#you don't understand how much this idea horrifies me

[queenofcode]

To Scarlet: How was your original game like, and why did you go Turbo?

"Forest Heroes?"

.

.

.

"It was simple. Beaverton was our hero. He went around saving any forest critters. Putting out the fires."

"Then there was Dragon. Our villain. Always starting the fires."

"And there was I. The queen.."

"What did I do?"

"ABSOLUTELY NOTHING"

.

.

.

"They did nothing with me. I was meant to have it ALL. A kingdom, loyal subjects, and the RESPECT that came with this crown. But no. All I got was a tower that was meant to be my castle. It became my prison. I watched day in and day out how no one played my game." "Those who did weren't competent enough to even pass level two. My ONLY purpose was to congratulate any players who beat the game. THAT. WAS. ALL. I. HAD. And they couldn't even give me that..."

...

"Then there was Turbo. He was the only person I saw every day from my window. My cabinet was right across from his. I got to see how much the gamers loved him. I was envious. He had everything I wanted."

"Then he threw it allllll away."

.

.

.

"I've..moved past that though. I got to meet him before RoadBlasters. Our circumstances may be different, but we understand each other. After Roadblasters, I followed his bold lead. Granted, I had no idea where he was for the few days I was homeless. That's a story for another time though.." .

.

.

"As for Dragon and Beaverton..."

"..." .

.

.

"To answer your question straightforward-"

"Though, how come I don't get a cool name for when I left my game? How come he gets 'Going Turbo?' Where's my horrifying name? Where's my recognition?"

[ooooo-mcyt]

Scott Smajor (cc) is such a good story teller actually and the common themes he uses in his storylines captivate me. I think we should talk about how good he is at Themes more often. If I wasn't so tired I'd write essays.

[vincord]

It is very difficult to realize and accept the fact that all this time the events taking place in my life, no matter how insignificant they may seem to me, somehow had an impact on me and my psyche. When at first you could dismiss it and ignore it, because "well, it happens sometimes, but the rest of the time I'm fine and I can function normally," but then you suddenly stop eating, you don't feel anything for the interests you once had, you move away from everyone and you stop participating in any activities, disappearing from the radar. All you can do now is mindlessly lie in one place and cry for no reason. You can't draw anymore because you're too sad and you don't have the energy and motivation. You can't play games or watch anything anymore because it's almost impossible to focus on it and everything is too vague. You can no longer interact with people, even your loved ones, because a migraine starts just from a small attempt to think and you are too tired to talk for more than a few minutes.

Everything is dim or even black and white, or there are absolutely no sounds, or TV noise when it stops working. Blurred faces, memory gaps, and sometimes the inability to remember your or your loved ones' names.

Only then does it suddenly become clear how deeply and strongly this thing has penetrated the brain, that it has not gone anywhere and has been here all this time, all these 10+ years. I keep replaying it in my head. I constantly cannot fully accept the fact that all this time it has continued to develop and progress, how much it has affected me, my activities and my relationships with others. It's sad, i guess. There's nothing more to say.

It's probably too late and I really should just accept it. To live knowing that nothing can be returned and it's really end. Just sad that this happened.

[sonrium]

DP X DC: A Minor Drinking Problem

Phantom is a relatively new member of the JLA, but it's been a few months, and things are settling in well. He's shy and polite but is a master of the snark with villains.

Before a big mission, the all hands on deck kind, everyone is talking about scars and the crazy stories behind them to distract from the coming fight. Danny, finally feeling like he can join in the conversation with all these adult heroes, pulls off his right glove to show a pretty gnarly scar on the back of his wrist. “I got this one when I fought a guy from the Revolutionary War a few weeks ago! Didn't think he'd charge me with a bayonet.” He shares a couple more stories and scars, but only the ones that he can easily show off.

Because of stories like that and some historical depictions of Phantom from different time periods, they think he's this ancient and powerful immortal that just looks like a teenager, it wouldnt be the first time. He's powerful enough to go toe to toe with Superman, so there's no way he's actually a kid. He even sometimes has the haunted, world weary eyes that their most hardened members only get after experiencing too much. Danny, being our lovable, obliviously dense idiot, has not realized that they think he's an ancient being.

After the mission concludes -it was a rough one-, the JLA celebrate their victory with a couple drinks back at the watch tower. Danny is understandably uncomfortable with this whole situation and keeps asking, “Are you sure I should be here?” They reassure him it's fine as they pass around beers, which Danny politely declines several times. Danny eventually sees this as the perfect chance to pad his blackmail folders on his inebriated coworkers.

Anyway, as the night goes on, they have a good time, but Phantom still hasn't gotten a drink like the rest of them, and Green Lantern (or hero of your choice) really wants their shy friend to come out of his shell. So, he slams an open beer bottle on the coffee table in front of Phantom. “Come on Phantom! Let loose a little. Celebrate!”

“Dude! What the hell?! I'm 16! That's illegal!” Phantom squeaks in shock.

“We don't care how old you were when you died. It's how long you've been a ghost that counts.” Flash slings an arm around Danny's shoulders from where he’s sat next to him on the couch. Flash can't get drunk, but he also thinks it would be fun to see their uptight new member drunk.

“That's even worse! You'd be giving alcohol to a two year old!” Phantom is horrified that his coworkers are so casually breaking the law.

“But you said you fought in the Revolutionary War this morning!” Green Lantern said with his eyebrows knit in confusion.

“No, I said I fought someone from the Revolutionary War. As in, the ghost of someone from the revolutionary war!”

“You can't pull that on us. There's murals and stuff of you from thousands of years ago.” The Flash waves off with a laugh.

Phantom’s finger presses painfully hard into Flash’s chest. “I do not need to explain time travel to you of all people. My mentor hates you, and I'm STILL sent on missions constantly to clean up your messes.” Phantom's clear and low. Flash liked it better when he was shouting and not staring him down like a predator with narrowed eyes.

(This random idea popped into my head. It made me laugh, so I thought you might, too. Here you go!)

[katiekatdragon27]

Guys you don't understand how much I love these two. (Oh yeah, and Finn's there too)

Glisten: Awww~ Shrimpo, you remembered Shrimpo: B*tch I'm in LOVE with you, of course I REMEMBERED! Glisten: What!? Wait really?? This is very sudden wow! (You said you were straight?) Shrimpo: AAAAAAAAAA

Finn: (yapping) Shrimpo and Glisten: SHUT THE F*CK UP, FINN!! Shrimpo and Glisten: ... Shrimpo and Glisten: (kissing)

The first comic takes place before the two started dating. Shrimpo is really really really bad at expressing emotions other than anger and frustration, so anytime he tries to express anything, he just blurts out his feelings without thinking. Then he gets second-hand embarrassment lol. Glisten was pretty aware that Shrimpo liked him before, but he's pretending to be surprised to make Shrimpo "feel better" (also to mildly embarrass him lol).

Also, I think that Shrimpo and Glisten bonding over hating Finn is very based and true. They need that autistic man to SHUT UP/silly

I think Shrimpo and Finn are very cousin coded. Not close enough to be siblings but definitely got some familial genes going on imo (plz don't shoot me Shrimpbowl shippers🙏🙏🙏) Doesn't stop Shrimpo from being violent towards Finn tho, and Finn does nothing to deter it lol (he finds it funny). Also, Glisten throws no punches bc he doesn't want to get his hands dirty.

Finn: Sooooo?? How was the daaaate~ Finn: No need to be such a clam about it! Shrimpo: I'M SO KILLING YOU!

The second image takes place the day after this post lol. Shrimpo is recovering from a hangover covered in lipstick kisses and super conflicting emotions and Finn is NOT helping.

On the other end, I've been thinking about Shimmer a lot lol. So here is a doodle of her with her "sister aunt" Toodles, and Pebbles.

They all get along super well. In this pic, Toodles is like 12ish and Shimmer is 4 (but her weird biology made her age up to like 7 here). Pebble is pebble, that's all you need to know.

Also, I was in a horror-ish mood earlier so here are some Twisteds <33 (below cut cuz kinda scary):

I love you angst comfort. My sib pointed out while playing one day that Shrimpo looked traumatized as a Twisted, which like, fair, but it make me think.

Glisten: "They say you are not here anymore. But I think you are."

I had this silly idea that Twisted Shrimpo was infected by Dandy personally, and that whole conflict got Shrimpo's lower jaw ripped off. He is very violent and volatile, and very hard to calm down. But, when he runs into a twisting Glisten alone and scared, he comforts him (to the best of his ability).

Since Glisten is still able to be somewhat conscious, he realizes that the Twisteds are actually not completely gone like he originally thought, and it helps him keep his sanity longer, hoping for a way out for everyone.

Willpower is a crazy thing.

On the complete opposite note, I love you horrifying freak of ichor child.

Since Shimmer was made from the ichor itself with no sort of skeleton or solid foundation, her condition is very unstable. And the problem is that her body is affected by her emotions. On a bad day, she can suffer from lots of pain and her body literally melting away. That's when she hides out and waits for her body to stabilize again.

When she completely twists, her body completely falls apart, becoming a puddle of ichor on the ground. If she was an encounterable twisted, she would work like Sprout's puddle root things, but easier to maneuver around and avoid. Also, her antenna glow.

Mini yap session aside, I think I cooked on the art lol.

Anyways, the og images lol:

Have a good one pookies!

[soliloqueeer]

When I first watched this episode, I was very confused about Lestat's motivations for being at the trial. During Claudia's execution, I kept thinking, why isn't he moving? Just do something. Help her.

I understand now that Lestat, at this point, is much weaker than usual for reasons that haven't yet been fully explored. From interviews with Sam Reid, I also learned that there was no way Lestat would miss this trial. However, Lestat isn't a planner—he arrived, memorized his lines, yet was utterly unprepared for what was about to unfold. The only thing he knew for sure was that he was going to save Louis. That was his sole plan.

When Claudia says, "It's never been about me," you can see the guilt and shame in Lestat's eyes. Yet, when she announces her plan to kill everyone in the crowd after her death, he's staring at her with pride.

I believe Lestat did a lot of reflecting while in his coffin, pondering how he ended up in this situation and what led his fledglings to turn against him. I think he was actually proud of Claudia for successfully orchestrating his murder. She outsmarted him, and he had entirely underestimated her. This final act of violence made them equals in his eyes.

However, I don't think Lestat ever truly saw himself as a 'father.' He had no example of good parenting in his human life and this had no idea how to treat a child. From the beginning, he was referred to as Uncle Les while Louis took on the paternal role. Then, when Claudia became an adult, Lestat was forced to regard her as a sister.

The idea that someone could look to him as a father wasn't even conceivable to Lestat. In Claudia's final moments, when she looks to him like a child looks to a parent for help, it is horrifying on so many levels. It shocks him to his core when he realizes that he is her father and that he's letting her die right before his eyes. And even worse, Claudia was right—it was never about her.

[aventurineswife]

so if the sahsrau and sagau characters made it to our world what would be the first thing they'd do would they try to find the reader or would they erect (hehe erect) some sort of statue or museum for you and your art also how would they treat the reader and assuming that the reader is like most people at the moment how would they react if the reader was living paycheck to paycheck?

If the SAHSRAU and SAGAU characters broke through into our world, it would be absolute chaotic worship meets reality check energy.

First Thing They’d Do?

They’d 100% try to find the reader immediately.

Their divine GPS (aka terminally over-romanticized sense of direction + desperation) would kick in. Most of them would tear through space and time like "WHERE IS OUR CREATOR??" while others like Welt or Nahida might be like, “...maybe we should get a lay of the land first.” But nah—Reader comes first.

And if they couldn’t find you right away? Expect a museum. No—a cathedral, actually. Statues, murals, and literal light shows. They’d start collecting every piece of your art, vent-post, old doodles, angsty OC lore, and unfinished works like they’re holy texts. (Even your high school sketchbook? Priceless artifact. Protected in glass.)

How Would They Treat the Reader?

Like you were the sun and the sky and the stars rolled into one.

Yanqing (or older male character if you don't want the kids here) would bring you tea and kneel like an ancient knight trying not to show his blush.

Acheron would speak in soft metaphors, treating you like a sorrowful dream made real.

Albedo and Silver Wolf would take apart your phone and try to understand how it connects to you.

Jing Yuan and Zhongli would treat your words like prophecies—“...the Creator said ��I’m broke,’ which must be symbolic. We must fix this imbalance.”

Boothill would try to fight your landlord or job manager or whoever.

Dan Heng and Xiao would just silently keep watch over you like tired guard dogs with severe trauma and too much reverence.

Ayato, Blade, or Kafka might take a more... personal approach. You’re overwhelmed? You need someone to take care of everything for you? Consider it handled, sweetheart.

If You Were Living Paycheck to Paycheck?

First they'd be horrified. Like genuinely shaken. Because in their eyes, you're a divine being, the Source of Worlds, the One Who Created Them—and you’re living in mortal drudgery? You’re suffering? You're stressed about rent?

Oh, no no no.

Aventurine opens seventeen credit lines in your name and maxes them all out immediately to get you out of debt and into a comfortable apartment.

Nahida or Raiden Ei might try to completely overhaul modern society for your convenience.

Neuvillette and Bronya would go to your employer and issue divine litigation.

Childe just: "Let me fix it. Let me fix everything."

Pela and Cyno are putting your boss on trial.

Even someone like Kaveh would offer to live in your place for a week while you recover and maybe even cook for you. (You don’t know where he got the ingredients but it’s the thought that counts.)

And if you ever say: “I’m fine, really…”

They’d just be so quiet. Hurt. Like: “You shouldn’t have to be fine. Not alone. Not ever.”

Basically:

You’d go from paycheck-to-paycheck to gilded-idol-worship-meets-overprotective-cult-leader-found-family in the span of a single tear rolling down your cheek.

Would you like the world remodeled into a utopia? Because that's what they'd try to give you. And maybe... just maybe, you'd start to wonder if letting them stay was really such a bad idea after all.

[lunar-years]

It's really interesting how Peeta's quiet rebellion in the first games is kind of completely overlooked by everyone, right down to President Snow, while Katniss emerges as The Singular Target. To the extent that by the end of the book when they meet Snow, Katniss can tell right away that only she is to blame for the berry trick, whereas Peeta is quickly dismissed and then for a long time, an afterthought,

Like, yes, the berry trick was Katniss' idea, but it comes to her straight from Peeta's rhetoric!! "They have to have a Victor, Katniss" and before that on the cornucopia, when Katniss asks him why they won't just let Cato die already and Peeta responds "you know why." Like...both statements are vague enough to maybe not seem of any big concern to the Capitol, but Katniss is directly picking up on the undercurrent of his words. And you can't convince me that by the time they actually go to put the berries in their mouths, Peeta isn't fully aware of the same thing Katniss is: the Capitol won't let them both die. They need their Victor, or it falls apart. Yet to Snow and the Capitol, they truly believe Peeta is just a lovestruck idiot carrying out a double suicide so they can be together forever, Romeo & Juliet style. Whereas Katniss, in their POV, is doing it out of direct malice towards the Capitol, not love for Peeta. Even Haymitch doesn't let Katniss and Peeta talk afterwards and only tells Katniss the reality of the situation in the Capitol because he thinks that if Peeta finds out the truth he'll get too upset or won't be able to handle it and things will blow up.

This is after an entire Games where Peeta has been doing something that I have to imagine is pretty unprecedented, and definitely in contradiction to the entire mindset of the Games, which that he neglects his own self preservation instincts and safety to protect and save Katniss. He's kind of playing the Capitol the whole time, because right from the beginning he's refusing to participate in the inherent selfishness and division they try to sow in the Games. And he's doing so in ways he can easily get away, because Snow and by extension the Capitol don't see love as anything other than a form of weakness.

And I'm not trying to say that Peeta is this mastermind deliberately plotting intentional rebellion from page one, because yeah, his actions are largely purely driven by love for Katniss. But the thing the Capitol can't understand is that for Peeta, that love has always been inseparable from rebellion. One necessities and fuels the other. The paragraph Katniss spends lamenting on how horrified Peeta would probably be if he heard the way she and Gale talk about the Capitol in the woods is almost laughable as a reader, because girl, Peeta would absolutely be right there with you. Meanwhile, Katniss is shocked at herself when she so much as thinks the word 'murder' for the first time in relation to a death in the Games. It's just fascinating!

And again, that's not to say Katniss isn't also very much rebellious, especially as the narrative goes forward, but what's key is that her rebellion also stems out of love, and it strengthens over the course of the books as her love strengthens. Her first act of rebellion is volunteering out of love for her sister. And then slowly, her mindset in the game evolves from pure survival as she comes to love Rue, then Peeta. In nearly every case it's love that prompts further rebellion. The Capitol just can't see it because they can tell the star-crossed lovers narrative is on her end, but not Peeta's, a ruse. That's why Katniss is singled out as a threat and Peeta isn't. And by the time the Capitol/Snow realizes the love is reciprocated and that Peeta is the key weapon to use against Katniss, the love is already so deeply rooted that nothing can stop the rebellion that follows.

[robo-writing]

Hi i love your writing!! I was just wondering if you had any thoughts about Logan w a more hypersexual reader? Maybe she's a little more sheepish to mention it to Logan- maybe its early on in the futhered relationship, or just that shes embarrassed at her constant need for him, until it starts making her draw in on herself- the ache between her legs so unfixable by herself that logan starts to notice.. But then it gets to a point that she can't help it anymore and begs for him to touch her- make her feel good? <33

Oh I adore this ❤️

Logan doesn't understand what's gotten into you as of late, and after you shamefully explain why he's even more confused. "So you're horny?" Your eyes go wide, both horrified and amused at his response. "That's really simplifying it—" "But that's all it is, right?" He says, kissing at your face with a smile. "My girl's all pent up, and I've been too busy to notice." He's got you trapped against the couch, the lack of distance doing nothing to help, and he knows it. Heavy hands make your skin burn, your thighs close together as he amuses himself with how your body bends under his touch. "It's more than just being horny," you stutter, more and more distracted by the second. "It's a need—I need you Logan—shit—" You arch into him, too far gone to care about anything that isn't him. His hands move under your shirt as you try and fail to explain, hips pressing against you, grinding into you. "Oh really? Tell me how much." He's having too much fun teasing you, and right now it's driving you up a goddamn wall. "W-Well, it's—can we please not do this right now?" "I don't see any better time than now princess," he moans, nibbling against the sensitive skin of your neck. "Come on, tell me just how badly you want me."

A long sigh, and then. "Besides, it's not like I can't smell it, I know just how badly you want me to fuck you. What's the shame in saying it out loud?" You don't know what's stopping you—maybe it's the way you were raised, the idea of sex being somehow taboo, but the way Logan's staring at you like a dog does at a bone makes you want to be true to yourself. So, you do. Your fingers curl into his tank top, legs locking against his hips to pull him closer. "Want you to fuck me baby, need your cock, please." "That's more like it," he grunts, and within seconds he's got you on your stomach, fingers hooking into your panties. "See what happens when you ask nicely?"

[shiyorin]

#When Primarchs send dick pic to you

#Konrad Curze x F!Reader (Reader is Imperial Agent)

#Reader is very sass

#NSFW, non-con, many things

Note: Actually I wrote this as a joke so don't expect too much from it ಡ⁠ ͜⁠ ⁠ʖ⁠ ⁠ಡ

The Night Haunter felt his skin too tight, his body thrumming with an unfamiliar energy that set his teeth on edge. He'd been feeling… off for days now, plagued by urges he didn't understand and couldn't seem to shake.

He growled, raking his fingers through his tangled hair. What was wrong with him? He felt hot, agitated, like his very blood was on fire. And his cock… Konrad glanced down with a mixture of confusion and frustration. It had been hard for hours, throbbing insistently no matter how he tried to ignore it.

This wasn't normal. None of this was normal. Konrad Curze didn't get horny. He didn't feel desire or lust or any of those base, animal urges. He was above such things.

But…

His skin was flushed and damp with sweat, every nerve ending hypersensitive. When he wrapped a hand around his cock, he had to bite back a groan at how good it felt.

"What is happening to me?" he muttered, staring down at himself in bewilderment.

His cock was rock hard, the shaft thick and veiny, the head swollen and flushed an angry red. Pre-cum beaded at the tip, making his palm slide slickly as he stroked himself. It felt good, too good. Pleasure coiled in his gut, making his breath come faster.

Konrad's mind raced, trying to make sense of what was happening. Was this some kind of sickness? A curse? Had one of his brothers done something to him?

No… no, this felt different. Natural, in a way that terrified him. Like his body knew exactly what it wanted, even if his mind rebelled against it.

As he stroked himself, chasing that maddening pleasure, an image flashed through Konrad's mind. You, who'd somehow wormed your way into that. Into his life, if he was being honest.

The thought of you made his cock twitch, a fresh surge of pre-cum slicking his fingers. Konrad growled, angry and confused and so fucking turned on he could barely think straight.

Why you? Why now? It didn't make any sense. And yet he couldn't get you out of his head. Couldn't stop imagining your hands on him instead of his own-

"Fuck!" Konrad snarled, his hips jerking as he stroked himself faster. He was close, so close, teetering on the edge of something he didn't understand but desperately needed.

In that moment of madness, an idea struck him. Before he could think better of it, Konrad grabbed his data-slate from the nearby table. With shaking hands, he activated the camera function and angled it down at himself.

The image that appeared on the screen made him pause. His cock looked even bigger than he'd realized, angry and swollen against the pale skin of his stomach. A bead of pre-cum glistened at the tip, threatening to spill over.

It was obscene. Vulgar. The kind of thing that would horrify most people.

But you weren't most people, were you?

Before his common sense could reassert itself, Konrad hit send. The message went out with a soft chime, carrying that damning image straight to your data-slate.

For a moment, everything was still. Then the full weight of what he'd just done crashed over Konrad like a tidal wave.

"No," he whispered, staring at the screen in horror. "No, no, no…"

His foresight, which had been strangely quiet until now, suddenly roared to life. Visions flashed through his mind, your shocked face as you opened the message, your disgust, your anger. He saw you blocking his vox channel, saw the ripple effects this moment of madness would have on his already strained relationship with you.

"No!" Konrad roared, hurling the data-slate across the room. It shattered against the wall, but it was too late. The damage was done.

Meanwhile, lightyears away, you were enjoying a rare moment of peace and quiet.

Of course, that's when your data-slate chimed with an incoming message.

You sighed, reaching for the device. If this was another emergency, you were going to lose it.

But the name that popped up on your screen made you pause. Konrad Curze? What the hell did he want?

Curiosity piqued, you opened the message. For a moment, your brain couldn't process what you were seeing. Then realization dawned, and your eyes went wide.

"What the actual fuck?!" You yelped, nearly dropping the data-slate in shock.

There, filling your screen, was a high-definition image of Konrad Curze's cock. And not just any picture, oh no. This was a full-on, close-up money shot, complete with glistening pre-cum and throbbing veins.

You stared at it in disbelief, your mind reeling. Of all the things you'd expected from the Night Haunter, a dick pic was pretty much dead last on the list.

"Is this a joke?" You muttered, zooming in despite yourself. "Did someone hack his vox channel?"

But no, as you studied the image (purely for investigative purposes, of course), you realized this was definitely Konrad. You recognized the scars on his lower abdomen, the pale skin that never saw sunlight.

This was real. Konrad Curze, terror of the night, had just sent you an unsolicited dick pic.

"Un-fucking-believable!" you groaned.

Part of you wanted to laugh. It was just so absurd, so completely out of character for Konrad. But a larger part was scared. You are scared even though you want to laugh.

"Nope." You said firmly, shaking your head to banish that thought. "Not going there. Not even a little bit."

You considered your options. You could ignore it, pretend you'd never seen it. But knowing Konrad, he'd probably show up in person to "follow up" if you didn't respond. And worse, he will flay you if you disrespect and ignore him.

You made a mental note to beef up security around the compound. And maybe comeback Terra, lord Malcador can protect you, just in cass. Because something told you this wouldn't be the last surprise Konrad had in store.

In the end, there was really only one option. With a decisive tap, you blocked Konrad's vox channel.

"Fucking Primarchs." you muttered, tossing the data-slate aside. "Can't live with them, can't shoot 'em out an airlock."

*****

The moonlight cast eerie shadows across your bedroom as you stirred from your slumber. Something had woken you, a presence that set your nerves on edge. Your eyes fluttered open, struggling to focus in the dim light.

A dark figure loomed near your bed, barely visible in the gloom. Your heart raced, your mind foggy with sleep and confusion. Who the fuck was that? An intruder? An assassin? You couldn't make out any details in the darkness.

Your hand inched towards the knife you kept by the bed, fingers curling around the cool metal. Better safe than sorry, you thought.

The floorboards creaked softly as the mysterious figure approached. You tensed, ready to swing, but then something unexpected happened. Instead of attacking, the intruder simply… climbed into bed with you.

What the actual fuck?

Before you could process this bizarre turn of events, strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you against a broad chest. A face nuzzled into the crook of your neck, hot breath fanning across your skin.

Your eyes flew wide, shock clearing the last cobwebs of sleep from your mind. This close, you could finally make out the intruder's features.

Oh shit. It was Konrad. Konrad fucking Curze.

And he was naked. Completely, utterly naked.

As if to confirm your realization, Konrad shifted his hips and, yep, that was definitely his cock sliding between your thighs. You bit back a startled yelp, your mind racing. What the hell was happening?

Normally he'd be all creepy whispers and thinly veiled threats, not… whatever the fuck this was. Cuddling? Was the Night Haunter actually cuddling you?

Before you could decide how to react, Konrad's hand snaked down between your bodies. You held your breath, wondering if this was about to take an even weirder turn, but his fingers bypassed you completely, wrapping around his own cock instead.

Oh. Oh no.

Konrad began stroking himself, his breath coming faster against your neck. His hips rocked, sliding his length back and forth between your thighs in time with his hand.

You lay frozen, caught between disbelief and a weird sort of fascination. This was so far outside the realm of normal Konrad behavior that you almost wondered if you were dreaming. But no, the heat of his body, the slight scratch of his teeth against your skin, the slick sounds of skin on skin… this was all too real.

It didn't last long. With a muffled groan, Konrad's body tensed. You felt his cock pulse, then warm wetness splattered across your thighs.

What. The. Fuck.

For a moment, everything was still. Konrad's ragged breathing was the only sound in the room. Then, to your utter bewilderment, he started moving again. His hand returned to his cock, which was already hardening once more.

Seriously? You thought, incredulous. What is he, sixteen?

As Konrad's hips began rocking again, sliding through the mess he'd just made, realization dawned. The weird behavior, the lack of threats or violence, the insane refractory period…

Oh no, you groaned internally. He is horny.

You'd known, biologically, that the other Primarchs would be horny. But somehow you hadn't connected that to Konrad. He always seemed so… disconnected from his more base urges. Apparently even the Night Haunter wasn't immune to biology.

Now you had a dilemma on your hands. On one hand, this was Konrad fucking Curze. The guy was seven kinds of crazy on a good day, and letting him get his rocks off while you pretended to sleep was probably a terrible idea. On the other hand… well, he wasn't actually hurting you. And if you revealed that you were awake, who knew how he'd react?

Better to let him finish and leave, you decided. Then you could bleach your brain and pretend this never happened.

But Konrad showed no signs of stopping anytime soon. His movements grew more frantic, his breathing harsh against your skin. You could feel the tremors running through his body, the desperation in every thrust.

Fuck, you realized. He's completely lost in it. He probably doesn't even know where he is right now.

Konrad came again with a choked sound, his whole body shuddering. You grimaced at the fresh wave of wetness coating your thighs. Great. You were going to need like, three showers after this. Maybe four.

To your dismay, Konrad showed no signs of leaving after his second orgasm. If anything, he seemed to curl around you more tightly, his face buried in your hair.

Oh hell no, you thought. I am not spending the whole night as a body pillow for a horny Primarch.

Decision made, you took a deep breath and spoke.

"You know, if you wanted to cuddle, you could have just asked."

Konrad went rigid against you, his whole body tensing like a coiled spring. For a moment, you wondered if you'd made a terrible mistake. Then, to your utter shock, Konrad let out a sound that could only be described as a squeak.

Before you could process that, he was gone. You blinked at the sudden loss of warmth against your back. You rolled over, half-expecting to see Konrad looming over your bed, but the room was empty. The only sign he'd been there at all was the open window, curtains billowing in the night breeze.

"Did… did he just jump out the fucking window?" You muttered, staring in disbelief.

You pushed yourself up, grimacing at the sticky mess coating your thighs. A quick glance confirmed your suspicions, yep, those sheets were definitely ruined.

You made a mental note to ask Malcador about it when you return Terra. And maybe to invest in some better locks for your windows.

[diejager]

Imagine trying to run away from makarov (dad) because you don't agree with his plans....

(nsfw??? if you're not comfortable i understand)

Cw: DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, INCEST/PSEUDO-INCEST, kidnapping, tell me if I missed any. Note: you could be related to him by blood or not, that's up to you to decide.

His hands hurt you, their slow caress down your shoulders and hips burning your dirty and sensitive skin, all red and scratched up from your struggle against him and his men. The softness of his gestures reminded you of happier times, the calm, morning dew on your floor-to-ceiling windows, the warmth of your bed, and the loving embrace of his fatherly love. You’d never assumed much from his kisses, the little pecks on your cheek and hands, making you feel like his little princess, or the placement of his hand, low on your back, around your hip and shoulder. it had always felt like a protective gesture, from one father to another, where he vowed to keep you safe the second he brought you into his mansion.

You never and could have never thought it more than that. He’d always acted as the doting father, pampering and spoiling you with whatever you wanted or wished to have. Makarov was the perfect parent —but he kept you in the dark about many things, things sealed behind a firewall of codes and threats towards his allies. You’d been told that it was for your protection, for your security, sanity and conscious that it was kept from you. Oh, how right your father was, the moment you found out what he did to achieve his wealth, you were horrified.

So you ran, tearfully squirreling away from your home and your father, lost and confused and terrified of the world you were sheltered from. You had hopes you could find safety among people, hidden away from your father and his company, but you were naive, so, so naive to think you could hide from him and his nation-wide read. You only managed to stray away for a day or two before his men found you, their hold rough and painful despite your father’s orders to not harm a hair on your body (father would probably kill them once they bring you back).

He hounded you back into your room the second you were back in his sight, stored away behind a locked door and under him, his lips painting a searing line down your jaw and teeth latching onto your neck. His once parental care turned into something dark and seedy, groans muffling your whining protests while he felt you up and down, the course pads of his fingers that you’d associated to comfort turned into disgust. Tears clung to lashes, falling with each flutter, staining your cheeks with the sorrow you felt —the betrayal and revulsion that oozed from you.

Your fist pummeled against his chest, pushing him as much as your feet kicked, slamming down onto his back, but your father seemed to be none the wiser, hands unraveling you from your sullied shirt. Either he didn’t care, or he was oblivious of your repulsion and rejection of this, he continued to strip you until you laid naked under his wandering hands and watchful eyes. He drank you in, small and squirming, twisting and struggling to find safety under your covers, and simply hide away from the darkness that swirled in his eyes.

You felt sick, a heavy feeling in your abdomen knotting up and pushing its way up your throat —you were inches away from puking on your bed sheets. You were sick and afraid and sad, but none of it compared to the amount of betrayal you felt. All you had known was him, you’d seem neither hair or hide of your mother or siblings - if you had any - and you never knew if you were related by blood, father had never let you entertain the idea because if he deemed you his daughter, you were his daughter.

Perhaps that was why this act hurt you so much, going against his words of protection and safety as he touched you, his burning fingers pulling at your being and shoving you off the edge over and over without guilt or hesitation. It hurt and he didn’t stop, not until you were a twitching and strained puddle under him.

[sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth]

Lie

(Sam Winchester x female reader)

Summary Sam never stopped wanting you. So when Ruby possesses you for a case and offers you to him, is he strong enough to say no? CWs: non con/extreme dub con! Do not read if that makes you uncomfortable. Scheming Ruby. Sam at his darkest. Possessed!reader. 18+. 1.9k words

Sam Winchester masterlist ⏐ SPN masterlist

It’s a bad plan, that much is clear, but it’s the only one you have.

When Sam shows up at your door, a year after you’ve last seen him, after what you had has ended, when he tells you his brother is in hell and that he needs your help, you should have shut the door in his face. But of course you don't.

Then, when you see her, the beautiful she-demon with the long dark hair and the face straight out of a classical painting, you should turn around on the spot. But again, you don't.

Why? You don’t know. You don’t know if you still have feelings for Sam, but the bittersweet pain you feel around him is somehow drawing you in, making you stay, making you help him. You see the two together and suddenly it’s clear, clear that there is something between them. Sam and Ruby. Ruby and Sam. You want him, and you hate yourself for wanting him.

At one point, you and Sam get into an argument, because you’re being dismissive of him and at the end of it, you look him up and down, disgust on your face.

“You’re so broken,” you say, and something sets in his face, something deep and violent.

The details of the plan aren’t important – the gist is that Ruby needs to not look like Ruby for a little bit, meaning that she needs to possess someone else. Sam’s against that, because of course he is, because he can never get off his high horse. The thought sneaks up on you before Ruby’s dark eyes even land on you.

“I could use her,” she says, and a shiver runs over you.

Which is how you end up willingly letting her in – not that she needs you to say yes, but she makes it a whole spiel that she wants you to. She disgusts you, but also you can’t deny that the double-meaning behind her words is making something twist in you. With Sam there in the same room, the air feels like it’s on fire.

So Ruby possesses you. She gets done what she needs to get done and then comes back to Sam, still in your body. You don’t know about any of this, because you are slumbering deep inside yourself.

Maybe it’s for the best.

Ruby doesn’t miss the way Sam scans your body when she walks in. She hasn’t missed any of the times he’s looked at you.

Is she jealous? No. She wants Sam for purely practical reasons. She needs him desperate and isolated. With Dean gone and the demon blood, he’s already pretty ruined. But she thinks there’s more to be done, there’s room for improvement. She needs him broken.

She tells Sam the work is done, and he says that means she can stop possessing you.

“Or,” Ruby says in your voice, “I could stay a little longer.”

It’s not like Sam couldn’t exorcize her with how strong he’s been getting. But he just frowns, not understanding, and Ruby wants to cackle. God, he is so predictable.

He’s gonna pretend he doesn’t want any of this, that this is wrong, etcetera, etcetera. He was the same when he started fucking her in her other body, the brain-dead one. But as usual, Sam Winchester will break sooner or later. That’s what always happens.

Ruby makes her intentions clear when she walks your body towards where Sam is sitting. Hips swaying, looking at him through your lashes. She’s basically offering you up on a silver platter, and Sam doesn’t move, pretends he has no idea what’s going on, the innocent lamb, until you’re right in front of him, run your hand up his sculpted chest, cup his face. Sam jerks back, horrified, disgusted.

“What are you doing?” he asks and his voice is actually shaking. Ruby could squeal.

“I know you miss her,” she says in your voice, then corrects herself: “Miss me. I miss you too.” Sam shakes his head.

“She wouldn’t have to know,” Ruby says, voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “I can hide it from her, Sam. She never needs to know.”

Sam’s eyes widen. If he was wearing pearls, he would be clutching them now. Ruby likes this game, but sometimes she needs to fight tooth and nail not to roll her eyes at the sensitive hunter.

“No!” Sam says, getting up, walking away from her to the other end of the room. But Ruby knows, she can see. She knows Sam’s body well enough to see that he’s already responding. Maybe she’ll make him drink from you. She’d have to think of a lie to cover up the wound, but it might be worth it to drag Sam deeper into the arms of depravity.

Now Ruby switches her approach. She mimics you, your proper and decent and good ways, the way you are so fucking earnest, just like Sam. It makes her want to barf.

“Sam,” she says, and it’s coming out the way you say it. “It’s okay. Just be with me.” Sam’s eyes narrow at her and Ruby smiles softly.

To give Sam some credit, he holds out for a long time. Ruby almost begins to wonder if he’s not gonna do it. But when she drops you to your knees in front of him, begging to be touched, to be fucked, it’s more than even he can take.

Sam grabs your arm, wraps a large hand around your biceps and pulls you up, lips meeting in a hungry battle. She makes you hold his face and give a heady moan when Sam presses his mouth against your jaw, travels along its line.

She can see the turmoil in him in how to do it. He hates Ruby and always fucks her roughly in the other body, like he hates her guts. Uses her like she’s just a thing – oh, she would love for you to see him like that, to see your sweet Sam so depraved, so selfish. Ruby doesn’t feel any of it so she couldn’t care less, but if there was a real girl inside her, she’d be walking sideways the next day.

He loves you, though, or something like it, and the want and yearning and neediness comes out. His hands rip at your clothes, so desperate is he to get to the flesh and skin underneath, and Ruby makes a mental note to hide the clothes, or throw them away so you are kept in the dark.

That, or leave them for you to find. God, she’s a genius. Lilith would be so proud.

Sam fingers you open, then drops his mouth to your pussy, eats you out like a man starving. Ruby does her best porn star impression, throws your head back, grinds against him, moans, yes Sam, don’t stop, oh God, please don’t stop, yes, you feel so good, you’re gonna make me come so hard.

She fakes an intense orgasm, makes you whimper and your thighs twitch. Makes you grab the back of Sam’s head in the hope of somehow bringing him closer. He gives a deep groan, mouth still clamped to your cunt, and she feels the vibrations of it, even though they do nothing for her.

Then he lays you on your back. He takes his time grinding into you, careful not to hurt you but then Ruby makes you roll your toes, bite your lip, squeeze him inside of you, and he loses it. Starts fucking into you roughly, and with his considerable size, Ruby knows you’ll feel him tomorrow. She can’t help but smile at that and Sam, humongous idiot that he is, dips down, kisses your lips.

“I miss you so much,” he pants and Ruby wraps your arms around his neck, pulls him in because it’s the only way she can hide the broad grin on your face.

When Sam comes he wraps his hand into your hair, presses his forehead against yours. Looks deep into your eyes as his balls pull up and he empties himself into you. Ruby makes you moan again, brows pulled together while she pretends you’re having a hard time keeping your eyes open. She runs your hands over Sam’s back, not using her nails the way she does usually.

Sam moves to pull out of you, but Ruby holds him close with one arm, while the other wanders between your two bodies and she starts petting your clit. The smile on her is genuine. You’re a soft thing, and if the circumstances were different, Ruby might have her fun with you. She keeps rubbing, Sam watching in rapt fascination.

This orgasm is real, and Ruby feels it all the way to the roots of your hair. She can’t always experience what her meatsuit feels, but this time she does. The desperate whine she draws from you makes her shiver, and it takes her a long time to catch her breath.

Afterwards, she pretends to fall asleep. Sam knows of course that she doesn’t need sleep, but he seems to crave the illusion of it, the lie. He lies next to your body, runs his fingers over you ever so gently.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, and his voice is thick with tears and horror at his own actions. Ruby just keeps her eyes shut. You need your rest.

You wake up, stretch on the motel bed.

Jesus, you’ve never been possessed, but you didn’t think it would feel like this. Like a hangover, in a way. You feel soreness and you can’t locate it right away and when you do, it doesn’t make any sense.

“Hey, sleep well?” you hear and look over. Sam’s on the other motel bed, laptop propped up before him. His words are casual, but he looks unwell. Shaky, pale. His smile is forced. As you sit up, you wonder if he’s coming down with something.

You don’t remember falling asleep. You don’t remember anything from the moment when Ruby possessed you. As you look down yourself, you see your clothes and it startles you for a moment. You’re sure you were wearing something else. But maybe you’re wrong. Possession really is like a bad hangover.

Speaking of Ruby, she walks in from the bathroom, and just as you wonder what a demon needs the bathroom for, she smiles at you. A beautiful, soft smile, that could almost make you think she isn’t an abomination from Hell. You stretch your shoulders. Her eyes on you make you feel nervous. She won’t stop looking at you. Then suddenly she moves.

“Well, I’ll leave you two to it,” she says, and she’s also trying to sound casual. You look over at Sam, and he’s avoiding your gaze. Something blooms in you, something uncomfortable. Something you can’t name but it settles in you like a heavy stone.

Ruby leaves and then it’s just you and Sam. He drives you home, the work done, and when you arrive, you turn to him.

“I’m sorry about what I said to you, about you being broken,” you say to him, because it’s the only reason you can see for his strange behavior.

 “That’s okay,” Sam says, hands wrapped tight around the steering wheel, staring straight ahead.

There’s nothing more to say. You tell Sam to call you when he’s in the area. These past days have made it clear to you that there is still something between you two. And Sam really seems like he might need someone in his corner right now.

You get out of the car and look back. It might be a trick of the light, but you think you see tears in Sam’s eyes. Then he drives off.

You never hear from him again.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Sometimes I think about Harry being sent back to his relatives after his 4th and 5th year, and I lose my mind a little. It's bad enough he's sent back at all, but these two summers especially. Like how are you looking at this traumatised, grieving kid, who has been tortured and lived through some truly horrible events, and think taking him to people who hate his very existence is a good idea??? And no adult checks on him in person. They're watching him post gof sure, but no one actually speaks to him. No one tell him anything outside a few cryptic messages, he's left hurt and isolated. It's just crazy to me.

(Crazier that some people complain about Harry's behaviour in ootp. He's mild, all things considered)

I know!

Like, I don't know what Dumbledore was smoking, honestly... like, even if we're being generous in our interpretation of his actions and say Harry really needed to spend some time with Petunia every summer to keep his blood protection going (personally, I don't think it's the case, but I'm being generous), he doesn't need to spend the whole summer there. Like, he could stay there for one afternoon, one day, a week, maybe, max? Why does he need to stay there longer? Why between GoF and OotP Dumbledore plan for him to stay at the Dursleys the whole summer when Grimmauld Place was probably safer?

But, like, after OotP, at least the plan was for Harry to only stay with the Dursleys for a bit, even if longer than I would have left him there (which is none at all), but the concept of just spending there enough time so he could refresh the blood protections before going to the Weasleys is decent, like, I can understand that. Dumbledore came to pick him up on June 12th, a bit later than I would like, but he still spends most of the summer and his birthday with the Weasleys.

What I don't understand is leaving him completely cut off from everyone who cares about him and from all information about the Wizarding World (aside from Daily Prophet propaganda) after Voldemort returned, murdered Cedric in front of Harry, and tortured Harry. Like, what the hell?

I can't fathom how he could think this is a good idea. Like, at all. Between OotP and HBP, I get it assuming the blood protection really works like that or he believes it does, but the summer between GoF and OotP is near unforgivable, man.

I mean, I recently reread the graveyard scene for my fic and that was horrifying. Like, every time I reread it I am horrified anew at what happened there and what Harry went through... just, that whole scene is a lot (and maybe I'll do like a little rundown of it, since I feel like it needs talking about), and, like, damn, you're right that Harry's response is mild compared to how it could've been in OotP.

OotP Harry will always be one of my favorite Harrys (I love him in all the books) and I will forever stand behind his anger being a trauma response and that he isn't actually hot-headed. OotP was Harry reaching his limit, and boy, did it take a lot to get him to his limit. I mean, he's the opposite of a hothead considering just how much he had to suffer to reach his boiling point. I talked about his trauma responses here and his anger in particular here.

[sporesgalaxy]

LET ME TELL YOU THE SETUP FOR MY BEAUTIFUL COOKIE CLICKER LOVE STORY

it's not everything but it's a decent introduction to the characters. I've been writing this summary for weeks. I'm hoping that feeling like I can reference parts in the middle will give me more ideas......

why does it hate my images...ok fine no images. god

•••

0 Ascensions:

Cookie is always on the lookout for new ways to bake ungodly amounts of cookies, so she approaches Kirschtorte after reading about the doctor's experimental portal research having once resulted in the retreival of a small amount of alien matter.

The first time Michelle Kirschtorte meets Cookie Cliquer, she does not touch a single morsel of the extravagant cookie spread that Ms. Cliquer made to butter her up. The same thing happens the second, fourth, fifth time they meet and discuss business, no matter what variety of cookies Cookie makes. At last Cookie subjects herself to the mortifying ordeal of directly asking Dr. Kirschtorte what kind of cookies she likes-- only to be shocked and horrified when the doctor says that she does not eat any cookies whatsoever.

Despite her inexplicable distaste for cookies, Michelle Kirschtorte is receptive to Cookie's business offer, but she remains unmoved by Cookie's sickly-sweet commercial persona. Secretly at first, Kirschtorte is deeply cynical about the whole arrangement; she was screwed over by her previous colleagues, and progress on her portal research has been stagnating for some time now because of it. Although she doesn't admit it to Cookie at first, the doctor feels humiliated by the prospect of turning to a baked goods corporation for funding. Michelle ends up accepting the deal under the impression that she is taking advantage of Cookie's deep pockets and naive enthusiasm for unorthodox theoretical baking techniques.

When the cookie-focused research initiatives start yeilding mind-bogglingly impressive results, Kirschtorte reassesses her portal research priorities and her impressions of her oddball benefactor. Cookies are, for some reason, the key to understanding and exploiting the greatest secrets of the universe. Even more impressively, Ms. Cliquer seems intuitively in touch with the logic behind these shocking cookie truths. What other great scientific discoveries could cookie research yeild? How does Cliquer think of this stuff? Why DOES everyone like cookies so damn much? Kirschtorte finds herself irresistably drawn in by these exciting scientific possibilities, as well as the much less sweet and more insatiably driven person she starts getting to know behind Cookie's crowd-pleasing public persona.

Despite a stilted start to their relationship, Cookie and Michelle get along very well once they find even footing. Both are driven to prove themselves through their work, both have been underestimated and cast aside by peers and superiors in the past. Cookie's obsessive drive to make and market infinite perfect cookies matches Michelle's obsessive drive to understand everything there is to know about the nature of the universe; both are deeply passionate about their work and typically striving tirelessly towards the same goal. Both believe that their ends justify their means, and that ethical concerns are a waste of time and a thorn in the side of progress.

Cookie has a knack for PR that Michelle has always lacked the patience for; Michelle understands and appreciates the true, transcendent importance of cookies nearly as much as Cookie does-- Cookie's business partners usually don't care about that part.

Cookie eventually achieves enlightenment and realizes the Secret of the Heavenly Chips, granting her the ability to Ascend. Cookie should be overjoyed at the cosmic knowledge within her grasp; great new possibilities in cookie production await her!

Yet Cookie drags her feet. She keeps finding excuses to stay where she is, keeps setting goals even as her progress slows to a crawl, and reaching those goals in this lifetime seems less and less feasible...

Still, the stress of failure and stagnation chips away at Cookie's resolve to keep dragging out her first iteration. The knowledge of how much she could be doing with the power Ascension would grant her makes Cookie increasingly irritable and bitter about the work which she's made her entire life revolve around.

Kirschtorte is stressed and angry about the slowed progress, too. She is increasingly afraid that age and death will catch up with herself and Cookie before they can discover everything there is to know about reality (and cookies). Michelle is vexed by Cookie's comparative lack of urgency-- or is it a lack of hope for any solution? Cookie has always been the most driven person Michelle's known, yet now Cookie's detatchedness toes the line of seeming resigned to failure. Michelle feels like everything she thought she understood about Cookie is slipping through her fingers, and she feels powerless against the onward march of time (DESPITE having access to time machines!), and she doesn't know how to cope.

The temptation of exponentially greater cookie production and the crushing agony of stagnation eventually outweigh Cookie's sentimental attachment to this particular iteration of her life. Cookie Ascends.

(Michelle lives the rest of her life feeling emptier in Cookie's absence, and never knowing why Cookie vanished.)

1st iteration to reach the Grandmapocalypse:

The first time Michelle Kirschtorte meets Cookie Cliquer, she is offered a slice of Black Forest Cake, her favorite. Somewhat suspicious of the COOKIE Magnate offering her cake, Michelle still can't bring herself to resist. Cookie is clearly delighted.

Kirschtorte doesn't take Cookie seriously at first and Cookie knows it, and finds it funny. Kirschtorte has to be convinced of the omnipresence and significance of cookies thru material evidence. Cookie is more hands-on helping speed along her research, but only ever reveals information in bite-sized pieces on a need-to-know basis. It becomes increasingly clear to Kirschtorte that Cookie somehow knows a lot about the most far-fetched characteristics of cookies before they're scientifically proven...and that Cookie has a suspiciously good intuition for knowing things about Kirschtorte herself.

Cookie is delighted by her extra power and knowledge at first. She's entertained by using her extra experience to tease Kirschtorte. Cookie enjoys getting to spend more time with Michelle, despite how one-sided the relationship is early on. Michelle is drawn to Cookie even more from the get-go, because of her strange intuitive understanding of Michelle herself, as well as Cookie Theory.

During the first Grandmapocalypse, Cookie is overwhelmed and focuses on trying to feel in control rather than seeking help from Kirschtorte. When Dr. Kirschtorte approaches Cookie about it, Michelle is surprised by how stubbornly Cookie refuses to bend even slightly to the wishes of the Grandmatriarchs, no matter how logical and cost-effective that would be. Not fully understood by to Kirschtorte, this is motivated mostly by Cookie's resentment for her own grandmother (who is now a parf of the Grandma collective, of course). Cookie insists that any compliance or appeasement would only lead to Cookie and her company being trapped under the Grandmatriarchs' elderly thumb forever.

Instead, Cookie is dead set on overcoming the Grandmatriarchs' sabotage by outpacing them through brute force. Michelle sees this as a fight she is doomed to lose, but Cookie refuses to consider any alternatives.

Cookie's seemingly pointless uphill battle convinces Michelle that cooperating with the Grandmatriarchs is the only way to keep cookie production and research moving forward at a viable pace (she is objectively correct about this). Michelle wants to trust Cookie's leadership, but the two of them are getting older (this is especially visible on Michelle, who is effected by constant proximity to Cookieverse Portals), and Michelle is beginning to fear they might die before they uncover and exploit all the cookie-based secrets of the universe. After all the work they've done, the thought of not being able to see it through upsets Kirschtorte terribly. The Grandmatriarchs subconsciously whisper things to Michelle which exacerbate these fears-- something Michelle is susceptible to due to her proximity to the Cookieverse Portals.

Eventually, Kirschtorte caves. Against Cookie's wishes-- but in Kirschtorte's mind, for Cookie's sake as well as her own-- Kirschtorte convenes with the Grandmatriarchs anyways by using the Cookieverse Portals. She asks them for knowledge of how to lessen the Grandmatriarchs' wrath, and she asks for them to help her understand the true nature of the universe. In exchange, the Grandmatriarchs' ask Michelle to bond her mind with them just a little (still retaining most of her individuality), and vow that she will continue to proliferate portals to the cookieverse as long as she lives. That seems like an easy promise to Michelle, and it makes sense that they would want this. She already makes portals to the cookieverse all the time, so no big deal. Cookie was probably being stubborn and mistrusting for nothing!

Michelle performs the Elder Pledge ("a simple ritual involving anti-aging cream, cookie batter mixed in the moonlight, and a live chicken"), and the Grandmapocalypse is halted. The Wrinklers and Flesh Highways withdraw and cookie production returns to normal, with the Research Facility's grandma augmentation benefits still at work.

Cookie isn't sure what to make of the sudden withdraw of the Grandmatriarchs, but she has a bad feeling.

The way Michelle's deal works is that Kirschtorte will die normally someday, but then the Grandmatriarchs will carry her consciousness and memories to another iteration of Kirschtorte who asks for the same deal, and their knowledge will be combined into 1 continuous consciousness. This will repeat over and over, with more knowledge added to the collective each time, and each new Kirschtorte never knowing about her past selves or the secrets they've uncovered before she complies with the Grandmatriarchs.

Kirschtorte asks the Grandmatriarchs if they can do the same for Cookie, and is shocked to learn that Cookie was never going to run out of time, and never told her. Was Cookie willing to waste the rest of Kirschtorte's limited lifetime arguing with a grandma hivemind?! Did the work they do together matter so little to her?!!

When Michelle confronts her about it, Cookie learns in turn that Michelle is permanently cosmically bound to the Grandmatriarchs. Cookie feels betrayed, but she mostly blames Grandma-- ignoring Michelle's agency in the situation, thoughtlessly belittling her to keep her on a pedestal.

They continue to have problems in this and future iterations, with Kirschtorte always spending a large portion of their time together unaware of all their past lives until suddenly becoming aware when she inevitably goes against Cookie's wishes and speaks to the Grandmatriarchs. And yet, as much as they both claim to be ruthless utilitarians who put their work above all else, it is always quite obvious how much they admire each other and how badly they always want to be together, even at their worst. With all the time they spend building and destroying and rebuilding a cookie empire over and over again, they come to know and understand each other very intimately. They're both insufferably weird about each other when they both have all their memories.

[midnight-bay-if]

heyy, first off just want to say that i absolutely love the story so far and i'm so excited to see where it'll go in the future <3

anywaysss, how would the RO's react to the MC having to be used as like a honey trap to get info for a mission?

(also my first time doing an ask so if this is messed up, i apologise)

(Thank you so much! I'm also excited, haha. And it's not messed up at all! Don't worry!)

S: They see the benefits of such a plan, but it isn't their favourite method of completing a mission. It often leads to too many complications, most of which would be thrust upon your shoulders should things go awry. It leaves you at the forefront of danger, which they will never be entirely comfortable with. So you had better believe they would be lingering close by, just in case.

"I will have eyes on you the entire time, darling. If you feel uncomfortable, or you believe your cover to be blown, do not hesitate to call upon me. I will be beside you in an instant."

Rain: They don't like it. They feel sure S should be able to develop a better plan that doesn't involve you acting sweet for such a dangerous person. It isn't jealousy but genuine concern for your safety. They at least trust that S won't let anything too nefarious happen, but there is no way they can sit still while it's happening.

"Are you sure about this, MC? Perhaps I could do it instead?" It sounds ridiculous out loud. Rain does not have the confidence for such a thing. "Fine. But I'm going to be watching. If I sense anything off about their body language, I'm intervening. I can't lose you."

Taj: "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

Their vehement refusal holds no real orders. They fell for you exactly as you are; they would never try to change who you are. But their displeasure is palpable. They hate everything about the idea; the danger, the charm, the temptation, all of it repulsive. The sweet, whispered words you share in the dark and under blankets are supposed to be theirs. They want them to be. Perhaps it's greedy, but it doesn't feel that way when they are utterly starved for you.

"There has to be a better way, Koel. Lean on me. Work with me. Let's do this together.

N: They go quiet. What could they possibly say? Luring people with sickly sweet nothings or sensual promises of pleasure has been their weapon of choice for a very long time. Even you did not escape its clutches. People use whatever is at hand to survive. They cannot begrudge you the same, but... this feeling in their chest... it hurts. Indeed, you must realise so much of their facade has been stripped back since meeting you, and all their soft, soothing melodies are yours and yours alone.

"I will be waiting close by, my dear. If you need me, I will be whispering on the edges of your consciousness. Do not hesitate to call."

Umbra: Unsurprising that another would find you so perfectly alluring, but... they do not like it. "There must be a better plan," they suggest hopefully, tugging at their sleeves in a self-soothing gesture. "I could easily corner them in a dark alley and scare the information out of them." It wouldn't be any particular hardship; they understand how horrifying they are. But you deny it. You always do. Soft, brave, kind; it's who you are. You see that in them, too, but the truth is, Umbra is only that with you.

"If they hurt you," they warn, danger edging its way back into their voice, "there will be no where in any world for them to hide."

[englishsub]

book rec by me

so you want to get back into reading books but have no idea where to start and disdain booktok (if you get me started on this however i will become an unskippable cutscene so that's for another day). understandable. there is so much out there and it is all so overwhelming and you don't even know what you like now that you've been a decade out of the game. again, understandable. it does not have to be scary. i will help you. below i have created some categories that can get you started.

i want to read Literature

literary fiction, with crossover from historical fiction and magical realism

PEACH BLOSSOM SPRING by melissa fu

THE VASTER WILDS by lauren groff

THE FAMILY CHAO by lan samantha chang

OUTER DARK by cormac mccarthy

SEVERANCE by ling ma

LIGHT FROM UNCOMMON STARS by ryka aoki

IDENTITTI by mithu m. sanyal

PIRANESI by susanna clarke

i want to read sci-fi/fantasy that won't break my brain

sci-fi and fantasy that is gentler on the brain cells. easier to grasp magic systems with multiple but not an overwhelming number of overlapping plotlines

EMILY WILDE'S ENCYCLOPAEDIA OF FAERIES by heather fawcett

KINGS OF THE WYLD by nicholas eames

THE JASMINE THRONE by tasha suri

THE CITY OF BRASS by s.a. chakraborty

A RIVER ENCHANTED by rebecca ross

JUNIPER AND THORN by ava reid

BLACK SUN by rebecca roanhorse

THE FINAL STRIFE by saara el-arifi

THE BONE SHARD DAUGHTER by andrea stewart

i want to read sci-fi/fantasy that forces me to lock the fuck in

i would not recommend picking these up as your first foray back into books after many years of not reading recreationally, but i'm not your mom.

THE SPEAR CUTS THROUGH WATER by simon jimenez

JADE CITY by fonda lee

THE FIFTH SEASON by n.k. jemisin

THE RAGE OF DRAGONS by evan winter

A MEMORY CALLED EMPIRE by arkady martine

GIDEON THE NINTH by tamsyn muir

THE ART OF PROPHECY by wesley chu

THE GRACE OF KINGS by ken liu

horrify me!

there is far more to the horror literary canon than stephen king and dean koontz, i promise. consider looking up warnings for these.

TENDER IS THE FLESH by agustina bazterrica

THE RUINS by scott smith

CONFESSIONS by kanae minato

EPISODE THIRTEEN by craig dilouie

REPRIEVE by james han mattson

MARY by nat cassidy

DEAD SILENCE by s.a. barnes

AUDITION by ryu murakami

THE SALT GROWS HEAVY by cassandra khaw

don't care, i want romance

some of these feature crossover genres, like fantasy and horror.

VAMPIRES OF EL NORTE by isabel cañas

DAUGHTER OF THE MOON GODDESS by sue lynn tan

SEVEN DAYS IN JUNE by tia williams

HAPPY PLACE by emily henry

ONE DARK WINDOW by rachel gillig

i want QUEER romance

again, a mix of historical, fantasy, and contemporary crossover genres.

WE COULD BE SO GOOD by cat sebastian

IN MEMORIAM by alice winn

MOST ARDENTLY by gabe cole novoa

A STRANGE AND STUBBORN ENDURANCE by foz meadows

A MARVELLOUS LIGHT by freya marske

THE EMPEROR AND THE ENDLESS PALACE by justinian huang

SPELL BOUND by f.t. lukens

SORRY, BRO by taleen voskuni

ONE LAST STOP by casey mcquiston

DELILAH GREEN DOESN'T CARE by ashley herring blake

i haven't felt anything since i read percy jackson/the hunger games in middle school/high school

adventure is still out there.

SCYTHE by neil shusterman

WE HUNT THE FLAME by hafsah faizal

SIX OF CROWS by leigh bardugo

GEARBREAKERS by zoe hana mikuta

i'll read anything that's not straight or white

many books in the above categories fit this, but here's even more, across a variety of genres.

LAST NIGHT AT THE TELEGRAPH CLUB by malinda lo

BABEL by r.f. kuang

WHEN THE RECKONING COMES by latanya mcqueen

THE UNBROKEN by c.l. clark

IF YOU'LL HAVE ME (graphic novel) by eunnie

LEGEND OF THE WHITE SNAKE by sher lee

THIS IS HOW YOU LOSE THE TIME WAR by amal el-mohtar and max gladstone

SHE WHO BECAME THE SUN by shelley parker-chan

"all ya books suck"

like any other genre or book age group, there are duds and there are standouts. ya is not special in this regard. try some of these!

DIVINE RIVALS by rebecca ross

STRIKE THE ZITHER by joan he

THE RED PALACE by june hur

A STUDY IN DROWNING by ava reid

EMPIRE OF SAND by tasha suri

LEGENDBORN by tracy deonn

i check out and read a lot of these books for free via my local library by using the libby app (you can even add your friends' library cards to gain access to libraries in places you don't live). when i'm feeling like reading via audiobook, i use libro fm!

look, no one HAS TO read diversely. no one is going to be reverse fahrenheit 451'd and locked in a room with no fanfic and only books and not let out until they work their way through the entire literary canon. but reading, and reading widely, and reading diversely, is what teaches people to form their own opinions and question the things they are told. it's why they hang up stuff like "READ READ READ!!" in grade school classrooms.

we live under systems that increasingly benefit from going unquestioned. no, of course reading ASSASSIN'S APPRENTICE by robin hobb is not going to dismantle these systems tomorrow, nor probably even in our lifetimes. but doing it will help set up a world capable of doing it in the future. and until further notice, we are all part of this wretched world. might as well read a good story while we're here.

anyway, i'm reading THE WEST PASSAGE by jared pechaček and the new cmq book this week.