#so sorry for this not being posted at a different time

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Prima Nocta

Marcus Acacius x Virgin!F!Reader oneshot

{ Main Masterlist }

Rating: E (18+ only)

Summary: Tomorrow, you will marry your husband-to-be. But tonight - it belongs to his father.

Word count: 6k

Warnings: DUB CON only due to nature of prima nocta, both parties enthusiastically consent, twist on prima nocta, unspecified age gap, loss of virginity, dirty talk, oral sex (F receiving), fingering, dry humping, unprotected sex, unrealistic descriptions of first sexual experience, all manners of historical inaccuracies and linguistic anachronisms sorry not sorry, ignores the events of the movie so you can consider this an AU, Marcus is widowed and has a son, shall we call this bfd: Ancient Rome version lmao

Notes: I'm a bit rusty for sure, but I had the absolute best time writing this oneshot. It's a departure from my usual themes to say the least, but once this idea took hold of me it never let go. I know prima nocta is meant to be invoked on the wedding night, but I like the idea of it being the night before so I made it so 🤷🏻‍♀️ Gorgeous dividers by @firefly-graphics as always.

He thought he had gotten away with it. Having lived more than fifty winters in the capital and outlasting eight emperors, he regrets to confess that he is still none the wiser. 

It would have been such a clever manoeuvre. Palming off a generous but very much unwanted gift from the emperors, and marrying off his son in one fell swoop. 

He should have been suspicious of their swift assent to his proposal. In his eagerness to bow out of their audience, it had been convenient to dismiss the flash of malice in their eyes.

And in the snake pits of Roman court, no misstep goes unexploited.

He is not proud that he is caught off guard by the emperor’s closest advisor who intercepts his walk home from the armoury, even less so of his ineloquent response to the missive handed to him.

‘What is this?’

‘Urgent word from the emperors, sir.’

Cold sweat prickles the back of his neck as he stares unseeingly at what is scrawled on the parchment.

‘I cannot,’ he blurts out, indignance rising fast and hot in his chest. ‘I will not.’

‘You think it wise to twice refuse the emperors’ generosity, general?’

General. To him, the culmination of a lifetime of service and sacrifice. To them, an instrument of bloodshed in war, a plaything in peacetime.

Desperate, he tries a different tact. ‘The right of the first night belongs to the emperors. I dare not commit sacrilege.’

‘It is not sacrilege if it is freely bequeathed upon you, general.’

There is no mistaking the warning lilt in the last word, and he has no answer.

‘The hour grows late. You had better not keep the bride waiting,’ says the advisor with an air of finality before retreating into the shadows.

Marcus shudders at the cold that settles into the empty space, fingers stained with ink from the now crumpled dispatch. 

He remembers nothing of the remainder of his short journey to his quarters. As the front door swings open, he realises there is something in the night air that is out of place.

Sea salt.

You are here. 

Would you be demure? Frightened? You are of royal lineage, a lady of the small but proud coastal kingdom strong-armed by Rome into an unequal treaty for its profitable trading posts, in return for the mercy of not being razed to its fertile grounds.

And now, you are lowered to marry a general’s son. 

Worse, lowered to have your virginity taken by his father.

Candlelight spills from the crack underneath the door to his bedchamber. Marcus takes a deep breath, and pushes it open.

You hear him. The swish of fabric, the slide of leather soles on marble.

The general is here.

Your hand in marriage is part of the terms of the treaty, and the missive that sent for you announced your match as the widowed hero general. You had him cast on the wretched journey from your home as one of the domineering, brutish soldiers now garrisoned at your family’s kingdom - only to be told on your arrival that you will be marrying his son instead.

Relief at the news that your future husband would not be decades older than you is instantly snatched away by furtive whispers of prima nocta.

Your future father-in-law will take you first.

The humiliation is bitter on your tongue. You are Rome’s to marry off, hers to give to whomever she pleases -

But she won’t break you.

The door creaks. You stand tall and hold your ground.

He sweeps into the room with an air of well-worn authority, the cloak on his back dark as the shadows that nip at his heels.

The candles flicker when he sheds the heavy robes with a smooth sweep of his arm.

You stare, in a manner that would have had your lady-in-waiting tutting. But you are alone, very much so, with this man not ten paces from you.

General Marcus Acacius. 

He is older, certainly old enough to have a son your age. But you had not imagined him so - strong, for the lack of a more imaginative word. His shoulders are broad under his wine red tunic, and you can see the muscles in his arms flex as he clenches and unclenches his fists at his sides. From where you stand, you can hardly see any silver in his dark curls.

Marcus unflinchingly assesses you right back. 

No, you are decidedly not demure. Or frightened. Far from it. 

You are defiant, even as you observe him with evident curiosity. Your head held high, a telltale sign of your noble breeding, mouth set in a stern line while your eyes burn bright with a proud fire. 

Judging the silence has gone on long enough, he breaks it with a formal, ‘My lady.’

‘General,’ you answer steadily.

The door slams shut belatedly behind him, and you flinch - the first glimpse of weakness you concede. 

Marcus breathes in, delivering his next sentence with as much composure as he can muster. ‘I expect you have been informed of the - formalities that we are to perform tonight.’

You grind your teeth so hard you are astonished that your jaw doesn’t crack.

Your virtue is just a formality.

Refusing to dignify his question with an answer, you nod once. 

He watches you wordlessly, and you meet his gaze. You thought you would find something else there, not the regret that you see.

Turning away from you, he reaches for the amphora on the table. 

‘Wine?’

‘Yes, please.’

The wine is drunk in silence and moderation. Him at his desk, you perched on the end of the bed.

As you sip, pacing yourself, you observe the general discreetly from across the small distance between you. 

To say that you are disconcerted by his behaviour would be an understatement.

You assumed that he asked for this - for the perverse pursuit of deflowering his son’s bride-to-be while eschewing the unwanted responsibility of a wife. 

Yet, watching him stare pensively into his goblet, lips pursed in a pout that is almost sullen, you are not so certain anymore. 

When you bring your drink to your mouth to find it empty, you clear your throat. ‘I have to wake up early tomorrow morning - for the wedding.’

The general starts before collecting himself, drawing himself up to his full height as he sets down his cup with a heavy clunk. ‘Understandably, my lady.’

Then he moves, charting a course across the room, licking his thumb and index finger to douse the candles dotted around the space.

The thought comes to you unbidden - he has thick fingers. And big hands. 

Your cheeks tingle with heat.

Soon the chamber is cloaked in darkness, save for the candles next to the bed, the warm light pooling in the most inviting manner on the soft surface despite your trepidation. You long to rest your aching feet. 

He comes to a standstill on the other side of the bed, as if waiting for you to take the lead. You cannot decide whether you are thankful for him not imposing on you, or frustrated at him for not taking the lead in what is very much unfamiliar territory.

In the end, the desire to get off your feet wins out, and you gesture at the bed. ‘Shall we…?’

‘Certainly.’ He bends down, you assume to take off his sandals. You do the same, toeing off the soft leather slides the maids had you change into when they dressed you.

Once barefoot, you climb in with as much grace as you can summon, acutely aware that you have an audience. Your knees sink into the mattress, and you’re relieved that it is stuffed with feathers, luxuriously giving under your weight. Shifting primly, you find your back against the headboard, cushioned by equally soft pillows.

The general follows suit, the frame creaking as he eases onto the suddenly too small bed, strong shoulders brushing yours as he settles next to you.

You stare hard at the back of your hands, the only way to stop your gaze from wandering to the span of his fingers splayed wide on sturdy thighs, or lower to the bony ridge of his knees - gods, you must be unwell, since when have you been drawn to knees?

You are still questioning the state of your sanity when the general, who has been nothing but unperturbed and composed since he stepped into the room, stumbles over his words in a manner that is neither, as if he had held the question behind his teeth for too long.

‘Are you - are you absolutely certain - in no doubt - that you are… untouched?’

His question stings like salt in a festering wound. Indignant doesn’t even begin to describe the retort you spit at him. ‘Yes, I am. Are you?’

Peering at you sideways, his eyes widen at your outburst, and fear briefly flits across your heart that you have overstepped.

 But then, he surprises you with a smile. ‘You bite, don’t you?’ 

You let your shoulders sag, too far gone to hold onto your facade. 

‘It’s been a long day, sir,’ you admit. ‘To be frank, I just want to get this over with and forget it ever happened.’

He pauses at your confession, as if weighing his options. Then he shifts, and says, ‘The reason I ask if you were untouched is because, if you were not - we could have just pretended we did this.’

You frown. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I did not invoke prima nocta, it was imposed upon me. The emperors are displeased that I turned down the betrothal, this is their way of punishing me for my ungratefulness.’ 

Oh.

As much as you didn’t want this either, your pride suffers to hear him describe it as a punishment.

‘I know…’ you stumble, halting to steel yourself. ‘I know I am nothing like the women here in Rome. I spend too much time in the sun, and my hands are rough from working with horses -’

‘Why do you say that?’ he interrupts you.

You look away. ‘That is why you do not wish to marry me, is it not? And why you do not want this - why you do not want me.’

The general sits up, palms on the mattress to support his weight, the lines on his forehead deepening with a frown. ‘No, that is not the reason. You are young, you deserve a husband who can build a life with you in the years to come. Not a washed-up widower.’

The bitterness in his voice turns your head. 

‘You’re not washed up, from what I hear.’ Somehow, you find the courage to add boldly, ‘Or from what I see.’

Letting your eyes trail unabashedly over his broad frame, a thrill chases through your blood when you notice his Adam’s apple bob with a tight swallow. He’s so close that you know you’re not imagining the heat seeping into your bones.

Silence stretches between you, charged with a consciousness that creeps in and spreads. Two souls from different worlds and stations put in a situation in which neither of you had a hand. This may not be how you imagined giving away your virtue - far from it - yet your stomach twists in anticipation.

You glance upwards, only to find him already watching you.

Something has shifted when you so bravely reached out and tipped the balance with your words. He can tell that you are not one for flippant flattery, and it takes him a moment to collect himself, harder said than done with the blood roaring in his ears.

When he speaks, it comes out in a much lower register than he intends, so much so it sounds like a secret. 

‘You say you just want to get this over with. But I can - I can make it good for you. It doesn’t have to be something you want to forget.’

Your eyes widen and your lips part, and heat blooms almost uncomfortably in his chest. ‘You would do that for me?’

‘I will serve you in whatever way you ask of me tonight, my lady.’

Never have mere words, albeit delivered in such a delicious baritone, moved you so. You came in expecting to have your virtue stripped from you, the same way Rome callously stole you away. Where you thought humiliation and dishonour awaited, this man is offering deliverance and devotion - if only for one night.

Your throat tight with emotion, you nod in lieu of a spoken answer.

Marcus is deliberately slow in his movements, wanting you to feel safe in his presence. ‘How much do you know? So I know what I need to teach you.’

Despite yourself, shyness rears its head and you mumble, ‘I’ve - I’ve heard stories. I know what… happens… between a man and a woman in the bed chamber.’

He nods reassuringly, making you feel less of a fool for the juvenile answer you gave. ‘And has anyone touched you before?’

There’s no mistaking the lurch in your stomach as your heart hammers violently. ‘No. No one. Never.’

The protector in him stirs, summoned to duty, warring with the desire that seethes under his skin like the unholy flames of Vesuvius. He fears it is a quickly losing battle. 

Reading the desire in your endearingly open face, Marcus reaches over you to settle one hand on your hip as he leans close, his breath warm on your cheek.

‘Have you ever kissed a man?’ he rasps. 

You shake your head, eyes fixated on his mouth, framed by a tidy moustache. He is so close that you can see his beard is flecked with silver.

You swear the general is leaning into you, and every inch of you is on tenterhooks, enraptured by his proximity -

‘You should save it for your husband.’

You barely forestall the whine of protest that teeters on the tip of your tongue, pinching your lips together, but his lopsided smile tells you that he knows. 

‘I can kiss you elsewhere though.’

‘Oh,’ you inhale shakily when he dips to mouth at the side of your neck, landing on your pulse point in a suckle. Your whole body arches off the bed, hands gripping the sheets, head spinning at all the sensations that are new to you - the burn of his stubble, the cool trail his lips leave behind -

Then the palm on your hip pulls you into him, sprawling you against the wide cage of his body, your breasts pressed against his broad chest. The dress they put you in is thin, and the fabric rubs against your pebbling nipples as his kisses travel daringly low.

‘Am I going too fast?’ he pauses, voice strained.

Breathlessly, you shake your head.

‘If you want me to stop, or wait, you say the word. Understood?’

‘Yes, general.’

Two words he hears daily from his men, and yet from your lips, they unleash a dangerously feral side of him.

More. Is the only coherent thought that remains. 

Impatient hands reposition you so that you are astride him, and he groans when you slot flush in his lap. He watches your eyes widen at what you feel between your legs. Your dress rides up, and his blood rushes south at the bare expanse of your inner thighs on his skin. 

‘I want to see you,’ he speaks plainly, palms squeezing the dip of your waist. ‘May I undress you? Please?’

All decorum flees you, and you might have chanted yes, yes, yes to his question.

Dropping your chin, you watch his thick fingers nimbly undo the knot holding the front of your dress together. The silk capitulates like water, tumbling down in delicate drapes around your waist, baring you to his heated gaze.

‘You are beautiful,’ he declares with a solemnity that steals your breath.

And it is easy to believe him, the way his dazed eyes trail over your breasts, before his hands follow. Calloused palms, which you are sure have held many a sword in triumph, now cup your tender flesh in reverence. 

Your head lolls to the side as he teases you, but when he rolls his hips upwards, your eyes snap to the pained expression on his face. You’ve heard ladies in court whispering over wine about length and girth, but nothing could prepare you for the thrill of feeling a man’s undeniable desire for you.

Instinct guides you, moving your hips so that you are grinding against his length, seeking relief from what is building deep within you.

‘Do what feels good,’ the general murmurs encouragingly, palms on the small of your back to let you take control.

And just like that, you are thrown back to one summer’s day in your youth. You were bathing in a rock pool, under the spray of a waterfall in perfect solitude when you accidentally slipped forwards on the smooth stone surface. The unexpected sensation between your legs ripped through you like lightning on a clear day. And you chased that feeling, hips undulating until you shuddered and cried out. Knees trembling in the aftermath, you never dared to seek it out again, but neither did you forget.

And now, years later, you finally know what had transpired. Pleasure. And this time, under the general’s hooded gaze, you pursue it with single-minded determination.

Marcus wishes you knew how beautiful you are in this very moment. Breasts swaying in tandem while you rock back and forth on his clothed length, eyes glazed, every whimper from your swollen lips making him throb harder for you.

‘Good girl,’ he rasps, throat tight. ‘Take your pleasure. Take what you need.’

And when he sucks your nipple into his mouth, you wail, tipping forward at an angle that unexpectedly takes you apart.

The waves that wash over you are more intense than you remember, and you are sure that has to do with the man holding your hips to his as you buck, and the warm swirl of his tongue against your breasts, sucking and nipping as you come down from your high.

‘That was not your first time,’ he states as a matter of fact when the white noise in your ears finally fades.

‘It happened once, a long time ago, and I didn’t understand then -’

‘And now you do.’

‘Yes, general.’

This time, he lets loose a moan at your words. ‘I can feel your wetness through your dress.’

Confused, you look down, and your cheeks burn when you spot the dark patch on the delicate fabric. ‘Oh, I -’

‘It’s natural,’ he assures you. ‘The wetness makes it easier for -’

It dawns on you when you feel his hardness twitch under you. Oh. 

‘It - you feel -’ you stutter, struggling to comprehend how the girth of what you are sitting on could possibly fit inside you.

Taking your hand, Marcus presses a chaste kiss to your palm, eyes warm and open. 

‘We will take it slow. I will use my fingers first, to prepare you for me,’ he explains patiently. ‘I promised I would make it good for you, did I not?’

‘You did.’ 

And you have complete faith in him.

Your knees knock into each other hopelessly when he slides you off his lap, and he has to bodily prop you up against the pillows. Sinking into the soft feathers, you watch him kneel between your parted legs, and you feel so safe even as he towers over you. 

‘May I disrobe you?’

You bite your bottom lip, and nod. 

Except it’s not a disrobing, it’s nothing near as civil as that. The general rips the rest of your dress clean down the middle, rendering you completely bare beneath him.

Marcus knows should be ashamed of his brash behaviour. But how could he when you react so viscerally, jaw slack as your chest heaves in unmitigated desire? 

His gaze shamelessly trail over every curve and dimple, from the breasts he has tasted to where your knees are demurely closed, and knowing that he is the first - the only - to have laid eyes on you makes him impossibly hard. 

It matters not that you are not his to keep. This will always be his. 

‘You are exquisite,’ he professes, voice tight. 

You duck your head, more shy of his compliments than being nude before him. ‘You don’t have to.’

Sliding a finger under your chin and tilting your head until you meet his gaze, he assures you, ‘I mean every word.’

Then he moves down the bed until he can rest his weight on his elbows, and you startle when rough palms glide over the outside of your thighs, stopping at your knees. 

He pauses to give you time. ‘Are you certain you wish to continue?’

Your answer is a confident yes.

Then, as if opening the shell of Venus, he delicately pries your knees apart, and his breath hitches as you are revealed to him.

He is aware that he’s staring like an imbecile, words failing him. As the silence stretches on, you become self-conscious.

‘General,’ you demur, moving to cover yourself.

Shaking his head, he finally says, ‘Forgive me, but you are perfect.’

Then he looks up at you with such intensity that has you struggling to catch your breath, and without breaking eye contact, he bows his head - 

And closes his lips over you there. 

You are wholly unprepared - no one has ever gossiped about this in court. Your hips buck violently off the bed, but Marcus holds you down with reassuring hands, suckling on the pearl between your thighs with gentle laps of his tongue.

‘Oh, oh, oh,’ you stuttter, torn between watching the man wreak the most devastating pleasure on you and averting your gaze.

You’ve only ever known worship to be pious, and yet, this most vulgar adulation is the closest you’ve been to the gods.

His beautiful curls brush the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, catching the candle light as he moves, and the crook of his nose - so proud even with the scar on its bridge - draws patterns on your skin as he stakes his claim where no one has ever touched you. 

You quickly realise that what you felt just now in the general’s lap was insignificant and thin in comparison. This pleasure is all-consuming, something divine that has you weak and trembling all over. All you hear are slick, wet sounds of tongues and lips, and your own whimpers between garbled groans.

Marcus feasts on you, unapologetically. Flattening his tongue, he tastes you in broad sweeps, moaning into your sweet cunt as you writhe above him, your needy mewls driving him to the edge of madness. You taste like fig - the earthiness of the purple peel, ripe sweetness of the pink flesh.

Then your hands wind into his hair, pulling him closer, ankles hooking over his shoulders. He groans harder, the sound rattling in his ribs as you soak his beard. Surrendering any last vestiges of shyness, you rock against his tongue, nails scratching his scalp as you whine louder into the night air. 

Moans that will echo long after you’re gone.

The thought alone hardens his resolve to mark you unequivocally. You’re close, your pliant body quivering and breaths coming in shallow gasps now. He peers up at you, but your eyes are sealed shut and upturned at the gods, your breasts heaving.

Gently, he eases one finger inside you, and he grunts at how easily he slides in. You barely react, and so he pushes back in with two, coaxing a cry from you. Your cunt clenches as he gently thrusts his digits in and out, stretching your tight walls. 

‘Oh gods. Oh gods,’ you pant violently.

You’re close, so close. He wants to warn you of what is to come, but it feels like sacrilege to tarnish the moment with words. When he feels you begin to quiver, he laves at your clit harder, burying his fingers inside you to the knuckle, until he feels you crest and break. 

‘Gods, oh gods - Marcus!’

The cry of his name catches him off guard. He nearly loses control right there and then, as you ride out your high on his fingers, but by some miracle he holds out through gritted teeth. He devotes his attention to kissing his way up your body, from the slick inside of your thighs, to the side of your hip, making you jump when he sucks on your sensitive breasts.

You stare at his mouth with wild, dark eyes, and him at yours, but he vowed to leave your first kiss to your husband. Girding his self-restraint, he asks, ‘Are you alright?’

‘Yes, Marcus.’

His cock twitches at the sound of his name on your lips. He wants to hear you say it in all manners of ways - whisper it, gasp it, scream it. And by the cheekiness in your smile, it’s clear that you know what he’s thinking.

Your eyes drop to where his hardness is pressed against you. ‘Will you teach me how to please you, general?’

He swallows a groan, the animal in him rattling the bars of its cage. He replies diplomatically, ‘I will teach you how to teach your husband.’

In one smooth tug, he shucks off his tunic, then his loincloth, and he tries not to be self-conscious under your watchful gaze. Pulling you against him, skin on naked skin, he smears kisses along the side of your neck, smiling at your answering shudder. In return, you run your lips and scrape your teeth over his collarbone. 

Taking your hand and pressing a kiss to your palm, he slides it all the way down his chest and wraps your fingers firmly around his throbbing cock, his pained moan in your ear.

Eyes wide, you marvel at the size of him in your grip. ‘You are so big.’

Marcus curses through clenched teeth. ‘You are an insolent girl.’

With a wicked glint in your eyes, you correct yourself, ‘You are so big, general.’

If he wasn’t so aroused, he would have chuckled at your cheek. Instead, he growls, ‘Such insubordination.’

Tilting your head to one side, you grin. ‘And how would you discipline me, sir?’

He lets the silence linger for a beat, allowing anticipation to build as one big hand splays over your ass, hot lips brushing the shell of your ear. ‘I would deny you my cock, my lady. Let your sweet cunt weep for me, empty, not knowing how good it would feel to have me deep inside you.’

You are unsure if you are more shocked at the explicitness of his words, or at the gush of wetness that has you pressing your thighs together. If you had to wager a guess, he is just as affected as you by the way his length pulses in your grasp.

Marcus smiles as he takes in the way your body reacts to him. ‘But how can I deny such a lovely, desperate creature such as yourself?’

A sob escapes you. ‘Please, Marcus - I’m yours to take.’

With that, all self-restraint abandons him, and his lips crash into yours. At the back of his mind, he knows you deserve a better first kiss, something gentle and sweet. But to your credit, you seem to take it in stride, winding your arms around his neck with a deep groan as he deepens the kiss. Opening up your mouth, he sweeps his tongue against yours, making sure you taste yourself and the pleasure that he had wrung from you.

When he reluctantly pulls back for air, you hum, ‘I thought you said I should save that for my husband.’

He all but snarls, ‘Damn your husband.’

The possessiveness in his tone sends you reeling, and his resolve wears even thinner when your cunt brushes against him, so wet and soft, begging for him. 

‘I cannot wait any longer,’ he declares.

You bite your lip beseechingly. ‘Please, Marcus, I cannot either.’

He braces himself above you on strong arms, until all you can see is him, backlit by the soft candlelight. Beholding his beauty - the wisps of gray at his temples, the scar lining his cheekbone - your breath catches at the tenderness in his eyes as he stares down at you.

Holding the base of his cock, Marcus notches himself at the entrance of your cunt, trembling as he holds himself back. 

‘I will go slow,’ he assures you. ‘If it hurts, you tell me to stop. Understood?’

Your mouth dry, you can only nod. 

Holding your gaze, Marcus rolls his hips ever so slowly, jaw slack when he breaches you, inch by tortuous inch.

He is barely inside you and you already feel so unfathomably full.

‘Marcus,’ you gasp when it gets impossibly tight, nails digging into his broad shoulders.

He stops, and whispers encouragingly, ‘You are doing so well for me, taking me so beautifully. Just breathe.’

In between his patient, languid kisses, you unfurl, and Marcus gently pulls back, before pushing into you, deeper this time.

When you cry out, he shushes you, brushing the wet corners of your eyes with his lips. ‘Does it hurt?’

You shake your head. ‘No, it’s just - so much.’ 

‘I know, I can feel how tight you are gripping me,’ he mumbles into your neck, throbbing inside you while he holds himself still as you adjust. ‘Brave, sweet girl.’

When you find your voice again, you give him cheek. ‘I am a woman now, general.’

He smiles at you - a warm curl that crinkles the corners of his eyes endearingly - and claims your lips again. Feeling the tension seep out of your body, he thrusts shallowly so you can learn the movement of his hips. When he hits a spot that makes your jaw drop and your hips buck, he pulls all the way back, and drives himself to the hilt in one smooth motion.

And with that, you become a part of his soul, and his yours. His chest swells with the fiercest possessiveness and the greatest honour all at once, despite knowing that the circumstances that brought you together will inevitably tear you asunder at the break of dawn.

‘Marcus!’ you choke on a sob, throwing your head back, your walls clutching his cock in a merciless grip.

‘There she is,’ he grunts, mouth scraping the shell of your ear. ‘Say my name like that.’

And you do, over and over again, as he fucks into you. His pants land harshly in the crook of your neck with every thrust, hands greedily squeezing all the skin he can find - the curve of your ass, the dimple in your waist, your thigh to hitch it over his hip.

Looking down at you, eyes drunk and unfocused as you stare back at him, each squeeze of your wet cunt around him, every breath from your lips feels sacred.

He is seized by a sudden need to know. ‘How does it feel?’

Your eyes soften, and he shudders when you cup the side of his face to bring his nose to yours. ‘Divine.’

Marcus loses himself in you, in the wet squelch of your cunt around his length, the way your tightness takes every thrust. Words of praise that he doesn’t even hear tumble from his lips and onto every inch of skin he can reach as you cling to him, scraping your nails down his back and digging into the meat of his ass.

Pitching forward to press a hard kiss to you, he says, ‘I want you to fall apart for me again.’

‘Please, Marcus, please.’

Pushing himself up to his knees, still buried deep inside you, he spreads your thighs obscenely wide over his hips, and he moans at the sight of your cunt so full of him. With hooded eyes, he sucks on two of his thick fingers and brings them between your legs, carefully drawing circles on your clit, knowing that you are already sensitive from cumming twice for him before.

Your face twists in agony as he builds you towards another climax, patiently weaving the web of pleasure that wounds you tighter and tighter until your spine feels like it will snap in two. ‘Marcus, oh - don’t stop, don’t stop, oh gods -’

He bares his teeth as he feels you start to clench around him. ‘That’s it, that’s it. Cum on my cock, let me feel you, give it to me.’ 

Your peak crashes into you relentlessly, and as you are swept away, you can only wail and thrash, while Marcus curses and stutters unintelligibly above you as he spins out of control.

He had every intention to pull out, but it is as if some higher power is determined to foil his plans. With a guttural roar, his hips snap flush against yours, big palms grasp you so hard by the waist that you squeal, and he spills into you in hot gushes, once - twice - and again until he is spent.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

He doesn’t know if he said that aloud or if it was a trick of the mind. All he knows is that he eventually collapses bonelessly onto you, skin fused together with sweat and cum as your breaths become one in the crisp night air.

It is him who breaks the stillness, his old bones creaking when he stirs to relieve an ache in his back. His softened cock slides out of you, prompting you to whine in protest. He grunts when he looks down to see his cum dribble out of your cunt, leaving a pearly trail on the inside of your thighs.

When he meets your eyes, there is no awkwardness in the silence. ‘Forgive me, I didn’t mean to spill my seed inside you. That was reckless.’

Your heart skips a beat at his admission, and you can’t hide the pride in your voice. ‘Do I make you reckless, general?’

He tries and fails to be stern in his answer, the tenderness with which he brushes his nose on your cheek giving him away. ‘I know better than to encourage your insolence with an answer.’

You are far from discouraged though, quite the opposite. Knowing you have this man - who commands armies of thousands - at your mercy is a siren’s call.

Peering at him from under your eyelashes, you curl one leg around his waist. ‘Do you want to be reckless again?’

He huffs, but a smile breaks through. ‘Have you ever been told that you are a cocktease?’

You hum teasingly. ‘I have never heard that word before, but I like it.’

‘You do?’ he breathes against your lips. ‘You like being my cocktease?’

‘Yours, general.’

Marcus is astounded when he feels himself harden again, and he moans as you press open-mouthed kisses down his neck. ‘What spell have you cast on this old man, my little cocktease?’

You grin, letting him ease you onto your back so he can settle between your thighs again. ‘The kind that lasts until dawn.’

Eventually, morning must break, sure as the moon turns and the sun rises. In the golden rays of day, you will wed his son in ironic, virginal white, showered in rose petals. He will look on from the side in his finest ceremonial robes of red, as you walk away from him and into your new life as someone else’s wife.

But in the velvety folds of this night and many more to come, safely ensconced in the deepest corners of his memories, in lands far away, in war and in peace, there he keeps you - where you are not.

More notes: Thank you for reading! As usual, comments/reblogs/asks would be very much appreciated 🥰 I hope you enjoyed this fic as much as I loved writing it!

[remxedmoon]

You should tell us about color psychology that sounds cool as hell

YES… HA HA HA… YES!

GGGOD I WISH I WASN’T OUT OF THE HOUSE RIGHT NOW. but i’ve been thinking about colors literally all day so you all get to be subject to my madness! sorry this is long and rambly wauaua. nightmarishly long post under the cut.

okay. first things first, a few basics. color theory and color psychology tend to get confused a lot in discussions, but they usually refer to different things. color theory is more about we physically perceive colors (color wheels and color schemes the like), while color psychology focuses on our emotional response to colors. if you’re familiar with the children’s hospital color theory post, that poster wasn’t actually talking about color theory, but color psychology (and also it’s incredibly surface level and heavily misunderstands the subject because in what fucking universe does the quantity of positive associations with a color matter more than the context it’s used in and sorry i have personal beef with this tumblr post).

color theory is also a special interest of mine but i’m not gonna touch on it too much here because it’s not entirely important. mmmaybe another time…

essentially, certain colors (and color combinations) have associations in our brains and that affect our behavior and emotions. these associations are also very much affected by the context a color is used in. colors don’t exist in a vacuum! so while red can symbolize passion and love when used in something like a dress or a bouquet of flowers, it has a very different connotation when it’s, say, splattered on the walls or smeared on the ground in a snail trail.

or for a less Children’s Hospital Themed example, i’ll put my euphrasie and king designs here!

(of course the saturation and brightness of these blues play a massive part in how they’re perceived but this is not a post about color theory this is n)

and, of course, combining colors in a piece can also change their meanings!! i’m about to get real fucking normal.

i’m gonna be focusing on the color combo of red and yellow here because it’s the one that’s most relevant to my art (and also it’s really interesting.) basically, seeing these two colors together activates the part of our brain that controls our appetite, making us actually feel hungry. this is why so many food companies use red and yellow in their branding! it’s neat stuff!!

also, if you’re familiar with it, this is why the mv for butcher vanity uses this color palette!! along with red’s general associations with danger and blood, the color combo also physically induces hunger. pretty fitting for a song about cannibalism!

(there is also red’s association with lust and passion and how that intersects with the double meaning in the lyrics but i cannot derail this post into being an analysis of butcher vanity i’m sorry. we’d be here all week. maybe another day... wipes a tear from my eye)

and i think this might be the reason why some people feel hungry when they see my art, even when i’m not drawing food. while i don’t tend to use red outright, most of my art has very warm undertones (red-oranges and yellows especially), which could be activating that hunger response??

(ah fuck color theory managed to weasel its way into this post again)

admittedly this part is just speculation on my end. i think my rendering style and Shapes also play a role in it, but it’s interesting for me to think about!!

this is only scratching the surface of how complicated colors can get. i was going to go on an entire tangent about color grading and how green lighting can make a scene feel unnerving but this post is already Too Fucking Long. aaaa super sorry if this is Rambly or hard to understand!! i’m not Entirely sure how much the average person knows about color theory and psychology so if there’s any confusing terms here i’m fine with adding stuff for clarity!

wauauuaa thank you so much for asking!!!! i love talking about colors.

tl;dr colors have a bunch of different emotions and meanings tied to them, but you’ve gotta pay attention to the context in which it’s being used. so maybe take a step back before you put that thick red trail on the floor of your children’s hospital.

[escapisttt]

a lot of this was supposed to be posted for redacted kinktober but. college got in the way. i’m ovulating let me have this. it’s very long OOPS WHO LET ME OUT OF MY CAGE.

NSFW LMAO

lasko has a puppy kink. he likes being told he’s a good boy and craves to be of service to dear. would do anything to please them and do it well; it’s what turns him on the most. leash and collar. god, he’d lick the fucking dirt from their shoes if it made them smile down at him. yeah perhaps him and ash could bond over this. the difference between them though is that during those moments, lasko will never goof off or make jokes meanwhile ash is a bit of a brat. lasko would never disobey dear, but ash likes to push baabe’s buttons so that they “force” him into submission.

milo uses “good girl/good boy/good pet” hnnnngghh. as well as “pretty girl/pretty boy/pretty thing” oh my god. he’s so good at praise.

milo is usually pretty physically rough with it, going fast and deep, but you wouldn’t know that if you were just listening to his voice. sometimes while he’s absolutely fucking sweetheart’s brains out, he’s right in their ear speaking so softly and encouragingly with soooo much praise. “that’s right baby, ‘m i doin’ it right?” when he KNOWS he’s doing it right, he just wants to hear their confirmation. “yeah, lemme touch you, you like that? tell me you like that.” he looooves making sweetheart tell him how they’re feeling, and when they inevitably confirm that it feels good, he nods and doubles down. he craves good feedback, it’s his praise kink. “awwww i know it feels good baby, ‘m gonna make it feel even better.” it’s not condescending, it’s confidence. he knows what he’s good at, and he wants to get better. he’s a huge pleaser.

this is self indulgent if you aren’t into daddy kinks don’t read this one lmao. but daddy milo is soooo real to me. “was that too much? aw ‘m sorry baby, daddy’ll make it feel better. shh shh it’s okay, daddy’s sorry…” OUUUGGHHHH. “daddy wants what you want baby, tell‘im what you want. c’mon, be good and use your words, daddy wants to hear you,” i can’t do this anymore RELEASEEE MEEEEEEE. milo does it tastefully okay he’s not one of the weird ones TRUST ME.

milo who subs occasionally. to put a number on it, about 10% of the time. it may not be his natural default, but when the time is right, it’s so right. it happens one of two ways: either milo had a really rough, tiring day and needs to be coaxed into being cared for, or his sweetheart had been relentlessly teasing him. he’s such a brat at first, rejecting every dominant advance from sweetheart with a performative cocky demeanor, but it breaks down quickly enough when they touch him in the right places.

porter is such a masochist, but not in a traditionally submissive way. god, he loves when treasure slaps his face, yanks his hair, and scratches his back deeply on purpose. he likes being choked a little sometimes as well. but when all of these things are enacted on him, he smiles. he’s got a cocky grin and he’s nodding emphatically, his hips pistoning, almost twitching, even if he’s not inside of treasure. he’s groaning and his eyes are rolling back, but he’s not submitting. he’s daring them to do more, knowing that the only one whose limits being tested are theirs: how much are they able to take of porter when he’s losing himself to the pain? the more intense the pain, the harder he fucks treasure. basically porter is saying without saying, “the more you hurt me, the more i’ll pleasure you.” treasure essentially controls their own pleasure through him; if they want him to go faster, they dig their nails into his back or his scalp or his hips. and as soon as they let go, he lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and eases back down to a slower pace. and porter knows what they’re doing. he likes it. he likes that they have that level of control over him, but he’s absolutely not a whimpering mess like lasko.

david does not like using toys or bondage material. that’s his job. he’s very animalistic in the sense that he does not want anything, even objects, interfering with his time with his mate. he’s the type to get jealous of a vibrator or any sex toy. not because he’s worried about it doing a better job than him, but because it was the thing pleasuring his mate and not him. if his angel is in the mood, he wants to know so he can take care of it. an unspoken rule in the shaw house is that neither of them are allowed to touch themselves. david sticks to this rule through and through, but if angel is caught in the action, the punishment is pretty intense, meaning overstimulation. david is usually quite rough and is already a lot to take even when he’s going slow, so him when he’s angry can be… a lot. he’s got angel on their tummy in the prone bone position and is absolutely laying into them, growling in their ear with genuine irritation. “you should’ve told me… why didn’t you tell me? is this not cutting it for you? you had enough of this cock? i thought you liked it. thought you liked being full of me, not a piece of fucking plastic.” yeah he’s angy. and he’s not being mean to them, he just wants to prove to them and remind them how good he makes them feel. they shouldn’t want anything else. and when angel does it because they think david is too busy for them? yeah he would stay up during all hours of the night to prove them wrong. “how do you think like that, hm? you think i’d put work above this? god angel, i do everything to come home to you, give my time to you. you don’t get that? let me keep showin’ you….”

azmidi who literally nuts on a lot of phone call role plays with sweetie (it’s canon yall hear the way his breath shakes all the time). just hearing their pretty voice, god he feels his pants getting tighter (if he wears those lol). he demands they tell him about their day even though they know he knows exactly how their day went. it feeds into that delicious fear of stalking, the idea that their every movement is being tracked and scrutinized and constantly mulled over. he wants to listen to them talk while he palms himself, nodding along with their version of events, happy that they’re being obedient and not lying to him. he doesn’t have to take himself out of his pants, though he likes to most times. he can come without that, just dry humping into his hand and pressing the phone to his ear, letting out the occasional moan. he knows sweetie can hear him, and if they show signs of getting flustered, it only makes him harder. “you know what you’re doing to me, right? you—you know… oh god…. hey, don’t stop. don’t stop talking. you’ve been doing such a good job, sweetie. let me hear you.”

william “eye contact�� solaire. hngggnhnnhg. let’s imagine he’s got a long term partner, right? he is suuuuuuch a gentle lover. he’s not about rough sex very much, he’s too sophisticated lol. no, the actual reason he isn’t too keen on rough sex is because to him, his lover is a deity; an angel that walks the earth, the image of divine perfection. he isn’t going to treat them like a ragdoll, he worships the air they breathe for gods sake. he doesn’t see himself nearly worthy enough to be their companion, their equal. he gives them everything and then apologizes because it just isn’t enough. when he gave them their crown? “i hope you like it. the jewels are the finest i could find of course, for you. i—i perhaps could have gotten larger ones… i apologize. oh, but the weight may be a bit much for your neck… oh dear.” yeah this man is rich but he fucking won’t be if his partner doesn’t stop him from spoiling them. but i’m ranting, this is supposed to be about sex lmfao please ask me to make a post ab william i will do it so fast. this aspect of himself shows especially when he and his partner are intimate. he’s on his knees a lot of the time, staring up at his lover with worshipful reverence. he pleads in his soft spoken voice, his eyes fluttering shut as they put their hand on his cheek. “my love, what would you have me do for you? ask me anything.” and he means anything.

[butch-reidentified]

I've met so many women I can actually relate to through rad spaces. women who actually have real fuckin experiences (and yeah sorry but I do mean beyond the average range of sexual terrorism we all experience). genuinely intelligent, interesting women. women who have survived and persevered against all odds. women with calloused skin and sharpened teeth and battle scars. women who have repeatedly made the toughest choices about who they wanted to be in a world that condemns the unique personhood of women: women who have refused to give up being smart, curious, stubborn, outspoken, passionate, justice-seeking, driven, competitive, angry, and so much more.

you know who I mostly met in regular "leftist" spaces? sheltered, naive, "demisexual pangender"-stereotype white kids who went to college for a gender/kweer studies degree with just their parents' money (literally no scholarship or loans or even job) who would make "I don't feel safe here" style cultural appropriation call-out posts because a white dude sold sushi on campus. everything was all about them all the time, but mostly it was them pretending it was about someone else.

yeah this is anecdotal ig but it's also the cumulation of years of anecdotes in various different spaces. and if you're gonna read this and say some dumbass shit like "I have lots of friends in those sorts of leftist spaces who have actually been through shit, who are x, y, z..." (which ALWAYS happens in response to these kinds of comments) how about instead you learn to read cause it literally just does not ever say this is the ONLY sort of person i encountered

This is infuriating because this person is being intentionally obtuse. I bet they'd know what women-only spaces are if they included TiMs.

[sitp-recs]

re - your last post, as a writer i find that to be an absurd take. people who write exclusively for validation probably shouldn't. if discovering your work is enjoyed and loved - just privately - is a dealbreaker for you, i think there are probably bigger issues that need to be worked through. the idea that we write fic for free and yet this discussion about "payment" through kudos/comments persists is so backwards and obnoxious.

sorry to tag you on this, obv you have nothing to do with op, but i just wanted to say - as a writer recs are a HUGE deal. to know that you liked something enough to share it with others is the biggest compliment for me personally. thanks for doing what you do.

I’m happy you reached out because this is a really interesting perspective. I definitely see increased messaging around comments = payment that pressures readers into thinking they are required to leave comments, and I agree that there are many layers to this convo that point out to a not-so-healthy relationship with fandom.

I find it hard to join this discussion not being an author myself, because I only have the privileged perspective. I understand how important feedback can be to boost newcomers and those who don’t feel part of the community. We all deal with insecurity in different ways and it’s hard to navigate a big fandom when you don’t have a group of friends to rely on. In the end the fandom experience is about a sense of belonging and it saddens me to realize that I might be part of the problem since my recs can only reach Tumblr and my ao3 comments are far and few in between.

It’s funny because my blog has always targeted other readers: at the beginning I didn’t even tag authors and did not expect them to find or engage with my posts. Over the years the recs became more and more personal, until I realized I was writing them for myself. Sure, they are love letters to the fic and might help more people find them, but at the end of the day this is my little therapy corner where I can let go and babble around to my heart’s content 🙏🏼 I’ve always been proud of this blog and seeing that post gave me mixed feelings about it for the first time, so thank you for your message!

Again, I think this discussion has many layers and I’m a bit wary to get involved being a reader, but I’d be curious to see how others feel about it…

[sapphic-kpop-fics]

i miss you (Park Jihyo x Reader)

Angst with happy ending , smut

Was going to post this yesterday but I got sick again (or well I got worse after I felt better) but here we are! That being said I wrote this in a sick ish blur so if it’s not good I’m so sorry it was a fever dream writing it.

Your girlfriend Jihyo wasn’t always distant, even with her busy schedule of performances and recordings she still found a way to make time for you, more time than she had probably but then her solo debut came around and that changed.

Missed texts, calls, dinners, pretty much everything was met with a “I’m sorry baby, practice is running late”. She left the house before you woke up, and got home after you were in bed most days, though she was attentive and caring the few times you see each other, constant affection as usual.

Tonight was no different than the last how ever many, it was seven in the evening and you had cooked dinner for the two of you as she had promised she would be home in time and she was so stressed, it’s the least you can do for the love of your life.

Of course you trusted her words when she said she’d be on time, even if that was the naive thing to do, but now she was an hour late than she agreed to and you were sat on your couch drinking the wine that was meant for dinner. Then you get a phone call.

*Incoming call*

Hyo❤️‍🔥

You sit up fast, placing your wine glass on the coffee table before answering.

“Hyo, is everything okay?” You answer, “where are you?”

“Hey baby.” She starts, you can tell it’s not good news from her tone, the way she putting fake happiness in her voice.

“You’re not coming, are you?”, Disappointments laced every one of your words.

“I’m sorry love, they want to extend rehearsal for a couple hours.” You can hear the guilt seeping into her apology, “I have to stay since it’s you know my song, so I’ll have to miss dinner and I’ll be back late.”

You let out an amused huff, figures, how could you think tonight was any different than usual.

“Right.” You pause, looking at the made dinner on the table that is now cold and her wine glass that is still full, a couple candles scattered around, flowers sitting in the center waiting to be gifted to Jihyo,tears welling up in your eyes.

“I’m really sor-“

“It’s fine. Really.” Your voice breaks slightly, almost unnoticeable except for the fact that Jihyo knows every little thing about you especially when you’re not okay.

“You don’t sound fine.”

“Jihyo it’s okay, I’ll see you later.”

She knew it wasn’t okay, from your shaky voice to the fact that you called her “Jihyo” instead of “Hyo” or some other sweet pet name but she decided not to push while in front her band members.

“Okay, I love you-“

Jihyo can barely get the words out before you hang up, teary eyed glancing once again at the set dinner table with full plates, the sink with dishes from your couple hours of cooking.

Deciding to leave everything where it is, you head back to the couch and pick the wine glass up once again, sitting there until your girlfriend got home which was about three hours later.

You hear the door unlock and close, her keys being thrown onto the table by the door, and her heavy bag hitting the floor before she walks into the living room you’re in. She finds you sitting, watching some movie or more so dissociating while staring at the screen, empty wine glass in hand with the bottle on the table not empty but close to it.

“Baby..” she says, it’s quiet like she’s scared.

You don’t answer you just look at her, eyes watery and red from crying, tears stained your shirt.

“I’m so sorry I’m late.”

No answer again.

“Let me make it up to you.”

The only noise you make is a little chuckle, a familiar promise of her making it up to you that she has been making for weeks but never followed through.

“Did you eat?” She asks, quieter than before if possible.

“Does it look like I did?” You bitterly ask while waving your hand at the dinner table in the other room.

Jihyo’s eyes follow your hand, seeing the full untouched plates with a full wine glass, then she see the flowers and candles which causes her eyes to fill with guilty tears.

“Oh..” it comes out as a choked whisper, “I’m so sorry.” She finally walks over to you, getting on her knees in front of you and placing her hands on your knees, “I really wanted to be here, but rehearsal-“

She can’t finish her sentence before you’re pushing her hands off of you and standing up to go into the dining room.

“Can you stop making excuses Jihyo?” It comes out louder than expected, as you speak you start picking up the plates to throw the food away but she puts a hand on your wrist before you can get to the trash can.

“Don’t throw it out.”

“Really? You’re going to eat the dinner I made 5 hours ago? now?”

“Maybe, if it makes you feel better.” Jihyo can feel herself getting irritated after the long day of rehearsal, she knows she shouldn’t be seeing as she’s the one hurting you.

“I don’t think it will.” Before you throw the plates in the trash, admittedly harder than necessary, the both of them shattering when they land.

“Hey! can we just talk? Instead of throwing things” she says exasperated at the new angry behavior of yours.

“Jihyo, I’ve been wanting to talk. For weeks. And you were nowhere to be found.”

“I’ve been here every night.”

“Yeah when I’m already asleep. And then you leave before I even wake up. When should I talk to you during those times? Huh?”

“Baby you know how my job is, the schedules-“

“Yeah i do. And I know i agreed to dealing with it but… I feel like I don’t even know you anymore.”

“You do know me, I’m the same person as I’ve always been.”

“No, Jihyo, you’re not.” A pause. “When’s the last time we went on a date?” Tears filled your eyes again.

“I-I don’t know, a week ago?” She stuttered, taken aback by the sudden questioning.

“3. 3 weeks ago. When’s the last time you ate a dinner I made you while it was still hot?”

“I- I don’t know.” She looks at the ground in shame.

“Exactly.” You try walking to the door.

“W-“

“No. I don’t want to hear your excuses anymore.” Turning back to face her.

“Please, baby. Let’s talk about this.” She goes to grab your hands which you quickly pull away as you walk in the other direction, leaning against the kitchen counter.

“Go ahead. You have 5 minutes.”

“Wh- are you serious? 5 minutes?“ The shock leaves her face as she sees the serious look on your face, “I know I’ve been distant, and truly I am so sorry. I know my job isn’t an excuse but you have to understand I can’t exactly say no to staying longer or canceling schedules.”

“That’s not ev- the problem is that when you don’t have a schedule you’re nowhere to be found.”

“Because I’m tired, y/n. It’s exhausting sometimes to do what I do.”

“Too tired for me?”

“That’s not what i meant.”

There’s silence as you look as her, contemplating your next words.

“Maybe we should break up.”

“Wh- what? N-no.” Panic fills Jihyo as you speak, nausea taking over her body.

“Hyo, I don’t know if I can do this anymore, barely seeing you when you have a comeback and when you don’t, you’re on tour.”

“But-“

“You’re losing me Jihyo. You being gone all the time, it hurts. I just want you to be around more but you can’t do that.”

“I’ll do better. I’ll make them cancel some rehearsal days, bring you on tour with me, anything. I mean I’ll even take a hiatus.”

“You’d do that?”

“If it meant keeping you.” She was genuine, in all the years you’d known her you had grown to distinguish when she wasn’t being truthful, “Please, give me another chance.” She grabs your hands, this time slowly but you don’t pull away this time which ignites a hope in Jihyo.

“Fine. Maybe not a hiatus but-“

She cuts you off with a kiss, hands going to your face, it was soft and sweet, her love being translated through it.

“I love you.” Her eyes staring into yours, hands still on your cheeks, “I’ll do better. As a matter of fact, I’m going take tomorrow off.”

“Can you even do that?” You ask shocked, but a smile returns to your face.

“I mean, I am the idol, what are they gonna do without me? And they can’t fire me, I’m too valuable.”

You push her away playfully at the last part but she’s quick to grab your hands and pull you into her.

“How can i make it up to you?”

“Well, in general a lot, but just tonight? You can start by doing the dishes and then maybe joining me in the bedroom?” Your eyes are mischievous and suggestive as you look at her.

“Can’t we just skip to the bedroom part?” She pouts as she looks at the dishes in the sink and on the stove from the day.

“If you don’t do them, there will be no bedroom part.” You answer as she push her off you and towards the sink.

“Come onnnn”

You keep walking as she pouts heading to your shared room, deciding on skin care and changing to waste the time.

As you’re standing in front of your dresser, only wearing a pair of sweatpants, a voice from behind you appears.

“I think putting on clothes is kinda pointless.” Jihyo rasps out, as you meet her eyes in the mirror on your dresser they’re dark with blown pupils and staring directly at your bare chest.

“I have eyes you know.” At which she shifts her gaze up to make eye contact, a playful smirk on her face. But you do slide your sweatpants off onto the floor causing your girlfriend to smile.

“And I love those too.” She says walking behind you to wrap her arms around your waist, head on your shoulder with her mouth next to your ear, “but.. I’ve just missed touching you so much.” You feel her lips press into your neck and leaving a few marks as her hands glide up to squeeze your chest, fingers pinching your nipples, lips moving down to your shoulder before making eye contact with you, “Why don’t you go lay down for me pretty girl?” A soft dominance wafting off of her, you of course follow her orders immediately laying on the bed and spreading your legs slightly to show the growing wet spot on your underwear. Jihyo just stands at the end of the bed, staring at you with her lower lip between her teeth, eyes slowly moving from your face down your body almost lost in the sight of you, a minute passes before you speak.

“…Hyo?”

“Hm.”

“Are you going to stop staring and join me or?”

A blush spreads across her face before a smirk takes over.

“Sorry for admiring my absolutely gorgeous girlfriend.” She teases as she finally gets on the bed and climbs up to hover over you, hers eyes shining with love and once again staring you down as she studied your face for the millionth time in your relationship. You try interrupting her stares by leaning in to kiss her but she playfully pulls away, “I’m not done looking.” A hand goes to rest on your cheek.

“Hyo, I love you so much, but if you don’t touch me after today then I’m making you sleep outside.”

“Going to kick me out of my own house that I pay for?” She smiles but that goes away when she sees the quirk of your eyebrow that tells her you’re dead serious, causing her to capture your lips in a passionate kiss her tongue swiping at your lips begging to be let in which you part your lips letting her tangle her tongue with yours before pulling away and biting your bottom lip bring it with her before letting it go saliva still connecting you and looking at you, eyes darker than before.

She moves her lips to your jaw leaving light kisses, moving to your neck where she starts leaving marks. One hand squeezing your thigh, the other sliding from your hip to your chest.

“Hyo.” You whimper out.

“I know baby, let me take care of you.”

The kisses and marks move down to your collarbones and chest, she wraps her lips around your nipple while her hand attended the other one. After your chest is littered in purple marks and little bites her hand goes to your underwear feeling the wetness and rubbing you through the fabric making you gasp and rut up into her.

“So needy. You’re so wet baby, miss me that bad?”

“Please.”

Her kissing continues down your stomach until she reaches the waistband of your underwear, pulling them down slowly making sure to leave a feathery kiss on every inch of new skin that showed, worshiping your body with her loving kisses. Reaching your knees she finally pulls your underwear all the way down and throws them to the floor, returning to her original place her face hovering over yours and you can feel the light touch of her lips on yours as she speaks again.

“I’m going to use my fingers first so I can see how much you missed me, okay?”

“Whatever you want.”

Her hand that rested on your thigh moved to your center, rubbing small circles at first. Small whimpers come out of your mouth as you close your eyes, truthfully you hadn’t really had sex that wasn’t a quickie in a green room for a performance in weeks so even her light touch had you close to finishing.

“Wait.” You say which causes her to stop and worry, “You know, you’re fully clothed…”

“Uh huh..” she says a smile on her lips, her fingers going back to making small circles on your clit now that she knows you’re not uncomfortable.

“And I am not. I don’t think that’s fair.” You can barely talk as she moves her fingers, but you get out the words even if they’re shaky. You didn’t want to tell her the real reason you wanted her clothes off is because you loved the sight of your nail marks and scratches on her back the next morning, you would trace them with your fingers as she laid down or in the shower.

Jihyo makes a show of sitting up on her heels and pulling her baggy shirt over her head, too slowly you think, her abs showing from her countless hours of rehearsals and her earlier workout. Then she unclips her bra and takes it off just as slowly, she leaves her sweatpants on though as she settles herself back, two fingers immediately going back to where they were but soon slid down to enter you agonizingly slow and were unmoving when fully inside, her thumb working circles on your clit.

“Don’t tease” Your voice is breathless and almost a whimper as you look at her heavy lidded eyes, “please.”

“Anything you want baby.” Her fingers move inside you as she speaks, the pace going from 0-100 almost instantly, after all she did promise to make up for her behavior so who was she to deny you, your playful threat of leaving her in the driveway for the night for not listening to you still present in her mind.

“Fuck.”

“Feel good pretty girl?” Her lips brush on your ear, and her warm breath causes shivers down your spine.

“So good.” It’s more of a whine than actual words.

The feeling of her fingers inside of you is dizzying, vision a bit blurred, all of your thoughts consumed by her.

“You’re doing so good. Taking my fingers so well.”

The words alone makes you tighten around her, wetness dripping onto the sheet below. You thought you were already close but then she angles her fingers up just right and it feels like you’re on fire, you hands grip her back nails digging into her skin dragging down to her waist where you pull her closer to you if possible.

“I’m so close.”

“Let go baby. You deserve it.” She whispers before kissing you but pulls away as you reach your orgasm, she just can’t miss the noises you make for her.

Your vision is white as you reach your peak, back arching off the bed and into your girlfriend’s chest, nails digging into her skin again as you moan loud enough for the whole world to hear. Jihyo’s fingers don’t stop moving inside you until you whine and put your hand on her wrist. You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until she speaks again.

“Breathe baby.” A light chuckle falling from her lips while she strokes your cheek with her thumb, “are you okay?”

“More than okay.”

“Does that mean you forgive me?”

“Actually I think you might have to do a redo on that apology.”

“Oh yeah?” Jihyo’s eyes shined as she looked down at you

“Mm.”

“I think I can do that.” Before she retreats underneath the blanket with her head between your thighs.

She ended up apologizing about 3 more times that night before you were satisfied, but Jihyo didn’t mind as long as she had her girl.

[thenerdofthegroup]

Just saw a post saying that Agatha had no reason to be angry and she is a terrible person for being angry at Rio…

Because…

Her child died.

Media literacy is dead. Jac’s work shouldn’t be talked about by people who make takes like ‘how dare Agatha be angry at Rio when her child died and Rio didn’t even go to Agatha to comfort her when she woke up! How dare she!!!!’ (This is a simplification. I shouldn’t have to put that because it’s obviously sarcasm and an oversimplification but… like I said… media literacy is dead and people can’t read context so-)

Note: before people AGAIN take what I said out of context: this is a complex situation. If you can’t see both sides then you shouldn’t be watching this show. The WHOLE point is that in their relationship they are both to blame and not to blame at all. Agatha was a grieving mother. She lost her child!!!! Literally the only thing that has loved her and been there constantly. Rio loves her more than anything but she isn’t. Always. There. That was shown. Agatha clearly wanted something to pour her love into all the time and not be alone

Rio shouldn’t have been pushed away and blamed for it. She was doing her job.

But to diminish Agatha pain completely to support Rio’s side is bollocks. I don’t have kids but I will say this: only people who don’t have kids will make that take. Because to lose a child must be the WORST pain a parent could ever experience. And she had the double barrel of guilt that her body failed her in growing him and not being able to save him due to her destructive magic. DOUBLE the pain.

And then a wonderful point my friend (a parent) brought up: Rio wasn’t there when Agatha woke up or when she buried him. It would be a VERY different story of Rio was there to support her and be with her. Yes Agatha would have been furious but she would have every right to be. But if Rio stayed and comforted we would have a very different story on our hands 🤷‍♀️ sorry but that’s the truth. Rio probably thought she was doing the right thing. Like what some friends do.

When I went through a terrible situation, my friends (who weren’t really friends but that’s not relevant) didn’t contact me or check up saying ‘well I thought you’d want to be left alone’.

No.

No one wants that.

Including the witch who has been left alone again and again. If Rio had stayed for when she woke up it would have been VERY different. (And I can’t think of a reason she didn’t. If anyone can apart from saying ‘doing her job elsewhere’ which to me is bollocks because she could have spared time. She had time to travel the road so that’s not gonna work on me when the love of her life lost their/her child)

So yeah… diminishing the main characters pain is… I’m not even gonna make a joke, fucking mental. Both can be wrong and both can be in pain. Rio lost Agatha. Agatha lost her child and Rio. Both are tragedies

Jeez…

[the-moon-files]

Alright, so I just read through that language barriers post of yours and had a Blast Tm, BUT! Now I have several thoughts that need to be spoken. Firstly, what with english being this really ancient language now, yn‘s basically got a free phd in hyrule, don‘t they?? Predestined for exploration because of their „excellent skills with the language used in the ruins and temples of old, as well as their familiarity with the mechanisms“ or something. The ruin researchers probably beg to have them in their team.

Secondly, apparently accents are really appealing to some people? The chain already finds yn‘s morning voice really hot, but how would they even react to the way they sort of mispronounce the words? Idk too much about how japanese sounds, but maybe they emphasize the consonants too much which makes them sound harsh all the time, or the opposite, too much emphasis on vowels and sounding very soft. Just… brainrot about rambling and not trying too hard to speak perfectly accurately being all it takes to have the boys smitten and kicking their feet.

Thirdly!! What about a yn that knows multiple languages? The chain tries their best to learn english, and then yn comes around the corner like SIKE. THAT‘S NOT ALL OF THEM. YOU WILL NEVER COMPREHEND IT ALL. (That‘s what I‘d do at least.)

sorry for late reply i have a hectic life rn and i got hit by hurricane helene lol

ao3/writing blog author curse is so real u guys, this was like a 100 year not anticpated flood or smth, also we're in the mountains??

anyway gonna assume u mean masc/male reader bc of the reference to this post!! if u want context or a sorta part 1

this is just gonna be a quick reply so i can share anons ideas w/the world tho since ive been hoarding asks 😔

at the very least Wild's Zelda is harassing you

at the very most, every time u guys get near a town or city, u are kidnapped by hylian researchers

just the image of a bunch of nerd hylians mobbing u and fangirling while the rest of the guys, in full armor and swords just stand awkwardly behind lmao

(they get lowkey jealous after awhile i mean what who said that-)

the way Legend, Hyrule, Four, and Twi hover a little closer when you talk

Wild and Twi are practically like excited dogs whenever you speak, perking up when they hear your deep voice, u know, bc u tried randomly talking in the evenings abt nothing and watched them pavlov respond and look to you every time

even when u just started talking about the grass or some flowers

lowkey you accidentally almost mess up their dungeon exploring bc theyre just so used to your accented voice in their heads, just around them, or smth guiding them along, that when they all split up into smaller groups in the dungeon,

each Link pair accidentally starts following a man's voice echoing in the dungeon until they all accidentally converge in a main room and the Link equivalent of the point spiderman meme happens with you in the center with Time, who had been your dungeon buddy (he's laughing at them as every Link goes a little red after realizing they just followed you unconciously)

ur favorite thing to do is leaning down to whisper in each of the pointed hylian ears randomly, just talking about mundane or random things and watching it twitch, some trying to stay still like Time/Twi/Wars/Wild, while others leap away like u burned them lmao Legend/Hyrule/Four, and Sky managing to do both, trying to maintain composure before he inevitably breaks out all red and hides in his hands lmao

(Wind dared you to do it originally, and he snickers every time he sees you doing it again lol)

-

ok but the multiple languages is endless comedy gold

bc everytime a Link thinks he's got it or starts to listen then realize ur actually speaking smth completely different language

u get the most memeable faces of his confusion

like these gems

(four's blue is showing, he's offended u switched languages every other word one time)

they're actually so fed up lmao

☆

anyway sorry for late reply!! I hope u guys are having a good week so far, and ill try to post some more, tho cant guarantee when as the holidays close in for me

(rip my class is also getting near the end too im Stressin)

peace out anon,

🌙

[creatingblackcharacters]

hi there; first, thank you for making this blog and all the lessons you do, i really appreciate them as a Black person because it highlights a lot of struggles i face with fandoms in general, and why i dont interact more in certain spaces. it makes me feel seen

with regards to your questions, i'd also like answers to them from nonblack fans, especially nonblack anime fans. i don't even mean consuming anime with overtly racist caricatures of black characters (because numerous anime fans pirate their anime and never send a cent to the creators anyway), i mean how can they make fanworks of it?

how can they look at something that they are told is wildly offensive, but then defend with "well, this is how it looks in canon"? where is the line drawn between what's okay and what isn't? as long as it's slow and gradual, is there no line at all?

these are probably just rehashings of your own followup questions, so please excuse that, but i do have an anecdote

i joined a casual anime server the other day and a lot of folks were lamenting one Black character's racist design and how often those on social media will replicate it without thinking/caring. The thing that struck me is that, I've checked this character's tumblr tag regularly for a long time. There are always people who will post art/fanworks of this character with his racist design. Yet hardly ever, if ever, (outside of Black fans) have I seen any of these folks- the ones in the discord server- try to talk to artists/writers/fan creators/etc via asks/replies/etc. There's a notable amount of people in that server and a notable amount that agreed the design was outright racist and that they'll never make fanworks like that, and yet still silence

i'm not entirely sure what would be the line, or the "okay, that's enough" moment to spur any of these folks into action. i'm not sure if there is one. the only reason i don't make my own "hey what is wrong with all of you" post and blow up is because I've made a wonderful little friend group in this fandom who get it, and I don't want them to get caught up in whatever happens if I were to make a post like that

And this is just for getting people to stop using the canon design of the character, i.e., to stop drawing him as a racist caricature. This isn't touching on the people who 1) lighten his skintone [he's been horribly whitewashed over time, which has been reflected in some fanarts and fan merch], or 2) give him a looser hair/straight hair texture, rather than his type 4 hair (there's also #3, which is fanfiction with straight up slurs, and horribly racist writing in it that my friend heavily warned me not to read, but that was more of a one-off case and I've had the creator blocked a long time now).

my point being, we (Black fans) can't even get folks to stop with the caricatures, which we have to start with, and then there's even more of an annoying uphill battle with the other stuff. I'm just so tired of all of this; it makes me want delete my own works and turn away from fandom all together because i can't stand it.

trying for polite and assuming ignorance hardly ever works, speaking bluntly doesnt work at all, making public posts hardly goes anywhere (partly because of how rarely people reblog things anymore, partly because it makes people 'uncomfortable' to share this information with others). Black fans so obviously need help to combat this, and yet it's like sitting at a tea party and hearing all these pretty words in this one setting, yet nobody does anything different/better when the party's over/outside this setting.

sorry for dooming a bit, but like, genuinely i would like to know where the line is for nonblack folks? what is the point/are the points where you would speak up against antiblack racism? have you ever considered speaking up? if there's ever a moment you recognized antiblack racism and didn't say anything, why didn't you? did you consider how your lack of speaking up might affect your fellow Black fans? or how Black fans may be interpret this as silent agreement with the racists/with the racist 'norm'?

..those could maybe be alternative ways of asking your last followup question?

(if i've made any blunders or overstepped here, please let me know!)

No, I'm glad you spoke up! I too would like to see answers!

[ninja-confession-go]

Long rant about Jay (not a hate rant quite the opposite actually)

I hate that they got rid of Jay's mechanic/inventor traits as time went on. And instead of just bringing those traits back they keep introducing characters to fill In that role.

Like Im sorry but why are 3 of the 4 gals apart of the main group into mechanics or deals with tech in someway??? Why is Wyldfyre the only gal who doesn't have an interest In tech????

Nya, Sora and Pixal all fulfill essentially the same tech role and while that's fine as they can easily fulfill different aspects, my issue is WHY NOT BRING JAY'S SKILLS BACK THEN?

They r clearly not afraid of multiple characters fulfilling similar roles so why was Jay the only one who's mechanic skills were stripped away?

Like his skills were so important in the earlier seasons he helped out so much and even got the bounty for fuckin fly?? Like his skills in machinery was also a reason why wu chose him too so to strip that away just makes no sense?

Like I'll forever be salty about this, his intelligence in machinery was so interesting to see especially when u consider the comedic kinda of character he's supposed to be. They could easily made him the mad scientist type of inventor/mechanic but they just hate fun and whimsy and would rather he be just comedic relief and nothing else I guess.

THATS ANOTHER THING

I hate how they treated Jay like he was stupid in later seasons too. They really dumbed him down instead of being the smart comedic relief he's the dumb comedic relief and I HATE it. bro literally deals with mechanics and made shit from scraps if there is one thing he ISNT, is stupid.

Like if they had just made him, let's say not emotionally intelligent i could understand. This is my own personal headcanons coming through, but i don't think he was around many other humans aside from his parents and occasional mail man growing up, and while i dont think he means to come off as a jerk, he tends to say shit without thinking it through as we have seen ALOT and that could be chalked up to him dealing more with machines than people. So If they had just focues on his lack of emotional intelligence, THAT I could understand and would have been fine with. Obviously this is more my own headcanon coming through but u get the idea

But they just made him more all around stupid and I just find that so hard to believe.

I hate how none of Jay's backstory has been explored too.

They introduced a mind shattering revelation that Jay's adopted and proceeded to do...nothing with it.

WHYYYYY???

It would have been so cool to explore that but no, it gets no mention or focus at all aside from that random coversation betwen Unagami and Jay in the season that absolutely should have been a Jay season but for some reason wasn't. Like why bring it up then lol

I also hate that all of Jay's conflicts tend to involve Nya. Like I know they yin/yang but cmon bro, not every conflict Jay goes through has to focus on his relationship with Nya. Let this man get SOME interesting characterization that isn't based around Nya CMON

I saw a few posts on here talking about Jay's characterization and I just had to jump In with my two cents cuz it's crazy how they brutalized him in later seasons. The Fandom tries their hardest to keep the mechanic aspect of Jay alive and I appreciate that so much cuz it's a crime they got rid(or forgot or whatever) of it later on

If u can't tell I'm a Jay fan who's mad their fav was done SO dirty LOL

.

[writingpoorly]

Jaster absolutely has a Tumblr

Ever since he’d been kicked out of the Journeymen protectors Jaster has been drunk. Drunk and furious. He'd been in the right! Since when was killing a deal breaker for a Mando'ade?

The priorities of the Mando’ade have been misplaced for generations. At that thought, Jaster goes back to his private documents folder and opens the Ori’ramikad’nare document he had been working on since his buir’s death.

He was no lawyer or politician and didn’t specialize in legal documents, but he thinks he’s done a pretty thorough job with it. Granted Mando’a was a straightforward language, unlike Basic. He’d broken down each tenant of the Resol’nare and expanded on how a modern Mando’ade should be expected to responsibly and ethically adhere to the six tenants.

With a reckless, drunken thought, Jaster decides to post it. Being hundreds of pages he didn’t expect any of his followers to actually read the thing, but it didn’t do any good sitting in his files. He’d cited everything so no one could accuse him of plagiarism or anything ridiculous like that.

Nodding to himself he uploads a link to it ensuring that no one should be able to edit it before giving a toast to his buir’s memory and promptly passing out.

-

Jaster wakes up past noon the next day with a pounding headache and an annoying dinging coming from somewhere near him. Ignoring the lesser issue for now, he gets up to relieve himself and take pain meds before slumping on the ratty couch set into the wall of his ship. He sets a glass of water down on his sorry excuse for a caf table and hope by the time he empties it he'll feel more human.

It takes a few long moments to realize that the dinging sound is still coming from somewhere. Eventually he finds a discarded pad and opens it to discover that the sound had been notifications on his blog. The simple tone he had programmed as the notification sound had turned into a droning noise with the excessive amount of comments and reblogs he was getting on something.

With dread he clicks into it expecting a drunk him to have posted some embarrassing picture or error ridden text post, he’s embarrassed to discover that drunk him had instead posted the ori’ramikad’nare last night. What makes him almost drop his pad though, is the steadily growing number of notifications in his ask-box, dms, and on the post itself.

Jaster quickly turns off his asks and privates his account so that hopefully less dms will come in. He has easily gotten thousands of notifications in the relatively few hours between passing out last night and now.

His comm unit on the table buzzes and Jaster looks at it warily. It buzzes again, somehow sounding like a reprimand and Jaster picks it up cautiously.

[Skirata: Mereel you kriffing dikut!]

[Skirata: What did you do?!?!]

[Skirata: Why is your blog all over the Mando’web?]

[Skirata: You better not be drunk again]

[Skirata: I swear to the Manda I will end you!]

[Mereel: Kal I don’t know what happened]

[Mereel: I posted the ori’ramikad’nare]

[Mereel: Now I have thousands of notifications]

[Skirata: Check the news pages on Mando’web]

[Mereel: I’m not sure I want to]

[Skirata: I will end you, don’t test me]

Deciding to do as he’s told, for a completely unrelated reason to Kal threatening him, Jaster grabs his pad. Ignoring the continuing notifications he opens up his preferred new channel.

‘Breaking News: Anonymous Source Posts Codex Challenging Current thoughts on Mando’ade Culture- Could this verde be trying to gather supporters to become the next Mand’alor?’

Horrified he opens a different news channel.

‘New Mand’alor Posts Manifisto Detailing How They’ll Change Our Culture- Page 234 will shock you’

How is it getting worse? Jaster snatches up his comm again.

[Skirata: You better be checking the news]

[Mereel: Kal what do I do?!??!]

[Mereel: They’re saying I’m trying to be Mand’alor]

[Mereel: I’m not qualified for that??]

[Mereel; I don’t even have a job anymore]

[Skirata: Jaster calm down. Go make shig]

[Skirata: I’m already on my way to you]

[Skirata; We’ll figure out how to get you out of this]

They did not in fact figure out a way to get him out of it. Turns out when you start a cultural revolution in a group largely made up of Bounty Hunters it’s difficult to hide from the people who want to follow you.

Go figure.

[maddy-k-reads-all-day]

In the garden. 

The first puzzle was really hard. Riley says that usually the answer is hidden somewhere within the episode, but Amanda wouldn’t let her replay it to check. Good thing I take notes. Sophie thought to herself. She looks through her notes. She looks around the room. There are several posters on the walls and memorabilia from all of Hameln’s different productions, with notes around them of different actors and their family members that went missing during or after production, among other odd notes about the show. Her mother told her once they realized Hameln was associated with the cult they started doing a deep dive on all their creative properties outside of Amanda. The results of this research are posted all around in sticky notes and long stapled printouts taped around the room. Like a controlled chaotic masterpiece. That’s mom for you. Sophie thought with a smile. Of course, most of the merch and stuff was from Amanda the Adventurer. Which… didn’t make things too easy. Sophie figured Amanda was going to hide it somewhere within the merch. Finally, she notices a specific poster. “Amanda the Adventurer! New Show! Starring Rebecca Colton and William Scott. Soon airing on Hameln Jr!” The poster showed Amanda and Wooly, sitting on Apples and Peaches respectively. Could this be it? Sophie recognized this poster. It was a collectors edition poster mimicking the show’s initial announcement ad. It was crazy popular and really hard for her mother to get a copy. Sophie feels the poster and realizes there’s a weird shape behind it. She gently peels back the tape on the poster revealing a safe and two tapes. One being an Amanda episode titled: In The Garden. The other being a bright cyan colored tape. Never understood why they chose to record all their evidence against Hameln on colored tapes. Sophie chose to watch the cyan tape first. It appeared rather unassuming, simply being a collection of Amanda the Adventurer commercials. There’s got to be more here… something I’m missing. Sophie thinks to herself. Oh well… I don’t have much free time. I better watch the next tape now. Sophie puts the tape in the machine. 

“Hi friends, I’m Amanda!” Amanda beams.

“And I’m Wooly!” 

“Gee it took you a while to find that tape huh? I hid it well, didn't I?” 

“Well… it only took me half an hour to find it.” 

“HUH?” 

“I had like 5 assignments due today… I had to do the dishes… and the laundry… then I watched this other tape first… so yeah… not too hard.” 

“Grrrrrrrrrr…” Amanda grumbled. 

“To-today we’re planting seeds to grow in our garden!” Wooly announces, changing the subject. 

“That’s right Wooly! Say, what kinds of plants do you like to grow?” Cacti Sophie responds. “You’re weird.” Amanda responds. The tape glitches.  “First we’re going to need to go to the store to buy some seeds, can you tell me where the store is?” Sophie clicks on the store. “Great! Let’s go-go-go-go-go-” the tape glitches again. Wow, these are so old. Sophie thinks to herself. 

“Wow there’s so many options, what are we going to grow?” Wooly asks. 

“Vegetables!” 

“Vegata..bles?” Wooly repeats. 

“Yep!” 

“In our new garden?” “That’s right!” Amanda beams. Wooly looks disappointed. “What is it?” 

“Nothing, I just thought we’d be growing flowers.” Wooly mumbles in an annoyed tone under his breath. 

“Flowers are boring! Vegetables are flowers you can eat!” 

“Wha- No! Flowers are pretty! They’re nice to look at and they smell nice!” 

“And they die wither and rot come fall. Good idea Wooly!” Amanda beams. 

“Wha- no!” Wooly sounds angrier at this then he should be. He stops himself and takes a deep breath. “How about this? I get flowers, you get the vegetables. Okay?” 

“Okay…” Amanda seems a little confused and uncomfortable. 

“So can you tell me where the---------” The tape glitches as Amanda and Wooly talk over each other, both glaring at each other with annoyance. 

“Sorry, you go first.” Wooly chuckles nervously. 

“Can you tell me where the vegetable seeds are?” Amanda smiles. Sophie clicks on the vegetables. “Great job!” 

“Can you tell me where the flower seeds are?” Wooly asks. Sophie clicks on them. “Thank you!”

“Now we need to pick out which vegetables we want! I want to make some BLTs at some point. So we definitely need some lettuce and tomatoes. Then maybe some cucumbers so we can have salads.”

“Honestly… that doesn’t sound so bad.” 

“Can you tell me where the seeds are?” Amanda asks. Sophie clicks on all three seeds with no problem. “Good job!” Amanda smiles.

“As for flowers I’m thinking daffodils, daisies, and… lavender…” Wooly closes his eyes wistfully. 

“Lavender?” 

“It smells so good. And I remember once hearing that it can help with anxiety and sleep!” Wooly explains, “um… not that I have any problems with anxiety or sleep or anything. The point is it’s known to be a very calming flower.” 

“I guess that’s interesting…” Amanda sighs. 

“Can you tell me where those are?” Wooly asks. Sophie clicks on the correct flowers. “Yay! These are going to look so pretty in the yard.” 

“Now let’s go home so we can plant these seeds!” Amanda tells us. The tape glitches back to the back yard. “I have all the gardening tools laid out here. What do we need first?” Sophie clicks on the shovel. “That’s… right…” Amanda says, then she shakes it off. “First we need to plant the seeds!”

“Be sure to look at the instructions on the back!” Wooly instructs.

“Wooly… there are no instructions on the back…” “Oh… there are in real life though…” Wooly sighs. 

 “First we dig a hole about this deep, then we put the seeds in…” “I’m starting to think we should’ve gotten plants instead.” Wooly thinks out loud. 

“Well the store only has seeds, Wooly.” 

“Ah… haha… Bummer.” 

“Anyway we planted the seeds. Now what do they need?” “Fertilizer!” Wooly announces. Water Sophie types. 

“Water!” Amanda beams. 

“What? No, they'll grow faster with fertilizer!” Wooly protests. 

“But the only place we can get that is the farm.” Amanda replies. 

“No! I don’t want to go baaaack there!” Wooly panics. Amanda looks… a little guilty. 

“Yeah I know. Which is why we don’t have fertilizer.” Amanda sighs. 

“I’m sorry…” 

“It’s fine Wooly.” “What do we use to water the seeds?” Sophie clicks on the watering can. “Riiiight.” Amanda says slowly. She starts to water the plants. 

“Don’t water them too much!” Wooly warns. 

“I know Wooly, I got this.” Amanda sighs. “There. Now we wait.” Amanda and Wooly stand there waiting for a bit. 

“Huh? Usually when we do this episode they grow immediately.”

“It’s probably because we don’t have fertilizer.” Amanda deduces. “Guess we’ll have to… get some.” Wooly looks terrified. “Wooly, the episode won’t end until the plants grow!” Amanda reminds him. 

“So? We can play some more right?” Wooly laughs nervously. Amanda bits her lip. 

“How about this, you stay home and keep an eye on the plants so the birds don’t eat the seeds.” Amanda suggests, “And I go to the farm.” 

“Okay…” Wooly sighs. The tape glitches to the farm. But both Amanda and Wooly are there. 

“Oh… I guess… the show won’t let you do that.” Amanda notes, she sees Wooly panicking, “It’s just the farm stand, not the petting zoo. You should be fine. We’ll be quick.” Amanda reussers him. But he says nothing. “Wooly, you can talk, you know.” Amanda says. 

“Oh, okay…” Wooly mumbles. 

“Can you tell the farmer what we need?” Amanda asks. The “farmer” is a motionless scarecrow, placed between the crops and the farm stand. Sophie types in fertilizer. “That’s right! Now let’s go home!”

“Meow!” 

“Aww… it’s a lonely kitt-” The tape glitches back to the backyard.

“I’m fine? I’m… fine. I’m fine!” Wooly gasps, fully relieved and almost a little excited. Amanda looks away. “Haha! Hahahaha! Take that stupid farm! Sheep says Baaa! No more! Haha!” 

“Glad you’re happy Wooly.” Amanda sighs tiredly, “But uh… the flower bed is all dug up.” 

“They’re what now?” Wooly stops in his tracks. Amanda checks the beds for seeds.  

“No no no no! The birds ate all our seeds! Now we’ll have to plant them all OVER again!” Amanda screams. “GRAH!” she stamps her foot. 

“Don’t worry Amanda, we still have more seeds, we can plant them again!” Wooly reussers her. 

“Yeah but aren’t you frustrated?” Amanda asks, “Aren’t you mad?” 

“I… I uh…” Wooly freezes up, “Let’s get these… seeds… pla-planted…”  the tape glitches and the seeds are all planted again. “Whew! That was a lot of work! Now let’s add fertilizer!” Wooly smiles. Sophie clicks and drags the fertilizer to each plant. 

“Now what do we use to water them?” Amanda questions. Sophie clicks on the watering can. “That’s right.” 

“Can I water them this time?” Wooly asks. 

“Sure Wooly!” Amanda says cheerfully. Wooly creates little moats around the holes and waters them. 

“Gotta make a moat to protect the castle from invaders!” Wooly laughs. The tape glitches and the plants are watered. “Now we wait.” This time, Amanda and Wooly watch as the plants slowly rise from the ground. “Yay! Now we can pick our plants!” Amanda beams and the tape ends. Now to find that next tape… Sophie thinks.

Authors note: Finally managed to finish this one. Have been doing a lot more editing on the recent episodes. Trying to figure out the future of this fic series lol.

[dykedvonte]

what’s your opinion on how the story of mouth washing would change if Jimmy was captain instead of Curly? Like, if Curly was co captain instead of jimmy, maybe out of pure luck on jimmys part or jimmy had sweetend up to the higher ups in pony express? Sorry if someone’s asked this before, but I think it could be pretty interesting

I think it would be more interesting because I feel like Jimmy would be a different Captain than Curly was through being the perfect worker.

Like I assume he climbed the ranks similarly but the reason he's a bit untouchable is either through black mail or turning a blind eye in a way the company likes. Perhaps he was needed to testify for a case against them and he offered to make them look better. Maybe he'd be loose on procedures that help them cut cost and keep morale up in the worst way. As long as he can do what he wants with that sort of power attached he's their perfect little black sheep.

He'd still crash the ship though, them going bankrupt, likely all the wrongdoings he's committed outside of yknow, assaulting Anya, no longer being covered up and hushed. They can't help him and the story of a Captain that abused his powers for years finally coming to light, headed by the rape of a subordinate. I think the biggest difference is he's genuinely trying to die this time, like I think his ego would be way bigger because his wants were slightly actualized. I think he's reserved in canon because he's still just a nobody with nothing to really control, but here? There's no one above him on this ship and in his mind at all, no Pony Express anymore, he's basically a god.

I feel like as for the others its a but interesting. I honestly think Curly would be a lot happier with the lack of responsibility but just as concerned and possibly more scared of Jimmy. He has to do even more placating because knowing Jimmy, he'd take his anger out on the rest of the crew just to make Curly feel worse about it, he's conditioned in a way where Jimmy makes all his mistakes as Captain feel like Curly's fault. I think Anya would still confide in him and due to this sort of "clarity" (not having the weight of everything on his shoulders) he's be more keen to listen and cover her. He's still not exactly confrontational with Jimmy, he's well aware what the Captain does have access to with the scanner... but maybe in that, when Anya hides the gun he lies for her and says he misplaced it while tidying up the cock-pit. Jimmy can see through his lies but is at least satisfied Curly won't directly call him out still. However, he loses it a bit more now knowing his best friend, the person he gave a nice cushy position to, isn't fully on his side.

I imagine Jimmy gets caught in the crash either because the door jams, sort of a ironic pin in the final statement of how drastically his luck turned or he underestimated the time he had to escape, representing his lack of understanding in true consequence. The message is slightly warped in that it's more about silent opposition as with an inherently bad leader, we'd have it framed as the crew being conflicted in what we would only assume is a botched but successful mutiny, only to see how bad Jimmy was. Going from the post-crash to show Jimmy as a worse and worse leader as it ultimately shows ways to help victims silently and that agency doesn't need to look like bravado. A flip on how every man was ultimaly a bystander in Anya's suffering. Still, it's mostly them covering or helping Anya do more for herself as it is just as, if not more dangerous for the men to create a dynamic that puts her directly into his ire/sights by being openly hostile. It's a good tactic to create outs for victims vs charging in when you know they will most likely be retaliated against directly.

Like her asking Swansea to keep the axe, Curly hiding the gun or Daisuke always trialing her so she's never alone.

I feel like the atmosphere of the game is totally different too. There's something somber in the pre-crash sequences obviously but you can tell everyone was relatively doing fine under Curly's leadership until Jimmy decied to be a homicidal rapist. With Jimmy it's inverted, like the respite after a storm. Anya is still pregnant unfortunately, but seeing as Jimmy is stuck in medical and can't do anything anymore, it's the first time she'd breathing. It's labored and not refreshing but it's easier than in canon, her relief makes it seem likes she happy, helping with the twist. Daisuke is a lot more aware, more shaken about things because he was more involved. He's thinking more about his idea's of keeping things kosher and letting the smile fade, makes him seems a bit more dreary that helps with the twist, as if he's guilty.

I think Swansea is relatively the same, though he's a lot more open of his condemnation of Jimmy, saying he was awful and being a bit to mean that makes it seem like it's too intentional and Jimmy couldn't have been that bad. Curly is most interesting because he's still just a little torn up about it. I don't think he'd take the title as Captain, more so just do things that fit the role as a distraction. His best friend turned out to be this horrible monster. Maybe he was always this monster and he just never got to see. Maybe he saw and was to scared that he'd be a monster to him... more of one at least. He feels an immense guilt that makes it hard for him to have a total disdain for Jimmy and he hates it.

There's a lot I could say on this but I'll probably make an even longer, what if post ladder when I've had time to stew on it.

[writing-hat]

shattering

/!\ Spoilers for Dragons Rising S2P2!

(very original title) hiii i'm still not dead <3 sorry i'm not active but y'know. life.

here's a jay fic!! about him experiencing shatterspin for the very first time but this is actually more me trying to make the wolf masks kinda gory and made out of flesh it's. it's an experiment. as well as like. physical effects

i'm just having fun and trying out some things (ig it's not really a fic then but idk adfkjsegd)

/!\ TW : Blood, Gore, Wounds, Death (tell me if I forgot something)

Also not beta read and I don't read that well behind myself yaddi yadda y'know the drill (especially since this is more of a bunch of scraps assembled together and not a real fic akfjzsgv (I might cross post it on AO3 at some point we'll see))

This is around 6.8k words so it's half a short? anyway enjoy

Jay narrowed his eyes at the mask he held.

It seemed to be looking back at him. And to be frank, he wasn’t a fan of how it looked back.

A shiver crawled down his spine as he passed his fingers on the front. It was meant to be a mask, but the fact that there was hair there, even if short, was somewhat disturbing to realize. He didn’t know how to feel about the idea that these could be made of real fur. Or worse, that they were somewhat organic, and used to be alive.

He checked the eyes; they seemed colorless, and dull, when inactivated. Glassy.

Dead.

That last realization brought relief. Yeah, it was dead.

Whatever it was.

He knew he was supposed to put that shit on at some point, but… it didn’t seem like a great idea, in hindsight. At least that’s what his guts were telling him.

His mind was on a whole other setting. He trusted Ras, after all. Why shouldn’t he? He had saved him, from the insanity that the Administration had been.

Thank goodness this is over. He was grateful to the man, and had taken the time to hear his interests, and plans. Things Jay wasn’t bothered by, too big to be of a concern to him. But since they were important to his savior, well, who was he to refuse helping him?

He passed a hand on the fur again, before turning it around to see the inside. He winced.

It had been… somewhat ‘polished’, but one could not look away from the flesh that had probably been ripped apart from some unfortunate creature, the whole mask made of stitches between different kinds of skin. But he didn’t dare to touch it to confirm his fears. Had it been the same specie, every time? He did wonder if asking himself that wasn’t the most unimportant question of all.

Living beings had to die, for these masks to be made.

Jay hated how his brain was sure of it.

That, and there was some… sort of taint, at the bottom of it. Where the mouth was supposed to be.

It wasn’t on all the masks, but enough of them had it to pique Jay’s curiosity.

He hadn’t talked about it to Lord Ras yet, of course. He doubted others had noticed what these visages were made of. He wasn’t even sure how he had noticed the details in the first place.

Perhaps due to his weird anxious nature about everything that’s been happening since starting his life in the Administration. His only life, actually, since he couldn’t remember shit from before.

The medallion felt heavy in his pocket. Its sudden presence making itself known made him frown.

This piece of metal was all that was left to him. He wasn’t even sure how the ones that had found him in the Land of Madness hadn’t taken that away from him, just like all his previous belongings.

He placed the mask back in its place, giving it a final glare, before walking away.

He looked at himself, unsure of what to think of his clothes.

They were comfy, that was for sure. Much better then the suit he’d been forced to wear for years in this damned Administration. And looking much better. He did enjoy the patterns that had been added to go along his powers. Symbols of wolf could be seen as well, on his chest, making sure people would know which clan he belonged to- in case the mask wouldn’t be enough.

But the fur covering his neck, and the gloves… he didn’t like as much. They hid away scars, important parts of himself.

Then again, he still had the ones on his face, definitely due to his own powers when it came to the lightning paths, and probably from fights where there were cuts, and skin that had been torn.

He wasn’t a fan of keeping them away.

But, having his body completely protected when it was clear he was going to fight in the future wasn’t that bad of an idea. Are we going to fight now? Jay doubted it. A lot of the new recruits had probably no idea of what they were getting into. Had probably been enrolled with the idea that they were going to become better fighters, with something close to powers. Lots of people didn’t listen fully when about to drastically change their lives, he had seen it many times in the Administration.

With a heavy sigh, he passed a hand on his face. To be honest, Jay hadn’t thought that long about this idea of joining Lord Ras’s forces as well.

But I owe him. He was there when no one had tried to help. It was all that mattered.

Jay could hear people getting closer. He turned around, seeing Cinder and Ras coming towards him.

The latter still had the same expression as always, severe, and mildly pissed off at people for breathing in front of him. The master of smoke, on the other hand, often had a smug expression there, knowing he was above everyone else, and enjoying it way too much. Not too far from them, he could see Jordana, the sort of witch- he didn’t completely understand what her deal was- who looked away as soon as she saw Jay noticing her.

He didn’t get to focus on that, though, when Ras made sure to be the only thing in his vision.

“I take it you’re ready for today.”

No. Not at all. But this wasn’t what their Lord wanted to hear. “Yes.” He took a deep breath, doing his best to resist the need to fidget with the fur around his collar.

“A first test, to make sure everything will go smoothly for the first battle.” Cinder chuckled at Jay’s expression, before handing him the wolf mask. “You’re lucky to try it before the real deal, Jay.”

He glared at Cinder. “Yeah. I guess so.”

Though, with how the master of smoke was looking at him, mocking, he wouldn’t call any of this luck.

Inhaling sharply, he tried to not let himself show how nervous he felt. He hadn’t expected to wear it so soon. He grabbed the mask that was given to him, nauseous at how he was about to wear unknown skin on his own.

He tried to compare it to leather, but fuck that had nothing in common. He passed trembling fingers on the inside, wanting to confirm his fears.

…Yup. Organic tissues. It was repulsing.

Cinder quirked an eyebrow. “Are you hesitant now?”

There was a threatening growl coming from Ras that echoed with the other’s words. Jay closed his eyes, and shook his head. At least… there weren’t any smell to go with the thing. “No. Not at all.”

“Good.” Ras crossed his arms behind his back, walking towards the arena. “Then get ready. You will be tested along our new soldiers.”

Soldiers. Why did he hate that designation? Wasn’t he supposed to be more, with his elemental power?

He adverted his gaze, focusing it back on the inside of this mask. “Sure.”

It was the first time he entered the shadow dojo. The outside had been eerie, with nothing but the strange orange and red light on their paths, but the inside was a whole other deal.

It was… poorly lighted, somehow, despite the bright lights coming from outside, with candles offering a soft blue glow all around them. He wasn’t sure how the flames managed to stay in that hue, but couldn’t really focus on that when he was trying to avoid all the others that entered with him. Some were chatting, apparently already knowing each other.

Jay didn’t want to know anyone in here. He didn’t see the point.

There were runes everywhere as well. He had no idea of what they meant, but they were glistening too, in that same color as the candles. Plants had grown as well on the wall, somehow.

He sat on the ground, unbothered to stay up like the others. From here, he could see that the only one on the ground like him was someone with a large hat, covering most of his face. His eyes were revealed briefly when he raised his head to watch who had come here for the first trial, allowing Jay to recognize him.

He was the guy he had seen many times speak with Ras. Although speak was a light statement; more so yelling and arguing, with the latter always having the last word, letting the other clearly frustrated.

Nokt. That was his name. He remembered him due to the electrical device placed on the back of his head. Even if he wasn’t sure he had heard his name right earlier, since it seemed like he preferred to keep to himself, as proved when he lowered his hat down again, effectively shielding his expression away from everyone else.

But there was something Jay managed to see before he did.

A spark of amusement, of all things, akin to one about to watch some sort of entertainment unfold.

…Jay didn’t think he was going to like that guy.

His attention shifted back to their leader, when he hit the ground with his hammer. He gave a speech, one Jay half-listened to, about being ready to change their lives for this better form of power, and so on and so on. Monologues are always so tiring.

…Where had he heard boring monologues like these before?

A glimpse of- something, from before, barely there, that escaped him as soon as he tried to look for it, smothered away by another hit of Lord Ras’s hammer against the ground, and someone getting on their feet and walking to the center of the room. Jay thanked his luck helping out for once, since he definitely wouldn’t have heard his name if he had been first.

Watching the guy, he gave way to his urge, and started to play with the fur around his neck to keep himself calm. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt like his anxiety was eating him alive, starting with his insides, and pulling on his guts and get him to run away from there as fast as he could.

He gnawed on his lip. He couldn’t make himself worry about nothing. This was just… apprehension, that came with every test he had to take.

Except if he failed this one, he might’ve to be forced back into the Administration. Damn it.

Deciding on ignoring the painful cramps his overreacting unconscious gave him, he focused back on the scene before him, observing the one that had been called.

The guy nodded his head to Lord Ras, and placed the mask on his face. Jay winced, clutching his other hand around the one he was holding; he really didn’t want to know how centuries old flesh would feel on his face. But he supposed he had no choice.

Holding his breath as Ras approached the gong, he tried to think of the power that wearing this mask would mean for him. He knew there was something about a forbidden technique of some sort, the Shatterspin, which he’d been taught the basics, but what about his powers? What would be the effects?

He’d seen Cinder. He’d seen how much quicker and agile he became whenever the mask would fuse with him, and gift him an armor instead of staying as a mask. The red eyes, he wasn’t that fan of, but if it meant finding who he was supposed to be, by feeling his powers better then ever before…

The scar under his left eye throbbed, forcing him to rub it. Not that he didn’t feel his power now, but he didn’t quite think he had a good grasp on it. He managed a few zaps here and there, and sparks to help him when it was completely dark, but other then that, not much else.

There is potential within you, Jay Walker. These had been Lord Ras’s words.

And he couldn’t wait to unleash that potential.

The gong was hit a first time.

Jay jumped out of his skin when the one put on trial shrieked in pain. Someone beside him gasped, letting him know that he definitely wasn’t the only one to be surprised.

He walked back, holding his face in pain and doubling over as the mask’s glowed that bright cyan. Not letting him the time to rest, or even wonder what was happening to him, the gong was hit a second time with a sound that echoed all around them. It was enough to make the room shake, and dust fall from the unexpectedly stable walls of this place. All the blue lights turned red.

The guy screamed again. Jay watched as he tried to remove the mask, pulling on his hair when trying to remove the strap that kept it in place. But it didn’t budge, despite his knuckles turning white from the force he was using for this one thing.

Jay felt sick, witnessing all this. Glancing around, he noticed how disappointed Lord Ras looked, and the way Cinder let his disgust appear.

…Shit.

His attention shifted back to the man in the center when he heard him puke. From here, he couldn’t really see what came out, and couldn’t help his flinch when the sound of retching reached his ears.

Chocking sounds could then be heard. It surely didn’t help when he threw his head back, gasping for air, too far gone to realize that he was making things worse.

Jay couldn’t look away from him. Doing so… doing so would mean he wasn’t cut for this role. It would mean showing weakness, and not being worthy of the chance offered to him.

Doing so would mean abandoning the man to his fate, a far side of his brain whispered. Jay took a deep breath, brushing that thought aside, just like he always had back in the Administration. Kindness and pity weren’t the way to go when one wanted to master Shatterspin, and the power of the Wolf Clan. He remembered Ras’s warnings too well.

Speaking of which, he couldn’t help but check a second time their leader, breath getting stuck in his throat when he did.

Lord Ras was watching them, not the poor guy struggling to survive against the surges of powers that went in his body forcefully. He was quick to understand; he wanted to see who was able to stomach it, and who would be useless in the future to him. And fuck, Jay didn’t think he could do that, but he didn’t have a choice. His body and mind didn’t have a choice.

The man screamed in pure pain and terror one last time, turning Jay’s insides. His hands grabbed at his skin, scratching with abnormal nails that had grown after the gong had been hit a third time. It made deep wounds, forcing crimson to pour out, but it seemed like the man couldn’t care less, just wanting to get rid of that cursed mask.

He heaved, then coughed, falling on his knees with a final yell, yielding to the pressure of energy that must’ve been coursing through his body. Unable to adapt.

And then…

He fell to the ground.

As soon as he did, the red lights came back to the blue hue they had first seen when entering the room.

When others gasped, and some cried, one, Jay heard a snicker. He looked around, trying to see who was sick enough to have that kind of reaction to someone dropping dead in front of them.

He frowned when he found out who.

Now he knew why Nokt had seemed amused at the beginning. He must’ve known this could happen. What a fucking psychopath. He looked away from him, and back at the center of the dojo.

Ras growled, stomping his boot on the ground at the result. He then turned towards Wolf Warriors, a finger pointed at the now dead man. “Get it out of here. We aren’t done yet.”

Shit. Shit. Jay swallowed hard, unable to look away from the blood, as well as the one the corpse left behind when pulled away in a messy trail.

Their leader hit the ground with his hammer, demanding attention from everyone in the room. “The reason he failed, was his resilience against our power. To become powerful, one must learn to bend to the rules that make it all. Only then, can you be one with the Wolf Clan’s powers.” He pointed his weapon towards the recruits, snarling when most of them took a step back in front of it. “Another one of his mistake was doubting me, and being a coward.”

His eyes scanned the room, glaring. “If any of you feel that way as well, you may as well leave. Now.”

That would be a mistake. Yet, some people immediately hurried out, not needing to be told twice. Not a lot- four of them, he counted. Jay closed his eyes, and tried to ignore how two Wolf Warriors followed after them, their claws ready.

What had he gotten himself into? What was going to happen to him?! How many others were going to die? Not that he questioned of the others’ loyalty, but there was no doubt that witnessing that guy’s death must’ve changed their will to join.

Now that Jay knew this was the consequence of failure… fuck. Fuck. His guts were twisting in there, hurting his stomach physically, at this point. His ears were ringing, clouding his mind from everything else. What if all that he had done, all this ‘surviving’ shit, had only lead to his demise?

Jay clenched his fists. He’d never allow that. Cinder had managed to do it, so why wouldn’t he?

This was an opportunity. To find purpose, and a place where he would belong. He couldn’t screw this up. He wasn’t a damn coward. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to fight back the power that was about to allow him a new beginning.

This was a cruel world after all. Hadn’t he learned that over and over again? And he couldn’t be at the bottom of it all just because others weren’t able to keep up.

He would not. He would survive through it all, no matter what it meant to wear that mask.

No matter the price.

Ras called his name. He was the second one to be tested.

Taking a deep breath, he raised his head, and faced the Lord’s eyes with a fierce glare.

Slowly, he got up, ignoring how his stomach still felt like a pit, and how his head was still hurting from the panic he had felt earlier when seeing that man die, his pulse somehow perceivable in his ears.

Still, he got to the center of the room. Only when he did, his eyes found themselves unable to detach from the splatters of blood everywhere. Some were older. Some were on the walls.

They had all witnessed that many times, hadn’t they? And they hadn’t told anyone.

It was… it was…

He took a deep breath. Now wasn’t the time to loose it.

A dark paw handed the mask to him. It allowed Jay to focus his eyes in front of him, and away from the red splatters. Something he regretted doing, when meeting Ras’s eyes.

They were harsh, and unforgiving.

Jay couldn’t mess up.

He was being given a chance. A chance, that could be taken back, and handed to any other elemental master. He wasn’t the only one gifted after all, Cinder was the proof of that. Ras didn’t need him for this grand plan; he had an army, and people ready to follow his every order.

On the other hand, Jay needed Ras. And he owed that new chance at freedom, to him.

Straightening up, he grabbed his mask, and tried to not think back on how it was made of skin. Instead, he tried to concentrate on how there was metal there as well. When tying the strap behind his head, he tried to not remember how the one before him hadn’t been able to remove it when wanting to escape.

No turning back.

Darkness cornered his vision, the latter becoming defined by the constricted sight given to him.

Once settled, he placed both his arms along his body, and nodded to Ras with a dry throat. The latter growled, rearranging his hold on the hammer.

The gong was hit a first time.

The wave of its sound exploded in the room, reaching Jay’s body. It froze him, both his physical shell, and thoughts. Everything had gone silent in his mind, and around him. And he wasn’t sure if this was due to the effect of its power.

Even breathing seemed impossible, in these short seconds. He was completely petrified, finding himself feeling as if he’d been stuck in something so dense and heavy, holding him back. No noise could make it out of his mouth, despite the pain that had started to build up in both his face and chest.

Something had cracked inside of him.

Just as he sensed it, the gong was hit a second time.

It felt like a blow to his chest, making him back away. His bones felt breaking as he did, making him wonder if they could’ve been weakened by the power he had been hoping to obtain.

His ears unblocked. It caused him to be suddenly dizzy, and made his head heavy with the lack of oxygen.

Then his breath hitched, as soon as he noticed the paralyzing effect was gone.

Like breaking out of shallow waters and reaching the surface, he gasped, greedily sucking air. His legs wobbled, making him feel like he was about to loose balance, as both his hands reached for his neck to protect the precious air he was barely able to keep in his trachea.

His skin was itchy everywhere. Something was going on inside of him, turning his veins icy cold.

Something was wrong, and hurting. Something was very wrong.

The rush of his blood too was fast, and strong, making him think that his blood vessels were doubling in size, and perhaps stretching his skin as it grew, leading to his articulations becoming harder to move. It left the impression that everything was about to blow inside of him.

For a second, he wondered if he had died, and if he was about to fall on the floor, just like the man before him had, but then realized that the sound of his heartbeat was still there, and as fucking loud as it was quick.

He was alive. He was-

The gong was hit for the third, and last time.

The final wave forced him to puke, which he went along with, trying his best to not suffocate with it like the first guy. A blink, and he noticed that it was blood, coming out from his mouth in worrying amounts.

His insides abruptly felt like shattering, and he yelled, as his whole body seemed burning up, a harsh and painful contrast compared to what he’d been feeling seconds ago.

Jay wasn’t able to keep a shriek from escaping him, when the power he’d felt in him for as long as he could remember reached for his limbs, and exploded. The scent of burning skin made it to his nostrils, and he held his middle, as if trying to stop his insides from escaping him like his powers had. Only when he did, he sensed his lightning breaking apart.

Millions of pieces, made of parts of his powers, going absolutely insane, and making his body spasm.

Getting electrocuted was a familiar feeling. One he despised, but was never able to escape for too long when it came to dealing with his own incompetence and ignorance. Or when he would redirect lighting on their ship, to protect the ones he cared about.

But just like his power, these thoughts were shattered, making him cry, as his head hurt too much for him to keep up with.

So he didn’t.

He let these words and images get torn into pieces, shards feeling like they came to his heart, pulling his whole torso in a constricting sensation that once again made him think like he was about to die, just like that. The boiling sensation kept on increasing, causing his whole body to feel like he was burning alive.

Something clicked, then, and his vision became too blurry to understand. The red lights made it so he didn’t know where he was anymore, the distant image of people he used to know breaking apart again and again, causing his mind to shatter as well.

And once it was all gone, he vomited again, hugging himself tightly as if trying to at least keep his body in one piece. His shoulders slowly felt heavier, and the fur that had been around his sensitive skin suddenly ceased to be.

Though this was the last thing Jay cared about, as he fell to his knees, the collide with the ground making his bones almost rattle. The way his fingers kept twitching made him wonder how they hadn’t broken yet.

His breathing was difficult, with a voice that had turned hoarse at yells and cries of pain he hadn’t even been aware to be letting out.

He was about to die. He didn’t know how the feeling was so familiar, perhaps due to the blood that accumulated in his breathing pipes, akin to water, filling his lungs until there could be no air passing through. His heartbeat was diminishing, yet it stayed as the only thing Jay could hear.

So he caught it. He caught his heart, for it was all that was left to him.

His will to stay alive. His will to have something of his own, that would make him whole.

And it was a heart burning with rage.

This, was what pulled all the pieces back. What once had tried to escape him, was now caught back by the sheer amount of anger he felt at how fate and destiny had treated him.

What does it mean? The question went away as soon as it brushed his mind, the violent waves of power crushing anything that wasn’t meant to be like it away.

Thoughts. Feelings.

They no longer mattered.

All that mattered was power. Stitching back all that had been separated.

His lightning felt growing. Launching itself and balancing his body in positions and forms that meant both a cry for a help and the picture of a violent force forbidding anyone to get close.

Then came the fusion.

The skin that made the inside of the mask slithered in through his pores, pulling and tearing its way through to have full possession of him, and share its cursed strength to the one that had dared to agree with its ways. Jay wanted to wonder if this was what it meant to meddle with dark magic.

But he couldn’t even do that, screaming again with his broken voice at the violent intrusion he had allowed for someone else’s game.

Foolish. Foolish. He always was foolish.

The foreign matter didn’t bother to be careful, before settling in- although not without damaging the inside of his mouth some more. It forced out more blood out, kicking out whatever was left that wouldn’t be useful to this newfound power.

A final deep breath, and Jay felt…

Liberated.

Gone, was the weight that had been caused by his soul and mind shattering and leaving behind too many pieces to carry. His whole body now felt light, lungs freed enough to give him as much space as needed for the air he needed to live.

The power felt lurking in his systems, flowing and giving him feelings he’d never felt before.

It was pure bliss.

After a few minutes, Jay blinked, his vision coming back, although with nothing to muffle it this time. The euphoric sensation slowly escaped him, letting reality settle back in his mind. Feelings of what was around and on him came back, making him tighten his fists.

He felt as though his sweat had drenched all of his clothes, along the blood. His chest kept expanding in grand moves, each breath making his body quiver, as he tried to catch his breath properly, and return oxygen to his brain.

When he did, his head returned to its previous heavy state, with each pulse increasing the pressure at an impossible rate. Yet, this stayed incredibly dull compared to what having worn the mask the first time had felt like.

He opened and closed his mouth, stretching his jaw to check if it hadn’t changed, or if the muscles there hadn’t torn apart. They had certainly felt so. He checked his limbs as well, particularly his hands, by opening and closing them multiple times.

Everything was good, it seemed.

Bringing his hands up, he checked his face, wanting to make sure everything was still there, and if he hadn’t just imagined the mask going inside of his skin.

But he hadn’t. The mask wasn’t here anymore.

He rubbed at his neck, but scratched himself, making him hiss. He looked at his hands.

Claws had grown, there. The gloves hadn’t even torn, having adapted to the new form they had gained. Closing his eyes, he then oversaw how his powers reacted to the newly added strength.

The response was immediate, surge of powers making his body twitch, and forcing him to gasp for air again. Opening back his eyes, he saw these bridges of electricity between his fingers, going all the way to the tip of his fingers, before disappearing, over and over again.

He chuckled, snapping his fingers. It created a small blow, enough to shake his curls. He then got back up, not bothered to look at the people around him, despite the loud whispers. Directing his gaze in front of him, he then aimed for a wall with his fingers, before sending his lightning there.

The stone that made the wall exploded, pieces of wood and rocks flying everywhere in the room, and allowing dust to float freely.

Jay snickered, feeling this happy buzzing inside of him, always here in the aftermath.

Fuck yeah.

He had missed this so much.

…I wonder who thisused to be.

Walking away from the gravestone, he added the wood to the fire he had prepared for the night.

A caravan was in that junkyard, but he didn’t feel like he was allowed to get inside, even if no one was there. No matter how cold it could get in the desert at night, this wasn’t his home, and he was simply there as a guest. He wasn’t even sure why he had traveled all the way here, but by the time he had realized where he had gone to, the sun had been long gone, leaving him with no choice but to set up camp here.

At least this spot was empty. It was a welcoming change compared to the crowded and suffocating places that had been the Administration or staying with the Wolf Clan. Although he had always been on his own in these previous positions, here the loneliness was one much better then what he’d dealt with in these last few years.

Jay hoped that there at least wouldn’t be any wild creatures to attack him. Fighting back without his powers had proven to be more difficult then he had expected. Thankfully, he had kept the gun from his time in the Administration; a great way to defend himself.

He sat on the ground, and looked at the fire crackling in front of his feet, relieving the itch on his face by scratching it as much as he could. No doubt his skin had not only turned red, but with marks left behind as well. Damn it.

…Being without that mask was going to be very hard. It had adapted to his skin- or maybe it had gifted him a second one. He wasn’t sure. He didn’t understand any of this.

All he knew, was that whenever he had been wearing it, even if for a short time, it had been granting him such an incredible thrill that he already knew just couldn’t be compared.

Oh, he had felt like he was on top of the world. As if nothing could’ve ever stopped his powers and him, from getting back at everything that had been unfair to him up to this point.

Now, all he had left were scars. From wearing this cursed mask, and bearing these powers that had never been truly his, but another’s hidden through his own element.

Jay had no idea if he missed the mask, its power, or if this was all caused by how much he missed his lightning.

His eye twitched; he should’ve listened to his urge, in that moment, and killed her. Destroyed her. And now that he hadn’t, the feeling of regret was unbearable.

He wanted to tear at his skin, but he didn’t even have the claws left for that. Only his poorly taken care of nails, dirty and gnawed by his need to relieve his anxiety and surges of powers every time he hadn’t been wearing the mask.

…Jay missed it all, as much as he cursed it all.

Had he not followed Ras, he would have never lost his powers. Had he stayed in the Administration, in this false life of his, he would have never been bothered by flashes and addictions he had never been prepared to face. He would’ve found his own way to his demise, sure, but at least through a path never led by others.

How had any of what I heard so farsounded right? How could I fall for their lies?

Jay frowned, thinking back on what he had listened to again. He didn’t believe them at all. Their fake stories…

Everyone lies. They’re all the same. Great warrior my ass. Jay now didn’t doubt that Ras could’ve lied to him, and it upset him greatly. What for?! To give him hope, and then crush it all in the next moment because of his so called failure? Gah!

He thought back on that woman he had fought. She too, had pretended to know him.

The sweet tone he could remember from her voice made him grit his teeth.

Even if she and her team had been right, why had they never come for him? It had been years. He had found himself all over again, since then.

“Let’s theorize that it was because they had no idea of where I was. Fine.” Jay clenched his fists. “Why didn’t they come get me when I was kicked out?”

His words were barely above a whisper, not even heavy enough to be carried around by the wind.

He stopped moving, forbid himself from flinching, focusing on the sounds of the burning fire so he could shift it as a background noise so his brain wouldn’t have to bother itself with. He then closed his eyes, and just… listened.

Strong wind, making the abandoned metal around him creak softly, and passing through small and tight openings, whistling all around him.

Deep down, he knew he waited for another noise. The snap of a branch, or the crunch of the sand under someone’s shoe that would make his hair bristle in apprehension. The sign that someone would come for him.

So he waited.

Until moments later, silence was still all that answered him.

He cursed, bringing his knees up to hug them, and huddle in a smaller position.

Jay didn’t know what else he had expected. Of course this wouldn’t happen.

He was alone. He’d always be, in the end. And it seemed like… he wasn’t enough. Not enough to make up for the help given to him, nor enough for people that were supposed to care about him to come back and find him. Loneliness was all that awaited him. He understood that.

… And despite feeling like this, he didn’t feel as he thought low he would’ve.

No. Quite the contrary.

Jay was… appeased. After all, that meant he could finally build a life. Even if it wouldn’t be much.

Throughout the years, he had learned that he had to move forward in order to survive. To do as told, and never question what he was ordered to do, or face consequences. Whether it had been the Administration, or Ras’s Wolf Clan.

So now, knowing for sure that no one and nothing was going to hold him back was freeing. Enough to get rid of these incessant thoughts bugging his mind, at least. Yet not quite enough to get rid of that pressure in his stomach.

Because all of this meant that he had nothing. He never had, and he never would. It left him… empty.

At the end of the day, it meant that he was nothing.

He watched the sparks escaping the fire. Like lightning’s, in a sense, but much less volatile, and not as comforting. He followed their trails, until his gaze ended up towards the stars. Had he known their names, a lifetime ago? The paths they traced, and how they never changed?

But it must’ve changed after the Merge. There was no doubt about that. Even something supposed to never be in motion except throughout centuries had completely shifted, no matter how infinite and big it must’ve always felt to him.

Everything had changed.

How was he supposed to find his past self if nothing was the same?

I don’t. That’s how. There was no need to waste time for something so meaningless. At least he hoped.

He sighed, glad to be protected from the chill of the night.

Warmth whenever it was cold was always a better thing. It was a comforting presence he had never admitted to enjoy in front of him. His… his heart kinda regretted that now.

Jay blinked at the dark sky.

…Who-

Something flashed before his eyes, too fast for him to identify what it was. It aimed for him, reaching its target in a millisecond.

Lightning had just struck him.

He shouted, feeling his powers immediately coming back to him, making him fall on his hands and knees.

Fuck. He hated that feeling. The one of his body getting electrocuted by his own life source, because he just couldn’t control it right.

Come on! He hit the ground with his fist, spitting on the grass as he grasped at the insanity of his power. He kept gritting his teeth, until finally, the lightning settled in, and buzzed happily to be back in its rightful place, with its rightful owner.

Jay took a deep breath. Yeah. Missed you too.

Since the start, his lightning had been the only thing there for him. To be reunited with it again brought tears to his eyes, both of joy, and anger.

At having lost them in the first place. At losing them to that damned water ninja.

I love you, Jay. I will always love you.

The memory of the woman’s desperate face flashed back when he shut his eyes to get rid of his tears.

An act. It wasn’t that difficult to pretend emotions after all, was it?

If he ever saw her again… he was pretty sure he wouldn’t hesitate to kill her.

She hadn’t hesitated to defeat him. Pretty fucked up for someone who was supposed to care, like she wanted him to believe.

Or maybe she’d been following orders, like I was.

Jay shook his head. Whatever the reason, it clearly wouldn’t justify anything. Nor would it tarnish the way his heart dripped hatred into his blood, making him even angrier then before.

The medallion felt heavy in his pocket.

Too heavy, this time.

He took it, and looked at the shape.

…It was a missing piece. He could see that now.

Jay didn’t want to be that. The missing piece of someone instead of being his own person. Of a puzzle he had nothing to do with.

What kind of life could he expect if all he was supposed to be was a pawn placed by others, and never able to have his own free will? The piece in a long chain of supposed important people. Full of important tasks, to serve the greater good of some kind of Great Administration, or a Great Cause of some Delusional Clan.

He’d be no one’s missing piece. No one’s lost part.

He was his own soul. No matter how shattered it felt, and how many little pieces of it were left.

Jay threw the heavy piece in the fire, the weight in his heart never tarnishing during the long time he watched it in the flames, as the moon advanced its course. He stayed that way, holding his limbs tightly against him, while taking deep yet suffocating breaths.

Until, it finally started to melt.

The slightest tint of gold, pearling down as it became a liquid again, and advanced on the darker metal it was attached to.

Never again.

[maxinemeows]

So multiple things inspired me to write this little angsty Flower Husbands drabble: their interactions in this season, the scene on bread bridge in Limited Life (and how Jimmy seems to be okay to ask Scott for lives as if they're nothing,) and also in general how I am noticing how their dynamic is more antagonistic and violent now (similarly how Joel and Scott are usually.)

Also, Jimmy not knowing who was Scott's soulmate when he was doing the Life Series quiz made me think that it would be cool to include here!

(if you know my last Scott post you'll probably understand why this thing exists- PGFJGHF.)

-----

A Deal with heartbreak

Session 6 started with a bang, multiple people dying because of the sudden appearance of the wildcard from today, Jimmy being one of them, making him be a red life now.

Scott walks near the cherry wood stairs of the Bamboozlers and looks around to check on them to see if they found out something new about the wildcard.

“Hello? Anyone here?” Scott calls out until he notices Jimmy coming down the mountain. He seems to be wearing the clothes he did last session, but this time they’re different colors.

Jimmy waves at Scott and approaches him rapidly.

“Hey.”

“Hey!” Scott smiles warmly. Sure, Jimmy is red but he wouldn’t attack him out of the blue, even though last sessions he kind of did, but Scott hopes he won’t now.

“Dude this wildcard is crazy! I can’t believe I died so quickly! I mean, at least I wasn’t the only one.”

“You have to be more careful Jimmy, Mumbo died last session so you might follow him…”

Jimmy sighs and crosses his arms shaking his head.

“Yeah, you’re still a green man, I don't know how you do it!” As Jimmy says that he gets an idea.

Scott shrugs at that. He just goes under people’s radars, though he is also good at the games, but better than Gem and Joel? Probably not.

“Scott man, I really need a life… Now that I am red is more urgent than yesterday! Please can I kill you?” Jimmy puts his two hands together and tries to make the best puppy eyes.

Scott chuckles at his request, and for a moment he considers it.

“Uhm, sorry Jimmy, I really don’t want to lose a life now. I gave one to Pearl yesterday so-” He gets interrupted as Jimmy gets closer to Scott, making him visibly more nervous.

“Oh! You gave her a life so she wouldn’t be red right? This is the same situation! Please man!” 

“But that’s different Jimmy! She’s my teammate and I also promised her that if she turns red she could kill me!”

With that said Scott thinks this is over but he then sees how Jimmy is suddenly holding a sword.

“How is that different? What about me asking you yesterday? Also! Our teams are kind of allies right? Don’t you think it’s a good idea to help your ally?” Jimmy waves his sword around, making Scott be very vigilant of the situation he’s in.

“I understand that, but Pearl, Impulse and Cleo are the first people I allied with this season! Of course I am going to prioritize them! Plus if we’re like this then Pearl was my soulmate a couple of seasons back so!” Scott says that without thinking, realizing suddenly why this moment seemed familiar. 

He, for a moment sees a black leather jacket and a long bridge extending on both of their sides.

Jimmy furrows his eyebrows in confusion and anger saying: “What? Okay and? Also your soulmate wasn’t it Cleo?”

Scott finds himself dumbfounded. He steps back and sees Jimmy closing the distance, and as he does that Jimmy accidentally steps on a poppy when he swings his sword at Scott.

In that moment, something in Scott gets broken. His stomach feels like it's turning and his hands buckle into fists. A sword appears into Scott’s hand and he swings it to block the blow; he then redirects his sword near Jimmy’s neck.

“I’ll give you 30 seconds Jimmy, to get out of my sight before I kill you for good.” Scott looks coldly at Jimmy, his eyes beginning to glow, but not only that, multiple more seem to appear and open on his neck and arm, glowing alike.

Jimmy’s sword disappears into his inventory and he huffs as he turns around and walks up the stairs of his team’s mountain.

Scott’s hands tremble. He sighs, and writes a mental note to not visit the Bamboozlers anymore.

-----

So I thought Jimmy was yellow at the end of session 5- checked, and he is red, but well this is a silly drabble anyways!

I had to make a reference to Deal with Destiny in the title okay? Was it obvious? Was it not?

Hope you liked it! ^^

[aninonimosstuff-blog]

Hello everypony, I come here to make an announcement.

I will be rather busy this week, I have finals coming my way and a lot of tests I have to retake...

I will still be uploading content but it will definitely start to slow down...

I'm putting a hold on replying to asks... But I still will be receiving any asks y'all want to send, and if it's something simple and for me I will be able to reply to it in no time. Like y'all know my drawings are pretty simple but I like to create a nice story telling and plan everything... There are only one factor for me to reply to your asks a bit quicker....

1- A funny interaction between characters, it has to be funny.

I actually find this problem with many asks, at least, for Fast that is. I get a lot of those and I neglect them because they don't scratch my brain or bring enough energy to reply. I don't mind at all text, it's super sweet to read all of what y'all have to say, but my brain works a bit differently. I see colours, a character, a funny interaction or statement and my brain is absolutely hooked on your ask!.... Meanwhile when I see a question with text my imagination juice frikin dies... But again, that doesn't mean I don't actually mean I won't reply to your asks if it's only text, I will always try to think about something and find a way to make it funny to see or have my character just go into existential mode.

I want to keep drawing about Fast but oh man Turbos questions are way more fun to do than Fast's. Y'all can be silly with any of my characters! Get comfy and be silly with them! (Not that comfy to ask friked up stuff) But a funny character interaction can make things for me a bit easier to manage, because silliness is what I have more to offer.

Topic 2...

Replies to reblogs/art commissions. (Tw for mentions of burned out, depression,self hate,vent)

If I don't reply to your reblogs with a drawing like I have been doing since I started my journey here, I am probably neglecting it for a few days/months. And I know that makes me an asshole and makes me feel shitty about myself, and I'm sorry I do that, that's never my intention. I'm here to express joy and silliness even if I'm suffering a burnt out or a depressive episode all of the sudden. Most of the time I am in a constant cycle of depression and burnt out from replying to asks(mostly text) most of the day of the week. But I still try to deliver something, because y'all deserve it, I don't want to leave my Tumblr, I love posting every day!.....

I am a person who sadly works on silly energy, and when that is gone makes my life a misery. I ran out of energy most of the time thanks to my depression, who always hits me on the back of the head when I have to do something productive.

I will put my ass on working on commissions... Now.

Now... Let's address the Turbo in the room with us.

About myself.

I am selfish, and I won't deny it. I am a selfish person. I LOVE the attention, I love receiving art of my character, I love getting likes, I love getting comments and I love getting asks.

And when I don't get that attention that I'm carving I get all annoyed and pissy with myself, I can be a "bit" toxic.

Sadly attention is one of the many things why I keep this blog alive. Not only do I still love Wir and the beautiful community, but I love the attention.

But attention seeking always can get you so far, until all that you love it's gone, and attention seeking is what is left in you. That will then push you over and make you feel bad with yourself that you would do ANYTHING for that small bit of attention, that being from your peers or strangers.

I am selfish and a jealous wolf, I like interacting with my friends I like to get attention from my friends, it's a vicious cycle, and it's really toxic.

That's why I most of the time I control myself, or at least try. I try to not explode and show how jealous I am. Because that's bad.

I have been working on that issue for a long time, I would say I have been working on controlling my jealousy since 2020 when I was spending too much time online to the point of making my depression worsen.

But luckily I'm trying to change that. And I apologize if I ever went a bit turbo on any of my posts... I'm still working on it.

What to expect in the future?

I will keep posting and replying asks.

I will keep being online

I will probably be more active next month rather than now.

A lot of events are coming and I want to do all of them.

Cool animatics

My birthday is coming (December 21) and I will be rather busy that day, so a heads up for that.

On vacations I want to work on animation and try to make puppet rigs for my character Fast.

On vacation I want to go back to my old ways of posting and replying with cute drawings as fast (and good like now) as I can.

That's everything for now, thank you so much for reading this!...

I will be posting more soon.

-Ewolf