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no1heyyyyyyyy · 1 year ago

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Types of People: Cunty edition

Cunty// “Sexy, iconic, never been done before, serving” (Urban Dictionary)

Cuntiness to me is not about how you look, but the energy you give. The sheer amount of lack of fucks someone gives is what makes them cunty. This post is for people who don’t care about others opinions, or don’t want to care about others opinions. I wanted to add different aspects of each type because I’d like for there to be more nuance to my content and I’d love to make written and visual aesthetics for these different types or base my own characters off of them. Let me know which ones you are!

Cunty- Expensive: Elektra Abundance, Miranda Priestly, Dracula, Cookie Lyons

- Having a signature “look” or aesthetic, wear a signature perfumed substance, more down to Earth compared to Lilith type, but they still appreciate opulence and a healthy dose of attitude - They demand respect in one way or another (whether it be reading someone so hard that they piss themselves in public, trying to kill your ex boyfriend, or making a girl’s hair fallout). They know their worth and they demand that their needs be met. - They care less about looking sexy and more looking polished. They want to people to think they look expensive and high end, even if that’s not the case - These are the people that have a surprising amount of tenacity, they have the willpower to get what they want, whatever the cost. People are surprised by their passion and ambition - These people dress for themselves and they refuse to look anything less than perfection. They put a lot of effort into their appearance and they like to be praised for it - Care more about success and status than the other types and can have a hard time hearing about what they are doing wrong and can’t really take criticism. - They are the ones that hype themselves up every time they walk out the door. They really like having an image (ie. being a bad bitch). - They are willing to burn the whole world down to get what they want and they will look good doing it too.

Cunty- Indifferent yet Impassioned: Luna Lovegood, Amiee Gibbs, Amelie

- Might wear a very specific style of clothes that is tailored to their interests and views on life, is passionate about their friends and can be taken advantage of easily because of their kindness or willingness to see the best in people - Very creative, love all art forms and really like to express themselves through their clothing. It’s often more colorful or abnormal that sets them visually apart from others. - The older they get, the more they learn to appreciate their autonomy and they will fight anyone who tries to take it from them. - They don’t get upset easily and often are very understanding and forgiving. Are visibly strange to other people, whether it be their clothes, disposition, voice, eye movements, or just lack of understanding or context in the given situation - Really likes to go on self dates and wants to learn more about themselves as people, they want to grow as people outside of those they care about, and are likely to find interests in more nature based activities - Appreciates all people and have an easy time seeing all sides of the same coin, seldom do they discredit something someone said unless they are incredibly angered- when they get angry they tend to be bursting at the seams with their frustration and ire- especially because they don’t feel it very often, it builds inside of them and bursts at inopportune moments - Could be laughed at or talked about for their apparent strangeness, purely because they live differently than others and experience things differently. They try their best to soldier on, but it does make them sad to know that not everyone is able to appreciate others as they can. - They are very flamboyant in their approach to life, very animated and aren't able to contain their excitement for things. Because of this they are very easy to read. Don’t ask for much from people and really just want to be happy- they deserve the world.

Cunty- Intense: Toph Beifong, Imperator Furiosa, Sevika, Maeve Wiley

- These are the people that are more scary to others, the ones that put others off for whatever reason. It could be that they wear more avant garde or subculture-based clothes, their general attitude towards others, or just their willingness to whoop ass on any given day - These are the people that get out of bed and chain themselves to a building in protest, the ones that are willing to stage a coup and take down a totalitarian government - They walk around with “I’m a bad bitch, you can’t kill me” vibes, and nobody wants to mess with them, because they can and will annihilate people - Willing to do the dirty work in order to achieve their goals, passionate as hell and willing to die for their cause - Effortlessly terrifying, big RBFs on these bitches, and it’s amazing. So many people admire them because of their energy, they just ooze the willingness to get into difficult conversations in order to get the job done - They are alluring, though, they make a statement just by being in the room - My loves that are a part of this group are aggressively supportive and willing to fight anyone who dares mess with their people. Are the ones that will slap you to get you to understand your own stupidity. - Unwaveringly aware of their worth and value, understand that they can bring a lot to the table if people would just let them - Part of the reason why they care so much is because a lot of them have been through a lot on their own and had to cope in more unsavory ways for one reason or another. There is no reason for these people not to get infinite smooches from me. - Isn’t able to understand compliance and absolutely hates being seen as weak or being weak, because to them once someone gets to that point they lose their competency. They are afraid to cry, afraid to be emotional, and have a hard time being open about their emotions to others. They aren't able to accept that people may care about them and that they are loved. Just because someone sees their value doesn’t mean they feel valued. - Most definitely Queer.

Cunty- The Full On Lilith Moment: Kat Hernandez, Maddie Perez, Prudence Night

- These are the ones that love to look seductive, bold, and sexy. They may or may not be wanting attention from others- you’ll never know - But they always capture gazes from anyone that looks at them, this is because their energy fills the room, and they seldom aren’t looking to intimidate people in some way. - Very loyal to the people they care about, but can quickly become disillusioned if the people they feel close to disappoint them in some way (rational or not), if they aren’t feeling appreciated, or are betrayed in one way or another. - Goes for opulence and luxury always, they want good quality in all aspects of their life (partners, clothes, shoes, decor, friends, education, living situations, etc.) - Can easily fall into the trap of wanting things they can’t have, or dressing for others so they can get validation. But, you’ll find that they always get to a point in their life where they dress how they want and aren’t going to suffer fools anymore - Sarcasm on point, dry sense of humor, often sits on the sidelines and laughs at the bullshit in front of them. However once it gets too much they will go into the ring themselves so that they can wring someone’s neck. - May have a hard time understanding their value outside of their looks or body. And, they really like to indulge in themselves. On the outside they may seem to be very shallow, but they really care about people and how they feel. They are very empathetic people who can easily be taken for granted due to how much of themselves they put into their relationships- romantic or otherwise. - They know that life isn’t worth living if you don’t feel good in the clothes you’re wearing. These people may spend a lot of time on self maintenance and grooming because they just like to feel pampered - They spend a lot of time with their loved ones and spend a lot of money/time on/with them, they are fiercely protective of their people and causes they care about - Extremely open to different types of beauty and completely understands the lack of diversity in the beauty industry, they are very active when it comes to working towards a common goal, and are willing to shank a bitch if it gets the point across - Will protest and show support for many different movements- especially underserved peoples and will stab a bitch with their heels if they dare to utter a slur in their presence - Will absolutely punch nazis

Cunty- Casual and Tired- but still serving: Tiana, Sarah Bailey, Molly Abrams, Piper Halliwell, Blanca Evangelista, Bonnie Bennet

- This archetype is my favorite, because it references underserved or underappreciated characters in media. The ones that no one appreciates or respects. But, they are all survivors. If something is wrong, they are the ones to get that shit done. - They may look more normal than the rest, they may not always turn heads. But, they have hearts of lions and spirits to match. - People can sense that. Their willingness to fight, their willingness to do what needs to be done. To throw caution to the wind for their loved ones. - The loyalty of these people is ridiculous, they will stand by their people through thick and thin, always the silent protector. - All I want for these guys is for them to get the appreciation they deserve because they are allowed to be taken care of too. There is so much love to go around and they need to start accepting some for themselves - I implore that my loves that fall in this category turn love inwards and stop helping people who do not appreciate your sacrifice, who are not able to see the value you bring to their life - I ask that they focus on their health, to eat food that they like, get enough sunshine, read a good book, watch their favorite movie, see their friends at least once a week, break up the monotony, stand up for themselves at work, set better boundaries with people, unlearn any codependency they may have learned or allowed, give up the toxic things in their life (whether they drink too heavily, smoking a lot to escape their pain, gamble to feel some semblance of excitement, have sex because they feel the need to punish themselves, restrict their eating because they don’t feel like they are enough for people, spend time on social platforms that make them stressed or angry, etc.) - This archetype may be the most outwardly ordinary, but the cuntiest thing about them is their resolution and willingness to get the job done. - Their independence and self accountability shines in the way they treat people. Their vibes are more down to earth but by far the most powerful because they have been through so much, and just spending a little bit of time with them it is easy to see how much they do for the people around them and the amount that they sacrifice. - The love I have for these people is insurmountable, keep on truckin’ all of you. You are loved and respected in this space as long as you give that same love and respect back.

All right, my loves. Have a wonderful day, drink enough water and eat good food! And, always stay safe.

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royalreef · 1 year ago

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@fullcfphobias inquired: putting Oz forth to see what'd happen.. abyssal terror incoming We should breed and ask our child what they think - Accepting

(( I will start this off by saying that this is among the very few situations where their kid coming along accidentally is possible. I won't discuss that here, as Miranda knows enough about the stray elements that make that possible to manage it, but the possibility has to be mentioned first, before the rest.

Because, really, none of this should be possible.

Miranda won't discuss the specifics and doesn't want to, but they come seemingly too easy for any sort of cosmic horror, for any entanglement of the beyond and mere skin and bone. Nearly natural, even, and not as a mere experiment to burn out and die like the rest, but something that sticks. The old things, the beyond things, they aren't born this easily, and especially shouldn't come from here, shouldn't come from a princess who is, by all rights, just a princess, but it's there. With perfect certainty, with comfort and ease that shouldn't be, they exist.

Worse still, is the near seamless melding between the flesh and the not. All they are and all they seem to be, is the shape of a merfolk, but cut out of the world around them. Blackness without depth and without substance, perfect blackness, the kind that makes them look like a hole punched out in the middle of a room, but only that. They have depth and shape, moving around them or watching them move betrays the fact that they aren't merely flat. Just like any other abyssal merfolk pup, except missing, and they are a pup. They start small, and they grow. They learn to speak at the same time that a merfolk is expected to learn, grow at the same pace, go through the same process, not merely as a mockery nor as imitation but as something innate to them, a melding too perfect to be natural, for anyone else to be comfortable.

It's Miranda who looks after them most. It doesn't feel right, still, that just a princess should be able to hold something like them, should be able to touch them, to carry them, to share so much with them in a way that doesn't harm her nor even cause discomfort nor fear, but she mentions none of these things. She speaks quietly with them, teaches them abyssal as their first language, shares strange knowing looks and tells them things that she won't speak to anyone else.

It's her who gives them the name Diin'ehai, and only explains later that, in her first language, it means First Song, or First Singer, depending on the translation. She does not elaborate further.

They follow her, mostly, their mother's child more than Oz's, and looks at them with glances that at once seem too alien for mere mortal nor beyond nor something else entirely. This is made only worse by their glances not being something that can be seen, not having any eyes to contrast against that perfect backdrop of deepest black, but something that's felt. They become private, shy in what they're willing to share, but not in a self-conscious way. More like they are aware of something that no one else is, who knows what should be said at any given time and what should be omitted.

Merfolk toys and interests are used more than those from the land, pushed towards merfolk playmates more than any other, and they resemble their companions far more than they have a right to, than anything like them ever should.

If they get too excited chasing Oz's fingers as a pup, or keep staring at him without explanation as they age, well, you know how children are.

#Most secret royal advisor || OOC #Dreaded rumors || Asks #fullcfphobias#Kiss my blistered lips‚ my fingertips frostbitten and grey || Oz x Miranda ( fullcfphobias )#(( ah. and then we have the classic. 'miranda didnt explain shit.'#(( its fine! its fine oz! nothing to see here! nothing to worry about!#(( stop thinking about it. its fine. its all fine.

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piracytheorist · 2 years ago

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what exactly is a girlboss and how does it relate to mia winters? saw someone in the tags say it. this ask coming from me having actually googled the term and still not entirely clear on any of it

Another example of Alan being ignored. the picture of Mia, Alan, Evie (all dressed in dark clothing which is why they stood out to me) and Miranda and the other (currently un- named) researchers found in Mirandas lab in Village somehow means to some that Mia was promoted to researcher?

You know, I don't have a very clear meaning of the word "girlboss" in my mind either. I'm kinda thinking that it's meant to describe a female character who kicks ass and takes no shit. Like the Strong Female CharacterTM some media try to make by making their women badasses without caring too much for character depth. But when using "girlboss" I feel we refer to a female character who kicks ass and honestly we don't care if she's morally wrong or right. She just looks sexy doing it and that's all that matters. Not that some girlbosses don't have character depth or motivation, just that the existence or lack of those don't affect a character's status as "girlboss". I don't know if I made that clear lol.

When it comes to Mia, well, she's not the conventional definition of BadassTM, but she knows how to use a gun and has an entire portion of re7 of herself going into a shipwreck to save her husband, killing mold monsters along the way. Then in re8, she has a metal pole at the ready against a machine gun. She's brave, she's dedicated, she doesn't hesitate to get her hands dirty. For me that makes her a girlboss, regardless of whether you're willing to understand her character motivations or not.

What you say about Alan I think it's the result of people depending too much on the wiki. I haven't checked it in a while, but last time I did it said something along the lines of "Mia made a deal with the BSAA to not tell Ethan anything about her previous life" which is only an assumption based on that line from the Baker Incident Report:

Maybe it's just me not caring about hating Mia, but I don't see how this proves Mia made a deal with them to not tell Ethan. It's not like Ethan didn't suspect anything, like, it's ridiculous, do they think he spent three years with Mia, continuously asking her about her past, her not telling him, and him still staying with her and having a kid with her?? That's just stupid.

But, the wiki does imply she did, so with a lot of people who don't care about spending time looking through all the sources (and like, I don't blame them, they're not obligated to) and depend on the wiki to learn about the story, they get the wrong idea. The wiki is what also says that Mia was a researcher for the Connections, and that was taken from a guide-kind of book about re7 that was published in Japanese only so we're depending on fan translations for that, and those carry a high risk of inaccuracies. Now since we don't have any more details about that - like, what kind of research did she do? Was it about Eveline in specific? Cause the files in re7 only call her Eveline's handler, and that's way different than being a researcher actively doing experiments on her - it's a bit of a wonky situation in general. The game says other stuff, the guide book says other.

And frankly, I don't know how the hell it would make sense for her to be a researcher. In the photo she wears plain clothes and jeans (like Alan), while the others are in lab coats. Why would she not wear a lab coat if she was taking part in the whole "research"? Also, a shit ton of people just ignore the fact that the Connections just left Mia to rot in the Baker house and chose Lucas of all people to monitor the situation through. If she was a high-position researcher that was full-on sold on bioterrorism and knew every little significant detail about the Eveline project... y'all think they would have left her there??? If she was significant to the organization, you think they wouldn't care to rescue her? And if she had too much info as a high-up, you think they would have risked her surviving, getting away and ratting them out?? Bitch come on. It's fine if you don't like her but don't try to justify that with poor research on the topic. (That's not aimed at you, anon, that's aimed at all those people who scream bloody murder the moment you try and explain that Mia is not Evil incarnated upon Earth)

#Resident Evil #Mia Winters #anonymous #ask and ye shall receive

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wintersandthebeast · 2 years ago

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23. Trust

RE8 | Wintersberg | Romance, Slow Burn | Action, Sci-Fi

Link to Master List

TWO MONTHS EARLIER

The trio stood (well, the Duke sat) inside the small shed, one that Karl had reinforced for himself years ago. It had the look of his other substation and work areas, but this was one of the surveillance outposts, full of monitors, tapes, microphone hubs, camera parts. He slapped the side of the old CRT monitor, willing the image to appear. Damn signal.

They were looking at the sluice, which was now open. The feminine form had removed her plague mask and now shook her head delicately at the footage. The Duke passed Karl a lit cigar as they continued to watch the recording of Ethan’s confrontation with Moreau.

After several more gruesome, disgusting minutes, the footage ended, and Heisenberg sat the monitor down on a nearby shelf, clicking it off without touching it. The Duke swung his legs, appearing antsy to leave the area, but the female crossed her arms.

“Where did you decide to send him?”

Karl cringed behind his dark sunglasses. “The uh. The Lycan stronghold.”

She actually looked slightly appalled. Karl had met Ada there originally years ago; she was no fan of the area. Her stare said as much.

“You didn’t.”

The Duke shook his head and smoked.

“Well,” Karl said sharply with another brandished arm, “I had to do somethin’ that wouldn’t make Mirander suspicious. She knows he’s on his way to me an’ if I just…” he gestured, “Open my doors, no problem…I had to make it look like I was…toyin’ with ‘im. If he made it through I can play dumb.” Not likely he wouldn’t with all the extra help Karl had given him, but Heisenberg didn’t mind. Look what he’d done with the help so far.

He licked his lips. “Anyway. He’s a big boy. He can handle it. We need to start preparin’.”

His so-called siblings, the other Lords, were now all dead. How odd that Moreau lasted longer than either of the women. Heisenberg knew he was to be next, knew that Miranda was discarding her “children” not to mention, had an affinity for the child’s father. Maybe even more than an affinity, he thought darkly as he paced. She’d… chosen to stay with him longer than necessary while she dished out experiments on the mother. Gross.

Karl was wrestling with everything about the situation. He’d be swift to mercy kill any regular outsider stupid (or unlucky) enough to wind up here now that Miranda had officially and completely lost her fucking mind. But there was something about Ethan, something that made Heisenberg want to kill him for other reasons. He was tough, stubborn. He was fun to watch. He made Karl…feel, things. Karl did not like nor want to feel things. This made him angry at Ethan.

He was supposed to be planning against his own demise, he’d been planning this for over a week--since Miranda caught wind of the Winters family and set her plan into action. He had to guard himself against Miranda’s definite next move--getting rid of him . The Duke and Ada were his allies in this regard, as they’d called in favors of the Lord before and this was his turn.

So much blood. So much waste. So many lives, for nothing. A legacy of families, ended by what? At least, he told himself, it would soon be over.

He should be focusing on the science at hand, at ensuring plans were followed to their specifications. And instead all he could focus on was watching that fucking papa bear plow through every obstacle in his path and look good doing it. Karl felt more dangerous than he had in many years; he felt like killing. Miranda, mostly. But also Ethan, for being such a distraction. For being unexpected .

“I will leave you to that,” the Duke said amiably, now moving to kick into his extremely large boots, very slowly. They remained untied; the man rarely wore shoes and probably wouldn’t have worn them here if the path weren’t full of briars. “I must get back to my wagon,” he sighed, “And hope that Winters makes it back.”

“He’s a big boy,” Karl said, with more confidence than he felt. And even if Ethan wasn’t fine, who cared? It’s about ending Miranda, he thought for the thousandth time to himself. It had always been about ending Miranda. No one else mattered. What he’d done to Ethan didn’t matter. So he would keep hammering into his own head.

His golden stare now landed on the beautiful woman in front of him. With another careful puff of his cigar, he asked her casually, “So. You ever…die?”

She smirked. “Depends on who you ask.”

Ethan stirred in his sleep. It was the fucking Vârcolac this time. Stalking below his hiding spot. Now he was away…Its breathing was audible…it was somewhere in the tall grass of the fallow plot.

As he stirred, he became aware of a sensation on his thighs. Warm breath. A warm body. Ethan faded in and out of sleep, the imagery of the cursed village stuck in his mind as his body urged him away from it. And now the nightmare melted away as he realized two things--one, his pants and underwear had been pulled down, and two--the warm body at his groin was kissing along his waistline. The lips, and the accompanying facial hair, brushed his skin pleasantly.

The fear from his nightmare pulled at him, and Ethan’s heartbeat sped even further. He opened his eyes at the dark ceiling, but just as he panicked, he felt warm arms slide up his sides. The body settled, straddling him.

“Karl,” he breathed, a sound of relief as well as disbelief. He was still on edge, still afraid. Ethan had set a boundary with the clearly hungry man before, and here he was in his room? The blond shivered and felt Heisenbeg’s rough hands slide across his chest as he inhaled deeply.

The blond froze, realizing he was still panicking. Karl had always possessed animalistic qualities, not that different from the Lycans he commanded; creatures who were happy to latch onto Ethan’s body, tear at him. Pant on him with their warm breath as Karl was doing now. Ethan had never spoken to Karl about his absolute fear of him, of what would happen if the man really did lose control one day. Why hadn’t he ever spoken of it?

He could move, and now he writhed as he felt one of those hands explore his body. Ethan’s breath stuck in his throat and he closed his eyes. A voice of reason overrode the many other voices screaming in his head. This is Karl, talk to him. He’s safe.

The man who stabbed him, threw him down in a tunnel with an armless jet engine on legs? THAT Karl? But Ethan’s heart began to slow as he realized with the feel of the man’s lips on his thighs that he…wanted this? Even though he was afraid. He put a hand up to his mouth, bit his fingers to keep his own voice at bay. Part of him wanted to scream stop, the other wanted to moan loudly.

It’s Karl, his mind repeated. Karl is safe.

He felt the hot breath on his exposed flesh, then the lips, then the tongue. Any fear or worries Ethan had disappeared with those sensations and he melted. At first he kept his eyes closed, but as Karl continued to enthusiastically feast, the blond moved his other hand down to the tangles of brunette hair and chanced looking at the other.

His heart skipped a beat when Karl lifted his head, the hunger evident in his eyes, and stared at Ethan with almost glowing irises. With this look some of Ethan’s fear returned, but he forced his breathing to steady. This…wasn’t how Karl looked at him. Ethan had been the subject of Heisenberg’s stare many times before, and it was always hungry, but patient. Calculating, even. Karl had mirth in his stares, as though he always had some secret information.

This stare was cruel, cold. Ethan felt as though he were under a microscope and his stomach turned. He wanted to ask for confirmation, but his mouth refused to form the engineer’s name. It wasn’t Karl.

“You really liked him all over you,” issued the female voice, from Karl’s male form. Now a smile crossed the man’s face and Ethan pulled away.

“Miranda!”

“What’s wrong, Ethan,” she hissed as Karl sat up, and now with a flutter of wings she was herself. She was naked, Ethan realized, and he fought to breathe as he avoided looking at her. “Is your preference that strong?” She laughed and Ethan struggled to move. She wasn’t touching him, but somehow his arms were pinned. “I have other forms, as you know,” she cooed, and with another flourish of wings Mia sat on top of him.

“What’ll it be, Ethan?” Mia laughed in Miranda’s voice. “Let us do this dance again. I do so love…experimenting.”

Karl was pacing, he’d just sent Ethan down to Sturm. He was furious. And…something else. The engineer pounded his fist into the wall, and then stormed out of the room. He needed to be away from the room where Miranda and Alcina still stared hollowly after him from their spots on the wall.

He strode down the hallway, cigar in his mouth. He was actually hurt. CRUSHED, if he admitted it. He’d expected Ethan to agree. Heisenberg felt the pain again and he pitched forward, losing his cigar and almost his hat, which he saved by clapping it to his head. When he groaned in pain, the sound was metallic, an echo from his chest.

The heart in his body wasn’t his. His was crystallized and safe with the Duke. And though Heisenberg had faith in his own creation, he knew he was unstable. It was only a matter of time now, this body would…change. He blinked as he straightened, pacing toward the surveillance area where he’d continue to watch Ethan.

Miranda was more important, he kept telling himself. This was the fight of his life. And though he didn’t have his heart, currently, Heisenberg couldn’t help but feel heartbroken at the rejection.

He stirred, realizing he was dreaming. The factory walls fell away as Karl woke up, covered in sweat. His heart was racing; something wasn’t right. What wasn’t right? The brunette scanned the room, seeing nothing amiss, but he realized after a few moments that he was sensing Ethan. Something was wrong with Ethan.

Karl abruptly stood and left the room.

Oh god, Miranda was pinning him down and he couldn’t even scream. Somehow she was holding his entire body hostage. Ethan tried to thrash against the restraints. How could he ask for help? He tried to focus on any power, literally anything, as she turned back into Karl and settled back, chest catching the moonlight from the window.

“I’ve watched you two, you know,” she said smugly, taking Ethan’s length in her hands as he fought to scream, pull away, anything. “Such a shame you don’t remember.”

Ethan closed his eyes, realizing he could do one thing--cry. Now the tears came almost hysterically and Miranda laughed as though nothing pleased her more.

The door slammed open abruptly, and Ethan jolted; he could move again. Now he sat up, still hysterical as Karl stood in the doorway looking confused and disheveled.

“Ethan?” Karl’s voice, confused, questioning.

Ethan fought to sit up and pull away from the bed, his body spasming as it was allowed to move again. Karl was not satisfied with this thrashing as an answer and he stepped into the room cautiously. Ethan threw the blankets off and realized he was still dressed. But how?

Karl was now at the bed, staring down at him strangely with luminescent eyes.

It had all been a nightmare. None of it had been real.

Ethan paused and put his face in his hands. He could feel his cheeks overheating, he could feel his heart pounding almost out of his chest. How had none of it been real? It felt so…

“I need you,” he whispered in what was not a very strong-sounding voice, through his hands. He felt the engineer’s warm arms around him, felt him slide into the bed without a hesitation. Soon he stopped shaking, and he let the unnatural warmth of the other seep through his skin and warm him. Inductive heat. Did Karl know he was doing this, warming Ethan? Filling his essence, his entire being, with a feeling both comforting and thrilling.

As Ethan calmed, he noticed the other sensations. The ones that still remained in his body, from when he’d awoken. What if it had been Karl? Ethan realized with the man truly pressed up against him now that he wouldn’t have stopped. He would have relented to whatever Karl wanted to do. He felt as he lay there almost a sense of radical belonging--that he was Karl’s.

It was a wild, ridiculous realization.

Ethan sat up, looking at the engineer as though he just realized the other was really here. His hazel eyes met the yellow-flecked irises and he stared, penetrating. What the fuck was happening to him?

Karl stared back. At first the engineer’s brow was raised quizzically, but as Ethan continued to challenge him with the eye contact, his eyebrow dropped and the familiar look came back across his features. There it was. Hungry. Predatory. But wise, confident. With some humor or hidden joy behind his expression. A secret longing to be told, a stony stare as he drank in Ethan’s gaze.

This time Ethan lost control and before he knew it, his mouth moved to Karl’s, his tongue hungrily seeking reassurance. With a low growl Karl answered and reached his hand along the expanse of Ethan’s throat as he kissed him back. Then came the possessive squeeze. Ethan pushed against the pressure, fighting to kiss the man even deeper. If he told the other that he felt owned, he had an inkling that Karl would be proud, and possibly even agree.

But then too soon, the brunette pulled away, his hand still holding the blond in place. Karl tilted his head; he was breathing heavily. So was Ethan, and now their eyes met again.

“Ethan, I can’t--”

“Control it?” Ethan guessed, and he watched the almost-shame settle over the other’s features. Shame, anger. He felt Karl's emotions--he wasn’t supposed to be this way. He had been made to be this way. He hated the loss of control, it was sickening, even if it made him feel powerful and in control.

“I don’t want you to,” the blond said almost desperately against the hand around his throat. “Do it. Kiss me, take me.”

When Heisenberg stared, full of hesitation and clear internal conflict, Ethan moved his palm to the other’s scarred cheek, caressing him with all of the tenderness he knew was foreign to the other.

“I trust you.”

#ada wong #the duke re8 #karl heisenberg #ethan winters #winters and the beast #wintersberg

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fstbmp-a · 1 year ago

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royalreef:

The laughter sat in its private audience, pressing in and circling around Scourge at every corner, a centerpiece against a crowd that should not have been. Here and there, coming from mouths that could not reasonably be there, curling over her shoulder, dancing between her feet, here and there and nowhere at all, all brought forth in an instant to wrap around her, to bathe her in darkness and in a joke that she still wasn’t getting.

“Oh, please!” Mock insult came thick on the princess’s voice, accompanied by an imagined swoon, a hand to the chest, a fainting couch kept for this specific purpose. Her voice crawled through Scourge’s ears. Saccharine sweet, dripping thick and wet like a fruit squeezed too hard, something overripe and starting to sicken.

Still nothing moved. Still no motion beyond Scourge’s made the candles flicker, still the darkness brayed at her heels and moved in tighter. Circling her. It was still just the one voice, still the same voice, but it didn’t feel like it, it should have gone wrong somehow, should have gone different, it wasn’t the same voice and it couldn’t be.

“You wound me. As if I would ever have to resort to something so childishly simple! I like to think that I would never have to resort to something so brash, so brazen, so boring. I am far better than that.”

And then she was there again.

She was sitting there, on her haunches, at the edge of the circle. She hadn’t even moved nor stepped in, no motion to the action, nothing needed for her to appear again. All at once the darkness simply parted and there was the merprincess, smiling at Scourge, holding up a single stick of black chalk. As promised.

This was not to say that Miranda did not look very pleased with herself all the same, even if the candlelight did things with her face. They still didn’t seem to touch her scales, washing over the foremost curves of her body in bright and brilliant red, but cutting out too abruptly, too clearly, leaving her body parts detached, left in the darkness, body parts floating away from each other with nothing to connect them. It caught in her eyes, trapped there, pounding against her iris as it lay trapped beneath. Unlike the candles themselves, the light trapped under Miranda’s pupils was a bright, brilliant blue, glowing as fiercely as the embers of hell. Electric blue, cerebral blue, a blue that seemed so wrong against the darkness and against the candlelight.

“Try and relax a little, will you? Now all we have left to do is for me to draw the proper additions to the circle, and it will be all done. I am sure you do not want to be left here, and I can do this all upon my own anyhow. I can not do it if you panic on me.”

Panic might not be the best word for it (Scourge would call it a fit of anger personally), but the other wasn't exactly wrong either; even if Scourge thought she just enjoyed hearing the sound of her own voice all smug in this situation. Scourge was at a complete disadvantage on all fronts and she was well aware of that fact. It was, of course, the only thing she really had a good grasp on in the situation.

She'd like to say that she didn't jump when Miranda was just suddenly there before her. Physically, she actually managed not to. Of course, the sudden spike of energy gave away how startled she was if her quickened pulse hadn't done that for her. All at once those quills metallic sheen was added by crystalline sparkles in the light, glistening like gemstones even in the dimness of the candles. Sure, Miranda hadn't actually done anything to warrant it yet, besides being perhaps the most unsettling experience of the hedgehog's life.

Which, admittedly, was an impressive feat.

Still, as much as she hated to admit it, there wasn't much that Scourge could do but go along with whatever the hell Miranda had in mind. Whether she was going to do what she actually said she was or not was still up for debate, though it was currently the only option that Scourge had.

"Fine, fine. Whatevs." It was said with hands waved about, swatting at the air and reluctantly backing into the circle.

Fucking hell, this is why Scourge hated diplomacy garbage.

#It Is Hopelessness ;; Scourge #royalreef #me two weeks late with starbucks: and i oop-

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tellthemeerkatsitsfine · 2 years ago

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So much from the Nish Kumar show last night. It was amazing. I didn’t write about it right after (aside from this post that I made before getting in the car because holy fucking hell) as it was a bit more than a two-hour drive home. I got home at 3 AM, passed out, woke up this morning and now I still feel so overwhelmed by how cool it was. Here’s the best I can do with writing about it.

There were about ten weeks between when I first saw this show, in New York City, and when I saw it last night in Montreal. I’d expected the main difference to be that he’d have to rewrite the Boris-based parts of the show he did in New York, since, you know, that situation has changed in the last ten weeks. But he actually cut that bit entirely, barely mentioned Boris or UK politics at all. I can understand why. I saw him do a livestreamed thing a couple of weeks ago, and that showed me the jokes he’s written to reflect the current mess of a political climate. They involved saying he hates Rishi Sunak for being the highly successful Asian man that his own parents wanted him to be, and saying we can’t let Rishi Sunak be prime minister because he killed everyone’s grandma via mismanagement of the pandemic. My guess is that while he expected the North Americans at his New York show to know who Boris Johnson was, he was less sure that North Americans would know about Rishi Sunak, so decided to just skip all that rather taking his “Rishi Sunak killed everyone’s grandma” material to people who might have no idea what the hell he’s talking about.

So the specific political material got cut, as did a few other things; I think he was more pressed for time at the Montreal show. There were enough jokes that were in the New York show and not in the Montreal show for me to now be sure it was worth going to New York for it, even though I could see him much closer to home ten weeks later. That 17-hour round trip to a city that I did not like was worth it just for the few jokes he put in the New York show and cut from Montreal.

He also added some stuff in Montreal that wasn’t there in New York. There were some Canada-specific jokes. Said Boris Johnson was on the verge of joining our trucker protest, which got a cheer because fuck those people. Asked how the hell that trucker thing happened and if Canada “caught” stupidity from America, which… yes. I mean that was funny but it also barely worked as a joke because it’s pretty much a literal description of what happened. Yes, Nish, we had a lot of people who were influenced by American media and specific American figures who targeted them with an onslaught of messaging and American money that funded their efforts, and that is how this happened. I could draw you a diagram if you like. People who got arrested at the trucker protests were shouting about Miranda rights and the first amendment. They think everything American applies to us. This is why it’s important to properly fund and support Canadian media like the CBC to educate Canadians on our culture instead of having everything washed away in a sea of Americanism. But I digress.

Another bit that was not in the New York show was a few minutes spent talking shit about Ed Gamble and James Acaster, which was hilarious. Earlier in the day, those two had recorded a live episode of Off Menu at that same festival (I did consider getting tickets to that, but they were quite expensive and I’ve only ever heard about three episodes of Off Menu so I figured it wouldn’t be worth it). Nish correctly surmised (I say it was correct, based on the strong audience reaction to him bringing it up) that most people in his audience had been to see the Off Menu recording earlier in the day. He complained that as a brown guy he’s out here telling us how he got PTSD from racist death threats, while his very white friends were discussing what food they like. Called them “a couple of crackers talking about crackers”, which was quite funny. Informed us that they pronounce “papadum” wrong; he was it was supposed to sound more like this, and I guess James does something of a white bastardization of it. Then he added that if anyone chooses bread over papadums they’re racist.

Now, I hope this will go without saying, but because someone reading this post doesn’t see or hear the tone that was present in the room, I’d like to clarify that it was very obvious all along that he was 100% joking. At no point did anyone think he really does resent them for that; sometimes James talks about mental breakdowns and sometimes Nish talks about watching sex scenes in movies with his dad, so just because right now James is talking about food and Nish is talking about racism doesn’t mean that defines their whole lives. The difference in levels of heaviness of their material at that specific comedy festival was just a funny juxtaposition to point out at that moment. I mean, James and Ed probably do say “papadum” wrong. But I’m sure Nish forgives them.

In case anyone in the audience did not fully understand this, Nish ended this by saying, “Of course, those two are my friends, I don’t mean it, I love those guys. I did mean the stuff about Ricky Gervais and Jimmy Carr, though.” And that brings me to a particularly interesting thing that was in this show but not the New York one. To explain, I’m going to quote something I wrote about nine weeks ago, talking about the show I saw Nish do in New York. The initial post was about the bit in Nish Kumar’s 2019 show, when he did a whole rant about how Ricky Gervais is an asshole for doing transphobia and calling it comedy. Here is something I added on to that post after seeing Nish in New York this year:

“I just saw him do his newest live show last week, and he again dedicated a couple of minutes to complaining about comedians who run out of new funny things to say so they just go on Netflix to talk shit about minorities instead. Those minutes ended with the words “Fuck you Dave Chappelle, fuck you Ricky Gervais!” (For a split second I thought Jimmy Carr’s name was going to come out of his mouth next, it’s probably for the best that it didn’t.)”

That’s what I said nine weeks ago, and that’s how I felt at the time. I sat in that theatre in New York, heard Nish say he does comedy way better than those “edgy” people who think shitting on minorities counts as comedy, saw him get really riled up and on a roll and flow right into angrily shouting, “Fuck you Dave Chapelle, fuck you Ricky Gervais!” and for a moment my brain was sure he was going to add “fuck you Jimmy Carr”. This was a little while ago, closer to when Jimmy Carr’s joke about Romani Holocaust victims was in the media (if you don’t know what I’m talking about, you can Google it, or better yet, don’t – if you’ve ever seen the whole “asshole makes a racist joke, tabloids make clickbait articles about it, asshole complains about cancel culture” storm play out, then it’s exactly what you’re picturing), so his name came into my mind when Nish described that type of comedian. I thought he might say it, but he didn’t, and on reflection, I did think “for the best” was a good way to describe the omission. No need to feed the media storm further with “Nish Kumar VISCIOUSLY SLAMS Jimmy Carr in Latest Special” tabloid headlines or whatever.

I don’t know what changed in those ten weeks. Jimmy Carr has not said any new and notably offensive stuff since then. But at some point in ten weeks, Nish Kumar decided to amend that joke. Last night, his bit about how he hates “edgy” comedians who shit on minorities on stage ended with “Fuck you Dave Chapelle, fuck you Ricky Gervais, fuck you Jimmy Carr!” He then said something about Gervis and Carr specifically, since they’re both British. He called them something like “a giggling ghost and his ventriloquist dummy friend” who are making British comedians look bad by doing this kind of shit. And he brought it up again later in the show, saying he was just kidding about his friends James and Ed, but he did mean the shit he said about Ricky Gervais and Jimmy Carr.

I would say that’s kind of a big deal. I’ve given Nish Kumar credit before for going after Ricky Gervais, since that 2019 show also has an explanation of how much he loved The Office, how he had all the episodes basically memorized, how he looked up to its creator. It’s a rule for life generally that it’s easy to call out people from the “other side”, people you didn’t like anyway, but it’s much harder to call out people who are in some way on “your side”. So I think it’s a sign of good character when someone can recognize bad things in a person they liked, and are willing to say so instead of defending or excusing it.

Jimmy Carr is another level of that. I mean, Nish Kumar was a fan of The Office, and Ricky Gervais is a fellow British comedian, but I’m pretty sure Gervais has been in America for as long as Nish has had a showbusiness career. So on a practical level, Gervais may as well be an American comedian just like Chappelle; they’re not exactly in Nish Kumar’s orbit.

Nish Kumar is much more likely to cross paths, professionally and personally, with Jimmy Carr than with Dave Chapelle or Ricky Gervais. They’re both on the British stand-up (not at comedy clubs or whatever, but they both tour the UK with stand-up shows) circuit and the British panel show circuit. Nish has done 8 Out of 10 Cats and Catsdown. Nish was hanging out with Jimmy in Katherine Ryan’s living room as of whenever they filmed the end of that Backstage show, which was not that long ago. Jimmy Carr was at this same festival in Montreal, performing his own show. That’s definitely a new level of calling out one of his own.

Obviously, the caveat I add every time I give someone credit for something like this is that there are a lot of harder jobs in the world than being a comedian, and there are a lot of braver things to do than talk shit about someone you know on stage. I’m also not pretending it helps anything on a practical level; I’m quite sure Nish Kumar would acknowledge that him saying “Fuck you Jimmy Carr” on stage does not make life better for Romani people that have their genocide trivialized. But still, it took guts to say that. I bet a bunch of people felt that way, but didn’t say so publicly because Jimmy Carr is all over the Britcom world and they didn’t want to cause problems. I’m thinking of that Last Leg episode when Hannah Gadsby was a guest and said Jimmy Carr is terrible to minorities, and Adam Hills and Alex Brooker and Josh Widdicombe all looked very uncomfortable and like they desperately wanted her to stop talking even though I’m sure they knew she was right. It’s fucking awkward to call someone an asshole if you know you work and socialize in the same area. So honestly, credit to Nish Kumar here. That took some guts to say.

Okay, bullet points for some other, quicker, fun observations about the show:

- For anyone who doesn’t know, the main show is about the time that someone threw a bread roll at him because they were mad that he was making jokes about Brexit and colonialism. Then he learned that this incident had somehow made the news, then it really blew up from there, racist death threats occurred, PTSD due to those death threats occurred, stigma about mental health issues stopped him from getting help, but then he finally sought therapy and is now doing better and wrote a show about it. It is a genuinely insightful and hard-hitting show in addition to being amazingly funny and bright and honest, and it’s one of the best pieces of comedy I’ve ever seen.

- I’d remembered the story of how after the show, his friends who were there with him, including Tim Key and Miles Jupp, took him to the pub and they got drunk. I’d forgotten how he said Tim Key made the hilarious joke of apologizing for having thrown the bread roll, pretending the whole incident was a result of Tim Key thinking it would be funny to mess with him by throwing bread. That is such an on-brand joke for Tim Key to make and was a very funny line.

- Nish Kumar telling us his job is 1) to make jokes about the news, and 2) to be a spare in case anyone loses Jason Mantzoukas – also very funny.

- In New York, he said he knows his audience consists of people who read The Guardian and people who’ve recently canceled their subscription to The Guardian because it’s insufficiently left wing. In Montreal, he did the same joke but with The New York Times instead. I can’t tell if he thinks Canadians are less likely than Americans to know about The Guardian (which doesn’t seem likely, as Americans are more stereotyped than we are as being unaware of the outside world), if he thought the joke didn’t go well enough in America and it would be better if he started changing it when he went overseas (also seems a bit weird since the joke got a big laugh when I heard it in New York). It’s okay, Nish, you can talk about The Guardian in North America. We know about The Guardian. It’s a very famous media outlet.

- I have to give Nish credit again for how passionate he was about this, how high his energy was the entire time, how much he clearly cared about the words he wrote and wanted to share them with us. A few days ago, I saw James Acaster force himself to get through a show, then look at his watch and clearly be relieved to realize he’d already done an hour and that meant he was allowed to leave the stage. He left immediately, the crowd pretty much forced him to come back for an encore, he was not happy about it and did a few more minutes before leaving.

Last night, Nish Kumar shouted at us with vigour for an hour and twenty minutes before looking at the clock, and saying oh shit, this was not supposed to go for this long. Then he continued talking for another ten minutes or so, talking faster and faster like he was worried about not having enough time to say everything he wanted to say. For the entire time he was up there, he spoke at a million words a minute, barely took a breath. You could see how much he cared about this, how much he loved what he’d written and the opportunity to say it. He was exactly the same way in New York. I loved that, it made the show so enjoyable.

I don’t mean to denigrate James Acaster there – I made that comparison to show a contrast and make the point that not every show is like Nish Kumar’s. Obviously, the contrast I’ve just described does not automatically make Nish’s show objectively better than James’. A longer show is definitely not always a better show; in fact there’s a lot to be said for tightly written efficient material (“tightly written efficient material” doesn’t really describe the shows that James Acaster or Nish Kumar brought to this festival, but the principle is still true). But in this case, the length of the show reflected Nish’s passion for the material, the way he was so dedicated to it that he didn’t want to stop talking, and that energy really enhanced the experience.

- Okay, here’s the story of what I wrote last night. I dragged my best friend to Montreal for this show. My friend is not generally into comedy, and he specifically describes himself as not liking British comedy, even though that opinion is pretty much based on how he thought Monty Python’s Holy Grail was silly and has not seen other Britcom besides a few things I’ve made him sit through at times. I convinced him to go with me, for the road trip and the day in Montreal. He did end up enjoying the Nish Kumar… mostly. I think.

Anyway, as I said, the venue was amazingly small and we were sitting in the front row. At one point, Nish talked about how everyone in the public eye gets hate, but they’ll get more if they’re more degrees away from the “default”. He then defined the “default” as white, straight, cisgender, heterosexual, able-bodied men. He said something like “And if any of those are here tonight…” Without thinking, I tapped my best friend’s shoulder, because I had in fact brought a white, straight, cisgender, heterosexual, able-bodied man to a Nish Kumar show. To be honest, he was out of place. He was a jock among nerds. As a nerd at heart who spends most of my life among jocks (due to the sports team that this friend and I have been coaching together for many years, where he is a lovely person who cares deeply for our athletes and his friends, but if you see him on the street he does look a lot like a jock), I figured he could live with that for a night.

Nish saw me tap my friend’s shoulder, and he stopped talking. He lowered his hand that had the microphone, put his other hand on his forehead and laughed. And good people of www.tumblr.com, I do not know enough words to describe what it is like to make Nish Kumar laugh. It’s like making an angel fly. That excitable laugh that comes out generously and too loudly on panel shows and podcasts when anyone on stage says something that gets to him – that got direct at me, and if I die tomorrow I want that on my tombstone. If I die in 100 years I want that on my tombstone. I’m like 30% joking.

Nish asked me if I knew the guy next to me, and I said yes. Nish said oh good, he was worried I might have just tapped a random guy next to me who appeared to fit the description of straight white cisgender able-bodied man. Eye contact occurred. Actually, eye contact occurred a bunch of times throughout the show, sometimes to an extent that was quite awkward, because like I said the venue was really weirdly small.

And at first, I did not want that to happen! At one point he asked the crowd if we knew what that 1965 audience called Bob Dylan when he plugged in his guitar, and I was sitting there thinking “Judas!” Of course I know they called him Judas, that is a famous moment in the history of the intersection of folk and rock music, a famous moment that gets pointed to when fans of folk and to a lesser extent country music argue about what’s a reasonable level of saying “this is a terrible populist bastardization of the genre” versus what is being too gatekeep-y like the 1965 people who got mad at Bob Dylan, and arguments like that are where I live. But I didn’t yell it out, because I could not bring myself to yell out words that would be heard by Nish Kumar. I did not want Nish Kumar’s attention drawn to my existence, even for a moment. But later in the show, when I tapped my friend’s shoulder without thinking and drew his attention anyway, I realized how foolish I had been to resist the opportunity. It was the coolest fucking thing. Holy hell.

Nish Kumar definitely knows I exist. Crops watered skin clear ailments cured angels in flight.

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angelicspaceprince · 3 years ago

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NSFW Alphabet Heisenberg Headcanons

For obvious reasons, this contains smut and is for 18+ only readers. Again, I’m posting only my headcanons onto tumblr, both can be found on my AO3

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Very grabby, has a tendency to be a little softer. Loves a good cuddle after sex, definitely praises you constantly. He loves to wash you down with a cloth, wiping away all of the cum, the sweat, the blood, the tears, as he murmurs soft words of praise and encouragement, pressing a small kiss here and there as he does so.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

I’m not entirely sure if Heisenberg would like any part of his body - it's just a vessel to him I believe. I think his favourite part of himself would be his discount magneto powers because that gives him the ability to create so many new tools to play with when it comes to having sex with you, some even on the spot.

For you, he loves your hands. He sees them as soft and gentle and he loves the feel of them in his work-worn, rough hands as he pushes you down into the bed, or them cupping his face as you pepper his face with kisses, telling him what a good boy he’s being for you, or when their wrapped around his dick as you jerk him off in a way that has him melting against your back and rolling his hips up into your palm.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

He loves cumming inside or on you, there is no way in hell he’d ever wear a condom. It’s a marking thing, he needs to make sure you know that you’re his. He doesn’t have a preference for where he cums, just as long as it’s somewhere on you. If you spit and not swallow, he thinks it’s a waste of his seed and gets huffy about it - he’d much rather see it across your face than down the sink.

He cums a lot and it’s ungodly thick as well.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He’s fucked a lycan, been fucked by a lycan, and he fucking loved it. Was tempted to fuck a soldat but that was a little too much for him.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing? )

I’d say pretty experience, if anything, he fucks the girls at the village mostly to spite and in an attempt piss off Miranda. He’d mellowed out about a decade before you met him, but definitely he’s had the time to gain quite a lot of experience.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Lotus, or any position where you’re on top of him. He enjoys grinding up into you and watching you come undone on top of him, but also means it's easier for him to grab at different parts of you - this goes for eating out too, he loves it when you sit on his face and ride him to completion. Loves mating press too, when he’s feeling particularly primal.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

By ‘goofy’ for H, I more think of sadomasochism or teasing you when you cum so hard you can’t see straight. I think he’d crack a few jokes here and there to make you laugh and you’d definitely have fun but for the most part, I think he’s more all about getting you riled up until you’re a trembling, begging mess.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

He is a hairy, hairy man who doesn’t give a shit about his grooming - he would have a thick and large amount of pubes that are wiry just like his beard. If you asked, he’d probably tame it down a little, but if you don’t care, it wouldn’t even cross his mind.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Only after leaving the village will he 100% let his guard down to be intimate during sex I think. There would be a lot of praise and stuff whilst you’re at the village, but it doesn’t really become too intimate until after everything has washed over. I fully believe the first time he says ��I love you’ was in German and whilst you two were having possibly the most intimate round of sex you’d ever had in your life the first night after your escape from the village. After sex is usually where he’s the most intimate - where he will murmur softly against your skin about how good you are to him and how he adores you and can’t believe that you’re in his life.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

I feel like he’d jack off quite frequently before you were around and even then, it probably doesn’t change much once you’re there. If he has no time for sex with you and it’s literally just an urge to deal with so he can concentrate on his work? Then yeah, he’ll pull out his dick and stroke himself off as he continues to work without a care in the world. It’s just to clear his mind so he can focus on the task at hand, to him it's no different than eating or sleeping. Just something he has to do to get by.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

It’d be a lot easier to list the kinks he doesn’t have - shit, vomit and death. Beyond that, anything else is on the tables. His favourites would definitely include pred/prey, bondage, overstim, bloodplay, watersports, knife play, choking, cumplay/breeding kink, cockwarming, exhibitionism/voyeurism and marking/biting. He does have a preference for an active and willing partner, that being said CNC is also something he would enjoy as long as it was clear that both parties wanted it prior to the scene being played out.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Loves fucking at his desk - cockwarming especially. Loves cockwarming during inappropriate times too, like during family meetings. Or fucking you at Lady D’s house, edging you on and reminding you not to make a sound whilst making it impossible for you not to moan or scream his name. Anywhere and everywhere is an option for Heisenberg, but the riskier it is, the more he seems to love it.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Literally, anything and everything. A breeze hitting him the right way will get him horny. You could be walking past in sweatpants and a baggy jumper and he will want you bent over the bench with his dick railing into you. It doesn’t take much, the man ain’t fussy.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Killing someone during sex would be a big turn off. Involving any talk of Miranda or Lady D would also be off limits.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Doesn’t really have a preference. Is a master at getting you off with his mouth and will gladly spend hours dedicated to mapping you out and causing you to cum again and again with his just tongue. By the time he’s finished with you, you won’t be able to walk and you definitely will have a number of bruises and bite marks against your thighs as well as a pretty decent beard burn going on. His favourite thing to do once he’s pulled away is to put his cold hands against your thighs specifically where his beard burn is, just to feel you squirm and attempt to kick him away.

Receiving - he loves throat fucking you, or having you kneel under his workbench, tied up nice and tight, with his dick resting heavy on your tongue as he works, occasionally reaching down to stroke your hair, scratch at your scalp or fucking his hips up into you so you don’t get too cozy down there. Your jaw and throat always aches afterwards and he loves hearing how hoarse he’s made your voice - he will always have a drink waiting for you afterwards, but first he needs to hear how well he’s fucked your voice out.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

It’ll depend on the mood - definitely after leaving the village there is more of an opportunity for Heisenberg to reach a more romantic, slow and sensual pace (although it definitely happened whilst in the village, it was just rare as often Heisenberg used sex as a stress release as well as a way to feel like he’s achieved something or made someone proud), but his more natural pace will always be fast, deep and on the rougher side.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Good way to scratch an itch and was, for a good portion at the beginning of your relationship, the only way you’d have sex as the only reason you were having sex was to scratch an itch or for stress relief. As time went on, things changed and although ‘proper’ sex and longer sessions became the norm (especially because he loved to dedicate the time to map out every inch of your body and see exactly what makes you tick), he still loves a good quickie during the day.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

He will try anything once, after all it’s how you figure out if you like something or not! In terms of risks, if it's a risk of getting caught, he is more than happy to take it. If it's a risk to your safety? Not on his life.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

It doesn’t take long for Heisenberg to recover - unless you’re having a quickie, you best be ready for multiple rounds. Even if he can’t get it up, he will plaster his mouth between your thighs until your voice is hoarse and you’re squirming and weakly tugging at his hair in a vain attempt to pull him away. He loves feeling your strength pull away with each orgasm, seeing how weak and tired you become because of him. He’d never go too fair without prior warning, and if you safe-word out he will pull away instantly and be straight into aftercare mode. As for how long he lasts…..it really does depend on the situation, but if you have enough time and are in an environment where he feels safe, who knows how long he’d last. You have sat in his lap, cock buried deep inside of you for the entirety of many a family meeting, having to hide the fact that he was hard and throbbing inside of you. So, you know for a fact, he can last that long under stressful situations.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He’d make his own and have a little collection. He’d definitely think of something whilst working on his metal army, make it and instantly turn to find you to test them out. If it’s something a bit more intense, he’ll test it on himself first before seeking you out.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He loves to tease you and keep you on edge of your first orgasm, making it out that he’s close to making you scream only to pull back and watch you pout, beg or even scream in frustration. His favourite place to tease you, though, is in a place where you can’t protest or beg, where you need to be silent or keep whatever you’re doing a secret. That’s definitely when the worst of his teasing will come out.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

It will depend on the situation (see wild card for submissive!H), but usually? He wants to drink in the sounds he has you make - he’s all short grunt and growls and soft murmurs of praise against your skin and dark promises that merge seamlessly with general dirty talk with small groans and moans peppered throughout. If he’s had an awful day, however? He’s much louder, much more aggressive. He needs to fuck his emotions out - and this is definately when his pred/prey kink comes into full swing. He will chase you throughout the village, throughout his factory, wherever he can, and is nothing but growls and snarls, every sound coming from his throat animalistic. He also bites a lot more too, claiming you as his, and it’s the only time that his sounds are muffled slightly.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

If you get him worked up enough if you get the chance to dom him (he will sub for a selected few), he will always end up babbling out his begs in German. If you ask nice enough, he may order you around in German or Romanian, but the only time it naturally comes out is when he’s so far gone into subspace, so needy and desperate, that it’s just natural for him to speak his first language. In general, if you get him to sub for you, he will not shut the fuck up - all moans and whimpers and broken groans, small promises to be good for you if you would just touch him already . Bratty sub for sure, definitely into pet play. Will only ever be able to handle a gentle dom for obvious reasons, and has a major, major, major praise kink, both giving and receiving but get this boy into subspace and praise him and just watch him whine and squirm and ask for more. If he’s misbehaving at home and you jokingly say ‘behave pup’, he will get flustered so quickly.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Body wise, he is quite muscular but has a nice layer of fat to soften things out - it actually surprises you how strong he is from brute strength alone because he definitely doesn’t look it at first glance.

Cock wise - he’s more thick than he is long, average length but with a good amount of girth that has you feeling that stretch for hours afterwards.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

I’d say pretty high, but he is also good at distracting himself from it? During his tenure at the village, he’s so focused on escaping that it looks like his sex drive is low to normal. But the moment you get out of the village? Have your own place where it’s safe and no one is there to stop you? All bets are off, he cannot keep his hands off of you. Half of it is catching up for lost time, half of it is just the fact that the man is permanently horny.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

When domming: He doesn’t fall asleep often, but he will doze or rest his eyes for a second and enjoy the afterglow. He won’t leave to go back to work until you’ve fully conked out though, unless something desperately pressing comes up and he has to go. He’d rather spend this small amount of quality time with you and making sure you’re okay before leaving you alone and even when he does leave when you’re asleep, he has his eyes on his monitor with a live feed of you sleeping, just in case something goes wrong and you need him.

After subbing: He usually passes out pretty quickly. Subbing takes a lot more energy out of him than domming does, so once he’s cleaned up and has received his dose of praise and love, he usually falls asleep with his head in your lap, on your tummy or on your chest. He can’t wake up alone after a sub scene, even the very idea of it freaks him out, so you better make sure you have something to do as he naps because once he’s out, he’s asleep for hours.

#toby writes #fanfiction #toby's writing #fanfic #angelicspaceprince #bd/sm dynamics #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg/reader #karl heisenberg #ns/fw headcanons #resident evil 8 #resident evil village

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lepusrufus · 3 years ago

Text

To bargain for immortality pt.2

Finally, she felt well enough to leave the infirmary room for good. Her internal organs were at peace for the most part and she could keep some food down without the risk of seeing it for a second time. Her sinuses still seemed to refuse to recover though. Occasional nosebleeds would have her head spinning and the scent of blood so often present within the castle was somehow too offensive to her senses. Nicole couldn't help but wonder how exactly she got it this screwed up, but then again the first few days of the infection were a painful blur that she'd rather not remember.

For now she was content to sit in front of the fireplace with the rest of her family. They decided to have a movie night to break her out of the mopey state she had been in and, for the most part, it was quite the success. She wasn't paying much attention to the projector screen, some sappy scene from a movie chosen by Daniela playing at the moment. Instead, she was simply enjoying the close proximity to Cassandra that she so dearly missed in the last few weeks. Nicole was in the brunette's lap, with hands loosely around her waist and leaning against her shoulder. She was vaguely aware of Laura complaining about the poor life choices of one of the characters only to be unceremoniously shushed by the youngest sister. It made her chuckle.

Bela was passing the popcorn to her mothers when a knock on the main entrance reached their ears faintly. Lady Dimitrescu narrowed her eyes in the general direction of the sound, and listened. Soon enough the rapid steps of Alexandria, their Steward, reached them.

"My Ladies, Mother Miranda's assistant is here."

The whole family got up hesitantly and tried to look as presentable as possible, given their "lazy day outfits". For some like Bela that was a baggy shirt and shorts, while for the Lady it was one of her trademark white dresses. They made their way to the main entrance of the castle, where the assistant, a woman in her late thirties and the air of an annoyed teacher, was waiting. It was Alcina the one to ask why she was there.

"Mother Miranda wants to see um… Nicole was it? Yes, to take a look at the regenerative abilities."

"Why not do it here like last time?"

"Mother Miranda's laboratory is far better equipped for whatever she may want to test. Unless you have something to say against her wishes." She finished that with a raised eyebrow that would've gained her a talon through the skull were she not there as per Miranda's wishes.

Who's talons exactly was debatable.

"I'll come too," Cassandra spoke up from just behind Nicole.

That only got her a dismissive wave. "No, I was told specifically to only bring her. Come now, we don't want to make Mother Miranda wait."

With that, the woman turned around and started walking towards a carriage that would take them away. Nicole looked briefly at her family. They all had either confusion or mild concern in their eyes. All but Alcina who looked as if she'd like to protest and snap at the woman but was holding her tongue.

She reassured Cassandra that she'd be fine and started jogging after the assistant.

---

Needless to say, that was Nicole's first time stepping foot inside the underground network of tunnels. Not that she complained. Few people went there willingly and probably fewer left the same way they came in.

The ancient looking hallways were in such stark contrast with the occasional medical equipment and the pristine looking labs with doors left slightly ajar that Nicole had to wonder if the woman had no taste for a consistent aesthetic. At least Lady Dimitrescu kept all wiring and modern devices carefully hidden or blended in with the castle's decor. Here, the harsh neon lights illuminated worn out stone so dark it was almost black. Not to mention the smell of… old that seemed to ooze off the very walls she was walking by.

She was led inside a spacious lab, the bluish lights above being too bothersome for someone who got used to the warm or natural light in the castle. The room was rather long, numerous hospital beds lined up against a wall, some separated by white curtains and some left visible. An almost imperceptible whiff of an all too familiar foul odor reached her nose, but it was mild enough to be easily ignored. Nicole had a suspicion that the unmoving person laying in one of the cots further away could be the source, but she sighed and hoped not to join them by the end of the day.

Mother Miranda was sat at a desk, microscope in front of her together with a small stack of documents and a laptop. She was typing in what could probably be notes on whatever she was looking at, when icy grey eyes finally shifted to Nicole.

"Get changed and lay down," she ordered, not even moving from her spot.

The assistant that had brought her here, pushed a hospital gown that had been pulled out from a cupboard in her arms. At least she was allowed the decency of changing into a bathroom as opposed to stripping then and there in the middle of the room. The gown was surprisingly comfortable, fabric folding around her body and being held closed by a loose ribbon that she tried at the side.

Once she was back in the lab, she was ushered to one of the beds where she laid down, nervously waiting for whatever Miranda had in mind.

It was quite odd to see her without her usual attire, especially without the gold talons that Nicole was now far more familiar with than she'd ever hoped. The white lab coat looked far too normal on her and, were it not for the unmistakable cold eyes and regal posture, the woman would’ve been unrecognizable.

She finally got up, a few documents in hand, and approached her. The papers were handed over to the assistant, along with a few other objects and finally, Nicole had her full attention.

Mother Miranda bent down, scalpel in hand, and grabbed one of Nicole's wrists. Just like she did back during the first examination, the blade was dragged across the length of her forearm. Despite fully expecting it, Nicole couldn't help flinching at the pain, but she kept her eyes fixated on her arm, at the blood slowly starting to flow from the wound.

Soon the same tingling as before took over the pain and before their eyes, the skin started to stitch itself back together.

"Time," Miranda asked while wiping the blood to allow for a closer inspection of the now good as new skin.

"Five seconds."

"Alcina's?"

"Three seconds."

Miranda hummed, seemingly pleased with the results. Or at least as pleased as the woman was physically capable of being.

"Hook her up to the cardiac monitor," she further instructed while moving to retrieve something from another cabinet.

The assistant, Emma, if the tag pinned to her lab coat was to be believed, stuck a series of electrodes to her chest and abdomen. Nicole bit her lip to stifle a yelp when one came uncomfortably close to the still sensitive skin of the scar.

In no time, the machine came to life, familiar beeping sounding through the otherwise silent room.

"I hope you're not afraid of needles," Miranda said while grabbing the same arm she had before, lips pulled into a faint smirk.

Nicole only shook her head as she saw the needle of a syringe attached to a transparent slim tube slide into her arm. How ironic would that be. The sting was close to imperceptible, taken over by the now familiar faint tingle. Unlike with the cut, it didn't fade away, most likely due to not being able to fully heal the small wound with the needle embedded in the skin and vein.

She looked away, in the direction of the other occupied bed in the room. It was far away enough that she couldn't make out any detail, only messy brown hair sprawled on a pillow. The face was turned towards the wall and body covered up to the neck. She grimaced and decided instead to focus on the beeping machine, mildly annoyed by Miranda's lack of properly separating her dead lab rats from the living ones. At least she hoped she'd stay living.

The numbers on the machine started out normal. With the slight uncomfortable feeling of blood being drained however, her heart rate started to slowly increase.

Alright. Normal enough. Especially when someone is clearly in a fucking blood draining mood.

Nicole decided not to look at exactly how much blood Miranda was drawing, keeping her eyes glued to the various color coded numbers. The heart rate kept increasing until Nicole could swear she could feel her heartbeat ringing in her ears. She gulped. Still relatively within the norm.

Two things were at odds however. First, the blood pressure remained constant, almost as if her body simply refused to acknowledge the fact that it was currently being drained. Secondly, the temperature rose from the normal 36 degrees to a staggering 41 in less time than it should have.

"What the fuck…" She couldn't keep her tongue at the weirdness of her situation, her brain thankfully choosing confusion and curiosity over the dread that it probably should've felt instead.

Mother Miranda didn't seem to care though as she turned to type something on the laptop that she brought over from the desk. She tapped her finger on the device for a few seconds and finally spoke up.

"The accelerated healing means the blood is being regenerated constantly, thus not decreasing in volume. Which explains the constant pressure." She narrowed her eyes at the monitor once again. "It doesn't, however, explain the heart rate and temperature. Any bright guesses?"

It took Nicole a second to realize the question was actually addressed to her. Miranda seemed in an oddly good mood. Not any less hell bent on causing her pain, mind you, but she also seemed genuinely curious. Being a biology nerd will do that to you, she couldn't help but think.

Nicole hummed and thought for a second. She tried to recall any information about the topic at hand that she had studied prior to running away.

"Heart rate could just be the normal body response that stayed even with the mutation. Like… like a reflex. It remains even though it's not needed." Then she tapped a finger on her chin trying to find a less random explanation. "Or maybe it's the body's way of making sure that even while healing all body parts remain at least decently functional. No idea about the temperature though," she shrugged.

Miranda once again typed something up and then, without warning, pulled the needle out of Nicole's arm. She flinched, barely holding in an angry protest as she turned towards the woman. Which was a mistake. She couldn't help the gag that raised in the back of her throat at the sight of the metal container full of blood.

No, no, blood did not bother her. That would've cut her career as a medical examiner short before she even stepped foot in med school. It was the knowledge that that was her blood that made her stomach churn. The container could easily fit three liters of liquid in it, and it was full to the brim. Not to mention the smell that assaulted her still messed up sinuses mixing oh so perfectly with mr. corpse over in the corner.

Miranda just chuckled at her sour expression. "Do you think your darling wife would like to have this?"

With a sneer, masked by Nicole turning once again towards the monitor, she couldn't help slipping an edge of snark in her reply. "No need, she likes it fresh."

The numbers were back to normal, all but for the temperature that was taking slightly longer to go down.

---

By this point her vocal cords were raw from screaming and each shuddering sob felt like clumps of spines in her throat. Nicole was curled in on herself, small frame trembling pathetically on top of the uncomfortable bed. Her hands were shaking uncontrollably, the tingling sensation feeling like needles constantly pricking at her skin around and under the wired leather cuffs wrapped around her wrists. The frantic beeping of the machine was grating to her ears.

An electric shock test.

Of course.

Mother Miranda decided to test out how the increased heart rate worked. Results? Her body vehemently refused to allow her to pass out. Even when the shocks traveled through every part of her body, causing the nervous system to short circuit. Even when damage to internal organs and muscles ripped painful sobs from her throat, that turned into gags as soon as the tingling turned to nausea. Even when she could feel her heart hammering against her ribcage so fast that she was sure the small organ would burst any second. But it didn’t.

Every muscle in her body flared up in a sensation of painful pins and needles when Miranda pushed the button to release another shock. The cardiac monitor started screaming again and Nicole brought shaky hands over her ears in an attempt to block out the sound. Her whole body was on fire while all the damaged tissue repaired itself, making her stomach turn painfully. She felt like throwing up. Not that she had eaten anything today, but bile and thick blood still coated her esophagus. It was all swallowed back with a disgusting gulp.

The nausea was oh so kindly accompanied by searing pain from her still damaged sinuses, who’s condition only worsened exponentially with the electricity. The blood that seemed to coat all the way up to the inside of her mouth felt horrible mixed with the putrid smell of death.

She swallowed again, but that proved itself a bad decision as now that same smell permeated the very inside of her nose and mouth and throat and the feeling of blood sloshing on her tongue behind clenched teeth made her head spin.

She lurched forward, a small river of dark blood flowing from her mouth and nose, into her palms that she instinctively brought to her mouth. Wet coughs made it splatter into crimson splotches on the white sheets, herself and anything else within proximity. It took surprisingly long to realize that, after the initial wave that rose up her esophagus, the rest of the blood was from her sinuses. It was cruelly invading her nose and sliding back into her throat only to come out of her mouth. Fuck fuck fuck-

“What’s wrong?” Miranda’s tone lacked any trace of sympathy.

Nicole simply coughed out the remaining fluid from her mouth and unceremoniously grabbed a piece of cloth from Emma’s hands. She pressed it to her nose, only to feel it soaked against her skin far too soon.

“Damaged sinuses, as you said,” she croaked, her voice sounding so unlike her own.

That made Miranda frown. She kept that same expression while noting down the previous results. “It should be healed by now.”

“Well they aren't,” Nicole spat. The blood and the horrid smell were clouding her mind and, as many knew, pain and holding her tongue did not mix well in her. “And did we really have to do this in the same room as a dead fucking body?!”

Nicole’s angry outburst gave the woman pause. Annoyance mixed with a hint of confusion on her face. She looked at her assistant, an eyebrow raised in a silent question.

“No. Just- just anestesia.” Emma answered promptly.

“What the fuck do you mean anesthesia? Anesthesia doesn’t make you smell like a goddamn decomposing corpse, do you have cotton stuck up your noses?!” Thankfully the bleeding was starting to subside, which meant there was nothing to stifle her steadily raising angry tone.

Miranda, now sporting a scowl, got up and grabbed Nicole’s chin between two fingers. It made her flinch back, but there was no escaping the iron grip.

“I can assure you that the man is not dead, simply under anesthesia and recovering from a bad infection.” She moved Nicole’s head from left to right, eyes scrutinizing as ever.

Afterwards, she turned back and wrote something down on a piece of paper and simply instructed Emma to wrap up and lead Nicole out. The sudden shift not only in demeanor, but also in her position from the bed to standing upright was mildly dizzying. She swapped the gown for her normal clothes as quickly as she physically could, not wanting to spend another unnecessary second in this underground grave.

While she was ushered out the door, Mother Miranda’s sickly sweet voice rang after her.

“I’ll see you in a couple days.”

Her stomach turned.

---

The trek home was short and silent, Nicole simply wanting to get home as soon as possible and get a damn hot shower and sleep.

She bid the young man that was accompanying her goodbye the moment the Castle’s entrance was within jogging distance, and hurried steps took her to the imposing doors. It was Alexandria to answer her knock, Nicole having left her own keys in her bedroom.

“Welcome back my la-” the polite smile was all but wiped off the woman’s face, replaced by wide eyes. “Are you injured?”

Nicole looked at her confused, then down at herself. A muttered curse escaped past her lips when she remembered the bloody mess on her skin. “I’m okay. Just-... just don’t tell anyone I’m here yet. I'll change first.”

Her plan went out the window when a set of hasty steps came booming toward them.

“Nico-”

Cassandra’s voice died in her throat when her golden eyes landed on Nicole’s small frame, dried dark blood on her face and arms and her clothes stained. An angry growl slipped from between bared teeth.

“What the fuck did she do to you?”

Nicole was quick to answer, too tired to deal with anything other than a few hours of sleep. “I’m okay. I’m just-...” she shook her head, then turned to the Steward. “Alexandria kindly ask a maid to draw me a bath.”

“At once.” And with that the woman turned and scurried away, most likely also not wanting to be in the vicinity of an angry Cassandra.

---

The hot water felt like pure bliss on her skin. It seemed to make every muscle relax and get rid of the awful tension. She leaned back, eyes closed and hands idly moving through the water.

It was just mildly difficult to fully relax with Cassandra muttering and pacing back and forth in the same room though.

"I'm-... I'm not letting you do this again."

Nicole simply sighed and started to scrub away at dried blood. The miniature red waterfall from earlier had gotten blood all over her arms and chest, some splatters even getting on her legs. Her face was also a mess, trails of blood going from her nose and mouth to the chin with smudges and splatters.

"What did she even do to you?"

Before she had a chance to reply, a knock came from the door and a maid entered with a few clean towels and a change of clothes from Nicole's own bedroom. The girl didn't linger, simply giving them both a courteous bow and exiting the room.

Looking for something to change the subject, Nicole focused on the pleasant honey smell. Honey with a slight citrus-y undertone, maybe lemon or orange.

"Did you get a new soap?"

Cassandra stopped pacing, brows furrowed. "No? It's the same one."

Confused, Nicole brought a hand that had just been scrubbed with that very soap right under her nose and took a deep inhale. It was indeed the same one. Chamomile and mint. She sighed in annoyance and leaned back against the cool porcelain while Cassandra came and bent down on one knee to be somewhat on eye level.

"Nose still not working properly or…?" She said while gingerly tilting Nicole's chin up with two fingers. She grimaced at one yet to be washed trail of dried blood that made its way to her wife's thin upper lip.

Nicole simply shook her head and grabbed Cassandra's hand. "Can you… go get ready. I'm beyond tired and just want to lay down with you."

Cassandra pursed her lips but nodded none the less. With a kiss on top of red hair, she turned and left the spacious bathroom, door shutting with a heavy thud.

Left alone, she scrubbed every inch of skin again and took a few extra minutes to enjoy the warmth of the water. It felt so incredibly odd to not feel any actual pain after the day's events. Any trace of what her body went through had been erased by her newfound ability, not leaving behind even the faintest mark of a scar, nor blackened skin caused by electric shocks.

She pushed herself out of the tub, grimacing at the slight pink tone the water had taken. Body and hair quickly dried with the towels, she put on the clothes, a comfortable pair of shorts and a tank top, and finally stepped out of the bathroom too.

Cassandra was waiting for her in bed, velvety dark robes hanging loosely on her shoulders and eyes fixated on the window while her fingers were tapping furiously on the cover of a book forgotten in her lap. Book that was quickly placed on the nightstand when Nicole climbed in beside her and pushed her way into the brunette's arms. She was tired and absolutely not above demanding cuddles.

Her wife wasted no time in wrapping an arm around her and pulling the soft blanket up to cover them both. Nicole interlocked their fingers, absentmentally turning the ring on Cassandra's finger. The same ring she had, albeit in a smaller size. A golden band with intricate floral patterns engraved on it. It had no protruding gem, something they both opted for so that the rings wouldn't need to be taken off while working and wearing gloves. Instead, eight small ocre gems were lined among the minuscule curled leaves.

It took Cassandra about two minutes to take a deep inhale and open her mouth. New record.

"Are you… are you hurt?"

Nicole didn't look up at her, the concern dripping from her words alone were enough to squeeze her heart painfully.

"No. I'm all healed up, just tired." She could almost feel Cassandra's question of clarification, but not wanting to go over what had happened down in the laboratory so soon, she opted for something the brunette would hopefully be just as interested in. "We did get some odd results though."

At the lack of any interruption she went on. "Accelerated heart rate whenever I get hurt. Can't pass out." Which was both a blessing and a curse, depending on the point of view and situation. "Also for some reason my temperature gets really high."

"You get one hell of a fever?"

"Yeah."

Cassandra tapped a finger on Nicole's hand, mentally going over possibilities. "Aren't fevers used against infections? Maybe that has something to do with it."

A small hum passed her lips. Could that have something to do with it? It was possible that her healing abilities caused a fever in order to fight off any possible infection before it even became one. Maybe it was her body's way of lessening damage as much as possible since, as the day's events showed, the old replaced tissue had a tendency to get purged. She grimaced at the memory of slowly choking on blood and went for something at least slightly more pleasant.

"Oh and… I can't bleed out. Blood volume stays constant."

She looked up at Cassandra with what could only be described as a shit eating grin. Her wife blinked, realization seeming to dawn on her together with the faintest hint of a blush on her cheeks. She coughed.

"Yeah well. I'll keep that in mind. For when you don't need to sleep."

"And deny me some fun now?" Nicole's pout was purely for dramatic effect and it gained her an eye roll.

Two slender fingers gripped her chin to keep it in place while narrowed golden eyes bored into her green ones. The pout slowly morphed into a smirk. Cassandra was not the kind of person who did not indulge in her own pleasures and that, although to a more careful extent, included drinking her lover's blood. A fact that Nicole was not only not complaining about, but also learned to use in order to push all the right buttons.

When Nicole turned her head in the uncharacteristically gentle grip to plant a small kiss on the soft palm, Cassandra finally gave in. Concern was momentarily put on hold in the name of the normalcy they both have been denied in the last few weeks. She bent down, their lips meeting into a kiss that soon turned needy with tongue slipping past sharp teeth and a hand scratching lightly at her nape. Soon Cassandra broke their kiss, but only to slowly trail her way across her jawline with kisses and small nips. She bit at the soft skin right under the jaw bone, eliciting a quiet groan right by her sensitive ear. Black painted lips took her down the neck and across collarbones, planting a kiss right in between them, at the base of Nicole's throat.

When she slowly made her way to an exposed shoulder, Nicole's hand at the back of her head guided her further up, right above where her pulse was. After an inquisitive hum against her skin, she spoke quietly.

"Since blood loss isn't exactly a problem… no need to avoid the neck really."

Cassandra hesitated for a moment, but ultimately decided to trust her wife. She placed a gentle kiss on the spot right above where blood was flowing in rhythm with her heartbeat. The same gentle kiss that was placed on the skin countless times before and that only Nicole had the privilege of experiencing.

Sharp fangs sunk into tender flesh, the warm blood invading Cassandra's mouth making her moan low in her throat. Being used to the feeling of the bite by now, Nicole simply closed her eyes with a sigh and let her body melt into Cassandra's arms. The familiar blissful ache was welcomed, even though, she noticed, it did not bring with it the lightheadedness she had grown accustomed to.

Although she wasn't aware of it, Cassandra was, in a way, a creature of habit. Every time she would drink her blood, her hand would come up to cup Nicole's cheek, thumb slowly tracing the jawline, right before she would pull her mouth away. Every time, without fail.

This time however, when that happened, Nicole kept her in place with the hand tangled in brunette hair, her voice coming out breathy when she spoke. "Go on."

Cassandra would never admit it, but her self control would always waver while feeding. Therefore, she didn't need much convincing, continuing to take mouthfuls of blood in between a satisfied groan. When she finally had her fill, she pulled back with a bashful look in her eyes. Concern quickly flashed on her face at the sight of the crimson mess on her wife's neck.

Nicole however, not wanting their moment to get ruined, took one of Cassandra's hands in her own and slowly placed a soft kiss on each knuckle. After that was done, and the downright ticklish sensation of skin patching itself subsided, she guided the fingers over the bloody skin.

"See? Healed," she whispered.

Cassandra gingerly traced her fingers over the spot, looking for no longer existing puncture marks. She smiled upon not finding them and turned to pull out a handkerchief from a small drawer of her nightstand. A ritual of sorts, one practiced more times than they cared to count over the years. Cassandra passed the white cloth over the skin, wiping away the crimson stains while her wife relaxed into the touch.

"Feeling good?" It was a remark meant to poke fun at how much Nicole seemed to enjoy herself, but the double meaning did not go unnoticed.

A smile tugged at Nicole's lips and she nodded.

In turn, Cassandra hummed. "You taste different." And, at her lover's furrowed brows and the slightest hint of alarm flashing in her eyes, she clarified. "Not bad. Just different. Slightly sweeter actually."

"Is that so," Nicole purred, the smile returning to her lips.

Cassandra discarded the cloth on the floor to be retrieved later and shifted both of them back down on the myriad of pillows.

"Yes. Now how about you get some sleep."

Nicole wasted no time in snaking an arm around her waist and nuzzling into her side. It would never cease to amaze her how Cassandra's presence could make her feel so at ease, as if nothing beyond the castle's walls existed. At that moment, she couldn't help but be grateful for her newfound ability, useful in far more ways than one.

She stretched slightly upwards, auburn hair like a small waterfall behind her.

"I love you," she whispered against cool ashy lips.

"I love you too," Cassandra replied, closing the almost nonexistent space between their mouths in a soft kiss.

It left behind a slight coppery taste on Nicole's lips, but she couldn't bring herself to care, instead readjusting her legs to tangle comfortably around her wife's thigh.

#unhinged maiden™ my beloved #cassandra dimitrescu x maiden #fanfic #lady dimitrescu #mother miranda #tw torture #to bargain for immortality

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gb-patch · 4 years ago

Text

Ask Answers: December 11th, 2020

How old are terri, miranda, lee, shiloh and jeremy? Are they all the same age as the mc?

Step 1: MC is 8 and Shiloh is 7

Step 2: MC and Lee are 13 and Jeremy is 12

Step 3: MC, Lee, and Terri are 18, Miranda is 19 (though she just barely turned that age)

How many different personalities are there for Jamie? Does picking one color of dialogue option mark down the personality or is it the choices and actions themselves?

There’s not really any set amount of personalities. You can mix and match traits in different ways and different levels, it’s really up to you. The colored options just give an idea of the tone of what you’re doing (whether it’s serious or more lighthearted or more emotional, that sort of thing).

Hey! Sorry to bother, but I was just curious. Why does MC and Cove react the way they do in the errands moment? It just sorta seems like they overreacted to being left alone in the farmers market.

I’m a little confused on what you mean. You can choose not to care or to have a good time, your MC doesn’t have to be upset. There are more choices that lead to upset feelings, but that’s because there’s really only one way to say you’re really okay and multiple ways to feel upset (sad, angry, scared, etc). And if someone is upset, there’s nothing wrong with that. Feeling fine is okay too.

As for Cove, he’s just like that. Cove is a sensitive guy and he is especially bothered by parents pulling stunts without talking to their kid ahead of time. If you wanna annoy Cove, that exact thing they did is one of the fastest ways to do it, ahah. And he’s not gonna let it slide just because it was the MC’s parents doing it to them rather than one of his own parents doing it to him.

so if I were to become a one time patreon pledger, would I still have access to the things from that tier after the month is over (such as 18+ pics or access to a demo/beta)?

If you join Patreon for one month you’ll get everything released that month and have access to all our past posts, and you can save the stuff to your own computer to keep it forever. But you won’t get access to things that come out after your subscription has ended. So if you want to join for a specific piece of content, just make sure you wait until that content has already come out and then subscribe.

Why did Noelani and Pamela decide to adopt within the USA when they had previously adopted abroad?

Because we wanted to highlight more than one type of adoption. Both are valid.

At what age was MC adopted in our life?

Only around a year old, but it’s flexible based on what the player wants for their story.

If Pamela is estranged from her family and Noelani doesn't really talk to her's, where did Lee come from?

Lee is a backer created character, she wasn’t originally part of the cast. Because our main supporter wanted her to be related to the MC’s family, we gave Pam one sibling she still talks to and that sibling has a daughter, Lee. The game was still in pretty early development way back then when we first mentioned the family situation. It’s just kind of inevitable that during the game making process some things ended up changing, aha.

In the relationship DLC’s for Derek and Baxter will there be options for polyamory to include Cove?

I’m afraid not. The way Our Life: Beginnings & Always works doesn’t support developing a poly relationship well, it’d very quickly build up too many alterations to manage. But we do hope to feature polyamory options in future games.

Will it be possible to confess to Cove (or vice versa) in Step 4, if it hasn't been done already?

Yeah!

are you going to put the credits song on youtube or spotify? i really like it and want to play it for my friends 🙏🥺 ty

I’m so glad you like it! We have rights to use the song in our game and for our game to be the only game it’s ever used in, but the rights to sell/upload the song belong to the actual creators of the music. We’re happy to let them decide where they’re comfortable posting the track.

Quick question, do you plan on continuing to use MC we can custom? I liked all your games but being able to customize Our Life's MC was awesome

I can’t say if every game we ever make from now on will have a super customizable MC, but we are planning other projects with that feature. Our Life: Beginnings & Always won’t be the only one. It’s nice to hear you appreciated the effort to add that.

Can I just express my disappointment that you only get a 'makeout session' in Step 3 if your MC is outgoing? My shy MCs miss out on grabbing the Cove booty... xP

Whether or not you can make out with Cove and how intense it can get depends on how long you’ve been a couple. If your shy MC takes longer to get with Cove, he’ll need more time before he’s ready to do that sort of stuff. And if your confident MC has been with him for years already, then he’s at a point where he can go that far with them. I’m afraid patience is required when it comes to romancing that boy, haha.

If we played in 1.0 and we updates to 1.1 do we have to start over? Or do save files transfer? I hit the "ignore" not sure if I should have for the game to work properly

1.0 save files should work with version 1.1. If you’re getting error reports can you send us more details about what the error is saying?

Bug report: At the end of the 'Mall' DLC moment in Step 2, there's a point where Cove says the MC's name, but it's said in his Step 1 voice instead of his Step 2 voice. I don't know if it happens with ALL names, but it happened with my most recent game using the name Devin.

As a follow-up to my earlier bug report about the voiced names (or at least Devin) in the Mall moment, I had the same issue in the Soiree moment as well (with the same name - again, it might just be that one).

Thank you for the report! Can you let me know when you downloaded the DLC files? I think that should be fixed in the most recent version of them.

Dear gb-patch, I'm one of the OL Kickstarter backers (and I had and still have a great time with your updates, it's great to see the project grow and you are great in communicating with your fans 💕).

I want to wait until all steps are complete until I play, I know I'll enjoy it even more if I can experience it all together. Because of that I didn't open the game myself but I just saw your post with the screenshot of the voiced names and noticed that the name that I submitted to you isn't on the list. The name is Mai (or May), will it be available later?

Thank you for supporting us! Mai is one of the names that we’re still working on. It accidentally had a tone missed.

And thank you for all of these asks <3

—————————————————————— We released a new FAQ! It answers common questions and we’ll keep adding more to it. Please check there before sending an ask. FAQ Also, if you prefer to just see the main posts without all the asks/reblogs, feel free to follow our side account instead: GB Patch Updates Blog

#our life #ourlifeba #Our Life Beginnings & Always #ask #asked #gb patch #gb patch games

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fusrodie · 3 years ago

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re: hate in the tags

hey, so I'm going to make this a separate post instead of reblogging because I'd like to give a quick recap of my point of view because no, I don't think any of the people who have been messaging me or vaguing about me on the Ethan Winters tag actually get what I said and I'd like to set the record straight. I think one of the people who was interacting with me before blocked me because I can’t tag them, so this is a “to whom it may concern” message with a hint of direct.

you're right, you didn't and you don't have to respond to my posts. you are, however, free to do so, because the entire reason this whole thing came to be was because I mentioned I enjoy discussing characters and I'm particularly engrossed in RE8 right now so that's what I'm going to post about. for all my posts on the game, people are free to reblog, add things, reply, disagree on the tags - I don't mind. I actually enjoy it because I've had some really enriching conversations.

someone disagreed with my take on Ethan and I responded, at length might I add. we were running around in circles and agreed to disagree. cue more than one person vaguing on the tag about "if you don't like the character don't come hate it on the tags :/", or my favorite, veiled dig at my personal character for putting the hero and villains in perspective, which just tells me you've absolutely missed the point. you then replied late, and I was not about to retype that entire essay of a conversation. I even tagged the thing for convenience.

there is a huge difference between hating A character and hating ON a character, and I don't need to tell any of you that. I hate Ethan because he's a dislikeable protagonist to me, and I put him on the same level as the other characters in the game because, again, to me, his actions are questionable and his morals aren't any better because he's using quite literally the same justifications as someone such as Alcina or Miranda are in defending and trying to get his daughter back. you are free to disagree with me on this.

I love the game and the narrative precisely because I don't like Ethan, because to me in his search for Rose he managed to debase himself by mocking others, delegating them to a less than human position, and being fed up with the situation that he refused to see nuance. that’s on him, Ethan, as a character. and I like that specially because he is generic whyte boi protag and he’s transcending that role by being an ass in Village.

tl;dr: the tragedy, and thus the beauty of Ethan’s is that he was always the same as the monsters he was fighting against, he just didn’t see it. you are, again, free to disagree with me.

I did not: tell anybody their opinions or feelings on his character are invalid; tell anyone to change or stop producing their content because I don’t like him; say that your personal character is questionable because you prefer Ethan to the other characters. in fact, given some of the shit I’ve read I would say I was quite civil.

y’all need to understand that not every character needs to be a good person, not every character wants to be a good person, and that doesn’t make them worse as a character. media isn’t black and white because life isn’t either. we all suck, none of us will ever reach sainthood, and the stories we engage with and enjoy reflect that. exploring the dark corners of a character, writing about it, drawing it, relating to it does not make you the same as them, nor does it mean that you agree with them.

we tend to hate villains because, deep down, we fear their fate befalling us because we relate to them. and we also tend to love villains for the same reason. Miranda is scary because her initial reasoning is very human - she wants her daughter back. over time it does away with her humanity and all she has is the distant goal she will stop at nothing to achieve. if I were a young mother who lost her daughter to a disease only to find a possible cure even after death I would most certainly lean into it. who’s to say what Ethan would have done if he couldn’t get Rose back? to what lengths would he go?

like I mentioned before, it’s nuance. it’s connecting to a story on a different level, and you’re free to disagree with me and free to enjoy your content disconsidering my opinions completely. I’m not telling you how to have fun in fandom.

what I disagree with is this notion that I am “hating on Ethan” and bringing criticism to his tag because I’ve taken a look at him and had some Opinions(tm). I have as much a right to post in it as everyone else - tags are not your safe space, they are an organization tool on a microblogging platform. your blog is your safe space, your carefully curated temple. plus, I’m not even actually doing what I’ve been accused of doing, as I tried to make clear on this post and all others. I’ve gone as far as using a specific tag so that people wouldn’t have to interact with my posts if they didn’t want to.

that people are foaming at the mouth at the mere mention of the possibility of their favorite character not being perfect is really not on me. seeing something that strays from the rest in a tag is not hate, and disagreeing with it isn’t hate either. vaguing about people, attacking their personal character, sending harassing anonymous messages - that’s hating on someone. get your heads out of your asses and enjoy your damn content in peace, and I will do the same. block me if you’d rather not see my content. keep scrolling if you come across it on the tag and you don’t like it. it really is that simple!

if you’ve made it this far: get in loser we’re going to have fun discussing characters and calling them shits when necessary (◕ᴗ◕✿)

#resident evil village #ethan winters #karl heisenberg #lady dimitrescu #chris redfield #i'm tagging some other popular characters cause I've seen the shade and it applies #long post //#the ethan winters debacle 2: electric bogaloo

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pepperpills · 3 years ago

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The Harvest - RE8 Fanfic

The Harvest

A Resident Evil 8 fan fiction by Joana

Karl Heisenberg x Female Reader

Notes: heey, so here is Part III, hope you all enjoy it! i'm thinking of starting a new story soon, once this is ended, probably focusing more on world building and Karl and reader relationship hehe

Warning: NSFW content

Part I - Destiny (1) Part I - Destiny (2) Part II - The Lord

Part III – The Hunt

Getting to know the factory turned out to be a fantastic experience. You had never seem so many different paraphernalia in your live, the closer you had ever got to that was when you were a child poking around your dad’s storeroom, but there were only some tools, agriculture products and inherited ornaments from your cabin family – these last ones were your absolute favourite.

Heisenberg’s factory, on the other hand, was full of interesting things, some of them you had no idea what were used for. You even found a suspicious “torture” room, but couldn’t dig into it, once he was nearby. Still, you found his journals narrating his experiments, his audio reports and some guide books on mechanics that had you intrigued for a long time while reading them. He was a madman, you were convinced, but at the same time, that secluded part of you was growing a little each day you explored his life.

Lord Heisenberg was nicer and quieter than you would imagine. He basically lived in his various offices across the factory, mostly he would be trying new mechanisms on bodies and seeing how they reacted with the Cadou, the strange parasite the villagers mentioned only on rare and veiled conversations. As far as it wasn’t you, or your family, lying cold on one of the stretchers, you didn’t care. As a matter of fact, you felt tempted to try some things with the gears yourself as you deepen your studies in his books.

At your first days there, you got worried you would have to share the bed with him, which would be much more proximity than you had ever had with another person. The man had already seen your half naked and that was enough. However, he didn’t sleep there with you and you wondered why, once he so enthusiastically mocked you about it when you arrived. Actually, you started doubting he ever slept at all.

You were still a bit scared, though, never knowing if he would play a prank on you, so you were very careful to avoid him for a while - that didn’t endure –, believing you should give him space to get used to your presence after the mood he got into after your reception.

He was disturbed, indeed. His work was getting closer to a crucial point that involved Mother Miranda. He musted be discreet, but it was proving to be a real trial with Soldats activating and running around as lost beasts. Also, having you around actually gave him a new problem.

Lord Heisenberg would walk around the factory looking for material, testing the Soldats and cursing a lot, some of these swearwords you didn’t even know, but started liking how he used them, almost cartoonish. It was never directed to you, of course. He acted like you weren’t there most of the time, in others, when he was more chilled, with less work to do, he asked “how is the mess at the wing, buttercup?” laughing at you blushing at his indiscreet platonic flirts.

You had to find your way around the factory. That place was a labyrinth and a map would come handy, so you drew it on some clean papers you found lying around, loving not to get lost anymore. You hadn’t been face-to-face to one of his creations yet, just saw them on the production lines on the overview of the factory and on some specific rooms. You also avoided it due to fear.

He told you where the wing to be cleaned was and you found it after an hour. It was so incredibly packed with mechanical parts that you could barely come inside to take a look. Huffing, you thought that he could solve that without moving a muscle. It made you mad, but also made you wonder what you were doing there. You cleaned it anyway, as it was your duty and used that waste to build some minor projects.

At the end of your expedient, your hands were orange because of the rusty irons you were moving all day long and you had little cuts here and there, but nothing really bad. As it was going, it wouldn’t take long for you to finish cleaning and could even decorate it for him, making it feel more like home to you too.

You were liking it there. Of course, it was dusty, grey, sometimes rusty and hot all the time, but it was also very different from everything. Once you said goodbye to the cabins, then to the Village and maybe being away from Miranda’s dominance made you feel lighter.

You found some red fabric lying around somewhere, appearing to be forgotten, made some nature sketches on blank papers and put yellow lights on the bedroom and on Karl’s soon-to-be new working room. It looked cosy. You hoped he would appreciate it when he met the reformed wing, until then, you would keep quiet not to bother him.

Though, shortly after you finished decorating the bedroom, an event destroyed your plans of avoiding Heisenberg. On your daily route to what you would now call your wing, you crossed the kitchen and found an overcoat-less Karl trying to prepare a sandwich. He had any chef’s nightmare happening in that place. There were blunt knives flying around, a metal cup chasing the kettle spilling hot coffee all over the floor as he tried to open a bottle of whiskey and, finally, hot coffee hit Heisenberg’s chest and he screamed and cursed like a sore animal.

“FUCK!” He thundered, his word echoing in the corridor where you stood.

You couldn’t ignore that scene even if you tried. You were getting tired of not talking to him, you lived together now and all your few friends were slowly becoming distant memories. You would be happy to hear his voice, something else than gears rumble, even if it was cursing your predecessors.

As a powerful person, he would try to use his powers to do simple things and do a real mess instead. You felt compelled to give him some support, maybe it was a part of your mother’s care for others that lived in you too. You entered the kitchen headstrong, holding a laugh at his misery looks. Now he was stroking his shirt with a cloth and only noticed you when you were getting around the island.

You didn’t know, however, he never “never noticed” you. He felt your presence at the corridor before you saw him and he felt ashamed of you seeing him failing at a stupid task, and so forth his reaction was to be boorish.

“What?” He asked in a rude tone.

“Just let me help.” You offered, placing your hand in the air between you two. It wasn’t really an offer, you were just being polite, you would help him one way or another, you would have your small talk, but he wouldn’t give up so easily. “Please.” You asked, making the sweeter voice you could.

He huffed and threw the wet cloth on the sink. You took another cloth from one of the drawers – you were getting used to the utensils’ places –, wet it a little with water and looked at him, your head slightly tilted to the right.

“What is it, kitten?” Heisenberg questioned, roughly playful then.

“It is your shirt.” You pointed.

“Yes, it is dirty. Weren’t you trying to help?” He started to lose patience.

“Yeah, I am. It is just… You will have to take it off.” You let it out unpretentiously, although in your mind you were revengeful.

“Oh.” He understood and immediately took it off with so much easiness you wondered how many times he did that when you were so uncertain of it at your first day.

You had never seem him shirtless. To be quite sincere, you hadn’t seen many shirtless men in your life. The Village was a very cold town, once it was deep into a forest in the mountains, so even in the summer there wasn’t a hot weather, so people tended to keep their clothes on. Because of this, when he took it off you instantly blushed at his scarred chest.

He has what you would call a dad body. It isn’t really sinewy, although still very strong with thick arms and defined muscles. He has some belly, which means he isn’t a skinny person, but he isn’t fat also. And maybe you took too long looking at him like that and feeling weird feelings you would think about later that night.

“You’re almost drooling there, buttercup.” He teased you and when you quickly, but gently, started cleaning his chest with the cloth, so you wouldn’t have to answer, he gave up a deliciously loud laugh.

You laughed with him, making him laugh even harder. You didn’t want to admit it, but you liked it, this casual connection between you two. The laugh died a gradual death and you started moving you hand on his chest, feeling its warmth below the cloth. You could almost swear his breathing was getting faster and you saw he was biting his lips, maybe because you were taking too long. You didn’t want to finish, but you both know there wasn’t much coffee on him anyway.

You put the cloth with the other one in the sink and as you watered them, you saw him going to get his shirt that had been laying on the island.

“No, no, no.” You said, taking it from his hands kind brusquely, making him confused. “I need to wash these.”

“I see.” He said, raising his hands to show he wouldn’t try again, as a peace offer that made you grin.

“I can finish your sandwich for you, it will only take a minute.” You added, embarrassed to be so bossy with him.

“I will be at my office.” He told you and left without looking back.

You thought he got mad at you because of the shirt situation. It made you sad, you started having a nice approach. To compensate you made him a really good sandwich with the meat and vegetables you found in the refrigerator. Searching for food there you considered asking him to go see the Duke and buy supplies, maybe even hunt, because you didn’t have enough provisions. Anyway, you also prepared the coffee, poured a glass of cowboy whisky – sipped one, two or three times yourself – and cleaned what was there to be cleaned. It took more than one minute, but less than teen.

You were heading to his office when you heard a muffled noise. It sounded guttural and made you shiver. Electricity running through your body, making you feel hopelessly exposed, only that countered by the alcohol it felt good. You stepped carefully as you got closer to the door. You considered not knocking, but the noise made you knock.

“Just…” He gasped. “Leave it at the door, please.” Heisenberg was painting, but he asking “please” was what made up your mind, that politeness wasn’t usual, so you did what he requested.

You wanted to be around him on that day, but chose to respect his privacy. You didn’t imagine that his mind was blowing with you, he desperately wanted to continue the kitchen talk, but couldn’t give himself the chance once he was so close to perfecting the Soldats.

To ease your thoughts, as you were no longer requested at the factory, you tested your stealth skills and slipped to the forest behind it, caring your bow and arrows determinedly.

You were familiar with that area as you have hunted all around the Village, thus, you knew where to go to find good preys. It was by the lake were the deer stopped to drink water. It was far from the factory entrance, but again, you knew exactly what you were doing. When approaching the lake, you climbed a tree and waited.

It didn’t take long until a lonely deer appeared, unsuspicious. It leaned its head so it could reach the water level and started drinking it. You positioned one arrow, held your breath and did the physics magic. The arrow nailed its left eye. It didn’t scream, it was over very quickly.

You climbed the tree down, came closer to the body and tied it with the rope you brough from the factory. Your way back wasn’t effortless, you were slower due to the extra weight and the lycans sensed its blood, their sounds were all around you. They wouldn’t hurt your, though, somehow, they knew you were with Heisenberg.

It was past four in the afternoon when you reached the factory, panting with the effort of bringing the deer. Heisenberg was poking around for something in his front yard. He noticed you just as you appeared in his peripherical vision. He walked towards you, with an intrigued expression that transformed into an impressed one when he saw the deer.

“Some gifts you have there, kitten, ain’t gonna lie.” He commented, squatting to take a good look at the animal. “How did you do that?” It was clear he didn’t mean to offend, quite the opposite, he was genuinely curious.

“A girl has her secrets.” You answered, when you finally stop panting, shrugging when internally you are fulfilled someone knew about you hunting and didn’t seem mad at you.

He wasn’t even angry you left the factory without his permission, which made you happier. He stood below you with the animal for a few seconds more, than got up on his feed, laid his hands on your shoulders, well, on your skin hunting jacket, and said “You are really something, kitten.”

You fell for his words. You never wanted to feel that dependant on someone’s appreciation for you, but with him it was lighter. Karl took the weight of the world off your shoulders by bringing you there and kind off supporting you even though you had only spent little more than a month together.

“Thank you, my lord.” You spoke.

“Stop it. Call me Karl.” He said roughly, but good hearted. “Now, do you know how to clean this deer?” Heisenberg asked.

Usually, Duke would do it for you, although you knew the theory, you hadn’t much practice.

“I was hoping you could help me with it, Karl.” You suggested, toasting him a malicious smile.

“For fuck’s sake.” But he cursed laughing.

He cleaned this table at the garage and disposed the deer there. You helped him doing the messy job, learning with him what you only saw the Duke doing. It wasn’t pretty, but you were comforted by his presence and obstinacy. He probably did it often as it showed, but didn’t bother to take it slower so he could teach you.

Heisenberg enjoyed that night more than you could imagine. He didn’t care for the Soldats, they could wait, it was nice being around you for a change, not running away from your hair, your smile, your presence. For the first time in his life, he actually had someone who wanted to be around him.

Later your prepared venison, demi-glace, potatoes, a fresh arugula salad and both of your enjoyed dinner at the kitchen island with bottles of dark beer. He was funny, he was tripping over words a little, due to the alcohol, but his stories, oh man… He was a real brat. You told him about the cabins and the hunting. He listened carefully, never judging you and laughed at your silly manners, at your etiquette and, over all, loved your cook.

He slept in the bed with you, tired, amused and drunk, he sunk in his dreams. You stayed up a bit longer, resisting your lazy eyes temptations just to appreciate his scent, it would smell like burned wood.

#resident evil #re8 #karl heisenberg #re village #karl heisenberg x reader #resident evil 8 village #heisenberg #heisendaddy #heisenberg resident evil #resident evil viii #resident evil 8 fanfic #original post #resident evil village #re8 karl heisenberg #resident evil heisenberg #fanfic #re fanfic #the harvest

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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years ago

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i stumbled upon ur writing looking for lady d x non-binary reader fics and ur work has just been a godsend i’m obsessed. it’s inspired me to start writing my own even though i’ve never written for fandoms before. i’ve never written for other actual characters before either so i was wondering if u could spare any tips for writing for lady d and her daughters? 🙏🏻

I can certainly try! I'll divide the tips into lil sections for each characters. Might be less tips, more character observations that help me figure out how to write them? Putting under read-more for length. Also! If you ever want someone to look over what you write before you post it, I offer my services! I can't guarantee how fast I can respond, but I've been editing/proof-reading/giving general feedback for my friends for years, with everything from fanfiction to college level essays.

Alcina:

Large and in charge, literally. Regardless of the situation, Lady D wants to stay in control, or at least look like she's in control. Okay, minor exception being anything involving Mother Miranda, since she's the one person Lady D has any real respect for. Otherwise, Alcina maintains a good grasp on any situation, looking for ways to put herself in control.

For example, she often uses her height as a means to establish dominance, even within RE8 canon. If you watch a video of the Four Lords meeting, Alcina stands up once she starts arguing with Heisenberg, towering over him in an attempt to intimidate. We also see the aforementioned exception in this scene, as Lady D sort of "shrinks" a little when Miranda responds.

As much as Lady D wants to be in control, she's not always actually capable of it. In the game, we see her struggle to contain her emotions, and often releases them in outbursts. Such as the infamous vanity throwing scene (god I love that so much). It can provide some nice contrast in scenes, having Lady D be so in control one moment, then as soon as she's behind closed doors she's letting it all out.

Uses the most old-fashioned language out of her whole family. It's kind of hard to describe how one goes about writing this way, but I recommend trying to find some journals that were written in the early 1900's and reading them. Or just some classic novels (not Moby Dick, tho, that one's a bit much, in my opinion). One thing I can say is occasionally swap contractions (can't, don't, I've, etc) for the full version of the word (cannot, do not, I have, etc). Something about that always makes dialogue feel older, though I can't really explain why. Whatever you do, just don't rely too much on using synonyms. Replacing common words with their cousins can make dialogue feel "fancier", but you often run the risk of unintended connotations (feelings, positive or negative, associated with a word) messing with how a text is interpreted.

Puts up a front/facade around most people, as part of her noble background and need for control, with words like "stoic" and "composed" coming to mind. Very rough with troublemakers, no mercy. But!!! So very incredibly soft with her family/loved ones. I've seen some people accuse her of "faking" her love for her daughters, but these people either played a different game than I did, or they can't read emotions as well as I can. Gentle touches when she's checking if her kids are okay, little glances and gentle nods for reassurance, pausing a chase just to help her daughters, etc.

Bela:

Wants to make her mother proud. Legally obligated to make her mother proud, because she's the eldest daughter. Not that I know how that feels, being the younger of two children. Regardless, Bela is the most well behaved of the daughters, even when her mother isn't around. However, she does resent this position to some degree, based on in game dialogue/dialogue files that are in the game but aren't used. Personally, I see her as someone who's willing to let certain things go in exchange for favors/blackmail ammo.

Cleans up after her sisters a fair bit, sometimes literally. Feels responsible for them, to the point where their mistakes are her mistakes, and she's forced to compensate on their behalf. Because of this she ends up complaining a lot, though almost only when her family isn't around.

Still very protective of her family, she simply does most of her protecting behind the scenes. Knows how to manipulate a situation, which she probably learned from her mother, and can be quite convincing when she wants to be. Less likely to use violence to solve a problem than anyone else in the family. Will she use violence if need be, or if someone fucks up enough? Yes, absolutely, but she'll focus more on efficiency than misery (unless someone really fucks up).

Generally speaking she's more eloquent than either of her sisters, though not by much unless she's trying to impress someone (usually her mother).

Cassandra:

Two words: Angry. Horny. To her, they might as well be one word. Horngry. Cassandra struggles with her emotions more than either of her sisters, being a pressure cooker ready to pop basically all the time. It's not hard to set her off, but it can take ages for her to cool back down. Let's her frustration (of any variety) build up until she can bludgeon someone to death with it. Harshest on the servants, and spends the most time toying with others in the dungeon.

Like Bela, Cassandra wants to make her mother proud, but it's less of an obligation and more of a "I'm the middle child and feel like I don't get enough attention" type deal. Is more than willing to stoop to "tattle telling" activities in order to get the attention she craves. Usually sticks to obediently following her mother's orders or hunting down enemies, though.

Bit of an artsy type, and the most likely to take trophies from her victims. Gross ones, usually. Okay, well, that's debatable, but I'm talking about general consensus rather than my specific tastes. Personally, I don't care if she's got some weird blood paintings. Hell, I've got extra blood, and also am clumsy and bleed a lot anyway, she can have mine!

Hides her non-anger emotions as best as she can. Hates talking about her feelings (even if it helps), to the point where it's usually impossible to tell how she's feeling deep down. Remember, anger is a secondary emotion! No one is ever just angry, there's always something else hiding underneath, such as: Sadness, disappointment, loneliness, jealousy, etc. Keep this in mind when you're writing her. Make sure you pinpoint the center of her anger, and hint at it, letting her actions show her true goal.

Swears the most, easily. Tends to speak in shorter sentences than her sisters, and prefers being blunt to being eloquent/flowery.

Daniela:

Love, love, love, love, love, ahhhh deep breath... love. Loves love, or at least what she processes as love. Would do anything for romance. Except she also craves "natural" romance, creating a sort of paradox that adds to her delusions, as she engages in the pursuit of unintentional romance (not to be confused with "The Pursuit of Unintentional Humor", a song that I very, very much enjoy). Wants to be loved for who she is at the same time that she attempts to mold herself into a more lovable shape. Struggles with intimacy, wanting to feel vulnerable without actually being so.

On some level she understands that draining people of their blood, and then drinking said blood, is not equatable to a healthy relationship. But seeing as this is the most common form of supposed "intimacy" that she experiences, she refuses to acknowledge the true nature of what she does. Instead she clings to the idea of "forever bonding" with her partners, pretending that each one is still with her, even when she no longer remembers their names.

Hates being rejected, no matter how gently. "Ugly" cries, but only if she's alone, often turning her pain into anger, just like Cassandra. However, her outbursts don't seem to last as long. In reality, her breakdowns simply occupy the inside of her existence, rather than the outside. Sure, she's giggling and causing chaos, like usual, but on the inside she's breaking a record for most depressing internal monologue.

Reads a ton, but not always "quality" books. Goes through a dozen books or more a week, often rereading her favorites several times, mainly within the romance genre (obvs). This affects her speech a fair amount, making her both cheesy and occasionally smooth as hell.

#j says things #character study #don't wanna tag as tips cuz this is so specific to resident #resident evil

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rachnerds · 3 years ago

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A Good Fit

Headcanon for Miranda/Liara after Shepard dies. This is based on the ending to my run of Mass Effect and my Shepard.

Her gloved hand massages her own forehead as she attempts to rifle through data. She's been collecting almost everything she can for almost a year. It was her own project - none of her agents were assigned to assist. It was a personal project that she was able to justify using her resources for. She was the Shadow Broker. The only person who would know was her.

"Perhaps it may be time for a break from your information gathering, Shadow Broker." A VI appears, chirping innocently as a VI does. It hums quietly and spins methodically in Liara's periphery.

"Goddess," she remarks in a breathy, surprised tone. "I suppose you may be right." She takes a deep sigh. She takes a quick glance at the picture sitting on her desk. Shepard's blue eyes pierce into hers and grief floods her. How she misses the Commander, even after almost a full year. "Yes, Glyph. A short break would suit me well." She places a hand atop the frame for a moment, and after hesitating, flips it on its face. She needed a break from Shepard's gaze, too.

Her office is situated on The Normandy still. She dislikes the post because it reminds her of Shepard, but beyond that, she doesn't have any other reason to be discontent. The crew is familiar; made up of her friends even. Most had survived the Reaper war, and so they have each other to depend on.

She wanders slowly and aimlessly down the hallway before she's visible to those in the mess hall. Only a few linger, as it's the middle of their sleep cycle. One is a crew member she admittedly doesn't know outside of the intel she's acquired on her own (which she has for everyone on the crew). But the other is someone she knows quite well: Miranda Lawson, the Normandy's former but reinstated XO.

Miranda studies her tea as she hears Liara shuffle in. Her eyes flicker to the slow moving Asari, which brings a smile to her face. It's small, and Liara wouldn't notice it, but it forms for a moment. "Lost, doctor?" Miranda says, grabbing the attention of the information broker who finds Miranda and offers a smile, both genuine and social in nature.

"It feels that way at times," Liara replies in a breathy tone, "though I'll admit it's my thoughts that leave me feeling lost moreso than my geography." She moves to the table in which Miranda sits, taking the conversation as invitation to join her. "Between you and me, I wasn't even aware of the time before deciding to stumble out of my office."

Miranda watches the tea in her cup swirl, a gentle cloud of steam hovers just above it. "I'm no doctor myself T'Soni, but I think one would tell you to ensure you're obtaining healthy amounts of sleep." Another grin forms and she leans in across the table, "It doesn't seem like you're doing that." She nags in a playful whisper.

Liara lets out an appreciative chuckle as she leans back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other. "You sound like Shepard." An eyebrow perks and her heart flutters, thinking back to her bondmate fondly. Miranda can see and feel the grief. It's something she's been experiencing too.

Perhaps overcome with sleep, Liara talks more than she normally would. Before she knows it, words tumble out. "At the very end, in our base in London, the Commander and I shared time together. She knew, well," Liara pauses, reflecting on the moment. "she knew she wouldn't, couldn't, survive, and she told me to seek comfort and safety in the friends we had surrounded ourselves with." Her eyes connect with Miranda's, and she feels nervousness she hadn't ever felt before in Miranda's presence. Even despite all the interactions they'd preciously shared. "She told me specifically to...turn to you." Her head shakes left to right as though to brush off the comment, but when she finds Miranda's attention again, she sees that the statement was taken as anything but casual.

Miranda had straightened up while Liara had been speaking. Her expression is solemn and serious. She holds Liara's eyes intently. "Shepard told me something similar. Different, but the same." Her words are curt and short as though she's holding back some emotion she doesn't want Liara to see. "Maybe we should talk about this at another time, when we both aren't so tired." Liara watches as Miranda stands, obviously struck by their conversation. Liara stands too, feeling as though she could offer some comfort to Miranda in response to the admittance she's just made.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Lawson, if I've upset you-." A gloved hand silences her as it's raised from across the way.

"You haven't, Liara." Miranda says truthfully, her stomach tying into a knot. "Invite me to your office another time and we'll talk about what Shepard said, and what she meant." She holds Liara's blue eyes in hers for a moment before offering a nod, leaving the former archaeologist alone in the mess hall.

She admittedly misses her once office, now inhabited by the Asari she just left in the mess hall. The Asari Shepard had told Miranda to watch out for and be there for. The Commander, in her way, hadn't said much more than that, but Miranda had an idea of what she had meant.

In their time together working for Cerberus, Miranda and Shepard had grown close. Miranda was adamant about the other woman staying loyal to Dr. T'Soni. She knew Shepard would never forgive herself for both hurting Liara by being with Miranda and conversely, hurting Miranda by returning to Liara. Miranda smiles at the conversation they had shared, the one that ultimately sealed Miranda off to Shepard. She grimaces for a moment, not allowing herself to feel regret.

She reflects back to the time before she had brought Shepard back. The naive archaeologist had found her way to Cerberus and to her; Miranda was foolish then for her loyalties, but it had brought T'Soni to her. She takes a heavy breath while remembering.

Miranda made sure that Shepard stayed loyal to Liara because Miranda knew, intimately, the type of partner Liara was. It had always been casual between them. They used each other as a way to release energy, and anger, and fear. Miranda was rigid and guarded. Less so now, but certainly back then. Liara had been soft and looking for an interaction she could connect to. Miranda fit the bill, and Liara, Miranda's.

If Shepard knew about their time together, she never mentioned it to Miranda. But in the tone of one of their final conversations, the one about being there for Liara in her absence, Miranda had a feeling she knew. She didn't ask, it wasn't her place, but she took Shepard's words as meaning "if I can't be with Liara, you should be."

#miranda lawson #liara t'soni #fanfic #mass effect #miranda/liara #liara/miranda

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aion-rsa · 3 years ago

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Resident Evil Village: Why Ethan Winters is the Worst RE Protagonist

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

This article contains RESIDENT EVIL VILLAGE spoilers.

I walked away from Resident Evil Village with mixed feelings about the whole thing, but the one aspect of the long-awaited sequel I had no mixed feelings about was leading man Ethan Winters and his status as the absolute worst.

While there have been other unlikable Resident Evil protagonists, Resident Evil 7 and Resident Evil Village‘s Ethan Winters is on another level. Unlike other RE heroes that were hindered by a combination of bad voice acting, bad writing, and questionable lore, Ethan Winters’ brings all of those unfortunate elements to the table and adds a couple of “qualities” that puts him cleanly in contention for the “honor” of being not just the worst protagonist in RE history but in all major video games.

Before you call that harsh, consider just a few of the many ways that Ethan Winters is the most insufferable part of two otherwise good games.

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Ethan Winters is a Terrible Husband

This is honestly a bit lower on the list of Ethan Winters’ character sins, but it has to be pointed out that Ethan Winters comes across as a pretty bad partner.

First off, there’s a world in which Ethan doesn’t even save Mia in Resident Evil 7 and instead chooses to give the serum to Zoe Baker: a girl he’s known for about a couple of hours. In that same ending, Mia still sacrifices herself for Ethan despite the fact that Ethan didn’t save her. Capcom wisely decided to abandon that ending pretty much entirely, but it’s telling that the writers created a character who could conceivably leave his wife to die when he’s able to easily save her.

Mind you, the version of Ethan we see in Village who did decide to save Mia is only slightly better than the one who abandoned her. The biggest problem here is actually the revelation that Mia is really Mother Miranda and seemingly has been for at least a little while. This use of the body switch trope always makes partners look bad (how do you not notice the supposed love of your life has been replaced?), but it takes a very dark turn in this instance when Mia is shot by Blue Umbrella operatives and Ethan barely reacts to his wife’s brutal murder.

Yes, it turns out it was actually Mother Miranda that was shot, but before Ethan knows that, he is seemingly able to process much of his grief with an “Oh God!” and an exasperated “Why?” After that, Ethan barely even talks about Mia. Sure, his daughter was just kidnapped, but this guy can’t shed a tear or do anything to indicate that he needs more than a minute to process this whole thing? Even if it was Mother Miranda who scolds Ethan in one of the game’s early cutscenes for not caring enough about their relationship, I’m starting to think she was right. No wonder she has to keep so much wine around the house.

Ethan Winters’ Quips Could Make an ’80s Action Hero Shake Their Head in Shame

I feel like I could spend several articles talking about Ethan’s awful one-liners and quips, but there’s one specific moment I have to talk about that really highlights the extent of this problem.

There’s a scene in the back half of Village that sees Ethan sneak through a mine in search of a flask containing part of his daughter. Against all odds, Ethan is able to retrieve the flask without drawing the attention of the creature guarding it, Moreau. However, Ethan (who, it must be said again, is the absolute worst) cannot resist taunting Moreau instead of just walking away. He then stays a little while longer to make fun of Moreau seemingly because he’s the first of the house leaders who he feels he is able to bully.

Ethan, why are you like this? Why would you possibly alert this thing to your presence when you’ve just been gifted an easy way out, and why would you exploit what appears to be a moment of weakness for this creature just to get a couple of insults and bad jokes in? For that matter, why do you constantly feel the need to chime in with some kind of quip or line that seemingly confirms you’re just good-looking enough to have never been told that you’re not funny?

It’s great that Moreau uses this moment to tell Ethan “You’re stupid! You talk too much,” but the fact that the game’s writers were seemingly aware of this problem makes it all the more baffling that they chose to have their games star this very stupid man who does, in fact, talk way too much in the moments he shouldn’t be talking at all.

Ethan Winters Has Never Been the Everyman He is Supposed to Be

When I first started playing Resident Evil 7, I gave the game the benefit of the doubt regarding some of Ethan Winters’ character and personality flaws. After all, he was supposed to be the player surrogate and something of an everyman who is just as confused by this situation as we are.

However, if Ethan really was ever supposed to be an everyman, he’s a pretty bad one. It’s easy enough to buy into the idea that Ethan is just some poor guy in a bad situation at first, but between his terrible quips, world-class bad decision making, and apparent inability to form a believable human connection with the few actual humans in his life, Ethan is less of an everyman and more of the random dorm roommate you got stuck with in college. The best thing you can say about him is that you’ve both got to find a way to get through this together.

Throughout Resident Evil, we also watch as Ethan alternates between struggling to understand things that we as the player have already figured out and not caring about obviously impressive moments. There are essentially vampires and other nearly mythological creatures in every corner of Resident Evil Village, and Ethan hardly ever conveys even a moment of surprise in response to anything he sees. There’s even a scene towards the end of the game when Ethan falls into an underground area only to find that Chris is already there and has apparently built a homemade tank. Does Ethan ask for an explanation about any of this or express any notable interest in these incredible coincidences/circumstances? No, he does not. It’s like the “cool guys don’t look at explosions” trope, but the explosions are the plot and the cool guy is Ethan Winters.

Seemingly realizing that Ethan wasn’t working as an everyman, Capcom decided to turn him into more of an action hero in Resident Evil Village. Unfortunately for everyone, that only made things worse…

Ethan Winters’ Powers Somehow Make Him an Even More Boring Character

Let’s get right into it: it doesn’t make any sense that Ethan Winters is able to defeat most of the threats he faces in Resident Evil Village, and the game’s attempts at making those moments make sense only make the character worse.

While Village tells us that Chris trained Ethan and Mia to some degree after the events of Resident Evil 7, there’s no amount of training you could possibly receive that would explain why the bullets from a shotgun you found in a shed are able to topple impossible creatures. Granted, that’s more of a game design problem than it is a personal issue with Ethan, but at some point, the fact that Ethan goes from “barely defending himself” to “defeating an entire village of monstrosities” with very little believable or enjoyable explanation between those moments ultimately becomes yet another reason to not like him.

Village later tries to explain Ethan’s regenerative abilities and impossible durability with a variation of the “dead the whole time” storytelling cliche, but that just makes matters worse. While “dead guy” is a pretty apt description of Ethan’s warmth as a human being, Ethan being just south of unkillable doesn’t make him any more interesting: it makes him a s****y Wolverine who hopes his powers will make up for his lack of personality. In reality, it just makes it more upsetting that it’s so hard to get rid of Ethan Winters.

Ethan Winters’ evolution from bewildered average guy to monster slayer could have been interesting. Just look at Gordon Freeman from Half-Life or the character Wesley Wyndam-Pryce from Buffy and Angel. Instead, the more we got to know Ethan, the more we wish we didn’t. It’s rare to have a protagonist that so effectively drags down the considerable quality of everything around him, but that’s just the kind of guy that Ethan is.

The post Resident Evil Village: Why Ethan Winters is the Worst RE Protagonist appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/2SAA0jD

#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

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mushroommouth · 4 years ago

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Reworked + Expanded S.J. Lore- Now with EXTRA BUMMERS!

(---submitted by @transistor-rhythm-909)

This is going to say an awful lot about my self worth that I’m doing this to my self insert, BUT

(There is a mention of suicide ideation in here, so uhhh do please tag for that cos I can’t seem to on the browser submission page)

The first major change that sets up the angsty stuff: I’ve decided upon is that he doesn’t do part time work at Dom’s workplace anymore- he still met Dom a few years back and before Mira came into the picture (I wanna say probably around the time Son of the Sun took place, which in my mind was when Cody was about 3 or 4). Where he met Dom I’m not sure, but their relationship progresses more or less the same way- as does S.J.’s relationship with Mira when she enters the picture.

The reason for this change is ‘cos I’ve decided to have S.J.’s sole place of employment be Kathy’s Store, as you can probably figure out. Not inherently angsty on its own, but, well…

As we know, S.J. rolled into town with not much travel cash left and desperately needing a job. He didn’t escape a bad home life or tragic circumstances when he left England, he just felt… stagnant there. Didn’t really know what he wanted to do with his life (as whilst he does make music like IRL me, for him it’s decidedly a hobby, not his career choice). Unfortunately, travelling across America when you don’t drive is Pricey, so. He found himself drawn to Kathy’s store, entirely unsure why- and pretty much from the words “'scuse me lass, you hiring?”, Kathy seemed up for helping him out. Not in an overly sentimental way, mind, but she pretty much said “yeah sure, could use the help, you can use the room upstairs 'til you can find yer own place- by the by, here’s the apt. listings in the paper”.

For the first couple of months his life was pretty normal- he wasn’t allowed all the way in the back of the store and some of Kathy’s quirky behaviours stood out to him, but he rolled with it. Then, one day, he got unintentionally caught in the crossfire between Kathy and Em; I need to work out specific details, but the end result of this is that S.J. essentially became aware not only of the supernatural… existing, but also gained a similar sort of “medium awareness” that Kathy and Em possess. He doesn’t necessarily view himself as a character in a story, and the world he’s in one big narrative, at least not literally, but he’s at least on a similar level of omnipotence as Kathy and Em are now. That is all he has, though; the knowledge. He has no godly powers, no magical capability. He’s still dead normal, otherwise.

This is part of what prompts him to stay in Kathy’s employ, even though she straight up tells him he should walk away and not endanger himself further- after all by then, he has his own place, he’s got cash saved up, and he can find work elsewhere. But S.J. says simply “Now I know what you two do, I can’t just pretend life is the way it was. I’m a part of this now, whether I like it or not.”

Kathy looks extremely guilty for a sec, but he continues; “besides, now I know exactly why you look so sad and so tired all the time. After how kind you were to me- a total stranger- when I rolled up outta nowhere, it wouldn’t sit right with me to leave you in the lurch. You look out for the whole town; let me look out for you.”

So S.J.’s path in live is set; he’s a semi omnipotent being who can’t do much with the knowledge he has except be very, very snarky. He can’t ever go back to his original home even if he wanted to without that knowledge. Factor in that he was already depressed and anxiety riddled to begin with, and you can imagine that if S.J. tried living a normal life and just ignoring this new info… he’d crack under the pressure. And the guilt of leaving Kathy behind. And the stronger guilt of leaving Dom and Miranda alone in a town that he now knows does have it’s hostile secrets that could put them in danger.

And that eats up at him, sometimes. He never intended on going back to England when it was an option, even though he sometimes missed it, but now he can’t he finds he misses it more. He visits, sure, but never longer then a week, and usually only at Christmas. The rest of the time, it’s vid calls or nada, and that’s not the same. And he can’t tell his parents, his friends from home, what he knows- they’ll think he’s mad. He knows he’d think someone was mad if they told him what he knows, if he didn’t know it himself.

But, there is a sweet along with that bitter; Dom and Miranda love him very much, and he loves them. They fill his heart in ways that people back home never did, and though that doesn’t fill the void, it makes it easier when he misses home. He and Kathy grow closer as well- again, not romantically (it’s only IRL me that crushes on Kathy I’m afraid), but as professionals, as friends, as mentor and mentee. And he can- and does- help mitigate some of the crisis’ that befall the town, major and minor, with his limited skillset but vast knowledge. And as it turns out, all S.J. has ever really wanted to do is to help people; to love them and look after them; to do what he can to make other people safe and happy, however small and brief that happiness may sometimes be.

And that keeps him going. Even in his darkest days, when he seriously considers ending his life… he finds he can’t. He can’t leave those he loves, near and far, behind. He can’t hurt them like that. To do so would be a betrayal of his most core ideal: to do no harm, and to love like the world is ending.

Part of why the Micoverse fan-verse I’ve constructed for me stories is given the name “Because I Know How Strong Love Is” comes from the fact that S.J. honestly and earnestly believes in the strength that can be drawn from love- not just romantic or sexual, but familial, platonic, love and passion for concepts and interests, the entire spectrum of love as a concept. He knows, deeply and truly, how in many cases that can save anyone. And in spite of the knowledge he knows, that belief has not changed. No matter what he faces, he won’t stop believing. Em herself can actively try everything in her playbook to break him, and sometimes he may- but she cannot take that belief from him. And he rubs that in her face as much as he can, cos to play off those drawings from the other day, she can say 'I’ll destroy everything you love <3’, and he’ll respond with “That won’t stop me loving, lass. Do your worst.” knowing that she will, and not caring; no matter how disadvantageous his position again her or anything else, he’ll go down fighting and swearing- if he goes down.

(which he sometimes does, but there is one small perk that awakening gave him, even if he is not fully aware of it; death doesn’t stick, to him or to anyone. Not completely, no matter how hard Em or The Shape tries. He remembers each death as though it were a dream and is suspicious that it probably did happen, but he can’t count on that; it doesn’t stop him laying down his life willingly if he feels he must).

TL;DR my self insert is technically aware that he’s a character and is also aware of the true nature of Micoverse’s world and the many universes beyond, but that doesn’t stop him living a life of love and peace and as much fun as he can muster, and in the face of evil or cruelty he stands by his convicting that love wins every time- and will actively make it win if given the chance. (he, uh, doesn’t reveal this info to anyone beyond Kathy though. at least in idea situations; given the in-flux nature of aus, side stories, canon and non canon stuff there will be times where they do become aware somehow- like Casual Danger dialogue- but generally he keeps it on the down low unless he has no choice to reveal what he knows)

This was all btw inspired by that “I’ll destroy everything you love <3” drawing, because something about S.J.’s response of “I know, but I’ll be sassy about it” really made me think 'oh, he KNOWS. he’s got access to the knowledge she and Kathy does. that’s a show of his hand’ and I just kinda wanted to run with it. It won’t always be relevant to every single story- and of course I’d never consider S.J. a canon micoverse character (unless you thought of something neat you could do with him anyway)- but it is a part of his character now innit. Our Boy Knows What’s Up.

#THIS IS SO GOOD #submission

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