed and into the rest of the house.

It was daybreak, the sunlight slowly trickling in through heavily curtained windows as you walked through the halls and into the kitchen. The man was standing over the stove, sans mask, dressed in a wife-beater and his pajama bottoms. It couldn't be-

“Come in; breakfast will be on the table in a moment.”

Now you were certain.

“Who are you?” Your voice barely above a whisper. “Why did you buy me at the auction?”

A deep, rumbling chuckle flowed from the man.

“I think you know the answer to that, little one.”

His focus was retained on the meal in front of him. “I’ll explain myself over breakfast. Now sit.”

You couldn't help but feel compelled to obey him. While sitting, you took the time to honestly look him over for the first time in your life. Never did you think you would be so close to your childhood crush in such a domestic setting.

He had noticeably greyed but still possessed a majority of his red hair. Muscles were still taught and budging, but he had grown a little bit of a belly. Endeavor was as handsome as ever, aged like a fine wine that you couldn't wait to sip on.

The food was placed in front of you as he took the test next to you.

“Eat and have some water. Then we’ll talk.”

Once again, you obeyed him without question and refrained from eating like a rabid animal. It wasn't even a question, so much so that it is evident that you hadn't had a decent meal in a long time. You were still muscular from the labor you did for your handlers, though.

And Enji liked that about you. How resilient you were, he loved that you inherited his strength but still possessed Rei’s gentle nature. Not that he wanted to credit that woman for anything, but he couldn't deny the obvious. You were his strong, beautiful little girl who had to endure so much because his bitch of a wife decided to separate you from him.

But he was here now, ready to give all his love and protection to his only love. It took everything in his power not to swoop you up from your seat and hold you in his arms until his last breath.

Enji watched you eat, pride swelling in his chest at the thought that you liked his cooking. He couldn't help but wonder what your favorite meals were as well. There's certainly all the time in the world to get to know his little girl now that he had you. And he was never going to let you go.

Your breakfast was devoured quickly, both out of desperation for a real meal and answers to your questions.

“Why did you buy me from the auction?”

It was a complicated question, but you wanted a simple answer.

“I’m your soulmate.” His wrist was on display as he reached across the table to hold your hand.

For the first time in your life, you felt safe. Your one, shining hope was meant to yours and he wanted to be yours. You didn't even question how he knew at all.

His touch was warm and slightly rough, but it was welcome all the same. Even though your skin was lit aflame at his flesh against your, he paid it no mind. He was built to take your quirk, to take you.

“Endeavor…”

“Please, call me Enji.” His thumb rubbed over the palm of your hand. “I’m sure you feel better after having something to eat.”

“Why don't you go take a bath? It’ll help you relax, I can take care of your dishes.”

It was strange how insistent he was on taking care of you, but you can't say you don't enjoy the attention. He seemed to care for you in a way that went beyond caring for a partner, or in your case, a soulmate. But who were you to judge? It wasn't like you had a lot of experiences to use as a comparison.

Making your way back to the bedroom, you took the time to study the house you were in. A traditional, well-kept home, it practically looked like it was untouched. And maybe it was; buildings and homes fully intact were hard to come by these days, let alone ones that were clean and warm.

Enji seemed to lull you into an instinctual sense of safety, even though he bought you out of slavery. Just because he was your soulmate didn't mean that he had good intentions for you, but somehow, his presence alone filled a void in your heart that you had forgotten was even there.

Once you made it to the bathroom connected to the master bedroom, you drew yourself a bath just like Enji had instructed you to do. It wasn't the wisest decision to let your guard down like this, but the man already had plenty of opportunities to fuck you up by this point.

The water was warm and inviting when you sank yourself into it; you couldn't remember the last time you had warm water to clean yourself with. It made you feel light and hazy, slipping into a headspace you had long forgotten—a place of safety and comfort.

Three raps on the door pulled you from your haze as Enji entered the bathroom with fresh towels. Despite the fact that he had already seen you naked, the intimacy of the situation only left you feeling more vulnerable than ever.

“Let me help you.”

He kneeled next to you outside of the tub and pulled a lavender chamomile shampoo from the tub’s shelf. There was room to protest, but you couldn't find yourself willing to do so.

Water was poured over your head before he started a lather in your hair, gently scrubbing your scalp for a while. Even this simple touch made you shudder, it was a long time since you last felt the warmth of someone’s touch. And everything about this man was warm, for you at least. His words, his touch, his heart.

Conditioner was added to your hair as well before he moved onto washing your body. The scrub was gentle across your skin, his hand following after it to help keep the suds from rising too much. Strong hands massaged your back and your neck, both of which needed the much-deserved relief.

“So tense.” He murmured, mostly to himself.

There was a comfortable silence shared between the two of you as he massaged out all the knots and kinks that had built up over the years with your handlers. His touch should have made you flinch but you found yourself pressing into it. A small moan escaped your lips as he worked through a particularly tender spot on your neck.

“Are you enjoying this?”

His lips ghosted your ear as warm breath tickled your cheek and neck.

Your face flushed with a fiery warmth from a combination of the steam, your embarrassment, and the man whispering sweet nothings in your ear as his hands worked at your tired skin.

“Let me help you relax, sweet thing.”

Enji picked you up momentarily to slot himself behind you in the tub. Placed on his lap, you gasped when you could feel his erection hard against your back. Fear started to trickle into your veins as you squirmed slightly, attempting to get out of his grasp.

“Shhh, it's alright, you're okay.” His hand made its way to your throat and rested there gently, stroking over your artery with his thumb. “I’m not going to hurt you, sweetheart. Let me show you how much I've missed you.”

His touch made you feel alive, feel wanted for the first time in your life. You couldn't help but whine when his other hand made its way down your body, gently groping your breast as his lips were pressed to your ear.

“Do you trust me to take care of you?”

His fingers toyed with your nipples, obviously skilled.

“Do you trust me to make the sweetest love to you?”

Another whine caught in your throat as his hand went further, cupping your sex in his much larger hand. He kneaded gently, pressing a soft kiss to your temple when you writhed in his grip.

“Please! Enji-”

Shushing you gently, Enji’s thumb made its way to your clit to stroke in small circles.

“How does that feel, sweetheart?”

You were used to touching yourself, but oh God it never felt like this.

“Good!” You managed to choke out in a wanton moan. “So good! Enji, please, I need-”

A warm pair of lips sealed over yours, silencing you once again. Enji knew how wrong this was, to take advantage of you like this without revealing the truth. But he wanted at least to just once to have you in his arms willingly and eagerly. He wanted to kiss you breathless, listen to your cries and feel your nails dig into his skin as he gave you all of himself without a fight from you. He can worry about revealing himself to you later.

The rough pads of his large fingers started to apply pressure to your clit as his middle finger slipped into your tight hole under the water.

“Don't worry, little one. I'll give you what you need.”

Soft kisses were trailed along your cheek and hand that was on his that was still holding your throat tenderly. Finger pumping in and out of you, Enji whispered sweet praises to you as he felt your hole clench around him.

“Doing so well for me, sweetheart.”

Your breathy moans and whines only served to harden his cock. He felt like a teenager all over again, closing to cumming just from the sound of your voice.

Another finger slipped into your tight core, careful not to overwhelm you too fast. It was obvious you'd hadn't been touched before, not even by yourself. You felt full but greedy for more of his touch.

“Deeper, Enji! Please, can you?”

You were babbling at this point, writhing in his lap as he fingered you nice and slow with thick digits. Enji hummed as he pressed further into, curling his fingers into your G-spot.

Your cry was loud as he began to abuse your most sensitive spot, fully squirming in his arms as tears of pleasure breached your eyes. The sensation was too overpowering for you, making you thrash and arch in his arms.

“Shh, you're okay, sweetheart. You're okay; I'm right here.”

His fingers continued to stroke in a curled fashion, thumb still circling over your twitching clit. Enji kissed you again, deeper and more fierce as he began to fuck you earnestly with his fingers.

“Cum for me, darling.”

Squealing, you gripped his forearm and cried helplessly into his mouth. The build was slow and intense, allowing your orgasm to wash over you in waves of pleasure rather than a blinding, quick light.

“E-Enji!” You wailed. “Enji!”

You shook in his arms, holding onto the larger man for dear life as you experienced your first orgasm. It seemed like Enji knew your body better than you did.

No words were exchanged between the pair of you, but you could feel the tension of your desired hanging thick in the air. This man was going to take your virginity, here and now.

Enji removed his hand from your throat and between your legs in order to maneuver you to sit facing forward in his lap.

“Are you ready for me?”

His honesty made you flush even more. Biting your lip nervously, you hesitated to answer. Were you ready? It wasn’t like you had much of choice; the man could very well take you by force if he so chose to. But you felt safe in his arms, safe with him.

“Let me help you, my love.”

Warm, large hands gripped your backside as he held you steady above his cock. Your hand reached down to line yourself up with his throbbing sex, lowering yourself down on it slowly.

It burned in the best way, stretching you out fully as you pressed your forehead against his chin.

“Good girl, taking my cock so well, darling.”

A pitiful whine left your throat at the praise, hands gripping the forearms that held you in place.

“Can...Can you hold me?” You whimpered. “Please?”

Enji’s arms enveloped you and pulled you flush against his, tucking your head into the crook of his neck as you continued to lower yourself onto his cock. Your breath tickled his ears, making him groan lowly once he bottomed out inside of you.

“Such a sweet girl you are, taking all of me on your first try.”

Another whine responded for you as you ground your hips down on his.

“E-Enji.” You whimpered his name over and over again like a prayer. “Enji!”

“Be still, little one.” Hands back on your hips, holding you in place near the tip of his girthy length. “Let me take care of you.”

Hips in place, the man began to thrust up into you slowly, holding you tight as he stood up from the water. You only gripped and nuzzled yourself into him further, letting out sweet whines and whimpers into his ear while he thrust into you.

Your back was placed against the cool tile of the wall when he tilted your chin up to meet his gaze. Even in this position, he was still at least another head taller than you.

“Look at me when I make love to you.”

Through wet eyelashes, you gazed up at his eyes and let your mouth hang open as he rolled his hips into yours. His eyes shut briefly when he moaned, hissing at the feeling of your wet cunt hugging his cock so well.

“You were made to take my cock, little one.”

Arms reached up to wrap around his neck as he thrust into you, taking his time to make his strokes slow and deep. His hips were flush against yours when you asked him, “Kiss me, please? I want all of you Enji.”

Your bold proclamation stunned him for a moment before yielding, placing a deep kiss and a hot tongue against your lips.

His thrusts became faster as he kissed you with more passion and vitality. For an old man, he certainly had his stamina up to par. Your fingers thread through his red and grey tresses, tugging him closer to you gently as you moaned shamelessly into his mouth.

The pleasure in your core was more intense, fiercer this time around as his thrusts became hard and fast. The sounds of both of your moans and skin slapping against skin echoed off the tiled bathroom walls as the both of you felt your orgasms coming.

“Enji, fuck!” You whined, beginning to squirt on his fast-paced cock. “I-I’m cumming; I’m cumming!”

“Cum for me, princess.”

With a choked sob, you creamed yourself all over his cock, which continued to pound into your hole before he groaned your name and came deep inside you.

Nothing but the sounds of the water sloshing and your labored breathing could be heard as you both came down from your highs.

After a moment of rest, Enji pulled out and wrapped you in a towel before laying you gently on the bed. A towel was wrapped around his own waist as he looked at you fondly, brushing stray hairs out of your eye sight as he sat next to you on the bed.

“I must ask, how did you end up at the auction site?”

What a loaded question, but the intimacy you two shared allowed for it.

“I was kidnapped off the streets after my parents abandoned me when the prison break happened.”

He sighed gruffly and took your hand in his.

“What utter fools, tossing aside a beautiful rose such as yourself.”

His thumb traced over your soulmate mark. You still had yet to know how he knew before ever meeting you.

“It's alright; I never considered them my family. I just wish I could have met mine, but at least I met my soulmate.”

A crinkled smile adorned his face.

“You've done more than meet them.”

What could that have meant?

“I’m your father and your soulmate, little one.”

A rock hit the pit of your stomach as you retracted your hand from his.

“That isn't a funny joke, I'm serious.”

“So am I.” His hand was quick to snatch your back. “What could I possibly gain from lying to you?”

“P-Prove it.”

“Our soulmate marks, I saw yours the moment you were born in the Hosu hospital before my wife separated us all those years ago. I can recite your birthday if you'd like me to, for good measure.”

Fuck, he really wasn't lying. A lump formed in your throat as tears sprung in your eyes.

“Why would you do this to me?” You whispered, barely even able to hear yourself.

“Because I love you. I love you so much, sweetheart. Ever since I saw you for the first time in the hospital, my entire life has changed because of you. All I ever wanted was you.”

Enji was quick to shush your cries, using his free hand to wipe your tears away.

“Will you forgive me for being selfish?”

The disgust and horror filled everyone of your senses, especially when you came to a realization that he was everything you've ever wanted.

What came out of your mouth next stunned the both of you.

“You can apologize by begging on your knees and cleaning me up with your tongue, Daddy.”

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