#the unknown marionette

[yumeko2sevilla]

Amaterasu_ unknown marionette

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

ᴀᴘᴘᴇᴀʀᴀɴᴄᴇ

"I am not a human after all, what do you mean."

_The Unknwon Marionette

Full Name: 'Amaterasu'

⤿Amaterasu (天照大御神): Formally known as Amaterasu Ōmikami. She is the goddess of the sun and universe in Japanese mythology.

Japanese: 天照大御神

Other Names:

╰┈➤Amaterasu-san_ Prefect-san

╰┈➤Monsieur Marionette (Rook Hunt)

╰┈➤Crystal Jellyfish-chan_ Kurisutarukurage-chan (Floyd Leech)

╰┈➤Mindless Puppet (Airin Tojinomi)

╰┈➤Darling (Divianta)

╰┈➤Ama (Tsukuyomi)

Title(s):

╰┈➤Prefect of Night Raven College

Twisted From: Jackpot Sad Girl+ Bitter Choco Decoration_ syudou_ Vocaloid- Project Sekai

Voice Actor(s):

╰┈➤Japanese_ Yūko Kaida_ Tsubomi Kido_ Kagerou Project- Mekakushi Actors

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

Age: 20 (Appearance Wise_ Forever)

Gender: Unknown (They/Them)

Species: Conscious Marionette

Birthday: August 13_ Leo

Height: 183 cm_ Marionette Form, 192 cm_ Human Form.

Dominant Hand: Ambidextrous

Hair Color: Quinacridone Magenta_ Crimson Red

Eye Color: Crimson Red

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

Homeland:__

『Family:

╰┈➤Divianta ("Mother"; Phantom of Vengence)

╰┈➤Tsukuyomi (Younger Brother; Human?)

╰┈➤KAFU(Youngest Sibling; Human?)』

Dormitory: Heartslabyul_ Ramshackle (Unofficial)

Occupation(s):

╰┈➤ Prefect of Night Raven College

╰┈➤ Bartender_ Unofficial Diva of Light Music Club

Grade: Freshman

Class: 1-A_ No. 9

Club: Light Music Club

Hobbies: Dealing with works, staring at the aquarium, observing.

Favorite Food(s): Don't know.

Least Favorite Food(s): Tsukuyomi's cookings.

Talent(s): Archery, Acting.

"One of the Prefects of Night Raven College. A reliable, yet unnerving and emotionless marionette that gains the trust of every students. What lies behind those eyes, were left unknown."

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

┌──═━┈━═──┐

ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴᴀʟɪᴛʏ

"I have played well, as a fool. Have I?"

╰┈➤An Obedient Maiden: Amaterasu is,, quite obedient. Polite yet distant, they always call others "Master" in a neutral tone. Rules and orders are in Amaterasu's following list, despite how cruel it may be for themself. And when it comes to tasks that related to people, they are a marionette that would want to know everything.

╰┈➤A Clockwork Heart: Emotionally apethetic and distant, Amaterasu came out as dispassionate, largely lacking in interests especially to humans. Prefer to state the fact than smoothering others with lies, their words are always straightforward and blunt. Whilist it seems to come out insenstive, maybe they mean it in a good way. It's quite ironic, considering how they always lie.

╰┈➤Guilding to An Alive Memory: When ask for their opinions, Amaterasu always says they don't know, yet desperately searching for the answers. In the rare cases where Amaterasu feels emotions, it were memories that were intense. Yet overtime, Amaterasu has became more rebellious, although they're still keep their obedient nature.

†•°•══════ஓ๑✬๑ஓ══════•°•†

✬Unique Magic: Views of The Spider Threads (蜘蛛の糸の眺め)

"In the demise of the fallen world, I embrace the continous redness. Views of The Spider Thread."

╰┈➤The user is capable of seeing everything. From the past to the future, from the reality to concepts, there are almost nothing that they couldn't see. All you need is tell them, and they will seek it for you. But beware, if you change the future with bad intentions, the consequences will strike back to you.

†•°•══════ஓ๑✬๑ஓ══════•°•†

╰┈➤ Backstory: •°•[ A Lost Child and The Witch]•°•

╰┈➤ Amaterasu once punched a Savanaclaw senior, due to how he insulted KAFU and Yukiharu. Later, the senior is known as Leona.

╰┈➤ In the Light Music Club, Amaterasu is known as the Diva of the Club. This is mainly due to how they have a good voice, and know many metal songs. (Quite the contrast of their nature.)

╰┈➤ Amaterasu is the Host of Anbelrona Hansel, the Phantom of Controlling.

╰┈➤ Logically, Amaterasu doesn't really belong to any dorms, even Ramshackle. But due to Crowley's wish, they got sorted unofficially to Heartslabyul and Ramshackle. They also have a Heartslabyul's dorm uniform.

╰┈➤ Their marionette form is actually at the same height of an average human.

╰┈➤ Their voice are distorting, and husky with no emotions in it much. It was kind of robotic.

@anxious-twisted-vampire @writing-heiress @achy-boo @yukii0nna

[candy-dog55]

Remake! Part 1

[fnafshiz]

Security puppets minigame puppet

Lore

[unproduciblesmackdown]

1909 edition of alfred sutro's english translation of the 1894 original published "la mort de tintagiles" open access internet archive digitization, for interest

asia kate dillon in triptych, ft. one-acts “phenomena & existences” by daniil kharms, “SPIDERS ARE REAL! THEY’RE ALIVE AND THEY HATE YOU!!” by t. adamson, and “le mort de tintagiles” by maurice maeterlinck

[noneorother]

Oh my god, season 2 is The Tales of Crowley Hoffmann

I guess this has to be a series now too. Part 1 l Part 2

When Aziraphale wants to perform a show-stopping magic trick in S2E4, he is shown the "Professor's Nightmare," a rope trick, and references "Prof Hoff himself" at the end of the minisode.

Because we love double meanings so much around here, I decided to actually watch the Powell & Pressburger epic opera film "The Tales of Hoffmann," assuming it was the another P&P easter egg and the other Hoffmann (not the magician) that was being referenced.

One, this movie is unhinged. Two, this season IS The Tales of Hoffmann. Allow me to explain...

There are shot for shot quotes literally everywhere throughout the season.

P&P The Tales of Hoffmann (Automaton Ball) & Good Omens Season 2 "The Ball"

P&P The Tales of Hoffmann (Hoffmann watches Stella perform) & Good Omens Season 2 "The one with the zombies"

P&P The Tales of Hoffmann (Clerk in Automaton Ball) & Good Omens Season 2 "The Ball"

P&P The Tales of Hoffmann (Tale of Antonia, Hoffman & Antonia) & Good Omens Season 2 "The Clue Crowley & Aziraphale"

P&P The Tales of Hoffmann (Prologue) & Good Omens Season 2 "The one with the Zombies"

P&P The Tales of Hoffmann (Tale of Giulietta Banquet scene) & Good Omens Season 2 "The Clue Banquet scene" *By the way Hoffmann wears a goatee for this tale

P&P The Tales of Hoffmann (Prologue "Dragonfly dance") & Good Omens Season 2 Prologue "Before the Beginning" *This is Stella and un unknown devil drangonfly, NOT Hoffmann

P&P The Tales of Hoffmann (Tale of Antonia) & Good Omens Season 2 "The Clue"

P&P The Tales of Hoffmann (Tale of Antonia) & Good Omens Season 2 "The one with the Zombies"

P&P The Tales of Hoffmann (Automaton Ball) & Good Omens Season 2 "The Ball"

P&P The Tales of Hoffmann (End credits through Hoffman's glasses) & Good Omens Season 2 end credit scene.

Stella & Aziraphale. This one makes me laugh.

There are SO MANY MORE, but tumblr has an image limit. Seriously, it's nuts.

2. It seems simple and straightforward, but it's not at all

" Why would ambitious filmmakers simply film an opera? Many admirers of the work of Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger have assumed that their decision to make The Tales of Hoffmann (...) was in some way an admission(...) that they couldn’t go on making their edgy, over-the-top melodramas after the rejection and interference they’d suffered (but) there’s a case for considering The Tales of Hoffmann as one of the finest and boldest works that Powell and Pressburger produced, so far ahead of its time as a wholly “composed” film, combining visual and musical elements, that it has still not been fully appreciated... Late in his life, Powell himself said that he thought it was one of the best films that he and Pressburger had made. What makes the film so remarkable is a series of paradoxes: the fact that it virtually reinvented the freedom and fantasy of silent cinema while making full use of Technicolor and a stellar cast of dancers and singers..." - Criterion, The lives of marionettes

3. The structure of the story is the same as the show

Here is the story of the Movie** (Not really the Opera that inspired it) In the prologue, we see the dance of the dragonflies onstage at a ballet. Count Lindoff (very bad dude) is spying on both the principal dancer Stella, and the audience member Hoffmann (who's admiring her). Lindoff is behind the scenery. During her dance, Stella passes a love note to her assistant for Hoffmann. The bad dude intercepts it out of jealousy. During the intermission, Hoffmann goes down to the tavern next door, watched by his sort of buddy in red, Nicklaus. People ask him to tell stories to while away the time, and so he tells 3 stories (actually four but we'll get back to that).

We launch into 3 tales/minisodes in other times and places : 1. The Tale of the Ball of the Automaton where he falls in love with a robot. He is humiliated. 2. The tale of Venice (Giulietta) where he falls in love with a courtesan/double agent who crosses him. 3. The tale of Antonia, where he falls in love with a girl who feels trapped by her living dad, her dead mom and a mysterious bad dude (Lindoff). She is murdered in a ring of fire, but becomes a ghost and is resurrected and sent back to earth. At the end, we snap back to the tavern in the real world. Hoffmann reveals that these three women are all metaphors for how he feels about Stella, his true love. He's drunk and depressed now, thinking she never sent for him after the show. Stella arrives in the tavern looking for Hoffmann, ready to run away, but now accompanied by Lindoff (dressed as an angelic figure) who followed her. She looks to Hoffmann to save her, but he's too blinded by the fact that he doesn't think she loves him back to pick up on the signal. He gives up, and she goes back up the stairs guided by Lindoff. Her assistant (who was bribed by Lindoff at the beginning) is given the go ahead by Lindoff to go back to the tavern and taker over. They close the door to the tavern, while she walks up ethereal stairs with the bad dude. THE END.

The one story that doesn't fit into the minisodes and is told in the real world is Kleinzach. We understand by the end of this one that this is Hoffmann's self loathing about never being good enough for Stella, because Stella is perfect and Hoffmann is ugly and deformed. The main love interest attempts to steal Kleinzach's essence through a mirror by the end. 4. Powell & Pressburger recast four actors in new roles In The Tales of Hoffmann, P&P decided to recast four of the principal actors/dancers from the film The Red Shoes in new roles, wanting to recreate the magic that they brought to the first ballet film. Sound familiar?

5. Crowley is Hoffmann

"The Tales of Hoffmann" original 1881 costume concept for Hoffmann & Crowley costume sketch for S2E3 1827 Edinburgh. Glasses are a really important aspect for Hoffmann in both the opera and the movie versions of The Tales of Hoffmann. Hoffmann is gifted metaphorical magic glasses that he wears to be able to perceive his love in a way they aren't really in real life. In the opera, he wears dark glasses to shut out the real world, not just as a metaphor. Check out a modern day version of the opera's Hoffmann costume :

He's french and slamming a beer but you get it. Crowley also canonically loves watching movies. It would make so much sense that his minisode recountings with him and Aziraphale would resemble different styles of movie that he loves. Seeing as we see him drive away at the end as the last character, an argument could be made for him being the ultimate narrator of the story in season 2.

6. The original American release of The Tales of Hoffman had 14ish minutes cut out of it by the studio. So we all know by now that whole debacle about having the clocks jump 14-15ish minutes during the kiss?

"The Tales of Hoffmann found an audience far wider than expected, despite Korda’s misgivings about the movie’s running time and his decision to cut 14 minutes out of the film for its American release." - Criterion, The Tales of Hoffman

I have been unable to unearth what the difference between the American & British versions of the P&P Tales of Hoffmann is, if you know let ME know. I want to know! _____________________________________

And I HAVE SO MUCH MORE. This is long enough already so I'll save the more detailed stuff for a new post.

**The opera is a whole other beast. You can read about it here, but basically there's a lot more going on in the opera because the composer died before finishing it, and multiple versions exist after the original uncompleted score got lost IN A FIRE. Anyway. Here's part 2

[faithschaffer]

Day 26- Sword of the Artificer

Sword- The Lucky Strike

This artificer is known for her work with automatons, most infamously a commissioned spy network of marionettes. Her creations always have a signature playing card symbol (like diamonds) to indicate their model. Her sword, like her outfit, has all the symbols and serves as an accessory at court. The blade hums with a faint whirring sound, as if it contains unknown machinery for untold purpose.

[skf-fineart]

Marionette of a clown, unknown maker, 1880–89, England

[tadc-harlequin-au]

God I'm way too invested in this au. Anyway I wanna hear more of the biology of the puppets and marionettes (might make fanart maybe)

I don't think I'm fully ready to delve into the topic of a Marionette because it reveals major story spoilers, for now just know that they are completely and utterly devoid of life, forever following an endless directive.

For the Puppets, I guess I can give a little bit more information about them, as long as I'm not crossing a personal story boundary I've set for myself lol

Once a Puppet reaches the first enlightenment stage, black tendrils begin to appear on their innermost structures slowly but steadily, as I've explained with Caine.

These things, these transformations... they can be jarring for the Puppet experiencing them for the first time especially when the Puppet starts to feel full sensations such as an electrifying jolt, a pain, or a touch, but make no mistake; aside from their weird alien appearance they mean no danger, and they can even come in pretty handy.

About half-way through the story, Pomni actually gains new abilities everytime she reaches a stage of enlightenment, and there are six steps to achieving the full process, and it may vary on how fast or slow these Puppets can achieve them.

Yeah, can you tell this is like, the leveling up system? lol

Firstly, let's start with Awareness.

Awareness is when a Puppet grows to think beyond their directive; their thoughts becomes separated from the imprinted norm that they used to know their whole existence.

Although, it's still the first stage, which means that even if a Puppet begins to think original thoughts for themselves, they'll still have a tendency to follow the original commands.

They'll just start thinking "hey, maybe I should stop and think about what exactly I'm doing for a second. Just for a second. Then I promise I'll go back to my routine."

At this rate, there's not much changes happening on the physical, except letting a Puppet feel physical touch, despite their mechanical body.

Secondly; Sentience

Sentience is when a Puppet grows... well, a genuine sentience, one that wasn't pseudo and pre-programmed into their very being.

They'll start exploring aspects that they haven't thought of exploring, and this is where creativity and imagination gets to shine a little more if the Puppet is on the creative side of things.

a Puppet may undergo a change of personality (not always guaranteed), so don't be surprised when the once-happy-go-lucky puppet starts crying out of nowhere.

black tendrils may seep out of an exposed joint or a cracked part, but they're only tiny little veins.

Thirdly; Conscience

Conscience is when a Puppet starts to feel emotions based on an inner moral system, that wasn't, again; pre-programmed into them.

they'll start to THINK what's right or wrong based on personal experiences, or maybe even remember their OWN former moral system from their past life, and even a combination of the two.

This is usually the part where they'll start to judge the directive imprinted into them, maybe bouts of unknown regrets will come too.

the veins become more noticeable at this stage, and can now be used for physical attributes/advantages.

Fourth; Reminiscence

This one is usually in tandem with the third, but not everyone can have the same case, since it always varies between all of them.

Reminiscence is when a Puppet remembers their past life prior to becoming what they are now; no strings holding them back from recalling anymore.

These come in the form of seeing major life events unfold right between your eyes; whereas before, there'll only be hazy glimpses.

Fifth; Persipience

Persipience is when a Puppet becomes wiser, and can now overcome the directive they were tasked with if they wished to.

This process can be agonizing for some because it is similar to the symptom of a withdrawal from an addiction.

Fortunately, once they've gotten over past that obstacle, they'll gain full automation over their bodies, the "itch" no longer as present as it used to be.

Sixth; Enlightenment

The final step.

A Puppet needs to come to terms with their new discovery.

They need to be at peace with the process of what had happened to them, accepting the progression from "Human" to "Puppet" as a part of their existence.

Final evolution takes place, and the Puppet can now fully utilize their soul magic to it's fullest extent.

Just like wisdom, not many are willing to go through this process/or can achieve this, since accepting the idea of "becoming a Puppet" like it's similar to the concept of growing up from adolescence to adulthood can be hard for some to fully stomach.

Although, it is considered as the "fully matured" process of the six stages.

Now, Madness takes just as much of steps as Enlightenment does. Only this time, you're on the wrong end of the stick.

Firstly; there's Isolation.

As the name itself applies, isolation is when a Puppet denies/is denied social interaction that their soul wants, prioritizing objectives over anything.

Subtle twitchiness may occur.

Secondly; Revelation

A revelation settles deep within a soul fragment laying inside a puppet's heart; they're trapped, and there's no escape.

Can also be called "entrapment", but revelation is cooler and sounds more fancy

Thirdly; Rebellion

Rebellion is when an attempt to rebel against the internal system of a Puppet takes place, but is not achieved due to the lack of free will and sentience on the physical and mental body.

The body becomes more uncontrollable, dangerously swinging and twisting.

the literal metaphor of an internal battle happening within oneself.

Fourth; Corruption

Another attempt is made by the soul energy, only this time, it's harnessing the worse aspects of a Puppet to propel itself and grow physically stronger, a desperate option.

large, black tendrils may burst through weaker parts and/or limbs; namely joints.

Repairs? What's that? Who even needs 'em lmaoooo

Fifth; Obsession

A Puppet begins to obsess over directives; a byproduct of the soul energy harnessing the negative traits that it's host was ingrained with.

The physical appearance of a Puppet becomes more grim, overexaggerated features that you'd only see in horror movies start to become more prominent.

Work is non-stop, no breaks. Liberation is irrelevant. The concept of humanity is irrelevant. They only exist to follow their directives now. If some shithead wants to tell you otherwise, they will fucking DIE.

Sixth; Madness

You've grown physically stronger. But at what cost?

ANYWAYS that was a massive infodump, what were talking about again?

Oh right. Puppet biology.

Uh, They're hella weird.

[cherrirui-official]

Friendlocke Violet Gijinkas (Part 4/7)

Hell yeah we're over halfway done! Isn't that crazy? I don't have too much to say here sooooooo onto the usual stuff

I plan on posting them in order by groups of three, so there's gonna be seven parts in total, all of which I'll be linking here when done vvv

(Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three) (Part Five) (Part Six) (Part Seven)

!! These will contain personal headcanons I have for the cast, little fun facts, and also spoilers for Friendlocke Violet (for both the edited vids and the streams) !!

@saltydkart-reblogs

Designs under the cut!

VRISKA:

Vriska has an extra set of arms that they can retract and extract whenever they please. However, they usually keep those arms hidden.

The long needle she's holding is her trusty sword that she's used since her pirate days. She doesn't use it as much as she used too, but it's good to keep it on her for self defense in case of an emergency.

The marks on thier neck and shoulders aren't tattoos, they're birthmarks.

Good at sewing, as she often would have to fix her coat after getting into epic pirate sword fights. Sara and Vriska are sewing buddies!

It is unknown why they're unable to sleep, but while the rest of the team sleeps they often find themselves wandering around and doing whatever they want.

Artist's note: I based Vriska's design off the fact that I wanted to make her look like a bootleg version of the og Vriska. As in "Hey that's Vriska" but also "That's not VRISKA" if you get what I mean

MALL BINGO:

Trained herself to become resistant to poison (and by "trained" I mean she just ate a bunch of poison until her body became almost immune to it... please don't try this at home.)

Often goes scavenging for items when she's doesn't feel like robbing someone. If she's lucky enough she'll find some good items scattered around because "stupid trainers often leave good shit on the ground for some reason" (due to all the items you can pick up from the ground ingame lmao)

Mal lost her leg in one of her first heists, after she and another pawmi tried stealing from the wrong person at the worst possible time.

The gun she keeps with her wasn't originally hers, it belongs to someone else.

On a more positive note, Mal has plenty of stories and tall tales to share. She learned them from the eldest in her little pawmi group, as they would often tell her stories before going to sleep. Mal will often share those same stories with Peppy Jr and Mykyie Jr.

Can and will bite you. You won't be expecting it. Be warned.

GRUNPILO:

Due to his abundantly long hair, Grunpilo often lets Mal play around with it and style it however she wants.

It is unknown how or why he picked up on puppetry specifically, but it makes him happy so who are we to judge?

Speaking of which, he creates his own puppets by hand, from simple sock puppets to marionettes on strings. The two hand puppets shown are his favorite ones though.

Sometimes he'll be found speaking to them as if they're real.

Not good in social situations or confrontation, so Mal will sometimes have to speak for him. ("EXCUSE ME! He asked for no pickles!" /ref)

EXTREMELY light, very easy to pick up.

And that's all! Only three more batches left woo, hopefully I can finish them by the end of the year lol.

[the-insomniac-emporium]

NO STRINGS NO STRINGS

tied together. pulled each way. tighter, tighter. the chain goes on, mother, daughter, daughter, mother, again, again.

Puppet Pose Ref: AdorkaStock on DeviantArt, Angie Pose Ref: This Photo (original source unknown) Comments + reblogs are greatly appreciated, I read every response! Check under the read-more for notes on symbolism/details, plus the flat color version. Beware of spoilers for Angie's route!!

Notes on details:

From top to bottom, the flowers are: Dandelion (overcoming hardship), Prince's Feather Amaranth (immortality/unfading), Blackthorn (fate/protection/hope against adversity), and Lotus (rebirth)

Miranda's hand at the top wields the marionette rod (or whatever they're called), the strings connecting both to Angie + Donna's hands. Donna, in turn, has strings connected to puppet Angie, representing how Donna is responsible for keeping the puppet body going/active. She also has some control over Angie, trying to keep her safe without revealing what really happened after the car accident.

Half of Angie's face is her normal color, the other half (divided by something originally meant to mimic kintsugi) is her doll colors (seen during her cult ending).

Big circles on the sides, with the beams? Headlights. because car crash. because Idk felt like being a little evil I guess.

[skeletoninthemelonland]

If you don't mind, I desire more of Trickster because who wouldn't like a lill guy such as him

Oh!! I think I never shared their backstory here!

Trickster is a character from a FNaF based story I worked on before Behind The Codes (in 2020). He was and still is mute, though he talked in some comics I made.

In the Familiar Traces story, Trickster is based on the Marionette character and performed as a magician to entertain kids. Only April was able to see and talk to them, though he never replied back.

Trickster was this mysterious and unknown figure she kept seeing in her dreams, and they always had something to show her, so they were constantly gesturing and doing magic tricks to grab her attention.

He is all grown up now!

[sonics-atelier]

𝐕𝐞𝐢𝐥 𝐎𝐟 𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐭

Unveiling ( Pun intended ) the First chapter of my A Court of Thorns and Roses Fanfiction

𝐕𝐞𝐢𝐥 𝐎𝐟 𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐭 , 𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝟏 : 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐔𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐲

For @sjmvillainweek Day 1 : Villain Origin Story

Protagonists :

( more will be revealed as the story progresses )

Ianthe - Priestess of the Spring Court. Amarantha - General of Hybern. Miryam - Slave to the Black Queen. Jurian - Spy

Relationships :

( more will be revealed as the story progresses )

Ianthe x Amarantha

Miryam x Drakon

Summary :

Ianthe has spent a lifetime yearning for escape, ever since that fateful night so many years ago. Crossing paths with Hybern’s general was never her intention, but their fates are being woven by forces far beyond her control, mere marionettes in the hands of the gods.

Miryam is driven by a singular mission: to slay the Black Queen who once enslaved her, free her fellow humans, and claim her long-awaited revenge. Yet one infuriating prince stands in her way, provoking her to the point of wanting to strangle him. Drakon, however, has never encountered anyone as wild as Miryam.

Jurian traverses the vast lands of Prythian on a noble quest, working as a spy to free the oppressed and bring justice to his people. His journey takes him into the unknown, forcing him to face both literal and inner demons, unaware that enemies are closing in on him.

Now, a new threat rises in Prythian, shaking the very foundations of the land as mountains quake and tides turn under its mysterious power. As the world teeters on the brink of chaos, will our protagonists fight for what they hold dear, or will they be swallowed by the flames of this growing darkness? Discover more as their fates unfold.

The Link

Taglist : ( dm me or send me an ask if you wish to be added / removed ), @achaotichuman , @ae-neon , @aho-dapa , @umthisistheonlyusernamenottaken , @flat-neines , @merwgue , @deafeningblazecolor.

Dividers by @im4yeons <33

[fnafshiz]

The puppet/Marionette

One of the major lore characters,Shields Charlotte in a mini game

[pillowspace]

Calling Charlie "the Marionette's assigned child" is a bit of a mouthful, so I tend to just shorten it down to "the Marionette's child" out of habit. Which, when you think about it, must make the possession 10 times weirder for Charlie. This isn't some unknown vessel, Henry literally built this animatronic to keep her safe. It was her friend, and now she's in its body

[thus-spoke-lo]

Pain Management // Trafalgar Law x afab!reader // NSFW/18+

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter Series Masterlist // AO3 Link // Playlist

Chapter 6: Medical Malpractice

Chapter Summary: The lines begin to blur between doctor and patient, captain and subordinate, as your "treatment" plan starts to slowly drift away from medical care and towards something else, something you can't yet name. The thorny roots of desire that have you and Law wrapped in a prickly embrace start to push you both towards things you shouldn't feel and risks you shouldn't take.

Chapter CW: afab reader, no pronouns used; gendered pet names [ex. "good girl"]; extremely dubious consent; emotional and sexual coercion/manipulation; abuse of authority [doctor/patient]; Stockholm syndrome-like behavior in reader; vaginal fingering; angst

WC: 5.4k

Something had embedded itself in you—a thorny aberration trapped deep within your flesh, woven into the fiber of your muscles, tangled with every nerve—that seemed to possess you when you would creep down the halls late into the night, your head on a swivel as you approached your captain’s office. The soft knock at Law’s door, the impatient shifting from foot to foot, the furtive glances up and down the corridor as you waited with growing unease, a maddeningly urgent heat pooling between your thighs—it wasn’t possible that you were still in control.

An unknown something must have roused you from sleep, coiled its way around your spine and was manipulating you like a marionette, steering you on jerky limbs. But you knew the unspeakable truth: that it was you and only you, and your endless meditations on Law and the power of his healing hands, unable to rid yourself of the ghost of his touch on your skin, that compelled you to his door.

It was almost laughable how easy it had become to blur the already murky lines between doctor and patient, captain and subordinate—to grasp the veil of professionalism, the one that had already begun to lower that night in his room, in between your trembling fingers and tug it down just a little further with every clandestine visit. You’d stand there in his doorway, wistful and doe-eyed, complaining of some unknown ache, silently pleading him to invite you inside and give you release with the ministrations of his skilled hands. Law would look you over with a lascivious grin, holding his fingers against your neck and make a show of checking your pulse, grasping your slacked jaw between his thumb and forefinger to hold you steady while his eyes perused the contours of your face.

“Poor thing, did I not do a thorough job earlier?” he’d hum as he took hold of your wrist and shepherded you inside his dimly-lit room. He’d close the door behind you, quickly moving to shove the precarious stacks of papers and books on his cluttered desk to one side, making a space perfectly sized just for you. The illusion of formality afforded to you in the exam room was unneeded in the quiet perversion of his private office, and he’d lean against the wall, thumbs hooked in his pockets, his curious eyes wandering over you as you’d undress for him; you grew less and less humiliated each time, almost relishing in his shameless glances. Soon, hushed words of praised would be murmured in your ear, his ungloved fingers crooked inside you, thumb idly playing with your clit, as he started to pull you apart piece by piece.

“You’re just so needy for me, aren’t you?” he’d whisper, holding your face in a firm grasp, squishing the fat of your cheeks and forcing your attentions up towards him, urging you to meet his unceasing gaze. His steely eyes darted over you as he studied every twitch of your lips, every flare of your nostrils, every upward quirk of your eyebrows as he thrust his long fingers into you, analyzing every reaction as you pulsed around him. He’d subtly adjust his movements now and again, adapting to your responses, letting your body set the pace for him; every sigh he earned from you only the made the salacious grin on his lips stretch even wider, your subdued moans a sordid prize he wanted to win.

Your trembling legs dangled off the edge of his desk, and the temptation to wrap them around Law’s waist, to pull him into you and grind against him until he had no choice but to succumb and replace his hard fingers with his even harder arousal, never far from your mind. His quiet groans, barely audible over the lewd sounds of him plunging inside your drenched cunt over and over again, only helped to unravel you more and more, coaxing you ever closer to the edge of ruin. Eventually, he’d place his free hand on the back of your head and he’d tenderly guide you forward, inviting you to muffle your sobs in his shoulder while you clenched around his fingers, his low voice reciting, “That’s my good girl” as you rode out your waves on his hand.

Afterwards, as you sat jelly-legged and lost in the haze of desire, he’d clean you up with gentle motions, the rough towel still verging on too much against your sensitive cunt. You’d gaze out the large glass window next to you, watching the marine life drift by, and wonder if they had witnessed your covert liaison, smiling to yourself at the thought of some fluorescent fish being the unwitting keeper of your secrets.

Most nights, Law would invite you to brace yourself on his broad chest while your boneless legs somehow were maneuvered into your crumpled sweatpants. But some nights—nights when you had keened extra sweetly for him, when your trembling fingers had unwittingly wrapped around his biceps to brace your quaking body, when “I need you” came instinctively tumbling out of you like a prayer as you approached your high—he’d smile at you with half-lidded eyes and implore you to stay with him.

“I think I should keep you under observation tonight,” he’d whisper into your skin, lips almost brushing your forehead, his words outlined in the color of his own longing. You were just so very weak, he’d insist as he grasped you upper arms and lowered you to the floor—you were so clearly in need of his undivided attention that it would be tantamount to malpractice if he let you wander out into the halls in such a vulnerable state. He’d stroke your cheek, his fingers still smelling of you, and remind you that you had to be as quiet as possible; no one could know that you were huddled under his desk, wrapped in the plush red blanket that had covered the back of his chair. You had to be careful, he’d say, or else the crew might start to have notions that he was playing favorites with the newest recruit; you wondered every time if he was taking care in reminding you or himself.

You’d lay there draped in his warmth while he became immersed in his pile of work; it was charming and a little strange, you thought, to be so nonchalantly observing him writing away, flipping through pages of heavy volumes, as though he hadn’t just defiled you in that exact spot. His tired eyes would occasionally drift from his stack of open books and settle upon you, a warm flush spreading across his cheeks when you’d return his gaze with a drowsy smile. He’d mumble something barely coherent about having needed to check and make sure you were resting well before clearing his throat and focusing his attention on his cluttered mess of papers again, but not before shifting in his seat and somehow finding that his legs were resting against you. When the steady motion of the ship and the soft whir of its engine became a mechanical lullaby, Law would carefully push his chair back and settle down on the floor next to you, cross-legged and hunched over, distractedly skimming through stacks of notes.

“Don’t worry, I’ll wake you so you don’t sleep too long,” he’d say as he extended one arm over and patted you on the hip, letting his hand settle there, a gentle weight that slowly blanketed you in a comfortable affection. Inevitably, you’d be startled awake from dreamless sleep by a sharp snore and find Law passed out next to you, his book laying open somewhere near his head, his long limbs stretched out at impossible angles. You’d watch him carefully through bleary eyes before reaching a hand out from your blanket and setting it on top of his, your fingertips lazily tracing the tattoos on the top of his hand, exploring the hills and valleys of his knuckles, walking up the sinew of his forearm until he began to stir. You’d quickly settle yourself back under the covers, drifting in and out of consciousness and fitful dreams of Law, until he’d eventually wake you with a shake and the sound of your name gently rolling off his tongue.

He'd linger at the door with you, blinking slowly with weary eyes, and you’d feel the thorny obsession start to come alive again and wrap itself around your limbs. You’d thank him for letting you stay, feel the heat rising in your ears as you tried to silently will him to press his lips to yours before you left, and slip out before you found yourself uttering things better left unspoken. The halls felt longer and narrower as you’d shuffle off to your quarters, holding your breath as you’d slink back down the staircase, directing your muddled thoughts towards what was for breakfast that morning, or trying to recall where you’d left off in your navigation notes that you’d carelessly left in the library—anything to keep the twisted roots of some unnamed emotion that felt profound and painful and all-encompassing from taking hold in the garden of your heart.

----------

“I thought I might find you here.”

You glanced up from the pile of laundry on the counter to see Law’s lanky frame taking up the doorway, a condescending grin carved into the angles of his face.

“Did you need something, captain?” You leaned down and rifled through the basket of clothes on the floor, trying to keep your eyes and hands on anything but Law. “I don’t think I have anything of yours to pick up just yet.”

“I wasn’t needing anything in particular,” he said distractedly, running his fingers along the top of the door-frame. “I was just coming by to check on you.”

“Oh? How come?” The humidity hanging in the air felt abruptly oppressive, settling on you with the weight of twenty wet blankets.

“Well, I don’t know what kind of doctor I’d be if I didn’t keep an eye on my patients.” He slunk into the room, approaching you with the unhurried, deliberate gait of a predator trying not to frighten its prey. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m alright.” Your eyes darted around the small space while your heart fluttered wildly; the laundry room had no door, and any of your crewmates could easily walk by and see you shrinking into the wall as Law’s presence started to overtake you. If they saw how he looked at you, how you started to cave in on yourself in his shadow, it would be painfully apparent this was more than just their beloved captain giving orders. It was already a tenuous situation just existing in Law’s orbit on the ship—you worried that your crewmates could see the depravity written on your face when you looked at him, that they could smell the desperation on you whenever Law was around. The last thing you needed was for any one of them to start to put the pieces together and see the full picture of yours and Law’s increasingly precarious entanglement.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” He pressed the back of his hand to your forehead, tilting his head at you in that way that made you feel a little smaller, a little weaker, just the way you wanted to be. “You seemed a little unwell at dinner.”

“I’m fine, really.” You had felt unwell at dinner, but only because his hungry gaze kept settling on you from across the room, his piercing glare unwavering as he pushed the food around on his plate.

He pressed forward, backing you against the wall, his head tilting as he spoke, looking at you in that way—that damnably patronizing way that made you feel like you were made only to surrender to him. “You don’t have to keep things from me. You know you can trust me, don’t you?”

“Captain, please,” you quietly implored, able to taste the rising dread that settled in your mouth. You anxiously glanced around him, thinking you had heard the distant sounds of conversation reverberating in the hall. “Not here.”

“Come with me, then.” A depraved smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth, and he wrapped his long fingers around your wrist, pulled you across the room to a storage closet, hastily ushering you inside and closing the door behind you, punctuated by a soft click.

The air was heavy with the chemical smell of cleaning supplies and laundry detergent, the only light a tiny sliver creeping in from under the door. You quickly found your back pressed against a wall and your fingers groped along the smooth surface for a light switch, finding nothing but the handle of a mop. The muffled rhythm of the washing machines could barely mask the sound of your pulse roaring in your ears, but it was enough to keep you from sensing precisely where Law stood.

“Now,” he rumbled in the darkness, “how are you? Truly?”

“Look, I already told you—”

“You don’t have to lie to me.” The warmth of his body suddenly radiated near you, his voice getting closer, reverberating deeper in your chest. “I always know when you need me.”

“I’m okay, really I am.” You hoped the near pitch-black of the room was enough to mask your fabrication. At least here he couldn’t see the way your chest shook with every heartbeat, or how your hands trembled, or how you chewed on your lower lip, trying to stem the urge to fumble in the darkness and let your hands find their way onto his muscled frame. Perhaps it was the heavy scent of cleaning products that were making you start to feel lightheaded, but you suspected it was the desire that flourished between your thighs, pulsing with every second of the unknown, that had you unsteady on your feet.

“You’re sure?” His forearm brushed you as he placed a hand on the wall behind you, caging you from the side. “You’re sure nothing is aching? Nothing’s feeling especially sensitive? Maybe feeling a little feverish?”

You exhaled a shivering “fuck” sharply under your breath. “I-I guess I do feel a little—a little achy.”

“I thought so.” His hand appeared as if from nowhere and drifted over your midsection, trailing across your hip, down your thigh, searching for something; he found your hand and nudged it, letting rest against yours. “Why don’t you show me where?”

A moment of hesitation passed, knowing you needed to stop—this was risky, even compared to the possibility of being seen slipping out of Law’s office in the early hours of morning—but reason never stood a chance against the stranglehold of arousal that gripped you whenever Law was near. You finally took his hand in yours, slowly guiding it over your body, letting it come to rest at the apex of your thighs. “Right here.”

“Good girl. See, was that so hard?” He pushed his fingertips up into you until you let out a soft yelp at the delicious pressure on your clit, the rigid seam of your jumpsuit adding extra friction that made your thighs clench together. “You have to let me take care of you. Don’t I always make you feel better?”

“Of course you do.” The words that came out of you sounded far away, dangling in space somewhere beyond you.

Law brought his heated palm up to your face, rough fingers dancing over your cheek, trailing down your jaw, lingering on the soft skin of your neck. You felt unsteady breaths against your temple, his face hovering dangerously close, so close you could have turned and found your lips on his with little effort, as he carefully undid the snap of your collar and dragged of your jumpsuit down with smooth and measured motions, letting you feel the subtle vibrations of the metal teeth as they came apart. He pulled the stiff fabric away from your body, and his touch settled on your midsection, his wide palm exploring the curves and lines of your form. He made his way down further, and tugged at the waistband of your panties, pulling and releasing so the elastic would snap back against you, sending subtle ripples over your exposed flesh with a sharp sting that made you gasp. He groaned softly at your noises, and moved down to finally press two fingers against your clothed slit.

“You’re just such a needy little thing, aren’t you?” he teased, his palm pressed against your heat.

“You”—you hiccuped as he began to make slow, insistent circles over your swollen clit—“you made me like this. You did this to me.”

“Did I?” He cupped your face with his free hand, the rough pad of his thumb pressing into your cheek. “Or were you always this way?”

You turned your head, brushing your lips against the heel of his palm. “No, I wasn’t.”

“No? Never needy like this for someone?” The words were hot in your ear, starting to scald you from the inside out. “Never wanted someone to take care of you the way I do?”

“Only for you,” you whispered into his palm. Never—never had you felt a craving this insatiable, one that you couldn’t seem to placate no matter how many times he made you come undone, one that consumed you, drove you to distraction during nearly every waking moment. Your voracious hunger frightened you, and you wondered, even as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge of euphoria, if any of it would ever be enough—if this would ever be enough to bring you satisfaction, or if your yearning was for something deeper, something always just out of reach.

“I guess you just needed the right person to pull it out of you, then.” Law toyed with you through the soaked fabric, drawing soft gasps out of you with skillful ease, the urge to moan his name settling on the tip of your tongue. You started to move your hips against him, matching his motions, feeling yourself pulsing as a blazing heat spread throughout your core. A lustful groan hitched in your throat, escaping you as a low whine, one that rapidly filled the air in the small room and he quickly shushed you, moving to place his thumb on your lips. “Do you want everyone to hear you?”

“No,” you murmured against him, “’course not.”

“No?” He pulled aside the gusset of your panties, running his fingers through your slippery folds until you whimpered. “Don’t want everyone to know how much you need me? How good I make you feel?”

You shook your head slowly, words becoming harder and harder to grab a hold of.

“That’s right, it’s our little secret.” He teased at your drenched entrance, pressing against it with the tips of his fingers, feeling you pulse and flutter as you squirmed, trying to move your hips enough that he’d slip inside you, your cunt needy and aching and already yearning for release.

“Doctor, please,” you implored, your sense of shame melting away from you with every passing moment that he wasn’t working at dissolving you into pleasure.

“Please what?” His voice was drenched in a cloying condescension, the kind that made your limbs start to grow cold and your head fill with a thick fog of arousal. “What do you want?”

You reached out with trembling hands, gripped feebly at his arms, sinking into the steely hardness of his biceps, nothing but indecency on your tongue. “Please… please make me cum?”

“Well,” he rasped, flexing his wrist, “since you asked so nicely.”

He slipped his middle and ring fingers inside your waiting walls, pumping in and out of your heated cunt with shallow thrusts, an agonizing rhythm that had the coiling tension inside you start to wind tighter and tighter with every movement. Even in darkness, he knew by instinct the motions that would light a spark at the base of your spine; after all, he had already spent hours studying you like a living textbook, committing your every sweet sigh, every soft smile of pleasure, every clench and pulse of your slick, wet heat to his memory, all in the pursuit of shattering you into a million pieces and calling it medicine.

You choked on every moan and gasp, remaining as quiet as your body would allow, fighting all your basest urges to sob with abandon and beg him for more, beg him to bend you over in the confined space and bury himself in you until his hips met the swell of your ass. It wasn’t long before you gripped his broad shoulders as you shuddered, walls spasming and contracting while he relentlessly drove his fingers into you. In your frenzy, Law’s name—not “captain,” not “doctor,” but his name—came falling from your lips faster than you could catch it, not once but twice.

He said nothing, not even so much as a chuckle, letting you contemplate your embarrassment as he slid his fingers out of you, the vulgar sounds of your leaking cunt echoing in your ears. You were never quite comfortable enough to call him Law—you hadn’t interacted with him that often aboard the Sunny to ever need to address him, and you never felt like a permanent fixture enough on the submarine to become casual with him, despite the depth of your intimate relationship. It was only in the persistent fantasies that plagued you, the ones that drove you to seek relief from him as often as you did, that you would ever call him by his name.

You waited and waited, your palms now flat against the wall behind you, and listened to the ambient gyrations of the washing machines, but still he said nothing. His body shifted, and you felt him directly in front of you, felt the warmth of trembling breaths suddenly tickling your mouth and chin as he placed his hands on the wall behind you, trapping you under him.

“Captain?” you asked the darkness, wondering if it would utter anything back.

It was then that he kissed you—softly at first, gentle grazes that seemed to test a theory, and then with an intensity that made you cling to him, using his shoulders to hold you aloft as a sudden dizziness washed over you. His insistent mouth parted your lips, his tongue gliding delicately along them; with every taste he took of you, your veins throbbed and your heart threatened to explode like a supernova.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he sputtered as he pulled away abruptly, the words spilling out through choked gasps.

“No, no, please,” you stammered, grasping sightlessly for him, tugging at his shirt to pull him closer, fistfuls of fabric in your balled-up hands. “Don’t stop.”

His palms, cool to the touch with a tremor running through them, found their way to your face. “You sure?”

There was a deluge of words you wanted to let flow from you like water—that of course you were sure, that you’d been sure since you’d watched him saunter onto the Sunny all that time ago, that you didn’t think you’d ever be more sure of anything in this vast world than you were of the fact that you wanted him to kiss you again. All that eventually came bubbling up to the surface, however, was a hushed and insistent, “Yes.”

Something in the near-total darkness had intoxicated both of you, left you both willing to be raw and exposed under the cloak of shadows, and you were willing to surrender to it, let it consume you both as you melted into one another. He captured your lips again with a hungry urgency, devouring you with a delirious fervor, his tongue gently probing, making sweeping, swirling motions inside your mouth. You carded your fingers through his hair, taking in the quiet sounds of pleasure that he moaned into you, deep and echoing inside his chest. His heart thudded beautifully under your hand, and everything suddenly felt worth it, every last absurd bit of it.

“Uhm—is someone in there?” a muffled voice asked as the doorknob jiggled.

“Shit!” you mouthed as Law pulled himself off you, a string of saliva still connecting you.

“I’m just”—Law’s voice cracked as he began to fumble with the zipper of your jumpsuit, mumbling at you to hold still—“I’m just getting some supplies. Give me a minute.”

“Oh.” Your crewmate paused, and you craned your head, listened for the sound of fading footsteps. “Well, I need more detergent, can I just grab it from you real quick?”

“Just give me a second,” Law reiterated, his volume increasing uncomfortably.

“Law, what do we do?” you hissed, enunciating wildly enough for him to make out your panicked words.

He pressed his forehead to yours before granting you one last quick kiss, this one tender and melancholy; then, barely audible, he spoke: “Room. And shambles.”

In an instant, you appeared in your room and dropped onto your mattress, the air getting punched out of your lungs in the process. You quickly scrambled to your feet, grasping at the zipper of your half-closed jumpsuit, your instinct to run back upstairs and do—well, you weren’t sure what. There was nothing you could really do without giving yourself away; you couldn’t rationalize walking into the laundry room with kiss-swollen lips and smelling of sex, trying to somehow pretend you had no idea what was going on and that you hadn’t just been manhandled in that little closet three steps away.

Instead, you sat back down, perched on the edge of your mattress with your fists pressed into your thighs. He was careless—you both were, but especially Law—and now you could only sit and wait for judgement. This whole affair could come crashing down around you, and you’d be back to the start—in a state of chronic pain, slowly losing hope for a life that didn’t involve you doubled over and clutching your abdomen, sobbing silently into your pillow. And what then—if you alienated your new crew, and Luffy was informed of your ruse, what were you to do?

You fell back onto the bed and placed a hand on your chest, inhaling to the count of five and out to the count of ten in an attempt to calm the sharp, rushing breaths that made your ribcage ache and your lungs burn. It would be fine, you told yourself—it would all be fine, and Law would still treat your illness and shamelessly break you into pieces over and over, and you would still sneak upstairs at night to tuck yourself under his desk and feel whatever fucked up kind of adored you felt when you were with him. Things wouldn’t change—they couldn’t, they shouldn’t—no, you needed him too much, needed what only he could provide you, needed him so you could feel something close to normal for the first time in a long time.

You were simply making something out of nothing, you told yourself—you were seeing mountains where there were only anthills. You were fine, you repeated over and over again in whispers—you were rational and calm and things would work out as they always did. You may have even believed it, were it not for the way your hand trembled as you held it to your heart.

----------

You and Law stared at each other for a good while, both of you fumbling for where to start.

“So, what happened after I left?” you finally asked as you leaned against the door, arms tucked behind you.

“Don’t worry, I took care of it.” He sat hunched over in his desk chair, his elbows resting on his thighs, fingers interlaced under his chin.

“What exactly does that mean?”

“It means I don’t think he heard anything, or if he did, he knew well enough not to say anything to me about it.”

“Well, I guess that’s good.” Hoping that your crewmate would be either oblivious enough to realize what was happening (though likely not with whom), or value Law’s privacy enough to keep his mouth shut was a hefty gamble, one you weren’t sure you wanted to have to take.

“Look...” Law trailed off as he pressed his palms into his thighs and slowly stood. “I think it’s best if you don’t come here again. Or to my private quarters.”

“What do you mean?”

The muscles in his jaw tightened and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed before he continued. “I’m of the opinion that it would be better to carry out your treatments in the exam room. Like before.”

“Oh.” You tasted the disappointment coating that oh as it left your lips, wanting to gag at the bitter flavor. Law was a keenly observant man, but it wouldn’t have taken a mastermind to read the hurt written in the downward jerk of the corners of your mouth.

“It’s clearly necessary,” he stressed, one hand on the back of his neck. “I’ve been acting recklessly.”

“If you have, so have I,” you shouted back in a strained whisper, trying not to let the whole ship know of your transgressions.

“No.” He set his mouth as he stared you down, his jaw jutting out slightly as he weighed his next words for a moment. “I am your captain. And your physician. And I’ve let my judgement become clouded, and I’ve behaved unprofessionally, and I cannot let it continue, for your sake and mine.”

You nodded as you sucked on your teeth, your gaze settled on a stain on the floor. You did understand, understood perfectly that everything he said was true—that he exercised poor judgment, that he behaved in ways not befitting of a doctor or a captain, that he was taking risks that could jeopardize things for both of you. It just didn’t matter. It didn’t matter as long as you could feed the hunger that he’d created inside you, stave off the obsessive thoughts as you closed your eyes and let him pull pleasure out of you as if it were nothing.  

He set his hand on the back of his chair, his tired eyes flitting over your face, reading into every little tic and twitch. “Your care is what comes first. We’ll resume your sessions in the exam room, once a week, with your self-care to be done nightly. Nothing changes from the original plan.”

“Understood, captain.” You waited with your palm lightly touching the door handle behind you, waited for him to say something else. But there was nothing, just the sight of his back to you as he turned his chair around and sat down at his desk, not moving, not reaching for anything, just sitting with his palms flat on the surface, sitting idly in the deafening silence that separated you.

You slid out of his office, checked the hall for any signs of life before tiptoeing into the kitchen and slumping down against the counters with a huff, letting the back of your head smack against the cabinet doors once, twice, three times for good measure. Unprofessional. The word tumbled around in your mind as elegantly as a shoe in a clothes-dryer. It’s wasn’t unprofessional for Law to offer you medical care that you were so desperate for and would have done anything to obtain, only to use it an excuse for to defile you to satisfy his own sickness, placate his own fascination with you—yet somehow, some way, it was unprofessional to kiss you?

“God, I’m so fucked,” you murmured into the atmosphere, a stunted urge to cry catching in your throat. The bramble of thorns were starting to overtake you, wrap like brittle tendrils around every limb, closing in until you could barely see the sun. It was a crush—a stupid crush, nothing else, you insisted—and yet every longing glance, every hushed word of praise, every feather light touch had you wound up more and more, had you losing your grip and sinking further into whatever deluded perversion of intimacy this was becoming.

You touched your fingertips to your chin, your skin still tingling from the sensation of Law’s wiry facial hair brushing against you. You ran your tongue over your lips, lingering on a spot where his teeth had almost pierced your skin, feeling your pulse bloom at the surface. Perhaps untangling yourself from this prickly mess could wait just a little longer, you mused as you shivered at the specter of his tongue curling against yours—just until after your next session.

[morbidmordin]

I get the distinct impression that the majority of the fan base believes that Cyn and the Absolute Solver are one and the same. Some even believing her to have created the Absolute Solver(or worse, believing matpat). I don't believe that myself and the information in the series points to them being separate entities.

To prevent confusion, the timeline I am dealing with here goes: Episode 5 Junkyard scene with Cyn first waking up -> Episode 2 Manor scene with Tessa introducing Cyn -> unknown period of time -> remainder of Manor scenes in Episode 5.

Cyn likely went through a period where she was in complete control of her own faculties. Her movements in episode 2, what little we see, are not the stilted, jerky motions we saw in episode 5. Her motions are smoother and she doesn't have to manually readjust her head. Her movements only become like that of a marionette when total Solver possession takes place. Uzi displays the same behavior in episode 6 when she generates a singularity to save N. The puppet movement does not seem inherent to Cyn, but rather a symptom of Solver possession.

Tessa's statements also lend to Cyn being a separate character. "It took Cyn as a host," and "before she's not herself anymore," imply that Cyn was not always the text-to-speech marionette we see in episode 5. Obviously, Tessa could be an unreliable narrator, but until we know more, its the best information we have. Lastly, the command line text that flashes on Cyn's screen right before she wakes up in the junkyard, explicitly show's a separate entity reaching out to her with an offer.

"hello "i see you are (di...) "i see you are inspe-illegible "illegible" "I see we could [trl]-illegible "I will not discard you" "[][][][][]][][][Absolute[S-illegible "access? Y/N" Sounds like a deal with the devil to me. But who knows, we'll probably find out in a few hours.