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#so it always felt like more of a memory game than actually learning anything and then once the year of testing was over brain was like

raidenenthusiast · 2 months

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obligatory post before acheron's release

obviously, it's established that acheron is a variant of raiden mei. her real name is not actually acheron (confirmed through the livestream, but...come on, we all already knew that). specifically, there's loads of similarities in her design to the herrscher of thunder above all else

similar hair structure, hair part, n hairpiece (n obviously the color, too),

sword structure, patterns, n nearly identical handles,

one "red" arm,

the bust/halter,

and of course, the color scheme as shown in acheron's "emanator" form, n the horns shown in the livestream

with all that in mind, i imagine acheron is a variant of mei who failed to save the person closest to her (her kiana, to simplify it), n/or watched them die, or even killed them herself. it's shown during her dance with black swan that there was obviously someone important to her in her past, conflict arose in a setting much like the one featured in the livestream, n there's even imagery of her walking alone with only the moon in the sky to keep her company

kiana has been associated with the moon n moon imagery since the flyme2themoon days; her origin was quite literally a game about blasting off to the moon

this teaser resembles thunders over nagazora to me, as well as mei watching kiana's end in honkai gakuen

there's also the fact that the type of emanator acheron is, an emanator of nihility, is classified as a self-annihilator; those who have felt the pull of nihility n been unable to escape drowning in it. self-annihilator's take the meaning of nihility to heart, so much so that it erodes their bodies n memories

acheron has been confirmed as the self-annihilator type in her character introduction posted recently. what really strikes me about this line is the phrasing of "existence is nothing"

sounds familiar, doesn't it?

mei is characterized by the tragedies in her life, n how they impact her. growing up isolated, a kidnapping at a young age, bullying at school, suicidal tendencies, n the constant reminder that the girl she loves more than anything in the world will always put the overall well being of humanity over herself

to me, acheron is a mei shaped by loss. the mei we remember from hi3 had the chance to grow n change; to learn from her mistakes, n to fight for a better world, bc she had the support of her friends n her most important person. acheron doesn't seem to have that level of support from anyone, at least not anyone still in her life currently

which brings me to my next point. she HAD a "kiana," but ultimately lost her. n this is the result

acheron is incredibly powerful, but her power seems incredibly volatile. she carries this innate sadness with her wherever she goes, n the very path she walks n the very aeon she became an avatar of strips life of all meaning, all the beauty from the world

it's a far cry from the mei we know, bc clearly, there was a very pivotal change in her development that i can only attribute to the loss of her world's "kiana"

#there's also the fact that her world suffered from an attack of something very obviously directly representing or mimicking the honkai #which is shown in the description for the most recent animated short on yt #but this post is already at its photo limit lol #honkai #honkai impact #honkai impact 3rd #honkai gakuen 2 #honkai star rail #hi3 #hsr #ggz #raiden mei #acheron #mika.txt

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wandagcre · 7 months

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drive you mad (part 2) | sam carpenter 🔞

(Mob Boss!Sam Carpenter x Fem!Reader)

You had enough of your complicated relationship with Sam. You’re trying out new coping mechanisms to move on, but sadly, even going on a date with another person didn’t make things better. However, your best friend had too many tricks under her sleeve, willing to try them all to have you again.

WARNING: dom!mob boss! sam, sub!reader, fluff, some of sam's daddy issues, possessive sex, strap-on, subdrop, jealous sam, breeding kink, blow job, dubcon(?), humiliation, fake cum, praise, edging, implied size difference, mentions of violence and stalking, manipulation, stockholm syndrome, toxic relationship, just a lot of reader and sam fucking like rabbits omg, not proofread +18 / men & minors dni. Words: 18k+ Note: BEAR WITH ME. I am aware of how much of a lengthy (wink wink) last part this is but I swear things are looking good ;) hope everyone enjoys it!

[ LAST PART of TWO | Previous ]

[ series masterlist ] | [ masterlist ]

Apparently, the worst thing that can happen is that your date for tonight shares few similarities with Sam.

You try to be humoured with how it started with your same friend again, it’s like she simply knew what your type was. Your date's name was Lucy and while she didn’t possess the tanned skin that you loved; she was still taller than you, her mother tongue happens to also be Spanish, and she also had an attractive set of thick eyebrows.

The resemblance in terms of characteristics was uncanny.

At first it felt foreign to you to dive into an established romantic date after a while. Besides the comparisons that your brain kept making, you were also unsure if any of the ones with Sam actually counts.

Nonetheless, it's been so long since you’ve been into one, you feel like a newborn learning to walk.

To Lucy’s credit, it was an enjoyable experience. She was considerate of your taste, threw you compliments that weren't only out of politeness, and preferred that the two of you decide which place you’ll be more comfortable in. Lucy was specific and admittedly it helped, because you had the tendency to be indecisive. She was chatty and at times it was comical with how she told you little stories that genuinely made you laugh as you dined in an Italian restaurant.

Lucy also took you to an arcade that recently opened. It was creating quite a buzz around, based on how you constantly see teenagers flock enthusiastically in the area.

Surrounded with glowing lights and bold, colorful neon signs, packed with a variety of games you haven't even seen before. The place was indeed inviting for you to let loose.

“This is cliché. But in a good way. I haven’t been in a place like this for a while now,” you look up to your date who had an unwavering smile.

“See! Clichés can be good! Opens the forgotten memory you once enjoyed.” Lucy beamed at you. “What’s your favorite game to play? I’d have to say I’m great at these things, so we’re totally going to win something by the end!”

“Even the claw machines?” You jab playfully at Lucy's confidence. “Aren't they always rigged? I believe just the same since I never won anything from those things.”

“Can't argue with that. Sometimes it's all about the timing and well, other times, all rigged business as you say. Lucky for you, I happen to be good at this stuff!" Lucy stretched her hands outward, comically, cracking her neck muscles as well.

You can’t help but snort at the sight. Nerves were slightly put into ease, because tonight was going well. She won you a dolphin stuffed toy and she definitely hard carried the gunning zombie game of two players, where Lucy amusingly acted out as though she was in real despair with your character constantly dying. You had a great time.

Even if Sam continued to ebb in your mind.

“Lucy, thanks for tonight.” She opened the car door for you and you exhaled with relief because you did enjoy her company. “I had a lot of fun, even if I kept dying on those two player games.”

She leaned on her car, Lucy’s look remained at you. “I did too. I was happy to be accompanied by a beautiful date. Totally worth the coins! But do know that I don’t mind if we do this again…” she extended her hand to yours, silently asking for permission if you’d let her hold you, which you accepted. “And I also won’t mind if you say no. I’ll be a bit bummed, sure, but I can handle it.”

You sense Lucy's nervousness as she fiddles with your hands, head looking down while sporting an upturned mouth. You’re still wearing the jean jacket she lent you from earlier, and insisted that you needed it more because she can handle the cold breeze better.

You loathed to think that maybe, if a specific woman didn’t occupy your mind and body this much—maybe—you’d get a better shot with the lovely woman right in front of you.

“I appreciate how you’ve been so good to me all night,” you tighten your hold, it was softer than what you were looking for. Unaccustomed to the calloused hands you have grown to love over the past few months.

“I sense that there’s a but…”

Then all of a sudden, your phone rings.

It was the devil herself.

Sam.

Retrieving your phone from your purse, you stared at the screen for a few seconds. Not even debating if you should answer, simply frozen that Sam is calling you. She wasn’t the caller type, knowing that she liked to give head's up before anything. So you thought it must’ve been an emergency if she was this insistent.

Worry filled you. Yet, you don't trust yourself to answer right away, knowing you were bound to embarrass yourself or worse; be easily pulled in by Sam's sweet nothings. She was your weak spot, your ability to say no vanishes with ease.

Taking a peek at your notifications, it only shocked you, seeing that Sam was bombarding you the whole evening. They were sweet first, her usual cheery self, until they got cold for some reason. You stifle an uneasy grimace—hating how this was confusing you to no end.

Pocketing the phone back, you had no energy for this tonight. There’s no escaping this situation or this woman, really. Why did you think it was a good idea in the first place? You decide on calling Sam the next day to get things over with.

“Are you okay? I don’t mind if you’re going to answer that,” Lucy asks with a comforting smile, gesturing at your phone that rang for the second time.

You shake your head, trying to compose yourself.

The ringing eventually stopped.

“No. Uh, where was I?” You clear your throat. She looks at you expectantly. “Again, Lucy, it’s been nice. But I think for now all I can handle is… friendship.” you answer in a heartbeat and for a moment, your date was crestfallen at your answer. “But you’re right, you know. Cliches can be nice. I never thought I actually needed this.” It was genuine; not a mere attempt of cheering her up. You didn’t realize until now how you needed to unwind in a way that wasn’t discrete nor foreign.

After a few beats of silence, the woman nodded, perhaps she has accepted her fate for tonight. Lucy bounced back to her unaffected and cheery disposition. Before parting ways, she surprisingly left a soft kiss on your cheek, almost at the corner of your lips.

“I’m content with the fact that I managed to change your mind over one thing.” Lucy quips and shoots you a playful wink.

You were still blushing at the sudden action but you didn't quip at it, giving back her jacket. “Thank you really. For keeping me warm and making this night wonderful.” Lucy says and waves goodbye one last time to you with a toothy smile on her face.

Standing from the pavement in front of your apartment, your eyes follow your date’s car as it drives farther away from you. Still stunned and occupied with your own thoughts, you pay no mind to the roaring engine in the streets, at this late hour—thinking it was one of the many overbearing and supercilious owners that likes to boast of their possession.

You rolled your eyes internally, and immediately headed to your apartment. Reaching your room, maybe the only thing you've cleaned up was your hands. Nothing had felt good for the past few days—work was demanding. Sam kept blowing up your phone, but she didn't make any move to come and see you and that bothered you still.

Even if this date was the most normal you've felt tonight, the exhaustion easily took over your body.

The paranoia comes in waves, surprising you every now and then. Because sometimes, you felt as though eyes were on you.

Mind drifting to Sam again, you wonder what could she be up to these days. What could’ve been the reason for her to call you out of nowhere. Has she missed you this much? Your heart flutters at the thought.

Was it a good thing? To avoid Sam this long even with her small attempts of reaching out?

Of course, it wasn’t. You idiot. Taking off your boots with a resigned sigh, you lazily placed them on the floor. The plushie was still on your other hand and you plopped the dolphin stuffed toy next to you in bed. It was easy to get lost as you laid all comfortable on warm sheets and cold pillows—you're off to la-la-land, dozing off completely into a dreamless state. As your body relaxed, you found it odd how all of a sudden it smells like chemical.

It was strong and vivid for your taste, that even if your brain sends a jolt of panic, you are numbed—unable to move nor wake up.

Like a terrible nightmare, it seemingly paralyzed you until you blacked out again and you didn’t have any more time to analyze it further.

How many hours has it been?

You worry that you’ll miss work. Disoriented, you feel yourself starting to wake up with eyes calibrating as they open. It smells different, though it’s more pleasant; earthly and flowery than the blur of chemical induced you've experienced before. Was it a dream? Your heart started racing—this is definitely not your bedroom. The mattress was softer than yours, the layers of sheets felt gentle against your skin. Not to mention you didn't have this amount of pillows underneath your head, like you were some sort of royalty. The bed was too wide for your limbs that were acquainted with the minimal space you were used to. Then it clicks to you; you are definitely in a different place.

But wait.

You've been here before.

In your hazy sight, you yanked on your forearm as your wrists felt oddly sore and prickling your nerves, only to find out the restraints that kept you for god knows how many hours. Your breathing pattern started racing—attempting to shake off the handcuffs. It was tight. You were still wearing your flowy dress as you glanced at your body.

"Good morning, mi amor." says the deep voice that rattled you.

Your sight makes out a figure of a person standing in front of you, ominous, yet had an amused look on her face.

How did you get in here? Into Sam's room?

"Sam? What—?" you rasped out weakly. "I don't… what is this?"

Sam had the audacity to smile through her little contraption. You poor sweet thing, she had anticipated many things; first comes the confusion.

She’s wearing your favorite shirt, worn out and tightly fitted to her body. With how Sam is built, you fear that the fabric will rip if she keeps on moving. It’s the same one you've lost during senior year and luckily for Sam, she found it in her room during one of your sleepovers and upon finding them, she had no intentions of returning it to you. The timing was perfect, she carried this piece of you as her father left her with no choice but to move away from your town then. Sam stood barefoot and her legs were covered with her silk sleepwear.

"Hush, It's okay, you're okay. You’re safe with me, (y/n/n)." Sam cooed as she sauntered your way, the bed dipping as she gently straddled your legs. It’s the same softly spoken tone you heard many times before, but Sam's actions remain to perplex you. "Relax, you’re at home—with me."

Then comes the panic.

You huff out frustratedly, "What home are you talking about? This isn't my– it isn't–! Fuck, I need you to uncuff me!” with gritted teeth, you try to kick your feet and legs in the air in protest. You didn’t like being forced into this. It was simply insane. Because either way, you were hopelessly drawn and possibly in love with Sam—enough to comply with whatever she desired.

Your wrists tug on the restraints again making them clink against the headboard and to no avail, you weren't able to loosen them up. It was a genuine pair of handcuffs. This wasn't a prank. The terror rapidly coursed through your veins, much more now that you can't move your legs as well, being trapped in Sam's weight.

"But you're with me. I've told you before, I missed having you, I even repeatedly begged you to come back home. You belong here with me."

Sam had wanted to do this hours ago—missing to be in your proximity, evading your space fully. But she knew it'll suffocate you and she couldn't risk putting her favorite pretty girl into a worse spiral of panic attack.

"No, no, no... I was with- this wasn't where I went right after Lucy... I- I got home, my house and I remember sleeping on my bed," Surely you aren't mad. You can recall the events step-by-step, hence this current situation you're in has left you confused. "How did I get here?"

"First, no mentioning of other women when I'm with you. Or ever at all." Sam breaks out a growl. When you gasp, she holds your jaw, tilting them up. Her hold onto you shifts, thumb now soothed your cheeks gently, wiping away the tears you were unknowingly shedding out of panic. "I had to do it my way, mi amor. I'm sorry."

And it swiftly shifts to anger.

A snarl breaks out of you in the midst of panic.

But oh, Sam could never hurt you.

"What the fuck is your way, Samantha?!"

Sam believed that you only need a little more push—convincing how perfect the two of you are together. After all, she has waited for you for so long and had expected that your reunion was enough to prove that. She has been so good to you. Sam thought; why did you have to look for more? She can give you everything.

"This right here." Sam quipped airily, a teasing look written on her face. "The last time you were in my bed... you were eager to leave. And you did, abruptly and odd, when I first thought of it. Then, you didn't plan on returning at all. That hurt me so much, (y/n/n)." Sam's gaze changed to hurt, head tilted as the intensity of her doe-eyes bore into yours.

Guilt prickled on your side. While you disapprove of Sam's ways, maybe you could have prevented it—this. Confronted her after what you found out. She's a friend first that you cherished before being entangled intimately. After all, communication also goes both ways.

"So, you basically took me? Handcuffed me, too. This is kidnapping, you know I could—"

"Report me? If I were you, I wouldn't waste my time. These cops are sloppy and way too easy. But still, they do make a good ear and connection for me, I must say."

You gasp at her implication. You should have expected it.

"Unbelievable. You've gone crazy, Samantha."

Sam shifted her weight, locking your hips with her thighs. Your breath hitched at the force, much more when you felt something hard poking at your pelvis.

"I hate it when you call me that. You're pushing it, baby. First you ignored me and your solution was to go and date someone else? I thought I made myself clear that I didn't like sharing you with anyone else, (y/n/n)?"

You blinked rapidly.

"It- It wasn't like that—"

"No? If it weren't for Tara and Martin giving me a heads up, you would've invited that girl to your house, wouldn't you?" Sam uttered with gritted teeth, "She must’ve done it to spite me. The nerve to leave a lipstick stain on your pretty face, tell me, did she kiss you?" Her thumb swiped your bottom lip, as if to erase the remains of what once laid in there, then up to your cheek but much more firmer than this time.

Sam was already debating ways on how she will dispose of this Lucy you speak of. Her eyebrows now furrowed and the loving eyes were ripped off, anger fixated on the red mark on your soft cheek.

"What? I don't—no, no, Sam. I'm telling you, it was just a simple date. We only ate at this restaurant and—what does your sister and men have to do with this?" you asked, growing confused even more.

If you loathed how defensive you were, Sam however, took immense pride in it. It just meant that you still cared for her feelings. So, there was something indeed. She wasn’t being delusional all this time—like her father distastefully implied.

Sam cowered onto you lower, her dark hair curtained as you were underneath her.

"Tara's wife owns the restaurant that you visited last night. As for Martin, well, I ordered him to call me in case something happened. Imagine my surprise when they both did."

He was following this whole time. That explained one of your conundrums of feeling eyes on you these days.

"You've been following me around?"

Sam was immovable, unphased by your words. She didn’t confirm nor deny your implication.

"You've got nothing to worry about. Come on, love — it's me." The pad of her fingertips trace on your features feather-like. "I won't let anything bad happen to you. Haven't I made that very clear?"

You scoffed at her nonchalance. "See, I would have believed you if you didn't take me unwillingly out of my apartment and cuffed me in your bedpost!"

"But I've always wanted to see you tied up like this. It was only a matter of time. Besides, I can recall you getting all flustered when I brought it up before. Wasn't it a confirmation on your end?" Sam had her pearly teeth clamped on her bottom lip. As she dropped the words, your cheeks grew hot. "Call this... me reading between the lines." Sam husked out right on your ear.

"Samantha, you are something else." A strained voice weakly comes out of you.

"I'm taking that as a compliment."

You rolled your eyes. "'course you will."

Sam hiked up your dress further, exposing your undies. You squirmed at being exposed and she smacked the side of your thigh in return. You yelped as it stung in your skin, throwing your head to the side of the pillow.

"Now, don't put up that attitude with me princesa."

It was embarrassing enough how you're affected with Sam and her way with words. Were you damp in the southern part? She has to stop and not pry further with her advances—or else she'll never live it down.

"I just don't understand how you were so insistent on taking me here," You peer at Sam who had her jaw clenched as she detached her hold to you. "I dunno, we could've talked about this normally. In a space preferably where I’m not restrained like this. Samantha, I mean it. I can't play any more games with you."

Sam raised an eyebrow over your words. A game? She was absolutely displeased with how little you think of her admiration for you. The disbelief was written all over her face.

She became eerily stoic at your words. You didn’t like being the receiver of her blank expression.

"The last time I did, you were adamant on leaving me. Fully avoiding me right after. You didn’t even pick up my call. And a game? Is that what you think it is? Oh, princesa. You're absolutely driving me up the wall. You're shutting me out, I’m familiar with it.”

You couldn't retort anything back at her words, gulping as you found the truth behind them. Sam was right; you've always wanted to run away from any forms of confrontation.

You were never good at dealing with them.

Such a poor little thing, Sam thought. This was evidently giving you a whiplash, her attitude and unconventional ways, but she doesn't think she can wait any longer and the unforeseen little date you had last evening just accelerated, no, ruined her plans.

"Was she any good?" Sam lowly questioned with her other hand trailed underneath your dress, running on your upper thighs as she moved back. You shiver at the contact and warmth that spread goosebumps all over your skin.

Sam refused to call this woman by their name, it would make things harder for her. She detests how for a moment, you chose someone else over her.

You helplessly squirmed, making the handcuffs clink repeatedly once again. "She- she was nice—" you truthfully said.

When you wiggled out your legs, Sam overpowered you. She gripped your plush thighs, opened them to have herself placed in between, with your folded legs raised in the air, she took her hips to push them downward to stop you. Her own core met yours and you felt her packing.

"Nngh—!" you heated up, so close from erupting louder.

And Sam? She hated to see you suppressing them. Especially when you have deprived her of your sweet presence for so long. But she has already learned that loosening up too much wasn't the good approach. She barely knew a lick to romance, not when her upbringing was surrounded by coldness and violence. She thought in realistic terms, the romantic movies that you loved and forced her to see were pathetic. Adorable that you found hope in them, so she gave that formula a shot when she saw you again.

Only to see that you slipped away from her. It was ineffective, so to say.

Sam decided that she was going to create her own.

"Wrong answer, honey.” she smiled. “You say that yet I can tell you're already wet for me, aren't you?"

You didn’t like how this turned out as foreplay and what was worse, is how you were enjoying this deep inside. Sam being in tune with your body—she already knew that. You just needed a little more… breaking.

"Fuck off, Sam. Just uncuff me already!"

"Now don't get me started. Say, I'll make a deal with you," Sam combed her fingers through your messy hair. "If you're wet once I inspect you, we'll do things my way. If you aren't– maybe– I will let you go."

Astounded with her proposition, annoyance crept into you.

"What's so fair about that?"

"The illusion of choice." Sam grinned mischievously. "But you can't possibly be wet aren't you? It's still early in the morning and your words are insisting that you dislike this whole setup." she gestures on your body, huffing at how you're still resisting her.

"You don't own me," you attempted to stand for yourself.

Mirth settled on Sam's features. She tilted her head and an unsettling smile was set on her lips.

“Haven’t I proved that otherwise from time to time?”

You look away at her crystal clear innuendo. Of course it's Sam. Everything that she did always had you transfixed and mesmerized by her.

"You're just mocking me now. Seriously, maybe if you knew why I pulled away..." you wryly replied.

"That's the thing, I don't! It frustrates me what I have done wrong," Sam now appeared equally exasperated as you.

You look at her bewildered. She had the nerve to say all of this, while her eyes were pleading at you. It was jarring to witness her crumble and desperate to seek answers in the softest way she can, while having you handcuffed.

"I heard you! That day, when you cooked for me and wanted me to stay in.” There wasn't going to be another chance if you didn't pour it all right now. With a shaky breath and a lump in your throat, you continue. “I accidentally eavesdropped on your phone call, confirming that you were going to a strip club. I hated that you were fucking around, even when we– whatever we were. I thought it was better to stub it out right after that. Apparently, I’m still not good with keeping things casual.”

Her calloused hands came back to softly soothe your face. You were close to shedding tears as previously.

"But… I've never been with anyone else since we met again."

"Bullshit." you quickly spat out.

She gave you a stern look. Sam was displeased with how you were denying her. Still, she evens out her breathing, holding back from taking the reins for now.

"I swear on it with a knife on my throat, (y/n/n). I had to go for work reasons. I recently acquired the place so I had to finalize some things. It also helped to muddle our meet-ups in case someone was lurking."

It made you tense up underneath Sam.

"And pray tell, why the hell would someone be lurking at you—better yet, at us?" you curiously asked, worry dripped at your tone.

Sam exhaled, her eyes momentarily shut.

"Because I deal with an under-the-table business, honey." Sam meets your eyes again, holding onto the headboard. "It's the main reason why I had to step up, as I said before. My old man let his temperament slip terribly, fucked up, and I had to take the reigns. That's why I disappeared. I didn't have much choice." She appeared solemn as she admitted the truth you've been longing for.

Sam leading a mob made so much sense now for you. Always wanting to be discreet, her men tried to blend in—not wanting to stand out, and especially that night where Sam was disoriented and had bruising, injured fists, more times than you can count after your first time seeing them.

The glint of amusement on Sam’s eyes did not go amiss for you as she gently stroked your hair. “Though, I gotta hand it to my old man. I hated how his voice nagged constantly in my head, how he figured out that I had feelings for you then–utilized it to taunt me every time I fucked up.” Sam scrunched her nose. The resentment seeped vividly as she revealed more. “He’ll always say, I can’t see you yet or- or that I don’t deserve you if I can’t defend you—that I’m weak. You were my silver lining, (y/n/n). Still is.” She confessed, stroking your jaw softly as though you were her most prized possession.

Similar to that one night, your affection for Sam overpowered your common sense. You were moved by her words, ached that she had to be tormented at a young age. Feeling bile rising up your throat; you then realize how deep were you enough to be willing to ignore the unconventional and wicked ways of Sam, even if it raised red flags. But it doesn’t mean that it wasn’t posing an immense weight over you.

It was all new information to you. For god’s, she had to kidnap you and cuff you to her bed. You never thought that your sweet Sammy could ever—

"That's... okay- okay. It's a lot to take in," you whispered to Sam who was internally worrying at your response.

Before you can delve more to the sirens threatening to grow louder, Sam scooted her lower body away from gripping you, and now you feel her lips softly yet so eagerly peppering your face with kisses.

"We don't have to talk about it right now, but I just want you, (y/n/n)."

She pinched your inner thigh, making your mouth open agape from the shock. Sam took it as her chance to meet your mouth with hers, no hesitation now as she was eager to kiss you. Her lips moved and you tentatively returned the gesture, dancing with familiarity that you didn’t know you badly craved for weeks now.

You groan at the overwhelming feeling of Sam and how she moved against you. Wet and eager sounds of kissing vibrated delectably to your body and it made Sam shift to a hunger and lust fueled kiss.

Soon you were gasping for air. Sam reluctantly pulled away as you did, chasing your lips for more. She was more than pleased to see you equally half-lidded and affected with now swollen lips.

“God, I wanna be inside of you already…” Sam husked out as she swept back her hair. “You’ve made me so desperate, you have no idea.” The ragged breathing made you throb. She moved aside to spread your legs apart and you became wetter at what’s about to happen. Sam quickly placed herself between your legs, now folded up. “Do you wanna feel me?”

You nodded, but it wasn’t enough for Sam.

She grabbed you by your cheeks, “I need an answer, mi amor.”

“Yes!” you breathed out, nodding dumbly.

Sam grinned wolfishly as your need starts to crack upon the surface. She knew that this irresistible feeling goes both ways. Still, she thrived on seeing this each time, being proved right.

“Arch your back for me.”

As you complied, Sam slithered her own body flushed against yours. It gave her enough space to reach behind to unzip your dress, tugged it down, her look barely faltered with a glint in her eyes.

She saw your matching jade underwear pieces. Seethe began to bubble inside of Sam as it sinks in that you dressed up too nicely for your date last night. It drove her crazy, how your gorgeous tits were threatening to spill out of its confinement; you were such a sight for her.

Only for her and it should always stay that way.

She cupped them out of your bra, finally revealing your supple breasts. It only took one glance for her desire to take over and now you’re pressed against Sam. She feels your nipples harden on her as she begins to mark you from your neck, to your sternum, and coated them with her spit as she sucked on them needily. Throughout the process, all you could do was spill moans helplessly, eyes closed and arched your body for her—gladly letting Sam do however she wanted.

Now your body was littered with red and purple marks, some parts glistening with her saliva.

“I want to taste you too, fuck, I don’t know which one I’ll do first.” Sam admitted, voice all raucous. Taking a peek of her needy, doe eyes was enough to make you feel lightheaded. “No more dates with other people alright? So god help me, I’ll fucking behead anyone who dares to.”

You nodded, now eager to comply with Sam as your whole body ached for her. Your green light made her weak in the knees—she worships you. Sam swore that she won’t hesitate to kill more for you, if they cross you or come between the two of you.

Sam pulled you in by gripping your legs, lower body completely arched for your core to meet hers as she knelt at the bed in front of you. She thrusted her hips upward and the dull ache of your pussy throbbing intensified tenfold. She continued teasing you and while your arm and wrists were beginning to ache, knowing you can’t do anything, you started to cry, pleading for the woman to do something.

“Please Sam, can you just– shit, it hurts, I need you… please…”

“Shhh, it’s okay,” Sam gently released her hold of you, pulling down her sleepwear and revealed the strap that dangled between her legs.

You involuntarily widen your legs at the sight. Fuck, you were so ready for her. She smirked at this and tugged your underwear down. Your arousal flowed like crazy, the vivid imagery of your wetness stringing on the fabric of your panties and Sam was intoxicated at it, more so with your heavenly scent.

“Wanna fuck your mouth first, (y/n/n).”

With no further warning, Sam hovered against you once again, leaving your pussy exposed and being teased with the mere air, feeling yourself drip already at her expensive bed sheets. Strong thighs and muscular lower abdomen peeked through her tight shirt, covering your entire sight.

Sam tilted her head and you see the mirth on her face. Unexpectedly, she grabbed the middle of the strap’s length and slapped it harshly on your cheek and mouth, barely an ounce of respect. You were a fan of how she loses herself onto you—because of you.

Body twitching repeatedly, without a doubt, you were craving for more.

“I need my good girl. Come on, open up for me.” Sam orders, probing your mouth open with the tip. Sam’s scent was intoxicating for you, too, with barely space from her core to your face, you almost wanted for her to ride you. Maybe later. “And I need to prep you first.”

Wanting to please her, you met her lust filled gaze and opened your mouth wide, tongue stuck out. She immediately pushed in a few inches, your tongue already swirling around the silicone. It stretched your mouth. With closed eyes you were sucking so eagerly that Sam moaned at each thrust she did, hit the back of your throat that you had to adjust your breathing through your nose–and how you easily complied with no hesitance. You covered it in the slick of your spit until your cheeks hollowed, eager to please even if you were close to gagging. Drool sloppily dripped on corner of your mouth; equally lost as her right now and Sam loved that.

No one and nothing else can compare to this sight.

“Shit, you love me moving like this huh? Being cock drunk, you’re pooling already in my sheets…”

She grunts as she thrusted harder, getting more turned on as the slick wet sounds become aggressively loud in the confines of her bedroom. Sam kept her gaze on you the whole time–loved the sight of your eyes welling up with tears out of pleasure, drooling on the corner of your mouth, and you were releasing throaty moans as she moved on your mouth.

“You missed this, don’t you?” Sam breathily asked, the bed creaked along. “Because I sure did,”

You hummed loud in agreement and this urged Sam to grab the shaft of her strap, with one final thrust, she poked it against your cheek, the head of the cock bulging against it. She groaned at the imagery—ingraining it on her mind. She pulled out with a pop noise and you were already dishevelled.

“Fucking hell, (y/n/n). Not so responsive now are you? Fuck, if my cock was real I would’ve made you swallow my cum already. Spilling them warm on your throat. You would’ve loved that, wouldn’t you?” Sam asked you through her rapid breathing and held you by your cheeks again to fully look at her.

“Yes, yes! I’ll swallow it all. I need you, I always need you, Sam,” you admit with no shame and spread your legs wide once again, your hole soaked and clenching over nothing—all for her.

“Must be your lucky day then. Because this is a cumming strap, mi amor.”

As your eyes widened, Sam pumped on the shaft, directing it to your mouth that was slightly ajar and you felt liquid oozing on your lips and tongue. She dragged it until spurts were all over your face, torso, and then your lower tummy.

You made sure to put on a show for the woman, seductively licking off the remains of her fake cum, fully immersed as if it was the real thing. Sam groaned and moaned, immediately pulled you for a bruising kiss that made your head spin.

“I know you wanted more but I need you to be patient,” Sam muttered as she pushed your inner thighs outward, positioning herself between you. “Shit, you’re dripping. I was right. Soaking, just like I expected you to be.”

“Yes, yes! But for the love of god, uncuff me, Sam… I want- no- I need to feel all of you,” you begged for her mercy. Sam simply bit your exposed clavicle. As you moaned, the action sent delicious tingles all over her body.

“No, not just yet.”

Sam’s calculations were going well so far, she’s about to have you and then keep you forever.

There’s no escaping her now.

You whined a bit more as Sam had her grip on the back of your knees, making you fold as she pressed herself beneath you. She held you by the ankle and threw them above her shoulder. Fuck, she’s got you folded. Maybe Sam should’ve let you do some stretching first.

“Need you to take a deep breath for me, pretty girl.” Sam uttered with her voice all gruff, and looking at her, you see the sheer sweat becoming evident on her skin though not as much as yours. “You didn’t like me so much earlier but now, I’m barely in, and your pussy is clenching already?” she mocked you. Her giggling burned your body, you did not expect how enjoyable it was to be ridiculed in this way. “Loosen up for me.”

With a bated breath as you relax your throbbing core, Sam slid her cock further, the head and a few inches entering you with ease than earlier. Sam was keen on looking at your expression and your mouth, in case it was too much for you. She knew it was a new thing for the two of you, she can only imagine that it’ll be a new adjustment compared to her slender fingers.

This was an insane type of stretch for you. The biggest you’ve ever taken.

“See? You’re taking it so well. I’ll make it fit.”

Eventually, it wasn’t enough for Sam as you expected. Drunk with the sight of your pussy swallowing her whole, she picks up her pace and rammed the cock inside of you—full of hunger and determination to see you fall apart; she needs it more than air.

“Shit! S-Sam, can you just–”

“Shhh. Don’t be so greedy now, where are your manners?”

The curve of the whole shaft inside of you was vivid against your walls, her impatience getting the better of her as the pace was ragged, no longer gradual. It was downright pornographic–you didn’t expect to be this loud and wet. The ache of being deliciously stretched out made your eyes roll back to your head and let out a moan. The sloshing and slapping sounds were too defined for your ears.

“You… you’re going to be the end of me, Sam,” You whisper as you bucked your hips, the squelching of your sopping pussy only motivated Sam to thrust deeper who smiled at your words.

She waited for you for so long and to finally have you was intoxicating beyond her comprehension.

“As you are mine,” Sam replied and with a newfound fervor, she began fucking you deep into her mattress, hitting the depths of your soaked pussy. The bed uncontrollably shaking and with her grip on the headboard–you feared that she might actually break it.

“Oh m-mmh! Fuck, oh-Oh my god!” you cried, not even able to ground yourself through holding onto something as you’re still cuffed.

“Shhh you can take it. Just a little more,”

Your arousal dripped enough to smear itself to Sam’s hips and thighs. She grunts loudly as she fervently pounds the strap on you, "Esto es mia." her accent dripped deliciously and you whimpered, whole back arched, as Sam splayed her hand, pushing the bulge of the strap that appeared on your lower tummy. “You like that baby? Needy little thing, I’m going to fucking breed you until all you can think of is me.” you wish to have your nails dug and scratched over Sam’s muscular back, finding the ideas she kept on seeding onto your dirty mind pleasurable more than ever.

Your stomach twitched like crazy, the tangled coil grew unbearable now for your liking. Both of your muscles burned but it was barely an issue for Sam who was still relentless.

Just as you were close as Sam hit the right spot, her pounding came into a full halt.

With hazy sight, you try to blink a few times. Sam started to pull out, while you cried, canting your hips to chase more of the strap and she simply took deep breaths. She growled, slapping you harshly by your inner thighs—you yelped unadulteratedly, the sting crossing the line of pain and pleasure. Sam muttered a string of curses in her mother tongue as soon as she saw the strap coated and glistening with your slick.

The tension on your stomach twitched madly in waves. It doesn’t help that your clit was throbbing painfully to reach the needed high. You wail as you turn your head to the side, burrowing to the soft pillows. Your vision turns warped as you grew dizzy, staring at the high ceiling.

The harsh reality sinks in. Like a cold bucket of water spilled onto you, you realize that you’re in Sam’s complete mercy. She makes it known with her giggling that resonated in the spacious room, making you feel humiliated. Though, it oddly adds to the erotic atmosphere. She worked you up–gaping hole still clenching, now onto nothing.

“This is what happens when you do dumb things and deprive me of your pretty self, mi amor.” she smiled and stroked the apple of your cheek, wiping the tears away.

Sam couldn’t wait to fully break you.

While previously wallowing in deep yearning and questions, Sam however, took it up a notch. It was terrible; aware of Sam’s tendencies to be rough in bed, nothing had prepared you from yesterday. Her intentions were clearly personal and she took the detachment horrifyingly and dealt with it in unimaginable ways you never thought could happen to you. For gods’s sake, she was following you and not so long ago you were in her bed. Uncertain how you’ll face this mess, there’s one thing that you were sure of: you cannot get enough of Sam.

Isn’t that terrible?

You woke up gasping for air—your body doesn’t feel like yours. It felt as though you were paralyzed, your motor senses weren’t coordinated as you wanted them to be. It was like being plunged into a body of water for hours, coldness surrounded you and oxygen was scarce, you were completely deprived. Your lungs were clogged up and you didn’t know how to manage the air through your body. Panicking at this, the tears involuntarily well up your eyes, blurring your vision and just in time, someone catches you.

“Shhh. It’s okay. You’re okay.” Warmth covers your body. The soothing voice kept on lulling you to calmness. The grasp was firm on your midsection—continuously rubbing back and forth. It wasn’t like being trapped anymore. “It’s just me, mi amor. It’s Sam—your Sammy. Try to breathe slowly with me, come on baby, you can do it.”

The voice faintly goes through your hearing but it was distinguishable enough. It was still difficult to breathe but being in her proximity, you feel her pattern of breathing. She takes a deep breath and draws out the release just as slow.

“Breathe with me, come on honey,” The voice urges you gently, sweeping the hair away from your face. She anchors you through the turbulent waves. Sam thought; How can you still look so beautiful even at your most vulnerable? If anything, this had made her even more set with her plans—wanting more days of waking up next to you.

Your breathing was less ragged, albeit still unregulated.

Sam wanted to see your eyes now, the one that she loves the most, and your subdrop is depriving her of it.

She tries to paint an easy picture for you in hopes of calming you down. “You’re alright. You stayed with me—in my house the whole day. It’s nighttime and nothing bad is going to happen to you. What’s going to happen is that you’ll rest the whole day. I’ll prepare some food, we’ll go for a bubble bath, and reapply a soothing cream to your sore thigh and we can watch some romantic comedies that you like so much—you’d pick the movie, of course.” Sam finishes with a light chuckle.

Finally, the panicking has settled down, her words have lulled you to calm down. You aren't drowning in the vast and deep sea nor restrained like a prisoner. It provided enough details that you didn’t know your mind longed for.

“Sam,” you drawl out with your hoarse voice. You’re met with the beaming hazel eyes, crinkled at the corners, attentive to your next words. “Fucking warn a girl next time.”

“No promises.” She teases you, nose scrunched and tickling your side lightly.

You fight off a weak smile threatening to spread on your lips. “What do you mean no promises? I don’t think I can walk! Don’t even look smug right now–I mean it.”

The woman in front of you was not guilty at all. Shrugging her shoulder, Sam was seemingly ready to get up.

No!

You shrieked. Panic immediately courses through you, tugging her down harshly to your side once again. Your grasp was in her arm. Why were you so adamant to have her beside you? It was unexplainable but if anything is certain, your body couldn’t handle it if she left you. Not after letting her have her way with you earlier—you refuse to feel disposable, even by the slightest. You wanted more of Sam.

Sam, on the other hand, was shocked at the action but not at the reason. She blamed herself—knowing you were still processing your feelings, how rough she has been—she should have remained gentle, at least for now. Sickeningly, she loved having your attention this way. It felt like a teaser of what was more to come—to eventually have your full devotion; equally as she does to you.

“I’m sorry, honey, I was about to carry you.” Safe with me now. She murmured to no one, soon as you clung to the front of her body, legs wrapped tightly to her waist. Her arms and hands quickly caught you for support. You nuzzled in the crook of her neck, making her shiver delectably more so as you tangle your fingers on her hair—scratching lightly on her scalp.

Not long after as she started walking, she pressed multiple innocent kisses to the expanse of your neck. Sam sighed. God, everything had to be so addicting about you—even your scent. She gently drops you to the cold marble of her kitchen’s counter and before you could protest, Sam reminds you of the plans she had made for tonight.

You’re surrounded with appliances that you had no idea how to properly pronounce, one that you would’ve only seen in the magazines. She always wanted the best of the best, it seems. Hell, Sam can start a cooking show if she wants to. This part of her house wasn’t too decorated, you noticed, somewhat lifeless. You tuck the observation at the back of your mind, a piece that could be useful later on.

Soon as you settled in, Sam told you that she intends to make an appetizing flatbread and her own concoction of guacamole dip. How she managed to improve her culinary skills in these years remains to surprise you. Younger Sam was already capable of making edible food fixes and some humble meals, but her skills as she made them was evidently different and an upgrade.

Your curious eyes remained at Sam as she moved. Her apron appeared threatening—it read don’t make me poison you! Attached with a kiss mark was ridiculously endearing to you. But also very, very hot. The way Sam tied it around her waist and how it clung to her fit figure. Not to mention, you were rewarded by the sight of Sam’s hair tie momentarily trapped by her teeth then doing a messy half-pony with it.

She first started with the dough with the trusty rolling pin, her arms flexing and contracting at each force she put into it. The veins were slowly becoming prominent as Sam does her work, the outline of its curves bulging, also making themselves known. Remnants of the powder were a nice touch as she was making a meal for you.

Don’t even get started with her knife skills. Sam easily chopped through the vegetables, completely hypnotized by the motion, you failed to notice that she was preparing some greens that you personally had a vendetta with. Your eyes were fixated on how she cut through them with much precision and ease. Then, you recall her admission, leading a mob—you can only imagine how swift she must be with her sharps when using them in business situation, the menacing glare and—

What?

Now, you were thoroughly confused.

You gulped and squirmed on your seat. The ache in between your legs made you remember how she deprived you of orgasm previously which was a first. She even promised to breed you. But you didn’t know whether it was an act of mercy, knowing if she pushed you more, you would have spiraled much worse the following hours when you woke up or was it an act to build an excitement through you.

No wonder, similar to the physical hunger, you found everything in front just as equally gratifying. Even the thought of her malevolent ways, which you initially had conflicting thoughts about. You were still aching and sore, it didn’t help that Sam was quite the eye-candy as she maneuvered in her own space. Shit.

“I know you still don’t like these. I remember you shoving them sneakily on my plate whenever we ate dinner at your house back then.” Sam snapped you out of your…derailing thoughts. Oh, you wanted to be railed, alright. She dusts off her hands on her aprons after washing them. “But you have to eat up your greens, missy. Don’t make me force you.” she quips in a jest, eyes scrunched at you.

“I don’t have much choice, do I.” You deadpan and roll your eyes as Sam hummed, agreeing. “How come you don’t have a personal chef?”

Might as well shift your thoughts to something else. Admittedly, you also wanted to know more about Sam. After the continuous bombs she had dropped to you as she fucked you to oblivion.

“Ouch, baby. You haven’t even tasted what I’m cooking and you’re already doubting me?”

You laughed. “No. But I heard it’s what rich folks have. And you must be busy.”

“Not for you, never too busy.” She replied, quickly like it didn’t need much forethought. She shot you a charming smile and proceeded to chop away. Did your heart do the somersaults? Hell yes. You were always puddy when it comes to this woman. “Sometimes I do… but I prefer doing it personally for you. Especially today. But on another occasion, maybe you’ll see my personal chef.”

“Do I sense an early invitation for an indoor date?” you tease her.

Sam nodded her head adorably. “Well, yes, (y/n/n). I thought that was clear already. More things to come.”

Well, that joke of yours bit you quickly in the ass.

You coughed and turned around to your side to hide how affected you were. This version of your Sammy would need more time to be processed into your consciousness. Few weeks apart and you’re still clammy and hopeless at her forward nature.

“You haven’t even asked me to be your girlfriend yet. For all I know, this feels like another booty call for me.”

“A booty call?”

Okay, maybe that was a bad idea. Sam halted her motions, you flinched in your seat as she spun the knife effortlessly in her fingers, then gripped the knife and pierced it in the chopping board—the sound resonating in the kitchen.

“You are my girlfriend and it better stay that way.” A lilt of aggression and possessiveness dripped in her honeyed voice. She couldn’t stand you doubting more of her actions. Or worse, you mentioning any traces of your past experiences of hooking up with other people. “Like I said, I despise having to share you amongst all things. I thought I made it clear; no talking of other people–more so when you were entangled with them at one point–around me. I absolutely cannot stand it.”

Her jaw grinded as it bothered her. Sam didn’t know whether she should throw up or plan to hunt them all down and slice them all up, gut them up like a fucking fish, as she pays them a little visit. Starting with this Lucy woman you just went on a date with.

Shiver ran through your spine at her tone, coupled with Sam’s harsh parting of your still sore legs, settling between them as yours dangled on the marble counter. You turn into jelly oddly both at Sam’s admission of wanting you—claiming you—and her hand that greedily ran on your ribs, dangerously under your breast, and the other brought up your inner wrist, and pressed a kiss softly.

“I wasn’t– I just wanted to clear this out. It confused me for a while, what we were. I just needed it spelled out. For the sake of my inner peace.” You stammer out and Sam’s features slowly relax to your admission.

“Well, you are mine, mi amor. I’m reiterating that for a million times more until it sinks in to you.”

She professed, tilted her head and leaned to you with no hesitation, and as you met her halfway, one of her hands rested to the side of your head, pulling you for a chaste kiss. You burned for Sam, chased her touch, and the butterflies on your stomach were still there. Not even the little cheek kiss from your date last night could compare by the slightest.

Soon as Sam pulled away, your stomach growled, reminding you of actual hunger. She chuckled upon hearing and quickly resumed her work.

“I didn’t know you were this…” You stop to find the right words. Sam tilted her head to the side again, always attentive to you. “Passionate.” Possessive, almost. Maybe you would have said that but you didn’t want to break such an intimate air between you. Not when Sam is officially your girlfriend.

Sam however, found it amusing. She’s surprised you barely caught up with her nature. Even in your younger years, she assumes that you only took it as protectiveness. Casualties were barely encountered then because you were attached to the hip, by default nobody wanted to mess with you as everyone was aware of Sam’s intimidating self. She was all talk and bite.

"You can say possessive and I won't be mad. I don't want you holding back to me."

“Okay. I was about to say that. Were you ever like this with other girls?” you timidly ask out of curiosity.

She shook her head. “No, just you.”

Sam clearly remembers this girl from her lacrosse team who wanted to ask you out for homecoming. Unlucky for her, Sam had heard her previously in the locker room, talking about you as they perceived you both in sweet and disgusting ways.

She mentally agreed with how they recited your beauty out loud. You are definitely a piece of art to Sam. She unashamedly admired you out in the open, but it appeared that you were oblivious to it. But then, they also talked about how you were possibly freaky—your innocent and quiet nature was a mere ploy in their eyes and they would like to tap your ass and ramble more of your curves.

It may or may have not intendedly caused Sam to perfectly stage an accidental scene to break the girl's ankle during one of the practices then sneered for her teammate to 'watch out next time' and 'not even think about you' in the slightest.

“Guess I was indeed full of surprises, hm?” She simply replied, getting a glass and a bottle of your favorite flavor of fruit juice for you.

How did Sam even know that this was your go-to comfort drink?

With wide eyes, you accept it gratefully.

“Yes, you are.”

Not long after, Sam had finally finished up preparing food for you two. The serving was definitely quite generous. She didn’t hesitate overfilling it with the toppings and sauce. She brought up a piece of her creation in your mouth, which you easily took a bite of. The food and its flavors melted in your tastebuds. You couldn’t help but moan in pure delight.

Sam laughed. “That good?”

“Shut up.”

“You’re stroking my ego, baby.” She places her palm flat on her chest, seemingly flattered. “Don’t talk with your mouth full—you know this.”

And you? You almost spluttered out the food you were chewing. Sam and her devilish antics will be the end of you.

It wasn’t you to be contained in one place. You were always moving, whether there was a force or not. Yet, for the last few days, you manage to be unmovable. Miraculously taking your sweet time with Sam. Time seems to fade when it comes to her. More than anything, you were in disbelief you get to call your long time crush as yours.

The small haven the two of you built for the last few days came to an inevitable end with Sam having to attend to her business matters.

You were displeased, the bubbling separation anxiety somewhat coming to the surface already. Just before Sam left, she pulled you into a deep make out session, and both of you were getting handsy. Gleaming at the thought of finally getting a sense of release, to your surprise, Sam managed to break away and compose herself—smoothening the material of her dress shirt and fixing up her tie.

To pile more to your frustration, you saw the emerald upholstered chair that Sam shamelessly paid and took when she fucked you senselessly at that lingerie boutique. As expected of the woman, she had it in her placed in the resting area of her house.

Before deciding to explore more of the nooks and crannies of Sam’s home; you eventually noticed the red lights at some corners placed in the bedroom and a brilliant idea popped out in your mind.

You retrieve your phone and dial Sam to confirm and quell your thoughts.

“Miss me already?”

“Terribly so.” you fiddle with the strings of Sam’s hoodie–the owner giggling to your direct confession. “I just noticed, but are these cameras in your bedroom?” your eyes flit to one to your right.

Sam cleared her throat. “Before you detest the idea; baby, it’s all for safety. If it makes it all better, I’m the only one with access to the bedroom cameras.”

You almost snorted because of course, she would.

Audibly, you sighed out of relief with a hand clutched to your chest. “Thank god. ‘cause I was about to touch myself.”

You’ve dropped the words so casually that Sam for the first time, was out of words. Faintly, you picked up something on the other end, a sound like a clear fall–unbeknownst to you, you have successfully made her flustered beyond her comprehension.

“Sam? Don’t tell me you hung up on me,” you rolled your eyes.

The woman took a deep breath. “No. Still here.”

“Good…”

Your eyes remained on the camera, giving the best of your pleading eyes–hoping it’ll somehow be visible enough through Sam’s static screen. Hand slithering on your ribs then your covered mounds, making you groan out loud and eventually your fingertips hovered around your pelvis–a flimsy underwear that you Sam chose for you to wear earlier. It was practically see-through. Your body felt feverish, eyes fluttered shut.

It would be so easy to dip your fingers inside…

You hear Sam growl. “Don’t touch yourself. Not without me there. I swear to god, (y/n/n) I’m not playing with you…”

A whine escaped your lips at her order, actions coming into a full stop. It was no use to sneak off, aware now there’s cameras in her house and Sam was bound to figure it out no matter what.

It took Sam half an hour to reach you. You’re met with a determined woman, loosening the tie on her neck and unbuttoning her dress shirt halfway as soon as she barged into her bedroom door—while you gasped, looking still the same as Sam last checked on her monitors.

She manhandled your body, as though you weighed nothing. It spurred your libido higher than ever, mouths crashing and Sam devouring you until your lips bleed and bruised. The only thing that came out of your mouth was her name and more moans that echoed beautifully in her room. Bodies flushed together, you grinded in perfect sync, breasts brushing that made you putty. The familiar gliding of her hands soon met your soaked center. Sam slid her long and slender fingers, entering you but not fully. She started to rub circles slowly until you were worked up enough, playing with pressure, she pumped them deep into your throbbing pussy. Sam grunted at the squelching sounds, obsessed with the warmth of your core. You easily took her in, greedily swallowing all of what she can offer to you.

The twitching of your stomach was absurd and seemingly nonstop. Yet again, Sam noticed, and she took out her coated fingers out of your sopping apex.

“No, not yet princesa.” She devilishly giggled, breathless as you were on top of her lap. You simply cried and squirmed, as the lack of release was making you crazy. “Give me a good reason,”

Your hips bucked but Sam was moving away. You didn’t like it at all. Surely, you were going to combust if you were deprived of this heaven for much longer.

“Please, I can be good! Sammy… I’d do better!”

How can Sam deny you now? She giggled at your state. Sam had to admit, edging you was a form of sick atonement that she wanted to pull out of you. Forged as a punishment for leaving her dry while she was understanding and patient. Her devotion was clear as a day and you’ve failed to notice that. Yet, it was also a ploy to have you in her orbit, even by sexual means. With a sardonic smile, Sam absolutely had fun with it.

“Now you’re talking. Just like how I want you, (y/n/n).”

With newfound fervor, she resumes her motions to your pulsating and insanely wet pussy. You clenched repeatedly around her digits. It released a throaty moan out of Sam, low and breathy, spurring you to arch your head back.

“Tell me how much you need me.”

“N-need you… only—s-shit—just you, Sam! Nngh!”

Pride deeply surged on her chest. If it were possible, her love for you only heightened.

“Oh, I love you.” She confessed against your skin. “Cum for me, (y/n/n).”

The endearing look that Sam had in her hazel eyes had made you even more lightheaded as you took a peek at her. She loves you? You couldn’t believe it. Just in time, your body shook in pleasure as finally you were able to cum. With weeks worth of teasing, it definitely scratched an itch but somewhat it wasn’t enough, yet you couldn’t raise your voice for more as it exhausted you. Maybe you should start working on your stamina, you thought. But then again, Sam was insatiable with her teasing and foreplay. She had been sinfully eyeing you and grabbing you so casually without any promise of making you cum.

Your profession of love to Sam came out in a mumble. Of course, it was no-brainer that you reciprocate her love, too. She simply laughed at your state, body slumped and nuzzled on her neck, a gentle kiss pressed out of appreciation for her. Sam held you tighter, combing through your hair that had grown sticky due to sweat, all softly and breathing in your scent. She smiles upon realizing that you used her own shower items instead of yours, one that she provided, knowing which products you used religiously.

As this was happening, Sam bestowed your little date with a gift. A bloody pig head awaits the woman, the item placed not out of her doorstep but rather from the inside. The scene was gory for her or any sane person’s liking. The trail of redness was spread through her floor and has oxidized. It left a stench of rot, that flies were starting to appear in your date’s home. Sam is anything but rude, so her present came along with a note—one that relayed a clear message of threat for the woman to stay away from you and it would be better if she moved away.

Sam would have made her death swift, dealt with it clean this time as she has no longer a message to relay for you, a contradicting safety and fear which she can both offer—all in order to have you.

Your stunt of touching yourself today effectively reduced Lucy’s sentence. She cut her plans short and had given this woman a second chance and made a simple scare instead of personally gutting her up with ease. Although if she pulled any attempts of challenging her again, Sam would no longer be merciful to her.

Another day of Sam giving you a bouquet of flowers. To her surprise, today was different. Soon as you placed them carefully on a vase filled with water, quickly you retrieved your own gift for her. She always gave you something and you wanted her to know how you always thought of her, too.

You handed Sam a dark blue colored mug that was rough around the edges, a proof of your inexperienced clay making. Designed with stars and the waxing crescent as the main subject, the outline is painted in gold.

“What’s the occasion?” She asked, still in awe.

“Should there be any? It reminded me of you,” You smoothly replied. Her eyes twinkled and it was easy to say that it was a success.

Sam was over the moon. You remembered. Honestly, it was hard not to, because her pillow sheets were still related to the cosmic – only portrayed with much elegant material. Then her ramblings and how Sam would take you out to simply admire the moon at night. As she held your present carefully, you thought now of how it was a fitting symbol for her, with her tendencies of being a night owl and broody. She chuckled at your perception of her.

“Oh and I’m broody?”

You add, "It makes you hot and mysterious though, don't worry."

“We should watch the night sky sometime again. I missed doing that with you.”

With Sam’s eyes crinkled in delight and her million dollar smile directed at you, caught you in her grasp with your feet in the air—her hold flooding you with warmth and adoration—it wasn’t much work for you to smoothen and forgive her of the previous disagreements you’ve had with the woman.

She was simply your Sammy, far from the frightening glimpse you’ve seen of her as someone determined and powerful of a mob leader.

Somehow, you managed to get back unscathed when you returned to work. With absence equivalent to a honeymoon trip, you didn’t know what excuse the universe had provided over you. You explained a made up family-related emergency problem, even though you haven’t seen them in years, and it worked like a charm on your end. You weren’t fired even with the sudden absence, no resentment in your bosses’ tone, and your coworkers simply wondered and then welcomed you back.

What you did not know was that your absurd omnipotent of a girlfriend conjured something, effective enough not to pull much attention in tying her name with yours. Sam already invested in your company. It was clear for her that you wanted your own thing, getting out of work so quickly. She respected this wish of yours. A negative push from her would have made you shut like a clam and she didn’t want that—not when Sam was making progress already.

Were your spirits lifted? Without a doubt. Luck didn’t strike you this much, so you gladly took it in.

Initially, you planned to go back to your apartment after work then call your girlfriend. You can’t deny that you missed your own space, wondering if it was dust littered already, given your absence for how many days.

Although, a car was already waiting for you outside.

“After you.” Martin greets you, opening the car in the backseat. You offer him a polite smile. To your surprise, Sam was seated there too. Immediately, you tackle the woman for a tight hug. Sam returns it with a loving smile and you didn’t want to let go of her addicting embrace.

She looked stunning with her navy turtleneck and usual trousers, along with her polished leather shoes. Sam’s attire always complemented her tanned skin that you love so much–especially with the gold accessories that adorned her look. If anything, getting a sight of her energized you and made your mouth water.

She laced your hands together. “How was work?”

“Good as it can get.” You sighed contentedly, head already leaning to Sam’s broad shoulder. “I don’t know what magic you pulled, but I wasn’t berated at all? And this guy from the other cubicle was the only thing that annoyed me by far.”

“What’d he do to you?” Even without looking, you can already see Sam’s eyebrows furrowed in concern.

You giggle as it wasn’t a serious matter. “Relax. I just couldn’t tune out his singing and humming today. It got on my nerves… he didn’t exactly have the voice of an angel.”

“Oh I’m sorry you had to put up with that?” Sam meekly says in hopes of comforting you and her thumb rubbing on the back of your hand.

“You know I should be the one asking you–how was your day?” you retort. You always wondered how it worked; Sam being a mob boss. She must’ve always been caught in some form of distress.

Sam bit her lip. She looked at the rear view mirror before answering you. There was nothing much to hide at this point.

“Good. Somewhat smooth, no one annoyed me with a shitty singing voice.” She replied in a deadpan which made you laugh. “No one had to face my knife nor my fists, surprisingly.”

“That for real?” your eyes went wide.

“You asked,” she mumbled. Sam held your hand tighter as though you were going to disappear in thin air. “It’s nothing like a war, (y/n/n). I know your head is getting all creative–but the machine gun out in the open? Not real. Not an efficient way to stay low, either. Sometimes it’s about looking at paperwork and more on discussions. But lately it’s more of in between securing deals, cordially as we can. Then like I said, sometimes… it takes force and grit—in case things go south.”

A pout spreads on your lips. It pulled out a hearty chuckle from Sam. As she suspected, you indeed had a comical imagery of her work.

What she didn’t know was how you grew into liking the vision of her being stern and domineering. You even thought of her office, how her seat must’ve looked like a throne to sit in. Completely lacking in warmth, assertive, cold and calculated as she gave orders around.

You blurt out, “That’s hot.”

“Hot?” Sam looked at you in disbelief and some flattery. “I didn’t expect that from you, (y/n/n).” an amused smile graced her features.

You simply shrugged and soon yawned.

“When was the last time you had time to rest? You deserve this, mi amor, and so much more. It wouldn’t hurt if you let go once in a while.”

It got you thinking. Sam is right. You weren't used to having this privilege; by means of simply resting and existing in a peaceful space. Always trying to get by, going through the tedious nine-to-five routine. You’re forgetting something but you have already succumbed to the idea that crashing onto your girlfriend’s place (once again) was a given, due to your sleepy state.

“Before you fall asleep on me, I got you this,” Sam shuffled on her seat as soon as you leaned against the car’s headrest, mindlessly fiddling with the sun pendant placed below your jugular notch. Sam got it for you a while back.

She reached at the back of the car and pulled a gorgeous bouquet arrangement. It was becoming a common occurrence every week, since you managed to make a deal with the woman. You had issues with being spoiled too much and Sam petulantly met you halfway, understood it, even if she acted like a kicked puppy. This was her alternative of spoiling you of love—amongst other things. Sam balanced her unconventional approach of romance through this, willing to give this traditional courting-like gesture another shot, not wanting to be too rough with you as it wasn’t an image she wanted to be fully attached to.

Another huge motivator for her was the discovery of your admittance when she came up with this unannounced, saying that the first and last time you received them was in high school and it was because of her. Sam can recall the time, unknowingly having missed the sight of you being tongue-tied and absolutely flustered. She loves how you glowed at this little gesture.

And now, Sam is eyeing you between like a meal to devour and the trace of gentleness is found on her hazel eyes, as always. Her fingers cradled under your jaw.

You can get used to this.

"But I'll miss you. didn't we plan movie night today?" A rare sight of Sam, pouting and tugging you close, was beyond endearing.

You almost felt bad. Pressing your lips against your girlfriend, you then lead her onto a chaste kiss. "I'm skipping just for tonight please? And it's not like I won't miss you too, either. because I certainly will."

"So smooth with your words."

"I've learned from the best."

Sam cocked an eyebrow. She didn't know whether she'd be pleased at this situation or not. Her issue lies from your current outfit, she thought it was too short. It didn’t help you were a walking vixen and dangerously unaware of it. The idea of you prancing around with filthy leering eyes following you all night? It made her blood boil.

That was already a job taken by her and hers alone.

Her grip loosened around your waist, turned into soft caressing. She beams at you, knowing it was your favorite sight and part of her.

"Mmm. Maybe it was bad that you were taking notes. Too much of it I'd say."

Your phone pings again, your friends were already telling you that they're on their way. A part of you detests to be away from Sam – but you think that your memory has gone oddly hazy and you cannot remember the last time you met up with your friends. You get out of your shared room but not without Sam hovering and sending you off with a kiss and personally driving you there.

Meanwhile Sam was somewhat pleased. Sure, she wanted all of your time, but she had to admit how she reveled in the way you have easily forgotten of her obsessive and conniving ways. Your girlfriend wouldn't let you out of her sight, of course. Constantly worried about your safety and a step ahead, decided to plant two men with a set of skills present on the scene; a safety net in case your fun night out changes its course, her gift of necklace served as an audio receiver and the expensive watch had a tracker.

What you hoped to be a good time, ended up on a terrible note. You disagree with your friends as you open up a few more details to them. It was all because of your curfew and they perceived your relationship with Sam as too intense. That was a given, right? It’s a love thing, you suppose. You fiddle with the necklace she gave you, pondering over how as though they didn't see Sam in the same light as you did. She wasn't borderline abusive. In fact, she had been greater than ever to you, more carefree, unrestrained and unfiltered. You feel it too, she was more relaxed and eager to disclose any information you wanted from her.

Now on your fifth drink? Or sixth? You scoffed and giggled. You were bummed because it took Sam a lot of convincing that you were going to be safe. That you had your own pepper spray with you and that nothing can happen with your friends beside you. It was good, refreshing even. Until it wasn’t.

“I’m just saying, you have to watch out for yourself. And we’re here. Anytime.”

“Are you sure you can trust her after that? She seems… pushy. Won’t take a no for an answer.”

“Seems too fast, (y/n). It won’t be bad if you raised your opinions every now and then, you know.”

It echoed once again to you. Sam was the best for you. Everything between you was consensual. You understood her ways, simply because it was how she was made. You can only imagine how several years of being moulded into a domineering leader with a strong gut have drastically shaped her, refusing to think of it further how you weren’t there for her.

You downed another shot and as you drank away your disappointment of your friends’ criticism of your girlfriend, a greasy man was already eyeing you.

Then you realize Sam's words from one of the nights you spent with her. She was right; these people in your circle wouldn't get it. Not as much as the two of you do.

Upon your realization, a man not so discreetly manoeuvres his way through you. You deny him but he was insistent. It was gross how he was a mouth breather, his stench hovering over you.

“The more the merrier, baby.” He didn't even believe that you had a girlfriend, in fact, he even grinned disgustingly at this information.

“You have one second before I call the fucking cops.”

“That’s a lame excuse–” He whined, looking away in disbelief thinking you were bluffing. “C’mon, I can make you straight… all it takes is a night with me,”

You took that chance to stealthily use your phone and clicked on speed-dial. You were surprised it connected to Sam instead of the cops. You don’t remember changing it although it was a better alternative, truthfully. With the initial shock, it override the rising suspicion from you; how your girlfriend set it herself.

Some men came over to assess what was happening. The greasy man rambled too much, far from convincing with how visibly uncomfortable you were. Thankfully, they came into your rescue. You hoped they were good guys. So far it seemed promising that they pushed the guy who was making you uncomfortable. They had a strong build and now were exchanging in a verbal disagreement. It was getting heavy that you had to step away and as soon as you bumped from someone at your back; it was your girlfriend, doe eyes swarmed comfort to your body.

“Get in the car, mi amor. It’s parked at the front. Lock the doors and wait for me there, hm?” She caressed your cheeks. You were clearly shaken up, still Sam was proud of how you nodded and tried your best to look at her. “I’ll handle this.”

Her thumb caressing gently on your hips, you look at her once again, to see not even the situation and what it holds for the man—but to see if she was truly alright. Sam reassures you again that it’ll be alright and focuses again on the man that had been bothering you.

Where the hell were your friends? Sam groaned lowly in frustration. It was good how she decided it was a good idea to wait out for you. Who knows what could have happened. She takes a glance at the man who added rain on your terrible drinking night-out. She lured him out. He was ecstatic, the idiot not even knowing his fate for tonight. Him trying to take advantage of you sealed it for himself.

Sam already figured that this would be easy, his throws starting on a terrible form, giving away how he didn’t have a proper knowledge of its basics. He might’ve been taller, but his lack of skill proved him to be useless. Sam immediately went for an opening, fist met his face then swoop his feet quite literally which hit his knees badly to the pebbled ground. He groaned out of pain, curses flowing out of his mouth.

“Please! I’ll do anything! Spare me, I haven’t- I didn’t even touch her!” He begged on his now decapacitated knees.

Sam quipped, “Should I be happy about that?”

“N-no, but–”

“You harassed her. Insisted on wanting to fuck her.”

Over a dim corner outside, Sam sighed and took out the silencer concealed in the back of her jeans, and personally shot him right in the head. She liked seeing her power over these people. Always begging for a way out, so desperate.

Her men didn’t even flinch, trained and desensitized. In another vehicle parked near to the scene, a few more men came out of it, dressed for clean up and quickly carried him out for disposal.

She didn't want things to be messy. But she had been listening to your entire conversation; unbeknownst to you that the necklace also served as a down low spy-like device for her. Sam was happy that you were quick to jump in her defense–how you trusted her. Frankly, she was afraid that her attitude and sense of ethics would be something you’d be disgusted with. Being proven otherwise, it warmed her heart, increasing her devotion tenfold if it were even possible at this point.

It was easy to lure you out of your circle of friends grasp. She thought of some point how useless your friends would be, now that you have her. Sam knows they’ll only add as a burden and mess.

As she drove the two of you back home, her free hand constantly rubbed random patterns on your exposed thigh. The streetlights were just as warm as your girlfriend’s touch. Her constant glances at you each time you were in red light. The reassuring smile that barely left her plump lips.

When you waited for her – you didn’t even care what could the man from the club could face. Was it terrible that you reveled in the high possibility of him being a dead meat?

One thing for sure is that you only had one good takeaway this evening.

With your parents out of the picture a long time ago, disapproving of your ‘lifestyle’, and siblings being far and preoccupied with their own lives — this was it for you: Sam is your family. Each time an emergency or a milestone happens to your life, only Sam is there for you, without fail.

You only needed her and she was more than enough.

"Tara wants to see you." Properly and not from afar as Sam instructed, the voice echoed in her mind. "Not today, because I want you all to myself right now. Some other time, maybe."

Your eyes crinkled. "When have you not? But yeah - I'm totally in. She was practically a baby when I last saw her." Both of you giggled at your remark.

You discovered another room in Sam’s house. Barely gone through all of them, you found out just now how she had a gaming area. Littered in between retro and modern game machines, and how it glowed differently from arcades, made it appear much inviting. Now in low lighting in the afternoon, you ended up playing pool with your girlfriend. It was a game you always sucked at; with your shitty aim and handling. Bad news for you, it’s Sam’s favorite and opposed to you, of course she was great at it.

Terribly cocky too.

Not that you minded, because she was attractive for how she flaunted it. She’s carefree with you, seemingly retracting to her playful self that gave her a youthful joy of a glow. With her dressed up in tight cycling shorts that were covered with a sweater around her midthighs; Sam looked appetizing.

Back to the game, your motor movements suffered. Each time you aim and thrust the pool stick, the ball bounced off like a fish - far from the pocket points. Missing the target was also a common mistake for you.

She laughed. “No, baby, you’re holding it wrong too.”

“How is it any different from yours?” You retort.

“It can be your posture as well and the pressure you apply when hitting. Don’t be mad now.”

Huffing, you were so close to breaking this pool stick. “Maybe if you showed me!”

Sam chuckled. She liked your adorable scrunch getting all focused to at least score a point. she gets from your behind, bodies now flushed. Her soft chuckling continues as she notices how you stiffened at the contact. It blows her mind, how years ago things were in reverse; it was her who always panicked at your comforting touch. she welcomed it, relishing each second, replaying the memory of times she missed you before meeting again. She beat herself up mentally at how different she should have approached it.

Sam shook her head, focusing on the present. she has you now and it's all that matters.

“You just have to…” She took your forearms in a grasp and smoothly ran them to your hands. “Hold it like that. Your other fingers for balance however, depend on your level of comfort. It’s a matter of practice–which is what we’re doing.”

“Is that so?” You tease her, turning your head enough to meet her face, hooded eyes greeting you. You feel Sam growing breathless much as you do.

Her hazel eyes had a specific glint to them. They beautifully shone and no doubt had a swirl of lust growing bigger onto them. You purse your lips to hide the spreading smile. Instead, you retaliate by leaning over the table exaggeratingly; practically bending over it. Sam could no longer hold back a small moan escaping her mouth.

It was a matter of a different game and Sam decides she’ll humor you.

However, it was proving to be a difficult task. You just had to rub your ass against her hips. Now practically enveloped by her, weight almost all into you. You wiggle a bit more. Then you felt something else. Fuck. Was she…packing?

She had a cocky smile now. It’s been a while since she has used this on you.

“Mmm, mi amor. And your aim? Don’t push it up like this,” She grabbed your hand to reenact it. The ball thumped as it bounced – showing how you usually hit. More of her weight was on you, her front deliciously pressed on your back. “I noticed you tend to do that.”

“Oh, do I?”

You were playing dumb now. Although, with skins inevitably brushing, it doesn't take long for the two of you to crumble and give in to do something with the tension.

“Fuck this.” Sam muttered, fingers digging on your thighs as she immediately hoisted you up to the pool table. Back of your thigh’s skin rubbed to the rough texture of its surface, somewhat adding to your gnawing hunger.

Sam was bouncing with excitement to take you in here. Mouths crashing in dire need of each other, she explored your mouth as though she hasn’t before, tugging your bottom lip until you tasted iron.

“Oh, oh… god,” you whimper.

Sam gawks at you with darkened eyes. “You think you can tease me like that?”

Your jaw slacked as Sam's teeth sunk in the skin of your neck, far from finished and continued by nibbling with pent up fervor, and the pleasure of her ministrations as the moans rolled off your tongue with ease. Her open mouthed kisses were messy against your skin but nevertheless, you welcomed her through arching your neck to give her more space to paint you red and purple.

Some of the balls clanked as you guys moved desperately, grinding on each other.

“Look at you.” She giggled and had your cheeks on a firm grip. “My pretty girl so eager to get fucked dumbly. Did you feel my cock earlier at your little tease of a show?”

You helplessly looked at her with half-lidded eyes, nodding.

“Yes, please…Sam,”

“Please what?” She mocked you, doe eyes filled with mirth. Her hands slowly moved from your cheek to your neck. Sam gives it a squeeze, making you hum in delight. “I won’t continue if you don’t use your words properly.”

“I…I want you to breed me, like you said months ago,” you murmured and looked away.

Blood rushed in your clit. You were throbbing in need and full of embarrassment. But it was the truth that you wanted to be fulfilled. You didn’t know it caught Sam in a surprise, her joy and libido had gone through the roof.

Sam relishes onto this, a wolfish smile on her features as she takes every inch of your skin with her lips and hands. And you? you can barely keep up, clung onto your girlfriend’s neck to gravitate yourself in the spiraling haze in your head, pretty sounds continuously tumbling off your mouth.

What you want, is what you’ll get.

You managed to take off your top, now almost completely bare in front of your girlfriend.

“Good girl. So, so good. I knew you had it in you, mi amor.” You’re met with Sam’s patronizing smile. You gulp in excitement at the praise she’d given you. “You remember your safe word right?” She asked as her hands wandered, pulling your own shorts down and underwear. As you nodded, a predatory look was fixed on her face. “I’m going to make you forget it, I promise.”

Her irises were ignited with a newfound desire, turned you on your back and bent over as previously, against the pool table.

Sam stroked her strap and adjusted your legs. She wanted you wide and ready. Your slick was smeared on your innermost thighs and some of them formed with strings of your arousal, greeting her as she spread you out. God, she can’t wait to ruin you.

Without warning, the skin of your pulsating hole was being dragged out by the strap's length and all you can do is whimper loudly in complaint. The head teased you a little with her pace agonizingly slow. As she pulled out though it didn't last as she decided to ram the entire length back inside of you, absolutely filling you to the brim. You moaned as it burned inside of you. Sam reach on your tits for balance as she started thrusting, picking up a pace. With all things going on at once, your eyes rolled at the back of your head and face pressed against the rough surface.

"Wait... oh my god, fuck, wait!" You trembled underneath her, your palms outward against her the table, weakly attempting to push away determined Sam. "So- so big, Sammy, I don't... oh! d-don't think, I can't!" You deeply underestimated her cock. But reeling onto it was simply addicting that you felt conflicted.

“You can and you will. You wanted this, didn’t you (y/n/n)?” She mocks you again. Sam was right, you wanted this. “Whoring yourself to me, this is the least you can do. Fucking. Take. It.” Your girlfriend punctuated each of her words with a hard thrust, each time you swore that it went deeper into your walls.

Sam was spurred on with your erotic reactions. She wanted to see your limit, see you truly fall apart. For god’s sake, you were already dripping wet, gushing and smeared all over Sam’s cock and hips. Once she found a rhythm pleasing to you both, she moaned along you as the base also met her clit – sending shocks on her end as well.

You were so fucked out right now and an orgasm was ripped out of you so suddenly. “Nngh… oh!”

Breath heaving, you felt the wetness run down your legs. Sam slowed her movements and stayed deep inside of your walls. More liquid gushed out of you, mixed with your girlfriend’s fake cum. It felt heavy and so full inside of you that you can’t get enough. It was beyond gratifying and out of body experience.

“Another one, come on. I have to fill you up to the brim,” Sam whispered against your ear, white-hot that it sent shivers down your spine. Your hips surely will bruise after this, as she resumed pounding relentlessly against the fine wood. It also made you embarrassingly more wet, too. Her pounding didn’t falter at all, Sam’s own hips still at work.

“Fuck– I….Ah!” Your eyes were squeezed shut.

Sam took pride in your current state. She gripped you tighter on your lower back and the other firm on the edge of the table. Sheer sweat already covered the two of you and the pool table continued to shake, now no longer in a prim and proper placement; instead it was crooked due to the movements that were forced upon it. You were fucking like animals.

A vast incoherent mumblings came in a slew to you. Your head pressed against the table and tears came out of the corner of your eyes. Your ears weakly register the mean giggling of Sam. The erotic sound of the skin-to-skin slapping continued to fill the space of your room, synchronizing with the creaking sound of the table. With your mouth agape, you felt the shaft being thrusted in a different angle, the cock’s tip kissing your cervix repeatedly. Sam dug so deep into you that it made you dizzy already.

“Gonna fill you up real good,” Sam continued to penetrate you mercilessly, her aggressive and determined grunts vibrating pleasingly to your body and adding to the carnal state both of you were in. It was too easy to sliver her cock in and out of you now, fully lubricated given your sopping core. “My breedable little bitch. Fuck, I’d say you’re meant for this. Meant to take this huge cock, hm?” The stretch had you bucking your hips onto Sam, gyrating along her teasing thrusts in and out. “Tell me how good it feels. How I make you feel so good.” Her honeyed voice taunting you. Begging you.

You envision Sam’s words to your heart. If only it were possible, you wouldn’t mind a single bit of carrying her child. After all, there are countless good qualities that your girlfriend beautifully possesses.

“You… you feel so fucking good against me,” A strained, throaty moan tumbled out of you. Sam hummed in your validation. “O-only you can have me- do me like this, Sammy…”

With your reassurance, came the rocking feeling of being so full again. Now Sam doesn’t move an inch, refusing to do so and determined to keep all of it plugged inside of you. You’re sure that she has moulded her entire cock out of your warm walls, stretched it out with no hesitation until it explored undiscovered spots from before.

To your shock, Sam flipped you again. It was insane how she recovered so quickly. Almost buck naked she sat now on the pool table and made you come up to ride her properly. She’s met with barely a resistance on your pussy as she easily shoved it up again with no trouble, moaning loudly and growling possessively as the curve of her length faintly made its outline known to your lower tummy’s skin.

“God you look so beautiful with my cock inside of you.” Her grunts were vivid as Sam’s white hot breath directly hit your ears. You feel your core gush more wetness, body all feverish, loving how she's also desperate and enjoying this much as you do.

She needs you. She admires you. Sam wants all of you.

You bounced helplessly and cried some more, to the point that your safeword dangerously hovered on the tip of your tongue. Until finally, Sam emptied out her fake cum inside of you – some of them dribbling down and smeared some more. Both of you were heavily breathing and Sam balanced your bodies – yours being slumped and weak against her, breathing ragged and eyelids heavy. You were fully spent and satisfied.

“So beautiful. Are you alright, mi amor?” Sam asked in pure concern. The lust on her eyes slowly dissipated, soft and only focused on your current state.

“Y-yes,”

Then a person barges in. You’re pretty sure that it’s a man who just squealed. He caught the sight of you and your girlfriend in a compromising position. You jump slightly and it was a bad idea, because one: you are naked, and two: Sam was still nestled deep inside of you. She also grunted at your accidental rocking.

Your stomach churned as you and Sam sober up quickly. Of course, you didn't like being seen like this if it weren’t only for Sam’s eyes to perceive you unashamedly. As expected, Sam hurriedly covered you first – fast and most as she can, at least. Your back was turned away from the man who entered the room, facing the wall.

Meanwhile, Sam had her chin tilted up, seemingly exasperated. If it weren't for your comforting touch on her forearm, she's sure of combusting in a messier manner, sporting the intimidating signature look on her demeanor. She almost looked unrecognizable with her cold and unamused gaze.

"I instructed you to knock three times." Sam quipped with a deep voice. “The receiver was also there, was it not? You could have buzzed in and waited outside.”

"Miss Loomis.. I- I- I did, I knocked before—”

Being in closer proximity to her, you felt some wetness gush out of your pussy. Blood rushed on your cheeks, as you made the previously pristine and high-end of a pool table now all messy and coated of your fluid. You caught a sliver of Sam’s defined hipbones and lines in her abdomen were prominent more than ever. She tucked her strap back as she pulled the cycling shorts up as quickly as she could. The room felt still for what feels like hours.

"And is that enough? I strictly told you to never enter, especially when I’m with my partner."

Sam had a scrutinizing look over him. She’s more than fucking pissed. The mob boss has never seen his face before. It must've been a new recruit. If it were any other mistake, maybe Sam would have spared him.

But no, he had to walk in while you were naked.

She bent down to reach underneath the pool table. She retrieves a gun. Your eyes widen but she hushes you, reassuring that everything is fine. although her eyes expressed the clear fuming with her jaw clenched, you gulped at the sight.

Sam scoffed, she hated being messy in front of you. For her, increases the likely of you leaving her. "Don't turn around." She orders you still with gentleness lace on her tone. "I mean it. Just… stay here."

Okay, you're more than fine with the sight.

Definitely so wet and turned on.

Sam moves and so does the man. Out of the room, you hear a few clicks and the cocking sound of the gun – the metal, spring, and unlocking of the weapon and you don't look further than that. And with the door slightly ajar, there's a loud sound that clearly indicates a shot. It's quick and followed with a heavy thud. A clear shot has been made. Your eyes widened. It rang your ears a little but it soon faded.

"What the hell was that?"

"He's a dumb one, a new recruit." Your girlfriend replied blankly. She fluidly moves around the room and reaches for her phone, eyes not leaving your naked body. "I need you to do some cleaning up- uh huh. in here, near the living room- second one, yes." Then she quickly hung up.

"I hate being interrupted. He had to ruin it. Almost saw you, too. I'm sorry baby, but I had to finish him off.”

Sam sighed and rubbed her temple. She wasn't a fan of losing control in front of her beloved. Although this one tested her greatly, feeling an immense protectiveness, she didn't like one bit having any of her men seeing you in this vulnerable and naked state. Prancing around normally as though your sight isn't engraved in their filthy little dimwit brains. Now she worried only about your reaction; knowing your initial response was to run away, same as you did after opening up to her even then. She always pulled you close—held you tighter—whenever you did.

She left a tender kiss behind your ear. You were immediately flooded with comfort. Her touch had a tendency to numb your worries down. It was familiar and gentle. Were you afraid? Surprisingly, you were not.

Out of all times you’ve seen her ‘lose’ it – was seemingly always out of making sure that you're safe, free from worries, gives you enough room as much as she can (knowing that Sam cannot resist invading your personal space) and has done anything to harm you in any way.

Sure, she just killed in front of you. But now, you can care less – knowing what your girlfriend’s nature and work entails. Besides, she has done it in your honor. In a twisted way, you interpreted it as a sign of her unwavering commitment to you; that you’ve always been a family to her – one that she plans on building one with, anyway. So instead, you reach to cradle Sam’s cheek and pressed a lingering kiss on her irresistible burgundy lips.

“You have me, always. Don’t worry.” You profess to her - a promise you intend to keep.

Sam grinned, visibly relaxing. Finally you fully understood her viewpoint.

Does it make you equally sick? Who the hell knows.

taglist: @not-alesha, @women-lover-kisser , @bluetreecloud20 , @danniackerman , @natsbraids , @melissabarreraswife , @bratydoll , @fantasylandbitch , @rocknr0ll , @mokotodenis123 , @deliriosinrose , @red1culous , @jennasoneanonly , @gaylorvader , @pixielovers2account **i can't tag others? :[

do not repost/translate on other sites. © wandagcre

#gg.writes #sam carpenter x fem reader #sam carpenter x you #sam carpenter smut #sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter x female reader #sam loomis #lesbian #wlw #fanfic #au #scream vi

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crescencestudio · 5 months

Text

2023: A Year of Connection

Hi everyone!

As I told you last month, this month's "devlog" will be more like an end-of-year recap. For those of you who have known me a while, you'll know that I get ~in my feels~ and Very Nostalgic at the end of the year. And this year is no exception to that.

Looking back on this year, I realize I did much more than I thought I did. The year was filled with so many waves of uncertainty, burnout, and ruts, that I felt like I wasn't accomplishing anything in the moment. Now that the year has actually wrapped up, I can see that was Once Again my imposter syndrome whispering words of sweet nothings into my ears.

In fact, this year, I find that I did Way More than what I did last year. Crazy, considering how busy I remember 2022 being. Let's take a walk down memory lane, shall we?

Writing

If there is one thing this bitch did, it's fucking write LFMASODIJ. For all my complaining this year of routes taking too long, getting creative ruts, etc., I still wrote (what I consider) a Very Good amount. While I may not have hit my writing goals that I had set out, I still ended up writing around 255k words in total this year. Most of this being for Alaris, and some of it being for my dissertation (LOL) and other side games, like Intertwine and Jam Games.

This number also doesn't include deleted passages, edited passages, etc., so the amount I've spent writing, reviewing, etc. was Significant this year. Here's to hoping that momentum continues into next year and finishing the rest of Alaris!

Side Games

Something completely unexpected, but that I'll forever be grateful for, was my decision(s) to join game jams this year. It all started with Otojam, a visual novel jam I'd wanted to join for a WHILE.

Intertwine was, without a doubt, one of my most memorable moments from this year. The friends I made/grew closer to during that jam. The people I connected with because of Intertwine. The people I got to work with. Everything about the experience surpassed my expectations, and Van and Summer 2023 will always hold a very special place in my heart because of it. Thank you to everyone who enjoyed that game. It was my first full game I ever released, and I couldn't have been more nervous about it (no literally. I wasn't sleeping and I was nauseous for a week before release).

Knowing there was no "revision" afterwards that I could hide behind or promise that there would be a "better"/"enhanced" version made the release terrifying. But the reception you all gave to it and support from so many friends made me feel so connected and grateful for the community.

The other three side projects were... well, Unexpected. LOL. Before these jams, I'd never wanted to work in team settings, mostly because I have Mad Imposter Syndrome, and I've always imagined I'd be dead weight in any given game dev team. My skills on writing, art, and/or coding alone aren't "exemplary" enough for me to think I, well, deserve to be on a team. But when a couple of short jams were being held by a friend, and teams were being made filled with other friends, I thought maybe I could help, even if it's just to QA/playtest. But I've walked away from each of these experiences learning so much from other talented people and with very dear friends.

Each of these side games truly tested my chops in terms of writing, narrative design, and coding. But I'm glad I challenged myself to take part in each of these experiences because I've walked away with so much more than I would've expected.

Alaris

My Heart. My Soul. And at times, My Worst Enemy.

As much as I may have talked about how I Wasn't making progress on this baby. I, in fact, made A LOT of progress:

Art: 15 CGs, Updated Sprites, Kickstarter Artwork

Commissions: 20 BGs, Complete GUI, Personality/Affection Indicators, Editing, Voice Acted Lines, Complete OST (8 Tracks!)

Writing: Three Finished Routes

Shipped Kickstarter Merchandise

I'm going to be Real with you all. I'm not in the mood to recap everything for Alaris in the way I did with everything else LAFKMSDFOIJWOEI. Main reason being, I do that Every Month, and at this point, I would feel like I'm repeating myself for no reason. But let me tell you, when the Enhanced Demo comes out, you will see what I'm talking about with progress made. And I'm excited for the next year when I start getting to show things off (read: Demo Release and Route Beta Releases) now that assets have really come together ^^

I will say, thank you for sticking with this project for so long. It's easy to get bogged down in development when a project like this is as big as it is. It's just as easy to think that no one will care about this by the time I release, or people will start losing their patience with me as development goes on. So I'm forever grateful for how kind, supportive, and patient you all are, especially this year <3

Connections: The True Theme of 2023

If you've made it this far, I'm extremely impressed with you. And to reward you, I'll give you a moment of honesty and vulnerability which, to be frank, I Don't Do as a person and especially with my dev persona LMFAOO ((Before I do, let it be known, CW: mention of death, grief, alcoholism, chronic illness, suicidal thoughts))

Something I don't talk about much is that for all of 2022 and most of 2023, I was not in a good place mentally. At the beginning of 2022, I lost three very important people in my life back-to-back (I'm not exaggerating when I say back-to-back it was within 2 weeks, three separate deaths lol). That, on its own, was hard to deal with. But on top of that, I soon found myself having to cope/help with a family member's chronic illness and another family member's mental health (read: alcoholism, suicidality).

While this isn't a particularly unique situation, it was one that I found myself struggling with pretty severely on top of a pretty demanding work life. And it was a situation I found myself in until about midway through this year. Things have lightened up. I navigate a new life with some pretty severe triggers, and without the presence of some of my most loved ones. But overall, I at least feel like I can breathe and function, which is a state I didn't feel like I could exist in for over a year (and started to believe I may never exist in again).

Because of this new room in my life, I was able to connect with people again, in a more genuine way. I've grown closer to a lot of dev friends, to the point I consider some of them genuine close friends. And IRL, I've been able to reconnect with some of my dearest loved ones. The main reason I bring all of this up is because this year, I felt unbelievably connected to people, whether that was dev friends in the community, people who support my games, and IRL people.

And sometimes, when you interact with people solely online, it's easy to think they don't care as much about you as you do for them. But this has been disproven to me time and time again this year. And I've found myself in a state of appreciation for so many of the people I've been blessed to meet and befriend <3 I felt this especially so during some of the game jams, with the Secret Santa gift exchange, and with my recent Holiday Tree.

So thank you for everyone who has let me take up some space in their life. You literally Do Not Know how much it means to me and impacts me. This year, while I started it in a state of slightly hopelessness and numbness, I find myself ending it with gratitude and connection.

I hope the rest of this year (the very few couple of days we have left LOL) treats everyone well. I'm excited for how we get to start 2024 and what we'll get to experience together <3 Thank you again for the memories and support, love you all very dearly ^^

#crescence cries

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lucy90712 · 11 months

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Hello!Can you make something like "Helping Gavis mother with dinner" at a family dinner?

Thank you♡

WC: 1.4k

Saturday nights usually consist of going to games or watching movies on the sofa with my boyfriend Pablo but this evening we actually have plans as his family invited me to have dinner with them. Pablo goes to have dinner with his family when he can but he always goes alone but tonight I'm going with him for the first time. Most people would probably be nervous in this situation and I am a bit but for the most part I'm actually quite excited. I have met Pablo's family loads of times and get along with them really well so I don't need to worry about trying to impress them as we are past that stage.

As much as I no longer feel the need to do everything to impress his family I still wanted to be a good guest so while Pablo was at training I went out and brought a bottle of wine for them which I hope they will like as I know nothing about wine. Pablo told me I didn't need to get anything but I wanted to as I would have felt bad if I went empty handed. By the time Pablo got home I was starting to get a bit more nervous as I had lots of time to think about tonight but luckily he distracted me by dragging me upstairs to get ready. Pablo wanted me to help him decide what to wear which he never lets me do so he must have sensed that I was getting nervous and wanted to distract me. Seeing as I had the chance I made him wear the outfit I love the most on him and it happens to match what I was planning to wear. When we were both ready Pablo actually suggested we take some pictures together which I would never say no to so I took a few pictures in the mirror before we left.

Since Pablo recently got his drivers license he has been wanting to drive me everywhere as I used to have to drive him. At first it was scary having him drive me but he's actually a good driver so I'm a bit more relaxed now. Pablo's hand was on my knee tapping along to the music that was playing which made me smile as I love when Pablo does little things like that without realising. At some point he realised what he was doing and took his hand off my knee to grab my hand instead which he squeezed to reassure me as we got closer to his parents place.

When we arrived Pablo parked the car and ran around to my side of the car to open the door for me which always makes me laugh as I could easily do it myself in the time it takes him to run around the car but he insists on opening my door for me. We walked up to the door together and Pablo rang the doorbell before going inside to let his family know we had arrived. They came right over to greet us so I gave his parents the wine before giving them a hug along with Aurora who I was happy to see as it's been a while since we last saw each other. We all went inside and sat down to catch up on the last few weeks which have been very busy for both me and Pablo with the end of the season and exams.

After catching up for a while Pablo's mum went to go and start dinner and I joined her after saying I would help. I love to cook and am always wanting to learn new recipes so I was more than happy to help with dinner plus it gives me some time to talk more with Pablo's mum. To begin with we found all the ingredients and she told me what we were making and it was a dish my mum used to make all the time when I lived at home. That started a conversation as we were able to talk about recipes we have learnt from our parents and how nothing is better than a home cooked meal from your parents as it's never the same when you do it yourself. From there the conversation evolved into talking about our favourite memories and I really felt like I was getting to know Belen better. We have talked many times but I don't feel like we have ever really got to know each other on a deeper level and I want to do that as I very much plan to stick around for a long time.

"What's one day you will always remember?" Belen asked while we cut vegetables together

"Oh gosh there's so many especially from my childhood but I'd say that they day Pablo asked me to be his girlfriend is up there" I said

"I don't think he's ever told me about that day" Belen said

"Well we'd been talking for a while and been on a few casual dates and he asked me on another date which I expected to be like the rest but when I got to his house he greeted me at the door with some roses and he'd set up a really romantic dinner with candles everywhere and then after dinner we sat outside together where he asked me to be his girlfriend" I reminisced

"That's very sweet Pablo must have really loved you from the start as he never put that much effort in when he liked girls before you" she said

"Since we started dating he's been very good about putting in enough effort sometimes he puts me to shame with the little things he does for me" I said

"I'm glad to know I raised him well" Belen laughed

"You definitely did he's a great guy" I said

"Your parents raised you well too you are a very lovely girl" she said

"Thank you that's sweet of you to say" I said

"I really mean it when Pablo first brought you here I knew straight away that he found a good one I always worried he'd fall for someone who was only interested in him for his career but when you arrived it was obvious that you weren't like that and now I hope he never lets you go you are like a second daughter to me" she admitted

Hearing Belen say that made me so happy as I knew his family liked me but to actually hear that she thinks of me of a second daughter is such a relief. I always wanted to make a good impression on his family as I know that with Pablo being a footballer they would scrutinise any girl he dated more than most people would and I wanted to show that I really do love their son for who he is as a person. We kept talking as we made dinner and the smile on my face only got bigger the more Belen complimented me.

The two of us were having a lovely time bonding until Pablo came in and hindered my ability to cook as he wrapped his arms around mine. I turned around as much as possible to give him a quick kiss which made him let go of my arms and just stand next to me instead. He wanted to know what we had been talking about so his mum told him about our conversation and of course Pablo started to talk about how much he loved me which made me blush even more than I already was. It's nice to feel loved and appreciated but I always get shy when people compliment me which Pablo knows but he kept going as he likes to see me blush. To make him stop I had to get him to help me with the sauce I was making as then he had something else to pay attention to.

It wasn't much longer before dinner was ready and everyone was sat at the table to enjoy the meal. Everyone was talking in between mouthfuls but I was just sat quietly with one of Pablo’s hands on my thigh thinking. I was thinking about how I can’t wait to have many more family dinners like this with Pablo’s family in the future. I have truly found a second family that I feel completely comfortable with and I want to enjoy for as long as Pablo wants me around which I hope is for a very long time if not forever.

#gavi imagine #gavi imagines #pablo gavi oneshots #pablo gavi imagine #gavi oneshots #pablo gavi imagines #Gavi

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miintsprigz · 5 months

Text

Casanova, Crushed

Half-baked Dadspy hurt/comfort drabble, go

Ok fine, bigger explanation: Scout asks out Pauling, she says no, whether it’s because she doesn’t like him like that, because she’s a lesbian, I don’t know exactly what’s canon.

Either way, Dadspy tries to help.

Had this idea for my scout OC and her spymom, but decided to try it with the canon characters

—

It was quiet on the base. Much too quiet for a team with a Scout.

The other mercenaries sat around the table, smoking, playing blackjack, slinging a couple drinks.

Spy sat back, a silent observer even amongst the members of his own team. Seemed that even in the casual moments, he was still a spy first.

But even now, he noticed only seven other men in the room. The eighth, the noisiest one, was suspiciously absent.

His son, as much as he’d never admit it, was nearly as good of a hider as he was.

How could he admit it though, he thought. The kid hated him, and why shouldn’t he. He was a mercenary before he was a man. There wasn’t much there to like, let alone love.

Jeremy had been especially loud earlier—something he himself couldn’t recognize as nervousness. But Spy did. He was shocked at how well he knew his own, despite his careful dodging of the actual responsibility of raising him.

“Arright, arright, shuddup! Cuz I’m actually gonna do it today.”

“Ye always say that, lad.”

“Well I mean it dis time! I’m gonna tell ‘er.”

He had a feeling that he knew what that meant…and if he was right, Scout’s absence meant things had either gone miraculously well, or…

“I’ll be back.”

“No rush, Frenchie! Haha!”

The boy’s room was suspiciously vacant.

Now. If I was an idiot, where would I hide…

Climbing up the side of the fort, sure enough, he got his answer. The limber figure sat hunched on the edge of the roof, his feet dangling over the edge.

Oh…

In a split decision, Spy decided to render his footsteps audible, despite knowing a tumble off the roof could be easily explained away as stupidity. If he was right, and it looked like he was, then the last thing the poor fool needed was a few broken bones in addition to a broken heart.

His hearing sharp, Jeremy turned to look over his shoulder, but not before quickly rubbing at his eye.

“‘Ey. What’sa matta? Got real borin’ wittout me down there, huh?”

Spy rolled his eyes. “Bored to tears.”

He motioned with a tilt of his head to the spot next to Scout, and was surprised when he moved over.

“What are you doing up here, Scout.”

“Could ask you da same.”

“…fair enough. It wasn’t obnoxiously loud enough in the game room, so I went looking for a good source of noise. Found it.”

Jeremy scoffed, shaking his head softly, then fell silent. Unlike him.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“…are you alright?”

Scout’s eyes widened. The Spy noticed his jaw lock slightly.

“…yeah, yeah I-I’m fine. I uh…I had a weird day.”

“Mm?”

Spy felt a pit in his stomach as the boy’s voice went soft.

“I uh…asked Pauling out. For a date. An’ I called it dat.”

He arched an eyebrow, biting back a smile. Although he’d never own up to it, he knew the look. He’d seen it in the mirror. Although it sometimes felt like he’d been born the devilishly charming rogue he played, he knew deep down that it was learned. Seeing Scout in such a state defrosted memories of more than a few failed passes.

“Well…what did she say?”

“…”

Scout kept his eyes down. Not a sound out of him, other than a soft exhale as he took a gulp.

“…I’ll change the subject.”

“No.”

His eyes went half-lidded.

“She said no, Spy. Long ‘n’ short of it.”

“…ah…”

“Said it ain’t nuthin’ personal. Don’ really wanna get into it, don’t think she’d like dat. But…yeah. So…dat’s it.”

“That’s it then.”

“Yep.”

The two men sat in silence for a while. The Spy pulled a cigarette from the case in his pocket and lit it, taking a short drag before watching the blue-gray smoke twist upwards in a plume as he exhaled.

Ugh. What do I even say to this? Why do I want to do anything at all? I missed my chance for this…he’ll probably punch me if I try anything even resembling comfort.

And yet…he tried. Lifting his free hand, he gently put it on the Scout’s shoulder. Scout didn’t budge. The normally fidgety, hyperactive young man had been still as stone for this whole conversation, as if it had taken all his energy just to sit up there.

“Well…you can never know unless you actually come out and say it. So I’m glad that you did that.”

A smile tugged at his lips, barely there.

“I see why you like her. Dangerous, but sweet. Not bad. Not bad at all. Let me guess: she was polite, but didn’t pull any punches…”

Jeremy nodded, looking up at the watchtower across from the fort.

“Yes, that’s our Pauling. Well…it’s too bad that it didn’t go the way you wanted it to. Even though she was surely graceful about it.”

Spy couldn’t believe the nonsense that was coming out of his mouth. And the fact that it…wasn’t really nonsense. This was stuff nobody told him when he was the one staring into space with a hole shattered through his heart.

Things he needed to reassure himself of, before he was the world’s greatest. When he was just…whoever that was that stared back in the mirror when the mask was off.

“But it really is much too quiet in there, and Soldier thinks he’s the best at blackjack now, so…I know you’d hate that.”

Scout turned his head ever-so-slightly, and Spy could just barely see his face. A dull pang struck his chest.

Jeremy’s eyes were full of tears.

“I’m…sorry, Jeremy. I know how much you liked her. I’ll be honest, I don’t have much experience with this side…”

Liar.

“…so I don’t know how to hel—”

Spy reeled back slightly as Jeremy’s arms snapped around him, locking him in a rough embrace.

“…Spy, I dunno what ta do…I…I love her, but...”

It was so uncanny to hear the normally bold, cocky voice so shaky. So fragile. As if concerned that the boy would dissolve if he touched him, Spy gingerly closed an arm around Scout, giving the closer of the two shoulders a slight squeeze.

He remembered saying those exact words again and again about a woman they both knew very well…

I love her, but…I can’t be with her.

“…I know, Scout. I know.”

Spy felt his stomach twist as Jeremy lowered his head over his shoulder, arms rattling with silent sobs as he fully latched on. He could feel tears dampening the back of his suit, and yet…as much as this would normally repel him—it certainly felt wrong—he couldn’t bring himself to let go of his boy.

His boy.

While the other men did God only knows what down below them, Spy rethought those words.

Could I have been with her?

If I had…

This would be happening under much different circumstances.

He stayed quiet, letting the fellow mercenary get all of his emotions out, eyes falling closed as he held the boy just a bit tighter.

I’m sorry.

#tf2 spy #spy team fortress 2 #spy tf2 #dadspy #spydad #scout tf2 #tf2 scout #mint writes

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aspd-culture · 3 months

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aspd and adhd(/possible autism) culture is realizing only once you're out of high school "ohhhhhhh wait, so i thought i wasn't abused growing up, but actually i was and it only stopped due to covid, and that resulted in my osdd system and aspd?"

buckle up, this is Long and definitely classifies as a Vent. honestly, you can ignore the middle section and jump to the next blank line of space if you want.

jesus christ. i was punished more harshly than my peers, i struggled to make friends, i was put into a little school program where board games were used to reinforce good behavior in problem kids which i only realized two months ago, my memory issues (which were always there, but only noticed in fifth grade) got me into so much shit with every authority figure ever, i broke a window using one of those mechanical hamster things that were popular at the time by accident but i didn't care at all, that's just scratching the surface

memories of things have been coming back to me lately. according to my mom i was such a nice little kid, always shared and was polite and highly empathetic, all the goods.

school came along, flipped everything on its head. i remember harassing and hurting animals, and people, and sometimes telling those people not to tell—not because i felt bad but because i didn't want to get into trouble again, it was an inconvenience. my home life was pretty good but other kids left me out of things a lot and sometimes called me names, even the neighbors' kids i liked to hang out with would make me the monster of their games and that does something to a kid (one of them is also the reason i'm a victim of cocsa). when i did something wrong or bad there was only punishment because i "should know not to do that" and so i had to teach myself how to be a functioning and good member of society. i got good at lying towards the end of third grade, the skill got better from there with every punishment i faced

when a former friend told me "hey, you have aspd traits/might have aspd" i went and found the checklist, because thorough research is how i work, went through it. at the time i didn't think it fit very well because "yes, i experience that but that's pretty normal for people, i learned how to manage it under several layers of creating a socially acceptable person just like everyone else"

i've gone back to it a couple times since and wow, surprise surprise, everything applies! the "this doesn't apply to me because i have a system to help with this thing" mindset means the thing still applies! there's some stuff, namely the destruction and truancy, that i didn't do but that's solely because i knew i couldn't get away with it and therefore didn't bother trying. so thanks to aaaaaaall that stuff and more, i definitely grew up with both conduct disorder and odd, and now it's aspd

i can't say i'm mad about having aspd? it causes problems in my life, yes, but i've spent so long wrangling myself into a form small enough to fit into society's box that it's not the worst thing anymore. i think i'm more mad at society, my peers, for not helping me with this and being kind where they should've, especially my mom as of recently

that said: it is fucking hard-wired into me that there's only good people and bad people in the world. harmful behavior towards me (or someone else doing something i can't forgive) is automatically met with hammurabi's eye for an eye. the coping mechanisms i use work very well, are generally healthy, and people who don't do anything to calm themselves down and think rationally tend to piss me off. i have been fighting those things for a while but they're the ones that simply won't go away. hamburger help me.

aspd-culture-is

There's a lot of good information in this ask. Too many people see ASPD as a direct result of physical abuse or CSA/SA, when a lot of ASPD symptoms really develop around things that are seen as smaller issues, where a child's problems get diminished by the people who are supposed to help that child to the point where they feel the only person that will help them is themself.

More than anything else, I personally think a very quick and simple way to decrease the number of people who end up with ASPD would be to get parents and other caregiving adults, and honestly society as a whole, to understand that regardless of how simple, silly, or insignificant it may seem to someone older, these "silly" things are often the worst thing the child has experienced up until that point. Someone always having to be the monster sounds like nothing to an adult, leading to no response to help besides maybe "they're just teasing you, ignore them". But "just teasing" is the most social rejection a child has experienced to that point, and so it is extremely distressing and emotionally painful. It feels like the most isolated they could possibly be, because they haven't been around long enough to experience worse. Then, the child is told to ignore it, which not only fails to make them feel better, but often causes it to get even worse as the other kids try and push harder to get the reaction they're looking for. Do they eventually give up? Sometimes. But the lengths and extremes many bullies will go to when "just teasing" doesn't elicit a response is disturbing and that fact is either unknown to or ignored by adults.

Part of why always being made the monster does something to a kid is that it is treated as a non-issue. When that is what a developing brain learns is the reaction to their pain, they will no longer seek outside help when things become extreme.

TW: descriptions of SA/r threats. Skip the following paragraph and move to the next one to avoid. Also a bit of a vent.

When I was in school, I was teased. I was made the dog who was not allowed to talk or a person with their vocal chords removed any time we played pretend. Sometimes they made me a rock or stick on the ground, even. It sounds like nothing, and when I was told it would go away if I ignored them, I listened. It didn't stop them. It led to an entire set of multiple schools that were combined into one building seeing me as a verbal and sometimes physical plaything; a place to take out your angst and distress. I lost my personhood in their eyes, so my understanding of social interactions were tainted and colored by the way my peers treated me. I told anyone who tried to befriend me not to be seen talking to me, to bully me publicly so they wouldn't get the treatment I got, so even the few people who tried to be kind got a skewed, unnatural social interaction with me. Many listened, and I don't hold that against them at all. That's simply what they had to do to make it. It got to the point of receiving verbal and *detailed, written-out, and signed* r word threats, and boys who were 11 years old talking about kidnapping tying me up in their parents attic and using me whenever they wanted (theirs was more detailed). Some even attempted to touch me, and adults nearby ignored it because "X likes to handle it themselves, they don't like when adults get involved", because I learned that they would only vaguely say stop, and it would get worse. That's what happens when you just ignore it.

And what do we call a person who learns that only they can protect themselves, and who doesn't understand any positive interaction with anyone that isn't transactional? Antisocial. I hate the idea what a positive relationship with family is incompatible with ASPD, sorry about the rant. Because of how ASPD develops, I refuse to dislike or resent myself or my symptoms when it comes to ASPD. If people didn't want me like this, they shouldn't have treated me like this.

Plain text below the cut:

TW: descriptions of SA/r threats. Skip the following paragraph and move to the next one to avoid. Also a bit of a vent.

#aspd-culture-is #aspd culture is #aspd culture #actually aspd #aspd #aspd awareness #actually antisocial #antisocial personality disorder #aspd traits #anons welcome #tw sa mention #tw abuse mention

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ladye-zelda · 5 months

Text

Y'know, despite the flaws that TotK has (*cough cough* story *cough*) what I appreciated most about this game is all the little details that the developers put in (mainly through the use of side quests).

i think the major difference between TotK and BotW and what TotK arguably did better than BotW is that TotK's side quests are so much better. Unlike BotW's side quests, which you can get done relatively quickly depending how many shrines/items you have in your inventory, TotK makes you work for your sidequests.

Take, for instance, the new side adventures. Penn's quests, the whole thing with the monster control group, etc etc. Basically, go to [this] area in Hyrule and do [this]. May sound simple enough, but they can be super challenging, especially if you unlock these quests early in-game (which is entirely possible). The monster control group adventure you can unlock basically as soon as you get off the Great Sky Island, while Penn's adventure you can unlock as soon as you try to get to Rito Village. In fact, it's sort of hinted at to complete Penn's adventure first before even doing all of the rest of the main quest so that you would have an easier access to Rito Village (which, admittedly, I did not do because I was that impatient lol).

Even some of the smaller adventures were a leg up from BotW. The one that sticks out to me the most were the ones in Gerudo Desert, which I want to geek about for a moment because this game absolutely made me love the desert. In BotW, it was sort of an empty place (which was totally fine; it wasn't a large focus other than the Divine Beast), but TotK just made it 100x cooler. The archeologist wannabe in me fell heads over heels with the desert in this game, with the inclusion of the quicksand and the ruins underneath the game (which I am like: YES JUICY JUICY LORE).

Anyways, back to my point on the quests: there is a quest in Gerudo Town where you have to find out the mystery of the eighth heroine, and I don't want to spoil anything here but if you haven't finished this quest already DO SO because OH MY GOODNESS ADFSJAKFJLDFJLDAKFJD. And when you're done with that, go to the statue itself and find out the area there. This entire quest (and that little side mystery along with it) made me feel like I was in an Indiana Jones movie and I was LIVING for it. If I could replay TotK again without my memory I would want to replay that part again.

Oh, that's another thing: I mentioned that the statue of the eighth heroine was not actually a quest. There are also a lot more hidden secrets to find in this game than in the predecessor, mainly with the inclusion of caves and dungeons (different from the temples). I call these little areas "dungeons" but they're more like the mini dungeons that you go through in Ocarina of Time (like the frozen area in Zora's Domain or the bottom of the well in Kakariko), because that was what they felt like, and I never felt happier.

Also, quick little details I want to add because I realize this is more of an unhinged ramble than a coherent well-put thing, but some other minor details I liked is the deep-dive into the Gerudo language. Learning languages has always made me happy, and now that we got a few more words in Gerudic (pretty sure that that's what the language of the gerudo is called?) we can probably piece together what the full language sounds like; probably relying a lot on s's and v's along with the "a" "e" and "o" vowels with r's rolled in between.

Also also while exploring the one area there is a callback to A Link to the Past dungeons where there is a secret room where you would find three fairies tucked away. I think I found this room in a couple of cave systems so keep a lookout for that :)

#ladye's random thoughts #totk #tears of the kingdom #these little details kind of outweigh the story problems I have with totk and that's alright #what totk lacks in a main story plot makes up for in minor story details #for me at least

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lamardeuse · 1 year

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We’d be so grand at the game

(Buck/Eddie, rated E, c. 12000 words)

visual teaser

First of all, Eddie knew it was a bad idea, okay? But it also kind of made sense.

Somewhere in the last couple of years, he'd gotten stone cold petrified of dating. Fine, let's be honest, he'd always hated dating. The thought of meeting stranger after stranger, both of you desperate to make some sort of connection, was Eddie's idea of hell. Deciding what to do, where to go, whether the restaurant was not fancy enough or too fancy, whether the activity he proposed was too boring or kid-oriented, then actually going on the date and trying to make small talk or be charming – the point was that the whole thing, from start to finish, was a nightmare.

“You dated a lot,” he said to Buck one night, after Christopher had gone to bed and it was just them and a baseball game the Dodgers were seriously losing, “how did you – you know, keep women interested?”

“Uh,” Buck said, “well, I wouldn't call a lot of what I did dating, exactly. They were hookups, not anything that might have led to something more meaningful – or even a second date. I kept them interested long enough to get what we both came for, I guess.”

Eddie took a long drink of his beer and tried to ignore the way the tips of his ears suddenly felt hot. He'd heard enough stories about Buck 1.0 from Hen and Chimney to know Buck hadn't made the best choices in those days, but it was another thing to hear it from Buck himself.

Buck added, “The first woman I seriously dated was Abby, and that was – the definition of complicated.” He paused. “Now that I think about it, we didn't go out much. But then our first real date ended with her giving me a tracheotomy.”

Eddie nearly choked on his beer. “Holy shit, Buck,” he managed, coughing. “How have I never heard this story?”

Buck grimaced. “Because it's embarrassing? Besides, I always got the feeling you didn't like her very much.”

“I don't,” Eddie admitted. Honestly, he kind of hated her, and he'd barely met her. From what he'd learned from Buck and the others, it seemed to him like she'd used him, only to drop him like a hot rock the minute he'd served his purpose. She'd never really seen him as anything but a pretty young bedwarmer instead of a person worthy of consideration. She'd never seen Buck.

And it was possible he was a little biased. Especially when he'd had to watch Buck pull a dangerous stunt because he thought her happiness was worth more than his life.

“Well anyway,” Buck said, “the point is I'm not a big expert on dating either. I just sort of – go with the flow, let the other person take the lead.”

“Hm,” Eddie said. “Yeah, I've had it with doing that. I went with the flow and ended up married and having a kid at twenty-one.” He held up a hand at Buck's startled look. “Not that I'd trade Christopher for the world. But I've spent a lot of time feeling like I'm being swept along while other people make the decisions for me, and I'm tired of it.”

“I guess we all feel that way sometimes,” Buck murmured. “Nobody is one hundred percent the master of their own destiny.”

“You believe in fate?”

Buck made a face. “Not exactly? Just – Taylor said once that I should let the universe come to me –”

This time it was Eddie's turn to make a face, and Buck laughed. “Man, you clearly hate my taste in women, huh?”

“I thought Allie was nice.”

“She dumped me while I was still recovering,” Buck said, sounding mildly outraged.

“She got scared. I get it – Shannon was terrified when I went overseas.”

“We're not soldiers, Eds.”

Eddie had a sudden memory of the steady beeping of the machines that kept Buck alive, having to dig his nails into the palms of his hands to stop himself from counting every single one. “Last couple of years, it hasn't felt all that different,” he muttered.

“Yeah, I – I guess you have a point.” Buck blew out a breath. “And that makes it harder too, you know? What we do is dangerous at the best of times. Not everyone wants to sign up for that.”

“Geez,” Eddie said, leaning his head back against the couch. “Guess we're going to be alone for the rest of our lives.”

“Speak for yourself,” Buck said.

Eddie lifted his head. “What, so you're dating now?”

“I'm – going to,” Buck said, drawing himself up.

“When?”

“As soon as I remember my Tinder password.”

“You can reset your password, you know that, right?” Buck glared at him, and Eddie looked back at him steadily, his eyebrows raised.

And then they both burst out laughing.

“God, we're a pair, huh?” Buck said, wiping his eyes.

Eddie felt his heart thump against his breastbone. “Yeah. I guess we are.”

Buck hitched a leg up on the couch and turned more toward Eddie, the disastrous game forgotten. “So how do we get ourselves back out there?”

Eddie opened his mouth. Closed it. Shrugged. “Practice?”

“How are we gonna practice if we can't even take the first step?”

Three hours later, when he was lying in bed staring up at the ceiling, Eddie would not be able to pinpoint with any certainty what possessed him to say what he said next. All he knew was that at the time, it seemed like the perfect answer, the obvious solution.

“We practice on each other.”

read the rest at the AO3

#my stuff #buddie #911 fic

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inspectordookie · 10 months

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i saw someone use this picrew (https://picrew.me/en/image_maker/1564386) to try recreating their tavs, and i wanted to give it a try (possibly also because im too lazy to draw them) in spirit of bg3 being released :D mind you these won't all be 100% accurate to in-game appearance but close enough alongside my personal envisions

i've only played as one of them in early access,, i may or may not have taken the time to plan the rest of my tavs for future gameplays LMAO yes i am that kind of person when it comes to rpgs🫡 the common thread between all of them is feeling out of place, and how each of them deal with it in their own ways

ismene farahani-diamandis (she/her) my chaotic good human sorcerer in wild magic (i'm thinking about multiclassing paladin for her but idkk), my first tav and honestly kind of my favorite :') even created a backstory for her parents too. a catastrophe in more ways than one, but truly one of the most caring and fun-loving people, like a disney princess but just a bit more disastrous. a bit of a dreamer who longs to be loved and have adventure like the heroes in stories told by her father, but has often felt she cannot have both or either whether it was due to the utter though consistent bad luck when she tried or feelings of unworthiness because of others even when they did her wrong (aka a list of exes). she has lost most of her family outside her younger, paladin brother and distant noble family in mulmaster, who she has no interest in reaching after her mother's departure as a young adult with her father (it's a very long story involving a rogue noble and a wizard from a family of barbarians). first it was her father from an incident causing his memory then life to be slowly eaten away, her younger sister the one time she was far from home to a village raid, then her own mother the minute she garnered a name for herself as a hero amongst the people. she has since felt a lost sense of purpose, having no family or loved ones to put first having been the eldest sibling for so long, and strong guilt in wanting to pursue more with the unpredictable yet wondrous abilities she was born with, as she has felt she has failed to use them to save precious lives time and time again

even so, ismene is someone who chooses and wants to do good or the best possible thing no matter what challenge stands ahead and hopes that despite everything, she can find a way to be her happy, flirty self once again. trying to make the most of the brain worm situation and genuinely aspires to befriend all in her party, even though most of them prove difficult. lucky for her, if shes anything, shes stubborn enough to keep trying anyways in her newfound but chaotic family--it's almost refreshing to be in a band of fellow disasters. really stuck on either astarion or halsin for her romance because i think story-wise, her and astarion in my brain just are really interesting dynamically and have been in EA, but halsin would probablyyy be her most ideal partner (cause she honestly deserves at least one stable part in her life LMAO) but HEY---MAYBE THEY CAN POLY *if* larian allows it, her mbti/enneagram is ENFP 7w6

amée tanor'thal (she/her) will be my second playthrough, a neutral good seladrine drow cleric of selûne in the life domain. her backstory is probably my favorite amongst everyone, she's actually the mother of my first and only d&d character that i got to play about a year ago now :D i already had her story in mind alongside her daughter (obviously), and thought bg3 would be a good opportunity to play as her. she's always been more reserved and cautious in nature, someone who always tries to consider things beyond how they're presented in front of her. the inquisitiveness is what led her to learn more beyond her corrupt family, religion, and the normalized suffering within her home at the tanor'thal manor in skullport, she went through a lot to escape from it. initially, it was her and a group of hidden eilistraee followers in the city who she planned an escape route with, amée had met them through a boy around her age that she befriended on one of her secret escapades. they opened her to the possibility of a world filled with joy---with light, a life that the underdark, her own family would consume and make impossible for anyone to have. unfortunately, the heavy security made the journey abruptly take a turn for the worse. amée wound up separated from everyone as they continued the planned path, whilst she wound up chased by her own family on a completely different one; she barely escaped with her life. she followed a path of stars, scared and unsure, and it wound up leading her to a church of selûne in waterdeep where she was kindly taken in for sanctuary.

upon learning more and speaking with the clerics and daily visitors, choosing to serve her and the philosophy of having choice and helping to guide those who are lost, amée is a rare and often misunderstood person in the church. it is something she is aware of but is far more concerned in carving a path of peace for all those who need it---especially misunderstood folk of the underdark. despite her gloomy appearance, she is easily one of the most compassionate souls, one who has sworn to devote her life to healing instead of hurting, though she may or may not have had to kill off most of the family sent to the surface to take her life, including her own mother. needless to say, she'll spill a bit of blood here and then and maybe roll with all the evil goons who give her easy access because they think she's evil too. she's a bit funny and often direct, albeit unintentionally. anywho, she'll be romancing gale, who will not only engage her in intelligent conversation but in a child-like wonder through magic after devoting much of her life to her personal cause. i also feel like his romance route has the potential to be veryy angsty cause of his magic chest bomb so. sorry amée. her mbti/enneagram is an INFJ 1w2 :)

fynn tranquilfoot (they/them) will be my third playthrough, a true neutral rock gnome monk specializing in the way of the shadow. from a relatively normal family in comparison to a lot of my own characters tbh LOL, they stem from a gunsmith family business that has flowed for generations in a city full of fellow gnome entrepreneurs and inventors. fynn never flowed well with it and was rather easily overwhelmed by it at an early age. as a kid they expressed no genuine interest in anything really, and instead preferred doing nothing, so long as they were allowed to be alone. it was something that did not sit well with their family. fynn was to carry the mantle of their success, history, and more children to keep things going, which did not, in fact, sit well with them no matter how many of their peers in the same family dynamic gushed about their shared lifestyles and destinies. it was yet another thing they could not relate to, among other things being thrust upon them as labels they never asked for; fynn quickly became the talk of their town. they never cared to argue against them or their parent's complaints; "better to play dead to stay alive", then nothing could truly nag at them. however, if there was something that gnawed at them at all, it was a distinct lack of purpose. they had spent so long doing nothing to the point it almost felt depressing to not be really good at anything; it was one boat ride away that allowed fynn to venture around the mainland and see entirely different things.

one day they saw a monk stealing a noble of all they had in only five seconds, asked how they could do what they did and the rest is history. they went to the same temple, learned the same techniques, and found they were quite good at all of it. fynn knew that sometimes the assassination gigs weren't the most morally correct, or that even when it was they wouldn't get any credit for the deed, and they were content with that. fynn is not someone who has any desire to be remembered and is passionate about the life they've led for themselves and protecting that peace it gave them. they're a rather smart and self-aware individual, and quite understanding as they're not very judgemental. isn't opposed to knowing their party, but has no plans of sticking around at the end either, while the parasites possible power to heighten their prowess at work is intriguing, they're aware that trusting its stability in the long run is likely dumb (but somehow they aren't exactly opposed). plan to romance them with wyll : ) i think his desire to have purpose vs. their lack of desire for one will somehow end up complimenting and opening each other up. their mbti/enneagram is ISTP 9w8

meet magdalena (or mags for short) of berdusk (any pronouns are fine), a chaotic neutral half-orc school of valour bard, and the physical embodiment of the term "here for a good time, not a long time". her story is relatively simple and feel-good in comparison to my other tavs, and i already know i'll end up having the most fun playing him aside from ismene LOL her human dad and orc mom are easily the best parents anyone could ask for, endlessly supportive and loving to whatever their child would choose to do or be as they navigated what he liked and didn't, even though their collective eccentric personalities made them stick out like sore thumbs even in a populated city like berdusk. nonetheless, neither of her parents really cared what people thought so inevitably, he didn't either and in turn became an unapologetically confident and outspoken person. mags learned music from her initially nomadic parents, who traveled all over faerûn sharing their own music, dances and stories, and it became yet another thing they inherited and completely loved. the more he wrote, composed, and sang while playing her father's harp, the stronger mags' music undeniably became, practically wooing anybody that came near it---even those who picked on every surface-level thing about him became unable to deny the magnetism (get it) magdalena of berdusk possessed. they enlisted into a bard academy, attending for years until magdalena found the curriculum to be severely boring, leaving only a year before they would have graduated.

her parents, of course, cheered them on.

so from then on, magdalena felt the rest of faerûn was ready to hear his songs, constantly writing while on the roads, fighting weird shit, performing at nearly every tavern she could find (and shagging only the finest of folk on the way). no matter what though, mags always makes sure to find the time and place to write to her parents no matter where he is and even with a creepy crawly worm in his brain. the situation doesn't necessarily phase them aside from the fact the idea of a worm in her brain skeeves her out a bit, like what if it lays eggs or something? she doesn't exactly understand the full circumstance. other than that, mags is content with chilling with these newfound travel partners of his and seeing where the course takes them, and even if he is to die inevitably she hopes that by the end of it, he'll have a sick ass album to compile before they can. she truly enjoys to savor and experience, so naturally i'm pairing them with shadowheart of all people LOL they'll probably soften each other up. also probably only gives into the tadpole for a while in exchange for the wicked sex dreams until their gf is like "alright you goob can you maybe stop before it kills you faster". mags is an ESFP 8w7 !!

last but not least is zaludra strombjörn (she/her), a lawful neutral wood elf enchantment wizard. omfg shes honestly such a sourpuss LMAO she'll end up likely being my most "evil" route (and by that i mean i have a hard time making mean choices in game lol), but she'll also end up having the most significant development. from a young age, zaludra never had the easiest time connecting with others, and wasn't really allowed to due to her condition. albinism wound up giving her severely overprotective parents who didn't even let her skin go near where sunlight pierced the ground. thus her whole childhood essentially was this reinforced idea that she was deadweight, something that didn't do wonders for her self-esteem as she was unable to directly contribute to anything in her village. in the silence, zaludra only grew a resentment for her home and the situation she was in, only finding more things to dislike about the wooden elf's way of life.

the only time she felt any sort of gratification was in occasional conversations with the only person who would talk to her outside of her parents, her village's sole druid. their magic captivated zaludra, the ability to be anything else, to be something great was---and begged to learn their ways. unfortunately, a severe lack of connection to her people or home made it impossible, and zaludra was back where she started. so, she resorted to other means of obtaining the art of magic; zaludra would venture the nights in the nearest town over in magic shops draped in whatever cloth could cover her skin, checking out basic spell casting books from the local libraries. the more she practiced magic in secret, the more determined she became to be the best in it. overtime it became clear zaludra was a natural genius in the arcanic arts, even learning to craft potions as well, concoctions of her own to make her condition easier to live with rather than hiding in shame because of it. she left her home publicly declaring it beneath her and the potential it had hidden her from and set off to further her education in the city of silverymoon where she only continued to succeed.

she would prove everyone wrong she thought, all of them, including the people who should have supported her the most---her own parents. but highkey though shes super lonely but basically represses that with her undying ambition, but then city and school life makes her highkey more annoyed by other people (likely because she had no clue how to connect with them but dont tell her that). probably will want to learn how to control the tadpole at first for her own power until she starts to unexpectedly not hate her companions, especially karlach because a fine ass tiefling solves everyones emotional problems <3 also i hc that her and astarion get confused as siblings/twins all the time cause of how similar they look she probably hates it. also shes an ISTJ 3w4

anyways thats all IM STILL WAITING ANXIOUSLY FOR THE RELEASE AS WE SPEAK

#bg3 #baldurs gate (and the friends we made along the way)#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 tav #well tav(s)#astarion x tav #wyll x tav #gale x tav #shadowheart x tav #srry laezel maybe my dark urge will romance you

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miscellaneoussmp · 8 months

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I've been writing for eleven days straight, yipee!! Anyway, here's three girls and three means of escape:

The blue bird knows she's lucky. She knows that they treat her like something precious. Maybe it's because she's a 'success'. In what? She'll never understand. She likes it when she meets the people who are new. The ones whose mask just slip a little and laugh at her jokes and little games. She reads and writes and is allowed to wander white halls all by herself! Sometimes, they ask her if she wants anything, and she always has the same answer. She wants to go outside. She wants to see the sun and feel the wind. They always have the same answer, no. The books she reads always talk about how nice the sun is. The blue bird always wanted to be free, even if her cage was nice to her.

It was impluse really, not exactly a plan. The blue bird had noticed how there weren't many of them around. She ran down pristine white hallways until she got to the end. A door. A portal to another world. The sun is warm, just like her books said. It is bright and warm, the words on pages didn't lie to her. The wind smelt like salt and felt amazing against her feathers. There was so much to see and feel. This was better. In her race with the world, the blue bird found a train station with a train! She remembers reading about how people would go from one place to another on a train. With the speed of running and her little wings flapping behind her, she just managed to just stand on the back of the train, leaving the station. The wind in her wings, the sun on her skin, the world felt nice.

The duckling had already left the white walls a long time ago. She hid behind trees and under the earth. She made books out of scrap and twine to document her experience. For her sake more than anyone else. The duckling did her exploring in early dawn or dusky evening. She never called out to them, even if whatever traces they left on her very being demanded it. Her soft yellow feathers, only just past being down, were starting to grow in again. She explored. She learned. She planned for an escape. It's what she did best, teetering on the edge of success and failure.

This plan was set into motion. A plane tended to land on the flattest peice of land on the island (they're on an island, she discovered). This land was out in the open, but the plane landed land in the evening and left at dawn. It was a cycle, for supplies the duckling guessed. She just had to wait a little longer. For everyone to move away from the plane, her escape, for just long enough so she could run on board. She would fly, but her wings are still sparse. She wishes she could fly, like the plane, like her escape. She was never taught. Maybe she could learn once she was gone, away from here. Now! Here's her chance! She dashed across the open field, yellow hidden among the similarly colored flowers. The pilots must have not heard her as she made her way on board without much grace. She ducks herself behind a seat, holding one of her books of scrap and twine. The duckling will finally be able to fly.

The cat was born feral and not made for fake perfection. She was born with flesh in her mouth and a scent of fear clinging to her. She's tried to hide all that behind redemption and a tree house. It's a past she can't really remember. She has everything she could need here. The cat wasn't made for being still. Frenzied eyes and the scent of iron cling to her memory. The rest of his face remains hidden in her mind. She'll die here. The shadow that sometimes hides in her periphery and laughs at her doesn't help things. It does the exact opposite, actually. She's going to die. She needs to leave.

The cat overhears a conversation while hiding in the tree she calls home. There will be a boat, leaving this island. That's her ticket out of here. It hurts her softened heart to leave her animal companion. She leaves notes, documentation of her existence, hoping to be remembered and found. The cat hopes that whoever finds her notes, her evidence that she even existed, takes good care of her orange furred companion. The boat is docked, beached more like, awkwardly as boxes and people are moved on and off it. The cat is grateful for her shift movements as she bolts up the ramp onto the ship. She doesn't think anyone saw her. If they did, they're not making much of a fuss. Her hiding spot ends up being against a wall behind a large shipping container.

Jaiden inspects her look in the mirror. When did her hair become brown? She thought it was blue. Maybe it's just her imagination or those strange dreams she's been having lately. Her mom calls her down for dinner. They're going to the park after. Jaiden runs down the stairs as fast as her little legs can take her.

Baghera wakes up, and her wings hurt. Her papa says it's just her real feathers growing in, but her wings are sparce. Maybe it's how she's sleeping. She's never slept well. She always has nightmares. Now's not the time to think about it. She has to pack for the airport; they're going on vacation.

Bagi cleans her apartment, and she's suddenly overcome with the sense that she misplaced something. Did she forget something of hers the last time she left the apartment? When was that again? Maybe she's just getting a sense of deja vu from her dreams again. She continues cleaning, wondering why she can't get this red stain off her carpet.

#qsmp #qsmp fanfiction (sorta)#qsmp drabble #qsmp jaiden #qsmp baghera #qsmp bagi #i just kinda wrote so i hope yall like it #2 birds and a cat end up on island what will they do? leave actually

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dj-of-the-coven · 7 months

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Hit me with your favorite defunct website

You will regret this.

Have you ever felt isolated by the modern internet, or nostalgic for the way that you can vaguely--but not entirely--remember experiencing as a child? Well I can't speak for everyone, but the past few years certainly have left me feeling that way. Certain nostalgia posts made circa 2021 got my brain churning in that direction, dredging up ancient memories of reading personal blogs and spending hours on flash game websites that were more or less entirely nuked from the internet by my adulthood. The more I remembered, the more distressed I felt by their absence, even though it'd been years since I even remembered most of that stuff existed...

Aside from Animal Jam, I wasn't sure if anything I knew from my mid 2000s-early 2010s childhood experience was out there on the web somewhere--so, I did as any normal teenager would and I started doing copious amounts of research into a subject that basically didn't exist. I discovered the internet archive entirely on accident; spent days examining the layout of early youtube and any other sites I could remember, navigating by year and trying to figure out when everything took a turn for the worst. I started browsing through webcore tags on tumblr just to get close to what I wanted, because "old internet" yielded few results at the time, and google's input was less than useless. Only a few blogs on tumblr had the kind of content I was looking for, but eventually I struck gold when one of them pointed me in a brand new direction of hope.

This is when I discovered neocities.

Of course, I was already familiar with the webhosting platform of geocities from the old days. Geocities was one of the primary hosting platforms that I remembered without the help of research, but you may already have guessed by the lack of a link that it's dead--and you'd be right. It actually shut down back in 2009, which I learned through the same post that advertised its independent successor. For some reason, I'd always associated the memory with the time I was in kindergarten, but the date of shutdown actually confirmed that I must've known about it earlier, making the platform one of my first memories! It's been gone for a while, but not the impression of it that I had as a core pillar in my early web experience. And then there was neocities. What was that? I immediately went to investigate.

Of course, I was mostly doing this in between two late-night bussing jobs to afford my shitty apartment, aside from being in my final year of high school, so progress was slow. At the starbucks next to my school, I was always holed up in the corner during my short window of off-time with a coffee and my computer setup. It took some time, but I began browsing through the top pages one-by-one, following links and cataloguing where they led to. I took stock of which sites linked to one another. Eventually, I noticed a pattern: a lot of them linked back to a website called sadgrl.online, a purple and black neon haven of internet culture run by a webmaster known as Sadness. Everyone say hello to our defunct website of the hour!

At the time, the thing was absolutely bustling. Almost all of the most popular sites on neocities were linked to Sadness' site somehow, usually through her button collection. My own personal site, which I started building around that time, also contained one of her web buttons. She has several, but her most popular one looks like this. (I apologize if you're on mobile. It will NOT look good.)

I was intrigued! In a community so removed from the usual mainstays of the internet, there existed a blog that hundreds of neocities users were visiting every day, and I very quickly became one of them once I finished looking through her thought-provoking essays on programming and web culture. Her site went through a number of layout changes while I was a regular visitor--the vast majority of them are catalogued on the site itself if not also on the internet archive. It was a blog dedicated to the exact thing that I was interested in; what I had been searching for since the modern web started rubbing me the wrong way in my burgeoning adulthood. Her page prominently featured an essay on the faults of centralized internet and her journey to foster a space more accepting of individuality, information, and creativity without thought of profit. I was totally enamored, especially with the appealing gothic graphics that surrounded the lengthy text!

(here's a capture from August 2022)

Aside from Sadness, several other active community members had formed an alliance of websites dedicated to the preservation of old internet culture and the cultivation of unique online spaces. These people called themselves the Yesterweb. The yesterweb was run mainly by webmasters known as Auzzie Jay, Madness, Tsvety, Grafo, Cinni, Vincent, Iris, and Sadness herself, but webmaster Melon (of MelonLand fame) also ran a forum that was parallel to the movement. The yesterweb was a massive project that included an online newspaper, a web radio station, several introductory programming manuals, a forum, web-themed essays from neocities users, button makers, layout creators, and terms and definitions for people new to the decentralized experience. It was easy to get lost in it all... for a time, the rabbit hole felt endless and exciting.

Every day, I returned to check updates on Sadness' various projects while I began work on my own website. She had totally convinced me of my own convictions--I bought the dream hook, line, and sinker. My only goal for a while was for my site to eventually be included in the yesterweb webring alongside all these amazing programmers. I wanted to contribute to the world of creativity that I could only dream of when HTML was still just meaningless jargon to me! But I was too slow learning the languages necessary, and the yesterweb was just growing too fast to be contained. I dipped for a few months to focus on my move to a new city, and by the time I returned, the whole yesterweb had disappeared scorched-earth style.

Okay, so what the fuck happened?

Currently, on the front page of what used to be a hopeful and inspiring collection of internet resources, there's a long essay made by the webmasters who founded the project, detailing burnout and massive stress due to the community growing faster than they could moderate it. It is certainly not poorly-intentioned. However, the discovery was absolutely devastating to me. My dream had gone up in smoke before I could even try to reach it, and I was apparently a part of the problem by caring so much about it. The radio station is gone. The webring was deleted. The forums shut down. My favorite webmasters' sites were no longer being updated. I felt awful for the people who had been affected by all this stress and pressure, but after so long of working to join the movement, I felt betrayed by their abandonment. The yesterweb disappeared in almost exactly the same way the old web did the first time--ripped from my fingers before I was able and ready to participate. And I can only wonder... what happened to the goal of turning the internet back into a place for us? How did it get to the point of ruining these people's lives within the span of maybe two years? I'm really not sure. There's a lot about this story I still don't know, and there's not really a way to access the drama that happened in a discord server that I never joined. The information published on the yesterweb's page is the only reliable source I'm currently aware of.

Still, in spite of it all, Sadness' website has remained one of my major inspirations in programming and web philosophy. I may be in mourning about a dream that died before it could truly live, but whenever I think about the months that I spent eagerly browsing her site for updates, I remember that spark that initially inspired me to begin researching the net in the first place. She was a major player in the game--not the only one. The website that she created was my favorite while it was active, and now it is my favorite website that is currently defunct.

Thank you for coming to my tedtalk.

#web revival #neocities #programming #personal websites

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not-so-lost-after-all · 7 months

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Something Halloween-y about ascended Astarion meeting the ghosts of his past. Gosh, I tried to keep it less angsty, I swear.

...

He burned the palace down, that huge bloody reminder of his guilt, humiliation and stolen future. It felt glorious and he laughed. Of course, Anya was long since gone by that time, that soft-hearted fool. Last time he saw her she was giving hugs to their so called friends at the inn but she only had one long wide eyed look for him. What more was there to say anyway? But Astarion didn’t need her blood or her body to feel warm, not anymore. He chuckled and it sounded ugly even to him.

…

He knew it took her years to find someone else and it happened to be some half-elven woman, the same as Anya. They called her Constance. Pretty little thing, he admited when the spawn broght her to him. This girl was no fool. The muscles in her face tensed when looking at him. Her eyes like those of trapped animal. So Anya told her about him, she regognized him – it filled him with some perverted joy.

Constance only pleaded with him to simply kill her, not with anger but with soft voice. He searched his heart to decide how this is going to go. That emotion was like jolt through his chest, stronger than anything in years. Rage. Anya loved him, took that away like he was rotten and gave that so easily to this… nobody… and this Constance dared to ask for mercy.

Oh, she screamed at first. By the time he was finished with her, the bed was soaked with blood and she was lying there pale and with thousand yards stare, with just occasional twich in her hands. „Don’t worry. I won’t even make you beg.“ He remembered how in different life, so long ago that it wasn’t even true anymore, he begged to be healed. Only later he realized how foolish it was – he got better and then for two centuries he always, always did heal. He quickly pushed that thought away…

Of course Anya came to rescue her „true love“ like the idiotic white knight she was, she dared to return to the city. It was rather warm cloudy day and it was drizzling when she came to the gate of his palace, demanding to speak to him. He ordered Constance to go kill her and decided to watch it from the window because that sight will certainly be priceless.

He didn’t hear what they were saying but Constance was no fighter so they only exchanged a few blows with Anya constantly dodging. After finally running dagger through the heart of his new spawn, Anya looked at him. He could swear there were tears in her eyes before she turned to leave. He sipped on that pain, another hollow victory but victory nonetheless.

…

He could hardly believe what the spawns told him. After half a decade, Anya was back again. She was visiting his grave on one crispy, golden autumn day. He wondered how she figured that out but it must have been the elven woman who was keeping her company. He wondered… but surely that woman was not what he thought.

The next year on the same day, he decided to go to the cemetery himself. And there she came, an elven woman with blue eyes and silver hair much like his own. He tried to connect the face with memories of his mortal life but there was almost nothing but perhaps…

„Hello, sister,“ he said joyfully behind her back. He wished he could feel that for real but at least he learned to pretend. He just needed to know.

There was an entire journey on the silver-haired woman’s face when she saw him. Horror, disbelief, then sorrow. He guessed Anya didn’t bother to mention to her that he’s not actually lying in that grave.

The woman frowned, mumbled his name and cautiously reached to touch his cheek to find out if this is even real.

„Gods, what have you done?“ she spoke softly.

Astarion caught her hand. „Anything I had to survive,“ he hissed. Then he spoke more warmly because he didn’t want scare her, not her. The bloody games he played with the victims they brought him, the orgies he participated in to make himself feel alive, the spawns and servants who pretended to love him – it all had meaning (it all had to have meaning) but someone who actually used to care for him? „Stay for a while, please.“ For a moment he forgot how to act proud.

But she only shook her head. „You would doom us all, I’m sure.“

She didn’t return the next year. But he guessed he at least knows his birthday now.

…

It took another decade for him to hear about Anya. This time she visited the cemetery on that autumn day with her family, Gale and their little son and daughter. He watched them from afar and barely heard how they both recounting their big adventure to the children. Somehow it didn’t suprise him that Anya lied that their friendly rogue died to the children too. That hurts, darling, he thought.

It was almost funny that that insufferable wizard won in the end. For the first time, Astarion thought about what would have happened had he made different choice because that concept was so foreign now. Pathetic spawn like the rest of them, for whatever time he would have had. Always scared, hungry and in the shadows. She would have been the only thing left and she would be free to leave anytime. But would that be that hopeless? Gale´s always been kind, surely he would be willing to help? Or Halsin would.

For a moment he was considering murdering them, the kids included. But they remembered him after all these years. Astarion would almost feel touched if such thing was possible.

He learned that Gale died in fire a few years later. He was the first of them to go.

…

It was ironic that the palace was on fire, just like Cazador´s was once upon a time. There were corpses of his spawns and those of mortals around. His children were dead, his servants… but… he killed them all, didn´t he? Yes, but the men of duke Ravengard actually took their lives.

There was poisoned arrow burried in his shoulder and whatever that poison was, it was already making his hand black and his mind hazy.

Anya was lying on the floor next to him, bleeding. Was it him who gave her that wound on her chest? He didn´t remember. She probably deserved it for siding with Wyll though.

She touched the palm of his hand. „Just get up if you want to leave with me,“ she insisted. Anya was looking at him with pleading eyes, like it ever made a difference with him. She got on her knees and shook his shoulder. „Get up!“

„Alright, alright.“ He won´t die like this, it´ll only be on his terms.

Before they left, he kissed he like he wanted to devour her.

#astarion #astarion x tav #my writing #this is halloween

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pupyr0arz · 1 month

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WHILE IM TALKING ABT ROACH here’s my current HC meta:

-he hasn’t talked to his family since he was like, 19. Sorry happy family roach lovers he absolutely loathes them and they don’t like him either. He feels they were more concerned with appearances than actual substance and they didn’t treat him well

-he’s selectively mute, but also genuinely prefers to sign over speaking. He can speak at times, he just doesn’t like it and finds sign or writing is better. When he’s anxious he finds signing and writing more difficult to do and speaking impossible. It takes a lot of coaxing

-I feel like roach masks his issues with humor. I like silly roach a lot that’s him to me and I accept that fanon but I feel like he deflects with jokes and more erratic behavior. He really, really, really does not want to talk about something so he’ll play it off and then drag you to go do something silly. This guy does negative communication. Even if he has an issue with you it’ll wait until he like cannot not deal with it he really needs to be forced to do so

-great cook but hates cooking. Never had any good memories with it, doesn’t find it fun or anything but a hassle that makes a mess. If he does cook for someone it’s a lot of affection going into that though. Doesnt really cook for other people tho, he learned mostly for himself and most of his recipes are to specifically his taste.

-no idea how to dress. Like, 0 clue. Help this man. He likes fashion in that he’s like wow that looks nice to basically anything and everything. Doesn’t get how some things are hated so strongly.

-he had an older brother who he felt a kinship with. The two fought like cats and dogs but they were pretty close and shared a lot of the same interests. The older brother liked Roach but the two would fight and take petty revenge on each other a lot and he let roach make a lot o f the same mistakes he did. The two also kept up the jokes act when they were kids in public and ti was probably to draw attention away from awful parents. Anyways he died and roach does not want to talk about it at all.

-roach really did not like the military until he ended up in the 141. He stuck through it because he’s a stubborn bastard but he ran into a lot of difficulties before MacTavish was his cap.

-roach is the type who will put up thru pain n discomfort for an arbitrary goal any day of the week, casually and seriously. He is never out of hills to die on. Loves having strong opinions on things.

-despises people he deems inconsiderate. Is accidentally inconsiderate a lot. More on that, bc of his closest relationships in the past he assumes a lot of his boundaries are implicit and spin fact explicitly should not be discussed because they make him uncomfortable. It’s hard for him to take violations of those not personally and he has a short temper. He might go out of his way to upset you and then feel AWFUL about it. Or not depending on what you did. If he does understand it was a mistake he’d feel bad, he’s been in that situation a lot but it doesn’t occur to him other people may have difficulties understanding each other like he does. From his failure to pick up on social cues and the treatment of his mistakes as intention he’s got an unconscious bias to assume everyone else does everything intentionally always bc that’s what it seems. When he was a kid he’d break things a lot or frame his brother for something that would get him into trouble or even get into physical fights.

-lone survivor!roach would take things very not seriously. He’d treat the apocalypse as more of a game than anything, eating when he remembers to, taking massive risks to his life without much care. He’s kind of dissociated from himself and any sorts of risks or previous attachments. Would underestimate his need for socialization. Very skilled and very likely to die in some stupid way.

-141!apoco!roach is a lot more serious. He stretches himself thin as a mediating personality. If the group is experiencing social strain he’s working overtime trying to soothe nerves. He’s probably the least suspicious of new members if just because he feels like someone has to, even if he doesn’t like the new guy. Puts most of his survival in the hands of his team. Never really thought of his future of more than a couple days and isn’t going to start now. Not the best with abstract questions but keeps an eye on rations. Thinks group politics with other groups is stupid, advocating for just killing the asshole and moving on.

#.bark #roach #cod #gary roach sanderson #cod Gary Sanderson #he’s so autistic

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achaotichuman · 6 months

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Tamlin/Lucien Vanserra

Hello Everyone! Once again I find myself bored with nothing to do, so here is a super angsty Tamcien oneshot!

*Trigger warning- Non-Explicit Mature Content.*

Summary- He smiled, for the first time in what felt like centuries, he smiled, "We don't have any music."

Lucien smiled back, he smiled back and it was the most beautiful smile Tamlin had ever or would ever see, "We'll make our own."

A snippet of what occurred UTM before Feyre came back to save Prythian. Tamlin misses the sun, when he sees Lucien again for the first time in weeks, he realizes his sun was Under the Mountain with him all along.

“You can’t mope here forever.” Rhysand drawled.

“I can definitely try.” Tamlin snapped back, drinking from the glass of faery wine in his hand. Rhysand eyed it curiously, no doubt wondering how much Tamlin had already drunk. Tamlin didn’t know or care, he hadn’t been counting.

The Dark Lord waved away the guards stationed near Tamlin. They all glanced at each other and narrowed their eyes at Rhysand, wondering whether or not he had any actual authority over them. Rhysand drew up a sliver of darkness and they all scurried away.

Several guards were always stationed to watch him. Fine, Tamlin could easily deal with that. Remain faceless, emotionless, tune out everything. Forget himself. Forget what he used to be above these caverns. He wasn’t anything anymore, he was fine with that. The stone sitting in his chest was heavier than ever, it was the only thing he felt anymore. The scraping of his lungs, the strange weight that wouldn’t leave, everything else was numb except for that.

Fine. The numbness just made the days go by faster.

“Why are you here, Rhysand?” Tamlin seethed, he already had to see the male almost every night and morning, why did he have to pester the Spring Lord any more?

“Bored.” Rhysand sighed. Sitting down on the large lounge out of the way of the party. Most of the time Tamlin was beside Amarantha on her throne, tonight she had allowed him a slight of freedom. He took it. He knew it wasn’t real freedom, but he’d play into her games, what did he have to lose?

“Then go annoy the guards… or Tarquin.” Tamlin added as an afterthought. The Summer Lord himself looked quite bored where he stood amongst his small entourage.

Rhysand breathed a cruel, wicked laugh, “Already done that.”

Tamlin breathed in. The sweet scent of early morning dew and rich starlight drowned out the wine in his hand. At first the smell had disgusted him, especially with how he had to be so close to him. Now he had learned to not let it get to him. How to be numb to it.

“Where’s your little emissary? I haven’t had the pleasure of tormenting him yet.” Rhysand said. His arms sliding along the back of the lounge.

Tamlin whipped his eyes back around to Rhysand’s face, where a smug smile now rested.

Lucien…

Tamlin hadn’t seen him in days.

If the world Under the Mountain was a spinning haze, Lucien was the one thing that made it stop. A reminder of home that Tamlin couldn’t put away from his mind. The last thread of his sanity.

He had tried to rid his mind of that fiery red hair, but he couldn’t. He found himself clinging onto Lucien’s memory like a life-line.

And he hadn’t seen him in so long.

“I don’t know.” Tamlin answered honestly, what was the point in lying when Rhysand would always get what he wanted in the end.

“Why not?” Rhysand pushed, that smug smile growing. Tamlin wanted to slap it off him.

“Don't know if you’ve noticed, Rhysand, but I don’t exactly have the power to look for him.”

“Right.” Rhysand murmured, there was a sharp look in his eye. A glint of danger and sadistic joy. Tamlin was stuck down here with him. The Night Lord loved to rub it in every now and again.

Tamlin felt a thrum of power dance under the surface of his skin. He glanced up at the stone carved throne that Amarantha lounged upon. Looking so at peace. Smiling as she looked down upon the kingdom she had taken, stolen.

She was a thief. A lying, two-timing, backstabbing thief. Not a Queen. Not his Queen. Not above him.

But she was. Tamlin looked away from Rhysand’s gaze. The look in his eyes that said, ‘I may have lost but so did you.’

He was right. She won. She ruled him now. He was no High lord in her eyes. A slave at her feet. No better than the mortals when Fae ruled them.

Rhysand’s eyes glazed over his form. Staring down and at his chest, then leering at his crotch. Tamlin didn’t need to be a Daemati to know he was remembering their times before they fell apart.

The times Rhysand had taken him apart at the seams. Wrung orgasm after orgasm out of him. Made him forget his own name. Touched him in a way no one else ever had.

Rhysand let his tongue slide over his bottom lip. Tamlin remembered the look of hunger and pleasure in the older male’s eyes when the then Spring Prince had sucked him off. Taking his cock again and again.

Tamlin closed his eyes. Drinking the rest of his wine.

He felt Rhysand drag a finger down the curve of his shoulder. Tamlin didn’t open his eyes as Rhysand leaned over, that hand sliding down his chest, and said, “We’re both monsters Tamlin, you and I. She’s caged us like animals.”

Tamlin still didn’t open his eyes as he felt the barest brush of Rhysand’s lips, grazing the tip of his ear, whispering in a low sultry voice that once upon a time, Tamlin would’ve fought and died for. The voice of his once friend, “You and I belong in a cage for what we are. She knows that.”

“No.” Tamlin whispered back, watching lights swim behind the darkness of his eyelids.

“Yes.”

Tamlin forced himself to open his eyes, and look at Rhysand. Really look at him.

His eyes held a deep kind of danger and cruelty, something that set off your fight or flight sense. Something that rendered you powerless when under his gaze. You couldn’t run from Rhysand. You couldn’t fight him either. He was a kind of chaos and danger that you could try over and over to kill, but he’d always return.

Rhysand always came back.

Tamlin knew that before they fell apart, and he knew that now.

Rhysand was living, breathing darkness. The embodiment of something strange and evil.

Maybe that was why Tamlin was always drawn to him. Once upon a time he had been curious, now he was angry. But no matter what, he was always drawn back to Rhys.

“I am nothing like you.” Tamlin strained to keep his voice low and emotionless.

Surprise wretched through the anger that made his heartbeat faster. His body for once wasn’t numb, but alight with energy.

Rhysand knew that, he smiled so wickedly. “No, not yet.”

Yet.

“Tamlin.” A voice slithered into his mind. Amarantha. He looked up to see her deep brown eyes locked in on him. Slanted and cunning. Watching, observing. He looked back at Rhysand who was smiling and staring at him, he knew what she was doing.

“Yes, my Queen,” He answered.

“Do keep your thoughts down, you think so loudly, be quiet and don’t make such a fuss over there.”

Rhysand had been sending their conversation to her. The thought made him sick. Of course he was. Get him to say something treasonous, even think it and Rhysand might get to punish him. Might get to see him suffer more.

Tamlin wanted to run away, wanted to vomit.

Rhysand would force him to keep his mind. Keep his fire. Wouldn’t let him be numb to the pain. He’d set him alight again and again, keep the flame from going out.

Afterall, you couldn’t bring pain to something that was numb.

He wanted to squeeze every drop of suffering from Tamlin. He wanted to make Tamlin pay for the fifty years he had already endured.

“Since you don’t know the whereabouts of your little fox, I’ll tell you.” Rhysand sneered, “He’s running about the upper floors of the Mountain. Perhaps you should go see him.”

Rhysand then got up and started to slink away. Tamlin blinked at him, he looked around to see no guards coming back to watch him.

“Why?” Tamlin whispered.

Anyone else wouldn’t have heard it, but Rhysand did, Rhysand was in his head.

“So that you don’t break before I want you to.”

Seething rage coursed through Tamlin and begged to smash something. To tear something apart. To make Rhysand hurt.

They were dangling Lucien in front of him. Using him like a pawn. Like a toy used to keep Tamlin in line. And sane for as long as they wanted him to be sane.

And it worked… Oh fucking hell it worked.

Tamlin got up and followed their game. Did what they wanted him to do. Crawl back to the last light in his life. In some desperate attempt to protect the last person he had.

The Spring Lord stood up, he hastily walked through the party, shoving some people away. They all glared and whispered.

He opened a small door off to the side, before he went through the dark tunnels, he glanced back over his shoulder.

Amarantha smiled at him, her eyes pinning him to the floor, she whispered in his mind, “You are mine, Tamlin. I’m all you have and I’m all you deserve.”

Tamlin left the throne room. Closing the door behind him. He squeezed his eyes shut and took in a breath, waiting until the two presences in his mind left.

Then he took off running down the looming corridor.

The halls of the Mountain caged in on him. The darkness whispered and sung. Tendrils drifted through the stone. Wispy hand-like things tried to consume him.

Amarantha wouldn’t let him go.

He belonged to her now. Every inch of him, soul and mind.

Rhysand may not get to leave the Mountain. May have no way out anymore, but he’d still get something back, he’d make Tamlin pay for all the years he served her. If he couldn’t make anyone else pay.

Tamlin stumbled around a corner, nearly smacking into the stone wall. It loomed high above him and caged him in. There was only darkness. Only darkness. Dark, cold, cruelty filled every crack and crevice of this place.

There was no getting out anymore.

It was over.

They had lost.

Someone slammed into him, and Tamlin fell to the ground. He immediately scrambled back up, hackles up and trying to peer through the darkness. Someone had come out for him. Why would Amarantha let him leave her sight? Of course they had sent someone out.

“Hey now, no need to kill me.” A smooth, silver-lined tongue said.

Tamlin’s heart began to quicken, but no longer with fear.

He blinked away the dark fuzzy haze. Finally he saw the metal eye Dawn had given his friend after Amarantha stole it. Lucien stood just before him, dusting himself off.

Tamlin could only stare at him. Lucien flicked his fingers and a small flame appeared in the palm of his hand, lighting up the hallway.

Even after all that had happened. Lucien was still so beautiful. His red hair had been pulled back into a loose braid. His skin was far paler now, but Tamlin could still map the freckles on his face and down his neck, disappearing under his shirt. The scar that ran down his face, framing the metal eye that now resided in his socket were like shattered glass, something sharp that stands out, but still so beautiful. Even if the mask on his face hid most of it. Tamlin could still remember exactly where everything on his face went. How it was put together, where each piece was, like a puzzle he would never stop loving putting together.

Tamlin wanted to tell him. Wanted to say just how beautiful he thought Lucien was, but he could only manage a half-whispered, “You’re hair is longer.”

Lucien blinked at him once, then twice. Then he huffed a laugh, a smile curving on his face, “That is what happens when you don’t cut your hair, Tam.”

It was the same as before. Lucien was still the same as before. Before they were taken under here. Before they were cursed. Before any of this happened. Lucien remained the same.

Tamlin knew things about Lucien had been lost. He knew that very well, he saw it in himself. When he looked in the mirror and couldn’t recognise his image, he knew things had changed.

At least Lucien still kept his sly fox tongue, and silvery voice.

At least some things hadn't changed.

“Lucien.” Tamlin rasped.

Lucien smiled, he knew.

Lucien pulled Tamlin into his arms and held him tightly, the flame in his hand going out and leaving them in darkness. He knew. He always knew. He knew exactly what was going down. He knew how Amarantha taunted and caged him, he knew that Rhysand was punishing him for his own fate.

Tamlin wrapped his arms around his best friend. He buried his face in the crook of his neck, holding him tightly like he might disappear. The coldness of the Mountain seeping in like a morning mist settling over his skin, slowly saturating his clothing, then his skin. Tamlin tried to push it all out by holding onto the only warmth left in this place.

Lucien swayed them from side to side. Pressing his face into Tamlin’s hair, his mouth against the shell of his ear. Everything about Lucien was so warm and bright and kind. Tamlin felt infected compared to him. Amarantha’s hold tainting him, the memory of his time with Rhysand made him feel stained compared to the ethereal otherness Lucien had. He felt small and useless when next to Lucien, even if he was the High lord.

Was the High lord. Tamlin had spent the past weeks trying to rid his own title from his head, subjecting himself completely and wholly to Amarantha. Yet it had been undone, he remembered now, he knew it all, it came flying at him like a dam breaking and flooding the world with freezing water.

Tears now stained Lucien’s shirt. Silent cries were wretched so suddenly from Tamlin his body shuddered. He struggled to keep his voice in check. He wanted to scream and cry so loudly the mountain shook. Lucien whispered sweet nothings in his ear, promises he couldn’t keep, sentiments that meant nothing down here. But with the state he was in, Tamlin allowed himself to believe all of it, even if every kind, caring word would fall short when they finally returned to Amarantha.

“I can’t do this, Lucien, I can’t do this.” Tamlin whispered, his voice broken, undone, “I can’t do this.”

“You can, Tam, you can, you will.” Lucien said, “I’ll be right beside you, like I always have been. I’ll be right there, always.”

He wouldn’t, if Lucien got too close to him Amarantha would smell blood. But still, Tamlin took the lie, greedily clutching onto it, to the idea Lucien would never not be by his side.

“Lucien.” Tamlin breathed, not a question, a simple acknowledgement he was there, that they were together. A promise half-fulfilled, Lucien was here now, whether he would be there in the future was another question. One Tamlin didn’t want to think about.

“Tamlin.” Lucien whispered back.

It was dark, it was cold. The weight of what would happen once they separated again was pressing in at all sides. He felt sick. He knew once Lucien and him let go of each other they may not see each other for weeks to months, maybe even years. Unless Tamlin was watching him from beside Amarantha. Or even worse, Rhysand would force them together after a while away, to keep Tamlin fighting. Until Rhysand deemed the debts he held over Tamlin’s head repaid, he would continue to force Tamlin to keep his mind, keep his sanity. He would be alive and in pain until he was allowed to become numb.

Lucien pulled away just an inch, just to look Tamlin in the eyes. Those mismatched eyes were near invisible in the darkness, but Tamlin just needed to lift his hands and cup Lucien’s face to remember every detail. With his thumbs Tamlin stroked the exposed parts of Lucien’s cheeks. Tears were forming in his eyes again, the once High lord let them fall down his fall like the raindrops of Spring. He tried to imagine cold rain on his skin, saturating his clothes, dripping down his skin, soaking him thoroughly. He tried to remember the feeling of Lucien’s hair in his hands when it was wet with rainwater. Tamlin ran a hand through the red strands. He remembered how it would bleach an almost blond colour when Lucien went on border patrol with the sentries. He remembered how Lucien would let him braid it. He remembered how one strand fell across his eyes.

Tamlin’s bottom lip was trembling, he bit it in an attempt to prevent another cry from escaping his throat. Lucien pressed his forehead to Tamlin’s, the metal of their masks clicking against each other.

“I hate this.” Tamlin said.

“I know, so do I.” Lucien whispered back, his voice somehow so clear and strong.

A moment passed and Tamlin felt like he might break down again. Lucien sensed it somehow, he pulled Tamlin back into his arms and gently rocked back and forth. Tamlin held him tightly. Trying to give back some of the warmth Lucien was giving to him. Tamlin began to think that Lucien wasn’t just comforting him, but comforting himself, making promises not just to Tamlin, but to try and convince himself it would all be okay. When they both knew there was no escaping this.

It would get worse and worse everyday until one of them lost it. Until one of them finally died from either insanity or Amarantha’s cruel torture. It was a day that may be a while away, but was inevitable.

This curse was never meant to be broken, it was the illusion of choice. The illusion of a chance. They lost the day Amarantha set foot on Prythian’s lands.

Lucien began to shake. Tamlin felt him coming apart in his arms. Unable to keep up the brave face any longer.

“I’m scared Tam.”

Tamlin couldn’t say anything at first. He could only hug Lucien tighter. Could only press a soft kiss to the skin of his neck. A soft cry shook Lucien, Tamlin decided he would give back what Lucien gave him.

“It’s going to be okay.” Tamlin whispered, his voice so quiet, if it were any louder his voice would crack.

Lucien cried into his shoulder, trembling with the force of his crying. Tamlin rubbed his back, whispering in the same promises that he would have to break, the same soft kind words that would mean nothing in the end. Lucien listened to them as if they were true, for a moment pretending Tamlin and him could stay locked in this moment forever, never leaving, not separating.

“We’re not here, Luce.” Tamlin whispered, “We’re outside, we’re at the border of Spring and Autumn.”

Lucien squeezed his eyes tightly shut. Fisting his hands in Tamlin’s shirt.

“The grass is soft under us, the stars are lighting up the night sky. There’s a gentle breeze and your hair is unbound and fluttering in the air. You can see the tall oak trees covered in green giving way to Autumn. We’re outside, I’m with you, and you’re with me. There’s nothing and no one else.”

Lucien could see it. He could feel it all. The cold bite of the Autumn winds travelling into Spring. He could smell the pollen mixing with smoky cold. He could feel soft grass under his feet. He heard the rushing of water from the stream winding around the trees of the Spring forest. Disappearing into Autumn.

He opened his eyes to see Tamlin. Instead of the dark eyes and too pale skin, he saw forest green eyes bright from health, skin a shade darker from the sun. Instead of his face covered with a golden mask, Lucien could see the high points of his cheeks, how his eyes crinkled from his smile.

Tamlin saw it too. He saw Lucien, hair unbound and free, flowing down his back and shoulders like waves of scarlet. He saw Lucien’s scars, every one of them, not hidden behind a mask. Another beautiful part of him that didn’t need to be hidden. Lucien grinned at him, it was a bright toothy grin. Moonlight cascaded down on both of them. A strong gust of wind swept by, a strand of Lucien’s hair whipped Tamlin in the face and they both laughed, they laughed. For the first time in weeks Tamlin heard that bright, beautiful laughter.

Lucien intertwined his right hand with Tamlin’s left. He wrapped his free arm around Tamlin’s waist and began to sway them from side to side. Tamlin pressed his face into Lucien’s neck.

Then Lucien lifted the hand of Tamlin intertwined with his own and spun his High lord around. Tamlin laughed. Lucien would’ve given his other eye to hear it again.

Lucien pulled him back close, kissing his forehead, then he murmured, “Dance with me Tam.”

He smiled, for the first time in what felt like centuries, he smiled, “We don’t have any music.”

Lucien smiled back, he smiled back and it was the most beautiful smile Tamlin had ever or would ever see, “We’ll make our own.”

“How will we do that, Luce? We don’t have any instruments?” Tamlin asked as Lucien spun him around again.

“We have our voices, do we not?” Lucien grinned, Tamlin bit his bottom lip trying to contain the huge smile on his face. A blush spread across his face.

“A duet then.” Tamlin said, wrapping his arms around Lucien’s neck. Pressing them closer together. Lucien leaned forward, just a touch, his lips just brushed Tamlin’s own, stealing the breath from his lungs, making his blood race in his veins.

“Which song?” Lucien whispered against his mouth.

Tamlin was near trembling with happiness as he said, “The one you and Andras would sing for me and the sentries on Solstice night.”

Lucien shuddered, eyes falling shut as he remembered those nights by the campfire. The soft, beautiful song that Andras would sing with his low, powerful voice. Lucien would join him in the performance and Tamlin would play his fiddle, whilst the other sentries tapped their feet to the beat. It was a slow, beautiful piece that Tamlin hadn’t been able to play since Andras was killed.

“Okay.” Lucien said, opening his eyes again.

Lucien began, his voice a soft hum on Tamlin’s skin. This song didn’t have a corresponding dance, so they made one up. Lucien twirled him, they spun together, Tamlin twirled him. They stepped apart, then back together, one hand always connected.

Tamlin joined in, he thought his voice might tremble, but as Lucien pulled him back and forth. As they travelled across the ground, as the wind seemed to pick up, as the trees creaked and swayed with their rhythm. Strength came to him, the strength to keep going. To sing clearly, without faltering.

They fell into harmony. Each knowing the other’s step like they were both an extension of their own bodies. They travelled along the border of Spring and Autumn. Dancing in and out of trees. Stepping in between territories. They became the land around them. Spring twined around Autumn, Autumn blending with Spring.

An Autumn leaf flew by and landed in Tamlin’s hair, a Spring leaf flew by and landed in Lucien’s hair. They sang through their laughter, they danced as they held each other.

Darkness was all around them but it was penetrated by the silver moon. Birds watched them from the trees, rabbits and hares cautiously watched from a distance. A fox appeared from in between the bushes of Autumn, it spotted them both and ran into the forest of Spring.

Their voices overlapped, blending with each other until Tamlin felt like he had been wrapped completely in Autumn smoke and cinnamon. Until Lucien felt wrapped in Spring rain and roses.

The song slowly came to its conclusion. Their voices softened until there was nothing. Tamlin and Lucien came to a stop. Staring into each other’s eyes with the love and adoration they held for each other.

Neither knew who pressed forward first, but their eyes closed and their lips connected in a searing kiss, a final promise, a last goodbye, a deal between them sealed. They would fight until the very end, they would fight for themselves and for each other until they both walked into the great beyond, hand in hand.

When they pulled back and opened their eyes. They were back Under the Mountain. There was no grass, or Autumn leaves, or Spring forest, or birds or foxes. There never was. There never would be again for them.

They said nothing, all was held in their eyes. Tamlin felt tears coming down his face, matching Luciens, as he turned away, letting go of the last light in his life. He turned down the tunnel and met violet eyes.

Rhysand smiled, it was cruel and filled with fifty years of suffering.

Tamlin didn’t look back as he took the hand of Night and left Autumn behind.

#acotar #tamlin #lucien vanserra #pro tamlin #pro lucien vanserra #acotar au #tamcien #tamlin/lucien vanserra #tamsand #rhyslin #a little bit of tamsand #really not that much #rhysand #amarantha #i wrote half of this two months ago #and just remembered it existed yesterday #this was a lot angstier than i intended it to be

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bleachbleachbleach · 10 months

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Hello, do you think that Unohana being the first Kenpachi was a retcone or not? And what would you have done different with her story?

Thank you for allow me to ask you.

Thank you for this question! I feel like “retcon” has gained a negative connotation, where a retcon becomes a critique to levy against something. But the fact of an audience or the author (or both) assuming something to be true, only to find that it is not, isn't automatically a bad thing.

Do I think, in-universe, Unohana’s co-workers were aware of Unohana Yachiru?

Most of them, no. Everyone’s too busy and too young and the institutional memory is too poor and they respect her too much for it to come up. Though I think everyone has always been well aware that Unohana could kill them all if she wanted to. It’s the “had she ever wanted to” part they probably hadn’t really considered, or felt need to. They probably largely still haven’t, because so much was/is going on and they have so much to do and process. I’m sure Isane would appreciate some friends, though.

Do I think we, as the audience, had to reassess how we knew Unohana?

I mean, I suppose, but I don’t think it feels, like, egregiously out of step to me. It didn't take me out of the narrative. And I say this as a writer who inflicts that feeling on myself all the time (unfortunately for me). We know how long Unohana’s been around (Kyouraku makes mention of this in TBTP), and we know what Soul Society is like, and we’ve seen her ice out rowdy 11th members in her hallways. If someone pitched me “nice lady is secretly bloodthirsty af” as a premise, I can’t say it would immediately appeal to me. Who doesn’t have a bloodthirsty past in this genre, lol yawn.

But I enjoy Unohana’s story in its particularity very much. I don’t think it negates how we knew her before, or tarnishes it, or cheapens it, or renders it false. We have a woman who is/was both/an; someone who has enjoyed the sword; someone who learned healing arts in order to prolong her fights; but ALSO as someone who has nurtured generations of healers, and saved the lives of countless; brings her A-game to these dumb captain’s meetings, and built the entire 4th as we know it. You don’t do any of that if you don’t believe in it for real. Not well.

Do I think Kubo knew about Unohana Yachiru when he started Bleach?

I don’t know, but I hope not! I hope he had no clue, for years and years! I hope he had a retcon moment, because I cannot imagine anything more soul-depleting than working for years and years and years on a story you already knew everything about.

I believe that writing should be an act of discovery, a means of processing and knowledge-creation in itself. And I think that is beautiful about sprawling serialized works is that you get to see the creative endeavor—not laid bare, I suppose, but in a state of dishabille. You get to see the ideas grow and evolve and sometimes totally about-face. You can see the misses and the “actually we’re gonna drop that storyline” and the “lol we should have dropped this, but now we can’t” and the elegant saves. There’s an element of live theatre to it, except perhaps with more of a puzzle to it, too. Because the creation isn’t fully live; there’s a time-delay; there’s space to look at what has been written and ferret out where one might go from there. Like ferrets, sometimes the solutions are elegant, and sometimes they are simply bold. I love both possibilities.

If there’s one thing this blog believes in to its very core, it’s in the premise of “yes and.” Whether reading canon or creating in fandom, we believe in going on the journey and figuring out what we can make of it, or what we can make with it. On this blog, we've talked about sprawling serial canons as being full of invitations, and I think that's true for Kubo, too. Design your world with plenty of open doors, or closed ones, or doors defined loosely, to pick and choose and experiment with or abandon later on.

I’m not saying we like everything Bleach has to offer, LOL. We do not. Or that we think Kubo as a creator is beyond reproach. Generally, I don’t really care to linger too much on what Kubo does or thinks. But I do hope he’s enjoying himself. Time is precious and we all deserve to enjoy ourselves more than what this world offers on its own

#unohana retsu #unohana yachiru #bleach meta #i just realized i did not respond to the 'what would you do different' part of the question #i don't know that we'd do different so much as what we'd 'yes and'#the canon is the canon; it's done and printed and now it is time for the afterlife of the text #even a divergent or alternate timeline can be a 'yes and' if it wants to be in conversation with the text #i wrote my additional unohana thoughts in fanfic because i preferred to do that than a post; that's where those thoughts live now #so i won't uproot them #no brain just bleach #asks

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