#the only sane ones being me and the mutuals i still follow

[chwedout]

me not being a maxwell stannie is defs a top 10 anime betrayal

[comfortless]

Only Other

chapter three of three.

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. historical au (set around 350BC); potential inaccuracies as i am no historian!, König speaks some German here (as opposed to Gothic), mutual pining & worship, smut (piv), sliiiight breeding kink, violence, as always König is horribly in love and says ridiculously worrisome things, reader feigns ambivalence but is equally unhinged and smitten.

notes: eternally grateful to @wordsbyvani for reading over my shoulder and genuinely being the sweetest throughout every part. ^^ and again to @writersdrug for giving me the idea to begin with!

wc: 9k.

<- previous.

König’s men arrive sometime in the afternoon, a few hours behind but carrying hoards of supplies. There are weapons you recognize to be from your city stuffed into bags, pelts and silks and twinkling stones, meats and fruits. They had not forgotten to bring along wine, either: two barrels to either side of a gray mare led along behind one of their rugged steeds by a length of thick rope.

You don’t ask how they found her, let alone how they managed to actually tame her down enough to follow amidst the chaos that broke out the night prior. A weak string of “thank you”s leaves your lips when you press your nose to the horse's snout, sobbing into her silver fur. She seems less bothered, huffing impatiently as she’s tethered up with the others against broad trees.

You’re not convinced that here or anywhere is safe anymore, and you don’t assist when the men begin to set up their camp. They’ve enough supplies and arms to do it themselves, anyhow.

Guilt, trepidation and confusion, haunt you: cast out for all to see by your forlorn stares and the tremor of your lower lip as you continuously fight an internal battle to keep yourself sane. And how could you? You’ve only come to reason that this has all come to fruition because of you, because of the things that you could not help. Your curiosity, fascinations, and impiety had all led you to be here, now, while everyone you once knew sleeps eternally.

You have condemned yourself to the life of a slave girl, and later to the darkness of the Orcus when you do die.

Though… men do not give their slaves the looks that König gives to you. You haven’t spoken to him in hours, and you do your best to avoid his glances, shoot down his smiles with the curved arrow of your own sullen frowns. Still… amidst setting up the tents and gathering wood for the fire to stave off the chill of nightfall, you catch the very stars reflected over a sea in his eyes.

There is love there, a too-uncanny and harrowing love, but a great devotion nonetheless. It burns like a fire of its own in your chest, inescapable and rampant. You know it in the spaces behind your skull, your ribs, that what he feels is another cage: roomier, softer, but you will never be free of it either.

König does not follow you to the tent when the moon rises. He sits by the fire, watching as you go with the pelt drawn up over your shoulders and curled around you. When you sink into the bed of fur that has replaced the straw mattress from before you find yourself somehow even more fitful here than outside. Sleep is evasive, leaving you tossing and twisting amidst the smell of sweat and animal fur. Not even the crackling fire outside defeats the quiet or the cold in the air.

There’s a sickly pit in your stomach, thorn seedling threatening to take root and spread the longer you stare up at the blackened abyss of the tent ceiling. If you’re to live a life torn, at the very least you could be warm; you take to König’s side in moments, joining him by the slowly dwindling flame.

The brute isn’t sleeping, either, just… lost. Lost like you the day that you met him.

“I need to look at your wound.” Your excuse comes weak and puny, doe limbs and fragile glances when you do sit at his side and speak. You’ve never been anyone’s ‘Göttin’, you don’t know what you’re doing, what blessings to grant or judgments to cast. Avoiding him only seems a punishment for you both, and you’ve had your share of those.

König is anything but small: even amidst the turmoil your silence has gifted to him, he still seems himself, all ego and cruelly cut silver, softened only by your words, your touch.

“Richtig,” he mutters, reaches out to pull you in, and you let him. Straddling his lap with only the moon above awake to witness, cast her curious gaze down and illuminate the expanse of his chest whilst you work to pull away the bandages.

There isn’t much to tend to, it’s healing well. The flesh that once seemed inflamed has only drawn back its redness to simmer to the natural color of his skin. When you begin your careful prodding, it does not hurt him. He doesn’t so much as flinch or huff at your touch.

When you dab your index in the sweet honey that serves as a salve, he grasps at your hand and brings it up to his lips, presses a kiss to your index and middle without hesitation. And you see it then: a glimmer of hesitation in the way his lips pull and his eyes search your own, a silent plea for vindication.

You’ve never been cold to him, not even as he spoke with so much self-importance when you first met, not when he rutted his blade between your parted legs, not even now after all that he’s done. In his own way of thinking, these things have all been some display of courtship. There’s never cruelty toward you, not in his touch, the words that he speaks, and especially not in those somber eyes. These things break down the last fraying edge of your resolve.

You press your mouth to his, sharing the taste of honey pressed to his lips, everything sugary and warm. Over and over until the night begins to close its way in, plump clouds drifting over the pearl hanging in the sky when you finally find yourself tucked back into the tent with König curled at your side. He holds you closer than he ever has, not from a fear you’ll take off under the darkened sky, but in the honoring of something far greater. Some love comes quiet like flower blooms, his comes with fire.

“Wolves pair in winter,” he says quietly, burying his face into your hair. It’s shy, almost, as though the man has not already embedded his scent into your very skin and toyed with your most sensitive parts. It’s truer, more heartfelt, than even his confessions of love.

“Is that what you see us as being?” You laugh, a slow, gentle chime that aches your throat, face still puffy from tears and voice scratchy from those thick clouds of smoke.

“Ja…”

“You really…” The words get caught up someplace in the spaces between your lungs and tongue. You don’t want to cry, not anymore, but you find it difficult not to choke up after so much comfort with a lifetime of so very little. “You do care for me, don’t you?”

He answers your question in a grumble, a string of foreign words only meant for mountain caverns and creatures that walk on all fours and somehow they make sense. A resounding yes, in three gutteral sounding words. The frayed ends of guilt and anger finally drift off as you settle into his hold like a den of pure comfort, warm and buried in a world of fur and a man blessed by trees and the earth rather than gods and myth.

When the breeze picks up outside, rustling sprawling oak limbs, momentarily silencing the fire, its as if they answer him in your stead. You don’t cry, though it aches, but you let go of the memories of all your begging to those that never seemed to listen. Here, in the dark you’ve found the only person that seems to understand without even knowing.

You drag the pelts up over the both of you, clasp your hand over his where it rests beneath them, and fall into a haze of contentment. He draws you nearer, breath filtering through your hair from where his head lies just above your own.

The dreams that come are no longer of places you can not reach, but only of the memory of a city that was never meant to house your spirit.

You wake to König’s pawing. It begins along your sternum, hand placed flat there only to glide further up and push at your tit. It’s gentle and testing, pushes fire into your very veins when for the first time he doesn’t seem to remain entranced there. It drifts, further up to cup your jaw.

“You are awake?,” he rasps, propping himself up to inspect your face where you lie, weakened and warmed by sleep.

“Yes…”

“Are you still bereaved?,” König asks in such a hushed voice, reaching toward you again. His hand seems to tremble when it finds your face, thumb brushing over your mouth with such trepidation it seems misplaced for him.

“Partly.”

You consider your dreams again: the open street, devoid of people apart from those that face down at you with contempt building in hollow eye sockets. Where grass once sprung up beneath the cracks in the stones, there were only small flames. And you do still grieve for those that were innocent in the entire affair, those trampled by cattle when they had only just had a taste of escape. Your very mind begins to darken at the thoughts, your body only tensing further, a bowstring on the verge of snapping,

“Is that why I can not have you?”

“I never said…” Your voice only grows thin, detached almost from the way you purse your lips to kiss the digit toying with you. Your heart is only thunder, the sound of those wretched hooves: yearning was dangerous itself, your own only seemed to take further shape with each passing moment. Claws and a waiting maw, just like the wolves he speaks of.

König hums, a deep rumble from his chest as he gives a slow nod of acknowledgement.

It all becomes tree sap, a sticky confectionery bout. His mouth descends upon your own as though starved, hurried and longing as he samples you, the you who certainly yearned for the bathhouses to clean herself properly. All thought seems to dispel when his hand leaves your cheek and neck to begin its painfully slow descent between your legs, burrow between wax and honey to pull soft cries from your mouth.

He only stills his dismantling of you when you’re trembling and doughy, squeezing around his fingers so tightly you wonder how he can continue to bury them inside at all.

Just as the other gods, Sol is lost here when König crawls over you, all shadow and wretched, led here with the promise of a prey that you are not. Only another wolf… the flame in his winter eyes is the same that’s settled inside of you.

His head dips to kiss into your hair while your leg is pulled to settle over his hip. You feel a kiss, a different sort, when the pillar of his manhood reaches between your bodies to settle over your sex, probing at your slit that only seems to pulse and beg under his touch.

You had never found these silly metaphors enticing with the men of the city, even the entertainers with their pretty words could have never lured you this far down. Yet, here is different, here is cold and lonely and wild: a culmination of all that he is, incarnation of the earth and man and a desperate hunt.

“You are ready for me,” your god hums, pleased, as he coats himself in your arousal, sticky like warm sap. The sounds of his toying with you are something you should be accustomed to now, with him, but still makes your face warm. Not with shame, only a quiet desperation. “Beautiful little goddess...”

It’s summer here; winter tears its claws right out of your flesh when the sun itself sinks inside. The turning of seasons is natural, so dreadfully normal you’ve never bat an eye until you could physically feel it: the strip of your own apprehension tossed into a steaming sea, the dewy wetness all but drowning you entirely.

And it’s König who loses himself first, a sound so pitiful carving its way out of him you would almost believe him to be hurt if not for the way he throbs inside of you. He feeds it, a stuttering twitch of his hips as he slowly brings you toward him by your hips. Far too large to properly bottom out but encumbered and ecstatic by the sensation around him. Tighter than any sheath, but a weapon pushes through you all the same- inch by loving inch, until he manages to fully fill you with himself.

“I don’t want to hurt you, little one.“ Each word is torn from him, punctuated heavily by the shallow movement of his body and the drag of a demanding cock. Restraint is a peculiar thing hovering over him, his brow pinched as though forcing himself to concentrate on not ripping you apart where you lie.

“You’re not hurting me..,” you sigh as your hands find his shoulders, fingernails dimpling the skin there. If anything the urgency is only shared.

When your hips push back to meet him, the lead is dropped, another surrender. Too much trust for a man deserving of none of it.

His response is a breathy groan, mouth finding your shoulder as his hands drift to pull your hips upward to better meet him. Teeth find purchase along your flesh, gentle as he can be, but grinding and desperate to leave a mark, a piece of him behind.

It’s almost with a fury that he stuffs himself into you then, his jaw going slack and eyes wild, hands grasping at every inch of your pillowy flesh that he can reach.

Never could König have looked more beautiful than now, once starved and now tasked, for and now with you. His gaze trails from where your thighs tremble around him, to where the sap pools and nature builds up its own obscene choir at your togetherness… and then, to your face where his gaze only shatters into softness.

Something bubbles right against your lash line, a stray tear, overwhelmed by the feel of the giant ravishing you, pulling you down from your world of jewels and pillars to his own devoid of anything but need.

His head dips immediately, tongue running up the length of your cheek, a hand falling away to pry open your already parted thigh as he licks at and fucks into you like something truly feral. He coos his praises against your mouth, parted and whining, claims a new kingdom all for himself in you, of you.

You feel how the temples must, trodden through and left with gifts, blood and honey and fire as the muscles of your thighs begin to tense. Instinct spurs you to catch his lip between your teeth, push your hips back to laboriously furl around him.

His pace comes to a halt, settling to only grind himself so deeply within you that you feel the last of the stars begin to die out in the recesses of your skull, dim and dumbly smothered until they reignite in a blinding wave of white. König does not give you the time to settle, only spears into you with a renewed fervor as you cinch around him, furthering your rapture to a point that is almost agonizing.

He chases his own end with the same famished glare as before, stares right into your eyes as you pull iron from his lip and cast it into the fire of your waiting mouth. The sting, the bliss, only makes him whimper, a sound so small and choked its unfathomable to have come from a man who slams into you as though you were paid for.

You lick into his mouth in a way so tentative and fragile he immediately crashes down, blankets you in the strength of his arms and kisses you in turn: so soft and chaste it’s uncanny in this moment. His groan of defeat only comes when he stills fully, buried to the hilt, thrumming and shivering through his own release. Honey and seafoam, the rise of a tide touching earth to brim and spill past your joining.

He chases the feeling for several moments longer, bucking his hips sloppily as he lies atop your spent form, barely coherent when he mutters nonsensical praises into your hair, against your neck, the corner of your mouth- any place he can think to leave a kiss.

“… everything,” he mutters when he lies atop you fully, satisfied where he nestles his head into the fur below you both. “Everything I have ever wanted.”

The day passes on like this. Even as his men maneuver about camp, preparing to hunt or practice with their stolen weapons. The only thing König seems keen on doing is bringing you to ruin, repairing you with kisses pressed into your hair, along your cheek.

He leaves you only twice as the day drags onward. Once to gather you a meal of something meaty roasted over the fire, what remained of a boar, a gathering of dried fruit, and water from a small flask. You’re famished and exhausted by the thrill of being shoved down into the fur to tolerate him three times over already. The twinkle in his eye is nothing short of mischievous when you do finally tell him that you need to rest after eating.

After a bout of playfully shoving him away, you only find yourself on top of him, then. He seemed entirely unashamed, more hurried and desperate than before as he bucks at you like a wild horse, voicing his praises and spitting out such sugary sweet nonsense about how you would carry his son and only ever experience him, you almost felt shy. A curled finger hooks under your jaw to force you to look down at him, lose yourself in the vast, uneasy sea of his eyes while he floods you with his seed again. Finally, he seems sated, pulls you down to lie atop him.

König promises you that he will find your mother, that he will take care of you as no other has or ever could, while stroking along your back. He tells you of the mountains, the trees, the animals and the men who live amongst them and inside of them.

He tells you of the sea when you ask, how the sand is softer and sticks as if it never wants you to go. In turn, you tell him that he must be like the sea then, never fully parting from you, leaving his trace imprinted upon your skin with teeth rather than sand. A sea that loves instead of hungers, one that presses you onto your back to wash over you to steal the very breath from your chest and push it back with a kiss.

— — —

The wilderness is cruel. Wild things lurk in the brush and occasionally you pass by other settlements. Less friendly than the small band you have grown accustomed to. You’re always urged to shush, then have yourself tucked further against König while he speaks low and threatening to any would-be bandits. Only once has that resulted in a death, but not to one of König’s own. You didn’t watch when the man with the red hair carved a hole through the trespasser, just squeezed your eyes shut and buried your face into a waiting bicep.

Days pass on horseback, your legs feel stiff and clumsy, and there are no amount of pelts serving as makeshift saddles that could ever help the ache that shoots up from your pelvis. It serves no aid at all that, when riding ahead or too far behind the other men, König takes this newfound intimacy between you two to be a liberty. Regardless of your formation, he never ceases looking at you as though his only wish is to devour you whole.

Those times are often quick, palm pressed over your mouth as he dutifully breeds you beneath the sun, in the softest patch of withering wild grass or barren land available. You melt into him, part your legs like a wife rather than some skittish woman that he himself has whisked away. Each time, he whispers his praises, professes his love in more creative ways, covers you in so many kisses you feel a bit dazed by the time the ordeal is through.

Then, you’re righted back onto the horse with König at your back, the most horribly endearing smile plastered upon his face.

It’s not much of a surprise that his men do start their caterwauling at some point during the journey to wherever— past dormant trees and approaching the silhouettes of hills so tall and vast you’re certain that they must be the mountains you have heard of, even if you had yet to properly see them. König had made it perfectly clear just what you are to him in his coarse words to his companions, but never directly to you. They do not mock your union, but they do often give you strange looks, particularly at your tummy while they discuss you with their leader.

There’s nothing there, you’re sure of that much, but you shoot them your angriest glare anyway and raise your chin to look forward instead. Their talk of the possibility of a little “prinz” does not distract you from your own thoughts, drifting up to scrape the sky just like the peaks of the mountains.

“So that is where the gods live?,” you ask, mostly to yourself as you curl your fingers into the horse’s reins. There’s subdued laughter from either side of you, and you almost shrink at the thought of making a fool of yourself before these brutes. It wouldn’t be the last time, surely. You couldn’t even bring yourself to fully commit to the idea of there being any sort of vast and ethereal field awaiting you when you die anymore; it was already here before you, painted in the color of evergreen and winter blossoms.

König doesn’t laugh, at least. Only places his palm over the front of your neck and guides your head back to look up to him, gives a toothy grin when your eyes light up just from the sight. It was difficult not to when you’ve been fed and pleasured incessantly by him. You reason that your punishment for forsaking all that you once knew must assuredly be your own mind deteriorating to feel the way that you do.

“They are right here,” he says, so quiet and sweet, gesturing between the two of you. He had no interest in your former gods, of what he seems to view as stories for children, but he listens as you tell him the significance of such lofty places cloaked in fog, mist and trees.

His hand finds your cheek, savors in the feel of your skin against his thumb while you tell him of your misplaced belief in him being some son of a war god that he’s never even known, much less prayed to. He then reminds you of the woman he seems certain could have been your mother, says that surely she must have been wed to the shallow of a sparkling lake to birth something as lovely as you.

The men regroup after some time, stilling their horses and your rowdy mare still tethered behind one of the others to speak, access the distance from here and their destination while sipping wine from leather flasks and putting weapons back in their proper places. You listen on, picking up on the few words you did understand from their language, but ultimately gather nothing from it all.

“Where are you taking me?,” you hazard as you try to push yourself forward in a subtle reminder that yes, you were there too, and woman or not you had a right to know.

“Home,” König gruffs simply in response, gathering you back into his arms and taking the reins from your hands. His chin rests atop your head, the fingers of his free hand petting your side in an attempt to snuff out any further questioning. “You will like it.”

Home. Home to the place he had claimed you would find your mother; to foreign woods and wild downs, sprawling hills and little shacks covered in sticks and leather instead of the villas with their terracotta tiles.

You didn’t even know that you had a place to return to at all, not now. Your eyes catch his, though, and you know then just what it truly must feel like to belong someplace. Never had home been Gaius, reduced to smoldering ash in some divine reckoning, but it had always been with someone you truly believe you have wanted. Had you ever even been allowed to want before him..?

Your brow pinches as you shift to rest your head against the broad back behind you, held fast by the iron grip around your waist. The clouds drift by above, the sun casts a warmth over your face and you fall into comfort, into promise.

— — —

Barbarian settlements are strange.

There are no paved streets here crowded with people and decay, no hallowed and looming temples hungry and waiting for sacrifices. The columns are tree bark and very much alive with twisting limbs and growths of green that never seemed to dull even in the winter, not the stiff and lifeless marble you had grown accustomed to.

The homes are pieced together with wood, clay, anything that could be used with no clear rhyme or reason to their architecture. Goats wander about, bleating out for food or ramming into one another for play. The children don’t sit in houses studying or wander from stall to stall snatching and scurrying off, they play and work. There is a strange contentment here, too, something that feathers on the wind as it does the same on each face that you pass,

Everyone seems to have a place, a thing to be, and you feel like the world’s most delicate and forgotten pearl amidst these people who do not even seem to pay you any mind. If anything, they only seem pleased to see the man with his arm cloaked over your shoulders. They smile to him, greet him in their strange words and dip their heads as though he truly were some king.

Maybe he was, to them, to the wild people with no true reasoning to have any sort of monarchy. They barely had land to claim, much less rule over.

You’re not paraded around as a slave: he cups your jaw and lifts your head when your gaze falls to the dirt and dust below your feet, chides you in a rough whisper about how a Königin should present herself. The people do acknowledge you then, with looks of awe and offerings of dried flowers pressed into your palms and tucked behind your ear, Roman bronze dropped at your feet. You look the part of a proper queen too, when you flash them all your loveliest smile and nestle closer to your giant of flame and earth.

Thoughts of your past in the city come to mind when you note their lack of conveniences. Even the dread of forsaking your own gods briefly leaves you halting midstep before a firm hand urges you forward. König’s warmth comes as a comfort now more than ever when your thoughts do eventually circle back to a guilt, heavy and dreadful: the picture of Juno’s altar forgotten and burned away weeks of travel behind you.

“You will like it here,” he mumbles, trailing the same hand up to the back of your neck as he repeats the words he spoke only days prior on your journey. You could, you will, but it all feels so different that your pulse seems to triple its racing.

Your fingers graze over the dried flowers in your hand, sweet smelling as you trace over each petal to center yourself, take back that prideful smile that was in place just a moment ago.

If you’re to run amok, you may as well enjoy it.

You settle, regain your pace and that forced look of utter contentment at his side.

At least, until he begins to speak again.

“I will kill them all if you prefer we be alone,” König whispers into your ear, has the audacity to nip at your lobe, and does not even bother drawing back as if those words were meant to make you wet and pliant for him. All sense of reason must have left you entirely, because a shiver rips its way up each knob of your spine. “Would that please you?”

“No… Do not jest,” you grit out, staring only forward and not offering so much as a glance toward the beast at your side, even as his hand drifts down to palm at your breast.

“I am not.” He laughs, breathy and low when he finds your nipple already hard, thumb grazing over it as though this act of exhibitionism was as natural as any of the other things his madness compels him to do. “I will give you anything. Even blood, meine Göttin.”

Surely… you should be flattered that his loyalty is reserved only for you, but there’s no appeasement held in the glare that you shoot him as you pry his hand away from your chest. He gives you the look of a kicked stray then, even a pout so foreign on a face so scarred, you may have even chuckled if you were in better spirits, but he does relent. His hand drops back to his side and he detached from you after pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth.

You’re led to a shack larger than the others, but more or less in the same state. It’s simple, built solidly with thick carved wood and packed to prevent weather seeping its way in. It’s humble in a way, far more humble than any ruler’s you’ve only imagined. A bench, a table, a mattress likely stolen away from some Roman soldier’s tent. There’s nothing particularly special about it, but it smells like König, like the trees and the earth in a way that is comforting.

It takes a moment for it to fully register that this is what he had meant by home, not the people and their affairs outside, only this place. Only him. A temple all your own that you imagine he must wish to fill with love and children and an abundance of gifts he may steal away all for you.

His men bring in what little of the supplies remained, stuffed away in a corner and voluntarily relinquished; even if it means they’ll be fending for themselves like the others in the village rather than feasting on stores, they only seem happy. The red-haired one even flashes you a contented look of admiration on his way out, as though you just being there was enough to soothe and patch some void here.

That may have been the case.

When the door is shut and all falls to silence, the barbarian king kneels before you. His hands find your hips, thumbs grinding gentle circles along them and further down to your thighs, your calves, to everywhere that aches. A gentle sort of worship that coaxes soft sighs and a buzzing of flesh from you.

König brings you to the mattress when your eyelids begin to flutter, exhaustion settling over you in full when you’re lifted and brought toward his chest. You could fall asleep in his hold alone, but you settle to only rest your head there and reach up along his vastness to rake your fingers through his wild hair.

Your voice tells him that you do like it here, with him, in this strange place circled by withering ferns and trees so infinite that you could never hope to find your way away without him taking your hand and navigating through. Your touch tells him the words that you dare not speak, a kiss to voice that you too would burn away everything if it only meant that you could share in this at his side, a mimicry of his massage along his own shoulder to whisper a great confession of adoration and boundless promises.

— — —

When the ferns and flowers begin to grow again throughout the spring and into the summer, you find yourself accustomed to everything. You aid the women in caring for their children, though you begrudgingly swear that it is not for practice whatsoever. The stitching and cooking that is done here feels far less harrowing— you do not put it off and leave it in a heap upon the floor as you would have in the city. There’s no looming dread of what’s to come when you perfect your work: you’re gifted only smiles, blessings and gifts.

Though the woman König had claimed to be your mother is not here, you ask him to recount the way she looked and spoke to you often on quiet nights, where his hands drift over you and his voice comes in a whisper. She may not have even existed at all, some lost spirit amidst the trees that wails and cries and leads men like him to their destinies. Your heart only tears when you begin to wonder if Juno herself had imparted such a quest to him. Save the lost woman that she favored so much, grant him some divine luck and intoxicating charm to ensure your safety and happiness.

He does not understand when you gather up honey and blossoms to pray over, but he does sit at your side and listen when you whisper your thanks to this new altar. Kisses the crown of your head when you’re through and lures you back into an embrace where he reminds you that he knew what he needed to do the moment that you met at the stream. No other woman could have swayed him the way that you have.

His offerings are only to you, even after such a length of time has passed. There’s no goddess that he kneels for other than the one that sleeps at his side and tells him of her dreams.

The day he gifts you his seax is one that resonates more than even the necklaces and gowns of silk and linen. It feels heavy in your hands, the blade almost as soft as gossamer when your fingers trail along it, though it does not yield. It’s only well polished and freshly sharpened. The handle bears a strange carving in it now, one of two wolves staring up at a broad moon. It breaks something inside to know that even he does find some things sacred: beasts, the glow of an untouched paradise and you.

“Why are you giving me this?,” you manage to whisper as your diligently ghost over the carvings in reverent repetition. “Don’t you need it? For hunting and fighting…”

“You like it?” It’s impossible not to notice the cocky expression on his face that tells you full well he’s recounting that experience. You liked it then, certainly, but it wasn’t as if you had any use for it in such a way when he kept you satisfied enough with himself.

“Yes… but it’s yours.”

He shrugs then, a great lift of his shoulders as you’re pulled to him with a careful grip to the wrist holding the weapon.

“Will keep you safe,” he huffs against your neck, leaving a kiss there when you sheath the seax at the strap you had also been gifted pulled taught along your hip.

You didn’t even know how to use the thing properly, and you were not quite fond of the idea of chasing down rabbits or puncturing another human with it. Your concerns fall on deaf ears when you’re led out into the surrounding forest to a thicket of wild raspberries. Your wrist is steadied by a firm hand as König diligently teaches you to carve away limbs heavy with fruit without actually bringing any real harm to the plant itself.

There are many things to forage this season, some you had never even heard of before he explains their significance to your wonder-filled face. You hadn’t thought him stupid, not truly, but it still comes as a surprise that he seems to know so very much.

When you find yourself seated beside a slow-moving stream, a ripe berry crushed between your teeth, you’re finally allowed to put your new blade away and set it aside on moss-covered stones.

“You should keep it close. A bear might want to eat you, hm?,” he playfully chides behind you, lifting your drab little gown up and over your head. As if to further his point, his teeth rake over your pulse, applying just enough pressure to draw a whine from your lips.

“You are not a bear,” you huff and turn to pull away his tunic, pressing a kiss over the scar he now dons just above his heart.

“Ja…” He lowers his head again to kiss along your neck, trailing a heat up to your ear as he maneuvers you into the water to bathe.

Your foraging and banter go forgotten, and a different sort of howling fills the air shrouded in tree limbs. There are no wolves or wind, only two so feverishly desperate and in love that any other with their dowries and arrangements would find it even more compelling than the Empire itself.

He sinks into you when you’re brought to your knees, bellows his contentment when he brushes your wet hair away from your face and dives forward to cover you fully, bury you in a world of love and sweetness. Even when the act is done, König does not pull away, only lies you back along to shore and tucks you further against him.

You remain chittering and laughing until the sky begins to reflect the very stars you see in his eyes, glittering constellations that seem to flicker and echo the steady beat of his own heart as you lie against his chest.

The summer wedding that the fortune-teller had once spoken of seemed to already take place here. There’s no need for a lectus or some grand display to reveal to others that you’ve united, it comes in the stillness and shared contentment when your voices begin to quiet, and at last you resign yourself to tell him that you belong to him just as much as he belongs to you.

The final flurry of surrender comes out as a soft whisper, one that only leaves you with your knees folded back to your chest and an insatiable giant hugging his gratitude and love into your ear with each graceless snap of his hips.

He drags you down to your own ruin, spells his own with haste and what comes as a twist between a dispatch of tears and a sigh. You can’t recall ever seeing him cry, not even now as he burrows against your neck and shakily breathes against your shoulder, muttering such nonsense about how he would still take you up and into the sky if only you would continue to let him stay with you like this.

“Always,” you murmur fondly, cradling him as closely as possible. Inside, outside, embedded into your very flesh you feel him near. He does not pull out from you this night, only falls asleep in your embrace, cloaks you from the breeze over the water with his own heat. You follow suit, petting at him as though he’s far smaller than his massive weight suggests. He shifts just enough to not fully crush you beneath him, just as you begin to drift off.

When morning does come, König is already stood at your side, staring off into the distance with an expression that only foretells of something you’re certain you will want no part in. He shushes you when you part your lips to speak, nervously scrounging up your gown and the strap holding your gifted weapon. There are no protests from you, and only the babbling of the stream and sounds of distant yelling break up the silence.

You don’t need to ask to know what’s occurring. Just as you had predicted before the Romans had come to dismantle the village just as they had many others before, take the women as slaves and force the children to learn and take up arms for their empire. You had never thought of the violence before when it occurred, when you saw the faces of those miserable women at the sides of people they could never afford to feel any fondness toward. You had always been lucky and blind.

König, however, must have only known wraith. His fingernails dig into his palms, nostrils flared and expression pensive.

“Wartet hier.”

He does not even hesitate as he begins to move, leaving you behind along the peaceful shore. As if to spur you forward, the shallow water rises to lap at your ankles, and still you do not budge. Your hands feel heavy, encumbered by the seax still set in its sheath, and only then does it dawn on you that König had not even had a weapon his person. What good would he even be without one? When so many men armed with sharpened swords and spears had come for his head…

Though fear creeps in, subdues your limbs with its stiffness, rakes fangs of pure ice along every pulsing vein held within you… you can not bring yourself to flee or stay put. You follow, quiet as a wood mouse as you walk along the forest with trembling hands clutching a weapon you almost hope is not too late to save your home, your heart.

There’s no clear trail, no sign of König, not even a shadow or a whisper that may belong to him. Instead there are shouts and the heavy smell of smoke. The gray billows up, more imposing than even the oaks and pines. The only comfort you will yourself to take is the fact that the words you can make out are Germanic, not Latin. Not all is lost, not yet.

You steel yourself and push your resolve to the forefront of your mind, creeping ever closer with careful but steps far more swift. You wind past throning brush and sprawling vine, past trees but familiar and not until you finally cross over from forest to the tall grass lining the edges of the village.

There lies chaos you expect, and that which you do not. Some of the cabins have gone up in flame, fire that coils and spreads to set your nerves alight with memory and dread. There are men fighting at the heart of it all, weapons slick with blood dripping down to the fallen at their feet. The women and children have all fled or have been taken captive, you couldn’t be certain amongst all that was already occurring around you and beyond. You couldn’t even count your enemies, a smaller army no doubt, the arrogance of the Empire knew no bounds. Twenty men to take down one was substantial enough when the others could be used for further conquests.

And there is no sign of König.

You feel numb when no matter where you look you can’t seem to catch sight of him, and how easy a task that should have been given his stature. The seax is pulled from its sheath when grief begins to settle, and the tears that threaten to spill are forced back with a grimace. There was still some hope, you knew. The village was not so small that you could map all of it from the small lump of a hill, but that desire to find him, bare your own teeth and fight at his side to protect what was yours brims up and chokes back the fear harbored in your chest.

Lady or wolf, you cared not. You would lose your titles just as he would if it came down to it. When the histories speak of how that city burned, how a king without a name brought the Empire to kneel if only for a moment before they sought revenge, you would be written in ink alongside it. A devotion so strong echoed in each page, as a barbarian queen that chose to keep her heart and lose her head.

But it doesn’t come to that. There’s another woman stood at König’s side when you do find him, wielding a stolen sword from one of the opposing soldiers as sweat and blood paint his face.

Unharmed and unknowing of the presence at his side, a mirage carved of smoke she was, his eyes stared out towards where the blade struck while her eyes only settled over you. Your breath catches when your gaze moves from König to her and you do find a resemblance: the way that her hair, the same color as your own frames her face, her frame, the way that her nose shapes, even the expression upon her face.

The mother he spoke of, the feral love and protectiveness outspoken and proud in her eyes. You do not recognize this woman, even amidst the cluster of sparse memories in your mind. Not until now had you ever seen her, but the feeling you’re gifted then… a roaring settling in your chest to extinguish all apprehension tells all.

As the last of the Romans is struck down by König himself, a blade sunk so deep into the other’s stomach as the other man spits out a gurgled wail, the woman only seems to fade out into nothing, replaced by the backdrop of the trees surrounding. Nothing left behind in the wake of the place she once walked apart from fallen soldiers and a trail of blood and König, safe as he could be.

When you come to him, teary-eyed and fretful, your roaming fingers do not catch on a single gash. The blood painted over his face, neck, chest is none of his own. He’s well, just as the other men from the village as they rush to snuff out the flames and clear away the bodies.

Though König pants heavily and his eyes are still wild, mind momentarily lost to the thrumming adrenaline in his veins, your touch seems to settle him greatly. The sword falls from his hands to clatter in the dust and muck, curling around you to pull you in. You think he should be angry that you hadn’t listened when he ordered you to stay, but he only seems as grateful as you to find his other half alive and longing still. Always.

You tell him of the woman as you sob into his chest, describe her and her vanishing as best you could in your own muffled voice. He grins, strokes your hair as though he truly believes every word even with how ridiculous it all sounds. There are things far more demanding to focus on now, and eventually you fall to silence as he holds you there.

Your home still stands, built just far enough off from the rest that its managed to avoid the battle entirely. Untouched, except from inside. The altar you had dedicated to Juno is gone, vanished just like the woman you had seen before. The scent of cinnamon hangs in the air, misplaced and unannounced, but a comfort all the same. You smile to yourself, bittersweet but comforting, with tears drying upon your face.

— — —

The village takes time to rebuild.

You lose time just as much as you lose sleep helping out with the endless tasks. König, thinking himself chivalrous, or perhaps hinting at what your future may entail if he continues to ravage you as though he would die without your warmth, never allows you to carry anything heavy. Even clay pots filled with water from the stream are swiftly taken from your hands. Gods forbid you even attempt to aid in cooking over the fires, either. He pulls you away with a hand clasped over your mouth and nose, delicately caressing your face and reminding you to be careful.

Something has changed. What you knew to be love before only seems to double with each passing day. He fusses and dotes over you endlessly, ensuring that you’re well fed, trailing behind you to bathe and it isn’t even just for the chance to sink into your cunt.

Often, he sits with you in his lap, guiding a wet cloth up to gently wash you, toys with your damp hair beneath his fingers, tells you stories of his own adventures and the people who traveled alongside him. Not of the hundred wives his men had boasted about him having, a ridiculous statement only meant to make you pine for him more than you already had, you supposed. He even tells you, sheepishly, that most women seemed afraid of him, but never you.

When you do make love, it’s an act of endless desperation. Along the bank of the stream, your shared bed, against any tree he deems fit enough to not budge beneath your shared weight, and even once in a field of wild blooms you two had found along a foraging trek. The floral aroma had kissed your skin each place he had, left you more doughy and sweet even as you took to conquer him, straddled over his hips with your head thrown back to the wind. You laughed with him when it was through, curled your hand beneath his chin to you with the rough feeling of his unshaven hair.

Everything— each new thing you learn and see with König as your guide only seems to melt away any wall you put up. Your life before only seems to fade from memory, that lonely bitterness consumed by the well of love he’s pushed you into.

When autumn comes and the trees begin to turn, each wealth of green faded and given way for yellow and red, your mare has finally become more docile and tame. You’re not even sure who to thank for it, for the way she struts about with giddy children on her back and doesn’t fuss when even you will yourself to settle over her saddle.

The saddle like all else in your life only seems softer, stitched together with leather, a cushion made of a rabbit’s pelt and stuffed full with straw and down so soft you don’t even dread the idea of the long ride to come.

The mountains, here, surrounding the valley and the village are wild and beautiful, still layered near to their peaks in abundant fields of late-blooming flowers. The stars still hang above, twinkling and glittering as if only to silently deliver their blessings for your coming journey. It is only the sea that you’ve yet to venture toward, the last on the list of honeyed promises König has made to you.

Your luggage is packed and spread between the two horses, your mare and his stallion. There are blankets and preserved food, light posts to set up a tent someplace a distance from the shore, even a pearl dangling from a thin chain that König dutifully places on your neck. It’s no exchange of rings, but you clutch the little gem tight as you will yourself not to cry. There was no need to be so sentimental not now, not after you’ve already shared so many moments far more tender.

The seax dangles at your hip, catching the glow of the sun above when you pull it free and polish it alongside König as he does with his pilfered sword. He shows you how to use a whetstone, delicately maneuvering your hand to sharpen the blade before dousing the thing in oil, makes you swear not to accidentally nick yourself when you’re inevitably dragged in the throes of some hunt at his side.

You’ve yet to use it for that purpose, but going alone means you’ve no choice but to offer your support… even with the knowledge that he wouldn’t actually allow you to do much at all, frustrating as that was.

When morning comes, you say your goodbyes to the village. You’re thrown flowers both pressed and new, petals latching to the fur of the pelt tied over your shoulders. König receives wine, far more useful than the delicate little blossoms that you brush away with shy smiles and glassy eyes.

The language is easier to understand now, when the others offer you great fortune on your travels, the women speaking greatly of your fertility despite the way it makes your nose scrunch in distaste. They call you Königin, only that, never any name you’ve offered for them to use. Perhaps even above the name the people of the city called you by it is more fitting.

You settle into the saddle with König atop his stallion next to you, reach for the reins when he flashes you a wary look, tells you that you will ride slow and he will keep you safe in case anything does happen to occur. You only think to remark the same, gesturing toward the weapon strapped to your hip, smirking when he snorts in amusement.

“Are you ready to depart?,” you ask him as you reach a hand out to trail along his arm, heart thumping wildly when his gaze only begins to further soften. You almost fear he may begin to cry, just as overwhelmed and sweetly pacified as you feel now. “We can stay a while longer if not.”

“Nein… we still need to plan for the stars after,” he whispers as he takes hold of your hand, interlocks your fingers and brushes against each knuckle with the pad of his thumb before bringing it toward his chest.

The moment is broken when the horses begin to huff in anticipation. You don’t get the chance to remind him that you still see each constellation he’s shown to you in the glimmer of his eyes, but you know well enough by now that he would only tell you the same in turn.

[synnamonroll666]

Wicked Temptation

Pairing: Josh Washington x Fem!Reader Description: You decided to stay in the shed with Josh until dawn, letting Chris and Mike go back to the lodge for some much needed rest. But Josh knows a little secret that you've been hiding for a couple years and unfortunately for you, Josh has no mercy to spare tonight... Warnings: Mutual Pining, Mild Violence, Thigh Riding, Grinding, Edging, Humiliation, Degradation, Strip Tease, BlowJob (Male And Female Receiving), Cock Warming, Teasing, P In V, Creampie, Switch!Josh, Switch!Reader, Bondage??? Shibari??? I Don't Know, I Just Went All Out With This One. 😅 Word Count: 10k!!!!! A/N: This is not only my very first Josh Washington smut fic, but it's also the first time I've ever written a fic 10k words long! I've been working on this since January and let me tell you, it's been a struggle to finish it. It started out as some 2k idea but then I decided, since I was changing fandoms, I might as well go big for my first smut fic for Josh. I've put a lot of work into it between editing it dozens of times and watching that shed scene probably billions of times to get the lines correct. Since I have taken so long to write it and put so much effort into it, it's kind of like my baby now and I'm so excited to share it with all of you. As some of you know, I've been going through quite a lot of shit lately but focusing on this has helped me greatly, and that's another reason why this fic means so much to me. So here's to new beginning, because there will definitely be more of this good stuff to come in the future too! Enjoy! 🖤 Main MasterList: 🖤 Synny's Angels: @lorebite, @mornandil, @koexchange, @yesitsloulou, @mistmoose, @jasonexo, @fortune-fool02, and @raven-the-cryptid. (If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know in the comments! 🖤)

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

I followed closely behind Chris and Mike, who had their hands full with a very uncooperative Josh. It had been one hell of a night. First I got chased around by some demented psychopath, then I found a video of my crush of five years being sawed in two; and then I found out that he was actually the psycho all along and he possibly killed one of my close friends, Jessica. I was exhausted, but at least the deadly grip of the cold mountain air around my frame did help to wake me up a bit. I could only think positively at this point. It was the only way to stay sane.

But unfortunately, that did not last long as my thoughts continued to wander down a darker path. It was as if I wasn't even there at all. I had transitioned from reality and found myself trapped within my own racing mind, desperately looking for answers to clarify just what happened on this horrific night. But after a few minutes, Josh yelling in pain brought me out of my dark thoughts.

"Come on, guys…" He whined as his eyes pleaded to us with a look of remorse and guilt. "Seriously — this is crazy, you know?"

"Shut up." Mike spat sternly as he pushed him along the snowy path. It would have looked so beautiful if this was just a late night walk in the woods.

But this wasn't just some late night walk…

Did I feel good about what we were doing? No. But was it necessary? Yes.

I always knew that Josh had some mental health issues since his sisters went missing — I mean, who wouldn't become some level of fucked up from that happening to two people you love. But this — this was something different, and I was beginning to feel very concerned for Josh and our safety.

But as sympathetic as I was towards Josh regarding that situation, it still didn't take away the sting of what he did tonight; especially since me, Chris and Sam had nothing to do with the events that occurred one year ago.

Still — despite the judgmental glares he was given — Josh wasn't going to give up on trying to convince us to free him.

"Chris… Bro…" Josh's eyes met Chris' as he begged for him to have some sort of mercy. After all, they had been best friends since children. But to his surprise, Chris looked away.

"I'm not your bro." Chris spoke lowly in a disappointed tone. And at that moment, I saw Josh's heart break through his eyes. He looked so lost and saddened by Chris' words that it made me want to cry.

Without warning, Mike grabbed Josh's forearm and began pushing him further down the path again, despite Josh digging his heels in the snow to stop him. Josh was a lot bigger than Mike and a lot taller, too. But in this case, Mike's strength won. I figured Josh was weakened due to the blow he took to the head when Mike pistol whipped him.

"Where are we going?" Josh asked — his voice now frantic and full of worry. I could see that he was beginning to panic. "Where are you guys taking me?"

"Locking you up, bro!" Mike revealed as he pushed Josh onto the ground. I wanted to help him back up, since he was tied up and couldn't just simply push himself back to his feet. But I had to hold back; it probably wasn't safe to go near him anyway…

"What?!" Josh shrieked as he struggled to get back up, succeeding after a very weak attempt.

"So you can't do anything stupid before we call the police in the morning."

I couldn't help but agree with Mike's words. It hurt to do, but he was right. Josh was so unpredictable right now, so it was better for all of our safety and Josh's as well, that he got locked up for the rest of the night.

"Come on!" He cried out in another desperate attempt to convince us that he's just an innocent victim in all this. "I didn't do anything—"

"Are you serious, bro?" Despite the dramatic and stressful situation, I literally had to hold back laughter as I remembered Chris declaring only seconds ago that he was no longer his 'bro'.

But that moment was short-lived when Mike piped in…

"You're a God damn murderer is what you are!" He raised his voice as he pushed Josh down once again, his stance becoming dominant and intimidating as he towered over Josh.

I didn't agree with him there. I just couldn't see Josh going as far as killing Jessica. And when Mike told us what had happened — it didn't make sense nor did anything add up. Though I disagreed, I chose to stay silent, not wanting any more fights to occur.

"I didn't do it!" Josh cried as he stood up again. His sorrowful eyes burrowed into Mike's, hoping that he would believe him. "Michael, please! Just listen to me, man! I did not hurt Jessica—"

"Are you insane?!" Chris yelled unexpectedly, surprising us all since he had been fairly quiet for a little while now. "Like really? Do you not understand what you've done?!"

"I'm a healer, man! I bring people together!" Josh's voice began to rise with each word he said, clearly getting frustrated by this whole situation as well. I couldn't blame him… "Not like you assholes!"

His last sentence… It hurt my heart. I had been there for him — I was the one who was there. It made me clench my teeth along with my fists to resist the urge to do something I may have regretted later on.

"That's enough!" Mike finally put his foot down, having enough of Josh's bullshit. But just when I thought it was over — just when I thought that Josh would shut up and we would just get this shit over with, he began to approach me…

"(Y/N)…" He whimpered like a hurt puppy, his sad eyes didn't help either. "Please… You know I wouldn't harm any of you…"

"Josh…" I whined, my voice breaking before I could say anything else. He was only inches away from me now — his face so damn close to mine that I could feel his shaky breath on my cold-bitten skin. Any other day, the warmth would have felt nice on such a cold night. He lowered his head so his mouth was right by my ear.

"Please," he whispered softly. "You know me…"

"That's it!" Merely two seconds after Mike's enraged voice was heard, he was pulling Josh away from me as he begged and cried for my forgiveness. I felt a couple of tears escape my eyes and slowly fall down my cheek, so all I did was look away to hide my pain.

It had only been a peaceful snowfall when we arrived — peaceful like how the night began. But now it was colder, more hectic; a storm much like the one that had erupted during the events of the night. Nothing was peaceful anymore, and I was beginning to wonder if it ever would be again.

"You only see what you wanna see! You're blind!" Josh's rant brought me out of my thoughts again to see Mike pinning Josh face down on the ground. I tried to step in — worried that one of them would get hurt — but Chris put his arm in front of me to stop me from interfering. I knew he was only looking out for me, but it frustrated me greatly.

"Stop talking!" Mike ordered angrily.

"You are— Argh—" Josh struggled to speak as he continued writhing against Mike's hold — but once again, Mike's strength overpowered him.

"Dude!" Chris yelled at Mike, since he was now going too far with his little intimidation tactics. I was glad that at least Chris decided to step in, since he wouldn't allow me to.

"It's not my fault you suckers can't take a joke!" Josh spat bitterly at the three of us and I clenched my fists again until there were angry crescents engraved in my palms, resisting the urge to take advantage of him being pinned on the ground.

"Oh, oh, wait — did I hurt you?" Mike asked when Josh grunted out in pain. Something told me that he didn't care about Josh's well-being though. "Did you just feel a little — little bit of pain right now? I am so, so sorry!"

Mike began pushing Josh's arms into his lower back, causing him to yell out in agony. "Stop it!"

"Mike, please — don't!" I cried out, not wanting any more people to get hurt. I couldn't take it.

"Jesus, dude!" Chris said in disapproval of Mike's actions while Josh continued to yell, "Stop!"

Luckily, Mike listened and lifted Josh back up to his knees.

"Michael… I'm sorry, man…" There was something so genuine in Josh's voice as he spoke — something that only convinced me further that Josh didn't do it… He didn't kill Jessica… "I can't tell you how sorry I am that something happened to Jessica but I swear — I swear to you that I have no idea what happened to her!"

"Shit… Mike, this…" Chris muttered lowly — a look of uncertainty clear on his face as he furrowed his brows."I dunno… Something feels really wrong here, man…"

"Are you joking?" Mike turned around. He looked shocked and… Angry at Chris?

"I–I'm just having a really hard time figuring out that he would — like — do anything to hurt Jess…" Chris explained in a calm manner, despite the look of distress his face held. He clearly didn't want to upset Mike but I knew he felt that this was important enough to bring up.

"Mike…" I spoke up, approaching him slowly. "Did you actually see him murder her? How did he butcher her like you said and drag her away at a speed that you couldn't catch up on at the same time?"

"I saw what he did to her with my own eyes! This—" Mike gestured to his jacket, which was stained with blood. "This is her blood!"

"It just… Something doesn't add up…" I muttered as I backed away slowly.

"Can't we all just get along?" Josh giggled and his change in attitude — his sudden lack of sympathy shocked me. Mike began pulling him to his feet and he winced in pain. "Ow! Dammit!"

"We are not dicking around!" Mike growled in his ear — his tone threatening and harsh.

"This is not right… Nope…" Josh muttered as his brows furrowed together — a sudden disappointment darkening his once sorry eyes. "This is not how it's supposed to go down! You are just a bunch of bullies!"

We all chose to ignore his insults as Mike continued to push him closer to the shed door. My patience was wearing thin and I was honestly getting more and more sick of Josh's shit. And the way he had just reacted to Mike's accusations… It was leading me down another path — the path that told me Josh was guilty…

"You can't just hang out a guy to dry like this, guys… Huh?" He continued to ramble on, putting on what seemed to be a fake, wounded animal act again. "Not like… Not like you got the guts to do anything about it anyway!"

Mike snapped again and pushed him onto the ground once more, only this time a blanket of snow wasn't there to break his fall, since we were now in the shed.

"Oh, stuff it! You're the biggest coward there is!" Chris snarled at Josh, his brows knitted together due to frustration and resentment towards his best — ex-best friend.

"Uh huh?" Josh scoffed. "I did something! I made you believe in the world I created and showed you parts of yourself that you were too afraid to visit!

I couldn't help but shake my head at Josh's gloating while I wondered what had happened to that remorseful, empathetic guy that was here only moments ago.

"You manipulated us, you tricked us, you hurt your friends and you did it all while you hid in the shadows! You're a coward, Josh! That's all you are!" Chris yelled, showing that he officially had enough of Josh's crap. And by that point, I was sure that we all had.

Mike grabbed Josh again, pulled him up and dragged him further into the shed. Once my eyes landed on the stool that was sitting in front of a beam, I knew what was coming. Mike and Chris forced Josh down onto the stool and began unting his hands to retie them around the beam instead. They both told me to stay back but it was hard to do so once they began to hold Josh down and he became erratic as a result.

"Ok, tying me up now! Ok!" Josh acknowledged what they were doing as if he was accepting it, but his body language told me otherwise as he continued to thrash and writhe against his restraints.

"Stay still, man!" Mike demanded as both he and Chris struggled to hold him down and tie his hands back up.

"Right, right, right, right… Still…" Josh parroted and for a brief moment, I thought he was finally going to cooperate…

Man, was I wrong…

"Well, c–can't tie 'em up if they just wiggle around!" Josh shouted as he began squirming around like a child who refused to stay still during time-out.

"Josh, come on!" Chris snarled as he fought Josh to stay still long enough for them to wrap the ropes around his wrists.

"Leave me a little wiggle room, huh?!" Josh continued to squirm as he began to giggle like an immature, defiant little brat. I am ashamed to admit it, but it was painfully hard repressing a giggle of my own at that moment.

"What will it take to shut you up?!" Mike yelled, clearly getting more and more annoyed by the second.

"Ow! Not so tight, ok?! Not so tight, ok…" Josh whined as he winced in pain. Although I doubted that the pain was as severe as he let on.

Then Josh started rambling about plastic ties or something and I zoned out, wondering what was really wrong with him. He clearly wasn't his self anymore and he seemed very, very unhinged at the moment. And then I remembered when Chris said that he was off his meds… He must have been a lot more sick than I thought, and for a lot longer too.

"What… In God's name is he talking about?" Mike muttered to Chris, who was looking as equally confused as both of us.

Chris brought his hand up to his face to rub the bridge of his nose while letting out a stressed sigh. "This is hard to watch…"

"He ever say this kind of shit before?"

"No, I've never seen him like this."

"Maybe he needs some help?" I suggested while glancing over at Josh out of the corner of my eye. "Like, help from a professional."

"Everybody's stupid… Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid…" Josh muttered under his breath, moving on from the plastic tie rant and catching all of our attention. "Chris and Ash… Chris is an ass. Ashley's a dumb-dumb!"

"I'm sorry, what did you say?!" Chris raised his voice slightly as the features of his face contorted with anger. He stepped closer to Josh, who had an obnoxious smirk plastered on his bruised face.

"Well, I said you're a dummy, dummy!" Josh laughed and the mocking sound made Chris' fingers curl into fists.

"What is wrong with you?" Chris asked, clenching his fists so tight that the skin on his knuckles turned pale. I wanted to step in, but just as I took a step forward to insert myself between the two, Mike looked in my direction and shook his head.

"Oh, Ashley… Oh…" Josh sighed as his voice trailed off into a breathless whisper as if he began to zone out. But unfortunately, that didn't last long. "Oh, I never imagined in my wildest dreams that you liked me!" He teased in a mocking tone as his smirk broadened with pride in the way he was taunting his friend.

"Stop." Chris warned and Josh started to make obnoxious kissing noises at Chris.

"Do you know what that sound is? It's the sound of never kissing Ashley, you pussy!"

"Stop!" Chris warned again, rasing his voice louder than before.

"Yeah, you know? Maybe you should let Mike sleep with Jess! I mean, at least he's got some notches in his belt! He'll treat! Her! Right!" With each word in his last sentence, he thrusted his hips in the air as if he was trying to fuck it. I couldn't peel my eyes away. My mind began to wonder what it would feel like if he was thrusting into me that way — how his cock would feel slamming into me at that angle.

"You're fucking pathetic, Christopher!" Josh yelled, knocking me out of my little fantasy.

"I'm going to beat his fucking head in!" Chris growled while winding back the wooden plank he was holding, as if he was actually going to do it.

"Chris! No!" I yelled without even giving it a thought, worried that he was serious.

"Don't listen to him! Not worth it!" Mike said as he put his hand up to get Chris' attention. Chris looked at Mike and then me before slowly lowering the plank, looking pretty embarrassed by his outburst.

"You know what, Josh?" Chris' voice lowered a couple octaves as he spoke — his eyes growing dark with resentment as he did so. He let the plank slip from his fingers to hit the floor with an ear piercing thud. "I'm not keeping your little secret anymore. You are the one who's pathetic!"

Me and Mike glanced at each other in confusion, neither of us having a single idea what Chris was talking about. Though we both instantly noticed the way Josh narrowed his eyes at Chris, growing cold with anger and what seemed like a bit of fear.

He muttered one word — his voice so low that we could barely hear him, "Don't."

"No, no — I think I will!" Chris began to yell again — his frustration clearly exploding into pure anger as he spoke. "How can you sit there and talk about me and Ash, when you've been sitting on your ass and pining away for (Y/N) for the last two fucking years?!"

My mouth fell open after receiving this new information. My heart began to race, picking up speed so fast that I thought I would drop dead of a fucking heart attack. I replayed the words in my head a few times, trying to decide whether or not I heard Chris right or if it was actually real. I couldn't believe it — I just couldn't.

"Don't!" Josh's voice began to sound more like a feral growl than anything, shooting daggers at Chris with his eyes. The air became thick with tension fast and it became all too awkward just standing there, especially since I was the reason for this new argument that had sprouted between the two boys.

"No! You started this, so now I'm going to fucking finish it!"

Chris stepped forwards towards Josh in an aggressive manner, almost seeming as if he was going to punch him. I didn't necessarily think he would and I knew Mike didn't either, but just as a precaution, Mike stepped towards Chris and put his arm in front of him to block him. Chris looked at Mike, his eyes seemed filled with pain due to how the night had carried out. Mike gave him a sympathetic look and stepped back, once Chris seemed a bit more calm. But then Josh let out another obnoxious laugh.

"Hey, Mike!" Josh spoke up but we all stayed silent due to fear of what he might say next. "Mike. Mike. Mike. Mike. Mike. Mike!"

"What?!" Mike growled impatiently as his head snapped in Josh's direction to give him the most brutal glare.

"What happened with Jess, Mike?"

"You know what happened."

"No. No, I–I don't." Josh stammered awkwardly — the tone of his voice and the stutter adding just a little bit more of doubt within me, though I didn't want to admit it to myself or the others. "I've got a problem, Mike. I don't remember killing Jess."

"Chirst…" Mike muttered in frustration. I could tell that he was trying not to snap and I felt so bad for him.

"I mean — like — I feel like I would remember killing her, you know? She's so soft and she's probably got, like, a really tight bod—" He flashed a smirk and for a moment, I felt a bit — no — a lot of jealousy surging through my veins due to his filthy words about my deceased friend. I went to say something — anything to get him to shut up but Mike beat me to it.

"Shut your fucking mouth!" He roared as he pointed his gun right at Josh's head. Josh's mouth fell agape in shock as he stared down the barrel of the gun, quiet for the first time in awhile. Panic ran through me as I subconsciously grabbed Mike's arm to stop him but he pushed me back with his free hand before placing it back on the gun with the other, holding the firearm in a death grip.

To my surprise and Mike's as well, Chris swung the plank he was holding down and hit Mike in the arms, forcing him to drop the gun as he let out a yell in pain and shock.

"Seriously?" Mike grunted as he straightened back up, narrowing his eyes at a very confused Chris.

"W–What?" Chris seemed surprised by Mike's reaction, which was odd to me, because who wouldn't be pissed off at somebody for doing that?

"Did you think I was going to shoot him?" Mike questioned him and I chose to stay silent although my mind was screaming 'yes'.

"I–I dunno…" Chris stammered as he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. I could tell he was starting to feel dumb due to his actions.

"Come on, Chris! You know me better than that!" Mike scolded him. I wanted to step in — to tell Mike that it was just a mistake. But before I could say anything to make the situation better, Josh had to open his big mouth again.

"Yeah, Chris! You know me better than that!" He mocked with laughter heavy in his voice. I turned and gave him a glare that clearly said 'shut the fuck up' before turning back to the conversation.

"Ah… Yeah… Well, next time, just give me a heads up, alright?" Chris asked and I could tell that he was still a bit startled by what happened. I understood where he was coming from — he just didn't want to see his friend get hurt.

"Oh, you poor little piggies! You can't even get your 'good cop, bad cop' routine to work! Leave it to the pros, bros!"

At that moment, I had enough. I no longer found Josh funny — he was getting on my nerves and I was tired of everything. I turned to the smug bastard and didn't even think twice about what I was about to say.

"Oh, shut up!" I snapped, clearly surprising everyone in the room, including myself. Josh's eyes widened as his mouth fell ajar. But not only five seconds later, his eyes narrowed with mischief and his lips turned up into another smirk.

"Oh, really?! You really, really want me to? A–And what about you, (Y/N)? Huh?" I felt a chill go down my spine as he said my name, knowing that this wasn't going to end well. "A little bit of advice: You should probably keep a lock on your diary."

I froze completely still as if I was paralyzed from fear and embarrassment. I remembered each dirty thought about Josh that I had written in that diary and I winced.

"W–What?" Was the only word I could speak out of disbelief.

"Fuck, with that many pages, you could publish a God damn porn novel!" He laughed and I cringed even more, falling deeper and deeper into the abyss of eternal embarrassment with each word he said. "Or is it a movie you want to make?"

He wiggled his brows as he licked his lower lip, eyes darkening as they traveled up and down my form for a brief moment. Luckily, Chris noticed how tense I was and decided to step in.

"O–Ok, that's enough!" He shouted at Josh and he responded with a sly smirk.

"What? She wants it! Just read the dozens of dirty thoughts she had written in her little book. Fuck, I should be getting paid for how much she used me in her naughty little stories!"

"Josh, shut the fuck up!" Mike's voice came out like a roar as he stepped closer towards the bound man in an attempt to intimate him.

"And I saw your needy eyes oogling my junk as I humped the air! Don't pretend, (Y/N)! Don't deny what you're dying for!"

"Alright, everybody shut up!" Mike screamed so loud that it almost didn't sound like him. We all froze in shock, since we had never seen him this angry before — not even after every time him and Emily would fight. "Chris, (Y/N), you guys go back to the lodge and make sure everything's alright. I'll stay here with this lunatic until the morning."

The first thought in my head was to protest. Not only was I worried about leaving Josh alone with Mike for Josh's safety against Mike's anger, but I was also worried about what Josh would say about me to Mike. I wondered just how much of my diary he had read and winced again when I thought about the dirty things I had written. I opened my mouth to reject Mike's plan but instantly got cut off.

"Oooo, sleepover!" Josh piped in before I could say a thing to Mike — a childish grin tugging at the corners of his lips. "C–Can we order pizz–ah?"

Me, Chris and Mike all let out an audible sigh and I resisted the urge to smack the smile right off Josh's face. Chris grabbed my arm and lightly tugged me in the direction of the exit, but I pulled away, leaving Chris cocking his head and arching his brow in confusion.

"Listen — you go back to the lodge with Chris. I'll stay here with him." I offered as I approached Mike and he narrowed his eyes at me, seemingly equally as confused as Chris was.

"No. I can handle Josh. It's fine." Mike spoke calmly yet his eyes still told me that he was wary of my offer.

"Mike, you've had a rough night and Josh will just antagonize you until dawn if you stay. You deserve to rest." I placed my hand on his shoulder while looking into his eyes to show my sincerity. "I can handle Josh for the rest of the night. It's no big deal."

He raised a brow while chewing on the inside of his cheek, contemplating my offer. Finally, after an awkward moment of silence, Mike sighed and nodded his head in agreement.

"Alright. We'll be back first thing in the morning, ok?" He said and I nodded as I let go of his shoulder.

"Ooooooo, a sleepover with (Y/N)! That's even better than with Mr. Grumpy Face! Fuck pizza! Let's skip it and go straight to the pillow fight in our underwear!" My jaw dropped as my attention snapped over to Josh, who was wearing a big smirk — so proud of what he had just said. I couldn't see Chris and Mike's faces, since my eyes were too busy trying to kill Josh with a death stare — but due to the awkward silence that instantly filled the room, I could imagine that they held expressions similar to my own.

"Are you sure?" I heard Mike whisper over my shoulder. I slowly turned to face him but my eyes stayed glued to the floor, being too embarrassed to look anybody in the eyes at this moment.

"Yes, Mike. It's ok." I sighed as I brought my hand up to my face to massage the bridge of my nose.

"Here," to my surprise, Mike handed me his gun, cocking it as he did so. "Just in case."

"I don't think I'll need it but thank you." I said and he nodded at me before giving Josh a 'be good' glare, then turning his heel and heading towards the exit of the shed.

"Goodnight, (Y/N)." Chris smiled at me awkwardly and then followed Mike to the door.

"Goodnight, guys." I called out as I sat down on a nearby stool, turning my attention to the man bound before me. This was going to be a long night…

"Alright, you squirrely little fuck. It's just you and me." I uttered while glancing at Josh out of the corner of my eye, feeling rather frustrated with the way he was behaving and quite obviously embarrassed by the words he had just spat out at me in front of my friends. A few minutes of unexpected silence had passed which had surprised me greatly. Unfortunately, that silence didn't last.

"(Y/N)?" Josh spoke shyly and I instantly winced at the sound of his suspiciously calm voice.

"What?" I growled as I glared at him through narrowed eyes.

"I want pizza!" Josh whined like a bratty child. Though his voice was laced with a child-like innocence, I could see the evil mischief in his green eyes — now appearing grey under the dim light of the room.

"Oh, not this again!" I muttered as I rubbed my hands down my face, feeling so tired already of babysitting this little brat. But I had to protect what little privacy I had left and to keep the boys from fighting again. I just had to be smart with this. I looked away, hoping that if I ignored it, it would eventually shut up. But I was greatly wrong.

"Please, please please please, please, please, please, pleeeeeeeeeease!" He continued to beg until I finally had enough.

"Fine!" I snapped as I took my phone out of my pocket.

"Yay!" Josh cheered excitedly as his eyes lit up and his lips parted to make a toothy grin.

I walked into the middle of the room and set my phone down in the middle of the floor before walking back to my stool and sitting back down. Josh stared at my phone a moment and then turned his head to look at me, confused by what I had just done.

"Go ahead — order your pizza." I said with a cocky smirk growing on my face.

"W–What?" He yelped in shock, which made me feel quite satisfied.

"Aww, what's the matter? You can't? Well, I guess you're not getting your pizza then!" I teased him in a whiny baby voice as I stuck my lower lip out to pout.

"What?! Why?!" He shrieked at my mockery and I just chuckled darkly.

"Well — first off, the pizza guy can't get here because they don't deliver this far — genius. And second, consider it payback for all the shit you put us through tonight!" I subconsciously raised my voice at the man–child before me and he only responded with a roll of his eyes and a scoff as if I was the one in the wrong.

"Oh, for fuck sakes, (Y/N)! It was just a prank!" He sneered and I scoffed at his remark, feeling shocked and angered that he had the audacity to say such a thing. "And I didn't even want the damn pizza! I was just trying to piss you off."

"Oh, was it?! Well, I don't think it was very funny! First, you put on a show of you getting sawed in half for me, Chris and Ashley to get traumatized from; and then you chase me around the lodge while pretending to be some stupid movie serial killer?!" I vented out my rant, feeling my body heat up with rage as I did so. I didn't even notice how hard I clenched my fists, cutting angry crescents into my palms as my knuckles turned white.

I chose to ignore his confession about the pizza, since I knew this. He knew that I couldn't get one for him at the moment, so there was no other reason for him to ask. But I decided not to say anything about the matter, because I was too pissed off about what he had said prior to the confession.

"Come on! You have to admit that was pretty epic!" He gloated with a laugh with a look on his face as if he was remembering the events of the night, all crafted by his hand.

"Oh, fuck off!" I growled through gritted teeth, growing pretty close to punching him right in the face.

"If I'm being honest, I didn't expect you to react the way you did. And here I thought your feelings were only sexual." He said with the same smug smirk plastered on his face. But something had changed; there was a sudden hint of softness laced within his eyes and voice — something he was trying to mask by his cockiness but slowly began to break through the cracks only a tiny bit, just enough for me to see it.

I shuddered as the memory replayed itself in my mind. There I stood, helpless and screaming while banging on a cage-like door, begging for mercy on my two friends. I couldn't choose, so Chris had to make the decision — a decision that ended with me weeping on Chris' chest over the loss of a love I never got the chance to have, while the man I wished to experience it with screamed in pure agony as his body got torn in half — or so I thought it did.

I turned my head away without saying another word, mostly because I could not trust my voice enough to actually speak. I stared at the door as if I actually took an interest in it, just to avoid eye contact with the man. Of all the ways he had to find out about my feelings for him, it had to be this way; I was so mad and embarrassed.

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

Some time had passed and the temperature had only seemed to drop lower and — despite my anger and embarrassment heating me up — it didn't stop the feeling of a thousand little needles poking into me all over my body as the harsh cold embraced me. Things had been completely silent, which I appreciated because I knew that I would not be able to speak without my teeth chattering. And I knew that Josh would only mock me for that. I crossed my arms over my chest, hugging my torso tightly in an attempt to warm myself and stop myself from shivering before Josh took notice.

"Cold?" I heard him finally speak up.

'Shit!' I cursed in my head. 'So much for trying to warm up before he noticed.'

"Y–Yeah…" I mumbled, still not daring to look at Josh after the things he had said. Lord knows my face was probably as red as a rose.

"Well, why don't you come over here and warm yourself up on my lap?" My eyes widened at his words and I scowled at the tone of his voice; I could practically hear his smirk in it.

"Oh, God—"

"I want him to be the reason I feel warm in the winter. I want to melt into his arms as he makes love to me and make the harsh winter feel like a beautiful summer." I froze as my eyes widened in terror when I recognized those words from my diary. "What? I–I'm just goin' by the book!"

"Just— How much of my diary did you read?" I asked, afraid of the answer.

"Hmmm… Well, I started at a couple months ago and ended at: 'And then Josh bent down to place a gentle kiss on my clit before dragging his soft tongue between my folds.'"

'Shit! He read about my dream last night!' My heart began to race with humiliation and the regret of asking my question as he recited every word from my diary, dragging out and exaggerating every word like he was a porn star.

"And I kept calling out his name. 'Oooh, Josh! Harder! More! Dominate me! Oooh, Daddy!'" I jumped up from my seat as he moaned out those words, shocked and appalled by his lies and behavior.

"I did not write that!" I screeched in anger as my body heated up with rage, making it easy to forget about the painful cold.

"Oh, admit it, little kitty! Those words might not be down in your little book, but you and me both know damn well that that's what you hear in your head." He snapped back and I stood in silence. I couldn't deny it because he was right. Suddenly, a wicked idea popped into my head as my lips twisted into a mischievous grin.

"Why so creative with it, Josh? Maybe instead of those words being in my head, those are the words that are in your head!" I accused as I pointed a finger at him.

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that, baby." He scoffed while rolling his eyes. "Why don't you just be honest with yourself, honey? You want to ride the Josh express and be taken to the bone zone! Just admit it! Come on, (Y/N)! Admit i—"

"Fine!" I yelled, interrupting him and, to my surprise, his eyes widened as if he was a bit stunned by my outburst. "I want to fuck you! Alright?! I've dreamed about you doing things to me every fucking night since we fucking met! And I can't take anymore!"

His shocked expression formed into a cocky one as his lips turned up into a smirk again. He just stared at me for a moment in silence as I tried to look everywhere but in his direction, terrified to make eye contact after my naughty little confession.

"We're alone here; Chris and Mike went back to the lodge, so is there really any reason to hold back?" His words pierced into my mind like a fishing hook, stabbing that curious part of my brain and reeling me into his sick grasp. I shyly looked up at him and bit the inside of my cheek, not knowing what to do or say.

His eyes darkened further with lust as they peered up at me while his tongue slipped out to lick his lower lip before sucking it between his teeth. He knew exactly what he was doing — he was killing me with temptation. But was he just toying with my emotions? He was hell bent on humiliating everybody else tonight, so what made me so different? For all I knew, there was a camera hidden somewhere to humiliate me as well. I heaved a deep sigh, feeling tired and quite frankly sick of caring. I took a few steps closer to the bound man in front of me before making my very first move.

I stopped right in between his open legs and raised my hand to his head, running my fingers through his surprisingly soft curls and then clenching my digits into a fist, pulling his head back and forcing him to open his mouth as he let out a hiss in pain. I took the opportunity to clash my lips against his and slide my tongue into his mouth, pushing it harshly against his with much need and passion.

A wild fight for dominance began as I lowered myself onto his lap and started to grind myself on his thigh. The sensation it brought me was dull but just enough to add a little more fuel to the fire and dampen my panties. As our mouths explored each other, my other hand roamed his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath the button-up shirt he wore, that I so badly wanted to tear off.

It was then that I realized I couldn't do that without taking off his overalls first. And even then, I had some layers that needed removing as well. I pulled away and he let out a groan of protest while looking up at me with needy eyes. I couldn't help but smile down at him before unzipping my jacket and letting it slide off my shoulders to hit the ground. Understanding what I was doing, Josh's eyes lit up with excitement like a puppy watching his master prepare his food. He watched as I took off my shirt and pants, throwing them on the floor in a messy pile, along with my discarded winter jacket.

Leaving my bra and panties on to tease him, I stepped closer towards him and ran my finger down one of the straps of his overalls before popping its button open, letting it fall to reveal more of his shoulder. I repeated the same actions with the second strap and then pulled the overalls down, just passed his knees. I took a moment to admire his already huge erection — which was pressing firmly against his boxers as if it was dying to escape from its fabricated prison — before slowly working on the buttons of his flannel shirt.

"Ah! Would you hurry up!" He whined as I took my sweet time, taking at least three seconds to pop each button open.

"Ah, ah, ah—" I scolded teasingly. "Be patient. After all, you deserve a little teasing after the shit you pulled tonight."

He responded with another groan and I couldn't stop myself from chuckling at his childish nature. I pulled his shirt open but realized that he had a shirt on underneath — one that could not be opened.

"Oh… I guess you'll just have to keep wearing that." I commented and he gave me a questioning look.

"Why?"

"Because you're tied up."

"For fuck sake." He grumbled with a roll of his eyes. "Why can't you just fucking untie me?"

"You know why. Besides, it's ridiculously cold outside, so extra layers are a good thing." 

Then I kneeled down, ignoring the shock of the cold floor touching my bare knees. I ran a single finger over the throbbing erection through his boxers and he visibly shivered as a reaction. Smiling with satisfaction due to his response, I decided to give him a little more by darting my tongue out and lightly dragging it over his cock, the same way I had done with my finger only moments ago. He let out a soft moan as he let his eyes fall shut, savoring the moment the best he could.

I then hooked my fingers underneath the waistband of his boxers and began pulling them down. He responded to my actions by lifting his hips up, allowing me to pull them down his legs and finally release his cock into the cold night's air. I stared in amazement at his thick length. Josh was a big guy — 6'2" tall to be exact — so I expected there to be quite some girth in his size. But fuck — I thought shit like this was only possible in pornography.

Noticing some of the pre‐cum building up in the slit of his swollen tip, I couldn't stop myself from darting my tongue out to lap it up in one quick sweep. Then I wrapped my lips around his head and sucked on it as hard as I could, earning a deep satisfied groan from him as he jerked his hips up to force me to go deeper — but I pushed them back down with my hands.

"Fuck, if you don't give me something— anything—"

"You'll do what?" I interrupted after pulling his tip out of my mouth with a loud pop. I smirked at him as he let out a strained whine — now completely dominated and owned by me. "Fine. Since you've been such a good boy, I'll give you a little more — how does that sound?"

"Oh— Oh, yes please!" He begged desperately — his voice laced with a pathetic whine

as his eyebrows turned up, making him appear far more innocent than both me and him knew him to be.

I stood up and reached behind my back to unhook my bra and then allowed it to slide down my arms and hit the cold floor beneath me. After letting his hungry eyes linger on my 'girls' for a minute, I turned around so my back was facing him before letting my fingers hook into the waistband of my panties. I made sure to bend over and push my ass out to give him a great show as I slowly pulled them down and let them join my bra on the floor. I straightened up and twirled around, only to be surprised by the dangerous look in Josh's eyes. They were dark and full of pure lust and hunger; it made my core ache for him.

I slowly walked over to him as he licked his lips impatiently like a starving wolf waiting to devour his next meal. The sound of my bare feet slapping against the cold concrete went insync with each passing second, adding to the growing anticipation that was driving me wild. I finally stood just an inch away, staring down at the hungry man before me and admiring his bound form. I buried my hand in his thick hair again but this time, I pulled his head forward, forcing his lips to crash into my pussy.

Taking the hint like a good little boy, his tongue began to work away at my mound, flicking the little bundle of nerves at a rather fast pace. The sensation was incredible — I felt my whole body heat up in a matter of seconds due to the burning arousal his tongue was bringing me. And just when I thought it couldn't get any better, he wrapped his soft lips around my clit to suckle on it as his tongue did it's magic.

Tears began to pool into the corners of my eyes as I felt my orgasm fast approaching. I couldn't fucking believe that I was this close already. His green eyes peered up at me, burning with nothing more than determination to make me cum as his brows furrowed. That sight alone was enough to push me closer to the edge — but when he started moaning, my legs were turning into jelly.

I tossed my head back and moaned so loudly that I wouldn't have been surprised if the others at the lodge could have heard me. My heart was beating so fast that I could have bet that it was going to explode out of my chest. This felt so amazing. I felt so free — hell, so alive! But although I was so close to my climax that I so desperately wanted and needed, I didn't want to cum like this. Not yet, at least…

I pulled away and he let out yet another groan of frustration. Lifting his chin so he would be forced to look up at me, I admired my work, taking in the image of his mouth and chin glistening with my juices as he licked his lips to taste my leftovers. Deciding that I didn't want to waste another second and that it was time, I placed my hands on his shoulders to steady myself before allowing myself to sink down onto his lap — but not all the way. He wasn't getting this that easy.

The stinging sensation of his tip pushing into me and stretching me out was so fucking pleasurable that it was nearly impossible not to continue going all the way, but I wanted to rile him up — I wanted this to last. He let out an annoyed grunt when I stopped and smirked down at him. His eyes shot daggers into mine, gleaming at me with want and frustration and nothing more. I couldn't help but chuckle at how pathetic he was at that moment — how he teased me for being such a needy little slut and now that's exactly what he had become.

"I bet it's killing you right now, being tied up and not in control for once. How does it feel?" I chuckled darkly as I sat completely still, enjoying the tip of his cock twitching within me with much need. But to my surprise, his lips turned up into a dark grin as he let out a combination of a laugh and a growl.

"Y–You think I'm not in control? Oh! Ooooh, you naive little bird! You are so wrong!"

Before I could say anything, he jerked his hips up, forcing each inch of his length into me within a second until his tip slammed into my cervix. I cried out in shock as my core stung with pain due to the lack of preparation for his size until that pain melted into nothing but pure pleasure. He was so much bigger than me, it was overwhelming.

His cock continued to twitch within me — on purpose to tease me or with arousal, I'm unsure. I felt my mind fog with pleasure as I began to fall sedated from my arousal before remembering what I was planning to do. I wasn't here to fall to submission at the hands of this man but to teach the little brat a very valuable lesson: Don't fuck with me.

I gripped his shoulders tightly, digging my nails into the fabric of his shirt for leverage before lifting myself up and slamming myself down hard, knocking unexpected moans from both of our mouths. I wasted no time to start bobbing myself up and down at an incredibly fast pace, bringing the needy sonuvabitch to the edge of his orgasm and then stopping at the very second I felt his shoulders tense up and his cock twitch within me.

A frustrated growl left his lips as he glared at me. I responded with a cocky smirk before lifting myself up again — as slowly as possible — and slamming down again, making the stool beneath us creak a little. Burying my fingers into his soft locks again, I forced his head upwards so I could make eye contact with him as I tortured him. I ground my hips down onto his, rotating them in a circle and his eyes widened — almost pleading to me while he pursed his lips as if he was trying to stifle his moans.

"Ah, ah! If you want more, you have to let me hear it!" I teased before clenching my hand that was tangled in his hair into a fist, pulling on his locks hard and forcing his mouth open.

He openly and shamelessly moaned for me as tears formed in his eyes. I chuckled at his neediness and then leaned down to let my lips graze the side of his neck before giving the sensitive skin a little nip. And I have to admit, I really enjoyed the sound of him gasping in shock at my action.

I then began planting slow kisses along the length of his neck until my lips pressed against the sweet spot right under his jawline to feel his racing pulse quickening by the second. After giving him another little nip and earning another cute, little gasp from him; I began giving him more wet, hard, open-mouth kisses; repeating the same patterns up and down his neck.

After a couple of minutes of completely savoring his delicious taste, I decided to end the torture on a wild note and licked a stripe up his throat from the base to his jaw, feeling the vibrations of his sweet melodic moans while he lifted his head to give me more access as I did so.

I pulled away slightly to look into his wide eyes and smirked before planting a quick kiss on his lips. It was difficult to keep myself from giggling at his shocked expression from my most recent actions. Now that the torture was over, it was time to get straight to business. I lifted myself up and sank back down again, deciding to move at a more neutral pace to savor the moment. I never thought that I'd be here, fucking Joshua fucking Washington, so I was going to milk every second out of this special occasion.

I squeezed his shoulders tightly as I pushed myself up, his cock sliding out of my walls until only the tip remained. I slammed back down, moaning as his head hit right into my g-spot. The way his eyes fluttered shut and his head lolled back as I slammed myself down sent chills straight down my spine. I had wanted this for so long — too long. And I definitely wasn't done with my little teasing game.

I lifted up again and held still in my position, earning a frustrated groan from my lover. Only his tip remained within me, leaving an empty feeling within my core as it ached for what was no longer there. I wanted to absolutely rail him until he was speechless — the pleasure that I so desperately craved just within reach. I felt the speed of my heartbeat increase with each passing second. The cold night's air dragged its chilling fingers down my back, sending chills down my spine and awaking goosebumps upon my skin. I wanted this so, so bad.

But I had to stay strong — I had to keep control.

I swallowed thickly and took a deep breath in an attempt to stifle my growing arousal for a bit longer. But just when I finally regained the little bit of control that had been slipping through my fingers, Josh let out another frustrated growl before his eyes burrowed deeply into mine with anger.

"That's it!" He yelled and before I could react, he jerked his hips upwards, forcing his thick shaft deep into my hole. I couldn't hold back — it was too much. I let my head fall back as a moan pushed passed my lips. My walls stretched and clenched around him, swallowing his length within my heat and savoring the stinging pleasure it offered me.

He continued to buck his hips into mine, his strength and speed overwhelming me in an orgasmic bliss. I was in such a trance that I didn't even notice my hand traveling below my waist to play with my sensitive mound that was swelling for attention. Well — I didn't notice until Josh pointed it out, of course.

"Oh, yes! Good girl!" He praised my actions — his voice dipping a few octaves lower than before, only pushing me closer to the edge of ecstasy. "Touch yourself for Daddy!"

His words sent a buzz to my mind that no alcohol could replicate. It was as if he was casting a spell on me, and each word he spoke had me falling deeper and deeper into his grasp.

I knew that there was no escape now. After hours of trying to run away, the killer had finally caught his prey — and I was oh, so willing to be his helpless victim.

"You are so, so wet right now." He whispered in my ear, a light chuckle on the edge of his tongue. "You're such a slut for me."

I sobbed at his harsh words and he let out an evil laugh.

"Come on — I wanna hear you say it."

"I–I'm — ah!"

I could barely even speak under his cruel gaze. It was as if his bold eyes had me frozen in place, only allowing me to let out moans and uneven breaths as I approached my climax. But just as I thought I had gotten off the hook from disobeying Josh's orders, he slammed his hips up in what felt like a new angle, pushing his cock deeper inside of me and pressing it so hard against my g-spot that I literally saw stars. I barely let out a squeak as my breath caught in my throat, trapping any sound from escaping me.

"I. Said. Say it!" He growled through gritted teeth. His eyes were growing in size with what I thought was anger, pupils dilating and nearly covering his light green irises completely.

"I–I–I'm your s–s–s–slut–t!" I struggled to say in a strained voice. I felt so small under his judgmental gaze, but I assumed that was what he wanted. Though his features softened at my weak declaration and he smiled sweetly — so sweet it almost made me cry.

"That's right — you're my precious little slut." He cooed lovingly. "Good girl."

With that being said, he began to move again. His movements were slow at first, but his pace quickly picked up to a speed that I thought was damn impossible. My trembling fingers gripped his shoulders as I felt myself nearing the end. Even he began to shiver as his once steady breaths became uneven and deep, telling me that he must have been close as well.

I wrapped an arm around his neck as I placed my finger on my clit once again. We remained in eye contact — foreheads pressed together as we shared breaths — while my finger quickened its pace in fast little circles over my throbbing mound.

But then, it happened — my climax covered my body like a tsunami and drowned me in a sea of intoxicating pleasure. It was as if a spark had lit within my core and spread throughout my body as fast as a wildfire; it was magical. I could barely even hear myself scream out as blood rushed to my ears and made my heartbeat the only sound they could comprehend.

I was lucky that I just barely came out of my post–orgasm daze just in time to see Josh releasing within me. His eyes squeezed shut as his head lolled back and his mouth fell wide open while he let out a moan that was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard.

It was an image that I had imagined hundreds of times, but the real thing could never compare to any fantasy I had ever conjured up in my mind — and I'd treasure it forever.

"Are you… Ok?" I heard Josh whisper. His voice was now soft and breathless, soothing me in my fragile state.

I let out a hum in response, not bothering to lift my head from where it rested on his shoulder or speak words that were bound to be pronounced wrong due to my shaky voice. I was too tired to do anything at that moment. I felt him beginning to soften inside of me and I let out relaxed sigh while closing my eyes.

"No…" Josh whispered again — his tone now more concerned and sympathetic. I finally lifted my head to meet his gaze and noticed that his eyes looked just as sympathetic as his voice sounded — so sad and remorseful. "I mean, are you ok from the prank? I'm so sorry."

His voice broke on the last sentence, and for the first time that night, he looked as if he was going to cry. My heart felt heavy for him. He seemed so broken and messed up since his sisters went missing. How could I blame him for wanting us to feel a tiny bit of the same pain he felt? I decided to just brush off my feelings now — for his sake. I let out a soft laugh and nodded my head slowly.

"Well, Josh — one thing's for sure: you are going to make one hell of a film producer." I chuckled while brushing the loose strands of hair out of his eyes. Josh's eyes widened while his mouth fell open dramatically as he let out an over-exaggerated gasp.

"D–Does this mean you actually liked my prank?!"

I giggled at his childish behavior. I didn't want to admit it, but it was probably a little too late for holding back now. I heaved a defeated sigh before speaking my confession.

"If I'm being honest, your prank was actually kind of — really impressive." I reluctantly admitted, thinking back to all the things he somehow managed to pull off by himself.

"I fucking knew it!" He gloated as that too familiar smirk returned to his lips. I rolled my eyes while letting out a huff of laughter.

"Don't get so cocky.* I narrowed my eyes at him — though the smile on my face most likely told him that I wasn't as angry as I was prior to our fuck. "Honestly, I'm not angry anymore. but that doesn't mean I fully forgive or trust you again — not yet, at least."

"What? Just little old me?" He whispered so quiet it was barely audible, while giving me a look of pure innocence. "Just little old me, tied up here and helpless?"

I shook my head as my smile reluctantly broadened. "Keep acting cute like that and I might just have to untie you."

"Oh — so, it's working?" His lips curved up into a sly smirk and I rolled my eyes again while letting out a huff of laughter.

Finally — after so long — everything had finally melted into silence. Josh just gazed into my eyes lovingly, without saying a word. I felt so calm — so peaceful. I laid my head on his shoulder and relaxed again. Despite the cold air chilling my body to the bone and the feeling of warm liquid turning cool between my thighs, I felt so content to just stay on his lap the whole night.

But then I remembered something important: I could only do that until dawn, since Josh would most likely end up getting arrested then. I was grateful for the long moment of silence, because it gave me time to think.

While thinking, I must have lifted up my head without realizing because when I barely came out of my thoughts, Josh was staring at me with a puzzled expression. I barely reacted to him as my mind went elsewhere again.

"Hey… Do you have the keys for the cable car?" I asked after a couple of very quiet minutes — my voice just above a whisper as I continued to stay lost in my thoughts.

"Yeah... Why?" His face studied mine while his brows furrowed and lips pursed from confusion.

I continued to think for a few seconds. What I was thinking of was quite reckless and dangerous, but in the end, it might have been worth it. Finally deciding on what I was going to do, my lips turned up into a sly smile as I studied his beautiful features that were contorted with confusion, knowing that what I was going to say about going to change the butterfly effect of tonight drastically.

"Let's get the fuck out of here."

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

You made it to the end! Good for you! I hope you enjoyed it! 😃 What was your favorite part of the story? Feel free to let me know in the comments! I love getting feedback! Oh, and if this fic does well, I might just write a sequel someday... 👀

[kazzeyy]

I have just got to rant rn.

My entire friend group imploded because one of the girls (we’ll call her Kasey) decided that associating with “zionists” like me and my one other Jewish friend wasn’t sustainable (I assume).

The one “conversation” we had with her (that now has been framed as a “fight” somehow) was me and my friend so so gently and carefully and kindly pointing out via instagram that one of the dozens of propaganda things she was sharing in her stories was problematic, and explaining to her why. It’s actually pathetic how much we were trying not to hurt HER feelings and assure her we also don’t like bibi, etc (btw she is not Arab, Palestinian, Muslim, nada. She just decided to care deeply about this one thing post-10/7 and utilize her instagram to only share things about big bad Israel—she has never posted a single political thing before mind you).

She responded to our message in a wishy washy fashion and ofc didn’t offer to take down the offending post. Then WE thanked HER for listening to us and hearing us out. LMAO. My Jewish friend then messaged Kasey separately asking her in a heartbreaking way to please show some support for Jews—for her. Not Israel, not the war, just Jews. Kasey responded by saying “well a week ago i shared this post that mentioned Jews” and that her main priority was caring about the people in Gaza. Yeah.

From that point on my friend and I decided to be cordial with Kasey but not go out of our way to see her outside of when the larger group got together. Which I think is very forgiving of us. My Jewish friend even still extended Kasey the invite to come to her own home!! She ofc continued posting ridiculous shit to her instagram relentlessly, but at one point must have blocked us from her stories bc one of the other girls told us she had been posting things we weren’t seeing. Guess she couldn’t handle being challenged on her views.

Well anyway, soon enough Kasey decided to stop interacting in the group chat at all. I guess our presence in her life even digitally was too much for her! Despite the fact our only “conversation” was the single one on instagram that was extremely cordial and respectful on our end. So I can only guess why she didn’t want to associate with us Jews anymore…

A little while later I hung out with one of the other girls in the group—Cat. Cat is someone who has studied history in some ways and had been open about listening in the past. So I opened up to her about my frustration and anger about the rising antisemitism in the US, and the impossible situation I felt Israel was in with Hamas locating themselves in civilian areas, etc. I can’t tell you the amount of times I stressed how upsetting it was for me to see so many people dying and how heartbreaking it was. I theorized about day 2 and what it would take to de-radicalize Gaza, which would entail re-education, etc. (This is foreshadowing.)

And then one day I was doom scrolling as one does and saw a claim that some American professor was posting blatant terrorist support on his instagram page which I thought was outrageous as any sane person would. I went to his profile to see for myself, and sure enough it was true. Nothing that was iffy about it—this was straight praise for Hamas and the Houthis. And guess who was shown as a mutual follower of ours. Yep, Kasey.

So despite the fact that in hindsight Kasey stepped over the line way before that, this was truly the last straw for me. and I never understood what “seeing red” meant before then. But I blocked her that very moment without even thinking about it.

The group chat has continued to be completely dead and anyone close to Kasey have also made zero attempts to speak to me or my Jewish friend.

Fast forward to today…

and I learn that Cat has been telling at least one person that I told her that I think children in Gaza deserve to die.

Do I laugh or cry or scream??

I haven’t spoken to Cat in a hot minute, but considered her still a friend of sorts. Overall I of accepted I was no longer a part of the group (me and the other Jewish friend have been making a lovely Jewish girl gang for ourselves this past year so I don’t feel the loss), so tbh I’m not heartbroken about losing Cat as well since I’ve already divorced myself from that group as a whole—I’m more so flabbergasted.

Kasey was bad enough (I’m still very angry about it and will never forgive nor forget and will hold this grudge until the day I die btw), but this behavior from Cat is just something I cannot wrap my head around.

I never in a million years would have thought that an Israel Palestine issue would be what people used to demonize and character assassinate me, but here we are!!!!

[halucynator]

END OF 2023

sorry to anyone who didn't want to be tagged xx

hi! most of you will know me as lucy (unless you're @m3ntallyunstable34 and know my real name lol)

so yes, i am lucy. and this is me reflecting on 2023 on tumblr because it seems like a logical thing to do considering this year sucked like 20% less (one of us is lying reference) because of all my amazing online friends. so yes i guess in a way this is a mutual appreciation post 🫶

@berryzxx you wouldn't believe me when i tell you you were the first mutual i didn't have to be all professional and got to be a crazy bitch with lmao so thank you for not judging me and talking to me like we're besties (we totally are btw bc i said so) mwahh

@longlivestv the loml literally owe my life to you bee 🫶🫶 you are one of the main reasons i'm friends with all of the people i will mention after, so tysm and thank you for being so sweet to me and i love flirting with you /hj ilysm 💗 also if im too young to fall in love why do you keep running through my brain? 😍😍

@loserdiaz one of the very few people i get to openly talk to and not feel weird doing it akshdasjhd ilysm april <33 and youre one of the only people i will ever admit has better pick up lines than me (thats a huge honour btw) so thank you for keeping up with me and flirting with me it makes me feel very special mwahhh and ily and we should totally snuggle by the fireplace you know i made those cookies you like (sab reference) 😍🫶

@weeping-in-the-willows thank you for being the absolute SWEETEST person to me <3 ilysm and btw you were my first discord friend and i'm so honoured about that ajshdnjfe you're so nice and ily and i hope you get everything you want

@theladyinwhite13 thank you for appreciating my unhinged comments and you're one of the few people who deserve to be told that they are funnier than me (i rarely ever give anyone this honour btw so its very special) and i think you might appreciate this reference 'so what if i just wanna be a little out of my mind'

@bodybetters and @its-tortle karo and tortle my beloved <3 ilysm you're like two of the BEST mutuals ever and i was so honoured happy excited (any other positive adjective) when i realised you followed ME back?!? i was literally so ajshdnjfe i can't even put it in words you're like my favourite people on this hellsite (affectionate)

@suugarbabe ajdhhgajsgf my pookie <33 you always stand up for me and ilysm for it youre the nicest to me what did i ever do to deserve you 😭❤️

@patrophthia omg the absolute sweetestt!! youre an angel and ilysm and i hope you have the best life every <33 ilysm thank you for being so nice to me and making me feel valued asjdhajksd i love youu

@theautistmwitch omg idk how youre still sane after hearing to my traumatising jokes 😭 ilysm mwahh❤️thank you for being so sweet to meee it makes me so happy <333 can't wait to traumatise- uh i mean make you laugh even more next year!

@kurtcobainsgreencardigan ajkshdad i had the time of my life 'bullying' [insert their name] (i dont wanna get cancelled yk just in case people actually like them) with you <33 [i mean you technically didn't 'bully' them but we bonded over that] you're so funny and sweet and ily<3

@catastrxblues nadine the loml <33 i LOVED chatting with you and ranting to you and reading your answers to my asks akgdskg im so glad to have you as a mutual and i would love to have some more ranting convos with you in the future haha asdhjhajsh ilysm mwahh <3

@nyctophile-me omg you're so sweet to meee 😭😭😭 ily you're like one of my favourite wives too you're one of the only people i will ever share sab with mwah ❤️❤️ id love to talk to you more next year <3

@magicandmaybe @andi-is-bored @alltheliars and @animallover4000 omg you're all so sweet and ily and we didn't really interact a lot this year but i loved chatting with you on discord 💕

@imperpetuallylost omg ilyy you're so unintentionally (or intentionally?) funny ahsjdnfne and i guess it's inevitable sorry sky but it looks like you (lea not sky) deserve to [redacted] goosebot and it's well deserved ajsjdjdne ily and id love to interact more with you next year <33

@london-affairs literally started talking to you like 5 days ago and we were flirting non stop that's CRAZYYYY ily btw pookie 😍

@m3ntallyunstable34 my literal best friend!! i absolutely love you mwah mwah mwah thank you for being my best friend and dealing with me for 12 years llama im shocked you're not insane yet ahsjsj ilyyyy ❤️

these are the mutuals that made me throw my phone across the room and scream in excitement when i realised THEY followed ME

also i will take this moment to thank all of you for making my year amazing and i love you all so much and i hope you have THE BEST 2024. thank you so much for being a part of my crazy blog i would never have imagined 438 people would find this silly little blog 🫶

@cassiopeiasdaughter @faultsline @underthenightskydreamsneverdie @theostrophywife @slytherinslut0 @imperpetuallylost @themidnightarcher @stvrlighhttt @psychedeliccc @prettybaby-grande @nqds @themidnightarcher @i-miss-you-im-sorry @cottoncandywhispers @svnflowermoon @finalgirllx @fallingforfictionalcharacterss @ashisgreedy @moonffe @suugarbabe @wordsarelife and @xobridgertonblues (i might've tagged some people twice sorryyyy)

[allamericansbitch]

being a swiftie for this past year has felt so isolating 😔 I still love her music and want to see edits, discuss lyrics, celebrate tour etc but ever since the joe breakup I've felt so distanced from both taylor and the fandom, I've had my issues with the fandom (and taylor) in the past but never to this extent. I do thankfully have other interests I follow on here but the taylor fandom has been my main online community for years and it's sad to be having to let that go and to be unfollowing so many mutuals just because I can't bring myself to join in with what seems to be the only way to be a fan these days (obsessing over her personal life and becoming a travis stan). I guess on the brightside I've come to really appreciate the others who feel similarly to me (including you and many of your anons)

i feel exactly the same, i've unfollowed so many mutuals and apparently made enemies because of this (the vague posting oof they really think they’re doing something to this day lol)

but i will say there's something so nice and beautiful to me about sizing down and actually finding a small group of people who make you feel sane and have the same thoughts and mindsets as you (aka healthy ones). like i wouldnt trade it to go back at all because now it's quality over quantity and while i do feel farther away from the fandom as a whole, i feel closer to individuals and i think thats way better in the long run.

[wibblyparfait]

(props up arm on desk) hii,,,,,, Nanaco in a Situation huh,,,,,,,,,,,,

Limbus Company is unfortunately still on my brain sometimes. so heres to finally drawing up all the Nanashi IDs & EGO thats been plaguing my brain 👍

transcript + extra notes under the cut cuz if oomfie has to hear all my Nanashi thoughts then so do u 🫵 SHFNDNF

LCB Sinner Nanashi

to Coral:

-> Studying Coral under a microscope -> (Slowly trusting,,,)

to himself:

-> In-TOWER arc (note: think any time before the final conversation in the Core. hes on the road to trusting Coral & the other Hanoi but still thinks he'll have to go back to the Toros eventually 😔) -> Please god let me have 1 normal ID -> Embarrassed by [his] Butler & BS [IDs] -> distressed by [his] CoG, R Corp & Capo [IDs]

Black Silence Nanashi

to Coral:

-> sunshine loml ily c'mere & let him pamper u NOW -> in charge of deconditioning N Coral (note: oomf has an AU of Coral as an N Corp Kleinhammer, in my brain since BS Nanashi has his shit together he is also the main person thats trying to reteach N Coral self-love oogh 🥹)

to himself:

-> Post-TOWER t1 arc -> married hubby <3 (note: if it wasnt obvious. Nanashi & Coral take the place of Roland & Angelica in their world. dont worry about how doomed they are by the narrative, theyre both still alive by the time of this ID so they dont have to worry yet <3) -> literally living his best life -> mending heart, knows hes loved & channeling that recovery into malewifing <3

Church of Gears Worshipper

to Coral:

-> indifferent (at first) -> & then sees Coral as "his purpose" devotion (note: Coral would obviously not want this Nanashi to just follow along with everything hes told & not think for himself. and once that point gets thru to COG Nanashi, he expresses his sentiment by calling Coral his purpose & asking to hang out with him 🥹 FDHGD!!!!!!!)

to himself:

-> arc where he also loses the last bit of hope he never knew he had o)-( (note: in this world Nanashi meets Coral & co early n thus tries to run away from the Toros to stay with them, but by the time he gets back to them, they're so messed up by The City in one way or another that seeing them like that pushes him into losing all hope & joining the Church of Gears. so he can finally find Somewhere he won't be actively miserable in anymore. but. well☹️ DFKGJFDG)

4th Pack Reindeer

to Coral:

-> The only ID that allows being pampered back (note: clearly most of these IDs are centered around Nanaco. and we all know how much Nanashi spoils Coral without accepting pay. but maybe this one will allow being cooked some fluffy instant pancakes every so often 🥹) -> Doesnt Take Shit Tho. Get Pampered Idiot. (note: R Corp Nanashi doesnt have the time nor energy to hear Coral's usual polite excuses. as long as Coral allows being pampered, then he Will carry him over his shoulder like a sack of rice so he can bring him to a kitchen & cook him a full course meal :) FGJDGFD!!!!!!)

to himself:

-> Fragile. -> Needs the mutual care from R Coral to stay sane o(-( (note: Coral is part of the Rabbit Team in this world ☹️ between the Hatchery & the usual contracts they get, they both cope by trying to spoil each other in their down time uuu,,,)

Thumb Capo

to Coral:

-> omg hihi haiiiiii (WILL kill/die for Coral :() -> except N Coral o)-( (for now.) (note: usually in Limbus worlds Coral is pretty high up in the social ladder, so Capo Nanashi unfortunately rly rly respects him ☹️ but since in N Corp Kleinhammers are at the bottom. oof ☹️. Capo Nanashi is rly tough on that Coral & sets a bunch of rules on him n that Makes Me Sad ☹️. KJGDF)

to himself:

-> sheep arc (note: thats just what i call Sweetie Sleeps. so yeah this Nanashi is if his Sweetie Sleeps version came true ☹️.) -> coping [with] Toro horrors by accepting it all & enthusiastically enforcing rules o(-(

Brown Family Butler

to Coral:

-> Its just my job to take care of u (malewifes x1000000)

to himself:

-> Pre-Toro arc -> Met his Coral [before] he lost all hope -> No rizz. just an autistic stare & dog-like worship that makes u question ur morality (note: this quote was absolutely stolen cuz i saw it on another oomf's post & it made me laugh. hi Sen oomf. DFKGJDGD)

Roseate Desire

to Coral:

-> sunshine love of my life reason i exist & mender of my heart ily ily ily ily- -> rare Nanashi that WANTS to be pampered (note: once again we know how Nanashi usually feels about being paid back for his work. but this is probably the one Nanashi that just wants to curl up in Coral's lap & hear him say nice things about him DFKGHFD 🥹)

to himself:

-> 𝐹𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓀𝓎 ♡ -> Deepest desire is just to be valued o(-(

Seven Association Fixer

to Coral:

-> U're gonna forget how to sleep if u keep drinking coffee >:( (makes Coral's regular order right before he walks in) (note: in this world Coral is just a regular at the cafe the Seven runs DFKJDGD)

to himself:

-> Intelligence officer arc -> Rly good at his job, but likes the barista work the most <3 (note: also this Nanashi is the rare Seven fixer that likes coffee. not as much of a freak about the specifics of coffee brewing as Faust is with tea, but he probably enjoys himself a good espresso ^-^ KFDJGD)

Feral Mane

to Coral:

-> big skittish creature that loafs on & scruffs one (1) person (note: imagine him like a big scared lion. except around Coral, who he will drag by the back of his collar like a cat carrying a kitten ^-^ KGFDFG)

to himself:

-> Nanabeast -> Mittelhammer forced into corrosion experiments o(-(

Regret

to Coral:

-> Coworkers probably (note: this is the Nanashi ive thought about the least. imagine Nanashi meeting Coral in the real world while doing Toro work. of course he wouldnt have time to fall in love ☹️ DFJGFD)

to himself:

-> Walpurgis lobcorp ID -> Too busy fighting for his life to be sappy -> Maybe gets eaten by Nothing There idk (note: basically his fate in a lobcorp AU oops. hope Coral enjoys finding out about that 😔 FDKGFD)

Dimension Shredder

to Coral:

-> Very cuddly & touchy (hasnt had sane human contact in forever o(-()

to himself:

-> Guy that made "keep Coral safe" his sole purpose for 7625040532 years (note: to varying success. because by the end of the journey he's either a pile of guts that murders everything Except Coral, or talks to Coral's guts as if hes still alive ☹️ ue.)

in conclusion. good fucking god Nanashi never leaves my brain 🥹 DHDFGDFDG

[self-indulgent-paw-patrol]

How do you think the pups gained ability to speak? Okay, yes, this is a kid's show. But look- All dogs in the show/movies can just, speak and no one bats an eye. Even the guy transporting maple syrup in the first movie didn't say anything about TALKING dogs, just the fact that the dogs were rescuers. Along with this, NO OTHER ANIMALS TALK. Not even cats. The only cats we DO see talking is the cat pack. Even Mayor Humdinger was surprised with Copycat talking. (Yet, not for a bunch of talking dogs?) And, the only way FOR these animals to talk is a piece of the meteor (further backed up in the second movie where one of the kitties started speaking). So, how do you think this even played out? Dogs do have the system to speak, they just cant do as much as we humans can. What do you think got the pups to get that ability to speak proper, full spoken words, before anyone else did?

Bonus: If the pups over time DID learn to speak, how long do you think it took the town, - and I guess, the world - to adapt to it?

"A dog?" "Actually, sir, I'm a pup." "A BABY DOG?? That's even worse!"

That's literally when my dad commented this guy was already the most sane person in the whole movie, hands down XD

Okay, let's see. Considering the dogs are the only animal species that have the ability to talk like humans in the franchise (I haven't seen the Cat Pack yet but I'm aware they talk at least XD), I ACTUALLY DO HAVE A THEORY FOR THAT. No, you didn't get to catch me off guard yet XD YET.

Anyway, my theory is that the dogs have developed this ability before any other animals for being the ones who are CLOSEST to humans. I don't mean scientifically, I mean EMOTIONALLY.

People treat their dogs as members of their families since ancient times, developing mutual trust and emotional connections. In real life, it's not uncommon to see dogs who make an effort to VOCALIZE when trying to get their human's attention. We have been teaching them to solve puzzles, to recognize shapes, to recognize colors (within their color range, at least), to use their souped up senses to rescue people, to sniff when an anxiety attack is about to hit, to detect smoke before we do, to detect nightmares and even seizures BEFORE THEY EVEN START just by the SMELL.

We have taught dogs to use word boards/buttons to speak their minds, building up simple worded sentences and communicate what they want, or even what they DON'T want, or just to comment a sarcastic remark on someone. They have a sense of SEQUENCE they need to follow for getting what they want to communicate.

Dogs have developed such a close bond to people, they kept making this effort to communicate.

In the show, I believe dogs developed intelligence first and then eventually began speaking words, simple sentences. In a few years/generations soon they were able to work entire conversations, just like a toddler learning to talk, and kept passing it to their puppies, generation by generation, until they were fully able to speak anything and everything.

And of course the people encouraged them to do that. At first it must've been shocking when the first dogs began actually working out WORDS, but I believe soon enough it was the new normal. People encouraged them, they kept learning, and then we got to the point where the show is situated: Pups perfectly able of speaking just like a human. They're still dogs, but they know how to talk, people have been encouraging the species for several generations to be able to do so.

That's why no one bats an eye anymore. People are actually responsible for this whole thing happening XD

"What about cats, then?" They're too independent for that. They don't need to talk. Like, literally, even if they also developed meows specifically to communicate with humans, it's only because they know WE communicate through sounds, not through body language, so they play our game out of convenience, not because they want to.

[paula-of-christ]

really considering becoming catholic. the only thing holding me back is i haven’t gotten any paid posts on my dash telling me to

I can't tell if this was meant to be mean or not but lol

One of the reasons I paid for the post is because this blog is mostly serious. I joke around a bit with my mutuals, but I keep it relatively sane otherwise. I had a desire to support tumblr, and at the time had the financial means to pay the 5 or 10 dollars to blaze the post. It was a new and funky way to support tumblr, without paying a set amount every month (which I wouldn't necessarily be able to afford at the time). But, I also know that sometimes the only thing someone needs is a happenstance of a sign to look further into something like religion. I unfortunately made a grievous spelling error before checking my work, which is now immortalized on that post lol.

Overall, I think it's pretty on brand for me to 'trip upwards' so to speak. Plenty of people have told me they seriously looked into Catholicism, and it was the push they needed to look into their local parishes on my blog since that post. Usually anonymous and I've posted them all, so you can go back and see. I *am* sorry for any hurt that may have caused a few people, and its why I actually had canceled the blaze early, though I don't think anyone knew or realized I did. I'm happy for the people that I was able to help by posting it and since then posting resources for people that want to convert, and been able to encourage them in that.

But, I don't think I need to blaze the post again, I think it is still providing outreach to people that need it, and is able to be a source for people to follow to my blog should they need more encouragement. While not necessarily being the key reason someone converts, it was never meant to be that. It was meant to be the thing for people who were already thinking about it, to have confirmation that what their feeling is true. I paid for it monetarily -- and socially on this website, let's be real -- but I knew with a random algorithm of things, I was leaving it up to God to put it in front of people who needed it.

[untoterxhund]

Rules, tag 10 followers  you want to get to know better!

Tagged by: @fanaticist &lt;3 ​​

Tagging: steal it! just be sure to scream at me if you did steal it! wanna learn some facts about the mutuals

Name: rat

Star Sign: Aquarius

Height: 5′9 ( 175.25 cm )

Middle name: Marshal-James

Put your itunes/spotify/youtube on shuffle. What are the first 6 songs that popped up?

deep stone lullaby by Michael Salvatori

slims pickens does the right thing and rides the bomb to hell by the offspring

into the sun by the white buffalo

what the dead men say by trivium

lost by linkin park

gzdie jest viał węgorz by cypis

Ever had a poem or song written about you: not that I can remember?

When was the last time you played air guitar: a long time ago me'thinks, probably back in the barracks when I was doing corporal-work plunging toilets and obviously not doing the work I was told to do trying to stay sane on our desert air-strip

Who is your celebrity crush?: either ella freya or scar-jo when she has her red hair! i'm the biggest simp for red hair-- don't judge me.

What’s a sound you hate; sound you love?: i hate the sound of my tinnitus but as for a sound i do like? honestly the sound of firewood crackling, it scratches my brain the right-way tbh. that an the accents of Newfoundlanders, love their goofy little viking accents. 

Do you believe in ghosts?: sometimes tbh.

How about aliens: it'd be silly to assume that we're the only life in the ever expansive universe--  

Do you drive?: everything but a car lmao, need to get my eyes retested before I even attempt to do my first driver's test. i've driven glider-planes though, was going to work on my power license but dropped out of flight school due to bullying and my poor self-esteem at the time.

if so have you ever crashed: i've crashed plenty of lawn tractors, plenty of planes in VR back during my air force time .

What was the last book you read?: it was either Ender's Game, The Gunslinger or Metro 2034 iirc, it's been a long time since i've actually sat down an read an actual paperback book. 

Do you like the smell of gasoline: definitely killed some braincells back in the day being a dumb kid who liked the endorphin release of smelling gasoline. 

What was the last movie you saw?: that's a very good question tbh, i don't watch a lot of movies anymore but i think rightfully it may've been top gun maverick? either that or another annual rewatch of the last samurai. oh and bladerunner 2049 is still quite fresh in my mind so i'll add that as well 

What’s the worst injury you’ve ever had?: either being shot in the eyelid by a pellet gun or getting impaled in the arm by a branch, although my breaking my knee and tearing the muscles was also definitely pretty unfun- there's a lot of nasty injuries that come to mind, all of them not very good or fun to heal. oh, another one was getting 14 stitches in my right hand from shrapnel, the tip of my pinky to a few inches past my wrist.

Do you have any obsessions right now?: resident evil, monster hunter world, for honor & general emulator stuff- it's all gaming but that's just my way of passing the time, not a lot of other hobbies or obsessions that i can think of tbh. yakuza definitely used to be a massive obsession for me but being poor i couldn't get like a dragon: ishin so i haven't been able to keep up with that as of late

[thaliatimsh]

*dj khaled voice* another one im sowwy 👼 in your opinion, what do you consider to be the most logical ending for rat boy: high chaos or low? 👀 BUT!!! if you could rewrite his ending, what would it be?? 👀😈 always love reading your thoughts!!! 🐣🔥💕🔥💕🔥 *monkeys hugging gif*

OOOOUGHGABOOGA thank YOUUUU WE DA BEST! GibbonHug dot GIF I am thinking Thinkging NEVER apologise im so glad to be made to Think.. hm…. I know you said abt Dear Rat Boy but i think this is connected to his loyalisms so… aw shit here i go again

Like honestly? I think that the Story of dishonored makes more sense in high chaos - I cannot patch together WHY the Three Amigos would even AGREE to try to off Corvo in low chaos! Like I said abt it being Hamhock's Ambition's Fault but… idk that Martini and Treachery would both agree with his Idea in LC…

In high chaos my feeling is that Martini and the hamhock came to the idea because HOLY SHIT this guy has got to be STOPPED - not just before he comes for us but also before his Villainy destroys everything they've worked for… treachery says uh…. Ok. Sure thing boys. My loyalisms is all i got and i dont wanna be on the end of corvo's knife…

Meanwhile in low chaos it's like.

How fucked would it be if everyone found out that the guy who cleared up all of the Corrupt City Officials was ALSO working for us before we swept in and Fixed It All.. now hang on a minute! If anything that legitimises them???? So idk WHY if Hamhock went "we gotta get corbo outta da way" pornstar martini didnt say "no we dont" - I mean I think Treachery is not inclined to Rock The Boat, so he would Voice An Opposing Opinion ONLY if he was not alone in it and either way at that point? It's less Boat Rocky to disagree w The Hamhock than it is to Literally Kill Corvo

Low Chaos Corvo's a man who causes Hurt only to Proven Enemies… which is why I had to write high chaos for nlwib: even if Light At The End is. Completely Bonkers borderline surreal - the events LEADING to it make sense in a fucked way? I mean either is I guess logical for rattie because… he will follow the others. And I do think he would follow Hammy over Martini - treachery & havelock do seem to have a kind of? Mutual admiration? Whereas he & Martin dont really ever have anythinf to say abt one another? So when The Girls Are Fightiiiiing in HC it's like. Sickos YES! Tried to screw me, didn't you my lord pendleton!!! Bet you're sorry now, boyo! Theyre Inned Sane I love it!!!

Ok i dont think that really answered ur question but. I guess what I mean is that what treachery does in hc makes more sense bc what martini does makes more sense?

But I tell you whatever ending he gets I STILL wish that he could Survive. Like do you ever think that. No matter what changes the only characters who Always Die are: Jessamine (rip legend), Lydia Brooklaine (MY WIFE), Mistuh Wallace Higgins (my blorbo) and LORD TREAVOR PENDLETON…. (My pet 🐀) and… I dont think it's fair i think i should be allowed to save them actually!!! SO.

Basically: i think the canon ending should be the loyalists get sent to prison and have to do this:

Then they get exiled to tyvia or some shit.

Actually I tell you what WOULD be fucked is if in low chaos Hammy had done Corvo in himself? Uhoh boys, Corb's dead… im gonna stop thinkgin abt this idea before i start trying to write another fic I'll never finish. Oops.

ThaNK YOU im kiss kiss hmm thinkign.

[theessayproject]

The reoccurring entity in my dreams

It all started around the sixth or the seventh grade with a reoccurring dream that still continues to follow me even throughout my life even after multiple therapy sessions. The start of them was simply very normal, nothing that seemed to jump out as a warning. 

As it progressed the entity itself progressed to more and more vividly being in the concepts of the dream. To describe it in full detail, as a child I had larger aspirations than what I’m doing now, I had envisioned the idea of never going to college and just continuing the path of streaming and or doing something media related. She introduced herself for the first time when I was in the seventh grade, she said her name was Shimi. I have never personally interacted with someone with that specific name ever in my life, however, she seemed to know my name as well as the other people (if there were any) which confused me. 

I could never see her face, or any defining features about her as a person. The best way I can describe her is that she is no taller than 5’7 with long dark hair, her outfits range from being very normal and in the era of today or in the era of the 80’s and or the 90’s. Her voice is soft like a mellow cloud, yet her intentions are sharp like a shank. Every dream with her seemed to end the same way as well. It starts off as any normal dream, with all my friends with me along with a faceless lady which is the entity, and it ends the same way with me being killed by the entity. 

Ever since the last dream which was from first year university in 2022, it hasn’t happened since. Up until last night, only this time it had a different course of action. Every dream had a plot point that came with it, whether it was the interest of the month or it went back to the same constant, this time there was no dream, there was a ledge and within the 10 minutes of being in that state I had been killed. It has never happened at that rate of change, the missing piece was the whole first bit of the dream where I could still see my friends, family and others. It doesn’t concern me at all about the way it went, it was actually better than putting on a whole show and taking it all away. 

I’d like to relate this to the music video for “We can’t be friends” by Ariana Grande, specifically the scene where her memory is getting erased of the people she has created a relationship with regardless if the people are romantic partners or soul tied friends. It very much felt like the dream was telling me that time was up and that the memories would not get to be relived no matter how hard you try to get them back. It was very much trying to let me know that times up and that fighting for certain friendships that aren’t reciprocated is a road that is only ever paved by one person over the other.

I recently joined a new group of friends who had taken me in without a second thought, and I think that this group is a good group. The friendship came to be from a mutual ex-friend who we no longer speak to, and maybe that’s for the best for them. I would never wish for anything bad to ever happen to this person but they have screwed up multiple friendships over the course of them being in university and from what we learned recently, they’ve done it to their friends back home as well. For once I don’t feel like I’m fighting for a friendship, or trying to keep it afloat, and maybe that’s why I accepted the dream death so willingly without hesitation. 

I hope that whatever it was last night was the end of those dreams with the entity itself. She’s more than welcome to come back as a warning to things, however, I feel like boundaries should be placed with this entity as its something that can tear a sane person apart. 

[tamerahardy]

Summer of 2013

Now what I say here is very important to and key to everything moving forward. The summer of 2013 SHOOK everything up.

So in the heat of my breakup from Arthur I’m on twitter almost everyday. This is all I had. That kept me SANE. Jokes flying that year was real different. There was this one particular group of girls I knew through school. A girl group they seem to always be in their own world when I saw them. We would joke on twitter ALL THE TIME. Everyday. I’ve never hung out with these girls a day in my life I only saw them in the hallways in their clique…but we somehow formed a lil internet friendship.

Aside from how I was feeling I needed that. I still kept in contact with Camille even though I was in Decatur before I left for college. We ended up going out to parties and she would invite me to her home. I also made friends from twitter. Nick I knew through twitter we actually met in real life as well he became one of my close friends even when I had been dating Arthur. He again much like Aaron..kayron one of those friends that you could all the way with but you just don’t. He went to Drew highschool and normally on twitter it connects you with different people or mutuals. I ended up hooking up with two guys that summer as a way to “get over Arthur” and then I met the third

One day on my twitter a guy name Quadetrius followed me on there. I didn’t even know who he was but he went to drew and he was good friends with Nick. I like him a lot…he reminded me of Preston, I have a thing for guys that don’t give a fuck. Quad and me joked a lot over twitter it’s like we got to know each other for a bit before we actually met up in person, mind you I had been living in Decatur so going all the way out to Riverdale was a stretch but coming across him wasn’t even planned at all.

I was suppose to go out to Riverdale to spend the night over at my homegirls Jada spot that weekend she ended up canceling on me last minute so I got my brother to drop me off at my grandma and dad crib in Riverdale. I didn’t want to randomly bombsrd my grandma and ask if I could stay there I was in too deep with my plans to see my homegirl who knew Arthur as well. From there I was texting quad like what are you doing and he was throwing a party.. I got one of my friends to come pick me up and take me over there which he said was fine. Mind you I’m not dressed for a party I’m dressed for girls night lol a tank top with leggings on and my spend the night bag.

So I get to Quads place and he was indeed throwing a party. Come to find out a lot people knew him, people from different schools were there as well, I was nervous because I wasn’t use to that. I’ve been invited to parties before through my cheer teammates and being with Arthur but this was different. These were the seniors that graduated 2012 and had already experience college and life outside of highschool.

I was scared. It took me back to girls bullying me for popular guys liking me. I didn’t even know people knew him like that but I just ended up there. I had gotten uncomfortable walking around not knowing anyone there and asked if I could go in his room and he said yes. I laid there as went to entertain his guest. Everybody started leaving and as he wrapped up his convo with Jocelyn and Tina escorted her out he came to check on me. See now I knew Tina through Marcus one of Arthur’s friends Marcus is the only one I stayed in touch with everybody else left. Tina and Marcus dated and have a kid together and she even gave me relationship advice when me and Arthur dated but come to find out she only got close to me to spy on Marcus and once I found that I we didn’t talk too much anymore.

Quad knew all of the people I crossed paths with which was crazy. I didn’t even think they would be there at his party. Anywho….that night me and quad hooked up. Very innocent. He ended up taking me back home as well. Quad was such a vibe to me he made me forget Arthur even existed. I needed that honestly….but a lot of things came with Quad

Our first go at it was very raw and innocent I learned more things about life through him than Arthur. We didn’t work out because of not only the distance, but because I was so young and naive, we didn’t really get chance to know each other before we had sex….apparently I learned that I had took his virginity which was mind blowing to me but most importantly it didn’t work because he was still into his ex at the time who *drum rolls happened to be one of the girls I was talking about earlier that I would joke with on twitter.

Yep. I found out through some weird app you could ask anonymous questions on that we played on everyday. I immediately stopped everything and asked her about it. She played it cool like they were just best friends that dated she didn’t really tell me much about them she said she can’t tell me who to talk to at the end of the day and this is where things get tricky….

I mean here I am I had already hooked up with two guys after my breakup with Arthur and I don’t feel anything…and then I meet Quad somebody I didn’t even ask to meet and I LIKE him, but he’s dated somebody I view as a sister. Why did that happen? And why did I find out like that?

This girl … I viewed as a sister. It’s hard talking about her because again I didn’t ask to cross paths with her. By the time I was getting ready for graduation and I been devastated by the things me and Arthur were going through she appeared. She appeared before she left to go to college. Miles College, she came up to the school one day before she caught the bus back to school. I’m not sure why but she was there and. We stayed together that entire day. She came to my class and watched me make an ass of myself in front of Mr. Antoinette and she walked with me and sat with me in gym and talked to me. She was genuinely trying to help me get through my breakup and she stayed with me until it was time for her to go. It was like shes there to comfort sad souls.

I viewed her as a sister and somebody I listened to and here we are. I’ve had sex with somebody she really cared about. I didn’t even know about them. I had to really sit back and do my research frfr.

I mean when I asked her about it and if I was okay to be with him she made light of it. Like it’s fine…why didn’t she say no I still love him? Something.

Anywho Quad came over to see my at my grandma house and he said he was going to go over to his best friend house in which she was going to be there they were all best friends. He later told me he went over there and old feelings came back, honestly they never even left. I felt betrayed because this whole time I was just being drug around for sex or whenever things weren’t working out between them.

I was more mad at her because she controlled the narrative with this, but instead of looking like a controlling asshole which would have turned him off she flipped it. She knew he would come back she just did it in a way that didn’t reflect negatively on her.

[gatheringbones]

["The Faggot as Animus

The man of my dreams is a faggot. This comes as an uneasy confession, for what am I if not a by-product of the lesbian days of rage? (Apologies to the Weather Underground, who brought us the original Days of Rage. For those interested in trivia, the Weather Underground were known as the Weathermen—proving once again that sexism and revolution are not necessarily mutually exclusive— until the women in their ranks, more than a few of them were lesbians, suggested a name change.)

The lesbian days of rage, on the other hand, were brought to us by the Lesbian Police, who got to make the rules. I don't know why. They called it politics, which sounded considerably better than rules, when you think about it. Of course, the Lesbian Police never liked me as much as I liked them, but then I've always been a sucker for butches in uniform. Fortunately, the uniforms have changed somewhat over the years. Leather is more popular now than plaid flannel, but the Lesbian Police aren't, which proves nothing except that lesbians will tolerate a lot except being told how to fuck— one of the things the Lesbian Police did best. I've always been better at fucking than at politics, which is a lot about remembering rules and only sometimes about fucking. For one thing, you don't have to please as many people, which I've never been very good at. For another, no one expects fucking to change the world. Fucking is one of the few things I do very well (even my ex-lovers who give me credit for nothing else credit me with that). I am not nearly so accomplished at the day-to-day duties of relationships, or politics, which is what got me in trouble with the Lesbian Police in the first place. But I digress.

Fucking doesn't actually have much to do with the man of my dreams (I don't even dream of fucking women in my dreams, at least not often), but it has a great deal to do with how I discovered the faggot as animus. If it hadn't been for fucking, I likely wouldn't have fallen in love with the wrong woman and ended up following her to California, which is a very good place for psychoanalysis, fucking, and faggots. I suppose I should apologize for using the word faggot, but I won't. Besides, gay seems to flabby and out of date in the face of an epidemic that's already taken some of the best and brightest and most beautiful, and threatens to wipe the rest of us from the face of the earth as well— nothing to be very gay about there. (I personally have not felt very gay since the summer of 1983, when I had the great good sense to run away from Chicago winters into the arms of a woman whose exit line was that while the sex was great—back to fucking again— I was embarrassingly lacking in too many other areas to name; it took her six long years to discover them all. Remarkably, she even missed a few).

She left just as I was pitching over the edge into a full-blown nervous breakdown, which had less to do with her than she likes to imagine and more than I like to admit. Of course, it was a while before I figured out I was probably nuts. (I'm a writer; depression is our disease of choice. I don't know why. Maybe Anne Sexton or Sylvia Plath or Ernest Hemmingway, all of whom are dead from it, knows why by now. William Styron and Kurt Vonnegut, who certainly are not dead, don't seem to know why either— and if they do, they're not saying. I am also the offspring of people so truly nuts that anything short of stark raving mad is considered sane.)

My psychiatrist, a card-carrying Jungian, was supposed to be interested in dreams, and mine have always been, as my best friend calls them, humdingers. (She's from the Midwest, and still says things like humdinger.) Of course, what I didn't know at the time was that the doctor wasn't in much better shape than her patient, good old me. (I just thought she was distracted), which proves that sanity is nothing if not tenuous. But I faithfully reported to the shrink how, not long after I crossed the California state line with my best friend, an ancient and very angry cat, and a smuggled house plant that I'd kept alive for five years and which promptly died two months later, I started dreaming about shit, dungeons, and catacombs. (In retrospect, this says quite a lot about the condition of my last serious relationship, and why I'm not anxious for another.)

Not long after I decided I was crazy but before I knew my psychiatrist was, the faggots started showing up in my dreams. Young. Old. Alone. In pairs. Sometimes small groups. But none wore a face I recognized or a name I knew. They showed me their rooms, fading but still nearly grand in the way old hotels, which I have always loved, are fading but not yet faded. They warned me away from paths and staircases and doors that I knew (knew!) led to the dungeons and shit and catacombs. Their message was always the same: You don't want to go through that door. When I didn't listen, it was back down to the shit, the dungeons, and the catacombs. Given that choice, I started listening. Who wouldn't? I didn't know they were the animus (I wouldn't learn about that until sometime later). And at the time, I was still concentrating on the standardized litmus of sanity: What day of the week is it, and who is the president of the United States? (Unfortunately, I've always been bad about days. On the other hand, I've always known who the president is; I wish I didn't, but I do.) This was in 1989, which was a fairly eventful year: my first book was published, and the San Andreas Fault took a step west and taught San Francisco to shimmy. Ironically, no small number of otherwise sane people who live in this quake-racked region took personal responsibility, which seemed then— and does still—absolutely crazy to me. But maybe they grew up in a world where fissures are unknown, a world safer than any I've ever known.

The landscape of my childhood is cracked with dangerous fissures, some as deep as hell itself. One runs the length of the wood lot behind what used to be my grandfather's barn. Slightly less than a foot wide and deeper than anyone has ever been able to gauge, the crack stinks with sulfuric gases hanging on the thick early-evening air in summer. The stench of the fires of hell, my grandfather would declare whenever he was bored and had decided any one or all of his many grandchildren as an afternoon's amusement. My grandfather hated children almost as much as he enjoyed terrifying them, and with any small amount of prodding would gladly turn back his thick gray sock and show us the brown mark on the outside of his left ankle. My grandmother declared it a common birthmark, but my grandfather insisted it was the devil's own thumbprint, left when he, as a boy, came too close to that fissure, which led straight to Satan's staircase. Grandpa's escapes from the devil's clutches changed each time he told the story— although not one of us had the courage to remind him of that— but always revolved around a trick far too clever to have ever been conjured by any ordinary child, especially the dullards he was cursed with as progeny. Too bad the old man was a liar. Too bad I didn't listen more closely; there have been times when I could have used one or two of those tricks.

My friend the Oracle, who is not a lesbian and definitely not crazy, has made no small reputation for herself in Jungian circles for, among other things, deciphering the myth of the importance of the Sumerian goddess Inanna, who tried to lay claim to hell. I know a great deal about hell, having spent much of 1989 and 1990 there myself. You lose a lot in hell, at least a lot of everything that matters. Inanna went there for greed; my own reasons are less clear. But we both got out with the help of best friends and magical faggots, which doesn't say much for lovers, who don't really give a good damn once you're there; at least Inanna's didn't or mine either. Inanna, by the way, banished her ex into a sort of netherworld exchange program; I can only wish mine there. But I digress.

The Oracle taught me about faggot as animus. For the uninitiated, the animus is the positive force of maleness from forward-thrusting energy, which gets women out into the world. (At least I think that's what the Oracle said.) Some Jungians think this energy comes from the mother, which makes us not the women our mothers warned us about so much as the women they desperately wanted to be. My mother, a woman with the sentimental soul of a pastel artist, who has spent her life trapped in a small and savage world, would probably like to have been almost anything but what she is. So desperate to escape, my mother often floats away to another— I like to think better— world of her own creation. The psychiatrists call it dissociation; I like floating better. It's what she does very well."]

Nina Donnelly, from the faggot as animus, from Sister & Brother: Lesbians and Gay Men Write About Their Lives Together, 1994

[anti-katsuki-lounge]

This post is about MHA fandom in general. But I think these types could be found every where.

Dekucchan's loyal followers and the dudebros are heavily damaging this fandom's image.

Okay I really don't know much about the MHA fandom because I don't interact with anything outside of my interests, but it seems chill to me. Well except for the fact the types of people I listed above ruin the whole experience.

No, I don't want to hear that Izuku is straight for the billionth time. Like it makes more sense if he's aroace because other than finding some girls attractive, has he ever felt romantic and sexual towards any of them? Yeah I thought so and no finding someone does not mean that you have a crush on them. Please stop confusing them. Actually I can go ahead and say that almost everyone is aroace and I would still have a valid argument because there are only select few individuals who care about romance in the first. But yeah know they won't like this headcanon because it has do with the infamous alphabet mafia.

Nor do I want to hear that (specific ship) is canon for some reason. I don't care whether you are bk//dk or one of those "canon ships" preachers like Td//mm. I can tell when people are joking and when people are serious. And it's not as if iz//ch dudebros don't do this either. Like good for you for liking the canon pairing, but that does not make you better than anyone else. It did not give you the right to act like a bitch and whine everytime someone has different tastes.

Though I do hold some sympathy and understanding for bk//dk shippers. I mean atleast they don't make hateful comments on other ships. Well if you exclude Dekucchan's give mind because they are a whole another category in the fandom.

But dudebros are just miserable human beings. Oh, are you mad that people have different ship preferences? Must suck being the only "sane" people in this fandom. These people really think they are doing service to the fandom by spreading by toxicity. The first thing they need to do is learn that there was never any ship threats made by those who ship any gay ship. Like they don't have any source for this claim, yet this is still discussed by them.

People grab onto this baseless argument and justify why they hate the MHA fandom. Like there are many other reasons why you would possibly hate a fandom, but this is the one you decide to preach? I know you can formulate a better reason than this.

And it's so funny seeing occasional Dekucchan bk//dk and the dudebros discourse because my thoughts are that they both suck. Like I'm a shipper, but you don't see me having discourse with someone with the intention to put them down. I have ships that I dislike a lot too, but I don't invade these ship spaces to spread my negative views. It's not that hard to say in your own lane.

I 100% agree with all of this. While I rant about the BkDk Stans the most, the truth is that they’re not the only toxic part of the fandom. The IzuOcha Dudebros/Stans are toxic too, perhaps the second most toxic group in the fandom. There are portions of the MHA fandom that are great. You got the people creating content that expresses their love for the series/characters/world. You got the people who offer legitimate criticism and analyze MHA who are great to talk to if you wanna learn how to write. Sadly they’re drowned out by all the Stans/Dudebros/etc. It should be simple to stay in your lane. You like BkDk? Have fun with your ship. Like IzuOcha? Feel free to write fanfics about it. Wanna headcanon Izuku as part of the LGBTQ+ community? No one should stop you. Want to only consume content where Izuku’s straight? There’s a wide selection to chose from. Point is that, like you said, people should learn to just vibe in their own lanes. As a Katsuki anti, I avoid content with Katsuki because I don’t like him (unless it’s something a friend/mutual created cause I wanna support them). People who like Katsuki likewise will avoid my blog because they don’t want it to hear someone complain about him. There’s a mutual respect there despite neither of us actually interacting with each other. They can like him in peace while I can rag on him to others who don’t like him (or the curious Katsuki fan who wants to see the other side). Sadly the Stans and Toxic Antis will invade spaces and cause trouble just cause they can’t handle an opinion. Same goes for the IzuOcha Dudebros and any other toxic character/shipper Stan.

[bloody-wonder]

Hi...... If you don't mind me asking, what are your top 10 favorite books ever (fiction)? And why do you love them? Sorry if you've answered this question before....Thanks...

no i don’t think i have answered that before🤔 

thanks for asking! :D this is in loose most to least favorite order let's goooo

1. the lymond chronicles by dorothy dunnett. let’s get the enfant terrible out of the way. i love historical adventure stories and have a fictional crush on the mc of proportions embarrassing at my respectable old age. a gallant renaissance courtier, a cunning swashbuckler, a brilliant schemer, a queer icon, a tortured soul, a secret agent extraordinaire “whose tongue is as sharp as his rapier”, the Man, the Myth, the Legend - lymond has it all. if only i could condone the narrative tomfoolery of the last two installments, the lemon saga would’ve become my favorite series of all time. still gotta put it in the first spot bc rn i’m biased - i’m re-reading it with my bestie and hell’s own apollo is very much there, inside my mind💖

2. the secret history by donna tartt is the book that established dark academia - a lucrative subgenre of mediocre campus novels trying to imitate tsh written by authors who unfortunately don’t understand what makes it iconic. the secret special ingredient being some substance under the aesthetics and - how do i put it without sounding like a snob - literary value. this is not the main reason why i love it though, not the thing that made me binge it overnight several years ago which was how i found my way back into reading after uni drained me of any desire to do it - those were the characters. i think they’re fun and relatable in terms of qualities which i’m not necessarily proud of but which are nevertheless an integral part of my personality - such as, for example, being a snob.

3. all for the game by nora sakavic is probably the most unique book i have ever read - and that’s saying something bc i read over one hundred per year. do i dare to attempt to explain what it is about in a concise manner? no, i don’t think so. i’ll just say i love it bc it showed me what can be achieved if the author isn’t constrained by arbitrary rules of storytelling or social conventions or judgements of “good taste”, bc it inspired me to actively participate in an online fandom for the first time and to build a community of tumblr mutuals (which tbh was probably the only thing that helped me stay sane throughout 2020), bc it made so many memories and experiences click into place and made me realize i’m aroace and queer. i’m glad i discovered it at the right time in my life and i genuinely believe it’s in its rightful place next to the more “highbrow” books on this list.

4. harry potter. unlike many fans i read hp relatively late in my teens and so i don’t think i could say i’d grown up with it or that it had been an important part of my childhood. nevertheless when i read this series it captured my heart and soul and it never lost its charm on each subsequent re-read. now jkr is being rightfully condemned and the story itself viewed with increasing criticism, but still i can’t agree with people who claim it was never good in the first place. something is very special about hp, something contemporary authors apparently can’t recreate or another middle grade or ya fantasy would’ve overshadowed it by now. i used to think this special thing can’t be tainted by the discourse but to tell the truth now i’m not so certain anymore. maybe i’m just becoming more and more disillusioned with the idea of escaping from real life problems into magical fictional worlds... watch starkid’s a very potter musical on youtube if you haven’t already btw.

5. confusion by stefan zweig is a novella written in the 1920s and it follows a relationship between a young university student and his mysterious english professor who has a dark secret. this is probably (and unfortunately) the least famous book on this list and so i have made it my mission to recommend it to people as often as possible. zweig is a wonderful writer who focuses on deep dives into the characters’ psyche and interpersonal relationships that can’t be easily defined or put into boxes. i can’t really explain why this obscure short story is in my top 5 favorite books of all time without going into spoilers but i will say that i myself fully understood why it’s so important to me only after i realized i’m aroace. it doesn’t have any aroace characters - that would’ve been too galaxybrain for the time period - but the questions the protag grapples with in the story are in my opinion some quintessential aspec questions which i sadly haven’t seen explored in any aspec rep book i’ve read so far. 

6. eugene onegin by alexander pushkin. despite its immense fame and popularity in russia and all the lands it colonized, some western readers might not be familiar with this classic - i assume because it’s written in verse and so even the best translator wouldn’t be able to render this text in all its glory. i have re-read onegin countless times, far more often than any other book on this list, and each time it presented itself from a new angle: as a 12yo i thought it was a failed love story, as a 20yo i thought it was a failed friendship story and now, that i’m the same age as onegin at the end of the book, my conclusion is it’s about how some people just can’t be happy. how very byronic lol

7. a song of ice and fire by george rr martin. i used to believe this is the superior adult fantasy series bc of its complex and compelling characters - but that doesn’t seem right bc many authors offer good character work. what actually sets asoiaf apart imo is what i call “complex morality” - this is basically grey morality except as applied to the world instead of, as it commonly is, to the characters. a “morally grey character” is, especially today, a pretty uninspired narrative tool if they exist in a world where good and evil are real and absolute categories. despite the fact that many readers (but mostly, i think, the show viewers) have divided the asoiaf cast into the “good” ones, the “bad” ones and the “redeemable” ones (ugh), i believe martin succeeded in creating a world where each character will inevitably end up on the crossroads between a bad action and a worse one and their choice will be a juicy insight into the conditio humana. for some reason i like when the fiction i read for escapism reflects my cynical pessimist outlook🤷‍♂️  

8. the three musketeers by alexandre dumas. the og historical swashbuckling adventure story, the first book (series) i was ever obsessed with. can’t say much about this one bc i read it when i was 12 and haven’t re-read it since, my love for it being kept alive throughout the years by the soviet tv adaptation. i really want to re-read it soon but also i’m nervous that it won’t live up to my childhood memories. still had to put it on the list bc in many aspects it was foundational to my tastes in media and fiction.

9. the talented mr ripley by patricia highsmith. before the secret history dethroned it by offering similar themes in a more attractive package, this used to be my favorite book. no one can write a queercoded sociopath like highsmith. i remember finishing the book, then starting it again immediately bc i was just fascinated by ripley’s mind, by how subtle the writing was and how it managed to convey a sense of constant anxiety and tension. i think tom ripley is an important figure in the fictional serial killer canon and deserves more attention from fans of guys like hannibal lecter and joe goldberg. hopefully the upcoming mini-series will do him justice - as in “faithfully depict and popularize his story”. real justice being done to him is the last thing ripley wants lol 

10. a little life by hanya yanagihara. a very important novel whose broad thematic range is overshadowed by the notoriety it gets in the online book community bc of its heavy subject matter. this book wants you to witness the darkest moments of one man’s life, follow him on this tragic journey and see how the society that means to help often ends up harming further bc it fails to acknowledge many uncomfortable truths about individual mental health. honestly i could spend hours talking about all the subversive and taboo topics this book explores and why it’s important and why it’s bad that we don’t engage with them more often, but if i had to pick one it would be the idea that some of us will only get a little life to enjoy and that is okay and our experience is still worth recounting and witnessing, it’s still valuable and liberating even if it doesn’t fit into the common understanding of “happiness” which anyway is nothing but a construct that can seem misleading and oppressive depending on one’s experiences. ngl i couldn’t in good conscience “recommend” this book to anyone, as in “suggest they read it”, but i think i personally will revisit it at different stages in my life bc i’m sure it will reveal new depths. and also bc, as you should’ve gathered from this list, i like pain😅😬

other books i consider my all time favorites that didn’t make the list: the hunchback of notre dame, wuthering heights, phantom by susan kay, perfume: the story of a murderer, gentlemen and players by joanne harris, howl’s moving castle, captive prince, the grandmaster of demonic cultivation (mo dao zu shi), the history boys, crime and punishment