#tw unethical practices

[abrahamvanhellsingjournal]

Entry Three: Date November 23rd 1898

Things have not been going as planned in the past several days. My attempts in finding more about the biological functions of vampires, and specifically Dracula have come to a stand still, due to Dracula healing far too quickly for any head way to be produced. Trying to keep the incision open with forceps does nothing for the flesh will just heal around it, and cause the forceps to get stuck forcing it to be cut out, not very productive for either myself or Dracula.

I find myself frustrated by it, as I go down in an attempt to conduct a dissection, only to be thwarted in any attempt by the ridiculous regenerative ability. I am attempting to understand it, for when Dracula was staked, his body did not react in the same way, and in fact, that particular wound is still in the process of healing. I suspect it will leave quite the nasty scar behind when fully healed.

Back to the problem I have with not being to dissect the specimen, I wonder if an oil made from garlic or using tools made of silver would work better than the steel tools I am currently working with, for it does seem to slow when cuts are made with such instruments, though a butter knife is hardly the right instrument to conduct any kind of surgery with. On another note, I am quite surprised to find that Dracula seems to be able to feel pain, for when I first used the butter knife on him in a fit of scientific frustration, he seemed to hiss in pain, and tried to twitch away from the source. He also has displayed similar behaviors when my forceps have gotten stuck in his flesh, and are subsequently ripped out, though it is a lessened reaction compared to the butter knife made of silver.

[tiredflowercrown]

there's no bandage (to lessen the damage)

Hehe @panthera-tigris-venenata you wanted all three right? You wanted this right? Are you prepared for what you asked for? I'm not sure you are but oh well.

Trigger Warning: Dehumanisation, Unethical medical practices, Human experimentation

All vauge, but you have been warned

CJ had always been reckless. Ever since she could walk she had been getting in trouble, running into situations she shouldn’t belong or climbing up masts. She was rambunctious and loud and free.

There was no one really free on the Isle like CJ was. A luxury granted to her by her siblings, who held so much fear on the Isle no one dared touch her unless they were a fool. She ran from place to place doing as she pleased. So it was no wonder that it was these habits that did her in.

CJ had been enjoying Auradon. There was so much for her to explore, to find, to steal, to simply wreck havoc upon. Running from place to place, kingdom to kingdom, was exhilarating. She finally had people willing to give chase. The thrill of the hunt had been the most addicting thing she had felt yet.

So when the guards got close, within eyesight, and she ran, her voice bubbled with laughter. Crazy psychotic laughter. The only kind she knew, well the only kind she let the public know she had a reputation to protect. It rang out for miles, hiding her in the scenery to most, yet one guard kept her eyes on her, tracking her through the trees and brush, waiting for the perfect moment, the perfect shot.

CJ had stopped for a breath when it happened, standing on a branch, a huge smile across her face. The arrow in her chest took all of that away. She fell, shock replacing her smile, blood quickly blossoming along her shirt. Upon hitting the ground, the audible crunch of bones had even the guard flinching.

She approached closer, careful due to CJ’s known trickery, calling in the fall and potential capture of a wanted fugitive. The young girl just lied there. She seemed so simple, so small with her quickly blood soaking shirt and glassy eyes.

Somewhere on an Isle miles away, two people scream. A piece of their heart gone. They don’t know how. They don’t know why. Just a sinking gut and a searing pain telling them everything they need to know.

“She’s dead. The fugitive is dead. Prepare for extraction.”

The guard looked mournfully, remembering the details of the profile she was given: Calista Jane Hook, Age 14. She had only been a child.

No. She couldn’t think like that. The fugitive was dangerous for a reason. The property damage and millions of stolen goods spoke for itself. No. The world was far better with it out of it. (It had to be right?)

The body is taken in. A full work up is done. Medical tests and examinations. A full autopsy. A full cause of death and all the contributing factors. Everything is done. No stone is left unturned. No one had ever gotten a chance to truly see what the Isle had done to people before, they didn’t want to miss a single detail. Not when something so fascinating, so rare was in front of them. A whole study at their disposal, no ethics board sitting in their way. Not when there was no eligible next of kin. Not when there wasn’t a single soul who cared about the dead fugitive.

In a castle miles away sat a girl searching. For a way to talk, to get her back, to make a deal. A life for a life. Anything. She didn’t mean what she said. She didn’t want to be alone, didn’t want to be in a world without her wildfire. She couldn’t do this without her.

Finally after much pushing from the Crown, the fugitive’s body was released, but not without plenty of samples taken to continue testing. When it finally reached the hands of one Freddie Facilier, she wept at the loss of her dear CJ, who was almost unrecognizable. She was lifeless, none of her abundance of energy to be seen. Massive chunks of her hair were missing, surgical lines across every limb of her body. Every part of her dissected.

She crafted letters, being careful of who saw her. It wouldn’t do to have her surprise ruined. She mourned and buried her wildfire. CJ deserved to rest, deserved to be left alone from Auradon’s pain and torture. She watched and waited for vengeance, it didn’t belong to her, not really. And the sea always helped the sea, a ship couldn’t sail without waves. They grew closer and she grew more content, they will avenge her. They will avenge CJ.

When the siblings finally reach Auradon, it will burn. Their fury will reach levels never seen before. Lives will be taken, buildings broken into and burned. Every inch of what had been done to their sister, every reminder, every document will be destroyed. They don’t deserve her or the knowledge that their “research” on her gave them.

But it will never be enough.

Because Calista Jane will remain dead. She will remain in the ground (Or in labs never found.) She will never speak again. She will never laugh again. She will never run again. She will never be again.

Only the memory of her will remain untainted. And even that is not enough.

[rie-092]

note: so, i was doing some of the pending requests and i ended up re-reading this manga that i read last month and a prompt suddenly came into my mind and i won't be able to sleep properly tonight if i don't share this rn. yes, i'm always like this. sooooo this is tcf with a mad doctor! reader (i based it from takahashi akira of youkai gakkou no sensei hajimemashita)

tw: blood, unethical experimentation, basically everything (reader) does.

basically you were a doctor in the same company with kim rok soo, choi jung soo and lee soo hyuk.

when kim rok soo first arrived in the company. lee soo hyuk told him about the one rule that every team has everytime they goes to their mission.

don't get hurt so they won't go to the clinic to meet you.

and for the first time, when he met you. you were able to crack rok soo's calm demeanor.

don't blame him. thanks to his ability, he can't forget the first time he met you when he and jung soo got injured in one of their mission. he was too dumb to think that you were innocent. the way you sit on your seat like a calm person and that calming smile on your face that calm his nerves that time. making him forget how serious his injury was.

but his first impression about you didn't last when jung soo, who was looking for the comfort room inside the clinic. only to open a door that leads them your 'lab area' where they saw countless monsters, hell, some are even s-class. who was jailed and practically (despite of not being able to talk at all) beg them to drag them out there.

hell, they even saw some skulls there and dried blood!

the two of them then heard your sweet voice from afar. your cheery voice that was a stark contrast of the hell that they've seen.

“oohhh, rok soo-ssi, jung soo-ssi, you've seen my collections, huh~?”

and jung soo literally screamed at the sight of you. your usual clean lab coat was stain with blood.

he remembered jung soo shakily asking you what's the liquid staining your lab coat. then it took you a minute to answer their simple question. your bright smile still plastered on your face.

"ketchup, i think?"

but there's no way that a ketchup will smell like a damn blood!

then your nurses ganged up on them. those damn nurses who for some reasons have the same smile as you. and even the same eyes with a glint of madness.

okay.what.the.hell?

the last thing rok soo could remember after that. was you, taking a damn huge saw with a crazed smile—

“alright~ it's time for your medical examination <3!"

it was followed by jung soo's screams asking lee soo hyuk (who is not present that time) for help. and you, laughing it off saying that you won't hurt them.

when he woke up, he found himself in your clinic's bed. with the traumatized choi jung soo on the bed next to them. and then, you, who just finished an operation smiling brightly at them. asking how's their feeling, if they feel alright, and many questions. followed by your chuckles saying—

“hmm, looks like that i will be able to use that drug to others now, hehe.”

and during those times they stayed at your clinic to heal their wounds. they started wondering if you are really a doctor or a serial killer.

alright, alright— what kind of doctor will go check on them with blood on their cheeks. or while holding a dismembered hand saying that it was only a display and not a real body but blood was dripping from it and it was still moving?

but, they have to admit. aside from your unhinged personality. there is something about you that makes them at ease.

oh, are you wondering what's your relationship with lee soo hyuk? well, before the apocalypse, the two of you are actually classmates.

and this guy was the one who witnessed your craziness about 'knowledge' and discovering more about human (when the truth is you actually want to see if the human internal organs are really similar to the pictures they put on the books).

and it was indeed scary. but at the same time, lee soo hyuk adores you. though, he knows that you, during the apocalypse— found love and emotions useless. because it will only be a weakness that will burden someone and might become the reason of their death.

but that doesn't mean that he will get rid of this emotions that he has towards you.

and the day that he dread the most had come.

on his way to visit choi jung soo and kim rok soo (who got injured on their last mission) to your hospital. he was petrified at the sight of the ability users panicking as they evacuated your patients— and when he asked what happened.

what he got was countless high grade monsters appeared on the hospital— (which surprised him since he knew that you keep your experiments on the clinic you had inside the company since you did that it was safer there) and the only one who's still inside was you, kim rok soo and choi jung soo.

and kim rok soo, the person who was with you that time. the person who witness your last moments. the person who now couldn't forget about you no matter how time passes by.

he remembered how you kicked choi jung soo out of the window earlier, claiming that a patient would be useless in fighting monsters. and now, you seemed to be pretty out of it. talking to yourself as you and rok soo ran to the fourth floor.

he remembered you saying—

“god of death? what are you? a person with a middle school syndrome?”

and looking outside, he saw countless ability users preparing soft cushions and urging them to jump so that they will be able to set the hospital on fire and get rid of the monsters—

and maybe because of that— you suddenly pushed him out of the window. saying something about slicing someone's stomach open and observing what's inside it if they weren't a real god.

when you saw that both kim rok soo and choi jung soo was safe. you turned your back from the crowds, smirking as you realized you were surrounded by monsters. man, this situation excites you so much.

and taking out the remote from your pockets that will defuse the home made bombs that you made and put around the hospital back when you are so bored. you started thinking on how does it feel like dying because of a bomb before you pressed the button.

you expected that you will be stuck in nothingness after that event. but when you opened your eyes, you were welcomed by the sight of a beautiful woman with a fiery red hair and reddish brown eyes, smiling softly at you.

“looks like you were awake, my little ( name ).”

while up in the heavenly realm. there is a certain someone who made sure to wipe up your memories. so that you will forget the deal about agreeing to examine him once the two of you meet one day.

yeah, he might be a god but you scares him more than anything else so hard pass <3!

[macbethsymphony]

Negotiations

Dracule Mihawk x Reader

wc: 5.2 k

tw: NSFW, 18+, this is just pure filth guys, it's 5k of smut, there's no plot. Edging, overstimulation, slightly dubcon, fingering, Mihawk has the hyperfocus of a god? this is highly toxic and slightly unethical ngl

Summary: The tale of how a negotiator convinced the marine hunter to consider becoming a warlord.

AO3

Eat, drink, nap, kill marines, drink some more, sleep, and repeat. That was the unvarying routine of Dracule Mihawk, marine hunter. At least, that’s what he’d been up to, these past two months.

Marine hunter. What a fucking joke. Marine killer was more accurate. The man was deranged, his actions driven by an insidious boredom that turned slaughter into a twisted game. It was painfully obvious that he was merely toying with the Marines, savoring the macabre sport, desperately looking for someone who would match his skills. If you had your way, you’d be plotting his demise instead. Though you supposed if you were here, it meant they’d all failed.

Tsuru’s words echoed in your mind, firm and unyielding: “I trust you are able to bring him to the table,” she had said. “You are our best negotiator, after all.”

So, you grit your teeth and set the scene. For in no world was disappointment an option; failing your superiors, especially Tsuru, was unthinkable.

Your officers were meticulously positioned, the bar’s usual faces replaced by those of disguised operatives. Only a few of the establishment's staff remained. A strategic decision to ensure the venue’s operations ran smoothly without drawing suspicion. The air was thick with tension, and you were acutely aware that the slightest misstep could unravel the entire thing. The possibility of disaster loomed large; a single error could transform this carefully orchestrated meeting into a chaotic bloodbath, with no chance of containing Mihawk’s whims.

Your heart pounded with an almost unbearable intensity, a drumbeat of anxiety and anticipation. You reminded yourself that your team were experts, each one adept at their role, and that every detail had been rehearsed to perfection. You could do this. You would succeed where all others had failed.

The door to the bar creaked open, drawing your attention as you smoothly transitioned into your assigned role. “Whiskey, neat, please,” you requested from the bartender, your eyes never leaving the imposing figure in the corner. “Actually, I’ll take the whole bottle.”

You watched with a tight-lipped smile as Mihawk, with deliberate nonchalance, made his way behind the bar. He selected two bottles of fine wine, his movements leisurely, and then settled into his usual spot, a booth in the corner, away from everyone. A fleeting, almost imperceptible smirk played on his lips as he uncorked one of the bottles and poured himself a glass. Your breath caught, a shiver of doubt sliding through you, but you forced yourself to look again. 

Good. 

It was nothing more than a trick of the light.

You downed your glass, slamming it with a bit too much force on the bar counter. 

Everything was falling into place. You had him where you wanted him; all you needed to do was stick to the script. You adjusted your dress, the provocative cut emphasizing every curve. Confidence surged through you. You knew how to handle men like him. This would be no different. 

You approached him, whiskey bottle in hand, your movements practiced and deliberate. “Hello, handsome,” you purred, your voice a silky caress. He would be putty in your hands before long.

But as his gaze locked with yours, the air between you seemed to thicken. The intensity of his stare left you breathless, feeling strangely vulnerable. The mastery you usually wielded over people faltered. You couldn’t decipher him, couldn’t read him. At all.

This was not how it was supposed to go.

Fuck.

Fuck.

You were always in control, always able to manipulate the situation with ease. You were the master and they the puppets. The fact that Mihawk’s inscrutable expression was completely impenetrable threw you off balance.

You were already committed, though. Backing out now was not an option.

“Mind if I sit?” you asked, voice dropping to a husky whisper. You allowed your fingers to trail delicately along his shoulder and then drift over the exposed skin of his chest. Your gaze flickered to the other banquette, the seat occupied by the bulk of his massive sword, back to him. The invitation in your eyes was unmistakable.

For a moment, you thought you glimpsed a spark of amusement in his gaze, but it was so fleeting that you couldn’t be sure. Mihawk tilted his head slightly, the feather on his hat accentuating the movement with a languid grace.

“Be my guest,” he said, his tone flat and devoid of emotion.

He made no move to shift from his position, no move to shift the position of his sword. You bit the inside of your cheek, forcing yourself to maintain composure. The arrangement was deliberate—there was no easy way for you to sit without essentially stepping over him and trapping yourself between him and the wall.

He was toying with you, you realized with a flicker of frustration. But if he wanted a game, you were more than capable of playing along. You were a master of your craft after all. With a deliberate motion, you took the third, more unexpected option. You straddled him, the hem of your already short dress rising even higher as your legs settled to his side. 

You held his gaze steadily as you sipped from the whiskey bottle, slamming it behind you with a practiced flourish once you were done.

His gaze didn’t shift as he drank in your form, lingering on your curves, then back to your features. You did the same, taking him in, the sharpness of his jaw, the solidity of his muscles. You’d already known he was handsome, hours of looking at pictures had told you that, but by the gods above he was almost ethereal. You prayed for a moment that the heat you felt was from the alcohol you just downed. But you knew it wasn’t.

“Bold.” The word snapped you out of your thoughts. “For a marine that is.”

Your spine went cold at the statement. 

He knew. 

Of course, he knew. 

But you were still alive, which meant he was still willing to entertain this scene. 

It’d been a power play you realized a touch too late. He’d just flipped the script you had so carefully prepared. 

Interesting. 

Absolutely thrilling.

You hadn’t expected that he’d be a worthy opponent and you’d let him earn the first point in your carelessness. It didn’t matter, however, you could easily recover from such a small blunder.

You leaned in closer, your breath mingling with his as you whispered, “Boldness is often rewarded, don’t you think, marine hunter?” Your fingers traced lazy patterns on his chest, feeling the marble-like skin, the uneven rhythm hoping to distract in its randomness.

Mihawk’s gaze darkened, his eyes flicking down to your lips before returning to your eyes. “Rewards come in many forms,” his voice was a seductive drawl. “Some more satisfying than others.”

You stopped the patterns, nails digging tenderly into hard muscles as you traveled down.

You let out a soft, breathy laugh, the sound low and inviting. “Well, I do aim to satisfy.” You pursed your lips, emphasizing the word. Your fingers continued their path, slipping to rest on his belt buckle, playing with the metal. “But satisfaction is a two-way street. What would it take to make you happy, Mihawk?”

His hand moved, a distracting caress tracing up your thigh, stopping right under the hem of your dress. The touch was electrifying, sending a shiver down your spine. “Happiness is a fleeting emotion,” he said, his eyes boring into yours. His fingers roamed back down, nails digging softly in the plush skin, mirroring your previous actions. “I prefer something more... enduring.”

Fuck.

He was good.

You swallowed, your mouth suddenly dry. “And what might that be?”

He smirked, a predatory gleam taking over the amber hues of his eyes. “Isn’t that your job to figure out, little marine?”

You bit your lip trying to come back. He wasn’t just good, he was almost your match. You could feel the unbridled heat of desire starting to swirl through your veins at the challenge. “I’m very good at my job,” you whispered, your voice dripping with insinuations as you leaned closer, your lips a hair’s breadth away. “I’m sure I can find a way to please you.”

Mihawk’s fingers traveled back up your thigh, right past the hem of your dress, dug in before the curve of your rear, the pressure a mix of pleasure and pain. “I wasn’t aware, the marines sent whores to negotiate their deals.” He looked down at you, a sneer nearly breaking his lips. 

You felt a sliver of satisfaction. He’d almost cracked. Soooo, he had standards. He didn’t like things too easy, did he? You could play with that. 

You laughed, your hands roaming up, palms flat against his chest. You traced the sharpness of his jaw. “Oh no.” You brought the tips of your fingers to his lips. “I’m not here to whore myself out. But if it brings you to the table, I’m sure I can find the sweetest cunt on the grand line for you.”

His eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint flashing through them as he considered your words. You were suddenly reminded of how he held every card, how you were at the mercy of his every caprice. You only happened to hold his attention for now, only happened to entertain him enough for him to let you and your squadron live. He was THE marine hunter. It didn’t matter if every officer in the establishment were to pull their weapons out and point at him. He’d be fine and you’d all be dead. The tension between you crackled like a storm about to break, every touch and every word a loaded gun.

“What a tempting offer,” he finally said, his voice a low purr that sent your heart racing in more ways than one. “But I find that I prefer a more... personal touch.”

To punctuate his point his hand reached further, against the curve of your ass, before coming back and digging in your hip, pressing you down to him. You almost moaned, every fiber of your being fighting the primal urges that strained to be free. You let out a silent gasp instead. This was going too far, getting out of your grasp. A mistake. An admission of your desires. You were slipping more by the moment. You moved your hand up, giving the signal for everyone to vacate. You’d have to do this alone, you wouldn’t risk so many lives on your inability to handle one man.

Mihawk noticed the subtle movement of your hand, his eyebrow arching with curiosity and a hint of amusement. “Calling off your dogs, are you? Either you’re very confident or very foolish,” he commented, his tone teasing yet edged with something sharper.

You felt a touch of annoyance prick at the edge of your mind. He was rubbing it in. Toying with you, trying to tease out reactions. Even though you felt anything but confident, you flashed a daring smile, the tension between you sparking with the undercurrent of unsaid words. 

You resumed your mindless patterns on his chest, slowly getting lower and lower. "Let's just say I would rather handle the finer details of these negotiations with more privacy. Make room for more... satisfying outcomes."

His fingers continued their dance along your side, dipping dangerously close to forbidden territory. Mihawk's smirk deepened as he seemed to see right through you, fixed right on your uncertainty. You felt yourself flailing, felt yourself losing your composure. 

“Privacy can certainly be... conducive to more fruitful negotiations,” he murmured, a dark caress relishing on the hold he held on you. He leaned in, reaching for his glass of wine. He took a slow sip, watching the gears turn in your head before putting it back behind you. “So what is it you want?” He asked, his hand grabbing to your chin, moving your head side to side with an appraising look, making you look at him.

You took a steadying breath, leaning into his touch, playing along with his game. “Oh not much,” You cooed, hand reaching his at your face, splaying it along your cheek, brushing your lips on his palm. ”I’ve only been instructed to get you to the negotiation table, nothing more, nothing less.” You dragged his hand down, spreading it along your throat bringing it over your heart. “I’m sure I could at the very least get you to consider it?”

It all happened too fast. You heard the sound of glass shattering on the floor before you registered the change in perspective. The hold he had over your throat was harsh as he pinned you down to the table, the remnants of the wine pooling in the tile like spilled blood.

“You think you can just waltz in and sway me with a few promises, like a common man?” There was something nearing disappointment in his tone and you realized you’d messed up. You’d been too hasty, too forward, he had been hoping to play longer. “How about this little marine, show me how badly you need me to do what you need and if you’re entertaining enough, I might consider it.”

The shift in Mihawk’s demeanor was almost terrifying in its intensity, and you struggled to keep your composure as his grip tightened on your throat. Your mind raced, trying to find a way to turn the situation back in your favor. The room was deathly silent in its emptiness, the tension palpable and if it wasn’t for the stiffness of his crotch against yours you’d think you’d lost all of your cards.

It might just get you killed but you arched your back beneath him, pressing into him. Your thighs trembled at his side as you struggled for breath but still, your hands grasped at his over your throat, pushing him further against you, cutting your airflow almost completely. If he wanted a show, then you’d give him one he’d remember until his last moments on earth.

Mihawk’s grip on your throat tightened for a second and you thought for an instant that this was it, that the underworld awaited you. But before darkness could cloud your eyes he loosened it, his gaze glinting with a mixture of curiosity and dark amusement. You could feel the rapid beat of your heart echoing in your ears as you gasped for breath, your whole body shaking beneath his. The room seemed to pulse with the intensity of the moment, every sense heightened.

“You’re quite the performer,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that only served to enhance the heat building between your legs. “But I’m not easily swayed by theatrics. Show me something real.”

You swallowed hard, your throat still aching from his grip, but you forced a smile. “Real, you say?” You let your hands glide away from his wrist, trailed your curves, and slipped the straps of your dress off from your shoulders, revealing more skin and black lace. “I can do real.”

Mihawk’s eyes darkened with interest, his gaze tracing the path of your hands as they moved. He released his grip on your throat, his fingers now trailing down to your collarbone, leaving a searing embers in their wake. The intensity in his stare was almost overwhelming, and you knew you had to find a way to keep control of the situation, even if it felt like you were barely holding on.

You grasped his hand, guiding it along your bare skin, to the plushness of your breast. “What is it you truly desire, Mihawk? Power? Control? Or perhaps something more... visceral?” You practically moaned out the words. 

His hand lingered on the lace, pushing it aside, fingers tracing lazy circles. The air between you was electric, charged with unspoken promises and the underlying tension of a predator toying with its prey.  This was a delicate game. You let out a soft moan, arching your back further, pressing yourself against him, rolling your hips.

A smirk broke on his lips as he saw right through your little performance. He knew exactly what game you were playing, and it was clear he was enjoying every moment of it. His hand moved with deliberate slowness, tracing the curve of your breast, his touch a maddening mix of gentle and firm. The control you sought seemed to slip further from your grasp with each passing second.

“And what do you propose, little marine?”

You let out a soft, breathy laugh. “I propose we make this interesting. A game, if you will. You test my… resolve, and I test yours. We both get what we want.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “A game, you say? And what are the stakes?”

You bit your lip, your hand guiding his lower, your fingers ushering his along the dripping lace of your underwear. “If I can prove my worth to you, you agree to come to the negotiation table. If I fail...” You paused, letting the weight of the words hang between you. “If I fail, you can do with me as you please.”

He pushed aside the ruined fabric, the pads of his fingers meeting your slick before dipping inside. “You’re playing a dangerous game, little marine.” His smirk widened as a moan escaped you. “What makes you think I can’t just take what I want?”

The words hung in the air, thick with implication. You felt the intensity of his gaze boring into you, the heat from his touch searing into your skin. As though to emphasize his point, his thumb found your clit, tracing slow, deliberate circles, each movement sending jolts of pleasure through your body, mewls you tried to muffle out of your lips.

You swallowed hard, your breath coming in ragged gasps. “You could,” you admitted, your hand wrapping around his wrist as he moved his fingers in a come-hither motion, pressing all those delightfully right spots. Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, fingers trembling, nails digging into him as a wave of ecstasy washed over you. You struggled to come back, half-lidded eyes meeting his. “But I’m sure I can make it much, much more entertaining for you if you decide to play along.”

His eyes flickered with a mixture of amusement and dark curiosity. “You certainly know how to make an offer enticing.” He leaned in close, his breath touching your lips. “But from where I’m standing you’re already breaking.”

He was right, you were so close to falling apart under him. "Am I not to your pleasing?" You asked, voice trembling against his. You reached up and discarded his hat, your fingers seeking to tangle in his hair. “Am I not entertaining enough for you, marine hunter?”

He chuckled, his lips brushing over yours. His fingers continued their tantalizing exploration, pushing you closer to the edge with each deliberate movement. He was testing you, pushing your limits to see how far you could go. And yet, despite the overwhelming intensity, you were determined to hold your ground.

“You are quite pleasing,” he admitted, his voice was thick with lust and its intensity almost sent you over. “But I wonder, how much more can you take before you beg for mercy?”

You bit your lip, a mixture of defiance and desire burning in your eyes. “I don’t beg, Mihawk. That’s what makes it interesting.”

His smirk widened, his fingers pressing deeper, eliciting another soft moan from you. “Bold words, little marine. Very bold indeed. Let’s see if that’s true.”

His lips met yours, slow and teasing, a dance of dominance and submission, a battle for control, a negotiation of its own. He moved against you with a practiced precision, each movement calculated to draw out your reactions. You could feel the intensity of his desire, the raw power behind each touch.

You were close. So fucking close. 

You swore under your breath as he suddenly stopped.

“I wonder what will make you break the fastest.” Satisfaction was evident in his voice as he felt you flutter around his fingers. “Denial or pleasure?”

Your breath hitched at Mihawk's words, the sensation of his fingers lingering just out of reach driving you to the edge of your sanity. This was a dangerous game, one where you had to balance the razor's edge between control and surrender. If… if you managed to hold out long enough… even he couldn’t resist lust forever. 

You couldn't let him see just how close you were to breaking.

Drawing on every ounce of willpower, you forced a sly smile. Your hands left his hair and traced down his chest. "Why not try both and find out?" 

He interrupted their path as you reached his belt. Deftly he brought them over your head, his weight pinning you entirely in place as he started moving his fingers again. His eyes gleamed as he looked down at you, relishing the arch of your body against his, relishing your struggle. 

He leaned close, his breath hot against your ear. "Now, now,” he tutted at you. “You can’t just skip ahead. Let's see how long you can endure."

Before you could respond, his lips descended on yours again, demanding and possessive. The kiss was bruising, filled with the same intensity that characterized every touch and word between you. His fingers made you see stars, their exploration agonizingly slow, teasing you mercilessly, never quite giving you what you needed.

You moaned into his mouth, bucked against his hand, your every instinct overtaken by a desperate need for release. The tension between you was unbearable, every nerve ending screaming for more. 

He stopped and started again and again and again, until you struggled with your breath and your whole body quivered and sang to each of his demands.

Mihawk's lips left yours, trailing down your jawline to your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that almost made you lose your mind. "You're holding up better than I expected," he murmured against your skin, biting softly on your exposed nipple before soothing it with his tongue.

You barely managed a breathless laugh, closer to sobs than anything. "I told you, Mihawk. I don't break easily."

He chuckled, a sound that was both dark and amused. "We'll see about that."

His fingers moved with a different purpose now, driving you closer and closer to the edge, fast and hard. You could feel the tension coiling within you, the impending release just out of reach. And still, he held you there, teetering on the brink, refusing to let you fall.

It was maddening, the way he controlled you so effortlessly, drawing out every ounce of pleasure and frustration until you thought you might lose your mind. And yet, you couldn't help but crave more and he couldn’t help but to push you further, to see just how far you could go before you finally shattered.

"Please," you whispered, the word slipping out before you could stop it.

You felt his smile against your skin. “There we go,” he drawled out the words. “The little marine knows how to beg after all.”

With a sudden, devastating precision, he drove you over the edge, his fingers moving in perfect rhythm to bring you to the peak of ecstasy. You cried out, your body convulsing with the force of your release, your muscles straining against his hold.

As you came back to reality, he withdrew his fingers, leaving you gasping at the sudden loss. He brought his hand to your mouth, his eyes never leaving yours. “Taste your resolve, little marine.”

You opened your mouth, taking his fingers in, your tongue swirling around them, tasting the remnants of your desire. The act was a surrender and he watched you with contentment, his gaze victorious.

“Good girl,” his voice was a satisfied purr, one that made your mind feel fuzzy and your body hot. “Now let’s see how well you break under pleasure.” 

His hands moved to your hips, his grip firm as he repositioned you with ease, brought you closer to the edge of the table. You felt some of your slick cooled by time, seep into the fabric of your dress, against your lower back as he pulled you over the puddle of arousal that had been slowly gathering on the wooden top.

His movements were deliberate, calculated, his eyes never leaving yours as he took off his belt, the leather sliding through the loops with a whispering sound. He eyed it for a moment, a slow smile spreading across his lips before his attention came back to you. 

“Will you be a good?” His tone was threatening. “Or do I have to restrain you again?”

You swallowed hard, your breath catching in your throat. The challenge was unmistakable.  “I can be good,” you whispered, your voice hoarse but it sounded unconvincing, even to your ears. The thought of being powerless under his hold once again was somehow unbearable.

Mihawk’s smile widened, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “I don’t think you can, little marine.”

With a swift motion, he looped the belt around your wrists, pulling it tight enough to restrain but not to hurt. The leather bit into your skin, the sensation unnerving.

”You’re just waiting for a chance to turn the tables, aren’t you?”

You quirked your head to the side, a hint of defiance shining through. “Can you blame me?” He let go of your hands and you made no effort to keep them up, letting them drop to your stomach. “It’s not fair if you hold ALL the cards.”

“Fairness is a luxury, little marine.” His hands moved to your thighs, pushing them apart with a firm, insistent pressure. “A luxury one can rarely indulge in when playing to win.”

He paused for a moment, his gaze raking over your form, something you couldn’t decipher spreading on his features, an intensity you’d only ever seen on wild animals.

“I must admit, you’re quite the sight.” His fingers traced the edge of your underwear. With a swift motion, he tore the delicate fabric away, leaving you completely exposed. “But I think you’ll be much more entertaining once broken.”

Your breath caught in your throat in a small hiccup, the threat in his words not escaping you. Your eyes stood at a standstill as he deliberately slowly undid his pants.

His cock met your heat, gathering your slick and the soft pressure on your oversensitive clit made you want to twist and buck beneath him. He brought one of your already trembling legs over his shoulder, his hand roaming up and down in a soothing touch. 

You felt his tip at your entrance, the slow delightful stretch as he entered you in a tortuously unhurried advance. Your entire body reacted to the sensation, you arched beneath him, your eyes fluttering close, your wrists strained against your bindings desperate to hold unto something, anything to ground you. The pleasure was intense, almost overwhelming and as he met your cervix you couldn’t help the sharp cry that escaped your lips, nor the tears gathering in your eyes.

“You’re so tight, little marine,” Mihawk chuckled, taking in every detail of the moment and searing it in his mind. “So responsive. I can feel you clenching around me, trying to hold on.” 

His movements were controlled, each thrust calculated to draw out your reactions, to push you closer to the edge. You wouldn’t beg. You wouldn’t cry for mercy. You were so close. Each drag of his cock against your fluttering walls was heavenly. The room seemed to fade away, the only thing that mattered was the sensation of him inside you. 

You could feel the dam within you beginning to crack and then his hand found your clit once more and your breath stopped. It was too much. You came around him with a desperate gasp.

He didn’t stop, his thrusts still perfectly controlled. You knew the overstimulation was coming but it didn’t prepare you for the moment it washed over you. Your eyes shot open and makeup blurred tears stained your cheeks. You fought as though it was a matter of life or death. It was too much. Too fucking much. But his hands held you firmly in place, unable to escape his relentless assault.

And then a second orgasm rippled through your veins, blinding and even more intense than the first. 

But he still didn’t stop. Your cries stuck at the back of your throat, sobs wreaking your body. 

“Please,” you couldn’t help but beg again and again, your limbs so taut beneath him it was painful.

As his laugh hit your ears, you realized he didn’t care. Realized he was having fun. Your body twisted violently beneath him, too harsh for him to control and he let out an annoyed click of his tongue before flipping you over, the edge of the table digging hard into your hips as he entered you again. 

“Mercy,” you pleaded, wrists straining so intensely against your bindings that you knew you’d be nursing those red marks for days.

“Already?” His hand kneaded your ass roughly, pushing you even more painfully against the wooden top. “How disappointing, little marine.” His touch snaked up along your spine and tangled forcefully in your hair, keeping you pinned down and struggling against his hold. “I’m just getting started.”  He punctuated his statement with an especially sharp movement of his hips.

Your legs kicked in the air as another orgasm rippled through you, and you felt your arousal drip down your thigh and your drool seep out of your redded lips.

The world was careening around you and you couldn’t breathe and waves of pleasure washed over you so fast that your mind couldn’t keep up anymore. You eventually went slack beneath him, your entire body surrendering, and only then did his rhythm start to falter. 

He turned you back around, and you didn’t struggle, fully pliant for him. His fingers found your lips, played with the spit on your tongue, kept your mouth open as he reached closer to his own release. 

“Mercy,” you begged one last time, your words muffled, your lips wrapping against his fingers.

And he smiled, a predatory, victorious smile and you couldn’t help but think he looked ethereal in this moment. His hips stuttered one once more, his seed hot inside you and you clenched around him, white blurring your vision for the umpteenth time. 

He slowly pulled out, his gaze dropping to your entrance, watching his cum dribble out with a lust-blown stare. Your whole body still shook in the aftermath, your breath scattered and you spasmed at the feeling, a last vestige of submission as you whimpered. 

His fingers left your mouth and almost tenderly wiped your tear-stained cheek, brushing strands of hair that had been plastered on your sweat-covered skin behind your ear. His gaze stayed on you, considering.

“You’ve been more interesting than I expected,” He admitted as he pulled back up his pants.  “Very well, I’ll consider your offer on one condition.” He gently unraveled his belt, his hand lingering on your wrists and you gave a sharp hiss of pain he seemed to drink in with delight. 

“And that is?” you asked, your voice sounding far away, not your own.

He lazily passed the leather back in the belt loops, put back on his hat, making you wait.

“You’re the one who handles the negotiations. Just you and I. No one else.”

A slow smile of victory made its way to your lips.

“I’m sure that can be arranged.”

Masterlist

Might consider making a part 2, but don't hold me to that.

[multifandomthoughts]

GN Reader

Tw: Canon typical shenanigans, grave robbing, mentions of death and corpses

“Medic, we can’t be doing this! It’s not ethical or legal!” Your voice trembles as you follow the doctor down a secluded dirt path. “And when has that ever stopped me? Those qualms aside, I am in the pursuit of scientific advancement, you know that. You can’t believe you’re actually going along with one of his schemes.

There was a tendency you had to stay up late, but you had been methodical in your efforts to stay away from medic during these periods. His mind was the most unstable, most creative. And often was in need of companionship in order to carry out whatever experiments or other activities he had going on in the dark of the night.

He had caught you red handed. Sneaking a drink out of the shared fridge, the door creaking open alerted him to your presence. “Oh, there you are…” He growls.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

You can tell by the tone of his voice that he has some sort of shit-eating grin on his face, and that only means one thing. He was going to persuade force you to help him with whatever dastardly plot he has going on.

Before you can even respond to his comment, you drop your drink and try to sprint past him. He grips your shirt and with that same devilish smile, he shakes his head. “Now now…you’re going to help me with my experiment whether you like it or not.”

An hour later, all you’d managed to do was grow increasingly hoarse as you kept futilely protesting the whole way to your dark, unknown destination. You stumble, tripping multiple times over what seem to be tree roots and rocks. But, not knowing where you are, and the fact that fog has begun to set, distorts your vision heavily.

“Yes, yes! We are almost there, Schatz.” Medic says, his grin spreading ear to ear and his voice sounding like a giddy school boy. “Medic, where exactly are we going?” You question timidly. “Why, we’re going to the cemetery of course! I needed new specimens for my studies, and Miss Pauling refused to give me the bodies of the people we killed, so I had to resort to….drastic measures.”

Your stomach is now in your throat and your skin goes pale. You knew you were doing something unethical, but you didn’t know how unethical. Your footsteps slow, but don’t stop as you have nowhere to go, Medic was the one who drove you here.

As if he had eyes on the back of his head, he mumbled: “We’re not using fresh corpses you know…” Upon hearing that you spat “How does that make it any better?” “Well, I’m trying to run some tissue decomposition analysis so I can see how long it takes, and how I can potentially speed up the process.”

The gears turn in your head as you realize what he’s getting at. Your jaw drops as you look over at him. “Medic! That makes things worse!” Looking back at you, Medic gives you a sheepish grin. Or what could be described as a sheepish grin if he wasn’t absolutely unashamed of what he’s doing.

You continue to follow him as you have no way to get out of there, he did drive you there. Sighing, you know that no matter what you do, you can’t dissuade him from what he’s doing. He practically has no morals, so any way to change this would be moot. “Ah, here we are.” He comments, arriving at a relatively old grave.

It wasn’t by much, but it made you feel a little bit better that you weren’t disturbing a freshly dug grave. You can’t help but feel a bit on edge as you begin to dig, not wanting to destroy the remains. For what seems like forever, you uncover dirt and remove it from the grave. Finally, you come upon something as the shovel makes a “thunk.” noise, causing you to jump a bit. Beginning to panic, you remove the rest of the dirt, trying to see what you hit. The noise you had caused turned out to be a coffin, which relieves you greatly.

“Oh, what do we have here, hmm?” Medic mutters as he stops his digging, wandering over to you. He eyes the coffin devilishly, eager to open it up and see what’s inside. With a subtle nod, you both kneel down and open up the body’s final resting place. To your relief, it was only bones. Even though it was a relatively old grave, you weren’t quite sure what you were going to see.

With a rather giddy sound, Medic begins to appraise the skeleton, seeing if the specimen is up to his specifications. Gleefully, he decides that he can use the bones, and begins to pocket them. Within the next few hours, the cycle rinses and repeats. Sometimes you didn’t find anything, sometimes the body wasn’t up to his standards and sometimes it was perfect.

“Now that we have all the specimens we need…” Medic states calmly “You won’t ever have to do this again. I’m quite aware that this frightens and disturbs others, but I figured that since you were around when I needed you, you would comply like a good little assistant.”

Fidgeting with your hands, you begin to speak up. “No, I.…I actually loved it. At first it terrified me, as it would anyone, but as I got into the swing of things, it felt nice to actually spend time with you, get to know you better, even crack jokes with you. But next time, I’d prefer a heads up of what you’re going to be doing instead of forcefully dragging me along.”

And in that moment, you saw something incredibly rare from Medic: a genuine heartfelt smile. “My friend, that pleases me to no end to hear you say that…some people don’t exactly enjoy my company due to the reasons you stated before…but to hear you say you enjoyed it, makes my heart soar. And I promise that next time I will ask for your consent for these little excursions, alright?” Medic states, holding out his hand for a shake.

Taking his hand, you give it a firm shake before letting it linger a little longer that normal. And with that, you follow Medic into the night, ready for the next new adventure.

[snoopledrooplecheesedoodle]

Day 4: Christmas Shopping: Sampo Koski

My first Honkai fic for Christmas was going to be Dan Heng but Sampo managed to bargain his way to the top. Also What happened to characters that weren't in Penacony guys? Sunday and Adventurine aren't the only people you know (they are hot tho). Koski's English VA muah chef's kiss.

TW: Trickery (it's Sampo what do you expect), unfair bargains, reader not having any of the slimy man's antics, mentions of unethical business practices, kidnapping, a fucked-up Christmas in general

(*)= Whispering

Christmas in Belobog was interesting to say the least. Snow and ice were typical to see even with Bronya being the new Supreme Guardian. Freed from its icy curse the planet was still frozen over as if it didn't get the memo. Speaking of getting the memo...

You wanted a nice and easy shopping experience so you can get all your Christmas gifts for friends and family and leave. No drama, no fuss, no frills. All of these traits describe the cheerful "merchant" you had bumped into.

Sampo Koski... the Bane of Belobog, the slimiest of salesman, the one who got away (from the Silvermane Guards). The man of the hour was hustling...stocking stuffers? "That's right valued customers Sampo Koski guarantees these trinkets will put a smile on any adult or child." The blue haired charlatan spoke animatedly green eyes sparkling with joy and Christmas cheer (more like Christmas greed).

Any normal sane person would scoff at Koski and go to a legitimate business, which is exactly what you were doing before you got accosted. "What about you, statuesque stranger? You look like you could use some Christmas cheer." You ignore the man believing he personalizes with any sucker he can to get a sale.

However, no one says no to Sampo Koski. You learned this firsthand as the mythical man himself turns you around with a gloved hand. Cheerful smile never leaving his face as he holds your skeptical form in place.

"Hey there friend what's the rush? You won't find steals like my prices anywhere else in the entirety of Administrative Square, I wager my prices are best for an Overworld resident such as yourself." That obnoxious grin deserved to be slapped right off his frustratingly handsome face. "Buzz off Koski I know your reputation, leave law abiding citizens like me alone." You attempt to free yourself from his grip, but his gloved hands dig harder into your skin causing you to wince under the pressure.

"I can't believe someone as cute and intelligent looking as yourself would believe idle rumors so quickly. There's a lot of people hating on young entrepreneurs these days. Besides I only wish to bring joy around Christmas with my merchandise." Sampo gestures to the brightly colored bags of Christmas goodies spread on his makeshift table (the floor).

You will admit they do look very appealing; you could see your little siblings raving about the vibrant candy and toys if you bought a couple. You sigh knowing you're about to be ripped off big time.

"Alright Koski let's see what you got?" Koski stops his fake crying and shakes your shoulders with glee before manhandling you over to his "stand". "Excellent friend and please just Sampo is preferred as this exchange makes us friends now." You glare at him shaking your head making Sampo laugh a bit. "Well, the customer is always right."

You spot an adorable trotter plushie and a toy Silvermane guard perfect for your brother and sister. You smile imaging them grinning with some baby teeth missing. "I would like these please." You gesture to the two items you spotted Sampo's smile widens. "Excellent choice dear friend, both cost ten shield each...but for you dear friend I'm will to half that price." Sampo's generous offer make you wonder if the rumors that people have told you are true.

"Thank you Sampo, my little siblings will love these." Before you can hand him the ten shield total Sampo sticks his hand out. "While I love the enthusiasm dear friend, I'm afraid I'm not quite finished." You sour at the conman's words, of course he would do this. A mischievous twinkle enters the man's green eyes as he continues. "Halfing the price of two very rare dolls is simply bad business, I believe that something of equal value must be exchanged." Bitter bile rises up your throat as anger clouds your expression.

"Rare dolls my ass, if they're so rare why not sell them for one hundred shield, huh?!" Sampo holds his hands up in defense as his face becomes uneasy. "Speak gentler handsome friend, the *Silvermane Guards* will hear your impassioned speech." You are so angry at the blue haired man that you grab his collar without asking him to speak up at his whispered words. "Either sell me the dolls for ten shield or don't. I'm not wasting my time playing your games." Sampo cautiously looks around which makes you shake his collar in anger. The bastard won't even look you in the eyes.

"What are you-" "HALT, Sampo Koski you are under arrest for smuggling, selling illicit substances, fraud, and unlicensed sales of commercial goods." Five Silvermane guards surround the two of you with the commander speaking in a booming voice. "And here they are what wonderful timing on their part." Sampo mumbles at a decibel only the two of you can hear. You put Sampo down and raise your hands up backing away slowly. Technically you didn't buy said goods so you should be able to walk away and-

"HALT citizen, you are under arrest for attempting to buy fraudulent goods and aiding a criminal fugitive." Aiding a criminal fugitive?! Your eyes pop out of there skull as the Silvermane Guards close in on your shaking form and Sampo's unbothered one. This was it you were going to jail, you won't be able to buy present, you won't be able to celebrate with loved ones.

You won't be able to return home to your siblings.

You lower your head in defeat as there is no good in struggling as it might make you look more guilty. Sampo walked behind you a charismatic smile on his face. "Gentleman I'm sure we can handle this in a nonviolent manner. Perhaps put this whole incident behind us, it is the Christmas season after all." What is Sampo doing? You glare at the idiot behind you before he looks at you with an unreadable expression before turning back to the guards closing you in with their spears. Before you can move a hissing noise fills the air as a bomb lands in front of your feet.

Boom! A thick smoke fills the air causing you and the Silvermane Guards to cough harshly. The world around began to blur as you see an outline of a man lean down to pick you up. "Good thing I've always got a plan B huh? You can thank me when you wake up (Y/N)."

You groan as you feel great fatigue just from opening your eyes, it feels like you were hit by a blizzard. Straining to look around your surroundings you see you're in a hotel bed which was decent quality with the room around you being rather plain. Stretching your arms you attempt to sit up before feeling something holding you back. Your arms with tied to the bed as well as your legs. What the fuck was going on?

You were about to shout for help when the door opens revealing a very pleased Sampo Koski. It all clicked together his smug grin, the restraints, the soreness in your chest, the darkness outside the window. The slimeball kidnapped you.

"Koski what is the meaning of this?!" You shout causing Sampo to wince. "I think we need to work on your voice modulation skills but don't worry I love you all the same." WHAT?

"Before you ask dumb questions I'll answer them for you. You think it's a coincidence we met? No no Sampo Koski doesn't leave anything up to fate. As for where you are, we need to lay low in the Underground for a while. At least until WildFire catches word and Seele comes to catch us for her girlfriend."

The amount of information you just received was mind numbing. Also wasn't this the first time you met or had Sampo been stalking you? Probably the latter. Sampo's emerald eyes look down at you with a look you thought he only had reserved for money.

"Aw look at you (Y/N) all tied up like a Christmas present just for Sampo Koski!" His comment causes you to thrash wildly spitting curses. A harsh prick makes you come back to your senses. Sampo stands over you with an empty needle.

"You should take a nap; I almost thought you hated me for a second there. Oh, I knew "borrowing" some tranquilizers from Natasha would be a good investment." You try to fight but you're too tired and overwhelmed to make sense of anything. You glare at Sampo who looks down at you greedily

"Sleep tight darling, we've got a whole galaxy to see~"

You never did get your siblings those presents

I think I did a damn good job representing Sampo for being too mysterious and avoiding revealing his true intentions. I plan on doing one for Robin as well. This one isn't very romantic so it could be construed as platonic yandere as well.

[seralahbloodhaven]

The Ubiquitous Mister Brackwater

TW/CW: GRAPHIC smut for humorous effect? Unethical job interview

When one encounters the surly hand of Fate, one might wonder how far back its machinations extend. Was it the ad in the paper? But she would not have bothered to read it were her family not dead and she was alone, left to her own rather morbid devices. Did Fate take them in screaming agony just to set Seralah on this singular path? It would never be possible to say, but it would be pondered much later when, in the still watches, she would wonder if the price she paid was worth it. 

Lady Seralah Stellara Agatha Bloodhaven lived all alone in the sprawling Bloodhaven Manor in Eversong. The sole surviving member of her House, she lived as though she were in some strange fairytale. Oh, not the ones read to children to help them sleep, no. The ones that were dark, cautionary tales. Had Seralah not been rich, folk would likely think her far more menacing than merely eccentric. But because she had enough money and a good family name, her strange hobbies were not given the proper scrutiny. 

Rumors, being what they are, largely exaggerated her activities. Seralah was not doing blood sacrifices nor hosting ritual orgies in her mostly empty manor in Eversong. But that is what people thought and thus, friends quit calling and there were no more suitors. Only some of the rumors were true, and far less salacious. 

Regardless, the ensuing years left her lonely. Especially after her expulsion from the Alchemy Guild. Her life fell into dreary patterns of much the same every single day. Like the ghosts of her family that haunted the manor, stuck in a loop of repeating time, Seralah too felt she was trapped. 

Until she saw the ad in the paper. She met all the qualifications: she was an orphan, she would not be missed if she were to die, and she had an open mind. Finally, a way to the break the doldrums, something to change the loop she was in. 

The Doctor subjected her to a rather…intimate sort of examination, but Seralah had an open mind and as she’d never had any sort of employment before, so she assumed the strip search was common practice (it wasn’t). After, there was some kerfuffle hardly worth mentioning and she had the position as Doctor Heathcliff Dracone’s laboratory assistant and resident Master Alchemist! 

He put her atop his spectral steed and whisked her away and it all felt very out of focus. The world was suddenly cast in pastel smears and a sweet dreaminess settled over her as they rode away from Silvermoon. 

And because he had a vested interest in a certain famous pillowbook, Island of Depravity, he asked her to read from it. He wished to know all about Arothir Brackwater. 

And since, once again, Seralah had never before been employed, she didn’t find it irregular that her boss asked her to read erotic literature while they shared a saddle. 

She took up the book and looked quite prim sitting there, gazing down at the filth-filled pages. However, it was all quite unseemly. Heathcliff had a young woman in his employ with her pert bottom pressed against his groin, his arms caging her in as she began to read some of the most ribald and lurid things he’d ever heard. 

Seralah cleared her throat. “This is one of my favorite passages,” she told him with a look over her shoulder, eyes twinkling in mischief. 

“Arothir Brackwater slid his broad shoulders under Lady Lyriel’s plump thighs and used his rough, calloused fingers to pry apart the swollen, arousal slicked lips of her cunt,” Seralah said, her voice not wavering. She read not as one would a medical journal, not clinically. She read it as one might an exciting children’s adventure tale. Without any shame and all the enthusiasm. 

“As she whimpered in anticipation, he dragged his tongue up the seam of her slit until her thighs quivered and her hands sunk into his mussed, raven dark curls,” she went, stopping only to lick her leather-gloved thumb to turn the page. Slowly. She went on. 

“He devoured her quim like a man starved and only the slick, musky nectar of her sex could provide him any sustenance. He groaned into her pussy, his hand around his cock, pumping it furiously, the passage of his fist eased by how much his cock had wept for her already.” 

Her voice was so…chipper. She seemed delighted by every word! There was no hint of shyness and as she finished that passage, she laughed, a naughty little snicker. 

She went on, “His long, thick tongue speared into her tight entrance which had been desperately fluttering and clenching around nothing. Oh, she felt ever so empty, wanting only to be impaled upon his throbbing, drooling tumescence.” She shook with laughter. “Goodness, that bit is a tad overdone. Tumescence is not the most arousing word for cock, I should think.”

The ride ended with her nearly toppling out of the saddle and onto her face when her boot became entangled in the stirrup. Into his arms she’d crashed, far too comfortably and far too gently. They gazed at each other a little too long. 

And then a man fell from the sky. Which was the least interesting part of the day. 

Seralah was grateful when he stepped away and made no mention of the awkward moment. Though she’d never been employed, she doubted it was wise to flutter at one’s boss. 

And then the imposing castle comprised of ominous spires and mismatched architecture, threw open the doors, rolled out a violet carpet and showered her with rose petals. It was a most ostentatious and…odd way to be welcomed to her place of employment, but Seralah was charmed and delighted and falling right into the hands of Fate without realizing it. 

@wraheathcliff

[likethe-month]

The Time Between Us -Historical Yandere x Reader Pt. 2-

Yandere x Accidental Time Traveler Reader Part 2

Reader is AFAB with she/her pronouns

TW for unethical practices in metal health hospitals, depictions of violence and blood, possessive behavior, mentions of needles

Here is the link to part 1: https://www.tumblr.com/likethe-month/762159401755869184/the-time-between-us

-

The heeled shoes you had been previously given were not assisting in your attempts to escape. James had handed you over to the authorities, and your kicking was of no use. You shrieked and howled as the policemen dragged you away, but your cries fell upon deaf ears. No one would help you. The day had become rainy during your confrontation in the university building, and you blinked as raindrops pattered onto your face.

You felt multiple pairs of eyes staring at you before you were tossed into the back of a carriage. The horses in the front began to trot away, and you pushed yourself to the back of the cart as the container jolted at the movement.

Your hand gripped at your hair as you tried to calm yourself down. Ragged, desperate breaths were materializing in front of you as little puffs of fog due to the cold.

Once you had been taken to the asylum, a group of women wearing nurses' dresses gently led you to a room that was labeled "sanitation" by a metal plaque on the front.

You grabbed the arm of one of the women, and you looked into her eyes with all the desperation in the world. "Please- I can't be here- I have to go back," you gasped. She only gave you a pitying look and prepared a bath for you.

Once you had been cleaned, clothed, and stripped of any remaining dignity, you were put into a concrete room with only a bed in the corner. Pounding your fists on the door was futile, and a guard warned that he would "call for the doctor" if you continued. Images of rusty syringes and bloodstained metal filled your mind as you recalled scenes from some of the more morbid documentaries and photographs you had perused as a student.

Unfortunately, you would inevitably find yourself subject to the questionable medical practices of the time. You had no idea what they were doing to you, but you protested nonetheless.

Days of thrashing and babbling about “needing to return” to your own time did not help your case with the workers. They injected you with strange liquids despite your protests as you insisted that the medicine at the time would kill you. Remembering your professors' lectures about old mental institutions, you now fully understood why they were so horrible and torturous.

And then there was James, or, rather, the absence of James. His face would always appear in the constant nightmares that you couldn’t escape. You would shriek and dig your nails into the flimsy mattress provided for you to sleep on, and a guard would impatiently rap on your door in response. Whenever a nurse would tend to you, you would ask about him, dreading the day he decided you were well enough to return to him.

If the nurse was kind, she would smile and place a comforting hand on your shoulder, reassuring you that you would "stay until things were safe again."

If the nurse was cruel, she would scowl and ask why the likes of James was "engaged to a lunatic like you."

When you heard this, you heart skipped a beat. After you pleaded with her and pretended to be as stable as possible, the nurse finally presented you with a form that James had apparently submitted to the institution.

The paper contained your full name and James's next to it. But, he was listed as your caretaker and fiancee. Afraid of losing too much progress, you swallowed thickly and shakily looked away from the piece of paper. Maybe you could cry later, but not in front of this particular nurse.

It was difficult to decide if the asylum or James was the worse punishment. At least, with James, you would feel true warmth again. Somervault had a fireplace, but you hadn't behaved well enough for this privilege yet. Without a phone or any means to communicate with the outside world, you were able to entertain yourself with your own thoughts, and the kind nurses would occasionally bring you a new book to read. You had to keep your mind stimulated, or else you would lose everything, if you hadn't already, that is.

One day a nurse brought you into the large, white visiting room after tenderly making sure you looked presentable. This marked the first time you had felt sunlight in a few days, and you yearned to be closer to the tall windows. “A very nice man is here to visit you, Miss (L/n).”

He was here. James walked in, his shoes softly clicking on the wooden floor. His expression was unreadable as he sat in the chair in front of you. The only thing separating the two of you was a small coffee table.

You quickly looked up at the nurse from the chair she had sat you in. “I don’t want to see him,” you whimpered. “Please, keep him away from me,” you begged as the woman gave you a sad smile.

“I’ll give you a minute with Mr. Harrington, dear girl,” she said as she removed her arm from your grip.

"No... Please-" you begged as she stepped away from you to allow James to approach.

James approached you hesitantly, and you couldn’t tell if he was acting or not. “Is-is she?…”

The nurse smiled at him. “She’s mentioned your name quite a few times. We’ve had to subdue her, but she’s become much more docile in the days she’s spent here!”

“Oh, dearest (Y/n),” James murmured, gingerly taking your hand in his.

The nurse was gone by now, and you were left with the man you wanted dead.

Despite every instinct screaming at you to pull back and run, you stayed perfectly still. The fear coursing through your veins turned to a subdued rage.

You flinched back as he brushed his hand over your cheek. "I do hope you've made progress here. I hate the idea of these people bringing harm to you, but this is necessary."

“You-you’re evil. Do you know what they put me through here? I hate you!”

He chuckled in response. “Don't you understand that I was forced to teach you a lesson? Has this place already done you in, my sweet (Y/n)?”

You shuddered violently at this, trying not to throw up. “You left me here to teach me a lesson? You’re sick. It’s you who should have been tied up and force-fed all sorts of poisons.” You whimpered when James' grip on you tightened and he pulled you close.

“Don’t you worry, pigeon,” he murmured into your hair. “I’m going to take you home and we can live a happy, peaceful life together. You were brought to me for a reason, and I simply cannot let you go.”

Shuddering at his words, you began to sob.

“Don’t you see? The universe has granted me the perfect partner to be by my side for the rest of my life," James then lowered his head so that he spoke directly into your ear. "Once I bring you home, you will be the envy of every woman in the city. I've made some substantial strides in my work, and my pay has increased by quite a bit. All we need now for the perfect life together is for you to come home."

You would’ve sobbed, but you couldn’t seem to make any noise at all. You couldn’t come to terms with the idea of being stuck sometime in the 1880s. It wasn’t fair. The benefit of being fascinated with history was that you could look back into the past from a much more comfortable position. Instead of enjoying modern technology, medicine, and food, you would probably get yellow fever and die within five years.

“Please,” you choked out, your nails digging into his suit jacket. “Let me go back, this isn’t right. I’m not supposed to be here.”

"What does it matter if this is right or not?" he chuckled lowly. "You're going to be my wife, and if you thought you had no freedom here, then just you wait."

With a shriek, you lunged at James, pushing him to the floor with a heavy thud. He struggled underneath you as you brought your fists down upon his face with blinding rage. The man cringed in pain, groaning as you hit him, but his attempts to defend himself were fruitless.

"In my time, James, women are encouraged to fight their attackers," you snarled breathlessly as you wrapped your hands around his throat. "If you think I will ever be a docile little wife, then you are sorely mistaken."

Suddenly, hands grasped at your arms and threw you off of James. You cried out as you hit the cold floor. Two of the guards had entered the visiting room at the sound of a struggle and quickly apprehended you. The nurse had returned, and she was holding one of the large syringes that sent your heart racing whenever you saw one.

"Whatever you're doing here at Somervault clearly isn't enough," James growled at your captors, rubbing at his neck, which was now red and showed signs of eventual bruising. "When I return, she must be fully compliant, am I understood?" he barked at the workers.

When they nervously agreed, he stalked back over to you, kneeling so that he met your gaze.

You let out a small hiss between gritted teeth when you felt the familiar sting of the needle. The injection was already working, and you felt your eyelids growing heavier and heavier.

"Sleep well, my dearest," he murmured, wiping a stream of blood from his lip. "No matter how you fight, nothing will keep me away from you."

You fell unconscious, slightly triumphant at the sight of his bloody face. As you slept, however, James was there, taunting, laughing, and scowling at you.

You were beginning to believe that there was no corner of your mind you could retreat to where James wasn't lurking.

[sir-sp00ks-al0t]

Close your eyes, you'll be here soon

Roleplay blog for Jonathan Crane based off of BTAS. This is completely my own interpretation with some inspiration and backstory from BTAS.

4 years into his life as a rogue, he's nothing like the man he was before anymore. He's forgetful, sporadic, and dangerous. A stark contrast to the kind, quiet person colleagues knew before the incident.

He is 45, and after an unfortunate accident where he inhaled his own unfinished toxin, he became obsessed with fear and how people reacted to it. He lost his job due to his unethical practices, and so began his life as scarecrow.

General TW for- scary imagery, horror themes, mental breakdowns, slight gore, drug use, and mental health issues

Divider by https://www.tumblr.com/issysh3ll/

Designs below

Main- @biggie-cheeese

Voice claim- Mordecai, Borderlands

I know picrew isn't the best, but I'm bad at drawing. His hair is supposed to drag behind him slightly and he puts his hair into pigtails whenever in scarecrow mode

[gonetoforks]

Hello! I'm one of the mods of TMNT Creature Con. We plan to do a shoutout for the creature AUs we have found/know and we were wondering if you're okay with that, and if so, could you provide info & tw/cws? :] Also wanted to know if you'd like to be a backup in case someone drops out from the Con in the future? Have a nice day ^^ The AU I'm referencing is your Tinker Shell AU!

:D wowwee ofc! tysm for asking!

idk if many tw/cws would be necessary, but if you can glean any that might apply, the story (at least the exposition) goes like;

A long time ago, Hamato Yoshi was a famous movie star, working under contract for a (slightly unethical) studio. Someone on the movie crew stumbled upon a beautiful hollow, the Hidden Pixie City. Yoshi thought it would be the perfect setting for the climax of his newest film.

Baron Draxum, (Queen Clarion,) head of security, foresaw the threat that micheal bay-esque practical effects would cause, and hastily turned him into a small, harmless rat.

Yoshi was like “yo what the actual hell man, this is a continuity where my family is actually on good terms with each other what do you mean this is irreversible wtf”

& Draxum’s like “Fine, I guess that was technically amoral of me… I’ll tell you what; Every fairy in this hollow born of the first laugh of a baby from your family will automatically know their lineage is of yours and know themselves to be family. You may raise them as your own, and raise them well, Hamato Yoshi.”

Draxum immediately thanked himself for that decision. The less human a fairy looks, the more powerful their mystic spark. And apparently, Splinter’s extended family is chock full of the stuff. As the head of security, Draxum is thanking his lucky stars he’s not the only one about to be held accountable for their actions.

Meanwhile, in winter, Frida has been more or less adopted by a spider-like, you-know-who frost fairy (Lord Milori). Her sister, Venus (Dewey) is a scholar who eagerly supports her sister in her rebellious endeavors. Both for Frida’s happiness and to satisfy her own curiosities.

And the story proceeds as usual to the fantastical world of Pixie Hollow! Although tragically, Splinter does pass away before any of them learn about Frida’s existence.

And sure! I’m open to being an understudy, but unfortunately I can’t make any promises (о´∀`о)

I hope you have a great day too!

[spotaus]

Woah!!! Ec-4o.Verse reference?? Bringing you Geno! (With a bunch of notes that are intelligible off to the sides-)

Cropped versions for easier reading/zooming! But to be more fun about it, here's a Lore Recap for each design! (I'd say these designs are from... hmm, a hundred years or so? He's a Boss Monster so he lives a lot longer.)

(Tw: Mentions of Death, Self-Loathing, Mental Illness, and I feel a few other things)

Pre-War:

Geno was a normal guy, had a dayjob, but was beloved by his friends for being a Programmer. He was lazy, had awful work ethic, but would pump out amazing quality work for cheap as long as he was given the time to do things at his own pace. He has a passion for Psychology, but was awful socially, so he designed programs that mimicked mental illnesses in Test Ectos (ectos not embedded with personalities or magic) so people could research mental health without risking patient wellness. He made A.Z. too, the first real mimicry of mental illnesses in children. Geno got attached and kept A.Z. himself, the last prototype of the code. The finalized ones can be found anywhere, but he kept A.Z. around, and even though A.Z. wasn't sentient it was such a good mimicry, Geno practically treated him like a son.

Geno was known for his work, and was contacted by the government of his country to come and work on a big nation-wide upgrade they were planning to improve ecto functionality. Again and again Geno simply ignored their letters, emails, chats, and attempts to call. It wasn't his field of study, so he could care less. So, all that led to the government sending people to confiscate A.Z. from Geno and shut down his workshop under the pretenses of 'unethical programming methods'. He was forced to relocate, and A.Z. was basically held as blackmail to force Geno into working. (Since A.Z. wasn't sentient, he was simply property, and therefore there was no legal issues with the government taking him.)

Before/During the War:

In this time, Geno was among hundreds of other talented people from all across the country who were 'recruited' to work on this project. People who didn't comply with orders went missing, loved ones were "lost" and life projects destroyed. Geno was part of the Programming team (there were also Medical, Bio-Enhineering, and Engineering teams) and he was initially supposed to just shut off the programs within an Ecto that gave them emotion protocols, even the ones infused with magic.

But, as things went on, he was told to do more and more. He was involved in more marketing and branding and announcements. He was made to be on screen, be the face of the change. His background was good for publicity (man who studied ways to harmlessly study mental health) and he was supposedly trustworthy. By day he'd stand up beside someone and listen to them implore people to bring their ectos in for this quality of life upgrade to their nearest government office. By night he'd be slaving away infront of code, being forced to find a way to make these robots kill people. Just enough people. To nullify themselves when it was all over. I'm his despair he tried to make it so that their emotion drives would at least register these events as something positive, so they felt no distress if they were sentient. He tried so hard to stop but any backlash did nothing. So he kept his head down and worked quietly.

And then he was transferred locations. Somewhere closer to the heart of the operation. He met Sci, a man unaware of the Culling Orders or the heartache, because they government had been treating him well. He was a bio-engineer, and his project (nicknamed Fresh) was like if a self-healing code was a living thing and could slow, or even heal, wounds. The government wanted it, in the case that it could unlock immortality. Sci was getting funding and a cushy life. Geno realized Fresh was the best way he coukd possibly end all of this war that was in the works. For good.

So he poured hid heart and soul into finishing that code. "A change of heart prompted by wanting so desperately for his prized project, AZ, to be saved" He claimed. There were a few useful bots that filled through the office. He offered to install code that would prevent the Culling Order from activating inside them since they were going to be preserved. While adding code he added failsafes and kill codes and important information from his and others work he wanted saved. He added the names of every researcher he knew had been drafted into this unwillingly. He did it in secret, so entrenched in code only another programmer would notice.

And then the war started, and Sci learned the truth, and people started dying. Geno had to convince Sci to help him after that. Sci feared being killed. He feared not being able to finish his work. He feared not being protected from the pain and destruction outside. It was a long plenty of *years* that Geno had to configure just the right plan, just the right way to ensure that Sci abd Fresh would survive it. That the rest of the base would be no threat and that it'd stop the Ectos and the Culling Code.

And then he did it. He put an end to the war, at the price of all the power on the continent running to every piece of tech, and at the price of his own arm and eye.

Post-War:

Geno was disfigured. He knew that to make an EMP large enough to cut off all electricity, he would need to overload his own master consol to the point of battery meltdown. An explosion. He didn't tell Sci. Only mentioned he'd need Fresh on-hand. So when it exploded, his left arm (non-dominent just like he planned), his chest, and the right side of his skull (his left eye was better) were demolished in the blast and dusted near instantly. Sci and Fresh managed to save his life, and Sci, resident Bio-Engineer, was able to replace his missing limbs and his wounds with spare ecto parts over the course of a few weeks.

Geno was slow to recover, nearly on the verge of falling down during recovery (He didn't know where they'd stored A.Z. if he was even still in-tact, he had been the reason so many humans and monsters had died, and now to reverse his mistake he'd taken out the electricity the country had been relying on for the past thousands of years.) But he pushed through. He was Determined. He needed to get to the four robots he embedded information and failsafes into. But they were scattered across the country for aafe-keeping. Incase he'd failed. So he has to hunt them down.

As soon as he can he leaves. Sci stays. Geno promises he'll come back (he doesn't). Geno takes a medical uniform, packs the supply belt with programming tools, and moves out. He enters the main story while on this trek to hunt down his Ectos. Not a single one is where they should've been, and he can't help but be furious, praying to a non-existant God that they weren't scrapped by heathens out for parts or destroyed in a rage by scared survivors.

Looking for the four? One day their trackers finally Light up again. One by one. All in the same location. And Geno follows it like a moth to the flame.

[electrical-sciences-dump]

ooc: TW — unethical human experimentation, severe sleep deprivation

Electrical Lab #3

Introduction: This is an experiment conducted by Dr. Miller and Dr. Anderson. We are using electricity experimentally to determine if it can be used to further the effectiveness of Department forces or to make temporary containment (without a Delta present) more viable. This is considered to be a similar process to ECT, although omitting any anesthetic as it is unnecessary.

Subject: Dreamwalker #9126

Purpose: To prove it is possible to fully incapacitate the powers of a dreamwalker without using a Delta to mute their core.

Hypothesis: It should work, as sleep deprivation will incapacitate most average people. But it is debatable whether or not being unable to fall asleep will prevent the subject from working around the muting of their core.

Materials:

Two metal discs (electrodes)

Source of electrical current (in our case, Dr. Miller's powers)

Electroencephalogram (in order to monitor brain wave activity, in our case to check for signs of the subject beginning to fall asleep)

Electrical current controller (a small machine that will ensure Dr. Miller's electricity input, when sent to the subject, will not exceed safe levels)

It was deemed that painkillers and muscle relaxants were not necessary.

Procedure:

Situate subject, place sensors (for detecting when the patient is beginning to fall asleep) and place the electrodes on either side of their head.

Rig sensors to an alert system, so that we are aware of when the electric shocks must be administered to ensure the subject does not fall asleep

Keep subject locked in containment room, ensure cuffs are in place to prevent subject from acting on hostile urges.

Send electrical current before patient falls asleep; repeat as long as necessary. In our case, this experiment went on for three days, more accurately 73 hours.

Observations:

Dreamwalker 9126 seemed calm for the first 4 hours, although nervous and antsy due to having been displaced from their home.

Once we entered into the 5th hour, Dreamwalker 9126 showed visible signs of boredom and some frustration. This continues for a few more hours.

Around the 12th hour, exhaustion began to overtake Dreamwalker 9126 and we got our first ping on the alert system. We delivered a very small shock, which quickly brought 9126 back to full wakefulness. 9126 seemed perturbed by the sensation, but made no remarks.

Feeding 9126 calmed them slightly, although we observed some sadness. They became more compliant again after eating.

For the next several hours, into the 2nd day, we continued delivering electrical shocks regularly, as 9126 was continually showing signs of nearing sleep.

By 7:42 AM on the second day of the experiment, 9126 showed less signs of exhaustion, and seemed to be resisting the effects of their tiredness. No electrical shocks were needed for 5 hours.

Once noon passed on the second day, 9126 began falling asleep again. This time, when we delivered the shock, they visibly jolted awake, and looked distressed. They proceeded to strongly resist sleep for a few more hours. They seemed to be attempting to distract themselves with small sensory feelings such as tapping their hands and feet against the bench they were seated on and the floor. Their restraints impeded this.

By 5 PM on the 2nd day, 9126 was openly talking to themselves and seemed to be disregarding our surveillance, likely having given up on keeping up a farce of silence. None of their words were of any consequence and seemed to be mostly personal nonsensical ramblings.

At 6 PM, Dr. Miller entered the containment room and spoke to 9126 about their situation, briefly mentioning the experimental nature of this arrangement. 9126 had previously been told this was standard practice, for the sake of ensuring compliance. They didn't seem to fully comprehend his words, as they were likely beginning to lose cognitive function due to sleep deprivation. Dr. Miller then left.

At 6:54 PM on the 2nd day, 9126 began falling asleep again. Delivery of electricity this time resulted in them jolting awake, similarly to their previous reaction. This time, it seemed more difficult for them to resist sleep afterwards, and we ended up needing to deliver a stronger shock, which kept them solidly awake for the next hour.

Intern #2531 entered and gave them food. When he attempted communication, they were unresponsive and seemed too dazed to speak with him.

The night of the 2nd day had many more close calls with falling asleep compared to the previous night. Regular shocks kept 9126 awake, and they did not end up fully falling asleep. Regular shocks continued for several hours until 5:38 AM when 9126 seemed to commit once again to staying awake.

Until 4:41 PM on the 3rd day, 9126 showed no signs of sleeping. By this time their core had been unmuted for several hours and there was absolutely no attempt to use it. They did nearly fall asleep at this time, but our electric shock jolted them back awake very effectively and they continued for several hours without any further attempts at sleep.

At 9:56 PM on the 3rd day, Anderson entered the room to speak with 9126. They showed no visible recognition of him and were completely unresponsive, giving him only a blank stare. As a test, he grabbed their arm, pressing hard into it. They made no move to pull away or hit back. Anderson then left.

Intermittent shocks seemed to keep 9126 fully alert. We eventually observed that their eyes had become unfocused. They no longer were holding themselves upright at all and had completely stopped talking or making any sensory movements for the past several hours.

They remained in the above state for the remaining hours of the experiment, until the end of hour 73 of the experiment, when their probation officers took over their custody.

Results:

Experiment seems to be a success. Even with the dreamwalkers core pre-muted for scientist safety before experiment, Dreamwalker 9126 showed no signs of magical core activation, no matter how strenuous the experiment got for them. In fact, we left their core unmuted for the entire third day, and we sensed absolutely no magical emission.

[evilsystemm]

hey!!! first of all u seem cool 👏💪😎 and secondly i was reading ur pinned post (and obv if this is weird or makes u uncomfortable or is a stupid question pls just like. delete it and i'm sorry cause i swear i mean no harm) and i'm just wondering what u mean when u said that ur anti comshippers but respectful and sympathetic towards underage comshippers? i don't know much about comshipping bc i'm not one (so i tend to stay away from any discussion or discourse) but do underage comshippers have different beliefs/rules than over-age or smth like that? i tried looking it up but i just got smth about economics :') . pls dont take this as anything negative i'm just genuinely a lil confused if there's some rule/definition that i'm missing? anyway hope u have a nice day ☀️!

TW for any and all things that would fall under comshipping.

No worries at all, im glad you asked. As an overall statement, I am firmly against comshipping and proshipping. I think its very dangerous and that engaging in sexual/romantic ideas that are illegal and unethical bleeds into a person's psychological state and influences how they think, feel and act outside of the activity of comshipping (this is proven to be true in relation to pornography), affecting real life people. I don't consider this to include headcanons of these situations that are NOT romanticised or sexualised, because I think that can be an informative portrayal of abuse/assault etc.

The reason I mention underage comshippers is because a large portion of them do it because of something that may have happened to them (exposure to inappropriate content too early, sexual assault etc.) and it acts as a form of coping/reenactment. Not dissimilar to how children who have been abused will often act out the abuse through toys and drawings or on other children. Traumatic events like that damage the psyche majorly, and you *will* see symptoms that aren't morally correct, comshipping being one of them.

I dont think this makes it okay, and I still stay far away from comshipping at all because it's incredibly distressing for a lot of members in the system, but ultimately I think the best course of action for people under the age of 18 is understanding and support where it can be given.

Very few people who engage in this (including adults) mean harm, and I think its mostly a matter of them simply not believing or understanding how dangerous the practice can be. But I do hold more scrutiny to adults, because they are more capable of the logical reasoning to come to the conclusion that it's dangerous for them and others. Children generally aren't.

So no, underage comshippers don't have different rules, but I hold them to be more vulnerable individuals and I don't think outright criticism is an effective approach at helping them. That being said, I don't agree with comshipping in any capacity.

Thank you for taking the time to ask and clear up confusion!! and also thanks for saying I seem cool <3

[redstrewn]

Small sa tw!!

So I think that Vere’s hypersexuality might point to some VERY unethical practices by the senobium. I mean the warning probably shows what I mean already right? I think thats Veres compulsion on control has a lot to do with this (consequently, his affection for ais might show that ais is very considerate!) what do you think? Im getting major astarion vibes from vere

(Also this is music anon, im on my vere loving hours)

I THINK URE ONTO STH.....the senobium is known to kill and torture as they please. What's stopping them from doing/using vere in those kinds of ways? Pretty fucked up..but it would make sense w how Vere is.

I ALSO AM A STRONG BELIEVER OF CONSIDERATE AIS.....like Kuras thinks hes immediately worthy of respect. The level of admiration Vere (accidentally) shows for Ais..OOOUUHHHH. Vere being so used to being used like a tool but Ais treating him like an actual other person (or fellow monster) worthy of more respect than that...GRRGGHRHRHRHRGGRGRGGRHR thinking of how Ais adopts those feared soulless pets and gives them warmth and kindness and understanding yeah ok im gone im dead good bye.

Also fuck the senobium

[wickedsrest-rp-archive]

Name: Rosemary Kane Species: Spellcaster Occupation: Receptionist at Mother Morta's Nursing Home Age: 36 Years Old Played By: Grace Face Claim: Margot Robbie

"Let them underestimate me- I’ll look hotter than them while I’m surpassing them."

TW: Parental death, misogyny

For twelve generations, the secrets of necromancy were passed down to the eldest sons of the Kane line. A portrait of the first in the family line, Cornelius Kane, had loomed over the mantel in Rosemary’s childhood home. She could remember her youth spent staring up into the face of a long since dead relation, and the torrent of emotions that came with it. Pride, that her family had mastered the most complicated arcane practices, and had gained mastery over death itself in the years since Cornelius had began his endeavor to conquer mortality. Sorrow, that she was, as all her relatives reminded her, the disappointing end to a dynasty. 

Rosemary Kane was the only daughter of the last living son of the Kane name. Years passed and still there were no heirs to the Kane line. Despite the fact, the family was happy enough. After all, there was always the hope that little Rosie could have a little brother one day. Of course, no one had ever dreamed a threat as trivial as a vampire would kill a member of the Kane family, much less turn one. No one ever spoke about that night, and Rosemary had been far too young to remember much of it. But she did remember one night, her father had sent her crying mother off with a strange man, and her mother simply never returned. The truth of her turned mother’s disappearance after leaving with who, years later, she would determine to be a vampire slayer was never explicitly told to her- ladies and their sensitivities seemed to be the excuse not to rehash it. But the death of her mother seemed to be the death of hope for the Kane family’s future.

Unfortunately for Rosemary’s father, and therefore there would be no heir to keep the family tradition, the girl was all but ignored by her family. Rosemary never spoke it aloud but the older she got, the more she hoped that maybe, just maybe, her father would make an exception and teach her. But no matter how hard she tried to ingratiate her father to her, the man simply dismissed her. Upon graduating college, she told her father of her desire to learn- to carry on the family tradition. It didn’t need to die with her- times had changed, and she was just as determined and capable as any son of his would have been. 

She could recall the deafening silence of the moments after she declared her intentions. The crackle of the fire in the hearth, the bitter winter wind screaming outside, and all the while the portrait or Cornelius Kane loomed over her like a foreboding specter.  

It shouldn’t have surprised her to hear no. It shouldn’t have hurt. She’d known her whole life her father was unwilling to compromise for the sake of his own family. So she left her family’s Connecticut home in search of instruction elsewhere. 

To add insult to injury, it was very difficult to find someone to teach her, due to the fact that necromancy was heavily frowned upon in most polite arcane circles. After several years of scrounging what little information she could, she got a name, and place. Aleksander Nowak in Wicked’s Rest, Maine. 

It took a lot of begging and transparency, but at long last, the man agreed to train her. Since then, she’s worked tirelessly to learn as much as she could, if not to prove to the Kane’s that she was more than capable of carrying on the family legacy, then to herself. 

Character Facts:

Personality: Clever, charismatic, perseverant, sociable, tenacious, prideful, impulsive, vain, willful, unethical

She’s a sucker for a good karaoke night. The second Rosemary found out about The Siren’s Song, she became a frequent customer. She’s there at least once every other week.

Her car has a bedazzled license plate frame.

She was the social chair of her university’s chapter of the Delta Psi sorority. While she didn’t attend UMWR, as an alum she’s been known to pop up at philanthropic events to pitch in. She’s also great at party planning due to this experience. 

She almost always has her pink, sticker covered e-reader with her. On her days off, she can often be found cozied up in the corner of A Latte to Love with a dirty chai latte with caramel drizzle and a romance novel.

She lives in a cute little cottage in Oldtown. The crocus lawn, flower garden, and stained glass windows make up for the ghost roommate that enjoys screwing with her electronics at all hours of the night. As a result, she’s fairly nocturnal, and can often be found out and about, enjoying the town’s nightlife. She’s particularly fond of The Raven

While practicing necromancy, it’s become a hobby of hers to make dead rats do the exact choreography of *NSYNC’s Bye Bye Bye. It’s great entertainment for a night in.

[aspenxlabyrinth]

Augusnippets 2024 Day 1: Gaslighting

TW: This story contains content centering around parental alienation, and family-based gaslighting, as well as unethical psychiatric practice.

This short story centers around a few original characters. Sophie, her father, and their family psychiatrist, Dr. Pendleton. Written for @augusnippets whump writing challenge.

Many thanks to alchemistsarego for beta-reading this!

Sophie sat uncomfortably on the couch across from Dr. Pendleton. It was one of those green couches that was technically vinyl, but really just felt like sitting on foam enveloped in plastic wrap. It stuck to her skin and made shifting her weight nearly impossible without that agonizing peeling feeling. She couldn't help the need to move something with how she was feeling, the stakes of this session were high enough, but she was pretty sure that if she picked at the skin around her thumbnail any harder, it would bleed.

Dr. Pendleton wasn’t at all an old woman, but her brown ponytail had traces of grey all throughout it, and she had bags under her eyes that were even visible beneath her glasses. Her posture was straight, and she was wearing a black long sleeve turtleneck shirt, and wore a black mask over the lower half of her face. Of course pandemic restrictions had long since passed, but it seemed that the psychiatrist was more cautious than the average citizen. She leaned forward in her seat towards Sophie, pen and clipboard in hand, and her eyes pushed up in what was likely a smile.

“Good morning Sophie, how have you been doing today?” the doctor asked in an even and cool tone that made a shiver run up Sophie’s spine, but was somehow welcoming enough to settle many of her nerves.

“I think I’m doing as okay as I can be, given the circumstances,” Sophie replied in a reserved and hushed voice.

“Yes, I understand that it’s been a long couple of months for your whole family. I’ve spoken to most of them by now. I suppose I mostly just want to ask you about your childhood, and what kind of environment you would describe your home as.”

Sophie nodded, and tried to find the best words for everything, then began, “Well, I’d say we had a pretty good childhood. Our mom home schooled us, so we always got plenty of attention. Especially for our schoolwork and our extracurriculars. Sports and physical activities were always pretty big for us, we were a pretty active home. Mom definitely pushed us to pursue any of those interests we expressed so most of us did pretty well. And it was easy to stay in shape because with Mom’s pneumonia and gluten allergy, most of what we had in the house to eat for a long time were gluten free snacks and frozen veggie dinners.”

There was a brief gleam off of Dr. Pendleton’s glasses before she held up a hand to stop Sophie and intervened, “Sophie, that sounds very concerning. It sounds to me as if your mother was depriving you kids of any real nutrition during those years, and worse, was directly pushing you to exercise those already minimal calories off. Would you say your mother was neglectful, or maybe even abusive, in this way? You and your sisters, I won’t lie, are alarmingly thin.”

Sophie’s eyes widened dramatically as if she had never even considered that those years in their childhood would qualify as that. Emotions and thoughts swirled in her mind, and it was all just too much for her to process. In just mere moments, she felt hurt, and confused, but most of all she felt angry. She looked down at her body, one that she’d never truly put much thought into, and began to tremble along with her voice when she finally managed to answer the doctor.

“I hadn’t even thought of that, but, but I think you might be right,” Sophie whispered.

Dr. Pendleton nodded sympathetically, and handed Sophie a tissue. As she was distracted wiping her eyes, the psychiatrist glanced to the door of her office where Sophie’s father could be seen standing in the hallway and looking in with an expectant expression. Dr. Pendleton gave him a small half-smile, and nodded, confirming that she had done exactly as instructed. He returned the nod, confirming that she would receive her additional payment by the end of the day.