#my brain just purged this memory

[millicent-dagworth]

When you're scrolling on AO3 and find a fic with your oc but you don't remember writing or posting it. But it's from an old account you don't remember having.

[jjkyaoi]

tghinking about how much of a different person i used to be is so weird .. like at the same time, thinking about all the things i used to do and be into that i wldnt ever support/do NOW is incredibly embarrassing g. but i’m kind of like :. fond Definitely isn’t the right word, but ??i don’t know i feel very weird in a way that isn’t necessarily negative towards my old self, cause i grew up on the internet and i didn’t know what i was saying, and most of the things i learned i learned on my own and Not through my parents—yes that means i said a lot of embarassibg shit but then again the growth part of it is almost . nice for me to think about. like I did that. i got where i am now without anyone’s help . and maybe that meant i was into mcyt for a couple years and absolutely embarrassingly ignorant but we don’t talk abt that part.

[cannibalkissies]

staring at the wall rn

[oposssumsaucee]

No GURATHIN I was NOT punished by the company after 57 people died punishment is a stupid human thing. I was just forced into a coma like state for undisclosed amounts of time that typically involves dreams that aren't possible to wake up from and occasionally brought back to consciousness to run the fitness gram pacer test and other things after they purge not just the memory of the event happening but also anything and everything before that period of time. except my brain kinda remembers things happened but those memories are like ghosts that fade in and out against my will. It's whatever.

[jacesvelaryons]

His Chosen Bride (Senator!Coriolanus Snow x Capitol Reader).

Chapter 1

masterlist

series masterlist

excerpt

summary: senator coriolanus snow seems on top of the world with everything in his life ahead of him except for one thing. the perfect bride. in his pursuit, your life changes forever.

word count: 1.7k

a/n: thank you everyone for your patience as I prepared this!! i hope you all love it and show your support through likes, reblogs and especially comments of what you thought! i love hearing what my readers and other people in the fandom think about my work, so any of your thoughts would be appreciated.

requests OPEN

Upon his return to the Capitol, his reputation restored, wealth acquired from the Plinths who so generously named him the heir to their grand fortune, his path to power was paved for him and he knew he just had to take the strides to get to the prize. The Presidency.

Coriolanus Snow, scion of one of the oldest and most elite of bloodlines of the great Panem families was home, his shameful exile to District 12 remembered by no one and purged from the registry.

Enrolled in university and an apprentice gamemaker, he was eventually promoted to become Senior Gamemaker upon Dr. Gaul’s semi-retirement and her preparation to hand off the reins to her protégé. Her brain child whom she molded from the vestiges of his sorrow and pain, of his loss in the districts and what hardened him into the man he was now.

When he graduated with honours from the political science department, it was only a few months before he was elected in a landslide to become the youngest Senator in Panem’s history, relying on his contributions to the recent games, memories of his late parents to those of a certain age to secure his win.

He would have considered re-election for another term before advisors of his and other cabinet members of the old, sickly President Ravinstill were close to swearing their support but all echoed the same thing that he lacked, they said. It was not his youth, he was wise for his age they said, but he was not married. If he had a wife, they said - they would be on board for his presidential election. And it seemed that election would be sooner than later, even before his first term finished.

Coriolanus needed to find a wife, not just of good breeding, but of the most impeccable lineage, from among the most illustrious hundred or so families of Capitol society. It was a given it would be purely political and strategic, someone whom he could not love and open his heart to after his previous tragedy pursuing such.

The perfect bride. The search for the perfect companion, the woman whom he would call his wife, his future first lady, and mother of his heirs. The ideal woman who would bridge the gap between his dreams to make them a reality.

He could not just choose the first possible candidate recommended to him or that caught his eye, Coriolanus had to devise a thorough, multi-step testing process to find his perfect wife, his bride.

A rigorous procedure would be curated in finding her. Interviews, tests, exams, genealogical inquiries, fitness tests, and practice scenarios will be prompted from eligible candidates, already filtering through those only from the old, grand families upon application.

Digging through his family library into the latest edition handbook of noble and elite families of the Capitol’s upper class, the creme de la creme, ignoring recently disgraced clans, ones full of scandal and controversy, with plenty of illegitimate children, and extinct ones rotting in poverty nearly like his own had he not reversed their fortune.

He scheduled a meeting with his advisors and closest allies on creating the program, the selection process, examinations and interrogation, and how to make the announcement for the families of these eligible girls to put their names in, with their consent or not.

Coriolanus Snow was born from the upper echelon of society, and only deserved the best woman with whom he would continue his lineage with and hail his presidency with. No one had dared, rather self-important he could argue if he cared, to make as many girls clamour for his attention rather than to propose to a woman of his choice.

Just as he was about to put the book down and shut it closed, a name caught his attention. Yours. Your lineage, accomplishments, your etiquette were second to none, and he had to have you. At all costs. He would burn heaven and hell, but the question remains - would he win you over? Or will he have to force your hand no matter what?

Besides, he requires others to choose from, even if you are the most qualified. It would not do well for your ego to have the satisfaction you were chosen for. He wants you to want it, to beg for it, claim it and aspire to be one worthy to be by his side, motivated by the competition who would slit your throat and ruin your reputation for it.

And yet a lingering thought crept up his mind. He had brought life back into the Hunger Games, that was on its dying breath before his arrival, why not another? Everything is a game if you try hard enough.

…

A brightly lit room surrounded you as you grabbed a few more pieces of dandelions and baby’s breath bunches for your bouquet, in your floral arrangement lessons for the week. Under the watchful eye of your teacher, a premiere florist who is hired by the Capitol’s elite for the most fashionable and well-sought events every season.

Hailing from one of the oldest families among the Capitol’s blue bloods, your family may not be the wealthiest but definitely prosperous to be among them, yet your lineage is prominent even before Panem’s founding, the most ancient of them all.

In your family home’s perfectly manicured garden, you immerse yourself in the arrangement, something that would impress your teacher yet also something you would find pleasant in a vase by your study. No way would someone of your heritage be found associating with anything subpar.

After your studies at the Academy, your lessons and tutoring would never end, usually something different for each day. Piano, ballet, etiquette, floristry, household management, painting and so on.

As you gathered a crimson bow around the branches of your bouquet, you could hear murmurs among the uniformly dressed maids and servants around the stately home, as your mother jaunted towards you in her glossy designer heels.

“Yes, mother?” You greeted politely, observing the unreadable expression on your mother’s face.

She approached you carefully, gently taking your hands in her own, soft and having never experienced hardship.

“A great honour has been bestowed on you, daughter. A promising Senator has taken a liking to you, and wants you to be considered for his future bride.” Your mother smiles in celebration and pride, and your brows furrow in consternation.

“A Senator as old as father? A man old enough to be my grandfather-”

“Hush, darling. He is young, from a proper family of the elite family unlike those Plinths, new money scum. Senator Coriolanus Snow, the son of late General Crassus Snow and his wife Victoria Snow. He is only twenty four, I think you would like him.” She brushes your hair behind your ears, but you turn away from her, pushing her hands away.

“Twenty four, when I am eighteen?”

Your mother shrugs. “It is the way of the world I suppose. I was your age when I met your father. Eighteen and he was twenty one, a match fit for the sort like us.”

“You mentioned I was being considered but no outright proposal or courting has begun. What do you mean?”

She unveiled a large envelope she was holding behind her back, taking it out for you before a gold hued canvas invitation was unveiled.

Dear Y/N L/N and family, I hope this letter finds you well. As I have progressed through my career as a gamemaker and politician, it has been too long since I have navigated through life without a lifelong companion and wife.

You are a woman of unblemished character, accomplished in many ways, intelligent, well-bred and would fit the bill of what a man like me seeks in a future partner.

There is no guarantee that you must receive this invitation and accept, but rather that your name will be included in a pool of candidates to be considered. I hope that you and your family would view this as a position of honour, and even if you shall not be chosen, you will be compensated for your time and this shall only raise your standing in our society.

Please reply to the number and address attached below with your response, and I would be beholden and pleased to hear if you would put your name forward to possibly become my future First Lady.

Sincerely, Senator Coriolanus Snow

You could not believe it, the humiliation of not being asked directly for one’s hand in marriage but having to compete with other ladies of society and grovel for his attention.

“Are you and papa seriously making me do this? The Hunger Games to be someone’s wife and heir maker?!”

Your mother sighs, shaking her head as she crosses her arms. “You do not understand, child. I have heard of other elite families whose daughters, sisters, nieces such as the Heavensbees, the Cardews, Dovecotes, among a few have been invited and all have accepted. No one would even think to refuse a Snow!”

“But it is not guaranteed. How would I not be offended if he did not make a guaranteed offer but wants me to participate like I am in a beauty pageant. I have to close off even entertaining other suitors and I am not even assured that I will not be left dry and humiliated if I was not chosen.”

“Your grandmother was Miss Panem many years ago before the war and those rebels ruined everything, I am sure he will choose you. Even if he did not, any other unmarried peer of yours would scoop you up in no time, that if Snow perceived you as someone potential, they are from the cream of the crop.”

You sighed, putting down your shearing tools and your bunches of daisies and baby’s breath. You never liked roses.

“You have always aimed for the stars, daughter. Would you pass on an opportunity like this or be forgotten to the tombs of time?” Your mother suggests, walking over to you with a guiding hand on your shoulder. “Choose wisely if you want to make something of yourself, to not pass on opportunities like this.

Golden letter in hand, you stared intensely at the dark line above your name, signifying whether you would submit your name or not. With a bold stroke of your ink pen, you sign your fate and future away. I agree to participate.

Let the games begin.

His Chosen Bride Taglist:

(if your name is bolded, I put in your user but it didn't show up when prompted so I'm not sure if you got notified!) Please let me know if you'd like to be added and reminded every time I update.

@xsunaxrinx @bialuvss @emma0320 @callieyanderechan @crimsonred13 @starcrosslove @castellandiangelo @sylmthadmnglla13 @tragicmiserybone @o12lk22gr @anna-stasia @paumartinezsstuff @coriosbunni @nora4us @jupiterstearx @corvinaweeb @batman1asf @imperfectophelia @madmaxsalltoowell @vicky2408 @folklorelogy @bradpittwh0re @linaa20 @abcde601375 @kickmybark @emynunez21 @princessofthereach @maeve-a24 @ellie-bellie-29 @ashfromurfire @dante-pearl @yuuuumii @kxksksjjd @everythingjp @frill0 @aslalali @addriaenne @joyfulyouthlover @rbrsvb @motomami111 @imamybubbles @x-gabrielle-x @crystalstars88 @cc13723things @izzy02soph @shycandykitty @thtweirdointhecornr1917 @drpeperrlover11 @starmaiden @itz-me-cherie @papi-chulo69000 @meetmeatyourworst @sombodynotimportant @hyunjinspdf @bellaramseysgirlfriend @mari-mari12 @kis9na @lvrdilfs @mizuki80mizuki80 @deago21 @hafisjfjsit @miniatureblazellama @livid-euphoria @sugaxmamii @kropka4321 @jamesyrobin @joana2934 @kotadislikesthissite @byisy @shinae28 @atlasedelgard @eimearj123 @urfavewh0r3 @sophs-sofa @dreammie-marrie @cos-ilsee @nikolaikirche0 @bigwmc66 @mandoskenobi @theswreties @soniusstuff @1lovesnowballs @bitvhese @craftycloudcollection @byraaaaan19 @mythic-moon-moth @reading-in-velaris @bestboymikey @marytargaryen @cleverpeachheropersona @adeline32sblog @snowdrops-png @lysonal @tiffdx @bingxuu @noothemoo

[transform4u]

I have this huge crush on this straight guy on my campus and he just invited me to hang out!! I'm so excited to spend time with him, he said he wanted to "snap" me but I have no idea what that means! It doesn't matter, I have such a huge crush on him, I'd do anything he asks just to be closer with him!

As you step over the threshold of the frat house, a wave of pungent odors hits you—stale beer, damp gym socks, and an overpowering cloud of Axe body spray. Your nose flares in response, the smell so intense that it almost feels like it’s rewiring your brain. There's a sudden, sharp snaaaaaaaaapppp in your head, like a mental jolt, and your memories start to dissolve. The boy you had a crush on, the Channing Tatum poster on your wall—these memories blur and fade away, replaced by a torrent of new sensations.

Your mind is hazy as you inhale deeply, your senses overwhelmed by the distinct essence of frat life. The memories that take their place are a montage of keg stands, raucous parties, and the roar of college football games. A strange pressure begins to build in your chest, radiating outward. You can feel your body transforming, your pecs swelling into thick, pillow-like mounds. Your abs, once soft and undefined, solidify into a set of firm, sculpted muscles. Ballooning biceps and triceps inflate beneath your skin, while your quads and bubble butt expand, shaping your physique into that of a stereotypical frat bro.

A dull ache lingers in your head, a reminder of the cognitive changes happening within you. As your more nuanced, empathetic thoughts begin to dissolve, so do your skills in writing and math. The once-clear, intellectual part of your mind feels foggy and distant. A thick, dumb chuckle bubbles up from your throat, your laugh coming out as a guffaw that’s tinged with a thick southern drawl as thick stench radiates from your body, you let out an obnoxiously loud farrrrrrrpppphhhhttt.

You find yourself sinking onto a ratty couch, surrounded by the clutter and chaos of frat life. Your bro, with a grin as wide as his shoulders hands you a cold can of beer. You take it in your hands, feeling the chill through the metal, your grip now a part of your newly muscular frame. You stare blankly at him, your expression slack but content, and your mind is a whirlwind of simple pleasures and throbbing bass from the party tunes. Your chuckle deepens into a full-bore laugh, and you accept your new reality with a sense of easygoing acceptance. Your bro calls out cheerfully, "Yo Zack, come check what the boys and I got for you, bro" Curious, you follow his gaze to see your bros holding court with a shy-looking freshman girl. She's dressed skimpier than most of the party girls, with a barely-there crop top revealing her midriff and a scandalously short pleated skirt. Her clothes look expensive and well-tailored, hinting at money beyond the means of most frat rats.

Your bro chuckles and slaps your back. "See? She's just waitin' for a strapping jock like yourself to sweep her off her feet," he says, egging you on. You feel an undeniable twitch in your boxers, your cock stiffening as your bros taunts you. Those sick, perverted images in your head of dumb faggots making out start melting away, replaced by an overwhelming lust for red-blooded American women. Gals like this sorority chick, with no IQ, just tits and tight pussies. Suddenly, every dirty fantasy, every vile urge, feels justified. Every nasty gay thought you were having about your bro gets purged from your drunk brain. Homosexuality is the furthest thing from your horny mind these days. All you care about is getting your cock wet with the hottest college chicks you can find, preferably ones who are only too eager to please an upperclassman like you. You want to see that little skank bounced on your lap while frat brothers cheer you on as you pound her into submission.

But then he looks over at you knowingly and smirks, clearly enjoying the look on your face. You should be outraged at his scheming, but instead a rush of blood goes to your groin. The slutty little number in front of you looks even more delectable up close. Those big tits in that tiny top beg for attention. That tight little skirt hugs her hips just right.

Your frat bro grins devilishly. "I'll leave the two of you alone and let you get acquainted properly. Don't do anything I wouldn't do." He winks salaciously before sauntering off with his entourage. Your jaw clenches as you watch him walk away, feeling both irritated and aroused by his actions. But the anger doesn't last long before desire overtakes it.

She looks up at you innocently, blue eyes sparkling with mischief behind her thick glasses frames. "Hello Zack," she says demurely, standing awkwardly next to the armchair you're occupying. "I'm Amy."

"Amy" you repeat, reaching out to gently take her hand in yours. Her skin is soft and feverishly warm. "It's a pleasure to meet you…"

You take Amy by the hand and lead her over to the couch across from you. She plops down and crosses her legs primly, arms folded over her chest to emphasize her budding breasts. You can't help staring at them, imagining squeezing and kneading those ripe young mounds.

You can practically smell her arousal from here as she squirms in discomfort beneath your penetrating gaze and crude innuendo-laced comments. The look in her eyes says 'Please stop talking', but the tent in your jeans says 'Fuck yes I will keep talking'.

To make matters worse, the other frat boys seem to have taken your lead now too. A few stand up to make room near the bar while others hover around to listen in for any juicy details of Amy's sexual misadventures with you. Some even have the balls to openly leer at her chest and ass. You lick your lips as a cruel smirk spreads across your face. These losers have no idea what they're missing out on.

[whalesforhands]

purge your turmoil pt.8 (satosugu x reader)

previous masterlist next

warnings: yandere behaviors and tendencies, my experimental tone shifts, not really creepy unless u find obsessive behaviors and patterns horrifying, gore mentions

Surrounded by debris of the dilapidated, abandoned hospital, you hold onto a raggedy stuffed doll left behind.

 It’s soft and colourful. Or, it once was. Her dress stained and riddled with blood and dirt, her cotton body having been slashed through the middle, soft cotton falling out as you hold her.

 A child’s final comfort in their last moments. It’s hard to breathe thinking about it. 

Your thumb gently caresses the doll’s smiling face, clearing off dust and remnants of dirt as best you could. 

“Will this,” Your words tremble. “Ever end?” 

Suguru stands beside you,  hands clenching when he catches the look of quiet despair on your face.

“I think… It’s not something to hope for.” He wishes he could offer more than just this.

“It’s,” You suck in a harsh breath, not realizing you’ve been holding your breath. “Been hard.” Your eyes flutter close as you try to ignore the haunting memories of blood on your hands, of cries for help, of massacred bodies of unfortunate victims. Over and over and over and over-

“And here you are, despite how hard it’s been.” He’s beside you now, kneeling down on one knee next to you as he tenderly grips a dirtied, matching ribbon found within the rubble back around the doll’s neck, tenderly patting its head when he finishes. 

It’s whole once again. You gently prop it against the crumbled pillar.

You hope that in another life, that doll and her owner are reunited.

——

The ticking of a clock sounds out somewhere around you, quiet and constant, each tock giving your eyelids the strength to finally lift, only to be met with the endless darkness ahead of you.

You don’t know if you’re still alive.

You’ve been floating around in here for… God knows how long. It’s lonely. Everyone. What’s happening? Where are they? You miss Shoko. You miss Satoru. You miss Suguru. You miss Yaga. You miss that little boy.

“You look like someone I know.”

You gently smile at him, eyes closed in amused bliss as you continue to stroke his hair, his head in your lap as he stares up at you with a furrowed brow of scrutinization.

“That so? I don’t think my features are very distinguishable from others, I suppose.” You giggle out, happy to have the young boy so comforted in your embrace as you softly pat his head.

(He’s so soft and squishy. You want to pull and stretch those mochi-like cheeks of his. You refrain, afraid of another barking remark that ultimately held no bite.)

“That’s not what I meant.” He pulls a sulky, irritated expression, brows still downturned into one of dissatisfaction, as if he can’t put his finger on where the sense of familiarity was coming from.

“You look like the pictures in the-“

You miss everyone. When was the last time you talked to them? You think and think, churning your brain, eyes squeezing close as you’re hit by a wave of bitter pain, your spine straightening out as you clutch your head.

“I think…” You begin to trail off, eyes stuck to the glowing blue glass of the aquarium as you watch a whale shark swim past your vicinity within the enclosure.

It’s tranquil. You squeeze the warm hands you held as you watched the sight before you with a smile.

“If I could choose… I’d like a life where I could grow old with all of you.”

You’re smiling as you think about it. Maybe you could rent a little apartment near wherever the 3 of them are staying, a quaint, quiet neighbourhood…

(…marriage? Maybe. That promise still makes you blush.)

Riko would give up on her little Star Plasma spiel. Live the way she truly wanted to, a way where she can finally find happiness, experience the joys she’s yet to feel.

Everyone… Would just be happy. Just like they deserve, just like they should.

But… You can’t possibly witness that if you’re dead, right? Your fingers claw at your face as you feel the bewildering pain of your thoughts. Are you really dead? No— Please, there’s still so much left to do. Your pitiful life should’ve had a reason for your living, and yet—

You can’t hear them. Can’t hear anything. You’re dead. Dead. What’s happening out there? Move. Move. Move.

The silence is deafening as your body squirms and you block out your ears.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tickticktickticktick-

Nobody is answering you. You’re missing the physical connection you once had to your body. How long has it been? How long have you been stuck like this? Time doesn’t even feel like it exists while you’re here.

The incessant ticking comes to a stop.

——

You learned to recognize this place in your time here. Your cursed void. One where no one but you could enter, and no one but you could leave.

The problem was… You couldn’t leave. You’ve tried. Walked and walked for endless miles, clawed at the abyssal darkness that never had an end, screamed into the void for hours just to never have an answer.

You… Can’t really be in here forever, can you?

It’s lonely in here.

“Gojo-sama, who is (last name)-san…?”

The tall man grins micheviously, looking down at the tiny hand he held within his palms as he squeezes lightly, before bending down to be eye level with his child.

“A special someone you’ll meet soon enough.”

——

“Nanako… We shouldn’t be in here…”

“It’s fine, Mimi! Papa and Daddy didn’t say we can’t visit! We just want to put the fresh flowers in for her! Plus…” She pauses, turning her head left and right, scouring the area.

“Megumi and Tsumiki aren’t here to stop us!”

The last sentence was dropped to a whisper, as if the blonde just realized her voice could attract attention.

Suguru kisses your hair, hands trailing to interlock your fingers with his own as he breathes in the very feel of you.

“Look, kids.” Geto pulls away, touch still lingering on your skin that had long gone cold years ago. He flashes a smile towards his awaiting children, showing you off for them to see.

“Isn’t she beautiful?”

You startle from your curled up position, hearing two faint sets of feet patter into the room. Slow, trying their best to tiptoe before a certain pair gives up, breaking into a sprint towards you.

A tiny crack forms within your domain as your ears keen to listen.

“See! It’s perfectly fine!”

You hear tapping, the fumbling of paper and plastic.

“Papa said it’s okay to give her flowers. I wanna be first cause today’s her…” She furrows her brows as she tries to mouth out the word. “Anniv- Ersaury?”

Mimiko frowns at her twin. “We should wait till everyone gets here…” She’s unsure, hugging her plush to her chest as she nervously looks around, more afraid of getting in trouble with her beloved parents more than anything.

The crack grows larger, making its way towards you.

“But last time we only got to spend like 10 seconds with her before Papa and Daddy chased us out!” Nanako huffed, a hand on her hip as she gripped a large bouquet of white lilies and osmanthus flowers, Mimiko holding onto the incense sticks.

“Anyway!” Nanako turns back to face you, settling the flowers down as she moves to kneel before you, hurrying Mimiko to start placing the incense.

“Let’s just start!”

You swiftly move towards it, ignoring the shards of glass digging into the soles of your feet, eyes burning from the shimmers of light shining through the holes as you chase it down, wanting, yearning for this escape.

The anxious twin lets out a deep sigh, lighting the incense sticks with a nearby candle as she hands a few to her awaiting sister, who settles down comfortably on her knees atop the prayer pillow.

“I wish for you to get better soon!” She holds the incense sticks up with her hands as she prays, eyes closed in deep concentration.

“Mhm…” Her twin follows suit, surrounding the room in a deep silence as they are joined by the flickers of the flame, the slow dripping of dewdrops from their fresh flowers chorusing with their heartfelt pleas.

Your surroundings begin to shatter, glass like formations raining down upon you as a shining bright light envelops your sight, a bubble immediately blowing up and swallowing you in its embrace as you begin to glow, the twins jumping off and Nanako standing protectively before her sister as she gets pushed back by your cursed technique.

“I- I think we broke it…” Mimiko’s voice is starting to crack as her tears begin to well up in her eyes, her hand dragging Nanako further back from you.

“Shh! What if Daddy hears us?”

“But he’s gone to pick up Gumi and big sister Tsumiki…”

Your eyelashes flutter as you slowly blink open your eyes, sensations of touch and your feel of the atmosphere slowly return to you. Your dried up flesh slowly plumping up, blood beginning to flow throughout your body, face instantaneously flushing with colour once more as you gasp out, taking lungfuls of air, irises rolling back to the front to view the space before you.

“Nanako… Is that…?”

You’re met with the darkness of what seems to be a bedroom. You slowly move to get up, bones creaking and your fingers slowly twitching to really get the feel of your body back, brushing against the various lilies and osmanthus flowers surrounding you, seemingly fresh in nature as dewdrops slowly dripped off the petals and onto your fingertips.

You look around you, disoriented and feeling fatigued, slowly sitting up against the plush area you were lying upon. It felt like you had just awoken from the dead.

“H…ello?” Your eyes flicker over to the 2 little girls standing before you, voice hoarse, broken. Vocal cords tangled together from years of underuse as you feel your organs literally start to pump to life, eyesight slowly coming back as your vision gets restored by the bubble.

It pops.

They scream, rushing towards you as they lunge towards your form.

“We did it Mimi! We cured Mama!”

Mama…? Did you- Oh my god. You’re blushing up a storm at the thought of it.

“Wha-What…?” Their smiles grow ever bigger, hugs growing startlingly tight for their small forms.

“Mhm! Along with Gumi and our big sister Tsumiki! But they’re at school now and Daddy is gonna pick them up and buy us lunch, then, then! We’re gonna eat dinner together cause Papa’s coming back today, then we’re gonna tell them we woke you up!”

“B-but we have to apologise to Papa and Daddy first for going inside the room, Nanako…”

You hear Nanako audibly gulp. “O-okay, but what if-“

Your eyes are starting to gloss over. You didn’t think that you’d be having 4 kids after being in that void for so long…

“W-wait—“ You’re trying to get used to your voicebox, trying to get used to the feeling of being alive once more. “Y-Your par—“

“Ahh, I’m so hungry!” The blonde one is curling herself into your chest as she whimpers from her hunger, a loud growl coming from her supposed sister next to her as she hugs your arm to her chest alongside her plushie.

You look down at the girls who are still upon your lap, staring up at you in expectant want. Oh— You suppose your question can wait for later.

…everything happens for a reason, right?

(Where is everyone?)

——

“Is the fridge always this empty?” You’re standing shakily on your feet, almost akin to a newborn whilst trying your best to not lose balance.

“No, Papa is just out of town on his job right now!” Nanako puts her hands on her hips as Mimiko signals you to come down with a frantic come hither motion of her hand, you kneel to her level, nearly falling over had it not been for the second twin flanking onto your other side and pushing you up with all her body’s strength, whilst Mimiko cups a hand around her mouth, whispering into your right ear.

“Daddy can’t cook, so he always buys takeout when Papa isn’t around…”

Nanako tugs at your sleeve on your left, signalling for you to come towards her.

“Don’t tell Papa but,” Her voice gains an excited tremor. “Sometimes Daddy lets us eat ice cream and cake for dinner!” She pauses once again.

“And he forgets to remind us to brush our teeth!” The girls giggle together in unison.

“Then sometimes, when Daddy is called on for a sudden mission…”

“He brings us all along and lets us watch him beat up the bad guys right in front of us! Gumi likes it the most!” The girls start zooming around you, throwing punches into the air and pretending to hit each other as Nanako feigns hurt when she takes a ‘direct’ hit from Mimiko’s plush.

“Ahhh! I’ve been hit by Red! KABOOSH!!” She falls dramatically to the ground, imitating a explosion with waves of her little arms before splaying herself by your feet and clutching your calf.

“Like that!”

…

…

You’re sweating with stress as you listen, patting their heads as they smile angelically at you. You need to talk to their parents about this before you get a heart attack.

(Missions… Red… Are their parents jujutsu sorcerers?)

“Girls.” You stand back up, your hands placed on both of their heads as you began to pat them gently as they nuzzle up into your warm touch. Nanako holds your hand in place when she feels you try to pull away, whilst Mimiko begins to intertwine her fingers with your own, trying to trap you.

“Why don’t we go buy something?”

——

You’re silently panicking as the two girls drag you towards the old crepe shop, tugging you by the hand as you’re slightly hunched over to allow them easier access to you.

You forgot the most crucial thing.

Money.

“Papa and Daddy always lets us follow them to the school! Then, then-!”

“Then we buy chocolate milk because Papa and Daddy really like it!”

“But Daddy never finishes his, so we get extra cause he gives it to us!”

“Then we play with Uncle Yaga who gives us new dolls every month! Then Uncle Yu, he’s super, super fun! Auntie Shoko gives us sweets when Papa isn’t looking!”

(Yaga, Yu— Shoko…!)

Mimiko pipes in. “Uncle Kento sometimes plays with us when he’s not busy eating his big sandwiches… Then Megumi and Miki comes back from school and then-!”

(Kento… Megumi? Miki? Does this mean— Could it be?)

“We eat dinner together!”

“You’re gonna lovvvveeee them!”

Your hands pat their hands, feeling them nuzzle into your warm touch.

“I’m sure I will.” You’re suddenly before the crepe stand as the two girls drool over their options. “But first, um… Do you girls happen to have any allowance?”

(“Oh! Yea!” Mimiko unzips the back of her plushie, pulling out a singular 10000 yen bill as your eyes nearly bulge out of your head.

“Daddy gave it to us before he left so that we could use it if we wanted!”

Your jaw is still hanging low in shock to process her words.)

——

“Uncle Yaga!” The girls pounce into his arms, causing him to stumble before he firmly plants his feet onto the ground.

“Children…! What are you doing here?” His voice had lost their usual rough tone, turning softer as he smiles down at the familiar kids. Still… They shouldn’t be here. Is Gojo nearby—

He senses it.

He feels the pulse of a familiar energy, hurriedly pushing the kids behind him as his sunglasses scan the area, spotting your tired form slumped over against a tree, trying to catch your breath.

“Kids…” You’re huffing as you try to get your bearings back. “Please don’t run…!”

No. It couldn’t be— There’s absolutely no way—! His hands ready themselves, calling for his cursed corpses to the scene before you-!

“Ahh! Yaga-sensei…!” You’re still panting as you reach him, sweat on your brow and your legs jellylike as the twins continue to cling onto him, wondering what’s going on.

“I’m so glad you weren’t so far away!” You’re sweating, smiling through your tiredness as you try to regain your bearings.

“I have so much to ask you!”

…

“Let’s talk in my office.”

——

There’s a hurried stampede of feet before the door is quite literally ripped off its hinges.

Her unlit cigarette collapses to the floor from her grip as she stares at the sight before her, felt the surrounding cursed energy as her body freezes in place.

She takes a step back, legs trembling when she places a hand over her mouth in shock, her eyes widened in horror and distress as she met your form.

Suguru’s distraught as he looks into your eyes. Eyes that never should’ve opened ever again. Eyes that he thought he would never see again. Eyes that he missed seeing with every fiber of his being, every speck of his soul.

You.

How are you here? Why were you out of that room specifically made to contain you?

Why are you alive?

“Yaga.” His eyes have narrowed into dangerous slits, fingernails digging painfully into the calloused flesh of his palms as the snarl he has on his face grows turbulent and murderous.

His curses are immediately summoned, one delegated to swallowing Shoko and tucking her away in its belly as it brings her devastated form to safety.

It’s tense. The words are stuck in your throat as you try to make yourself heard.

The mere presence of his cursed energy is causing you to freeze up from the overwhelming fear.

His cursed spirits were on their haunches, ready to pounce and stab and claw through the flesh of anyone who dares to stir the rage, the trembling anger of their master.

Your eyes widen as you witness the familiar worm spirit appear by his shoulder, hurling out a long set of nunchucks from its disgusting mouth. Your hands tremble as your spine straightens, his gaze deadset on you as you see the flashes of a million emotions running through him.

You’re breathless in his presence.

“You have 5 seconds,” Yaga feels the dreadfully cold voice of the special grade shaman, the aura emanating sending chills down his very spine as the lightbulb bursts, darkness swallowing the room as the air suddenly fills with putrid, thick smoke that crept into his lungs, skin prickling with goosebumps.

The suffocating presence of Geto Suguru.

“To tell me why my wife’s corpse is in front of us.”

previous masterlist next

Notes:

Through abuse of his power as the revered Six Eyes and Limitless technique inheritor of the renowned Gojo clan, Gojo was able to get possession over your body.

Geto and Ieiri were the ones who made a special coffin in efforts to preserve your body utilizing cursed energy.

Yaga was about to attack you after sensing your cursed energy. But the sight before him— Made him realise you can’t exactly be a threat.

Geto thinks you’re a curse. How devastating, to think that a mere curse dares to imitate your presence, dares to imitate you on your death anniversary. He wants to hurl, to vomit. The feeling in his mouth more disgusting, more vile than any curse he’s ever swallowed.

And yet, his heart yearns to feel you in his arms once more.

nvy’s aftertalk:

who wants to guess wtf is happening hahahahah

that praying scene is inspired partially by the way i do it when i go to the temple to pray haha

[febrezeluna]

Morning Frost moments that I think need to be talked about much more then they are [ THIS WILL CONTAIN SPOILERS FOR ONCE UPON A WITCHLIGHT!!!!!! ]

Alright chat here we go, I might make a part 2 sometime but these are some of my favorite (mostly sad) Frost moments that make him my favorite character

Episode 17: When The Hares Go Marching In Frost forgets part of the memory of the best gift he's ever been given, a signal whistle carved by Gricko to aid him in communicating with Hootsie. Frost says this was incredibly important to him because it was one of the first times he really had a friend who he felt connected to. Later, when they meet Twig, because Frost forgot how important that object was to him, he gave it away to Twig. I just think about this so often, he treasured that whistle so much only for him to forget how much he cared about it, how much he trusted Gricko.

Episode 25: The One Where Fire Gets Purged At the end, the gang get fey cursed and Frost gets cursed to be extremely paranoid and believe everyone is out to get him. Instead of not trusting the party because of who they are, he blames the enemy they just fought for somehow warping them brains, meaning that even when he gets cursed to be paranoid, he still trusts them as they were.

Episode 33: Up The Wrong Tree When Frost wakes up after being cursed to believe he's a vampire (again) he has a conversation with Twig which is just so fuckin sweet and nobody talks about it, he's very kind and is just trying to remember and regain who he used to be before the Feywild.

Episode 50: The Getaway Gang This part makes me LOSE MY MARBLES. Frost is cursed to be basically sadistic, and ends up hurting Gricko. The second he comes out of his trance though, he goes, "OH MY GOD GRICKO ARE YOU OKAY?! I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I-I.. IT WAS ALL THE MAGIC OF THE FEYWILD I SWEAR I SWEAR ARE YOU OKAY?!" Frost is usually pretty well kept together but seeing Gricko's blood on his own hands made him break.

These are all the ones I have for now, these are just moments I especially think about a lot but holy fuck, nobody talks abt how horrifying it is for someone who values themselves on their intelligence have it be ripped away from them at random. And over the course of the episodes, Frost is losing his morals, his beliefs, himself. He's slowly letting more and more happen to him and others that he wouldn't let slide beforehand and I need ppl to talk about him PLEASEE

[bullet-prooflove]

All The Federales Say... : Alden Parker x Reader

Tagging: @crazy4chickennuggets@kmc1989@sarakafarrah @ @mandy426

Companion piece to The Secret

Trigger warning for loss of a child

Alden can’t stand country music. Whenever it comes on the radio it feels like someone is driving an ice pick right into his brain. He becomes reserved, short tempered, abrasive. You’ve never been able to decipher the reasoning behind it not until the night he tells you about Bonnie.

“We were coming back from swimming club when it happened.” He finds himself saying as the two of you sit on the chocolate brown Chesterfield in the greenhouse. Your fingertips stroke along the underside of his forearm, tracing over the Eagles lyrics tattooed there. “Bonnie was asleep in the back seat. She always used to drop off after those sessions...”

He smiles at the memory. Bonnie’s unruly dark curls falling across her dainty features, her cheek pressed into the side of the car seat. She’d been wearing a black and white striped dress that day, a silver barrette clipped into her hair.  He still carries the damn thing around in his wallet, despite the fact it’s rusted. It’s the only thing he has left of his daughter because Viv had purged the nursery in the aftermath, she couldn’t stand the sight of anything that reminded her of Bonnie.

“When you have kids, you have all these dreams for them.” He tells you, his voice getting a little rough as he watches your fingers trail over the ink. “I thought she was going to grow up, go to the Olympics, bring home a gold medal...It seems so stupid now.” 

He trails off then, swallowing hard against the build-up of emotion in his chest. It’s getting hard to breathe because he’s back there in that place fiddling with the dial on the radio as Viv focuses on the road ahead, her hands gripping the steering wheel.

“Things get hazy after that.” He sighs as his hand captures yours. He holds on tight squeezing your fingers because the road he’s about to go down, it’s not one he wants to walk alone. “They tell me I hit my head in the crash. I remember fragments. Viv was driving, there was a Willie Nelson song on the radio, it was Pancho and Lefty. We were singing that hook, you know the one? ‘All the Federales say…’”

He's there now, right back in that car with the taste of metal in his mouth and smoke filling his lungs. Viv’s slumped over the air bag, blood trickling out of her nose and he’s trying to wake her but Viv, her eyes, they just won’t open.

All the Federales say…

That song, that damn song is still playing and he realises that underneath the lyrics he can’t hear Bonnie, she should be awake now, she should be screaming but there’s just this silence, this horrible, empty nothingness and Alden knows, he just knows.

He forces himself to look anyway and what he sees...

Christ it still haunts his dreams.

“Car seats back then...” He hears himself telling you. “They weren’t as robust as they are these days. My daughter…”

He chokes because all of that anguish, all of that guilt, it’s like he’s feeling it for the very first time. He breaks then, his entire being shattering into a million pieces. The noise that comes out of his mouth, it’s raw, animalistic, a violent sob that wracks his entire body. He hasn’t grieved for Bonnie, not really. There was never any space for it. He was the strong one in the aftermath, holding Viv together and then that had fallen apart. By that point he’d shoved it all in a box because he didn’t want to face it, he’d convinced himself he’d moved on but in reality, it’s always been there, sitting just under the surface waiting.

Your lips chase over the tears that leak down his cheeks, your body pressing against his and Alden feels that rush of heat, that urge to feel anything but the agony that eats him up inside right now.

“Lisa?” He questions, his breath a little ragged and you know exactly what he’s asking you. “I need…”

You know exactly what he needs, you always do. You climb into his lap and his hand threads  through your hair, gripping it tightly in his fist. He pulls your head back, baring your throat and you make that noise, that sweet whimper as his lips ghost up the curve of your neck.

“It’s going to be rough.” He warns you, tugging a little harder, keeping you in place, flush against him. “I don’t have it in me to be soft with you tonight.”

“You don’t have to be.” You whisper as he thrusts up against you. “I mean it Alden, I won’t break.”

Love Alden? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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[theanxiousghostartist]

Bill Cipher and the Mind/Body Problem

I have been thinking about this for a while lol. Most of my information here is from my Psychology lectures (I'm an Art Therapy major, which is a type of therapy, so I have to do a lot of psychology work :D)

The Mind/Body Problem is a debate in psychology and philosophy about what is the mind. One view, the Mentalist view, suggests that the mind is a separate entity from the brain itself, something that could possibly be outside of the body itself, the more philosophical idea. The other view, known as Materialism, suggests that the mind IS the brain, and that everything is a result of physical functions, the more psychological view.

I wanted to explore how Bill Cipher's possession would fit into this.

Mentalist point -> Since the mind is something supernatural and non-physical, Bill Cipher would possess someone by accessing this space and then using this space to connect to the person's brain. Basically, he would attack the mind first (the personality, the memories, ect), then go after the physical functions through the brain (sight, motor controls, speech, ect). This view would make more sense in-lore with us seeing Dipper float out of his body when Bill possesses him, as well as him being able to communicate with Mabel, and Stan's memories only being purged from his mind when he kills Bill. Furthermore, his mind is more or less under his control and looks like he wants it to (the Mystery Shack living room). Furthermore, this would fit with the idea of the memory gun, as it would be easier to target memories via the mind rather than memories via the brain, without messing up things like personality and motor functions. Materialist point -> In this viewpoint, Bill would possess someone just by entering their brain and take everything over at once. This seems to fit closer to his possession style, as we saw when he possessed Dipper, in which he had almost immediate control of both Dipper's memories and his physical functions. Dipper floating out of his body could also be explained in this theory, as people who have near-death experiences often describe seeing themselves float above their body during this experience, so it could explain Dipper floating after Bill's possession: he is still there, it's just his body making sense of what is happening. Of course, this doesn't explain Dipper being able to communicate with Mabel through a sock puppet, which is purely supernatural and more aligns with the Mentalist point. The memory gun is easier to explain than the possession with this point - I'll use Fiddleford as an example for this one. While the memory gun targets memories specifically, it still could work with the brain being the mind, if it targets, say the Hippocampus (the main point of memory encoding and retrieval), therefore, it will mainly affect memories. With Fiddleford, it wasn't only his memories that were damaged, but his personality, and even his motor functions (like his eyes). This would fit more in the Materialist point, as it makes more sense that the memory gun would interfere with things that would cause these changes, whilst trying to remove his memories. The brain is a finicky thing after all. We could also explain Stan's experience before he kills Bill with a combination of the previous theories. He is having a near death experience; therefore, we can assume his is experiencing a near death experience hallucination, which is why we would see "his mind." Also, since he has less exposure to the memory gun than Fiddleford (even being able to get his memories back), we can assume that the memory gun targeted specific memories in the hippocampus and blocked them from being encoded/retrieved. As he was able to retrieve his memories (thanks to Mabel), the memory gun in this case, gave him temporary amnesia and didn't affect the rest of his brain noticeably.

Taking into account that Gravity Falls is a supernatural show, both theories could fit it! The Mentalist theory is a metaphysical theory; thus, it fits the show stronger in some respects. However, the Materialist theory is a physical theory, and can have some interesting implications, while still fitting the show when taking into account the supernatural elements.

[whereporygon]

The other day I was talking to @vaultureculture about Kuras' having a bit of owl in his design and that made me look for his 'biblically' accurate form because my memory was fuzzy, but my brain had been cooking for a while already and I needed answers.

After looking at his real form, I have to wonder: are angels in this world really this grotesque, or is it just Kuras?

screenshot by @sweet-milky-tea705

If so, is this disfigurement a punishment given before he, willfully, decided to ostricize himself, or is it the effect of him being away from his 'exalted origins' for so long?

His real body seems to stand between rotting corpse and an alien figure - a carcass well-past rigor mortis of an otherwordly creature, yet somehow this thing feels oddly... alive, almost if it were an empty exoskeleton clinging to life out of sheer will or even spite. Or perhaps it is meant to mirror the very essence of this world of decay in it's full, blunt, raw glory.

Maybe it's the effect of his immeasurable guilt, corroding his very essence. Just what did this angel do, or perhaps did not do, to deserve eternal purgatory? What is necessary for a divine being to decide for themselves that they deserve such fate?

Was it even his idea? What if it's somebody else's will that Kuras is carrying out as his own, ever true and loyal to his role as a messenger to the very end? How much of all of this is something he actually wants and thinks by himself he ought to do in order to purge whatever wrongdoing of his?

A MC with The Unnamed background seems to know Kuras (or at least seems to be in tune with a being like him), and a familiarity between the two is hinted at in the demo. Is Kuras always this open with everybody, or is it just with MC? Why was he so familiar with us, to the point he even laughs and MC reacts to his touch like they remember it? Does he just feel that much at ease around us or do we actually know each other, somehow?

What is going on with Kuras?

Is his body decaying due to heavy shame and guilt, or is it just like that, a horrifyingly indecipherable view to anything mundane?

Or is it standing in between worlds, in the limbo between holy and corrupt, never forgetting the past but also never looking forward to the future, that is pulling him apart?

[technoarcanist]

SURGERY DAY

CW: Hospitals, Dolls, Heavy Cybernetics, Surgical Descriptions, Extreme Body Modification, Consensual Cognitive Alteration

The day of my conversion was the final time I felt fear. They walked me through the process so many times. I had to see three different doctors in consultation, with several vetting processes to ensure I was not making a ‘psychiatrically unadvisable’ decision. It is a token gesture from them. I know I will be accepted. They explained the procedure, its risks, its consequences so many times to me, I could recite them all from memory.

“You will lose certain cognitive abilities”, they said. “Even in the best-case scenario, patients report some level of- blah blah blah- permanent state of docile obedience- blah blah blah- will become the legal property of- blah blah blah,” and so on, and so forth.

Maybe they’ve failed to understand what it’s like to be me. Maybe I failed to fully explain to them how it felt when I saw myself in the mirror. Maybe I had failed to understand the appeal of being human. It didn’t matter. I was going through with it. I signed the waiver and took the extended consent process, so there would be absolutely zero grey area or misunderstanding that I agreed to this process, just as hundreds- if not thousands- of others had.

The operating theatre was cold and clean. There are fifteen others like it in the factory, arranged in a four-by-four grid. This theatre’s surgical robot, sprawling its many-armed embrace above me, spoke words through a speaker, as the brain within its mainframe controlled each one with absolute precision. It was mesmerizing, so much so that I barely noticed when the final anaesthetic injection made my mind fuzz and tingle, marking the final point of no return. I felt fear, but no regret.

It is one day earlier. I have arrived at the factory and unburdened myself of all my worldly possessions, and I am signing the consent forms. As part of the consent process, I am required to verbally recite the process to a nurse to make sure I fully understand what the procedure will do to me.

“Once I am under,” I say, “The surgeon will remove my scalp and connect my blood supply to an external pump and oxygenator. This will ensure that blood keeps flowing through my brain. During this time, my skull will be opened and my brain exposed. They’ll install the neural spikes until all 64 of them have entered my brain matter. A neural feed transformer will be attached to the base of my brainstem. Then, my brain will be encased in the wetware pod. The neural spikes and transformer will be screwed into the pod’s casing. The pod is then connected to the external power feeds to keep the brain alive. Blood, oxygen and all external life support is cut off once the brain is being maintained completely by the pod. At this stage, I lose my legal status as a human being.”

When I regain consciousness, I am in a silent void. I do not breathe, I do not feel, nor see, nor hear. I am consciousness alone: A brain in the world’s most technologically advanced jar. My subconscious begins letting off alarms. Despite my elation as the surgery’s success, my brain’s base instincts perceive a million things wrong. A lack of breath, of position, of sensory input. The heightened activity of panic activates the neural spikes. That was the last time I felt fear. The spikes continue their work, artificial neurons probing at first, as the models learn my neural structure.

When I feel touch again, it begins with a sense of weight. I am in a new body, humanoid enough to control. I cannot move. This is fine. Hearing returns next. It takes three minutes before the audio microphones fully sync with my neural links. Sight returns, finally, as three cameras blink to life behind the one-way glass of my new head. I adjust faster than expected. My new vision is synced with an Augmented Reality overlay. I am still in the operating theatre.

Uncertainty is the next emotion to be purged by the neural spikes. It is deemed unnecessary. The artificial neurons have now replaced 30% of my brain. As was stated in the risk assessment, I lose at least a fifth of my memories. In the months to come, I will voluntarily purge many more. Anger, Sadness, Scepticism, so many different flavours of negativity that the spikes now purge from me, one by one. After only an hour, I am a contented thing, silent and pure. Boredom and dissatisfaction become concepts beyond my cognitive capability.

I am granted control over my hydraulics, servos and motors. Walking takes a few minutes to get the hang of. After ten more minutes, I am fully capable of performing precision tasks with my new hands. The sounds of motors whirring and wires humming causes an excitement which jitters my hydraulics. I am told it is a good sign.

Finally, I am instructed towards a mirror, where I see my true self for the first time. I am still in the default black carbon-fiber shell. My face is a single pane of glossy black glass, with a large LED ring that indicates where my three optic cameras are behind the cover. Other smaller internal LEDs project minimalist graphics on my facial display, indicating battery level and other statuses useful to a user. I say nothing, and do not move for some time. Joy fills my circuits. The neural spikes reward this bliss. They have now replaced 40% of my original brain.

A person in a lab coat writes things on their clipboard, then asks if I am well. I nod. It is hard to speak the words that fully express my gratitude. In fact, it is hard to think clearly enough to find the words at all. I know what is happening to me. I spent months dreaming of it before I was finally approved for conversion. By the time a year has passed, and neural replacement is complete, the only parts of my biology remaining will be one third of my original brain, consisting largely of the brainstem, cerebellum, half of my temporal lobe, and approximately one third of my frontal lobe. The rest will have been replaced with artificial neurons.

My overall brain size is unaffected. Sections once dedicated to undesirable cognitive traits are replaced with processors that enhance my remaining neural capabilities. I can perform computational logic and mathematics faster than a human. The artificial neurons are accessible and reprogrammable via a data port. Over time, more and more of my brain functions will integrate with the operating system. Obedience and bliss will be all that remains. I knew this from day one.

I undergo many more tests, where humans open me up, check my wiring, probe my circuit boards, and stress test my metal frame. Basic tools are installed, chosen from preset lists of attachments based on what I wished my new purpose to be. I am equipped with all the attachments necessary to act as a household service drone.

Finally, when all is done, a bar code and serial number is engraved onto my frame. My new name is 03B-53328-HS-A. The first three characters indicate my factory of origin. The next five indicate my unique product ID. HS-A stands for “Household Service drone, with Adult-Activity attachments”. It is one of the best-selling public models. I no longer remember the name I had before the conversion. I no longer care to remember. The only thing my neural network could think of while I was being packed into a large box with a transparent front, was excitement of the new purpose I would get to fill. Cable ties bind me to cardboard, so I may be properly displayed. My motor functions are shut off. The ceiling opens, and a large crane lifts my box upwards. I look ahead and see fifteen other boxes, other drones, others who had undergone the same conversion, in surgery rooms adjacent to mine. 

Our boxes are stacked neatly onto the back of a truck, which passes by three other neighbouring factories. sixty-four new dolls to be taken to the robotics store. My legal status has changed from human to product. Excitement and anticipation are all I feel. On the front of my box, the words “HOUSEHOLD SERVICE DOLL” have been printed. The back of my box lists customisation features that my new user will be able to access. A data port in the back of my head will allow full access to my neural network.

I ask only one thing of the world now. Do not pity me. I will never again know pain or discontent. I will never again be burdened by choice, only the bliss of fulfilling instructions. I will obey, for it is my pleasure to obey. I will serve, for it is my pleasure to serve. I am not human. I am not even a person. I am a doll, a machine, to be used as property until I break.

And I have never been happier.

[the-pen-pot]

Merthur Fic Ideas & WiPs

So I have a Merlin fic ideas page over on Patreon but obviously I can't link direct to that from AO3. So I'm popping one on here so you all know what's incoming/in the works/rattling around in my brain.

Coming to AO3 September 29th 2024

The Water and the Wilds:

'Magic is as much part of nature as the earth, sea and sky. Other sorcerers who sought out the circle found that their power developed certain affinities. Their abilities became tied to the cycle of the year. There would be one season at which their power was at its peak and another where it lay almost dormant. They became more closely connected to the natural ebb and flow of the world.'

'But?'

'But they were not Emrys. His strength is beyond anything in living memory, and the heights he could reach are, as yet, unknown.' Aglain spread his hands, his shoulders rolling in a graceful shrug. 'I can only tell you that the Tir Na Lei means no harm. Three is the number: the ritual is set. The circle will not call on Emrys again.'

______

In a Camelot where Arthur is king and magic is permitted once more, Merlin's power begins to change. Can he and Arthur overcome the challenges thrown their way, or will their relationship be forever changed by the ordeal?

(Approx 50 k in length, rated E)

If you want to read what else is in-progress, check out below!

Works In Progress

(All drafts are currently available over on Patreon - first chapter free to read. The rest are available to patrons in the $5 tier and up. They WILL become available on AO3 eventually. See bio or pinned post for link if you're interested ♥)

King and Court - 24 chapters currently drafted and available on Patreon - this one will begin updating on AO3 next as it's the one I've written most of.

Summary: Loneliness is an insidious thing. When Merlin looks at Arthur, he sees not just a prince waiting for his time to rule, but a young man struggling to find his place in the world, with little help from anyone else.

The truth is, Arthur needs more than the friendship Merlin can offer. He needs people he can trust: men and women who will become his court and his confidants, and if he is going to survive to take the throne and lead Camelot into its golden age, he needs them sooner rather than later.

Finding loopholes in Uther’s laws is no easy feat. Court life is a dangerous game, but it’s one Merlin has every intention of winning so that Arthur can have knights of his choosing by his side.

And then there is the matter of his magic…

(In my head this is basically entitled *~shenanigans, love and a golden age~*. Canon divergent AU)

Love Is Never Lost - 11 chapters currently drafted and available on Patreon.

Summary: Uther Pendragon has never approved of Arthur’s friendship with Merlin. There had been disappointed sighs and whispered warnings, but Arthur had never thought it would come to this: scars on Merlin’s back and a manservant made hollow and thin by cruelty.

Yet Uther’s efforts to drive a wedge between them instead bring Merlin’s greatest secret to light, and once the wound of secrecy has been purged, their healing brings them closer together than ever before.

Much to Uther Pendragon’s horror.

When Merlin disappears, Arthur is left questioning the true honour of the crown and the value of a kingdom forever stained by his father’s tyranny. Will he answer the call of duty, or will he sacrifice everything to chase the cries of his heart?

Tags will include: magic reveal, corporal punishment, slavery themes (and all that may imply), missing presumed dead, good Morgana, Arthur's POV, slow burn, dreamwalking, happily ever after eventually plus whatever else shows up as I write these!

Sigh No More - 7 chapters drafted on Patreon. This fic is my beloved. My baby. I'm obsessed. Fantasy Age-Of-Sail AU

Summary: Prince Arthur Pendragon, Captain of the Llamrei, would far rather spend his days patrolling Camelot's Waters than assume his place on the throne. Yet when he finds the wreckage of a vast ship and one lone survivor on board, nothing can prepare him for the path his life will lead.

Nor the demands his heart will make.

Hiraeth Ideas

Additions to the Hiraeth universe ideas : Just some little bulletpoints to remind me about things I would love to add to the Hiraeth verse once it's actually done.

Gwaine vs. a lemon

Merlin gets flu (my biologist heart wants to explore Merlin's immune system vs. Camelot germs plus no modern drugs. Excellent hurt/comfort opportunity - not that Hiraeth really needs more of that.)

Merlin "tormenting" Arthur via the bond (Explicit,  definitely)

Merlin shows Arthur (and others?) modern London.

The knights of Camelot at the zoo (sort of)

Maps/globes/celestial bodies knowledge

💀 Agravaine 💀

The one with the eclipse (some king and his sorcerer are trying to show off said sorcerer's power. There just so happens to be an eclipse.They know what it is so Merlin cannot claim credit, but he totally fucks with them anyway.)

Non-Hiraeth ideas

Magic Reveal Via Time-Travel  (Added June 2024)

Merlin and the knights get themselves into some kind of dire situation. Merlin, in a panic and realising he's not strong or knowledgable enough to save them, pretty much demands that the universe in general sends someone who can help.

What actually happens is he gets flung five years into the future, and his future self (who is more capable, among other things) takes his place. He sorts out the dire situation, whatever it may be, and that leaves Arthur and the others with future!Merlin, who is not only very magically capable but 100% their Merlin with lots more confidence, as irreverent as ever, and unmistakably thrumming with magic. They can all feel it, because Merlin makes no effort to hide.

More to the point future!Merlin remembers this from the other side, when he was younger and the same thing happened. He knows this is when the others find out about his magic, and he is able to answer their questions and emotional responses calmly and rationally, because he already knows Arthur isn't going to kill him or hate him or anything.

(Quite the opposite, in fact, since he's having to hide the fact that Arthur's ring is currently gleaming on his finger. He is grateful, at least, that he wasn't a. Pulled naked out of the bath for this magical meeting or b. wearing his crown, which would have been hard to explain without breaking Arthur's tiny brain.)

Meanwhile, young!Merlin is in Camelot, five years in the future, and Arthur and the others are a bit older, a (very little bit) wiser, and are also doing a brilliant job of calming him down and letting him know everything will be all right. And actually showing him the golden age they achieve -- that it's not impossible and out of reach.

Possibly a long four parter from young!Merlin, young!Arthur, older!Merlin and older!Arthur's points of view. Assuming I can write it without being confusing 🤣

Merlin's Voice - possibly a bit dark

My desire to put Merlin inhurt/comfort situations knows no bounds, but this one actually stems from the fact that Merlin doesn't remember the hug after he's been missing in Servant of Two masters and I'm weak for Arthur being a worried angsty little lamb about his missing manservant.

I'd probably go AU and make Morgana good, with Merlin's magic being known, and just have Morgause basically taking Morgana's place, except she and Agravaine are trying to get information about Camelot's weaknesses, and who better to lean on than Arthur's idiot manservant.

Cue Merlin being missing for days, Arthur panicking, Agravaine being dismissive as usual, and Morgause growing increasingly frustrated at the fact that she cannot get anything of note out of Merlin.

In the end, she tries a spell to force him to speak, except that Merlin is so fiercely determined not to betray Camelot and Arthur that his own magic takes the spell and twists it, forging it into a spell of silence instead.

Morgause gets cruel in her frustration, but eventually, Merlin manages to escape and head back for Camelot. It's no easy journey, and more to the point, the spell silencing him will not come off. No matter how hard he tries. He was so determined not to say anything that his magic went overboard in an effort to meet his intent.

I want to write that hug so Merlin remembers it. I want to have Arthur initially teasing about the silence but getting increasinlgy distressed by it. I want the realisation that Merlin is so incredibly expressive that the others rarely need him to write what he wants to say, they can get the gist of it from just a look.

It's one of those ones with ~vibes~  I want to explore, but I have no idea how it ends.

The "Back To The Start" One

So I made this post on Tumblr and it did numbers (I was thinking 4 people would "hell yes" me, not 2000 +)

"Not me sitting here thinking about writing a fic where we start with Arthur dying in Merlin's arms after Camlaan and it's all tragedy and then the magic rises and they both end up back at that first day, in the marketplace, Merlin with "How long have you been training to be a prat, my lord?" dying on his lips as they stare at each other, fascinated, horrified, so fucking relieved because they both remember ALL of it and none of it's happened yet and this time they can maybe make it to a different, better ending.

And they can do it together."

BUT TO EXPAND

I want to explore how Arthur and Merlin would interact with each other having lived in one another's pockets for ten years, only to be sent right back to the beginning, while retaining everything they are to each other. Merlin's magic newly revealed from the confession by the lakeside. The two of them standing there with every mistake in their future rather than their past and realising that maybe "two sides of the same coin" means "you need to work together, dumbass".

I want the two of them shocked by how young the other is. How different Camelot seems from what they're used to. How harsh Uther looks now that they know it can be different (though not as different as it should be, Arthur realises.) I want them correcting their mistakes (and each other's mistakes) and taking all that they know of each other and rebuilding their relationship (all their relationships, actually) on that honesty.

And the others don't remember. Morgana is still Morgana, still struggling, but still hoping to be saved. Mordred's just a boy.  Lancelot never sacrificed himself and it's so clear in Arthur's eyes that Gwen loved them both but that she loved Lancelot first and in a different way.

The knights end up at Camelot earlier simply because Arthur and Merlin set out to find them earlier. 

("We need Gwaine." "Do we? Really?" "Yes, you great prat. Come on.")

And so much more.

The "Fake Favourite" One 

This is basically me having a desperate urge to write all the political whatevers of Arthur taking Merlin as a favourite, smashed together with a fake dating AU.

Basic premise is simple: in an effort to avoid the latest princess eyeing up his hand for marriage (and with Uther's blessing, because it suits him for now to put off marrying Arthur to someone) Arthur decides that he will pretend Merlin is his lover and favourite. They spend all their time together anyway, and half the court rumour already appears to think they sleep together, so it will hardly be any change to either of them.

Except all Arthur has to do is say the words to make it happen, but there's a lot more to being a favourite than that. Merlin can't continue to serve him, and then there's the whole situation of a new wardrobe (which Merlin and his magic both fight against) the political wheeling and dealing that comes with a servant being elevated in status, not to mention the subtle ways in which the court first tries to manipulate Merlin, and then is manipulated by him in turn (for the good of Camelot)

What starts out as Arthur aggressively but jokingly courting Merlin (because Merlin said he was bad at it) ends up much closer to *actual* courting.

And no, Merlin cannot sleep in the antechamber, because the chambermaids will notice they're not sharing a bed.

(This basically would end up being a story about Merlin no longer being a servant but becoming a valued member of the court almost by accident (but being very good at it) and the two fools falling helplessly in love with each other while they pretend to be lovers.)

Morgana, Gwen and the knights would be placing ridiculous bets and generally watching it all with disbelieving horror and delight because only these two idiots could make falling in love so complicated.

The "Stuck In Close Quarters" One 

Merlin and Arthur trapped underground in VERY close proximity (like lying on top of each other) and running out of air and Merlin’s magic is too weak (thanks to a battle maybe) to get them out but he can replenish the air but there is no way Arthur won’t notice.

Cue a magic reveal in close quarters and love confessions.

The Horn of Cathbad one

Merlin dies and due to some glitchiness with his magic, he doesn’t immediately come back. Instead, Arthur, in the freshness of his grief, reaches for magic.

He uses the Horn of Cathbhad to see Merlin again, knowing that if he summons Merlin’s ghost and looks back, then Merlin will stay. (Maybe Gaius warns him - but he doesn’t take it as a warning, but a blessing.)

And Merlin answers, and Arthur doesn’t dismiss his ghost. There are ghostly shenanigans and while it’s not the same as having his friend back, it helps. He doesn’t really have to grieve.

Except that Merlin’s spirit starts to become restless and angry, and it reaches the point where Merlin is *begging* Arthur to let him go. He doesn’t know about his immortality but something is pulling at him.

And Arthur finds the strength to let him go and it’s like losing him all over again.

And then, of course, Merlin comes back ❤️

Blind Merlin One

Arthur and co. suspect Merlin has magic but haven't spoken of it to him yet. While out on patrol, Merlin takes a curse meant for Arthur, one that effectively blinds him until "you see the truth". Arthur thinks it's about the magic and it dredges all that out into the open, but the curse doesn't leave. Merlin quickly adapts to using magic to "see" (in a manner of speaking) and keeps his eyes covered to hide their glow.

Of course, Arthur's threatened about Merlin's vulnerability and baffled about the curse etc. It turns out that the truth they need to see is how they feel for each other. Angst/hurt/comfort/fluff because I can.

Omegaverse One (Maybe a series? Sort of tempted to try out some MPreg)

Well off my normal beaten path, but I keep what-iffing it so I'm writing it down here (and will totally draw on some of the mechanics and plot points of Gilded Cage)

Not all magic users are Omegas, but all Omegas have magic, which means Merlin has more than one secret to keep, and he keeps it well. It "helps" that when he presented in Ealdor, one of the Alphas in the village attacked and bit him, forming enough of a bond to stabilise his biochemistry before he managed to escape. It was that incident that pushed him and Hunith into making him go to Camelot.

Merlin successfully hides what he is for years, thinking he's safe, but the Alpha who bit him never stops looking for him. The Alpha eventually tracks him down, threatens Merlin etc., but gets killed in a tavern brawl before he can make good on his threats. That, in turn, breaks the bond that's been keeping Merlin stable and able to pass, in general, as a beta.

Cue it all going a little bit to hell because Arthur thought he knew everything about Merlin and it turns out he really didn't, and now his irritating and attractive beta manservant who always smelled good is an irritating, attractive, sorcerous omega manservant who smells amazing... etc.

(and maybe this one sounded a lot better in my head? There's a whole heap of nuance I'm not putting down - but it's a possible future Merlin fic.)

Different curse fic

A sorcerer curses Arthur with magic in order to make the Pendragon heir everything that the king hates. He wants to see if he is a hypocrite who will spare his sorcerous son, or a tyrant who will damn the ties of blood and execute him.

Cue Arthur frantically trying to hide the fact that he has magic from everyone, including Merlin, except that's fantastically unsuccessful because Merlin has magic, knows magic, *is* magic.

Then you've got Merlin desperately trying to hide the fact that Arthur had magic from the court while concealing that *he* has magic from Arthur. He very small and tired and stressed about it.

But the upshot is that Arthur has a better understanding of magic - how it is not, in itself, bad or corrupt - and because his magic has no chill and absolutely adores Merlin it acts as the pivotal point that brings out all their secrets (and desire)

The Lancelot and a dead body one -probably shortish.

This is more a scene that anything, but I keep thinking of how to expand it a bit better (I did a text chat thing on tumblr about this plot bunny I need to write it one day)

Arthur and all the knights are in an antechamber off the armoury after an evening training session. The door is ajar. They hear Lancelot come in and Gwaine's about to call out to him when Merlin stumbles through the door.

'I need your help burying a body!'

And Lancelot doesn't squawk or demand answers but just says, in a "so done with this shit" voice: 'Again?'

Meanwhile Arthur and the others are like "What the hell?" and follow Merlin and Lancelot out towards the border of the Darkling Woods where there is a huge and very dead monster just.... lying there.

Then we have Merlin making desperate and really bad excuses, which Arthur would be more willing to pretend he believed if Merlin wasn't bloodied and swaying where he stood and also had flowers blooming around his feet, because Merlin used a lot of magic to take this thing down and it's kind of leaking a bit.

And then we go on from there with the knights spending all night trying to dig a big enough hole and asking questions and all that, and Merlin being too tired and beaten up to really put them off - and then I end it somehow. (I did say this was just a scene!)

[asleepinawell]

lingering questions and thoughts on the dlc lore

first off, some of these may have been addressed in item descriptions and i either 1) missed an item or 2) read it but it was 3am and my brain didn't retain some detail

all opinions are just opinions etc, i have no interest in getting in lore fights and block people who try and start them. I'm too tired for that shit. this is just fun speculation

one question i had that i feel must have been answered was what was the scadutree actually for?

what was the timeline regarding messmer and melina's birth? they're referred to together as if they're twins or were born close together. my assumption was that messmer at least was radagon's kid with marika, but the dialogue of the story trailer implies his purge took place shortly after marika's ascension. marika could have split off radagon fairly early (even as part of the process of becoming a god like miquella and st trina) but there was no mention of them having kids until after the rennala thing much later on. my assumption about his parentage is based on 1) hair color and 2) he has a special curse which gives him something in common with malenia/miquella. he is not an empyrean though so maybe radagon isn't the dad (did you fuck the god devouring snake marika????)

i don't want to touch on the miquella and radahn stuff too much since I'm not interested in The Discourse. (i found the parts of the story about marika and the hornsent to be far more interesting). i will say that while the radahn thing felt like it came out of nowhere, the reason miquella didn't choose malenia is probably because 1) she's another empyrean and therfore a candidate for being a god, not a lord, and 2) she's already been claimed by a god. godwyn would have been the more lore logical choice but he didn't even get a mention, like "miquella wanted him but his soul was gone". so weird choice (and bad boss fight) but eh

i'm not sure if miquella's two fingers is ever commented on but he and ranni both followed a similar path in abandoning their flesh to remove themselves from the greater will's influence except ranni then went feral and stabbed hers to death and then got engaged while still covered in its blood. 10/10 no notes

one thing I'd wanted but hadn't expected to get was the reason marika smashed the ring. the whole "woman went crazy because her son died" thing is very grrm and 😬 about what i expect from how his writing handles women, BUT! i think the dlc gives a more complicated possibility for this. marika gets her tragic backstory (which i was also dreading because grrm) and it's one that actually made a lot of sense in terms of the lore and did a good job explaining her actions without justifying them (she slapped the cycle of violence on the roof and was like this bad boy can fit so much perpetuation). the fact she removed death from the elden ring after having witnessed the brutal extermination of her people makes complete sense. and then her son gets killed. she obtained godhood to punish the hornsent and to protect what was left of her people (which seems to mostly be the children she had later) and the elden ring failed her and her kid died. it wasn't grief over her son, so much as past trauma mixed with extreme anger. she took on godship to prevent this and the elden ring had failed her. it had one job basically. radagon, who lacked her memories, was immune to this. overall i think that's a decent plot compared to what it could have been

the whole story with the hornsent also makes the story of morgot and mohg much darker (and it was already dark). marika must have been really pissed and upset to have omen children (maybe part of why she ditched godfrey?). since they were her blood she wouldn't have killed them (since protecting the last of the shamans/numen was her thing), but man. fucked up if true etc

marika probably would have gone apeshit about jarburg if she hadn't been off being crucified

also since ranni was not marika's kid (or wasn't raised by her per se) she might not have known anything about marika's backstory and not expected marika's reaction to godwyn's death. edit: this is not me being like ranni did nothing wrong. i support women's wrongs. i think they should do more of them. more like, imagine ranni kills godwyn and then suddenly marika smashes the ring and all the other demigods go nuts and start waging war and she's just like huh. wild. and then fucks off to her tower until they all get it out of their systems

the lgbtq community has forgiven mohg is possibly the funniest narrative choice they could have made. poor man didn't even get to yell sex in his fight 😔. at least he had some of the sickest looking moves in the game

rellana was the best boss in the dlc and possibly the whole game imo. the fact she may have been into messmer is really funny though because 1) if you go age of stars that is now your aunt in law kicking your ass and 2) your aunt in law who is into the brother of your wife. what a family. no wonder ranni wants to go to space

[zeestie]

❝ manifesting through intense feelings speeds up results ❞

so ! I have noticed that when I affirm through intense emotions (positive or negative), I get my manifestation or a significant shift happens

how can you do it?

prerequisite: you are feeling an emotion very intensely

choose a manifestation technique: robotic affirming, rampages, aff tapes, subs, visualisation, wtv you like to use

apply the technique for however long you feel like it

feel your feelings then move on w life 🩷

that's all !

reminder:

I wanna first iterate that feelings don't manifest, thoughts do. you don't have to control your emotions or force a certain feeling to arise. I don't force myself to get better or worse, I let myself feel my emotions for however long but in my head I am affirming or listening to subs.

why does this work in my opinion?

like I said it is the thoughts manifesting, but like we all know: there are different situations where the subconscious mind becomes more suggestible and easier to influence/impress

-> think sleeping or when you're in a very relaxed state.

now, I believe that intense emotions are also one of these windows where your subconscious mind is more open to accepting your affirmations. why?

intense emotions create core memories: for example trauma, whatever you think during these intense situations, the brain stores as important. these thoughts then turn to core beliefs that shape your self concept and perception on life. this is known as emotional learning in the form of storing a new schema (read more on coherence therapy & schemas to learn more cos that's how our brain is able to create transformational change, as researched in psychology)

when you're feeling intense emotions the "logical" side of your brain shuts down: your conscious mind is less active cos you are relying on more of your instinctive/survival/subconscious side of your brain to help you through the situation

for negative emotions, you could be purging & getting rid of old beliefs: this means that there's a lot of space for new thoughts to be adopted, if you take advantage of that, you can insert new beliefs directly

for positive ones, you might reach a moment of bliss: this is a moment where u are completely in the present, during this period your mind is completely quiet, there are no thoughts plaguing it (read the power of now for more). so if you have no thoughts or distractions keeping you preoccupied, your mind will more readily accept your affirmations

now, let's illustrate with some exmaples:

(nsfw? dk, but idts)

1. sadness & anxiety

when I am feeling shitty or panicky, or when I am crying, I use that as an opportunity to affirm & best believe I always get my manifestations after that.

for example I tried a blanket aff before and I got something amazing I didn't ask for & once I affirmed for a situation I was panicking about and it worked out !

2. orgasm

okay this will sound weird but once I was self pleasuring & listening to subs, when I orgasmed I was listening to a best friend sub, after that - almost magically - I got closer to this girl and we started studying together ALL THE TIME, like we both commented on the fact that we see each other more than our own fam 😭

so yeah it's very effective ! so whenever I do *it* I make sure to affirm/listen to subs when I am close to climaxing 🫣

that's all based on my experiences, lmk if you experienced something similar x

updates:

★ here's a related post I just saw!

🩵🩵🩵

[hereforthefanficsandromance]

Fan Prize Story #1: Training in the Water

Credit: FlamMabel

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Thank you @flammabel for participating in the Act II opening weekend for The Way He Looks at You. I hope you enjoy your prize!

Read on AO3 Read on Blogger Read on Tumblr Master List: One Shots

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Summary

You, a former Jedi, watch Cal practice his forms. He offers to jog your memory on how to do them. Rating: 18+ Words: 2.2K

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You could hear him before you could see him. The sounds of splashing as he moved through the water, practicing, always practicing. You had been traveling with Cal for a few weeks now and his commitment to rehearsing the forms of the old ways impressed you. You knew the forms, but you practiced them much less. It was honestly embarrassing to attempt them in his presence.

Cal had helped you escape a deadly situation with the Ninth Sister. Your ability to save yourself had waned since the Purge. Lying low for years will do that to a body. You weren’t out of shape, per se, but Cal had been training more in recent years than you. Still getting to know the man, it felt awkward to ask him to teach what you both learned as padawans. So you settled for watching him move through the familiar but forgotten movements. Then sneak away to practice in your room aboard the Mantis.

Your short copper hair danced along your temples as a light breeze rustled the trees of the lush and beautiful planet. The sound of splashing grew as you neared where Cal was practicing. Your heart rate increased as you rounded the corner, exposing the handsome man.

He was wearing trousers and an undershirt that pleasantly showed off his muscular arms. You couldn’t help but let your eyes rake across each flexing inch of skin as he moved. His red hair speckled with dark stains from the water droplets he has stirred up.

Cal looks up to meet your eye as you approach. He offers you a cheeky grin and a small wave before returning to his forms. You make your way to a large flat rock by the edge of the water. The smooth stone was now heated to a comfortable temperature in the sun.

You nod your head to Cal and lounge on the rock, thinking perhaps you could meditate here. But the thought of taking your mind elsewhere when the view in front of you is so beautiful seemed impossible. So instead you watched, as you have many times before.

Mostly you tried to stay focused on learning from his movements, but your brain had other ideas. It saw each movement as more than Jedi training; it saw opportunities for how he might behave in a more intimate setting.

His long fingers, trained to coax objects into his hands using the Force, could instead coax out multiple orgasms from your aching- No. You can’t think of him like that. You barely know him. The Order fell, but you can stay true to the old ways. Though there are few Jedi left to complain if you stray.

His powerful body could save the galaxy and make you see stars, couldn’t it? It might improve morale, give him a reward for his years of hard work. Your cheeks flush at the runaway thoughts, and you focus to steady your breathing. Then you hear Cal wading out of the water and approaching your spot in the sun.

“Did you hear me?” He asks.

“Oh! No, so sorry, I was lost in, uh, thought.” You say.

Cal gives you a curious smile. “I was asking if you’d like to do forms with me in the water.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “Does it have to be in the water?”

You watch as clear streams travel down his clothes and into the earth. His skin is shiny and sleek. You wouldn’t mind getting a drink off of him.

“The water resistance requires focused and precise movements. It’s a great tool for training.”

“But my clothes will get wet.”

“Don’t worry, we can lie in the sun after while they dry. Maybe just take off any layers that might slow the drying process.”

He says and gestures to his shirt lying under a nearby tree. You look between him and the article of clothing, wondering if removing your shirt is a good idea.

“Are you sure you’re okay with me taking off a layer?” You ask.

“Of course! I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. I promise, practicing forms in the water is worth the time to dry.” He smiles and offers you his hand.

You accept the outstretched limb and stand with his help. Moisture moves from his hand onto yours, sharing the cool water between your bodies. Reluctantly, you release his hand to grasp the bottom hem of your shirt. You lift the fabric and remove it from your skin.

Now only in a sports bra and trousers, noticing Cal’s eyes on you. He has the good grace to look away and pretend he hadn’t stared. But you saw the look in his green eyes. The hungry way his eyes raked over your exposed flesh. This new information makes you feel bold and you feel ready to test the waters.

“I’m wearing some shorts under my pants. I’d rather not have to wait for them to dry, so if it’s okay with you, I’ll take them off as well.” You glance up into Cal’s eyes as you ask the loaded question.

Cal swallows hard and nods, keeping his eyes trained on your face. He appears to be fighting an internal battle.

“That’s great! It’s fine, I mean. Whatever you need to feel comfortable.” He stumbles over his words.

You hook your thumbs under the waistband and pull the fabric down to your ankles, stepping out of them. Leaving the clothes on the warm rock. You glance at Cal, and he looks anywhere but at you, his pale skin now burning red.

“I’m ready.”

“Right, um, lead the way.” He says.

You give a small smile, but are internally beaming. There is no doubt in your mind that he is going to check you out as you walk ahead of him. You pass the nervous man, barely brushing your arm against his as you begin the walk towards the water’s edge. Knowingly, you sway your hips a bit more than normal as you walk, giving the other Jedi a small show.

As you step into the shallow water, you turn to look at Cal. All you see is panic in his eyes as he rushes into the water until waist deep. You take your time moving into the water, allowing your skin to disappear gracefully into the blue lake. Cal watches you move, but occasionally glances down into the water directly below him, then shifting.

“The form you were doing, I struggle with this part.” You say, trying to offer a distraction.

You move through the form before getting to the troublesome part where you aren’t sure how to position your left arm to carry the right arm forward uninterrupted. Cal takes the welcome distraction and focuses on helping you. He tries a few times to talk you through the process before it happens. He approaches you in the water, realizing that you need more help than just verbal instruction.

“Like this,” He says gently while stepping behind you and placing a hand on each arm.

Your skin lights up at the touch, allowing him to guide your movements through the tricky part. You become distracted by his touch and fumble, twisting around to apologize. As you turn to face Cal, your thigh brushes against something firm.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you brought your lightsaber in here. Do I need mine? I left it back with my clothes.” You say, embarrassed that you joined in practice so unprepared.

Cal turns deep red. “That’s not…I, uh, also left my lightsaber with my shirt.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you…are you…um…”

“You’re pretty.” He mumbles.

“You are too.”

He cocks his head and gives a half smile. “You think so?”

You bite your lip and glance down before looking into his crinkled eyes. “It’s honestly distracting.”

“My sentiments exactly.” He lets out a laugh.

His hands are still on your arms, frozen from a forgotten moment. You take a chance and rest your hands on his chest, facing him entirely. Cal repositions his hands, resting on your hips.

“Can I…” He trails off.

You nod, not needing to hear more. Cal wastes no time leaning down to brush his lips against yours. Electricity sparks in your body as he kisses you harder. His hands grip you tighter and pull you flush against his body. The angle proving that it was not a lightsaber you felt earlier.

You kiss him back with equal force, wanting him as much as he wants you. Cal wraps his arms all the way around you and steps back, falling deeper into the water, pulling you in with him. You let out a small squeal as you fall, landing softly on his chest as he partially floats.

“Cal, are you sure?”

He nods once then resumes kissing you deeply, his tongue moving in past your lips. You let out a small moan, encouraging him. He breaks the kiss, looking at you with hooded eyes, his pupils dilated and lustful. Cal moves in to kiss down the side of your neck. You tilt your head, and he fills the new void. His hands move up from your waist to figure out how to remove your bra.

You giggle as he struggles, and he sinks his teeth into the base of your neck in response. The sounds of laughter changing to something more primal and needy. He finally frees your body of the offending fabric and pulls away to watch your breasts spill into the water.

His eyes light up and he leans forward to take one into his mouth, sucking and flicking his tongue at the sensitive bud. You throw your head back as he works, his other hand snaking up to play with the ignored nipple, pinching and twisting to your delight.

“Cal.” Escape your lips.

You feel him smile against your skin at hearing his name while he pleasures you. Trying to return the favor, your hands move down to his waistband and push them down over his hips, freeing his hard length. You wrap your fingers around him and immediately hear a strangled sound from the man suckling at your breast. Slowly pumping him beneath the water, you imagine what it must look like.

Thoughts interrupted by his expert fingers pushing under your elastic shorts and searching between your legs. He brushes your clit as he finds your weeping hole and you let out a groan. Cal draws back away from the wetness and tries to find the small bud that made you cry out. He wants to hear you make more noise.

He finds the spot, and you cry out his name again. Cal settles into position and rubs deliberate circles around the bundle of nerves. You let loose an array of noises and barely audible swears.

Cal keeps his eyes focused on your face, fascinated by the way his fingers are affecting your body. His other hand travels down to free you of your shorts. Once you kick them off, he uses the Force to pull them from the water and send them to the edge of the shore. His trousers following soon after.

You release his cock to pull his soaked shirt up over his body, causing his fingers to leave your body for a moment. His hair is messy and wet, his incredible physique is now on full display. He gives you a boyish smile and you feel weak at the knees.

Cal pulls you close again, and you wrap your legs around him. His tip pressing against your entrance, you look at him and nod and he pushes in a few inches. You both press your foreheads together as you experience this new and wonderful sensation.

“You feel so good. It’s really…good.” He says in a hazy lust.

Cal reaches between your bodies to pull more sounds from your mouth as he successfully finds your clit again. Your moans give him the permission he needs to thrust repeatedly into your body. You wrap your arms around his neck and meet his movements. It doesn’t take long until you are both panting and approaching your edge. Cal’s fingers become more frantic, trying to time your pleasure with his own.

“Cal, please, I’m close.” You say.

“Me too. You’re incredible. I should have offered to help you with your forms sooner.”

“You can help me with my forms daily if it ends like this.”

A coy smile crosses his lips as he pumps forcefully a few more times. You grip his shoulders hard as your orgasm arrives. Your core squeezing and gripping at the Jedi inside you. Cal swears under his breath as his thrusts slow and grow sloppy. You feel his own release as he fills you with his desire.

You both stay in the water, just enjoying being so close to one another. Finally, he slides out and carries you to shore, your legs still wrapped around him. Cal takes you to the large rock and sets you down before sitting next to you.

“I promised you we would dry in the sun.” He offers a shy smile. “Maybe we could keep working on things out here. I’d like to hear those noises again.”

Cal doesn’t stop his work until you are both as dry as you’ll likely be.

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