#to the point that i have full lines manifesting in my head as i type this

[kylorengarbagedump]

Have a Nice Vacation (NSFW)

Read on AO3.

Summary: The White Lotus was boring. The ocean, food, nor pool could make up for the gaping deficiency in what you’d really come here to seek: the men.

But this new man was easily in his late fifties: a flash of white edged his sideburns, his hair greying but still thick and full, lines swept into his forehead. A familiar shadow hung over him, a manifestation of unsatisfied anxiety, crinkling at the corners of his eyes—and his eyes. Large, pale blue, stark against the rich-man-tan so many of his ilk maintained. Busy with selfish concern.

He was perfect.

Words: 6500

Warnings: daddy kink, older man/younger woman, infidelity

Characters: Timothy Ratliff x Reader

A/N: Hi, this is me taking a break from the porn I'm writing to write new, other, different porn.

I saw Jason Isaacs' (prosthetic) cock and I simply could not get this idea out of my head. I've always dreamed of being a famous OnlyFans creator but I've neither the tits nor the patience to market myself. But I can live vicariously in reader's stead.

Hope you all enjoyed!! I sure had fun writing it, LOL. <3

All things considered, the White Lotus was boring.

Yes, when you rose in the morning to gaze out of your villa, you met a vision of the sky consuming the sea. Yes, the food had managed to fill your stomach without bringing on bloat. And yes, the pool temperature stole the endless waves of sweat from your skin. But neither the ocean, food, nor pool could make up for the gaping deficiency in what you’d really come here to seek: the men.

And every single one of them made you want to fucking gag.

Your current vomit inspiration was the man who’d stretched himself out on the lounge chair next to you like a proud lion. The moment he’d groaned, pulled his arms over his head to display his chest, you'd decided to check your recent subscribers.

For some reason, that wasn't deterring him.

“Finally, someone with some sense,” he said.

You snorted like mucus had caught in your throat. The trends on your most recent posts were pointing down and there was no sign of increasing interest.

If you didn't turn it around soon, you’d need to start actually trying.

Horrific.

The man laughed. “Yeah, I didn't wanna ditch the phone, but my dad made us.” He sighed, curling into his side to face you, sun-bleached brown hair sweeping his green eyes. “You here by yourself?”

You glimpsed him from behind your sunglasses. He wasn't bad looking. But getting past the obnoxious swagger would be a challenge. And he wasn't the type of man you made content with, anyway.

“Saxon,” he said, holding out his hand.

Puckering your lips, you looked pointedly at his hand before returning your attention to your phone. He withdrew it, laughing again.

“All right, all right.”

Even without looking at him, you felt the slime of his eyes trickle over your body, eat up every hill of your flesh, and consume the complex collection of straps making up what you called your bathing suit. He clucked his tongue, sitting up.

“Hey,” Saxon said, cocking his head. “Aren't you EasyDoesThem?”

You released the slightest exhale. Fuck.

“You are!” he said. “I thought I recognized you. Holy shit, do you want to film something together?” His voice dropped, and he sat up straighter. “I'm totally down. I can get my brother to film it, hold on—Lochy! Come here!”

“Wow. Actually, I have to get going,” you said, giving him a tight smile as you got to your feet. “Thanks so much for the offer, though.”

Saxon groaned playfully. “Aw, come on. Really?” His neck spun on a swivel. “Seriously, at least meet my brother, he’s a total virgin and it would be—”

“Later, Saxon.” With a swish of your hips, you abandoned him to whatever inclinations he’d dreamed of dragging his brother into, making your way to the bar.

There was no drink that appealed to you with men like him around, but your skin was prickling from the sun and you needed something to lower your core temperature. You jerked a chair free and plopped into it, requesting the lightest and fruitiest mocktail available before surveying your fellow patrons.

More men. At least these ones were over fifty—far more viable for potential content—but they were engrossed in conversation with each other, exchanging words like liquidity and amortization and other terms that you’d rather burn alive in this sun than become familiar with. Chewing on your lip, you pulled out your phone, deciding if you couldn’t be generating new subscribers, you could at least interact with the ones you had.

You took a selfie, tapped open the app and scrolled to the Polls section, typing out a quick and stupid question with some quick and stupid answers.

Thailand is HOT. 🥵🥵🥵 I can barely keep this on! What should I wear when I fuck my next Daddy? 💦🍆🔥😈 ⭕ Bikini ⭕ Lingerie ⭕ His clothes ⭕ Nothing

You attached the photo and hit submit, shaking your head. This was pathetic. At least that would keep them busy for a few hours while you tried to figure out what to do.

The bartender placed your drink in front of you with a pretty clink. As you went to take a sip, a new man took a seat next to you with a weighty, exhausted sigh. You frowned, peeked up from the rim of your glass. Stared.

This man was easily in his late fifties: a flash of white edged his sideburns, his hair greying but still thick and full, lines swept into his forehead. A familiar shadow hung over him, a manifestation of unsatisfied anxiety, crinkling at the corners of his eyes—and his eyes. Large, pale blue, stark against the rich-man-tan so many of his ilk maintained. Busy with selfish concern.

He was perfect.

You sat up, leaning towards the bar and into his line of sight, arms pushing your tits together. “Hi there,” you chirped. “Another day in paradise, hm?”

The man didn’t even spare your tits a passing glance. Considering how much effort it had been to pull this suit on, you were a little offended. What he did glance at, though, was your phone. His gaze narrowed.

“Is that your phone?” he asked, in an accent that was as southern as it was affluent. “We’re not supposed to have those out here.”

You pursed your lips, shrugged your shoulder. “Probably.” Holding it up, you presented it to the bar. “I’d like to see them take it from me, though.”

“Right…” Those gorgeous eyes of his settled on yours, then your phone, and he raised his eyebrows, as if to deny himself a line of thought. “You have a nice vacation.”

“Hey, hey.” You placed a hand on his shoulder, throat thickening at how sturdy and solid he felt underneath his linen shirt. “Don’t be shy.”

The man twisted in his seat, leering at your hand like it had pinched him. “What?”

“Come on,” you said, rubbing a small circle into his shoulder. “I can tell you wanted to ask me something.”

“No, I…” He stared at your hand. With a frown, his jaw shifted, and he bit back a snarl, rubbing his brow in exasperation. “Would you mind?” he said, like it pained him to ask. “If I used your phone?”

You smiled. He was hooked. “What for?” you purred, shifting your arms so your breasts became more pronounced.

Despite this, he still did not acknowledge you even had breasts. “I need to call someone,” he said. “It’ll be quick.”

“International?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“That’s no problem.” Humming, you took a sip of your drink. “But we’ll need to head back to my villa for it. I don’t use the cell service for international calls. Just wifi.”

The man considered you, his eyes glued to yours. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, sorry. It’s the only place I can actually use the internet,” you lied.

Then, miraculously, his gaze flicked to your tits. To your face. To your tits again. He sighed, voice whittling to a whisper as he displayed his left hand. “I’m married.”

You studied him. I’m married was a desperate protest by men of his ilk. It was the acknowledgement that he would be tempted, the demand that your morality win out over his own—a foisting of responsibility in your hands, as these men had been aching to rebuke that burden at first opportunity.

But you didn’t particularly care about the marriages of men who were willing to utter this sentence. Nor did you care to bear any of the terrible weight he considered fidelity. What you cared about, to be very honest, was getting his cock inside of you, and getting it on film.

The promise of the first typically spurred men into agreeing to the second.

Eyes wide like a fawn’s, you replied, “What are you saying? I’m talking about using my phone.” Shrugging to yourself, you started to place your phone into your handbag. “I guess you’re just as weird about this digital detox stuff as everyone else…”

“No, no, wait,” he grumbled, and you paused, eyeing him. He surveyed the group, drawing a slow breath. You lingered on how it swelled his broad chest, his stomach, your thighs pressing together. With an exhale and flourish of his hand, he shooed away the last of his restraint. “Fuck it. Let’s go.”

You laughed. “Awesome.” Standing, you held out your hand, giving him both your name and your most charming smile.

He stared, sneered at what you could only assume to be his own weakness, and gripped your hand with his own. “Tim.”

“Nice to meet you, Tim,” you replied, giggling. “Very firm handshake.”

“Yeah,” Tim said, brows raising as he averted his gaze. “Thanks.”

Giving him a final grin, you strode past him, calling, “Follow me!”

The return to your villa was longer than you would’ve liked. You’d made comments along the way, receiving nothing but short, detached engagement from Tim throughout the journey. This was typical, you thought, of men considering whether or not they’d betray their marriage vows—or, at least, men who were pretending to consider it.

Regardless of their presentation, a sense of entitlement ran in canyons through the blood of men like Tim; a desire to obtain anything forbidden to the plebian, whether that be luxury, or freedom, or the soft, naked body of a woman half his age. Even if he’d gone his entire life never believing he’d seek comfort from anyone other than his wife, there came the question most men asked when presented the opportunity…

Well, why the fuck not?

You sauntered into your villa, holding the door open for him as he stalked inside, his neck twisting as if to make sure you were alone.

“It's just me staying here,” you said, shutting the door behind you. “Don't worry.”

“Yeah.” He held out his hand expectantly. “Is it connected to wifi, yet?” he asked. “Your phone?”

You stopped yourself from frowning. For a man nervous about following a woman in a bikini alone to her villa, he certainly seemed preoccupied with anything except said woman.

“Let me look.” You pulled it out and pretended to check before presenting it to him, unlocked. “Yep! You're good to go.”

“Thanks.” Tim grabbed it from you and started tapping away. “So you're staying here by yourself?” he asked as if the answer mattered less than anything he'd ever inquired about in his life.

“Mhm.” You decided to turn around and bend over, pulling the straps from your sandals. “Just me.”

“Uh huh.” He cursed under his breath and then cleared his throat. “Awfully young to afford a place like this all by yourself.”

With a wiggle of your hips, you stood, casting a glance over your shoulder. “Are you asking me what I do for work, Tim?”

Tim did not reply. He scrolled through something on your phone, his face scrunching in irritation. “God Almighty,” he growled. “Dammit.”

“I thought you said you had to call someone.”

“No, I didn't,” he replied, still scrolling. He rubbed at his brow like a farmer who'd just finished ploughing a field. “Lord…”

You actually allowed yourself to frown. Maybe he was one of those social media addicts getting bent out of shape over a Twitter war he was losing. Maybe he'd needed to check the stock market for his amortization or his liquidity or whatever. Either way, you were a little bit over it.

“Hey,” you said, walking over to him and running a finger down his arm. “Why don't we put the phone down and I can show you the view around here?”

He glimpsed you, scanned your figure. Resumed reading. “Sure. In a second.”

“Aw, come on,” you said, shifting your weight in a way that made your tits bounce. A teasing smile pulled at your cheeks. “The reviews of the latest Marvel movie can’t be that bad.”

Tim’s eyes widened. His jaw slackened. “Shit,” he hissed. “God-fucking-dammit!”

You retreated a step. There was a rash growing on his neck; his knuckles were starting to punch through his skin. This was way more than infidelity anxiety. Way, way more than you'd been prepared to soothe with your pussy.

“Uh. Everything all right, Tim?”

He cursed again. “No, everything is not fucking all right.” Head falling back, he rubbed his brow again, staring into the ceiling. “I'm fucked. I'm fucked!”

You swallowed. All right. This was a mistake. You'd misread him entirely.

“Why don't I just…” You tiptoed toward him, reaching for the phone. “Take that back—”

“Fuck the damn phone!” He met your gaze, his eyes pale with terror. “You don't get it, I—”

“You're right, I don't, and—”

Your phone hit the floor. “I'm fucked!” Tim grasped your shoulders, shaking you like a stringless marionette. “Everything is fucking fucked!”

You reeled back and slapped him across the face. He stilled.

Panting, his focus fell to the walls, the floor, your feet, traveling up your bare legs, your thighs, your stomach, stopping at your chest.

One of your tits had popped free from its binding. Your nipple poked out, pert and ripe. Breath rolling through you, you stared at his face, watched as the panic, the fury in his gaze hooked onto a different avenue of release, ice blue melting to something molten. Mercurial. Urgent.

“S-sorry,” he muttered, his hands falling from your shoulders, skimming the tops of your arms.

You swallowed. There was calculated risk, here. But the strength of his grip, the smooth plane of his palms on your skin, the primal spark in those eyes—your belly tightened with a low pull of its own, willing to ignite.

(And dear God, would this be good content.)

Breath held, you stepped closer, ghosting your fingertips down his side.

“It's… all right,” you said. “Are you… uh… Everything good?”

Tim stared at you like a tiger with taut haunches. His attention switched again to the phone on the ground, jaw clenching as he considered it. Then his eyes trailed a long, languid journey up your body once more, lingering on the curve of your hips, the supple flesh swelling between the gaps in your swimsuit. Your exposed breast.

His mouth parted. His throat bobbed. Glimpsing the phone a final time, he met your gaze.

“Fuck it,” he said, and clutched both cheeks of your ass as he captured your mouth with his.

You groaned, clasping both sides of his face, flattening yourself along his frame, seeking connection with him at every new opportunity his body offered. Growling, Tim stuffed his tongue in your mouth, deepening the kiss to something filthy and desperate seconds after it had begun. His fingers dug into your backside, he tugged your pelvis to his, and he rocked against you, holding you there, like he was grounding himself to you, grounding himself to this reality.

Fingers running through his hair, you met him in kind, licking into his mouth, rolling your hips so he could feel the heat of your cunt against his growing need. The scents of honeydew and aftershave flooded your nose, the pulse between your thighs came alive. You curled a leg around him, trapping him to you while you teased thumbs over the shell of his ears, earning a jerk of his body, a broken kiss, a deep, trembling groan.

Tim hunched over you, found himself nestled in your throat and took your bare skin as an invitation. His lips latched to your pulse, kissing, suckling, his hands caressing your sides, squeezing every new offering of flesh it found.

“Fuck,” you whispered, looping your arms under his so you clung to his back. “Oh, fuck, yes—”

“Where’s the bedroom?” he murmured against your neck.

You laughed. Why did men like him always prefer the bedroom? “That way,” you said, indicating with a tilt of your head.

Voice thick with need, he replied, “Let’s go.”

Tim grabbed your hips, stood you upright and spun you around, urging you forward. Before you moved, you turned to snag your phone from the floor, and when you stood, you met his frowning face.

“What do you need that for?” he said, pushing on your hip again as if to remind you of what you were doing. It was impossible to ignore the tent that had sprouted in his trousers. “Let’s go.”

You figured now was the best time—with him already hard and hounding at your heels—to present your plan.

“Hold on.” You squeezed his wrist, eyeing him coyly. “I want to ask you something.”

Tim exhaled, glancing between your tits and the door. “Yeah?”

“Don’t be like that.” Pouting, you pulled him close and grazed your nails through his hair, down his neck to keep him pliant. “You said that I seem young to afford this place by myself, right?”

He stared.

“I make little videos,” you said, holding up your phone, “of me and the guys I spend time with.” Grinning at him, you traced a finger from the divot in his throat down the buttons of his shirt. “And I think that you…” Your palm grazed over his erection. “Would be an awesome addition.”

Tim’s tongue sketched his lips. His eyes, swallowed by lust, flicked over your figure. “That isn’t going to work,” he said, shaking his head. “I—I’m married, I can’t be—”

“No, no, it’s not like that!” You patted his chest, pushed against him. “I don’t film anyone’s face but mine.” With a smirk, you added, “And you can hold the camera too, if you want.” To make your point, you gripped his length through his clothing. Your jaw dropped. “Holy fuck, you’re big.”

For the first time since meeting him, he cracked a smile. He gazed at you, head to toe yet again, finally recognizing what he’d be getting out of this arrangement. “And you won’t film my face?”

Your lashes fluttered, and you stroked him through his trousers, your core clenching when he throbbed in response. You let out a moan—you couldn’t help yourself. He felt thicker than any man you’d ever had inside of you. And that number was not insignificant.

“No,” you said, desire creeping into your throat as you met his eyes. “I won’t.”

Tim’s jaw was loose. He rocked his hips, perhaps only half-knowingly, into your grip. “Fine,” he said, and caught you in another kiss before pulling away and spinning you toward the bedroom again. “Now let’s go.” A hand cracked you across your ass.

You squealed, hopped forward with a giggle and skipped toward your room. Peering at him over your shoulder to ensure he was following, you caught him adjusting his cock, saw how thick it looked in his own, powerful hands. A thrill shot up your spine, and you bit your lip, bouncing on the balls of your feet into your bedroom to then flop backwards onto your bed. As Tim entered the room, you quickly checked the results of your poll.

Bikini - 32% |||||||||||||||||| Lingerie - 28% |||||||||||||||| His clothes - 14% ||||||| Nothing - 26% ||||||||||||||||

Well—at least they were getting what they’d asked for.

Lowering your phone, you were greeted with the sight of Tim unbuttoning his shirt, his attention trained entirely on you. Your mind staticked.

Tim’s body was broad and heavy, soft flesh underlaid with a layer of muscle still evident in his arms and shoulders and chest. Grey hair bloomed at the inner crest of his pectorals, filtered to a sparse line of darkening hair over his thick, strong stomach. Between this and the promise of stretching around his cock, you felt ready to forgo the camera altogether, wrap your legs around his waist, and force him inside of you. But he had other ideas.

Shoes were flung across the floor, and Tim climbed on top of you, following you as you moved to the head of the bed, straddling your legs, his eyes frantic, hands clawing at the bottom straps of your suit. You giggled, squirmed with excitement, and he growled and yanked back. The fabric in his fist snapped.

“Jesus!” you gasped, looking up at him. “Someone’s excited.”

“Yeah,” he said, kneading the exposed flesh of your hip and belly. “You might say that.” Grunting, he tugged longingly at the part that concealed what was left to conceal your tits. “Take it off.”

Instead, you jerked the suit aside, your breasts jiggling as they were exposed, and you gazed up at him. Biting your tongue playfully, you squeezed his erection through his pants again. “Does that work,” you murmured, “Daddy?”

Tim’s brow furrowed. His face twisted in disgust. But his cock jumped in your palm, and his hips bucked as if to hold off a sudden climax.

“Don’t call me that.” He moved to unbuckle his belt anyway.

You gazed up at him, leaning back onto the pillows as he unbuttoned his pants, exposing his boxer-briefs. Batting your eyes again, you wedged your hand against his bulge, stroking it through the cotton, mouth watering at its steel need.

“Call you what?” you asked. “Daddy?”

His cock twitched again, the head poking over the Calvin Klein waistband. He swallowed, then exhaled. “Do whatever you want.”

Yeah. That’s what you thought.

He went to ease himself over the waistband, but you grabbed his hand. “Wait,” you said. “I want to record this part.” Nodding toward the other side of the bed, you said, “Lie back.”

Tim’s brows raised. But he relented, shifting to relax against the headboard beside you.

Phone in hand, you opened the camera and aimed the back lens at your face (a skill requiring an irritating amount of practice), pouting before turning your attention to Tim. You crawled over his legs and settled between them, your free hand sliding over his body. The heat of his skin sent goosebumps over yours, and he stared down at you, transfixed. Gaze focused on his cock, your jaw dropped as he released it from its confines.

You’d known it would have girth. You hadn’t expected, though, to wonder if you could fit it in your mouth, if you could even encircle it with your hand. A pulsing vein creeked from the base toward the tip, echoing his heartbeat, and the head was flushed with blood, leaking precum, the shaft fat with the ache to fuck you.

“Oh, fuck, yes,” you said, and took him in your fist.

Tim groaned, cursing under his breath, and you cursed, too. He weighed huge and hot in your palm, like a stone furnace you stoked with every roll of your wrist. Each stroke earned a new twitch of his hips, a new throb of his cock, and he gazed down at you through half-lidded eyes, part hunger, part disbelief.

This was, you thought, your favorite part of fucking men like him. Every single time, despite the initial hesitance, or compensated swagger, or feigned dismissal—every single time, they’d shed that armor, reveal themselves as men who craved your cunt; men who had never believed they’d be able to get hands on flesh like yours again; men who, given a single gift of permission, would bury themselves to the balls in your young, tight pussy and flood it with their cum.

You eased yourself forward, licked at the tip of his cock, and his head fell back in a deep moan.

“Can I suck your cock, Daddy?” you asked, gazing up at him with the sweetest, most innocent gaze you could muster.

Tim glimpsed you, wove his thick fingers through your hair, and pushed your lips onto his length.

Keeping the camera focused on your face was the biggest challenge, and usually one you approached with concentration. But as your mouth slipped over his shaft, as he pressed on your tongue and stretched your jaw and hit the back of your throat, you found the importance of the camera falling to the back of your mind, only remembering at the last second to adjust it to the ideal angle. Your clit was swollen, clamoring for pressure, for friction. Tim’s breath was stalled, waiting for you to withdraw.

You sealed your lips around him, vision blurring as you dragged back, a groan rumbling in your chest. Tim’s grip on your head tightened; he locked you from pulling away, instead holding you still as he thrust slowly once, twice, pace torturous and casual, like he was priming himself to ruin you. Whimpering, you stared into his shuttering eyes, your free hand ringing the base of his cock, spit threading from your lips and spilling onto your chin.

“That’s it, honey…” he drawled, voice wrought with pleasure. “Just like that.”

This only encouraged you—your eyes flicked to the camera, as if to say, look, he loves it, and you sucked, twisted your wrist, caressed his shaft with your tongue. Another moan, his cock pulsing between your lips, and you hummed, gazing up at him, drooling over every inch, jaw already sore from how wide he forced it open. You were aching, your cunt soaked. You weren’t sure how long you could continue sucking him off without needing to cum yourself.

Tim met your eyes, something burgeoning underneath the thin ice of his irises. A twitch of cruelty at his upper lip. His grip tightened, and he fucked into your mouth, jabbing the back of your throat, his size making you retch despite your experience. Jerking his hips faster, the taste of his precum coated your tongue, the scent of him—clean musk—infiltrating your nose. The phone trembled in your grasp, and you glanced at the camera again, eyes flooding, moaning gratefully onto his shaft.

“Fuck.” He held either side of your head and drove his cock deep until your nose met the coarse hair at the base. You writhed, choking, and he studied you, words trapped behind his teeth, admiring your pleading face and your jiggling tits and the saliva running from your lips in rivers. “Fuck, yes.”

A final restrained sneer, and he released your head, allowing you to wrench yourself free. You spluttered and coughed, slinging spit across his stomach, your cheeks damp with tears. Lips swollen, you grinned up at him.

“Thank you, Daddy,” you said, earning another eager twitch from his cock.

Tim laid there, his pants still halfway down his thighs. A hundred ideas for the camera flit through your mind—him bending you over the bed, or your hands on his chest while you bounced in his lap, or your back pinned to the wall while he wrapped one leg around his waist—but spying the repression in his face made all of it seem completely unimportant.

Fuck the numbers. You’d find someone else at this godforsaken resort. You wanted him—all of him—without a single performance.

But you would at least get one more shot.

“You wanna hold the camera?” you asked, offering it to him.

He raised a brow. “If you want,” he replied, and took it in his hands, looking between you and the phone. “What do I do with it?”

Wetting your lips, you crawled up to straddle him, rocking your hips to tease your cunt over his cock and coasting a hand from his chest, down his stomach. “Film yourself,” you said, reaching between your legs to give his length a single stroke, “sliding that thick cock of yours inside of me.”

He allowed himself half a smirk. “Oh, yeah?” he said. “Is that right?”

“Hmm…” You grinned. “I think you’re trying to get me to say it, now.”

Tim snorted. “Sure.”

He placed the phone down and flipped you onto your back, shucking the rest of his clothing before returning to loom over you. Your mouth watered again, devouring his exposed thighs, the swing of his cock between them, the shadow of hair surrounding it.

Giggling, you spread your legs to welcome him. Tim picked up the phone again, face screwing as he fumbled with the screen.

“How do I—”

“The camera—”

“—turn this—”

“—app, you just open it and—”

“—thing—I got it, I got it—”

You nodded, stilling, holding your breath as he aimed the camera at the crux of your legs.

Tim’s free hand smoothed over your thigh, caressing every naked inch, thumb brushing your concealed folds. You bucked your hips, whining, begging with your body, but he was unmoved, teasing over your heat again, again, adding pressure each time, until he finally stroked your needy clit, and you cried out in bliss.

“Please,” you said, pushing out your lower lip for effect. “Please, fuck me, Daddy.”

Tim’s jaw tensed, as if he wanted to speak but his tongue was pinned. Camera still on you, he guided his cock to your cunt, the fat tip easing the fabric of your swimsuit to the side. Your breath caught in your throat, air whispering in your wetness, and you stared into the camera, wiggling your hips, trying to entice him.

Swirling the head of his cock in your slick, Tim’s breath quickened until he pressed himself to your entrance, his mouth parting and eyes rolling as he sank into your cunt.

“Oh, fuck, yes.”

“Oh, fuck, yes—”

If he had felt big in your hand, or huge in your mouth, he felt massive inside of your pussy. Tim was now, verifiably, the thickest man you’d had inside of you, and he filled you like a beast glutting itself on blood, stretching you until you were certain he’d pressed your pelvis. You were paralyzed, mind muddled, only able to focus on the air in your lungs, your fingers entwined in the sheets. Seething with bliss, Tim’s grip bruised you, and he slid out to sink in again, this time exhaling as pleasure washed over him.

“Goddamn, sweetheart,” he cooed. “I… I—” He shook off whatever he’d wanted to say, and resumed his rhythm, thrusting deep, his hips smacking your thighs, your tits bouncing, his head dipped in awe. “God…”

The camera wobbled, unsteady in his hand. It was time to relinquish him of responsibility. With a smirk, you snatched it from him, switched off the recording and laid it on your bedside table.

“That’s enough of that,” you said.

Tim was frozen, apparently uncertain if this meant he needed to stop fucking you, which he seemed very certain he did not want to do.

“You’re holding back,” you said, gliding your hands up his sides and curving around to his back to coax him over you. “I want to hear everything you want to say.” As he settled on top of you, his cock pulsing at your entrance, you nuzzled your head against his, and said, “I want you to fuck me.”

Tim tensed above you. You heard his throat work. Then he withdrew his hips, and drove into you, grunting at your ear, resuming a patient and painful rhythm. Each thrust split you wider, his hips snapping like springs, and you jolted with every connection of skin, your eyes shutting, your mouth hanging open with staccatoed sobs of delight.

“Yeah,” he growled, “fuck. You don’t care who fucks your pretty pussy, do you?” His voice scraped the depth of his chest. “You just want it—fuck—filled up.”

You nodded with a whine, voice lost to the intensity of how he stretched you. One of your legs wound around him, your nails skated down his back, and he slammed into you, his spine arching as if to pinch a desperate need. Shifting, Tim pushed you forward, your hips lifting from the bed, and then plunged into your cunt, spearing through you over, and over. You wailed, clinging to him, sweat slicking between you, enduring the onslaught of bliss and agony that shrieked in your skin.

With every new thrust, ripples of contact ricocheted to your clit, now more swollen and sensitive than a naked nerve. It throbbed, ached, pleaded with you to cum. Obliging, you reached between your legs, giving it only the suggestion of touch, and you shook with utter ecstasy.

“Yes,” you said, “I need—please, more, fuck—”

Tim’s ragged breath quickened. “That’s it,” he said, “play with that little cunt.” He groaned, bit it off with a growl. “Goddamn, you’re so fucking tight.” Faster, voice fraying at the edges. “So wet, so—” He stammered on his own pleasure, and laughed. “So much…”

Humming in recognition, you purred, “So much—ah—so much better than your wife?”

He laughed again. “Yeah.” Pumping deeper, muscles locking, he bowed his head, kissing, sucking at your neck like he could draw blood through your skin. “Fuck yeah.”

Smiling, you swirled your clit faster, passing your fingers over its throbbing edge, rocking your hips with his thrusts, meeting him again, again, wanting to break him, wanting to feel him fuck you full of cum.

“Yes,” you whispered, “I—Tim—”

Tim snarled, pushed himself off of you, and pulled out. You howled in protest, squirming with emptiness until he snatched your legs and flipped you onto your stomach. There was only time to blink before he yanked your hips backward, situated his cock at your pulsing core, and rammed in. This time, you screamed.

The man behind you was transformed from the anxious husk you’d met at the bar. This man was the echo of the one who’d shook you, who’d cursed the world before you, this man was the realization of the danger you’d seen flash in Tim’s eyes. He hammered your cunt, pounded your cervix, and your back bent, your hips canted, starving to take every single fucking inch.

Words escaped you, garbled nonsense that filled the room, and behind you, Tim was bestial, every breath fleeing his chest wrought with a frenzied, agonized euphoria. He subsumed you, saturated you, his thick cock stretching your cunt deeper, deeper. Lost to sensation, you reached toward your clit, grazing it with your fingertips, and twisted with ecstasy, sobbing in relief.

“That’s right, honey,” he said, barely intelligible himself. “You take it. You take—take Daddy’s cock.”

This shot straight to your clit, and you choked. “Yes, Daddy, yes, fuck me,” you sputtered, “I love your cock—”

“Yeah, you do,” he replied, “this is the best fucking cock you’ve ever had.”

“It is,” you said, panting, wailing into the mattress, “I want to cum on it, Daddy, please!”

“Oh, fuck.”

Tim’s grip tightened, you felt him hunch, felt him begin to piston his hips. You glimpsed behind you, and saw a man utterly awash in bliss—eyes shut, mouth open, chest flush with sweat—and the pressure and friction on your clit collided into a single cataclysmic peak.

“Fuck yes,” Tim hissed, “cum on it. Cum on Daddy’s cock.”

Inhaling a breath, you exhaled a sob, your climax short-circuiting every thought and every instinct in your mind. You became a bucking, twitching doll, orchestrated entirely by euphoria, your words lost to the ether besides fuck, and Daddy, and please. Tim fucked you through it, milked by your spasming walls until his hips stuttered, his breath collapsed into sound, and you felt the twitching of his shaft at your core, pulsing you full of his cum.

“Fuck.” Through his gnarled breath, Tim pulled at your ass, watching himself unload inside you. Humming in delight, you clenched around him, hoping to draw out an aftershock. “Oh, my fucking God.”

You giggled, wiggled your ass as he descended to reality, his softening cock slowly slipping free of your pussy. His cum drooled from your core, dribbled down your folds and onto your thighs.

Lowering to your belly, you craned your neck to look at him. Tim was staring into your cunt, watching his cum leak out of you, his cock shining with the combination of your fluids. To be honest, you were a little impressed.

“You actually came inside of me,” you said, easing onto your back. When he just looked at you and said nothing, you continued, “I mean, I’m on birth control, don’t get me wrong. But you didn’t know that. And you still did.” You laughed. “Most guys won’t risk it.”

Tim snorted. “Well,” he said, turning around to start grabbing his clothes. “Wouldn’t have mattered either way.”

You frowned. “Huh?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Tim dressed in silence, collecting only short glimpses of your body. When he finished, he looked toward your phone. “Thanks for that, by the way.”

“Uh, sure,” you said, sitting up and pulling your bathing suit back into place. “Did you, like, want to stay a little longer? Or come by tom—”

“No.” He looked in the mirror, making sure his hair was in place before turning back to you. “I don’t think you’ll be hearing from me again.” Realizing how cold that sounded, he cleared his throat. “Uh, sorry.” He met your eyes. “It’s nothing personal.”

You raised a brow. Shrugged. Not like it mattered to you. Though you would be sad to say goodbye to that perfect, beautiful cock of his. “All right, Tim,” you said. “Well, if I see you around, we won’t say a word.”

He nodded, glanced at his wedding ring. “Agreed.”

With that, he slipped into his shoes and departed the villa, haunted by the same shadow you’d seen at the bar. You sighed, snuggling into your sheets and grabbing your phone. You’d need to shower in a second, but you could at least post what you’d managed to get before doing so.

After uploading the videos (‼️NEW‼️ VIDEO 🫢🔥 I FUCK A HOT RICH DADDY 🤤🤤🤤🔥), you got into the shower, cleaning yourself of sweat, of cum, of man. Tim had been a nice enough guy, but like almost every other man you’d met at this resort, he’d carried too many skeletons in his suitcase for you to feel particularly bad for whatever his current situation was.

Once clean, you wrapped yourself in a towel and bounded back to your bed, hoping that the new content had managed to excite some of your subscribers and potentially entice a few more to join. To your surprise, the comments on the video of Tim fucking you were already exploding in ratio. You opened them, skimming through.

is that the guy from the NYT article? holy shit, that’s the sho-kel dude whoa did you fuck timothy ratliff????

Your eyes widened. Tim? Timothy Ratliff? But…

You tapped on the video.

“How do I—”

“The camera—”

“—turn this—”

“—app, you just open it and—”

Your jaw dropped. He’d started recording with the front-facing camera. You’d just posted his face to all of your subscribers.

this is so hot i had no idea sho kel guy had such a huge cock his prison buddies are gonna like that!!!!! im getting my friends to subscribe they have to see this lol

Blinking, you examined your numbers. There’d been a huge jump in just the past half an hour and still climbing.

Thank God. You were going to get something out of coming here.

It was unfortunate, sure, that he’d accidentally recorded his face. But from what you could tell, Tim had bigger problems than worrying about his face on your amateur porn. Grinning to yourself, you placed your phone on your bedside table, and turned over for a nap.

[abyssalzones]

Hello! I really love your work in general and your OSDD Ford analysis, I have read it in full at least three times. There’s a line near the end about his different selves possibly becoming more organizing/appearing at different intervals, but you stop there for brevity. Would you care to share any further thoughts? (It’s fine if not.)

Thank you!!

Hi! Really glad to hear you liked it, wait did you say three times? that's nuts. god damn.

I could definitely elaborate, although I want to note that while in part I did stop there for brevity's sake I did also stop there for the sake of making a more unified point- and, importantly, I didn't want to drift too far into the realm of speculation. Or "just making shit up." I often have a hard time positing something if I don't feel it's being elaborated on from a textual basis... which might be kind of goofy when we're talking about a fanbase that was mostly AU content at one point but whatever I've chosen to die on this hill. Anyway.

All my thoughts about OSDD are highly influenced by my experiences with it obviously, therefore my thoughts are probably going to conflict with someone else's, but I think any "organizing" that would happen with separate parts would be heavily influenced by everything in ford's life calming the fuck down and not requiring a rotating cast of coping mechanisms. For example: a good chunk of clarified parts in real DID/OSDD experiences can be classified as introjects. Despite what you commonly see in online subgroups (no judgment, obviously) these introjects are often of real people that might be influential in your life.

repost of funny little comic I drew for effect ^

in my experience these things work on like... the basis of when they're Needed most. if ford is living in a healthy consistent environment with people who love him and can already provide assurances, I think the need to supplement that with any sort of internal coping mechanism would subside. then again, people are vulnerable when they're still trying to settle in a safe space after trauma, it's possible to invent an internal threat to, paradoxically, make circumstances feel more "predictable." coughs loudly. bill already existed functionally in ford's head 90% of the time so it just kind of feels par for the course that a shadow of him is going to stick around. maybe that seems sad or foreboding but I think it's just a normal part of coping with something that haunted you for half of your life. idk.

do I think these mental aspects would manifest outwardly? as in, like, fronting? not really. However I think if anything was noticeable it'd be a difference between like, "panic mode" ford(s) and "normal human citizen on earth" ford. I could definitely see a distinction of perspectives and ability between a self that exists out of pure survival (and probably still thinks he's in sci-fi hell or whatever) and the self that just chills and writes detailed notes on supernatural plants in his journal. there's also something to be said about [the entire fucking thing I wrote about dead alters and the perception of traumatic events as a type of death] and whether or not a part can actually meaningfully "die." sometimes the part of you you thought was a ghost is actually just scared as fuck and when things get less scary they start to come out of hiding. to put it vaguely.

all of these things can be attributed to other aspects of ford as a character: his c-ptsd, potential hallucinations and delusions, broader themes of death and revival irt trauma recovery, etc. but I think of any OSDD analysis I make as like, an extension of all of those things, if that makes sense.

to close off on a meme that nobody has used in years:

[thegodmother007]

My New Neighbor - Chapter 8: What the Fuck Just Happened?

My New Neighbor Chapter 8: What the Fuck Just Happened?

TRIGGER WARNING: This story will eventually contain violence, angst, threat of death, swearing, dark humor, adult themes like sex & drugs, racism, classism, sexism etc. Do not say you have not been warned

Chapter 8:

My shift at Dave & Crusters had been going smoothly tonight so far, one of the tamer nights I have had this week. I look up at the clock to see it’s 45-minutes away from closing, better get to the closing duties so I am out of here by 10:00pm. I grab a cloth from the bleach bucket & start wiping down the counters. As I mindlessly perform the routine of tasks I have done 100x’s before, I hear my phone ping in my pocket. Was not often I got notifications this late at night. I look around to see if my manager is nearby before pulling my phone from my pocket & giving it  a glance. ‘Your Order has been received & processed by GamingRUs. Shipping details to follow’ it read. I felt a pang of guilt in my chest as I was reminded of the conversation Vi & I had earlier today. 

Without warning, I am bumped into by the other bartender who was carrying a tray full of glasses. Thankfully, none were dropped. “Whoa, sorry Cain, I was looking at the glasses when I should have been watching where I was going!” Brittany says as she passes me by & towards the kitchen area, but not before noticing the look on my face. She stops “You alright?” she asked & I shrug, “It’s complicated.” I say trying to keep it short. But Brittany was the type to really get involved & shove her nose in where it isn’t wanted. “Oooo girl trouble?” She was not too far off with that guess. “Something like that…” I answer before trying to turn away. Quicker than she looks, Brittany rushes to block my path “Maybe I can help! I am really good at giving advice.” She offers & I just stare at her, contemplating my next move. What did I have to lose by at least getting her opinion on it? “Alright” I say, relenting. 

I tell Brittany everything, I even hand her my phone to look at the texts that went between Vi & I. “So? What do you think? Do you think I crossed a line or do you think she’s overreacting?” At this point, a busser named Huan had joined the conversation & had been listening intently to my story along with Brittany. Huan and Brittany look at each other after having passed the phone back & forth. “You’re definitely the asshole here, Cain.” Birttany says, handing my phone back to me. 

“Really? I thought I was giving her a compliment, you know? She surprised me with how smart she was during Trivia Night. So, I called her smart. How is that bad?” I was dumbfounded over Brittany’s answer. I looked to Huan for his opinion and he nods, “Let me take this one Brit.” Huan says with a hand on her shoulder, leaning in towards me “Look Cain, you had good intentions, that’s obvious because this is bothering you. What you need to understand though, is that your assumption of Vi’s intelligence comes from a place of outdated, racist beliefs.” I felt the piercing of that word shoot through my chest “Racist?” I asked “I don’t hate Vi because she is a giant or anything, I don’t hate Vi at all!” Huan shakes his head “Racism is not just hatred, it can manifest in different ways. This time, you assumed that because she was giant, that she would be dumb or less intelligent. So the surprise was because she didn’t fit the stereotype you categorize her into, not because she was smart & won you guys the game.” I sat, trying to understand exactly what he was saying. “But I would have been surprised over anyone being able to answer the questions that she did, not just her.” Huan crosses his arms “You said it yourself that you didn’t know there were giants who liked school, right? Whether you’re ready to admit it or not Cain, that was a racist remark. Being a giant doesn’t mean you dislike school or any type of education. Giants are not inherently dumb, just how Asian people are not inherently good at math or devoted to their academics. Personally, I prefer reading & I love watching documentaries about obscure topics that are unrelated to direct academics. I didn’t pop out of the womb with a fucking calculator.” 

Brittany snickers at Huan’s joke and looks to me. “He’s right Cain. I know you didn’t mean to, but you messed up here.” I sigh and rub my temples, finally realizing why what I said was so wrong & why it got such a reaction out of Vi. “I wasn’t raised around giants…” I admit & Huan scoffs “No shit.” he says rolling his eyes with a smirk. “So how do I make it up to her? I need her on my team next time Don hosts Trivia Night. There was no way I would have ever gotten the question ‘wHaT dOEs DNA sTaND fOr? Without Vi’s help.” Brittany places her hand on Huan’s shoulder “I got this one. My boyfriend has pissed me off & made up for it more times than I can count.” Cain felt a redness creeping up across his cheeks at the mention of boyfriend/girlfriend relationships. “We’re not an item, Brit, we’re just Unit Partners…” I try correcting her and she waves me off. “A woman scorned in any language, any race or relationship is all going to look the same, regardless of the situation. What you need to do is make it up to her. Buy her dinner, bring her flowers, sing her a song.” Brittany suggests but I couldn’t help but feel put off by all those suggestions “Those all seem really…intimate..” I look at Huan who snorts with a laugh at Brittany’s suggestions. “Have you tried apologizing?” He asks with a ‘isn’t-it-obvious’ tone of voice & a raised eyebrow. “Yes, of course I have!” I respond defensively, getting frustrated as no one’s suggestions are helping. “When?” Brittany asks. “You read the texts, I said it there.” I hand her my phone back, which still has our conversation pulled up. Brittany looks over it again with Huan sharing the screen too. “No, you didn’t” Brittany says handing me my phone a second time. “I told her that I didn’t mean to underestimate her, I told her it wouldn’t happen again.” I confirm but Huan pipes up “That is not an apology my dude. That is acknowledging you messed up, but you didn’t atone for it.” Brittany nods, pointing to Huan “He’s right, that’s not an apology.” I re-read my texts to Vi and I can see what they’re saying. “So I’ll text her that I am sorry, then.” I say positioning my phone in my hand to start typing. Brittany puts her perfectly manicured hand over my screen “You need to do this in person for it to mean something. You insulted her in person, you need to apologize in person.” That was the last thing I wanted to hear.

*************************************************************************************************************

I heard the obnoxious buzzing of Cain’s apartment door, requesting entry into my apartment when I was stepping out of the shower. I checked my phone quickly, to see if he texted me before he was at my door, hoping to get an idea of why he was here. No messages were on my phone, raising the question of what Cain wanted. With as much politeness as I could muster in that poorly timed moment, I yelled out of my bathroom door “GIVE ME A MINUTE!” As I rush to wrap my wet hair in a towel and tighten the fresh towel around my body. I walk down my hallway towards my living room, leaving behind little puddles of water, where I push the buzzer to let him in. 

I stand across the living room, watching the little door open, with Cain using his back to push his way through, carrying something in his hands. For the first couple of steps in, Cain’s back is to me as he starts shouting “Vi! I realize I messed up!” Not noticing that I am right behind him only a few steps away. Cain turns around, eyes looking at the flat square cardboard that seemed to resemble a pizza box, before meeting my gaze “I came to apolog-...” His sentence halts the moment he lays eyes on me standing on the other side of the living room. I watched his face & eyes open wide with surprise as he saw me standing there. After doing a quick up & down, his face grows noticeably red & he covers his eyes while turning away, struggling to hold the pizza box with one hand “Vi, I didn’t know this was a bad time, sh-sh-should I come back later?” He asks, embarrassed. “I’m in a towel, Cain.” I point out, not entirely sure what his deal was. The towel was not overly small, it covered me like a dress would, so it’s not like he could see anything. “Yea, you’re in a towel! Should I give you time to change o-or something?” I could tell he was not comfortable. “Would you like for me to change?” I asked him, wondering how the hell he handles seeing people at a public pool or beach showing so much skin if me being in a towel made him this uncomfortable. “It’s your apartment, you can do whatever you want!” He says nervously. “Alright. So what do you want?” I asked, realizing how cold that may have come out a bit too late. Cain’s eyes slowly peeked from behind his hand, as he lowered it to the pizza box once again and erected his posture. Clearing his throat & choking on it a little he tries to regain his momentum from earlier. 

“It’s been brought to my attention that I may have been insensitive to you & my comment about giants’ intelligence levels crossed a line.” I folded my arms “Mm hmm. And?” I asked, feeling the chill of the air conditioning crawling up my wet skin. Cain, distracted by whatever he was thinking to say next, finally said “So I wanted to apologize!” Holding up the pizza box to be above his head, showing me proudly what he’s brought, much like a cat would bring a mouse to its owner. “Vi, I did not grow up around giants. I don’t know what isn’t okay to say, how to act or what customs to follow. I am going to mess up a lot, but I don’t want to mess up so badly that I ruin the chance to have a friendly Unit Partner.” My heart softened as his plea, struck by the honesty he was showing me. I offer a smile “Well, it’s not the worst thing I have had a human say to me. So I think it’s a forgivable sin.” I say giving him the closure he came for. I start eyeing the tiny box with curiosity “..You brought a pizza?” The pizza itself was no larger than your average cracker to me. Cain smiled back at me “Yes! But…I see that maybe it was not as grand of a gesture as I had hoped it would be…” He says holding it up for me to take. “Might be a bit small…not really filling for you…but they wouldn’t let me buy a giant pizza. So I had hoped this would be enough…” I walked up to him, watching his eyes follow where my footsteps were landing & his face grew from pale, to pink to full blown tomato red again. I crouch down, keeping my legs together, to avoid flashing Cain. His eyes steered away from my toweled body as he held out the pizza. I gingerly took it from him, using my nail to open the box to see a pepperoni pizza with 2 slices missing. “You ate some of it?” I asked as Cain laughed nervously, “Yea well I figured we would be able to share a giant pizza, but when I was denied that option, I did the next best thing & figured we would share a regular sized pizza, like normal roommates do. I also did not have any other plans for lunch…and I was hungry” I rolled my eyes with a smile “The peace offering is appreciated, thank you.” Cain looks up to me, happy his apology was accepted. He watched as I slid the whole pizza from the box, into my mouth in a single bite, which was about all the pizza was. But for what it was worth, the pie was deliciously cheesy & saucy. I barely had to chew it before swallowing, crumpling the cardboard box in my hand to toss away later. 

Cain watched my fist close on the flimsy cardboard box with a crooked smile. “I appreciate you stopping by & apologizing.” I say, watching Cain rub his neck & return his eyes to mine. “Thank you for at least hearing me out & not hating me over this. I’ll uh- get out of your hair..” He says making his exit as politely as I am sure he could manage at the time. As he exited his door, I call to him “Cain!” He flinches, then freezes, turning around wondering what it was I wanted “Next time, I will have you for lunch. We’ll figure out a place that caters to Giants and Humans, okay? My treat.” As if he was holding his last breath, he exhales dramatically while wiping his forehead of whatever sweat had built up on it. “Yes, That should be just fine! Ha, thanks!” He says, slipping into his door & out of sight. 

*************************************************************************************************************

As I closed the door behind me, my body lost all strength it had and I collapsed against the door, my heart racing like I just finished running a marathon. “What the fuck just happened?” Cain thought loudly, running fingers through his hair. He reassured himself that Vi’s comment of “Having him for lunch” was not a promise that Vi was going to eat him, rather she invited him to have lunch with her next time. The miniature heart attack brought on by her words began to subside as Cain recalls seeing Vi, all 85ft of her, damn near soaking wet in a thin towel, leaving very little to the imagination. He recalls his feeling of shock as his eyes trailed up, up, up her long legs to her face. Cain feels a warm feeling in his cheeks that slowly crept to his pants as he felt them tighten slightly. Those legs…strong, sensual and soft looking. He wondered to himself if her skin was as soft to the touch as it looked from his perspective. Nothing could have prepared him for the curvature of her body, though. Her hips were wide & the curves of her waist came in an almost perfect hourglass shape. Her arms & shoulders clearly reflected how she worked out & lifted weights, but her body kept the soft edges & supple shape he admired in other women. Her wet hair spilled out from the towel she had holding it up, still dripping. Cain recalls following the drips as they landed on her shoulder and gravity pulled them between her…”-STOP!” Cain yelled at himself, covering his mouth, fearing he was too loud just now. 

This was wrong, Cain can’t think about Vi this way. She was his Unit Partner, nothing else. Were they even friends? Cain didn’t think so. He reminded himself that he was literally just apologizing for being racist towards her, so there is a lot that needs to happen for them to even call each other friends. Cain needed to keep in mind that getting too close to giants was still dangerous, even ones as..nice..as Vi. The image of Vi slipping the entire XL pizza into her mouth, hardly chewing before swallowing, followed by minimal effort to crush the pizza box, gave a chill up Cain’s spine he was not sure he liked. A stark reminder of just how different they were. Cain slapped his own face, lecturing to himself “Pull yourself together man, this is not happening! She is a giant, you’re just…” Cain pauses and notices his reflection, crumpled on the floor, in the full body mirror he keeps by the front door, staring back at him. He noted how pathetic & sorry looking he was in that moment. 

“...just Human..” Cain says with a defeated sigh.  Pushing himself off of the floor & walking to his gaming area, he makes an effort to push the image of Vi’s nearly naked body out of his mind as he picks up his controller to play some Halo. Taking a deep breath and thinking about his grandma and spiders to kill all warmth he was feeling in that moment as he logs into his gaming account.

Previous ||| Next

[maninthemiroh]

About my Spider-Verse DR

Birth name: Kesselly, Kelden Doloe

My nicknames: Kel, Dolo

My faceclaim: Xueli Abbing

Gender identity: Cis-male

Orientation: Demi-Homoflexible

More about me and changes I made below the cut <3

Things I changed:

Pav isn’t a middle schooler because that never really made sense to me and because I’m love him or whatever /hj

Miles, Pav, and I are dating

Pav is more of a help to Miles during the events of ATSV than in cannon because obviously

Miles, Pav, and I all go to Earth-42

Appearance & suit:

I'm albino

My suit, which I sewed myself, consists of tiny rhombuses and is matte

Accessories include a form-fitting leather full-body kinda zip-up hooded jacket which I usually keep half-way on and tied around my waist, a ushanka-type yak fur hate, yak fur leg warmers on top of my boots, moonboot-like yak fur boots, bronze and turquoise claw armor rings (I don’t know what they’re called :/), a yak leather tibetan beaded belt, a nose hoop ring on my right nostril, a utility sash, a quiver for my bow and arrow, and a tiger's eye 108 bead mala necklace with the Om symbol

I keep a herbalism kit, flint and stricker, water skin, rope, extra bowstring, twine, and extra yak leather in the utility stash

I have a professionally done scarification of a spiderweb with a spider descending from it on my right hip and a traditional-style tattoo of a Galsang flower in the middle of the area below my pecs

Also, the face of my mask changes expressions like the ones in the Sichuan Opera and my suit’s logo is that of a descending spider with the little lines that old age microphones used to have (the body of the spider is the microphone and the silk strand is the stand) :]

My hair is almost perpetually in Tibetan braids, a style I inherited from my mom, who always wore them while my dad had locs (MY DAD WAS BLACK GUYS, PLEASE). I prefer to keep my hair this way due to my lifestyle as a cabin-dwelling hunter, not seeing the point in changing it often.

I fear I may be obsessed with making my DRselves 9 feet tall 😣

My spider-suit and outfit's color palette (aside from his jewelry) is Persian Indigo (#240D70), Maximum Red (#DB2014), Titanium Yellow (#F5E202), White (#FFFFFF), Crayola's Forest Green (#64AB71) Fulvous, Bleu De France (#298ED7), American Green (#27A845) and Meat Brown (#EBA934)

Weapons and equipment:

Marlin 336 Classic Rifle – A lever-action rifle for long-range precision.

Mdung Spear – Wrapped in cloth with floral carvings on the head.

Composite Bows – Made from bamboo, wood, and yak sinew for strength and flexibility.

Buck 110 Folding Knives – An unknown number is hidden on my person.

Web-Shaped Arrows – Created with my natural silk, often frozen solid for enhanced lethality.

Spider-shaped Throwing Stars – Made with hand tools and out of bronze to fit my fit.

Abilities & powers:

Super Strength, Stamina, Jumping, Adhesion, Reflexes, Agility - I adapt well to mountain terrain and extreme weather conditions, can leap extreme distances, cling to any surface, and have a lifting capacity of 11.3 tons

Spider-Sense – An almost supernatural awareness of danger.

Venom Production – My fangs (when manifested) can inject paralyzing neurotoxic venom, but I only use it in extreme cases.

Feature Generation – I can sprout six additional eyes in two neat rows, heightening my perception. I usually keep them hidden.

Superhuman Perception – I see the world in a way normal humans can’t. My vision is more precise than a scope, allowing me to track minute movements.

Cryokinesis & Frigokinesis – I can create and manipulate extreme cold, ice, and snow.

Web Manipulation – My webs are more fibrous and dense, making them well-suited for shaping into arrows, traps, and weapons.

Zǔzhòu:

Named after the Chinese word for 'Curse,’ Zǔzhòu is my symbiote. When it takes over I grow and transform to look like a Chinese lion dancer centaur. Like, my head looks like a chinese lion dance head, my hair looks like a mane, I grow a long fluffy lion tail, another pair of legs (the back ones), and I appear furry but it's all, of course, just Zǔzhòu manifesting, so it's not really fur. I don’t know, I hope this makes sense, I’m too lazy to draw it right now. I actually saved Zǔzhòu's life (can symbiotes die? I think they can?) when we first met. See, when I was fighting The Shaman for the first time, one of The Shaman's third eye death rays shot out pointedly missing me as an attempted scare tactic, but I didn't react as he intended, so The Shaman shot one out into the distance and I, concerned it would hit someone, begrudgingly let The Shaman escape as I turned and ran to check. The death ray just happened to have hit Zǔzhòu and I (after demanding an explanation for what the hell Zǔzhòu was) agreed to let Zǔzhòu inhabit my body as long as it agreed to not become, well, parasitic. Nowadays, Zǔzhòu is like the very annoying younger sibling I never really wanted. I often have to bribe it with homemade dre-si for it to behave similarly to how eddie Brock’s symbiote, Venom, is obsessed with chocolate.

Backstory:

Born into an impoverished Tibetan family, I grew up in a household where survival meant knowing how to hunt, craft, and live off the land. Despite the hardship, my parents always set aside enough money every year to take me to see the Sichuan Opera on my birthday, a rare indulgence that sparked my deep love for music and singing.

One day, while performing my daily cleanse of my home—a strict routine to keep my space free of pests—I discovered a Pantropical Huntsman Spider, an unusual find in the cold region. Unlike most, I wasn’t afraid. Instead, I gently picked up the spider, quietly speaking to it as I carried it outside, knowing it would fare better away from my fastidiously kept space.

Unknown to me, the spider was the product of a failed scientific experiment, its DNA altered with radioactive properties beyond natural biology. In what seemed to be a gesture of thanks—or perhaps an instinctive defense—the spider bit me before scampering off.

I shrugged off the bite, knowing Huntsman Spiders weren’t dangerous, but the next morning, I woke with a feeling that something was off. The moment I sat up, a web shot from my wrist, startling me. Fascinated, I spent the day experimenting with my newfound abilities, quickly mastering them with the same precision and patience I applied to hunting.

By the following year, he was fully in control of his powers.

I do not trust technology. I see modern automation as a cold, detached force, valuing human skill and intuition over machines.

My hatred for it deepened after my parents were killed by a self-driving car in what went on to become a hit and run when I was 14. The driver fled the scene, but was eventually caught and arrested.

Since then, I have lived alone in a log cabin I built by hand in the mountains of Yangbajain, Tibet. I refuse to eat anything I didn’t hunt or gather myself and spends hours meditating, often clinging to the ceiling of my cabin.

Despite my isolated nature, I am fiercely protective of Tibet and actively fight for its independence. My reputation as a mystical, ghost-like figure keeps oppressors on edge, as I strike without warning and disappear back into the wild afterward.

(Also, due to my issues with technology, I ride my prize yak, Dekyi, as my only form of transportation besides walking.)

Nemesis:

Years after her death, my mother was brought back by a villain known as The Shaman.

But, a master of forbidden resurrection, The Shaman cannot truly bring the dead back to life, only reanimate them as eternal servants.

My mother is now bound to the villain’s will, incapable of dying, only being incapacitated.

This is my greatest pain—I cannot save her and cannot kill her to set her free.

For now, I search for a way to break the curse, though all past efforts have ended in failure.

PS: My voice claim is Corpse Husband, as per usual.

Taglist: @the-badass-penguin

Divider credits: @/i-mmaculatus and @/v6quE

[officeobject]

Bluey.exe talk, 13+, still related to Pinkie Cooper though:

I actually hate that we only have the first, and part of the second Bluey.exe animation meme archived, then the third and stuff, is lost to time - I mean, we do also have part 1 of the movie, but still. It was relatable to me, and part 3 (Hot Milk animation meme), scored high on relatability for me, and quite honestly, I'd rather have all 3 than the movie (which scored a 2 out of 5). I'm of course still grateful for what we HAVE, and quickly archived it. If there was any Bluey.exe media outside of that, which was official, then I wouldn't know, because I stopped looking, and everything actually got private, not deleted, so at least there's that. And sure, there are reasons not to make a Bluey.exe revival thing, because there's kids out there who might see it, or because it's a "cringe" thing of an 8 year old, or because some people just mindlessly make Bluey.exe media and understand nothing or even don't use her full design or whatever (which is different from people who just do stuff like happen to not include her metal arm), and her getting a prosthetic (which was supposed to be temporary), arm, and then "turning evil" or whatever, may have some ableist undertones or something, even though no, the point was, the REASON/LEAD UP and all, towards why she even NEEDS, a prosthetic, and that it made her snap and/or horrified of herself, and she's grappling with the feelings of the fact that the - lets face it, TRAUMA, happened, and her negative feelings towards people, who didn't mean to harm her, but she also blames herself - I'll go into more detail later - but again, there might be ableist undertones, of course 0% intentional, and also the creator wasn't THAT invested, or whatever, and I personally left the fandom, etc, so if anything, we really do be needing an alternative, but what? My idea is me - I mean, Ginger Jones, from Pinkie Cooper And The Jet-Set Pets - though also, love how wholesome it all is, LOVE her friendship with the others, so we can just make an AU or something, or just happen to exclude Pinkie Cooper and Pepper Parson. The thing is also though, that I don't know how I'd ever find Bluey.exe or former Bluey.exe fans (that aren't, like, kids), or anyone that takes it seriously enough, or want an alternative, or whatever - I know I created "Hiddenna", as an alternative, but it became its own thing.

SHIT, MAN, I still remember some of the Hot Milk meme! Every time the music got intense, there would be this white/gray/grey VHS effect thing - like, several horizontal lines - maybe some glitching, and each time would be a different pose thing that she moved to in the meantime, before looping - might have had a bit - but out-of-rythem - or, well, in-rythem of the music instead of the beat - type of classic animation meme head-bopping - one of the shots were her with closed eyes, ears back as usual, barring her teeth, arm moving to clutch her head, and yeah, same Bluey.exe, same.

Sudden memories, huh? Anyways, Bluey.exe thing:

Bluey.exe feels the pain from the incident - both emotionally and not - she feels her emotions, she looks different all of a sudden - this isn't just her freaking out over a prosthetic, she has a physical manifestation of what happened, that won't go away - a permanent change to her body that was also entirely avoidable - and it's crudely made (well-made for what could've been done, but still), it looks scary, it's new, she isn't used to it, and it's made out of toy parts: she most likely would've wanted to play with toys specifically as well, so they may just be reminders, EMBEDDED into her arm for now, that she could have avoided - she's looking at things with many memories, that she used to like and innocently play with, and now are embedded into her being - this new thing she doesn't like - that looks like a monster (not because of having a prosthetic, again, but because it's some clawy thing crudely made out of toys) - she will never get to play with them as usual, and her family means well - didn't do this on purpose, are horrified, try to cheer her up, made this temporary thing, etc, and she's not nearly as mad at the others, as she is with her dad, who became the reason for all of this, in the first place - and she KNOWS, she "shouldn't feel this way" - she finds it kinda irrational, and she WAS the one to insist on playing and pulling her arm free from his grasp, so she kinda blames herself - for the actions, and the feelings - like a monster. Who even is she anyway? Full of hate and spliced up toys ... and all she wanted to do, was to play. What did she do to deserve this? Had she not been good enough? Why her? Why ONLY her? Everyone says they'll get to the hospital soon enough, that this is temporary - and maybe she just felt all of this soon afterwards, because they'd surely all be rushing to the hospital - they stopped her bloodflow long enough to make a temporary arm, otherwise, she would've died - and she almost died, that's another point. She's been traumatized and feel betrayed - and sure, her dad HAD to take a phone call for business and all, so she feels guilty for insisting, or even ASKING, in the first place. All of this, and she'd call herself "entitled" - from beginning to end. She wants no one to see the monstrosity - Lord knows if she means the severed toys that make up her arm, or herself, anymore - she's just trying to protect herself ... and others ... she's ashamed, embarrassed, and sure, everyone had enough time for her than, and everyone has enough time for her as per usual, but she eventually walked around, killing (which, by the way, I hoped the lore wouldn't come to, as it was interesting and relatable and not too edgy, and was mysterious and all, WITHOUT, that, but I'm not too upset) - singing "Pop Goes The Wheasel" - double meaning, sure, but let's focus on the fact that her childhood/innocence is gone, and all that playtime and joy - well, it's just painful ...

And I went through none of the same yet fully relate, somehow, and for some reason.

[ittybittykittyfingers]

8/16/24

Leaving work, I see a gaggle of young people who feel vaguely familiar, wearing backpacks and practical clothing. They are ascending the nearby steep hill where there is a covered trail.

I decide to lock up my store, leave my car behind, and follow them.

Fortunately, after a relief on our trek, I am openly received positively by them with a tone akin to a good friend's coolish aunt... though no one could place whose aunt I was (I did not know those kids but I also felt like I knew them? Dreams are weird).

After a couple of stops to check in, refresh water supplies, change clothes, and otherwise refuel, I began to feel left behind. However, the rest of our journey went without feelings or occurrences.

Trailing behind the pack, I was the last to see the magnificent ranch style building nuzzled amongst the enthusiastic flora that manicured the property. Wherever there was a sight to behold, the building had full-length windows. This place was built with intention towards observation.

(Now writing this awake, it reminds me of the humble nature centers that are scattered all over New England; where the intention of the place is clearly in line with how it was situated, but it also just feels like it was someone's house at some point. The juxtaposition holds magic.)

On arrival to this place

our group

each of us

scatters within the room without words.

We see what we want out of the experience made manifest.

An obelisk that, when activated, produces a mass hallucinatory effect. The building, and all of us inside, suddenly sink farther and farther into the Earth. We can all feel the pressure building. I cannot understate how intense and magnificently real this felt. It was hugely reminiscent of actual psychedelic come-ups that don't go great, and as such, are taxing on the mind and consciousnesses.

We all initially saw the earth warble and rise outside the full-length windows surrounding the room we were all in. That was terrifying and exhilarating enough. But then we sunk and sunk.

.darker and deeper.

It felt exactly like how you can tell when an elevator is moving, until the descension of the room accelerated to the point where we could physically feel the barometric pressure exacting itself on us in equal measure faster and faster again.

The pressure made it a blessing to breathe. The speed made it impossible to comprehend.

Many chose to start doing yoga, tai-chi, or meditation during the decent. The descent is a spiritual, albeit catastrophically so, experience for the entire room, regardless of expression. We can't be sure it isn't actually happening, at least on a spiritual level. It stays awful the entire time but I am struck by how pleasant it is to experience it with people whose instinct is to absorb it head-on. I admire the people in the room who do not lose themselves (that is to say I did encounter disgusting leaves that I specifically remember choosing to discard as soon as I woke up. So as I type this while awake I don't recall what they were like, just that that kind of thing was present.)

The guy running the place is able to make it stop. His presence is ominous. A blue light of three diamond shapes arranged in a pattern I don't remember floats to his hand; he grasps it; he crushes it in his fist while it shatters into a fine blue mist. A fucking weird smile becomes his face.

We immediately stop our descent. There's a beat.

We shoot upwards like a rocketship just as fervently as we had originally descended.

It's an unsettling relief.

We arrive back at surface level. There's a weighted pervasive afterglow feeling, I guess I'll have to call it.

I was definitely included in that collective euphoria+trauma place with these people.

It became a late-stage drug party atmosphere: the twirly-eyed twenty-somethings prostrated purposefully around the leader, careful to fix their hair and otherwise mindful of their everything; the entranced but experienced older give-ins tidying up or otherwise occupying themselves without consequence; and the rest, making fools of themselves outside the leader's immediate gaze though still painfully perceived, vomiting or making out or screaming or conjuring another occupation for their various orifices.

I quickly shake some of that when I notice a friend who I came here with getting sick. I take her by the waist and escort her outside to look for fresh air and water. I...well neither of those things were found outside so I ended up just walking her around the garden I guess which may have made it worse? I sit her down and notice that her skin is weirdly tight to her bones. Unfortunately, I somehow find that sexy and get momentarily distracted. I touch more of her both born of concern and fascination.

She doesn't respond at all. I disconnect enough to take stock of what's happening around me.

I become uncomfortable by realizing this is all some kind of hyper-advanced future stuff or some kind of alien technology or something beyond. I decide to process it as a scientific cult, at least, and I am uncomfortable. I remember what I saw before this written account was made.

My realizing all this has put me in danger.

The party has settled. There are plenty of people milling about the designated areas of the property. Everyone who is still unsettlingly high with sparkly eyes is just...being high with the leader in the main room. His gaze encompasses the walls and ceiling. Anyone else able to move wipes stuff down with random rags in cleaning motions. A few sets of purposeful eyes have grown sharper yet glossed over as their attendance wanes. The herd is thinner and I did not notice anyone leaving but I'm too busy blending in to consider it. I'm wondering how I'm going to get away because the leader ABSOLUTELY knows that I'm not falling for it and I can instinctively tell I am in danger because of it.

Then. (oh my fucking god then)

Holy shit incompetent Dave, my incompetent Dave, rocks up to the garden's back entrance sweaty, wearing only boxer briefs.

I'm not sure if he sees me pretending to clean in the garden when he drunkenly approaches and poses a dance while he slurs:

“where's the party at????"

The party was extremely done and extremely volatile. I was already in danger and now my incompetent love was too.

I scurry up to him lifting him under his shoulder with mine.

“what are you doing here‽‽‽"

“I'm here for the party BAYBEE!!"

He was much too loud.

I am unable to read the room as ideological orientations and sublimations abound.

We're in terrible trouble, both of us.

I ask him how he got here, how did he find me. I had questions and nary the wherewithal to parse them in natural sequence like I was used to.

He said he brought the car, our car, our beloved Licorice, our 2013 black Honda Civic.

I'm absolutely spellbound at the prospect of our comfy, beloved Licorice being nearby. We take measured steps to Licorice and make our speedy escape.

Then I woke up.

*****I woke up to relieve myself and then I remembered:

There was also an object that contains periodic table elements that it is slowly decaying inside of it. It feels like an ancient but hyper-advanced ...sand timer? It seems ominous. No further exploration of it occurred.

[newdaynewfrogs]

The Spiral Woman

From as early as I can remember, a bronze metallic figure hung from the ceiling in my grandmother’s living room. The sculpture is called Spiral Woman and that is the form that it takes.

Suspended mid-air hang the legs and arms of a woman—not tensed but not stretched slack, almost patient—protruding out of a long, funneled, otherworldly spiral that has entirely enveloped the space where an ordinary woman’s head and body would have been. 

It’s just a funnel and limbs hanging into space. My aunts and uncles call her “Soft Serve Lady.”

This inexplicable form was a lot for my two-year-old eyes to peer up at in an otherwise unremarkable living room, and I was accordingly transfixed and confused by its inhuman human-ness. At some point I asked some older relative what it was. 

Their voice issues forth from a dark shadow in my memory, and I can’t make out the speaker. In some attempt to account for the sculpture’s ambiguous depth and to capture the helpless, unperceiving caughtness of the woman, the voice says words that were received by my two-year-old mind as simply “She is blind.”

I had never come face-to-face with a blind person before, but boy had I heard about them. My father was a bonafide Christian pastor who read us the Bible every night at the table after dinner.

And so, night after night I sat—spaghetti-filled and listening—and heard about the Lord’s employment of countless entrapping spirals in the deployment of his wrath and his salvation. 

I saw the whole plagued nation of Egypt immobilized, like a million top-heavy hermit crabs, listing debilitatingly too far to one side and splayed all throughout their dust-colored, pyramid-lined city. 

I saw the splendid armies of Assyria—stretching across the plain—suddenly covered like shell-game peas and rolling horizontally homeward behind the prophet Elisha’s guiding voice. 

I saw the funnelblind leading the funnelblind. The spirally-entrapped leader’s hand stretched backwards, guiding his wobbly follower down a path of darkness that they both seemed at least to have some exoskeletal padding against.

Throughout his short working years, Jesus encounters blind people in absolute droves. In the mud by the side of the road, laid across the shores of lake-sized seas, lowered from ceilings on mattresses to convenient eye level, at the bottom of a glass of watery wine. 

And I sat and listened and saw this Lord Jesus make his freedom manifest in the shedding, across Israel, of these swirly prisons. With a word of power, some well placed mud and spit, and some vague salvific motion I saw them halved and discarded like hatched eggshells—drying out on palm fronds all along the dusty streets of Jerusalem,

Even more wondrous, I knew blind people were rare but not extinct from our own world, and that it was just a matter of time until I would find one. Some day in the park, or the grocery store candy aisle, or maybe in the distance out of the window of our mini-van I would witness that familiar hermit-crabby ice-cream shape and see the exact, life-sized details of the blindness I had heard so much about.  

And if I was stricken? Would I be suddenly caught in a full spiral or would it start slowly with a sort of slick hardness of the face and a slight dimming of vision? 

Around the age of four, I did in fact see a blind man. He was different than I expected with a full body and head, totally unentrapped, and instead simply seemed to have strange cloudy eyes that peered up off into space and a plastic stick that he carried with him. I realized that there must be different types of blindness. There was of course your classic funnel blindness, but also a more basic mechanical type where something interfered with the operations of your eyes. This eye-based blindness seemed pretty benign in comparison to the dark trappedness of being swallowed, body and face. It was the type of blindness that they might be able to fix easily in a hospital, and wouldn’t take the opening, freeing power of the Lord Jesus himself.  

The Spiral Woman now hangs, still entrapped, from the twenty-five foot ceiling of the North Carolina Museum of Art. Sometimes my grandmother and I go to look at it. I don’t know when I stopped believing in funnel blindness. I have still never seen it in real life.

[the-ultimate-romanian]

“Well I’m an expert in autism” having autism ≠ being an expert. Like I said earlier, having a disorder doesn’t make you an expert in that field. “Oh but I’ve know what autism is done 5!” Well so did I (since I have many autistic family members) but I did not claim to be an expert at any point, at most that I am more qualified tot talk about this because I’ve studied this disorder in my courses (accredited by The British Psychological Society — an actual organisation btw)

When did Geo ever say that Connor was programmed with autism? The whole point of the game is that the androids aren’t anything like their programming. “Why would CyberLife program that?” Good thing they didn’t, and good thing Connor broke away from his programming! The whole point of the game flew over your head didn’t it? The androids are supposed to behave like humans, to be human like, but they don’t want to be just human like, they want to be treated like humans. CyberLife doesn’t need to program disorders like this because they can happen naturally in androids. “Oh but you’re born with autism” the androids can’t be born so if it is possible for them to be neurodivergent, it will manifest differently in them. You keep talking about “being born with autism” and while in real humans that is true, let’s remember that we are talking about a fictional game with sentient robots, not everything is going to translate 1:1, symptoms and behaviour are going to translate pretty well, but that little fact isn’t going to translate as well.

“You haven’t given me any resources to prove your point” I’ve literally give you credible resources about autism (such as UK’s NHS, WHO’s ICD11 and UK National Autistic Society etc which are all written by professionals who work with autistic people for a living and are medical professionals) and you dismissed it because “I’m an expert w/ no credentials besides my experience”

Wanna talk about family? Sure, let me talk about my family then. My maternal grandma had autism, my mom has autism & adhd, my full brother has diagnosed adhd and is suspected to have autism as well, my half brother is suspected to have autism as well (currently being evaluated by psychologists), my stepdad has suspected(suspected by a psychologist btw) add, my cousin has diagnosed autism, my paternal grandma had paranoia and suspected schizophrenia. All diseases one is born with, however when did I argue that they are not? You just pulled this shit out of your ass and started being mad about something I or Geo haven’t said.

“Conor is not autistic and never has been” oh my gosh, I can’t believe I’m talking to David Cage! Or are you Adam Williams?! Oh wait… you’re nether of them 😬 thus you can’t go and claim stuff about Connor as if they’re canon w/ no proof. Geo provided clear reasons for why she thinks Connor might be autistic which are in line with the ICD requirements for autism and are close to her relationship with her neurodivergence. She has provided her reasoning that is sound, you just said “uhh you’re born with autism and he was programmed by CyberLife why would CyberLife do that?” By that logic why would CL design Connor to deviate and orchestrate an android uprising?

“You don’t have to play blah blah for these kids” first of all “these kid” ? Learn how to write before you type shit😭😭 and second of all, I will jump in to defend my friends when an asshole like you has nothing better to do with his life except live on social media 24/7 and be a dick because he has no job or life just because he wants to be a hater. I’m not playing moral high ground, I’m rightfully calling you an asshole because you a grown ass man, is mad at a teenager because… she likes the idea of relating to her favourite character? That’s just pathetic af😭😭

“And besides you’re a child too” which is why it’s 10 x more pathetic that you are so offended, anyways I’m a psych student at a really good uni in the UK, I have a loving family, I go on family holidays at least once a year, I have loving friends, I have a job, I excelled in my studies at secondary and sixth form college, I wrote an entire research paper about the effects of Communism in Romania etc. What have you done with your life except bitching about kids online?

“See, unlike you I'm actually maintaining my composure and you're raging like a child when they lose a battle game.” My guy, you’re the one who got mad first that Geo was head cannoning Connor as autistic lmaooo. You felt the need to reply and call autistic people “mentally handicapped” (which is offensive btw) just because? You’re a weirdo ig? You hate fun and whimsy? You have no life?

“My 9yo brother is more intelligent than you, and that's saying something because the guy is not very bright.” Yeah? I wanna see his GCSE results, his A Level results, his research paper analysing Communism in Romania, his results at a national math Olympiad, I wanna hear him speak 3 languages fluently and 4th one conversationally etc. If your brother is anything like you then I feel bad that he’s not very bright 😬

Anyways get your ass off tumblr and go find a job, because I’m no longer replying to you since you seem to not know how to write or have any reading comprehension. xoxo

it is so important to me that, no matter what path you take with connor, you cannot avoid him having humanity. him indulging in self-soothing, repetitive actions such as his coin tricks or rubbing his hands together, him lying to hank after seeing markus' speech and being visibly moved, him gently smiling upon seeing hank emerge from his room in the clothes he picked out for him — a sign of a want for a domestic life with him, perhaps? — hell he can even feel fear when he connects to simon, even though you may be going through with this in a machine playthrough.

in some ways, i find machine connor more deviant than deviant connor himself — because of the repression. as amanda says, it was planned from the beginning that he become deviant. it is extremely unlikely this is erased in the machine playthrough. him 'remaining' a machine is just repression of his true self.

...and not to make this post even more self-indulgent and insane, but fuuuck the autistic headcanon for him ties into this PERFECTLY. him 'remaining' a machine is masking — he is still a deviant (autistic), but hiding it to be accepted by amanda and cyberlife — while becoming a deviant means allowing himself to break free of what is expected of him (neurotypicalness) and unmasks, be loved for who he truly is.

i made another post about him being autistic here, so feel free to check that out for reasoning for the headcanon, but i cannot imagine a universe in which connor isn't autistic and doesm't have deviant tendencies. sure, he can be cruel, or a badass, or selfish, as a machine, but all of that still gives him humanity — to be able to feel, and hurt his fellow man. and his (partial or entire) lack of empathy is still a trait of autism, which can be paralelled with deviancy.

idk man i have many thoughts about connor dbh. the autistic agender aromantic asexual android ever. to me.

[silhouettecrow]

365 Days of Writing Prompts: Day 120

Adjective: Breathing

Noun: Storm

Definitions for those who need/want them:

Breathing: someone or something that breathes; living, or alive; (literary) (of wind) blowing softly; giving an impression of (something)

Storm: a violent disturbance of the atmosphere with strong winds and usually rain, thunder, lightning, or snow; an intense low-pressure weather system; a cyclone; a wind of force 10 on the Beaufort scale (48–55 knots or 55-63 mph); a heavy discharge of missiles or blows; a tumultuous reaction, or an uproar or controversy; a violent or noisy outburst of a specified feeling or reaction; (North American) storm windows; a direct assault by troops on a fortified place

[henqtic]

DATES WITH REMUS LUPIN . REMUS LUPIN X READER

word count: 1440 ( written in headcanon form ) . 

note: i really like the look of small text but if you can’t read it good, i also included the big text on here also !!

— masterlist . taglist form . request works .

dates with him are secluded, where the only two people present are you, and chances are unlikely for anyone else to show up.

he finds those snippets of life, the ones he loves most. where he’s free to love you, and kiss you, and hold you, to compliment you up to your atomic makeup as if it was possible for you to slip through his fingers at any moment — all without the pressure of what pda brings.

neither his affections or yours would be on display for everyone in the world to see, only the two of you sitting at a small table meant to be sat criss cross apple sauced, a blanket with some food and / or activity in front of you both, or even just the plain crisp grass in the courtyard under some tree for you to do nothing but read into each others ears.

you would take turns coming up with those perfect spots to be at, and even though it wasn’t ever nearly a competition — he was the victor each time.

“oh remus, how do you always do this?”

that fluttering feeling in your stomach manifested itself into your voice, love consuming you completely as your eyes roamed around the small hidden room.

coral blankets with white diamond designs spread across the floor, pillows, plush cushions like the ones of couches for both of you to sit comfortably on. and bottles of paint in right in between them, facing the white canvases and cups containing five or six paintbrushes.

and the butterflies — enchanted to have this sort of glow to them, like fireflies but much more bright, providing all of the light you would need. and it was magical.

his arms wrapped around you as he laid his head on your shoulder, a small kiss to your neck ensuing, “i’m powered by the unimaginable adoration i have for you.”

“and james’ outstanding efforts to impress evans, i had to get this little charm for him after he tried to surprise her with them and she was allergic,” he pointed to the fluttering insects roaming around as he laughed out of his nose, making sure to only reveal half of his tricks with the other hidden in a piece of old yellow parchment in the back pocket of his trousers.

“first time i’ll be thankful for his dramatics then,” your face beamed as you turned to look back at him, biting down on your lip in order to contain the tempting grin of which existence both of you knew of. 

“don’t hide it from me love, you’re my muse for today and i don’t want my portrait to be incomplete.”

the reason for them being his favorite types of dates wasn’t rooted in the fact that he hadn’t wanted to take you to those fancy restaurants ( because he will and has shown up in his best suit whenever you wanted to. )

but this way, it was more personal. and he found you to be one of his favorite people he’d ever been around despite anything else.

there wasn’t a single reason you needed to dress up if you hadn’t wanted to, no eyes on you but the familiar ones you were so accustomed to, no need to act a certain way to please others, simply no judgement at all.

not in sight, never in mind.

even if some of the judgement was positive as it always was from his closest frineds, three tremendously irritating reasons why he shies away from pda.

it was a night after one of your dates, or better said, a night to show that unmeasurable affection.

after getting off the castle grounds in the early morning, you boarded a train not too far off from the castle that didn’t care if you were students or not.

with a bag not too full of his favorite snacks, books, and a pair of headphones — a muggle invention, along with the little line of black tape loaded with music inside of a tape that you thought he would like.

all coming together after much help from one of your friends who weren’t so perplexed by the whole idea as you were.

and your judgement was correct, because the smile that stretched ear to ear every time a change of tempo would start to play indicated that he enjoyed it.

along with the teasing he brushed your ear with, ‘this one is really good.’

remus assumed it was a day where you just walked around a random town for the fun of it, not being the wiser once you apparated you two closer to your destination.

somehow, after keeping on the trail for five minutes he hadn’t noticed just exactly where you were going. 

the place where he lost his first tooth, scraped his first knee, rode his first broom, too enthralled in congratulating you on something even he had found confusing.

it was his home, the home he had been concerned about for two weeks because of his sick father in it, coughing away and not finding himself to get out of bed sometimes as in the letters his mother had written to him.

the last had said he’d been improving, but he hadn’t seen that with his eyes, that lyall lupin was alright, it was just the image of him being the opposite that riddled him even when he was sleeping. 

but once you knocked on the door, his mother opening it with a smile so loving it took his eyes away from you, a smell rushing out of his dad’s best cooking he had missed so much with the months you’d been away, and the man’s arms wrapping around his body along with hopes, he’d melted right into them.

“you’re a saint [ your name ],” he whispered to you as he leaned in for another kiss, your face rested in both of his hands in the dark and vacated corridors, “a saint who i can never see myself without because you’re so kind— ”

kiss

“and smart— ”

kiss

“and thoughtful— ”

kiss

“and you.”

“thank you for getting me there, i didn’t know if i could carry on stressing about it.”

“i’m just glad i could stop it,” you smiled, happy that you had effectively calmed his bad nerves.

so he let your lips brush his a few more times, warm and soft and like home he had just visited, and he’d started the same — hands molded into each other’s hair as you locked into the open mouthed embrace, exploring every location within until there was no visible difference between the spaces.

you scooted closer until you were on his lap, snug and comfortable as his back pressed onto the wall, and soon enough five minutes had passed and james and sirius were back to completely misusing the marauders map.

“go you moony,” sirius whistled as he and his counterpart walked into the scene, scaring both of you out of your wits.

james scoffed jokingly, holding the invisibly cloak to his chest in feign astonishment, “oh don’t get scared now. this is a public castle, honestly, have some class.”

both he and the brunette burst into laughter as their friend burned like a fresh rose.

sirius continued the poking.

“hey, leave them alone prongs, he got her and it looks like he’ll never let her go.” he said referring to the boys tight grip on your hips to keep you in place on his lap, reluctantly loosening as you feverishly removed yourself from his lap and to a cooler spot on the bench before being stopped.

“oh no, don’t pause for our sake, we’ll just be leaving now, sirius here needs his beauty sleep. and we’ve had enough entertainment for the night to keep our dreams sweet,” james flashed a wicked smile, a queue of some the other half of the singular brain cell he’d co-owned with black, “haven’t we padfoot?”

"oh yeah, and pull his hair [ your name ], we’ve all heard his sleep talking— ”

"i swear the day i force feed you chocolate while you’re a dog draws closer every time you speak,” remus threatened lightly, face redder than a blood moon as his voice threatened to become uneven and he stayed away from your unkempt smile.

“don’t get so defensive, i’ll do it if you want me to so bad,” you offered in sotto voce, breathing out the laughter you tried to conceal, him looking at you in both embarrassment and slight betrayal.

“see that’s the spirit moony, you should really try to be more like your girlfriend whose willing to do any weird little thing for you instead of conspiring against my life.”

( BIG TEXT )

dates with him are secluded, where the only two people present are you, and chances are unlikely for anyone else to show up.

he finds those snippets of life, the ones he loves most. where he’s free to love you, and kiss you, and hold you, to compliment you up to your atomic makeup as if it was possible for you to slip through his fingers at any moment — all without the pressure of what pda brings.

neither his affections or yours would be on display for everyone in the world to see, only the two of you sitting at a small table meant to be sat criss cross apple sauced, a blanket with some food and / or activity in front of you both, or even just the plain crisp grass in the courtyard under some tree for you to do nothing but read into each others ears.

You would take turns coming up with those perfect spots to be at, and even though it wasn’t ever nearly a competition — he was the victor each time.

“oh remus, how do you always do this?”

that fluttering feeling in your stomach manifested itself into your voice, love consuming you completely as your eyes roamed around the small hidden room.

coral blankets with white diamond designs spread across the floor, pillows, plush cushions like the ones of couches for both of you to sit comfortably on. and bottles of paint in right in between them, facing the white canvases and cups containing five or six paintbrushes.

and the butterflies — enchanted to have this sort of glow to them, like fireflies but much more bright, providing all of the light you would need. and it was magical.

his arms wrapped around you as he laid his head on your shoulder, a small kiss to your neck ensuing, “i’m powered by the unimaginable adoration i have for you.”

“and james’ outstanding efforts to impress evans, i had to get this little charm for him after he tried to surprise her with them and she was allergic,” he pointed to the fluttering insects roaming around as he laughed out of his nose, making sure to only reveal half of his tricks with the other hidden in a piece of old yellow parchment in the back pocket of his trousers.

“first time i’ll be thankful for his dramatics then,” your face beamed as you turned to look back at him, biting down on your lip in order to contain the tempting grin of which existence both of you knew of.

“don’t hide it from me love, you’re my muse for today and i don’t want my portrait to be incomplete.”

the reason for them being his favorite types of dates wasn’t rooted in the fact that he hadn’t wanted to take you to those fancy restaurants ( because he will and has shown up in his best suit whenever you wanted to. )

but this way, it was more personal. and he found you to be one of his favorite people he’d ever been around despite anything else.

there wasn’t a single reason you needed to dress up if you hadn’t wanted to, no eyes on you but the familiar ones you were so accustomed to, no need to act a certain way to please others, simply no judgement at all.

not in sight, never in mind.

even if some of the judgement was positive as it always was from his closest friends, three tremendously irritating reasons why he shies away from pda.

it was a night after one of your dates, or better said, a night to show that unmeasurable affection.

after getting off the castle grounds in the early morning, you boarded a train not too far off from the castle that didn’t care if you were students or not.

with a bag not too full of his favorite snacks, books, and a pair of headphones — a muggle invention, along with the little line of black tape loaded with music inside of a tape that you thought he would like.

all coming together after much help from one of your friends who weren’t so perplexed by the whole idea as you were.

and your judgement was correct, because the smile that stretched ear to ear every time a change of tempo would start to play indicated that he enjoyed it.

along with the teasing he brushed your ear with, ‘this one is really good.’

remus assumed it was a day where you just walked around a random town for the fun of it, not being the wiser once you apparated you two closer to your destination.

somehow, after keeping on the trail for five minutes he hadn’t noticed just exactly where you were going.

the place where he lost his first tooth, scraped his first knee, rode his first broom, too enthralled in congratulating you on something even he had found confusing.

it was his home, the home he had been concerned about for two weeks because of his sick father in it, coughing away and not finding himself to get out of bed sometimes as in the letters his mother had written to him.

the last had said he’d been improving, but he hadn’t seen that with his eyes, that lyall lupin was alright, it was just the image of him being the opposite that riddled him even when he was sleeping.

but once you knocked on the door, his mother opening it with a smile so loving it took his eyes away from you, a smell rushing out of his dad’s best cooking he had missed so much with the months you’d been away, and the man’s arms wrapping around his body along with hopes, he’d melted right into them.

“you’re a saint [ your name ],” he whispered to you as he leaned in for another kiss, your face rested in both of his hands in the dark and vacated corridors, “a saint who i can never see myself without because you’re so kind— ”

kiss

“and smart— ”

kiss

“and thoughtful— ”

kiss

“and you.”

“thank you for getting me there, i didn’t know if i could carry on stressing about it.”

“i’m just glad i could stop it,” you smiled, happy that you had effectively calmed his bad nerves.

so he let your lips brush his a few more times, warm and soft and like home he had just visited, and he’d started the same — hands molded into each other’s hair as you locked into the open mouthed embrace, exploring every location within until there was no visible difference between the spaces.

you scooted closer until you were on his lap, snug and comfortable as his back pressed onto the wall, and soon enough five minutes had passed and james and sirius were back to completely misusing the marauders map.

“go you moony,” sirius whistled as he and his counterpart walked into the scene, scaring both of you out of your wits.

james scoffed jokingly, holding the invisibly cloak to his chest in feign astonishment, “oh don’t get scared now. this is a public castle, honestly, have some class.”

both he and the brunette burst into laughter as their friend burned like a fresh rose.

sirius continued the poking.

“hey, leave them alone prongs, he got her and it looks like he’ll never let her go.” he said referring to the boys tight grip on your hips to keep you in place on his lap, reluctantly loosening as you feverishly removed yourself from his lap and to a cooler spot on the bench before being stopped.

“oh no, don’t pause for our sake, we’ll just be leaving now, sirius here needs his beauty sleep. and we’ve had enough entertainment for the night to keep our dreams sweet,” james flashed a wicked smile, a queue of some the other half of the singular brain cell he’d co-owned with black, “haven’t we padfoot?”

“oh yeah, and pull his hair [ your name ], we’ve all heard his sleep talking— ”

"i swear the day i force feed you chocolate while you’re a dog draws closer every time you speak,” remus threatened lightly, face redder than a blood moon as his voice threatened to become uneven and he stayed away from your unkempt smile.

“don’t get so defensive, i’ll do it if you want me to so bad,” you offered in sotto voce, breathing out the laughter you tried to conceal, him looking at you in both embarrassment and slight betrayal.

“see that’s the spirit moony, you should really try to be more like your girlfriend who’s willing to do any weird little thing for you instead of conspiring against my life.”

[takes1]

t. todoroki (dabi) hcs

____________________

warnings: nsfw, cnc, minors stay off my lawn!!

details. gn!reader

notes. some sfw dabi here. / requests open!! / my ao3 as always

🤍 hc series. full list here.

____________________

- hard dom: i don't often hc anyone as so inflexible in their preferences that they could not possibly bottom/sub, but with the amount of trauma this man has accrued because of shit he couldn't change, i think it would manifest as a strict inability to give control to another person when intimacy escalates past a certain point.

- corruption kink: loves it initially for the aesthetic of the dark/macabre, but ends up... actually really being into the idea of toying around with virgins, introducing inexperienced partners to increasingly more inappropriate themes. loves seeing you squirm and redden at something he considers to be nothing at all. it's insanely cute to him and the only way to keep getting that reaction is to up the stakes every time.

- deepthroating: goes along with a choking thing, but this makes it so that there's more in it for him. something about having your head in his oversized, scarred hands, training you to take more of him for longer is exhilarating. specifically into the sound of fucking your face.

- brat tamer: even though he needs the control, that doesn't mean he can't enjoy a good taunting every once in a while. never backs down from a cute challenge, especially because you both know he's able to handle it appropriately.

- reward/punishment mindset: piggybacks off of the brat-taming. the line is a bit blurred between reward and punishment because his tendency is to punish with overstim. so consequences of 'acting up' can often start with the impression that you got your way, only to later find out it was part of a ploy to get you compliant.

- collars: anything that could potentially be embarrassing for his partner, he's into. which means the collars he likes come equipped with a little bell and his name etched into the side. will make you wear it so he can enjoy the bouncy jingle when he fucks you.

- fake safe words: while 'no' and 'stop' do egg him on, he gets to a point where hearing a false safe word does it better. a form of cnc that is a little less effort in the roleplaying sense, but will still let him get his kicks by pretending you're at your limit, and he just continues anyway. this also goes for fake safe motions, for when your mouth is busy.

- cheating(roleplay): one of his favorite types of roleplay is when you cheat on your imaginary partner in favor of dabi. he just loves being the favorite, for once.

[yesimwriting]

The Promise of Rain, blurb 2

The Promise of Rain (part 2?? technically) 

A/n I was not originally planning a second part for this but some people wanted it and this idea came to me and it works better with the context of ‘The Promise of Rain’ but it can technically be read as a stand alone :))

Anyways this might turn into a small series of kinda connected blurbs that are all kind of canon with each other but aren’t necessarily connected except for the reader’s background (the reader is a very sunshine-y person and knows Kaz bc she’s a runaway princess that he was hired to bring back home but she managed to convince him to let her work for him instead)

--

The night air had left me with a chill that made me want nothing more than to have my covers draped over me as I read. I’m normally more sociable after a job, especially after such a simple and safe ending, but a lot of tonight had left me wanting to be alone. 

Well, not truly alone. The company of my books is always welcomed, but tonight I can’t seem to find much comfort within the pages. After almost every paragraph, I find myself distracted by gusts of wind and thoughts of the heavy, silver clouds that seem to make up tonight. A part of me longs for the rain. I know it’s ridiculous to expect rain each time I desire some sense of comfort, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want it. Especially when the sky so clearly implies it. 

“This must be the fifth time I’ve come here and you’ve been reading.” Kaz’s sudden appearance is almost enough to shake away my lingering somberness. 

I roll my eyes slightly, turning my attention back to the page in front of me. “That observation is just a testament to how often you come in here.” 

His glare is half hearted, a look I’d find endearing if I was less annoyed. “Where else am I going to find a reminder that good people exist in Ketterdam?” 

I think he may have a sixth sense that warns him when I’m treading the line between being annoyed and displeased. Everytime I find myself mad at him in a way that makes me want to avoid him instead of yell at him, Kaz makes some ridiculously heart-melting comment. He steps further into the room. I don’t miss the way he eyes my stretched out legs. Ever since the conversation we had after he woke up after an injury, we’ve fallen into the unmentioned habit of silently inviting the other to stay by moving to make room for them. 

It had started the day after the conversation in which Kaz had admitted that he wanted me to stay with him. He had been sitting on the small couch while discussing the details of a job. Shortly after I walked in he made a point of shifting so that he was clearly on one side of the couch. I didn’t think much about sitting down, but Inej and Jesper exchanged a look. 

Now, though, I keep my legs stretched out on the bed. He eyes my position on the bed, something grim crossing his features. 

“It might rain tonight.” 

He knows me so damn well. I hate it. “I hope so.”

I turn my head, analyzing the way the world seems to be on the cusp of something. I stare at the silver clouds until I feel something hard tap my leg. The tap is firm but not painful. I’m quick to look at Kaz as he lowers his cane. The mention of rain had been a distraction. 

“You distracted me on purpose.” 

“The first rule of the Barrel is to always be prepared.” There’s a slight uptilt to his lips, something I’ve learned to interpret as a sign of teasing. 

How is he so easy to be around one second and so cold the next? I resist a smile. “I’ll take notes.” 

Kaz ignores my passive aggressive tone. His focus seems to be on my legs that have still not moved to offer him a place next to me. “You wear your emotions too openly.” Great, he’s going to make us talk about it. “What reason could you possibly have to be mad at me?”

“I’m not mad at you.” It’s a partial truth. 

His expression harshens. “Don’t lie.” 

“I’m not thrilled with you, but I don’t think that’s the same as being mad.” 

Kaz lets out a partial sigh. “No, they’re not the same.” Such an early concession feels like a trap. “With you, the first option is worse.” I don’t have anything to say to that. “Is this because of what I said to Jesper?” 

My posture straightens on instinct. “He wants your validation more than he’d ever admit and I understand that expressing praise isn’t exactly something you do, but would it kill you to not actively insult him?” 

“I didn’t say anything that was wrong. He thinks he’s a gambler but he’s just someone born for losses.” The look I give him must mean something to him, because Kaz is quick to tact on, “That doesn’t make him less valuable of an asset or less relatively dependable.” 

I eye him cautiously, the slightest bit of vulnerability playing at his features. “Don’t look at me like that--and don’t tell me that. Jesper’s the one who could use the occasional reminder from you that you hold him to any regard with positive connotations.” His lips press together like he’s thinking about scolding me for scolding him. “It’s only because I know you care more about Jesper than you’d ever let on.” 

“Jesper’s esteem can handle the blow.” The curtness of his voice is a blow in its own sense. “And he didn’t exactly deserve to be in my good graces after what he did tonight.” 

My sigh is not weighted enough to match Kaz’s newfound fountain of emotion. “We were successful--”

“He left you.” I didn’t know Kaz’s voice was capable of such harshness. “I paired him with you, and he left you--and you almost didn’t make it.” I let the weight of his words take up all the available space in the room, keeping the silence that follows them until some of the heaviness has dissipated. “He could have cost me one of my best people.”

Oh. His harshness, his unwarranted coldness, had been a manifestation of his concern. For me. Guilt knots my stomach. Potential words that may offer Kaz some sort of support raise and die back down in my throat. Kaz turns towards the door. 

“Kaz.” He pauses. There’s a long moment in which I think he won’t turn around, but finally, he does. I tuck my legs beneath me, forcing myself to sit up a little straighter. “I told Jesper to leave because I knew the job would have failed if he had been trapped in that room with me.” I drop my gaze towards the window. “I was right, the job was successful, and I got out in time so it was worth it.”

“You risked your safety?” The harsh facet of his being is making its return in full force. 

“For the job,” I’m careful to keep my words factual, “It’s what we’re supposed to do.”

Kaz’s jaw locks. “When I said that keeping you near me would ruin you this is what I meant.” 

Is it really this big of a deal? I made it out. “Kaz.”

“This wasn’t my best idea.” His words are leached of anything. “You’re going back home. Tomorrow I’ll arrange the voyage myse--” 

“Kaz Brekker you may get to live your life doing anything you want but you don’t get to control mine.” My chin raises an inch, an instinctual act of subtle rebellion. “I am not going back there, even if I’m technically indebted to you because you didn’t return me to my father but that does not mean I’ll--”

“I’m not trying to control you.” His words are sharp, boarding on a yell. “A job like that one wasn’t worth you.” 

From Kaz, I know those words are heavy. There’s a lot of things I could say to that. I could tell him that I wanted to do something for him. I could say that I appreciate him telling me that. I could even say that in his own way, Kaz giving Jesper a hard time because he left me, is kind of cute in a misguided way. The thing is I think all of these responses will make things worse. 

“Kaz,” I keep my voice as steady as possible, “I’m fine, you’re fine, it all worked out.” Scratching the back of my arm, I exhale gently. “I’ll be more careful next time, I promise.” 

I watch him carefully, there’s a slight slump to his shoulders as he exhales. Is the fight leaving him so easily? He walks further into the room. “You better.” He sits down in the space I provided for him slowly. “If you’re not you’ll have worse things to worry about than anything that can happen to you on a job.” He moves his cane forward easily, tapping my knee in a swift motion. 

I roll my eyes at the mock threat. “They do say that there’s nothing to fear in the Barrel like the Dirtyhands.” 

“Remember that.” Any edge in his voice is forced. I fight against a smile that seems to always want to break across my face whenever I think I see something resembling lightness in Kaz. 

“I don’t think I could forget anything about you.” 

He turns his head slightly. “You should.” 

“Too bad.” 

Kaz leans his back against the wall, untensing slightly. “I think you just like disagreeing with me.” 

There’s no point in lying about it. “Only because when you argue with me you give me this really particular look.” 

“A look?” 

Adding insult to injury, I smile. “Sometimes you look like you’re too focused on being angry, like you’re compensating for something.” 

Kaz lets out a bitter sigh. “Maybe if you were less of a puppy I wouldn’t have to--”

The laugh that escapes is most definitely a mistake. “Did you just call me a puppy?” I don’t give him a chance to reply, laughter taking over again. “I mean this in the least argumentative way possible--but you’re so weird sometimes.” 

He rolls his eyes, tensing. “I’m leaving.”

I stifle the rest of my laughter. “No. I was--I was kidding!” I keep my eyes on Kaz, expecting some type of annoyed glare, but his expression is a lot more weighted than that. Odd. “Kaz?” 

“You need to be more careful.” I understand Kaz’s pause as something he does before saying something outside of his nature. “I’m not asking you this as a Crow or a Dreg.” 

On instinct, my posture straightens. “I promised and I meant it.” 

“Sometimes I wish I could believe in Saints,” his voice has taken off a distant quality, almost fragile, “That way I could believe something existed to help what matters.” 

Oh. “You never fail, even if I didn’t believe in Saints I’d believe in you.” 

“You’re wasting your faith.” The sound of lightning cracking is almost enough to make me jump. The rain finally came. 

I know I’ll never convince him that that’s not true. “I don’t think so, but that’s why it’s called faith.” 

“I have faith in some things.” His expression is far off. 

“Like what?” 

Kaz’s eyes find the window. “People that find meaning in the rain.” 

Something in my chest swells. “You’re like the rain.”

We sit there in silence, watching raindrops glide down the window. “What were you reading?” 

The question has me dropping my gaze to the forgotten book on my lap. “I stole this book from the palace before I left. It was my mom’s favorite, she’s read it so much the spine’s completely cracked and the cover is practically falling off.” 

“Hm…” He mumbles. “Read some, the books read in a palace must be worthwhile.” 

A part of me wants to tell him that elitism has no place in literature, but his request leaves me frozen. I nod once, turning to the first page of the book. “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife--” 

“Your upbringing makes sense--” 

“You can’t judge it off the first sentence,” he’s insufferable, “It’s setting up irony, and if you’re going to complain--” 

He lets out a conceding sigh. “I’m listening, I’m not interrupting.” 

I keep my eyes on him for a second longer than I should. “Okay.” Dropping my gaze back to the book, I adjust my grip on the worn paperback, “Good.” 

And then I keep reading. 

--

@theincredibledeadlyviper @grishaverse7 @lonelystarship @mentally-in-northern-italy @uhanddreag 

[denkineptune]

mha date headcanons- boys and girls :))

♡ request: “i love ur blog already, ur writing is so good!!! im so excited to see the content u’ll be posting !! :D since ur taking requests, how abt some date headcanons for the mha boys (or girls if u want!) ?” - @dianangels​ 

♡ thank you for letting me write girls aaa i chose to do some as first date hc. it was kinda hard to keep jirou’s gn because i wanted to reference wlw stereotypes but i succeeded in gender-neutral because i want everyone to be able to enjoy

♡ dedicating part of this to @anxious-botanist​ because she’s the one who inspired the momo cuddles hehe sorry it took so long

♡ fic details: headcanons, fluff, gender-neutral reader, 2nd pov

characters: kaminari, amajiki, jirou, ashido, yaoyorozu

kaminari- arcade

↠AR C ADE   DA T  E

↠you hear me??? arcade!! date!! ideal man, right here, someone claim him immediately or else i will be forced to take ownership

↠he’s super laid back and chill, pretty childish at heart. he only means the best, though, so i think an arcade is exactly what he would go for when taking you on a date! he doesn’t have a lot of money but still wants you to go home with something to remember the date by

↠he buys like $50 worth of tokens and splits it between the two of you, making sure that he tells you which games give the most tickets, because he’s definitely been here enough times to remember

↠his favorite game is either crossy roads or the big bass wheel- he loves crossy roads because of how cute the style is, but also there is impending stress and levels of  d o o m  as you progress further. big bass wheel is basically just gambling, and i think he’s yumeko jabami.

↠he hacks games to make you win sometimes,, his quirk is bascially designed to do this. it’s like he was born just to take you out on this arcade date. he uses his quirk to short circuit the game and trick the computer into giving you hundreds of tickets

↠he just wants to make you happy and see you smile!! there’s not a feeling quite like succeeding at something as silly as an arcade game, but there’s a certain pride to it that he loves seeing on your face. 

↠kaminari only does it a few times, since he knows that you should be earning your prizes ((not that you know when he does it, he’s really cheeky about it))

↠playyyy multiplayers with him! he loves DDR (dance dance revolution)- you do multiple rounds and are equally exhausted by the end of it akdflad you may not be good, and tbh neither is denki, but you still have fun, which is what matters

↠he also loves taking photobooth pictures, he puts on the most horrendous filters and does the dumbest poses, but it’s so adorable. he does the typical one smile, one “serious”, one silly face, one kith > <

↠kami gets cocky,,, it’s just how he is,, he gets overly confident whether or not he’s been on a winstreak

“heyy, y/n! look at my speedrun on this, i’m getting so many tickets, i’ll be able to get a house by the end of it!”

↠and then he CAN’T because he doesn’t get the jackpot eghgdhgeh

↠by the end of the day, you’ve spent hours at the arcade, laughing and screaming with denki as you terrorize the small children. yes, he’s that kind of guy

↠by “terrorize”, i don’t mean like a bully, but he’s unintentionally intimidating kids with his pockets overflowing with ticket chains, a crazed look on his face as he goes absolutely ham on the shooting games

↠there’s electricity coming off of him, kids sometimes have to dodge it when passing by

↠so anyways, by the end of the date, you’re basically being kicked out of the arcade, because, as kami puts it,

“we were here when it opened and i’ll be damned if we’re not here when it closes,”

↠between the two of you, you’ve aquired tens of thousands of tickets??? the employees probably hate y’all, they had to count those beasts of ticket rolls you’ve accumulated during the 10 hours the arcade was open

↠exactly 62,069 tickets (69 go brrr- kaminari’s brain), and you can basically buy the arcade with that currency

↠but here’s the thing: he lets you spend all of it. you heard me, all. of. it. he just wants to see you happy, and the best way he can think of to get a final glorious memory of your smile is to let you spend the tickets as you see fit, this generosity just to see you glowing as you walk out of the building, arms chock full of amazing junk

↠but of course, you’d feel bad if you spent all of it, especially since he was the one who took you out, so you offered him the half of the tickets that were won

“denki, you won most of these with your amAzINg gaming skills, it’s only fair you get to have something too,”

“my prize will be seeing you- your- your-- aw fuck, i forgot the line, it’ll come back to me, just give me a minute.”

↠he tried to be smooth and it failed, but you chuckled at the attempt, so all around, he considered it a success

↠denki gets a lot of dumb things that will probably end up being thrown away soon, but he also gets you a very soft bat stuffed animal that you should treasure and keep forever 

amajiki- a walk and picnic in a japanese garden

↠tamaki is very shy, very socially anxious. he’s the kind to wait for people to leave a section of a store before he goes there, purposely do his errands in the early morning to limit social interaction, and find any excuse to leave a situation. which, tbh, isn’t that all of us?

↠let’s be honest here, if it wasn’t y’alls first date, he’d probably not go anywhere. as long as he’s with you, he doesn’t really care for anything too fancy

↠but he’s convinced himself that he needs to do something reasonably big for your first date to make sure you don’t regret your decision to go out with him. so instead of deciding to stay in, he goes somewhere that’s only slightly anxious for him, but where he still feels comfortable

↠so he’s decided on a japanese tsukiyama garden! these places are beautiful by design, not cheap but not too expensive, and people are obligated by rules to be quiet and keep their hands to themselves

↠nobody goes to a garden to socialize, in fact, i’d argue most people go just to look around, rest, and clear their heads. there’s usually not any screaming children, no quirk usage, no villains, it’s a little safe haven. 

↠bonus: there’s butterflies :))

↠it’s so peaceful, and he gets to focus on you instead of whatever loud noise is making him anxious

↠he brings a picnic basket filled with all your favorite foods, and his! he makes a show out of displaying what he can manifest with different snacks, making a point to eat edible seeds so he can produce flowers for you 🥺🥺🥺

↠you walk around the garden for a few hours, marveling at the decor and how well-maintained everything is. there’s a koi pond, hanging wisteria trees, and multiple gazebos that create a really comfortable and calm environment

↠speaking of koi ponds, amajiki offers to buy you food so you can feed the fish! you stand on a bridge above the pond, sharing the container with him. the sMILE on his face when he watches you throw the food is so pure i’m-

↠he’s the walking embodiment of “uwu”- his face is so calm and his eyes are shining and he can feel his heart swelling with love i am GOING to cry my eyes out 

↠but honestly, he wishes he could stay in this moment forever- you’re happy, he’s happy, and it feels like you two are the only people in the universe. right now, he doesn’t have to worry about school, villain attacks, his future, or anything that makes him anxious; all that he can see right now is how beautiful and at peace you look. he took you out today, and you’re enjoying yourself. this is one of the few things that makes him confident: knowing that he’s able to make you happy

↠tamaki is silently celebrating; you’ve had a good time and he didn’t freak out, so it’s the best possible scenario!

ashido- rollerskating! ((look at her she’s adorable the smile n the eyes aaa))

↠mina is a very energetic and bubbly person, its quite obvious if you’ve spent any amount of time around her

↠for your first date with her, she’d already have a location in mind!!

↠the atmosphere of rollerskating rinks is so electric, she can’t help but feel happy there, and she wants to experience that lovely feeling with you, too :))

↠you enter the rink, and mina is already borderline bouncing off the walls alskdfj

↠whether or not you’ve ever skated before, ashido is super cautious with you- multiple times she’s fallen on her butt while learning how to skate, so unless you’re a pro, she’s watching your every move to make sure you don’t get hurt

“y/n! please be careful- you’re not getting hurt on my watch!”

↠she jabs a thumb in her direction proudly, with the cutest bigass grin on her face awh 🥺🥺🥺she’s really enthusiastic about sharing one of her passions with you

“try to balance, alright? don’t put too much weight on your heel or toes, because then you’ll fall on your butt. here, take my hand and i’ll help you! hey, there you go, you’re doing great!”

↠she pays for everything and will WRESTLE you if you try to disagree aldkfa if you’re the type of person to pay for everything as well, y’all are going to have to fight; mina will not give up

↠ashido comes here a lot, so she’s friendly with all the employees, she has the uncanny ability to make friends wherever she goes ((i mean she’s friends with bakugou,, if she can do that,, she can do anything))

↠she takes one of your hands and backs onto the rink, watching for anyone behind her. once you’re balanced properly, she shows you how to move your feet so that the two of you are in sync

↠skating isn’t super hard to figure out, it’s mostly intuitive, so you’ll get the hang of it quite quickly!! maybe you’re not too fast, but it’s still fun, so it doesn’t matter

↠while you’re moving with care, making sure to focus on your footwork, mina will definitely take the chance to show off her skating skills! she’s moving like crazy, weaving around other people and nearly toppling them over but shh she’s trying to impress you and if i’m being honest??? she’s really fucking good aldkdf 

↠it’s obvious that she loves this hobby, and the fact that she likes you enough to share it with you on your first date is so adorable aaaa

↠mina’s really agile- you don’t know if that’s all the hero training or just something that comes naturally, but the way she moves makes skating look like the easiest goddamn thing in the world-

↠she’s such a romantic, she’s definitely put in a request for the dj to play your favorite song, no matter if it fits the mood or not

↠heavy rock? sure!! as long as you’re having fun, who cares about what other people think? super vulgar rap?? w h y  n o t ? !

↠she just has that extroverted, positive, charming energy that’s infectious

↠you can’t help but feel at ease around her, she’s a genuinely a great person, and what you think the epitome of a hero is

↠all ashido really wants here is to have fun with you- i mean she really likes you, and hopes that she’ll get to go on another date w/ you, so she’s doing everything in her power to woo u

↠and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t working 🥺👉👈

jirou- hanging out in her room

↠kyouka jirou, being the more introverted person she is, wouldn’t really want to go somewhere super public, like mina would

↠i also believe that she’d want to be friends (or at least acquaintances) with you before asking you on a date- she’s easily annoyed by people, so i think that she’d need to be comfortable around you if she was to be romantically interested 

↠and you’ve ticked all these boxes! you understand her sarcastic, blunt personality, and find it pretty amusing. beyond all that, she’s kind and caring, and deep down, she aspires to be a hero for all the right reasons. who wouldn’t love her for that?

↠so for your first date with kyouka, i think she’d want to be somewhere quiet and intimate with you. she wouldn’t want any interruptions ((specifically from jammingyay, who enjoys butting his head in other peoples’ business))

↠the most comfortable place for her would be her room, since it’s really just an extension of her personality, and since you’re quite close, she’d be okay with letting you in her private space. she trusts you.

↠just two guys bein dudes 🤠 ((if you’re a girl, it’s just sappho and her friend--))

↠music is one of the biggest things in jirou’s life, and i think she’d want to share it with you. that is, if you’d let her :)) she has dozens of different instruments, so if you want to attempt to learn something, she’d be totally down!! 

↠please show her what kind of music you’re into! no matter what it is, she’ll listen to it. she wants to get to know what kind of person you are when you’re not around other people, and music is a great way to do that. even if you don’t have the same taste as her, she wouldn’t mind, since a) she’ll listen to pretty much anything, she’s not picky; and b) it’s something that you’re showing her, and that’s enough to make her happy

↠she’s not a very formal person, so i think she’d just want to talk to you and hang out. i’d think kyouka would be more of a fan of a gradual relationship, one that starts from friends and slowly evolves into more. and yes, as you can probably tell, i am a sucker for mutual pining and friends-to-lovers tropes-- im a simple hoe 😌

↠she’s super fun to hang out with!! her sense of humor is really snarky, she also enjoys talking shit about people she doesn’t like. if you’re not into that, she’s able to carry on conversation really well. there’s not a moment of awkward silence between you

↠jirou actually really likes talking shit about people hsahsh- as long as it’s someone that’s been mean in some way. she won’t say anything bad about someone who hasn’t done anything to deserve it. but if you’ve wronged her in some way, boy, do you have it COMING

↠by the end of it, i just know your cheeks hurt from laughing 

↠she’s just a really fun person to be around, she may not be the most bubbly person ever, but she’s super easy-going and cool ((jirou bias incoming ekejke))

↠i do think she’d try to sneak some kind of affection if she thinks you’d reciprocate- if you’re really getting along well, she might snake her hand into yours when you’re sitting on the bed, laughing

↠honestly you might not even notice until she stops, because your hand feels empty and cold without her like your heart aa

↠if she’s really into you?? might get a smol peck on the cheek 👉👈 please try to get a smol peck on the cheek, it’s very cute and she gets so flustered

↠she goes up to you as you’re about to leave her room, grabs your shoulder, turns you around, and gives you an adorable if not slightly aggressive smooch

↠then she reFUSES to acknowledge what she just did akdfld- she turns away, beet red, and is completely silent

↠meanwhile you’re probably laughing your ass off because wow she’s so cute

↠kudos if you give one back to her, baby is on the verge of exploding ejkdjf 

↠her heart just can’t handle what you’re doing to her

↠and despite what her appearance is, her heart is doing backflips- she’s whipped <33

momo: tea and c u d d l e s

↠she’s a very fancy person, obviously. yaoyorozu wants only the best for everyone she loves, and that, of course, includes you! she loves showing affection through giving things to others. her family status only magnifies this aspect of her personality, as being born into wealth gives her the means to spoil you rotten

↠and even though she’s bougie as all hell, she also somehow maintains an elegant and simple air about her. it’s impressive, really. it’s not like she tries to flex her money, it’s just a part of her life, and she enjoys using her privilege well

↠that being said, what’s more elegant and mature than going for tea? it’s a lovely pastime that momo would love to include you in! 

↠lowkey,, she’s a whole sugar momma dfkdjla im not even joking- she doesn’t try to be, but virtually everything she does shows how rich she is

↠you arrive at the tea room, and by god is it fancy. there’s multiple chandeliers suspended from the ceiling, which is decorated with classic renaissance-style paintings. all the tables are set with white cloth, plates made of pure fine china, flowers and woven baskets set everywhere to create a cottagecore-like setting. the air about it is so sophisticated, from the patrons (wait is that a celebrity-) to the decorations

↠your face is kinda just,,, 😮,, because what in the world did momo get you into??

“momo, you’re so sweet, and this place is lovely, but don’t you think this is a bit much? not that i don’t absolutely appreciate it, it’s just that this seems really expensive, and i don’t want you to have to spend that much for just one date.”

↠she just chuckles, saying that it was “really nothing” (???? MISS GIRL???)

“don’t worry, y/n, this isn’t too much! i want to have fun today, and this place is so nice! let’s just find a table, alright?”

↠like, hunney, you’re so kind, but this is a LOT

↠but if you say so....

↠she looks at you with the most enthusiastic, wholesome eyes, and soon you’re following her like a puppy towards your table. the waiter sits you down, and leaves, giving you a moment to glaze over the menu to find a drink

↠and there’s so many types of teas, at least 30 on this page alone. you hadn’t even heard of half of these drinks, how would you know if you’d like them?

↠yaomomo seemed to notice your puzzlement, and said that you could get a pot of something simple, like jasmine green or earl grey, and she would get something fancier that you could try. why not?

↠a few minutes later, you’ve already adjusted to the sophisticated and intimidating environment, focusing only on the girl across from you, and how her eyes glittered with happiness

↠she orders a few normal tea foods, like scones with jam, lemon curd, and devonshire cream, and finger sandwiches. the fanciest thing she buys, though, is a blooming tea that arrives in a clear pot. it has an open flower inside of it, which is what the tea is infused with. it’s nearly 16,100 yen for one pot, though, and while you protest its expense, momo reassures you that it’s no problem (you just learned not to say anything about money, as it wouldn’t stop yaoyorozu from spoiling you)

↠ngl, it’s so fun to pretend to be fancy for a few hours at a tea room !! you acted as if you were a member of high society, using stereotypes to exaggerate your actions. it made some people only slightly irritated, but hey, it got a laugh out of a pretty girl, so who’s the real winner? 

↠yaomomo taught you some classy etiquette that you should definitely use, it makes her so happy to think that you’re learning about new things while still enjoying your time with her

↠she makes really good conversation!! her intellect seeps through everything she says, anyone who talks to her would be able to tell that she’s extremely well-spoken and mature. momo is modest, and deflects a lot of the compliments you try to give her, so if you try to display your admiration for her, you’d probably need to be very specific about it. she doesn’t have the best self-image when it comes to her heroism and field work. spoken affection sometimes doesn’t get through to her, but you know what does? physical affection!

↠she loves cuddles, and will regularly take you back to her house after a date to cuddle in her bed. her mattress is legendary, and it’s comfortable as hell. there’s an abundance of pillows and the bed isn’t too soft or too firm, and it’s always somehow an amazing temperature???? mattresses are investments, and this was definitely a good one

↠momo loves the intimacy and trust of holding you, it allows her to escape from overthinking and only focus on you, her beautiful partner. she doesn’t care if she’s the big or little spoon, but her favorite kind of cuddling is when you’re on your back and she’s curled into your side, head tucked under your chin and hand on your chest

↠she can do this for hours, please let her. she feels safe with you, confident, because you’re choosing to spend time with her in this quiet moment instead of being off somewhere else.

↠in conclusion,,, 💕women 💕

-denkineptune

[deltas-writing-corner]

Tsukumo Yuki relationship headcanons

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Tsukumo Yuki x reader

Author note: Tsukomo Yuki is the reason I love woman and she can crush me between her thighs send tweet

Warnings: Potential manga spoilers (?) | Mentions of s*x, but nothing too blatantly explicit. I would still prefer it if minors did not interact with this post in any way.

Yuki always asks the people she meets what type of woman they like. If someone were to ask that same question back to her, she’ll most certainly utter back your name as if it were an obvious response.

What’s not to love about you? You’re cute. You make her laugh. You cook for her because heaven knows she can't if her life depended on it. Most importantly, you keep her company due to the lack of curses she’s ever sent to exorcise. Traveling the world is fun and all, but it’s even more fun with you by her side!

You’re not a sorcerer. You can’t even see curses. Yuki is a childhood friend of yours and has kept you in the loop regarding the world of jujutsu sorcery since she started integrating into it. She thinks it’s important for you to know that someone like you, a non-curse user who has no control over the curse energy you create, should know what exactly your negative emotions can lead to. It’s not to make you feel bad or pin blame on you in any way. It’s her way of protecting you beyond physical means as well as a way of showing you that she places a great deal of trust in you regarding the nature of her line of work and her true goals.

Because she rejects the methods of the higher-ups and her ideology is more along the lines of putting an end to the creation of curses permanently instead of letting them manifest and dealing with them when they start causing profound trouble, you’re often the one that has to listen to all her new, sometimes overreaching, hypotheses now and then. You may even take part in her research, but she would never put you in any sort of harm! At least, not unless you give her the okay to. Be warned, if you give your blessing to be her little lab rat she’s prone to get carried away with her methods. Speak up if she’s doing something outrageous or if she’s making you uncomfortable. Otherwise, you might end up in some precarious situations.

As mentioned previously, Yuki isn’t sent out on missions that often, if ever. She instead chooses to travel in and out of the country, for the sake of her research as well as for the pleasure of it. Since she’s one of three, later four, special grade sorcerers her salary is rather tremendous. Unfortunately, her travels outside Japan are “unauthorized” and sometimes her funds get frozen by the higher-ups. Her quick solution to the matter is to fly back, take on a mission or two to get her funds unfrozen (and into your account because you’re her partner-in-crime) or even take on a mission to earn some more funds, and then you and her are right back to traveling the world again.

During one of these money replenishing heists, she met a kid that she took a particular interest in and wanted to mentor, Aoi Todo. It’s hard for most people to spark her interest to the extent Todo did, so you happily supported her endeavors and even met with her young pupil a few times throughout the years. Her methods of training are a bit....extreme, to put it lightly. You understand that holding back her punches will only hinder Todo’s progress instead of allowing him the ability to improve and push past his limits, but you can’t help but flinch over the large scar that marks his face whenever you briefly meet up with him.

Todo is eccentric, but so is Yuki. Perhaps not idol obsessed like Todo, but seeing the way he takes great care of his appearance and flaunts his body (during a battle even), he’s a near-identical clone of Yuki. She knows that she’s good-looking, and she will always flaunt this fact to anyone with working eyes, even you! Does it work every single time? Yes. Yes, it does.

Honestly, how can it not? She’s tall. She has a great butt. She drives a motorcycle. Her tight biker pants are your Achilles heels and she knows it. Sometimes she’ll wear them around the house just to flaunt her curves and other bodily goods, even if it’s the middle of the summer, the AC is broken and the pants are made of stuffy leather material. If it gets your face all heated up, she'll wear it.

The compliments she gets from strangers are nice and all, but it’s your reactions she truly cares about. You’ve been by her side through it all. You're still sticking with her even despite the fact that she’s constantly moving around and living a somewhat free-spirited lifestyle. You genuinely support and help her when almost everyone else has rejected her methods and ideals and brush her off as some lazy, outrageous-thinking woman. Really, you stole this woman’s heart just by letting her be herself, a lazy, outrageous-thinking woman.

Yuki is indeed lazy, to the point it sometimes affects you and your shared apartment is left in a week-long accumulated mess. I’m talking clothes strewed about and spilling out the already full laundry basket, sink filled with dirty dishes, houseplant half dead due to insufficient watering, and little dusty bunnies in the corner of the room. Whenever you try to get around to getting your living space in order, she always drags you back to the bed with her either to nap some more or for a quick round of sex that leads to more napping. Eventually, you have to beat her with a pillow and threaten her with no sex for a certain period of time to get her to back off, which always works without fail.

If you really hold the “no sex until...” ultimatum over her head long enough, she’ll even pitch in and help you clean. But to be honest she kinda sucks at it so it’s sometimes better to just have her sit on the sidelines while you do all the work. She’ll jokingly suggest you clean with just an apron on (because she’s a freak like that), but you haven’t taken her up on the suggestion just yet. It’s mostly because you’ll use the “naked apron” method to further insinuate her punishment if your usual threat begins to lose its potency (because you are also a freak like that).

She’s a bad sleeping partner. Not only does she hog all the blankets and pillows, but she even stretches out her limbs over the entire bed. This usually leaves you curled up in a corner shivering your ass off until you either fall asleep via exhaustion or move to the couch. If you go to the couch, she’s 99.9% likely to wake up and join you shortly after, where she’s less of a hassle to deal with because of the limited space.

She’s a great big spoon, which is actually one of the ways you later use to solve her troublesome habits as once she latches onto you, she will not let go the rest of the evening. Unfortunately, she also snores terribly loud, but it’s nothing earbuds can’t fix.

Some might think she sleeps in something flattering, maybe even a bit scanty. That couldn’t be any further from the truth. Her pj’s are decades-old shirts and gym shorts that she never got around to getting rid of. If not that, she’ll sleep completely naked and she doesn’t care if someone walks in on her with the covers off. She’ll only ever wear lingerie or other promiscuous pieces of clothing if she has intentions of getting between your legs and rocking your world for the rest of the night.

I think it goes without saying that she looks great in lace, but as hot as she may look, she really likes seeing you dressed up in something risque as well.

If you’re female, she sometimes likes to wear matching lingerie sets with you, but her favorite material to see you in is leather, especially those harness-styled sets that squeeze your flesh all around.

If you’re male, she’s a complete sucker for a man in a clean-cut, custom-tailored suit and will take it off as soon as you put it on. Hope you don’t mind losing a button or two, because she will pop them off for sure when she rips your dress shirt off of you.

To all my gender-neutral folks, It’s never too late to whip out that naked apron I mentioned earlier! Or a leather jacket. Everyone looks great in a leather jacket!

Yuki’s diet is fucking terrible. You’re a decent cook, but despite this, all she ever seems to want is greasy take-out food that makes you wonder how the hell she’s still so fit after witnessing her down three chicken burritos in one sitting. Even when the two of you are abroad and are able to try out different types of cuisines not so readily available in Japan, she’ll still want to go out to a fast food joint that you can easily find everywhere. You’ve tried to get her to branch out of her comfort zone and eat somewhat healthier alternatives of her favorite foods, but so far you’ve gotten mixed results.

In summary: Yuki is a pretty outgoing person and sometimes can be a bit of a hassle to deal with, but she’s clearly ambitious and moves to the tune of her own beat. Her goal of finding and effectively eliminating the source of all curses is a testament to the fact that she wants to save future generations from having to carry the burden sorcerers have been carrying for thousands of years. Her goals are not only for the sake of the people who will come after her, but also for the sake of her future with you. You’re someone she genuinely cares for and wishes to spend the rest of her life with, evident by the numerous times she’s come clean to you about her fears of you dying when she isn't around to protect you or of her dying and leaving you behind to mourn during late-night pillow talks in hotels or in your shared home. A future where you and her can travel the world and truly take in and enjoy the sights and wonders instead of searching for an answer to one of the world’s greatest phenomenon is a future worth fighting for, even if she’s met with some pushback or the end goal seems like nothing more than a pipedream at times. So long as you’re there with her to see her research bear fruit, she’ll keep testing and coming up with new methods to eliminate curses permanently, no matter the extremes her research takes her to.

[writing-for-me-at-this-point]

The Missing Guardian | Prologue: Act I Scene I | Mondstadt: The Outlander Who Caught The Wind

A.N. okay! so first chapter of a new series im starting! its a series rewrite of the genshin impact plot. i had always wanted to do one of these, and with my comic obsession, if you read marvel/dc comics youll find some crossovers hints. hope yall enjoy as i finally start to write and get on some type of schedule. its also one in the morning so imma head to bed :)

Word Count. 1,633 words

Page Count. 4.8 pages

Synopsis. When you’ve finally found a home in a set of twins who travel across worlds, setting out to enjoy your time with them; learning everything you could while traveling from world to world. But this time was different, because this time, someone stood in your way from continuing forward, from going home. You watched as your family was torn from you once again, leaving you stuck in a world alone with only a guide, the memories of a life long left behind, and the hope of finding them once again.

[ Series Masterlist: The Missing Guardian Mini Masterlist ]

[ Act I, Scene I ] [ next scene ]

Prologue Act I: Scene I | Monstadt: The Outlander Who Caught The Wind

                So, what you're trying to say is that you fell here? From another world?

                But, when you wanted to leave and go back to your world... Your path was blocked by some unknown God?

        You could only nod at Paimons commentary, watching as she floated next to you, a small hand to her chin as she looked deep in thought. Looking forward to the vast openness of the ocean in front of you, memories flashing before your own eyes as the pain settled in your heart, the wind slowly picking up before the tears filled your eyes. It hurt to think back at what happened, to how you lost them, the two people to found you after being lost for so long.

        That carmine red outlining the dark abyss shaped like a star would haunt you as a woman walked out, snowy white hair and the bandages around her legs flowing around her as her voice seemed to break through your skull, demanding your attention while the twins next to you could only look up in confusion. The anger in those golden eyes was enough to make you take a step back, you've never met her- Hell, you've never seen or heard of anyone like her, so why did she come at you with such ferocity? Even her mere presence contrasted with the ivory, baby blues, and gold of your surroundings, the heavenly area around you tainted with this... Unknown God.

        "Outlanders, your journey ends here." She demanded, the portals behind her sharpening with the wave of her hand. Lumine took a step forward, her shock evident in the small gasp she let out before speaking, determination and confusion spilled across her features.

        "Who are you?"

        "The sustainer of heavenly principles." She responds quickly, bringing a hand up to her line of vision with a small red and black cube in her hand, twirling it causing the ground beneath you to tremble, Aether looking between you and his sister. Shaking your head, you bent your knees ready to jump, the engines in your heavy boots started up, as your mask appeared on your face once again with only a light touch to the earpiece.

        "The arrogation of mankind ends now." The ground lit up around you, red and irritated with magic you haven't seen before, your boots shooting you into the air as Aether and Lumine jumped- following your lead as they pulled their golden swords and allowed their wings to manifest, holding themselves in the air.

        It was barely a second, before you moved forward with the twins by your side, your hands moving to the Quads in their holsters and taking them out for another fight. You only thanked whatever Gods in your own world were listening, and that damn mentor of yours, before your mind went back to the battle at hand- requiring you to fly around and dodge the large amounts of glistening red and gold cubes that came in your way, blocking you from the target of the Unknown God.

        Before you knew it, the end of this battle came quickly, an explosion from the mere speed of you, Lumine, and Aether stopping right before the Unknown God to attack.

        And that second was all she needed to do what was needed. 

        Her gaze fell upon you, making you shiver in fear, before you flew back and blasted a beam of energy at her from your Quad, only for it to be absorbed by a cluster of cubes. Your voice came out robotic, echoed with the technology that covered your face, you eyes moving to see the cluster of cubes enveloping the twins that were once beside you. 

        "Aether! Lumine!" They only looked at you in horror, fading once the cubes covered them whole, returning to the Unknown God in a hollowed and golden version of her twisted and unique weapon. She watched the rotating cube with wide, uncaring eyes, giving you enough time to circle around her and attack once more- throwing the handheld mines from your belt onto her form, the beeping accelerating once it met her skin, and an explosion following quickly. 

        By the time the smoke cleared, and before your mask could scan and gain some sense of recognition, the cubes that protected the Unknown God attached themselves to your outstretched hand, closing in on you while maintaining the explosion you caused. Eventually, it all settled into one cube that contained your hand, before you followed the same fate as the twins.

        "Wait! Don't go! Give them back!" You managed to scream, desperation in your voice, as you watched another family be taken from you once again, your vision fading into darkness and your heart breaking once again.

                And just like that, the god took away my friends.

                Some kind of seal was put on my being, and the power I had was gone.

                And while I had the freedom to travel the universe, worlds, and entirely new realms.

                I was now trapped.

        "How many years ago was it? I don't know, Paimon. But, I've gotta. I have to." You answered Paimons question, still looking out to the sea in front of you, mask now hidden into the earpiece that decorated your left lobe. The leather of your jacket warmed you from the cool breeze of the sea, the bodysuit underneath regulated your body temperature in any environment, but you specifically used it when in space when you held the title of Guardian. But you couldn't afford to think about that now.

        Not when there's a chance of finding Aether and Lumine. 

        "After I woke up, I was alone- until I met you two months ago." You finished, looking over to your floating friend, who only turned as she spoke.

        "Yeah. Paimon really owes you for that. Otherwise Paimon likely would have drowned... So, Paimon will do her best to be a great guide!" She smiles, hands on her hips while looking up to you, seeing as she always chose to float around chest-level when around you. You sighed, a weak chuckle escaped your lips before you sat up from the sand, brushing off the back of your cargo pants and looking towards your guide for this new world- patting her head and making sure to be careful of the crown that hovered above her.

        You had only hoped Paimon would do most of the talking for you anyways, due to Tevyat’s language being foreign even to your ears and tongue, a feat for a Guardian of your reputation. A decent understanding of the oral part of the language under your belt, you found reading to be easier, since it did look similar to some scripts back in your own world. Your thoughts were cut off as Paimon spoke up, calling for you to follow her as she sped ahead of you, following the path from out of the beach to the grassy area ahead of you.

        "Awe, the path ends here. I guess we'll just have to climb, huh?" You rolled your eyes, shaking your head while you started to heave yourself up the large rock, Paimon taking notice of this.

        "You mean I have to climb the rock, P, you just have to float." You laughed, reaching the top with a grunt before she whined about floating taking as much energy as walking or climbing. It wasn't bad, you've climbed a lot worse in even more horrid situations, but damn did that take a good breath from you. You'd have to work on rebuilding some of your stamina while traveling here, and possibly need to find some supplies to settle somewhere for a bit, maybe even collect whatever currency they had here.

        "Well, let's take the route we planned! We're off to... a Statue of The Seven!" She smiles with glee, before a questionable face appears as you both move forward, her head turning towards you as you attempt to take in much of the scenery and areas you could. Your heavy boots only crushed the poor underbrush and grass that came into contact with it, your belt that was filled with gadgets and such clinking with the sway of your hips- hitting the holsters.

        This world is beautiful...

        "Which of The Seven are you looking for exactly?" She asked, making you shrug your shoulders at her, hands up as you walked towards a nearby tree- picking up the strange orange fruits and packing them away before moving forward. They looked like some weird crossbreed of orange and pear, but, you hoped it would taste as good as it looked.

        "To be honest? Any of them. They should have some idea of what happened, but even then, The Seven are gods in this world- and from what I remember of gods... they aren't too sane to say the least." You said, reaching a small cliff side that overlooked a lake with a statue near the edge of the small island in the center of it. 

        "That's a Statue of The Seven!" She pointed in its direction as you gave her your full attention, your finger going to touch the back of your ear to signal that, mindful of the metal to not trigger the activation of your mask.

        "There are a few of these statues scattered across the land to show The Seven's protections over the world. Among the seven gods, this god controls the wind. Paimon's not sure whether the god your looking for is the Anemo God, but... Paimon'll take you to the Anemo God's place first, and there's a reason why~" She muses, giving you a small wink before turning around, allowing you to follow her down the path to the first Statue of The Seven.

        To the first step towards finding Aether and Lumine.

        Your journey has started.

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Qianna: Character Rambling

Been thinking about this lady more and more for a while since I’ve been utterly obsessed with Devil May Cry (that teenage fangirlism hit back hard when I poked at DMC5 lmao), which is where she’s found a home in when it comes to day-dreaming. xD

As of now Qianna (sometimes also referred to as Qiqi [Kiki]) is a witch and devil hunter that had her soul forcefully infused with demon souls when she was a teen. This allows her to freely use magic without needing some sort of medium, rituals, or deals/contracts with demons. However, she has to continue to consume demon souls in order to continue using her magic because utilizing her abilities burns through the souls. Kinda basing my logic on the idea in Visions of V that an unhosted demon soul would die and disappear (thus why Griffon wanted to establish a contract with V). In Qiqi’s case, since the demons in question didn’t agree to use her as a host, their souls are kind of in a limbo while she holds onto them; they got a longer shelf-life than normal, but they do decay over time, especially when magic is being used.

Oh, also~ some of the magical abilities she is able to use depends on the specific type of demon soul she’s burning through, and they have special physical manifestations connected to that too. So like…if she’s using the soul of a Green Empusa, she’d be able to do things like healing and sustained hovering (maybe have green transparent wings or something), or a Riot soul would create claw gauntlets over her own arms and hands. It’d look pretty similar to Nero’s wings/arm things when he’s not in full DT mode. :3c I’m sure that means nothing.

Qianna isn’t…thrilled with this ability. Her mother forced it on her when she was young, thinking it’d be a good way for Qianna to have a fighting chance against the demons and other enemies that tend to harass their family line. Qiqi and her mother come from a long line of psychics and hunters that have been a thorn in many-a-paranormal-entity’s side. However the soul infusion shit just ends up making Qianna an even bigger target (all that demonic energy just attracts more to her).

I’m not yet sure how she and Vergil meet when they’re teenagers. One idea I had was Vergil sought her mother out for information or a way to hide his energy from demons that hunt him or soooomethiiiing? This part is fuzzy ‘cause I still am trying to get an idea of what the heck Vergil was doing from when his family was attacked to visiting Fortuna and DMC3 events. If someone wants to tell me any factoids I haven’t found out yet about Vergil’s childhood/teen years, feel free to ramble about it to me, or give me a heads up that it’s all just up to fan speculation at this point.

But anyway! Qianna isn’t a ball of sunshine, but she is a wise-ass (would she fit into the DMC universe if she wasn’t? lmao), so they get along about as well as you’d expect at first. Vergil spends a decent amount of time around her (he comes and goes like a stray cat) and, in his own dumbass stoic way, warms up to her presence. Their bond fully kicks off though when Vergil happens to drop by when Qianna’s mother is performing the spell to merge Qiqi’s soul with several demons’. Unfortunately, he shows up too late to force a stop to the ritual (once it starts, it’s too dangerous to the target of the spell to stop it), but once it’s done, he’s quick to step in and take Qianna away from her mother while she recovers from the traumatic (and incredibly painful) event. At this point in his life, Vergil still believes that Eva abandoned him to die, so seeing a mother basically torture her own child to near death lit a bit of a fire under his ass.

Once she fully recovers, she tentatively asks Vergil if she can stick with him, at least until she has a more competent grasp on her new abilities to look out for herself (‘cause oof…she is Rough at first lmao). They’re not exactly Supah Besties at this point, so she’s not quite sure how he’ll respond to her request; deep down she’s mostly just afraid of being on her own. Vergil ends up agreeing though, and they end up sticking together even after her skills increase (causevergildoesn’tlikebeingaloneeither).

Naturally, they become much closer as they travel together. Vergil learns to appreciate the bit of levity Qianna brings to his daily life; she never manages to get him to full-out laugh or anything, but she can bully a smile out of him from time to time. Qiqi manages to sneak her way into being the one person Vergil intrinsically trusts to watch his back (the fact that she’s plenty competent in a fight along with being so handy with spells [and seal-breaking in particular] helped a lot in his growing tolerance of her). But haha that doesn’t last.

Now, the reasons why Vergil was in Fortuna and WHEN he’s there seem pretty fuzzy. It’d make so much sense of Arkham’s mansion (and therefore the library that Vergil peruses when they first meet) to be in Sparda Cult Land, but…alas, that doesn’t seem to be the case as far as canon is concerned. So I kinda do an ass pull on why Qianna and Vergil meet up in Fortuna. I’d say they meet Arkham in all his icky glory, Qianna doesn’t trust Arkham at all and wants nothing to do with the man, period. However Vergil is more open to using Arkham for his own gains. So maybe Qiqi suggests they at least cover their asses and do some of their own research into the Temen-ni-gru to see if Arkham is actually on to something or completely full of shit. She goes to ahead on to Fortuna on her own since I imagine it’s like…The Place for information about Sparda and Vergil meets up with her there. (Yeah! I’m ignoring random Fortuna girl swooning over our favorite weeb lmao. Any girl can and probably has done that, she ain’t special bahaha. Qianna probably sees it go down and makes fun of Vergil for being such a lady killer IDK.)

Anyway, she probably finds some sort of information about Temen-ni-gru, and they end up sticking around to look into the Order because hey they’re weird and worth oogling. Annnnd obviously this is where they end up conceiving Nero. I imagine Qianna and Vergil have already had sex several times prior to Fortuna (I mean…they’re a pair of good looking teenagers…hormones a-raging and all xD), so it ain’t nothing special, just study break things lmao. They leave Fortuna together and return to Arkham’s mansion, and this is about where shit falls apart. I wouldn’t put it by Arkham to gaslight Vergil into pushing Qianna away (“she’s a weak human and she makes you weak blahblahblah”). Qianna still isn’t buying Arkham’s whole story and I’m sure the clown knows it, so better to get her the fuck out before she can ruin his plans by talking sense into Vergil.

So yeah, the last time Vergil and Qianna see each other until decades later they have a nasty fight and Qiqi gets kicked to the curb with a pretty much shattered heart. We love the angst bahah.

She ends up returning to Fortuna after she finds out she’s pregnant, finding the town safer for her to have the baby since the Order exists and keeps demons at bay pretty well at this point in time. Her powers still attract demons, and she has no one else to turn to for help at this point in her life, so Fortuna is the best option for her to be in a vulnerable state. She opts to have Nero even after the bad break off from Vergil because dammit if she still doesn’t have Feelings for the asshole. Qianna originally planned to keep and raise Nero, but after he was born, she fully realized just how ill-prepared she was to not only take care of a baby, but keep them both safe from demons and other unsavory types. Reluctantly, she decides to hand him over to an orphanage in Fortuna. She does drop by the town once in a blue moon to discreetly check on Nero as he grows, but keeps her distance.

Qianna is a Youpla Dolls Alize Lupita in chocolate skin.