#no matter how kindly they treat their subjects

[agnerd-bot]

"King" Mordred Alter, False Ascendant to the Throne(Avenger)

Ascension Stages:

First Stage: Mordred Alter is noticeably older than their Proper Human History or Dream World counterparts, wearing armor similar to that of the Goddess Rhongomyniad, albeit with Mordred’s own helmet in place of the Lion Kings. Perhaps most noticeable is the fact that this Mordred wields both Excalibur and Clarent simultaneously.

Second Stage: Mordred’s armor now gains a deep red cape that goes down to their knees. Excalibur and Clarent now seem to have dulled, with small hairline fractures noticeable along their blades. The helmet has been removed, revealing a weary smile on their face and a gold and silver crown upon their brow.

Final Stage: Excalibur and Clarent are swapped out for Carnwennan, the white-hilted knife gleaming with magical energy. Mordred’s cape has been torn to shreds as a sinister aura surrounds them. Blood stains their shining armor as they bear a maddened smile on their face.

Theme:

Fatal Battle Theme: The Death Of God's Will (Full Mix + Voice Lines)

Traits:

Class: Avenger Alternate Class: Berserker, Caster, Saber, Assassin True Name: Mordred Pendragon(Alter)/King Mordred Source: Arturian Legend Region: Wales Alignment: Chaotic Evil Attribute: Earth

Known as: The King Who Was Never Meant to Be, Usurper King of Knights, Vile King of Camelot, The Bastard Who Defied Fate

Voice Actress: Sawashiro Miyuki

Deck: QAABB

Parameters: Strength: A Endurance: B+ Agility: B+ Mana: A++ Luck: E NP: A-

Passive Skills:

Magic Resistance A++:

Mordred’s already impressively high Magic Resistance has been bolstered even further due to the magecraft they have learned from Morgan Le Fay, allowing them to deconstruct enemy spells with ease. For the magic that they can’t handle on their own, Mordred has the Holy Dagger Carnwennan to nullify any magical harm taken.

(FGO Effect:) -Increases own debuff resistance by 23%.

Avenger B:

The anger and bitterness of Camelot’s people drives Mordred further. Each angered sneer, each hateful glare, each venomous word that drops from their people’s lips only serve to push Mordred further and further in an attempt to prove them wrong. Mordred Alter will do whatever it takes to prove they have surpassed their father and have become an even better king.

They will bring Camelot into a new golden age, even if it means dragging their citizens into it, kicking and screaming.

(FGO Effect:) -Increases own NP generation rate when taking attack by 18%. -500% Chance to reduce party's debuff resistance by 8% except self. (Including sub members) [Demerit]

Oblivion Correction C+:

No matter where Mordred runs to, or where they try to escape, it is inevitable that there will be a King Arthur there to overshadow them.

(FGO Effect:)  -Increases own critical damage by 7%.

Self-Replenishment(Magic) A+:

As this incarnation of Mordred was taught by Morgan le Fay in the arts of magecraft alongside their teachings as a knight, they have a well-versed knowledge of their own mana efficiency and how to best use it in combat, able to constantly refresh their pools of energy in a fight to keep fighting for long periods of time.

Because of these teachings, coupled with the blessings of the Holy Sword, Mordred has been able to live far past the expected lifespan Morgan had given them, allowing them to further their knowledge in both the Holy Weapons and their own Magecraft.

(FGO Effect:)  -Charges own NP gauge by 4% every turn.

Active Skills:

Defiant of the Winds of Fate A-:

It is said that the fall of Camelot was destiny. That at the Battle of Camlann, the death of King Arthur would lead to the collapse of the kingdom itself, leaving nothing but pain, misery, and loss in its wake. However, Mordred managed to defy that destiny. After slaying King Arthur with her own Excalibur, and defeating the Witch-Queen Morgan le Fay when she attempted to take the throne for herself, Mordred ushered in an era of peace and prosperity for Camelot, defying the prophecies set for them long ago.

Where fate says there is destruction, Mordred will bring prosperity. Where destiny says there is death, Mordred will bring healing. Where the future says there must be sorrow, Mordred will bring joy. So sayeth the King of Camelot.

(FGO Effect:) -Increases own Buster performance for three times, three turns. -Apply Guts to self for two times, five turns. -Reduces all enemies' defense for three turns.

Revolutionary Charisma B-:

Charming, handsome, and witty. These were the traits that made Mordred able to weave their lies and tricks in the kingdom of Camelot. With but a few words, they convinced several of Arthur's finest champions that their king was unfit. With some well-placed manipulations, the Round Table came to believe that Arthur's Camelot was nothing more than a sham. Even souls like Guinevere came to ally with Mordred, believing that rule under Arthur was one of simple war and bloodshed, and only through Mordred's leadership could Camelot come to peace.

However, after the Battle of Camlann, many had lost their faith in Mordred, the horrors of the war leading many to believe the new king could only bring misery and pain. Many of Mordred's people turned against them, believing the new king to be nothing but an opportunistic usurper. As such, this skill is not a rallying cry to the side of a king, but an insidious killer to bring an entire nation to its knees. It is a skill suited to wreaking chaos and havoc, turning brother against brother, friend against friend, kingdom against kingdom, leaving Mordred standing at the end, alone.

(FGO Effect:) -Increase party's attack for three turns. -Increase party's damage for three turns. -Inflicts Confusion status for 3 turns to all enemies --(30% Chance to activate the debuff below every turn. When activated, 500% Chance to seal their skills for 1 turn.) -Inflicts Confusion status for 3 turns to all allies[Demerit]. --(30% Chance to activate the debuff below every turn. When activated, 500% Chance to seal their skills for 1 turn.)

Destroyer of the World’s End A:

The power of a child of both the King of Knights and the Witch-Queen of Albion. Rather than specializing in knightly chivalry like their father Artoria, or magecraft like their mother Morgan, Mordred has found a way to properly combine both, allowing them to even match the power of the Holy Spear Rhongomyniad in combat, which is what allowed them to defeat their father Arthur at Camlann. As surviving the war that was meant to kill them allowed Mordred to live longer than they had in Proper Human History, they've managed to hone this power to the point where they can match both Morgan and Artoria in their respective specialties.

This is the power of Mordred, the King Who Was Never Meant to Be. A king driven to madness by the cruelty of the world and the wickedness of those who tried to manipulate them for their own selfish desires. No more will Mordred be another person's puppet. No more will Mordred stand in the shadows of the ones who came before. The Usurper King will stand, facing down even the end of the world if they must.

(FGO Effect:) -Charges own NP Gauge. -Increases own critical star absorption for 3 turns. -Increases own critical damage for 3 turns. --Grants self On-Attack-Activate buff for 3 turns. --Gains critical stars when attacking with Buster Cards. -Increases damage against Savior to Humanity enemies.

Noble Phantasms:

Noble Phantasm: Excalibur & Clarent - Twin Swords of the Rightful King

Rank: A++ Maximum Targets: 1000 Range: 1-99m Classification: Anti-Fortress

In one hand, the silver blade used to knight kings and denote peace.

In the other, the golden blade forged by the gods to light the way.

While both swords were once used as symbols of heroism and goodness, now they are wielded by a cruel and petty tyrant, stolen from their rightful owners. Clarent, stolen from its rightful resting place. Excalibur, used to slay the very king who was chosen to wield it. The Pretender King of Knights, Mordred, wields both of these blades, having forced them into servitude long ago in order to exact their own mad vision of domination. These blades that once served as emblems of justice and chivalry, now turned to oppressors, slaying members of the Knights of the Round with complete impunity.

Under normal circumstances, the use of these swords by one not deemed worthy would result in these weapons dropping a rank in power. However, with Mordred’s magical skill, they managed to find a way to retain the power expected of these blades, even with a false claim to the throne. Channeling their abilities through these sacred armaments, Mordred Alter uses both swordplay and magecraft in conjunction with one another. Every strike is akin to a clap of thunder. Every slash is alight with the flash of lightning. With these weapons in hand, the King of Greed is akin to a living force of nature, carving apart any enemy in front of them with horrifying bloodlust.

But despite the raw magical energy that comes from these sacred weapons, one can sometimes see them tremble in Mordred’s grip. As if they are begging, screaming out to be released from their contract, and be returned to their rightful home.

Noble Phantasm: Carnwennan - Shadowed Blade of the Witch-Killer

Rank: A- Maximum Targets: 1 Range: 1-49m Classification: Anti-Unit

One of the three holy weapons said to have been given to King Arthur by God, alongside Caledfwlch and Rhongomiant, stolen from King Arthur’s armory After Mordred killed her. While lacking in obvious destructive power in comparison to the Holy Sword and the Holy Spear, the Holy Dagger makes up for it with its versatility. In the original Welsh tellings of King Arthur, it is said that Carnwennan’s wielder is able to cloak themselves in shadow, rendering them invisible to the world around them. The user can also summon pillars of shadow to attack enemies, as a counter to Rhongomyniad and Excalibur’s pillars of light. The blade can also extend, moving large distances and even curving around corners in order to attack an enemy at a distance.

The blade has a second property, made famous by Arthur’s use of it to slay Orddu the Witch. The White Hilted Dagger has the ability to nullify other magical abilities when wielded, able to dispel curses with a single touch, puncture magical shields as if they were paper, and grievously wound any Phantasmal Creature if it strikes true. In addition, whenever Carnwennan destroys something made of Magecraft or with innate magical ties, it absorbs this power into itself, allowing Carnwennan to grow stronger over time, eventually matching its sister weapons if it reaches a certain point.

While Mordred prefers to wield Clarent and Excalibur to prove their legitimacy as king, Carnwennan is the weapon they are most proficient in, given their talents in Magecraft and preference for underhanded combat.

Noble Phantasm: La Mort Artu - Thus the Usurper Claims Victory

Rank: A- Maximum Targets: 1 Range: 1m

Classification: Anti-Arthur

A Noble Phantasm that is emblematic of the action that defined the knight Mordred: the death of King Arthur. By combining the holy power of Arthur's armaments with the transcendent magecraft of Morgan's teachings, and reinforcing both with Mordred's own unshakeable willpower and unquenchable hatred, King Mordred gains the power of a fearsome thunderstorm capable of wiping out all of Britain in one fell swoop. This immense power is then concentrated within Mordred's blade, turning it into a weapon capable of matching and potentially surpassing the Tower at the End of the World, Rhongomyniad, at its full strength. Mordred even claims that if they were able to land a killing blow on the King of Storms, it would be enough to erase her from the Throne of Heroes entirely.

The main drawback of this technique is that it consumes incredible amounts of prana to use, meaning that Mordred is left on a very short timer when it is active, potentially risking death in the process. Furthermore, because of the single-minded obsession required to use this technique, each incarnation of Mordred Alter can only use it against an opponent that they have come to well and truly hate, to the point that their destruction is all that will satisfy them, usually in this case some form of Artoria, given their status as an Avenger.

(FGO Effect:) -Applies Target Focus to a single enemy for three turns(activates first).-Increases own damage against Round Table Knight or 'Saberface' enemies for one turn(activates first). -Applies Ignore Invincible to self for one turn(activates first). -Remove Anti-Enforcement Defense from all enemies(activates first). -Deals damage to one enemy that ignores Defense buffs. -Charges own NP gauge(effects increase with Overcharge). -Inflicts Curse for five turns to all enemies.

Voice Lines:

Summoned: Greetings. I am King Mordred, Avenger Class Servant and child of Artoria Pendragon and Morgan le Fay. I stand as the King of Camelot, and the one who will bring it to prosperity. Truly, it is an honor to make your acquaintance… Master.

Level Up 1: Not enough. Damnit, this still isn’t enough to surpass my father…

Level Up 2: My powers grow stronger. Hahahahaha! If only Mother could see me now!

1st Ascension: Ahhhhh, that’s better. It’s nice to finally get out of that helmet for a while. Allow me to reintroduce myself. I am Mordred, King of Camelot. If you need me to help you save mankind, then I shall lend Clarent and Excalibur to aid you.

2nd Ascension: Nothing changed this time around, huh? That’s fine for now. In due time, I’ll be able to show you my full potential as king.

3rd Ascension: Wha…?! Why am I wielding Carnwennan now?! Damnit, I should be armed with Excalibur and Clarent! How else am I supposed to prove myself as king?! …no, no, it’s not your fault. I suppose that I am better suited to using the Holy Dagger instead of the Holy Sword. Regardless, this is a major pain in my ass… But I suppose I can make do.

4th Ascension: My father never really cared about me… My mother saw me as nothing more than a tool… The people of Camelot all hated and reviled me. And yet? Here I stand as king, in defiance of all expectations of me. Heh… Hehehehehe… Hahahahahahaha! If only they could see me now! All their heads bowed before me!

Fight Start 1: Lay down your arms and I shall show you mercy. Otherwise, I will end your life here and now.

Fight Start 2: As king, it’s only right that I take the stand at the front lines.

Fight Start 3: Hahahahaha! Finally! It was getting boring waiting for some action!

Fight Start 4 (Fatal Battle): You… You! You took everything from me! My kingdom! My love! My right to rule! If I can’t reign over Camelot… If I cannot be accepted by this country… Then I can at least watch you die by my hand!

Skill 1: Destiny has no hold on me!

Skill 2: Oppressors cannot control me!

Skill 3: Not even Mother or Father can stop me!

Command Card Select 1: I am… most unsatisfied.

Command Card Select 2: Fine, I guess I’ll step in to help.

Command Card Select 3: I’ll carve you to pieces!

Noble Phantasm Select 1: Rain down, Lightning! Roar out, Thunder!

Noble Phantasm Select 2: I will carve you apart… And leave nothing but blood and mist behind!

Noble Phantasm Select 3(Against any ‘Artoria’ enemy): I slew the King of Knights once. I’ll simply do it again! Now prepare to die, Father!

Attack 1: Drop dead!

Attack 2: Shut your damn mouth!

Attack 3: It’s useless! Just give up!

Attack 4: I’ll crush you!

Attack 5: Carve them to pieces, Carnwennan!

Extra Attack 1: Let’s see what breaks first… Your spirit! Or your body!

Extra Attack 2: Can you handle this?! No escape!

Extra Attack 3: Be it sword or sorcery… I reign as the king of all!

Noble Phantasm 1:

In my right hand, I bear the sword of kings, Clarent!

In my left hand, I bear the sword of gods, Excalibur!

As the true heir of Camelot, these two sacred weapons bend to my will!

And so too shall all kneel before me or die at my hand!

LA MORT ARTU!

Noble Phantasm 2:

My father was the King of Knights.

My mother was the Witch-Queen.

And I… have surpassed them both.

Now, I stand as the true King of Camelot.

La Mort Artu.

Noble Phantasm 3(Against any ‘Artoria’ Enemy):

No more am I going to be left behind in your shadow.

No more am I going to pick up the pieces of your legacy.

It doesn't matter if Camelot burns to the ground…

It doesn't matter if all of humanity turns against me…

When this is over and done with…

I promise you, 'Father', the world will forget you were even mourned.

The Legend of King Arthur… DIES NOW!

Damage from Noble Phantasm: BAAAAASTAAAAAAAAARD!!!

Regular Damage: Khhhh! You little-!

Defeated 1: Bullshit… THIS IS BULLSHIT!

Defeated 2: You…! This isn’t over, damnit!

Defeated 3 (Fatal Battle): Why…? Why?! What did I do to deserve this…? Do you hate me that much, Father?!

Victory 1: And that is how a true king gets it done.

Victory 2: Is that all? Barely even worth remembering…

Bond Level 1: Thank you for taking the time to be with me. I understand that you are busy as the Last Master of Humanity. I know I am a king, but still, it's humbling to know that someone like yourself is willing to spend time with someone like me. ...it's nice, having someone to talk to again.

Bond Level 2: Excalibur and Clarent... The blades that belong to the king. After the death of Arthur, I took them for myself as a sign of my right to rule over Camelot. Unfortunately, the swords of kingship don't seem to agree with me on that front. Never in my life have I seen either of these swords scratched, let alone cracked... Am I truly that unworthy of kingship...?

Bond Level 3 (Clear "The Altered Realm of Swords and Sorcery: Britannia"): *sigh* So the truth is out, huh? Shit, this is a pain in the ass... I was hoping that I would be able to keep up this charade for a little while longer. Then again, it was so annoying having to play 'the good king' for so long. So, 'Master'. The Knight of Treachery is here, at your service. Or rather, you are at my service.

Bond Level 4 (Clear "The Altered Realm of Swords and Sorcery: Britannia"): You… Why do you look at me with those eyes? Like I am some kind of abandoned child? Like I’m some sort of stray that needs pity?! I am a King! I am the villain who slew King Arthur! I am the monster that reigns over Camelot! And yet you still think of me ...no matter. You'll turn out like all the rest. One way or another, I will make you kneel.

Bond Level 5 (Clear "The Altered Realm of Swords and Sorcery: Britannia"): …you really do see the good in all things, don’t you, Master? I suppose that is undoubtedly your most admirable trait. Be that as it may… Never look at me with those pitying eyes again. I have my pride, both as a knight and as a king, and if you dare insult that pride, I will not hesitate to end you. But if you will treat me with the respect I am owed? Perhaps there is a place at my side for you.

Dialogue 1: It’s nice, isn’t it? Having a bit of time to relax and have peace? Most of my life I just knew combat, so being able to sit around and do nothing is nice, isn’t it? …it’s too quiet around here, I’m bored.

Dialogue 2: I am at your service, Master. If there is an enemy before me, I will crush it at your command.

Dialogue 3: I know that contractually, you are the Master, and I am the Servant, but at the same time, I am still your king. Don’t get any bright ideas, got it?

Dialogue 4 (Clear "The Altered Realm of Swords and Sorcery: Britannia"): So many Servants in Chaldea, so many pawns to play with… All ready and willing to be sacrificed upon your orders, ‘Master’. … Hah! That look on your face was pretty frightening. Don’t worry, I just wanted to see how you would react.

Dialogue 5 (If you have any Artoria Pendragon(Saber)): So the Once and Future King has come to Chaldea. How lovely… Hm? Oh, don’t worry, Master. I suppose I can play nice with my Father for now, if you need me to. That being said… I will crush her again when the time comes. Then, everyone will understand just who the true King of Camelot is.

Dialogue 6 (If you have Artoria Pendragon(Lancer Alter) after Clearing "The Altered Realm of Swords and Sorcery: Britannia"): The King of Storms… That phantom I summoned back then to run rampant as a Berserker. …did she really mean those words she said to me back then? No, it doesn’t matter. She is King Arthur, and I am Mordred. In the end, we are to be enemies.

Dialogue 7 (If you have Mysterious Heroine X or Mysterious Heroine XX): Another one of the Fathers wandering around Chaldea, I see. Is that ballcap of yours meant to be a disguise or something? …what? “I am no Artoria, I am the spacefaring defeater of Sabers and hero of the Servantverse?” GET REAL! If you’re gonna hide your identity from me like a coward, at least give me a reasonable excuse instead of that crap!

Dialogue 8 (If you have any other ‘Artoria’ Servant): …Master. I’ve noticed we have a bit of a… multiplicity issue. I seem to be seeing several versions of my Father wandering around Chaldea. One is dressed as a showgirl, another seems to be my father as a child, and yet another seems to be a man. Not to mention the multiple evil Fathers walking around. …we have how many here?! I see. Excuse me, but I have to go step out a bit and scream my head off. I’ll return shortly. *click* AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

Dialogue 9 (If you have any ‘Saberface’ Servant): Hello, ‘Father’. How about we settle this once and for… …huh? Wait, you’re not- Then who are- DAAAAAAGH! DAMNIT, I’M IN THE WRONG ROOM! YOU! You didn’t see anything! *SLAM!*

Dialogue 10 (If you have any ‘Round Table’ Servants): So this is the Knights of the Round Table from Chaldea. Still as loud and obnoxious as always, no matter what universe, isn’t it? …I admit, part of me wishes I hadn’t divided the Round Table into two during my rebellion. Only a handful of us survived, and even then, none remained in Camelot. It was kind of lonely running the kingdom by myself, y’know?

Dialogue 11 (If you have any ‘Enemy of the Round Table’ Servants): Ah, I’ve heard of you! Yes, a great and powerful enemy of Camelot, one that brought even the great King Arthur to their knees! Of course, I was the one who managed to kill her for good… Hm? Oh, nothing, just talking to myself. Say… how about you and I get to talk a bit? I’ll treat you to some good booze and we can talk shop about reducing Camelot to rubble, hm?

Dialogue 12 (If you have Lancelot(Saber)): So this is the Lancelot of Proper Human History, is it? Hah… I guess, no matter the timeline, you’re still the same, huh? An idiot of a man, too chivalrous for his own good, even if it means his own misery. Hey, care for a spar? I wanna see if you fight as good as the Lancelot of my world.

Dialogue 13 (If you have Lancelot(Berserker)): Lancelot…?! …to think that someone like you would end up like this. …I’m sorry, old man. I should’ve been with you.

Dialogue 14 (If you have Mordred): I gained everything we ever wanted in life… the throne… victory over Father and Mother… even the blade Excalibur is mine! So why… Why do you continue to give me that expression?! Why do you look so much happier than I am?! HUH?! ANSWER ME!

Dialogue 15 (If you have Mordred(Rider)): …a surfboard? Really?! And are you really using Prydwen for your stupid summer games?! NO I DON’T WANT TO STEAL IT FOR MYSELF! …I have my own anyway.

Dialogue 16 (If you have Baobhan Sith): The adopted child of the Lostbelt Morgan le Fay. A spoiled brat of a girl who trails after the Witch-Queen out of some unreconciled loyalty to her. I see, so this is my Lostbelt counterpart, huh? …huh? This brat is supposed to be Tristan?!

Dialogue 17 (If you have Lostbelt Morgan): Oh. It’s you. The ‘good’ version of Morgan le Fay. As witchy as ever. Still beautiful, which of course you would be, with all your magic and sorcery. … You may have the rest of Chaldea fooled, ‘Mother’, but I don’t buy your act for one second. The very instant you dip a toe out of line, I will hunt you down and make you wish I killed you.

Dialogue 18 (If you have Merlin or Lady Avalon): Poor, poor Merlin… forever the observer. The watcher. Forced to gaze upon the mountains upon mountains of failures you’ve created from the confines of Avalon. Tell me, did you know of the truth of my birth? Did you know my fate was to slay the King of Knights? Did you know that was why my father nearly attempted a genocide? …of course you did.

Dialogue 19 (If you have Florence Nightingale): That nurse… she looks at me strangely… I feel simultaneously afraid and comforted by her presence. Ghh! She’s looking this way! Quick, hide me!

Likes: Have you ever gone sailing, Master? I’ve only done it a few times when I was young, but I always feel like the water’s surface is soothing. As if even in the harshest storms, I would be fine. Hmph. Perhaps it is the one blessing my Mother ever gave me… Or perhaps it’s just dumb luck.

Dislikes: Those other mes… those damn idiots. With their smug faces… their arrogant smiles… Everything about their existence is a pestilence that doesn’t deserve to exist!

About the Holy Grail: The Holy Grail… So many of the Round Table sought it out in some form or another. Even my Father sought to attain it for herself, only to fail. In that case, I think I’d like to take it for myself… Perhaps then I can… Hm? Oh, nothing, just talking to myself.

During an Event: Oh, an event is going on? I suppose I should escort you there to see what is going on.

Birthday: Yes, yes, happy birthday and all that. Enjoy your cake and your festivities, and all that stuff. Some of us actually have important things to do. 'What are they?' …shut up.

Profile:

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Deceitful. Cruel. Evil. Greedy. Treacherous. These words have long followed the name ‘Mordred’ for centuries. Since the betrayal of King Arthur, Mordred Pendragon has gone down in history as one of the most infamous traitors to ever live. This Servant is the living embodiment of that very same reputation, being a vile and wicked schemer with an unending lust for power.

A Mordred from an alternate timeline, raised in earnest by their mother, as opposed to their Proper Human History counterpart being abused and ashamed of their heritage of being the child of the Witch-Queen of Orkney. A master of combat, and a genius in Magecraft, this Mordred succeeded in their rebellion against King Arthur, slaying the King of Knights and taking the throne of Camelot as the last of the Round Table.

Bond Level 1:

Height/Weight: 171cm • 65kg Source: Arthurian Mythology Region: Wales Alignment: Chaotic • Evil Gender: Nonbinary

While normally Excalibur's pseudo-immortality would leave Mordred at the same age physically as the time they wielded it, because the Holy Sword is actively rejecting them, they lack the blessing of Excalibur. Instead, this version of Mordred has matured as if they had chosen the Holy Lance, though noticeably lacking the incredible defense Excalibur would normally grant.

"While it is a pain in the ass to lose the immortality of Excalibur... Who needs it when I can just smash any enemy in front of me to pieces?! Besides, look at me! I rule!"

Despite the seemingly higher intellect and maturity, this Mordred is just as childish and petty as the other Mordreds, Holy Sword or no Holy Sword.

Bond Level 2:

"Mother... What the hell is going on here?!"

"Oh, dear... It seems I taught you well, my daughter. Too well."

"Don't change the subject on me! You... Did you seriously try to kill me?! Why?!"

"Isn't it obvious? You were the only thing standing between me and the throne I was owed. That was stolen from me by Uther and given to Artoria! I was the rightful heir to Camelot, and I was denied it!"

"I know that! That was why you wanted me to kill the king, wasn't it?! So a child of Orkney could take back the kingdom?!

"Still so slow on the uptake, Mordred? A pity, I thought I raised you better than that. I didn't want you on the throne. Honestly, I was hoping you and Arthur would end up killing each other. Unfortunately, you survived..."

"So everything you told me... All the care you put into raising me?! All your teachings?! All of it was just so you could get me to kill Father?!"

"Sadly, yes... You were just meant to be a weapon, Mordred. And what a weapon you were. I'm so proud of you..."

SHING!

"GAH, YOU LITTLE BASTARD!"

"You... Mother... No. Morgan! You have committed treason against your king. Stand down now, and I'll spare your life. Otherwise I will kill you!"

"'King...?' What a joke. You aren't even half the king Uther was, much less anything like Arthur. You are just a pathetic weapon meant to sit tight and obey! Do you hear me?! You're nothing more than a filthy homun-!"

SCHLICK!

Bond Level 3 (Clear "The Altered Realm of Swords and Sorcery: Britannia"):

Despite the era of peace Mordred's rule brought to Camelot, it was never enough. Their citizens feared them, seeing Mordred as a bloodthirsty tyrant. Their knights despised them, seeing Mordred as a terrible machine. Nothing Mordred did would ever be enough to repent for the terrible bloodshed and misery the War at Camlann caused, with many crying out for the return of King Arthur to the throne.

The sole allies Mordred had, Sir Lancelot and Lady Guinevere, had left long ago in shame and disgrace, hating themselves for their participation in the Fall of Camelot. Mordred had gained everything they had ever wanted. The throne, the Holy Sword, the crown. And yet, nothing was ever enough to escape the shadow of Arthur.

Desperate and embittered, Mordred eventually decided that the only way to improve their own reputation was to destroy Arthur's own. Using their skill in Magecraft, they summoned an alternate version of Artoria Pendragon, the Altered King of Ghosts, to ravage Camelot, trapping her under Madness Enhancement.

The people would all see the image of the beloved king destroying Camelot, and Mordred as the savior defending Camelot. Then... Then they would love Mordred.

Bond Level 4:

Why...?

Why do they still cheer for you over me? Why do they still claim you to be the Once and Future King? Why do they still hate me?! I'm supposed to be the hero here! I'm saving them! I'm protecting them! From you! And still, they sing your praises, and drag my name through the mud?! Where's the justice in that?!

I've given everything to help Camelot thrive! I've killed so many people... My friends... My brothers... My mother and father... And for what?! For a kingdom that won't accept me?! For a throne that constantly rejects me?! For people that constantly put me in your shadow?! Even in death, you still look down on me! Even after all I've done, everyone only remembers me as the one who killed King Arthur!

Arthur...

Arthur...!

AAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!

...I understand now. Mother was right. You really are nothing but a thief. You stole my glory. You stole my kingdom. You stole my future from me! Everything I do is tainted with your influence. No matter what I do, I will always be compared to you, seen as inferior to you, seen as the evil that will oppose you. Fine then. If the world will only know me as the one who slew King Arthur... Then I might as well live up to this. This time... I will end the Legend of King Arthur permanently.

Bond Level 5(Clear "The Altered Realm of Swords and Sorcery: Britannia"):

Deceitful. Cruel. Evil. Greedy. Treacherous. These are the labels that humanity has given to Mordred. These are all humanity will ever know the knight Mordred to be. After realizing this, Mordred has chosen to cast off all attempts at being a just king, and has fully embraced the idea of being the wicked Knight of Treachery that opposes their father. A cruel and wicked tyrant that seeks to end the very idea of 'King Arthur', no matter the cost and no matter the hatred they get in return.

To that same end, they battled with their father, the Altered King of Storms, in a recreation of their fated duel at Camlann. Father and Son, King and Usurper, once again dueling to decide the future of Britain. The King of Storms took no joy in this battle, once again being forced to face their failures as a king and a father. The Knight of Treachery, on the other hand, threw themselves at Artoria without remorse, not caring for a moment how their body broke or how much blood was spilled. All that mattered was killing the person that stood before them once and for all.

"See Father?! I told you I was better than you! I told you that I would be the better king! Now... Say it! Say that I am your better! Say that I am your rightful heir! Say that I am worthy to be your son! SAY IT ALREADY!"

Extra (Clear "The Altered Realm of Swords and Sorcery: Britannia"):

At first glance, Mordred Alter couldn’t be more different than their Proper Human History counterpart. One is blunt, rude, and callous, the other is clever, polite, and seemingly friendly. One is all too happy to settle a conflict with fist and blade, the other will at least attempt a diplomatic approach before battle inevitably comes. One was a simple weapon, built only to kill and die. The other attempted to become more than that, a ruler that would bring Camelot into an era of peace and prosperity.

At their core, however, they are the same person.

Despite being the one to kill their father, they admire them, desiring nothing more than to follow in their footsteps. One to try and help relieve their burden of being a king, the other to try and help carve a path towards peace and prosperity. Both follow a path of chivalry, despising those who trod upon the innocent and weak, even if their own demeanor makes them seem as though they are the same. They are arrogant, proud, and boastful, not believing that there is any potential for failure on the road they walk, carrying themselves with the dignity and pride expected of a true king.

They want to be respected, to be acknowledged, and to be loved.

But one does not gain such things through force or power. One cannot make it happen by their own will. It is as impossible a task as counting every single star in the sky across the endless universe.

But that’s what Mordred does best, isn’t it? Seek the impossible to make it their own.

[mothtral]

the family notices immediately that their aeon has their benevolent eye on you. how could they not? their aeon’s gaze is a weight they’ve known like the back of their hand since childhood, and it’s always noticeable when xipe… lingers on someone. especially an outsider.

one by one, members of the family approach you. asking if you need any help, if you’re enjoying your stay, do you need help getting back to your room. oh, don’t worry about it, it's no trouble, here, let us carry your bags.

sunday personally shows you around the forbidden zones, a gloved finger held to his lips to quiet your excited giggles. at first, he wondered just what drew xipe to you, but after spending night after night at your side… the picture becomes clear, with you are the main subject.

the family must be doing something right, because sunday shares with them the dream he had. xipe visited him and shared how pleased they were that the family has treated you so kindly. but they want all of them to do more. do anything that would tie you to penacony permanently.

xipe is saddened that they can’t claim you, another aeon having laid their filthy claws on you prior to your visit to penacony. no matter. things like this can break. it just takes a little time. thankfully, the dreamscape is a wonderful place where reality and time are things of the past.

(second part in another post.)

[thehollowwriter]

Meet Finn Clearcove, Octavinelle's silent observer!

(Art by @/authoruio (left), @/quartztwst (middle), and @/boopshoops (right))

Finn is an Octavinelle student from Night Raven College. He's seventeen and has a love for butterflies and art, especially music painting. He's got a spooky, dark secret that will be very much not a secret later in this post.

Some Basic Info:

☆Voice Claim: Muichiro Tokiro (sub voice played by Kengo Kawanishi)

☆Class: 2-C

☆Club: Gargoyle Research Club

☆Favourite subjects: Art, biology

☆Homeland: The Coral Sea

☆Species: Cookie cutter shark merfolk (half abyssal, half coastal)

☆Height/length: 147cm/4'9

☆Birthday: 20th November

☆Dominant hand: Right

☆Hobbies: Finn LOVES to paint, not only is he incredibly good at it (just not drawing people lmao) but it's his way of putting down his thoughts and feelings, often in twisted and unsettling imagery. He also loves tending to plants gardening, as well as studying butterflies (they're his favourite animals)

☆Likes: Animals, reading, cooking, music, making drinks

☆Dislikes: Loud noises, large crowds, bright lights,

☆Favourite food: Chocolate mousse

☆Least favourite food: Chicken

Personality:

Finn is very quiet and prefers to spend his time in quiet solitude. He's very anti-social, inexpressive (most of the time), and blunt. He's a character that, although capable of lying, doesn't beat around the bush during the times be does talk.

Finn is very practical and hands on, he likes to get things done and in an efficient manner. He prefers doing things by hand himself rather than using magic or relying on others.

He's immensely confident in himself and who he is, and it gives certain students a nasty surprise when they expect him to be shy and mousy. He may not fit the beauty standard, but he thinks he looks fantastic as well, thank you, though his teeth are a bit off a sensitive spot for him (he doesn't like them)

Finn sometimes misses social cues, but a lot of the time he notices and just ignores them because he doesn't understand the point of them, or the point of a lot of things considered the "norm" really, and he'd rather you just tell him what you're desperately trying to *imply* at him.

Despite his quiet and seemingly calm disposition, Finn is a fella that is ruled by his emotions. He's not on the same level as Floyd (or Morrigan lmao) but sometimes they do override his logical judgement, especially when he feels afraid. He's got a short temper and will not treat you kindly when he's run out of patience, especially if he's overstimulated and irritated already. When he was younger he used to get into fights with Azul's bullies and his own, and bite them and chase them off.

Finn isn't quite as sadistic Jade or Azul or, well, a lot of NRC students, but he'd be lying if he told you he didn't find it amusing or satisfying watching students who couldn't pay the price for their decisions grovel and panic. Or just messing around with students by himself.

Despite all this, Finn is a deeply caring individual towards those he's close to. He feels his emotions vert powerfully, especially love. (Platonic, romantic, doesn't matter). He will fuss over those he cares for and put an effort in to look out for them or protect them if he feels they need it. His main way of showing affection is giving them little gifts like bones, teeth, flowers, or little sketches or mini paintings. He will also be physically affectionate with headpats or something like that, though its more reserved.

(*ahem ahem* he has a horrible problem of enabling those he cares for and letting or helping them get away with shit because he wants them to be happy and doesn't really know how to provide that in any other away. He won't let them walk over or hurt himself though, apart from Book 3 but that's a long story...)

Appearance:

Finn has light amethyst purple eyes, long dark green hair, and dark green skin except on his palms and fins, where it seafoam green. Finn has swirling black markings on his back, shoulders, and arms. His left shoulder has a large patch of bad scarring. He has long black claws and nasty teeth that'll give the tweels a run for their money. They are smaller, but there are many of them and they look sinilar to that of an anglerfish's teeth, and his jaw is hinged in a way that lets Finn bite perfectly circular holes into things, like his irl counterparts do. His tail is just like that of a cookie cutter shark's. He has hard to notice freckles on his face and stretch marks on his stomach (and thighs in his human form).

Finn has a band of black scales around his neck, and from just below that all the way to his navel are photophores that glow in the dark, which helps him camouflage and can even make him look like a school of fish from below.

He's very short, noticeably shorter than both Riddle and Epel, but he is fat and that unfortunately means that on land, his clothes are either too big on him or too tight T.T

His human form is the same, except he has legs, is slightly taller, and isn't green anymore djdiso. The teeth and black markings (but not the one on his neck) also remain.

Important Things To Know:

☆Unique Magic: Mirror Image. He can copy the voice of anyone he directly touches and their physical form if he pushes hard enough. If he wants, he can limit it to certain characteristics. (E.g: voice or eye colour). He can also copy their unique magic. However, it often comes out "wrong" (for example, King's Roar will result in a goopy black tar instead of sand), and if it results in a physical object like Riddle's collar, the object will look nonsensical and ai generated

☆Finn is gay and polyamorous and is currently dating the octotrio and @theleechyskrunkly 's Aurinelle

☆Finn is autistic

☆Finn's dad Silas is an abyssal mer that taught him Abyssal magic, a form of magic thought to either be a myth or lost art. It is extremely powerful and dangerous, but Finn only knows a few spells so far and rarely uses it (he rarely uses magic outside of classes in general)

☆Finn is haunted by the ghosts of the siblings that he devoured in the womb. They cause him intense fear and frequent nightmares that have been affecting him negatively for a while now. They also make a sense of dread settle over anyone who look in their direction (aka at Finn because they always hover around him)

Finn's Family:

Finn's Papa is Silas Clearcove, a butcher originally from the Abyss. His other dad, who unfortunately passed away before he was born, is Morrigan Clearcove

Timo Byun is Finn's big brother figure and was also his babysitter when he was younger. Gale Angeles is someone he views in a similar light, but also kind of as an uncle? Most of his Papa's staff are like aunts and uncles to him.

Alastair Blair and Ezra Citlalli are Finn's godfathers. He doesn't see them often but they do their best to visit when they can and make sure they spoil him.

@distant-velleity 's Chrysos eventually becomes Finn's adopted brother :) atm he's Finn's favourite first year, who Finn views as a little brother.

Finn has a grandmother on Morrigan's side, as well as several aunts, uncles and cousins. He barely sees them and dislikes all of them.

Backstory:

Finn's backstory isn't particularly long or complicated.

Hewas born under depressing circumstances, freshly after his dad's murder and after eating his own siblings who ended up attaching themselves to him permanently. Those things aside, though, he's had a fairly happy upbringing brought down only by the ghosts or his classmates who would either avoid or bully him. He became friends with octotrio during their time at the land boot camp, and they fell in love and got together by the end of their first year at NRC. Most of the important plot stuff for him happens after Yuu arrives tbh

Some Fun Facts/Extra Info

☆Finn has a lot of first aid knowledge and is part of the school's first aid team

☆Finn has made a number of friends during his time at NRC! To name a few, @ramshacklerumble 's Gia, @the-banana-0verlord 's Lilian, and @tixdixl 's Kinglsey. There's more as I have moots with many ocs who just vibe well with Finn XD

☆Finn's voice is incredibly soft and ASMR worthy. It's oddly calming though sometimes you'll have to ask him to speak a bit louder

☆He's very good at flying and enjoys it a lot

☆He listens out for information that will benefit Azul, since when not looking directly at him most students don't even notice he's there

☆He sometimes goes to the beach to swim and catch fish to eat and/or share with his friends and partners

Art by @/clovenoko

...........................................

A/N: Yaaaay my boy got a redo! I hope ya'll like it :P

Tagging: @distant-velleity @br3adtoasty @rainesol @theleechyskrunkly @jovieinramshackle

@galaxies-and-gore @cyanide-latte @cynthinesia @officialdaydreamer00 @krenenbaker

@offorestsongs @kitwasnothere @elenauaurs @boopshoops @inotonline

@1dont-really-know @kazumify @minteasketches @elysia-nsimp @skrimpyskimpy

@casp1an-sea @offorestsongs @tixdixl @poisoned-pearls @the-trinket-witch

@ramshacklerumble @ghostiidasponk @thegoldencontracts @the-banana-0verlord @cloudcountry

@skriblee-ksk @twstinginthewind @lumdays @theolivetree123 @natsukishinomiyaswife

@authoruio @jewelulu @raguiras @honeynclove @moonyasnow

@quartztwst @skibidibabygirl @paperclvps @devosin

@pinky27freak

[alexawynters]

Scarlet Whispers - pt 2

Gif not mine

A/N: Not sure about the formatting, copy and paste didn't quite work out as planned. Title subject to change, not sure how I feel about it. This is my first published fic here so pls be gentle. Also I'm terrible at summaries.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female!Reader

Trigger warnings (let me know if I forgot to tag anything): Mentions of past child abuse, ongoing adult child abuse, stalking, horror, dubcon, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, gaslighting, angst, smut. There will be bits of fluff tho.

Rating: M. Minors DNI

Master list here

You miss your stop.

Not only do you miss your stop, but you end up all the way at the bus depot before the driver notices you passed out in one of the seats. The driver, a kindly older gentleman, offers to give you a lift home since it is the end of his shift anyway. He takes pity on you, perhaps due to your tired and sad appearance. Interestingly, no one seems to notice the red wisps behind his eyes.

You appreciate his kindness, but you are anxious about returning home. A quick look at your phone reveals that it is well past 6 PM and you have missed multiple calls and texts from both of your parents. This is not going to end well. In simple terms, you are fucked. Fortunately, the man doesn't seem to notice your restlessness as your leg bounces nervously as he gets closer to your home.

As you exit the vehicle, you politely thank him and offer to pay for the gas, but the man refuses. His accent changes slightly as he says, "anything to help." You shrug it off, as it is not your concern where people are from. Your focus is on more pressing matters. After closing the door, you square your shoulders and mentally prepare for the absolute shit show awaiting you as soon as you step through the front door.

It shouldn’t surprise you that your father’s booming voice is the first to be heard. “Where were you?”

You start with the truth. “Dad I’m sorry, I was on the bus after my exam, I fell asleep with my headphones-”

”I don’t want your excuses! While you live here under our roof, you will show us some respect, you will follow our rules! You had chores to do today, why didn’t you do them?”

A bead of sweat trails down the back of your neck. You hate being interrupted, and you hate being asked questions when they clearly don’t want the answers. Besides, you are in your twenties, not a child. “As I was saying, I-”

This time your mother interrupts. “Don’t speak to your father like that. He asked you a question, we expect you to answer it!.”

You grit your teeth. “I fell asleep on the bus, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Always with the excuses this one.” Your father laments. “Do you think your future employer is going to care about any of that? No. He’s just going to want to know why you weren’t there.”

It takes every ounce of your sanity to not snap that your answer is the reason WHY you weren’t there, and not simply an excuse. Instead you hold your tongue. They aren’t here to listen, they don’t care. They just want to yell at you, and for you to be sorry.

“I tell you, with behavior like that it’s any wonder at all you’d even be able to keep a job. They would probably fire you on the spot, and then you would be right back on our doorstep, our problem once again to pick up the pieces.”

It’s all hypothetical of course - you’ve never been late to any of your classes, but you have not yet had a job, you weren’t allowed to. You are sure you wouldn’t be late to it though if you were to treat it like your classes. You know you can’t tell your parents this however. Might as well bite the bullet and get it over with.

“Yes Dad, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? Saying sorry simply doesn't cut it! Sorry doesn’t fix the problem that you caused, so tell me, how are you going to make the problem right?” he demands. A vein throbs in his forehead. Absently you think about how he knows he should watch his blood pressure, but that would require him to watch his temper. Y/D/N could never.

You know what he is looking for, he wants you to do your chores now, but it’s after 8PM and your exam is at 8AM. If you do your chores now, that leaves you little time for last minute studying, eating, bathing, sleeping, and then catching the bus back to the university. Helplessly, you look to your mother for help.

“Don’t look at me, this is your mess you’ve created. If you had just done what you were supposed to, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. If you had just been good, you could be doing whatever it is you do with your free time right now.”

It had always annoyed you greatly that your parents were unaware of your academic achievements. While it's true that you didn't have the best grades as a child, once you entered university and chose a major, you became a straight-A student, even going so far as to make the President’s list the last three years in a row. However, in their eyes, you would always be the little underachiever they had to take care of.

Tears well up in your eyes. This situation wasn't fair. It was an accident. You had fully intended to come home and do your chores, but you couldn’t have known you would sleep through your alarm on the bus. You had been so incredibly exhausted that you experienced a vivid nightmare whilst awake. You were aware that you needed more sleep, but your degree was your only way out of this miserable place. You couldn't risk losing it all just because you missed a few hours of sleep now and then.

“Please?” You beg. You didn’t have anything else to argue in your defense. “I’ll leave my headphones in my bag this time, I’ll set multiple alarms, I won’t sleep, just please let me go study!”

Your parents look at each other, having silent communication. Seeming to come to an agreement, your mother speaks first. “Y/N we’re sorry it has to be this way, but you have already proven on multiple occasions that we can’t trust you to do the right thing. Tonight, you are going to do your chores even if it takes you all night to do it. Besides, we all know you’re not studying up there. For all we know you’re just up there masturbating in the window or something.”

Being stabbed in the chest would have been less painful. You don't understand why you're caught off guard; it's not like your mother hasn't said off the wall shit like this in the past. It's almost as if she thrives on finding the most hurtful and outrageous statements to throw in your face, as if you deserved them. As if you had ever done any of the things she accused you of. Like you were some sort of deviant, when all you wanted was simply the right to exist.

“What the actual fuck, Mom?!” you scream, having finally had enough. Both of your parents look taken aback. Rare is it for you to raise your voice at them, even more so to curse at them. “I know you’ve been pretty checked out of my life for a while now, but I’ve had a 4.0 GPA for the last three years. I don’t know where you got that… comment… from, but I can assure you that all I want to do is go to my room and study.”

“Now listen here young lady,” begins your father.

"No, YOU listen, Father," your voice dripping with sarcasm. “You were right about one thing, and that is I am a gods damned adult. I take my studies seriously, and while it may come as a surprise to you since neither of you have paid any actual attention to my life since I turned 18, though it could be argued you really stopped paying attention earlier except for when I was being an inconvenience, but I am actually a great student. This is my last semester before graduating with honors and again, a 4.0 GPA, and I will have my choice of job opportunities. I will leave this place, and you miserable old bats will have no one to be your punching bag anymore. Then maybe just maybe you can finally take a look at the flaws and fix what's wrong with your own marriage, instead of trying to break ME!”

Your chest heaved. It felt good to speak your truth, but as the silence grew, you began to realize that you might have made a mistake.

Your father has finally gotten out of his chair, looming over you. A resounding slap echoes across the room as your father backhanded you, knocking you to the floor. “You ungrateful, miserable little bitch! I don’t know what lies those ‘professors’ at the university have been filling your head with, but you have no future, and you are lucky your mother and I care enough to let you live under our roof! And so long as you do, you will obey our rules, and show us the respect we deserve!”

Fearful, you scramble back to the wall and attempt to push yourself to your feet. “If that’s the price of living here, then I will happily live in the University’s library. One week, that’s all I need!” You step forward to make your escape from this house, but this time your mother shoves you, and once again you find yourself on your knees.

You raise your hands in self-defense, but your mother sneers, "Do it, Y/N, hit me, and you'll be out on your ass faster than you can blink!" Crying, you lower your hands and prepare to allow her to strike you.

The lights went out all at once, and everyone froze. Has the power gone out? It couldn’t have, you could still hear the hum of the AC unit. So what was wrong with the lights?

The lights turn back on as suddenly as they had gone out, and all three of you look around in confusion. However, despite the lights returning, the room appears darker, creating an almost eerie atmosphere. The shadows cast a looming presence over all of you, sending a shiver up your spine. Your home, which you have lived in for around twenty ish years, suddenly feels foreboding, and you wonder if it's too late to flee. It almost resembles one of the nightmares you have been experiencing recently.

Red mist fills the room, a dreadfully sinister voice speaks. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

All three of you turn to the source of the sound - the corner of the room, as a red and black leather-clad boot, attached to black leather pants, steps through a portal and into the room. The Scarlet Witch follows, radiating her full glory. She warns, "If you wish to keep your body parts intact, you will never lay a finger on Y/N ever again."

You’re pretty sure your eyebrows have never been closer to meeting your hairline before and yet here we are. You don’t know who this unfamiliar lady is, nor how she seems to know you but God damned if that outfit doesn’t look as if it has been painted onto her. You blush at your sinful thoughts. Now is not the time, and you’re pretty sure you’re having a stroke of some sort. If nothing else, however, you are grateful for the reprieve from your beating.

Meanwhile, your parents had never taken well to being told what to do, by anyone, they certainly weren’t going to now by this costumed stranger. Your mother bristles. “Who is this Y/N? Another one of your little whores?” Completely disregarding the fact that you have never in fact had a partner in your entire life, and you don’t know whether to be pleased that she seems to think you’re capable of having a sex life or affronted that she thinks you’re some type of floozy. Your mother’s words, not yours.

“What? No, I-” You look helplessly from the floor between your parents and this woman you now recognize as the one from your visions, and the same one from your hallucination this morning. Is she here to help, or to hurt you? She has been your savior and aggressor in both; there’s no telling which she has chosen for now. Glancing between them, you are unsure how to de-escalate this situation. There is no way to convince your parents, for their own safety, that this woman is powerful and not to be trifled with. Nothing you could say, they would believe, and you were pretty sure this woman would kill your parents without a second thought if they didn’t tread carefully.

Seeming to sense your struggle, the woman speaks up in your stead. “As I’ve said, you would do well to keep your hands to yourself. I am here to take Y/N with me, and you will not stand in my way. This is your only warning, which I am giving to you out of consideration for Y/N.”

She reaches down for your hand to help you back up. Hesitantly, you take it, ignoring the shock that runs throughout your body, and begin questioning your entire reality. Take you with her? Who even is she? Where exactly is she going to be taking you? You had questions, and you would like some answers, but if you didn’t get your parents to stand down, you were pretty sure she would follow through on her threat. Sure, your parents were trash, but they were all you had. You loved them, and you were certain that, in their own warped way, they loved you, too.

She helps you up and proceeds to give you a thorough once-over, carefully inspecting your injuries. Her intense scrutiny makes you blush. Meanwhile, your parents remain silent, their thinly veiled anger evident as they observe your interaction. How dare this woman speak to them in such a manner? Thankfully, they wisely choose to keep quiet. Perhaps they also sense the dangerous aura emanating from this woman, perceiving her as a true threat. Then again, it could be due to the fact that she just stepped through a literal portal conjured out of thin air moments ago. Maybe they had been paying attention, but even you are unsure of what is real anymore.

Still holding your hand, the Scarlet Witch leads you back towards the portal she arrived through. "Come, Y/N, we have much to discuss." At this point, all you could do was helplessly trail after, hoping you weren't going from bad to worse. At least by leaving, your parents would be out of danger. As for yourself, well... It was clear that the Scarlet Witch wanted something from you. Hopefully, whatever that was would be sufficient to ensure your survival. Perhaps even enough to negotiate with.

At the last possible moment, your mother chooses, whether out of genuine love and concern for your well-being, or fear at the loss of her control over you, to reach out to take you from this bizarre woman. “Mother, no!”

Y/M/N finds herself promptly flung onto the wall behind her, and stuck there, unable to move. You aren’t sure who exactly screamed but you’re pretty sure it was every member of your family. The Scarlet Witch hadn’t even turned to look, the only indication she had even been involved is the raised hand, opposite the one holding yours, with dark, ink-stained fingertips, bent at slightly odd angles.

“Stop, please! Let her go, she won’t do it again, please! I'm sorry, please!”

Unsure of why you are begging for this woman’s life when she has spent the entirety of yours making sure you were miserable. Still, your heart lurched at the thought of anything happening to your mother. You didn’t like her, and if you never saw her again, that was probably for the best, but you certainly didn’t want anything bad to happen to her.

The Witch took a deep breath, seemingly to calm herself, before turning to face you.

In the softest voice you had ever heard she whispers “Detka, I-.” She opens and closes her mouth a few times, deciding what to say. To your absolute mortification and delight, she leans down to place a gentle kiss on your forehead, and promises “I will let them live, but I must say my piece.”

You nod, completely dumbstruck at everything happening in this moment. What. The. Fuck.

Y/M/N, still pinned to the wall, whimpers and struggles to move but is clearly unable to. The Scarlet Witch turns from you to face your parents. Another wave of her hand, and your mother slumps to the floor, alarmed, but otherwise unharmed. It is clear whatever the witch did, both she and your father are now restrained.

Footsteps approach the pair, and the lights in the house flickered ominously. Despite your mother being nearly 40 years older than her (or so you assumed, as you had no idea of this woman's age), the power emanating from her exuded confident malevolence. She showed no fear towards them, and for once, although ashamed to admit it, you were glad to see that they were afraid of someone else.

Though she was only about 5'6", the woman knelt before your parents, her voice filled with menacing intent. "I know everything you have ever done, everything you ever could do, and everything you ever will do. I know what you are guilty of. I know what you deserve, and I can assure you that it is not mercy. I will spare your lives and leave you unharmed due to the kindness of your daughter, the daughter you’ve abused for decades." As her head tilts, you can't help but feel that she becomes even more dangerous. "But if you ever try to take her from me again, I will seek retribution on her behalf, and I promise you it will be the most excruciating agony you have ever experienced. Do we understand each other?"

You squirm uncomfortably. This should not be doing things to you, but then again, no one had ever stood up for you. Ever. Gods you needed therapy. It’s fine. Little boxes, and this was for a little box for later.

The witch stood up and once again took your hand, leading you through the portal and leaving your parents behind. Perhaps for good, you weren’t entirely sure, and you suddenly realized you didn’t care. Anywhere was better than here; even if this woman was dangerous, at least for the moment, she seemed to care about you, and that was enough for you to follow her to the ends of the earth.

Again, therapy…

The pair arrive at a massive stone temple, which you would later learn is called Mount Wundagore, the Scarlet Witch's temple. It is built into a massive, rugged mountain with steep cliffs, situated above dense forests and enveloped in mist. The mountain exudes an air of mystique and possesses an eerie atmosphere. Scattered across its walls are depictions of the woman in front of you, accompanied by various runes whose significance you suppose hint at a potentially supernatural importance.

The Scarlet Witch does not make much of an effort for introductions, nor explanations, simply heads towards the entrance to her temple.

“What is this place?” you ask, hints of awe and fear in your voice

“Our home.” 

Your brain stutters. “I’m sorry, what now?” 

“Detka, do not pretend you did not hear me, I don’t enjoy repeating myself. This is our home.” Her accent sounds vaguely Eastern European, and becomes more pronounced the more irritated she is. You wonder when she started trying to hide it.

Your mind balks at the idea of this being your new home, it couldn’t be less foreboding. “Uhhh… this.. is a giant stone temple in BFE nowhere, with ice, snow, and-”

Movement startles you out of your reverie. Beings made entirely out of stone shift from foot to foot, as if adjusting their stance. Their eyes have the same red glow as the woman who leads you now.  

 “Are those rock trolls??” The stone guardians loom threatening, but make no move to engage, they await their Queen’s orders. “Right. Rock trolls. Why is this our home? WHERE is our home? And,” you spin, taking the aesthetic of the temple in, trying not to have an anxiety attack. “What do you mean -our- home? Who are you, and what do you want with me?”

You can’t tell if the faint twitch of the other woman’s lips is in amusement or annoyance at your ramblings, but in your defense, she had let you speak uninterrupted. You were known for getting entire paragraphs out if left unsupervised - it was a talent and a curse. Personally you felt she should be grateful you weren’t jumping down her throat, you didn’t know anyone else who would be taking this half as calmly as you were. Then again, you were still waiting on your Hogwarts acceptance letter at 25. 

“My name is..” she hesitated. “Wanda. I am.. I was an Avenger.”

You looked on blankly, hoping she would elaborate. The fuck was an “Avenger”?

"In my universe," (you filed away the fact that she implied the existence of a multiverse for later, as it was a problem for another time) "the Avengers are superheroes. Well, that's what we called ourselves - Earth's Mightiest Heroes. A bit arrogant, if you ask me. We dealt with threats that the military and ordinary people couldn't handle. We were the last line of defense. We saved the world countless times, but at a great cost of lives. We were vain, thinking we were above it all because we believed we were acting for the greater good. But try explaining that to those who were lost as collateral damage.

I digress. We.. were considered to be heroes. There were several of us, we were a team. A family. We lived together, fought together. Died together. Until we didn’t.”

Wanda explains the dynamics of the Avengers team, including how she and her brother Pietro joined. She mentions Pietro's death in the battle against Ultron, as well as the events leading up to and the battle against Thanos. She also covers the events of the “Blip”, and what happened afterward. However, she conveniently chooses to omit the events of Westview, as she didn't want you to know about that just yet.

“That’s.. wow. Wanda, that's a lot. Honestly, if I hadn’t seen your powers myself, I wouldn’t believe you. But all of that still doesn’t explain why you’re here. You mentioned your universe as being so fantastical, why would you come here? And what do you want with me? If you’re a hero, why are you here in what totally looks like a villain’s lair and not with your other superhero buddies?” You neglect to mention the unease creeping up your spine.

This is fine. Everything is fine. Right? Right. 

A look of utter despair crosses the witches face as she locks eyes with you before glancing away.

“I mentioned my team before, but I didn’t mention you.”

“…” You slow blink. This was not how you thought your day was going to go, and honestly, you were already getting a bit of a headache. Could she be less cryptic because that would be great. More details, fewer questions. Maybe another nap.

"Y/N, where I am from, you were also an Avenger. You had joined the team before Pietro and I, and were one of the few who made us feel welcome. Despite the fact that we had previously been enemies, you didn't treat us as ticking time bombs. Instead, you welcomed us with open arms. Your go-to tactics were kindness and understanding, which made it hard not to want to get to know you. When Pietro died, you were the only one who checked on me and cared. You taught me that grief is just love persevering. You became my closest friend, and over time, I couldn't help when those feelings began growing into something more.”

You swallow uncomfortably. It sounds like Wanda is telling you that in this other universe you both were an item. It’s not that you wouldn’t be honored to be with such an attractive woman, but it feels weird knowing that that was a different version of you. Someone with superpowers, someone likely more confident by the sounds of it. This feels almost as if you are intruding on something you shouldn’t, yet Wanda is the one telling you this; if it weren’t okay for you to know, she surely wouldn’t be sharing. You don’t really know what to make of this; if she has feelings for this other you, why is she here with this version of you?

“In the battle against Thanos, we learned that the source of your powers was an infinity stone embedded in your skull courtesy of H.Y.D.R.A. experiments, which altered your genetic DNA. Thanos had also learned you possessed this Mind Stone and sought to take it from you by force.”

Anguish on her features, the witch turns to you. “You were going to die, Y/N. We tried, I tried, so hard to protect you, to keep you away from him but at every turn he found you. If he had gotten the Mind Stone, he would have been able to enact his plan to rid the universe of half of all life. You told me.” She hiccups.

“Y-you told me it was okay, that you forgive me. That I needed to.. that I needed to destroy the stone to save the universe. I didn’t want to. I would have given anything else but that. But you held my hand and told me you forgave me, that you only felt me. Then Thanos came, and we were out of time. I was the only one with the power to do it because its magic was so similar to my own. I placed my hand to your head and I-.” She is unable to continue, breaking off into sobs.

Oh. So she had to sacrifice you to save the universe. Well. You agree with the alternate you, you didn’t blame her, and you would definitely forgive her. Awkwardly you try to find some way to comfort her. While obviously you were not the same person she had loved and lost, and you knew from your own experiences with loss that sometimes words just couldn’t cut it. Instead, you shuffle forward, making sure you were heard in case she wanted to refuse you, and pullher  in for a hug.

Wanda tenses in your embrace, as if she can’t decide if she wants to sink into it or send you flying. “The worst part,” she continues, “was that it meant nothing.”

If you were a dog your head tilt might have been cute.

“In the end, Thanos was still able to get the Mind Stone, and you were still dead, by MY hand, and it all meant NOTHING!” Wanda wrenches herself from your grasp, looking positively unhinged. You probably should have been scared. You weren’t. Her wrath did… things… to you. Therapy…

“All because Strange saw supposedly every possible future and CHOSE to let you die to save everyone else. As if there was no other possible outcome!”

Oh, that... that makes more sense. The other you was still dead, and Wanda was definitely suffering from PTSD from her involvement in it. Her little stunt with your parents was probably her way of trying to save you or bring you back to life. But in your universe, there weren't any superheroes, magic, or Thanos to protect you from (that you were aware of at any rate). So what was Wanda doing? This wouldn't bring her version of you back to life. You may have looked and sounded alike, and you might have made similar decisions, but you simply weren't the same person. The lack of the same life experiences meant that you had different personalities, despite having a similar genetic build.

“So we saved the world, and I left to live in exile. After the funeral, Clint handed me your belongings, and in them was a letter. A deed to a plot of land you had purchased in our names where we were going to build a house. I think it was supposed to be a surprise after we defeated Thanos. We had never lost before, not since Pietro - I don’t think it occurred to us that we could. So I drove out to see and.. Y/N I was still so new to my powers. They were still mostly subconscious. I was grieving and... it would be easier if I show you. May I?”

“May you.. what?”

A subtle smile appears on the witches' face at your ignorance. You are tempted to mention how beautiful she looks with that smile. Shaking off the thought, you ponder if she can read your mind, as her smile becomes knowing and a slight blush colors her cheeks. Ink-stained fingers reach towards your temple, but she hesitates, waiting for your consent, and your heart fills with warmth. You nod once, despite not really understanding.

Her charcoal-colored fingers, cold to the touch, make contact with your temple. Just as you're about to complain about the lack of warning, you're abruptly transported into a completely different world, surpassing the immersive experience of any 3D movie you've ever seen. You not only hear and see everything in every direction, but you can also feel and smell it all. It feels as if you are truly present in that moment. It takes a few minutes for you to realize that you are witnessing someone else's memories, to be precise, Wanda's memories.

She starts her memory with the unexploded bomb created by Tony Stark, which sat in the middle of the rubble of the Maximoff residence. In that chaotic scene, there were two children, the twins, hiding in fear under a bed. However, before you could offer any comfort, the scene shifted. The twins had been taken to HYDRA, where they were subjected to brutal experiments. Witnessing their suffering broke your heart, and despite your best efforts, you were unable to interact with your surroundings, although you desperately tried. Repeatedly you threw yourself against the walls of the cells in which the twins were held, hoping to free them from their hellish situation. You observed the twins' powers first emergence: Pietro's as he attempted to reach his sister's side, and Wanda's as she tried to defend Pietro from the scientists.

Scene after scene, each one as traumatic, if not more so, than the last, depicting all the events from Ultron and beyond. And then there's you. Except, it's not really you. You've certainly never possessed the power of teleportation, nor have you ever been so self-assured. This must be Wanda's universe's version of you. With bright eyes and a warm demeanor, you appear as a beacon of light in Wanda's otherwise bleak life. You observe as the version of you in this universe warmly welcomes the twins to the team, a stark contrast as to how the rest of the team treats the newcomers ranging from suspicious to openly hostile.

It’s surreal, watching yourself from outside your own body, knowing this version isn’t really you, but still no less real of a person. Wanda’s memories begin focusing less on missions and more on interpersonal relationships. Specifically, the one developing between yourself and Wanda. It’s intimate and you feel like an intruder watching this unfold. Sadly, as you grow closer, Wanda loses the only other connection she has - Pietro is hit by stray bullets while saving children. A true hero, and there was nothing anyone on the team could do to prevent it. You watch in horror both for the loss of Pietro as a friend, as well as knowing the absolute devastation this will cause your beloved Witch.

You can tell at this point that that’s what she was to you. It hasn't been long, but that bond has clearly already been sealed; you can see the signs in both your alternate self and Wanda. You would have to be blind not to. The loss of her brother does terrible things to Wanda and it’s all your other self can do to try to keep her afloat. “What is grief but love persevering?”

The scene shifts again. Time has clearly passed, and Wanda appears to have healed to some extent. She and the team have become much more cohesive, which delights both versions of you. Your relationship has definitely progressed, if the blush currently gracing your face, extending to your ears, is any indication. You feel the remnants of the emotions from your alternate self. They are not yours, but neither are they entirely unfamiliar. It makes for a disconcerting sensation to say the least. You don’t know Wanda like that, even though this version of you does. You wish you could view these memories dispassionately, free from your alternate self’s emotions that are bleeding through, but you suspect that’s not possible. Once again you try to reassure yourself that you are not the same person, no matter the genetic makeup.

Jarring you from your reverie, next you find yourself in another battle, and this one is massive. There are more superheroes here than you have ever seen before, either in Wanda's memories or in films. This must be the fight against Thanos she had told you about. Dread settles in your stomach like a stone, and for a moment, you contemplate what it will be like to witness your own death.

Traumatizing, for sure, though not for the reasons you had expected. While you are unable to interact with your environment, you are able to freely move about. Instead of looking at the memory entirely from Wanda’s perspective, you move to stand beside yourself. Wanda stands before you, ethereal, magnificent, yet utterly devastated. She knows what she has to do and pleads with you not to make her. It is unjust for a woman so powerful to suffer such loss, and still you implore her to sacrifice your life, her happiness, for the sake of the rest of the universe. It is unfair. It is cruel. You know it, but you ask anyway.

She never could tell you “no.”

You know the moment this universe's version of you had died when you witness the sheer devastation on Wanda's face. Most people would probably look away, but you couldn't. For some unknown reason, you feel compelled to witness this moment in all its horrifying detail, if only to gain a true understanding of the witch and the immense pain she has endured. There were surely few things more intimate than allowing someone to share their own memories, and here Wanda was, granting you unrestricted access to hers. The least you could do was accept this gift she was offering, no matter how painful it might be.

The images that follow blur together, evoking your personal experiences with grief and a sense of detachment from the world. The funeral is somber, one and all everyone dressed in black and grey. Wanda is present only in body, and you can’t blame her. Clint, the archer, hands her your belongings, including the letter she had mentioned. It unnerves you how detached Wanda appears to be at this moment, despite being surrounded by friends and colleagues. You worry about what lies ahead for her. So much loss in such a short time, it didn’t take a psychiatrist to know this would surely take a toll on her. You prayed that her friends came to check on her, but you had a feeling either they didn’t, or in her grief, she refused them entry.

Colors blend into one another and fade out. You find yourself standing on a plot of land in a town called Eastview, crouching next to Wanda as she collapses to her knees. Her body is wracked with anguished sobs as she finally allows herself to grieve. You wish you could interact with this memory, to hold her and alleviate some of her pain, even if only for a moment. Instead, you sit with her, sharing in her pain as she releases it all into the world. Wanda allows herself to experience her grief in its entirety, no longer burying her feelings beneath a veneer of numbness. Colors leech from the world around her, turning it greyscale. You're pretty certain that even at their strongest, the average person's manifestation of grief isn't supposed to do that, but then again, the average person isn't the Scarlet Witch. Briefly, you wonder what consequences this will have on her world. Your head feels fuzzy, and as your vision fades to black, you suppose you are about to find out.

You regain consciousness and find yourself in a world entirely devoid of color. Disoriented, you blink as the details of your surroundings slowly come into focus. In front of you stands... well... yourself. Or rather, an alternate version of you who appears to be from the 1950s, slightly older but still alive. Seated beside 1950’s you is Wanda, also monochrome and dressed in 1950s attire. Blearily, you rub your eyes. It has been a long day, and you are extremely tired, unsure if this is just an incredibly vivid hallucination or if you have actually passed out somewhere.

Alternate you asks Wanda a question, to which you aren’t listening, and she replies with a quip - you still aren’t listening, wondering where you are and why everything is in greyscale. What catches you off-guard though, is the surround sound laugh track that‘s garnered in response. It’s galling to admit but you jump, startled, and look around. There’s no one else in the house besides yourself, the alternate version of you, and Wanda. Where did that come from?

Alternate you replies to Wanda, and again with the laugh track. This time you are not as startled, but no less unsettled. What fresh hell is this? Could this be Wanda’s doing? It doesn’t seem like you can ask her though, as you’re just a passive observer in this strange situation. The last thing you remember, Wanda was grieving in Eastview at the plot of land which alternate you had purchased to start your life together after retiring from being superheroes. Strange grey wiggly woos (as you were starting to refer to her magic) were emanating from the witch, quite different from the familiar scarlet color you had grown accustomed to.

Perhaps this was her doing, if only subconsciously. You tried to recall, didn’t Wanda mention something about her powers being new to her and mostly unintentional? This could be what she had been referring to. Apprehension made a home in your chest as you found yourself dreading whatever was about to unfold before you. Oh no, Wanda, what did you do?

It doesn’t take long after observing the hijinks and mishaps, for you to realize that Wanda's grief had manifested through her powers. She had transformed the town of Eastview into Westview, resembling a 1950s-style sitcom town. Wanda, along with an alternate version of yourself (if you were truly still alive - that part you hadn't figured out yet), and the entire town were trapped. While it may have started unintentionally, Wanda became aware of it and began actively using her powers to maintain her idyllic town, keeping it isolated from the outside world and preventing the townspeople from leaving. In her grief, Wanda was essentially playing house, holding everyone hostage. However, despite her powers growing stronger, it was clear that the people living there were suffering. If you could even consider their existence as living.

There were even two boys - twins, just like Wanda was a twin. Your heart broke, knowing this could not possibly end well. While technically not "real" and not even "yours" at that, watching these boys be born, live, and grow caused you to cultivate a love for them almost as if they were your own. Your heart thumps uncomfortably in your chest; you didn't want to see how this plays out, but you didn't have a choice.

Despite the dysfunction in your parents, you had always wanted a family of your own. An attempt to break the cycle and bring new life - happy and healthy - into this world. You wanted to raise your kids with the love and care you had never experienced yourself.

You understood the motivations of the witch, but that didn't justify her morally questionable choices. Once again, you are condemned to remain on the sidelines, unable to take any action to resolve the situation. You are forced to witness this charade unfold, hoping and praying that it would end well for everyone involved, yet knowing that it would not. How could it possibly?

Despite your bias, after witnessing everything Wanda had endured, you found yourself wishing for the best outcome for her, in particular. Among all the people you could think of, she deserved a break from the misery that had plagued her life until now.

Eventually, it all came to a head when another witch named Agatha Harkness had infiltrated the town with a book called the Darkhold, attempting to convince Wanda to join her and increase their powers. If Wanda refused, the witch planned to take Wanda's powers for herself. Something about a prophecy regarding a Scarlet Witch.

Meanwhile, the alternate version of you had become self-aware of the true nature of Westview. This version of you pleaded with Wanda to prioritize the wellbeing of others over her own happiness, once again. They urged Wanda to defeat Agatha and free the townspeople, even if it meant losing her spouse and children. It was an impossible choice, and you questioned whether you could have mustered the courage to make the same decision in Wanda’s position.

Wanda defeated Agatha, not that you ever doubted her for a moment. She said goodbye to you, again, and then to her boys, and released her spell. The town was free, but her family.. was gone. Wanda was once again on her own.

A startled gasp leaves your lips as you awaken from the memories. It feels like it’s been ages, but from what you can tell, it must only have been minutes since Wanda first began sharing her memories with you. “Oh.”

Cringe. You wish you could have said something, anything more eloquent. Unfortunately, you feel as though you've just been hit by a Mack truck and could nap for a week. It doesn’t help that you were still feeling the effects of lack of sleep for the last couple of weeks. 

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t feel so good, is it okay if I lay down somewhere…?” A quick glance around the temple makes you second guess the question you were about to ask. Stone floors did not make a good bed.

With a tone much softer than she had been using, she replied. "Of course, Detka, you only need to ask." 

An elegant wave of her slender fingers and gone is the stone temple, replaced by a cozy bedroom. At a cursory glance, you can tell it is a sanctuary of comfort and tranquility, featuring a plush, inviting bed. The room is adorned with personal touches, such as framed photographs of you and Wanda, and artwork that is somehow absolutely your aesthetic. Shelves display a carefully chosen selection of your favorite books, each waiting to be explored. These items add character and give the space a feeling that is unique to you, even though you have never set foot in this place before.

“Come,” A glimpse of Wanda and you are surprised to discover instead of her red and black uniform, she is now garbed in an oversized sweater and some cotton sweatpants.

“You have been holding space for others for so long, it is time you took some well-deserved rest. You work much too hard.”

“Uh s-sure.” About to make a comment that perhaps you should also change, but looking down to find that you are wearing your favorite worn Legolas shirt and some pajama shorts.

“Right. Rest.” Part of you wants to ask when you can return to your home so you can finish studying for your exams, but based on previous conversation, context clues tell you that’s the least of your concerns right now, and Wanda probably wouldn’t be too pleased with that topic of discussion right now.

Wanda takes your hand, leading you to the bed and it takes your overworked brain far longer than you care to admit to realize that she means for you both to share it. Your brain short-circuits at all the factors at play here: Knowing that you yourself are touch-starved; this absolute enchantress of a woman dated an alternate universe’s version of you, even going so far as basically playing housewife and mother of your children, and here she was asking you to share a bed. Sure, she wasn’t asking you to sleep with her, but she was still asking you to share a bed next to her and what if you accidentally spooned her in your sleep, and what if-

”You’re thinking too loudly, malysh.”

“What? You can- you’re a mind reader?!” you panic, backpedaling mentally, praying to every deity that existed that you hadn’t had any unsavory thoughts in her presence, and nearly fainting as you recalled that you in fact, had some rather explicit thoughts from the moment you first saw her.. The mortification alone was enough to put you into an early grave. You weren’t sure how you had missed that during everything she had shown you, but you reasoned you were probably more focused on the physical manifestations of her powers. 

"Relax, Y/N. I don't intentionally read minds, at least not anymore. Sometimes, surface thoughts are so loud that I can't help but hear them. Like right now, you're practically yelling them at me," she said, trying to offer a reassuring smile.

Unfortunately, while you were no longer freaking out about having accidentally offended the witch, you were now spiraling down a different path. You were agonizing over the pain you had, and likely were still causing her by thinking so loudly. If you remembered any media involving mind reading, the person with the ability usually suffered greatly at the hands of others unintentionally. Naturally, the average person didn't know how to shield their thoughts, and you were afraid that you might be giving her a migraine. To the woman who had only tried to bring you to a safe place and offer you shelter. 

You began to hyperventilate.

Wanda could see that you were spiraling, even without being a mind reader. It was written clearly on your face. However, being able to hear your thoughts helped her identify the source of your anxiety, and she berated herself for not considering that earlier. This version of you lacked confidence, and it was now Wanda's responsibility to help rebuild it. At least, according to her.

"Your parents really did a number on you, didn't they, detka?"

Cool hands gently held your cheeks, pulling you out of your thoughts. Suddenly, Wanda invades your personal space, and the scent of vanilla fills your nostrils, momentarily distracting you from what was happening.

"We're just going to take a nap, okay Y/N? You don't have to worry about anything. I'm not bothered by any of those thoughts you have." A leering grin unfurls across her face.

“If anything I’m quite flattered by them.” She winks.

Heat flashes across your body, and you can’t tell if you were embarrassed, aroused, or both. Unfortunately, you knew your thoughts were likely betraying you. Gods, if only the floor could just open up right now and swallow you into the abyss. Yes, that would be fantastic.

"However, there is time enough for such things later. It's been years, Y/N, and I've just got you back. Nap with me, please?" The witch's eyes gaze longingly into yours, and well, when she looks at you like that, how could you say "no"?

She leads you to the bed and, with the practiced ease of her time in Westview, pulls you into her embrace as the little spoon. Earlier, you had been worried about accidentally touching her inappropriately or having a dirty dream. Now though, with her arms wrapped so protectively around you, sleep claims you almost instantaneously.

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

My darling Ange, I climb into thy askhole and kindly request some pegging Aemond content. Doesn’t matter if he’s full on submissive or a power bottom, your choice, i’ll take both with open arms and a prepped strap! Much love😽

HERE YOU GO, BOO <3 ENJOY

Warnings: Smut, references to past unpleasant sexual experiences, mention of loss of virginity, pegging (lol) Word count: ~2.5k

Aemond was not sexually experienced when he married her. His expedition with Aegon to the pleasure house in the Street of Silk on this thirteenth name day had been enough to kill his curiosity with regards to carnal acts of the flesh. There’d been so much skin on display, noises and movements he didn’t understand, and not an affectionate gaze shared between anyone he laid eyes on. He’d turned on his heels and run, deciding from that day forward that that was simply something not meant for him.

He was twenty when his mother, encouraged by his grandsire, had decided it was time for him to marry. He had no thoughts on the matter, accepting that it was something expected of him as part of his duties as a Prince of the Seven Kingdoms. The match chosen for him was a young woman, nineteen years of age, of noble birth and from a House that would prove advantageous in securing Aegon’s claim to the throne

She was pretty enough, he supposed. Most surprising was that she didn’t flinch away from his appearance. She seemed to genuinely delight in his company, asking questions about him out of actual interest rather than forced politeness. He finds himself becoming excited for their impending nuptials when he catches sight of her in the library, engrossed in a book. She is fascinating to him.

His lips are cold and chaste against hers when they share their first kiss after exchanging vows in the Sept. Hers are soft and warm and they press to his with enthusiasm. He pulls away, wide-eyed, heart hammering wildly in his chest as she beams up at him. She’d actually wanted to kiss him, and it seemed like she’d enjoyed it. 

It then dawns on him what is to be expected of him after the wedding. In the lead up to the ceremony, his mind had been so preoccupied that he’d never stopped to consider the bedding. His mind travels back to the sights and sounds of the brothel and dread gnaws away at his insides. How could he possibly subject her to that? She is too good for that and even if that were not the case, he doesn’t believe he has it in him.

Aemond stands rigid and uncomfortable when they retire to their marital chambers following the wedding feast. He hadn’t touched his food and had barely spared her a glance during their first dance together as husband and wife, his nerves were too great.

Gently, she reaches up a hand to cup his cheek, coaxing him to look at her. “What troubles you husband?"

The concern that overcomes her delicate features, coupled with her addressing him as “husband” causes his heart to flutter, and shame burns hotly in his cheeks as he makes his confession. “I-I cannot bed you.”

“Then you don’t have to.” She says softly. “Not until you are ready.”

He is overwhelmed by emotion and affection for her. Nobody has ever treated him with such care before. He stares at her for a moment, the tension dissipating from him as he relaxes his shoulders, before surging forward to capture her lips with his own.

They lay tangled together that night, their mouths meeting in urgency into the small hours, and that is as far as they dare to go. Aemond is thankful his position as second son negates the need for a bedding ceremony or for the sheets to be checked for evidence of his wife’s purity the following morning.

As the weeks press on, the urge to do more than just kiss his wife plagues Aemond. As he hovers above her, her doe-eyed gaze is filled with adoration and he can’t help but think how different this experience feels compared with what he witnessed in Flea Bottom all those years ago. She is warm and kind, she makes him feel safe, and she looks oh so beautiful with her hair fanned out across the pillows beneath her head. He can scarcely believe he ever thought of her as just pretty. 

He reasons that the urges he feels for her are not depraved because he is in love with her, and so a month after their marriage, it is finally consummated. Aemond’s jaw goes slack when he first pushes inside of her, her tight, wet heat enveloping him in a way that causes his vision to fog and his mind to empty. Her body slots against his so perfectly and she feels so good, he is almost annoyed he has forced them both to wait this long; they could have been doing this - this - the entire time.

From that point onward Aemond seizes every opportunity to be intimate with her, she is like an addiction to him and he cannot get enough. He is thrilled that his feelings towards her are reciprocated and she is as eager to please him as he is her. They spend hours exploring each other’s bodies, finding out what each other’s likes and dislikes are, while making use of some of the more salacious reading material within the Red Keep’s library to educate themselves on how best to pleasure each other.

When Aemond is tired and sore from training, but still wants to indulge in the intimacy that only his wife can provide, his favourite thing to do is lay top to tail with her, his head resting on the soft flesh of her inner thigh as he licks lazily between her legs, bringing her to peak as she rests at the opposite end of him, driving him to the apex of his own pleasure with her mouth.

They are engaging in this activity when it first happens - her hand moves to cup his sac as her mouth works up and down his length and her finger accidentally grazes the entrance to his rear, at least he thinks it’s an accident. He jerks away, startled, and she apologises profusely, but there is no denying the jolt that the sensation of her touching there had sent straight to the tip of his cock.

“Do it again.” He rasps.

She smiles, circling her finger around his puckered hole as she takes him back into her mouth and when he eventually climaxes he feels he may black out from the force of it.

They have been married six months before she finally works up the courage to breach the tight ring of muscle and insert her finger. The sensation is foreign to Aemond at first and he tenses up, unsure if such a violation is something he really enjoys. That is until she curves her digit and brushes against a spot deep inside of him that causes his stones to tighten in a way that makes his erection throb. His grip on her hair tightens and as he finally releases it is with such potency that she pulls away coughing and spluttering as it unexpectedly hits the back of her throat. After that it becomes a regular part of their shared oral indulgences and Aemond has no complaints.

Another half a year passes and she comes to him in their chambers one evening, a mischievous glint in her eye and a cloth wrapped package in her hands.

“I thought we might try something new.” She says.

“And what might that be?” He eyes her curiously, as she unwraps the cloth covered object.

It is a phallic shaped object, made of black leather, with two, long cotton strips attached to the end. She places it into his hands and when he gives it an experimental squeeze, he can feel that the leather has been stuffed rigid with fabric - more cotton, he guesses.

Aemond raises an eyebrow in question and she blushes before speaking.

“You know how I use my fingers to…well…when we are..you know…”

“Yes, I know.” He cuts in with a wry smile, putting her out of her misery.

She looks gratefully up at him. “Well, I thought we might try something more…if you are open to it?”

“Oh.” He says. “Oh!” Realisation dawns as he looks at the object he now holds. “So what exactly would you do with…this?”

“Well, Aegon says that-”

“Aegon?! Did you get this from Aegon?” His voice raises, yanking his hands back as though he has been scolded, allowing the leather shaft to fall to the floor with a dull thud.

“No.” She responds, stepping forward to gently take hold of his forearms, in an attempt to soothe him. “I asked Aegon for advice, but I had this specially made for us.”

“We will not be engaging in any depravity suggested by my drunken half-wit brother!” Aemond’s nostrils flare with outrage. “And that,” He points towards the offending item, “Is going nowhere near me.”

She nods in understanding and they speak no more of it. Their bedroom activities resume as normal over the coming weeks.

She has two fingers inside of him, her tongue lapping along the length of his shaft as he fucks her with his tongue, when the memory of what she’d shown him crosses his mind again. It sends a shiver of excitement down his spine and before he can stop himself he is propping himself up on his elbows to ask about it.

“What you showed me…do you still have it?”

She stops what she is doing and smirks at him. “Why, yes, dearest husband. What makes you ask?”

His breath is shaky as she pumps lazily at him. “D-do you think we could try it?”

Wordlessly she lets go of him and crawls to the furthest corner of the bed to rummage beneath it. She produces the familiar fabric package, pulling it open to reveal the object Aemond had requested alongside a small cork stoppered bottle of oil.

Aemond swallows thickly, apprehension bleeding together with his excitement. “Will you talk me through it? I want to understand what’s going to happen.”

She gives an encouraging nod. “Well, first, you need to be in a position that’s comfortable. I am told it’s best for you to be on your back, with your backside slightly elevated.”

He lifts his hips to accommodate the pillows that she takes from the head of the bed and places underneath him. In spite of his nudity, he feels oddly exposed by the unusual angle he finds himself laid at. Mercifully, she continues on with her explanation, sparing his discomfort from evolving into mortification.

“This.” She picks up the leather member and uses the fabric strips to fasten it around her hips. “Ties around me. It will allow me to thrust into you as you do to me.”

Aemond’s breath hitches at this, his cheeks flushing hotly. There is a part of him that feels humiliated by the idea of allowing himself to be used, penetrated in the way that a woman is, yet at the same time it has his erection throbbing as it lays flat against his lower abdomen, aching for attention.

“I’ll need to ease the passage of entry.” She explains, holding up the bottle of oil and uncorking it. “Which is where this comes in. Spreading this along the phallus and around your hole will lessen the discomfort.”

Aemond’s breathing picks up, unable to stop himself from stroking at his prick as her fingers work to lubricate his rear, before she spreads a generous slick of oil along the makeshift shaft.

“Stop that.” She chides softly, lightly smacking his hand away from him. “If you peak before we start there is no point in doing it.”

Aemond whines in frustration, his composure crumbling. “Get on with it…please.”

She tuts at him. “Patience. I must prepare you first.”

His eye flutters closed as she pushes her index finger inside of him, dragging it back and forth experimentally. He is unable to contain his moan of pleasure as she slowly adds a second, a slight scissoring motion working to stretch him wider. Droplets of pearly essence secrete from the swollen tip of him, dripping onto his stomach as she enters a third.

“Finally you’re ready for me.” She purrs seductively, withdrawing her fingers and pressing the tip of the phallus against the slight gape of his ring.

She pushes forward slowly and Aemond’s body instinctively stiffens, it is too much, too invasive. He grips the sheets so hard that his knuckles turn white with the effort.

“Breathe for me, my love.” She coaxes. “I don’t wish to hurt you.”

He takes a deep breath, his body going lax as she is finally seated fully within him. She stills, allowing him to adjust as he gets used to the intrusive feel of it. He has never felt so full. The sight of her above him like this, inside of him, sets his heart racing.

“Gods…” He croaks. “Move. Please.”

She obliges, slowly dragging her hips back before pushing them forward again. She repeats this motion over and over, each time he feels the spot inside of him brushed ever so slightly, but it is not enough.

With a snarl, he sits up, pulling her to him and fucking himself against her, the thrust of his pelvis against hers infinitely more brutal than the pace she’d set.

“Eager, are we?” She says with a giggle, clearly happy to indulge him.

Aemond’s only response is a wanton moan, the tip of his erection an angry looking red as it is pressed between them, spreading slick across both their abdomens.

She leans back, taking hold of it and stroking it in time with each thrust. Aemond’s eye rolls back, the pressure building in his balls and the base of his spine reaching a fever pitch as he continues to work himself against his wife’s marital aid.

As he feels himself drawing nearer, his pace falters, becoming erratic and sloppy. Each blow to the rough patch deep inside of him pushes him closer to oblivion. It seems that she senses it too, speeding up her ministrations over his member.

As Aemond topples over the edge he is certain his soul has left this mortal coil. He lets out a strangled cry, a sound he is unaware he is even capable of making, as white hot sparks flash behind his eye. His entire body goes rigid, gripping onto her for dear life as he paints them both with his spend.

She releases him and carefully pulls out when he starts to jerk against her with oversensitivity. He collapses back onto the mattress, succumbing to exhaustion, breathing heavily.

Discarding the toy to one side, she cuddles into his side. “How was that, husband?”

“Mmmm…I saw stars.” He murmurs. “Give me a moment to recover and I shall ensure that you see them too.”

[nu-carniviva]

I really wanted a more lighthearted return to this blog but... I really need to talk about this new event

MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE CURRENT EVENT AND TRIGGER WARNING FOR AB//SE AND R//PE

LONG POST AHEAD

Wow. I just. Wow. They really went all out with serious subject matter for this event. Um, I guess I'll talk about this is order of the characters' memories that were presented

Edit: made some minor mistakes but I'll fix that later

Blade: Blade was a lot from the get-go. I never really enjoy seeing him as his assassin bot self but this was a whole new level of depressing. Blade's memories make it clear that Saia is not a pleasant place. The technology is advanced, but the people are primitive. I believe Blade's story so far isn't exactly about when he was made, but when he became alive.

Blade was designed to behave more human-like in order to infiltrate Klein and assassinate Huey so the continent would crumble. While he was originally just supposed to pass as human enough to mask himself as a trustworthy being, the scientists failed to remember just how complicated human emotions are, and that Blade would be in a continent surrounded by humans away from other automatons/e-droids.

To be a human is to be complex. We are not simple minded creatures with strictly black-and-white thinking. Blade has learned this right away now that observing and mimicking humans is in his programming. His biggest sign of showing his evolution into becoming more human is when he saves the other automaton from dying out on the battlefield. He's seen other humans care for each other and nurse each other back to health when wounded, so he assumed the same would happen for his own kind. Yet, when he brought the automaton to the scientists, they killed him right in front of Blade with no hesitation or remorse. Blade seems to get a moment of realization in that moment. The realization that his kind were made solely to serve and please humans. They truly do not care for him or the other automatons. The humans, or the Saians in particular, see them as disposable things rather than sentient beings.

While in Klein, it's noted that Huey played a massive role in changing Blade to who he is now, but I'm sure he was already starting to rebel against his programming because he had more opportunity to experience a kind version of humanity. The humans in Klein, overall, treat each other kindly and respectfully. Blade has never seen such treatment before, and since that behavior is a part of human nature, he has to observe and mimic it as part of his programming.

Rei: Rei... Experienced a lot. From the very start, Rei shows that he has no issue seducing men to gather information from them. His life is dedicated to research, and he's willing to do anything to gather as much information as he can.

Yet, he clearly wasn't the same type of dedicated researcher he is now. That is shown by the end when he enters his home. His home is a mess, and Rei is surprised to see it in that state, meaning he wasn't always messy. He used to be organized and lived in more of a home than a laboratory that he happens to sleep in. Research was his motivation in life, but it wasn't his life.

While nothing is explicitly stated, it's very very clear that Rei was raped by the man he was talking to at the bar and broke into his house. As he lies there, powerless and corrupted, he snaps. In order to cope, his mind blanks about the events that just happened, and he forces himself to think about his research, hence why he mentions that Saians really do have essence.

Since then, Rei has spiraled into his research. His research became his life. It became his only reason to live. His only reason to keep going. He views life as an experiment to research on. He views his body as destroyed, and now its only purpose is to be a test subject in his research. His house is a mess now too. Papers and products for experiments are scattered throughout the place, and he's protective over each of them. In Rei's mind, his research is all he has control over. It's the only part of him he can protect and see value in. He has no self worth anymore, and I hope we can see that self worth come back as the game progresses.

Kuya: First of all, it's insane how Rei's part ended by dropping a bombshell and then Kuya's immediately opens with dropping a bombshell. This is the absolute closest we have ever seen to Huey's identity. He's masked so we can't see his face, but it appears that his body is very similar to Eiden's. So that alone makes sense why the remaining OG clan members have said he looks like Huey as well as having the same essence.

It's clear from the start that Kuya was Huey's right hand man. He seems to have gone on the most adventures with Huey, and it's most likely from the power that he holds. Under Huey's influence, Kuya was a lot more cynical and apathetic, so it's likely that he viewed Kuya as someone to help him get his way. Kuya also shows to have had a deep loyalty to Huey — a type of loyalty he hasn't shown anyone else. Whatever Huey wanted, Kuya made sure it happened.

The scene at the bar was insane too, and it further proves my claims of Kuya being more apathetic and cruel when Huey was around. While life has always seemed to be a game to him, he played the game with little regard to other lives. The men in the bar were ogling him, and while that certainly is gross and Kuya had every right to be disgusted, he punished them in such an extreme way that we haven't seen him do before. The current Kuya prefers to torment others with mind games and illusions, while this past Kuya preferred to be more physical and violent.

It's also important to note how much Kuya has mellowed out since meeting Eiden. Don't get me wrong, Kuya is still a total sadist, but he has shown to be mindful of the lives of others. He doesn't kill or maim on a whim. Instead, like stated earlier, he's developed a preference for mind games and teasing. His mind games now serve as lessons to those around him too. He pushes others to their limits, but he does it so they can come back stronger. Ever since meeting Eiden, he's found a family. He's found people worth keeping around. It's similar to Blade, in a sense. After being around people who treat him with kindness and respect, he started to change.

This event has been a roller coaster so far and it literally just started. The devs seem to be handling these heavy topics with care as of now and I hope it remains that way.

I think overall the theme of this event is a commentary on humanity, especially in our current day. Saia is technologically advanced, yet the people are heartless and have lost compassion for one another. They're so focused on advancing their technology and destroying people or places lesser than them that they've forgotten their part of human nature to love. If you were to look at any news source right now, you would see very similar themes. Technology is constantly advancing and pushing forward, yet people are going backwards and losing their kindness.

Then again, I suppose humans have always been cruel. History is stained with the blood of others both human and animal. Humans have shown time and time again that they can be just as heartless and violent as more simple minded animals, so it's possible this event is a commentary on humanity as a whole rather than just current humanity.

It's crazy, really, how this game started as something lighthearted and fun and is now full of angst and disturbing topics. That being said, there's still plenty of wholesome and sweet moments. I suppose that's just like real life, huh?

[silverthehedgehogharacteristics]

Silver Characteristics Part 1

Justice -  Driven by a strong Sense of Justice. Very confrontational because of this, will take on anyone to right wrongs or help his friends. Has zero tolerance for injustices and things like breaking promises. Seeks to settle scores(Sonic Forces) and get back for those that have been wronged(or himself if you mess with him). Sometimes grapples with doing the right thing. His wish is to maintain peace, not to eradicate evil(Sonic & Silver).

Hope & Optimism/Positivity - Embodies hope and does not give into despair no matter the circumstances(fought through the Iblis future in the hopes of seeing a blue sky). Believes “There’s always hope as long as you don’t give up”(JP Sonic Forces quote). Inspires hope in others in the darkest moments(Sonic 06 last episode, Forces, helping Elise through her anxiety in Otherworld Comedy). Has an “Honest, unpretentious and kind demeanor”(Sonic Channel Staff Column Wallpaper) and an Enchanting Smile(His smile fills Elise with trust and joy during their performance in Otherworld Comedy and a recipient he serves apple slices to can’t say no to his smile even though they're full already in Wallpaper Comedy 2022). “His way of life inspires people and makes them want to watch over him and cheer him on forever”(Sonic & Silver).

Kind - Is an Altruist with a strong desire to help others. His kindness is the only thing that can make him drop his mission as he can’t say no to a sad face and will stop to help those in need(Amy in 06, Soleanna Post Office in Sonic Pict). Actively goes out and does things like serve apple slices, deliver Christmas presents, play holiday mascots and engage in Cheerful Activities(Sonic & Silver). Wants to become a hero because it means being someone that can ‘protect smiles’, wants to “protect smiles” and make people happy because he grew up in a world where everyone lived in despair(Sonic & Silver).

Peace - Fights for World Peace. Empathetic to the world around him so his feelings reflect the state of the environment. Destroyed environments sadden and upset him while Beautiful Scenery and places with people prospering/living happily leave him breathless(in contrast to the apocalyptic suffering, darkness and devastation he’s experienced). Blue Skies make him feel at peace and people’s Smiles make him smile. These things are very important to him and he is vicious to anything that threatens them. Hs head quills are in the shape of a Japanese Red Maple Leaf which represents peace and prosperity.

Determination - Determined to protect peace. Arguably the most determined character. Doesn’t give up easily(got exact hedgehog apple slices after 40 tries) no matter how badly he’s hurt or how hopeless the situation. Has no regard for pain/massive pain tolerance(Kept fighting after being kicked in the head by Shadow and skipped across the street like a rock by Sonic in Generations, endures "pain beyond description” caused by his powers in Sonic & Silver).

Forthright - Straightforward and Honest to a fault, he cannot tell a lie(though he can change the subject). Is direct, blunt and wears his heart on his sleeve. Like his namesake he is said to have purity(Sonic & Silver).

Brash - Described as “Young and Immature” by his creator Shun Nakamura. So straightforward and honest that he’s Rude and Blunt. He has no filter and will call you an idiot to your face if he thinks you’re an idiot. So direct that he often ignores manners and social customs(even Sonic says that he has an attitude in Rivals). Abrasive and quick to insult enemies and competition. Prone to sarcastic remarks(“What am I doing?” when traveling with Amy in 06, "They think THAT is what the future is like? Please." in Colors DS). Headstrong(Doesn’t take kindly to being treated like an amateur in Otherworld Comedy Act 8). Has a Mischievous Side(Commemorative Illustration Series). In Japanese he uses informal/rude impressions “Ore”(I) and “Anta”(You)(instead of the polite “Anata”), points directly at people as he talks to them(confrontational rude gesture) and crosses his legs while sitting(roughly the Japanese equivalent to putting your feet on a table). Has a Henery Hawk-like personality, especially in the Rivals games(He has almost everything in common with that character) Informal overall in contrast to the polite mannered Future Trunks.

Naive - Has a Black and White mindset/Innocent in his ideals. Expects people to believe him when he says he’s from the future or explains outlandish situations just because he knows them to be true. Can be unfamiliar with things in the past. Can sometimes take things literally(has an angry “What’s so funny?” attitude when he doesn’t understand things).

Sentimental - Appreciates little things and finds great beauty in nature and simple parts of the world that most people take for granted(Comments on the beauty of a beach in TSR). This side of him ties into his peace themes due to his ability to appreciate beauty and serenity(also what a maple leaf represents) in various forms. Enjoys sightseeing and going on journeys(Colors DS, Olympic Games, Sonic Pict) because of this. Can be Introspective/contemplative(sits paused on his mission to destroy the Iblis Trigger in 06, thinks heavily about his worries about Dodon Pa in TSR). Says his favorite moment in racing is “seeing everyone come together and giving their all for a single objective”(Team Vector Interview).

Emotional - High-Spirited and Hot-blooded. Emotionally immature and unregulated. Feels joy and rage loudly but sadness and contemplation quietly(can get loud and carried away when riled up). Puts his all into what he gets invested in(I’m giving this everything I’ve got!). Easily angered/has a temper like Blaze(he’ll twist you if you mess with him). Needs to be calmed down/held back at times(Olympic Games). Dead quiet when contemplating his dilemma and the loss of Blaze in 06 or thinking about his anxious feelings in TSR. Can deal with things too head-on or take on everything himself because of the strength of his feelings(Sonic & Silver) which can make him Impulsive and Reckless. Is passionate and controlled by his emotions while Sonic and Shadow are calm and cool.

[dcangel]

hi hi! i saw that u were asking for reqs and prompt 29 rlly had me thinking… imagine you’ve been there for 2 years and are the only girl, and you don’t socialize much, you do your part and keep to yourself so no one knows much abt you. but when thomas shows up, he continues to bug you with questions/bother you including why ur the only girl there. there’s a lot of tension and one night he wonders off in the woods he finds you and one thing leads to another and it happens..!

AHH okay this is sending me to hell bc my mind is going feral just thinking about it and I literally am so excited to write this one. And thank you so much for requesting one <333 (this is my first time writing smut so bear with me)

Idk how to tag these correctly bc I’ve never posted anything but if I’m wrong just correct me: p in v, slight fingering, praising, degrading, dirty talk, mentions of edging, mentions of getting caught, choking kink, slight size kink, slight/moderate pain kink, oral sex!f receiving, a few uses of y/n, nicknames, 2nd person pov. Majorly unedited and not proofread (grammarly told me there were 149 errors but it’s 2:24 in the morning so grammarly can kindly fuck off. hopefully this is bearable to read.)

8238 words (what thee actual fuck)

29– Thomas

“Don’t muffle yourself. Let them hear your whiny voice, baby. Everyone should know how good I’m fucking you.”

The last few days were… something else. Like clockwork every month, another greenie arrived, but to you that just meant another person bugging the shit out of you until they got over it. What were you supposed to tell them? That you just felt like coming up into the maze and trapping yourself here for two years just because you were bored? Every single greenie, without fail, always pestered you like a small gnat swirling around your ear each day; “why are you the only girl? Why are you here? Is it hard being the only girl?” And of course the alarmingly obviously questions that crossed every new shank’s mind, but only few braved to ask.

You mostly managed to steer clear of the lewd obscenities, letting the few friends you made take care of it for you since it got to be an irritable subject for you very quickly. But, unfortunately, there were some that wanted to ask the girl herself. Some that didn’t even know your name, yet still approached you with a supercilious guise thinking that it would somehow win you over. Each time it made you wonder what they put in these new greenies before sending them up; they just kept getting worse and worse.

Majority of the gladers knew your name, but then again how could they not? Some knew it but just decided to call you whatever you wanted; as if you being a girl made you less human and more of an object. Those were the boys that could only dream of touching a girl, never mind even being able to hookup with one.

You were surprised by the amount of people that actually treated you as equal, even though it was the bare fucking minimum. Sometimes you found it ironic how Chuck—the youngest glader here—didn’t even think twice about your humanity status when half the so-called “men” in this place treated you like scut. The boy having stated many times that “you’re a human too, just like the rest of us. We each play our part and at the end of the day; work is work. It doesn’t matter how old you are or if you’re a guy or a girl.” You think one of the reasons you were such good friends with the boy was because he could easily relate to your struggles; him being the youngest glader and always treated like a baby who couldn’t comprehend the simplest things, and you being the only girl who’s treated like shit because apparently women can’t possibly be able to do the same things as men. You were both deeply misunderstood, and that served as a foundation for one of your closest relationships.

Of course the leader, Alby, had always said the same; you were to be treated as equal. He’d even brought up the fact that it was dispiriting that the matter was even a question at all. Some days were worse than others, only granting you the energy to will yourself out of the small hut Gally and few others helped you build, at the last possible second and skipping breakfast as you trudged your way over to the gardens, taking your place by Newt. From there, maybe you’d have an occasional conversation about the dirt that constantly flung into your eyes, automatically irritating both your sight and your mood, or maybe about how brutally the blazing sun treated your reddening shoulders and face.

But on those days—the bad ones—you kept silent, doing what you were told when you were told, taking part in the roles that made the glade work. Maybe you’d join the rest of the glade for supper, sitting with the very few people you called ‘friends’ but at the end of the table, hoping to avoid conversation that inevitably reeled you in. More often than not, bad days usually warranted you to take the meal to your hut after a quick ‘thanks’ to Frypan, then making the isolated trip to the comforting confines of your own space.

You tried keeping to yourself, afraid to get too close with anyone that wasn’t Chuck or Newt, but of course your name was brought up quite often. It never made sense, though; you rarely interacted with anyone, even the people you exchanged words with on occasion, not much was known about you. You even tried to avoid being seen as often as possible in hopes that your absence would somehow make the gladers forget about your existence.

Yet every month when a new greenie was sent up, terrified and questioning their entire existence, it also started a new uproar around your name. So with Thomas, it was no different. Well, almost no different.

After he showed up, he wasn’t subtle with his intentions like most were—always asking anyone he could about anything that might make you more 3-dimensional in his eyes. So when he saw you talking to Chuck and ruffling the young boy’s hair, he used their already-forming bond to his advantage.

“Hey, Chuck, who was that?” He pretended to be oblivious as if he hadn’t been staring at you all day every day, the way your hair was always tied back in a single low braid, how the small strands that were too short slipped from the crossed-pattern and framed your face, how your sun-kissed nose scrunched whenever some minor inconvenience passed your way or the way your head tilted ever-so-slightly as a way to show your confusion.

He was well aware that this most certainly happened with every new arrival; the pestering questions, the intrusive thoughts, yet he was infatuated with wanting to know absolutely everything he could.

“Who? Her?” Chuck followed the older boy’s gaze, quickly losing interest once he saw where it led.

Thomas’s gaze, however, didn’t falter. He couldn’t decide what part of you to focus on. Maybe the way you effortlessly carried buckets and buckets of whatever the hell was needed for gardening, but it looked heavy enough to make him stare in awe. He was shameless. “Yes her. Who is she?”

“A person.” Chuck answered, being frustratingly vague.

Thomas finally pulled his brown eyes from you, landing them on the smaller boy beside him. “What’s her name?”

“Why does it matter?” The young boy was all too familiar with the questions of each newbie, most greenies coming to Chuck for the same thing each month that became almost a routine to give out as little information as possible to protect his friend.

Thomas sighed, mentally rolling his eyes. “Because I wanna’ know.” He answered bluntly.

“You wouldn’t care what that guy’s name is,” Chuck pointed to a builder named Dan. “So why do you care what her name is?”

The greenie squinted his eyes, jaw clenched in slight irritation, the veins on his neck becoming more prominent than before. “Because I just want to know?”

“Y/N, her name is Y/N. There.” Chuck’s bitter tone was definitely a eye-opener, the boy usually sweet and happy to make new friends.

“Thanks.” Thomas managed to get a small thumbs up in return as Chuck walked further away, obviously done with their conversation.

. . .

The next few days left Thomas’s curiosity at a higher peak, even worse than when he first got here—before he knew about the girl. Luckily Chuck had told you each time the greenie asked another question, and you couldn’t express how grateful you were for the young boy since he never answered them.

However, despite Chuck’s anguished attempts at telling Thomas to leave you alone, the greenie pursued his interests in getting to know you more, although it was nearly inevitable that this would happen.

On this particular day, though, he couldn’t seem to find you. Much to his dismay, you were in the Deadheads, sitting by the small brook that always seemed to flow despite the enclosed glade. It was night, the sun long gone although the heat never seemed to leave. You liked the Deadheads, specifically the brook. It was quiet, nothing but the sounds of water trickling over small rocks and folding in on itself, and maybe the occasional leaf falling to the forest floor. The peaceful sounds were a drastic difference to the clanking of shovels on rocks that seemed to peeve each gardener, or tools hammering wood that echoed across the entire open glade.

It was rare, but sometimes you’d accidentally fall asleep in the woods due to the calming nature, serving for an aching back and sore neck that shot pain thorough your whole body when you craned it the wrong way. It would’ve been one of those nights, except the sounds of leaves crunching and twigs snapping under someone’s foot brought you back from your half-asleep state. You sat up against the tree, your legs crossing as you looked around. The only people who knew you came out here were sure to be asleep by now, Chuck always falling asleep the second the second he laid down on his hammock, and Newt knowing you didn’t like to be bothered out here.

You thought back to when Ben had been stung and was chasing Thomas through the Deadheads, and you thought the same was about to happen to you. Grabbing a small stick by your side— that would probably snap if any pressure were applied— you stood up and looked around the dark forest. The plush foliage provided little to no light, which left your eyes desperately trying to adjust to the darkness as quickly as possible.

You held the stick out in front of you and slowly backed up, occasionally spinning around to check behind you, the stick swinging through the air like it was wielded by a maniac.

The lack of light confused your senses, and somehow you didn’t you didn’t hear the cracking and snapping of leave and twigs, or feet the heat behind you getting closer and closer until your back slammed into something that scared you so bad you almost yelped as you whipped around to threaten whoever it was with the flimsy stick that almost snapped when you turned. You were greeted with an unfamiliar face, one that wasn’t just another in the sixty something faces in the glade that you had yet to learn the name of. It was a new one.

“Shit— sorry.” He muttered quickly, large, outstretched hands already on your shoulders to steady you.

You back up slightly, hoping his grip would fall off, and it did. “What the hell are you doing here?”

The boy automatically took to fiddling with his fingers, a nervous habit you guessed. “I, uh… I was looking for you, actually. Chuck told me you might be out here.”

You squinted your eyes slightly, not believing him since Chuck knew better than to tell a random greenie where you’d most likely be during your free time. “Did he?”

The greenie struggled to come up with an excuse, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as he looked at the ground.

“Or did you just watch me come out here earlier with the plans of following me, hoping I’d still be here after you were done with your job?” You added with a raised brow, a clear annoyed tone evident in your voice.

“Wel— No that’s not— I mean… well, you’re probably used to the newbies bothering you—”

“Damn right I am. And I don’t expect you to be any different, so unless you have anything important to say, then I’m just gonna leave.” You got straight to the point, not caring to sugarcoat or be nice to him since you’d tried that before with other greenies, and it usually didn’t turn out well. You dropped your stick and started to turn away from him when you heard his footsteps following you again, his voice following soon after.

“Well, no, but I just wanted to talk to you. I don’t know you v—”

“So let’s keep it that way, yeah?” You said, sounding as if you were talking to a child.

He clenched and unclenched his fist, a small habit of his. “Could you just stop cutting me off?”

“Why should I?” You said, brown raised in annoyance as you crossed your arms, shifting your weight onto one leg.

“Because I fucking asked? It shouldn’t be that hard to be nice to someone.”

You scoffed, his attitude impressing you since it almost matched yours perfectly. You eyed him before opening your mouth to speak. “You’re right, it shouldn’t be. So why’re you making it so difficult then?” You asked, a small smirk tugging at the corner of your lips, your head tilted coyly.

He let out a quick sigh, jaw clenching in irritation. “Because, all I did was try and talk to you and you’re being a bitch about it.”

Your head jerked back slightly, your eyebrows automatically raised with a taunting smile of disbelief creeping up. “You just can’t help it with the foul language can you?” You said with a laugh, one that seemed to get on his nerves even more. It was almost impressive how irritable he was. “Maybe you should try talking to directly instead of bugging my friends—especially Chuck— about me. Y’know, like a conversation or something? Maybe start off with a small introduction like your name or something a little less hostile.”

“Fine, I’m—”

“I know who you are.” It wasn’t intentional but you realized that you had cut him off again. But instead of apologizing, you almost wanted to see how pissed he could get before stomping off.

He was definitely contemplating it, almost losing interest since your attitude made him want to smash his head against a rock, but his pure stubbornness was what kept him standing there. “Again with the cutting me off! Is that all you ever do? ‘S that why you don’t have any friends.”

Being the only girl in a glade full of boys made this seem like nothing compared what else you’ve heard, so his little insults and slight temper tantrum did nothing. “Well you said you wanted to talk to me, and I’m assuming you wanted to get to know me more since all you ever do is bother Chuck.” You said with a shrug. “Come on, you can do better than that, I know you can.”

Something about your tone, the way it was taunting him, teasing him in a way that he couldn’t tell if he should hate you or want to slam you against a tree and— he shook his head, seemingly getting rid of whatever was going through his mind. “Why, you want me to insult you? Treat you like a piece of shit like everyone else does?”

You didn’t respond. Rather, you just stood there, not bothering to move as he subtly took a few slow steps toward you.

“Or maybe it’s something else?” He said, head tilting in a certain way that allowed the small streaks of moonlight peering through the spaces above that weren’t covered by trees to illuminate the beginnings of smug look on his freckled face.

Of course you knew what he looked like, he was a gardener the first few days so you had the displeasure of working near him, but something about him being up close and the way the shadowy brightness of the moon cast a perfect gleam allowed you to really notice his features. You had to admit, he wasn’t a bad looking guy; short brown hair, a perfect nose that could make anyone jealous, pale skin littered with moles and freckles that didn’t seem to be on just his face, golden-brown eyes that looked darker than in the daylight, and you couldn’t tell if it was because of the tree coverage or some other reason…

“I bet it’s something else, isn’t it?” His voice was what snapped you from your thoughts, your eyes focusing back in on his darkening gaze.

“Huh?” You said, your eyes practically in slits at this point. You couldn’t tell if your question was actually a question, or if it was because you’d already forgotten what he asked before.

He took a step closer, yet he wasn’t actually that close. It was simply the darkness of the Deadheads and the way your other senses tried to account for your poor vision that made it seem like he was towering over you.

Or maybe he was.

“I said, are you just always a bitch like this, or do you do it because you like the way people respond. The way they get irritated and go off on you or treat you like shit all for you to complain about it afterwards.” You almost couldn’t believe his words. But what was less believable was the feeling that resonated in the pit of your stomach. One that had you thinking things you shouldn’t be.

“What? What the hell is wrong with you?” You spat out, trying to act offended.

His smirk grew, telling you that you reacted exactly how he expected. “You didn’t answer my question.” He took another step forward.

“I don’t have to.” You stepped back.

He noticed your slight step back, he also noticed the tree behind you—he same one you’d almost fallen asleep against earlier—getting closer each time. “I think it’s only fair that you do, so, go ahead. Answer it.”

Now, there were two ways you could’ve answered this. Which one did you choose? The one you knew would get the better reaction, of course. “Make me.”

One step later, you were already back up against the tree, seemingly nowhere to go (you could easily step to the side), and Thomas right in front of you, head tilted downwards to look at you because of the height difference. “I don’t think you really want me to. You’re just saying that.”

“Oh yeah? Try me.” You whispered lazily, a small gleam in your eyes as you looked up at him.

He brown ones bored into yours, an almost-mischievous glint behind them. He leaned down, his mouth inches from your ear, his hand against the tree on the other side of your head. “Maybe I will.”

You couldn’t help the way your knees felt weak, something about his voice; the raspiness embedded in his low, deep tone. “Maybe you should.” You breathed out, watching him pull back, his eyes flicking between your eyes and somewhere else.

His other hand slid around your waist, large palm being a source of heat as if the night air wasn’t already warm enough. It was torturous, the way his lips ghosted around your skin, every area he passed felt empty after the heat of his presence left, the way you felt his breath brush her face when he laughed at his own teasing actions.

His hand slid around to your lower back, pulling it forward in an arch as your upper back stayed against the tree. Thomas looked down at you, the very tip of his nose so close to yours that the heat radiating from him felt like he was actually touching you. You bit the inside of your cheek, never good with the whole ‘patience’ thing.

Thomas, on the other hand, could’ve dragged this out all night. But when he met your gaze, the look in your eye let the thought slip from his mind. It was when you whispered some words that didn’t quite stick in his brain against his lips, that’s what got to him. He bent down and connected your lips, the kiss wasn’t a slow, savoring-every-moment type of kiss. It was a hungry, sloppy, impatient kiss that made it seem like he was devouring you.

It was needy and heated, more teeth-clashing and tongue-tangling than anything. His lips were chapped and rough, but then again so we’re yours after two years in the glade.

His lips trailed down your cheek, then your jaw, then right under your jawline, nipping at the surprisingly soft skin. His lips followed your jawline until they were right under your ear, finding a sweet spot you didn’t even know you had.

You breathed out softly, biting the inside of your cheek as your head tilted backwards, hitting the bumpy bark of the tree. To your left was his outstretched arm that he used to hold himself up against a the tree, and to your right was his head, slightly buried in the crook of your neck as he peppered the spot with little nips as kisses. He freehand—the one that was on your lower back—slipped down to the curve of your ass, squeezing all around the plump skin.

“How’s this for getting to know you?” He breathed against your skin.

You bit your lip, just a little, but enough that his scrutinizing gaze caught it. “I think you, uh, you should get to know me just a little better, y’know?” You said, a small lump in the back of your throat that wouldn’t go down.

“Hmm, think I should, huh?” He teased.

“Mhm, yeah… y-you should.” You nodded, teeth gliding over your own bottom lip as you tugged his hair gently so he’d look up at you.

The heel of Thomas’s palm dug into your ass, prompting you to jump up a little. To jump right into his arms. Your thigh hitched up on his waist, his hand gliding from your ass to under your leg, finger tips reach the the inside of your thigh. Your other foot steady on the ground— well, would’ve been steady if you hadn’t stepped on a tree stump. Your footing faltered, twisting your ankle in the process and you pulled from the recently rekindled kiss to wince.

He chuckled and lifted up your other thigh, practically holding you up until you got the hint to wrap your legs around his waist. Your back was pressed into the tree, bare shoulders are partially-bare upper back collecting scratches and green moss smudges.

Thomas didn’t waste anymore time, the fingers of his free hand already sliding down your torso and half under the waistband of your jeans. He only stopped for a brief moment, looking up at you as you nodded back—maybe a little too eagerly.

He didn’t even bother to unbutton them or unzip them for the time being, his fingers twitching with the thought of touching you in mind. While he was just as impatient as you, he still managed to find the will in him to tease you. Two of his veiny fingers swipes over your panties, starting at the beginning of your wetness and dragging them all the way up to your cloth-covered clit. You couldn’t deny nor hide it anymore, you were soaked—rather, your panties were.

“Damn, this all for me? Guess you liked the idea of me proving you wrong, huh?” He taunted.

Your eyes bore into his like you wanted to say something snarky, but you literally could not lie. He felt it. He felt what he did to you. He knew the slight power he had over you—although you were sure he didn’t quite know just how much power he possessed.

Reluctantly, you tenaciously nodded up at him, just a very slight head movement that you hoped he’d miss, but of course he didn’t. You were grateful he didn’t respond, with words anyway, but you could see see the glint in his eye that made you want to kick him, slap him, anything you could to get your point across. But he made you weak in the knees, figuratively and literally since one of his hands was under your ass holding you up, your legs raveled around his waist and connected at his lower back.

At first, when you felt his hand leave your ass, you couldn’t decide whether to be disappointed by the loss of touch, or to expect your body to hit the ground. But it didn’t. He had you pinned against the tree, your legs already locked tightly around him, your arms slung around his neck.

His, now free, hand glides around to the front of your thigh, up your stomach (it would’ve gone under your shirt if he didn’t have other plans), over your tank top-covered breasts, fingers stopping momentarily to knead the dough-y flesh, and making their final stop around your throat just below your jaw—palm pressing against your airway loosely, pointer and thumb fingers settling below your ears on either side of your head.

The fingers caressing your sopping panties also became more active; drawing slow lines up and down.

“T-Thomas,” you stuttered, not because he hand was that tight, but simply because it was tight enough to warrant a gasp present in your words. “Don’t tease me.”

You were really in no position to be the one saying commands, but it was the sheer stubborn-confidence that impressed him enough to consider the choked out words. “As you wish.” He spoke, slipping two fingers past your panties, the material bunching to the side, and right into you without any warning. Well, to be fair he did give you a warning, just no time to process before you felt his long, slender fingers gliding against your walls.

“Fuck— Thomas.” You breathed out, your tone a little whiny. You were almost embarrassed at how easily you gave in, how easily you let him get you this way.

He gave your throat one last little squeeze and dropped his hand down to one of the straps on your tank top. He was considering sliding it under your shirt, but then he’d have to go through more trouble to get it off seeing as you were leaned against a tree. So, Thomas decided to take what he knew you’d give, and he tugged at the straps.

You knew your standards were low when consent made your heart swoon, feeling the nervous hot-and-cold sweats rack your body. But being the only girl in the glade, you were glad someone other than your friends was showing you respect…ish.

After seeing your nod, he slid the strap down and you pulled your arm back and through the thing fabric piece, the same was done on the other side. Thomas’s fingers were barely moving, too slow even for his teasing pace, but his brain had a little more focus on what he was trying to do with one hand.

A few seconds later, and you were gasping at the sudden coldness you felt against your pert nipples. It was an odd sensation, the glade was always hot yet when your bare chest was exposed, the air felt cool.

The chilled breeze caused the buds to instantly harden, making something of Thomas’s harden as well. “Shit, angel, no bra?”

You hadn’t worn a bra since today was one of those days— the ones with low energy, restless sleep barely giving you enough stamina to will yourself throughout the day. “No…” you admitted, almost shamefully.

Before you could even think, lips were wrapped around the sensitive buds, a tongue flat as it pressed over the top. You let out a noise somewhere between a whimper and a small moan, finger tangling in his hair automatically.

Thomas simply couldn’t leave your other side untreated, so he rolled your other nipple between his fingers while fucking you with the other hand. Every sound you made, whether it be a sigh, a moan, a whimper, a small whine of his name, each and every one of them seemed to be egging him on more. Like small pleas and begs for more of his touch.

And whether you knew it or not, that exactly what they were; your body whining, aching for anything he’d give you, grateful for the plainest stroke of his digits in your wet cunt, or the effortless drag of his smooth tongue across your pebbled nipple.

Somewhere between small praises and straight-up degradation, you manages you end up without any clothes and Thomas’s pretty face between your legs as you stand there against the tree; teeth clenched, thighs trembling, fingers scratching at his scalp leaving a stinging sensation in their wake. It felt good— the burn of your jagged nails against his already sensitive scalp, the sun un-ironically taking part in making sure it would hurt him.

The tree bark dug into your bare back as you simultaneously pushed yourself up on your tip-toes, squirming at the sensation of his tongue on your clit becoming too much, yet tugging his face further between your wobbly thighs with the grip you had on his brown hair.

Thomas decided he liked you best when you were like this; a sweaty, moaning, whimpering, indecisive mess for him— despite only speaking his first words to you less than an hour ago.

And quite frankly, you couldn’t care less. The only thing spurring you on, giving you the shamelessness needed to give yourself up like this was the undying need to cum. He had be fucking edging you this whole damn time, yet you couldn’t complain. Not while he was pleasuring you at least. Your protests came after you didn’t—after the way he’d suck on and swirl his tongue around your swollen bud, getting you right there, only to pull away as you were about to topple over the edge.

It might not have been verbal, but maybe you’d give his hair a particularly harsh yank, or dig your nails into his raw scalp with as much strength as you could muster. Unbeknownst to you, Thomas enjoyed it. He loved the way you whined and squirmed, body begging for a release even if your mouth was too stubborn to communicate it. He loved the pain you inflicted on him, the pricking sensation hurting so bad—yet not enough—that it felt good.

“Did I get you to change your mind yet, Angel?” Thomas spoke against your cunt, lips glistening with you juices, eyes dark as he looked up at you with a captivating stare that you fell prisoner to time and time again.

You bit down on your lip brutally, the discomfort not even phasing you anymore. You were sure your lips would be bruised and possibly bloodied in the morning for more than one reason. “Thomas… please,” There it was. The first real plead that spilled from your lips. Not the desperate whines or frustrated grunts you’d given him earlier, but an actual word that put your need on full display.

And it sounded better than he could’ve ever imagined.

“What’s wrong, princess? Am I not good enough for you?” He cooed, tone mocking your desire so damn condescendingly that if it were anyone else you’d send their skull flying against the maze walls.

But you couldn’t resist, he had you under his spell, wrapped around his finger. And you knew it. You both knew it. “Fuck me, make me cum… just do something for fucks sake!” Your voice held a guise of irritation and rage, but just behind that was the exact whininess that he was looking for.

“I think I like the sound of you begging for me. It’s pretty.” He whispered, whether to himself or you, you couldn’t find it in you to give a fuck anymore.

Thomas stood up, large hands sliding up the sides of your bare body, soft skin beneath his calloused fingertips. A whimper slipped from your swollen lips, the feeling of his hands setting your body ablaze, leaving goosebumps only the chilly day’s managed to give you in their wake. You felt like you were sweating buckets, yet the warmth radiating off his wide hands (or maybe you were just small) left the rest of your figure feeling frigid.

His lips wet lips met yours, hand meeting your throat as you gasped lightly at the taste of yourself on his tongue as he poked and prodded at your own. You didn’t even have to think about how easily you let him in, you blatantly followed his command no matter what form in came in without a second thought.

Fingers feeling needy, you reached for his belt and he slotted his knee between your thighs, pinning you against the tree for the umpteenth time tonight. However, you didn’t hear a protest or receive a firm look coded with a not-so-hidden message, so you proceeded with your actions, fingers fumbling with the flimsy metal piece until you hear the telltale clanking sound of his belt slithering through the denim loops and clashing against the dirt floor.

His jeans dropped next, nothing to hold them up or keep them in their place as you unzipped them. His shirt had been discarded earlier, just before he got to his knees in front of you, so it was one less article of clothing in your way.

But that didn’t matter, the only one you care about was still on him. Dainty fingers lightly brushed over his bulge, your eyes dropping for just a second to catch a glimpse of his clothed size before you had to tilt your head back up due to the hand holding your throat. It was dark, but your eyes were well adjusted by now; well enough to see the tent his erection formed as you unintentionally teased him.

Your hands were impatient, your whole being was impatient, but you could at least do something about the need to have your hands around him. After practically grabbing his hard-on through his boxers, palming it roughly for just a second, you didn’t even wait to get your hands inside his boxers. Immediately, you tugged your hand up his length, his impressively long length. He groaned, cock already throbbing, twitching at the thought of being buried inside you.

The noise almost took you by surprise, and you were almost proud of yourself for being the cause. You brought your left knee up his thigh, situating it comfortably in the groove of his hip, and pushed down the remaining fabric. His free hand assisted you and helped slide the other end down until he kicked away the item that he’d be searching for in the darkness later.

Digits finding his hardness again as you continued to make out, your thumb carelessly swiped over his slit as you handled his tip, collecting the bead of precum that had you wetter than the brook you were settled by during previous hours. He felt the heat of your fingers disappear, only to return moments later with arousal that couldn’t’ e been just his.

You coated his shaft with your sticky mixture, eliciting a deep groan from the back of Thomas’s throat. Regardless of you having the last few touches that made gave other pleasure, he still wanted to remind you who was really in control.

His fingers tightened around the column of your throat, his body pressing you into the tree even more, hard enough for you to feel each ridge of wood jabbing into your back. You felt his knee pushing up against your cunt, your slick automatically coating his thigh as you couldn’t help but grind yourself against him. He smirked—you didn’t see—, your actions appearing needy, so much so, that they were almost pathetic.

“It’s hot as fuck knowing I made you this wet, that I got you to the point where you don’t give a fuck about how pathetic you seem, the only thought in your brain is the desire for pleasure. For me to fuck you, huh?” His words were spat with hot breath waving against your cheek, it was hard not to give in and accept his words.

“Please, Tommy… need you inside me,” until the words came out, you weren’t aware of how shameless they’d be, of how much you sounded exactly like he described. “‘nd I know you do too.” you added shortly after in an attempt to recollect some of your dignity. Didn’t work. He saw right through you.

But what did work what the whine you put on his name, the one that few called him, but only you could have him contemplating between fucking you like a normal person, or fucking you for so long and hard that neither of you could walk straight or have any cum left to give. Obviously there was only one choice in his eyes, but you couldn’t see it. You could only see blown pupils, so wide that just a sliver of brown, lust-tainted color rimmed the pitch-black darkness.

You resumed the position you were in earlier; legs squeezed tight around his waist as if your life depended on it, ankles locked in the back, heels digging into his spine a few inches above his tailbone. Your arms wrapped around the nape of his neck, while his hand was settled at the base of yours.

Striving to be a tease, Thomas watched your reactions while he rubbed his tip up and down your wetness, starting from your hole, up to the top of your clit, then back down. Something about the moves, so calculated, so precious, so damn taunting that it almost seemed like he was mocking you, it was all becoming too much. He had been edging you all night—well, enough to to feel like it was all night—that you knew he was nearing the end of his limits as well.

Impatient by nature, Thomas merely gave your throat a warning squeeze before he slipped his tip inside. He may have been ruthless with his teasing, yes, but he wasn’t heartless. He waited, kept his hips still against his own will until you nodded or squeezed his hair each time you wanted him to push in just a smidge further. He praised and affirmed you with words you didn’t even process since the only thing your mind could focus on was the contrast of pleasure with a little bit of sting. You wanted nothing more for him to be fully sheathed inside you, fucking your stupid—and so did he—, but you decided it best for you to take it slow. At first.

Once his hips were flush with yours, hard cock filling you in ways you didn’t even know existed, you adjusted your legs around his waist, shifting until the discomfort went away mostly. You didn’t even nod or give and indignation before you bucked your hips against his, causing a sigh to fall from his pink, kiss-bitten lips, while a light moan fell from yours. He took that as his sign you were ready, and he slowly pulled his hips from yours with a semi-gentle test thrust first before he saw you were okay, then he picked up his pace in a matter of seconds.

“Fuck, angel, you’re so tight.” He groaned against your neck, hot breath symbolizing a warning before his lips were all over the soft skin.

You whimpered, your hands automatically lacing in his hair and tugging at the roots, nails occasionally scratching at his scalp. You don’t know how long your hand stayed like that before realizing you needed something better to grasp, to hold on and cling to like your fate was dependent on it.

One are tucked under his, the other following suit, and soon both hands were clawing down his back, the feeling prompting Thomas to pound away harder. Teeth against your neck let you know that you’d have to wear your hair down for the next few days, and possibly skip meals at the homestead to avoid being seen as well. Even so, you didn’t care right now. You were to wrapped up in the way his fucked into you, mercilessly pounding away at you pussy, the wet squelching sounds coming from where the two of you were connected absolutely sinful.

You knew the gladers had gone to sleep however long ago, but you also knew that a few had a hard time sleeping. Thank god Chuck had knocked out before you came out here.

The threat of getting caught is what caused you to bury your face in his shoulder, head leaning against his outstretched arm that was holding the tree for support. You nips and suck at the skin of his collarbone right where it connects to his shoulder, albeit much weaker and definitely less effort put in than him, but it gives you something to do, along with practically gouging your uneven nails down his sweaty back, to keep your mind off the seething moans that threaten to rip from your throat.

After awhile of hearing you go silent and feeling the pressure of both your lips and fingers on his skin increase, Thomas grows annoyed with your lack of sound. You feel his hand leave your throat, but you don’t exactly process it, your brain overwhelmed with too many things to worry about the loss of touch, but you do feel where it ends up. Your head is abruptly yanked back, yet somehow as gently as possible although is still leaves a pained sensation. Thomas’s fingers were in between the weaves of your—now very loose and incredibly messy—braid, forcing you to look at him as he fucks you. He seemed to know exactly what you were thinking.

“Don't muffle yourself. Let them hear your whiny voice, baby. Everyone should know how good I'm fucking you.” Without a barrier to block your noises, you let out a moan at his words alone. And then everything comes crashing down. You give up on trying to quiet yourself, only having enough left in you to chase that feeling that leaves you whining incoherent words that maybe he understands, digging and clawing at any available surface you can get you dainty little fingers on (which is most likely his back or shoulder), and letting yourself go completely—letting him take care of you.

And boy does he know how to take care of you. For someone you’ve never spoken a word to until tonight, he knows how to fuck you right. He knows how to have you in his arms, body practically limp and a deadweight which only impales you more on his dick. And when he hears that you’ve given in to more than just his one request by letting your jaw fall slack, any moans or whimpers just free to waltz out, he leans in close to whisper in your ear, voice deep and slightly raspy; “Good girl.”

He feels the way your fingernails grips his shoulders harder, possibly hard enough to draw blood, and the way your already-tight walls clench around him even more. Something in his mind clicks for him that doesn’t for you, probably because your too busy with the way he fills you up so damn well his tip kisses your cervix each time you come back down on him and he fucks back up.

“You like being called a good girl, huh? You like being told how good you feel around me, being praised for doing what I say like the good girl you are?” He knows what he’s doing at this point. But that was stop you from enjoying it nonetheless.

“F—yeah, fuck, I do.” You agree with what little sanity to have left, mustering a nod that almost spends every ounce of energy.

Your eyes have him in a trance; watery, pupils blown, looking up at him with the most innocent looking eyes he could ever think of. Except he knew you weren’t innocent.

“I bet no one else fucks you like this, huh, angel? No one else gives you princess treatment because they’re too busy trying to find a way to get in your panties to even think about treating you right. But a part of you likes it, don’t you?” You merely whined, words failing you as he smirked and kept going. “You like the fact that half the guys here probably jerk off to the thought of you when they’re alone, think of you as some little slut that everyone gets a turn with in their minds. The glade’s own whore, hmm?”

“F-Fuck, Thomas,” you whimper, the feeling his words give you turning into physical pleasure, not just for yourself, but for Thomas as well when he feels your warm walls squeezing around his shaft.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it; just whoring out and fucking every guy in this place? But your so damn innocent—too damn innocent, it’s why half the guys here can’t seem to get their mind off you.” He grunts between thrusts, as if his hips slamming into yours punctuates each word. “Don’t worry, after tonight I think enough people around here will have learned who got to fuck you. I’ll treat you right, princess.”

Both hands clenched at whatever they can, and Thomas feels the crescent-shaped nail marks already imbedding themselves in his shoulder and nose of his neck.

You were getting undeniably closer, and you were afraid that he might edge you again. Hell, you were afraid that you let him have that much power over you. In spite of your efforts, your own voice adding to the ringing in your ears as you bucked your hips downwards— if even possible with the force he had you pressed against the tree with. “Don’t stop… please, please don’t stop, Tommy.” You begged, pathetically desperate for him to finally let you release.

“Only if you keep making those pretty little sounds, angel.” And you did; effortlessly obeying his commands, when in reality it was inevitable that your sounds escaped at some point. You just didn’t hold back at all. At least you didn’t talk to very many people, otherwise they would’ve been suspicious of your barely-there voice if the hadn’t already heard you screaming the night before.

His thrusts became irregular, and at first you thought he was going to tell you that you didn’t do well enough for him, seize yet another orgasm from you like he had been doing all night. What you didn’t realize was that he was slowing down to edge himself, not wanting to cum to early or before you did.

Thomas decided you wouldn’t mind a few scratches on your back, maybe a few splinters, ‘cause it sure as hell looked like you wouldn’t give a damn right now, so he took his supporting hand off the tree and encased it around your throat, admiring the way his hand seemed to swallow you whole. His free hand fled to your clit, rubbing circles against the sensitive bud as you cried out his name. It was mindless, you hadn’t even realized it. That’s what made it so fucking hot.

Time and time again, you continued to impress him with how easily you could be controlled, completely fucked out to the point you only knew his name and the word ‘please’. “Atta girl. That’s right, let everyone know who’s fucking you like this.” You whimpered his name again, the word simply rolling off your tongue without a thought. He wasn’t even sure if you said it because you followed orders so well, or if it was really the only thing you could say.

“T-Thomas, shit—fuck, I’m g—” your sentence was left unfinished since you couldn’t breathe, your lungs on fire just like the rest of your skin. It could’ve been from the way Thomas’s hand was unconsciously restricting your airway a little too much, though, once he noticed he eased up. Either way, he got your message loud and clear. And he could feel his own release brewing in the pit of his stomach.

“Please… please don’t stop this time. I-I can’t take it anymore… need to cum.” You whined between shallow breaths before he could even speak.

His pace and force picked up to almost inhuman speeds, basically fucking you into the tree behind you. “I won’t, I promise.”

As if the words didn’t register, mindless pleas were pouring from you, “I have to—’m so close, Tommy, please.”

“I know, baby, I know. Me too, alright? So your gonna be a good girl and cum for me, yeah?” It wasn’t until his thumb pressed against the bundle of nerves he was previously circling, did his words finally sink in.

Along with his gentle demand came your orgasm that you didn’t know had been so close the whole time. Your walls enveloped him so tight he was sure his dick would slip out, but it didn’t. It stayed inside your warm, velvety wetness, twitching but thrusting sloppily throughout your high as his neared.

You were seeing stars, and you were pretty sure they weren’t the ones in the night sky above you. Your nails dug so harshly into his chest and back that your fingers aches, and you could only imagine the number you’d done on him. The feeling was euphoric, sure you’d never come down from the drunken-high feeling. Your thighs shook, muscles spasming as your nerves felt like they were frying at the slight overstimulation he was giving you.

Feeling you cum around him, his cock twitched inside you, soon giving into the demands of your velvety warmth and wet squelching sounds. “Fuck, shit—such a good girl, angel… such a good fucking girl for me.” He moaned out, his voice the softest it’d been yet, but still somehow possessing the same roughness as before.

You felt a hot-warmth gush inside you, your face already buried deep in his shoulder again as you physically could not keep your head up. “Just for you.” You whimpered, enjoying the feeling of being completely filled to the brim, his hand coming off your throat to slide around the back of your neck in a somewhat-comforting hold. The feeling of being taken care of.

[rubberduckyrye]

Man ran into someone making a long analysis post about the 3.3 interlude quest, and like valid interpretation, but...

It's so weird for me, because I'm a weirdo who separates the terms Bad Person and Evil.

I think Scaramouche was about the worst person he could have been. However, that doesn't mean he was evil. He was a bad person because he was in a rampage, raging like a fire that couldn't be put out. He hurt people because he was unable to control that rage, as it too was fueled from hurt. When the whole world hurts you as badly as it hurt Scaramouche, when it dehumanizes you at every point it can, and makes you feel like you can do nothing but suffer because the gods and morals spurn you just for existing--and you don't even want to exist--of course he's going to lash out at the entire world! He hurt innocent people, but those innocent people were part of the world that deeply scarred him. And even then, again, there is lore that Scaramouche was kind to the elderly and to children. It's very possible that when he perceived someone as innocent, he didn't even think to hurt them to exert force or power over them. He helped them, even.

And even if that piece of lore isn't canon, it doesn't really matter. He's a bad person, yes--but to call him evil is misleading. To call him evil is to think in terms of black and white, and not about the shades of grey that exist in the real world.

I will never shut up about how Scaramouche's story was an allegory for abuse, how he was neglected from the moment he was born, how he was failed by his family, how he was manipulated and abused by the Fatui and Dottore--like. There's a whole ass line Signora says to his face that literally mocks him for being Dottore's test subject. He was the ugly duckling, the unwanted child, cast aside and deemed as a demon to be tormented for just existing. The only people who accepted him? They all died. The world literally taught Scaramouche he couldn't be loved or treated kindly, less those people die too.

There are real, living, breathing people who are just like Scaramouche. Who do bad things and are bad people right now because they don't know what kindness feels like, or how to be good. I think the distinction is important for those people in particular, because to just call people like Scaramouche evil implies that they cannot get better. That they deserve to suffer and hurt. That their feelings are invalid.

But being a bad person does not mean you are evil or irredeemable. It means you need to stop and look at yourself, you need to stop and look at the world that you want to burn. Even at your lowest point, there is salvation--you can find happiness. You can recover. You can step forward to a new future where you can become a better person.

For as much as I dislike the 3.3 interlude quest and how it handled certain aspects of Nahida's character and the Traveler, I thought that this message of abused victims who are hurting deserve to find peace and happiness too was a good message to bring home. It was very muddied down by Nahida and the Traveler, yes, but all in all, the 3.3 Interlude quest was never meant to be about redemption.

It was meant to be about healing. About taking the first steps necessary to accept yourself and move forward with your life.

[thereallordgrantham]

Hello M'lord, and welcome to tumblr. If I may be so bold, could I ask you to tell us your three favourite things about Lady Grantham (your wife, not you mother). I hope you're having a wonderful day 😊

Good afternoon, and thank you for the kind welcome.

It is not often I discuss such things that hold deep affection towards Lady Grantham publicly. Her Ladyship and I prefer to share such matters in the comfort of our own privacy. But I will kindly indulge you in your request since you asked nicely. However, I'm afraid I'm not very good at articulating my thoughts and emotions, nor am I adept in expressing them in an eloquent manner, as some may like, but I will try my best.

To begin with, I admire Lady Grantham's kind and caring nature. She treats everyone and everything with kindness and respect with her gentle nature, and I adore her for it. This is best demonstrated through her love for our family, and it always reminds me of how fortunate I am to be married to her. Plus, I always found it rather endearing how she always sees the good in people. She truly possesses a heart of gold.

Another favourite thing I adore of Lady Grantham is that she is rather clever. During our brief courtship, it didn't take me very long to notice how well-informed she is on various subjects and books. This was most evident during our honeymoon whenever we visited a museum. I'm always amazed by how knowledgeable she is with such detail and information, especially with art. I enjoy the enthusiasm she holds whenever discussing such topics, and I can listen to her for hours. She's also a quick learner and very capable of finding solutions to difficult situations, especially if it's concerning our family. It probably does not have to be said, but please know whatever cleverness our daughters inherited, it was through my darling wife and not me.

Thirdly, Lady Grantham's eyes. I don't know where to begin when describing their beauty because words can not capture how breathtakingly gorgeous they are, but I will certainly try my best to paint an accurate picture. I adore the way her eyes naturally capture the sunlight during our walks whenever she looks up at the sky as she admires the shapes of the clouds. Her eyes gleam softly and warmly in the low light of her bedroom's fire, adding a whole new sense of comfort and contentment as we lay in bed after a busy day. Whenever she laughs, they squint adorably as the sound of her giggles fill my ears, a sight I will never grow tired of seeing. Most importantly, I love the small glint in her eyes whenever she smiles as our eyes meet across a room. It never fails to fill me with joy!

This was certainly more difficult than I expected. Being limited to list only three of my favourite things of my darling wife was challenging. I have numerous things I adore about her, and it seems like the list grows every year. I could list every habit, trait, activity, memory, and mannerism that shows her beauty inside and out. My darling wife is everything to me, and every happiness I've experienced in life is thanks to her. I hope I've made her happy as much as she has made me. I am a lucky man and forever grateful to share and spend my life with her.

Well, this was rather sentimental of me, but I hope it was not overwhelming or made anyone uncomfortable. Thank you for your question, have a lovely day!

[haru-chi]

The source of Matoba Seiji's hate for Youkai ?

Lately, I've been thinking alot about this and didn't find anyone actually mention it from where I searched (?)

Seiji has many things going on for him .. (MANY THINGS that I just wanna talk about them all and just cry alot) but today I'll just focus on a little theory I have about this little matter :)

From where do I start I wonder ?

I've always noticed that in the manga especially when Seiji got first introduced, it was emphasized that he hold a certain grudge toward the youkai which's seems personal more than out of his job as an exorcist ..

These lines were on my mind along with some of Seiji's line, about how youkai always take advantages of human's weakness and vulnerability. then I linked alot of things together (my mind love to make me suffer it seems)

Does that mean, perhaps Seiji spoke from experience ? A personal one or because he saw alot of such cases, or maybe both ?

But either way, we never actually saw Seiji letting his guard down or having any weaknesses, not toward the Youkai at least.

You can't picture it right? the fearless merciless and powerful Matoba leader showing a weak side of him <3

But wait ..

Actually he DID show signs of weaknesses and yearing for something if you pay close attention to his reactions, wording or actions (lets not dig deeper into this or I'll break down T^T)

Let's look at the ones that's about our current subject, shall we ?

In his 2nd meeting with Natsume, he was composed and calm the whole discussion except ..

When this line triggered him greatly, that he went so far to prove his point of view in a harsh way for Natsume ..

"They will betray you, maybe you need to go through a bitter experience to understand"

Those lines felt it's about Seiji as much as to prove his point to Natsume ..

But what did happen, who betrayed him ? A "Kind" Youkai ?? Did he thought a Youaki was treating him kindly but then it stabbed his back later on ?? Or did he treat someone kindly but it decived him and took advantage of his kindness ??

Did something ring a bell ? About Seiji saying something like he'd treat someone kindly if he ever gets the chance to ?

Yup, he did say such a thing back in the past when he was a kid, in this part of the story we got two important info about Seiji :

his yearning for a Youkai to make a contract with him but he'll never get to because of his bloodline.

the fact that he's gonna be kind to whoever gonna make a contract with him and fight by his side.

That in itself was his weakness and we already know that this very desire is one of the sources that twisted him and result in the Seiji of today ..

Who took advantage of this desire of his ? It's a Youkai but he can't even make a contract with anyone so .... it's a Youkai that was with him not by contract but a deal or a promise between them mostly ...

Something else ring a bell ?

Do you know who I really think the only one who can take advantage of him and it was clear there's something between them but we really never get to know whatever happened to it afterward ..

The Youkai in the pot!! It's him!! The main reason for Seiji's grudge toward the Youkai!!

What actually happened between them I know not, no more info to go that far with .. but I can't unseen it anymore!!

Especially if we return to something I already posted here, but let look at it from another angle, shall we?

THIS ONE!!! DO YOU SEE WHAT I MEAN!!!

Natsume's line > focus on the pot > Seiji's triggered reaction

When I first read this story I though this way of putting focus on the pot was to prove Natsume's point of view or for the pot Youkai's shock by Natsume's kindness which changed his opinion later on ..

But what if that was indirect hint by Midorikawa-sensei for the real source of Seiji's deep grudge toward the Youkai ? I can see her doing such a thing that we won't understand until later on ..

So, in short that's what I have in my mind lately and been very deeply hurt and sad by it, so thought I wanna share it and see what people think of it. am I overthinking things again ? does it make no sense ? am I only making myself suffer ? MAYBE I AM BUT HEAR ME OUT!!

Just thinking that Seiji's kindness used against him in an ugly way is just ... he's not someone to show his kindness that easily so thinking that when he did so and openly this happened to him is just aaaaa STOP HURTING MY BOY HE DOESN'T DESRVE THIS !!!!

the fact that even though he was cunning, cautions and levelheaded when he was young, yet actually he was very naive and rash since I also bet no one knew about the Youkai in the pot except Natori who said he never saw that pot again ever since.

I'll shut up and leave it at that since if I keep going, I'll just keep on crying and screaming about this!! IT JUST HURTS ALOT AND BEEN CRYING ABOUT IT EVER SINCE I THOUGHT ABOUT THIS THEORY OF MINE!!!

[starry-blue-echoes]

What was originally just meant to be a funny post about the Stone Ocean side of the Star Swap that somehow turned out to be actually plot-relevant:

What if, during the Yo-Yo Ma “fight”, Jonathan is just… nice to the stand? In canon, when Yo-Yo Ma appears, everyone is immediately violent towards and because they suspect it has evil intentions (to be fair, it does), and are overall very rude to stand. So what if in Star Swap Stone Ocean, when Yo-Yo Ma shows up and acts all humble, Jonathan’s victorian gentlemen behaviour kicks in and he gets Anasui and Foo Fighters to stop attacking it, and gives a whole speech about how servants deserve to be treated as kindly as anyone else. And what if Jonathan’s kindness actually moves Yo-Yo Ma’s to the point where he calls off his stand’s attack?

…. Okay so to be honest, I originally index’s this to just be a funny “ha ha look at how nice Jonathan is”, but in writing this I realize that it would actually significantly change things. If Jonathan manages to befriend Yo-Yo Ma, that means that Foo Fighters never leaves to kill the user, which means that they never directly encounter Pucci, which means that Foo Fighters gets to live for a little longer in this AU.  It probably doesn’t end well for the user of Yo-Yo Ma, since the moment Pucci learns of his betrayal, he can just take his stand and memories away and find out where “Jolyne” and the others are, meaning some variation of the fight against Pucci in the swamp still happens.  But since they where never subjected to the boiling water stand,  Foo Fighters is much less injured and might not die in the fight. 

Oooooooooooooooooo that's a really fun idea to mess around with actually

because like. Yo-yo Ma is I think the first (possibly only?) sentient automatic Stand we've seen, so like........ theoretically couldn't Yo-yo Ma disobey D an G's orders? To an extent at least??? Because as we've seen in the past, beyond their preset instructions Automatic Stands can't be directly controlled by their Users, and from wha I remember Yo-yo Ma is capable of making some decisions by itself

and just. You're absolutely right, Jonathan would 100% welcome Yo-yo Ma with open arms and kindness without hesitation. Foo, Atroe and Anasui find it kinda weird and aren't fully sold, but none of them say anything about it because none of them want to make Jojo upset, so they settle for silently threatening Yo-yo Ma with severe bodily harm should it lay a single finger on him when Jojo isn't looking

And who knows, maybe another thing that sway Yo-yo Ma to their side is Foo. Foo can open Yo-yo Ma's eyes to the fact that it doesn't have to do everything it's User tells it to, it can make it's own decisions and live life the way it wants

Pucci is definitly going to be angry about this specific development, and for the angst of it I love the idea of him taking Yo-yo Ma's disc when he finds out. Jonathan and the rest watching Yo-yo Ma crumbling to dust before their eyes, promising they'll bring it back somehow no matter what, that they won't let Pucci get away with this

And slightly switching gears from Yo-yo Ma to Foo and Atroe, them being there for everything with the Green Baby is going to make things interesting, specifically for when Pucci shows up. The duo's whole...... everything is actually going to make them something of a dfficult match for Pucci to fight, since as far as we've seen he can only use his ability on one person at a time, and while they're sharing a body they're still two seperate beings. If he tries to take Foo's disc, Atroe can just. Push it back in, and vice versa if he tried to take Atroe's

however, that isn't to say they'd have an easy win, or even be able to win at all. Whitesnake is still very powerful and Foo and Atroe are reliant on Atroe's body being in fighting condition so if she gets too beat up they're in trouble

but also another thought: what if Jonathan taught Atroe hamon. After all, Foo Fighters goes with hamon just as well as The Passion does with everything it does with water, and Foo...... doesn't exactly have lungs to use it themself. Plus, it would also give Atroe a reliable way to defend herself if she ever gets separated from Foo or if Foo's down for the count

why did I bring this up? Because I think it would be really funny if Pucci succesfully removed Foo's disc only to immediatley get punched in the face by a Hamon Boosted Punch

[coquettedragoon]

(you don’t have to reply I just wanted you to know this ;w; sorry that it’s long!!)

I replay my favourite scenes from Coquette whenever I’ve had a really tough time at uni. The subject matter you write about is so beautifully portrayed, relating to Xio’s struggles and seeing her be treated kindly despite her messiness is so deeply comforting, I don’t even have words for it. It feels so surreal to have feelings I’m unable to describe be written so clearly in a project like this.

Every time I load up CD it’s just striking how much effort has been poured into everything; the graphics are stunning, the songs are genuinely so catchy (I scoured both Ootheca and Clover And Sealife’s SoundClouds trying to find the soundtracks!! xD) and everything just feels so polished. Aside from just how insanely beautiful everything is, the characters are so vivid and their experiences are enthralling, I just want to keep reading more and more about them. I personally am most excited for Bell to show Honey her pudding transformation fetish art which I’m hoping wasn’t a joke because that would be hilarious

I really, really can’t stress to you how important and inspiring I find CD as both a young adult teen girl and a creator. It brings me so much hope that creating things like CD isn’t impossible and can be done; the existence of such a clean, polished, openly queer and weird and strange and thoughtful VN that genuinely brings me comfort when I’m struggling means that it’s a doable thing!!! I’d love to make something someday that can make someone feel how CD makes me feel.

Thank you so much for making Coquette and all the effort you put into it, it’s so important to me and I can’t wait for more!!! 💞💞💞 (Please make sure you rest also 🫂)

i'm very touched, thank you

[lovehotelreservation]

To serve or to be used - The choice is yours at the Handmaid Dollhouse~!

In the depths of the city’s underbelly, there is a paradise, a sanctuary for men to relieve their aches, calm their fury, and soothe their hearts. A cafe, a club, a brothel--no matter how you see it, the maids and the dolls within are here to be of service!

Now then, how shall you care for your patron?

It’s a busy evening at the Handmaid Dollhouse, with all sorts of handsome customers eagerly lined out the door. If you’re here to do your part, please kindly apply to work a night shift with the following terms~!

Requests must include:

Either “maid” or “doll”. Maids are to serve and treat their clients while dolls are subjected to the whims of their customers.

A prompt that details why your customer is here at the Handmaid Dollhouse on this evening and how long he (or they) has been a patron.

The services/kinks included~

Examples:

Liberating the lands isn’t an easy job. Having been a patron to the Dollhouse for a few years at this point, Cidolfus has found himself making even more visits once you began your work as a maid. After a skirmish with some scouts from Sanbreque, all he wishes is for his favorite maid to indulge him with paizuri~

While few and far between, the storm of Nidhogg’s rage still brews in the depths of Estinien’s soul. While he knew of your work as a doll at the Dollhouse, he had little interest in such lascivious services. Up until now, when his instincts compel him to ruin you thoroughly (full nelson, anal)

For this event, here are some prioritized customers~!

Final Fantasy XVI

Final Fantasy XIV

Street Fighter 6

Twisted Wonderland

Jujutsu Kaisen

Great Ace Attorney

Fire Emblem Heroes

SPORTS ANIME 

OSHI MFS (NCTX, LXM, TMPS)

Previous series I’ve written for are also open for consideration~

Deadline is TBD (likely after this coming Sunday)! If you have any questions about prompts/series to request for, I got you~ Thank you everyone!!! 🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️

[sangaverage]

Mythology magick- Working with Gryphons

Art Credit: Nambroth/ Featherdust

Divider credit: Here

Ah the Gryphon, A majestic cross of an eagle and a lion (at least traditionally), ruler of both land and sky, such grace, such majesty but how do I work with them?

What can I work with a Gryphon for?

You can work with a Gryphon for matters such as: Justice, Legal matters, Strength, Courage, Fear facing, reversing bad magick cast upon you (especially return to sender), protection (yourself, others, animals), grounding, Glamoury, inspiration, insight over a situation, knowledge on a subject, creativity, shadow work and even things such as taking that much needed "leap of faith"

What is their temperament like?

Gryphons rule over both earth and air, therefore are rather grounded and wise

a Gryphon can be much akin to a stern teacher, however they wish to see you succeed, a gryphon may give you a hard task or something on which to challenge yourself with but it will always be something they know you are capable of, they do not like to see anyone suffer after all! They are not cruel or strict or bossy but can come across that way

Don't be afraid to tell a gryphon if you are overwhelmed, need them to slow things down with you, or need a break, Gyphons understand that you are capable of many things but all creatures need rest!, they will be there when you need them again!

What can I offer a Gryphon in return for its service?

It is written that Gryphons, much like dragons, like to hoard, unlike dragons however Gryphons are more likely to hoard gemstones over gold, so an offering of a few gemstones won't go too amiss, they are also said to be fond of money, especially coins

TLDR: treat a Gryphons offerings like you would things magpies and other corvids may like!

What are some scents they like?

I have found they enjoy: rose, amber, linen and most winter and autumnal smells!

Any colours?

As rulers of earth and air colours they are known to like are:

orange, yellow, gold, silver, Light blue, pink, purple, black, white

As with any entity/ spirit etc, Please treat them kindly and in a respectful manner, Gryphons especially take rude people to heart!

[merrilldidnothingwrong]

semi-related to your Jade Empire posting but it's wild to me that bioware expects me to believe that Empress Celine is the best option for Orlais, when they HAD an example of a royal who was actually willing to do the right thing by their subjects in Silk Fox/Sun Lian. Like, I think I saw a post about it ages ago, but when she realised that her official power as Crown Princess wasn't enough to stop the Lotus Assassins, Sun Lian went "alright, bet" and became a literal vigilante, all to protect the people of the Empire. She was there after Two Rivers was sacked, implying she heard of the plan and wanted to try and stop it, and is determined to see someone pay for the destruction and death caused there. And that's one (one!) tiny village at the end of the Empire! Meanwhile, one play implies that she's maybe sleeping with an elf or whatever, and Celine purges an alienage? And we're supposed to see THAT as the ideal leader of Orlais? what are you even doing bioware?

I'm so glad you brought up Jade Empire in regards to this, because Jade Empire in fact has 3 characters who can wonderfully compare to that little mess in Orlais. Spoilers for Jade Empire coming (I know it's an old game, but it isn't as popular as I'd like it to be.) - Mod Alistair

Much like with Orlais, there are 3 people in Jade Empire who want to take/keep control of the Empire: the Emperor Sun Hai, Sun Li (known to us as Master Li), and Sun Lian/Silk Fox. Unlike with DAI, Jade Empire makes it very clear that Sun Hai and Sun Li are very clearly bad people, and that you're not supposed to side with them. Throughout the entire game, we see the Emperor's cruelty in play, and the only people who deny that the Emperor is culpable are Sun Lian, who understandably doesn't like the idea that her father is an evil man, and Sagacious Zu, who holds to the idea of the Emperor's justness as a lifeline for his own guilt. When we hear about Dirge and the genocide of the Spirit Monks, it is presented in no uncertain terms: Sun Hai did an evil act that day.

Sun Li initially presents himself as a kind mentor character, but there are odd discrepancies that make complete sense once he reveals his true nature: as a ruthless man who will do anything to gain and keep power. He has no genuine affection, either for the student he raised as a child, or for his family, including his daughter. Sun Li's cruelty is far more casual and matter-of-fact than Sun Hai's, but it is no less obvious.

All this is to say that Sun Lian's place in the narrative is far closer to Briala's. She's an underdog compared to Sun Hai and Sun Li, having neither the decades-long plans of the latter, or the endless resources of the former. And yet she intends through subterfuge and what little allies she can muster to try and save the Empire from itself. Obviously she isn't an exact one-for-one with Briala, but there are comparisons to be made.

DAI fails in that it actively aims to hide the truth of just how evil and self-serving Gaspard and especially Celine really are. Celine is presented as more peaceful and wise, hiding her actual nature as an abusive politician, an especially cruel act when you can deliver her victim right back under her thumb.

Celine being treated kindly in the narrative is entirely because she's a white woman with power, and it's important that we remember Bioware's clear biases.