#this post is serving more as a check in point :p

[royalsealy]

Redo of my coord for the kei con swap meet! I had finished putting together my review of this dress months ago, all that was missing was a little snip of what the dress looks like when worn.

Im thinking the video should release next week, followed by a video of my experience at Kei Con!

Thanks for reading!

🌹Royalsealy

[gutsby]

Best Served Cold

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: Since your fiancé can’t seem to keep his hands off of Lori, you decide Daryl is the perfect way to make him pay. Revenge sex has never felt so good.

Warning: NSFW. Attempted SA. Unprotected p-in-v. I don’t condone cheating (unless it’s on abusers lol). Semi-public sex and getting caught doing it in a tent 🫣 Based on this kickass idea from @dilfsandmartinis (I'm so sorry it took this long for me to post the story) !! 💓

Your man returned to your tent that night like he did most others: slick with sweat and too tired for sex. At least not again, not with you. He would undoubtedly claim to have been checking the perimeter, standing guard like a good leader should, but any blind man in that quarry camp could’ve seen he was just boning Lori.

A lot.

You were really more offended that he thought you stupid enough to abide by his lies than the fact he was fucking someone else. That part wasn’t new—his dick never knew how to stay in one hole longer than a month or two—but in an apocalypse? With his newly-deceased best friend’s widow? That was low, even for Shane.

Which was why you felt no compunction yourself as you slipped quietly from your tent toward the water’s edge that night, pink vibrator clutched tightly in hand.

Useful little thing that it was, a six-setting suction device that worked wonders on your clit, even underwater. You figured since Shane couldn’t be bothered with you or your sexual pleasure so long as the former Mrs. Grimes was occupying his time, you’d make use of this sex toy instead and start really leaning into the “self care” you’d been craving for so long.

The water was warm all the way up to your chest, and the air around you tepid. You moved around, treaded in place, and finally reached comfortable bearings a couple yards from shore. You relished the solitude and silence.

The moment you felt the toy come to life in your hand, you couldn’t help but smile. Exhaling as you brought the tip close to your center.

“Shit.” Even the gentlest setting too harsh on your clit, you nipped your lower lip and bit back a whimper.

You swirled it lightly on your inner thigh, tried painstakingly as ever to acclimate yourself to the buzz of the rubber, but damn were you sensitive. Almost too tender to be touched, too ripe with excitement and aching for the feel of something on you, or in you, or just barely skimming the surface of your skin underwater.

A low moan escaped your lips the second the head drifted back to your clit. Your toes curled into rough, rocky terrain underfoot, and your breaths started to quicken. You made a gentle motion with your hips—a sweet, semi-circular thing you’d been doing over Shane’s lower half as long as you could remember—begging for more friction, needing more of that mechanical hum.

You pressed the button for a higher setting. The peaks of your pleasure soared to new heights.

You were helpless to the trembling of your knees and felt immensely grateful for the water’s aid in keeping you straight. You pressed the rounded tip of the toy even tighter to your core and didn’t heed a thing around you as you sighed several expletives under your breath. A jolt of bliss washed over your body.

Your eyes had just started to close in the first throes of that wild sensation, when a new sound startled you.

“Ya done pissin’ or what?”

You shot a look toward the shore and saw a slightly less-than cheery individual standing at the edge of it, the toes of his boots grazing the incoming waves.

You froze in place. You hardly knew what to say.

“Ain’t safe fer you out here ‘n you know it. Come on.” Daryl beckoned you with one hand and started to turn.

At what point was it appropriate to tell him you were naked?

You thought he could surmise from the fact you were neck-deep in the water and refusing to move that maybe something more was keeping you in. Daryl seemed clueless, however.

“I ain’t got all night, kid,” he snorted, “’f you don’t hurry, Shane an’ the rest of ‘em’ll be out and— ah.”

Ah.

At the last, he stepped on a pile of clothes folded neatly on the shoreline nearby, undergarments and all.

So this wasn’t a midnight swim or a late night piss at all, but a full-blown skinny dip. He should have known you weren’t the bikini type.

Awkwardly, almost begrudgingly, Daryl gathered what clothes of yours he could and chucked them closer to the lake. Then he turned on his heels and stalked up the beach without another word—fuming, it seemed to you. Once averted, though, Daryl’s face betrayed a look of horror. Like a parent who’d just stumbled upon a box of condoms in their daughter’s sock drawer after swearing she was still a virgin.

In the few short weeks since you’d been thrown together in this mess, Daryl had practically taken to you like family. He hated Shane ‘Shit-for-Brains’ Walsh most days, it was true, but the fact that you were you, and times were tough, and nothing seemed to occupy Daryl’s mind quite like the thought of keeping you safe, that he had to keep you close at all times. He just hadn’t imagined your proximity would turn this intimate so suddenly.

“Keep up,” he spoke more sharply than usual. Didn’t even wait for you to dry and dress completely before snagging your hand in his.

You glanced at your taut, hardened nipples poking up through the damp material of your tank top and suddenly wished you’d brought a towel. Or a bra. Your shorts, too, clung to your ass like a second skin and made you feel extra bare before Daryl’s eyes—even if he hadn’t spared a look at you once as you’d traipsed behind him through the woods.

When you tripped, he held you up; when you nearly ate shit over several rocky spots, he carried you over them. His eyes never strayed toward your body, though.

Once you’d made it to the clearing where your group had made camp, Daryl lowered you to the ground and still couldn’t find it within himself to look your way. You shuffled uncomfortably on your feet, now standing inches away from the tent you shared with Shane.

“Thanks for...that,” you said, flatly.

Daryl managed a curt nod.

Before you turned in, you decided to venture a look at Daryl’s chest, and you felt an influx of embarrassment. The taupe-colored cutoff he wore as a shirt was soaked with water. Instinctively, you brushed your fingers over the stain—as if touching it might dry the fabric, or else mask your humiliation at being the cause. You tried not to evince a hint of surprise at how sturdy he felt.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Daryl.”

You hadn’t thought any man was capable of looking more afflicted than Daryl did before, but somehow, incredibly, he appeared even more ill at ease when you touched him. You immediately retracted your hand.

“’S’okay,” he managed. He would’ve given anything not to be where he was, or who he was, at that moment.

Just when another apology leapt to your tongue—feeling even worse that you might’ve crossed a physical boundary you shouldn’t have—a twig snapped close-by.

You and Daryl jumped in your skin. You turned toward the source of the sound.

Shane was tugging his pants into place, pulling the zip up in haphazard fashion as he marched out of the woods.

He’d either been blowing Lori’s back out (again) or off to take a piss in the bushes. By the looks of his dazed and drowsy expression, you guessed it was the latter.

“Got a nice rack, doesn’t she?” Shane observed, careless as ever.

He walked past the two of you and unzipped the tent.

“I was jus—” Daryl started.

“Don’t care,” Shane cut in, “Goodnight.”

You were amazed at the level of nonchalance your fiancé exhibited. On finding you soaked to the bone and touching another man in the middle of the night, the old Shane probably would’ve laid Daryl flat on his ass.

But overprotective, possessive Shane was no more.

Before disappearing into the tent, Shane reached for your elbow. You barely got another glimpse at Daryl as you were ushered inside.

The tent was re-zipped in an instant, and you assumed Daryl would be quick to leave the scene, too.

You turned and saw Shane fumbling to unscrew the lid of his canteen. Taking several big gulps before re-fastening the top, tossing the jug to the side, and letting out a sigh.

“You get a look at the hard-on he had?” Shane chuckled.

You almost choked on your spit.

“What?”

“Pitched a tent in his pants bigger’n this,” he returned, gesturing to the polyester enclosure overhead. Then he got back to his feet, walked over to you, and kept going, in spite of your perplexed expression, “He must really wanna fuck you.”

You blinked up at him, unsure if you were more baffled by Shane’s serene demeanor or the fact that you hadn’t noticed Daryl’s boner. You decided to overlook the erection for the time being.

“And you don’t...care if he did?” Instantly chiding yourself for the twinge of indignation in your tone.

“Nuh-uh,” Shane said. His hands came to rest comfortably on your hips, and he seemed to be hearing your words without really comprehending what you meant. As usual.

If he picked up on the irritation in your voice, he didn’t show it. He just rolled the denim of your shorts between his fingers and pulled you closer.

“This,” he hummed, fingers sinking between your legs, “is not for him.”

And Shane was community dick. Made sense.

You didn’t attempt to conceal your annoyance this time as you rolled your eyes and pushed his hands away.

“Well maybe if Daryl asked nicely…” you trailed off, starting toward the bed.

Shane stopped you before you could. He took a firmer hold of your sides and showed the first real hint of jealousy in his eyes. You were almost glad to see it.

“No,” Shane said, shaking his head. Then, snaking his touch back down your legs—with the fabric of your shorts fisted in his hands this time—he continued amidst your quiet protests.

You were gripping his wrists, trying to keep them from moving any further. But Shane was insistent.

“He wouldn’t get to ask nicely, because I’d blow his fucking brains out before he ever got the—”

“Shane.” You were actively shoving his hands off now. You didn’t mind this envious side coming back to the surface, but you would not, under any circumstance, be Shane’s sloppy seconds the same hour he’d fucked Lori.

“No. You— you smell like—” you cut yourself off before the woman’s name could leave your lips.

“Like what?” Shane snapped. Suddenly intrigued to hear what you had to say.

You tried to wriggle out of his grip, but when you couldn’t, and when he pressed you again, you sputtered some nonsense about his drinking—how he reeked of booze, not Rick’s wife.

“Thought you liked it when I fucked you drunk,” Shane grinned, voice dripping with condescension, “Said it gave me stamina.”

You’d said no such thing. You groaned lightly as Shane managed to pull your panties and shorts, together, to your ankles. When he started to take them off at your feet, he hardly seemed to notice your nails dig in his shoulders, silently begging him to stop.

“Think I should invite Daryl back over? Let him watch me fuck you stupid?” Shane’s mouth was hovering close to your center, hot breaths fanning over your lower half.

In any other situation, you would’ve craved him here: on his knees, ready to suck and lick and dick you down like he always used to do. But things were different now, you had to remind yourself. Apart from the walking dead invading your world, there was no Rick in the picture, no semblance of platonic feelings between his widow and your fiancé—you felt physically sick at the thought of Shane touching you now. You tried to stand the instant he threw you on the bed.

“Shane, I don’t wanna—”

“Fuck? Yeah, I figured,” Shane shrugged as he tried to peel your shirt off your body.

“Then quit,” you hissed. You were starting to fear the fabric might tear if you held on any tighter.

When it seemed evident you weren’t going to give in on the top, Shane let go and turned to his pants instead. Pinning you down with one hand, he unbuckled his belt as you whimpered and pleaded that he stop. The sounds only made the mound in his pants more pronounced.

The two of you had dabbled in CNC before, but this was not that. No safeword, no fallback, no trace of consent between you, and to be frank, you were starting to get scared. The second Shane freed his cock from his boxers, you felt a surge of panic rise to your chest.

“Fuck— STOP!” Without thinking, you jerked your knee.

You hadn’t meant to hit his balls so hard. But you did. And he folded in half, seizing with pain, while you took that as your chance to slide off the bed, slip on your panties—and hightail it the fuck out of there.

Shane’s cries pierced the night air like a blade through rotted flesh. You stumbled, half-blind in the dark, and blazed a reckless path through the tents all around you. Weaving in and out of neighboring spaces, searching desperately for any lone, dim glow of a lantern to tell you someone was awake to hear your pleas if needed. But sadly, no tent was alight but yours, and the entrance to that was presently being torn open once more as Shane staggered out there himself.

“Y/N!” he bellowed.

In your haste, you’d tripped over Glenn’s knapsack. You scraped your knee, scrambled back to your feet, and tried with everything in you not to make a sound as you retreated further from Shane’s voice.

You probably looked feral, weaving in and out of tents with your knee leaking blood and your pupils grown wide with fear. You scampered fast across the rocky campgrounds and made a beeline for the woods.

Until Shane’s footsteps fell heavy mere feet away.

Quickly changing course, you dove for the nearest tent and ripped it open. When you slipped inside, zipped it up, and went crab-walking backward like a panic-stricken animal, you hardly saw much of anything else.

Had your pulse not been pounding in your ears and your gaze not glued to the front of the tent, you likely would’ve gotten a pretty good laugh at the sight behind you.

At the very least, a chuckle or a smile or a slightly sheepish blush would’ve been supplied in a second, seeing someone wide-eyed and holding his cock in a death grip just inches from your rear.

You’d unwittingly scrambled into the tent of a man who’d just been beating his dick off furiously to the thought of you—and there you were, sitting pretty in pure, unadulterated fear for the sight of your fiancé any second now. When you turned your head, your hand flew to your mouth.

“Dar— oh!”

Like before, your heads snapped in the direction of a new sound, quick to sense that it was Shane, and this time, you went crawling over to the archer without a second thought. Hardly noticing his pants were down, you leapt into his lap.

“Y/N—” Shane hissed as he tripped over something outside. You heard a clatter and a bang, the sound of a few curse words sputtered in vain, and a groan. Daryl’s arms snaked around your sides and pulled you closer.

“What’ve ya gone and done this time?” he whispered.

“Told him no,” you murmured back.

You pretended not to feel the singe of Daryl’s gaze boring straight through the side of your head. Then a little lower, to your near-bare lower half and shaking legs. It didn’t take long for him to piece together what had happened.

“Y/N,” Daryl started, far louder than you could bear. You shushed him swiftly, ignoring the flare of anger in his eyes that told you he was currently conjuring up fifty different ways to kill Shane and just aching to act on it.

“Don’t. Please,” you said.

“Did he—”

“No. I...kneed him in the balls before he got the chance.”

“Oh.”

Shane was pacing outside, like he knew you were somewhere close. He called your name every now and then, drew near enough to send you rigid with fear. Then Daryl would hold you tight, stroke your hair, or else just graze his lips on your shoulder to let you know he was there, and eventually, the fright would subside. You nestled yourself into that touch and felt something far kinder than fear for the first time in a long time.

You felt aroused.

Ever more inspired by the sound of Shane stewing, fuming outside within earshot and the nudge of Daryl’s member against your barely-clothed core. Well…you were tempted, to say the least. You just weren’t sure if Daryl would be on board for being your lightning-quick rebound fuck of the night.

You sighed as his hips moved gently against your own.

“You think maybe—” you started.

“Yeah?”

“—you might…tell me what you were doing before I barged in here?”

Even in the dark, you could sense a blush creeping up his neck. You loved to see a man like Daryl flustered.

“Oh, uh, that?” he said in half a chuckle. Glancing down at his groin and going back and forth between two thoughts in his mind, most likely. Tell you the truth or come up with a half-assed lie on the spot.

“Just…jerking off to you.”

He never had been any good at a bluff.

Your face visibly brightened in the dim glow of the tent. You tried not to let your elation get too far ahead of you, though, lest your voice raise above a whisper and draw Shane’s attention.

“Yeah? What about?”

Daryl never thought it possible for a woman’s enthusiasm in a question to turn him on, but yours did. He looked to your lips and swallowed, suddenly at a loss for how to answer.

“I…well…”

“You’re fucking dead to me, Y/N. If you don’t—”

Your fiancé’s voice was as close, and as terrifying, as it had ever been. You eased Daryl onto his back.

“Were you thinking of this?” you teased.

You made that soft semi-circular motion with your hips and watched a brand new face contort with pleasure. The footsteps outside hardly registered in your mind any longer, as your attention was singly focused on Daryl.

He fought a groan in his throat as you grazed your slick heat over his length.

You coated him with your arousal quicker than even you had expected. You knew you were turned on, but never had it been like that, where you were damn near dripping sweet nectar all over a man’s cock. You let a little whine leave your lips.

You couldn’t help it; your cunt rocked back and forth over Daryl’s fat, throbbing cock and made obscene sounds as you did. The archer’s hands found your hips and gently guided you up and down as his own moans struggled to break loose.

You could’ve stayed like that forever, you figured—if you hadn’t been so fucking wet that the head of his cock slipped inside of your heat the second you and Daryl bucked your hips together. An inch was quick to stretch to seven before you could think or blink or do anything else but groan in pleasure, and suddenly, he was bottoming out inside you.

“Fuck!” Daryl hissed.

“Daryl!”

“Daryl?”

Fucking Shane, of all voices you didn’t want to hear in that moment. Fortunately, he’d heard Daryl’s voice alone and not the sound of your moan, calling his name at the same time, for entirely different reasons, it seemed.

Daryl gritted his teeth as you bounced on his cock,

“Yeah?”

“I’m looking for Y/N. You seen her, brother?”

Seen you, felt you, fucked you, yeah—he had.

Daryl closed his eyes and tried not to blow his load on the spot as you squeezed around him.

“No— no, I haven’t. Not since earlier,” he grunted.

“You sure?” Shane pressed, dissatisfied, “I heard her running around this way.”

You braced your knees against the ground and rode the man beneath you even harder, taking every ounce of resentment you felt toward Shane out on Daryl’s cock. Fuck if revenge sex didn’t feel nice when the object of your ire was standing right outside the tent.

You almost wanted to moan, wanted to whimper, but were quick to think better of it the longer you spent moving up and down his length. Seeing shades of lust in his eyes like never before, you just couldn’t bear the thought of having to pry yourself off any time soon.

Daryl sank his fingers into your thighs and sighed, leaving ten perfect crescents in their wake.

“Don’t you fuckin’ stop,” he murmured.

“Could ya— could you come outside and help me look?”

‘Come the fuck on’ seemed to be the silent, shared sentiment between you and Daryl as your bodies writhed fast against each other and your highs came close into view. You braced your hands against his chest and begged him not to answer with your eyes, but you also knew Daryl couldn’t not say something to him, either.

“I…I’m sure she’s fine.” Daryl tried, weakly.

He flipped you over so you were flat on your back, hands careful not to make much noise or cause you discomfort as he did. Cock never leaving your wet, greedy hole, he found it easier than ever to resume the pace you’d made above him—now pounding you quietly into his sleeping pad.

You gripped his back and, simultaneously, bit down on his shoulder to keep from letting out a shriek when he grazed a particularly sensitive spot inside you. Tried not to whine when he hit it again. And again. And again.

Shane was growing impatient. Hovered close to the front of the tent so you could see the outline of his shadow.

“You got something better to do, Dixon?” he snapped.

Yeah, fuck your fiancée, Daryl thought with a smirk. You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him even deeper.

That light, airy feeling preceding ecstasy was close at hand. You wanted to give in—let the levee break and just relish the sweet sensation quick to follow—but you knew you couldn’t. Knew yourself too well to be a screamer not to hold on a little longer, until Shane had left.

But the way Daryl’s cock was pumping in and out of you at present made it hard, to say the least.

“Just…tired, ‘s’all,” Daryl groaned close to your ear.

“Tired from what?!” Shane jeered, “Wrist been hurtin’ from how hard you’ve been jerkin’ it to Y/N, huh?”

You almost burst out laughing. Daryl quickly cupped your mouth. Fucked you harder to shut you up.

And shut up you did; but not for long, you feared. The faster he pounded you, the more that coil in your stomach came to swell, and soon enough you might—

“Eat shit, Walsh.”

“Just help me out. Please.”

Daryl shook his head and fucked you harder, much to your chagrin. You didn’t want him to stop, but you needed him to, in truth, or that swollen thing inside of you just might get the better of you and burst. You pressed your hands to his chest and tried to whimper something softly, but Daryl just hushed you with his hand to your mouth and kept on at that breakneck pace. Your eyes rolled back, your legs started to shake, and if Daryl hadn’t had to tear his attention away to say something to Shane, he might have seen how close you were to blowing your cover…before it was too late.

With one more stroke inside your wet, sensitive hole, you felt a cord inside you snap and a flurry of wild, unbridled bliss take over, stronger than you’d felt in ages.

A shriek desperate to escape your throat, your teeth raked down Daryl’s flesh with the force of it, and, instinctively, the man yanked his hand away and yelped.

You hated to do it, but the feeling was just too good. Your lips parted to release one of the most lewd and obscene sex screams of your life—with Daryl’s name following over and over as you came.

Daryl’s eyes grew to half the size of his face, it seemed. Stilling inside you, feeling your sweet, hot juices flow down him in waves, he sat there and couldn’t quite decide if he was more turned on or terrified.

When Shane tore through the fabric of the tent and charged inside, he figured it out pretty quickly, though.

[jeonginsleftcheek]

Yes, master

pairing: lee felix x afab!reader

word count: 3k

description: you and your boyfriend are youtubers who share cute prank videos on youtube. one day you decide to prank him with a maid outfit, and it ends just how you intended.

genre: smut, fluff

warning/s: use of master, spanking, lots of dirty talk, degradation & praising, reader is called slut, unprotected p in v (don't do it)

a/n: inspired by renjie&binbin on yt, go check them out, they're adorable. also yes another felix scenario, what can i say he inspires me hehe

Your outfit was finally here. You had ordered it on the internet 2 weeks ago when you planned out the next prank for your dear boyfriend. You couldn't be more excited.

Both of you loved playing harmless jokes on each other, and most of the pranks you did had the goal of riling each other up for later. Every time you turned off the camera, you would be all over each other, sometimes you'd even leave it on and later watch the footage together, careful to cut out the sexual part before posting the video online. You kept all the spicy parts to yourselves, it was somewhat of a private collection of yours.

You had quite a good following of loyal fans who watched you grow with each other through the last 6 years of your relationship. Everything was filmed, not only the pranks, but vlogs of your travel adventures, your move to a bigger apartment, you getting a promotion at your work etc. Both of you loved having sort of an online diary of your memories and loved sharing your good vibes with other people.

People always viewed you two as two cutie pies, yes, your pranks were suggestive but no one could guess how freaky both of you actually are. Felix especially was seen as this sweet innocent sunshine boy but you knew better. And that's why you couldn't wait to provoke him with that maid outfit you ordered.

The next morning, you quietly slipped out of bed, having to cautiously roll out of Felix's arms cause he always clung onto you like a koala while you slept. His brows furrowed and you gently pushed your pillow between his arms so it would replace you. You tiptoed to the bathroom, after grabbing the maid dress you hid in the closet last night. You got ready and hurried downstairs to make breakfast before your boyfriend wakes up.

When you were done, you ofcourse went to set up the cameras. One was above the bed, and you had to basically do gymnastics quietly just so you can set it up without waking Felix up. You also set up two other ones in different corners of the room.

"Hi guys! It's morning and Felix is still sleeping."- you say to the one of the cameras in the corner, moving your body as you scrunch your face up and point at your boyfriend's sleeping form behind you. "Sleepy head."- you giggle quietly.

"As you can see, I'm wearing a maid outfit. I'm going to prank him or rather surprise him today with serving him dressed like this all day."- you announce. "I'm also gonna call him master. Let's see how he reacts."

Satisfied with the intro, you go back downstairs to grab the tray with breakfast that you prepared. You set it aside on the night stand, and sit on the bed next to Felix.

"Lixie, wake up."- you whisper quietly, caressing his hair and winking at the camera above you.

"Mhm."- he grunts, eyes still closed.

"Lixieeeee. Baby. I have something for you."- you giggle as you continue carding your fingers through his soft hair.

"Mm. What?"- he turns to you and finally blinks his eyes open. He squints at first, the expression on his face that of confusion. He didn't register your outfit yet. You wait for him to rub the sleepiness out of his eyes.

"Oh."- his eyes widden when he takes in your appearance. You were sitting back on your feet, a skimpy maid dress revealing your plush thighs and giving you the perfect amount of cleavage.

"What're you wearing?"- he asks, blood rushing downwards, but then he notices the camera placed perfectly above his face, he groans and starts chuckling.

"I'm here to serve you, master. I made you breakfast."- you say and start giggling with him because that coming out of your mouth at this moment is funny to the both of you.

"Oh my god, you're crazy."- he laughs, his face red as he pulls the blanket up to his neck. "Wait."- he adds, his hand sneaking out from under the blanket and landing on your thigh.

"Are you wearing anything under this?"- he smirks, lifting up on his elbows and sliding his hand towards the hem of your dress.

"Felix!"- you squeal pointing at the camera and he laughs.

"What? We can cut it out later."- he chuckles, making a motion towards the camera.

"Stop it."- you laugh slapping his hands away. He groans again, smacking his head on the pillow.

"Come on, eat your breakfast."- you say. He sits up and looks right between your legs, wiggling his eyebrows at you suggestively.

"The food I made. With love. For my master."- you bat your eyelashes at him, you've never called him that before today but even though he was laughing at it because of the camera, you could see how it affected him.

"Ask nicely, hm?"- he says and there's a shiver running down your spine.

"Please, master?"- you bite your lip.

"Alright, when my baby put in such an effort."- he smirks and you chuckle at him. He grabs the tray but before he can put any food in his mouth, you grab the fork and bring it to his lips.

"Are you gonna feed me?"- he chuckles.

"Well yes. My master doesn't have to do anything. Today is the day I serve you master."- as you keep talking, his eyes are getting darker and your cunt is getting wetter. For some reason, you liked calling him that and liked seeing his reactions. You caught even the smallest ones, like his eyebrow twitching every time you said the word 'master'.

His hands kept wandering to your thighs as you fed him and you had to constantly remind him that the cameras were on even though you were pressing your thighs together. And he knew. You were getting needy too but he wanted to tease you too, it was one of his favorite things to do anyways.

So when you moved to the bathroom, carrying a camera with you, you grabbed his toothbrush and he chuckled again. He looked a bit flustered when he realized you actually wanted to brush his teeth.

"Y/n, that's sweet of you but I can do it on my own."- he chuckled, his hands coming up to hug himself as his face got redder. He glanced at the camera and you laughed, feeling shy suddenly.

"Please, let me do it. Master."

He couldn't say no. Both of you were trying not to burst out into laughter as you attempted to brush his teeth. It got too messy so he just grabbed the toothbrush and continued on his own as you playfully pouted at him.

"I'll help you wash your hair. Please, master?"- you ask when he's done.

"Sure, that'd be nice."- he chuckles.

You adjust the camera so the viewers can look at you both from the side. You put a towel on the sink so he can lean his head down, and he chuckles again, eyes trailing to the camera. You start getting his hair wet and Felix looks at the viewfinder, finding a blind spot where no one could see his wandering hand.

You almost jump out of your skin when you feel his hand on the back of your thigh but you opt to act like nothing is happening. Felix looks up at you innocently as you grab the shampoo. His hand slowly travels up, fingertips tickling your sensitive skin. His fingers come into contact with a wet patch that formed on the thin lacy panties you wore under your maid dress.

Your hands tremble and you almost drop the bottle of shampoo on his head, but for the sake of entertainment you ignore his hand and start joking around. He jokes back with you, but you can feel his fingertips pressing into your cunt, teasing you as he slowly runs them over it then to your clit, making little circular motions into it before sliding his fingers down your lips again. You let out a shaky breath and clear your throat to cover it up.

You start rinsing his hair out, and he decides to move your panties to the side just enough to uncover your hole before he pushes one finger between your folds. Your knees buckle but you chuckle nervously as he eyes you, his eyes darkened with lust but there's still an innocent smile on his face. If only the viewers knew.

You stay perfectly still, only spreading your legs a bit so he can fuck into you deeper. He's moving slow, torturing you but you know you brought that on yourself. As you grab another towel to dry his hair, he presses his thumb into your clit and pushes his middle finger deeper into you making you gasp.

"What's wrong, darling?"- Felix grins at you.

"N-nothing."- you shake your head glancing at the camera as you dry his hair. He pulls his finger out, moving his hand away from you much to your disappointment but you had to go get the hair dryer. You still need some content for your video. So you stand between his legs and dry his hair, his hands running up and down the back of your knees and thighs as you both continue chuckling and talking like he didn't just pull his finger out of your cunt. You're becoming desperate now and you can't wait to film the outro so you can turn off the camera and let your boyfriend fuck you.

But Felix had other plans for you. As soon as you walk back into the room, you put the camera down so you can film an outro together but before you can even start talking your boyfriend grabs your face and crashes his lips into yours.

"Lix-" - your voice is muffled as he kisses you harder and forces his tongue inside, making you moan into his lips. You grip onto his arms and try to pry him away from you.

"L-Lixie we didn't film an outro."- you heave, trying to catch a breath after he stole it from you.

"Oh we're filming it now, sweets."- he smirks at the camera and then looks back at you.

"You said you'd serve me all day. As far as I know it's not even noon so you're not done yet."- Felix says and he's rarely so dominant with you. It makes you tingle with anticipation.

"Get on your knees and serve me then."- he says, his voice low.

You look at him for a moment but there's nothing but dark lust in his eyes so you know better than to not obey. You slowly fall down to your knees as he pulls his pants and boxers down.

"And it's master for you, not Lixie, okay?"- he adds, his cock now inches away from your face, you lick your lips and nod fast.

"Words."- he warns, slapping your cheek with his hard cock and you whimper.

"Mm yes master."- you say and he smirks again.

"Open your pretty mouth for me."- he orders and you do as you're told, opening wide for him and he slowly pushes his cock in. You glance at the camera and see yourself in the viewfinder, your mouth stuffed full of your boyfriend's pretty cock.

You moan around him and Felix tangles his fingers in your hair.

"You look so pretty like this. Come on darling, show everyone how desperate you are for my cock."- he grips your hair pushing in deeper and you choke a little, tears forming in your eyes and arousal pooling on your panties. You start bobbing your head, taking as much as you can and jerking off the rest with your hand. Felix keeps grunting and holding your head in place so you don't dare lift off of him.

"Mm everyone will know how you're such a slut for me, darling."- your boyfriend coos at you and you feel like people are actually watching you do this live even though you know they aren't. It makes you feel so embarassed but so aroused at the same time, the thought of people knowing who you belonged to and whose cock you were drunk on. Your throat relaxed a little and you breathed deep through your nose as you slid down on Felix's cock, his tip hitting the back of your throat and your nose touching his navel.

"Fuck baby!"- he grips your hair hard, his legs shaking. "You're gonna make me come"- he hisses and pulls you off, a string of saliva between you and his hard cock.

He smirks at your expression, turning your face to the camera.

"She looks so fucked out and I haven't even touched her pussy"- Felix talks like he's talking to your viewers and a wave of hotness washes over you.

"Please."- you whimper.

"Please what?"- he looks down at you darkly.

"I need you inside me. Please master! I'll do anything!"- you beg on the verge of tears, your pussy aching for him.

"Anything?"- he lifts his eyebrow and you nod fervently.

"Oh, we'll explore that."- he smirks. "Face the camera."- he adds and you do as you're told, your heart beating fast in anticipation.

"Get on all fours, darling."- Felix orders and you do so, leaning down on your hands, your ass up in the air and legs spread for him. Usually, he takes his time with you especially with his tongue and fingers, he enjoys eating you out maybe even more than you do. But, today he's had enough of your teasing, the maid dress driving him more insane than anything you've ever worn for him.

You feel him massage your wet pussy with the tip of his rock hard cock and you melt instantly, leaning back to feel him more.

"Is this what you want, hm?"- he teases a little more.

"Please please please!"- you whine, pushing your ass into him.

"Fuck!"- he curses as he pushes his length in, his eyes rolling back as your cunt sucks him in fast, since you were so wet and needy.

You moan loudly at the familiar stretch, your boyfriend's cock fitting snuggly inside the space made only for him.

"So tight for me."- Felix whimpers.

He grips your hips and starts fucking you semi-fast and you start moaning immediately, scratching at the wooden floor beneath you.

"You want a good outro baby? How about this, hm? Letting everyone see how dumb you are on my cock."- Felix growls, pounding harder into you.

"M-master"- you moan, unable to form any coherent sentence with the force of his hips on your ass and his thick cock splitting you apart.

"Look at you."- he coos grabbing your hair and pulling your head back harshly so you can see yourself in the viewfinder.

"Taking it so well. Such a good girl. Made to be fucked like this."- he says lowly. Your mind buzzes along with your whole body and you think you've never came this fast or this hard.

Felix whines at the feeling of your pussy clenching around him.

"You came already? So desperate. So pathetic." - he chuckles at you, spanking your ass. You whimper and bite down on your arm to stop yourself from screaming at his words and his relentless hips.

"You like when I talk to you like this?"- he asks and you whimper and nod fast.

"Use your words!"- your boyfriend spanks you harder.

"Yes, yes master!"

"You like when I tell you that you were made just for this? To be fucked dumb on my cock. Just my little play toy."- he talks as he fucks you harder, the tip of his cock hitting that sweet spot inside you every time he pushes in.

"Mm yes master"- you whine, your mind cloudy.

"Made to please me. My little slut"- he chuckles darkly pulling on your hair and you explode all over his cock again.

"M-master!"- you cry out as he helps you ride your high. "I can't take anymore."

"Yes you can. One more. For me. Come on baby, you can come for me one more time."- Felix coos at you, hovering over you and caressing your hair, his hips less brutal but still moving deep inside you, abusing that sweet spot.

"I- I can't master please"- you whimper, but you know you're close and you want to obey him.

His hand is between your legs, fingers pressing into your clit as he flicks it and starts fucking you faster again.

"Oh my god"- you whimper, pushing back into him, the pleasure in the pain of overstimulation driving you wild.

"Yeah just like that baby. Fuck yourself on my cock."- Felix moans behind you, his hips stuttering and you know he's close too.

You keep pushing back into him in the same pace he's fucking you in, and it doesn't take long for you to be on the edge again. He knows when your pussy clenches around him deliciously.

"Come for me darling"- he says, gripping your hair and you do. But this time you squirt making him pull out and whimper as you coat him with your juices. Felix watches it slide down your thighs as he jerks off once, twice before he explodes, hot spurts of cum painting your ass and the back of your thighs, mixing with your arousal.

"Fuck"- he groans as you breathe hard. He hovers over you, moving your hair out of your face gently.

"Are you okay, baby?"- he asks, a sweet smile on his face, contrast to the dark look he was giving you just a few moments ago.

"More than okay. That was really hot."- you turn a little and he scoops you up in his arms, pulling you into his lap, not caring about the mess you both made.

"I agree. How about next time I wear the maid dress for you?"- he looks at you with big innocent eyes, the look everyone's familiar with but only you know the meaning of.

"I think that's a wonderful idea."- you chuckle and lean in to kiss his pretty lips.

"Mhm. But since I'm not done with you yet... how about you lay down on the bed and spread your legs for me?"

"Yes, master."

[incorporealbombchelle]

On Earth As It Is In Heaven

Mr.Reed x Fem! Reader (Mid 20s) (18+)

[A/N: This part is a continuation of Part 2 and will seem completely out of whack without the context defined therein. Check my blog's pinned post for all 3 parts in order. ]

Synopsis: Pt. 3 - (y/n) is introduced to a new system of belief...

⚠️TW: Percieved Heresy, Catholicism Mentions, Condescension, Crude Language, Possible Vague and Obscure Spoilers for 'Heretic' (2024), Age Gap, Lectures, Blood, Violence, A Somewhat Graphic Depiction of Gore, Oral Sex (Male Recipient), Raw P in V Penetration, Terror & Tense Situations, General Smut.

When I come to I'm clothed, and my body is seemingly unharmed but I still feel fuzzy, disoriented.  The taste of the wine I shared with Mr. Reed remains on my tongue and I swallow, noticing a faint smell of perfume and... something else? Something coppery....

I breathe as deeply and quietly as I can and allow my eyes to open. A small room, dimly lit and painted green. It's lined with paintings of gods and prophets, shelves of books and records, and a vinyl player sits off to the side, similar to the bedroom. Looking down, I realize I'm seated in a pew, of which there are rows. Is this... a church?

Two doors line the wall ahead of me, one green and one purple, behind a large desk with a half-burned candlestick on it. From the green door, Mr. Reed emerges in the checkered cardigan I remember him in from when he first ushered me inside, and the pajamas he threw on after we...

I'm extremely confused.

"Well hello!! Look at you!! How're you feeling? Bit groggy, I'd imagine? You were just a *touch* over served, that's on me." He admits, stashing a bright green watering can under the desk and grabbing his notebook and pencil off of it to write something down.

"Seventeen Hours. Good." He looks back to me, an excited grin on his face.

"Mister Reed?" I ask softly.

"Ms. (y/n)?" He chuckles, taking a step closer.

"What happened? What is this? How did I get here?"

"You were drugged, this" he gestures around us "is an institution of learning, and you were carried here. Anything further? No? Good. Let's get cracking!" He claps, rubbing his hands together and I jump in my seat.

"Whu-" I'm more confused than I was initially after this brief, unhelpful explanation but he prattles on;

"A few miligrams of temazepam in the wine, nothing lethal." He narrows his eyes, pointing a finger at me "You were indoctrinated into catholicism from what age?"

"I was baptized at two...why d-"

"Two. Years. Old. TWO, (Y/N)!! Forgive me but that's fucking ridiculous. You had no information and no way of consenting to whatever 'soul-protecting' rituals catholics do to children at two years of age.

You have lived your entire life by the teachings of a cult, my dear. A popular cult with a good handle on architecture and design, but a cult all the same. With their gaudy, artsy buildings and their priests wrapped up in silk and you," he looks me over, his expression sympathetic "Full of all that eternal guilt and shame for your entirely natural feelings and urges. For what? A reward only recieved after death? Heaven is about as meaningful to the living as a gold star sticker on a child's spelling test and I believe, no I know, that you're aware of this, (y/n). "

He sits on the edge of the desk as he lectures me and I take a second to look myself over.

These.... are not my clothes. A long, dark grey wool skirt with... a short-sleeved black mock neck sweater tucked into it..., the inside of the right sleeve is caked in some dark, calcified stain... These are...  comfortable clothes, modest clothes, thank God, but they. Are not. Mine. I shudder. How did he get these? And where is this lecture going? He pulls a few different versions of monopoly and the landlord game from the nearby shelves and likens them to different religions, laying a holy book atop each and telling me about 'iterations' and I am not listening and the stain on the inside of my sleeve that isn't my sleeve is almost definitely someone's blood and now I'm scared and what is going on? There's an immense pressure in my head and I'm breathing too fast -- is this how I die?

In this decidedly unholy place, amongst all these artifacts I've been told would protect me, at the hands of a man who not only led me into temptation, but now purports to have the ability to deliver me from evil? Is he the evil? I'm overwhelmed and I cry.

I cry like I have never cried before. My face is wet and I'm sobbing and I'm hyperventilating and Mr. Reed finally stops talking so I look up, flushed, snivelling, unsure of his next move.

He seems shocked for a moment, eyes widening. Then his brow furrows again as he leaves his place at the desk to stand beside me. "Shhh, shhh, come now. That's a bit dramatic, eh? Catholic school lasts what, twelve years? You can stand to listen to an old man drone on for a minute."

He sheds his cardigan, draping it over my shoulders as they shake. He produces a tissue from one of his pockets and brings it to my face, dabbing away my tears. "You've been extraordinary for me so far, (y/n)." Mr. Reed scoots into the pew next to me, his eyes catch mine and he hums, reassuring "Such a virtuous, reasonable, obedient girl." I take a breath, resenting how much I lust after his blessing, his praise.  "See, I'm just introducing you to something new. Something different than that to which you're accustomed," He resumes, snaking an arm around my shoulder "When you walked in here, you weren't used to having your beliefs challenged. Only affirmed. It was scary, mm? But you let me in. You let me experience all of you, inside and out, because somehow, somewhere, deep inside, you know I'm right. You know this is right : what we do, who we are together. You taught me your doctrine, I owe it to you to teach mine."

"But you- you requested the- why...?" My voice cracks.

He squeezes my shoulder, speaking softly into the crook of my neck "Knowledge, (y/n), is power. Power is... what? Mm? What does power give to us?"

I shiver at the feeling of his breath on my neck and silently curse myself for welcoming it. "Uhm..." I look up at him, uncertain "Control?"

"Control! Exactly! Brilliant!"

I can't help the small smile that arrives on my face at knowing the correct answer to one of his questions.

"Control is the root of each of these doctrines." He gestures to the desk with the games and books laid out on it  "Think of your church. Sit, stand, kneel, listen to some old twat tell you you're unworthy of heaven, sit, stand kneel, stand, sing, kneel again, eat some crackers, go home. It's all programming.  They have you learn all that bovine choreography not because it amplifies your prayers to some all knowing benevolent being, but because it subdues you. It tires you out. Makes your body ache. You need something to do with your hands in those pews so you fold them in reverence because idle hands are the devil's playthings, are they not?"

"... Sure.... Mister Reed? Whose clothes are these?"

"Some things aren't for us to know, (y/n). And some are. Like how I know," he smiles "that you are going to continue to be keen for me, stop asking ridiculous questions, and do what I say. Because we're both thoroughly aware of the fact that I am your god now." His breath is hot on my neck as he chuckles, I can feel his grin, and I flinch.

He's in control. Older. Wiser. Stronger. Smarter. I look up into his eyes and he kisses me before I can even think to move away. His tongue tackles mine, fingers lacing into the hair at the nape of my neck, his other hand squeezes my thigh, my eyes roll back "mmh-" and maybe he is God. He breaks the kiss, looking me over.

His eyes undress me and I wish his hands would follow suit but they don't.

"Walk to the desk, stand in front of it."

I do as he says. There are 4 rows of pews on either side of the room and at the end of the aisle there is a door that seems to lead into a hallway. As I make note of this, Mr. Reed gets up from his place and begins stacking the books and board games, placing them on the floor beside the desk, and setting the needle on the vinyl player. He stands before me, bringing a hand up to stroke my cheek.

The song he's selected begins with a wavering guitar note, and I recognize it immediately. 'If, I could make a wish, I think I'd pass, can't think of anything I need-'

"Have you heard this song before, (y/n)?"

'No, cigarettes no sleep, no light, no sound...' the song plays on.

"Of course, Mr. Reed.  'The Air That I Breathe' by The Hollies? Everyone knows this song."

He closes the short distance between us, smirking down at me as his fingers trail the outside of my arms.

"Not. Everyone. And certainly not everyone your age. Your generation is a mess. All depression and 'memes' and vanity," he rolls his eyes "but it's obvious that you, my dear, are something totally different. You're a person of tradition, sure, but more importantly, one of great intellect. We share this trait. Because of it, people shy away from us. Ostracize us. Call us 'crazy' or 'obsessive' of our interests. Hence why no one's come here looking for you. To them," he takes my hands in his "We are alien in our entirety. But to Me, you are an angel. A lost lamb, searching for truth in every interaction, looking for a god in all things. You were destined to find me eventually, to be freed of your inhibitions and made new... "

His eyes are wide and I watch them flicker with something unidentifiably terrifying. The song ends and the record skips as the room's momentarily warm ambiance is replaced by silence again.

"Mis-mister Reed?" I blink "I won't lie, you're scaring me-"

"Enlightenment can be an entirely horrifying journey. Knowing our souls at a depth others might only see as aspirational...It is scary," he squeezes my hands and my palms are sweating but he doesn't let go, instead  lowering himself to whisper in my ear "but are you frightened more of the depth of knowledge you've acquired, in your short time here?... Or how much you've enjoyed yourself doing so? After all," he continues, "good girls aren't supposed to."

"Aren't supposed to...?"

He pushes his cardigan off my shoulders, letting it fall onto the desk behind me. He then tugs down the zipper on the side of my skirt that isnt my skirt and it slips off my hips, crumpling at my feet. He pushes the fabric of the sweater over my breasts, exposing me further, running a thumb lightly over one nipple, and I wince at the sensitivity of my own body, taking my lower lip between my teeth.

"Aren't supposed to let me do that. But you do. And good girls, (y/n)," he reaches his opposite hand between my legs, feeling how slick I've become over the course of his lecture "don't get wet in dangerous situations... with strange men..." He runs his fingers along my vulva, pressing up gently as he scans my flushed face for a reaction, which he gets easily, as my body responds before I can, bucking against his hand desperately. His fingers dip into me a few times and I moan, breath ragged as I melt for him.

"I-" I am defenseless. I know it and so does he. Mr. Reed knows I'll take anything he gives, give him anything he wants, that I'm addicted to the lightest touch of his hand or gentle word from his lips.

"You, (y/n), are not a good girl. They don't want it, need it, the way you do. Barnes would never behave for me the way you have..." He mutters, bringing his two fingers from one set of lips to the other and my core is tense with anticipation. I don't question him, though I want to. Barnes..?

"Open." I do. Mr. Reed watches my eyes and he doesn't need to tell me to suck because I am a good girl, and my face burns with white-hot shame as I reach for his already half-hardened cock, ready to prove it to him.

I squeeze his shaft gently and it twitches in my hand, stiffening for me as if on command. He takes his fingers from my mouth and watches me play with it through the thin pajama pants, intrigued. "Go on then."

That's all the permission I need and I sink to my knees, taking his boxers and pajama pants down with me as I watch his cock spring forward, throbbing.

I wrap a hand around it, looking up at Mr. Reed as I slowly stroke. I watch open-mouthed as a bead of precum dribbles from his tip. Snapping out of my trance, I lick the underside of his length from base to tip before taking him into my mouth as far back as I can, bobbing my head over him slowly

"Ohhh..." he groans "You are dirty, (y/n). One orgasm and you're on your knees, doing anything for more... you'll get it too..." his hands find my hair again and he thrusts himself deeper into my throat, tears immediately welling in my eyes and cascading down my cheeks as I gag on him "Mmmh, you'll get over that gag reflex eventually," he grabs a fistful of my hair and yanks me painfully upwards, spinning me around by the shoulders and bending me over the desk "but today is simply *not* that day, I'm afraid..."

He's inside me instantly, ramming forcefully against my cervix as he stretches me out again. I feel myself clench a couple times around him and he slows his pace, making me groan in annoyance as much as pleasure.

"Please, Mr. Reed," I whimper

"Not... yet..." he murmurs, affixing his hands to the front of my hips as he resumes his agonizing strokes.

"Mister Reed I can't-" I moan

"I said, Not. Yet." He gives a slow, hard thrust with each word and it's all I can do not to push back onto him. As the rhythm of his hips builds I feel an internal coil prime itself to snap, and right as Mr. Reed's fingers find my clit, it does.

"Ohh my gohddd, Mister Reeeed!!"

I see white as my body pulses around him, coming entirely undone in hot, flowing waves as I convulse, glazing his length.

He keeps fucking me, forcing soft, raspy moans from my lips.

"Whose are you?" He commands, a hand wrapping around my throat as he pistons into me, his grip firm.

"Yours!" I whine.

"And to whose. Fucking. Creed. Do you devote yourself? Quickly..."

"Yours Mister Reed! I take no others before you! Just you, only you..." the words fall from my mouth as a distressed whimper before I can process their meaning and I gasp as I feel him fill me with thick, hot ropes of semen.

He groans as he comes inside me, slowing pace gradually before pulling out.

He grabs the discarded skirt from the floor and cleans himself off with it, then holds it between my legs as my tender, limp body recovers. He waits a few seconds, tugging his pants and boxers back up his legs, then walks to the purple door with the skirt in hand, tossing it into whatever room waits beyond.

"Only. Me. Hm?" He chortles under his breath. "Only you Mister Reed!" He mocks in an exaggerated American accent, circling the desk and turning me over, scooping his arms under my legs and torso to lay me across it longways. He tugs the sweater he'd dressed me in the rest of the way off my body so I'm laid out bare before him, still attempting to catch my breath. "I take it youre not a practicioner of idolatry then. " He chuckles.

"Only... you...I promise...just you Mr. Reed." I breathe, opening my eyes, my gaze focused on the ceiling.

He hums, smirking down at me. I feel him run a finger down my torso.

"Gorgeous little zealot, and so easily converted... begs a question, did you ever really believe those things you preached to me?"

"Mostly?" I cringe at the admission, exhaling deeply.

"Mostly. From my understanding this is the typical experience of Catholicism, yes? You... grow up, being hammered over the head with flawed logic, you stop believing about halfway through middle school, feeling like a complete fraud at your confirmation into the faith, and some years later, just the way R.E.M. describes it, you lose your religion either to one that makes sense, or to one that roams so far from your parents' ideals that you feel like a rebellious teen in your twenties, having cracked the code. Hm? Sound correct?"

I feel understood, yet ashamed as his words sink in. "Y-yes, Mr. Reed, I'd say that's accurate.." I mumble.

His hands are warm as he pulls me up into a seated position on the desk, pressing a soft kiss into my forehead before letting his chin rest gently on top of my head. "It's so hard to be misunderstood the way you are, (y/n)," he mutters, arms wrapping around my shoulders, holding me tight against his chest "the way we have been..." Mr. Reed rubs gentle circles into my back, soothing me further, and I let my hands rest on his back, keeping him there. He goes on;

"But that's all over now, now that you've found the only true faith, my singular infallible doctrine. You do trust in my control of you, don't you, (y/n)?" He withdraws slightly, scanning my face.

A beat.

"Yes, Mr. Reed. I entrust myself to you fully. I know you'll guide me righteously,-"

"But you hesitated. I allowed you my blessing, my sacrament. I placed my seed within you, allowing our souls to entwine, and you hesitate when I ask you to verbally acknowledge your trust in me as your singular deity?"

"I'm just a little bit fatigued, from the-" I breathe, confused

"Oh, (y/n)... tsk... and you were doing so well..." a pitied expression colors his features as he stares down at me, taking a step back.

"Wait, wait, what do you me-"

"That just won't do, I'm afraid-"

I watch his arm hack an invisible line through the air and my ability to breathe is instantly diminished. My hands rush to my neck, and only when I feel a warm gush come forth does it dawn on me that he's holding a box cutter, with which he has just slit my throat open in one fluid swipe.

"Mister Reed-" I wheeze, barely a whisper "why?"

"Faith must be unwavering. There is no room here for hesitance. For ambivalence. For selfishness."

I choke out sputtering breaths in a desperate attempt to prolong my conciousness, but the edges of my vision start to tint in spite of my efforts. Tears run hot down my face as I silently plead with him, but Mr. Reed resumes his rant unaffected;

"Too innocent to prophecise, and setting you free, well that would never work... but don't worry dear, sweet angel. It's really not you... its me. I require a perfect convert with true, unwavering belief in my principles to aid in execution of these experiments...it is sad though, we really could've been something, mm?" He looks me over affectionately, even now, as fresh blood pours ceaselessly from my wound down my chest, torso, and thighs.

I cough, tipping forward some and watch blood spatter his white cotton shirt. "Please-" I croak weakly, reaching for him. He steps back further, brows raised.

"If it's meant to be, (y/n), you'll resurrect for me, certain of your faith. And if not, well," he gives me an awkward grimace, "I bid you adieu then, and wish you comfort in the fact that you were of great use to me in your... " he checks his watch "Eight hours here." A fond smile.

I fall forward off the desk and onto the carpet, my head bouncing against the floor with an excruciating thud. I watch Mr. Reed take a seat in one of the pews as he watches me spasm in shock and struggle to breathe through a series of garbled croaks, gasps, and wheezes, stifled by the flow of my own blood coating my larynx.

My mouth opens and closes a few times, hands still weakly striving to stem the steady gush from my lacerated neck, but nothing comes out as my body goes rigid in shock, my eyes lose sight, and I lose conciousness for the last time.

There is no white light. There is no chorus of angels.

Only a profound darkness, and once I find myself wrapped in its undertoe, I've drowned completely.

[luvtonique]

Earlier today, a girl shot me a DM thanking me for not listening to people saying Melodi's body shape is unrealistic or fetishy and choosing to double down on her being a top-heavy P-shaped anorexic lanky long-armed twig lady.

She said, I quote, "I look like that IRL, and have the back problems and eating disorders to prove it. I have gigantomastia and have to get breast reduction surgeries to keep them in check [she described a lot of medical problems that come with the tissue growing too much here, too, but I cut it out cause it's pretty visceral]. I saw your post saying you're not intentionally putting representation in your game [like a year old post at this point] and this isn't about representation, it's just something that made me feel good about myself knowing someone finds my weird body shape attractive."

I told her that she is loved, and thanked her, and said that I hope that she can live a fulfilling and good life despite her disease.

She said "Same to you about your arthritis!" and that was that.

Little moments like that are why I make art and why I don't just do "what sells." I was willing to give up a huge portion of my fanbase by not flocking to Twitter in 2018 and staying here on this weird site full of people who regularly annoy me because it's my fuckin home. I was willing to leave the brony fandom after massive success in it. I am willing to receive hate-reviews from people saying my characters are "too sexualized" or that they "don't have enough identity-representation."

When people come along to tell me that something I'm doing made them happy or feel appreciated and loved, or that I helped make the hard times worth it for them, that's what really matters to me. Not filling quotas, not making characters with relatable social issues, not shoving politics or ideologies into my game to "send a message," but just those moments where the occasional person comes along and thanks me for never caving to social norms and continuing to just do the weird shit I love doing.

I love you, weird body shape girls.

Just because God hit "Random" on your body shape doesn't mean you're ugly, weird, gross or unwanted.

You're bootiful.

Also I just gotta be a snide bitch at the last line because this is Jay we're talking about. "But Jay! You'd get SO MANY MORE people coming to you and thanking you if you PUT SOME REPRESENTATION-QUOTA CHARACTERS IN YOUR GAME TO BAIT THEM OUT, LITERALLY SLAPPING THEM IN JUST TO GET BROWNIE POINTS AND INTERNET HUGS AND ACTING LIKE THAT MAKES YOU A GOOD PERSON."

That shit isn't genuine and your sense of feeling represented by disingenuous ideology-bait is as fake and fleeting as seeing a corporation put up a pride flag on their profile in February. They are using you to sell their product and you're praising them for it. I will never put a character into any work I create with the intention of representing a group of people or an ideological belief, because my characters are fictional storytelling devices, not strawmen who serve as a walking wikipedia article for a culture that the media has deemed an oppressed minority group to talk down to the audience instead of talking to the other characters.

[cheriedies]

Naoki Urasawa's Monster in real life

So, I spent my holidays in Czechia and realized it would be a good opportunity to try and find the real life references and inspirations for one of my favourite anime series - Monster (haven't gotten my hands on the manga yET). After a bit of research I found that @fuckyeahjohanliebert has already done this almost a decade ago and their account has been extremely helpful. I also used the websites that I've linked at the very end of the post and you should definitely check them out as I didn't get the chance to visit every single location. It is honestly incredible how much work this person has put into their research. With that being said, here is what these places look like as of January 2023, alongside some tips I wanted to share in case you decide to visit them during your stay in Prague!

Let's start with the easiest location: Charles Bridge. It is probably the most visited place in Prague and so it can be quite crowded, especially around NYE.

Next, we have a shot of a tram in front of what today is the Palladium, a large shopping mall. Location: Nám. Republiky 1078/1, 110 00 Petrská čtvrť, Czechia

Okay, this one was a bit tricky because I wasn't able to find the exact reference for the Tri Zaba (Three Toads) sign. Most sources pointed me towards Hotel U Tri Pstrosu (Three Ostriches) which is right besides the Charles Bridge. However, a reddit user posted a picture from U Tri Capu hotel (Three Herons), and someone mentioned it being a possible inspiration in the replies. Therefore, I took pictures of both and upon looking at them closely I honestly cannot be certain about which of the two served as the main inspiration, maybe it was a mixture of both? Looking purely at the shape of the sign the Three Herons (Far Right) seems to be the closest. The positioning of the three ostriches on the other hand (Middle) is more similar to the way the toads are positioned. If you have any sources I've missed pls link them!

I also found this detailing you can spot if you are walking by the Vltava River. A thing to note: I could find this specific fencing only of the side of the river that is next to the Ministerstvo průmyslu a obchodu, If your cross the bridge the design is completely different. Location: Petrská čtvrť, 110 00 Prague 1, Czechia

Now onto the Red Rose Mansion. Fans figured out that the Břevnovský klášter (Brevnov Monastery) served as the main inspiration for the Red Rose Mansion. Unfortunately, the monk that is responsible for the visits was sick during my stay in Prague, and would not be coming back until after I left. You can see the exact room that was referenced for the murder scene in the websites I've linked below. I was a bit sad that I wasn't able to see it with my own eyes but I hope he has a speedy recovery. After all, this gives me a reason to visit this wonderful city again! Tip: Don't be an oblivious zoomer like me and bring cash with you to leave a small donation at the Bazilika svaté Markéty Antiochijské (Basilica of St. Margaret of Antioch). You can get a postcard with the picture of the monastery for about 10 koruna and I'm sure it helps with the maintenance of this beautiful place. Also, there is a small, cozy cafe on the territory and they have really tasty Medovnik cake!

The Rose Garden at the Mansion actually has no roses! It is actually a Cherry Garden, and can be visited at the Orangerie right behind the Monastery (tip: as far as I know it is only open on weekends and closes at 8pm). During this time of year it is obviously not blossoming however it was nice to visit nonetheless and walking in between the tall shrubs made me feel like I was Nina :p

As a bonus I wanted to add this picture of a hanging Sigmund Freud that absolutely startled me on my first day in Prague. Many fans have speculated that the character of Franz Bonaparta was inspired by him, given their similar looks and involvement with Psychology

I hope this was enjoyable and I hope you visit these amazing places if you ever happen to be in Prague! Once again, I'd like to highlight how grateful I am for the research fans have done and as mentioned above here are some of the websites I used:

[nanabansama]

Good Morning! Maybe some people have already asked this, but who exactly is this "God" that Hanako mentions and claims to be the one who told him that if Hanako fulfills his role, then his sins will be erased?

Is God (Or Kami-Sama) based on the concept of a Supreme Being, like GOD for the Jews and Christians, Allah for the Muslims, Brahman, The Absolute, etc, or is it based on a Japanese understanding of the Supreme Being or any other powerful kami that may be involved with the Supernatural?

And lastly, is this "God" the same entity as the Evil Entity from the Red House that is now within Tsukasa?

Hi!

I was once going to make a post on this topic actually but it never left the drafts. :p

Anyway JSHK has used the term かみさま to refer to both the god Hanako mentions and the Pit God, as I like to call it. And this term is also used for the Christian God.

However, it's also used for Japanese gods! And frankly I am more inclined to go with that interpretation. The series has never made reference to Christian religion, as far as I'm aware? So it would be incredibly strange for God, as in Jesus Christ God, to show up.

But given the lack of a proper name for this god and the fact the Christian God is normally considered THE God in English, well, I can see how anyone would start to assume it's that god. Especially since Hanako is "atoning for his sins", a very Christian concept.

Anyhow...whether this god that claimed Hanako's sins can be erased is the same as the one Tsukasa made a deal with or not is anyone's guess at this point!

Points in favor of this idea are that the god oversees the school mysteries of Kamome and that the Pit God once ruled over Kamome, as well as the fact that the School Mysteries are specifically said to rule in place of the Pit God. (See: screencap below)

Then again, we don't really know how gods WORK in JSHK? It's entirely possible a god (or a group of gods) oversee Kamome and the mysteries that reside in it. And Kako seems to know intimate details concerning who the Pit God is while also speaking about the god(s) they serve during the Ch. 61 Mystery Meeting.

So, errr...

It would just be a bit weird, I guess. Hanako and the other mysteries serving a god/multiple gods (it's not entirely clear) and then Hanako making reference to a god that says his sins will be absolved if he fulfills his "duty" (presumably as a school mystery) but actually meaning the guy who Kako--another mystery--sees as a threat to the school...

But perhaps the Pit God tricked Hanako by pretending to be one of the good gods?! I mean, it's not like we have confirmation Kako ever met the gods they serve as proxy for. Considering that Teru says the mysteries reside in place of sacrifice-demanding gods, too, it's certainly worth questioning...it's not like all gods are good gods, as the series has clearly shown.

And I mean...

...Hanako certainly seems to imply this god isn't very scrupulous. Thinking a supernatural infestation is OK? Suspicious. Suspicious indeed!

There's also this...

While it's possible the god/gods didn't know what #6 did and disapproved, #6 still resolved the Urabon issue by LITERAL HUMAN SACRIFICE. Kako and Hanako even KNOW #6 uses extreme methods yet they either didn't care to check or worse, agreed with him. Remember, Hanako had to literally be blackmailed into helping Akane and Nene, lol.

Considering this ended up causing the Severance you'd have to IMAGINE the gods they serve would be mad, right...? Unless they WANTED this to happen, of course!

At best the gods seem to be OK with human sacrifice and at worse they are the Pit God, actively craving human sacrifices and also potentially world domination. Pick your poison!

Anyway tl;dr I don't think there is a singular supreme being in JSHK but the god Hanako mentions and the one dwelling in Tsukasa could very well be the same one

[thedeluluverse]

POSTING IT EARLY!!

Author’s Note: So happy to finally get this out there! BIGGEST thanks to my bestie @starfire21, as this is mainly her baby; I just wrote it down, hehe. I hope y’all like it, and please let me know what y’all think! Until next time, lovelies! <3 Also here is the link for Part 1 so you can get additional info :)

Summary: A talented saber smith’s life changes forever when the Sith crosses her path as she attempts to reform the corrupt government she serves. Will they be a help or a hindrance?

Pairing:  Sith!Wooyoung x femjedi/sabersmith!Y/N. Other kpop idols in the story, but the main relationship is between Woo and Y/N.

Rating: 18+

Genre:  angst, fantasy, kpop, smut, fluff

Word Count: 5,703

Warnings:  verbal abuse/bullying kind of all around, mentions of attempted suicide, abandonment and self-worth issues, HJ kinda bipolar and entitled/creepy, bisexual suffering, oral (m. receiving), tit play, clit play, p in v raw sex (don’t do this irl y’all), slight mentions of kink

While Wooyoung is busy trying to decide whether to go out of his way to a farther shop or enlist the help of Y/N to fix his saber, Y/N is eating breakfast and informing Huyang of the previous night’s events.

They both agree that Winter’s attack seems quite random, as they have no personal strife with the Sith and have only met her once.

Huyang suggests they both lie low and not make any far treks unless absolutely necessary for at least a few days in case their lives are in jeopardy.

Still sore from the fight, you don’t disagree, for once. There is plenty of work to be done in the shop, and there is no rush, so lying low sounds nice.

Meanwhile, in Coruscant, the Council discusses the growing threat that the Sith are becoming to the galaxy.

After a long while of brainstorming, Master Choi Minho has an idea, “Why don’t we collect more taxes from the people and place military personnel around our headquarters?”.

There is a wave of silent, approving nods until Chaewon says, “That isn’t much of a plan. What about protection for our people? If their livelihoods are getting strained, they deserve to reap some of the benefits as well!”.

Resounding chuckles fill the air as her cheeks turn pink and her eyes start to well up with tears, feeling embarrassed. However, before she can speak up, Master Chungha smirks. “Oh, you know what, that would be a lovely alteration to the plan! If we were still younglings. Grow up, Chaewon; that isn’t how the world works. We maintain order, and our subjects will be at peace if we are safe. Imagine we are in danger, then they panic; how dangerous that could rapidly become!”.

Most of the Council is clapping for the Master's use of logic when the youngest female Jedi to ever be on the Council, Rei, speaks up, "Yeah, even I know better, and you surpass me by 3 years. You’ll never make it onto the Council if you stay so naïve”.

At this point, Chaewon’s knuckles are white, and she is about to burst with fury at the disrespect.

Luckily, Master Jaeyun diffuses the impending explosion just in time. "All right then, this has been a great start in figuring out how to counteract the Sith issue, but we should dismiss for the day. When we gather next time, let's be more respectful and open-minded. Until next time, stay safe, everyone. Meeting adjourned.”.

Waiting until everyone else leaves to discuss the new developments with Somin and Jihyo, Chaewon remains seated while the rest of the Council files out of the room. Adding insult to injury, Chungha and Rei pat her head as if she were a child as they leave.

As soon as the door shuts, the floods can no longer be contained in her eyes, and Chaewon breaks down. Thankfully, she isn’t alone for long as her allies rush to her side quickly.

Somin reassures her gently while gently rubbing her back, "Let it out, dear; I am so proud of you for standing up for the people and keeping your emotions in check with everything else that happened. While you do need to fine-tune the execution, it was better than staying silent."

Meanwhile, Jihyo kneeled in front of Chaewon with a fierce look in her eyes, “Say the word, and I’ll use my strength training on that prick Minho and his ‘secret’ lover. I’ve been dying to slap them both for so long!” Somin scolds, "Now, why are you listening to those rumors? Whether true or false, it doesn’t concern us or our cause. We need to stay focused, Hyo."

Amongst sniffles, Chaewon chuckles, "I appreciate the offer, but it's okay; we need to make them think we are still aligned with them for the time being.”

At this, Somin looks down at Chaewon with a motherly, proud smile as she kisses the top of her head, and they all head out before curfew is enacted.

Back at Y/N's home shop, she is just finishing her morning routine, getting dressed, and trying to make a game plan for the current list of orders when she hears the bell ring that someone has entered.

Huffing in annoyance, she heads to the front. "I thought I told Huyang to leave the sign off today. Oh well, maybe someone is just lost, and I can get them out quickly,” she mutters.

When she sees who entered the shop, she turns on her heel to walk away, saying, "Look, I have had enough run-ins with you and your gang for a lifetime, so please let me work in peace. Between your elevator ambush, your slightly creepy leader randomly dropping in to apologize for the prior event and slightly offering to work together, then that Winter chick tracking me down, burning my shop, and trying to kill me, I’m all Sithed out, sorry.”

His eyes widen as he pieces together what he has just been told with the argument he heard before leaving. Immediately, he is filled with rage and is concerned for you more than he should be.

Sadly, he doesn’t have time to waste with silly ponderings right now. “Look, I can only speak on my actions, and I apologize if I annoyed you; I was just trying to have a little fun,” he says as his signature shit-eating grin spreads across his face.

He switches modes when he realizes the extent to which you are in no mood for his usual antics. "Okay, look, seriously, I need your help."

You cackle for 2 minutes straight, "Wait, so your crew pesters and threatens me for the last 24 hours, including your insults yesterday, and you think I’ll help you? Get lost.”

Your foot is almost across the threshold of the next room when he says, “You’re right. You can refuse service to anyone. I would, too, if I were you, but I have an offer. I need you to check out and possibly replace my kyber crystal. In exchange, I will pay double your normal service charge to help show you that I am serious about my apology and for information about what happened last night. Do we have a deal?”.

Shocked doesn’t cover how you feel now, “Hold on a minute. Why do you want information about your buddy’s attack? Wouldn’t you just ask them?”

Woo sighs, “ I would, but she is quite emotional right now, and I want the truth. She acted outside of Honjoong’s permission and wounded the integrity of our organization, which, as you know, is already being threatened. She will not know that I know anything or that I got the details from you. The intel will go straight from you to me, then to Hongjoong, who can concoct a story of how he learned about the specifics.”

For once, you can see genuine sincerity in his eyes and give a nod of approval, showing that you understand everything and agree to his terms.

Moving into the connected workshop structure, he sits and watches as you run diagnostic tests on his saber.

After about 15 minutes of this, you start dismantling it in silence so you can replace the crystal that looks like it got jostled by falling off his bedside table or something.

Suddenly, you break the silence. “Wanna know why what you said in the elevator hit such a nerve? Well, even if you don’t too bad. If you can just speak your mind whenever so can I."

Looking taken aback yet endeared at your spunk, he extends his hand in a go-ahead motion.

You continue explaining, "I built this business with my mentor's help after not being taken seriously for 5 years. Just having moved into the city, having no official training, and being a human woman made for an extremely steep uphill climb to where I am now. It was nothing new after a lifetime of having no parents and fending for myself, but there is only so much a person can take. One day, Huyang found me in an alley, about to inject myself with an instant death serum I bought from this shady tent because there was no more hope in my soul. He didn’t realize what it was until he fed me, and I broke down and told him my whole life story.”

Finishing up the saber, you drank some water and proceeded, “I won’t bore you with that, don’t worry. The main point is that after being abandoned and abused multiple times by so-called friends and family alike, I learned I can only depend on myself and, eventually, Huyang. I then put these silver streaks in my hair to remind myself that there is always light in the darkness; the same is true with most people, even those on the Sith side. The way I look at it, they are just misunderstood, and if their methods changed, they would be more respected and less feared.”

Laughing, you realize, “As far as core values go, the Sith is less corrupt than the Council at this point. Your leaders apologize and are protective; you all seem roughly the same rank. On the other hand, the Council likes to pretend to be more open-minded because it has a diverse membership and cares about the people. Yeah right. They overtax and overwork their citizens, who are practically slaves just so they can live posh, secure lives while the rest of us are dying from a myriad of terrible factors. A few secret friends and I in the Council are trying to gather support to overthrow those who have let greed poison them, but who knows if success will happen in my lifetime...”

Realizing you have been rambling for a while now, you feel self-conscious and hurriedly recount the run-in with Winter and tell him which shop was damaged. Thanking him for his time, you rush him out as questions bombard you.

Why did you open up so much to him? That isn’t like you... must still be off from yesterday. That must be it. Yeah. By busying yourself with other orders, you try to forget about your lapse in fortress status.

As Wooyoung stands outside your shop with a newly repaired saber and the old crystal in his pouch, which is special as it was his first, he has much to think about on the way home, more like the burned shop.

Too much is on his mind, and he can use the longer time away as evidence that he didn’t go to your shop so Winter doesn’t get suspicious when Joong has more details about the event later.

Woo is confused on several fronts as he talks to himself throughout his trek, “Why would anyone hurt her? Wait, why do I care? Why would she tell me about her past? It must be a trick to try to protect herself. Is she that type, though? Whatever, I don’t care.”

The last point is immediately disproven upon seeing the damage that Winter caused to the shop. Instinctively, he starts cleaning up the area and making mental notes of supplies to bring next time to fix up the place.

After about 2 hours, he starts heading back, and his inner turmoil has only heightened. He shouldn’t care, so why does he? I mean, you made some excellent points. But he is also under orders to kill you...decisions must be made.

Once dusk hits, you start tidying up the shop, content with the work you got done today (and yes, still repressing the swirl of thoughts from earlier).

Huyang enters with fresh meals he bought from the market nearby. You can both rest and enjoy easy food after the stressful last couple of days.

During the meal, you confide in Huyang about what happened earlier, and he is eerily silent. Not able to take it, after about 5 minutes, you shout, "What?! Just talk, damn... it’s weird when you’re quiet.”

 Clearing his throat, he says, “Apologies, ma’am, I just don’t think you want to hear my notes on this situation as they are similar to the last run-in you had with this Wooyoung. It is admirable that he repented and was able to be sincere with you. As for you, you already know the truth deep down and don’t want to admit it. That is all I shall say”.

Rolling your eyes, you just get up and go to your bedroom as Huyang chuckles to himself.

Unable to sleep due to the mixed emotions, countless questions, and thoughts, you decide to check out your shop at dawn to assess the damage.

 It is evident that someone else has been there as soon as you arrive. All of the lesser damaged items are in one corner, and it looks.... swept. You shrug and are happy that good people exist; they could have easily robbed you, but everything is accounted for despite its state.

Wooyoung, on the other hand, had a restful night’s sleep. Being physically exhausted and pleased that Winter got scolded more due to the intel he gave Hongjoong made him pass out as soon as he lay down.

Unfortunately, he was awoken in the middle of the night. Winter was knelt by his bed, blocking his saber, shaking him awake, “Woo, I cannot sleep. Can I sleep with you instead?.”

Smiling, he rolls onto his side, facing her, and says, “Sure, c’mon in, babe.”

As soon as she is settled in, he opens his eyes and pushes her onto the floor. Yelping with tears in her eyes, she says, “Why did you say sure and call me babe just to do that?!”

Startled fully awake by her screams, Wooyoung realizes what he has done.

In truth, he was dreaming about you too domestically, and in dreamland, her request was presented as yours.

So, when he was met with Winter in reality, he was appalled not only by her presence so close to him but also anxious about the contents of the dream.

He cannot tell her that, though, so he crafts a half lie; “Oh, um, sorry, I was having a dream about this babe I met at the cantina today while I was getting my saber fixed. Go back to your own room, petulant child.”

Whimpering, she refuses, “NO! I am not a child, and I will not be treated like one anymore, not by you especially. Can’t you see how perfect we would be together? Much better than Joong and Y/N; it is so pathetic.”

At the mention of you, Woo bolts upright, “What do you mean?” Winter is confused by his sudden interest. Nevertheless, she explains, “Well, Joong went to Y/N yesterday and plans to go alone tomorrow, too. It seems like he likes her, but, knowing him, he is probably just toying with her.”

Pondering her words, Wooyoung says, “That is his business, and we should not pay any attention to anything he does not discuss with us. Now go to your own room and sleep or not, I do not care, but goodbye.”

As he turns towards the wall, he cannot help but feel a stab of jealousy at this latest information.

Winter goes to her room, kicking herself for being vulnerable yet again, but damnit, she needed a win. Multiple scoldings by Hongjoong lately, along with neither of her crushes giving her the time of day, has her dejected.

She decides to go into an intense isolation period, claiming it is “that time of the month” to ward off Joong and Woo and to get out of doing fieldwork.

The following day, Wooyoung broaches what Winter told him with his leader. "Sir, I have a question: is what she said true? I told her to keep her nose out of your business, but as your second in command, I feel I should know what is going on to aid however I can if needed.”

Shocked at the initiative, Hongjoong smiles, “Thank you for putting her in her place, and I agree. For Bibi's will to be done, there must be nothing but honesty between us. While I admire Miss Y/N’s tenacity, and she is fairly easy on the eyes, I would not be so foolish as to let animal instinct take over. She is merely a pawn in this game, nothing else. Both you and Winter tend to lack professionalism, so I meet up alone to speed up the process.”

Satisfied with his answer, Hongjoong excuses himself from the table and prepares to meet up with Y/N.

Wooyoung waits until Hongjoong is gone to leave for the burned shop and continue making repairs, feeling thankful yet insulted.

Huyang let you sleep in as you caught up on most of the orders yesterday. You awoke with lunch by your bed with a note that he would hang flyers and for you to take it easy today.

Naturally, you ate and paid no mind to the resting part as you wanted to fix your shop more.

About 2 miles from your shop, you see a familiar figure approaching you, but it can't be... it is Wooyoung!

Sadly, there is nowhere to hide from him, so you continue strutting in his direction, acting like his presence is unnoticed.

The moment he gets close to you, anxiety radiates off of him as he tries to make small talk and turns around to walk with you. “What are you doing in the middle of nowhere alone? That is dangerous.” He says.

You scoff, “Since when does the Sith care about the life of a lowly sabersmith? And I can handle myself, thank you very much. The better question is, what are you doing out here? Miss me already?.”

Silence and a heated smirk are all you are met with until you trip him and hold your lilac-hued saber to his throat, ���Did you fuck with my shop more? I swear I will slit your throat right now, and you will not like it..”

Attempting to scooch away on his back, he pleads with you, “NO, no, I swear, I did not mess up your shop. I was just.. uh... scouting the area to make sure no defectors from the Sith were in hiding.”

Mainly convinced by his story, you sheath your saber and help him to his feet. He nods and says he has to be on his way but decides not to tell you that Hongjoong is on his way to meet up with you.

It is childish, he admits, but something in him likes that he got to see you today, and Joong did not.

You feel played as soon as you step into your shop; he most definitely fucked with your shop but in a positive way.

It is even cleaner than last time, and repairs are obviously underway. You pin that for the next time you see him and try to focus on the work ahead.

Wooyoung returns to headquarters to hear the sound of things being thrown and screaming; he rushes inside, worried they are under attack, only to find Hongjoong as the source of the cacophony.

Hearing the door close, Joong pauses and half turns around with a crazed look while grinning like a rabid dog. Seeing it is Wooyoung, he starts venting, "Can you believe it? She has the nerve to not respond to my attempts at communication and then stand me up at her own shop?! Does she not realize how much I could fuck up or enhance her life depending on how she plays my game? How could she not want to see me? I am charming, handsome, mysterious; everything a spunky bitch like her would want. That is fine. I will show her what happens when you reject the mighty Hongjoong!”

Before Woo can react, Joong storms into his chambers to plot against Y/N. Just a pawn...sure, Wooyoung thinks to himself.

Wanting to test his newly fixed saber, he heads to the practice room to self-spar. Engrossed in the improvements you made and the scenarios played by the holograms for practice, he only notices Winter watching from the doorway when he trips over his foot and falls.

For once, she is calm as he asks, “H-how long have you been standing there?!” “Oh, only a few minutes, but that’s all I needed to bring you down,” she replies.

Confusion colors his features, “What in the galaxy are you talking about now? How and why would you want to bring me down?”.

She saunters over and stands over him, displaying a newfound dominant aura. “Oh, now you are the naïve one, it seems. Firstly, a girl can only take so much rejection before she snaps and turns on those she once wanted most. Secondly, there is only one smith around here whose trademark is white kyber crystals. You are as good as dead once Joong finds out you lied to him about where you got it fixed.”

Panic evident in his eyes, Woo quickly defends, "Okay, true, that trademark is well known amongst the customers of Y/N, but that does not mean she has a monopoly on them; plenty of other shops have them in stock from time to time. Also, how are you still so childish? Oh noooo, I don’t return your crush, so you are going to vaguely threaten me? Geez, go to counseling or get laid, shit.”

Winter is semi-convinced, so she stays to practice for a bit. Meanwhile, Wooyoung exits to wash off the near-death experience and plans a trip to warn you about a potential second attack from Winter.

After Wooyoung bathes, he heads to your shop, praying Joong does not cross his path. He arrives about the same time as you, and being too tired to argue, you let him in while you hydrate and catch your breath from all the manual labor you just did.

As you rest, he warns you, “Look, Winter saw me sparring with my saber. Great work, by the way! Anyway, now it is seen as betraying the Sith by going to you. You could be in a lot of danger, and while I can’t directly protect you, I can give you a heads up at least."

Furrowing your brows, your only response is, “Why would you, though?” He deeply exhales, “ I don't even know, okay, but there is your warning. Have a good day.”

Confused and amused by his awkwardness, you say, “I will, actually. It has been productive so far, plus my efforts have finally shut down a gambling center where the money goes to the Council, so I am happy! Plus, I have even more followers of my cause!”

Turning away, he grins, happy to see you reach your goals, but that smile fades rapidly as you say, “By the way, I know you were the one who has been helping with my damaged shop. Thanks.”

He leaves since he does not know how to respond or why his motivation has been pro-you and anti-mission lately, but not without quipping, “I mean, why would I help you? But if you want to reward me for this supposed aid, you can give my biological saber lip service next time, doll.”

As he leaves with a wink, you are annoyed, not by him for once, but with yourself. That kind of remark usually elicits nausea and a desire to kill every man.

This time, you just giggle once he leaves and feel your entire body heat up at the thought. Yep, you are screwed.

The next day, after you both have very intense sexual dreams about each other, you decide to go to Tatooine. His reason is simply to attempt to distract his brain, while yours is to check on your small shop.

It is a request-only shop as it is the least trafficked area for you, but with recent events, you might as well check in while you collect more kyber crystals.

As you are about to leave, you get a surprise visit from Hongjoong; shocked and perturbed, you politely excuse yourself; "Terribly sorry, but I was just on my way out; you can come back tomorrow, though, if you'd like.” He does not like that at all and backs you into your workbench.

Displaying a devilish, darkened gaze of determination, he states, “Oh, you foolish girl. I do not want to make the trip tomorrow. I am here now, and I want you. Do you know how much business I could get you? I would even share what I collect from the Sith citizens from ‘taxes,’ aka my fun fund. Stop fighting this attraction. It’s just me, not like I am the big bad wolf darling, though I would love to eat you,” he states, smirking a couple of inches from your lips.

With his eyes closed, you take the opportunity to hit him in the head with one of your tools and run out, hopping on your speeder and quickly zooming away with tears in your eyes.

You are reeling from the encounter and frustrated that your heart wants to flee to Woo for comfort.

With Hongjoong yelling at you that nobody is ever going to love you if you do not let them in or just be grateful that a god like him designed to give you his attention, you decide against walking into the lion’s den; you stay the course to Tatooine ignoring your yearning for comfort.

After a while, you head to the local cantina to grab something refreshing to drink since you have been in the sun crystal mining for 3 hours now.

En route, you notice people fighting and pay no mind, believing it to just be a couple of drunkards squabbling over the bill. Until you get closer, that is, and find that the fighters are Wooyoung and Hongjoong!

Staying a safe distance away yet being able to hear every word of their conversation makes you worried. Yet, you know it would be foolish to get in the middle, so you stand there paralyzed.

It seems that your rejection led Joong to the desert looking for a hook-up at the bar, where he ran into Woo and immediately went on the offensive.

Hongjoong is slurring at Woo, “Why did you go to that bitch for your saber? You know she is mine! Now, you ruin my attempts to get rid of the blue balls she gave me earlier? You are dead, apprentice.”

Wooyoung retorts between defending Joong’s strikes. “First off, she is not a bitch, and she was the closest sabersmith. Secondly, blue balls are not a thing, and you would not be looking for a drunken desperate cunt to sink into if she had initiated it, so stop lying to yourself and to me.”

Hongjoong looks victorious, “HA, so you admit going to her! For once, Winter was the good pupil. Maybe I will send the signal for her to attack Y/N while you are busy here..since you cannot even kill her like you were ordered."

Too worried about you, Woo freezes for a split second, which is enough for Joong to pull out his dagger and slice Wooyoung’s right cheek and left shoulder.

Right after, Joong hears a speeder and does not want witnesses, so he runs away; thank goodness your idea worked.

Helping Wooyoung onto your speeder, you head to your shop. It is not an ideal reason to head over there, but you were already planning on checking on it, so oh well.

Upon arrival, you help support him off the bike as he got beat up quite a beat; laying him on the bed in the back of the shop, you start taking off his robe to assess the wound.

Always a smartass, he smirks, and then he is screeching for dear life. He stares at your attempt at stifling a laugh, "Hey, don’t look so pleased.” You snort, “Sorry, just nice to see you are human sometimes.”

He pouts and turns away, forgetting his cheek is sliced too, so he turns back, defeated, towards you while you tend to his wounds and wrap up his shoulder.

You hate to admit it, but damn, his body looks even better than you thought; no, you scold yourself, not the place or time.

You change the subject, "So why can't you kill me? Or was he drunk?". Still on edge, he barks, "I don't even know, okay?! I warn you; I fix your shop secretly; I duel my master to defend your honor. It is all worth it, but-“

You interrupt. “You don't need to get hurt for me, though, idiot.” He grins. “I know I don’t have to, but I do, and I’m not sure why, but I want to help your cause and think it’s a great thing you’re doing and-“

This time, you interrupt him with a kiss that immediately gets returned. Pulling away, you apologize, “Sorry, but I had to stop your nonsense. I think I know why you do the things you do. It’s the same reason I helped you today, and don’t mind your drop-ins as much as I let on.”

He raises an eyebrow, asking why, to which you lean in close to him again and whisper in his ear, “Because we want each other badly but are scared of being that close and getting hurt.”

Sitting up, you blush. “I mean, maybe it’s just me, but it feels like we are very similar and fated in a way; just tell me if I –“

He stops you with a hungry kiss, supporting himself with his good arm, cradling the back of your head with his left hand as his tongue explores your mouth.

Your boldness peeks through as you lightly suck his tongue and let your hands gently trail down his abs and palm his covered, very strained bulge.

He groans into your mouth as he snakes his hand under your tunic and palms your voluptuous breasts in response, rolling your hardening nipples between his fingers.

This does not last long before his skilled tongue is swirling the buds and sucking on your tits, bringing you to ecstasy quicker than expected.

Sitting up as much as he can, you remove the rest of both of your clothes and straddle him, both of your sweat mixing in an intoxicating concoction of desire and safety in each other as your hands roam all over each other, passionately making out and making up for lost time.

You feel him grow beneath you, and with remarkable quickness, you shimmy down and lick the slit of his leaking tip for a moment or two before engulfing his thickness down your throat with ease earning you a nonverbal good job on the cheek with his veiny hands.

As he approaches his climax, he pulls you up by your hair, your lips releasing him with a pop and gestures for you to kiss him.

He gazes hungrily into your eyes, “I need to be inside of you, Y/N god, like right now.” You look sideways and reveal, “I want that too, but I, um, well... you would be my first. Can we go slow?"

His energy softens as he caresses your face, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Of course, baby, I simply want to be closer to you.”

Nodding, you line yourself up and sink onto him slowly. It hurts a bit at first, but you quickly adjust to the sting, and it feels sinfully good to have your aching cunt being filled by him finally.

The shop is consumed with the sound of your delicious moans and skin coming together more and more rapidly until you are about to reach your high.

Wooyoung can tell you are close to your release and reaches down to play with your clit, “C'mon love, make a mess on me, princess” At his words, your body reacts by cumming so many times you lose count.

With his help, you ride out your high for about 10 minutes as you feel his heat fill you up three times before you both slump over in exhaustive bliss.

Over the next few days, you stay in that shop talking about everything, and he officially decides to join your cause and recant his Sith ways.

You reveal that you chose his kyber crystal on purpose because you saw the light in him. He tears up and hugs you tightly, "I know it's soon, but I love you, my moth."

You kiss him, saying you love him as well, and have for a while through light sobs.

You both return to Coruscant after going to a nearby hair studio for a change of pace.

He adds blonde streaks to his black hair to remind himself of the light inside and has his old crystal fashioned into a necklace to remind him of where he has been and that he has changed.

 You, however, exchange your silver-streaked hair for more of a rust color to match the sentiment of his crystal, promising to keep each other in check and make sure no corruption enters your hearts.

Back at the Council, you, along with Somin, Jihyo, Chaewon, and Wooyoung, expose the corrupt members despite Masters Moonbyul and Jongseob trying to rationalize their actions but failing as they all get carted away to the highest security prison.

Later that day, the secretly good trio became the new faces of the Council and immediately threw a celebration for the city's people, returning all the money that had been wrongly collected.

You and Wooyoung, of course, attend in support. As you are about to steal a kiss, you notice a familiar pair of beady eyes peek behind a pillar.

But now, they are filled with pride and wonder instead of obsession. “What did you see?” Wooyoung asks; you smile and say, “Oh, an old friend, they are shy now but are doing better, I can tell, and I’m happy for them.”

He kisses you, and you lean your head on his shoulder, relishing in this beautiful life you have built for yourself and glad Huyang was right. It is true what they say: if you allow it, change will happen for the better.

[lafcadiosadventures]

Madame Putiphar Groupread. Book Two, Chapter XXXIV

Francesco Hayez. Two versions of La Meditazione, 1851

(ALSO pls check out this 1877 edition of Mme P, including an illus of Deborah smashing the pornography!! couldn't post that bc of ownership, but I would have!!)

(reading mates: @counterwiddershins + @sainteverge )

Asorted thoughts on this very extense and well written chapter:

(this is a very long post you guys. it happens)

-Deborah should know by now not to visit her regular places

-on a symbolic plane, Catholic rites endanger her, literally put her in a vulnerable physical position (we have seen how catholicism can be a crutch for Patrick, pushing him to pasivity)(Deborah is always more active, but this time she is literally led by her faith to a place her captors know she frequents, and she herself is lying flat against the ground, which gives her captors physical dominace over her)

-Once again, the intelligence of the character is not entirely consistent, the scene tho, is very effective and evocative (deborah has watered the stones of the church floor with her tears. Her captors don't respect anything, it's the whole idea of profanation, not only of a temple but of a sacred moment)

-they blindfold her, cover her with one of her capes and shove her into a carriage. Reminds me a lot of accounts of people who were illegally detained, it all rings true. Once agin this is the (monarchic) state employing tactics of criminals.

-Deborah never gives up mentally, refuses to walk and has to be pushed, uses her eloquence to persuade the guards to let her live for the sake of her child (a smart rhetoric tactic, since her captors don't care about her, maybe they will doubt helping kill her if they know she is pregnant)

-Borel's narrator acts as if we don't know what we learnt last chapter (she is not going to be killed, she is sent to the king's brothel) giving the reader the upper hand over Debbie.

-However we don't know if her persuasivve speech has worked, we are as blind as her. She shakes and cries out in disgust as she recieves a succession of kisses on her cheeks and mouth. The person who just did that is a woman, who tells her she is safe and surrounded by people who love her. We guess this is the Madame. Her current tactic after kissing her against her will is being verbally soft and respectful, minding protocol and her title.

-Deborah is still blindfolded, not allowed to learn the structure of the place she is imprisioned in, yet the narrator shows us she is paying attention to what she can percieve as she follows the madame through the building (stairs, counting the sounds of locks, etc)

-Once inside her well furnished bedchamber-cum-cell, her blindfold is removed. Her two servants are incredibly ugly old men, very polite as well, dressed in Green, a color that has been highlighted in the narrative in relation to the clothes of Villepastour and the Knight of Youth. Beauty, mundanity and sexuality connects Villepastour and the perhaps more positive (and less pusilanimous) but also deadly Knight, so it's valid to connect the servants with them. They all serve the same credo. (it would be clever, even if nothing points to this, if in a Der Blaue Engel twist, the servants were past Villepastours, former discarded lovers of Pompadour, reduced to serfdom and watchdog status)

-A feast is brought to her room (the idea is to make her lower her guard) she is famished and parched but doesn't touch even a glass of water (the theme of the pure heroine resisting worldy temptations, seen in many fairytales) She suspects the food is poisoned but I imagine also a kind of repugnance from anything that came from her captors, accepting the food is in a way, playing by their rules. A dueña (duègne in french, a chaperone) undresses her and introduces her into her bed. (We are now in a bifurcation, Deborah enters one of the types of prisons for women -> the royal Brothel, we will perhaps see a prison for men, if Patrick has survived his illegal arrestation)

-Deborah tries to guess where she is, relying on what she heard and smelt on the carriage, and what she has seen and how she was treated in the mansion. (this once again, reads absolutely verosimile if one compares it with accounts of people who have been kidnapped or illegally imprisoned, Borel is well documented and it shows. Once again, it is interesting that he chooses to give us this insight with Deborah and not with Patrick. Borel wants us to stay with Deborah and like her, believe that Patrick is dead and she is all alone)

-She concludes she has been kidnapped and taken to one of Villepastour's retirement houses (nobles used to have smallish mansions to keep mistresses/sexual servants, sometimes literally trapped with no chance to leave... not really different from forced sexual labor) Her guess is as we know, partially wrong but very close to the truth. and if Villepastour hadn't spoken would Pompadour had remembered to take revenge on her?

-{i think it's fair to say that the king in this novel is like the king in chess. He is not at all the most powerful piece in the board. He does evil and has no qualms about it -as we will see- but everything has to be arranged for him, he must be served in all orders. He doesn't even know who Deborah is, so people around him can definitely use him for their petty revenges. It's not that he's a dupe (even if Pompadour is the mastermind of the novel) it's just that he is lazy, even the hard work behind his "fun" must be arranged by others}

-Deborah regrets not having stolen a knife from the table. She is far from defeated mentally, she'd rather die fighting.

-She avoids sleeping to be alert, opens the window. The fresh air revives her (nature comes to her aid against the evils of men) she sticks her head against the door to try and hear anything to avoid being surprised, but also, to learn anything that might be informative.

-once again the dueñas enter her room and manipulate her body while she still sleeps, putting her some pretty slippers on. She is now a doll, with little to no bodily autonomy. She is taken to a bathroom (the narrator still takes Debbie's pov, she is trying to ammass as much details of the place she is in as she can) She is put inside the bathtub (Borel cleverly uses passive voice to show us how she is being treated, gently but forcefully, and sorpresively. She cannot anticipate her servant/gaoler's movements and they are strong enough to lift her and move her like furniture)

-Enter a woman in a robe who deborah recognizes by the sound of her voice as the woman who has kissed her the night before.

-Enter the portrayal of queer persons -lesbians were a privileged subject- in french Romanticism to this particular book. How does Borel does it, in contrast to his peers? Physically there is nothing ordinary about her, Borel barely spends a line on how she looks like, it's how she acts that interests him. Borel is to be commended for this, there is nothing constitutive, physically essentialist about her queerness. What's important is that she is a mature woman of “vulgar”figure, with very refined manners. We conclude, probably a working class woman, nothing remarkable in her apereance, who has learnt the refined manners of her bosses. (I would love to compare her with Passereau, the beautiful and hispanic looking little sparrow who is confused with a male prostitute by the men gathering under the gay cruising spot aka the Boar in the Tuilleries, but I need to reread Passereau, all I can think of rn is, although Passereau isn't foreign he -like Borel- is thought to be, and remember how many of Vautrin's boyfriends are italian or corsican, even if vautrin himself is extremely ??? north of france looking with his flaming red hair, it is not unfrequent to “foreignize” homosexuality, even by authors who were queer themselves, like balzac, and very possibly Borel as well)

-I need at this point to bring up the Mother Superior in the Sainte-Eutrope Convent from Diderot's La Réligièuse. She and the Madame have some things in common. The Superior basically does the rounds undressing and bathing and forcing herself -sometimes, she is desired by some- on her novices and nuns. Her physical portrayal is similar to Borel's she is basically unremamrkable looking, of extreme sensitivity, a little fat but there's no Phrenology going on here, from either author. Although the Superior abuses her power she is not a rapist of the violent kind, I think the Mother Superior actually believes Suzanne loves her back, and she is incredibly surprised when Suzanne, right after making her orgasm, cries out for help because she thinks the Superior is sick)(this is fine erotic writing by old Denis, the prologuist of my penguin edition complains Suzanne is too inocent to be believeble, I personally buy it)(this book needs rereading though)

-Borel highlights her mouth (something that Balzac does in Théodore Calvi's -one of his corsican homosexual bandits, and a personal favorite of mine- introduction, and Hugo does with the very likely male prostitute Montparnasse. Borel does a close up shot of her lips, her honeyed mouth, she is savouring every word she says, to make Deborah trust her but also alludes to an excess of sensuality same as Diderot's Mother Superior)

-what follow is a long and interesting dialogue with Deborah and her. Both women are written as intelligent and trascend their stock roles of pure heroine and perverse gay madame.

I'll make use of cam's translation here:

“The interest that is being taken in me is too violent, madame; it is an indiscreet and insulting zeal which I fault and reject. But may I at least know who professes such an exorbitant benevolence towards me? In whose name was I led to this shelter? what is this shelter and what fate is awaiting me here?”

“(...)Answer me, am I here in a state prison?” “Does this residence, mylady, resemble a dungeon? and me, do I look like a gaoler?” “Could I be in a convent?” “Maybe.”

(that maybe...Even if couvent in french doesn't connote brothel like in elizabethan english, Borel invites us to find the similarities between both institutions)

-Deborah is correct in her intuitive association between the royal whorehouse and a prison.

-Borel's narrator illustrates the madame's thought process when Deborah begs for more concrete answers. Characterizing her as a bohemian, (une fine bohême, with an ^ instead of an `) a romani woman (we are perhaps getting exotification of homosexuality as foreign here?) and “fine” she is indeed, she is very sharp and makes the lies she tells appear like confidences the “élèves” have forced her to make. So she invents a story about a suposed benefactor (the Count of Gonesse) who heard about Deborah's enemies and vulnerable position and has taken her so that she can enjoy a confortable and safe life in seclusion, and throw herself freely into “the voluptuosness of pain and melancholy”. Deborah doesn't even believe the Count to exist. If he does, she demands to be told what does he want from her, what are his plans concerning her...(the "why me" moment) The idea behind the Madame's answer is to make Deborah believe her benefactor wants to win her heart and marry her later on, so that she accepts the king's “visits” meekly and with a false sense of hope.

-Deborah ofc doesn't want to marry again (least of all, marry an unknown man who is forcing her into a sense of indebtedness and gratitutde) this setback makes the madame think of starting Deborah's education aka having sex with her, (the king, Borel tells us, is fooled, he only gets the crumbs the Madame leaves for him) She tries to get Deborah naked, but she holds her clothes back. She gets chided for her modesty (only ugly women should be modest, the madame claims, while groping her body and describing it through metaphors, marble like breasts, her silouette, as curvaceous as a vase, something @sainteverge has noticed is a reccurring theme in her descriptions) Borel is in fact very explicit, breaking the boundaries that usually constrain fellow “serious” novelists who avoid explicit sex scenes even when the plot would require them. Borel lets us know the madame was kissing deborah's breasts and was in fact about to give her oral, when Deborah stops her by holding her forehead away from her crotch.

-the madame appologizes but asks Deborah to understand she wants to earn her love, while she laments not being a man, in order to please her. (mentioning this bc wanting to change genders is another favorite theme for the Fr Romantics... homosexuality seems linked in this period to a kind of transexuality)

-Deborah is said to not be able to understand sex between women. Although she finds the Madame's stares sexually charged, can only link them with how Patrick touches her/looks at her, she is still in the dark. Reminiscent of Diderot's Suzanne Simonin whose body the Superior uses to reach orgasm, and she never understands what is happening to the other woman. (it must be said that Borel calls lesbianism a depravation*. Diderot links it to an illness-no comments- he however, thinks he is being sympathetic)

* there are many instances in this book where Borel asumes a moralistic writing style, such as when he describes Pompadour’s sex apron,,,

-An interesting point is that art is what allows Deborah to understand homosexuality. Pornography in a wold where gayness isn't talked about openly is the only point of reference she can have. This is very interesting (consider vautrin, speaking of his sexuality constantly in terms of references from the books he has read, only once porn in his case)

-another interesting detail, re the dynamics of this prison: Deborah has the keys to her own room (cell) so she locks herself in. She proceeds to break everything in it, especially the porn on the walls and shelves of her library (if you haven't watched the Handmaiden (2016) yet, watch The Handmaiden, it's the closest thing to a madame putiphar adaptation we have without it being one) She makes a huge ruckus, throws boooks, porcelain figurines the whole shebang in a cathartic explosion, out of the window. The madame begs to be let in, begs for Deborah not to break anything else. Deborah confronts her, she is in a brothel and she is a madame. The Madame still tries to deny it all, insists with the story of Gonesse, but Debbie still doesn't open her door, so the madame summons brute force (once again as in many moments of this book, people are persuaded first by kindness then by brute force to submit to the hegemony) a soldier is summoned to break the door down, Debbie stands her ground. after calling her a madwoman, a thankless madwooman who pays back with insanity the kind treatment she was given, the men start pounding on the door, they break it down but face a barricade of furniture, Deborah yells she will jump out of the window if they even cross it. The Madame begs the soldiers to stop bc Debbie is in fact capable of keeping her word and the blame would fall on her. The battle is won by Deborah who is sieged inside her room with enough food to last a few days...

[sometimesrosy]

Heya Rosy, hope you’re doing well! Haven’t seen you around here much but I hope everything’s ok! It’s NaNo month, so… do you have any resources or tips to write intimate scenes? Not full smut but… smut. Thank you!

HI! It's nanowrimo also known (by me) as Writevember!

I have not been here much. So sorry. Nothing sinister. I'm just busy writing and painting and kidsing-- er raising kids, who are almost raised btw. And reading. I've been on threads a bit also, since there's a pretty good and supportive community of writers and artists and readers there. I'm rowenamurillo at threads if you want to join me. mention you're from tumblr if you want to or don't. you could probably just call me rosy since that name is mostly used here.

ANYWAY. Tips to write smut.

Listen. Writing smut is so hard for me. For a few reasons. One because you can psych yourself out thinking about how it's smut and somehow not the same as regular writing, which it is. Just writing.

Remember the rules of writing. Use those.

Writing smut is hard for me mostly because it's action. I struggle with action scenes.

Someone once told me to write smut (and action) as if I were describing choreography, because that's essentially what it is.

Another difficulty with writing smut is LANGUAGE.

You have to choose the language for the smut that is appropriate to the genre. For instance, I cannot write the words for smut here in this post because I feel constrained. They are NOT appropriate for the genre of "english teacher giving writing help" which is rated PG. So my suggestion is to pick some books of your chosen genre and spice level and check out the words they use during their smut scenes. There are some words that are generally seen as reliable workhorses and then there are some words that are creative and descriptive or metaphorical and can sometimes get a bit goofy. The simpler c*** c*** p**** d*** might actually be better than some of the overblown prose that has been known to be used. Clinical words are questionable unless the characters in question would use them. Remember to stay in character, don't have an earthy person use the clinical words or an innocent suddenly become foulmouthed (unless you're using that as a character point.) ANYWAY language should fit genre and character.

And then there's smut level. It's very important to pick your smut level, and there's some debate about what smut level is acceptable. Again, read books that you'd like to write like and see how explicit or how fade to black their spice is. A lot of romance will take a spicier level of smut, except for "sweet" or "clean" (don't really love that descriptor because it assumes sexy=dirty) where there really aren't sex scenes or "close door" or "fade to black" where there are characters having sex but you don't write those scenes, just assume them. But smutty scenes also have levels of explicitness. Some books have love scenes but the description is mild and focuses more on the emotions and connections and less on the 'money shot.' SOME smut is really smutty and spicy and is very descriptive of exactly what is happening. What goes where. The relative temperature, soft or hardness, colors, shapes, levels of moisture, sounds made by characters etcetera. The more detail, the smuttier it is.

AND THEN there's kink. Kink adds another level of smut, but it can be less descriptive or more so. You can just suggest kink, or you can show all the whips and chains and descriptive character.

Some books are ALL about the smut. In which case you can go crazy and give more attention to the sex scenes. Some smut serves instead to intensify the emotions and character development in which case you should connect all the smut back to those more emotional bits.

All in all, you should pick a spice level that YOU are comfortable with. Don't feel pressured to write XXX scenes when they make you uncomfortable. I myself prefer a mature level of smut which is medium spicy, but not outright adult movie star spicy. But in a non romance genre, I might also do a bit of fade to black because it's not about the spice. Unless I want it to be.

I hope this helps and didn't make it more confusing.

[onyxclub5]

mood tips (productivity) + updates!!!

okay, so i struggle greatly with productivity and staying focused in general (unheard of, i know).

i practically never do homework, frequently miss deadlines and rarely concentrate during lessons. this is my senior/exam year and i'm starting to get quite anxious what will happen if i stay in this loop of sleep, school and haziness.

so these are some little things i can do to convince myself to work and help me stay focused.

of course i don't have everything perfected, but this is just the starting point.

i hope having it posted here will stop me from losing motivation to keep up.

ANYWAYS, so here are some things that help:

clean workspace

personally, i absolutely despise cleaning and can never get myself to do it, but when i finally get to it, it feels so good???? usually i have plates and cups and papers clogging up my desk so if that's all out of the way it DEFINITELY makes a difference (future me, i am NOT LYING, it is satisfactory!!!!!).

food + fav tea

i lose focus quite easily so for me it's best to have something to eat or drink so that i don't fall out of that working headspace (also i'm kind of hungry all the time anyway lmao)

study music

for now i only have one album that for YEARS has helped me stay focused while being able to vibe without distracting me from my work and it's "thank u, next". first of all, LOVE THAT ALBUM OH MY GOD and it's literally p e r f e c t for studying. not even studying,

G I R L S T U D Y I N G.

but i digress. for now i only have this one album that i loop incessantly and mercilessly, but i hope one day i'll have more than just one.

other music:

-- soft r&b (chole x halle, victoria monet)

-- layover - v

-- illmatic - nas

do things one at a time

i've noticed that if i focus on one task that i have to do, instead of the five that are looming over me, they stop feeling so daunting and it becomes easier to focus what i have to do, right now.

planner/list/anything that serves as a reminder

because i am a forgetful girl™, i need planners like a lifeline. unfortunately, i also tend to forget about that too lmaooo....

but yeah, knowing what events, test and assignments are waiting for me further in the week helps greatly with structuring days and breaking out of haziness.

even just having my planner next to my bed helps when i get up in the morning and check my schedule for the day + upcoming days so i don't feel like a total loser when i miss something.

planning before bed and in the morning is best for me.

so, i think that's all for now!!

honestly i am still learning what works for me so i think this may be updated as time goes on, but i hope this helps future me (and anyone else who sees this maybe??)

[sindumpster]

Hey Wiggs idk if you have any experience in storywriting but i really wanna introduce my own characters to the world but have no clue how. I can't draw to save my life and i'm too insecure about my writings i always delete the drafts. H e l p

STOP DELETING YOUR DRAFTS!!

Like I mean this in the kindest way, but how are you going to share anything you make if you delete it? Especially drafts, because the whole point of a draft is to serve as a stepping stone. How are you going to improve upon a story you no longer have? At the very least, make yourself a hidden folder and save it to that so you can pretend it doesn’t exist without actually deleting it. Or make a burner email or private account somewhere you won’t check often and copy-paste your drafts to it. There’s a butt ton of ways, but I recommend picking one until you’re comfy letting your drafts stay.

Cuz yeh I do have a bit of experience as a writer. I consider myself more of a visual arts person, but I do write a lot, both for college and for myself (and RPs with friends, which is also a practice option). And I started with writing stories years before I pursued art. Neither of which I was particularly good at when I started out. I’m not a savant-type lol, I had to practice and keep working at it. It’s like learning to play an instrument—nobody expects you play Bach the first time you pick up a violin, but if you stick with it, you can learn how to play Bach.

But you’re also gonna be your own worst critic, and you’ll also have to learn how to fight the gremlin in your brain that says you suck. Like if you think I’m a good artist/writer/whatever, know that I still have that voice that tells me I suck, and that I can’t draw or write for shit. There’s artists and writers out there that make me look like a baby by comparison, and they have to fight that gremlin too, because you can always do something better. There is no point at which you can no longer improve. But that’s also kinda cool because it means there’s no limit to what you can make, and no cap to how good you can get if you stick with it. As a creative, it’s both a blessing and a curse, but it takes time to appreciate the blessing side of it.

…weird ramble aside tho, I think you should also lower your expectations when it comes to drafts. Like I mentioned before, drafts are stepping stones. Sometimes my drafts are incoherent word vomit where I just throw up sentences and words as they come to me, or lists of things I want to have in a story. Drafts will never be perfect, and may not even be good, because they’re for sorting out your ideas and trying things. The point is to fuck around and find out. Give yourself permission fuck around. Maybe it’ll go somewhere, maybe it won’t. If you stick with it though, you’ll eventually start revising and honing it down, and it’ll sound more like complete story. Trust the process and give yourself permission to make mistakes. And if your end goal is to post it, figure out how to get it to a point where you’re okay putting it out in the wild. But ultimately, let yourself enjoy the process of creating, even if you think it’s flawed. Perfection is an illusion, so fuck perfection, and have fun instead.

Another thing I’ve found is that sometimes you just need to let a project sit (writing and drawings). I usually let art age a few days where I don’t do anything, and I don’t post it. It lets me come back to it with fresh eyes so I can spot anything I want to fix. But also I’ll dislike it less. Sometimes you just hate something because you’ve been staring at it for too many hours/days/weeks, and need to NOT look at it. Writing especially, sometimes I just need to walk away from a draft for a while, so that instead of being like “THIS IS ALL GARBAGE >:[” I can instead be like “I like the idea, and that last line is 👌, but this dialogue feels a little stale”.

Also if it helps, I’ve rewritten this ask 4 times now. I’ve been drafting, if you will I’mnotsorrylmao. And I’m certain there’s a better, more concise way to say what I want. But if I fixate on that, I’m never gonna post an answer to this ask, am I? And that would suck so much worse that this imperfect response lol.

PS: I know writing and drawing are super complicated and nuanced, along with all the feelings related to them, and there’s a ton I didn’t even touch on cuz otherwise I’d never finish writing this. But if you need any pointers or more specific help on how to start, feel free to ask or reach out.

[website-blogger]

Updating HTML Websites: A Beginner's Guide

Maintaining a current and engaging website is essential for any online presence, but updating an HTML website can feel daunting for beginners. The good news is that even non-technical users can make meaningful updates with a few basic steps. This guide will walk you through how to update my HTML website easily, covering everything from understanding the basics of HTML to making content and SEO adjustments to keep your site relevant and optimized.

Understanding HTML Basics

Before diving into updates, it's essential to familiarize yourself with the structure of HTML (HyperText Markup Language). HTML serves as the backbone of your website, and understanding a few key elements will make editing much easier.

Tags and Elements: HTML uses tags to define elements on a page. Common examples include:

: Denotes a paragraph of text.

to : Headings, with being the largest and the smallest.

: Creates hyperlinks.

: Embeds images.

Structure: HTML pages are typically structured with a section (containing meta information) and a section (containing visible content).

For beginners, recognizing these essential components will help you confidently identify and edit the right sections of your website.

Using the Right Tools

Editing HTML code doesn't require sophisticated software. There are several beginner-friendly tools available to make the process more intuitive:

Notepad++: A free text editor that supports syntax highlighting, making it easier to spot tags and errors.

Visual Studio Code: A versatile editor with features like autocomplete and extensions to streamline coding tasks.

Sublime Text: Known for its simplicity and efficiency, it is perfect for lightweight HTML editing.

These tools help you locate specific lines of code and preview changes before they go live, reducing the risk of mistakes.

Updating Text and Images

One of the most common updates to an HTML website involves changing text or replacing outdated images. Once you locate the right section in the code, these edits are straightforward.

Editing Text:

Open your HTML file in your chosen editor.

Locate the or tags containing the text you want to update.

Replace the text between the opening and closing tags.

html

<p>Welcome to our website!</p>

Change to:

html

<p>Welcome to our newly updated website!</p>

Replacing Images:

Locate the tag in the HTML code.

Update the src attribute to point to the new image file.

html

<img src="old-image.jpg" alt="Old Image">

Change to:

html

<img src="new-image.jpg" alt="Updated Image">

These simple edits ensure your content stays relevant and visually appealing.

Adding or Modifying Links

Links are critical to website navigation. Updating outdated links or adding new ones is another beginner-friendly task.

Modifying Existing Links:

Look for the tag in your code.

Update the URL within the quotation marks.

html

<a href="http://oldsite.com">Visit Us</a>

Change to:

html

<a href="http://newsite.com">Visit Us</a>

Adding New Links:

Insert a new tag in the desired location within your code.

html

<p>Check out our <a href="http://newblog.com">latest blog post</a>.</p>

Regularly checking and updating links ensures a seamless user experience and avoids the frustration of broken links.

Basic SEO Edits

Improving your website's visibility on search engines doesn't require an SEO expert. Minor tweaks to meta tags and content can make a big difference.

Update Meta Tags:

Locate the tags in your HTML file's section.

Update the name and content attributes to reflect relevant keywords.

html

<meta name= "description" content=" Learn how to update my HTML website easily with this beginner-friendly guide.">

Add Alt Text for Images:

Ensure all tags include a descriptive alt attribute.

html

<img src="product.jpg" alt="High-quality product image">

Refresh Titles:

Update the tag in the <head> section to match current content.

html

<title>Beginner's Guide to HTML Updates</title>

By making these simple adjustments, you can improve your site's ranking and accessibility.

Testing and Saving Changes

Before publishing updates, previewing your changes and testing for accuracy is crucial.

Preview in Browser:

Save your updated HTML file and open it in a web browser to check how it looks and functions.

Test all links and interactive elements to ensure they work correctly.

Backup Your Original File:

Always create a backup of your original HTML file before making changes. This allows you to revert to the previous version if something goes wrong.

Publish Updates:

Once satisfied with the changes, upload the updated HTML file to your hosting server using tools like FileZilla or your hosting provider’s file manager.

This careful approach minimizes errors and ensures a smooth user experience.

Taking Control of Your Website

Learning how to update my HTML website easily empowers beginners to maintain their sites confidently. Whether updating text, enhancing SEO, or replacing visuals, mastering these basics keeps your site fresh and relevant. With regular practice and the right tools, you can transform your website into a dynamic platform that meets your goals and engages your audience.

Take the first step today, and see how minor, consistent updates can make a big difference in your online presence!

[jcmarchi]

Catherine Wolfram: High-energy scholar

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/catherine-wolfram-high-energy-scholar/

Catherine Wolfram: High-energy scholar

In the mid 2000s, Catherine Wolfram PhD ’96 reached what she calls “an inflection point” in her career. After about a decade of studying U.S. electricity markets, she had come to recognize that “you couldn’t study the energy industries without thinking about climate mitigation,” as she puts it.

At the same time, Wolfram understood that the trajectory of energy use in the developing world was a massively important part of the climate picture. To get a comprehensive grasp on global dynamics, she says, “I realized I needed to start thinking about the rest of the world.”

An accomplished scholar and policy expert, Wolfram has been on the faculty at Harvard University, the University of California at Berkeley — and now MIT, where she is the William Barton Rogers Professor in Energy. She has also served as deputy assistant secretary for climate and energy economics at the U.S. Treasury.

Yet even leading experts want to keep learning. So, when she hit that inflection point, Wolfram started carving out a new phase of her research career.

“One of the things I love about being an academic is, I could just decide to do that,” Wolfram says. “I didn’t need to check with a boss. I could just pivot my career to being more focused to thinking about energy in the developing world.”

Over the last decade, Wolfram has published a wide array of original studies about energy consumption in the developing world. From Kenya to Mexico to South Asia, she has shed light on the dynamics of economics growth and energy consumption — while spending some of that time serving the government too. Last year, Wolfram joined the faculty of the MIT Sloan School of Management, where her work bolsters the Institute’s growing effort to combat climate change.

Studying at MIT

Wolfram largely grew up in Minnesota, where her father was a legal scholar, although he moved to Cornell University around the time she started high school. As an undergraduate, she majored in economics at Harvard University, and after graduation she worked first for a consultant, then for the Massachusetts Department of Public Utilities, the agency regulating energy rates. 

In the latter job, Wolfram kept noticing that people were often citing the research of an MIT scholar named Paul Joskow (who is now the Elizabeth and James Killian Professor of Economics Emeritus in MIT’s Department of Economics) and Richard Schmalensee (a former dean of the MIT Sloan School of Management and now the Howard W. Johnson Professor of Management Emeritus). Seeing how consequential economics research could be for policymaking, Wolfram decided to get a PhD in the field and was accepted into MIT’s doctoral program.

“I went into graduate school with an unusually specific view of what I wanted to do,” Wolfram says. “I wanted to work with Paul Joskow and Dick Schmalensee on electricity markets, and that’s how I wound up here.”

At MIT, Wolfram also ended up working extensively with Nancy Rose, the Charles P. Kindleberger Professor of Applied Economics and a former head of the Department of Economics, who helped oversee Wolfram’s thesis; Rose has extensively studied market regulation as well.

Wolfram’s dissertation research largely focused on price-setting behavior in the U.K.’s newly deregulated electricity markets, which, it turned out, applied handily to the U.S., where a similar process was taking place. “I was fortunate because this was around the time California was thinking about restructuring, as it was known,” Wolfram says. She spent four years on the faculty at Harvard, then moved to UC Berkeley. Wolfram’s studies have shown that deregulation has had some medium-term benefits, for instance in making power plants operate more efficiently.

Turning on the AC

By around 2010, though, Wolfram began shifting her scholarly focus in earnest, conducting innovative studies about energy in the developing world. One strand of her research has centered on Kenya, to better understand how more energy access for people without electricity might fit into growth in the developing world.

In this case, Wolfram’s perhaps surprising conclusion is that electrification itself is not a magic ticket to prosperity; people without electricity are more eager to adopt it when they have a practical economic need for it. Meanwhile, they have other essential needs that are not necessarily being addressed.

“The 800 million people in the world who don’t have electricity also don’t have access to good health care or running water,” Wolfram says. “Giving them better housing infrastructure is important, and harder to tackle. It’s not clear that bringing people electricity alone is the single most useful thing from a development perspective. Although electricity is a super-important component of modern living.”

Wolfram has even delved into topics such as air conditioner use in the developing world — an important driver of energy use. As her research shows, many countries, with a combined population far bigger than the U.S., are among the fastest-growing adopters of air conditioners and have an even greater need for them, based on their climates. Adoption of air conditioning within those countries also is characterized by marked economic inequality.

From early 2021 until late 2022, Wolfram also served in the administration of President Joe Biden, where her work also centered on global energy issues. Among other things, Wolfram was part of the team working out a price-cap policy for Russian oil exports, a concept that she thinks could be applied to many other products globally. Although, she notes, working with countries heavily dependent on exporting energy materials will always require careful engagement.

“We need to be mindful of that dependence and importance as we go through this massive effort to decarbonize the energy sector and shift it to a whole new paradigm,” Wolfram says.

At MIT again

Still, she notes, the world does need a whole new energy paradigm, and fast. Her arrival at MIT overlaps with the emergence of a new Institute-wide effort, the Climate Project at MIT, that aims to accelerate and scale climate solutions and good climate policy, including through the new Climate Policy Center at MIT Sloan. That kind of effort, Wolfram says, matters to her.

“It’s part of why I’ve come to MIT,” Wolfram says. “Technology will be one part of the climate solution, but I do think an innovative mindset, how can we think about doing things better, can be productively applied to climate policy.” On being at MIT, she adds: “It’s great, it’s awesome. One of the things that pleasantly surprised me is how tight-knit and friendly the MIT faculty all are, and how many interactions I’ve had with people from other departments.”

Wolfram has also been enjoying her teaching at MIT, and will be offering a large class in spring 2025, 15.016 (Climate and Energy in the Global Economy), that she debuted this past academic year.

“It’s super fun to have students from around the world, who have personal stories and knowledge of energy systems in their countries and can contribute to our discussions,” she says.

When it comes to tackling climate change, many things seem daunting. But there is still a world of knowledge to be acquired while we try to keep the planet from overheating, and Wolfram has a can-do attitude about learning more and applying those lessons.

“We’ve made a lot of progress,” Wolfram says. “But we still have a lot more to do.”

[bllsbailey]

Kamala's Univision Town Hall Was a Total Nightmare

Kamala Harris is a Triple-A ball player trying to make it in the majors, and it’s showing. The Harris campaign is realizing less than a month from Election Day that they’re not doing well with Latino voters and are getting crushed by Donald Trump regarding handling the economy. So, Kamala, to her credit, did a town hall event with Univision. It’s too little, too late—and it was a brutal outing for the vice president, who once again shows she can’t grasp the issues, lacks the intelligence to be a major party candidate, and remains woefully handicapped if she must think of something that isn’t a pre-packaged answer. 

Politico was rather nice—no shock—but did add something that’s become a hallmark characteristic of this operation: no details. And Kamala should admit that, at this point, she cannot pivot away from being viewed as a younger, dumber Joe Biden: 

In a town hall hosted by the Spanish-language television giant Univision set to air Thursday evening, Harris spoke forcefully about establishing an “orderly and humane pathway to earned citizenship for hardworking people.” And asked by 28-year-old Jesús Aispuro, a hospital worker from California, what she would do to help his former classmate Dreamers — who he said “had to live day by day” with “fear” because of their immigration status — the vice president called the situation “a very big example of what the price is to pay for a broken immigration system.”  But she didn’t offer up any specific policies for Dreamers, who have often been viewed and treated differently from other undocumented immigrants because of the circumstances under which they came to the U.S.   “[Dreamers] should not have to live in fear but should have the ability to be on a path to earn their citizenship,” she said. […]  And her remarks represent a continuation of moderate moves President Joe Biden has made, including a policy announced earlier this year to speed up work visas for Dreamers who have graduated college and received employment offers. A federal appeals court on Thursday heard oral arguments in a case over the DACA program, prompting Harris to issue a statement saying that she “will always stand with Dreamers and keep families together.”

Again, this is not the thing to say regarding a pathway to citizenship, which has never been uber-popular with Hispanic voters, most of whom now favor mass deportations.

These voters also didn’t shy away from the challenging issues. Kamala was asked about the July coup against Joe Biden. Like clockwork, she couldn’t answer the question but did serve up another word salad (via NY Post):

 Vice President Kamala Harris finally confronted the question of her candidacy’s primary-free path after 10 weeks as the presumptive and then actual Democratic presidential nominee.  And it wasn’t a reporter who asked — it was an undecided voter at Univision’s Thursday town hall.  “You earned your candidacy without going through the normal process, that is primary elections or through a caucus,” said property manager Mario Sigbaum, a Uruguay native who became a US citizen 28 years ago.  “That really caught my attention. I’m also concerned about the way I feel President Biden was pushed aside. How can you clarify this?”  Harris acknowledged the “unprecedented” way she secured the nod.  “President Biden made a decision that I think history will show is probably one of the most courageous that a president could make, which is he decided to put country above his personal interest. And he made that decision he very within that same period of time, supported my candidacy and urged me to run,” Harris said in one of her signature word salads. 

Kamala also faced a woman crushed by the Biden-Harris inflationary agenda. All the veep could do was repeat her ‘I grew up in a middle-class family’ line:

Also, check out the teleprompter:

This woman remains a trainwreck, but there will be more chances to view her crashing into a wall because public appearances and interviews are a must in the final weeks, even if the candidate is mentally challenged.

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[theriantastic]

Welcome to this space, I hope your day is theriantastic!!

BYF:

This blog is proship/freedom of fiction. This blog is inclusive of endogenic systems, contradictory labels, and non-contact paraphilias. This blog is friendly to endels, holotheres, and all nonhuman identities. This blog is opposed to reality checking.

DNI

The mods of this blog do not believe that a "do not interact" statement has any meaningful power to prevent a user from interacting. Therefore this DNI serves as a list of labels to which this space is Unfriendly Towards. These labels are censored to prevent algorithmic sharing and to impede search function. The blog mods will block at their own discretion.

DNI if you're a T*RF/r*dfem/n*zi/r*cist/f*scist/t*nkie/ant*sh*p/z*onist

Blog Info

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We accept requests for stimboards, long stimboards, moodboards, gifsets, delta-theta symbol icons, seven point star symbol icons, holothere icons, and general positivity!! 

We will also post asks that are labeled "confession" or "kinfession" without comment and with appropriate tags. 

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Visual:

strobe effects and quickly changing colors are tagged as "#flashing"

eye contact from any species is tagged (when clear) as "#scopophobia"

animal injury is tagged as "#animal injury"

animal death and feeder animals are tagged as "#animal death"

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