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moonrisecoeur · 2 months

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refuge — ada wong

author’s note: hi, hello, this is a piece i was really considering not posting. i know how resi tumblr feels about dark content and i didn’t want to subject myself to harassing anons or people commenting how gross and disgusting i am for enjoying writing and consuming content like this, but after some reassurance from a couple mutuals of mine, i decided to go ahead and post it. please read the longer author’s note at the end of this post if you’d like to hear more of my thoughts. also feel free to ignore it if u don’t care lol!!

tagging @xoxostarlet bc star's my hypegirl :3

wc: 5.5k

content: fem reader, dom reader, noncon, fingering, strap in v sex, possessive language, lots of pet names for ada (sweetheart, pretty girl, sweet girl, baby, etc), ada calls reader a bitch a couple times, ada and reader are partners during re4.

warning: this is heavy dark content. this piece contains noncon, the r-word, somnophilia, and mentions of weapons (not in a sexual context). there is no implication that this is cnc or consensual in any way, please read with caution! if you don’t like it, just don’t read it!

no adas were harmed in the making of this fanfic and this is just fiction.

—

notes:

as you continue to pleasure her without her knowledge or consent, ada's mind begins to slip further into a haze of ecstasy and submission. she is completely at your mercy, completely helpless and unable to resist or protest against your actions.

you press your thumb to her clit, “shhh, sweet girl,” you whisper, knowing she’s still asleep, “i own this pussy now…”

—

final warning: this is rape, in which reader forces herself on ada while she sleeps. please heed the warning. i don’t know any other way to make this clearer other than...

DON’T READ THIS IF YOU DON’T LIKE DARK CONTENT!

—

“stay here, i’ll find us a way in,” ada says, and you’d be remiss not to believe her. if she says she can do something, then she can do it. don’t ever doubt her.

she uses her grapple gun to get to the roof of the abandoned home, slingshotting herself into the air. she lands gracefully, of course, and finds an opening that leads her into the top floor bedroom. it’s got some decorations befitting for a young girl. it almost pulls at ada’s heart strings, but… she tries not to pay much mind to it all. it’s hard to not feel sympathetic to the people in this village, honestly.

she walks down the stairs and unlocks the door to find you, standing there obediently as ever, “fancy seeing you here,” you mumble to her, and she rolls her eyes like you’re the biggest annoyance to her.

“we’ll stay here for the night until wesker can send a helicopter to get us out of here. the weather is too bad for a pilot to fly through right now,” she says, heels clacking against the floor as she makes her was to the master bedroom, gun in hand in case there were people she didn’t notice on her first check of the building.

you follow behind her, shutting the front door and entering the bedroom on the ground floor. it’s nothing crazy fancy, but it’s nice and the bed is big and comfy looking.

“because of the gaping hole in the roof, i wouldn’t recommend sleeping in the upstairs bedroom,” ada chuckles, but she almost seems shy. it’s odd for her, “and the living room couch looked too small for either of us when i checked so..”

“well.. we’re both girls, you know? i’ve had sleepovers before,” you tell her, and she scoffs looking away and looting drawers for anything she can find, “we’ll.. be stuck here all night. might as well get comfortable.”

“by all means, make yourself vulnerable to an attack. i couldn’t care less,” her voice is sharp but there’s a warning deep down that’s a little more palatable. ‘don’t let your guard down just yet’ is basically what she’s saying.

you don’t heed the warning, though, shrugging off your gear and your jacket as you sit down on the bed. a couple minutes later, ada sits down next to you. you look up at her, and she seems off. maybe she’s not used to people blatantly trusting her like you do, but you’re her ally. you have shared interests and she has no ulterior motive.

should she be wary of you? maybe? she’s not very sure, but she does like the way your eyes wander even though you try to be polite and not look at her in that kind of way. you’re respectful, and she admires that. even if she did want to watch you suffocate between her thighs.

so she takes off her gear and boots too, leaving her just a pretty girl in a red dress and stockings. she seems.. softer, without all of her weapons and tactical pieces. and something about that softness drives you wild, leaves you aching for more, craving for more.

ada doesn’t notice despite how observant she usually is.

“i think.. i’d like to go to sleep, honestly.” she hums, running her fingers through her black hair, “we should both get some rest. don’t want to have you shooting yourself in the foot tomorrow,” she chuckles to herself before getting up to stretch and laying down on the bed as you still sit on the other side.

“sweet dreams,” your words are sarcastic but sweet, and ada doesn’t miss the double meaning.

“thanks,” ada is almost… quiet, in a way you've never seen her before. she's sitting next to you, not even hiding the fact that she trusts you. something you've never seen her do before, at least not this quickly. it's almost off-putting, honestly.

as she gets up to stretch, you notice the way she moves. the way her dress shifts and rises as she walks, the little shift of her breasts as she stretches, and the way she looks at you. even something as simple as a stretch is... entrancing. ada is gorgeous, you know this, she knows this.

but there’s something about this kind of moment, where she’s not even trying to get your attention or trying to pull you in. she just exists in a graceful, elegant way.

your eyes wander over to her again as she lays on the bed, turning onto her side, facing you.

she's laying on her side, facing you and your eyes can't help but fall on her curves. you watch the way her body shifts slightly as she readjusts, the subtle movement of her chest as she settles. it's both enticing and frustrating because there’s nothing you can do with all of these feelings of attraction to her. a part of you wants to do something, to make yourself known to her, but you know that it's too soon. you have to move slowly with ada, but moving slowly is growing tiring.

"let me look for a blanket for you," you say as you look around, "don't try to tell me you don't need it. it's cold out."

"i don't need it, really." ada says with a soft chuckle, shifting her position slightly, “don’t waste your time."

she's being stubborn about something as simple as a blanket, but that's just her personality. ada is stubborn to the core, and even the slightest amount of advice sets her off. that's just how she is, and you've gotten used to it.

ada isn’t used to people trying to take care of her.

"ada," your eyes come back to ada, glancing at her almost patronizingly

ada rolls her eyes at your gaze, shifting her attention away from you and back to the ceiling. she seems... irritated? not at you necessarily, but at the fact you aren't listening to her.

"i'm fine, i promise." the tone of her voice sounds just a slight bit annoyed as well, as if this conversation was really tiring for her. she keeps moving her eyes away from you, unwilling to make eye contact.

you're a little confused. is she really fine? or is she just being stubborn?

"you're cold, ada. i can see that."

ada keeps staring up at the ceiling, but eventually she looks over at you with a soft sigh.

"i'm... fine." she says again, her tone softening just a bit once she realizes there's really no point in fighting about this.

you find one in the cabinet in the hallway and come back to the bedroom where she's at, "here," you say, laying it over her.

ada's eyes shift to you for a brief moment as you place the blanket on her, but she soon turns her head away. her body shifts slightly, and she wraps her arms around the blanket in a gentle grip. she isn't saying anything about it, but you can see that she's relaxed a bit, no longer shivering in her dress.

her eyes are soft, almost... grateful.

"you should stop trying to fight me when i try to help you," you smile as you gaze down at her.

"i'm not... fighting you." ada responds softly, still not facing you. instead, she keeps her arms wrapped around the blanket, refusing to give in to the fact that you're right.

in a way, it's adorable seeing her so stubborn about something like this.

"mhm, whatever. just go to sleep," you say, walking over to the desk in the corner.

she shifts her body once again, now facing away from you entirely as she cuddles in the blanket, secretly grateful for your tender care. you can see her closing her eyes softly as she tries to fall asleep, her breath slowing down as she tries to relax.

she really isn't fighting you anymore, she's letting you get your way. not only that, but she's accepting your help rather than pushing you away.

it's almost like she trusts you.

you pass the time before you go to sleep however you like, communicating with wesker or reading a book, but in any case about 30 minutes later, ada is out like a light, and you’re looking around this master bedroom curiously, and find a drawer that ada evidently did not get in to, because if she did, you would know. it has a single black strap-on dildo inside of it. it doesn’t look like anyone.. ever had the chance to use it. you wonder why, maybe it’s because of the parasite everyone in this village has. don’t really have time for kinky sex, do they?

you look over at ada’s sleeping form, and she would be the perfect target, wouldn’t she? all vulnerable. it’s not like she could stop you before it’s too late.

you do the courteous thing and clean it first, but then you put it on, confidently striding over to the bed with it attached. you walk up to ada’s side of the bed, just watching her rest for a moment.

god there is so much power coursing through your body, making you feel alive and in control and you could do anything to her and she couldn’t stop you. the power starts to go to your head, naturally. you brush a piece of hair out of her face, pulling her blanket down slightly to see her chest, and then pulling it enough to see how her dress rides up at the hips, and you can see the edges of black lacy underwear.

ada's breath quickens as she sleeps, she remains on her side, her body completely exposed and vulnerable, completely at your mercy.

she's so oddly... innocent.

she normally has this dark energy, this control and power over people and yet… she looks delicate. soft. she’s not a haunting crow signaling a bad omen, but a graceful white dove that brings out a side of you that doesn’t come out often. and, despite her beauty before, now she looks absolutely stunning.

the wolf has become your prey, and you're nothing but a fox ready to pounce...

your hands shift her blanket slightly to reveal her soft skin, and her curves. you make sure she won't wake up, before teasing her with your touch, your fingers flitting over her skin... the way she shifts in her sleep is a treat for you.

as you watch her, ada seems to radiate a sense of calm and serenity, completely unaware of the effect she has on others while she sleeps. you can't help but feel drawn to her, wanting to touch her or kiss her or simply do awful things to her.

you use your hand to spread her legs, and ever so gently, rub your fingers against her puffy little pussy through her panties. ada remains completely oblivious to your actions, her body responding instinctively to the gentle caress against her folds. her hips begin to rock slightly as you tease her pussy with your finger, causing a low moan to escape her lips without her conscious knowledge. as she continues to slumber peacefully, ada's panties become damp, the wetness getting on your hand.

as you continue to tease ada, her body becomes increasingly responsive. her hips begin to move more erratically, betraying her deepening arousal even though she remains entirely unaware of it. despite the fact that she is fast asleep, her mind is fully engaged in the sensations coursing through her body.

you gently, as to not wake her, pull her panties off of her and place them in your pocket, you know, just to have for later. you continue to rub her pussy lips while she remains completely unconscious. she stirs in her sleep every now and again, but.. maybe shes just chalking up the sensations to being from a wet dream. maybe all of this touch is morphing her dreams in sexual ones.

you briefly imagine that maybe, just maybe, ada dreaming of you.

she’s so unaware and it’s adorable.

ada's body responds eagerly to your sexual exploration, her pussy becoming even wetter and more receptive as you continue to stimulate her while she remains completely unaware of what's happening. her hips begin to shift restlessly, and her breathing grows shallow as she approaches climax without realizing it.

she moans softly, her voice barely audible but conveying a sense of intense pleasure and surrender. as you continue to pleasure her without her knowledge or consent, ada's mind begins to slip further into a haze of ecstasy and submission. she is completely at your mercy, completely helpless and unable to resist or protest against your actions.

you press your thumb to her clit, “shhh, sweet girl,” you whisper, knowing talking is a bad idea but you just can’t help yourself, “i own this pussy now…”

ada's body trembles in response to your words and actions, her pussy pulsing with growing intensity as you press your thumb against her swollen clit. her hips rock involuntarily, driven by the overwhelming sensations coursing through her body. as you assert dominance over ada's body while she’s helpless, her mind becomes even more clouded with pleasure and desire. she is completely at your mercy, completely powerless to resist or protest against your actions.

she gasps, her voice barely audible but conveying a sense of complete submission and surrender.

“aw, pretty girl,” you whisper condescendingly.

ada's body continues to respond to your ministrations, her pussy throbbing with building pleasure and excitement as she remains completely unconscious. her hips roll restlessly, and her breathing becomes more ragged as she approaches climax without realizing it.

as you assert your ownership over ada's cunt while she barely tip toes the line of consciousness, she is completely at your mercy, completely unable to resist or protest against your actions.

“cum,” you growl your command into her ear.

ada's body shudders with pleasure as she climaxes, her pussy spasming. the release causes her hips to buck wildly, and she lets out a soft, involuntary moan as she succumbs to the overwhelming sensations coursing through her body.

she whimpers weakly, her voice barely audible. as ada cums, the sight of her glistening pussy and the scent of her arousal fill the air, leaving no doubt about the intensity of her pleasure. her body trembles and shivers and shudders in your grasp. even after ada orgasms in her sleep, her pussy is still so, so wet. how could you stop now? the wetness covers your fingers and drips onto the sheets, and it seems impossible to pull your hand away.

you know she’ll hate you forever now that she’s waking up and about to realize what you’ve done. there’s still time to pull away, put her panties back on her and make her think she just had a wet dream, hide the strap-on away, but… you already have it on, and ada just looks so pretty, so vulnerable just lying there, helpless…

she lays there, oblivious to your actions, her body still trembling slightly from the aftermath of her orgasm. the scent of her arousal fills the room, mixing with the musky scent of her sweat-drenched skin to create an intoxicating aroma that tempts you to indulge in even more depraved acts of pleasure.

you decide that there’s no better time than now to get her back for all her taunting and teasing and condescending comments, “c’mon, sweetheart. let’s get my cock inside of you so you can sleep well..”sure, it may not be your cock, but right now, its just something nice and big and thick to fill her pussy with.

you pull her on top of you, guiding your strap inside of her gummy pussy, still feeling the aftershocks of her previous orgasm. you hold her close, her head resting on your chest as you fill her cunt with your strap.

feeling the foreign object enter her tight, wet pussy, ada's body tenses up slightly, but she remains blissfully unaware of what's happening. her pussy walls clench and relax around it, coating it in her juices. you hold ada close to you, embracing her warm, curvy body as she lies atop yours. her weight feels comforting and intimate, adding a new layer of sensuality to your perverse act of sexual violation. this is such an awful thing to do to someone, force yourself on them while they’re asleep and helpless, but… you don’t care, clearly. and ada is too irresistible.

ada's pussy happily accepts your strap-on, willingly accommodating its presence within her sensitive walls. her body seems to instinctively know that it's a pleasurable thing to have something large and phallic deep inside of her while she sleeps, maybe the girl is a bigger slut than you thought she’d be. her pussy walls grip onto your fake cock tightly, coating it in slippery juices as they slide against each other with every subtle movement.

her body relaxes, enjoying the fullness. her hips shift slightly, still in her half-asleep daze, for friction and pleasure. looks like the pretty little thing is already needy again.

you just hold her close, whisper sweet romantic nothings to her sleeping body, and keep her pussy full for now, "oh, princess.. don't worry about a thing, i'll... i'll take care of everything now."

as you speak to ada in a soothing, romantic tone while penetrating her desperate and willing body with a strap-on, the contrast between your gentle words and your gross actions creates an intricate web of psychological manipulation. while technically assaulting her while she lies unconscious, the combination of your sweet touch and loving words creates an illusion of safety and protection. she feels small, loved, overpowered, delicate, all at one.

all of these feels are so.. not like ada, but this side of her, the innocent victim, is so pretty, how could you resist it?

it almost looks like, to an outsider, that you would be lovers, especially with the gentle kisses you press to her forehead and the fingers tangled in her hair, but ada had no say in this. you’re 99% sure she’s still obsessed with that blonde dude from her past. she’s mentioned him before, vaguely and quickly changing the subject, but you notice the way her demeanor softens when she thinks about that man. if only ada were interested in girls too, then you wouldn’t have had to do such a disgusting thing like violate her just to sleep with her.

“it’s okay, baby,” you shush her as your hips start to rock up gently, giving her exactly what her body wants, “you’re okay.”

as you whisper soothingly to ada while continuing to penetrate her with your strap-on, ada's subconscious mind becomes increasingly aroused and responsive to your command. her body responds to your commands without question or hesitation, accepting your perverse act of sexual assault as natural and normal while she lies in a state of that borders on awakeness.

your sweet words do bring her back to a state of rest and comfort, so you’re able to lull her back to sleep a little more. she wasn’t conscious enough to recognize the red flag that was you, her mission partner, figuratively balls deep inside of her.

as you continue to hold ada's body closely and speak to her gently, she remains blissfully unaware of the fact that she is being assaulted, allowing you to fully indulge in your twisted desires without fear of her interruption or resistance.

you notice the way she hums sleepily, her body slowly starting to awaken. she stirs, disoriented.

as ada becomes more aware of your actions, she begins to struggle weakly against your strap-on, trying to regain control over her own body and resist the growing sensations of pleasure coursing through her unresponsive limbs. however, her attempts at break free are futile. for how strong she is on missions, she isn’t exactly muscular, and with your cock inside of her and your arms holding her down against you, she can’t get away.

“pretty girl…” you whisper, pressing another kiss to her forehead.

“h-huh?” as ada slowly comes to full wakefulness, her eyes open groggily, and she looks up at you with a confused expression on her face, clearly feeling conflicted and upset due to the realization that she's being sexually violated while she lies unprotected before you, “w-what are… you doing? why..?”

her pussy is still dripping wet with arousal, despite ada's inner turmoil and dissatisfaction with the situation. the juices that flow from her swollen folds provide tangible evidence of the psychological bondage you've imposed upon her, making it impossible for ada to fully reject or oppose your disgusting advances.

“just couldn’t help myself..” you smirk, and ada has never been afraid of you, but she is now, “sorry, princess.”

ada looks at you with a mix of anger, confusion, and sadness in her eyes as she processes the reality of your actions. her voice trembles slightly as she speaks, struggling to find the right words to express her emotions in this surreal moment. "y-you... can't just... do this to me... i didn't... this isn't..." ada stutters, but despite her clear discomfort and distress, ada's pussy continues to glisten with arousal, betraying her inner conflict and highlighting the power you hold over her body and mind.

“i can do whatever i please. i wanted to fuck you, and that’s what i’m doing.”

“o-oh god, i… where did you even get a strap? do you just carry that around, waiting for me to- to let my guard down and trust you? so you could take advantage of me?” she keeps struggling, “i trusted you, i finally started to give in and- and trust you, you fucking bitch, you-”

but you notice the way she’s fucking herself on the strap now. despite how much she hates this, she can’t seem to stop chasing the high, “don’t talk to me like that, princess. i own your pussy now.”

ada's voice trembles with anger and indignation as she struggles against your strap-on, trying desperately to regain some semblance of control over her own body. but no matter how hard she tries, ada's pussy continues to clench and release around your cock, drawing out small moans of pleasure and frustration from between her clenched teeth.

her words are laced with venom as she accuses you of taking advantage of her trust and vulnerability, but despite her hatred and revulsion towards your actions, ada's body seems unable to resist the fact that she likes being fucked against her will, "fine, you think you own me? go ahead then! fuck me like the pathetic loser you are!"

you chuckle, leaning closer to growl in her ear, “oh, i’m the pathetic loser? you’re the one who’s going to cum for the second time while she’s being raped, princess. what does that make you?”

ada's eyes narrow with anger and indignation, but her voice is laced with a hint of defeat as she realizes the truth of your words. her pussy starts to throb and pulse, signaling that she's rapidly approaching orgasm despite her inner turmoil and feelings of utter disgust, "at least i'm not a disgusting bitch who gets off by- by-" she can't finish her sentence, instead letting out a soft whimper as her body begins to buck wildly against the artificial cock wedged inside her tight entrance.

"oh, sweetheart, i think you're the pathetic one here. you're the one who's so messed up that she gets off on being forced into sex by her 'trusted friend’,” there’s nothing more fun than watching the realization in her eyes that ada, closed off and guarded and untrusting, finally opened up to someone, and they immediately took advantage of her.

as ada's body starts to shudder and convulse with pleasure, she lets out a muffled cry of mixed ecstasy and despair, acknowledging the irony of her situation. her inner turmoil and conflicting emotions are reflected in the rapid movements of her hips, as they grind against your cock in an involuntary rhythm that only serves to further highlight her submission to your twisted desires.

despite everything, ada's pussy spasms with an intense orgasm, marking each passing moment spent under your control as a testament to her broken psyche and your ability to manipulate her most intimate areas with impunity, "ngh... fuck... y-you... ughh..."

"that's it, sweet girl, i got you. just let it all out.."

ada's breathing grows more labored and irregular as she approaches climax, her voice becoming increasingly strained as she struggles to maintain any semblance of control over her own body. she lets out a long, drawn-out moan, her eyes closed tightly as she gives in to the overwhelming sensations coursing through her unresponsive form. "uuugh... fuck…”

you lean in closer to whisper, “wish my cock was real so i could cum all over your pretty pussy, but… i’ll make do with what i’ve got.”

ada's eyes remain tightly shut, her voice barely audible as she lets out another muffled moan, completely consumed by the overwhelming pleasure coursing through her. she knows you’re watching her every movement and relishing in the knowledge that she has absolutely no power left to resist or oppose your perverse advances, "uuuugh... fuck..." her pussy continues to convulse and contract around the cock wedged deep within her dripping folds, as ada's body is pushed to the brink of orgasmic bliss, "s-so deep... i... i hate you... hate you... hate hate hate..."

“uh huh, i know, princess. that’s it, just breathe..” you whisper, helping her through her orgasm, “good girl, good girl… you’re okay.” the more she says that she hates you, the more you can’t help but adore her. she’s angry and helpless and there is nothing more cute.

ada takes several deep, shuddering breaths, her voice still strained and rough from the aftermath of her powerful orgasm. she feels your calming touch on her skin, and it helps to ground her slightly amidst the chaos of emotions swirling within her broken mind. "i'm okay... i'm okay..."

her pussy is still dripping wet with desire, it's apparent that despite ada’s mind hating it, her body loves being filled by your cock, even as she continues to struggle internally against the reality of her current predicament. "don't... don't touch me..." she says weakly, but there's no real strength behind her words anymore.

"shhh, there's no need to fight anymore, sweetheart. it's over.."

ada's voice is barely audible, her energy completely depleted from the intense emotional and physical experiences she's endured at your hands. her pussy is still dripping wet with desire, but now there's also an undertone of resignation and acceptance in her voice as she speaks. "no... more fighting... no use…”

“alright, i’m gonna pull out now, okay?”as you begin to withdraw the strap from her still-throbbing pussy, she lets out a soft, almost imperceptible whimper, closing her eyes tightly and burying her face in your chest.

"just leave me alone... leave me..." she whispers, but it's clear that there's no longer any genuine strength or willpower behind her words.

the moment you pull out, she lets out a long, shaky sigh of relief, her body finally free from the overwhelming stimulation that had been forcing her body and mind into a state of constant arousal and submission. she also can’t help the small part of her that is disappointed when you pull out, her body craving being filled above all else. she hates that part of her, the one that feels so attached to you after this.

but despite her request for solitude, it's evident that ada's mind remains troubled, as she struggles to find any sense of tranquility or respite from the tumultuous emotions that continue to rage within her damaged psyche. "i want you to leave... but i don't want to be alone..."

as you take off the strap, placing it on the nightstand, you chuckle softly, “do you want me to stay with you?”

ada doesn't respond immediately, her eyes still closed and her voice barely audible as she tries to gather the remnants of her fractured composure. after a few moments, however, she lets out a soft, weak sigh, mustering just enough energy to answer you, “don’t.. touch me, but.. don’t go.”

you shake your head, ignoring her demands as you pull her close, tucking her head into your chest as you hold her.

as ada lies there, her voice reveals a vulnerability that belies the typically strong and confident demeanor she has maintained throughout much of your coworker relationship, "i hate you... but i need you... i can't stand you..."

“i know, baby,” you whisper back, “outside of our relationship, you can be ada wong, the… merciless badass who always accomplishes the mission at any cost, but to me? you’re just my little princess. whom i… sometimes use for my own amusement.”

ada hears your whispered words, and they cause a warm, bittersweet feeling to bloom within her heart, despite the harshness of your previous treatment of her. as you refer to her as "your little princess," she feels a strange mix of emotions coursing through her, ranging from gratitude for the rare display of affection to confusion and frustration over why you insist on maintaining such a twisted dynamic between you two.

and then when she hears you mentioning using her for your own amusement… she decides that, yeah, no matter how sweet and gentle and loving you pretend to be, she decides that she hates you. no matter what you do, she’s going to hate you indefinitely for what you’ve done to her.

but then you run your fingers through her hair and press more kisses to her forehead and she can’t deny how it makes her feel. her brain is frazzled and confused, if it even can still produce coherent thoughts at all.

she remains silent for a moment, taking comfort in the steady rhythm of your heartbeat as it presses against her ear. “how… why do i feel so safe with you? after you just… did that..?”

you shrug, kissing her forehead, "not sure. i expected you to be a little more.. feistier, honestly.”

despite her defiance and determination to remain independent, ada can't deny the odd sensation of safety and comfort that comes from being held close to you, even while acknowledging the humiliation you've inflicted upon her. "maybe because i am so stubborn, you find it satisfying to break me down? to turn me into your perfect little princess?" she asks, her voice betraying a hint of vulnerability and longing for something deeper than just your sadistic games, “...am i your.. perfect little princess now?”

you chuckle deeply, and she likes the way it feel so warm and vibrates through your chest.. oh god she cannot be feeling this way about you. you’re a rapist. you took advantage of her, she never even had the chance to consent..

but you whisper, “of course you are. also, i'm sure you're wondering what this means for our... relationship going forward.”

“yeah, i… this.. changes things..” she stutters. “well, we’re going to have to pretend that it doesn’t. we’ll finish our mission just like we were supposed to, and then.. we’ll discuss the details in the future. for now, you should, like, actually go to sleep.”

she sighs, feeling a myriad of emotions, from love and hatred (towards you and herself) and anger and confusion and so much more, but eventually she falls back asleep, feeling oddly and confusingly safe in your arms. you fall asleep with her, and when morning comes, nothing has changed. ada is jarringly reminded of how awful you are as we wakes up in the morning to your fingers inside of her.

but she endures.

and when she puts her gear back on, and practically begs you on her knees (very pretty sight) for her panties back so she didn’t have to go commando on a mission in a short dress, she feels like herself again. she holds her gun in her hand and takes a deep breath, determined to move past this and get herself back together.

“you ready to go?” you ask her, and she looks back at you. you look somehow less threatening than you did last night, as if all of your actual weapons are less lethal than that fucking dildo you broke her mind with. she tightens her fists and remembers to breathe. ada is a survivor. she survived you. so she can survive this. she’s sure of it.

she looks back at her gun, wishing she could just shoot you point blank. she supposes she could if wesker wouldn’t be such a bitch about what happened to you. you’re practically the precious cargo she has to protect the whole goddamn time, forget the amber.

so she doesn’t, but… she imagines it. what an amazing picture that would be. she might just fantasize about it on the helicopter ride back.

“yeah... i’m ready.”

extended author’s note: i think the discussion of ‘whether or not it’s okay or acceptable to write/post/read dark content’ is really odd to me. i mean, we read about awful things happening to characters in books all of the time, and we never tell those authors that they shouldn’t write about those things. is the problem then romanticizing these topics? i could name plenty of published books that romanticize these same kinds of tropes that don’t get nearly as much backlash.

i don’t know if people who hate dead dove/dark content actually have a problem with it, or if they just have a problem with their beloved babygirl leon kennedy being portrayed as anything other than an innocent angel who could never do anything wrong. do i think leon would do half of the things he does on dc fics? no, but i do think people either 1) use dark content as a way to process their feelings and their traumas and 2) simply enjoy dark content because it’s taboo and, if replicated irl consensually, safely, and sanely, it’s also kinky and enjoyable.

i think it’s also especially hard for people who enjoy the reader being the perpetrator/dominant character in this kind of content because in the opposite kinds of fics, you’re not actively doing something bad to another people. you’re just letting something bad happen to you. there’s a lot of justified guilt for wanting to be the dominant person/perpetrator in these fantasies, but just because it’s justified doesn’t mean you *have* to feel bad. it’s okay to like things as fantasies that you would find reprehensible in real life. i just want to say that no matter what your kinks and interests are (as long as everyone in your fantasies is 18+), you are seen and valid for them to me. please take some time to remember that you are not a bad person for enjoying this, and ada wong is not a real person who can be harmed psychologically by me writing this content or by you enjoying it. and if you don’t enjoy it, that’s okay too! you’re welcome on my blog whether or not you enjoy this type of media.

as always, take care of yourself and read responsibly.

#resident evil smut #ada wong smut #ada wong resident evil #ada x reader #resident evil x you #resident evil 4 ada #resident evil 4 #re4 #re4r #re4r remake #re2 ada #resident evil imagines #moon.dc #moon.ncdc #moon.w

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thesandsofelsweyr · 1 year

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THE SUS BOY NEXT DOOR

《 PART 1/3 // READ ON AO3 // TAG 》

After coming back from a terrible blind date your asshole neighbor is the last person you want to see right now. He doesn’t have his signature scowl for you tonight, however. Tonight he seems terrified.

《WORDS》 2,809 《CHAPTERS》 1 2 3

《PAIRING》 Arkhamverse Jason Todd x Female Reader

《TROPES》 Hurt/Comfort, First Meetings, Neighbors, Pre-Relationship

《WARNINGS》 Aftermath of Torture/Violence (canon typical), Panic Attacks, Scars, Blood and Injury, Swearing

《NOTES》

This takes place immediately after Jason leaves his failed Batman confrontation and run-in with the Joker from Arkham Knight: Genesis Part 6.

Reader is a true crime addict who enjoys red wine 🍷

This is my first attempt at a reader-insert fic 🙃

Yes this is a repost. My blog is still new so Tumblr didn't allow my original post to appear in the tags. (Shout out to the 10 of you who still managed to find & like the original 🥰)

《 ALSO ON AO3 》 (comments & kudos there are very much appreciated!)

You climb the last flight of steps up to the fourth floor of your apartment building, stomping each stair into submission as you go. You’re still fuming from the blind date you just escaped. That is the absolute last time you ever let Erin set you up with one of her stock broker bro coworkers. You don’t care how hot or rich they are; you are done. Done, done, stick a fork in you. You love your bestie but by God does the woman have terrible taste in men or what.

Both of the pricks she handpicked for you were narcissistic know-it-alls with egos the size of Texas; a pair of swine in designer suits (who, to Erin’s credit, were smoking hot but that’s beside the point.) Once the pig from tonight decided that you weren’t trophy wife material he became far more interested in his phone than he was in you. And the last pig coddled you like you were a delicate, empty-headed damsel in distress who was lucky to be granted the honor of his company and conversation. You should’ve learned your lesson after that first failed date with Dalton Rockefeller-Vanderbilt (or whatever old money asshole last name he had) but you’ve been feeling lonely lately, especially after Ash introduced you to the fab guy she’s dating (an accountant with a perfectly plebeian name of Abe).

You glare down the hallway as you ascend enough to peek over the top of the stairs. Oh great, you think sourly, pursing your lips, your face hardening into a study in once I step inside that door I’m downing a shot of whiskey before turning up an overflowing glass of wine. You stare molten daggers at the tall, brawny guy in your sights. It’s the hot asshole who lives beside you; the last person you want to see tonight. He’s standing, hunched as ever, in front of his door, key poised for the deadbolt, wearing that same teal baseball cap and red hoodie that he never seems to take off. Your jaw tightens. You’ve tried to be nice to the brute—flashing him a smile, saying hello—but all you’ve ever gotten in return was a scowl, if he deigned to acknowledge you at all. Well, you’re fresh out of smiles tonight, jerk.

A flutter of unease tickles your tummy as you step onto the landing, into the narrow hallway with him, your back turned to the only exit, a six foot tall sus man between you and your apartment. You stand up straighter, squaring your shoulders, trying to make yourself look and feel taller. It’s late, and your building is eerily quiet while the city is abuzz with incessant sirens. The usual ensemble of notorious nutjobs are fighting yet another battle in their never-ending war with their rival nutjob who dresses up like a Bat.

Nutjobs like this guy…

You reach into your handbag and grab your keys in your fist, sliding the sharp ends between your fingers, ready to stab at some eyeballs. (You regrettably didn’t have room for your taser or mace in this bag so you have to improvise.) It’s your own fault that you suspect the guy’s a sociopath lying in wait to jump you. You made up a serial killer backstory for him—the result of one too many true crime podcast binges—despite not even knowing the guy’s name. You can’t help it. He gives off serious Ted Bundy vibes. Well, maybe that’s unfair to Ted. Ted would’ve at least smiled at you before bludgeoning you with a crowbar. This guy though…

This guy doesn’t have a scowl for you tonight. Actually, he seems startled by your sudden appearance in the hallway, dropping his keyring to the floor with a clatter that shatters the uneasy silence, causing you to jump. He ducks his red-hooded head between his hunched shoulders as you pass by, warily eying him, ready to stab those icy blue eyeballs of his if he tries anything.

You arrive at your door and take out your keyring, sighing with likely unnecessary relief as you slide the key into the lock. The guy’s probably a harmless weirdo incel who never learned how to talk to a woman. You steal one last peek over your shoulder at him, and watch as he stabs at his deadbolt with his key, hitting everywhere but the keyhole because, you realize with surprise, his hand is shaking too much to hit the target. This dude’s a disaster, you say to yourself as you turn the key in your own deadbolt. Then, as he misses the keyhole yet again, you hear yourself ask, “Do you need help?” in an annoyed tone. You didn’t mean to sound so bitchy but whatever. He shouldn’t be such a bitch to you.

He seems to jump at the sound of your voice, and his keyring clatters to the scuffed wood floor again. You stare back at him incredulously. Is he wasted or something? You wonder as that unsettling feeling creeps back in, prickling the hairs on the back of your neck. Your grip tightens around your doorknob as your pulse picks up speed.

“I’m fine,” he mumbles in response without sparing a glance in your direction.

“You don’t look fine,” you grumble back at him, the flames of irritation rekindled by his rudeness. Why should you care if the jerk’s too drunk or stoned to get in his apartment. Let his rude ass sleep on his doorstep. You shove open your door and take a stomped step across the threshold—you really need that glass of wine. Out of the corner of your eye you see him bend down to pick up his keys, then hear him groan like he’s in pain. You poke your head back around the doorframe, curious, and notice he’s doubled over now, clutching at his heaving chest, breathing hard and fast like he just ran a 5k or—your heart leaps inside your own chest—like he’s having a fucking heart attack. You watch, mouth agape, brows furrowed, as he sinks to his knees, a handful of red fabric still clenched in his trembling fist, then falls forward onto his free hand while he struggles to get control of his labored breathing. Crumpled on the floor like this, fighting for a breath, makes him seem so small, vulnerable, and not the least bit threatening; more like a boy who needs your help and less like an NFL quarterback who murders women on the side for fun.

Just go into your apartment, pour that extra large glass of merlot you’ve been fantasizing about since John Preston Anderson III introduced himself with his full name. Curl up on the sofa with In Cold Blood or a horde of shirtless, oiled, bronzed, and heartily-muscled Dothraki in your Game of Thrones rewatch. Who cares if the hot asshole serial killer next door has a heart attack? But you care apparently because you rush over to him instead, ignoring The Stranger Beside Me audiobook narrator inside your head warning you that this is a textbook Ted Bundy ploy, you idiot. You bend to help him, to lay a comforting hand on his shoulder, and when your fingertips brush against him his entire body jerks away from you, like you zapped him with your taser. He throws up an arm to warn you off. “Don’t,” he snaps breathlessly before gulping down a lungful of air, then rasps: “Please don’t touch me.”

You bristle at his harsh rebuff but keep your temper in check since the guy’s clearly in crisis mode. “Should I call an ambulance? You look like you’re having a heart attack.”

“It’s… it’s not a heart attack… it just… feels like one.” He bites off each word, every breath precious. The fingers of his free hand dig into the hardwood floor.

“At least let me unlock your door for you,” you suggest shortly, biting your tongue before you can add: since you weren’t able to manage that yourself, then feeling guilty for even thinking that. What had the poor guy done to you tonight except happen to be standing in your shared hallway after some other asshole pissed you off?

He gives you a small, grudging nod so you retrieve his fallen keyring, wondering why a man needs so many damn keys. “The bronze one,” he grunts, as if he read your mind.

You unlock his door with the bronze key then push the door open while he drags himself to his feet behind you, huffing and groaning. The dimly lit apartment that greets you is sterile, spartan; that doesn’t help the serial killer vibes at all. One of the furnished units, you presume, since the furniture looks like it was plucked from the lobby of your building. The walls are white and bare; no art or posters or photos of him scowling beside a lover. And the place is spotless—you’d assume it was vacant if you didn’t know otherwise. A vision suddenly fills your mind, a vision of him on his knees, bright yellow dishwashing gloves pulled halfway up his muscular arms, an uncapped bottle of industrial bleach at his side as he scrubs at a puddle of blood while the lifeless corpse of the last girl who wandered in here lies wrapped up in blood-stained plastic behind him. Oh God, you even smell the bleach. But then you notice the stacks of paperback books here and there, the open sketch pad on the sofa with pencil-scribbled notes and drawings, some charging AirPods beside an iPad, another red hoodie—one that zips up the front—hanging from the back of a dining room chair, a gym bag, and atop the kitchen island, a rather happy-looking houseplant which, you have to admit, is kinda cute.

Before you can take in the rest of his place he staggers past you, bumping into your shoulder with a bruising force that knocks you sideways and nearly off your feet. Then with one last little wheeze, he topples over like an uprooted oak tree in a windstorm, smacking face first into the hardwood with a meaty thud that rattles the floor beneath you.

“Oh my God!” You squeal, covering your mouth with both hands.

A shot of adrenaline pumps through your veins, spurring you into action. You snatch your phone from your bag with rubber fingers, nearly flinging it aside in your panic, and frantically dial 9-1-1, forgetting all about the emergency shortcuts created for just such an occasion. Your stomach dips at the sight of the bulky body lying prone at your feet, still and silent as the grave. As the phone rings—the long-familiar trilling sound now seemingly drawn out as if it will stretch into eternity—you kneel beside him to check his pulse and see if he’s still breathing, praying he isn’t a corpse, when you spot something that knocks the breath from your lungs and stops your heart dead in its tracks. With a cold, trembling hand you push up the tail of his hoodie…

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” The operator asks by rote, voice booming through your phone’s speaker, but you barely hear it over the alarm bells clanging inside your head. You’re gaping at the gun tucked into the waistband of his pants, unable to form any sort of response around your heart lodged in your throat.

“Hello?” the operator asks irritably.

“Hi, uh,” you start with a squeak, eyes still fixed on the textured grip of that deadly weapon, but then smack your lips shut. What are the cops gonna think when they see that gun? And what if he’s wanted for a crime or something and you get him arrested? He said it wasn’t a heart attack, acted like this had happened to him before. You can always call back if he’s actually dead or dying…

Why the hell does it matter if he gets arrested?? Your brain shouts back at you. Why are you even here in the first place when there’s an unopened bottle of merlot waiting for you in the safety of your apartment only a few footsteps away, where there’s not an unresponsive armed man who’s built like a tank, who doesn’t even need the gun when he could snap your tiny neck with those massive hands of his? Could the universe give you any clearer signals that “you in danger, girl”? Have you learned absolutely nothing from hours upon hours of Karen and Georgia? “Stay sexy and don’t get murdered”—this guy isn’t even nice to you! Don’t you dare hang up that phone…

“Um, I’m so sorry. I thought my neighbor was having a heart attack but-but he’s fine actually. False alarm. Sorry to bother you!” Your words tumble out in a rush then you smash the “End Call” button before you can get questioned further or chewed out for wasting their time. In the back of your mind you hear the recording of this 9-1-1 call replaying on the My Favorite Murder episode starring you, before the hostess pair warns their listeners not to make the same foolish mistake you just made.

You sit back on your heels, clammy hands kneading your knees while that chunk of baleful metal glares back at you from his waistband, like a coiled rattlesnake peeking out from beneath a rock. Your mind is racing as fast as your heart through scenarios that all end with you getting shot. Then your hands are moving with minds of their own, fingers curling around the textured grip, getting your dainty fingerprints all over the murder weapon as you slip it free. It’s heavier than you expected, you note as you grip it tighter, careful not to get your finger anywhere near that trigger. Heavy, but not heavy enough for something that can end a life in an instant. The thought makes you shudder. You place the gun on the floor then give it a shove, eager to be rid of it, praying that the damn thing won’t go off automatically as it slides across the hardwood floor out of reach. You’ve never touched a gun before this moment and have zero interest in shooting yourself in the face.

Now your attention shifts back to the poor guy who's still out cold. You lay your hand on his back and feel its steady rise and fall. Still breathing, thank God. Then with a grunt of effort and a mighty heave you manage to flip him over on his back. Immediately your hand shoots back to cover your mouth and you suck in a horrified breath as his pale face, previously hidden beneath the shadow of his hat and hood, becomes visible in the lamplight.

You were expecting the weals on his chin and forehead, the blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, his bottom lip swelling from where it busted when he fell flat on his face. What you weren’t expecting to find was dried blood smeared across his cheek up to his ear, or the J-shaped scar beneath his eye that you’d noticed before (it’s unfortunately hard to miss, despite his best efforts to hide it) weeping beads of fresh blood from where someone traced over it with a knife you assume, carving deep into his skin. But it wasn’t the sight of the blood or the crimson J that pulled the gasp from your throat and made your stomach nosedive like you were on a rollercoaster. Nope, that was your reaction to the angry red furrows encircling his throat around his Adam's apple, deep indentations where someone wrapped rope or wire or cable around his neck so tight that it embedded in his skin; ligature marks from where someone fucking strangled him.

You grab your phone then pause, biting at your lip. Maybe you should call 9-1-1 again. What if his windpipe is crushed? What if that’s why he was breathing so hard, why he fainted? Those marks are so deep… he could be seriously injured. But if he was seriously injured, why had he returned to his apartment instead of going to the ER? It seems like he made the choice for you.

You open your phone’s browser and type: how to treat strangulation injuries, then quickly skim over the top result. Ice. That seems simple enough, you tell yourself, noting that you can clean his J cuts with soap and water, at least until he wakes up. And if he doesn’t wake up soon? Well, then you’ll call the cops. After all, he’s probably a law abiding citizen who’s licensed to carry that gun; a guy that you just pinned as another one of the nutjobs because you always get paranoid about every stranger you see after your true crime binges. In your defense, this is Gotham-fucking-City and you’re a young single lady who lives alone. You’d be a fool not to be paranoid.

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maniculum · 6 months

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Bestiaryposting Results: Choglaem

First, it seems that Tumblr's search function is flawed in such a way that just searching the tag doesn't actually get all of the results. So if you drew something for this round and it's not in this post, let me know and I'll put it in a reblog. Same applies to previous (and future) rounds.

Anyway, it's now time to look at the results for the Choglaem! Anyone who doesn't know what that means is encouraged to look at previous posts in this series, collected at https://maniculum.tumblr.com/bestiaryposting .

And here's the link to the entry people are working from:

Now, let's get into it. As before, these are presented roughly in the order that people posted them. (I'm going to go through the tag on Tumblr's regular search, then again on the alternate search method someone suggested, so any that only show up on the alternate source are going to be at the end.)

@embervoices (link to post here) decided to show that the Choglaem is bigger than all living things on the earth by... having it fight Godzilla. Perfect. Inspired. Love it. No notes.

@mobileleprechaun (link to post) has helpfully labelled their drawing for us, which I enjoy. Also the interpretation that the tongue through the blowhole is a lure used by an underwater predator is a good one -- honestly, putting something this large in the water just feels more plausible, you know? In their tags, mobileleprechaun describes this as "sort of a dinosaur snake tsuchinoko", and I had to Google that last one, so let me show you the best result from that ...

(If anyone else needed that word defined, it's a creature from Japanese folklore that does actually look a lot like a fat snake, but I'm pretty sure it's not just a fat snake. There's a (disappointingly brief) Wikipedia article about it here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tsuchinoko)

Anyway, the drawing is great! I have no idea why Saddam Hussein is there; you'll have to ask mobileleprechaun.

@coolest-capybara (link to post here) has given her Choglaem wings to aid in causing the air to become turbulent. The medieval stylization is pretty dead-on, I have to say; I swear I've seen those trees before. And I think this Choglaem may actually be the closest to the drawing in the Aberdeen Bestiary out of all the submissions we got, so coolest-capybara is clearly quite good at thinking like a medieval artist. The post linked above contains a brief explanation of her design choices and also a link to the medieval illustration that elephant is based on.

@silverhart-makes-art (link to post here) has once more done a very realistic-looking depiction of this week's beaſt. According to their post, part of their inspiration was an oarfish -- and I have to say this is pretty believable as a terrestrial version of an oarfish, so well done. I'm impressed by this one, which manages to look cool and dangerous but also kinda cute -- I think the tongue-through-the-blowhole part of the description makes all of them look a bit goofy in an endearing sort of way. The post linked above describes their design decisions, including a brief diversion over round pupils vs. slit pupils in snakes.

Silverhart also mentions that the nonsense-names I'm using sound like the names of mythical animals in a fantasy novel, so I feel I should confess what my process for randomly generating these names was. I've got a Goblin conlang that's been sitting in my pile of works-in-progress for years; I just fed the phonology from that into Zompist's gen program (link here), then picked out several dozen of my favorite results. So that's why they sound like kinda-plausible words.

@sweetlyfez (link to post here) has drawn us a Choglaem who is having problems. Or, I don't know, maybe it meant to knot itself up like that; who am I to judge? Either way I think it's cute. Just look at that face. A brief overview of her design decisions is included in the linked post; I think the chicken crest is a pretty sensible call given the source material.

@pomrania (link to post here) has made some creative choices with their version. I like how they've decided that if the Choglaem kills with its tail, the tail should have something at the end rather than just... you know. A tail. That tracks. "The tail ends in a fist", specifically, however, was not something I saw coming. The crest looking like an emo hairstyle is funny, I think, and the angry elephant is great. The expression on the Choglaem's face is suspect to me; it looks like it's having too much fun with this. The linked post above includes an early draft, and itself links to a post with a detailed account of the artist's thought process and some additional sketches.

@miapcain (link to post here) has... wait, hold on, look at that border. That's gorgeous. Had to acknowledge that before moving to the inside of the frame. Anyway, Mia has given her Choglaem legs, which might seem odd for something described as a "snake", but actually isn't out of the ordinary for a medieval bestiary -- the authors tended to play a bit more fast and loose with their categorization of animals than we do today, and there are indeed examples of animals with legs being called "serpents" or "snakes". (I assume the artist knows this, I just want to share that with the rest of the audience.) Anyway, the drawing style is great; I like the stylized landscape and the muted colors. That elephant is definitely modeled after a medieval elephant -- I swear I've seen it before -- but I couldn't tell you which one offhand. Anyway. Love the vibes here. Not sure why the tongue is a vine, but it's a cool design feature.

@rautavaara (link to post here) has gone an entirely different direction with this one, and I can kind of see the steps. Snakelike creature, kills with its tail... what if the tail it kills with is a snake. As a result, we have this chimeric "bovid-lion-snake beast", as the artist describes. It definitely stands out from the crowd, and looks menacing as hell. Rautavaara continues with the cool frames and stylization, and I continue to appreciate them. Kind of an art-deco feel on this one.

@karthara (link to post here) gives us a big snake with a somewhat aquatic-looking fin-crest, grappling with an elephant in a very believable manner. That is a quality depiction of a snake fighting an elephant, no mistake. And like I said before, a kind of aquatic look feels right for something this big. The linked post contains a short description of the design decisions.

@gradling (link to post here) apparently also had the thought of "if it kills with its tail there should be something dangerous on the tail", and made the excellent decision to give the Choglaem a thagomizer. That's amazing and I love it. The crest also looks quite good. I don't have anything else to add here. Thagomizer. Brilliant.

@moustawott (link to post here) has done this very cool, kind of celestial-looking Choglaem. I like that its pose is evoking an infinity symbol. And, of course, it is in its natural habitat:

the skies

A brief explanation of design choices can be found in the post linked above.

@treesurface (link to post here) has managed to really evoke the size of this thing even though it's the only thing on the page, which I think is quite good. Also, the brief discussion of their design choices in the post linked is pretty interesting, and honestly that's what I want to highlight for this piece, so go check that out.

@scarlettbookworm (link to post here) has given us an elephant apparently in the moment when it realizes it's about to be attacked by a Choglaem. In order to allow their Choglaem to lurk despite its size, they've given it camo-pattern scales, which I think is clever. There's a pretty good explanation of their design choices in the linked post, which I think is worth reading.

@cheapsweets (link to post here) apparently did this with a fountain pen, which I think is very cool. I like the oarfish-inspired crest, and the very menacing face, and the elephant being ambushed. However -- and I realize I've said this like three times in a row now -- you should check out the linked post to read the artist's explanation of their design decisions. They describe it pretty thoroughly and I think it's more worthwhile to read their account of what they've drawn than it is to read mine.

@strixcattus (link to post here) posted this while I was typing this round-up, so this will be the last result from Normal Tumblr Search. They've given us another "there should be something dangerous on the end of its tail" interpretation and drawn their Choglaem with an ankylosaur-style club, which I think is excellent. As per usual, their post includes an amazingly detailed modern-naturalist-style description of the animal in question, which I always enjoy. It's exactly my jam. (That bit about where the largest Choglaem lives... is that a reference to something? It feels familiar.)

All right, I'm now looking through "#choglaem" on @findtags's search system, and it is a bit different, oddly. There are fewer results than in the regular Tumblr search -- only six of the above images show up -- but it also has one that doesn't show up on the normal search! Dammit tumblr.

@hairycarrot ... whom Tumblr will not let me tag? what the hell? [edit: the tag works now that i’ve posted this, but the editor seemed to think this blog wasn’t real] um... (link to post here). Anyway, they've done this neat stylized thing that kind of looks like pastels? I don't know art, that's just what it looks like to me and I like it. I also enjoy the Choglaem being coiled up like a spring -- I know it's because it's a constrictor and showing it in coils is a good way to communicate that, but I still like the look. Very pleasant-looking depiction of an elephant being ambushed by a giant snake.

All right, time for the reveal. Here's the Aberdeen Bestiary drawing:

Yep. That snake has legs and wings. So everyone who added limbs was in an appropriately medieval mindset. It doesn't seem to have a crest, though, and I don't see any blowholes. And it's attacking with its bite more than with its tail. Honestly, I think y'all read the entry much more closely than this artist did.

But maybe they were also working with more preconceptions.

Because you see.

This is the entry for the Dragon.

Yeah, that's not what I was expecting from a bestiary description of a dragon either.

The interesting thing about it to me is that it's absolutely not what you generally see in fictional depictions of dragons in medieval literature. The bestiary entry is very firm on the idea that it's not venomous, it's a constrictor, it kills with its tail -- and most medieval dragons I've read about are highly venomous. Some of them aren't even that large; they're dangerous for their venom rather than their size. So maybe this is a bit of medieval mythbusting -- "no, guys, real dragons actually don't have venom at all".

And yes, this means there's historical precedent for the green & black dragons in D&D; dragons being so venomous they spit, breathe, or blow out poison instead of having to inject it with a bite is a pretty common motif in medieval dragon stories. I think a lot of people think of those as just variants on the classic fire-breathing version depicted by the red dragon, but actually there aren't that many fire-breathing dragons in medieval stories as far as I remember. (I would do some research on this, but I wanted to have this posted like two hours ago, so you're just getting what I remember off the top of my head instead of proper sources, sorry.) To my understanding, the classic fantasy dragon breathes fire because Smaug breathed fire. And Smaug breathed fire because the dragon in Beowulf breathed fire. But the Beowulf dragon isn't actually representative in that regard; the venom-spitting dragon is more common as far as I've seen. (No word on lightning or cold, sorry blue and white dragons.)

Anyway, there's probably room to reintroduce the constrictor dragon that kills with its tail. What colors haven't already been used up in the various monster manuals, splatbooks, &c.?

I'm rambling. End of post.

#maniculum bestiaryposting #choglaem

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choicesmonthlychallenge · 3 months

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Choices March Challenge 2024

I asked and you answered. It seems like flowers and spring are prompts you are interested in for the March Challenge!

I hope you enjoy the prompts I chose. There is a mix of flowers, spring related words, March holidays, dialogue prompts, and visual floral prompts. I also posted some floral dividers that you're welcome to use.

Have Fun + Happy Creating!

Prompts + Guidelines below the cut!

Flowers (these are some possibilities, but all flowers are accepted)

Bleeding Heart Flower

Carnation

Chrysanthemum

Coneflower

Corpse Flower

Daffodil

Daisy

Gladiolus

Hydrangea

Iris

Jade Vine

Lavender

Lilac

Lily

Marigold

Moonflower

Nightshade

Orchid

Pansy

Peony

Poppy

Rose

Snapdragon

Sunflower

Tulip

Wildflowers

Spring

Awakening

Baby animals

Butterflies

Clear skies

Daylight saving

Fresh air

Growth

New Life

Outdoor activities + sports

Picnics

Rain boots

Rainy days

Renewal

Spring cleaning

Sunny weather

Warm temperatures

Longer days

Umbrella

March Holidays (these are some possibilities, but all March Holidays are accepted)

March 01: National Peanut Butter Lover's Day

March 08: International Women's Day

March 09: National Barbie Day + Get over it Day

March 11: National Napping Day

March 15: The Ides of March

March 16: National Panda Day

March 17: St. Patrick's Day

March 18: Awkward Moments Day

March19: First day of spring

March 23: National Puppy Day

March 30: National Take a Walk in the Park Day + Doctors' Day

March 31: Easter

Dialogue Prompts

"The flowers in the park seem to have a secret language, don't they?"

"Why does every spring bring back memories of that garden?"

"I can't believe you kept that secret from me all these years."

"Why do you always have to be so stubborn?"

"I never thought I'd see you again."

"Do you believe in second chances?"

"I thought we were in this together."

"You're not the person I thought you were."

"Sometimes silence speaks louder than words."

"Is it too late to start over?"

"I don't know who I am anymore."

"We're running out of time."

"Why are you really here?"

"Your laughter is my favorite melody."

"If our love story were a book, every page would be filled with the softest words and the sweetest kisses. What chapter are we on now?"

“Will you please shut up”

“Of all the things i love about you, this is my favorite.”

Visual Prompts:

If one of these inspire a creative work from you feel free to use it. You can list the prompt topic + # (ie: Rainbow 3)

Guidelines + Rules

Submitted works will be featured on a weekly masterlist

Every form of creative work can be submitted: fanfiction, drabbles, moodboards, edits, drawings, poems, songs, sketches, and more—all are welcomed.

Work from any book and story from the Choices (and Pixelberry) universe are welcome (new and old alike)!

You can participate as many times as you want during the month

Clearly list the prompt your used

You can combine submissions for this event and others

Please add a cut to avoid long posts and exposing other fans to triggering/disturbing content.

If your work is NS*W please label it as such and use appropriate warnings. Adult content should be hidden under the page break.

You can get creative with the prompts. It can be a variation of the word and/or concept. It doesn’t have to be exact or literal. If the word inspires a train of thought that led you to something different, put that in the notes and send it in! Have fun with it! Make them work for you! The ultimate goal is just to find joy in creating!

Please tag @choicesmonthlychallenge and if you’d like to add me you can do so as well~ @lovealexhunt (feel free to DM me your work too since Tumblr tags are fickle)

Please do not submit work that has been created with AI. Works that contain AI will not be reblogged. If reblogged inadvertently and I find out they have AI, they will be deleted.

Late entries will be accepted through April 5

#choices #choices game #playchoices #choices stories you play #choices monthly challenge #choices march challenge #choices march challenge 2024 #choices monthly challenge 2024 #march2024

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hot-take-tournament · 10 months

Text

note: this take actually adresses some sensitive topics, including some that i didn't know how to tag, but may require content warnings - so just be careful

also, i had to post this early because for some reason tumblr kept deleting this specific post every time it was queued or saved as a draft

HOT TAKE TOURNAMENT

TOURNAMENT OVERTIME #182

Submission 527

the Barbie movie (2023) was horrible

[SUBMITTED JUSTIFICATION UNDER THE CUT - PLEASE READ]

Propaganda is encouraged!

Also, remember to reblog your favourite polls for exposure!

Submitted justification:

unfortunately this is a dead serious take of mine. that movie was a story of a horrible tragedy portrayed as justice. and the subtle violent radfem undertones were deeply uncomfortable. my reasons for disliking it are very complicated and personal, so I'm going to try and keep this brief and try to avoid saying anything too charged.

i understand liking it— it was a very fun movie! the way they did the practical effects and props and setting were all genius and very cool!

but.. the way they handled Ken and his struggles felt extremely minimizing, cruel, and violent. I've *been* the reject kid before. I *know* what that's like. I've been humiliated and degraded before for being too much, for having ADHD, for being autistic, for wanting to be included in friend groups that didn't want me.

ken's story is a *tragedy* of a person who dared to ask for love and inclusion, who dared to ask over and over until the only option left to him was to be made into a villain for it. and instead of realizing that maybe, just maybe, this was a cry for help... that maybe, this was the last straw in a long long long line of instances of horribly cruel social bullying and humiliation.... that maybe Ken never wanted to hurt anyone, that maybe he just wanted everyone to see how much he was hurting, that maybe he never wanted power or violence, but empathy instead.... instead of considering any of at, the movie has Barbie and her friends *laugh* at his suffering, and watch him on the brink of tears with the grim satisfaction of a bully that got away with it.

i came away from this movie thinking, what should Ken have done better to avoid this? what could he have done to be truly accepted? what was the "good" choice, if what he actually chose was actually so evil?

and the answer is, nothing. he was spending his entire life serving and worshipping a group that wanted him quiet, polite, and dead. from personal experience, this is the kind of friend group that would probably find it at best a personal irritant, if he had attempted suicide.

this movie was so hurtful. it really felt like they said "people like you are better off dead or behaving like perfect mindless dolls, because when you try to get what you want, you just bother the people around you." conform or else.

i know people get icky when people claim that misandry exists, but.... consider the plot of this same movie, if ken had been one of barbie's girl friends. or if ken had been a trans girl. or hell, even a trans girl egg. i just see people only praising this movie and... no one seems to acknowledge how unnecessarily, brutally cruel they were to Ken, and how little empathy he received both from the general audience and from the writers and Barbie herself.

#barbie #hot take tournament #barbie 2023 #the barbie movie #barbie spoilers #barbie movie 2023 #barbie the movie #tournament poll #tumblr poll #tumblr tournament #tumblr bracket #unpopular opinion #hot take #barbie movie #hot take overtime #cw suicide #ken #barbie ken

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atlafan · 1 year

Text

No Complaints - Part One

a/n: hellloooooooo the fic you’ve all been waiting for is finally here. Based off these posts, you all wanted a full fic, so as per usual, first part on here, the rest on patreon. I don’t think I’ve ever written this much smut in one fic, so buckle up. I honest wasn’t sure what I wanted to name this fic. I kept calling it ‘happy himbo’ but that didn’t work. He’s sort of just like a polite dirtbag, but with an endearing twist! You’ll see the theme with “no complaints” throughout the fic. I spent way too long on this banner. I photoshopped that bottom half onto that woman and I also created that entire wall because I’m insane. ANYWAYS PLEASE REBLOG AND LEAVE NOTES AND COME TO MY ASK BOX AND JUST PLEASE GIVE ACTUAL INTERACTIONS WITH THIS PLEASE I’M SO TIRED also there are some strong sex and the city inspired vibes

Warnings: just...a ton of filthy smut, anal, public sex, dominant and submissive vibez...just...yeah

Words: 11.6K

Tumblr Masterlist I Patreon Masterlist I Ask

With the way Layna’s cheeks went bright red when she glanced at the text that just came in on her smart watch, each of her friends put down their forks and stopped paying attention to their delicious brunch food to ask her what just got sent to her, and by who.

“Who just made you make that face?” Christine asks with a smirk.

“Hm? Oh, no one.” Layna waves her off. “Anyone want another mimosa?”

“Don’t change the subject.” Serene says. “Is it a guy?”

“It is, but it’s no one special.”

“Then you can tell us what it said.” Michelle says.

“Please don’t make me show you, it’s embarrassing.” Layna groans.

“Wait, is it the himbo from your gym?” Christine asks excitedly.

“What himbo from your gym? You’ve never mentioned a himbo from your gym.” Serene says.

“Okay, okay. There’s this really hot guy that works at my gym. He’s sort of like a trainer, but he does other maintenance stuff too. We’ve hooked up a couple times. It’s not a big deal.”

“What makes him a himbo?” Michelle asks.

“Um, well…” She looks down at her phone and flips it over. She unlocks it so her friends can see the text he sent her. “He is a big fan of emojis, types with the worst grammar, and well…he’s basically just a polite dirtbag.”

Her friends all look disgusted as they look up from Layna’s phone.

“I’m sorry, but why are you bothering with this idiot?” Serene asks.

“Because the sex is incredible. I don’t think a guy has ever made me orgasm as often as this guy has, and he’s so attentive. He’d go down on me for hours if I let him.”

“When and how did this all start?” Christine asks. “Because the last you told me about the dude was that you just thought he was cute, but you hadn’t even spoken.”

“Alright, I’ll start from the beginning. But I need more alcohol.”

A few weeks ago…

Layna started going to a new gym. She could afford to go to a better one with more space that is closer to work so it’s easier for her to go after a long day. It helps to clear her head. The life of an art dealer seems glamorous, but it’s a lot of work. You are constantly schmoozing with artists to get them to have a show at your gallery, and then you have to market that show to all the right people to make sure the art is actually bought. Not to mention working with a catering crew, lighting experts, and having to smile the entire time because you need the commission from the sales. It’s a lot of long hours and working on the weekends. So having a good gym close by that Layna can go to on her way home is super helpful.

The locker room is extremely clean and sanitary. There’s even a steam room! Not that Layna has a huge desire to sit naked in a pool of her own sweat with a ton of other naked women around her, but a good steam after a particularly grueling workout is nice. The lockers are spacious enough for all her things. She changes, wipes her makeup off, throws her hair up into a high pony and makes her way out to the main area.

Layna likes to warm up on the treadmill. She doesn’t run, but she works her way up to walking at a faster pace and at an incline. She only does about a mile, it’s enough to get her muscles warm and ready for the strength training portion of her workout. She doesn’t love using machines. She never feels like she knows what she’s doing, but it can be boring to do the same things with the same weights. She keeps looking over at the leg extension machine. It seems simple enough, but she’s honestly a little too scared to use it. So she doesn’t.

She sticks to her normal routine, goes for a relaxing steam, and then takes a quick shower before getting ready to go home. As she’s leaving, she notices a very cute guy going around wiping down machines and collecting rags and towels people have left behind. He’s wearing a shirt with the gym’s logo on it, so she assumes he works there. He looks up and over at her, making eye contact for only a moment, but the way he grins at her makes her blush and smile nervously back at him before leaving.

She goes most days after work, and it’s the same thing. She does her usual routine, but looks off at the machines she’s too afraid to use. It takes about a week of stolen glances, but by Saturday morning, when there are less people around, the very cute guy approaches Layna before she can take any weights off the racks.

“Hi.” He says. “You’re a new member here, right?”

“Yeah.” She nods, smiling. “Is it that obvious?”

“No.” He chuckles. “I work a lot of hours here and I hadn’t seen you before this week, so I just assumed. I hope this doesn’t come off as creepy, but I see you looking around a lot. Is there something you want to try that you might feel too nervous about?”

“Oh, gosh.” She slides a hand down her face. “Yeah, I want to try some of those leg machines, but I hate being the person that takes up time learning how to use it when other people are waiting. They’re sort of intimidating.”

“You’re allowed to take up space, so don’t worry about that. It’s less busy today, I could show you how a few things work if you want.”

“Are you a professional trainer?”

“You mean do I have a college degree in athletic training with a ton of certifications? No, but I am a personal trainer, and I do have the certifications to train others. We all learn how each machine works so we can teach you all.”

“Alright, then, yes I would appreciate some help. Um, what’s your name? You’re not wearing a tag or anything.”

“M’Harry.” He extends his hand, and she takes it to shake.

“I’m Layna.”

“That’s a really pretty name.” He smiles. “Come on, I’ll show you the leg extension machine first.”

Harry has Layna sit down, and he goes over what a good amount of weight to start is his, and how many reps she should do how many times to see improvements. She’s a little embarrassed using it since he’s watching her, but she calms down a little when he gives her shoulder a squeeze and tells her she’s doing it perfectly.

“Is it alright that I just touched you? I should have asked first, I’m sorry.” He tells her after taking his hand away from her quickly.

“It’s fine! I don’t mind if you touch me.” She says with a flirtatious glint to her eyes that he picks up on right away.

She does fifteen reps, three times, then Harry takes her to the leg curl machine. She’s in a much more compromising position now because she’s laying on her stomach with her ass in the air and the backs of her legs have to lift up the weight. Harry watched her form, but wasn’t shy about checking out her ass either. The third and final machine he shows her is the hip abduction/adduction machine. He explains that there are different muscle groups worked depending on if your thighs are on the inside of the pads or on the outside.

Opening and closing her legs like this in front of him really shouldn’t have been such a turn on for either of them, but it was. The eye contact was strong, and Layna could feel herself getting worked up. When she’s done, she wipes off the machine, but makes no move to walk away from him.

“I don’t usually advertise this, but one of the perks of working here is that we get a private bathroom that you need a key to get into.” He tells her lowly so no one else around will hear. “If you grab your stuff to shower and meet me by the employee door on the inside of the locker room, I can let you in.”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” She nods.

“Yeah?” He asks for confirmation. “You want to fuck me?”

“Jesus!” She shushes him, making him laugh. “Yes, you didn’t have to ask.”

“I just wanted to make sure we were on the same page and that you didn’t think I was just going to let you have a more private shower.”

“I understood from your tone. Give me five minutes to grab my things.”

Mid-morning delight isn’t something Layna takes part in very often, but this guy is fucking hot, and he wants to fuck her, so she’s going to let him. She gathers her things and discreetly makes her way to the employees only door at the back of the locker room. Harry cracks it open just enough to see her, then opens it fully to let her in. She follows him down the hall past a large laundry room, and to the right. He scans his keycard on the lock and opens the door for her. When he closes it, he flips the lock so others will know the bathroom is otherwise occupied.

There is a stall to one side with a toilet, and a large sink counter across from that. Harry goes to turn the water on in the large shower on the other end of the room. Layna sets her gym bag down on the counter. Harry comes up from behind her, wrapping his arms around her torso as he starts to kiss on her neck. Normally, she would care that she was sweaty, but she made sure to wipe her neck down and pat it dry before meeting him at the door. He sucks a bruise into the space behind her ear, causing her to gasp and hook her around his head to tug on his hair. He presses himself against her ass, and she feels how hard he is.

Harry parts from her and turns her around. They launch at each other, teeth clanking as they kiss, each wanting to get their tongue in the other’s mouth. Harry’s hands are all over Layna. He grips the hem of her shirt and pulls it off of her. They clumsily make their way over to the shower as they continue to strip each other of their clothes.

“Wait!” She says just as he’s about to rid her of her leggings. “Shower shoes.”

“Oh! This bathroom gets cleaned like five times a day, it’s all good.”

“Okay.” She nods and lets him proceed.

Once they’re both naked, Harry all but throws Layna against the tile wall of the shower. They’re both under the water, which makes her feel better about his mouth exploring her chest. She nearly loses her balance when he starts sucking on one of her nipples.

“What’s okay and what’s not okay?” He asks her after leaving a nasty bruise on the top of her breast. “Where can I touch?”

“You can…you can do whatever.”

“Layna, I wanna know what makes you feel good or this won’t be any fun.”

“I want you to use me however you like. You can touch wherever you want.”

His lips slot over hers as his hand makes its way between her thighs. His fingers rub through her folds before slowly inserting his middle finger up inside of her. Her head falls back against the tile, and Harry takes the opportunity to kiss on her exposed throat, working his way to the crook of her neck to bite and suck on. She reaches between them to start fisting at his cock, swiping over the tip to spread his precome. He groans into her hot, wet skin, and bucks into her hand. He slips his ring finger inside her, and lifts one of her legs up to rest on the hinge of the arm he’s not using to thrust.

“We need to be sort of quick, so I’m sorry if this gives you whiplash.” He warns her.

At first, Layna is very confused. If he has to fuck her quick and hard, then that’s totally fine. This doesn’t need to be a whole two-act production. She figured since he lifted her leg that he was getting ready to stick his dick in her, but that’s not what he did. Once his fingers were sunk deep inside her, he took a deep breath and started pumping into her at lightning speed. Which, usually that would not feel good, but his fingers pet and drag against her front wall as he’s thrusting in and out, so it feels incredible. He’s not even doing anything to her clit and she feels like she could come from this alone.

“Jesus, fuck!” She nails sink into his shoulders as she holds onto him.

His mouth crashes to hers, probably to help keep her quiet. He swallows every moan, every whimper, every muffled grunt of his name. She’s not sure how his arm isn’t getting tired, but she’s not complaining. No, she feels good, so fucking good, better than she’s ever really felt, and there’s the most perfect amount of pressure in her lower stomach.

You would think with the sound of running water and the fan in the bathroom going that you wouldn’t be able to hear much else. But Layna can hear how wet she is. There’s a squelching sound with each thrust of Harry’s fingers. It’s making her dizzy. She moves to bury her face in his neck so she can breathe a little easier. Her nails are now digging into his back.

“Doing so well being quiet for me.” He says into her ear. “Next time we can go somewhere less public so you can let out all those pretty noises.”

“I’m getting close.” She warns him.

“I know, I can tell.” Normally something so arrogant wouldn’t turn Layna on, but for whatever reason, Harry’s cockiness is doing it for her. “You’re dripping down my wrist, you know that, right? You’ve squirted like two times already.”

“Please, I...Harry, I need to come.”

“So come.” He nips at her earlobe. “Come for me.”

That was all the encouragement she needed. Her back arches, and it feels so good that the noise that falls from her is silent. Everything goes white. She can tell that she’s gushing around him. He takes his fingers out to watch the rest of it drip out. He slips them back in, almost in a tender way, just cupping her pussy and rubbing it to soothe her and help her calm down. He sets the leg of hers he was holding up down and kisses her.

“That felt amazing.” She breathes. “Want me to do you now?”

“Please. Just jerk it, you don’t have to put your mouth on me this time.”

Layna nods, happy to not be blowing him. She usually prefers to kneel on a pillow, not hard, solid tiles. They continue kissing and licking and nipping at each other while she pumps him. She ends up using both of her hands, and she swears she could have come again from the way Harry moaned in her ear. She lets him come on her tummy, and even scoops some up on her finger to suck on, just so he would have no doubt that she’s a good girl.

They clean each other up and get out of the shower. Harry watches as Layna pulls herself together, and slings her gym bag over her shoulder.

“So, can I get your number?” Harry asks her as he opens the bathroom door to lead her out.

“Um, sure.” She blinks. “Just for sex though, right? I’m not really looking for anything serious right now.” They walk out to the main area of the gym. It’s gotten busier.

“Yeah, just for sex. I’m not looking for anything serious right now either.” He runs a hand through his slightly damp curls. “I haven’t been able to take my eyes off you since you started coming in. You’re so sexy.”

“The…the feeling is mutual.” She tells him, feeling her cheeks heating up. “Here’s my phone, you can put your contact in.”

Harry takes her phone and creates his contact. “I just put ‘H’ as the contact name. That’s what most people call me.”

“Cool.” She smiles. “So…I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah, see you around.” He smiles back.

He seemed nice enough, and he turns her on, so Layna felt good about her new fuck buddy. There’s no harm in it. They’re both adults, if they want to stop, they’ll stop.

“I’m sorry, you let a strange man finger fuck you in a completely secluded area?” Serene asks.

“Yes.” Layna confirms. “It was like something out of a sex novel, you know? I wanted him, and he wanted me, so I figured what the hell?”

“Have you hooked up since?” Michelle asks eagerly.

“She sure has.” Christine grins.

“Why does Chris get all the juicy gossip?” Serene asks.

“Because she’s the least judgmental out of the three of you. Besides, I haven’t actually told her anything, she just has a sixth sense for this stuff.” Layna answers bluntly. “I knew you wouldn’t approve of me being so reckless, and I knew that Michelle wouldn’t approve of what he does for work.”

“Well, if you’re just fucking him, then it doesn’t matter. Just don’t catch feelings and continue seeing men with good jobs on the side.” Michelle shrugs.

“Why is being a personal trainer not a good job?” Christine asks. “He knows everything about the body, that’s hot.”

“He doesn’t know everything. He just knows how to train people. He never went to college or anything like that.” Layna explains. “Which is fine. That’s all I really know about him. We don’t talk unless we’re fucking.”

“Do you fuck at the gym a lot?” Serene asks.

“No, that was the only time. He didn’t want to risk getting in trouble, which I totally understood.”

“I’m dying to know more, so please continue.” Michelle says.

“Okay, so the second time it happened was about a week later…”

Hey, u up?

It was Friday, now technically Saturday since it was two in the morning. Layna would normally be asleep, but she was at work late for a show at the gallery, and she was still feeling riled up from that. So she texted him back.

Hey, yeah I am

Wut r u up 2?

Layna furrowed her brows at the text. Is he drunk? Who over the age of sixteen texts like this? She panics for a moment. What if he’s only college aged. She’s twenty-nine.

That depends…how old are you?

29 how old r u?

Twenty-nine

So r u dtf or nah?

Yeah, wanna come to my place?

Send me the addy

Layna can’t believe she’s about to let a guy who texts like this come over and fuck her. But he made her come so hard last week without even touching her clit! And she gushed and gushed. She wants to see what he can do without a time constraint.

Twenty minutes later, Layna is unlocking the door to her apartment. She lives in a four-story walk up, and she’s on the fourth floor. It’s a pain going up and down the stairs all the time, but she gets the rooftop all to herself, so she can’t complain too much.

“Hey.” Harry gives her a ‘sup’ nod as he comes in. He’s wearing an orange hoodie and black basketball shorts. “Where’s your bedroom?”

“Hi, um, it’s right over there – oh!”

He had picked her up and thrown her over his shoulder. He finds her bedroom and tosses her onto her bed. She had put on a cute set of pj’s, a silk spaghetti string top and shorts to match. But she realizes she could have been in a paper sack and Harry still would’ve fucked her. He peels his sweatshirt off before climbing onto the bed. His lips are on hers only seconds after that.

Layna likes the way Harry kisses. He’s needy and aggressive without it being too gross and sloppy. His tongue is soft and precise, and his lips are smooth and easy to bite at. He definitely uses chapstick regularly. He tastes like mint, like he had just chewed a fresh piece of gum, and he smells woodsy with a hint of cinnamon. It’s all doing wonders for her.

His hands slide up under her shirt and he gropes at her breasts. He tweaks her nipples and grinds himself into her, making her gasp. He’s already so hard. He must be sensitive. That’s hot. He pushes her shirt up over her breasts and wraps his lips around one of her nipples. Her fingers card through his hair as she arches into him. He kisses down her stomach and drags her shorts down her legs.

“I’m glad you didn’t leave your panties on. Next time just open the door naked.” He smirks as he pushes her legs open. “You good if I eat you out?”

“Mhm, yeah. I want you to use me, remember?”

The lights in the room are dim, but still bright enough so Harry can see what he’s doing. He licks up her slit with a long drag of his tongue, then he spits on her before doing it again. Over and over, he kitten licks at her, getting her wet with his spit and her own slick. Even though it feels good, Layna is about to tell him her clit is a little higher up, but she doesn’t get the chance. He found it on his own. He looped his around her thighs, and yanked her to him before he started sucking on her clit.

“Oh, fuck that feels good.” She fists at her blankets and throws her head back.

His tongue flicks back and forth on her clit, then he goes back to sucking on it, welling up his spit every so often to keep her clit wet and comfortable. One of his hands smooths up her stomach, landing on her chest. Layna takes the hint and sucks on his middle and ring fingers. When she’s done, Harry brings them down to her center and sinks them inside. He moans against her when he feels how wet and warm and tight she is.

“Are…will you…shit.” She can’t even speak.

“Tell me what you need, baby.” He says lowly, giving her clit a breather while he continues to fuck her with his fingers.

“Will you make me squirt again?” She whimpers. “It felt so good the last time.”

“Yeah? You like getting pounded into hard?”

“Mhm.” She nods. “It feels so good when it hurts a little.”

Harry grins wickedly at her, then brings his mouth back down to her clit while he gives her fast, shallow thrusts with his fingers, finding her g-spot easily. Her hands find his hair again and she tugs hard on his roots. Her hips roll up towards his face, but his free hand pushes down on her lower stomach to keep her in place.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come!” She cries out as she makes a mess around his fingers. He moans as he licks her clean and sucks on her pussy. “Fucking hell.” She breathes, wiping the sweat from her forehead. Harry kisses up her body, then licks into her mouth while he takes his shorts and underwear off.

“Sit up.” He tells her and she does so, so he can take her shirt off. He slips his thumb into her mouth and Layna closes her lips around it. “You’re so good. You want my cock?”

She nods as she continues sucking on his thumb. He pulls it from her and gives himself a few pumps before lining up with her. Normally she’d ask a random guy to wear a condom, but she’s on the pill and right now she doesn’t particularly care. She would hope a twenty-nine year old guy would be honest about not being clean. He slowly pushes inside of her, and both of their mouths fall open.

“Jesus Christ.” Layna gasps out as her nails rake down his chest. “Please tell me it’s in all the way.”

“It’s in all the way.” He chuckles.

“Good, I don’t think I could handle much more. Can feel you in my guts.” She half jokes.

“It doesn’t hurt in a bad way, does it?”

“No! No, just give me another second to adjust and then you can move.”

“Layna?”

“Yeah?”

He brings a hand up to cup her jaw, letting his fingers sift through her hair before getting a good grip on her and yanking her head back. “I’m gonna blow your fucking back out.”

“Oh my god, he actually said that to you?!” Christine squeals.

“Mhm.” Layna nods.

“And did he?” Michelle asks.

“Yeah, don’t stop there.” Serene says.

“Okay, okay. So, yes, he actually said that to me…”

Layna tightened around him after he said that to her, which Harry takes note of. He starts to move, rocking and rolling his hips as he thrusts in and out of her. She wraps her legs around his waist, leaving her feet to rest on the base of his spine. Harry comes down chest to chest with her so he can grope her breasts and kiss on her neck.

“Okay so far?” He asks her.

“Yeah, you feel so good, you’re so big.” She musters out.

He pecks her lips before sitting up and throwing her legs over his shoulders. She grips at his thighs as he fucks into her hard and deep. Her back arches and she reaches for her clit. He drops one of her legs to swat her hand away from herself. She looks up at him with a pout.

“Did I tell you that you could touch yourself?” He says. “I decide when you come, understand?”

“Yes, yeah, I’m sorry.” She says quickly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know, I won’t do it again, I’ll wait for you to do it. I just felt so good I wanted to feel-“

“Shut up.”

Layna closes her mouth and lays back into her pillows. In her every day life, she would never let someone get away with speaking to her like that. But Harry? He can say and do whatever the fuck he wants to her.

He leans forward and drives his cock in deeper. He grips the top of her headboard and beats into her. He licks his fingers and starts rubbing her clit. Layna isn’t sure what to do with her hands, so she just scratches at his chest. He seems to like it because he’s moaning pretty loudly.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” She pants.

“Beg me for it.” He tells her. “Beg me to come.”

“Please, please let me.” She whimpers. “Please, I’m so close Harry, please.”

He smirks down at her. “Go ahead.”

She smiles at him and lets herself go. Moaning out and grinding up against him. When she’s done, he comes back down to her to kiss her and give her slow rolls of his hips.

“Say ‘thank you Harry’.”

“Thank you Harry.” She says weakly.

“God, you’re so fucking good.” He groans. “Can I fuck you from behind?”

“Yes, please.” She nods rapidly. “That’s my favorite.”

He nods and pulls out so she can get into position for him. He slides back in and reaches up to grip the top of the headboard with one hand, and the back of her neck with the other. And then he’s off. He pounds into her. Layna presses her hands flat to the headboard to brace herself and to stop her head from knocking into it. She moves her hips in circles and fucks herself back on his cock to meet his thrusts.

“Fuck, Layna.” Harry moans.

“Shit, please don’t stop, you’re hitting it.” She grunts. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop.” She has a few stray tears rolling down her cheeks as she whimpers and whines.

“Are you gonna come for me again?”

“Only if you’ll let me, but I don’t know how long I can hold it.”

The bed is shaking and the headboard is knocking against the wall from the force of Harry’s thrusts. Harry’s hand slides from the back of Layna’s neck to the front, and he yanks her up and back until her back is pressed to his chest. He moves his hips in circles along with hers. One arm wraps around her chest, and the other around her waist so he can rub her clit. She slides his hand from her chest back to her throat and presses down on it.

“You’re so fucking perfect, Jesus.” He growls into her ear. “You like being choked?”

She nods and whines as she starts to feel herself getting close again. He stopped right before she could get there a moment ago. She hopes he won’t stop this time. Her head rolls back to his shoulder and her eyes flutter closed. His cock feels so good, it’s sliding in and out of her perfectly. And his fingers on her clit are like magic.

“I want you to come.” He tells her, nipping at her earlobe. “Give it to me, now.”

Layna doesn’t need much more encouragement than that before she loses it. He continues rubbing her clit, making it last as long as possible. When he feels her start to loosen around him, he pushes her to lay on her stomach. He pulls out of her and comes all over her ass and back, not holding back his moans and grunts and groans. When he finishes, he lays on his back next to her to catch his breath. She turns her head to look at him, and he looks at her.

“That was all okay?” He asks softly.

“I liked it, I really liked it.” She breathes. “I like being good. I…I like being called a…a good girl. You’ve almost said it a couple of times, but you just say I’m good. You can call me a good girl.”

“Yeah?” He turns onto his side, smiling at her. “Do you prefer praise or degradation?”

“A mix of both. I really liked the way you spoke to me. It was hot.”

He smirks before leaning in to kiss her forehead. “You’re a good girl Layna.” And with that, he gets off the bed and grabs his clothes.

He doesn’t put them on though. Layna can barely move, but she knows she should get up to go to the bathroom and rinse herself off. Only, when she props herself up on her elbows, she hears the distinct sound of water running. Is he taking a fucking shower? He’s in and out in five minutes. She listens closely and hears him go into her fridge, and then he leaves.

“So, he made good on blowing your back out, showered, and then rifled through your fridge before leaving your apartment?” Michelle asks.

“Yup.”

“What did he even take?” Serene asks.

“My last black cherry Bubbly!”

“He took a seltzer water from your fridge and dipped?!” Christine can’t help but laugh. “Why did he think he had the right to just do what he wanted in your apartment.”

“I don’t know…but as weird as it was, it kind of turned me on.” Layna giggles.

“So, have you seen him since last week?” Serene asks.

“At the gym during normal work hours, but we haven’t hooked up again. We’ve just been sort of…sexting.”

“Honey, this isn’t sexting, it’s hieroglyphics.” Christine says, and everyone laughs.

“I know, it’s totally not sexy to use eggplants and finger emojis, but at night it works for me. He doesn’t usually text me this early in the day. He must want to get together, right?”

“This is a cryptic ass message, so who knows.” Serene says.

The girls finish their brunch and part ways. Serene is going in the same direction as Layna, so they walk together.

“I can feel your judgement, it’s radiating off you.” Layna says to her friend.

“I’m all for having a fuck buddy, but some guy that works at your gym? He sounds like a loser.”

“It doesn’t matter if he’s a loser or not, he’s fucked me better than anyone I’ve ever slept with, and it’s only been two times. We’re on the same page about not wanting anything serious. This could work for a bit.”

“And what happens when you inevitably catch feelings? Are you going to have a guy that lives in hoodies and basketball shorts to one of your showings?”

“I’m not going to catch feelings for him. I barely know anything about him, and I intend to keep it that way. We don’t speak about anything other than working out or sex. It’s perfect.”

Hey, u up?

It’s 2:30 in the morning on Thursday, now technically Friday. The buzz of Layna’s phone wakes her up. She must have forgotten to put it on do not disturb before she went to bed. She doesn’t have to be at the gallery until 1PM tomorrow, so it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to get her shit rocked at this hour.

Just barely…did you want to come over?

Yeah, I want to 👅🍑

Jesus fucking Christ.

I’ll unlock my door so you can just come in. How long will you be?

10 min

Okay, see you soon!

👍🏻

Layna gets up to use the bathroom and freshen up quickly. She spritzes some perfume into her hair and dabs some on her wrists. The last time Harry came over, he told her she should just wait for him naked, so that’s what she’s going to do. She gets the lighting just right, then lays on her tummy with her back arched and her head resting on her hands. She hears her down open and close and butterflies soar through her stomach.

“Layna?!”

“In the bedroom!”

He comes in wearing a black hoodie and black joggers. He smiles when he notices that she’s completely naked.

“You’re in the perfect position for what I want to do to you.” He tells her as he takes his hoodie off, revealing a white undershirt.

“And what exactly might that be?” She bats her eyelashes at him sweetly.

“Couldn’t you tell from my text? I’m gonna spend some time on your ass tonight.”

“Oh, right.”

“You good with that?”

“I’m good with whatever you want to do. You know that already.”

“I don’t want to do anything that you’re not into.” He sits on the edge of the bed and feather lightly strokes her back with the tips of his fingers.

“I’m into it. I would say if I wasn’t.”

“Would you?”

“Yes.”

“Great, then stay just like that.”

“Wait. Could you kiss me first?”

He smiles and bends down to pecks her lips, lingering for a moment to let her deepen it. He kicks his sneakers off and gets himself behind her on the bed.

“How do you feel about spanking?” He asks as he kneads her asscheeks with his large hands. “I’d love to see my handprint on you.”

“Do it.” She tells him, looking back at him over her shoulder. “Do it hard.”

Harry lifts his hand and brings it down hard to her skin, causing her to jolt forward. He pulls her hips back so she’s up on her knees, and he spreads her apart. He spits down onto her other hole, and watches as it drips down over her slit. He starts by just rubbing his thumb around the rim, getting her used to him being there. He repositions so his body is more so next to hers with his top half leaning over her ass. He starts tonguing at her hole while he works his middle finger into her pussy.

There aren’t a lot of guys that Layna has let lick her like this. Only a few. And it never felt this good. Harry’s heart is in it. The way he grunts and moans and laughs lowly against her as she squeaks and bucks and grinds backward against him is so wonderful. It’s sending her into a state of pure bliss.

He slips a second finger inside of her, and starts thrusting them in a little faster and deeper. Layna’s mouth hangs open as she grips at the blankets and just enjoys the way everything feels. He pulls his fingers from her, licks up from her pussy to her other hole over and over before fucking her with his tongue.

“Oh, shit.” She groans. “Harry, I’m getting close.”

Harry’s large hands keep her cheeks spread so he continue doing as he pleases to her. The noises he’s making are encouraging her to come, so she does. Her eyes roll back and she smiles at the feeling. Harry turns her over with no warning, and crawls up her body, licking into her mouth. She toes his joggers off, getting them down just enough to get his cock out. Neither of them bothers with taking his shirt off, it doesn’t matter. He paints his cock along her wet slit before pushing inside of her.

Her heels rest at the base of his spine as he fucks into her with ease. His lips sponge along her neck and chest. He pulls out of her abruptly and sits up. Layna whines and juts her bottom lip out in a pout.

“Relax.” He takes his shirt off and rids himself of the rest of his clothes. “Come here, ride it.” He says as he sits back on his hands with his legs spread. Layna scrambles to get up, but she’s soon straddling him and sinking down on his cock. She feels like she can barely breathe. “There we go, just relax baby.” His hands smooth over her breasts, around her back, and down to her hips.

“You’re s-so big.” She presses her forehead to his.

“I know I am.” He coos. “Probably won’t ever be able to get it down your throat.”

“That’s not true.” She pouts as she starts to move up and down slowly.

“No? So if I stuffed my fingers down your throat you wouldn’t choke right away?”

“I guess…I guess you’ll have to do just that and we’ll see.”

Harry grins as Layna opens her mouth. He sticks two fingers into her mouth and down her throat until she’s choking and gagging and spitting up. He wipes the spit from her chin and brings his fingers down to her clit to rub while she moves herself up and down on his cock.

“You’re such a good girl, Layna.”

“Do you like it better when I’m messy?”

“Yeah.” He smirks. “Sex is more fun when it’s messy, don’t you think?”

She nods and slots her mouth over his. She wraps her arms around him, letting her fingers tangle in his curls. She starts bouncing up and down on him while his fingers continue to pay attention to her clit. He rubs it hard and fast.

“God, that feels so good.” She slams down on him harder, making him moan out loudly.

“Fuck, Layna.”

“Please come, I wanna come with you, please, Harry, please, please, please.” She’s rambling and and totally lost in her lust. But he loves hearing her beg.

The bed creaks from the force of their bouncing, and it all suddenly stills as they come in unison. Layna goes slack against Harry, kissing on his neck and shoulder lazily as she basks in the warmth of his come filling her up.

Layna lifts herself off of him, and goes to use the bathroom. When she comes back to her bedroom, Harry is laying on his stomach, bare ass out for all to see, and he’s snoring. She was only gone for five minutes, how the hell is he already snoring? She’s too tired to care at this point. So, she grabs a bed shirt to throw on and gets back into bed. She wasn’t expecting him to stay since he didn’t the last time, but it’s not a big deal. She turns over to face away from him to use her phone. Just as her eyes start to droop from reading a Wikipedia article on the invention of the aglet, she feels a strong arm wrap around her stomach. Harry pulls her to his chest and shoves his leg between hers.

Later that morning, at a more reasonable hour, Layna’s alarm goes off. She blindly reaches for it on her bedside table, almost knocking it over, but she’s able to turn it off. She knuckles at her eyes and sits up. The space next to her is empty and cold. How long ago did he leave? She grabs her phone and her eyebrows raise when she reads a message from Harry at around 5AM.

Had 2 head out. I used ur shower, and helped myself 2 a cliff bar. Left u some $$ on ur dresser for a plan b. Lmk when u get ur 🩸

She looks to her right and sees three, twenty-dollar-bills on her bureau. She blinks a few times and then gets out of bed to start her day.

“He used your shower again?” Christine laughs over a late lunch with Layna later that day.

“Yeah! I don’t really care since water is included in my rent, but still! There’s a shower at the gym, use that if you can’t wait until you get home.”

“At least he told you what he took from your kitchen this time.”

“True.”

“Do you feel like a hooker since he left you cash?”

“Nah, not really.”

“Why would he even leave you money for a Plan B if you’re on the pill?”

“I never told him I was on the pill, and the last two times we’ve fucked he hasn’t worn a condom. The first time he pulled out, but last night he came inside me.”

“Not to pull a Serene, but could you not make him use a condom?”

“I don’t know. I wanted to feel him, and I just get the vibe that he’s the type of guy who would say if he was clean or not. And he’s obviously covering his tracks. So, I’m gonna pocket the money and I’ll tell him when I get my period like he asked. Funny enough, I started my placebo week two days ago, so I should be getting my period either today or tomorrow.”

“I kind of like a man that carries cash. It’s like an emergency fund, you know? Maybe he’s keeping it on him for an unexpected cover charge, or needs to leave a generous tip.”

“Right? Nothing wrong with being proactive.”

“I’m glad you’re having fun with him. I feel like you never just hook up anymore. Not since Mark, anyways.”

“I was feeling like I was too old to just be hooking up with random guys. And when I was with Mark I liked having the consistency. I’m not sleeping with anyone else, so I don’t see the harm of having a consistent fuck buddy.”

“I’m never one to rain on someone’s parade, but do you at least know if he’s sleeping with anyone else? It might be good to ask so you’ll know if you should really be using condoms or not.”

“No, that’s a good point. I don’t want to catch anything.”

“I’m always up front with the guys I sleep with that they’re not the only one.”

“You don’t always use condoms though.”

“No, but nine times out of ten I do.” Christine shrugs. “I also have no way of getting pregnant, so I don’t care as much.”

“But you could still catch something.”

“I’m not catching a baby, so I really don’t give a fuck.”

Layna bursts out laughing at that. She can always count on Christine for zero sexual judgement.

Hey, you wanted me to let you know when I got my period…so this is me letting you know I got my period

It was a text she hasn’t had to send to someone since college, but she wanted go give him the courtesy since he left her $60 in cash.

How many days u 🩸4?

What in the actually fuck?!

Who are you, my gynecologist?

LMAO

I just wanted to no when I can 👅🍑💦👉🏻👌🏼 u again

Certainly it must take more effort to type like that because of autocorrect, right??

I’ll let you know

U better

And if I don’t?

U wouldn’t b a very good girl if u don’t

Don’t u want 2 b good 4 me?

It’s usually four days, I’ll text you next week

Good girl

Layna’s never been the jealous type, and she’s not sure if she’s just horny and hormonal, but she doesn’t like the woman that Harry is assisting at the gym. She’s been all over him since the second she got there, and Harry didn’t seem to mind. Layna only uses the treadmill when she has her period. She doesn’t like doing anything too strenuous with weights or machines because you just never know if your tampon is going to leak or if your pad is going to move and then all of a sudden your leggings are blood stained.

She was trying to be discrete with her glances, but the look of disgust on her face wasn’t discrete. And after a while it was clear Harry had other things to do, but the woman wouldn’t leave him alone! Layna has noticed that in the evening hours, Harry mostly wipes down machines and collects towels. He does more of the one on one training in the early morning and afternoon. So why wasn’t this woman taking the hint?

When she’s had enough, Layna hops off the treadmill and goes to refill her water bottle. This is also the area where people can put towels in hampers. Harry comes up next to her to tie up one of the hampers to bring to the laundry room.

“You’re not subtle, you know.” He says without looking at her. “You have major resting bitch face.” Now he looks her, the side eye makes Layna laugh.

“I don’t usually.” She takes a sip of water, then twists the cap back on the top.

“So what’s different about today?”

“Would it be anti-feminist to blame it on PMS?” Normally a rhetorical question like that would make someone laugh, but it seems to go right over Harry’s head. “Anyways, it was just sort of distracting to see that girl follow you around like a lost puppy. I was trying to focus on my walk.”

“You should make a better playlist.” He turns to face her and crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m not sleeping with her, if that’s what you were wondering.”

“It’s really none of my business.” She assures him. “You’re a good looking guy, I’m sure you have a lot of girls on rotation.”

“I’ve had a lot less since I started up with you.” He blushes ever so slightly, but his tone is turning her on so she doesn’t notice the rouge on his cheeks. “I don’t usually sleep with girls from the gym.”

“Ah, separation of church and state.”

“Sure?” He runs a hand through his hair. Jesus Christ, he’s dumb. But it’s so hot.

“I think we should probably use condoms if you’re seeing multiple people, just to be safe.”

“Are you not?”

“Am I not, what?”

“Sleeping with other people.”

“Oh! Um, not really. Like, I honestly haven’t had time. Long story, I won’t bore you.”

He narrows his eyes at her for a moment. “What brand of condoms do you like?”

“Don’t worry about that. I’m allergic to latex so I have my own on hand.”

“I don’t like lambskin.”

“It’s not lambskin, they’re still rubbers, but the latex ingredient that I’m allergic to isn’t in it.”

“Are they big enough?”

“The smallest condom can stretch to fit around someone’s foot, you jackass.”

“That’s not very nice.” He smirks, and takes a step closer to her. “Am I gonna have to bend you over the next time I see you?”

“Maybe.” She blushes.

“You’re still on your period?”

“Yes.”

“Damn.” He sucks his teeth as he looks her up and down, very obviously objectifying her. “That’s too bad.”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t forget to put you in your place so you don’t talk to me like that again.” He smirks, grabs the hamper full of towels, and disappears into the back of the gym.

“Cold shower.” She says to herself. “I need to take a very cold shower.”

Layna, Serene, Michelle, and Christine are all out for drinks on Friday night. It’s 9PM, and they’re all laughing and giggling and discussing what their plans for the rest of the night are.

“I have a party to go to for a client.” Christine says. “They loved my service so much that they want to introduce me to their friends so I can do some schmoozing.”

“I have a date with HBO and my couch.” Serene says.

“Ooh, a threesome. Good for you.” Christine jokes, making everyone laugh.

“I have a FaceTime date with Andrew.” Michelle smiles. “I thought him being in London would suck, but it’s actually been really romantic making time for each other like this.”

“That’s sweet.” Layna smiles.

“What about you?” Serene asks. “We could make my date a foursome.” She smirks.

“Actually, um…Harry is coming over around eleven.” Layna tells them.

“You’re still fucking that guy? He doesn’t even know what feminism is!” Serene says, annoyed.

“I made a joke and he didn’t think it was funny, it doesn’t mean he’s an idiot. He’s just not as educated as the rest of us, and there’s nothing with that.”

“Besides, he’s knowledgeable about what matters most.” Christine grins. “He’s made Layna squirt.”

“Shhh!” Layna hushes her friend. “I’m an open book, but I don’t want to talk about the fluids that have left my body.”

“I still can’t believe he made that happen the first time you hooked up.” Michelle says. “Vaginally.”

“I get dizzy every time I think about it.” Layna says. “He’s wild. And his dick is huge. I’ve never fucked a guy with such a big dick before.”

“I recall you mentioning Mark’s was decent.” Serene says.

“Mark had girth and that matters a lot more to me, but Harry has girth and length. And he’s been able to get my g-spot every time. Mark always had to rub my clit to get me to come.”

“Good for you.” Michelle smiles. “You deserve to have crazy hot sex with a himbo.”

All the girls laugh. They have another drink each before parting ways.

Layna takes a shower when she gets back, wanting to be as fresh as possible for her handsome himbo. She moisturizes, blows out her hair, and puts on a set of lace panties and bra. She feels giddy knowing she’s at the top of Harry’s rotation. She wonders what exactly he meant when he told her he was sleeping with less women since he met her. It’s none of her business, but she can’t help but be curious.

She grabs some condoms from the drawer in her bedside table and sets them down. Her phone buzzes at 11:05.

Here

She makes her way to her front door and opens it to let him in.

“Hey.” He gives the ‘sup’ nod but stops short when he looks at her. “Holy shit.”

“I hope you like red lace.” She smiles sheepishly. “I haven’t worn this for a while, but I th-oh!”

Harry pushed her up against the nearest wall after kicking the door closed. His tongue is down her throat, and his hands are sliding around to her ass to the backs of her thighs to hoist her up. She wraps her legs around his waist, and sucks on his tongue while he carries her to the bedroom. Tonight, Harry’s wearing a grey hoodie that has the word ‘DAMN’ on the chest, paired with navy basketball shorts. He gets them both on the bed, with his body still on top of hers. He bites on her bottom lip and sucks on it harshly, making her moan and arch into him. He grinds against her so she can feel how hard he already is. He pulls her hands from his hair and pins her wrists down on either side of her head and looks at her. Her chest is heaving.

“You wore this for me?”

“Well…yeah.” She blinks. “I wanted to look nice.”

“For me.” He confirms.

“Who else would I put this on for?” She asks innocently. “I told you last week I wasn’t sleeping with anyone else.”

He continues to look at her, staring into her soul. “Keep your arms where they are.” He tells her and starts kissing down her neck. His hands grope at her breasts over the lace material. His warm mouth licks and sucks on her nipples, dampening the lace. He drags his tongue down her stomach until he’s kissing over the wet patch covering her center. He strokes her softly with his thumb, teasing her. He brings his mouth back down to her, kissing and licking, teasing her even more. She squirms underneath him, but she knows she needs to stay put like he told her. She knows she’s still in for it since she called him a jackass. Her toes start to curl and she bites her lip and does her best not to whimper and whine.

“You were rude to me last week, when all I did was ask an innocent question.” He says as his thumbs start to massage the inside of her thighs. “I wasn’t trying to be a jackass.”

“It was the way you asked it, I’m sorry.” She sits up on her elbows so she doesn’t have to strain as much to look at him.

“You’re always telling me how big I am, I figured you’ve only fucked guys with chodes or something. I want you to be comfortable, so I just wanted to make sure you had the right condoms.”

“Okay.” She nods. “Are you still going to…to bend me over and put me in my place?”

“Is that what you want?”

“I’m afraid to say yes because then you’ll do the complete opposite to keep teasing me.”

“Alright, listen.” He sits up on his knees, placing his hands on top of her knees. “That kind of stuff is supposed to feel good. I’m not going to bend you over my knee and make you count to ten. I am going to spank you, but only because I want to watch your ass ripple while you’re wearing these panties.”

“You can do whatever you want. I want you to do whatever you want.”

“Mhm, I know. You want me to use you like my own personal plaything.” He pulls his hoodie off and tosses it to the floor. He moves to sit on the edge of the bed. “Come here and lay across my lap.”

Layna crawls over to him and does as he says. He’s sitting far back enough on the bed so that she’s not dangling off of it. She’s actually pretty comfortable. She feels his finger hook into the back of her panties to pull them to the side. His fingers gently rub through her folds. Then he drags his fingers up the back of her ass cheek before groping it. He lifts his hand and brings down on her hard, making her jolt forward.

“Was that too hard?” He asks as he rubs over the pink welt forming.

“No, that was perfect.” She says after she catches her breath. “You can even do it harder.”

“You’re a dream, you know that?” He smiles at her, then pushes her head back down. His hand goes up, and he swats her ass hard.

He switches from spanking her to rubbing her from behind with his fingers until she’s dripping and sticky between her legs. He lifts her up just enough to get out from under her, then gets behind her. Her kisses on her ass, where his various handprints are, in an attempt to soothe her flaming skin. He grips the waist of her panties and drags them down her legs.

“Should’ve taken these off before and stuffed them down your throat while I was spanking you.” He sighs, disappointed with himself. “Next time.” He tosses the garment to the floor and spreads her cheeks. He licks up from her slit to her ass, then crawls up her body, licking up her back and kissing on her shoulders. She likes having his weight on her. “What do you feel like doing tonight since I’m here at a better hour?”

“Hmm…” She taps her chin and he gives her the room to roll onto her back. She smooths her hands over his shoulders before pecking his lips. “You’re a real ass man.”

“Guilty as charged.” He smirks. “You’ve got great tits too, though. Think I really like your whole body.”

“I like yours too.” She giggles.

“Seriously, Layna, how do you want it tonight?”

“I feel like you’re asking because you have something you wanna do.”

“Guilty again.” He sighs. “I want to fuck you, like normal…and then I was wondering if we could go a second round, but that time…could I fuck you in the ass? How do you feel about anal?”

“I like it!” She blurts out. “I really like it. It feels good. I have a, um, a, uh vibrator that you can put inside me and then you’ll feel the vibrations too while you’re fucking me and it’ll feel really good for both of us.”

“So, you’ve been fucked in the ass before?”

“Mhm. Well, not with an actual dick. It was with a butt plug, but it was pretty big and I used it a lot.”

“I’ll loosen you up with my fingers while I fuck you from behind.”

“You’re gonna have to take your shorts off to fuck me.” She grins.

“Not yet I don’t. I just got your panties off, I’m gonna go down on you. You made a fucking mess while you were getting spanked.”

“I thought I was gonna squirt. My pelvis was right on your thigh, it felt so good.”

“Well, we’ll just have to make sure that happens. I didn’t mean to deny you of anything.”

He kisses back down her body and gets right to work. He sucks on her lips, spits on her, then starts fucking her with his tongue while his fingers take care of her clit. She tugs on his hair and her thighs shake when he starts sucking on her clit. He moves his tongue around it in circles and keeps it wet. He presses his hand down on her lower belly and fucks into her with his fingers.

“Oh, shit.” She gasps. “Fuck, fuck! You’re so good at this.” She throws her head back and lets the waves crash over her. She makes a mess between her legs for him, and he gladly cleans it up. They both sit up and rid themselves of the rest of their clothes. Harry sees the condoms on the side table, so he grabs one to roll on. “Hey, wait.” She puts her hand on his wrist.

“What?” He looks at her with a frown. “Do you not feel like it now? It’s okay if you don’t, I’m obviously not going to force you, um, I can le-“

“Harry, calm down.” She chuckles. “I very much still want to fuck. I just…you’ve never let me…I’ve only ever given you a hand job.”

“Oh.” He rips the foil packet open and rolls the rubber onto his throbbing cock.

“You’ve had me choke on your fingers, and you know how good I am with my mouth. Do you not want my mouth on you there?”

“It’s not that.” He knees onto the bed and maneuvers her to lay on her back. “I guess I’d just rather put it in you here.” He pushes inside of her and she swallows him whole. “Nothing feels better than this.” His hand slides up her chest until it’s gripping her throat.

“I – fuck – I just want you to know I’ll do it. I think I’m one of the few women out there that actually likes having someone’s dick in their mouth.” She rubs his forearm up and down while he gently squeezes on the sides of her throat. “I want to reciprocate.” She manages to say.

“I’ll think about it.” He grunts as he thrusts in and out of her.

With him sitting up and choking her, and her laying on her back with her knees bent, it’s not long before Layna’s bed starts to shake, and her headboard starts banging against the wall.

“Can I rub my clit?” She asks faintly.

“Fuck, yeah, you can.” His free hand reaches to grip the top of the headboard. “You’re such a good girl, Jesus Christ. I want you to come. Come whenever you want, you don’t have to hold it.”

“Fuck, Harry, thank you.”

She reaches her hand to rub at her clit, and she melts further into the mattress. Harry gets distracted from watching her touch herself, and ignores the popping sound he hears between them. He starts panting, and so does she. Her back arches off the bed as she comes, and he follows behind, filling her up.

He lets go of her throat and comes down to kiss her. Layna moans into his mouth as she calms down. They both start smiling and giggling.

“Nothing’s even funny.” She continues giggling. “That just felt really fucking good.”

“Yeah, it did.” He smooths some hair away from her forehead.

“Will you fuck my ass now?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” He pecks her lips and pulls out of her.

“Do want, like, a banana or anything to help you bounce back?”

“You have bananas?” He asks excitedly.

“Yeah! They’re in the kitchen in the fruit bowl.”

“Sick.” He gets off the bed, and tosses the condom in her trash. “Do you want one?”

“No, thanks. Maybe…could you get me a glass of water? Throat’s a little sore.”

“Shit, I didn’t do it too hard did I?”

“No! Oh my gosh, no. It was perfect. I can’t wait to see the bruises on my neck in the morning.” She blushes.

“You’re perfect, you know that?”

He pecks her forehead before leaving the room. He comes back shortly with half a banana in his mouth, the other half in one hand and a glass of water in the other. Layna takes the glass and slowly sips on the water. Harry tosses the banana peel in the trash before getting back on the bed.

She looks down and sees that he’s still plenty hard. He notices her looking and then raises an eyebrow at her.

“What, do you not like the way I have it shaved?”

“Huh?” She snaps out of her trance. “No, I just…how did you get hard again so fast?”

“It never went down.” He shrugs. “I have pretty good stamina. I’ll be sensitive, but that’ll be better for you so I won’t have to be in your ass for that long. I know it feels good, but a long round of anal sex can feel not so good the next day.”

“That’s so true.”

“How much prep do you think you need? Will you open right up for me?”

“I’d really like to.” She chews on her bottom lip, and leans over him to grab her bottle of lube out of her drawer. “This should help, though.”

“Ah.” He observes the bottle. “This is good stuff.”

“Yeah, I prefer the water based lube, it’s less messy and feels more natural.”

“Get on your stomach, I’ll start getting you ready. Put your ass up in the air.”

Layna listens to him and gets into position. He squeezes the bottle and lets the lube drip and slide down her hole. He gets his middle finger wet, and rubs it around her rim. Layna sighs contently into her pillow. Harry works his finger into her slowly.

“Harry, my vibrator is in that same drawer. Could you grab it and put it inside my pussy?” She looks back at him over her shoulder. “It’ll help me relax a little more for you.”

“Yeah, one sec.”

He pulls his finger from her and leans over the edge of the bed to rummage through her drawer. He find the vibrator. It’s in the shape of a penis, and is simple. Harry gets some lube on it before turning it on and slipping it inside of her. She sighs and relaxes a little more. Harry rips open another condom and rolls it onto his cock.

“I’m gonna start.” He tells her, rubbing her hips and asscheeks.

“Could I…could we switch positions?”

“You wanna ride my dick while it’s in your ass?”

“Yeah, sit on the edge of the bed.” Harry does as she says, intrigued by it. Layna gets off the bed, holding the dildo inside her, and backs up until she’s sitting on Harry’s lap with her back to his chest. “This is more comfortable, and with my legs on the outside of yours, I’m spread a little more.”

“I didn’t think most women knew how to take it up the ass without doing doggy.” He grips himself and paints his cock along her hole. Layna reaches behind and helps him slowly feed it into her.

“I guess I’m not most women.” She grunts. “Ew, I didn’t mean that in like a ‘I’m not like other girls’ way.”

“I knew how you meant it.” He holds his breath until his cock is all the way inside of her. He keeps his hands on her hips, but they both just sit for a moment, the sound of the vibrator inside Layna filling the room.

“I feel so full.” She sighs and hooks an arm behind Harry’s head. “You can move.”

“You sure?”

“Mhm. Give it to me.”

Harry starts to move Layna for her, controlling the pace. She’s not complaining. They get a good rhythm going after Harry squirts some extra lube on her ass. He moves her legs so it’s like she’s straddling him. It gives her some leverage to start moving herself while Harry thrusts up inside of her and rubs her clit.

He watches as sweat falls down her spine. He leans forward and kisses on the back of her neck and shoulders. It’s a slow grind, a good groove. Layna hasn’t felt this good in a long time. She’s never told any of her friends, not even Christine, that she likes anal sex this much. It’s so taboo and naughty and she can take it so well. She’s not sure what it is exactly, but she just likes feeling full. Not to mention, she loves the way a man reacts to it. Harry is breathing heavily and moaning and pressing his sweaty chest to her back. His hands are groping her breasts, she’s got a decent grip on his hair, and it’s all so deliciously overwhelming.

“Layna, I’m getting close.” He warns her.

“I’m almost there.” She pants.

His fingers go back to her clit and he starts rubbing at rapid fire. Layna starts moaning loudly and spilling out expletives. Harry places one of his hands behind him for leverage. His own back is arching, he can feel his orgasm at the base of his spine. He can’t hold it.

“Fuck!” He cries out, then bites down hard on Layna’s left shoulder.

That pushes Layna over the edge, and she makes a mess all over Harry’s thighs. He holds her to him as they both try to even their breathing. Layna lifts herself up a little, and Harry makes a panicked noise. She hasn’t heard that noise come from him before.

“I’m just taking the vibrator out, don’t worry.” She slips the toy out of her and tosses it on the bed, then leans back into Harry. She turns slightly to look at him. “Are you alright?” She asks gently.

“Yeah, that was just really amazing.” His arms are tight around her tummy. “I need a minute, sorry.”

“It’s okay, I’m comfortable.” She pecks his lips, and that turns into a very searing, deep kiss from Harry.

They stay like that for around ten minutes, and then Harry lifts Layna off of him. She tells him she’s gonna go use the bathroom. He notices that the this condom popped as well. They must be expired. He grabs one of the wrappers and shoves it into one of his sneakers so he’ll know what brand to pick up the next time he’s at the drug store.

When Layna’s done, Harry goes to use her bathroom. As he comes back to her, he smirks. She’s wearing an oversized T-shirt, but that’s it. So he can see everything while she’s changing her sheets. She jumps when she sees him standing in the doorway.

“The sheets were soaked.” She explains.

“I know.” He grabs his boxers and pulls them back on. “Do you always have that much to give when you squirt?”

“Sometimes it’s only a little, and then other times it’s a lot.” She shrugs as she finishes making up the bed. Harry crawls into the side he slept on the last time, and Layna slips in beside him. “Well, goodnight.”

“Night.” He reaches over her to turn her lamp off, then pulls her in close so he can spoon her.

She’s not complaining.

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles x y/n #harry styles y/n #harry styles x oc #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #fic #smut #fluff #angst #trainer!harry #himbo!harry

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aerasx · 1 year

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🌙 ❜ ─ Live

Authors note. I love you all so much thanks for 200. Seriously insane. This isn’t what I normally post group wise but I still hope you like it!

Ot5. x Reader ( separately )

Wc. 1.0k

» txt as cam boys

Warnings. Tell me if I miss anything. Flesh light use. Sub kai. Recorded. Humping. Pet names. Dirty talk. Yeonjun edging himself. Mommy kink. Dildo usage. Overstimulation. Begging

MINORS DNI 18+

Not proof read

Genre. Smut

TUMBLR IS BASED ON REBLOGS. PLEASE REBLOG MY WORK ❤️

★ Yeonjun

Definitely teases the viewers. The comments praising him for how big he is boosts his ego more than it should.

Mostly uses his hands doesn’t really like toys, but will occasionally use a flesh light when he’s been feeling a little more needy than usual.

Doesn’t have a streaming schedule. Does it whenever he feels like it. Mostly does it for his own pleasure so, sometimes he will disappear for weeks until he’s needy again.

First got popular because of how interactive he was with the comments. Always replying with an ego driven response like “ want me to keep going? Be a good girl for me and wait until I’m finished”

Definitely edges himself. Will start of slow, eventually speeding up before slowing down again just to deny himself. Doesn’t do it for the audience rather more for himself.

However even though he’s not streaming a lot he is able to make an living off of it. He might seem like he doesn’t care a lot be he’s actually great full.

Sometimes he’ll post videos and it’ll end right before he gets to release. Comments often begging for the full video.

Streams usually last 30 minutes to an hour. Sometimes he’ll stay after and chat, but not a lot. He’s also faceless so no one knows what he actually looks like, definitely teased a face reveal a couple of times but never went through with it.

★ Soobin

Most definitely a soft dom when it comes to interacting with the stream. Definitely very popular. Streams regularly and each stream in about one to two hours long.

Praises the viewers like his life depends on it. Doesn’t go a second without making sure you guys feel as good as him, even though he can’t see you.

His whines are definitely the prettiest. Low and airy but can also be heard against the slapping of his hand against his base

Can also be a tease but a little nicer? “ gonna cum f’me? Be a good girl and wait,yeah?”

Wants him and the viewers to cum at the same time. Something about it gets him going. Likes the connection.

Streams regularly and has a schedule probably twice or 3 times a week.

King of pet names. He always chooses just the right ones to make people buckle at their knees. Like he will definitely call you good girl, princess,darling sweetheart. Makes people feel like their actually with him

He won’t use toys a lot but he definitely has same. Maybe handcuffs or a flesh light. Only uses them upon requests though.

Definitely rewards his highest tipper after each stream. Maybe a private call with just him and said other person.

Shows his face, definitely has been recognized in public before but has gotten super embarrassed about it.

Overall 10/10 streamer boy, everyone’s favorite for sure.

★ Beomgyu

Everyone’s favorite switch. Not completely dominant but not completely submissive either.

When he’s subbing he definitely jumps the pillow or uses handcuffs on himself. Begs the chat to let him touch himself. Would definitely call viewers mommy or some pet name. I can also see him using a dildo?

Has the prettiest whines ever usually high pitched but they turn into grunts right before he reaches his high.

When he’s Dom he’s definitely rough and fast uses a flesh light or his hand.

In terms of toys he has a ton of them and is open to trying anything new. Very experimental when it comes to things like this.

I would feel like he has a above average sex drive so, he probably streams 4-5 times a week.

Has overstimulated himself by a accident before. He didn’t even realize intill he came down from his second high and he was a little two sensitive. When very sensitive he lets out the best whines ever.

Definitely can see him occasionally dressing up or role playing. His most popular costumes are definitely: police officer,doctor, and an angel.

He could definitely collab with another streamer ( you ), but other than that he likes to keep it to himself

Overall one of the best streamer boys out their because of his duality.

★ Taehyun

Definitely a soft Dom!

He loves praising, weather he’s doing it or the chats doing it he just can’t get enough.

He streams manly to help get other people off and usually ends in him jerking off himself. Doesn’t stream for donations, and will even complain that the chats being to nice.

Streaming isn’t his main job so he doesn’t stream everyday but atleast 2-3 times a week. On sundays,Saturdays and thursdays at 9:45pm every time.

Even though he works somewhere else he isn’t faceless. Wants viewers to know that their also making him feel good.

Aftercare king. He loves just talking to the chat and getting to know them generally interested, you don’t see a lot of things like that with other cam boys, that’s why he’s loved so much.

Did I mention he comes extremely fast? He’s literally about to bust but he’s only been at it for 10ish minutes. Has to overstimulate himself to make sure everyone else can still orgasm

Doesn’t complain though. He’s grown used to the feeling and thinks it feels really good.

Overall he may not be the top camboy but, people still love him!

★ Huening Kai

Everyone’s favorite sub! Literally so sweet and once you watch him once you become addicted.

Definitely has a lot of toys. Very experimental and open to anything. He mostly uses a vibrator though. Holding it to his sensitive leaking tip. Arches his back when he’s overstimulated.

Streams daily. Since he’s so young his sex drive is extremely high.

mommy kink 100%. He would be so whiney when he says it too. Loves begging he gets off on it all the time.

His whines are loud and whiney. He sees the comments praising him for getting of and being a good boy.

When he gets very need he jumps the bed or the pillow.

Probably the number one streamer in the world with how active he is.

Likes teasing his viewers if theirs an up coming stream. Maybe a short video clip of him all dolled out and very whiney and needy.

Basically famous. Shows his face a lot and has been noticed before. Not embarrassed at all and actually loves meeting viewers.

Also rewards viewers but instead of just a video call he meets them in person.

Overall everyone loves him. How could they not?

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femdomliterature · 2 months

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FemLit 0589 - How to train a male slave & How to get trained as a male slave?

Credits: https://sanaslave.tumblr.com/ I thought I had overcome this feeling, but lately, I’ve been again disheartened with FLR stuff online. I recently saw a post with over 32k+ notes on Tumblr on “How to train your slave?” That post mentioned stuff like:

It is absolutely mandatory to lock your man in a cage. Chastity cage is an absolute necessity.

Humiliate him. Make sure you degrade him. This way he will strive for better. Additionally, it will affirm your superiority.

Tease and Deny him. Unless you tease him, you aren’t doing it right.

Ruined Orgasms. All his orgasms must be ruined. If he will have orgasms, he will not feel submissive and he will take 2 weeks to get back into his zone.

Emasculate him.

Make him feel used

And on and on and on…..

Now, imagine a newbie sub trying to learn about Female Led Relationships

and explore his kinks. He will look at such articles and these articles will feed his brain about his training process. He is going to get conditioned in such a way that the only way for him to submit would be when his kinks are satisfied. He will develop expectations from his future Dom that she is going to train him by undertaking similar measures as mentioned above.

He will develop a mental image of how his FLR is going to look like. When he does not experience this mental image in real life, he is going to put pressure on his girlfriend/wife to be a “good dom”. According to him, a good Dom would be one who caters to his kinks and fetishes. FLR would be revolving around his kinks instead of Her needs. No wonder why so many men “Top from the Bottom”.

Another reason for massive widespread BS is that the majority of the audience of these blogs and articles is Men, Horny Men, who are looking forward to reading erotic Femdom stuff in the name of “Educational articles”. These men would just read stuff that will seem erotic to them, they are not going to stick to articles that are sensible.

These men then share these articles to their wives or partners in the name of “Femdom Education” and women get freaked out! We women think rationally. We imagine why a man would need to be trained based on kinks? Why his submission is contingent on fantasies? If I can dominate without sex in the picture, why can’t a man submit without it?

Just like “Unconditional Love”, why has no one talked about “Unconditional Submission”?

Below I’m going to mention stuff that actually leads to the training of a slave. These are the things that I have implemented in my Female Led Relationship and these are an absolute necessity:

Communication – No relationship, whether FLR or vanilla, can exist without proper communication. I have specifically ordered my slave to keep an open communication with me. I am not going to tolerate any hideous signals in his conversations. Whatever he feels should be expressed. I have also made sure to never judge him and always support him. No one is a mind reader.

Respecting boundaries.

Adapting to each other – Just like he has to adapt to my ways of leading the relationship, I also had to tweak my training methods to train him. One approach cannot fit all. This adds to my point using kinks as training tool. How can this approach be appropriate for training all submissive men in the world? You need to communicate and adapt. My slave himself told me his thought process and how he analyses things. He gave me insights into his mind to make my work easy.

Setting the right expectations – I already talked a little about this above. My slave also began his journey by reading BS articles but luckily he was intellectual enough to unlearn stuff and start focussing on just sensible things.

Taking feedbacks – Absolute necessity for both – Doms and subs. You aren’t going to be the perfect Dom and he isn’t going to be the perfect sub if you both don’t talk about the shortcomings of each other.

Supporting each other – Our first scene was not perfect. I was a bit nervous. But he supported me because he knew my mental stage. Similarily, His first nailpaint session was not perfect because he had never held a nailpaint before. But I was supportive. Being supportive instead of discouraging goes a long way.

Psychological conditioning and behavioural modification – I have already talked about it detail here.

These are the things that I believe are absolutely necessary for training a Long Term Male Slave. Kinks are a part of FLR and can definitely be used as bait, but they are surely not permanent tools for training.

Additonal Thoughts :

I want my slave’s submission to be as natural as his love for me. Just like his love is not dependent on my weight (whether I’m fat or thin), the way I look (dolled up or in baggy clothes) etc; his submission should also not be dependent on how I dress, tease and denial, sexual fantasies, chastity etc.

If he cannot serve me without a chastity cage or if he cannot serve me after a full orgasm, is he even actually submissive? Is his submission so fragile that it would go away with such petty things? His submission should be foundational. He should want to serve me because he wants to see me as a Goddess. He should serve me because he wants to make my life easier. He should submit because he actually is submissive and not just because of some submissive fantasies.

When I would encounter his heartfelt and true submission, I myself would want to reward him and cater to his kinky fantasies. I myself would want to tease and deny him. Since he would keep me so happy and satisfied, I myself would want to return to him and treat him the way he wants to be treated.

Since he has already told me his fantasies and weaknesses, I would use them as bait to train him. I would misuse (consensually) them to make him a better person, a better partner and a better slave.

I’m sure that only a minority will read this post till the end and it is not going to get as much reach as kinky articles, but I’m not going to stop spreading positivity and awareness about Female Led Relationships.

Until next time :)

#female led relationship #femlit

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funkymbtifiction · 1 year

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the end of an era

I wanted to thank you all, not only for all the notes of gratitude, encouragement, etc., in my inbox, but for being my faithful readers over the last ten years as I blundered around, answering asks, figuring things out on the fly, mistyping myself half a dozen times, and learning by “answering.” It’s been an incredible blessing for me to be part of your lives, and now, I hope, I have left behind enough of a resource, through my thousands of answered questions, my MBTI book, and my ongoing FunkyMBTI Blog, that you can be guided to your type and start the journey of self-development.

I want to say a few more things, but first, I’ll answer the burning questions that I know are going through your mind directly.

Does this mean no more character typings? No, it does not. I will continue updating FunkyMbti.com for the indefinite future, and those posts will automatically be ported over to this tumblr page, along with posts from Sixy Pixie (which I may expand to include general Enneagram posts/information/insights).

All it means is I am retiring from answering typing questions. I will still be active in various online communities, doing research, gathering information, and sharing it on my blogs. My interest in MBTI has waned since writing my book (which I consider the “achievement” of over a decade of work/research/learning), so the best way I know of is to move forward.

Does this mean I can’t request characters anymore? No, it does not. You can always contact me through FunkyMBTI.com’s contact page to make character requests. I have an ongoing list of characters people would like to see, and I hope to get around to most of them. (Such as, people want to see The OC, The Scream movies, and more Hollywood icons, such as Natalie Wood). I also have Sanditon, more Shadow and Bone typings, etc., coming.

How can I know about your Enneagram book and/or other books? Thank you for asking! You can either stay tuned here, since any announcement posts on my blog will update here, or you can join my mailing list to receive all my updates (of reviews, upcoming books, free book giveaways, and more).

Are you going to delete Funky on tumblr? No, it will stay up as long as tumblr survives, not only as a monument to my zillion hours of work, but to the thousands of people who braved the internet to ask me questions and allowed me to showcase my “Big Sister Energy.” Ha, ha. Seriously, though, I appreciate all the questions, comments, compliments, and submissions over the years, including the gigantic assortment of characters from shows/movies I may never watch.

What now? I will stock the queue for a few months and take time off, and then hopefully dig more into the Enneagram, since I think that has real potential to change people’s lives for the better.

Final Thoughts:

It seems fitting that I close “the end of an era” (as my ENFJ friend put it, when she heard about this) as I approach the end of a “decade” in my life, and a big “0” birthday. I can’t exactly recall how my journey started. I think I took one of those MBTI quizzes, shared by a friend on some social media website, got mistyped as an INTJ, and fell down a rabbit hole that took over my life for over a decade. I went through every possible type known to man (other than SP), and can now finally claim with authority to be an ENFP.

I made all the mistakes you are going to make, if you are just starting out on this journey of self-awareness – I listened to the wrong people, I took in the wrong information, I mistyped myself and others, I had to unlearn everything that made no sense, but along the way, I learned how to introspect and be present with myself. To pay attention to what I am doing, and why I am doing it, and that is the most valuable take-away from this experience. You can either go through life oblivious to your true self, or you can go through life friends with yourself, and aware of both your strengths and your weaknesses. I recommend the latter. It's hard but worth it.

Doing that for so long, getting used to being “wrong,” prepared me to read my first book on the Enneagram. And it changed my life. I knew I was a 6, that there was nothing “wrong” with me, that other people struggled with the same things I did. And my introspection started growing deeper. There were many ego battles along the way, denial of the aspects of 6 profiles that I didn’t want to admit to, followed by resignation and self-awareness (that I do that too, and it’s revolting!). But it’s a journey that I intend to walk on, for the rest of my life, and I’m glad to know these things. I wish I had known them sooner. I would have been a much better friend.

All of my current friends came to me through Funky. My friends in Sweden and Tennessee and Idaho and India and Philadelphia and Florida and Spain and Greece. I would not know them, had they not reached out to me, asked me a question, asked if we could e-mail, or helped me figure something out. Funky has been my “social” life for a decade. Some of them are still with me, even though one of them is not – Maddie, my beloved ENTP co mod, my zany, nutty, wild-hearted 793 “DJ” who could simultaneously make me laugh until I cried and drive me insane with frustration, passed away of a heart attack during the pandemic in 2021. One minute she was in my life, and the next she was gone forever. I never told you at the time, but it seems a fitting end to my time here, to pay homage to a friend I hope to meet one day “in person” in whatever comes after this. So Maddie, thank you for everything you put into this blog with me, thank you for the hours of fun and laughter, for the many hundreds of posts that will stand as a testament to your memory. I miss you. And I hope wherever you are, you are doing something crazy.

Thank you, dear reader, for coming with me on this journey. I know we shall meet again.

XOXO, Charity / ENFP Mod / Big Sister Energy

#mod post #farewell on this venue #see you elsewhere!

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lovebugs-and-snakecharmers · 2 months

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LBSC Sprint Challenge April 2024

The LBSC Sprint Challenge is now open for writers and artists! The prompts are:

1. "Guess what I just did?" 2. “I knew she was the one when she tried to flirt and ended up breaking my nose.” 3. When Luka's new single drops a few days ahead of Jagged's, for one shining moment he was #1 on the charts while Jagged was #20, and Luka will never let him live it down. 4. Hawkmoth is standing right there & you can't transform. What's a desperate superhero to do? 5. "I wish I had princess energy instead of feral gremlin energy but here we are." 6. Wildcard - pick any previous challenge prompt, or play LBSC Smooch Roulette to generate a prompt!

You have until Wednesday, May 1 to complete your 3 15-minute sprints/45 minute art sprint and post the results. Once you’ve completed the sprints, you have 24 hours to edit (which can include some new writing to smooth transitions and make it feel complete, and whatever work you feel appropriate to get your art to a state you consider ‘finished’).

Please note you may sprint in the language of your choice, and you can either translate the final fic before posting, post it in the original language, or both as you choose. You can join us on the LBSC discord or sprint on your own! Just be sure to tag @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers in your final post so we will see it and reblog it. The rest of the rules can be found here under the cut.

Rules!

We’ll post a beginning and end date to the challenge, and a prompt.

Writers, If you choose to participate in the event, write for that prompt in up to three 15 minute sprints. No writing outside the sprints until you have completed all three! After the 3 sprints are complete, you have 24 hours to edit (which can include some new writing to smooth transitions, etc). You can also choose to break that 45 minutes up differently if you find a different split works better for you. After those 24 hours, post what you’ve got. Tag your posts with @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers so we can reblog it to the LBSC blog. If you post your work on AO3 or somewhere other than Tumblr, you can leave a link in our ask box or in the appropriate discord channel so we can be sure to promote it. After the designated challenge end date, we’ll compile a listing of the submissions and post it to the LBSC blog.

Feel free to sprint in whatever language is most comfortable to you! You can post it in your own language or translate it before posting, or both!

Artists, you have 45 minutes to sketch and 24 hours to do any cleanup or coloring you’d like to complete. You can split your 45 minutes up however you like, or not at all. There’s no requirements on your finished piece, just aim for whatever goal seems challenging but achievable to you. Tag your posts with @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers so we can reblog it to the LBSC blog. If you post your work on Instagram or somewhere other than Tumblr, you can leave a link in our ask box or in the appropriate discord channel so we can be sure to promote it. After the designated challenge end date, we’ll compile a listing of the submissions and post it to the LBSC blog.

If you’re wavering as to whether or not you think you can accomplish anything in 45 minutes, we really encourage you to give the challenge a try. You may be surprised what you can do! Feel free to join us in the discord linked above so we can encourage and cheer you on.

Obviously, this has to run a bit on the honor system and we won’t be tracking your times, but please do your best to honor the spirit of the challenge! If your sprint fic becomes an Entire Thing (these things happen sometimes) and you want to continue it, feel free! However, please still post whatever you’ve got after your 3 sprints with the tag. No fair busting out a fully polished fic or art without showing us what it looked like at the challenge stage!

We want to keep this a positive space and event! This does NOT mean that you can’t write or draw anything critical of a character or episode, but it isn’t the space for character bashing or hate either. Please keep the characters in character and save the more speculative work for another time. NSFW sprint works are permitted but must be tagged appropriately (please use “NSFW LBSC sprint challenge” for easy filtering on the blog) and with appropriate warnings. (More FAQ about the process here)

This is a Lukanette blog and a Lukanette event, so while Lukanette does not need to be the main ship, it needs to at least be included or referenced and considered endgame (in other words, they don’t have to be together by the end of your work, but the intent is that they’re headed in that direction). The decision about what qualifies for reblog rests solely with the LBSC moderators. If a piece hasn’t been reblogged within a couple of days, either the mods felt the piece didn’t meet the criteria or it was simply missed; you are welcome to reach out in the asks to inquire which. There are plenty of other spaces out there for other ships and OT3s, and people are welcome to use the challenge rules and prompts to write for their own ships! They just won’t be reblogged to the LBSC blog, and we ask that you please not use the event tag (a modified form is fine - “InsertAlternateShipName sprint challenge” instead of “LBSC sprint challenge,” for example).

Happy sprinting!

#lbsc sprint challenge #lukanette #endgame lukanette #lukanette endgame #luka couffaine #marinette dupain cheng #pro lukamari

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douglysium · 2 months

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Episode 8 TMP Quick Thoughts

Housekeeping and Prologue

Hello, this is Douglysium and you might not know me as that guy who wrote over 100 pages of analysis on the Eye (which can be read on Tumblr here (https://douglysium.tumblr.com/post/735599414228484097/the-relationships-between-the-dread-powers-the) or Google Docs here (The Relationships Between the Dread Powers: The Eye- Knowledge is Fear and Ignorance is Bliss)) or as that guy who wrote an article on the Extinction (which can be read on Tumblr here(https://douglysium.tumblr.com/post/717929126195003392/what-would-avatars-of-the-extinction-be-like-a) and Google Docs here(What would Avatars of the Extinction be like?: A TMA Speculation)). Suffice to say I might be a bit of a TMA fan. Also, spoilers for TMP up until episode 8. You can read my ramblings on the last episode here (TMP Quick Thoughts 7).

However, Protocol offers a very unique opportunity and experience for me because I didn’t actually get into TMA until after it was over and I binged all of it. So this is my first time experiencing something even remotely similar to what the original TMA fans probably experienced when waiting for each episode week by week and slowly having to put everything together with the limited information they had. So I decided to throw my hat into the ring since this might be my only chance to do something similar. However, I’m working on some longer form TMA content so I can’t spend as much time on these articles giving a bunch of super detailed thoughts. I will try to keep these short and that inevitably might mean some could have questions about why I think or predict certain things and in those cases I would probably recommend you read at least some of the two articles I mentioned above to get a better idea of where I’m coming from. This also means I won’t be giving you a play-by-play of every single thing that happens in the episode so I encourage you to listen to or read them yourselves and feel free to comment if you feel something is important.

These reviews are probably going to end up focusing mostly on the Entities and their manifestations as they are what I have thought about the most and spent the most time interpreting and there’s been a lot of… interesting theories floating around about how the Entities are manifesting that I want to go over.

Finally, I’m just going to say it right now, spoiler warning for all of The Magnus Archives. I know that Jon and co said one could start with Protocol and be fine, and while that’s probably true, media like this tends to be made in conversation with or take into consideration what came before it in the irl chronology in order to connect them. While I’m sure you could skip The Magnus Archives, I don't really see the point of skipping over it when we are already getting characters from TMA showing up in TMP in Protocol. So to me it’s pretty clear that if we want to understand the full picture of TMP and all the things it is trying to say then we can’t just try to pretend TMA doesn’t exist or scrub it away. Just because you could understand what’s happening without the context in broad strokes doesn’t mean you're getting all the nuances.

These articles are meant to be quick and short so sorry if there’s typos and if I don’t address every possible question or possibility. I don’t want to repeat myself too much in this series outside of the prologue so be sure to skim some of my other articles.

Episode 8 “Running on Empty”

This time we dive directly into a statement that NORRIS is giving which means the intro is a bit faster than usual. This statement takes the form of a paper being submitted by Terrance Stevens to Joseph Peterson. In the end Terrance is stuck with a failing grade but the teacher left a note of “see me” and in the assignment itself Terrance does try to explain the late submission and extenuating circumstances. Which seem to be acknowledged by the teacher with “Extenuating circumstances: Serious Medical Condition, Trauma, Miscellaneous.”

Terrance decided to do their assignment on “Forton’s Brutal Liminality, a case study of architecturally induced psychological stressors as a result of prolonged exposure to liminal spaces in the Brutalist mode as exhibited by Forton Service Station.” They elaborate with “This paper will present a comprehensive analysis of Forton Services as a key site of study for the intersection between Brutalism and Liminal space design with a secondary focus on the psychological stresses such sites can cause.”

Later in the statement Terrance gives us the definitions of Brutalism and Liminal that they are working with (which is extremely helpful because upon looking it up I got 3-4 common definitions for Liminal). “Brutalism, originating from the French 'béton brut' - raw concrete, is an architectural movement that focuses on utilitarian purpose. This often results in exposed raw materials, stark forms, repetitive geometric shapes and monolithic structures. This can often lead endusers to feel overwhelmed or oppressed. (Zumthor, P. 2006)”. “'Liminal' spaces, derived from the Latin 'limen', meaning 'threshold' are transitional spaces normally inhabited for short periods. They have been shown to have marked effects upon the psychology of those exposed to them and long-term exposure has been found to illicit anxiety responses (Augé, M. 1995), (Bachelard, G. 1994) and feelings of the uncanny (Trigg, D. 2012).” In case the second definition is a bit confusing, what Terrance is referring to when they say “transitional spaces normally inhabited for short periods” are things like hallways. Places that exist almost entirely for people to pass through from one area to another.

Terrance’s report seems extremely focused on architecture and the psychological effects they can have. Within TMA Smirke’s architecture could actually interact with and influence the Entities in various ways and they were noted to have a higher likelihood of hauntings and supernatural events occurring within them being reported than other buildings do. Plus, the Entities themselves can manifest as physical places. This is seen with not just the Domains but also how people can be physically thrown into the Entities (for example, someone can physically enter The Buried or Lonely. Various people have been taken by the Entities to other unknown locations and there’s a non-zero chance that at least some of these people ended up within Entities so their fear could be fed on). Terrance also says “My hypothesis is that that Forton services, as a site of intersection between these two psychologically significant elements can be considered a site of what I have termed “Brutal Liminalism” and this is why it has a profound effect upon those exposed to it in the long term as testified by my own experiences. Specifically, it creates an effect of absence despite presence, an “architectural hunger" of a sort.”

I also have to wonder if architecture will be as important in TMP as it was in TMA and if so how? Did this universe’s Smirke somehow meet the Entities or is some of the architecture in TMP just coincidentally reacting with the Entities? Maybe it has nothing to do with Smirke and someone else has connected the dots in regards to architecture and the supernatural?

Terrance goes on to explain that areas such as Forton were originally conceived as locations one would actually stay at for prolonged periods of time but the increasing popularity of cars and similar vehicles along with the overdevelopment of the road infrastructure in the UK led to Forton becoming a place people merely pass through overtime. A liminal space if you will. Basically Forton went from being sort of like a metaphorical “room” one would actually stay in to a “hallway” that people just pass through. This also meant that more people would be traveling through Forton and “This increase in travelers, far beyond older design parameters, has led to an ephemeral flux of people transitioning through service stations at all hours, leaving only trash in their wake. Not only this, there are perceived time distortions associated with such spaces exacerbated by the deliberate absence of clocks (to encourage longer stays) and 24 hour opening times with rolling opening, closing, cleaning and restocking routines.” In case you aren’t aware, ephemeral means “lasting for a very short time.” So among other things, Terrance is saying that there is a spike of people in Forton but they are not permanent or consistent residents. It’s a bunch of people flowing in and out of it constantly.

“I propose that because these spaces are devoid of persistent humanity and consistent time perception, they have thus become dislocated from humanity’s shared mindscape and there are unique health risks to people who are over-exposed to this phenomenon. In essence, I believe the “architectural hunger” of a space that resents its own transitional nature can be dangerous and I have a unique personal insight into this phenomenon.” The term “humanity’s shared mindscape” gives me pause but I suppose the Entities could be considered a shared mindscape? They are explicitly born from and maintained by the collective fear of animals, and while this can be the fear of any animal it is noted that most of the Entities tend to lean towards feeding off of humans specifically, with the exception of The Hunt and The Flesh, because their fears tends to be more “nuanced.” So you could describe most of the Entities as mindscapes that tend to revolve around humans even if not completely. Not to mention, that despite the Entities being very metaphysical in many ways you can still physically enter them, and they do like to mold themselves out of specific fears in order to best terrify the person within them. So they are kind of like mindscapes born of fear.

It’s also interesting that Terrance says “architectural hunger.” The term hunger seems to be appearing a lot which has led to much speculation. I’m still a bit on the fence about this but even in TMA there were at least some references to hunger. How Entities and Avatars gathered fear was often portrayed using food metaphors. If an Avatar could not gather enough fear over a period of time they would “starve” and feel extremely weak if not die for example. When Jude Perry is describing how being an Avatar works to Jon she says “Feed it, fearlessly and without hesitation, or it will feed on you.” In MAG 200, when describing how the Entities came to be, we get “But fear was here and true and was itself, and it hungered. It wished to know more. It wished to feel more. It wished to be more.”, “And something else began to happen. Some minds did not simply recoil from them and feed them. Some seemed almost to call them, to court them, to hunger for them in return.”, and “And with this newfound power came greed. The hunger for more, the unformed, unfocused, but impossibly huge desire to exist. To join the minds that gave them shape and purpose, and finally drink their fill ‘til they were one and the same. They had no concept of how, or when, or even why, but they needed it. They needed it.” So the Entities have always sort of been described as “hungering” or “feeding” in my opinion even if it’s being pushed more now.

Terrance details how they took a job as a janitor at Forton Services after a divorce and it “cost me the majority of my friendships. The ensuing stress episode led me to quit my job as a deputy fiduciary services administrator. I thus applied and successfully interviewed for a low stress Janitor role despite my overqualifications. At the same time I successfully applied for the Architecture Program at Lancashire University as a mature, 51 year old student.” The fact that this seems to take place recently after a divorce and that the divorce led to the loss of many of Forton’s relationships could point to themes of The Lonely. It wouldn’t be the first time someone got dragged into The Lonely after a relationship goes sour (as seen in MAG 150 (Cul-De-Sac)).

Terrance says that they believe Forton to be “an ideal example of “Brutal Liminalism” given its status as both a popular motorway service station and a landmark of brutalist architecture.” and they specifically note the tower as being the primary reason for this place being an ideal example of brutalist architecture. The tower is noted as being closed to the public despite being listed in 2012. I wonder if this tower specifically has something going on with it. Maybe the architecture is similar to Smirke’s or there is some other type of architecture that could elicit increased supernatural reactions and / or maybe even encourage different manifestations. It wouldn’t be completely unreasonable to assume that there is potentially more than one way to build something that reacts strongly with the Entities, even if such an idea is unfounded at this point.

Terrance describes the site by saying “The site is seventeen point seven acres featuring an eastern picnic site and facilities on both sides of the M6 motorway with seating for 700 people, 101 toilets and 403 parking spaces. The top of the tower once held a fine dining restaurant with a roof-level sun terrace both of which featured unmatched panoramic views of the surrounding rural countryside on all sides.” While the tower used to be open at one point, Terrance explains “Unfortunately, the effects of Brutal Liminality soon took effect with a 1978 government review describing the site as “a soulless fairground” and the restaurant became a trucking lounge before being closed to the public in 1989. No-one has eaten there in decades. There were later failed attempts to repurpose the space but in 2017, the two pentagonal lifts in the center of

the Tower shaft were replaced leaving the higher floors derelict and inaccessible. The tower still stands overlooking the surrounding countryside, the only access via the Brutally Liminal Forton Services below, but the entrance is sealed and this is perhaps for the best.”

But while Terrance was unable to enter the tower itself they claim to have started undergoing “a psychological shift” nevertheless. They describe this supposed shift as “subtle,” so much so that they didn’t even originally notice it and assumed there to be a more rational explanation. “Put simply, there were less and less people every night. At first, I assumed it was some seasonal change I hadn’t accounted for but every day it grew more pronounced until finally, one night, I realized that I had not seen a single person.” Terrance says that this is impossible and they even went to verify their log. They would go on to check the parking lot but didn’t see a single car. Once again, this parallels a lot of the themes and manifestations of The Lonely for obvious reasons tied to being isolated both physically and emotionally. Terrance then notices something in the parking lot. Something that they describe as “...streaks of light lingering in the air. There was a nebulous haze across the entire car park, a mélange of muted colors punctuated with more vivid reds, whites and yellows but even more curiously I realized it primarily hovered above the asphalt. The Greenery and walkways were mostly clear. The effect was curiously familiar but I couldn’t quite place it. I have since been unable to determine if this effect was psychological, physiological, or atmospheric in nature but I maintain that the phenomena was accompanied by a disquieting sense of absence. Of hunger.” Once again, a reference to hunger.

While most of the statement up until this point has been pretty heavy on potentially Lonely themes, this leans a bit more Spiral-like with the kind of strange lights being seen. Terrance does also describe the lights being seen as chaotic. Despite this it’s not like all The Lonely type stuff suddenly stops. Terrance says that they managed to make out details “...in those long, waving, iridescent strips” and they “...could trace denser routes through the chaos leading through the main doors to the facilities and as I watched a memory of my ex-wife’s photography leapt unbidden to mind, my favorite shot that she’d given me on our seventh anniversary: “A study of traffic.” So what could be happening here is that an Entity is attempting to remind Terrance of their ex-wife as well as some of the pictures she had taken in an attempt to amplify certain emotions or feelings (such as loneliness). Terrance even goes on to say “That’s when I realized why this all felt so familiar. Timelapse. If I could have walked into that photo, this must be what it would have felt like. It would have been beautiful if it weren’t so unsettling.” So Terrance might have literally walked into a place modeled after a photo taken by their ex-wife. Additionally, when they were married Terrance would have had way more friends. So this memory could also call back to a time when they felt less alone this heightening there current feelings of isolation.

The haze’s connection to the asphalt is probably due to the fact that the picture Terrance’s wife had taken was “A study of traffic.” So highlighting the asphalt would help remind Terrance of the photo due to streets, sidewalks, cars and all that. However, you could also make an argument for themes relating to The Extinction if you were so inclined. In MAG 134, “Time of Revelation,” Adelard Dekker says this in regards to his theory about the Power “But now the fear is not of a rapture or a revelation. It is of catastrophic change. Mankind will warp the world so much it kills us all, and leaves only a thousand years of plastic behind. Technology will strip us of what it means to be human, and leave us something alien and cold. We will press a button that in a moment will destroy everything we have ever been. Animals are witnessing the end of their entire species within a single generation.” So you card argue that highlighting concrete as opposed to potentially more naturalistic landmarks like greenery could point to urbanization and a less natural future. Terrance does also mention in his theory that a major factor as to why the architecture has become a negative force is because overtime Forton has changed to a more liminalist space due to urbanization and an increase on the reliance of cars (which can also be tied to some fears that The Extinction might often correspond to (such as climate change and being rendered obsolete)).

However, you could still make a very solid argument for the influence of something like The Spiral as Terrance also says “In retrospect I was clearly having some kind of severe hallucinatory episode brought on by long-term exposure to the space.” So there is a potential awareness and fear that Terrance might be mistaken or their senses are wrong. Terrance feels like they should try to avoid the glowing mist and even feel the instinct to hide “ to find somewhere, anywhere that I might be free of that overwhelming miasma sloshing back and forth within the foyer threatening to wash me away with it.” (A foyer means “an entrance hall or other open area in a building used by the public, especially a hotel or theater.”) While it’s not impossible that another Entity might be manifesting as mist or fog I think it’s interesting Terrance notes the presence of glowing mist since we know that Entities such as The Lonely tend to manifest as it a lot. This is probably to heighten the sense of isolation because of the fact that fog and mist not only obscure vision but also tend to muffle sound. These qualities can make it harder to tell if there are others around you, which might make you feel alone. Fog and mist can also be associated with melancholy. It could also make it potentially ironic that Terrance’s first instinct is to hide and thus potentially further isolate himself.

However, rather ironically, there are ways fog and mist could hypothetically relate to The Spiral. Some other definitions of fog include “something that obscures and confuses a situation or someone's thought processes” and “bewilder or puzzle (someone).” Both of which could point to the idea of fog or mist manifesting as a metaphor made literal in order to confuse someone.

Terrance also refers to the mist as a miasma. A word that can mean “a highly unpleasant or unhealthy smell or vapor” or “an oppressive or unpleasant atmosphere which surrounds or emanates from something.” I would assume that the second definition is more applicable here even if the mist could smell terrible. Terrance starts trying to get out of dodge by moving away from the main entrance and “away from the densest areas of the kaleidoscope in the hopes of finding somewhere less overwhelmingly saturated.” A strange kaleidoscope of colors could once again point to The Spiral.

Things get a bit weirder when Terrance says “And that was when I saw the woman. She was tall, young, and thin, almost to the point of malnourishment, dressed similarly to a stewardess with a tightly fitting blue waistcoat buttoned over a sensible looking grey skirt. She was beaming, holding open the door to the lift and inviting me inside. There was a small brass badge on her waistcoat, but instead of a name it simply read “You are here”.” The sight of this woman causes Terrance to hesitate and “before I could consider her strangeness a particularly high tide of color swept down the corridor toward me. I panicked, and before I realized what I was doing I had darted inside the lift and slammed the close-door button.” It quickly becomes apparent that Terrance is in the elevator with the woman as they say “Thank you!” and “She didn’t seem to notice and instead continued to smile warmly at me as she reached across and pushed the button for the penultimate floor marked “Restaurant”. A button I knew was disabled. The lift started to climb.”

I wonder if the colors Terrance was running from are a metaphorical representation of their past. Maybe if the colors caught them they would have found themselves trapped in a world modelled after their wife’s phot of the past. We also know that The Lonely has manifested as weird colors. In MAG 186 (Quiet) Martin’s Domain is mentioned as being monochrome in color. So I wonder if the vibrant colors chasing Terrance would mean everything else outside of it seems more drab and less colorful in comparison? Then again there’s still argument for The Spiral with the dizzying array of colors.

As Terrance catches his breath the woman says ““Good Evening!” She exclaimed, “It’s my pleasure to welcome you! You are here! Stay awhile!”” Terrance tries to ask her some questions but she says nothing with a wide grin on her face. Eventually the doors Terrance are leaning on open and he tumbles into the tower. To which the woman only responds with “Stay awhile!” before the doors close. Terrance had actually seen the locked tower stairway, after being shown it by Molly on their first day, and the tower shouldn’t have anything in the room Terrance is in “apart from damp and broken furniture. At least, there shouldn’t have been.” Despite this impossibility, in front of Terrance now lay “...a restaurant, spotless and bright with retro 60s décor and the sweet smell of frying pork drifting towards me from the central kitchen. Chairs and tables lined the outside wall, each of which sported a large window which would have granted an impressive view of the landscape below if they weren’t all blacked out. This didn’t seem to concern the diners however, who were perfectly content eating whilst chatting amiably with one another.” This sight actually gives Terrance a moment of relief “...for as strange as the situation was, at least there were people. I was no longer trapped in that bizarre, solitary, aurora limbo downstairs. The feeling faded though, when I heard what they were saying, or rather what they weren’t saying.”

The seemingly starving woman was strange, but I think there are some things in this restaurant that could once again point to The Lonely. As I’ve mentioned before The Lonely has manifested as people before, most notably a faceless crown in MAG 48 (Lost in the Crowd). The Lonely has also manifested as languages that sound vaguely familiar but upon closer inspection sound like gibberish. In MAG 150 (Cul-de-Sac) we get “My hand drifted down and brushed the plastic remote control. Almost on instinct, I picked it up and turned the TV on. A cooking show. A woman I almost recognized fussing over a turkey. She was talking, or at least it sounded like she was, the cadence and the sounds were so much like English that it took me almost a full minute to realize that she wasn’t actually saying words.” I assume this is meant to emphasize a feeling of isolation and disconnect. The idea that you cannot understand others and others cannot understand you. Even if you aren’t alone physically you are alone in your experiences and people cannot relate to you while you have trouble relating to them.

I think it’s also interesting that Terrance feels a moment of relief upon seeing other people. This may seem weird for something like The Lonely to do but in reality it wouldn’t be any different than say The End extending someone’s life. Entities such as The Lonely aren’t the embodiment of loneliness but a manifestation of the FEAR of it. Sometimes the Entities seem prone to give someone some sort of “protection” or “benefit” either temporarily or permanently that might seem to run counter to what the Powers crave at first but in reality it’s the Entity trying to harvest as much fear as possible by trying to give someone something and then threaten to (or actually) take it away. The End’s behavior in TMA makes a lot more sense when you remember that it isn’t literally death but the fear of it, and the longer certain people are alive the more they can fear losing their life. What I’m trying to get across is that just because Terrance feels a moment of relief that doesn’t mean that the feeling of loneliness isn’t a massive factor or aspect here. When Terrance describes their relief they even say “bizarre, solitary, aurora limbo downstairs.” Emphazing that one of the most concerning aspects of what was happening downstairs was the “solitary” part of it. Of course, it might be too early to say that’s exactly what’s going on here so let's keep looking through the statement.

“Looking around, the restaurant was near capacity with only one free table but when I tried to listen to any one conversation it was just… noise. A muffled murmur that sounded like speech but held no information. Their mouths were moving but all I could make out was a meaningless garble, just the impression of speech, nothing more.” Once again, more Lonely-esque gibberish. You could also argue The Spiral with how Terrance thinks he can understand what they are saying but upon listening he can’t or The Stranger in how he doesn’t know what they are saying or who they are. However, I would point out that it has become clear that this fake speech has seemingly caused a distancing effect with Terrance that’s making it harder for him to relate and connect to them as people. He even goes on to say “Similarly, as I looked closer at the diners themselves, I noticed oddly repeating elements to them. Three women were wearing the same blood-red heels. Two men, the same blue coats and worse, there were even recurring features iterating on different faces: the same green eyes on two women, identical moustaches on three men. These were as much an impression of people as the sound was an impression of speech. And they were all so horribly thin.” In essence, these aren’t people Terrance can talk to or connect with. You could also point to some themes of The Stranger since it is an Entity that loves to manifest as fake people or odd seemingly nonsensical and uncanny behaviors.

The chef is also equally as weird and they are described as having “the same smile on his face below a fourth version of a bushy moustache and an identical “You are here” name tag on his chest. He gestured from his place behind the counter to the only open table:“Good Evening!” He cried, “You are here! We hope you stay awhile!”” So basically everyone here looks like a bunch of npc characters that had had the same handful of physical traits copied and pasted over and over. Terrance is taken aback by the chef’s reaction and catches himself as he instinctively steps back towards the table. They note that as this happens “...everybody in the room seemed to lean ever so slightly forward in anticipation.” Terrance also feels a breeze which in turn causes them to realize that the windows are not in fact blacked out but that “They weren’t even windows. They were gaping square holes and beyond them was nothing at all. Any one of the diners could reach out if they had a mind to and plunge their hand outwards into the dark, foreboding and utterly featureless void. There was nothing. Nothing above, nothing below, nothing at all. Nothing, save the tower and the restaurant.” Terrance says “My whole body recoiled from that awful absence, and I retreated backwards towards the lift. That was when the gentle murmur of nonspeech abruptly ceased to be replaced with a complete and utter silence.”

You could easily point to the void as resembling The Dark (and that’s a fair comparison) but you could also relate it to The Lonely. The idea of a black lifeless void in which you sit utterly alone sounds similar to how some would describe the cold empty vacuum of space. The Lukas family was involved in the creation of the Daedalus space station and messed around with fears relating to The Lonely and space by torturing some poor sap in TMA. In MAG 57 (Personal Space) we get two lines that I think could relate to this theme. “But still the fact remained that where the Earth should have been, there was empty, dark space. I must have watched for hours waiting to see the sun. We were definitely still moving, and from what I could tell we still seemed to be moving in some sort of orbit, but without a planet below I have no idea why we kept the same pattern. Regardless, the sun should have been visible sooner or later.” and “Each time I painstakingly entered it with as much precision as I still had within me, and each time the password field read out what I had apparently typed in:“No one is coming” and the door remained closed. And that was it. I was trapped alone in a tiny room floating in space deserted empty space.”

Everyone in the room continues to smile and the chef once again says “Stay awhile.” but it is clear to Terrance that this is no longer a request. The diners create an echoing effect by repeating the chef’s words over and over like a chorus. Okay, this is where things veer away from standard Lonely, Spiral, or Stranger manifestations as the people in the restaurant begin to grab Terrance and then “a man with that same moustache leant down towards my leg, opened his mouth, and bit into me. Pain shot through my body, but my thrashing was in vain as one of the women buried her teeth in my shoulder, and I could feel hot blood flowing down my back as whilst at the same time the chef took off one of my fingers, the bone barely slowing his chiseled jaw.” Sam screams from the pain “...but the sound withered draining out the windows into nothing.” I think it’s interesting to note this vacuum like effect. The Lonely is often connected to silence (since if there’s no one nearby things are more likely to be quiet. Think of an abandon city or town and how quiet that would be). Also, connecting to the space metaphor is the idea “no one can hear you scream.” Well, in this case it’s more the idea that no one is coming to help Terrance. He is completely on his own with no allies.

Thanks to a rush of adrenaline Terrance manages to fight his way out of the crowd of brittle and emaciated bodies and “The lift had disappeared as if it had never been. And beyond the windows was of course nothing. “You are here”, I thought bitterly. and so when faced with the prospect of being eaten alive, or leaping out one of those windows into pure oblivion, it was no choice at all. I jumped.”

So obviously, potentially some themes of The Flesh in relation to the fear of being eaten or consumed might have come out of left field and made whatever is going on here a bit more confusing and vague. However, there are still some themes of The Lonely here. It’s important to remember that The Lonely isn’t just the fear of being physically alone but also mentally alone. It’s possible to be surrounded by tons of people everyday but still feel alone due to disconnect or the idea that no one would care if you’re gone. In this way you could interpret the other peoples’ odd behavior as an attempt to alienate Terrance. The description of the restaurant also paints it as extremely superficial and shallow. The people can’t really be connected with and there’s nothing outside of the windows. The people Terrance finds comfort in for a brief moment quickly turn to consume him, seeing him not as a person that can be related to but as something to be used up. In a way, Terrance is sort of objectified. Which is an idea that both The Flesh and The Lonely could overlap in. The idea of being but a resource to be harvested like meat and something no one cares about because people only see someone as an object.

However, like always, you can very easily argue some other Entities (something that I can’t spend too much time on because this article is already long enough as it is and I would be repeating myself). You could argue The Spiral with the confusing imagery and appeal to madness or faulty senses, The Stranger loves to manifest as people acting odd and uncanny (such as Breekon and Hope’s as well as the Anatomy Students’ odd behavior). Potentially, the entire scene is just meant to be uncanny and the people unknown strangers speaking and unknown language that Terrance cannot relate to. Of coursem The Flesh loves using the imagery of people being consumed. You could also point to themes of The Slaughter with how people are attacking Terrance and the violence involved.

The plunge out the window is of course what leads to Terrance’s injuries and acts as an explanation for why they submitted their assignment late and they write off the experience as “stress-induced psychotic episode” which could once again point to The Spiral in terms of theming. Terrance once again mentions “hungry architecture” when they say “This experience is proof of the intense mental pressure that such Brutal Liminalism can have upon a person who is overexposed to such “hungry architecture”.”

I wonder if Terrance is on to something with the architecture. While there is a precedent for architecture being connected to the supernatural in TMA I have to wonder if Terrance is simply mistaken about the source because they don’t have the full picture. I mean Terrance wouldn’t know that the TMA universe exists and that’s where the Entities might come from. Even the average person in TMA wouldn’t necessarily correctly identify the architecture as having any sort of impact on the supernatural. The whole thing with the tower could be a manifestation tied specifically to Terrance’s perception or specific encounter. But there is always the chance Terrance is on to something, and there is a precedent for some of what they say. It could be that the tower’s architecture might have something to do with what’s happening (even if it’s not in the way Terrance thinks). However, Entities do manifest as places people walk into all the time even without specific architecture coaxing them, so it’s hard for me to say.

We cut to the CCTV in the breakroom and see Gwen and Alice interacting. Gwen expresses annoyance that Alice didn’t refill the kettle but Alice claims that there’s still a bit of water in the kettle even though Gwen says “There’s not even a third of a cup in there!” However, Gwen makes an extremely interesting comment here when she says “It’s bad enough that you deliberately try to find talkers and leave them running just to mess with me-” I don’t think Alice is evil, annoying, or as mean as some fans think she is but this would paint Gwen and Alice’s relationship as even more antagonistic. It’s also interesting that Alice is constantly telling Sam to ignore the statements (presumably because of the mental toll they can have on people) and then proceeds to leave them running for Gwen. It could be that Alice expects Gwen to ignore them but I wonder if the statements are actually getting to her. In MAG 102 (Nesting Instinct) Jon seems concerned when Martin mentions that he’s been reading multiple statements. When Jon asks him about it Martin says “B-B… Yeah. I mean, i-it wasn’t fun, but… I mean, if it, if it helps then I –” so there is a precedent for statements similar to the ones in the OIAR having a negative psychological effect on various people.

Also, something that I continue to rant about is how The Eye isn’t just the fear of being watched but also of watching. Of seeing too much. The Eye is noted in MAG 200 to have been born from the fear of one’s eyes “showing them too much” and we see other allusions to this like Jonah’s ability to shove information into the heads of other people like Melanie and Martin (forcing them to know things they don’t want to). I’m not saying Alice is a secret Eye Avatar just because this idea happens to parallel someone hearing something they don’t want to but rather that Alice might have a personality The Eye might like more than one would think at first blush. Also, the OIAR or the computers could be tied to The Eye but I’m not sure if it would mean the workers are in the same way that the Archivist and the assistants in the Archives in The Magnus Institute were tied to The Beholding. Teddy was seemingly able to leave this job while Jon, Tim, etc. couldn’t just leave theirs without a heavy price. There is no mention of Tim going blind or losing a finger or anything either.

So at the moment it does sort of seem like anyone can just leave the OIAR if they want to but maybe there’s a cost or condition we are not aware of. It might also depend on your status in the organization. Lower ranked people might be able to leave freely but people like Lena may be unable to. In TMA we know only the people working in the Archives were bound by the contract and presumably everyone working in all the other parts of the Institute could leave or quite whenever they wanted to (causing others to often see the Archives as weird).

Gwen and Alice also have a brief discussion about Gwen’s new position.

GWEN

“External Liaison”.

ALICE

“And of course, we both know what that means. Right? “

GWEN

“I assume I’m going to be managing a bunch of contractors.”

ALICE

“(Interested despite herself) Contractors for what?”

GWEN

“I’ll be receiving a more comprehensive overview “shortly”.”

It is interesting that the transcripts clarify Alice is “Interested despite herself” which might point to her being more curious or nosy about certain things than she lets on. The mention of contractors is interesting. I wonder if potentially certain groups aligned with various Entities have some sort of deal with the government. That still doesn’t narrow it down that much since it wouldn’t automatically explain why the government would be involved. Maybe they view certain monsters and Avatars as being like weapons in their back pocket or maybe they are just trying to appease them to curb the number of victims / collateral damage? The police force in TMA did make use of Hunters so maybe something similar could be going on with other Entities in this universe. I could totally see a shady government official attempting to use the power of The Eye to set up a spy network or something. However, the Entities still don’t seem like common knowledge in this universe, so even if that was true I doubt the government is just sending entire armies of Slaughter enhanced soldiers running around or something. These are still spitballs though and I’m not completely sold on the government trying to use the Fears as some sort of weapon or resource. I just think that somehow parts of the government are involved.

We get news from Alice that Colin has been put on mental health leave (probably due to the fight between him and Sam over Sam’s phone, which led to the phone’s untimely destruction). When told this news Gwen says “always said he was unbalanced.” but Alice is more suspicious of this news and says “You say a lot of things, mostly crap. I dunno... Feels like something’s going on here” (which isn’t completely unfounded since we know Alice has had this job for a while now). Alice says Sam and Celia went out together and makes a sex joke that Gwen seems disgusted by.

We cut to Sam’s phone and bare witness to Sam and Celia interacting with Gerry (Gerard) and Gertrude. These aren’t THE Gerard and Gertrude from TMA (they are both dead anyway) but instead parallel versions. So this is a coffee shop AU (not literally a coffee shop since they mention being in an apartment) of Gerard and Gertrude (good for them). They seem more well adjusted and happier and Gerry still paints in this universe. Although, it seems he has a lot more paintings. It could be that he just didn’t have as much time to paint in TMA or we just never saw the rest of the paintings TMA Gerard made. Gerry gives Sam and Celia a painting called “Camden Epiphany” as a gift. An epiphany can refer to a moment of sudden revelation or insight but it can also mean “a manifestation of a divine or supernatural being.” So I wonder if the painting foreshadows something. In MAG 4 (Page Turner) one of TMA Gerard’s paintings are described as “an eye. Very detailed, and at first I almost would have said almost photorealistic, but the more I looked at it, the more I saw the patterns and symmetries that formed into a single image, until I was so focused on them that I started to have difficulty seeing the eye itself. Written below it were three lines, in fine green calligraphy: “Grant us the sight that we may not know. Grant us the scent that we may not catch. Grant us the sound that we may not call.”” Something that seems to relate to The Eye. Gerry later mentions he was a part of the Institute’s “gifted kids programs” at some point and I wonder if this is because the kids in question were really smart or had other traits the Institute was interested in. It’s also possible that the answer is as simple as “all the kids had encounters with the supernatural previously.”

Gertrude seems as suspicious as ever and acts as Gerry’s grandma. I don’t know if she is his adopted grandma or biological one. If she’s his biological grandma this could recontextualize the relationship between their TMA counterparts depending on how 1-to-1 you think some of these relationships are (but I’m not sure I buy that she’s biologically related in this way to Gerard in TMA since that would mean either Mary or Eric are her secret child or something). Gertrude being an adoptive grandma or something is still possible since there’s no guarantee that Mary Keay was any nicer of a person in this universe (whether or not she was obsessed with the Entities). It could also be that Mary and Eric just died in some other manner due to some divergence in the timeline when compared to TMA.

The fact that Gertude is here also vastly decreases the chances that Gertrude is not the one who burned down the Institute in this universe. Whether she did or didn’t, a lot of things went differently otherwise she would probably be blind from breaking out of the Institute’s contract (and I feel like someone would have noted if she was blind). Not to mention all the timeline stuff going on right now, since the Institute burned down way earlier in this universe. Sam asks Gerry about the Magnus Institute and it seems to immediately change the atmosphere in the room.

SAM

“(cont.) I was on one of their gifted kids programs and -um- I got hold of a list of a few of the other kids and thought it might be nice if we could get in contact, swap stories and that.”

GERRY

“Yeah I barely remember any of it.”

Beat. GERTRUDE disapproves.

SAM

“Oh, so you were a candidate?”

GERRY

“Oh yeah but I was pretty young. I remember filling in a bunch of forms and questionnaires then some old men asking me questions about what books I liked to read, who did I look up to, that kind of thing. Then I left.”

SAM

“(Disappointed) That’s all?”

GERRY

“Yea, afraid so. Other than just sitting around with a bunch of other kids in a room that smelled like old books.”

There’s not much to go on here but it does vaguely point to why Sam might be trying to look into the Institute. He may have had some sort of supernatural encounter at this “gifted kids programs.” All the stuff about forms, questions, and old books could point to The Eye and prodding questions as well as information or even leitners but there isn’t a whole lot to go off of.

I admit, it is a bit funny seeing Gerry so much less depressed but Gertrude is as suspicious and snarky as ever. Sam thanks Celia for coming with him even though they’ve only known each other for a few weeks which makes me wonder if Celia has any ulterior motives Especially, if she recognized Jon’s voice from last episode, she might somehow be familiar with Gerard and Gertrude but that still doesn’t make a lot of sense to me at the moment. It could also just be that she tagged along because she’s also interested in The Magnus Institute.

Celia then asks for a sort of favor- “I’m trying to look into… Weird physics stuff: time travel, other dimensions, teleportation, all that good stuff. Freddy doesn’t really do searches, so could you keep an eye out and let me know if any come up in your cases?” If you read my last Quick Thoughts or even just listened to the last TMP episode you may have noticed that there’s actually a lot that could point to Celia having traveled from TMA using the gap in reality. If you want to hear more thoughts on that you can read the first part of the previous Quick Thoughts.

Celia mentions she is doing a favor for Georgie and her podcast. In TMA Georgie Barker ran a podcast called “What The Ghost?” Sam says he did some research on Celia which would imply that this favor is for this universe’s Georgie but I wonder if Celia is somehow trying to maintain contact with or travel back to the TMA universe. I also wonder if someone like Georgie even tried to send her after the Entities. In MAG 200 we get-

BASIRA

"Yeah okay, you’ve made your point. [sigh] Would just be nice to know for sure."

GEORGIE

"All we can do is hope."

Which could point to an interest in where the Entities have gone. Last article I mentioned that Celia could potentially be worshiping the Entities now, but I failed to consider that maybe she does still worship or look up to Georgie and / or Melanie and was either tasked with some mission or took it upon herself. This could also explain why she knows so much since someone like Georgie, Melanie or Basira could’ve just filled her in at some point after TMA or maybe someone tried to explain to Celia what was happening in the tunnels. This also could’ve been a mere accident or something else entirely. Maybe something even weirder is happening, like the Entities have jumped from more than one universe since we saw them in TMA so this Celia isn’t from the TMA universe (but that’s potentially a stretch with no information to go one).

Although, Celia’s comment about “Weird physics stuff: time travel, other dimensions, teleportation...” does potentially point to some of my original assertions that the Entities may not have immediately appeared in this universe within the same year / date they left the TMA universe because time can get a bit wibbly wobbly with interdimensional travel in the TMA multiverse. Not to mention that The Change also fucked with time, which could’ve thrown things off even more. Of course Sam saying “Uh, sounds a bit sci-fi compared to our usuals. What’s this for? You’re not doing research for that podcast you were on, are you?” seems like a jab at TMA and how the multiverse exists in relation to supernatural horrors of the podcast itself.

Conclusion

Overall, this episode is very weird. Even weirder than I remember when you start trying to sift for details and clues. The statement is weird and Celia is weird but I’m curious to see what happens next. What / who caused the Institute to burn down if not Gertrude and what does that mean for this universe? Also, what is the OIAR actually supposed to do? Are they merely reviewing supernatural encounters similar to the Institute or are they supposed to take a more active role?

#tmp #the magnus protocol #tma #the magnus archives #theory

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xxwithlovefromfaexx · 2 years

Text

@stnaf-vn this is part one of my submission for the STNAF: Fanfic contest! I haven’t been writing as regularly as I’d like, so it’s been nice to get into some writing.

Warnings: dead dove, DO NOT EAT, touch starved/touch averse reader, unwanted filming swearing, stalking (cameras), voyeurism is hinted, just Friend ruining a good night by being creepy as hell jaskdbkfb

Notes: I do have a nsfw addition to this, which was what I was originally going to post. But since I’m uncomfortable posting it on tumblr, if you want to read the prt. 2 please message me first! That way I can check your bio before sending the google docs file :)

It had been a while since you indulged yourself in someone else's touch. Not even in a sexual light.

To say you were touch averse, it sounded like the right term. So long without brushing your hand against another's, the days of hugging Friend at the playground were long gone. Perhaps, after your last relationship, you had sealed the deal for yourself.

Reaching out for touch became too awkward, too uncomfortable. The very hairs on the back of your head stood up and trickled an anxious dread down your spine as someone pulled you in for a hug. Even accidental brushes piqued your heartbeat as you apologized profusely, eyes darting for an exit.

And yet, you could feel yourself becoming more and more desperate for it. Ironic, how the one thing you craved more than anything was also the one thing you couldn't stand to bare. You'd cling to your only pillow at night, because it was really the only thing left that kept the pangs of emptiness away. How sad, that you had resorted to living quite like this. If Friend saw you like this...Would he?

No, no...you couldn't put any more of your burdens on Friend. He already does so much for you. It was almost uncomfortable, the lengths he'd go to just to make sure you were happy. If you asked him to hug, to cuddle you...he wouldn't say no, would he? But...you weren't sure you were quite ready for it just yet.

That's why you were here today, with Friend, in the plushie aisle. He seemed upset that you'd buy a plushie rather than let him make one for you, but...walking into a store and buying a life-sized pillow is making your cheeks flush and your head hurt enough. He just had to insist on coming today, the day you'd been working up to, didn't he?

A mall trip. Just like you used to do, with you dragging a belligerent Friend with you as you watched movies and window shopped until your feet hurt.

“You know, I could make you one of these for free right?” You turned to Friend with a frown.

“I know, but...you already do so much for me. Hell, I have a tone of your plushies all stacked up in my room as is,” not to mention the way they all stared at you...it was kinda creepy, staring into their dark, looming eyes. Like looking into the other side of a camera. You wanted a normal, regular pillow. One that didn't feel like it was eating you with its eyes.

“They aren't even made of good quality material. And for this price? I can make a life sized you for cheaper,” He tutted, gently brushing your hand away from the price tag that you were eyeing up skeptically. You jumped at the contact, retracting your hand quickly as your eyes darted to his in shock before looking away quickly. He pulled his hand back sheepishly, but you couldn't help but notice the hurt that flashed in his eyes.

“Sorry, Friend,” you apologised quickly, looking away. That was uncalled for. And to Friend, of all people! You couldn't help but feel ashamed of just how disgusted you'd become-it was really only an innocent, accidental touch after all. This stuff should be the things that have you blushing over contact, not running for the hills! If you could just...feel okay about it, maybe the contact you so desperately craved wouldn't be so hard to obtain.

Of course, Friend wasn't hearing it.

“Hey, how many times have I told you, don't apologize like that. It was an accident, right? I'll try to be more careful next time,” He gave you a reassuring smile, yet...you couldn't help but remember the hurt in his eyes. Urghhh...maybe you were being stupid, trying to save him the trouble and buying it yourself. You knew you couldn't really afford it; the money you'd been saving up for this could easily be used on more food for the week, or your utilities bill...

“It's fine, Friend. I'm just, not used to that kind of stuff,” It was your turn to be sheepish. He just stood, with his hands crossed. He obviously wasn't budging on this one. Changing the subject before he could pressure you for answers, you tilted your head and rested your index finger on your chin.

“So, say you really wanted to make up for it...you said you could make one life sized plushie for your bestest friend in the whole world, right?” From your peripheral, you could see his steely resolve crack just a little, raising his eyebrow slightly.

“Yeah...?” You turned your gaze to him and gave him a sweet little smile.

“And you know I'll be forever grateful to my bestest friend in the whole wide world if you made it for me, right?” You couldn't contain your grin as the cracks went deeper, and he seemed to think it over for a while.

“Hmmm...forever grateful you say?” He pondered it. His face was sporting a joking grin for you, but his eyes, they held a red glint to them you'd barely seen before, in all the time you've known Friend. You couldn't help but feel unsettled; though you’re sure the most he's capable of is teasing you to absolute abandon at your statement and dragging you to get some of that “death by chocolate” drink he loved so much.

God, what had you gotten yourself into? You just smiled back at him, putting the groan you had on hold. Those drinks gave you a serious stomachache. But even as you are when buying coffee together, you weren't going to let him see you back down. No matter the fate you've just damned yourself to.

“Forever and always, love,” He always throws those sweet nicknames at you. Why not send them back?

That worked. A little too well, judging by the blush he was now sporting. Were those...heart eyes?

“Well, how can a guy like me deny that? I'll make sure to cash in on that gratitude, don't you worry,” You broke your facade to deadpan at the way he so merrily sing-songed that last part of his concession.

“Don't make me think I've made a mistake here, Friend” he just smiled at you and gestured to the stores exit, and you followed him out.

“Don't you worry. I'll be sure to make it something we both enjoy,” He replied with a chuckle to himself. You raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything. Your eyes had met something you couldn't tear yourself away from, no matter how hard you tried.

“Oh, I know exactly where we're going next,” He turned to look at where you were glancing and groaned.

“A haunted house, really? How great can it be if its shoved into the mall complex here?” You rolled your eyes at Friend's unimpressed stare.

“Come onn, you used to love this stuff! First one to yelp has to buy the other lunch?” He sighed but turned to the haunted house.

“Alright, alright...weren't you the one screaming for me over some stupid actor in a ghoul costume last time?” You glared at him, hurrying to catch up to his strides.

“Hey, no fair! That was genuinely scary!”

---------

When Friend came and dropped off your newest addition to the collection, you couldn't help but jump straight onto the couch, hugging it close. He said he was busy with some orders, so he could only really stay for dinner and then he'd have to go. You couldn't help it; your heart ached at the thought of him leaving so soon.

But you had fun, at least. It was nice to spend time with him, even if it was just to veg out on the couch and eat takeout pizza while you watched your favourite show. You just wish time could go a little slower. If only you could muster up the courage to ask Friend for a cuddle, or at least to feign sleepiness and doze off on his shoulder.

Alas, it was time for Friend to go. You waved him goodbye with a wry smile.

“Don't be a stranger,” You bid him. He raised an eyebrow at your comment, and you could see a cheeky grin forming at your words.

“When am I ever? You wound me,” You deadpan at him as he clutches his heart dramatically.

“Serves you right for holding my remote-control hostage,” You huffed, and he smirked.

“It's not my fault you have terrible taste in TV shows, sweetheart,” You groaned. God, how you regret ever feeling soft for this smug idiot.

“Hey, it's a good show!” He nods his head slowly.

“Uh-huh, yep. What was it called again?” Oh, that's it.

“Good night!” You slammed the door in his face. Heh. That'll show him.

You walked back to the living room, packing away the empty pizza boxes and turning the TV off. You didn't feel like watching anymore Unsettled Mysteries. As soon as you came back into the living room, it left as it something was missing.

You were alone, again.

You wish you could've told Friend to stay, if even for just a little longer. But you didn't want to bother him anymore than you already had. You looked over to the plushie, that sat in the middle of the couch. He'd been slaving over that thing for the past few days. You wondered how he even managed to get any sleep in, carefully sewing and stuffing it together in all that time. Geez, he really was a good friend.

And you'd just slammed your door straight into his face. Shit.

Sighing dramatically, you plopped down and pulled the oversized plushie into your lap. Seriously, this thing was huge. How the hell did he make it so perfect, and fluffy, and big? You pulled out your phone.

Hey, thanks for tonight. And the plushie. It's exactly what I wanted.

You sent the text, hesitantly hovering over your next words.

I hope we can hang out again soon.

No, that just sounded desperate. You only just hung out. And you've been hanging out constantly, to the point that Friend is missing his order deadlines.

Hope the customers aren't too mad with the order delays. godspeed, Friend.

You sent a cute little sticker and threw your phone to the other side of the couch, groaning as you pushed your head into the plushie. After smooshing your face into the plushie and wrapping yourself around the huge thing, you figured it'd be more comfortable in your bed. At least then you could sleep away all your problems with your newest addition to the collection.

Grabbing your phone, you walked into the bedroom and balanced the plushie and your phone in one hand to turn on the light with the other. Your phone buzzed as a message from Friend popped up. Walking to the bed, you sat down and hugged the plushie tight, opening the message.

You sound so formal, I'm not your mum lol.

That asshole-! Another message popped up, before you could take your words back.

No need to thank me, really.

You rolled your eyes. Now who's the one being formal?

You know I'll be there whenever you need me.

You dwelled over that last text, staring at the phone. Maybe you could just ask him to be on call with you while you cuddled your plushie, right? It wouldn't be that bad, and he could still get his orders done...he didn't need to know you'd be in your head, imagining him in your arms instead of another one of his cuddly creations.

The vibration of your phone jumped you out of your thoughts.

Sweet dreams, sweetheart <3

How did he know...? Ugh, never mind. You sent him a heart back, that's all he gets for such a cheesy exit line. Dropping your phone by the other side of the bed, you rolled over to your side. Your newest plushie, Friend 2.0 (you'd decided), squished even closer to your side.

You found yourself staring deep into those doll eyes. You could never tell Friend, but it had always unsettled you, the eery stare his plushies gave you as you went about your day, It felt like, like they were...watching you. It sounded stupid. So, so stupid. But the more you gazed into its eyes, the harder you looked...

The eyes were dark, black, just like any other teddy bear eyes. Only, the pupils on this one looked strikingly familiar, right in the middle. Maybe that was a trademark of Friend's creations? You'd always been too creeped out to look closely at the plushies. No, these ones looked a little different. They were reflecting you. And if you peered closely, you could see through the dark iris and in the middle, there, right where the pupil should be there was a...lens?

Was that really a lens?

No, no, it couldn't be.

You reached for your phone, frantically flipping it over to inspect the camera lens of your phone.

Then you looked to the plushies eyes, staring right back at you.

Then back to the phone.

They were almost...identical.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck, no, no, no.

Your stomach fell to your feet. You felt like puking.

Or maybe, you felt like running out of the bedroom and out of your apartment and out of your town.

Maybe it was Friend's supplier? Maybe Friend simply didn't know?

But Friend made these, just for you. He'd sewn each of these eyes in with loving care. He did with all of the plushies he gave you, just like he’d remind you.

Sewing each, and every hidden camera into the plushies, your plushies, each with loving care.

#STNAF #OOOH this one took me on a ride #I looovee writing yanderes but ooh it takes a hot minute #I'm really happy with how this turned out though!#This old blog of mine was hitting the dust #literally #I haven't used it since I was like 15 yeesh #STNAF Friend #friend stnaf #stnafgame #I feel like this is kinda ooc for Friend #his cameras are fbi level hidden #only the best for his sweetheart <3 #STNAF fanfic contest

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seblaineworld · 7 months

Text

Hey, Seblainers! Hellooooo, everyone else!

10 Days Of Seblaine 2023

One week to go, so without further ado, here's what you need to know.

The Rules

When?

The event runs from Monday, 6th November until 23:59 (of your own timezone) on Wednesday, 15th November 2023.

Who can take part?

Anyone and everyone who shares our love of Seblaine!

What can we submit?

Anything, as long as it is Seblaine-related! Fics, Graphics, Gifs, Gifsets, Videos, Manips, Playlists, Lyrics - anything you like as long as it fits the themes! I'm looking forward to seeing what everyone comes up with.

Please remember to use #seblaineworld and #10daysofseblaine2023 within the first five tags, and also put @seblaineworld somewhere in your posts, since we all know just how flaky Tumblr can be about tags!

Be sensible and considerate. We're all very well aware that not everyone shares our love of Seblaine, and even within our own tiny (but always fierce!) Seblainer Fandom, there are those who don't enjoy mature content, so please ensure you tag everything you submit, appropriately.

Can I cross-post/combine themes?

Yes! You can combine any of the themes that you want. And if your contribution does combine multiple themes, you can post on whichever day you prefer. Just remember, if your contribution covers one or more themes, then properly tag all days, regardless of which day you actually post on.

Do I need to submit something for every day?

Absolutely not. If you want to contribute something for every day, then of course you can, but it's not a requirement at all. We know everyone has busy lives, so just do what you can when you can.

Can I post a WIP or work if it fits the themes, even if I started it weeks/months/years before the 10 Days Of Seblaine 2023 announcement?

Absolutely! Your Admin has done this before and feels it's a great way to refresh creativity and blow the cobwebs off that piece you just KNOW you'll finish one day, but never quite seem to have the time. So feel free to post anything you've already started - providing it fits one of the themes!

On that note, do remember that the free day is exactly that. A day on which you can write about/create for, any theme you like! Did your favourite theme just narrowly miss out on being in the top 10? If so, here's your chance to do something about it and make a submission using that theme!

When do we start posting?

As soon as it becomes Monday 6th November in your own timezone, post your work to your Tumblr blog, and as mentioned above, please tag it #seblaineworld and #10daysofseblaine2023 then make sure those two are in your first five tags. Please also put @seblaineworld somewhere in your post.

If you're going to be posting your work to another site like AO3 or ff.net, post a properly tagged link on your Tumblr.

A 10 Days Of Seblaine collection will be added to AO3.

Can I post early?

Sorry, no. 🙃 Tumblr, however, does let you schedule posts so you can schedule the post for the right day, even if you're not going to be around that day. Of course this gets a little harder to navigate if you’re also posting to another site like AO3/ff.net, so if this is going to be a problem, let me know and I'll figure it out.

Can I post late?

Now for the good news - yes! I know how time can occasionally run away from us all, so as long as everything is tagged properly you can post (for example) your day 3 piece on day 7 and that won't be a problem. Everything posted will be reblogged until Friday, November 24th.

You haven't reblogged my work yet!

No problem! Again, because Tumblr can be (very!) erratic, just send me an Ask or message if I haven't reblogged your work within 24 hours of you posting it, and I will get onto it right away.

So, that's it for now! I'm excited to see all your work, and hope you'll join me for this bumper celebration of Seblaine on Monday 6th November. Just drop me an Ask or message if you have a question that's not been addressed here, and I'll see you all a week today!

Ail 💜

#seblaine #sebastian smythe #blaine anderson #seblainer events #10daysofseblaine2023 #signal boost #please share and reblog #seblaineworld

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ponett · 2 years

Note

I've only been on newgrounds recently but it seems ok and I haven't seen people say anything bad about it, what's rancid there that I haven't seen yet? Also what is this new cohost site everyone is talking about? I can't tell if it's more like twitter or tumblr, or if it's gonna be like pillowfort where everyone forgets about it eventually

i am 28 years old and used to go on newgrounds every day in middle and high school and i have no desire to do so anymore. you're allowed to use it. many people do. i know the type of Big Name Internet Personality that comes from newgrounds, the kind of people who never quite outgrew their south park phase, and that's not the crowd i like to hang around. i also think that so many nsfw artists moving there after the tumblr porn ban is foolish when everyone knows the userbase of newgrounds is mostly teenage boys. and frankly, as an artist, i hate that it still runs on having people write 1- to 5-star reviews on your submissions. i do not need to see that one drawing of mine got 4.55 stars while another got 4.6. that is meaningless to me

cohost is being pitched as a place for twitter refugees to go right now because of the musk buyout and because most users heard about it via leftist twitter, but it isn't really designed to be a replacement for twitter. it was designed to be a "fourth website" - a low-pressure, slower-paced, more chill site with no algorithm and no ads that you can check from time to time on top of the sites you already use, with a layout inspired mainly by tumblr. it reinforces this vibe by hiding most stats from view. follower counts are hidden like on here, but so are note counts, with the only visible stat being the number of comments on a post so that you can tell if someone added a new one. you aren't encouraged to constantly refresh to watch the numbers go up, there are no trending topics, there's no endless scrolling, you can just post and share what you want to and check up on it at a couple times every day

the staff also understands how people actually use these sites in practice and how certain features shape user behavior, so it cuts down on features that end up being tools for harassment. there are no quote tweets, just tumblr-style reblog comments and replies. people can't @ you randomly to put unhinged shit in your notifications. people can't dig through your likes for dirt. the search feature only lets you search tags, not post body content, so there are no term searchers. there's currently no ask box or DMs. (i enjoy answering tumblr asks, but it'd be insane to deny how much they've been used for harassment throughout the history of this site)

i'm not the most active on there currently, but it's refreshing imo. it's small scale, but that's the point, and it's already developing a culture of its own. for example, they let you put custom css and scripting in your posts (within reason), so people do wacky stuff like making the text go diagonal or putting a playable game of minesweeper in the post. this has been described as a "cambrian explosion of posting" that imo helps elevate it beyond the many attempts at Tumblr 2.0

#anon #ask

138 notes · View notes

mandalhoerian · 2 years

Text

Death Before Dishonor | 1

Pairing: darth vader x reader, anakin skywalker x reader

Notes: fem!reader, mandalorian!reader, inquisitor!reader

Summary: You have become the young war hero Anakin Skywalker's right hand in his pursuit to reunite the galaxy in Emperor Palpatine's reign. It's the rumored aftermath of the war between dark and light, but you are a Mandalorian, Jedi and Sith don't mean anything to you, in fact, they are the same existence that led to the destruction of your planet a millennia ago. Their war is something you don't care to know about, you're aware you won't understand anyway, there is a lot you're told to keep your nose out of as just a soldier to obey commands.

One of those things is the distinction between Darth Vader and Anakin Skywalker; you weren't told why they must be addressed as two separate beings. Who he is really and who he appears as to the HoloNet confuse you endlessly when they are the same in your mind: both look at you in secret mourning.

You can't afford to find out why.

Warning(s): the reader is fucking UNHINGED, like there's barely any fluff and plenty of dark stuff in there. mentions of death, violence, allusions to smut/sexual relationship. it's a vader/reader story and both of them are twisted. the bond between them is not funny haha its funny weird. ur kinda (!!!) emo yikes sorry abt that lmao but hey at least you have gaslight gatekeep girlbossed your way into inquisitorship, you also respect vader the same way markiplier respects lady dimitrescu, aka "its not a sexual thing its about power" . i love this dynamic hhh

Author's Note: this is like my first story/post on tumblr and the prologue got 60 notes, I'm so happy, thank you to all those who showed their support, honestly I did NOT expect it!

Please don't hesitate to send me any asks/submissions if you'd like to talk more, I would love to hear feedback and your thoughts! I hear there's something called "tag list" and everything, so if you'd like to be notified when dbd updates, please contact me! Happy reading!

Word Count: Over 10K im so fucking sorry

prologue | 1

You had fought by Lord Vader's side for as long as you can remember. It was the clearest memory you have in your life. Only through experience would someone come to know purpose is something this addicting, it really left nothing in a person unrelated to anything other than what it desired. And right now it desired to serve Vader until your last breath.

You didn't lurk in his shadow like a hidden tool to be used, no, but went out of your way to bare your teeth at any kind of threat he pointed his sizzling lightsaber at.

You slashed your way across the stars, blinded by the red bloody victories vibrating the ever-treacherous life in your veins, only to be satisfied with them in a span short as the blinding explosion of a supernova. Yet they seemed to be more addicting in the aftermath of a star storm, leaving an emptiness ravenous for more━━always hungry for more.

Even though being a prisoner of war has elevated you to stand with a strong warrior like no other as him, you believe it is an honor to be allowed not just a few steps behind him, but standing right by his side. Not everybody is strong enough to desire that position. Only the ones who don't owe anything to death itself would do what you do, and oh what an old friend of yours death is.

After Galactic Empire's foundation, the darksaber, the sign of the Manda'lor, has been cemented on your hand as the greatest mockery to your planet, crowning you as the one representing Manda'yaim, and keeping you as a hostage to ensure their loyalty. The Mandalorians may have been engaged in a never-ending civil war to bring the other party down for years, but they didn't take kindly to outsiders trying to bend the knee of another Mandalorian, even when it was their enemy.

However, the outsider they sent to do the job was different.

You remember Vader descending on your planet of desolation, to crush their necks into submission like a blackened god of war carved from soot-black diamond dissatisfied with his subjects; ardent, burning breaths branding the fear of oblivion on all of the clans. He was a mighty, volatile dragon.

You remembers the awe, the catharsis striking your heart like a bolt of thunder, that this creature of pure force and vigor is the true warrior you had been looking to fight for all your life. Most importantly, the honor.

You, despite your identity of a true Mandalorian, once upon a time might have been betraying that heart by keeping a dream of spring instead of wild flames of rebellion; you might have been having visions of a peaceful family tinkering in joy with laughter, with light━━however, those mirages were soon shattered by the ruthless claw of that black dragon the moment he set his eyes on you. The same dragon that clenched your respect and loyalty and in an iron grip, gave you the pain of having ambition and woke you up to the unnamed potential lying deep within you. The shapeless darkness swirling inside your guts like newborn worms turned into snakes, turned into basilisks, and snuffed out even the tiniest specks of hope and light you had for your clan. They didn't deserve your loyalty, they were nothing compared to the almighty strength he radiated like a whole galaxy burning away just like that.

And you happily knelt, instead of cowering in fear, you embraced the slithering, domineering dragon as the one who you wanted to serve, wore his mask as his Inquisitor and in the competition of being the best, stroke down every single Jetii he showed as a target. Your Mando'ade heritage gave you the best advantage of them all, and you fought not because you were told to serve the empire, but because you wanted to wage war under Vader's glory and honor your roots in your own way.

Now they sneered at your name, whispered traitor behind your back, yelled dar'manda at your face as they challenge you to duel after duel to take the darksaber back. They had turned their backs on you right after you were taken to Coruscant, and yet they saw the righteousness in themselves to smear your name in the dirt?

Wear your anger as you gird on your armor, says Vader, and you do, you never forgive them, give them the fury of a thousand dying, screaming stars and continues to maul the galaxy for fugitive Jedi. Every time you succeed, you can feel Vader's respect growing ever so slowly, and that feels like a rare treasure every bounty hunter, pirate and scoundrel is after in the galaxy.

You may have been just a failure as a Mandalorian in the eyes of your clan leader Pre Vizsla, but you will bring no dishonor to Darth Vader.

Inquisitorius was silently protesting you.

What a shocker.

The hidden part of you seeking for acceptance wanted so badly to get to the root of the problem and discard it entirely upon solving it; however, the current you who had bathed in the flames of your master's enlightenment desired to crush those who even dared to attempt disrespecting you —— and that dominant part was feeding off of the shadowy, putrid abomination of a thousand years old primeval suffering of the former, mutating the weakness into something monstrous.

Even though you had shed your skin like a snake and had become a completely different kind of reptile, it still hadn't changed what remained inside and it would never change the attitudes people were going to have towards whatever you liquified yourself to take the shape of. What more did they want from you?

It felt degrading to admit that you would be forever hurt over never being acknowledged, all you ever knew was shame over rejection and homesickness for something more after all. Having bled into your shadow, it was still haunting you to this day like an archaic curse.

Nobody would listen to your voice back at Concordia, you always felt like weak embers of a trampled campfire, barely able to lit yourself back on again with the help of an occasional gust of wind. The loneliness of an entire galaxy —— the empty blackness that laid between stars and planets would fall upon your shoulders, and you would feel as tongueless as The Force, ever-existent but never able to directly make yourself be heard.

Being entirely powerless against a society you were secretly a nonconformist in crumpled your already defeated heart, it was always hell under the sky for you on that Force-forsaken moon. Not only were you a muted oracle, but you had to witness your people perish at the hands of what you had constantly warned them about as well —— had to see your closest family's head roll off his shoulders with what he stubbornly refused to let go of.

Now seeing you were stuck in a cycle just frustrated you. The reality that you still got the same treatment like it was out of some dumb history repeating itself cliché from a holodrama stung you unexpectedly when you had first noticed it, but all it did at the moment was to pour hot oil on your anger. Especially when you finally had someone who accepted you for who you were and more, a person who you harbored unbreakable respect for and would follow to the ends of the galaxy with inexhaustible loyalty.

And some silly childish boycotting by power-hungry ex-Jedi was enough to tip the glass of your sanity and make you plan an entire massacre, just because they were a possible threat to you bringing honor to this man.

Vader looked like an obsidian statue with his unmoving black-cloaked figure standing right in front of the entire window wall, facing the black vastness outside, gazing at the planet engirdled by his hive-like fleet. The Emperor had ordered a siege, and as much as you majorly operated as an Inquisitor, you were also Vader's right hand, meaning your aid was consistently needed aside from Jedi hunting conquests. However, you couldn't even solve one single problem to give your full attention to the current case on your hand.

Your helmet under one arm, contempt-flushed girl that you were tried your darnedest to stop your teeth from loudly gritting as you voiced the unnecessary question as an affirmation of his already established rules. "We are still working on dealing with the holo-faker, my lord."

A couple of heartbeats long of time filled the silence in Vader's headquarters in the spaceship before he slightly turned his head around as if he wasn't sure he heard you correctly. "The holo-faker? He is supposed to be six feet under at this very moment. My orders were crystal clear. What is the meaning of this?"

You wanted to bury yourself in a hole at how his eyes narrowed at the irrelevancy - because he was right. Former golden politician of the previous Galactic Republic, the marvel woman of Naboo, Padmé Amidala, had kicked off the decision to close all the military bases the empire had on capital grounds, thereby triggering the emperor's impatience over silly power games. They were to stand their ground until further orders came from the imperial senate and block all trade and travel routes.

And you were talking to Vader about the holo-faker they were already done working with.

You weren't fretting over having had not obeyed him, but because of not having control over the other inquisitors even about getting the smallest job done —— it affected and delayed everything.

If you were hiding under the cooling steel of your mask, it would be easier to hide the exasperation you were trying to suppress in front of Vader —— even though he always seemed to be aware of what even you yourself didn't know were feeling, as if they were color-coded and were displayed with labels right in front of him waiting to be read aloud. Yet, you still tried to hide away the displeasing details you found would be gum under his heavy metallic boots, so that you could deal with them on your own and your lord wouldn't bother himself with them at all.

He was meant for the glory of the battlefield, the ashen scented blood-red victories waiting for him across the galaxy, Vader was made out of the infrangible amalgamation of sun-soaked gold and black Mandalorian iron —— he certainly was above the clownery happening in his ranks.

He turned to you suddenly. The little hairs on your neck stood on their end with a sudden, blinding flash of a spike in the Force, right after the realization dawned on him, he didn't need to hear from you what went down. Though an endless ocean of stars illuminated him from behind and reduced his form into a shadowy blur, you could easily tell his burning yellow eyes apart.

Shame cascaded down and you had to anchor your gaze down at your feet to remain stabilized. "My apologies, I shouldn't have dared to busy you with trivial matters such as this. I——"

You heard his loud footsteps slowly approaching, each sounding like pillars of concentrated iron thundering down on the ground belonging to a titan.

You didn't fear what his reaction to was going to be to your failure, an army of furies were batting their wings violently in your stomach at the very notion of disappointing him. "Forgive me for my ineptness, I should have done better."

His warning as he reached you felt too feathery for something meant to be alarming. "There is nothing to forgive. Raise your head."

Golden mist clouded your brain upon the close proximity, chilly air of the spaceship turning lukewarm on your skin like you had been resting in a sunbathed arbor for a while.

It was foolish to think this way about a man as lethal as him; bravery and fearlessness were two different things and you were sure you were neither of them.

Your heart betrayed you by humming sleekly whenever he was close and you sometimes wondered if it was because you had become as terrifying as of an abomination just like Vader —— perhaps both of you were tuned to a beastly kind of menace in your ways, who knew?

When you remained succumbed into silence, Vader put his non-mechanic fingers under your chin and raised your head to look you straight in your eyes. The rush of sparks spreading on the skin there shocked you slightly, flinching at the never-ending coyness that washed over you every single time something like this happened. "Never bow to me like that again. You aren't on the level of those incompetent fools."

Vader was nothing but a vengeful, flame-drowned dragon of darkness, extinguishing novas sprouting in the galaxy with void-dipped fingers tasting of sin —— yet, there was undeniable tenderness blossoming as asters and starflowers in his gaze, affection of a primeval being of colossal chaos trying to be so careful in his way of reaching out to not swallow up the subject of his deepest admirations.

It was directed at you and shook you to your core every single time.

You would drown in that bottomless well, not knowing what to call the waters, for never had anybody ever looked at you that way before, you didn't know anything like it, as if you didn't have red on your armor —— as if you were an entity created to be loved and loved only; a starseed of the universe, darling, beloved, dearest.

Like all things truly evil, born from pure star-white innocence.

"I won't idly stand by when petty attempts of competition are slackening my troops." Vader sighed, anger creeping back on his spine as he pulled his hands away from your skin, eyebrows pulled together in contempt.

His inquisitor found the decision unwise, not wanting him to exert himself with idle subjects, for he was a Lord of the Sith. "Lord Vader, you do not need to waste precious time with getting involved in this, you are above that. Leave this to me."

Something in the sentence ticked him off, and you knew very well that Vader never held back when he found disrespect directed at him, but you didn't understand whatever you could have said that upset him this much.

"Very well, then," he said, turning his body back at the glass wall, and both of them stared in silence at the horrid portrait of Naboo, resembling a dead animal surrounded by hungry wasps.

He didn't dismiss you, and he explained the reason why soon enough. "However, it seems that order needs to be brought to my chain of command. You know what you have to do."

Sometimes you couldn't explain some of your own behavior in a way that made sense. Like while sleeping, you always seemed to curl into yourself like an animal would preserve body heat, always clutching your abdomen to yourself instinctively. Acute longing for something so delicate would seep into the hard ice surface of your stinking rotten soul; sad, sad, endlessly melancholic for an unknown loss.

You mused it was for all the things you never had and what they turned you into; the regret it stank with. But that was not it. Your arms would itch to hold, your heart would expand like you had been a saint all along, but as the dawn brought the deepest darkness along with the cold, you would cast those pitiful vulnerabilities down to the hell of your sins and emerge as the newly appointed Supreme Inquisitor.

A durasteel fist of the Galactic Empire never wept, so you turned to scorching hot anger and let the flames evaporate them, relishing in the burning pain bringing sense into you.

Pain was the most uncomplicated emotion of them all, such primitiveness and simplicity eliminating anything that tried to get close, so you only allowed it to be a part of herself. There was no going back anymore. You had already made your choice and it was to fight for Darth Vader, rejecting your entire Mando identity and embracing being a dar'manda —— a state of not being Mandalorian; not an outsider, but one who had lost your heritage, and so your identity and your soul, regarded with absolute dread by most traditional-minded Mando'ade.

You were a Mando'ad no more. To your people, you had no soul. Perhaps that was true, you had sold your soul to the dark dragon to gain power, yet you were still holding onto the darksaber which belonged to your people to spite them all, trapping the souls unfortunate Jedi and traitors to the empire in the pitch-black blade —— unconsciously trying to fill the void where your soul once shone like a lone star with them, but none of them fit. None of them ever would.

It only ever felt mended when you had him. When he had you.

All locked within those moments of heavy hot air, damp breaths, sparks popping on lips stained with burgundy and sin-heavy with unsheathed words, freezing dew clinging at the back of two intertwined bodies, earthquake tremors running down your limbs as you yearned and ached. Furnace hearts pumped lava into the cracks webbing your skins, purified black eyes with the universe captured in them clashed in the dark with a sky blue like it has never met one before —— like two suns crashing into each other and burning everything, melt any darkness, painting you with molten silver and gold so that in their journey the touch would sing and chime with murmurs of starlight.

It is the only light you know, the only light you have ever felt, all of them coming from a darkling; steely pristine skin that crackles with electricity when you touch, a lion's mane for hair and merciless pools of inflamed despair for eyes surrounded by tired black and purple —— an ugly fireborn dragon wearing a celestial's face.

Endlessly pained for something you can't look directly at.

It taught you that fire does not only burn, but it is also a source of light as well.

However, that last part was only for you, who (foolish, one might think) had never feared the flames and pain, who didn't hesitate to soar in the skies, aiming for the sun itself with wings made of feathers and wax, you persisted. And not even once did you feel anything other than admiration, respect and desire to be close for him.

Your eyes are not their former color anymore anymore, you knew, they are as sulfur as his, as if to reflect him somehow, to reach him —— yes, to catch up to him, you didn't want to lose that feeling of destiny, the immeasurable amount of raw strength pouring into your soul through the unexplainable yet tangible bond connecting you to Vader.

You couldn't name it, maybe it was delusional and drunken of you to feel like you were dipped in a novastorm whenever you fought back to back, ever the addictive sensation, but that thing enveloping you in a blanket of apricity and curiously, home, would make the unshaped words hanging about meaningless in the end.

It didn't need to be said out loud, monsters of the same kind would stay with each other nonetheless —— and you were delighted, it was serendipity that he found you, even his acceptance was more than enough.

So you got up, as long as you were needed by him, you would always get up, no matter how deep you had fallen.

Standing around a giant bulky holotable, three inquisitors of different races and genders had their blank eyes on the three-dimensional map of Naboo in front of them, having just been informed by an imperial attendant of the latest news. The silence fallen upon them was swallowed up by the near bustling stormtroopers and anxious military officers attending to their duties, going around the main bridge of the unmoving Star Destroyer one hundred kilometers outside of the planet.

First Brother, a well-groomed Miralian male with shimmery pink skin and diamond-shaped light purple tattoos scattered around his nose area, was the first one to shake off his speechlessness. The luminous blue of the hologram map glinted in his eyes, reflecting a welcome surprise. "The Supreme Inquisitor. Huh."

Third Sister retaliated, the iciness of all the metal surrounding them had seeped into her limbs, she stood motionless but her anger was an alarming red. "I can't believe this."

Eleventh Brother was playful, the shade of the hologram painting his mischief-holding yellow eyes blue like his skin. He was bulkier than the other two, however, the way he spread his palms on the edge of the table and put his weight on them and leaning over made him look smaller than he was. "How well do you think she screwed Vader to swoop the rank from him like hair out the butter? The man must have been to the neighboring galaxy and back."

The female inquisitor's frustration was dripping into the Force. "He is thoroughly blinded. I can't believe it. The Emperor must know about this."

The Miralian, however, was annoyed and uncomfortable in his own skin, imagining a thousand eyeballs materializing above their heads directing their unblinking gazes at them. It was a touchy subject. They were treading on thin ice by talking about it in an open space like this, he knew very well of the infamous temper of Vader when he even felt like his decisions were being questioned. "You metalhead, of course he already knows about everything. Who do you think Darth Vader is?"

The Pantoran tilted his head comically to agree with him, while the sister crossed her arms, taking a more defensive stance. It had fueled her forward, not even close to stopping her. Third Brother had to press on. "You're also forgetting who she is."

Her fingers were twitching slightly. "She charmed you as well."

"Charmed?" His voice got unconsciously higher and he heard Eleventh Brother taking in a long, exhausted breath, this was quickly turning into a heated conversation. "All the girl does is completing the missions she is given. Why are you so agitated?"

Third Sister suddenly opened her arms wide. The respect for Supreme Inquisitor obviously ticked her in the wrong way. "Because she gets undeserved favoritism!"

"I just told you why it's not undeserved. You're really letting your reason fly away like that?"

Eleventh Brother, then, physically came between them at the disdainful non-verbal mention of dark side, eyeing the officers slowing down to take a look at them now fully shouting at each other. "Come on, don't get heated up both of you." A lazy smile spread over his face. "Let's agree to shag Skywalker and get ourselves some well-deserved vacation, huh?"

But it did nothing to calm Third Brother's nerves, he wasn't overly relaxed like the other guy. "Ssshhhhh! Do not address him like that! You're going to get blasted in the head."

"I don't think he's that strong in the Force to pick up whatever comes out of people's mouths. At least not yet anyway," was his response. The Miralian knew he was doing his best to lighten up the mood so this didn't end up as a mistake getting one of them in trouble in the end, but calling Vader by that name anywhere, even in secret, meant a direct death sentence, it wasn't something to be joked about.

"It's Lord Vader to us, be careful."

"Relax, I'm not that dumb." The sudden emotion showing itself towards the end and curtaining over his face shocked the other inquisitors. "It's just. . . I find it hard to get used to. He was someone else before, you know?"

They were all flashing back to the same day, who the most called Great Jedi Purge. The silent Third Sister had been the one to speak first, after a while of solemn quietude. "New meditation techniques not working for you?"

"Not in the slightest. If he found out I am behind on this, Vader would chop off my left hand as well. . ."

"That is meant to teach you loss and pain, it's not a punishment," Third Brother intercepted, ignoring the slight humor his fellow inquisitor was using to mask his weakness. He was a guy that followed orders, and it was very pristine to the eye. Dark Side hadn't been able to purge that out of him.

"I think we've experienced enough loss and pain, don't you think?" It was a throaty murmur that came from Eleventh Brother. "The absence of a limb means nothing."

When a surge in the Force came the Miralian's way, it was too late for him to stop Third Sister from continuing to ramble on. "Speaking of which, did our Supreme get any of her limbs cut away?"

"Oh for the love of —— drop it."

"No, listen. This is not fair."

"It's about individual progress, you can't put her and yourself in the same equation, it doesn't work like that," he whispered, getting hurried and irked with each word mainly out of fear. The holomap was already forgotten. They looked suspicious, huddled up together like that. "We were Jedi, it's hard for us to leave the old ways behind. She only has been exposed to the dark side. It's natural that her advancement is different."

It was logic. Though it penetrated her ears, the meaning never reached her completely. "The way she fights —— I can't wrap my head around it."

Her eyes moved left and right, erratic as she remembered, countless battles coming one after the other, lining up in her head. Each one of them focusing on one pair, always together, never going the opposite way in a clash. Moving in complete harmony and sync, reminiscing one superior mind controlling two separate bodies. "She completely parallels Vader, it's like they are parts of the same machine and I think I'm going crazy sometimes when I think about it."

One hand was holding onto her elbow tightly, the other hand moved up and down, vertical to the ground, to emphasize her words. "There's no way she could have picked up on the technique that fast without getting special treatment is what I'm getting at. It's the main thing that infuriates me."

"Is it?"

"What are you suggesting?"

"It is because she became more masterful in a matter of months isn't it?" First Brother said, not holding back in the slightest, calling her out on it. The way her chin moved in a circle with a completely closed mouth gave her away. "Her achieving that level of skill and leaving the rest of us behind pisses you off because you're envious of that power. It's the greed talking, not you."

"But you can't say that I'm wrong," she shook her head, raising her eyebrow with a smile like she was proud of a secret. "The Al'Verde, Unifier of Mandalore or whatever the kriff her other titles are, I don't care. She can't be capable of this much."

In the corner of his eye, First Brother saw the burly Pantoran getting very shifty on his feet, a sign of anxiety from him.

Then he noticed why, as the sign hit him too, a chip in the force, like a faraway warning.

Third Sister was getting too vexed to notice it as she didn't stop talking for one second, and Third Brother was lost in the moment once again. "She's meant to be a pawn to the empire, a hostage, because all those helmetheads only seem to get smart when it's about war. The idiot had it coming for getting involved with the Rebellion. Everybody knows this, yet we still have to pretend."

She was talking about how Mandalore was forced to make a treaty with the Galactic Empire. This event, even though it led to her eventual arrest and recruitment into the military, had made way to Imperial Initiative in which the newly started empire went on a treaty spree to collect all the Separatist, Neutral and rogue planets without violence. This was of course a plot to force the planets into peace, but it was still effective.

"Now, compare that to me, do you get the picture? I deserve to be in a superior higher-up position, don't you think?" Third Sister almost commanded, the corners of her eyes crinkled, eventually turning into a full-on glare. "Even if we leave this all aside, she doesn't even know how to use the Force that much and here she is, the great Supreme of Inquisitorius. This is not fair."

"It doesn't matter. Do you want me to flash the headline on HoloNet or something?" Frustrated, he raked his fingers through his hair. "The number of successes you bring to the empire decides your worth. Last time I checked, Mandos were on a different tier considering the warmongering past."

"So? That doesn't prove that she isn't privileged."

"Maybe because being a political figure requires the empire to make her look good." Once again, Eleventh Brother tried to sweeten both of the worked up Inquisitors. He thrust his fists into the air in a caricaturish, slow victorious manner.

Third Brother wanted this conversation to be over, the unrest pooling in his stomach was too alarming to be ignored. "It's because she's better at our job than you are. Face it. There is nothing else to it."

Third Sister's arms, untangled from their lock earlier, now dangled down her sides. She gave a bitter laugh. "It's not exactly encouraging motivation-wise when you feel like you're disposable."

Eleventh Brother snorted, his usual mocking still there, but now molded with irony. "I thought you already knew we are expendable to the empire."

But the person who responded wasn't either one of the three. "You are."

They didn't even feel her coming, gliding up to them from the shadows. And suddenly, the famous darksaber was peeking out from just beside Third Sister's neck, the inquisitor's face contorted in raw shock before she dropped to the ground, trembling and clutching the raw burn. It was the loud sound of her hitting metal that made the other two scramble back in panic, their hands hanging afloat.

"Stars!" was the only thing coming out of the Miralian before he had literally jumped out of his skin, the Force hadn't even poked one of them, not a last-second warning at all too. Third Sister was about to be executed just like that.

Inside of his skull was white. Void of any thoughts. Nothing came to mind. Third Sister literally laid violently trembling at their feet.

Supreme Inquisitor's force signature slammed on their faces much later, like the heel of a foot descending on a bug, the faint crunching sound got to him in his imagination and he looked at Third Sister once again, sprawled out on the floor. He felt an entire wall of frosty fury pressing down on his body, and not even a smudge of remorse was there for almost taking a life.

Eleventh Brother was just as horrified, his cowering stature resembling a frightened child's, which was ironic because the woman in front of them, standing silent and mute while waves of danger rolled intensely out of her through the Force, was much smaller compared to his species.

The Pantoran and he held eye contact for a fleeting second. The former's face held a fear of death while Third Brother was still thinking about the current overwhelming presence being entirely missed by all three of them, how long had she been listening to them for?

Her T-shaped eye lenses, contrasting with the black of the mask she had on was hiding her expression; but the almost glowing red, accompanied by the white glow darksaber flared, was more terrifying than any emotion her face could contort into. "Get up."

Third sister stammered, none of her previous vigor present. "What?"

"Get up. I see you have complaints, I want you to walk me through them."

First Brother had to do something. "Supreme Inquisitor, please overlook her childishness just this once - "

"I am not talking to you." The blood red lens of her helmet stayed focused on her target. "Sister. Take out your lightsaber and feel free to test my skills to your liking. But know this. If you do, I will treat you like as you'd like me to, and we will go at it until the end. You know our ways."

Stuck right where she was lying on the floor, her eyes momentarily met First Brother's, who mouthed, "Don't," at her behind clenched teeth without any sound.

She ended up saying, "Forgive me." The haunted look in her eyes was avoiding directly coming to contact with the Mandalorian woman. Upon the crackling silence that followed, Third Sister tried again, higher-pitched and a slight panting in her breath. "Please forgive my impudence."

"Anyone else that wants to question my credibility further?" was what Supreme Inquisitor asked, not a declaration of Third Sister's death sentence, thankfully. When she was met with silence, she turned off the darksaber, yet didn't put it away. "Anyone else that wants to stay and gossip instead of doing their jobs?"

Silence.

"Anyone else that volunteers to do as they were ordered and get rid of the holo-faker?"

Third Brother and Eleventh Brother stood straight. "We will get to it," the Miralian said shakily.

"You better."

A bottomless pit of abiding nothingness was expected to be cold, but sometimes you would think it could be a bit warmer because of the stars it was pregnant to burned with all their might.

Myriads of stars and suns, withering away and blossoming at the same second were furious in their hearts beat to the rhythm held the balance together, yet the universe remained colder than beskar still.

It was proof no star could ever be enough to warm up their home, not even the supremest of them all. And perhaps in their sorrow, they all ended up as black holes, swallowing up anything in their way to fill the hole where their burning souls once stood brightly as the hearth for the planets under their wings.

But you could never be cold. Not when even the spaceships were perpetually freezing. Your fire sang too vigorous for that. There was a furnace akin to a star at its prime nuzzled inside your ribs constantly keeping your palms unusually warm, especially when you were sent to planets with chilling climates for a mission. Your peculiarly high temperature made so you uncomfortable sometimes that you wore so little while physically training. It was unnerving for those under you that you could withstand icy environments so easily. Some even thought you were half-robot as Lord Vader and couldn't even feel physical contact anymore.

No, you experienced pain on a different reality than others did. You were sure Vader did as well, it was your fuel to the Dark Side. So much so that it was addicting at times to inflict it to other people and yourselves. You fed on it as if you were one of the Anzati preying on the life source of others to survive. It was necessary. It was vital. One could never get used to pain, but to accept it as a fundamental part of the path to the dark side had done the trick for you.

That's why you could understand why Lord Vader bit back complaints about his steel arms and legs never seeming to fit and holding him back from his full potential. They hurt him immensely, although his face in plain sight didn't even wince you could feel it; his yellow eyes didn't sour over with pain yet nevertheless, you felt it in your own body - even when he kept it from pouring into The Force itself, you felt it as if you were being hurt.

But while you didn't know what to do with it, Vader used that agony, he internalized it and brought forth an entirely different kind of might that terrified down to the bone whoever dared to cross him.

Vader always knew what to do.

But you couldn't bring yourself to tell him the things you had heard the last day. Rebellion was ringing in her ears wherever she went and whatever she did. Mand'alor.

Among other insults hurled at her, nothing had bothered her as much as nobody disagreeing with the late Third Sister. All the briefings, all the reports, all the patrols during this past couple of days were all spent on thinking about what in the hell they were talking about. You were none of the things Third Sister had claimed her to be.

You were the last remaining kin of Pre Vizsla he had adopted into the clan, wasting away in your atelier with your stupid idea of reconciling with the current government of Mandalore, daydreaming about it while fixing weapons and armor. The girl who had never been able to become a full-fledged Mandalorian smelled of oil, dust, metal, shadows, and underground, she was too weak to even talk back to her blood. She wanted to run and fly but was chained to a dustball of a rotting planet moon. She was nothing before Lord Vader had found her.

However, you couldn't forget about it. It was constantly in your head, like a damned bug crawling through the curves of your brain and scratching away at the flesh walls of the organ, it kept slamming its way right in front of your skull, pounding in her temples as a persistent headache.

Why did they call me that? Why did they say that?

Was it sarcasm? No, it couldn't have been.

It was scary how obsessed you had become with a tiny minute detail when it meant nothing at all. You had sat down and thought about what you were expecting but there wasn't anything you could grasp at. You just couldn't get it out of your mind and that was it.

So you trained. For hours and hours a day, you practiced and meditated. There was nothing else to do. You were ordered to lay low and wait at Naboo's door, no one could go anywhere, so you did the best with what you had.

There was only so much you could do in the limited area of the training ground they were spared in the main spaceship. The floating metal monsters were made for combative military purposes and not military drill ships used for education and field practice after all. If they were informed of a blockade of this kind beforehand, the preparations would be more suitable for their situation.

Therefore you ended up requiring a partner to work with, granted that training equipment was not present.

A partner, being the partner, who had always been the only opponent you had sparred against, Darth Vader of course.

Maybe you couldn't tell him what had you fearfully hypnotized for so long, but you could use him as an anchor to clear your thoughts and achieve lucidity that way. Vader was an in-and-out kind of one-man army with no distractions whatsoever and that had inspired you in your own way of handling work. Not only did straightforwardness find a new meaning in him, but you felt closer to clarity by his side as well, it gave you a refined sense of strength.

When you came together blade-to-blade instead of back-to-back, you and Vader were identical if not paralleled, one the hands and the other the legs of the same body, you were like the complementary halves of a single warrior. Vader, due to his overly bulky cybernetic limbs, moved with the power of roaring ocean waterfalls, he was unstoppable; meanwhile, you were the shadow and the wind, the sacrificed speed and mobility completing him in a different body - you appeared out of nowhere, struck, and disappeared.

Despite having the chance to spar with Vader himself after a long time spent with deeds for the empire, you didn't manage to clean her mind off the noises repeating over and over again right in the middle of your nervous system. It was reflecting on your motor and reflective abilities, you couldn't keep up with him today.

"You came here to clear your head but your mind is still distracting you," was Vader's eventual response after wiping the lusterless steel floor with your backside for the nth time.

You always got up whenever you fell, having a feline's agility and swiftness akin to lightspeed but he was not having any of it this time, it was obvious from the dismissive frown distorting his youthful face. The red glow of his lightsaber was gone in an instant.

Calling your own lightsaber back, you didn't have any difficulty in extending the Force as a limb to retrieve it whenever it had flown off to. As soon as the hilt caressed the skin of your palm, your fingers closed down on it as if you wanted the crush the useless thoughts plaguing you.

Darksaber's idiosyncratic sound was higher pitched than any other used by the Jedi and the Sith, but it had the peculiar ability to respond to its wielder's emotional state. You had noticed the erratic electrical effect pulsating like a heightened heartbeat, but you didn't want to stop due to accumulated frustration. If you were indeed a machine, there would be smoke surrounding your burning limbs from clashing with the cold atmosphere. "I can keep going."

There was no way Vader was not aware of the emotional storm raging inside of you, he even sank his hook into the tiniest of specks you went out of your way to hide, yet he was calmly observing at where he stood. "I'm not enjoying myself anymore, this is pointless. So how about you tell me what's been bothering you instead?"

Of course he goes for that, you sighed. Always straight to the point. You couldn't confront the root of her problem at hand, you didn't even know what was bothering you this much. It was obviously speculation on their part of something. The whole Inquisitorius may have been informed that way to help you assert your superiority, but you still couldn't bring yourself to at least investigate it.

You had forgotten this part of you existed at all. It had been buried deep down the seven circles of your soul where even the Force itself couldn't shed light upon it. Your weaknesses: hesitation, coyness, pudency, dastardness - your old needy self who was always pushed into the shadows. Remnants. They deserved to rot in darkness; crumble away until they were nothing but ash and dust under your feet. The old you of Clan Vizsla, who would tremble and scream and grieve in terror if she ever knew the person she would become was the infamous tyrannical Supreme Inquisitor, needed to die.

A warm campfire singing with the dancing fireflies wouldn't stand a chance against a devourer wildfire raging against the night; it just didn't work that way. You needed to kill it.

Your head twitched up when the darksaber turned off by itself. You felt Lord Vader's extended power return back to his shadow after lingering for a little while, thinning the oxygen around her by its mere presence. "You know I'm not one to waste my time."

"Too much waiting," you blurted out when it became evident if you were to stay silent, he would try to pry into your mind, he kept staring at you without moving a muscle - like he was one of the unsettling ginormous milky alabaster statues standing tall in front of the Imperial Senate Building.

Vader rarely ever did disturb the privacy of your inner world, he didn't need to, he just knew you like the inside of his palm, and you never hid anything from him either, you trusted him more than you trusted yourself.

Your obstinacy tended to keep things away from him whenever failure stamped itself right on your forehead - because you were ashamed.

But this was different. You could tell Vader had noticed as well.

You were simply very tired, the black spandex of your training wear was sticking to your skin because of the sweat and the braid you always kept long to wrap around into a circle at the back of your head so it could fit inside your helmet was a messy bird's nest. You couldn't find the strength in yourself to weave an intricate web of lies to keep Vader away from your worries, so you opted to only reveal some of the truth as you took a few steps back to wipe your forehead and the back of your neck with the towels neatly folded and laid right beside a variety of weapons ranging from target blasters to melee weapons such as techblasters.

Later on, as two black silky cloaked-figures stormed through the deck like flowing gravity-driven drops of ink to get to Vader's quarters, tearing seas of white armor and black uniforms apart as they glided along in sync, you finally voiced some of your worries but not the entire truth. Your mask caused your voice to sound artificial and monotonous enough to hide the intent behind. "Why is Naboo special? There were other planets to try the boundaries just like this before. What are we doing here?"

The man's booming steps didn't falter, he kept on power walking as he usually did. The only giveaway to his surprise was his golden gaze immediately getting drawn to your frame. "That's unusually curious of you."

"I suppose it is."

Corridors of the metal maze they were in curled in different directions as you talked, occasionally wrought with artificial white, red and blue lights blinked and streamed past you in streaks. It was all in the background, as you were only awaiting Vader's response. "The Emperor has not said anything yet. We are to stand our ground."

He was tight-lipped when it came to The Emperor. Tenuous shadows obscuring his reflection in The Force, meticulous and ten times more intimidating.

Beings with no force-sensitivity perceived it as Vader holding their necks tight in a noose, or perhaps an unsteady sword floating right above their heads. He was at his most merciless when he was escorted by The Emperor's words. It was hard for even you to speak your mind freely, not because of the fear, but because deep in your soul, you sensed a fresh, gaping wound, and it had The Emperor's handprint next to it.

Not lingering on it, you uttered your evergrowing uneasiness snowballed with the word Rebellion about the task given to them. "Lord Vader, this looks like a false cover-up for an intended invasion to me. Why else would we be here?" Your job didn't end with supervising the Inquisitorius as Darth Vader's right hand, you also participated in keeping the order in the empire. Those required having to always keep moving and never stopping in one place for too long. Even Vader couldn't stay at his castle in Mustafar to rest for more than days between the duties. The wait for something from Naboo had been unnervingly delayed. It had rightfully taken its toll on your agitated state of mind, and you thought maybe relieving herself from at least this distress might give her more control.

"No need to think about those things. We will do as we are ordered. The battlefield is our only concern." An automatic response, usually given to his inferiors. What followed after was not. "Why is this bothering you so much?"

You started speaking only when you arrived at Vader's dull grey quarters separate from the superior officers at the bridge tower, it was similar to an antechamber in emptiness and size, the only difference was the massive cell-like cut windows circling in a flat arch showing the blue-green and occasionally violet planet of Naboo. "Queen Amidala should pose no threat to him, but for some reason he doesn’t trust her now that she is not present on the Imperial Senate and is out of his reach, there’s something going on here," you pondered, taking your mask off and staring at it for a while. "It goes against the relatively peaceful route he has trekked on until now, but I don't believe we are here for another treaty."

"I was not aware of your interest in politics. This was what had you so scatterbrained you couldn't even focus on combat." Vader slowly approached the glass window closes to him and stood still, his eyes on the planet. He had his hands folded behind his back. His side profile was illuminated by the faint translucent lights of the space from where you were. "Why the sudden curiosity, have you received intel?"

"It's not like that. I‘ve just had more time than necessary to think."

"And the thing you chose to think about was the Emperor not trusting Queen Amidala?"

"I’m thinking about how a possible invasion would go. The Emperor looked for the perfect opening to do so, and now that he has it, he won't let go. It feels like the era of treaties is about to be over." After placing your mask on the table where Vader usually kept the tools he used to modify his limbs, a feeling of nakedness washed over you as you looked at the view it created, it was not the Supreme Inquisitor talking at the moment, but simply you. "But I do have a bad feeling about everything in general, I can't get it out of my mind."

"Is that what The Force tells you?"

Gloved fingers gliding on the smooth arch of the top of the inquisitor mask, you kept your gaze on the T-shaped lens. Your lashes were heavy on your eyes, the words were weighing down on your entire face so they couldn't escape you it seemed. As ironic as it was that you were covering your real troubles with half-truths, you had never been this honest about your opinions before, only ever obeying whatever Vader had asked you of. "I'm not sure. I can't distinguish my instincts from the will of The Force yet. I don't think I ever will. Precognition is beyond me, I am but a Mandalorian, physical use is the only thing I really am good at. Still, there are times in which even I can feel it physically in my head. I know we are only soldiers, I know not to concern myself but The Force is. . . weird these days. That's why I'm not dismissing these thoughts."

"Perhaps what you used to call instincts is The Force talking to you. You are still fighting the Dark Side, that's why it's constipating you like this. Let the power guide you. Don't be afraid of too much."

"I have dedicated myself to your ways for a reason, I know what I have to do. I'm just a slow learner, but I do learn. Even if I can't fulfill your expectations, I won't ever disappoint you, Lord Vader."

Tingles traveled down your spine in warm waves, Vader's stare was definitely on you. "I will look into this as well, you keep focusing on the present." Then, a soft sigh dissolved in the air, so unnoticeably gentle that it had your eyebrows pulled together in surprise. "Anything else you wish to inform me about? I still feel heavy conflict clouding your mind."

"I don't wish to bother you with insigni—"

"When I ask questions I expect them to be answered."

He had seen it. The certain worm clogging your brain. Something was pushing you to squish it back in the darkness so he would forget about it. Not knowing what it was made you try to cover it up, words you‘d kept to yourself all this time poured out like hot-flowing blood out of a raw wound. "The thing is, why would Queen Amidala make a predictable and unnecessary move such as this when she is aware of the emperor's intentions in the first place? It doesn’t make sense."

"What do you know about his intentions?" It came sharp and quick. When you let go of the mask grounding you and turned to him, Vader's stiffness and slight tenseness caught you off guard; just as he had never heard a single peep of doubt from you, you had never seen Vader defensively alarmed as well. "You're basing this all on a single assumption. According to that then, how would Queen Amidala be aware of this so-called everything?"

"I told you it was insignificant."

"No. Explain it."

Hurried steps brought you right at Vader's side, aestuous eyes of his followed your almost apologetic state. The stars were witnessing a rare occurrence that day, the ice-breathing iron dragon was reduced into a young man, simply because he allowed anxiety seep out the cracks of his persona of The Dark Lord Darth Vader. Yet, they were merely only talking. You were pulled to him like a piece of metal caught into a magnetic field, wanting to clear his face from shadows. What had him this tense was a mystery that piqued your worry as much as it did your curiosity.

"I meant absolute control when I said intentions, it wasn't something mysterious at all." You said, fighting the instinct to comb his wavy locks away from his face when you noticed his arms twitch forward towards you in a split second, stilling quickly right after that. "Queen Amidala, well at least Naboo has been cooperative and obedient so far, it is the Emperor’s home planet. It's illogical for them to make a move, without even sending a report of protest first about the Stormtrooper bases." Your voice was calculative and calm so that Vader would remain composed as well. "To be honest, every bone in my body is screaming trap at me. But I don't know what they would gain from laying a trap for us — or the empire."

A blank look.

Then a weak smile so twisted and bitter that the hairs on the back of your neck and the baby hairs framing the shape of your face stood up.

"I do," Vader said, triumphantly. Catharsis was etched into his tremulous voice, his pupils were dilated. "Have spy droids decode their hologram satellites immediately. I especially want the transcriptions of ghost calls, doesn't matter if it's from the palace or not."

At a loss for words, you couldn't catch up to his thought process but you had your orders, Vader's word came first. "Whatever we're looking for -- what if they chose to transport it manually as a message rather than transmitting it?"

"I hope they did." The smile on his face didn't reach his eyes, his tone was low and dangerous when he answered. "Then we get to use the easy way to restore the peace."

When you retired for the day, the shadows whispered all that you have been reduced to, and all you will ever be is eternal yearning chasing your tail, forever stuck in a circle, doomed to be your own destruction.

They swirled heavy and languid around where you laid folded into yourself, in your most vulnerable state —— closest to the ghost of the girl fron Clan Vizsla, the girl with tender flames that couldn't and wouldn't burn. They pooled in the hollow of your stomach, filled your womb with molten tar, and blotted your veins; until you became nothing but a vague shape in the dark.

The moderately average resting chamber in the giant Star Destroyer closed in on the you, only armored with a thin layer of sweat covering your heated skin. Darkness was a place you were your most comfortable in, but shadows drowning you were the servants of light —— the light that flowered from the warmest, the most cowardly of fires that was afraid to burn people.

"Remember," the shadows murmured. The smell of beskar and ash was sticky on the wall of your nose, thickly dropping down to the lungs. Within the withering clouds of duskiness, two little marbles with the color of abysmal space stared back, the tiniest of shine reflecting like miniature novae. Black eyes like obsidian. "As no star is enough to light up the galaxy. As no star is enough to warm up its home. Remember who you are."

Supreme Inquisitor killed that treacherous girl every single night, but shadows were immortal nonetheless, you couldn't possibly reign victorious over them. The girl of Clan Vizsla, aware of that mostly overlooked knowledge, had always hidden her essence in the shadows; and now even her biggest nemesis was unable to snuff out the weak embers left of her. The ashes somehow managed to rekindle their spark.

The girl just refused to die and turned herself into invisible heavy shackles on your ankles.

Shadows caught up to you in oddest circumstances these days. Contrary to Imperial Officers and most of the Inquisitorius like the fallen Grand Inquisitor, respect out of obligation and orders did not sit well with you, you enjoyed proving yourself someone to be dreaded over and over again just to smell the satisfying presence of horror, yet sometimes you (momentarily) felt unaccomplished when people couldn't look you in the eye as they spoke.

The Mandalorian in you wanted to earn respect instead of forcing it out of somebody —— annoying, really, it was like an itch right in the middle of your back where you couldn't reach to scratch, and it never went away either. No matter what you did, you couldn't get rid of the leaden disappointment and dejection shooting up your spine at the sight of forehead-on-the-floor submission even if it lasted shorter than a blink.

The moment of humanity made you sick. You enjoyed being feared and bowed to, that meant you were stronger than them, that you were better, yet the tiny itch made it seem like you were some kind of noble character deep down when your aim, in the end, was establishing strength and demanding respect in exchange —— not honorably gaining it through charity work.

That's why you were feeling grumpy at yourself as you left First Brother behind in hurried steps after the report given to you in trembling fingers hid behind his waist in a grip, and a voice strained to control a slight shakiness. The Miralian was covered with a thin layer of sweat across his pink skin, the purple diamonds etched onto his nose area almost appeared a dark ultramarine as he stood with an imaginary walking stick shoved down his throat, he didn't move from his position until Supreme Inquisitor had completely disappeared from his sight.

He was your favorite Inquisitor to work with, mainly because he knew respect. You knew it was a Jedi habit, but you were in no place to complain about it, only focused on getting results and finally, your patience was rewarded —— not even the annoyance at your prolonged unstable emotions could get in the way of your enthusiasm. They were one step closer to ending this blockade and you were itching to return to your routine of hunting Jedi and getting rid of this mess of a state of mind. Things would soon return to the way they were. They had to.

With that in mind, you all but rushed to deliver the news to Vader, practically running to the safety of an end goal having formed in your mind. He was receiving some kind of report in the bridge part of the Star Destroyer, but immediately dismissed the two officers when he saw you approaching him with hurried steps. The T-shaped visor of her matte black helmet was reflecting light like flashes due to your speed.

Vader had the tendency to have conversations with you alone, even when you absolutely had to be in public he would maneuver to the most isolated place where they could speak privately, and his utter discontent at people coming at their way would immediately have effect in making them go the opposite way. If he was just done with having to deal with Imperial Officers and saw you as an escape, you did not know.

"It's done, Lord Vader," You reported with a datapad in your right gloved hand, the other was clutching the hilt of darksaber tucked away in your belt as you retreated to the giant windows looking directly at Naboo. Crowds would part at the sight of you together, as if leaving you to your solitude was a rule, so nobody was in the perimeter to hear the conversation. "Spy droids are on the job right now. The decryptor team is simultaneously working with incoming data. The droids can only do so much, so for the sake of both speed and efficiency, the only solution I had was this."

You handed him the datapad, his yellow eyes were dull as he scanned the incoming information. "Nothing looks particularly off as of now."

"I told them to look out for suspicious behavior as well. Could be a part of their cipher system."

"I would rather have direct contact with the senator, per protocol." Vader's hawk-like gaze turned almost condescendingly to the mostly purple planet as if he could spot the object of their conversation right away. The corners of his lips twitched upwards for a millisecond. "Compared to the queen, he is surprisingly easier to crack."

He peculiarly allowed himself to be human around her, occasional boyish grins and smirks found their way to his face often when you were near. It wasn't a first-time realization but very much a reassurance every time it occured. The thought, this time also as well, managed to ease your overheated mind and you allowed herself to relax a bit, removed your hand from darksaber, and clutched them on the back of your waist. "Which is why Queen Amidala insists on being the mediator."

A scoff came from him. "She knows even the person they chose has certain weaknesses."

A wave of bitter taste washed over your mouth. "We do have to wait for Emperor Palpatine's orders about entering their planetary space. . . to exploit those weaknesses."

"I don't need to be right in front of him to do that."

He was capable of doing unspeakable things to people deeming they were safe from him just because they were seperated by monitors and screens, there was nothing surprising about his ominous declaration. Yet, something akin to an irritating feeling peeling away from your skin and an itching weight being lifted off of your gut made you blink strongly. You had to swallow because inside of your mouth felt like you had just stuffed a handful of sand down your throat. Of course. This was it. This was why Inquisitorius had to be here. How could you have been so oblivious?

"How inconvenient," you said, fully turning to him sharply. An excitement that would put the one you felt when you got the report from First Brother to shame was pulsating in your temples and ears. "It would have been better to have the excuse to see him directly."

Vader's eyebrows twitched downwards slightly. He must've had noted the change in your demeanor. "Why?"

"Because I just figured out why we're here." Your hands jerked to point at Naboo. It was clear as day to you now. You were so buried in your own mind to see what was right in front of you! "To give The Emperor an excuse for the order. This is our mission."

Vader, contemplating your discovery, hummed before speaking. He didn't look baffled at all. "You're saying this is an investigation."

"Disguised as an embargo." You nodded. Even the voice warping planted in your helmet could hide your emotions. You were more than happy to push all of your turmoil this far on this reason alone. "I can't believe I figured it out so late.“

"You weren't supposed to figure anything out." Vader, opposed to you, was very discontent with your state and you had failed to notice it from how his eyes had narrowed before he spoke. "Our input in political matters is not needed. It isn't our place."

In this light, he almost looked like he was leering down at you and that made your heart jump to your throat. Maybe you shouldn't have expressed your mind so openly like this. You weren’t one to mix personal opinions with orders in the first place. This... The chaos you were in as of late had made you slip up. You had had done your best to remain as a blank slate while putting only your lord's agenda and wishes before anything, and it truly was the only thing you cared about — that you should have cared about.

You had to pull yourself together.

"I apologize," you said, now more focused and professional to show you didn't mean any disobedience by your words. "Of course I will follow only orders, Lord Vader. I haven't forgotten my place."

That earned you an unexpected tut. "That's not——" He shut his mouth with an audible click coming from how hard his teeth had snapped together. Your eyebrows, not visible from your helmet, shot upwards at Vader's incomplete sentence. The Dark Lord of the Sith would have never held his tongue back in any occasion and he never entertained idle chit-chat, yet. . . He had briefly lost control there. He did manage to school his tone back into place, but you were already too shocked. "Just remember we will only do what is necessary. The Emperor always has a higher purpose we're not meant to know."

You had forgotten you were surrounded by the crew of the bridge, the mention of The Emperor brought back some clarity to you, as the rehearsed words of self-evaluation slipped past your lips. You had autopiloted into a submissive soldier stance. "I see now that lack of clearance has got the best of me. I meddled in matters simply not my business at all."

You didn't dare to look up at him, too immersed in trying not to spark his anger. Direct defiance was never your intention and deep down, you were already ruthlessly scolding yourself for it. You should have never opened your mouth. That's right. You were never supposed to open your mouth ever. You would only be good to go when you listened and followed orders. Opinions and thoughts were not welcome. Not that you had problems with them in the first place, but you did have to teach yourself again.

You hadn't noticed Vader's silence and his golden gaze scanning you up and down as if you were a book to read, it only became apparent to you when he started speaking again, his voice was heavy and gravelly. "This kind of thing will put a target sign on your head. You must stay out of The Emperor's sight, I will handle everything. All you have to do is follow orders."

This was the perfect chance to both change the subject and deliver the other updates you got from earlier, and you took it. He would be displeased because of the delay, but you couldn't skip on your duty either, it was with heavy heart that you gave him the news. "Speaking of orders, First Brother reported to me before our meeting. The holo-faker will be dealt with shortly. They are working on locating her."

"You mean to say she’s not dead yet?" As expected, sourness had immediately settled on his face.

"Unfortunately."

"Shortly doesn't cut it. You and I both know these adverbs only exist to buy more time." An exasperated huff, like burning steam on your skin, cut his sentence. His artificial hand's fingers had started flexing and you knew from this that his first instinct in handling this was violence - and rightfully so. If it was up to you without any interventions, the holo-faker would have been dead for the seventh time now. "Who is this holo-faker, why is it taking so long? We have more pressing matters at hand."

Your chest swelled up with the acidic breath she took in for that answer. "Her name is Bo-Katan Kryze——"

"What?" His blaster shot of an interruption was almost high-pitched and even further, your heart rate picked up because of how Vader's normally controlled Force presence had crackled like a sudden whip lash against the air. "Repeat that name."

The way he said that was stone cold and had sunk on your chest as dead weight.

"Bo-Katan Kryze." It was too hard to keep your voice in a flat tone, so it appeared very tense in return. He can misunderstand, you thought to yourself, and fumbling words pushed through your filter without warning. A loss of control on your part, no matter the form it took. "A Mandalorian like me, I know. However, my judgment is not affected. I will have her eliminated."

"We will speak no more of this here. Come."

Everything happened in a flash. His unwarranted, lightning anger blended in with their literal teleportation to the official meeting chambers reserved for the inquisitor team aboard the ship. It was like you had been wounded, but the adrenaline and shock holding your body together was holding the pain back.

You had killed fellow Mandalorian kin before. You did it every time one cane to take darksaber away from you for honor. Vader knew you didn't hold any affection or lingering attachment to your roots. Your only relief would be accepting you were uninformed, or simply not smart enough to understand what had him angered like a dragon preparing to wreak havoc over his gold hoard having been barely disturbed by an outsider.

After the sliding metal door closed behind them and trapped you in a dimly steel, ever-shrinking room due to his sizzling Force presence, with only a giant holotable to display maps in the middle, his heaving back slowly regained back a stable breathing rhythm, and he turned to you much more composed, the powerwalk they had here probably having taken some of his bottled up agitation. "Did you have an audience with her?" he said, the sentence more of a domineering demand than a question. There was a distant fire in his eyes.

You did your best to remain calm to not provoke him in any way, and obeyed. "Yes, it was required."

"Did you speak with her directly?"

"Yes, since I had the recordings of the Jedi had to deliver them personally." One of your canines caught the inside corner of your mouth. "Is something wrong——"

He ignored your remark. "Has she said anything to you?"

Have I failed? How have I failed? Why am I being interrogated right now? "Apart from business, no."

"That can’t be it. Are you lying to me?"

That sentence was straight up a punch to your ribcage, you were breathless as you answered that question. "No."

But that did not satisfy him. He was a predator pacing left and right upon hearing it. The lampdisks were full on and the meeting room eerily bright, but his darkening presence was casting a shadow over everything. "Out of all the beings in the galaxy, how did she end up being——" He was mumbling to himself in a mildly manic state, and when he suddenly shouted, the already panicking you almost jumped out of your skin. "Damn it!"

Vader's entire self-control was gone like the wind, a catastrophic hurricane in the Force is what he was. Rumbling and roaring with no restraint, no restraint. It made your hands tremble uncontrollably and sucked the strength from your core entirely. And all it took for the leash to snap was not The Emperor, not the missions, not the imperial officers and not the incompetent inquisitors, but a single name of an insignificant Mandalorian holo-faker.

You had to fix this somehow. You had to do something. You didn't understand your mistake but you had to put enough effort to get back on your feet. "Lord Vader, I don't follow——"

"Don't call me that!" You had never heard him yell before. Always the silent and obscure, actions-over-words commander that he was, Lord Vader did never need to raise his voice to get what he wanted, he simply didn't bother with that. Yet that was a broken shout at the top of his lungs; a shattered clap of thunder, yet it was a piercing shriek of a wounded animal enough to make your ears go numb for few seconds. Bleeding. A cascade of emotions were bleeding out of him.

Silence fell between you like the hammer of a giant.

Your insides churned and twisted and crushed until all you could feel was just a mash of mixed goop flesh filling you like cotton and only a void in the middle of your skull, as if you had jumped out of hyperdrive with a damaged deceleration equalizer.

A shiver shook your shoulders.

There was a man in front of you, not Lord Vader, and certainly not a Lord of the Sith. An upset, disturbed and disordered hot mess of a young man, with eyes the color of cold dark blue before the sun appears in the horizon, swimming in the agony of an entire sunken star, was despairing over his subordinate addressing him as the superior he was.

What did he want from you exactly? How did you end up in a conversation webbed with lines that should never be crossed?

"Call all the inquisitors involved in the operation and leave us."

"As you wish." You kept your voice carefully blank and monotone, but the emotions were as scattered as a star cluster. Despite that, as Supreme Inquisitor, your instincts knew the need for professionalism to be restored back, but it was actually cowardice that made you lean entirely on respect to gain much needed stable ground. "Do you want me to send out a scouting team to find out if she has reached Mandalore? They could look for a way to cheat the treaty."

"No. You're off the holo-faker case."

It was a small command, a simple order, a rightful decision really, but that still felt like stun blasts exploding inside your brain that left it ringing and the room spinning around you. "Why? I can fix everything, I can go personally——"

"No." To your own ears, to your heart, the voice that came from his lips didn't sound like his own. It was deeper, darker, clipped and oiled, resonating from the depths of the Dark Side he tapped into whenever he was facing enemies and allies alike. It didn't sound like him at all, he didn't direct that tone —— that stance to you ever, and it smoked with fury. "You'll remain here with me."

You stood welded to the floor, motionless. You weren’t even truly aware of speaking. It was as if someone else were using your mouth. "I have met her face to face, I'll get it done faster, let me go to Mandalore——"

"I said no! That's an order!"

A hiccupping gasp rose out of you that the mask didn’t pick up.

And, now, finally, you recognized the voice that had came out of you in utter desperation.

It belonged to the shadows. It belonged to gentle melodies of the benevolent hearth. It belonged to the girl who was afraid of being cast away.

You could only stand there, sick at heart, stunned with helplessness, the fatigue in your guts turning heavier and heavier.

". . . Understood."

Lord Vader passed his flesh hand over his eyes and drew a long, heavy breath. In a much lower, calmer, quieter tone, he said, "You won't get involved with her. Promise me." He looked thoroughly miserable, but you felt too numb, so numb that you were looking at the world behind iced glass. It stung even to stand here.

"I have received your orders.” Your lips, conditioned only to speak of duty, fulfilled their responsibility. "I'm calling the inquisitors immediately."

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