#you can hurt and abuse them as much as you want

[gloomwitchwrites]

141 with a partner who likes to bite

Okay, anon. I'll be honest. When I read this prompt, I immediately thought of "cute aggression." Not sure if that is what you meant or if you meant something else, but that's what I went with. Kinda. There are some more suggestive undertones in a few of these. I had a lot of fun with this one. Thank you so much for sending it in!

Presented in four double drabbles.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Reader (can be read as gn!reader)

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, biting, cute aggression, established relationship, teasing, flirting, suggestive themes

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

"Are you teething?” asks John. “Do I need to get you a pacifier?"

John sounds annoyed, but you know that he isn’t. Not really. He happily puts up with your shenanigans.

"Can't help it,” you reply, showing your teeth. “You're too tempting."

The two of you are curled up in bed. He’s trying to read. And you’re trying to annoy him. When John is shirtless and reclined in bed, you have a clear view of his muscles. The temptation is always there, and it’s a pull you can’t resist. The aggression isn’t violent. It’s just overwhelming.

Clearly not liking your answer, John grunts. He tosses his book aside, uncaring of losing his place. One moment you’re next to him, and the next you’re fully on your back, trapped beneath his weight.

Giggling, you playfully shove at him, but there is no intention to escape from him. It’s not like you could break out of his grasp if you tried. He is warm and taut. A weighted blanket. This is what you wanted all along. To be beneath him.

"Stop."

He nips at your throat.

"Fucking."

Then he nips at your shoulder.

"Biting."

Finally, John nips at your upper arm.

"Me."

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

"Someone's going to think you're abusing me."

You grimace, even though Kyle’s tone is teasing and not at all upset. His arm and neck are peppered with small teeth marks. Most of them look like random little indents in the skin while others appear to be in the beginnings of bruising.

“I might have used excessive force,” you murmur, thumbing one of the marks.

Sometimes you can’t help yourself. The need to do it is overwhelming. Most times, you shake it off.

Kyle grins. “I like them. They’re little reminders.”

You laugh. “Oh yeah? Reminders of what?”

Kyle leans in, hand sliding up your back to grasp the nape of your neck. Pulling you close, Kyle lowers his voice. It’s all sultry smoothness.

"Of how many times I can make you come,” he coos.

“Kyle!” You lightly smack his chest, face heating as his gaze softens.

He shrugs. “You also just like to bite me.”

“Can’t help it,” you mutter.

“You’re like one of those small dogs,” he teases.

You roll your eyes. “Don’t you dare,” you scold.

“Adorable. Sweet at first glance.”

“Kyle.”

“Mean bite.”

“I swear to God, Kyle.”

“A—”

You place your hand over his mouth.

John "Soap" MacTavish

With Johnny as your bed, you spread yourself over him, head resting against his right pectoral. A rugby game is on. Johnny’s completely focused on the television as the two teams move about the field like small insects.

Johnny’s large, muscled arms are draped over your back, but his left bicep is dangerously close to your face. Every vein is pronounced. Tempting. You want to trace them with your tongue.

A naughty little urge creeps in. Makes itself known. Slithers around your brain to whisper that you should.

What’s one little bite?

It won’t hurt.

Like an itch that needs to be scratched, you lean forward, lightly chomping down on Johnny’s arm. The urge settles, the neurons in your brain content and happy.

Startled, Johnny jerks. Then, he laughs, arms tightening around you.

One second, you’re in full cuteness aggression. The next, Johnny is rolling you over, trapping you beneath him against the couch. Instead of you biting him, it’s Johnny biting you.

You shriek playfully, but he continues to nibble.

“Let me go,” you laugh. Smacking at him does nothing.

“You little goblin,” he mutters, dragging you off the couch and hauling you toward the bedroom, rugby match forgotten.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon wears only a thin, black shirt, leaving his arms bare. Your mouth waters at the sight of the protruding veins and taut muscles. The urge to touch and taste is overwhelming. It burns bright and hot beneath your skin.

"What are you looking at?" asks Simon without looking away from the menu board on the far wall.

“Nothing,” you reply instantly, glancing away like you weren’t thinking about his muscles.

A few seconds pass, and then you slip an arm between his, clinging to Simon. He doesn’t react. The menu board has his full attention. Simon is more worried about filling his stomach.

Turning your face into his arm, the urge to bite down—to unleash the aggression—wells inside you like a tsunami. At first, you resist, reminding yourself that you are in public and this behavior is inappropriate.

But you lose.

Your mouth starts to open, teeth poised to lightly bite.

“My arm isn’t a chew toy,” says Simon out of the corner of his mouth.

"I didn't bite," you mutter.

Simon slips his arm out of your grasp and then drapes it over your shoulders.

He leans in close. "You can bite me all over later."

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[angelus-scripturae]

Pls pls write anything for Astarion. Like maybe an imagine, idk. I would much prefer something fluff but literally anything else is fine.

I'm starved :(

Well baby I’m gonna feed you tonight. Can’t have my lovely followers starving now can i?

Astarion Ancunin

Nightmares

Summary: You comfort Astarion after you defeat Cazador (not ascended)

Themes: Hurt/Comfort, fluff, mentions of suicidal thoughts and abuse, gn! reader, no use of y/n, no specified pronouns, (shitty writing because this is my first time writing in 2 years)

Astarion couldn’t sleep. Not that he didn’t want to, but he physically couldn’t. Every time he closed his eyes, phantoms of his past plagued the skin behind his eyelids.

He should feel better. Cazador was dead. The ritual was stopped and his kin were saved. So why did he still feel trapped?

He shifted in his bedroll a few times before letting out a frustrated sigh and sitting up. Running a hand down his face and glancing around the dark tent you shared. The only light being the remaining embers of the fire outside.

Experimentally, Astarion attempted to close his eyes in a futile last attempt to rid himself of the visions. Only to flinch and open them again upon seeing those agonised faces and mutilated bodies.

Sensing the sudden lack of presence beside you, you begin to stir awake and feel the bedroll beside you only to feel it empty. Feeling a jolt of panic, you open your eyes fully only to find your companion sat barely a foot away from you.

Astarion’s head turns as you join him in sitting up. “Sorry if I woke you.” He mutters and runs a hand through his hair. The frown on his face highlighting his fine lines and blemishes.

You shake your head and yawn as you come into a comfortable sitting position. “Don’t apologise…” You shift closer to him but stop once he flinches slightly. “What’s wrong?”

Worry laces your voice as you reach out to touch Astarion’s hand. His hand twitches as if wanting to pull away before he lets it close around your soft skin.

“It’s nothing, darling.” He forces out a chuckle. An obvious attempt to brush the subject off. You’d known him too long to fall for that. You let out a small sigh and move to sit as close to him as you could.

“Star… You can’t lie to me.” You smile sadly at him. “Tell me what’s bothering you. You can trust me.”

Astarion hesitates. Even after months of adventuring with you and getting used to your heroism and kindness, he still struggled with the fact that he could trust you. It’s not that he didn’t want to. He trusted you with his life. But it was still new to him.

“I spent 200 years not trusting anyone…” He speaks quietly. “200 years… suffering at the hands of that maniac.” He swallows as if trying to gulp down a lump in his throat.

“I’m supposed to feel free… happy. I’m finally able to live without the fear of being used as a pawn in some sick plan…” He squeezes your hand ever so slightly, trying to find comfort in the warmth of your skin.

“But I don’t, that bastard is dead and yet I still feel him looming over me. As if gloating that his death was quick.” His voice cracks a bit before he clears his throat. “Do you know how many times I wished for that? Preyed? A quick death to save me from him and my torture?”

His words made your heart break into uncountable pieces. Your eyes softening as you shift to hold his other hand with your free one. “Star…” You start only for him to cut you off.

“You killed him though… I know that…” He clears his throat again. “It’s silly for me to still worry about him. And the people he made me hurt.”

You shake your head and move to get a glance at his face. “Astarion, it’s not silly.” You speak softly, letting go of one of his hands to cup his face and turn his face to yours. “You’ve gone through so much. More than I can even begin to fathom. What you did was not your fault. You were coerced and manipulated by a man who was selfish and ruinous.”

His eyes finally move to meet yours, instantly softening once he sees the kindness in your gaze.

“You’re a different man to who you were under his power. A better man. Even if you don’t believe it. I’ve seen it.” You smile softly and run a thumb along his cheekbone. “It’ll take time to move on from this. This has been your life for centuries. Those habits will be hard to break, but I’ll be right there. By your side. Because I love you.”

Astarion smiles as his eyes gloss over with emotion at your words. “You mean that?”

You nod and press a soft kiss to his nose. “With my whole heart.”

He leans into your touch. Moving closer until he’s able to press soft kisses to your lips. “I love you too.” He whispers against your lips before pulling away and lieing back down on his bedroll.

Your smile widens and you lay down with him. Your head resting on his arm and your body pressed against his in a comfortable silence. No other words needing to be said to explain the bond the both of you share.

Your eyes get heavy again quite quickly as your breathing steadies drifting into a state of rest. Astarion glances down at your sleeping face with a soft smile and moves some of your hair to give you a kiss on the forehead.

He takes a deep breath, readying himself to tackle his demons again. However, for the first time in days, closing his eyes didn’t bring visions of victims and abusers.

But visions of you.

[towncritte]

Red Destiny AU Lore Dump

I'm deciding to compile all the lore dumps I did so far on Twitter, into this post.

Stuff is subjected to change in the future, but this post is just to help you guys get bits of the story.

It's still a work in progress AU, and nothing is entirely set in stone but regardless, I do hope this helps.

Here's Dogday's reference sheet and info:

Here is a quick summary of what's going on in this Dimension: The Smiling Critters live in another dimension, which the portal was located in a Toy Factory. The humans entered and started ruling over the place, along with ruling several different towns to have control over the creatures within said dimension.

The story for now mostly focuses on Smiling Valley where the Smiling Critters live.

Due to the humans mostly seeing the Smiling Valley citizens as if they are Zoo Animals or an attraction of sorts, the small town finds it difficult to have supplies and have a tendency to get a shortage.

Most humans visiting aren't aware of the abuse going on done by Scientists that want to study the Critter Citizens as if they are Lab Rats, or the abuse of Soldiers/Guards hungry for a power trip.

That's the summary of the condition of the town so far.

For the most part the story for now will be pretty focused on Dogday and his perspective, as well as the other critters.

Catnap's whereabouts and what he is doing will be a mystery.

I want this AU to feel like an ominous mystery of what's going on.

Here's more lore drop of the pooch:

Declawing Trauma:

Dogday was declawed. Bubba, during Dogday receiving therapy, tried to get as much supplies and knowledge as he can to fix Dogday's hands/paws.

During those 3 years, Dogday couldn't hold things due to how bad the condition of his hands were.

Dogday had to constantly wear bandages and deal with pain for the past 3 years, making his mental recovery difficult, and feeling like a burden to his friends for helping him.

Catnap CONSTANTLY had to reassure Dogday nothing was his fault and would constantly comfort him.

Dogday, despite everything, held onto hope Bubba would restore his claws.

Bubba had to eventually settle for reshaping Dogday's hands to paws so Dogday wouldn't feel so much pain anymore. (He had to use extra bones from Dogday's hands to do this.)

Dogday was depressed about this but overtime did manage to get through therapy without being in so much pain anymore and had to learn to hold things with his newly reshaped paws. (Tho he still has some trauma)

Catnap held a HEAVY grudge against the scientists that hurt Dogday.

These traumatizing events will show how it's affected Day as the story goes.

Dogday does know about The Prototype and what Catnap's been doing. Not fully aware, the Moon is in a cult of sorts hidden outside of town.

Catnap at one point, gave Dogday hope about his claws before he left Smiling Valley as he was called upon by The Prototype:

Catnap wasn't being malicious when he showed them off, he just wanted to give Dogday a reason to support his beliefs. Catnap wasn't declawed, but he was given much deadlier claws.

Speaking of Catnap, here's his beta ref sheet:

In the future, I'll make him a colored reference sheet once I have this AU organized.

Dogday's eyes:

When Day's eyes would be fading back to white, Mini Moon immediately tells Day to go home and sleep. He then administers the red smoke again.

GORE WARNING!

Dogday developing violent tendencies:

At some point, Dogday starts to develop violent urges due to the Plush's manipulation and mind warping.

(Since I DO NOT plan to rip off Dogday's legs EVER! I'm going with this route as a nod to what happened in the game, but its in reverse)

This is so far the lore dump of the AU. I'll look back at this in the future as I continue the story to see how I can tie things together, or what to change or what I like or don't like.

If you don't understand this, it's okay.

Again, this is just a lore dump post to understand the AU so far in it's Work In Progress stage.

And to help me read over stuff and see what I can do with it.

Again, stuff is subjected to change, including designs. So nothing is entirely permanent.

I made the Plush Delivery comic back on Twitter originally as a one off in it's old version. But over time, I liked the concept so much I started forming it into a story and redid Plush Delivery.

I do hope you'll enjoy wherever Red Destiny's story will go.

Who knows what lies ahead for the red path the pooch is following.

" A red destiny awaits you Sunshine….are you ready?" -Catnap

Thank goodness, I'm done writing this all down. xnx

[3amfanfiction]

Bath Time with Simon

Hurt/no comfort, MDNI, dead dove do not eat (seriously check trigger warnings)

You’ve been held captive by Simon for weeks when you get to take your first bath.

Cw: Hurt/no comfort dark fic, drowning, noncon, unrealistic sex, abuse, implied kidnapping, implied torture, bodily fluids, peeing yourself, Simon is mean in this one folks—I’m not joking

~~~~~

Simon pulled you into the grimy bathroom just as the sun was setting.

You watched him fiddle with the taps as the tub began to fill, doing your best to avoid looking at the mold growing where it met the wall.

The whole room was nasty—soap scum stains along the bottom of the bath, rust spotting all the metal fixtures and a sour smell filling the air.

You had only had showers in the weeks you'd been here. Often times perfunctory, sometimes not, and the thought of soaking—even if only for a few minutes in a disgusting tub—sounded too good to be true.

Seemingly satisfied with the temperature Simon finally turned around.

“Strip,” is the gruff command, the look in his eyes bored.

It's just you and him in this house; you haven't seen another person in weeks. The isolation doing as much damage to you as the physical things Simon seemed to enjoy.

It had been . . . rough when you first woke up here after a night out drinking with your friends. The cuff around your foot leaving no doubt as to your forced confinement.

When he had initially stepped into the room you had woken up in you'd nearly passed out in fear. He was large, thick all around, and had a mean look on his face from the start. His cold eyes watched you cry emotionlessly, only truly lighting up when you stepped out of line.

What followed was days of 'training'. Like you were some pet that couldn't learn not to piss on the carpet, one who was always chewing on things. Simon had a heavy hand and he made it known he didn't put up with attitude and as much as you wanted to snark in those early days, you knew what lay at the end of that road.

And you hadn't resigned yourself to that fate yet.

You shiver as you pull your sweater off, just as much in fear as due to chilled air dragging its fingertips over your skin.

Was it still November or was it December now? Surely it wasn't January already. Please don't let it be January.

Are people still looking for you?

Why did he take you? What did he see in you that made you a good candidate for this fucked up situation? Share with the class so that it can be excised.

You quickly remove your pants when you notice his eyes narrowing, not wanting to piss him off any more than normal, and fold them neatly—making a pile with your sweater next to the yellow tinged sink.

Shuffling slightly on the cold laminate, your feet ached, chilled and tender where the bruises along the bottoms press into the floor with your weight.

You wait for the tub to fill, trying your hardest not to look up at him. You know he's staring at you, he's always staring at you. His gaze feels like a physical weight, brushing over your skin, peering into every crevice, seeing every weakness.

At the sound of a zipper being lowered your shoulders hunched. So it would be one of those baths then.

Your eyes flick up, taking in his figure where he’s leaned against the wall—feet kicked apart with his jeans pulled open, his cock and balls cradled in the v of his pants.

You watch him spit into his hand, a thick foamy dollop landing in his palm before he reached down, giving himself a slow stroke.

He rarely bothers with things like lube. He's made it knows that spit, blood, or spend are all the slick you're going to get and you should be grateful for it.

In the quiet you notice his gaze is focused on your chest, where your nipples have pebbled with the chill. You slouched even further in avoidance while still staying semi-upright. He didn't like when you hid from him and you weren't about to mess up this bath.

His gaze moved down to the curls hiding your mound, his hand maintaining the steady shlick shlick rhythm of strokes, using your body as nothing more than a visual aid.

After an eternity of being leered at, playing with himself all the while, he reached over and closed the taps—the squeaks bouncing off the tiled walls until only dripping water remained. A snapped finger and gesture towards the tub is all the direction you’re given before he crosses his arms over his chest, cock still standing proudly between his legs.

Edging closer cautiously, limping slightly with each press of your foot, you lean down to dip your fingers into the gently steaming water before committing to the step in.

As soon as your hand submerges you yank it back sharply. Turning to Simon, you open your mouth and you know it’s the wrong thing to say, even as the words form on your tongue but you're incapable of pulling them back. It's as if you'd been set into motion, on a runaway rail car with no way to brake.

It's too hot.

You don’t register his movement as it happens. One second he’s leaning against the wall, pants unbuttoned and unzipped with arms crossed—the next you’ve been slammed painfully onto your knees, the cold tile and grout pressing harshly into your skin which stings from the fall, a throbbing in your kneecaps following along momentarily.

Before your brain makes sense of its new position you feel Simon press up against you from behind, wide chest keeping you pinned between him and the tub, straddling your calves. Your breathing quickens in impending panic.

He's big. That was one of your first thoughts when you initially saw him. This hulking mass of a figure was a giant and he was very comfortable throwing his weight around.

These last few weeks have been a testament to your resolve to stay alive, walking the fine line between keeping what agency you could and not making Simon so mad that he played so rough he broke you. He'd come close at times and it took you a while to find the line. You would carry the scars from those first few weeks for the rest of your life.

“Can’t even be properly grateful, can you, slag?” He grumbles disdainfully, ankles hooking around yours to spread your legs as you tensed further, a softly babbled sorrysorryimsorry falling from your mouth as you tried to brace your hands against the side of the tub pushing sharply into your abdomen.

“Such a fucking princess, complaining about all the nice things I do,” he gets enough room between your legs to slam his semi-damp cock home, sinking to the base in one rough stroke.

You yelp at the painful drag of him pressing into your cunt, your hole still tender and puffy from lunchtime.

“I’m sorry Simon,” you gasp, sobs starting to creep up your throat. You knew he'd been hoping to get to punish you, that was his favorite part of the day. And he wasn't opposed to creating infractions if you didn't misstep naturally. “I didn’t mean it! Thank you, thank you, it’s perfect.”

Please please please

“Nah, too late for all that now,” is the response as his hand threads through the hair at the back of your scalp, palming the back of your head.

“Simon, ple—,” is all you're able to say, heart racing, breaths coming in gasps, before water covers your face, sound going dim—muted—as you're fully submerged.

Simon groans above you as you tighten and thrash in panic and pain, hands slapping at the water, attempting to push away from the bottom only to lose traction and slide out from under you.

Your cunt squeezed vice-like as your whole body spasmed. Riding your bucking hips, he keeps you pinned between him and the tub a pleased groan rumbling through his chest at the sensations.

The water was too hot when you dipped your fingers into it. The heat making them sting and prickle. Now that the sensitive skin of your face is immersed, it feels like you’ve been pressed against a hot stove. The water rushes into your nose, burning the sensitive lining and filling your ears as you’re fully submerged, almost bent in half over the rim of the tub.

You open your mouth in a subconscious effort to get air which allows the hot water to fill the cavity as you jerk back and forth, still trying to buck Simon’s weight off of you in a panic. His forearm pressed between your shoulder blades keeps you in place as he palms the back of your head, his front to your back and his legs pin yours against porcelain and tile, his cock barreling into your cunt, slamming painfully against your cervix with every thrust and deep grind.

Just when your vision begins to haze out around the outside edges—panic muting, heartbeat slowing—he pulls you back up to breathe. As the chilled air slams into your sensitive face you attempt to gasp and cough at the same time. The resulting hacking makes you convulse, squeezing his cock tightly with each spasm.

You had no breath to sob despite your face feeling like it was on fire—your body was triaging what was needed.

The heat from the water inflamed the nerve endings, the delicate tissue around your eyes and ears feeling like a someone had scraped you raw and then doused you in lemon juice.

Your body was concerned with getting as much air as possible during the reprieve, your vision coming back into focus as your ears picked up Simon groaning behind you in fervor, your body jostling while he maintained a punishing rhythm of thrusts. His cock harshly pressing into your cervix with each stoke.

Simon pulls you back by your hair, your eyes finally catching up and starting to stream tears to mingle with the water left on your cheeks.

"Fuck me, but there's a good slut," he breathes into your ear, coming around to trail his tongue up your cheek, tasting salt.

You flinch away in hurt as his teeth catch your skin, pain magnified to the nth degree.

Your coughing is only barely coming under control when you feel the pressure on the back of your skull again.

"Nonono Sim—" heat, almost worse than before now that your skin was already throbbing. Your mind blacked out as you thrashed like an animal, bucking at your captivity to try and reach freedom.

Elbows slammed painfully into the porcelain, body rocking back and forth as if to gain leverage that wasn't there, feet kicking and flailing where they were pinned to the floor. Your writhing was instinct, no higher thought engaged.

Simon rides your bucking hips with skill, keeping you pressed close to him, unable to move forward or back no matter how much you squirm. His cock throbbing with every spasm and clench of your channel where he was slotted as deeply as possible, head pushing painfully against the opening to your womb, causing it to bow inward with every press.

He pulled you back up sooner this time, not that you could tell.

"Thaaass it sweetheart, let it all out," he croons to you, holding you upright against his chest as you cough and heave, attempting to expel the water.

The cold air burns on your face as his fingers tighten in your hair once more.

"Poor little thing just can't catch her breath, can she?" he mocks from where he's pressed to your ear, rumbling his words directly into your brain, "Good toys need to learn how to take what their owners give them and be thankful for it," his tone changes to a growl as he pressed upwards into you punishingly.

The yelp you let out seemed to amuse him because he set out to pry the sound from your mouth again, pistoning his hips into the fat of your ass, his hipbones leaving bruises to develop where they were making violent contact with you.

When you don't say anything he gives you a hard shake with the hand fisted in your hair, frowning down at you, "where's my fucking thank you?" he grits, muscles tensing where they have you caged to the floor.

"Th'nk—" you cough, throat feeling like sandpaper, "—thank you sir," accommodating, hoping to soothe.

It's not nearly enough for him and he reintroduces you to the water.

You're not sure how long this goes on for. Some parts standing out in stark relief and some fading to the background. You couldn't tell how many times you were submerged in the tub, Simon fucking into you with abandon, enjoying your body's involuntary reactions—but it felt like years.

Simon didn't appreciate the way you were beginning to go away, hiding deep in your mind. So he course corrected to bring you back into alignment with him.

SMACK

Pulling you to the side, he delivered a strong slap to your cheek. The pain echoed through your whole body as if you'd been electrocuted, a shocked scream bursting out of you.

Your face which had been in and out of the hot water was on fire, sensation magnified beyond reason and Simon wasn't one to pull punches. Or in this case, slaps.

The pain reverberating around your brain echoed, bouncing off the inside of your skull, magnifying with each distortion. It felt like shards of glass, slicing every corner they could reach, shattering further, grinding in deeper.

"You back with me, pet? About lost ya for a second there," he asks, derision dripping from ever vowel.

Reaching down to pinch and pull at your clit, he laughs when you squeal and continue to buck, this new pain added to the symphony already playing in your body.

You know you'll be hearing his cruel laugh in your dreams for the rest of your life, however long that is.

When he moves to dunk you again the tub jabs harshly into your tender torso, causing you to expel a large portion of the breath you'd just caught.

Before you get a chance to pull it back in you're underwater again. Your thrashing was cataclysmic in nature, violent upheavals and furious rocking, searching—constantly—for a way out as your lungs burned, tightening with each heartbeat, oxygen depleting.

There had to be a way out of this, right?

Were you truly going to die here? Pinned under the body of this man while he used you for his pleasure? No more warm breakfasts, no more books on rainy days, no more shopping with friends. No more. Was this going to be your last moments? Pinned under a man while he held your head underwater?

You don't mean to but you pee yourself in fear.

You can't hear it at the times, but as the warm liquid shot out of you, coating Simon's balls and both of your thighs, he just laughed, continuing his punishing pace while bringing you back up to breathe to prolong your torture.

Swallowing great gulps of air as your heart pounds, your lungs ache. It feels similar to when you get the wind knocked out of you, chest constricting and spasming, not allowing any air to inflate them, adrenaline pumping with no outlet as you desperately try to breathe to no avail.

This time, there's hope. When his thrusts begin to lose cohesion you have a sharp spark of relief. Its almost over, it's almost done.

You're gasping in as much air as you can, lungs finally no longer seizing, as Simon gives you a brief respite before he utters damning words.

"Take a big breath baby, you’re not coming back up until I’m finished," barely allowing you a chance to follow directions before pushing you back into the hot water.

You're so tired. No matter how much you try and catch your breath when you're above water, it always seems to run out far too quickly once you're immersed. This time is no exception. Your lungs are on fire, chest tensing and muscles locking tight. This is it, you're not going to make it through this. It's almost a relief to feel that, as Simon thrusts behind you, body slamming into the side of the tub, knees being raised off the floor slightly with the strength of his thrusts.

You distantly note the bruises that are likely forming where the edge of the tub is being pressed violently into your torso with each thrust. Fragile skin pressed between bone and porcelain.

His arm was still a bar across your shoulders, fingers tangled in the soggy, knotted mess of hair at the back of your scalp. The size of his palm giving him complete control of your movements.

As you thrashed in the hot water, all your muscles tensed, attempting to lift you from the water, kicking your feet where they were pinned. Simon groaned as he rode out your spasming. You were milking his cock, the way you fluttered around him.

Things were going dark again. He was going to drown you, water filling your lungs, weighing you down to press wetly into the earth where he'd bury you. He was going to do it this time, you were sure of it.

Would anyone ever know what happened to you?

When you're positive there's no surviving, Simon slams home with a low groan, flooding your channel with come, throbbing as he continues to pump into you, slowly losing momentum.

The moment his grip on your head loosens you're yanking your head up—water, saliva, and vomit trailing from your mouth as you heaved, trying to clear your airways.

Simon moaned at the added stimulation, grinding deeply to press against the back of your cunt painfully, his tip kissing your cervix, the press of him spreading it apart ever so slightly.

Once he was finished he pulled away completely, using your shoulder to help himself stand up with a satisfied groan as his spend dripped down the inside of your thighs, chest still heaving with each gasping breath, the air feeling like razor blades dragged down your throat.

Stepping to the front of the tub he reaches in to remove the plug, allowing the water to begin draining while he picks up a stiff, rough looking towel crumpled in the corner.

He uses it to vigorously wipe himself off, from his cock to his balls, between his ass cheeks and down his thighs. Walking over to you once he's done, he huffs a sardonic laugh as you flinch back.

He grabs the top of your head, holding you still as he drags the towel harshly over your sensitive skin, rubbing firmly in long strokes, maximizing your discomfort, smiling as new tears began pouring down your face.

You were right, it was a rough towel.

He takes great joy in rubbing his wetness across your face under the guise of cleaning you up, eventually pulling back to stand straight.

Wadding up the towel, he throws it against your chest where it drops onto your legs, splayed open from where sprawled.

“Clean up your mess. I can’t believe you pissed on the floor like a dog.”

You didn’t want a bath anymore.

Next

Story Repository || Main Repository

[l0stfoster]

I wanna know more about the harpies they interest me so deeply ‼️

HARPIES TALK TIME!! They're some of my favorites to think about. I'm gonna re-post the little bits of info about them from the original post ab Cursed here, just so this can be like a little collective master list of Harpy info :D INFO BELOW THE CUT BECAUSE I'VE LEARNED MY LESSON!!! If I add more info about harpies I'll likely edit this post

- All the greaser Harpies look out for one another. It doesn't matter if they're not from the same gang, or if their gangs have tension; you look out for one another. They may necessarily not be each other's flock, but it’s natural for them to stick together. - They flock together as much as they do because a harpy escaped Tulsa once, completely disappeared, and it set all the east side harpies into a panic. They can't leave Tulsa, so it's better to always have a connection to ensure you won't HAVE to leave. - The harpies love to play fight. They will absolutely beat the shit out of each other and then grab lunch as if nothing happened. All of the harpies have bird habits too. Most of them sleep on their stomach because catching your feathers underneath yourself when sitting up hurts. - Gifting culture and flock marking with feathers is a huge thing for them all. Almost all harpies have feathers from other harpies, though the symbolism with those isn't for flock marking and stands more as a general display of loyalty. - All harpies have an inherent aversion/fear of cats since felines are a pretty big predator to birds. Even harpies of birds of prey or the birds you'd traditionally see that go for cats have that built-in instinct to avoid. (Little fun fact, they're not fans of Umbra, and Paul abuses that. He has let Umbra gnaw on Tim's feathers before out of spite) - Not a single harpy can see glass, they're all victims to the DX windows. - Pretty much all of them can enter torpor willingly as well. Some do it more often than others, it's a preference thing. - Most of the harpies can't fly well in rain, it's just difficult in most weather conditions that aren't clear skies. However, bad weather doesn't stop them from trying; it just means there's an increase in broken bones and hurt birds for a day. - All of them can chirp, coo, whistle, copy voices, etc. Certain harpies are better at it, as the kind of bird they are makes it either easier or harder. The Shepards are a good example, being black vultures and all. Vultures don't have voice boxes and usually make low growling sounds instead of other noises. But since the shepherds are harpies and not full birds, they can make normal bird chitters and such but it’s raspy because they’re not really supposed to be able to make those noises. - They're very territorial by nature. - They generally don't eat bird meat for cultural reasons, but every now and then the birds of prey and scavengers do. It's sort of in their nature to be uneasy about it, though, and they're not fond of watching people eat bird meat either. - They all have hollow bones, so they're pretty damn light. - A lot of them affection bite. - One baby harpy gets adopted by pretty much any harpy in the proximity. Two's sister was a victim of every Harpy taking the chance to fly with her, preen her, etc. It's like that motherly thing where moms will whip around if they hear any child yell "mama", only it's that the harpies will be up and arms the second a baby harpy makes a sound. - On that note, though, the babies get bulled (lightly) for their goofy-looking wings. Mostly the ones who look like blended cotton balls as babies. Some baby birds are REALLY ugly. - They have a really good sense of smell and even better eyesight. I would not want one of them hunting me down. - Their talons are hella sharp and their nails usually get sharp as fuck too.

[bitter-panacea]

Goultard's accidental queer coding

(And, incidentally, why I headcanon Goultard as transfem/not cis)

Disclaimer : i say goultard's queer coding is accidental because i really dont believe that gou was intended to be read as queer when tot wrote him. Nonetheless, the subtext is still present and i believe any queer person would assume goultard to be somewhat queer while reading the manga. Interpretation can be different from intention. Also, and this applies to most of what i post, i share my personal analysis and interpretation and everyone is free to have their own.

(I got lazy and don't want to format this post properly, so this mess is what you get lol)

Pariah to hero.

Goultard was an outcast since he was born. A very common trope in queer coding.

After he proves himself worthy by showing he can be of use to the village. He's respected, adored, almost worshipped. But only as long as he fulfills the narrow role people want and expect from him. He's rejected and insulted as soon as he doesn't fit into this role.

Strict traditional masculine gender roles are forced on him. The protector. Stronger than any opponent, stronger than himself and his emotions...

I also think of his condition of being a son of iop, this sword of damocles hanging over his head, as a nature that is imposed onto him over and over again when he didnt choose it and doesnt want it. Being a warrior is supposedly in his blood its what hes good at and therefore should do, settling down and having a family is supposedly contrary to this nature. Even though its what makes him the happiest.

I wonder if traditional gender roles vary from one class to another. Is there any specificity between iop men and iop women. If iop men are by default considered more iop than iop women. Is feminity synonym with weakness for iops. Must a iop woman choose to never settle down and stay a real iop or abandon her warrior status/her iopness to raise offspring at home while the iop men can keep fighting. Maybe class affects the form sexism takes.

Ive joked about gou being in a polycule with three outcast witches being proof he isnt cishet and that the three of them were waiting for gou to figure his shit out... kinda real

After being possessed by the symbiote,

(Which can also be seen as him failing at his role of protector, failing to protect his family. He blames himself for it) the way he's rejected, dehumanized, called a monster, a creature, specifically not a man, and at the same time mocked, can be very reminiscent of queer phobia.

His relationship with the symbiote is reffered as them being a couple and compared to a romantic/sexual relationship.

It feels to me like, while gou was possessed, and shortly after, he could allow himself to step out of that preconceived idea of masculinity that comes with being a "hero", and indulge in the gray areas. Not a human or a demon, not a god or a mortal, not a man or a woman. While still having deeply internalized cisheteronormativity, grasping for some "normality" whenever he's faced with someone else's opinion of him. Needing to justify and prove he is not queer, prove he's man enough, prove he isnt weak, like he needs to convince himself as well as everyone else. Hating the subject but bringing it up unprompted. Always overcompensating.

There is something reminiscent of being in a queer relationship for the first time and it happens to be incredibly abusive. You might feel like the abuse is worth it if it means being allowed to be more authentically yourself, you tell yourself your abuser understands you and loves you for who you really are even if they hurt you, and the queerness of the relationship isolates you, making it impossible for you to get help to leave said relationship.

But much later, when his reputation got better (how much did he have to do with it, how much of his reputation is what he carefuly build it to be) and he had to take his father's power and become the new iop god, the pressure to act a specific way, to fit into this box, would have come back. The whole "iops dont cry" thing with gou denying and hiding his emotions in wakfu.

He's often reduced to that image of the unbeatable warrior, the ideal masculinity, the very definition of what a iop should be... what he thinks he should be.

He gets enraged at his fans for essentially worshipping a fake idealized and shallow version of him, making money off of his image and reputation, but rejecting him as a person, his humanity. They dont want to know who he truly is. He wants to be respected for his heroic actions, not because of this fake idealized vision people have of him.

(isnt it fucking hilarious that this is exactly what wakfu and a lot of the fandom does to him too sorry I'll stop being a hater).

Goultard's reputation and how he feels about it is a fascinating subject. Very confusing but thats because he is himself confused about what he wants it to be, but it sure is extremely important to him.

In the end, goultard recognizes the only people who knew and understood him are dead.

His emotions are seen as unmasculine and ridiculous because theyre too intense (seen as hysteric, too sensitive) Vil smisse says he's "worse than a chick". They say he has his mother's character whos literally named cabotine (hysteric).

He sees himself as a poet, someone sentimental, complains that people don't see it, don't recognize it, can't/don't understand this part of him. Kills an entire village because they didnt appreciate this part of him (a little excessive maybe lmao)

The way he presents, wears dresses as a child, skirts later in life, long hair with accessories... not necessarily effeminate but kinda androgynous hes gnc af or whatever. (I dont know what other people think but he always looks super androgynous to me, except in wakfu) Hes very goth looking in the manga which is also queercoded in itself.

His entire relationship with arty like come on.

People call him a homo and assume hes a homo thats pretty queer coded to me lol

Even the text makes fun of him for being the way he is. Hes often shown to be sort of a ridiculous person. Its not just the other characters who think that. They dont really expect you as a reader to sympathize with gou for being ridiculed. There are a few moments that feel gratuitously sadistic towards gou.

Arty also gets disrespected/has homophobia directed at him but always in relation to gou

(People assume arty's queer BECAUSE he's with gou), gou is disrespected/has homophobia directed at him way more and not always because of his relationship with arty (people assume gou's queer because he looks and acts in ways that make people think hes queer)

The whole thing with arty being a dragon is pretty queer coded too, discovering his true nature and being rejected for it, learning to accept himself etc...

But its such a classic trope it also fits other interpretations. Im thinking notably about growing up mixed, hes rejected for not being "human" enough but also not "dragon" enough, too much like a "human" or too much like a "dragon" having trouble figuring out his identity and accepting it, he inherits a long, complex and painful history from one side of his origins, fights to be seen as legitimate by the other dragons, very steven universe-esque.

And it's just very much coming-of-agey in general. His body changing and having new confusing emotions that he struggles to control. Facing new responsibilities. Kind of spiderman like. They do make a little joke about artys adoptive grandpa crail being like his version of uncle ben. So its also a metaphor for growing up in general.

[braintamer]

hi sir 💗 i'm a female and recovering feminist and uuh i want to ask your advice on how to ways to like kinda apologize for my past? 🥺 like i was so brainwashed into thinking yknow "women" have rights blahblah but um i know now females are just a set of holes with tits. 🤭 still i feel the urge to yknow make up for being a feminist in the past. i dunno if it's worth your time, but i have 3 main mistakes i made and i'd like to ask for a punishment for each if that's okay 🥺 my mistakes (amongst many) were:

1. disliking even hating men... i know BAD start :(( i promise i'm better!!! i now worship men, call them sir/daddy/etc. and respect only them. 🥰 but i feel so bad about talking bad about my superiors so i would like to be punished 🥺

blaming not the victim (me) but the rapist (a man with the right to abuse me). i would say things like "i didn't deserve to be raped" or something, but now i know that if a man want to hurt, molest, rape, abuse or otherwise me in anyway he can and should! i'm sorry i was sooo stupid :(( can you give me another punishment? 🥺

i am still unlearning being a brat. words like 'no' or 'stop' are unfortunately still part of my vocabulary altho i'm working so hard to be tamed. anyway i would so wish for a punishment i can do regularly, preferably everytime i make a mistake or am a brat. can you help me please? 🥺

that is all, but pleeease don't be too hard on me, i know i don't deserve to be respected and heard, but i get scared easily 🥺

thank you so much for your time 💗💗💗

- 🌟

This is a great question. Helping girls recover from feminism is a complex and important job.

Your punishment/rehabilitation for hating men should be watching lots of disgusting porn that demeans women. Instead of touching your pussy, finger your asshole while you watch. Don't stop until your asshole is sore and you're absolutely disgusted with yourself.

When it comes to being raped, you're absolutely right. Any man has the right to use your body however he pleases. As punishment for questioning this natural order, you will send nudes to five random men on tumblr and tell them that your body belongs to them. If you're not ready to send nudes to strangers, just describe your body to them and ask them how they would use it to pleasure themselves. While you read their responses, hump your pillow or a similar object (something that will stimulate you, but not enough to make you cum) and repeat the mantra "I deserve to be raped, I was born to be raped, I love rape."

Finally, smacking your tits or pussy with a hairbrush is a great go-to punishment for when you act like a brat. For a more severe punishment, pluck one of your pussy hairs.

I hope this helps you on your journey to recover from feminism, and you can always send a DM or another ask if you need more help.

[ghouldtime]

i usually don’t message anyone or anything but i just wanted to say i love your characterizations of konig, ghost, and soap very much. the love and appreciation you have for these characters really come through in your writing.

the cod fandom is full of talented writers but the majority of them write smut. it gets tiring scrolling through the tag and just seeing porn when i actually just wanna see… ppl who enjoy the characters outside of sex appeal, yk? so your blog, truly and genuinely, is a breath of fresh air.

that’s not even mentioning the ppl who write them as abusive or use them to fulfill certain fantasies. i mean i don’t kink shame ofc, but idk sometimes ppl write them in extremely degrading ways that do a disservice to their character and it bugs me a little. plus all the “innocent bimbo reader” rhetoric, idk it gets tiring.

anyway, sorry for the yap session, but i did mean everything i said genuinely !!

💚💚💚💚 Salutations anon! You really don't know how much I appreciate hearing this. Seriously, messages like this give me motivation to keep writing and to stay active on here. THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU from the very depths of my heart. You've all been so so incredibly kind, sweet, and encouraging 😭 I don't know what I've done to deserve this but it's appreciated and you all are absolutely awesome. This has made my YEAR, thank you for taking time out of your day to send my silly self a message 💚💚💚💚💚

I'm so so happy my characterizations have hit the mark for some people and that I'm (hopefully) doing them some justice! I'm always worried about that because characterization matters heavily to me and I want to respect their characters and how much they mean to me and other people through it EVEN IF THE WRITERS OF THE LAST MODERN WARFARE DON'T KNOW WHAT A PROPER STORY LINE IS AND KILLED SOAP WHICH I'M NOT FORGETTING, IM NOT FORGIVING, AND IM CERTAIN NOT LIVE LAUGH LOVING WITH IT. I'm refusing to accept he's dead, no matter what they say

I love the boys all so much. They all have such interesting things about them and have a lot more dynamic to them than people think and I just want to represent them right, especially lesser appreciated characters (haven't actually really written for them yet but Keegan, Logan, Hesh, Sandman, Roach, Nikto, Krueger - legit I love them, anyone feel free to send asks or scenarios you'd like I WILL write them. Legit, y'all, you can send me asks about certain characters even if there isn't much on them. I WILL do my research and I WILL write to the best of my ability)

Oh there's many talented writers in the COD Fandom, there really are. I can't say I really know any personally seeing as I never really interact with other blogs but I've seen some reallly really nice fics with so much thought put in them. But equally, there's a lot of just... smut. Not even well written smut, I'm sorry, but a lot of it is just really, really poorly written. I'm all for do what you want, write whatever makes you happy. Freedom of speech! If it makes you happy, cool! But I'm also going to cringe cause a lot of it is... yeah, yikes

Not trying to be the smut police and say every detail must be accounted for and everyone should follow it in a certain way but plz basic anatomy 101, basic prep 101, no guy gal or enby pal will appreciate it if you just shove it in to anywhere dry and I've seen a loooot of that and other things that just hurt?????

I get it, people learn by reading/writing, but this is literally just a single search away. And common sense. There's also a lot of practices being unsafely represented (like fifty shades of gray level) and uh it's not on purpose, it's not meant to be dubious, but it just is written as that. PLEEEEASE please please do some research, the internet is right there

But I felt the same way. Like bless whatever y'all want to write, no shame and NO shade to writing smut. I'll probably eventually do it myself again in the future (undecided on that but it'd likely be a side blog if I do and would never be a main focus, I prefer story over smut action. Once again, no shade and no shame to those who don't, to each their own!). Never ever going to full on NSFW mode or only writing that, I'm always always always going to prioritize writing the characters first and trying to get more stories out there about them :D

But I got tired of opening it and all I see is just... smut, smut, more smut, extremely dubious content x 50. And maybe a sprinkle of normal things or fluff here and there. I just don't look in the tags honestly anymore, because so many people just don't properly tag it or give 0 warning at all, not even under a read more, just BAM, unavoidable unless you flat out don't look at the tags at all

There's more to the characters than just being attractive 😭and I love exploring those aspects of them and trying to figure out why they are the way they are

Also I'm ALWAYS going to have an issue with people who fetishize horrible things. When you're actively fantasizing and writing about someone abusing someone else, like flat out abuse, and being incredibly toxic and terrible to someone - just, please talk to a therapist. That's not social commentary, that's not a proper portrayal of real, HORRIBLE things that affect many people and have very real repercussions - that's perpetuating the negative narrative around a lot of struggles and setting it back by instead turning it into something that's treated as attractive. I really fully can elaborate on this and have a whole rant - but it's not cute and it's NEVER cool to fetishize actual, awful awful things that happen to people. Dead dove doesn't excuse you from judgement - especially when it's not even acknowledged. You're just saying you know what you write is probably morally reprehensible. Hey, I'm going to reprehend and won't respect you at all when you write awful things just cause and get off on it. Think people forget that. Dead dove is a descriptor and doesn't excuse you or make you instantly free from judgement or mean you're not doing something problematic/disgusting. It's just saying you know it is, that's about it.

I don't get why people do that when it's clear they have no idea what they're talking about. I've seen that a lot with the bully! Things. Like... wow, clearly some of you WEREN'T bullied and you're writing about it and it shows because if you were, hey, you know how fucking awful that shit is and how it leaves life long effects. Not saying this applies to all but there's a lot I see like that where it's just ".... wow, okay, so you don't have any idea what you're talking about, cool."

AND YEAH the mischaracterization really does do a great disservice where it's clear they're just after the characters for their physique. They just warp them so bad it's like "Are we talking about the same character?" . In AUs you get to explore that and can shape them to your wants, that's your choice! Highly recommend AU's, it allows so much freedom.

But when it's like.... regular? And it's just no where close and they're doing a 180 in how they actually are (like having Ghost flirt with strangers and be big scary daddy dom im sorry he's not at allllll) I don't get it and it's clear you really aren't writing about or for the character - at that point, plz, make your own characters. Just make your own OCs, it's great! And you can make them HOWEVER you want instead of just ignoring a character's characterization to make them fit what you want. And guess what? It's your character so you can TRULY do what you want and have them the way that you want instead of bending characters to fit a box that they weren't made for

I'm not saying you HAVE to write a character the same as me or in a specific way, but when it's a character with an established personality/backstory, the least you can do is follow that outside of AU's if you're writing for them. That's... the whole point of writing that character - I don't get why you'd write for them specifically if you're literally going to ignore everything about them

SPEAKING OF THE INNOCENT BIMBO THING, I'm also really not a fan. Once again, if that makes you happy to write or read, cool! I just am NOOOOT a fan. Why does the reader always have to be so small and so delicate and so pure/innocent? Why does the reader have to be just so UWU coded? Why are they always like "oh you're so little and small :( and just don't know any better" . It's either that or they're John fucking Wick with little in between. Pleeeease it hurts my soul

Its why I try to genuinely write a neutral geared reader with reactions that will likely fit a lot of people! I'm always taken out of a story's immersiveness when it mentions something like like your hair length or how uwu small you are in comparison. Give me just... average sensible reader. Give me reader who has realistic human reactions. Give me reader who isn't perfect, give me a reader who isn't magically special or different. Give me a reader who is just doing their best, who is THEMSELVES, with no intent otherwise. I love those fanfics so so much instead of trying to feel like I have to be something I'm not to get myself in the mindset to read some pieces NEVER APOLOGIZE FOR YAPPING. IM ALWAYS WANTING TO TALK IM ALWAYS AROUND 💚💚💚💚THANK YOU FOR THE MESSAGE IT MAKES MY HEART WARM AND MAKES ME SO SO HAPPY

[drinksglue]

"how can you excuse the terrible jokes in hazbin hotel?"

Sir Pentious and Angel Dust are not real people, so in the literal sense, I don't actually care what happens to them or how those events are portrayed. hope this helps

[akanemnon]

I don't like this place. It's turning everyone edgy and sad.

FIRST - PREVIOUS - NEXT

MASTERPOST (for the full series / FAQ / reference sheets)

[sunlit-mess]

consumed by the inevitable

[royalreef]

@infernalpursuit inquired: how does your muse react when they're scared? does it change, depending on what is currenly scaring them?

(( Oh, absolutely it depends on what's currently scaring her!

The thing you have to understand about Miranda is that she's less of a person, in the sense that her personality and reactions are organic and naturally occurring, and moreso that she's someone who has been so intensely groomed and micro-managed and pushed in such a specific direction that a lot of the way that she is is entirely on purpose.

Her personality isn't really a natural product of her birth nor her circumstance in the same way someone else's personality might be. It's more like... There's no way that people can go through something like what she had gone through and not turn out in a very similar way to her. It's a designed process in this way, something that very intentionally obliterates any other chance to be anything else, and makes becoming this highly specific mold of a person into a life-or-death matter, something that you can't will or whim or nature your way out of. Miranda is the way that she is because she's been intentionally ground down and shredded into the person that she is. She doesn't really have a concrete sense of self. She doesn't even really know who she is. She's not supposed to, she's just supposed to be a means to serve a singular purpose and a singular end, and all she even can comprehend doing is that purpose.

Fear is a major part of this process, this total obliteration of any other mere possibility, but I also feel like it's a little disingenuous to call it fear in the same way most people would relate to it. It's the kind of fear that's so big and bone-deep and constant that it stops really feeling like fear at all, the kind of thing that Miranda herself has a very hard time of realizing that she's feeling even when it's particularly bad.

It might be more accurate to call it getting locked into a constant state of flight-or-fight. It's a constant existential threat where Miranda is sincerely and totally convinced that she could die at any moment and anyone could hurt her as much as they wanted, constantly living solely in the very present and unable to think of what even a short distance ahead in time would be like, because she just never feels comfortable or secure enough to stop thinking of the right now. She's what happens when the fear has been intensified strongly enough that it never dips below what would be debilitating for anyone else, and thus has become wildly detached to her own body, physical harm to her body, threats to her own life, or any escalation of fear.

This is, in fact, one of the things that I worry about disappointing roleplay partners with at times! Because their muse will act scary or try to frighten Miranda, and it just doesn't work. She just doesn't respond to the situation in a measurably different way than how she normally does, because she's under so much constant stress and strain and terror that it's not really any different to her than how everything else already is.

The only real times when she starts to show it, in fact, are places where her aversion and fear of them have been specifically cultivated. Miranda is a tool, and a tool doesn't break under expected strain, but you do have to be able to sharpen it and make sure it remains useful. You do have to take it apart to do maintenance on it, make sure it's working. The points where Miranda starts to actually, sincerely, show her genuine fear and terror, are during these points and in these situations where her aversion of them can be used to punish her and make sure she's being redirected in the proper direction.

In which case, Miranda's fear response is also highly specific and the only real option that other people who have gone through it come out with.

Mostly, she freezes up. She starts fawning hard. She lets it happen, over and over and over again until the object of her fear goes away, because it's going to be easier if she doesn't fight back or resist. She starts disassociating, disconnecting from her body and her thoughts, forgetting where she is or what's happening to her, because then she doesn't have to be present to register it and the memories are easier to repress later. She starts to people-please, trying to make the object of her fear happy and content them, because doing what they tell her to do and making them happy makes it not last as long. If she just does what they want her to, then they won't hurt her as much. If she just listens when she's told, then she won't get punished as much.

The end result is that she's very... robotic, in a sense. She does what she is told, to the letter. She will do what she is told, and she will not fuss or cry or cause any further problems if it also hurts her as well. She will be good, because the only choice other than being good is total obliteration. They should tell her what to do. They should make her do what they want her to do. It's okay that she's not there, or it's hurting her. It's even better if that happens, in fact, because then it's not as bad. She will not mention it after the fact, she will not hold it against them, she will not upset them again. She will be good. She was designed to be good.

Which, again, is part of why Miranda's fear response can be so inappropriate sometimes... Because she's been cultivated this way, because other people punishing her is so ingrained into her mind as a fundamental way of being, very often she will pick the seemingly much scarier or painful option over that cultivated social fear. She will happily hurt herself for someone else, and she will not be afraid of it, or be very upset at all. She will happily do many frightening things and deal with things that anyone else wouldn't be able to, because she's already locked into a permanent state of terror, and the only exception would be what happens if she doesn't do this. She's a tool. The only thing a tool has to fear is not fulfilling its purpose.

It's why she keeps doing increasingly dangerous things, too, seemingly without regard to her own life or death. Fear is an adaptation which allowed living things to avoid situations and things that were dangerous to them. Because Miranda's fear is constant and always at its peak, she doesn't register minor fluctuations to it, nor does she have it to try and get her to avoid things that might or will hurt her. It's also why her pain response is so bizarre and detached, and doesn't take very many efforts to avoid pain in general.

It also means, too, is that the potential for other people accidentally setting off or triggering this particular type of cultivated fear is very high, basically intentionally so. She has to be easy to control and redirect as needed, after all. If someone else gets close to her, gets her in an intimate situation similar to how she was cultivated to respond to punishment, then she can very easily get locked into a loop that they didn't know they were setting off. She's not in the state of mind to notice contradictions or try and correct herself, let alone notice if something is wrong, so nothing she can do can stop this from happening beyond general discouragement from those situations.

It just also means that it can be rather upsetting for other people when they notice that Miranda's immediate fear response, in wholly out-of-proportion situations, is to just sit there and take it without protest, even to the point of seemingly not reacting to someone nearly killing her if they do it in the right way.

[quietwingsinthesky]

im just saying that a guy whose worldview is inflexibly based on the idea that the only two groups of people in the universe are the controlled and the ones who have the power to control them, and that there is no other way to exist, and who has done everything in his power to make sure he’s always in the latter group. i’m just saying that it’s possible this is not unrelated to. that time when he was used as a child by rassilon himself. its possible.

[katyspersonal]

3 for Aldrich, Aldia, Willem & Laurence

9 for Maria

11 for Micolash & Aldrich

24 for Laurence

(Asks from this ( x ) meme)

3) What first drew you to this character?

As for Aldrich, I vaguely recall finding out that he checks the traits I like the most? He was one of the characters I've learned about through fandom and not on my own, and I think this ancient meme about summarises it:

Also:

@val-of-the-north SHUDDUP you're basically so horny for Laurence/Logarius/Snatchers that you can't even picture them in your mind in any way but being naked!!!!!!! *casts the stone back at u*

With Laurence, like with Mico, it was the very first glance at the character in Youtube compilation with boss themes and concept art image. I did not know the lore yet, but the design and the music made me imagine Laurence as sort of aged, sagely librarian. I could not imagine back then that his boss fight would be him being a "helpless abhorrent little mewmew" as kids call it! Heck, I thought he'd have dialogue despite the monster form x) In a way, my first impression was not wrong, with the cut content of him actually talking even in a beast form, and implication of him being a son of Cainhurst cut content librarian NPC! I have intuition for cut content before having information, hahaha!

I have nothing to say about Willem. It might be a memory gap thing, but I swear at some point I feel I was turned off and then booted back up with liking this character already installed in my system x) As for Aldia.... ugh for fuck's sake... yeah, it was this legend:

I was absolutely floored by this stupid vid even without knowing any context, but I also instantly liked this character. I didn't even know his name yet, but the voice acting and long yapping about philosophy already pulled me in XD (Also unironically, this video is precisely how I give relationship advice fhfhdds)

9) Does this character remind you of anyone you know? Does that affect how you see them?

Yeah, I know this person. I know them very well. I know them more than anyone else. Someone who was misguided (by their destructive influence mentor figure, by their own foolishness and past history, or combination of both, who can tell anymore?) into committing awful things, then despaired over their sins and attempted redemption but also failed in some way? This person is me. At some point I've found myself in front of horrible truth about my past life and personality, and knew I was guilty and sullied forever. That it was over for me as a human being, but that didn't matter, and I could only keep people safe by locking myself away and trying to serve something better.

......annnnd it took a few years of more informed people to (metaphorically) shake me and slap my face into lucidity, explaining to me that I've fallen for the "BPD demonization" that was going far beyond than my individual failure as a friend, and we are always accused of abuse and causing irreversible harm when the worst we do is being emotionally overbearing. I kept losing trust to those friends, telling them that they were enablers who tried to gaslight me into thinking I was not 'that much of a monster', until it was other people with BPD who 'shook me and slapped my face into lucidity'. xd Nonetheless, even though now I know the truth about how society treats BPDs, I remember the feeling of being so monstrous and harmful that I was not even allowed to "touch" people with my dirty hands, how my reality used to be. So, I could write Maria going through this effortlessly, especially considering what she did was more plain and tangible!

In fact... thank you for asking me about this, because I kept wondering why I had such frequent dreams about being Maria, and why the Maria in my dreams acts like abused child that took back control against Gehrman despite my portrayal of the guy being so different. And now the puzzle is solved! That part of me still lives inside, it seems.

11) How did you “fall in love” with this character?

Already answered this for Micolash here: ( x )! As for Aldrich, it was through properly analysing the bigger picture and context of his actions. I've figured that his madness was, in fact, being informed on what was far too ahead of everyone else around him! He, like the rest of the cast, is trapped in the rotting, doomed world in which the only choices are 1) "die with dignity" or 2) commit something unthinkable from moral standpoint for a chance to escape. And will morality of the rotting world will matter in the new world anyways? Won't it all be left behind and be forgiven?

The guy also tried to take everyone else he could with him, like sort of a fucked up Noah's Arc! I can tell that they reused the concept with Rykard, at least, I am glad they know what works xD I'd say that the sadism he experienced upon eating people was either result of insanity (he understood a thing no one should understand), or still didn't exclude the bigger purpose (egotistically revelling in how holy he is helping everyone and doing what no one else dared, which would be like my Laurence). In any case, I have the strongest respect to the courage it takes to transcend the bonds of morality and compassion in order to to greater good. Being burdened with the knowledge of how the world really works, and choosing to push through instead of still being bound... This is why I also like Fauxsefka; learning how this world works, she chose to turn people into Kin so they can't ever become beasts. I am weak for this trope, you don't understand.

24) Do you ever dream about this character? If so, describe a dream you once had about them.

Laurence appears in my dreams only in two contexts: 1) Micolaurence or 2) dreams about finding secret files in Bloodborne that reveal his canonical appearance before beasthood! I can tell the latter comes from my everlasting unsatisfaction with my design for him, because I love it but it doesn't feel "fitting" and I can't identify why!

The former, I think, fandom rubbing onto me x) In two of these dreams, I was Laurence. In other two, I was Micolash. In one of Laurence dreams it was mutual, in the second one I was in love unrequited. In one of Micolash dreams, it was mutual, and in another it was not.. Basically, my dreams allows me to experience this ship from every possible angle. o_o Waiting for more I guess fhhdfsfd

______________

Thank you for asking! And.. without exaggeration, you've just done quite a psychological work on me by just asking the right thing. I need to think about that, hahaha

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

i want to go ahead and write up A Whole Thing about how ricky's arc ultimately comes down to 'protect what's yours,' in a way that tbh manages to be kind of the opposite of the toxic masculinity that trope tends to embody in western media especially. but also it relies on several other major essays about the themes in this show that i need to write up first to tie them all together with it. ashdjsjdjdh. Help

[lesenbyan]

Scientists: want so badly for adult children who are friends with and/or still dependant on parents for money or a roof to be Bad that they are intentionally looking for detriment in the study results

Study results: so overwhelmingly positive they can't actually find the data needed to twist the narrative

Scientists: >:|