#and by that i mean. i could Unleash the insanity by talking to myself (was slightly embarrassing bc there were sometimes ppl close but wtv)

[sensazioneultra]

just reread the post i wrote this morning before work .. what was i on

#the way it's not very comprehensible and i don't even remember writing it #i wasn't under any influence like first of all i don't do drugs and i barely drink #secondly i hadn't even had coffee yet ??? #i was just *gestures vaguely at my mental illness* and today it's very hot #happy to say i didn't explode into pieces #i quickly was brought back to sanity (mostly) by having to work in the warehouse by myself #and by that i mean. i could Unleash the insanity by talking to myself (was slightly embarrassing bc there were sometimes ppl close but wtv) #you have no idea how good it is for me when i can talk to myself. like. i hate myself but BOY DO I TALK TO THEM (me) A LOT ANYWAY #i'm not even kidding it's amazing it's healing it helps!! #idk why exactly but yeah #so i was dying bc it was hot and there was nowhere to plug the fan and i was moving stuff around </3 but it was nice to be alone #anyway . i have the afternoon off i had rice i am vibing #(i'll have to work more next week ...... but whatever) #and i'm gonna try to gif #bye

[asmfic]

why care enough about oriko and kirika to give them a child

Because, fundamentally, Oriko and Kirika are the characters out of the entire PMMM universe that drive me the most insane. And that's saying something considering the competition. But it's so in character for those two to steal the spotlight, and that's one of the reasons I adore them.

This is going to be another long post (with images) as I will analyse both of them seperately, their relationship, and then in a follow-up reblog I will talk about how they constitute the foundations of ASM.

On the most basic level, it is because Oriko and Kirika serve as antagonistic forces towards our protagonists on a much more direct level then a systemic force like Kyubey. They are subjected to the same system, but make radically different choices than the Quintet does.

While Kyubey's capacity for malice is a question of much debate (and one I don't intend to get into here) his motives are certainly clear, collecting energy to combat entropy. It's his job, for the sake of the universe, for the sake of countless civilizations.

Oriko, however, does what she does for herself... Or at least, in part.

The daughter of a politician, Oriko lost her mother at a young age and was forced to grow up far too young. She took on responsibilities around the house- took on the role of her mother in caring for her father- and became the person that everybody looked up to. All of this in order to make her father proud, in order to uphold his reputation.

So when that reputation was ruined by political scandal, and when her father took his life, Oriko was left with nothing. She had lost everything she was, and she wondered why she was alive.

And then she met Kyubey.

Her wish showed the carnage that Kremhild Gretchen could unleash upon the world. When Madoka becomes a witch, the world has no hope, no future- nothing but The Witch of Salvation. So there is only one way to avert the end of the world. To stop an apocalypse, Madoka Kaname needs to die.

And yet.

Oriko grapples with the question that Kyubey never does. Her story shows the progression of Oriko making more concessions, more sacrifices, and yet also learning what truly matters to her.

Homura and Oriko are opposing forces in the life of Madoka, true, but also in relation to their attachments. Homura knows what she wants, she wants Madoka to live because she loves her, because Madoka was her first friend.

Oriko wants Madoka dead... but what then? What else? Oriko doesn't know.

But she learns, and she learns too late. And THAT is one of Oriko's most compelling points to me. Oriko Magica is a tragedy, it is the story of Oriko learning that Kirika is her world after she's already given her life for Oriko's cause. It's about Homura figuring out that something is wrong with this timeline but not realising before Madoka is already bleeding out. It's about love and sacrifice and how much a person means to you and when your ideals take the ones you love.

But that's getting ahead of myself.

Kirika Kure is a girl who once had a best friend. Close as sisters, they'd say, two of a pair. And then Erika moved away and Kirika was left to take the blame for her favourite person in the world's actions.

Kirika grew up distant and unhappy. Unhappy with others, unhappy with the world, unhappy with herself. And then she met Oriko.

It was a moment of random kindness, mere happenstance that Oriko happened to be in the right place to reach out and help Kirika. A sudden shining light in a world that had been dim and grey for longer than she could remember.

She wanted to find her, to thank her... but she doubted someone like her would be someone Oriko would remember. And so she made her wish.

Kirika is defined by her devotion, it's who she is now. By the very nature of her wish she's whatever Oriko wants her to be. She's a perfect tool.

And yet.

And yet Oriko goes from treating her as "a pawn to command" and "a piece in my game" to viewing her as a genuine friend. She enjoys her time with Kirika, she trusts in Kirika, and she wants more. She wants more time, things like sleepovers and cakes shared together. She wants Kirika because she loves her.

Kirika loves Oriko to the point that she becomes a Witch for her, a transformation born of devotion rather than despair.

Oriko loves Kirika to the point that she dives in front of Kirika's corpse to shield it from an attack, taking a grievous wound for the body of her beloved.

Their relationship isn't a healthy one, but it is a loving one. Both of them truly adore each other (even if Oriko realises it too late) and will do some absolutely incredible things to show that love.

And honestly, sometimes you want to read about a girl who would do anything for- including killing for- her beloved. A beloved who canonically wants Kirika the way she is, as shown by Kirika's wish.

At the end of the day, they haunt me.

Now, on their own (and even together) Oriko and Kirika are compelling characters. But it is more than just their interactions with each other, it is in the way they challenge, contrast, and compare to our main cast.

Oriko is put in parallel with Homura on a number of occasions, but most of all during their final confrontation.

Kirika is to Oriko what Madoka is to Homura. A true friend, the love of their life, someone who has become integral to the meaning of their lives. And as Oriko loses Kirika, Homura too must lose Madoka.

But there are other parallels that can be drawn. The impact of a father (and his death) upon his daughter's life. A ironclad code of what must be done for the greater good. Wanting connection with others and yet spurning it to pursue a dangerous but necessary life. Believing that the world can be saved.

Likewise, Kirika can reflect various traits from the quintet. And not just her, Yuma and Komaki and so many characters in Oriko Magica are in communication with the traits of the original Madoka.

There are similarities, but also many, many difference. Oriko and Kirika fit as a fascinating piece in the thematic puzzle that is Madoka Magica.

And in the end, Oriko does want to save the world. She wants to be important, to be worth something, to be more than just an extension of a father who looked at her and saw something monstrous out of her desire to make him happy. And sure, she make many sacrifices and take many lives along that path, but in her heart she truly did want to save the world. And along the way, she found her meaning. She found Kirika.

Also they're SUPER gay. If I'd put in gay moments I'd have a whole other post. And there's multiple parts of Oriko Magica and how it affects Oriko and Kirika that I obviously had to cut for space.

They're just so much.

#asks #orikiri #oriko mikuni #kirika kure #asm #a single moment #and THAT is part one of the post #now to write the reason they're the foundation for ASM and why Kiori is an important character #asked and answered

[russilton]

I don’t really know what people is on when they first shit talk Mercedes, Lewis, George and the team and then proceed to say “X driver to Mercedes in 2024 when Lewis leaves”! Dudes, Mercedes is incredibly selective on their drivers, You have not only to bust your ass to get a chance, but also have certain talents and qualities required. There’s a reason why they’ve had 5:6 drivers in there since their creation as a team. Now my rant is done, I’ll go lay down and drown in britcedes feels, goodbye

Yeah I have a lot of thoughts on this honestly. Some nice and some not so nice lmao but all agreeing with you.

Long ramble under the cut bc I guess I wanted to get some stuff out of my brain and I can just refer back to this later if asked again lol.

And let me say first of all that look, I get it, I would bend over backwards and lie to myself and god when it comes to my favourite drivers. Part of me deeply and truly believes George and Lewis could walk into any other car in the grid if they asked, I really do. I don’t think they’d want to, but if they did, they could. Because we are ALL delusional about our faves. Sometimes it’s what makes this site so fun, we’re all a little stupid for these dudes.

But I have a very salty view of people who people who think certain drivers could just walk into Merc without a Nico level fall out, or a Lewis level of skill in the sport*. ESPECIALLY when it comes to “problematic” drivers like Lando, Max, Carlos, etc.

* more on that one in a sec, spoiler alert: they’ve already got that, his name is George.

I think what really grinds my gears about it (and I mean the people who SERIOUSLY think their driver has a shot at Merc, not people having fun) is it comes down to three tracks of thought; people who think Lewis is genuinely about to retire, people who seem to forget George exists, and people who seem to profoundly misunderstand how Merc work as an organisation.

The first one is easy to be annoyed at and dismiss, Lewis has made it clear over and over he’s not going anywhere. I’m rankled by people who think he’s suddenly going to retire bc of his age. Alonso is still here and he’s fuelled by salt rather than skill, you think Lewis is gonna go just bc he’s 38? He’s insane, and there is nothing he is more buck wild about than F1. I also don’t like thinking about Lewis retiring. Sue me.

The second I get but hate a lot. I’m a George fan, I am biased but George is ignored by a lot of people; and the narratives about him being PR63, even by some Lewis fans, are flimsy and shitty. He’s got so much heart in his stick thin frame that it flows out his ears. You look at him, past the surface for a couple seconds, and god you can see it shine like a beacon. He doesn’t answer Lewis and himself when he’s asked for the perfect driver line up because of PR, but because he fucking adores Lewis. He adores the team. He goofs around with them, spends time with them, he’s embedded with the engineers and mechanics. He seems boring off track because he’s private, but he has been going to dinners with them and travelling with them for years, he’s boring because he’s an old soul who puts focus on his family and his mental health. He does try to be funny online and people scoff at him. He posts shirtless pictures and he’s teased for it. Like what do you want from the guy; if he’s genuine he’s cringe and if he’s reserved he’s PR boring. Fuck that, he makes Lewis smile and that’s enough for me.

But then It’s because of his less than popular off track self that people look past him on track, and you shouldn’t because this man is insane. This is what I was talking about earlier when I said Merc have got their Lewis 2.0. George is him. He drives like Lewis, he’s learning to approach the garage like Lewis, he knows how to restrain himself to the media just like Lewis. Talk less, smile more, because they want to bait you more than anyone, they’re waiting for you to slip. Don’t give it to them and then unleash a terror that leaves other drivers blinking in shock on track. Singapore this year SHOULDN’T override Austria, when George drove from the back in a garbage car to finish 4th. He copied Lewis in Spain like a text book because that’s the kind of driver George is. He knows how to manage his tires because Lewis taught him. He says over and over again how important he finds it to learn from Lewis because Lewis is his standard of greatness. Merc have trained him like this, because together he and Lewis mesh well. They both know where to put their cars to make overtakes others wouldn’t, they drive like their cars are an extension of their body. Nothing bothers me more than people who set team line ups at Merc without Lewis or George, because it often assumes Lewis would retire and Merc would just… throw George out?

George Russell is grit, spirit, positivity and determination, and I feel like the people who don’t see him as an insanely impressive generational talent like Charles or Max are choosing not to look, or were blinded by how trash Williams was. I’d you don’t judge Mick on where haas dragged him down; you can’t judge George.

(Yet another place george is like Lewis, is he let the hard times humble him and make him better. He will never, ever have to struggle the same way Lewis did and he’s been afforded privileges that Lewis won’t, he himself will tell you that. But they were both boys from families without much money who’s parents struggled to let them follow their dreams. Why do you think Lewis likes him so much? He’s said it himself, he sees the same instinct he had, in George)

And finally the third thing I’ve probably spoken on most: some people really only see Merc as a fast car and not as a team. Which I guess is fair if you aren’t a massive fan of either of the boys. You think I’m invested in how mclaren or RB or Ferrari behave as organisations outside of drama? Of course I’m not. I barely even cared about Williams outside of GR and NL. But Merc is another breed of team honestly. Not to suck corporate dick bc you know I hate it but there’s a reason they aren’t really ever involved in silly season. Why them CHOOSING to hire George was monumental. They are unlike anyone else in how they cultured George. He’s been in the Merc garage on race weekends since 2016. They watched and carefully primed him for it, they made him work so hard for every step. I’m not sure they would have ever got rid of Nico and hired Val if he hadn’t chose to leave. Do you know how resistant they were to put anyone other than George in their car? They were worrying about who would take Lewis’ seat in Sakhir if they couldn’t get him. Their reserve driver, stoff, WAS RIGHT THERE.

If George hadn’t gone above and beyond to prove himself ready for Merc, they would have stuck with Valtteri. Merc play it safe and close to the chest far more than they’ll admit, I think it’s why our number one issue with races this year has been emergency strat choices. We so often play it safe and panic when pushed. And that’s why I end up laughing at some driver move theories bc it’s like really? You think, safe playing, elitist weirdos Merc are gonna do that??

The only driver on the 22/23 grid I genuinely, truly think Merc would consider putting in their car if LH decided to split second retire, or George, idk, stabbed Toto in the leg, is Esteban Ocon or MAYBE they’d go back to VB if VaL would be willing to accept the pressure of the seat again. They like Ocon, he has history with the team, he’s got some real promise in his development, and he’s got a lil bastard in him they like their drivers to have. But that would ONLY happen if they had 0 prep time and had to pick another grid driver. Merc have their dream team right now.

#asks #anonymous #wank/rants #team Merc #mark’s driver meta #mark talks britcedes

[angeliana2023]

Old Concept Chapter 2

Now, I know what you're thinking. What does the chapter title mean? Didn't my late mother's dreams come to life, also? Well, this chapter will explain it all. And it doesn't have a happy meaning. You see, something strange happened when I got my powers. They were unstable. See, my mother had control over her daydreams. My mother's powers could differentiate from when she was daydreaming in her head for fun or wanted the dreams to come out. My powers couldn't do that for some reason. Everything I would think of would happen! My parents had to keep me from violent movies, so nothing terrible would happen. I was pretty content because that meant if I wanted it to rain flower petals, it would! It was as if I already had the power of the Etherial Gem, even though I wouldn't inherit it until I was 18.

I guess that's why Hitler wanted to get rid of me. I was insanely powerful. Now, this is where the problem lies. I was a scaredy cat. Whenever I saw a spider, I couldn't help but imagine it in giant size. So, I would have to fight giant spiders and stuff. Claudia and the others helped me fight them at first. See, I'm not going to go too deep into those days. I'm just going to cut to the chase.

One dark and stormy night, I was in the mansion's library. I was 12 years old and up past curfew. I had decided to conjure some medieval royalty and nobility into the room, to have a quiet conversation with them. You know, pick their brains. I picked up the kid's history book and realized something. I'd already talked with them before. I wanted to try something new. With these powers, everyone I read about comes to life. I'd conversed with every former president, famous scientist, and more.

But I wanted to go where I hadn't gone before, which was the WWII section. See, Claudia had always forbidden me to read about that. "When you're older." She would always say. She said she didn't want soldiers and fighters tearing up the place. I didn't know the truth as to why she forbade me to read it. I decided to open the book to the middle. When I saw him, I knew I had made a mistake. It was a picture of a man in an army-like outfit. But it wasn't the outfit that made him scary.

It was his eyes.

It was his soulless, evil eyes.

He stared into my soul with a look of anger on his face.

I thought to myself. I'm going to be brave. I'll try not to let whoever this monster is out. Tonight will be the night I learn to control my powers!

So, I made the biggest mistake of my life. I read on. And what I read shocked me to my very core. How could one man be this cruel? I thought. I started to get scared. I slammed the book shut and put it back onto the shelf before I could overthink and let Hitler out. I decided to bring some other books to my room and try to forget the horrors I had read.

But fate had different plans in store for me.

I heard the library door creak open behind me. Without turning back, I swiftly ducked under a reading table. I prayed whoever had come in was Klaus, Claudia, or one of the others. But it wasn't. I peeked from under the table and saw a pair of military-like boots. Oh, no. No, no, no. It was Hitler. I was breathing so loudly that I knew he could hear me. And he did. He turned around and saw me under the table. I darted out from under and tried to run away.

"KOMM HIERHER ZURÜCK!*" I didn't know much German and couldn't understand him then. I do now that I'm older, so that's why there are translations at the end of every chapter. I ran and ran and ran. I didn't know the truth but knew I had unleashed a monster.

I was so scared. I had given Hitler more power because of my fear. But then, it dawned on me. If I had given him power using fear, I could take it away by doing one thing: By not fearing him! I turned around and faced my worst nightmare. "You don't scare me! You'll pay for all the people you killed in the past!" I said, with determination, disgust, and fearlessness on my face. Even though I tried to appear fearless, Hitler could still sense the terror behind my eyes.

He calmly and slowly walked over to me with his signature evil look. "I know you fear me, princess. And, unfortunately for you, but fortunately for me, that fear will be your undoing!" Hitler said calmly but with anger in his voice.

But I didn't let up. All of the stuff I'd read about facing your fears said one similar thing: Analyze the amount of irrationality in your fear. I decided to analyze the situation: A dictator who had been dead for decades was standing before me. Even though he was a disturbingly vile, disgusting human being, I decided to focus on how strange of an anachronism this was.

"Hitler, you don't exist anymore. You're just a figment of my imagination!" I said.

"No. Don't say that!" It was working! Hitler tried denying I was winning against him, but it worked anyway!

I grinned with determination. "Yes, that's right! Go back into my mind, where you belong! Better yet, stay out of my mind!" I didn't want to even think about this horrible man.

Hitler grinned because he knew that my plan's one fatal flaw. "Yes, I'll go back into your mind, but you'll never be able to forget me! You'll keep fearing me more and more until you won't be able to keep me at bay! And then, I'll come back stronger than ever! I'll finish the world domination I first started, but I won't stop there! I'll become the supreme ruler of this entire universe!" Hitler yelled triumphantly. He let out an extremely deranged, power-mad laugh before vanishing back into my mind.

Well, my plan worked in a way. At least I was on the road to being able to bring things back into my mind. Now all that's left is making them unable to escape. I just stood there. I knew I'd done something stupid. I ran upstairs to Claudia and Jamal's room and banged on their door. I heard them get out of bed and run to the door. Claudia opened it. She wore a pink nightgown and had her hair in a pink tie.

"What's wrong, sweetie? Did you have a bad dream?" My house was huge, and the bedrooms were far from the library, so they didn't hear the commotion downstairs.

I burst into tears and hugged my adopted mother. I knew I was adopted, but they told me a half-truth from a young age. They told me my parents died when I was a baby. That much was true concerning my mother, but they led me to believe I was mortal. They played my powers off as I had accidentally been cursed by the same witch who killed my parents, turning my hair pink. Yeah, I agree with that. These powers have 'cursed' written all over them. Everyone knew Lily, so to keep me from figuring out the source of my magic, they fabricated a section of Etherian history about a witch named Arosia, who stole the Etherial Gem and cursed me with unstable powers.

"Loretta, what's wrong? Did you accidentally let something scary out of your mind?" Claudia wiped a tear from my face. "Whatever it is, we'll deal with it together, ok?" I just cried harder. I felt so guilty. Now, if he escaped my mind again, many people would die.

"He's back... He's back, and I let him out..." That was all I could say.

Claudia, still hugging me, twitched with fear. Somehow she knew to whom I was referring. "Dear, could you stay here for a second? Your dad and I have something to discuss.

"Ok..." I agreed. I didn't want to be left alone but kept outside the room.

The two of them shut the door. I looked through the keyhole because I needed some answers. "What should we do? I didn't want this day to come until she was at least 15! That's when most kids learn about it!" Claudia frantically whispered.

"Claudia, we could've kept her from learning about him forever. You know that girl loves reading. She was probably up at the library again." Jamal explained.

"But I didn't want to 'keep her from learning about him forever!' I just wanted to wait a little longer! Her powers are still so unstable!" Claudia said.

Jamal put his hand on Claudia's shoulder. "Look. I know what you wish. You wish we lived in a world where you didn't have to tell her about Hitler's involvement in her life. We all do. I've thought about it probably 100 times over the years. But it's time to face the truth." Jamal said, sympathy in both his face and voice.

Not knowing I was watching and listening, Claudia dropped the bombshell. "Look, all this time of monster hunting's given this kid guts. And sometimes that's not a good thing. I'm scared she'll purposely let Hitler, Himmler, and Goeth escape to take her revenge on them."

It was all over then. I burst through the door. "My mother's death? You told me a witch killed my parents!" I was furious. I knew they had been lying this entire time!

"Loretta. I-I-" Claudia stuttered.

Jamal looked at her. "Dear. We have to tell her the truth."

Claudia walked over to me. "Loretta, I'm sorry for lying to you. I'll tell you everything right now." She told me everything about my past. About the party, my mother's death, and Hitler.

"Wait... W-why did you never tell me about this My-my mother is LILISANDRA LEE?" I asked. I felt betrayed. I felt lied to, and I felt like I could never trust anyone ever again!

"I didn't want you to have this burden at such a young age. I wanted to wait until it was necessary to tell you. That's why we elected to reveal everything to you as soon as you learned about WWII in school.

"But you didn't have to lie to me! You could've told me about my real mom but left the part about Hitler out!" I said.

"Loretta, I'm sorry. We only kept the truth from you to protect you from Hitler!" Claudia was visibly guilty. I was the one who should've been guilty, not her. She wasn't the one who let a megalomaniac madman back into the world!

"I-I'm scared. I know Hitler feeds off fear, but I don't know what to do!" I said.

"Listen, Loretta. We'll help you every step of the way." Claudia said. After that, I tried falling asleep, but all I could think of was Hitler, his atrocities, and his evil gaze. I finally stopped tossing and turning and got up to around the mansion. That always helped me sleep.

As I was walking, something strange started happening. I started having these flashes of memory, like a light switch flicking on and off right in front of me. I saw gowns swirling around in a waltz; I heard laughter and saw a grand lawn with pink clouds in the skies above. The memory turned dark, however, because I saw the shattering of the ballroom windows and the entrance of Hitler. It makes me sick to even write his name.

I remember when mom handed me to Claudia and her running through various vast, pink hallways with baby me in her arms. And then, that's where it happened. My mother's sacrifice. "Dearest Loretta. We're about to be separated but know this. Be brave and strong, and someday you'll bring light to this kingdom once more." Tears started streaming down the queen's face. "I love you, my child, and I'll never truly leave you. When you leave this world, I'll take you to Heaven in my arms." I saw my mother's face. I couldn't believe it. I remembered my mother.

I remember being handed back to Claudia and her turning around and running away. I heard a gunshot and a thud, and that's all I remember. I decided, as the stubborn idiot I was, to do the unthinkable. I got out my laptop and typed Himmler into Google. You're right; I did just what my parents didn't want me to. I decided to put my powers to good use and fight them myself! When I read about that horrible Nazi, I was just as horrified, if not more, as when I looked up Hitler. All of a sudden, I heard a voice behind me. I slowly turned around. It was Heinrich Himmler! He was wearing a Nazi uniform and cap and tiny, round glasses.

"Hello, Loretta." Heinrich calmly said. I stood my ground. I didn't want to show him my fear.

"Stay right there," I said. I wanted to get rid of both Nazi monsters at the same time. So, I searched Goeth. When I got to his Wikipedia article, I couldn't even finish it. That man was so horrible. By then, I had realized how big of a mistake I had made. I heard another voice behind me.

"Do you realize what you've unleashed?" I turned around. It was Amon Goeth. I froze in fear. I knew how dangerous this man was from what I read on Wikipedia. That's when I realized I couldn't face them. Amon and Heinrich both had military training and guns with them. I hadn't learned to use my powers in intense combat yet. I only knew simple timeline splitting.

"Look. You're ghosts: Figments of my imagination. Realiteans have no power to come back from the dead; only Etherians and Fictonians do.

Amon laughed. "That's just what we are! Since you're the lost Etherian princess, you have the power to make things appear from your mind! We are known as Realitean-Etherians. Versions of real people that people think up in their minds. The real Himmler and Goeth are rotting in the ground as we speak. But since you've brought us from your mind, we're as real as we want to be! And no reassuring words or pep talks can make you stop being afraid of us!" Amon explained.

He was right. That was my one mistake. I hadn't thought about it that way. But I had a plan. I would seal them in my mind and let them go once I was powerful enough to defeat them. "I don't care what you say, but I won't let you wreak havoc on this world any longer!" This time, I was really going to put my powers to good use. I'd underestimated them this time, but never again! I closed my eyes. I focused, and focused, and focused with all of my might. I opened my eyes, and they were gone.

I was so relieved! I sighed with relief, turned those wretched Wikipedia articles off, and went to bed.

That was my first encounter with the Nazis. I struggled to keep those three at bay for years after that. They didn't break out until I was 19, but next, I'll tell you about the incident when they almost did. I don't even know how I managed to keep them at bay through this, but somehow, I did. I was 15 and in history class. No one likes learning about wars. No one. But, to be completely honest with you, even though it was violent and unpleasant, I was dreading moving on from WWI because I knew WWII was next. When we turned the pages, I almost gave up. I trembled with fear as Hitler stared into my soul. Sweat started pouring down my body, and I was shaking so much I thought I might pass out.

All my classmates were staring at me, but not teasingly or anything. They were concerned. The teacher spoke up. "Loretta, it's ok. It's completely justified to be frightened of that man." Hoo, boy. My teacher was a kind lady but didn't even know half of my plight. 'frightened' was probably the biggest understatement I'd ever heard.

I decided to press on. I wouldn't let those heartless Nazis escape. I was so dedicated to keeping the three of them at bay that I had to retake the test three times because I had to keep my mind on preventing them from escaping. I managed to get top of my class in the war in Europe part of the test because of my research when I was 12, after those failed attempts. The war in the Pacific was a different story. It was hard because I had never learned that section and had to memorize everything for the first time. I didn't have the perks of knowing about it for three years prior. It was easier because the Nazis were gone. I felt so relieved.

And I haven't told you about the other historical figures who joined me! Benito Mussolini and Hirohito tried to join Hitler and the Nazis within my mind, but Klaus and Claudia had them arrested and placed in jail. They weren't as dangerous as Hitler but were still evil. Now, here's where it gets cool. I gained three new allies! Yep, that's right! The Big Three themselves joined forces with me! Roosevelt, Churchill, and Stalin became my bodyguards. Roosevelt is like a cool uncle or grandparent. I like talking with him about bravery because of his famous quote about fear. His situation's pretty sad with his polio, and I've always sympathized with him. But he doesn't let that stop him from being awesome! Next is Churchill, who is so cool. I listened to some of his WWII speeches on Youtube; they wereinspiring words and just what I needed to hear!

Then there's Stalin. Short answer: I don't like the guy. Not then, and not now. He's almost as bad as Hitler, but not to the same level of derangement. Here are my thoughts on Joseph Stalin: I don't like him, but I like that he helped fight psycho-maniac Hitler. I tolerated him because Hitler needed to be defeated. Yeah. While Winston and Franklin were like family to me, Stalin was a jerk. He'd try and rule the roost, and whenever I confronted him about it and told him to stop being such a jerk, he'd pull an 'at least I'm protecting you from Hitler! I could give you to him right now!' cards. And, the problem was, he would use that to try and justify being a d bag.

Yeah, I became an almost instant celebrity. Kids on 1st name basis with historical world leaders get invited to lots more parties than others. Yeah, I remember my history teachers going gaga over me, too! It got easier to keep the Nazis at bay because I had other historical figures on my mind. Anyway, I heard my parents talking about Hirohito and Mussolini one day. Those two were more dangerous than we'd originally thought; apparently, Mussolini had been talking about getting Hitler to break them out of jail once he and the others escaped my mind. But that happens later. Let me focus on the big one.

You're right. The moment those jerks finally escaped my mind! It will be where the story takes off. My family and I were vacationing at an Etherian resort. Etherian resorts are hotels in the daydream paradise itself and are so cool! Since your group's the only one there, you can go ham and play hide-and-seek throughout the place, and all of the rooms, without anyone getting mad. Anyway, let me get to the point. I was playing with 'The Horde,' which were the personalities of my mom's old friend Kevin. Hedwig, only nine years old, didn't truly grasp the situation with the Nazis yet: He was only about 2 when they first attacked. He decided to play a scary prank on me, and that's when they escaped.

I was running around the hotel when suddenly the lights turned off. I was in pitch darkness. At the time, I didn't know who had done it. All of a sudden, every second light turned on, casting a strange, eerie glow. "He-hello?" I asked, voice shaking. I heard the sound of someone running. It was Kevin, but at the time, I didn't know. "Who's there?" I asked. That's when my mind began to wonder. What if it's a monster or something? Or worse, what if it's Hitler? My eyes widened. Oh, good going, Loretta! Why did you even think about him?

"It feels so good to be free!" I could recognize that terrifying voice anywhere. I slowly turned around.

There they were.

Adolf, Heinrich, and Amon were standing behind me.

"Now that you've set us free, my Reich will be greater than all those years ago!" Hitler had an insane, deranged look in his eyes. That was my sign to start running. I ran as fast as I could, not looking back. Those horrible men gave chase, and I could hear them running after me. I had to find my family. Just then, I remembered my combat training. I rounded on Hitler and blasted him with a concussive light pink blast. Oh, I forgot to mention. My powers are pink, while my mom's are darker.

Hitler got blasted back, and Amon attacked next. "You'll pay for that!" He pulled out a shotgun and fired at me! I ran away, ducking as I went. He fired more and more bullets at me. I ducked again. One of the bullets shattered a wall light where my head would've been just a half second earlier. Sparks flew everywhere. I screamed with fright. I'd never been more scared for my life. The faster I ran, the harder my heart pumped. I had to get to the others. I prayed he would run out of bullets before I got to them.

Prayer answered! After the next bullet, I heard him try to pull the trigger. All it made was a clicking sound. He growled in frustration and threw the gun down.

Hitler on the other hand spotted something hanging from the wall up ahead. It was a fire axe in a glass case! Hitler ran to it, punched through the glass, and pulled the axe out: Though he broke a solid glass case, his hands were unscathed. I didn't know what to do. By fearing him, I was making them more powerful and dangerous, but I didn't know how to stop fearing him!

Hitler, looking more deranged than ever, swung the axe right at my head. I swerved to avoid the axe, and it stuck in the wall. While Hitler struggled to get it unstuck, I took the opportunity to run. Heinrich ran after me next. Oh, god, please not this psycho... I thought. Heinrich ran towards me.

"You don't know what you're doing... By staying alive, you're depriving this world of the ruler it needs." All three of these guys were nuts. Their ideals were insane!

I turned around and gave Heinrich a piece of my mind. "NO! I will never agree with your ideology, and I'll die on that hill!"

Heinrich gave me a sinister look. "Then you will die!" He unleashed a blast of dark magic at me! It collided with me, and I fell to the floor. I got the wind knocked right out of me. Oh, God, this is painful... Shit, everything hurts... Note to self: magic blasts aren't fun.

I managed to get my bearings straight, and I stood up, still shaky.

Heinrich walked closer. "In my lifetime, I was an extreme believer in black magic. I've given Hitler's closest allies powers just like mine, but mine will always be the most lethal. What I'm about to use against you is but a fraction of it!" Heinrich started floating in the air. I backed away. Even though I had powers, they could never compete against theirs! Heinrich's pupils turned black, with no light reflecting from them. Now, that was genuinely scary. He outstretched his arms, preparing a blast of pure black magic, that would surely end my life. Without thinking, I thrust my hand out. A blinding, dazzling, pink blast of light was unleashed from me, colliding with all three of them. It also got Heinrich out of his black magic-fueled trance! I was especially grateful for that!

All three Nazis lay on the ground, groaning in pain, completely and utterly shocked at what I had done, I looked at my hands, and thought, Wow... Was that-was that... me?

Just then, I heard someone running. It was Winston and the others! I had guessed they didn't know I was in trouble, because Etherian resorts are loud, to begin with. Seriously, even people goofing off sounds louder and more urgent than that situation. We did tell people to keep it down after that because no one came to my aid in a real situation.

"Lady Loretta! Are you alright?" Winston asked. He spotted the Nazis. "YOU!" He ran towards Hitler and grabbed him by the ear. "I've been waiting years to get ahold of you!" Winston punched Adolf right in the face with his other hand. Still, in pain, Amon stood up and tried to attack Winston. Win just turned around and punched him, also. Heinrich stood up and tried to activate his powers, but he was still too weak.

That floored me. Wow, did little old me really take out the 'most powerful black magic user in the Reich? I thought, mockingly. I smirked. This story would be pretty short if I could just learn to use that powerful of magic on command! But alas, it didn't work that way... Instead, this happened.

"You haven't seen the last of us! My fourth Reich will prevail, and none of you can stop me! I was ignorant back then! I won't rule for a mere thousand years, I'll rule FOR ALL ETERNITY!" Hitler screamed, before vanishing into thin air. The others vanished, also. Oh crap, where did they go? I thought. All of us stood there, unsure what to do...

Now, this is where it gets crazy. In the next chapter, Hitler will assemble his new and expanded army. We'll also call upon some old friends, and get some new allies... Some of those new allies are from a certain video game you all know and love... Oh, one more thing. The next chapter is where the narrative starts to 'flow' more. There won't be any more long time skips, so you'll see more of the characters talking to each other than of me explaining stuff. Yeah, if something really important comes along, I'll explain it to you, because this story is really complex, and hard to put on paper. Thinking about it was easy, but now that I'm writing it down, I feel like my head's about to explode. So, stay tuned.

#Story #booklr #books #EtheriaCadenzaUniverse #Fantasy

[heavenlydevine]

From the prompt list please do 28. “No, I checked my receipt. I didn’t buy any of your bullshit.” with Bruce Wayne I think that would be so funny ffsshjngk

Bruce Wayne [DCEU/Affleck] x Female!Reader.

Warnings: Language. And sexual references. Slight domination if you squint.

As you wanted Affleck, I couldn't imagine him finding it amusing. His portrayal of Bruce Wayne took on a far more darker side than what Bale gave us. So I hope this is what you had in mind.

Don’t fuck up.

Those were the parting words your father had uttered to you after announcing that he had gotten you the opportunity of a lifetime, and loathe you were to admit it, working for Wayne Enterprises had its perks.

Though most would frown upon your job description, you had taken it with stride, as there were far worse jobs in the business than being an errand girl—true meaning, coffee girl.

You didn’t mind the up and down, back and forth—and though it had taken you no less than three weeks to learn just how everyone preferred their coffees, you often wondered whether it would be the only thing you’d be doing.

And then just three months into your new job, you had done the one thing your father had urged you not to do. You fucked up.

But could one consider it a fuck up if you managed to become the personal assistant of the one and only Bruce Wayne? You had never met the man before, yet you had heard enough to know that he was a respectable man with a take no nonsense persona, and yet nothing could have been further from the truth.

Bruce Wayne might have been a gentle, caring man to the public, but to you, no, to you he was much more than that. Your first encounter would be a memory you’d often cherish, the remnants of your coffee tarnishing to what appeared to be a rather expensive suit, and though you had expected him to give you a verbal lashing, fire you on the spot, he had simply looked at you and smiled.

“Guess this gives me a reason to shower.”

And you didn’t know whether to be flustered or mortified, his laughter ringing through your mind—and it was then that you realized that the man was insanely attractive, the steaks of gray hairs scattered about his dark brown hair an added bonus.

You cannot remember when your relationship with the eccentric billionaire had changed from employer and employee, to whatever the fuck this was. This wasn’t the first time you found yourself stripped bare in his office, spread across his desk as he pounded into you from behind.

No.

He had made sure that you understood the significance behind the relationship you two shared—you were his and his alone, to do with whatever he pleased.

And you couldn’t find the notion to actually care.

He was never rough with you, yet you knew the man kept himself at bay—as you’d catch a glimpse of the darkness lingering behind his eyes whenever you’d catch him staring at you from afar, the obvious glint of desire swimming within his orbs a haunting reminder that this was not what you had imagined your life becoming.

And now, as you stood in the quaint, yet spacious room with everyone’s attention focused on you and you alone, you knew you had crossed the line. Never before had you been late to a board meeting, and as this was held annually every year in consideration as to which direction the company was heading, you knew no explanation could ever trump the wrath that emitted from Bruce Wayne.

“This meeting is adjourned,” never once did he take his eyes off you, and for a fleeting moment as the room burst in an abundance of activities, men and women alike murmuring amongst each other, whilst others gave you a sympathetic glance and a pat on the shoulder, you knew you fucked up, “—I’ll expect everyone’s reports on my table my Monday morning.”

And then silence.

Heart pounding in your chest, eyes wide as you continued to hold your iced coffee in trembling hands, you couldn’t help but shudder in fear as the doors behind you closed with a loud thunk and the blinds zipped tighter, encasing the room with a darkened hue despite the sunlight streaming through the large windows that gave view to the bustling streets below. “I can explain..”

“I don’t want to fucking hear your excuses,” he had never spoken to you in such a way, and though it did unspeakable things to your neither regions, your thighs pressing against one another, “—it’s irrelevant to me. This meeting, as you know, consisted out of people who sponsor this company, as well as the Wayne Foundation. So imagine what they must think of me,” and then your heart seized to function.

Bruce Wayne was pissed.

Because the sight of him loosening his tie, jacket now discarded and hanging across the chair, was an image you had often entertained at night, whispers or sinful things echoing through your mind at the thought of him unleashing the seven hells upon you, “—when my beautiful little assistant barges into the room like a bat out of hell, looking like she just ran a fucking marathon, four hours late, when she should have been the first one to arrive. I had to organize my own papers. I had to do everything myself, so remind me why I pay you?”

And then the rage sparked within your chest, your mouth opening and closing, and with a single thought running through your mind, you threw caution to the wind and leveled him with a look that would make any respectable man tremble yin fear, “Well excuse me, your highness,” his eyebrows rose in surprise, a look of fury following soon after, and yet as it lingered at the forefront of your mind that you were crossing your boundaries, you were far to lost in your own anger to give a shit what he or anyone else thought of you.

“You were the one that made me run around like a headless chicken. You made me drive all the way to the docks to secure the shipment that came in, and then you had me drive all the way back to the manor to get your precious files—which I organized, and on top of it all, you had me miss the deadline for my article and had me stuck in traffic for almost two hours,” you pointed an accusing finger at him, never realizing that you had moved closer to him, “—so in hindsight, you are the one that should apologize to me, after all, you were the one that insisted I wait in a que of more than twelve people to get your precious decaf.”

“Are you done?”

And then you just had to say it. “No, I checked my receipts. I didn’t buy any of your bullshit,” and with the goal to turn around and leave, the gasp of surprise that slipped past your lips was swallowed by his lips smashing against yours, arms encasing you in a tight embrace, immobilizing you and rendering you a quivering mess.

“You are going to regret taking that tone with me,” he murmured, pupils blown wide, “—so I’ll show you what happens to insolent little brats who talk back to their superiors.”

And then he was pushing you backwards, lips still attached to yours with the intention to suck all the air from your lungs. “I’m going to ruin you and you are going to take it.”

And ruin you he did.

Squeezing your waist in confirmation, a silent desperation to feel you submit to his advances, all rational thought flew out your mind, “Just fuck me, Bruce.”

His control vanished the moment your words echoed through his ears. “Be careful what you wish for.”

I stopped here, as I wasn’t entirely sure whether I should delve further down citrus lane. Though should you want another part to this, a continuation to this, then feel free to request another prompt. I’m sorry it took so long. Hope you liked it.

#Bruce Wayne x Reader #Bruce Wayne x You #Bruce Wayne Imagine #Batman #Affleck

[redrose-arrow]

hi Duncan x halt anon here and you have NO IDEA what you’ve just unleashed (IVE BEEN WANTING TO TALK ABOUT THESE TWO FOR SO LONGN) but you said to go ahead and I will until it gets annoying!!!

ANYWAY so these two are...pretty different, right. But in the books Duncan lets Halt get away with a LOT and genuinely values him & Halt does have at minimum SOME respect for Duncan, bc I don’t think Duncan would tolerate just straight-up disrespect, but their dynamic is “very good friends friends who’ll tease/bully each other” more so than “loyal follower & royal leader”. SO what I’m thinking: after Crowley & Halt rescue him from the castle & they’re on their way to the tournament, Duncan realizes Halt is That Guy From The Ball That Duncan Totally Wasn’t Crushing On From Afar, and he’s like....BUT THEY SAID YOU WERE DEAD so Halt yanks him aside while Crowley’s distracted and is like “SHUT UP ILL TELL YOU LATER.” Duncan won’t tell Crowley or the others even if Halt doesn’t wanna explain but he IS very confused & Halt knows he won’t stop pestering him for an explanation...So he tells Duncan the story, late one night by the campfire, when Crowley is fast asleep. Halt keeps his voice low and he’s kinda reluctant to tell it at first but he gets through it, tells Duncan all about how his own brother resented him for being heir to a throne he never wanted in the first place, how he saw Ferris change and become more distant and manipulative over the years, how he witnessed firsthand how power could corrupt a man (and has the scars to prove it). Duncan asks about his parents, because surely they would’ve recognized the attempts on his life? “They fought too much to notice,” Halt says dismissively. “Even if they didn’t, I was hardly the son they would’ve wanted on the throne—Ferris was more charismatic, more amiable. I was the firstborn but he was their favourite, and I couldn’t quite bring myself to ruin that for them.” And he talks, eventually, about his little sister Caitlyn; the only one who saw what was going on and believed him when he told her, fever-ridden and delirious from a batch of “spoiled shrimp”, that Ferris was trying to kill him. The words come easier when Halt talks about Caitlyn and there’s something like a smile curled on his lips, and Duncan’s heart sorta skips a beat in his chest because Oh Right, I Used To Have A Crush On This Guy And It Turns Out I Still Kinda Do!!!! And then Halt talks about how Pritchard found him and how his mentor is the only one besides his terrible family who knows the truth about him & why he left, and maybe he doesn’t say it outright but he 100% implies that Pritchard is just so important to him. Like “father that I’ve never had, except I did have a father but he sucked and Pritchard was just so much kinder & better” kind of important

I took the liberty of copy-pasting your second ask so that no one else has to wait for the rest :)

"part 2 bc that was getting long,,,, ANYWAY, so Duncan and Halt stay up a bit longer talking—they move away from Ferris’ assassination attempts and just chat about other stuff for a bit. Duncan enjoys having another person to relate to abt the tediousness & honestly? the loneliness of royal life, and Halt honestly doesn’t expect to enjoy talking to someone else this much. The only other person he’s really connected to since coming to Araluen is Crowley, but Crowley is just enough of a bastard for Halt to tolerate (and maybe even like), so it’s a surprise that the other person he can connect with is a straight-laced prince. Also Duncan’s basically like “okay so this guy is an (ex?) crown prince, he’s INSANELY skilled & actually very funny in a deadpan, sarcastic way, AND he’s helping me take back my kingdom from an evil baron....yeah I can get behind this”. So yadda yadda they get through the confrontation with Morgarath at the tournament, and, true to his word, Duncan doesn’t tell any of the others about Halt’s background. At the end of the book when Pritchard is murdered, Duncan hears about it from Baron Arald and he’s like....oh, shit. He tracks down Halt and Crowley, both of whom are appropriately enraged and grieving, and makes proper funeral arrangements for Pritchard & allows them some time off to process their grief. Afterwards he goes to Halt privately, bc now he’s the only one who knows abt Halt’s childhood & he knows Halt lost more than a dear mentor—and Halt’s in his cabin being very short-tempered and snappy with him but Duncan just sits and waits. And eventually the anger kinda drains out of Halt, and he sits down at the table w Duncan and over ale they share stories about man who’d been like a father to Halt; Duncan didn’t know him all that well, but Pritchard had been around the castle enough when Duncan was a child for him to remember some of the chaos the man had caused. Halt tells a tale or two of his own and explains, a lottttt later when he’s drunker than he should be in front of the almost-king, that Pritchard had saved his life—they’d met while Halt was still at the castle and Pritchard had taught him how to swim some months before Ferris tried to drown him. But it was more than that, Halt tells him, it was so much more than that. Pritchard had been a safe haven, had given him refuge, had given him hope when he needed it most. And now he was gone and Halt was just..... he doesn’t finish the sentence but Duncan nods and says “I know”. Because yeah, he does know. And they sit in silence for a while longer, not as an (almost) King and Ranger but as two men who know what it’s like to be alone.

And now they don’t have to be!!! AND THIS ONLY COVERED THE FIRST TEY BOOK I have,,,, so many more things to say about these two but I THINK this has gotten long enough so 💀 I’ll leave this here. Ty for listening to my rant abt medieval middle-aged gays :D (also disclaimer: at this point, I think Duncan would be more or less the only one with some developing romantic feelings. But then again this only covers the first book, so Halt’s own revelation would come later)"

ANON YOU'RE RIGHT ABOUT EVERYTHING.

Their dynamic is indeed just that. Duncan recognising him out of the blue and Halt having to physically shut him up? Legendary. Duncan feeling his crush return? Amazing.

I never thought about Duncan and Halt relating about royal life but it makes so much sense??? especially just talking about the lessons and the trouble having friends etc etc. The resulting whole no-longer-alone thing has me *this* close to tears. Duncan then tracking down Halt -- he 11/10 w o u l d. Halt being angry and then just almost sobbing while Duncan has no idea wtf he should do but the fact that he's there and he's listening means everything to Halt.

Anon, I have absolute 0 regrets unleashing this. Awfully bold of you to assume that it'll get annoying. You fully got me now, I'm shipping them hard. I'm invested. Please do elaborate whenever you wish. I will gladly listen to more rants about medieval middle-aged gays. Go ahead.

#crowley is just enough of a bastard for halt to tolerate him #is the best fucking sentence i've read all week #anyhow #I LOVE ALL OF THIS #i could rant for hours about how i love each and every sentence that was sent #like #easily #so if anyone else has any halt/duncan stuff #drop it!!!! #i need more #thank you and good night #ranger's apprentice #rangers apprentice #john flanagan #halt o'carrick #duncan #ask redrose #ask redrosearrow #hey rosalie what did you do when you were home alone for a week? #oh nothing just cried over two characters I didn't know I could ship #no regrets

[bodyswapmischief]

Chemical Warfare Weight Gain

As I began waking up, the only thought running through my mind was the beeping of the EKG, my arm was attached to. I laid there for a few minutes, my thoughts slowly returned to me.

I began remembering my name, my past but, I had no idea how I ended up there. (I was a soldier in my countries army), I told myself. Although I felt no pain, I feared the worst. (Did I get injured in an enemy attack), I continued thinking to myself.

With a deep breath and my growing strength, I opened my eye and, looked up at the world, around me. I was in a dimly lit hospital room, a curtain prevent me from viewing more than my immediate surroundings. I turn my attention to my body still covered by a thin blanket.

By this time I had no trouble sitting myself up. And, as I did I threw the blanket off me, revealing my hairy yet muscular body, which only wore a pair of boxer briefs. I was thrown a bit off guard but, started to rub the different parts of my body, letting the hair slide through my fingers. (Damn I must have been out for awhile), I thought while feeling the field of hair that covered most of my body. I knew my body had the potential to get really hairy, but I usually shaved on a daily basis to prevent it. Now all that constant work wasted.

My attention turned to my underwear. I looked around and waited to see if I could hear anything. And, when I thought I was safe. I took off my underwear. Again I was relieved. My 8 inch dick was still there surrounded my meaty sized balls. However, I would admit they looked smaller, as the hair on my legs and torso met at my pelvic region to create a massive bush of hair.

Looking around the room I noticed a mirror, which allowed me to see my back and ass, which were also covered in a layer of fur. (Damn, I going have to fix this), I thought to myself.

As I sat there becoming acquainted with my hairy body, something odd popped in my head. (This hair on my body had to take at least a month to grow out. So, I was on this bed for awhile. But, there wasn't an IV placed on me. No, feeding tube. I don't remember waking up to feed myself. How did I survive without food and water.), I started to question the situation I found myself in. But, the strangest part was that I didn't feel hungry.

With questions running through my head, I put my underwear back on and went to look for a doctor or nurse. Leaving my covered area, I finally noticed I wasn't alone. On the other side of the room, partially covered by a divider. I saw a man, also, on a ER bed. Unlike me he was very fat. His belly was exposed as his blanket was on the floor.

As, I got closer to him, I noticed he was completely naked. Ripped pieces of underwear were buried under his fat ass. He was also hairy, but not as hairy as me. His big beefy legs and puffed out fat pad made his dick look small. But, It wasn't like he could have seen it over the mountain that was his stomach. His chest looked somewhat muscular, but now an equal layer of fat made his pecs look more like boobs. Seeing his face, something seemed familiar but, I couldn't make it out. Even through the double chin and fat checks, I felt like I've seen this face, before. (But this guy must be close to 300lbs, I would remember someone this big), I thought to myself.

Feeling embarrassed for him, that his fat naked body was on full display. I picked up the blanket and covered him. His fat stomach even more pronounced with the thin fabric clinging to it. Unable to resist the urge, I patted his stomach, "there ya go big guy." I was shocked as he began to move. His eyes struggling to open. He softly moaned, trying to tell me something. But with the breathing tube in his mouth and the fact he was half conscious, he wasn't understandable. I looked around and also noticed no IV, was placed in him. "Don't worry buddy, I'll go get us some help and answers." I left as his eyes began to close again.

I continued walking and every room I past had the same sight. Big fat men, of different sizes, laying on hospital beds. Not one of them hooked up to machines, other than heart monitors and some had breathing tubes . I reached the elevator and pushed the button. Nothing happened. I started to panic and moved quickly to the stairwell. The doors that lead out were locked. I started yelling for someone ... anyone, as I continued walking the empty halls.

I found my way into a big room, with the biggest guy on the floor here. He must have been 600 pounds. There was no way this man was able to move as his body was nothing more than a giant bean bag of fat. No curves ... just a blob of fat. His file sat on a nearby desk.

"Officer Ryan Lakewood" the file read. I paused for awhile, but suddenly a wave of recognition rushed my brain. I knew that name. Lakewood was one of the more well known guys in the troop. He was massive with muscle; easily the strongest guy. I remained in shock as I walked towards the fat man's face, "It couldn't be" I told myself. But, as I looked at the man's face ... It was him. Underneath all the fat that filled his once chiseled face, I could see him; the man he used to be.

How did that happen. He did eat a lot, but all of that went to fueling his massive muscles. Before, I could think anymore the heart monitor he was attached to flatlined. Panicked, I started to do chest compressions. But, it wasn't long before doctors and nurses, covered up in protective gear, rushed in. They grabbed me and in my panicked state, I started to fight back. But, I was no match as I felt a syringe being stabbed into my skin. As the drowsiness set in, I heard the doctors say "He's gone, the last one over 400lbs ... at least the others still seem to be in stable condition."

I woke up tied to a chair in an empty room. I looked up to see two doctors in front of me. "Hello Liam."

"What the fuck is going on." I yelled.

They explained everything to me. Our enemy secretly broke into our base and unleashed a gas attack. However this gas attack was a new chemical warfare weapon. Once inhaled it latched on to any food in the stomach. The calories release from the food became a deadly ridiculous amount. But death was prevent by the second affect of the gas. It speed up the fat production process and allowed the skin to become more elastic, allowing the infected to safely grow fatter. Even then those who gained an insane amount of weight had other complications, and were deemed very likely to die. Most of these men were 400lbs or more.

However, the worst part is that the men stayed affected by the gas. Meaning if they ate anything, another massive weight gain would happen. The only positive was these men never had to drink or eat anything ever again.

Our base was the first and two more came after. The doctors feared more attacks. So, they started looking for a way to negate or reverse the affects. But, they weren't able to see how the gas worked first hand. They could have given a man something to eat. But all the men were too big. Giving these men anymore to eat would have been a death sentence. All the men where to big ... except me.

My stomach was completely empty when the gas attack happened. The doctors proceeded to tell me that I was their best choice to help save 100s if not 1000s of my brothers. So, I agreed. In a short time, numerous machines were attached to me. When all of it was done, they brought out a small salad

I put one piece of lettuce in my mouth and the flavor was amazing. It was the best thing I ever ate. All this time, I didn't feel hungry, but now I was starving. I ignored the fork and started shoveling food into my mouth, with my hands. Over the euphoria of the sensations happening in my mouth, I could here the doctors outside the room, yelling to stop. But, I couldn't stop. I didn't want to stop. By the time they came in the room, I was done. But, I was still hungry. I felt my body tingle but, it only made me hungry. I tried to run past the doctors but they stopped me and knocked me out with another dose of tranquilizers.

When I came to, I felt myself laying on a hospital bed again. I was no longer hungry, but I felt heavy. I slowly opened my eyes to face the truth. I looked down to see a hill of fat where my abs once were. I uncover myself and started to examine my new fat body. I sat up and looked into the mirror placed by my bed, as I continued to feel different parts of my body.

My face now had chubby checks and small a double chin, hidden behind my new beard. My stomach jutted out, covered in fur. I used my hands to push it in and felt no signs of the abs that once graced the area. Instead of hard muscular pecs, sitting on my chest were hairy soft breast. I reluctantly touch my new man boobs. It felt weird. As, I touch them I notice how they and my new belly jiggled with every movement. I looked at my, once slender, thighs; they were big, juicy, and also covered in hair. I tried to suck in my stomach but couldn't. It was like my body wasn't use to sucking it in, a muscle I would have to work on.

So, I used my hands to adjust my stomach so I could get a good view of my dick. All this jiggling, reluctantly made my dick hard. Surrounded by fat and a bush of pelvic hair, it didn't even look 8 inches any more. I was lucky if it past of as a 4 incher. I stood up and looked in the mirror. This was my new body ... I couldn't believe one small salad did this.

Over the course of the next few days, doctors came in talk to me. The data they received from me was helpful but, they would need more cases like mine to get enough data. They continued working on a cure but without that additional data they keep running into problems. And that data would never come because, the gas attacks stopped. Many of the world countries secretly got together to stop the country responsible. The use of that gas was a war crime. And, all information was kept secret from the public.

In total I gained 60lbss from eating one salad, going from my fit 186lbs to a fat 249lbs. The rest of the survivors and I were gathered and were given a debriefing. I look around and was a little happy to see I was still one of the thinner guys there. But, you could tell we were all bummed out about our new bodies. We were told to never eat anything again, unless we wanted to die. They explain that as long as we didn't eat anything we wouldn't feel hungry. But, once food entered our mouths we would be insatiable unless we were isolated from all food for a couple of hours.

They also told us the weight gain was permanent no amount of exercise would lead to weight loss, but it would still help the muscle we loss from spending months at the hospital, being inactive.

Many of the bigger guys were forced out of the army. The, still very fat, thinner guys were given a choice to leave. I stupidly agreed to continue serving my country. I didn't realize being overweight, the best way to serve my country was patrolling the streets like some glorified security guard.

Now, I'm constantly mocked by civilians and other soldiers who know nothing about what really happened. I get teased with food and called pig. I had a few close calls where people threw food at my face. Luckily none landed in my mouth. The hardest part is never eating again. It's not that I'm hungry, it more like a habits. Imagine doing the same thing for 26 years of your life and now you can't do it anymore. I miss eating, I just want to be normal again. But, the urge to stay alive is stronger. If I give in, the inner pig would be unleashed, eating every in sight and killing me in the process.

#body #male #swap #transformation #stories #tf #mischief #story #gain #magic weight gain #weight #weight gain

[nightwingshero]

WIP Tag

I was tagged by @minilev and @simonxriley, thank you!!!

Tagging: @strafethesesinners @water-writings @pen-in-hand @theknifegame @chyrstis @smithandrogers @lilwritingraven @chuckhansen @fadedjacket @geronimo-11 @scungilliwoman @shellibisshe @witchofinterest @witchesconstellation @aceghosts @archetypesinthefog and whoever wants to share!

So...my Far Cry 5 babes are coming back.

Wren’s first Baptism and, if you look closely, Randy’s cameo/debut. 

“Don’t kill her! John wants them alive, use the bliss bullets!” Bliss bullets? I pulled my pistol back out, taking aim from around the tree to return fire. I didn’t understand what they were talking about, all I knew was I needed to get the hell out of here, and quickly. I was outnumbered and injured, clearly at a disadvantage. I was trying to come up with a solution, anything, that would help me get out of this mess. A panic attack was beginning to work its way in, and I fought as hard as I could to keep from hyperventilating. I reloaded and my vision swam. Reds and greens becoming vibrant, making anything solid turn blurry. Small lights danced in my vision, I couldn’t tell if they were stars or lightening bugs, or something else entirely. Was I going blind? I began to feel tired, my body becoming heavy. I stumbled from my cover, my mind trying to tell me that that was a terrible idea, but I suddenly couldn’t remember why.

“Ow.” I said as I landed on my knees, my hands palm up as I began to attempt to study them. My body teetered off balance, and I tried to catch myself, rocks and twigs cutting into the very palms I was looking at merely seconds before. I heard cheering far away, but I couldn’t remember where I was or whom I was with. I finally collapsed, my body now too much to hold up. My arms and legs were jelly, my brain like static. My eye began to close as I felt hands lift me. I tried to reach for something before everything went completely black and I was gone.

 “This one?” a male voice echoed as I fought against heavy eyelids to see a blurred night sky. I saw a man in the corner of my eye with a wool sweater and messy hair, pointing to something on the ground.

“No. This one.” Another male voiced, his voice deep and well-spoken. Had it been any other situation, I would dare say it was soothing.

The scruffy man found his way to me, leaning over as he studied me with confusion. “Doesn’t seem very worthy.”

“It is not for us to judge.” The other man came into view, and he was much more put together than his companion. His dark hair was neat, and beard trimmed. He donned a trench coat, giving him an air of importance. “Deliver her unto the waters. The Cleansing begins tonight.” The grungy man reached for me just as I faded back to blackness.

The falling out with John that leads to the Atonement

“I warned you, Wren. I told—”

“Yeah, you told me to stay away. And maybe then it’ll keep the resistance from Jacob’s region, right? That’s what it’s all about, right?” I demanded as my heart tugged painfully. His brow furrowed and suddenly, just like that, I was looking at a mask.

“My brothers mean everything to me, Deputy. I’ll do anything for them.”

“Except open your heart, right?” I sneered as I ignored the jab that I felt at him using my title. “Joseph asked you to love, but you can’t, can you? That’s what he had said to you that night you almost drowned me. ‘You have to love them, John.’ How’s that going for you? How’s Hudson?” He said nothing for a moment, just stared at me. That only made it worse, my insecurities screaming at me, forcing my panic and anger to grow.

“She’s right where you left her.” He replied lowly and my breath staggered as I felt the preverbal punch in the gut. I clenched my fists as tears pooled in my eyes.

“Right. That’s on me. How stupid of me, right? It was so easy for you, wasn’t it?” His brow furrowed a bit before he hid his confusion once more, but it was enough to keep me going. “That’s all it was to you, some fucking game. The ultimate conquest. Get the Deputy to fall in your bed, make her fall for you while the resistance suffered for it. I should’ve fucking known better.” A flash of hurt crossed his features and my mouth went dry as I regretted it immediately. But he only just glared at me and took a step forward.

“What happens between my brothers and I is none of your concern. I wanted you to join—”

“Oh, right. How could I forget about that? Manipulating me by luring me into your fucking bed—”

“I didn’t hear you complaining!” he snapped.

“No, I suppose you didn’t because for once in my fucking life, I believed that someone could fucking love me!” I screamed. “I thought I finally found someone who didn’t ask me for anything, who didn’t want something from me. God, I was so fucking wrong! You’re just like them! You manipulated and lied to me to try and get me to join this stupid cult of yours, so your brother wouldn’t kick you out!”

“I have never lied to you!” he snapped, and he took another step forward as he pointed at me. “I may be a lot of things, but a liar is not one of them. And don’t you dare use Joseph against me. You don’t know anything—"

“Oh?” I laughed bitterly as I took a step forward, forcing him back a step. “I know that you’re scared, John. So fucking scared because Joseph tied our fates together, and I’m still running around causing hell. You were so scared that you fucked me, manipulated me, thinking that it would keep me on a leash, but guess what? It didn’t work, did it?! No! Your brother is fucking insane—" He caught me off by chuckling, dark and bitter. He looked at me with a twisted smirk, anger burning in his eyes. There was a darkness coiling, I could practically taste the wrath coming off him in waves, and I knew then that the line had been crossed.

“What if Joseph was right? Did you ever stop to think about that?” He taunted lowly. “Everyone thinks he’s crazy, but he’s not. Look around you, the world is on the brink. You can feel it in your bones. Look at the headlines. Look at who’s in charge!” he yelled suddenly, making me jump a bit. He grabbed his key, making a show of it. His knuckles turning white as he held it tightly, I thought for sure it would break. “You want this key because you think you’re saving people, but they’re already safe. We have a plan. You don’t understand. You don’t believe. You don’t CARE!” He screamed as he turned away from me, knocking a stack of files to the floor before placing his hands on his hips. His heavy breathing making his shoulders rise and fall rapidly. “So fucking wrathful, you’re looking for every reason to unleash it on anyone who gets a step too close. I don’t think you care about anything else. It doesn’t fucking matter to you, it never did. Our fates being tied…what consequences that come with it. You’d rather let it consume you, even after everything. You’d rather have the emptiness than…this…and that is disappointing.”

My heart broke, shattering into pieces as the silence hung heavy. I took a step back as the tears fell. I turned, grabbing my gear, and ran out the door. I fished out the keys from my pocket as I jumped into my jeep. My fingers shook as I fiddled with my seatbelt. I jumped as I heard the slam of my passenger door. Turning I saw Randy as he put his seatbelt on, giving me a quick nod once he was settled in. I wanted to ask but thought better of it. I just needed to get the fuck out of here. I started the car, put it in drive, and slammed on the gas. Something in me wanted nothing more than to turn around, to apologize. I wanted him, wanted to take it all back. Kiss him until we were both forgiven, everything forgotten. But I couldn’t. There was nothing to go back to.

“Deputy!” Jess called over the radio. “We’re heading to the Jessop Conservatory. You coming?” I looked at Randy and he looked back. John was expecting me to go to Jacob’s region. If he were to send anyone after me, he would send them there. For once, I was thankful for Jess’s timing. I sighed as I picked up the radio.

“Yeah, I’m coming.”

Wren’s fight with Faith

“He had to choose, you know. Between saving a Herald—the sister of the Baptist…or you. He chose you.” I turned back with eyes wide, and her tears finally fell. “I thought the Father was taking from me in the beginning, taking who I was away from me. But that wasn’t true. He was giving me the chance to help others the way he had helped me. He offered me salvation. And I want the same for you.” She tilted her head slightly. “I know you see John in the Bliss; I’ve known for a while.” She looked back over my shoulder once again. “If you kill me, Wren, you will have to kill the others because that’s how it has to be. There would be no going back, the choice would be made. It would hurt him; it would hurt John deeply and put things so far into motion that you won’t be able change it. You know this, don’t you?”

I look at the river, flowing swiftly and offering a soothing melody. “Yes,” I whispered. “I can feel it.”

“Which is why you’re standing here in front of me.” She whispered. “I know that you feel it, and we both know that Jacob would be next. Instead of just hurting one side, you will hurt both. You will ruin John, while destroying yourself in that process. One path will lead to John, the other to heartbreak. Is it worth it? Because if it is, continue. Kill me, I won’t fight you. But you can go back, it’s not too late. It’s not too late for both of you.”

#oc: wren blake #ch: john seed #ch: faith seed #far cry 5 #my ocs #tag game

[panic-at-the-fiction]

Let’s Talk About Cuba

Sumary: (y/n) and Alex has a rocky relationship to begin with but after the events in Cuba they have a lot to talk about. But Alex seems to be avoiding (y/n).

Warnings: Smut, totally could have used some protection. Bad smut writing

A/N: So I wrote this in like May before I had even started posting and I had a friend help me write the smut part but she quit on me so I had to write the uncomfortable last bit by myself. And for my first smut piece ever I did okay with it but I was so uncomfortable writing it I never got around to posting it. So here I am 5 months later finally posting it. And may I say Alex Summers needs more smut written for him. Just not by me.

Things had been complicated for the past couple of months. Shaw was finally dead. Then we lost Erik and Raven to the human killing dark side just like we had lost angel. Then Xavier told us that Moria wasn’t going to be coming back to the mansion either. She had left without even saying goodbye too. At least Shawn had the decency to tell he was returning home to see his parents.

Our ragged tag team of mutants was gone and with Xavier and Hank all so busy with their big plans to make this place into a mutant school, with their bright new students arriving any day now. There was really no point in me and Alex staying here.

I mean we were too old to be students. Neither of us were qualified to be teachers either, but where else would we go? Charles and Erik had found Alex in a high security prison and me living out of an illegal gambling ring hustling sleazy rich guys at poker each night. We didn’t have a warm fuzzy home to go back too like Shawn did.

I had been wondering the halls for the past hour trying to find Alex. We hadn’t had a chance to talk in private about what happened In Cuba.

He had saved me from one of angels acid spit blast only to end up on top of me. Both of our faces barely inches apart. I swear we stayed like that for an eternity. Both of us staring at the other like we were contimplating the existence of the universe.

Now I’ll be the first to admit I had always felt a tension between us. At first it seemed like it was burning hatred but over training our sarcasitc comments to each other became less mean and more flirtatious. Only now we barely even say anything. Just a few glances between us followed by awkward eye contact.

Ever since Cuba I haven’t been able to think much about anything other than his lips on mine. Neither of us have been willing to bring it up yet and Ive started to think maybe he didn’t want to talk to me. That he’s been avoiding me and that what ever happened with us on that beach was in my head; that he doesn’t feel the same way. The idea of it all was stressing me out. I had never felt like this before. I had never gotten this worked up over a guy.

I knocked on his bedroom door, but no answers. I could hear his record player playing in his room. He had to be in there. “Alex open up Its me, we really need to talk.” Still no answer. I was beginning to get pissed off. If he didn’t want to talk about Cuba because he doesn’t feel the same way he can tell me like a man. “Alex! Just open the damn door and talk to me like a man or I’ll have to break it down!”

That’s when I heard the hallway bathroom door open. He was just strolling out of the bathroom, post shower in sweat pants and no shirt. This man really had no idea the effect he could have on me. I stormed over to him pointing my finger at his chest ready to unleash my weeks worth of built up anger and insecurities. “Where the hell have you been Summers?! I haven’t seen you around in a week! How come you’ve been ignoring me? To afraid to talk to me like a man now summers?”

He just stared at me startled like a deer I headlights. He seemed to get ahold of himself and process what I had yelled at him.“I haven’t been avoiding you (y/n). I’ve just been busy with you know stuff.”

“Oh you’ve just been busy with ‘stuff’ that’s why I’ve been wondering the halls alone the past couple of weeks. We’re they only ones here and there hasn’t been anything to do since we got here. How the hell have you been busy? I mean I’ve gone out of my mind just trying to occupy the time. You haven’t talked to me in days and UGH I’m trying to be mad at you for ignoring me but it’s hard to focus when your not wearing a goddamn shirt!” In that moment I couldn’t stop myself. I grabbed his face and pulled him down to my hight crashing my lips onto his. I realized what I had done to late and I quickly pulled away, trying to act cool about what I had just done.

The awkward silience was deadly. Alex only laughed and shook his head. “You really have no idea how insane you drive me.” He closed the distance between us, pushing me up against the wall grabbing my hips and kissing me.

I threw my arms around his shoulders completely melting at the feeling of his lips on mine. The kiss was picking up quickly. His hand slid down to the back of my thighs and he easily lifted me off the ground. I quickly wrapped my legs around him.

He fumbled with the door handle to his room. Barely getting open and getting us inside. He kicked the door shut with his foot before laying us down on the bed. His lips begin to work their way down my neck stopping and leaving marks every so often. His fingers tracing up my shirt, slowly pushing it up. I couldn’t stand his slow teasing so I broke the kiss, quickly taking off my own shirt.

We easily fell back into the same rhythm. Each kissing the other like we couldn’t get enough.

Alex unhooked my bra and began kissing down my stomach, moving towards my hips. He slowly slipped my pants off. “Is this ok?” he asked.

“Of course it is.” His hand drifted to my inner thighs and then to my already wet heat.

“You're this sensitive, baby?”

“Don't act like it's not your fau-“ He pressed his lips onto mine before I could finish my sentence. The hand that was hovering over me started taking off my underwear. I shimmied my legs to get them off and he broke away.

“Do we really have time for all this teasing?” I asked sitting up on my hands.

“Hey I’ve been waiting to do this for a long time now. I’m gonna do it right.” He repositioned himself so he could comfortably rest his head between my thighs. He moved closer, grazing his tongue against my clit slowly. I ran my hand through his hair.

“Fuck.” I moaned as the knot in my stomach unraveled.

“You better quite down or you might wake up the whole mansion.” He laughed.

“Shut up you jerk” I said playfully smacking his shoulder.

“Now lay on you back.”

“A bit demanding there aren’t we?” he said refusing to move.

“Just do it.” I said pushing him over so that he laid beside me.

“Alright then.”

I flipped over to straddle him. I quickly took off his sweat pants. I line him up with my entrance and in to him. I lean down connect our lips again. I moved my hips as fast as I could. I couldn’t get enough of him. Alex seemed to not even able to get enough either as he flipped me back over leaving him once more on top.

His pace was rough and fast but I could still feel the tenderness with every thrust. I dragged my hands down his back. I must have scratched him because he took both my hands and pinned them down with his own away from both of us. Between not being able to touch him and his uncontrollable thrust the knot in my stomach built up once more and was quickly undone. Alex continued thrust as he reached his own high.

With both of us hot and out of breaths he slowly pulled out and layed beside me. We layed there still catching our breaths before I trned my head to look over at him. “So you’ve been waiting to do that with me for a while?” I asked smiling thinking about what he had said earlier. “How long have you’ve wanted to do that?”

He flipped over to face me and set up on his elbow. “To be honest since the first day they brought us together and you stood up to me all sassy like.” I was doing my best not to laugh. To think after all that worrying about him not feeling the same way about me he had liked me since before I knew I like him.

Alex smiled at me and slipped his arm around me pulling me closer so that I was laying on his chest. “You think we woke up the professor dorks down the hall?”

I had totally forgot they were still in the mansion. I let out a soft laughed and burred my face in his chest. “Oh God I hope not.”

#alex summers #alex summers x reader #alex summers x y/n #alex summers x you #havok x reader #havok x you #havok x y/n #alex summers x reader smut #alex summers x y/n smut #alex summers x you smut #havok x reader smut #havok x you smut #havok x y/n smut #i hate hashtags #why am i doing this #okay im done

[maybe-your-left]

Window Panes - Forever

We made it! 

Here is the Window Panes Masterlist and my Masterlist for all my other fics. 

Summary: A cool breeze nipped at your exposed legs, causing goosebumps to erupt over your skin. You were curled into your comforter, comfy and safe, your cheek pressed against your pillow. Lips pursed and a small amount of drool seeping into the fabric. A creak came from the corner of your room, slightly rousing you from your slumber. You glanced around, your drooping eyelids barely taking in the scene. In your sleep riddled state, you didn't see him, his large figure stalking towards you. The whites of his eyes shining in the moonlight, it wasn't until you felt a palm slide up your side. Following the natural contours of your body, the warmth emanating from it lulling you to sleep once again. A dip in the mattress, the springs creaking under the weight. 

Hot breath fanned over your neck, soft lips pressing onto the back of your ear. A deep hum filling your senses, you sighed. Cuddling back into the figure, wanting to get closer to the warm entity. A low chuckle sounded behind you, and then... 

Nothing. 

TW/CW: This is dark shit, like explicitly horrible shit happens in this. However, I enjoy reading dark fics, and I super loved Stalker Clyde by @clumsycopy​ & was inspired by the oneshot EOS by @thetorturerwrites and I wanted to write something with the sameish tone for Halloween. NSFW, Violence, Murder, Non-con elements, Domestic Violence, Surgery, Explicit sex, oral sex, anal sex, sex toys, miscarriage, mental manipulation, stockholm syndrome, waterboarding, forced feeding, Animal abuse (just a brief mention, I do not go into any detail). 

“Is it-Are we rolling?” 

“Yeah, we’re rolling.” 

“Okay, great,” a sigh of relief. 

You shifted in your chair, smoothing back your hair and itching the microphone that was attached to your shirt collar. Crossing and recrossing your legs, you should’ve worn pants, a skirt was a stupid idea with these boots. You gave a weak smile to the woman across from you, her white teeth flashing the cameras all around the sound stage. 

“Okay,” she looked into the lens, “We are here tonight with one of the victims of the famous 2020 murder trial from New York. She went through over five years of repeated abuse at the hands of her kidnapper, all while he was out killing people around the city.” She turned to you, nodding her head as a show for you to react to the TV. “It’s so nice to have you here, Miss (Y/N).” 

You cleared your throat, shifting once more, “Thank you, it’s a pleasure to be here.” 

“How are you doing?” 

You bit back a scoff, what a stupid thing to ask. After that introduction, what was she expecting you to say, ‘oh I’m fucking fantastic, I’ve been running since the day he was sent to prison and going through intense psycho-therapy to rid myself of Stockholm syndrome.’. 

“I’m great,” you faked a smile, “Always nice to visit New York again.” 

“I’m sure,” she smiled once more, all you could think about were the wrinkles on her face, the crows feet on the corner of her eyes. She must get botox for working at a news station, there’s no way her skin is on with just natural confidence. 

“When was the last time you visited?” 

You had to stop yourself from blurting out an answer, knowing that this would be on national television. Which you knew federal prisons watched, you wouldn’t want to give away any of your whereabouts since the incident. “Uh-it’s been a few years, I haven’t had much reason to be back. My life has shifted to another part of the world.” 

“That’s fantastic! So you’ve been doing well for yourself the past six years?” 

“Yeah,” you gave a genuine smile, “It’s been tough, no off days really. Trying to gain some normalcy from it all, but I’ve done well. I live relatively fearless, of everything.” 

“We have you here because of a break in your case, as I’m sure you know.” 

You gave a grim nod. 

It’s all anyone wanted to talk about since the story flashed on the news last week. Leaving your once quiet home filled with reporters. You weren’t even home when it happened, out getting groceries, gripping your sons’ hands firmly as you walked the aisles. Letting him pick out some snacks for his lunchbox, like any mother would, when your phone blew up. 

Dozens of messages, calls, articles, you name it. 

All with his face plastered on it. 

Convicted murderer and kidnapper, Kylo Ren, has requested the death penalty. After being found attempting to escape federal prison for the 6th time in the past five years. The convict claims that he ‘would rather die than live another day rotting in his cell’. Dropping all the appeals cases that his lawyers have been pushing since his initial sentencing. 

The former New York state governor was on trial for murderering and disemboweling 9 separate victims and kidnapping an 18-year-old girl. He kept her in his basement as his sex slave for close to 3 years before he married her, the young girl escaping into the streets when she was just 22 years old. Covered from head to toe in gashes, blood, and bruises. Claiming that her husband had beaten her within an inch of her life. 

The subsequent trial lasted three months after his arrest. Leading to him being convicted of first-degree murder, rape, and domestic assault. He was sentenced to life in prison, his then-wife was placed under medical care for an undetermined time. 

Mr. Ren has tried to get his charges appealed since the initial sentencing, claiming that his wife was mentally insane and an unfit witness. Along with other claims that include bribing members of the jury to change their verdicts. The whereabouts of Mr. Ren’s ex-wife is unknown, but he claims that he has kept tabs on her even from ‘the inside’. 

“Your kidnapper is being put on death row, which isn’t allowed in the state of New York. Which means he is being transferred over state lines to another prison. However, it hasn’t been revealed where he is being brought because of people interfering with the swap. How do you feel about that?” 

You chewed your cheek, thinking for a moment. There was no way he did this willingly, Ren was never someone to take the easy way out. The last time you heard from him was three years ago, on your son’s birthday. 

Receiving a call from the prison, the only one you had gotten since the sentencing. 

You remember picking up the phone, throat going dry as you whispered that you accepted the charges. Waiting for the operator to connect you to him, after three long years without his voice. 

“Hello, love.” 

“What,” you whispered, stepping away from the living room of screaming toddlers. Your boyfriend gave you a weird look when your face went white as a ghost. “What do you want, Ren?” 

“How are you? Doing well I hope?” 

You huffed, moving into your kitchen and ripping a bottle of wine out of the fridge. Taking a drink as you snarled, “Just tell me what shitty thing you have to say so I can go back to my family.” 

“Oh, yes. Your family.” he sighed, “And what a sweet family it is… little Luke is how old now? I would think he would be about… three.” 

“How do you know about my son?” 

“Hm.” 

“I don’t think he’s just yours.” 

“You shut your mouth, Luke is not your son. I’m going to hang up if you don’t get to the point.” 

“He’s growing up so well. Hairs getting longer, but I know you like to keep it short. But he complained about his ears last time-so big.” 

You took a deep breath, peaking into the living room. Just in time to see your baby boy, smiling and laughing with his friends. Sitting in your boyfriends’ lap, tearing into presents. His big eyes shone with tears of joy when he ripped through a gift that was his favorite color, red. A squeal so loud it could’ve shattered a window, pulling out a giant plush toy. It was like a penguin-mixed with a little dog, no nose, and some sharp fangs. From one of his favorite TV shows, along with a card and some other little toys. 

“Tell me, love,” he chuckled, “Does he like his present? He sounds over the moon about it through the speaker. What I wouldn’t give to be there to run my fingers through his dark hair, look him in the eyes and tell him how much his father loves him.” 

You made Luke sleep in bed with you that night, holding his small body flush with yours. Running your fingers through his curls as he snored into your chest, small tracks of drool seeping into your nightshirt. Trembling as you stared at the shadows, dancing across the bedroom from the window. Full moon shining, you could’ve sworn the floor was creaking downstairs, the sound of footsteps climbing towards your room rang in your ears. 

You didn’t sleep that night, staring into your son’s face as he woke. Blinking awake to smile as you, his grin reaching across his face. All the way to his ears, large ears, covered by his almost black waves. His long lashes fluttering as he greeted you, “Hi mama.” 

His eyes. 

Fuck. 

One of them your eye color, shining back at you. But the other, it was his. 

Deep auburn, shining in the sunlight. Daring you to challenge him, defy him, prove him wrong, anything that would allow him to unleash whatever hell lived under his skin. Flowed through his blood, tainting every corner of your psyche. His child, the one you hid from the world. Moving as far away as you could, claiming it was your boyfriends’ child. 

But he knew. 

And Luke was starting to notice. 

“I feel,” you looked at your hands, forcing them into fists to stop them from shaking, “Just fine, he’s not in my life anymore. Just a small chapter in the book of my story, I hope that he finds peace. Wherever he goes.” 

“Peace? For a man that almost killed you multiple times?” 

You nodded, “Yeah, I do. I can’t change who he is, or what he’s done. I can just try as hard as I can to move on. And if being on death row will help him find what he’s looking for then I wish him the best of luck.” 

She gave you a weird look, shifting in her seat, “Do you think it says anything about his guilt?” 

“Guilt?” 

“Yes, for the past six years he has never acknowledged that he was guilty. Claiming that the jury and witnesses were bought and that you were mentally unstable-making up half the accusations against him. Do you think that him asking for the death penalty is a way of admitting that he was guilty?” 

“Hell no,” you blurted out, eyes going wide at the camera, “Oh-can I swear? I’m so sorry.” 

She laughed you off, “You’re fine, we can blur it out. But you sound so confident? Do you think he believes that he’s done nothing wrong?” 

Now it was your turn to laugh, “Not to repeat myself but, hell no. That man knows, he’s very conscious of his decisions. Everything has a purpose, everything is done for a reason, Ren doesn’t waste his energy on doing something for no benefit.” 

“What would be the benefit of being put on death row?” 

You sighed, thinking about Ren, trying to get into his mindset to see how he could angle the sentencing changing. Letting out a sharp laugh as you rubbed your eyes, “Well-you said it earlier.” 

She looked at you confused. 

“New York doesn’t have the death penalty.” 

New York doesn’t have the death penalty. 

New York doesn’t have the death penalty. 

New York doesn’t have the death penalty. 

“Oh my god,” you whispered, looking around the room frantically. “Oh my god-oh my god-oh my GOD-New York doesn’t have the death penalty!” you screamed, shooting out of the chair. Grasping the reporter by her shoulders and shaking her violently, “He knew! He knew I was coming here! He’s gonna take him!” 

“Miss (Y/N),” the reporters and security officers yelled. Trying to calm you down, but no, she had said it. 

New York doesn’t have the death penalty. 

You ran from the TV station, hailing a cab on the packed streets. Frantically calling your boyfriend over and over, he was at home. Back in Nevada… where the death penalty is legal, with Luke. He wouldn’t pick up, the dial tone ringing three times before his voice sang through the speaker. 

You wailed in the back of the cab, calling everyone you knew back at home. Asking if they could go get Luke from school, if they had seen him that day. Anything to try prove false the sick feeling in your stomach you knew was true. 

Running through airport security as fast as you could, taking the first flight back home. You prayed on the way that your boyfriend had Luke, safe and sound, back at home. Hopefully, curled in his red blanket, snuggling the stuffed animal he got that faithful birthday. 

Even though no one knew where it came from. 

Luke wouldn’t let you get rid of it. 

Claiming his daddy gave it to him. 

You just let him have it, he was three there was no way he would let you take his toy away once he had held it to his chest. Kissing it with his full lips, dragging it around the house every fucking day. It was his best friend, from the moment he saw it. 

You cried on the plane, realizing too late that the gift was from him. 

His real father. 

Watching after his miracle child. 

When you touched down in Las Vegas, your phone blew up. Your stomach flipping as you read through the messages from your boyfriend, explaining that he let your friend pick Luke up from school. The same friend claimed that your boyfriend had picked him up, Luke’s teacher calling to let you know someone in a black Porsche picked him up. 

Whisking away his child from under your nose. 

You choked on your tears as you read the message from his teacher, telling you how happy Luke was when he left. How he ran into your new boyfriend's arms, like he had known him for his entire life. She told you that he had introduced himself, Ben was just the most amazing father figure she had ever met. Stowing away Luke, surrounded by toys and chocolate when she waved them off. 

After you gathered your luggage you walked towards the cabs out front. Stopping cold in your tracks when you saw a chauffeur holding a sign that said your old name. 

Mrs. Ren. 

You climbed in, body feeling numb. 

Your phone dinged, a picture being sent to you from an unknown number. 

A picture of Luke, held tightly against his real father’s chest. Drifting off to sleep in his strong arms that once choked you to death. 

See you at home love, we miss you. 

-----

I wanted baby luke to say something like ‘my daddy visits me at night’ but it was too on the nose. 

TAGLIST: @finn-ray-nal-beads @millenialcatlady @ohdamnadamm  @daydreamsofren @candycanes19 @caelum-phyriina-vermillon @millenialcatlady @safarigirlsp  @caillea @roanniom @insufferablelust @mrs-zimmerman​ 

#adam driver #adamdriver #kylo ren #kidnapper au #window panes #modern kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #my writing #maybe-your-left #WATCH OUT #daddies here

[feysandandnyx]

I really hate the pregnancy plot line, to me it doesn't make any sense. In my opinion, Rhysand is being mischaracterized by hiding Feyre's pregnancy risk. However, I think Sarah's intention was to show that Rhysand is being severely affected by Feyre's pregnancy, including his ability to judge or think. Basically, he's more overprotective than usual. Rhysand all the time tries to keep Feyre safe and hassle-free. He's not making it easy for anyone, not even himself.

"Did you really need to give Nesta that death glare earlier?" He sat up, the soul of innocence. "I don't know what you're talk about, Feyre darling" - "I'd never do such a thing. You must be thinking of your other mate." 'Yes, the cruel, overprotective, half-insane one" (acosf - Sarah. K. Maas)

"You have a pregnant mate, Rhys. You’ll kill anyone that presents a threat to Feyre. You’re a danger to all of us right now". "I’d never harm someone Feyre loves. You know that." There was enough tension in the words that Cassian clapped his brother on the shoulder, squeezing the hard muscle beneath. (ACOSF - sjm)

Tonight also served another purpose: to tell the world of Feyre’s pregnancy. She wore a dress of sparkling black panels, muchlike the one she’d first worn here—and it did nothing to hide her swelling belly. No, it showed off her pregnant womb, gleaming in the candlelight. Rhys’s face was a portrait of smug, male pride. Cassian knew he’d shred anyone who so much as blinked wrong at Feyre into a million bloody ribbons. Indeed, cold violence rippled off Rhys as they walked toward the dais, Feyre’s babyrich scent filling the air. (Acosf - Sarah J. maas)

Rhysand is being a danger to himself because he can't stand the idea of ​​hurting Feyre.

“Because I can’t bring myself to give her that fear. To take away one bit of the joy in her eyes every time she puts a hand on her belly.” His voice shook. “It is fucking eating me alive, this terror. I keep myself busy, but … there is no one to bargain with for her life, in the amount of wealth to buy it, nothing that I can do to save her.” (Acosf - Sarah J. Maas)

The secret seems to arise from the need to keep Feyre safe:

Amren threw a withering glare in Nesta’s direction, but said, “We did not wish to alarm you. Fear can be as deadly as any physical threat.” (acosf - Sarah J. maas)

But Rhysand is overreacting, because he's more overprotective than usual:

Rhysand overreacted. He completely and utterly overreacted. Cassian shook his head, though Feyre couldn’t see it. I’m sorry you had to learn of it. I’m not. I’m furious with all of you. I understand why you didn’t tell me, but I’m furious. (Acosf - Sarah J. Maas)

“I think Eris is our ally, and will expect to dance with a lady of this court at the ball no matter what. I won’t let Feyre within five feet of him, Mor might kill him, and Amren is more likely to scare him off than win him over, so you and Elain are the only options.”“Elain doesn’t go near him,” Feyre said. “And you won’t let me near him?” Rhys threw her a charming smile. “You know what I mean.” Feyre rolled her eyes. “You’re becoming insufferable.” (Acosf - Sarah J. Maas)

Let's remember that alongside Feyre's pregnancy there is the possibility of war on the horizon and during ACOMAF Rhys was saying this:

“If I am a High Lord’s mate, I’m expected to bear you offspring, aren’t I? So perhaps I shouldn’t.”“You are not expected to bear me anything,” he snarled. “Children are rare, yes. So rare, and so precious. But I don’t want you to have them unless you want to—unless we both want to. And right now, with this war coming, with Hybern … I’ll admit that I’m terrified at the thought of my mate being pregnant with so many enemies around us. I’m terrified of what I might do if you’re pregnant and threatened. Or harmed.Something tight in my chest eased, even as a chill went down my back as I considered that power, that rage I’d seen at the Night Court, unleashed upon the earth.” (Acomaf - Sarah J. Maas)

There is no part of the book that says Rhysand wouldn't tell Feyre the truth. This is what Nesta is saying but 1) she knew how Rhysand was feeling 2) she knew he was looking for a way to save Feyre

“Is Feyre distraught?” “She doesn't know the full scope of it. In this she willed herself to settle the fear by leaching through her. "And Rhys needed to fight out his fear." "Yes. Along with his guilt and pain." (Acosf - Sarah J. Maas)

And Feyre is saying this about his relationship with Rhysand:

I knew he was hedging, and I let it slide. I'd learned that Rhys would tell me what was bothering him when he was good and ready.

It had always been part of our friendship: to give each other the space to decide when we were ready to talk. (Acosf - Sarah J. Maas)

Perhaps that explains why Feyre forgave Rhysand too quickly and she isn't calling him Tamlin 2.0.

No one is considering that Feyre could have an abortion (it's like there's no such option since it's not mentioned) and Madja was the one who forbade Feyre to do shape-shifting.

“Madja has put a ban on any more shape-shifting. She says that to alter Feyre’s body in any way right now could put the baby at risk. On the chance that it could be bad for the baby, Feyre is forbidden to so much as change the color of her hair until after the birth.” (Acosf - Sarah J. Maas)

Even if Feyre chose to make a shapeshift (which she doesn't), nothing could guarantee that she would miscarry or that the fetus wouldn't be deformed or anything like that.

So why is Rhysand controlling Feyre's body? Why can't he, as a parent, be worried about Feyre and the baby's life? Of course Feyre deserved to know, it was her right as well as Rhysand's. But why does he appear like a monster in some speeches? I believe that Sarah failed in this construction, especially when she does not write clear dialogue and leaves things for the reader to guess and this allows anyone to have their own interpretation of the subject. She could have written a dialogue between Feyre and Cassian where these things would have been clear. Feyre could have been talking through Cassian what it was like to kick Rhysand for that. I mean, does Cassian have time to wish Rhysand the same happiness but not to give depth to him or Feyre through his point of view?

Dialogues serve to clarify developments and contain damages. This should be taken into account, especially when you're writing a book where the main point of view doesn't favor the IC for a considerable part of the narrative.

#feyre archeron #feyre stan #pro feyre #high lady feyre #rhysand #feyre darling #feyre acotar #feysand #pro rhysand #high lord of the night court #high lord rhysand

[iggy-licious]

One Shot: Tête à Tête

OK... This is super long and super indulgent, but if you want smut, you got it. 😈 Iggy terrorizes a journalist and turns the tables for something much better for both of them. NSFW.

I just finished it, and I can't look at it anymore without going insane. 🤪 Please excuse any writing glitches.

Thank you for reading and going along with my Iggy shenanigans. ❤️❤️❤️

---------------------------------------

“You see,” he chuckles softly, “this is why I fucking hate doing interviews.” He tosses his fedora onto a nearby chair, runs a hand through his jet-black, dyed hair, shakes his head in disdain, and fishes his Marlboros and lighter out of his pocket. He leers at me, cigarette hanging onto his pouty bottom lip for dear life, before he lights it. He takes a puff and exhales the smoke in my direction, his mouth gaping slightly in what I could imagine to be a slow, satisfied exhale in a more romantic setting.

But we’re at an impasse, facing off at opposite sides of an overstuffed hotel couch. I made the cardinal sin of asking if The Stooges might ever get back together. 

Iggy remains silent and continues to smoke while staring me down. His look is full of slow-simmering anger and curiosity, as if he’s given up on the interview and is studying me to find creative ways to get under my skin.

But little does he know, he’s already succeeded at that.

The man had proved to be a good-natured, but eccentric, raconteur, and I was captivated by his stories and energy earlier. His smoky liner and shadow couldn’t blunt the sparkle in his large eyes when he gushed about the experimental nature of his Zombie Birdhouse album. I had been nervous going into the interview, but he had won me over with his intelligence, passion, and mild flirtation. It was fair to say that I had been in danger of him short-circuiting my professionalism. Him and those eyes, the color of a clear Caribbean lagoon. 

But that was then. Now, it's his scornful vibe that holds me in thrall. It screams of the primal unpredictability that was his ace in his old band. This nicotine pause feels like a dam holding back a flood of turbulent emotions. In the current, painful silence, I’m acutely aware that he could roar to life in a second and drown me in a passionate diatribe of words. Or, he could decide he’s bored and kick me out at any time. These thoughts set my heart into overdrive for many reasons, both professional and personal.

He’s studying me with an emotionless poker face, but his eyes feel like they're boring into mine. Large, blue, graced with the pretty eyelashes that most people get from a mascara tube.

His eyes turn out to be his secret weapon. I find myself powerless, waiting for his next words. After our initial discussion I'm surprised he can be anything less than an open book. I silently pray that I’ll come up with something to say, something that draws him in again, something that gets this interview back on track. Something that brings back his lopsided grin and the happy fluttering of infatuated butterflies in my stomach, if I'm being honest with myself. 

“Do you smoke?” he asks, lightly pinching the cigarette between his fingers and holding it out to me. He raises an eyebrow and smirks. 

I feel like it’s some weird test, the final exam of our time together. Now or never. Do or die.

Lucky for me, I do smoke. “I’ll take it,” I say, realizing how exhausted I feel from the tense minutes that have just transpired. I hope for the best. I can’t afford to blow this interview.

His lips turn upward in a subtle smile as I smoke. 

I’ve passed the test. 

I suck on the cigarette hard, preferring the party of deadly chemicals in my lungs to the charged air that hung thick in the room a moment before. I close my eyes and exhale. When I open them again, I meet his gaze, which he abruptly drops to my full lips, painted with a red that complements my light brown skin. He inspects the smudge of my lipstick on his cigarette when I return it, before stubbing it out in an ashtray.

“You know,” he says, tracing a finger on the arm of the couch, “I think you’re a good interviewer, a good conversationalist. I’m just tired of the pop culture psychoanalysis bullshit that goes down in these interviews. Do you know what I mean? How about we just talk for a while? About anything.” 

“That sounds nice,” I venture. Part of me will look for any opening to steer back to the interview, but part of me certainly doesn’t mind getting to know Iggy better.

He hits the stop button on my tape recorder and then walks to the mini-fridge. “No recording, no journalist, no so-called ‘godfather of punk,’ just you and me and some beers,” he says while setting a six-pack on the coffee table.

I look longingly at my recorder, wondering what juicy confessions I might miss if we talk more informally. I wouldn't dare turn it on, though, while the connection we're rebuilding is so fragile. 

Before I can panic, he frees a cold can of Pabst Blue Ribbon from its tight ring of plastic and hands it to me. Then, after he nips into his can, he tells me the story of his first beer and the shenanigans he'd gotten into back in Michigan, before The Stooges. This segues into talk about his favorite German beers and stories of misbehavior in Europe with David Bowie.

Iggy makes me laugh with his cartoon voices and facial expressions. I watch the vaguely man-shaped earring in his right ear dance with the rubber contortions of his face.

With the second beer cans, we’ve moved closer together on the couch, and I’ve taken off my black pumps. I’m thankful that my skin color hides the flush in my cheeks from the fizzy intoxicant.

His jokes get louder and more blue. We're back in a good conversation groove again. I haven’t laughed this hard in ages. 

My professional conscience chided me for beer number two, but the wheaty nectar in the third can has drowned out that small voice. Iggy inches closer and tells me about growing up in a trailer. “If you can remember any of this shit, feel free to write about it,” he says. His laughter is a challenge and a taunt.

I will myself to remember, to sear the facts of his life into my brain. These anecdotes are gold, the kinds of things that can add meat to the pitiful skeleton of my story as it stands now.

I’m laughing, and I park my hand on his thigh. The black trousers can't hide the fact that his legs are well muscled from swimming and his onstage moves that defy the range of a normal human body.

Before I can stop myself, I’m slowly trailing my hand up and down his leg. 

“Mmm…” He purrs and moves closer, while wrapping an arm around me. He drains the last of his beer and takes mine before I can get a final sip. 

Our faces are close, and I see that the blue of his eyes has darkened. I’ve lost myself, drowning in those pretty cobalt pools until he smiles wickedly. 

His voice is a murmur. “This is more fun than an interview, isn’t it?”

"You got me there, Iggy," I say. My response comes easy and breathy, thanks to the beer and my simmering lust. 

He looks at me fondly. "Call me Jim. Just use Iggy for your story, OK?" 

"OK, Jim."

He cradles my face in both of his hands and brushes his lips against mine. Then I surrender to his roving tongue in the same way I hope to similarly give my body to him, now that professional pretense has been shattered by primal desire.

Since I'm off duty now, I take down the ponytail that was taming my curls and allow my hair to fall past my shoulders. 

He holds my gaze as a hungry smile spreads on his face and he twirls a strand of my hair around his finger. "She's come undone, huh?" He kisses me again, feasting on my mouth with his lips and his sure tongue. 

I’ve noticed the bulge in his pants has become bigger, and my mind flashes to all the reports I’ve heard of him whipping his notoriously large cock out during performances. The thought of his boldness, and the thought of exploring his magnificent body, both fan the flames that have caused my core to throb with insatiable hunger.

I pull him to me and unleash my passion with a sinful, lush kiss. My hands stroke his torso, his back, his hair. "Just as I thought…" He says in a hushed tone, "There's a beautiful, wild woman just below the surface. I'm glad to finally meet her." He cups my throat and transfers his electric passion to me through another kiss. 

When I pause to help him out of his black leather jacket, his breathing is shallow and his eyes are glazed with need. My body is feverish, anticipating our tryst. 

I remove his black t-shirt next, revealing his finely chiseled torso. Newspaper and magazine photos don’t do it justice. I explore his musculature with my hands and delight in the firm, tanned skin. 

Then he’s out of his red briefs and the pants in the blink of an eye. I gasp at how perfect he looks--the hard muscles and their sensuous, masculine curves, the broadness of his chest and shoulders, the long torso with marble-etched abs, the slimness of his waist, the swelling of his thighs and ass. It's the graceful, olympic body of a swimmer…or an agile, flexible rock god. 

Not to be outdone, his manhood is long, thick, and utterly enticing. I want to savor him as much as I want to be worshipped by him, consumed by his strong passion, filled exquisitely by his largesse.

He lowers me on the couch and in a velvet onslaught of kisses and gropes, he removes my clothes: denim jacket, tight black dress, underwear, and stockings.

His movements are slow and taken with great care as he kisses down my naked body. He is calm, indulgent, masterful. The out-of-control nature of Iggy gives way to a patient, capable lover who revels in the softness of my generous curves.

He straddles me and blazes a lusty trail down my body with his tongue. His hands firmly canvas my breasts and his thumbs then tease my nipples into rigid peaks. 

"So soft…" His voice trails as he bathes my nipples with the warmth of his mouth and tongue. 

I'm snaking my body against the weight of his, while my hands clutch his back. If I fuck up the interview and lose my job, I know our night together will still be totally worth it. 

He releases a nipple with a pop of his lips. "Be patient," he breathes out. "We'll get there."

"Let me guess, it'll be worth the wait?" I ask with an arch of my eyebrow. 

"Well, I don't like to brag…" 

We lock eyes before the kissing resumes. 

His body is warm against mine, and his low, guttural moans punctuate the silence from time to time. Our hands are so curious, so hungry. It's a joy to clutch his powerful back and feel the muscles there side and hitch with each caress he gives me. 

"Come with me?" He abruptly stands. He smiles with an expression that's both shy and seductive as he leads me to the bedroom. 

The light is on. His suitcase is open and its contents are disturbed, as though he was looking for the right outfit for our encounter. The floral bedspread is a bit wrinkled, and I assume he napped on top of it before I arrived. 

We kiss at the side of the bed, in a voracious dance of our lips that still doesn't feel like enough. My need is criminal. I blast the most obscene of intentions to him with my eyes, and he grunts in hungry understanding. 

He lowers me to the bed and straddles me. Being held captive by his muscular thighs and his hands framing my face feels natural, an old, unspoken agreement of longtime lovers. The way we delight in each other is instinctual. 

I lift my chin to kiss him. 

"Later," he says, placing a finger on my lips. "I'll be back."

He crawls down my body and spreads my legs. Then he coaxes a series of unholy moans out of me when he flattens his tongue to my entrance with a series of long ice cream licks, followed by his lips gently sucking on my clit. 

My breathing comes shallow. I can't formulate words to relay to him how good the meandering of his tongue feels, but my writhing and wailing cause him to chuckle gentle vibrations against my pussy, so I know he understands. 

He keeps a steady rhythm and sets my nerves aflame while my hips jerk with the timing of a metronome. I gasp at the tension building in my body, knowing the climax will be devastating. And when it comes, my body stutters into an exquisite live wire dance. 

I'm a sweaty, soaked mess when he informs me that another languid exploration awaits. "I want to make sure you're more than ready," murmurs. This time, it's not a tease, it's a show of care and concern. 

He kisses me with my scent before he resumes. 

I'm still high from the last orgasm, and I float in the ether as he takes his time. I imagine he must be aching to couple with me, but his actions don't betray his need. The defensive Iggy of the interview is gone, replaced by a tender romantic who keeps looking at me to monitor my satisfaction. 

The next climax untethers me from reality, but when he rests a hand on one of my shoulders and slowly guides himself inside of me, I am awakened to now, the universe that consists of the two of us aroused, embraced, and slowly coaxing each other into higher realms of sensation. At last we've found our way to an unbreakable give and take, guided by carnal desire. 

His baritone rumbles with whispered words that would've made me blush during the interview. I marvel at how a change of setting, and a change of attitude, makes all the difference. 

I clutch his back while our rolling motions lull me into a pleasurable dream state. 

His gaze is much softer than it was in the living room, and his eyes sparkle as he looks at me with fondness. I'm treated with the sight of his long eyelashes kissing his face every time he lowers his eyelids. It's nice, knowing that I'm seeing a side of him that few will ever see. 

"You're so fucking good Jim," I exhale, working my hips faster to receive more of his expert thrusts. He rewards me by going harder and deeper. My pussy flushes as each stroke takes me higher. 

"I'm almost there, too," he groans as his hips crash into mine. 

My breath is shallow, and my moans get caught in my throat as we fuck with abandon. The interview is the furthest thing from my mind; my job now is to give as good as I'm getting, and I'm giving it my all. I grab his ass as we pump recklessly. 

Before I know it, pleasure radiates out from my core at light speed, and Iggy howls at the strength of his climax. We've both been transformed, faces glistening with sweat and the satisfaction of well spent energy. 

He rolls onto his back, and I drape my body over his. 

"Incredible," he says while stroking my hair. 

He kisses my forehead and dons his eyeglasses, which were on his dresser, hiding to avoid betraying the soft nerd inside the fearless musician. "Now, back to business, doll. I'll let you finish the interview if I can ask you some questions first. For starters, where are you from?" 

My heart is still racing from our steamy actions, but it skips a beat when I realize I will get my story and not lose my job. 

I giggle and trace a finger on his chest before I start telling him the story of my life. 

#iggy pop #classic rock #punk #the stooges #80s #one shot #my writing #short fiction #fan fiction

[greyias]

Time to go Full Gravedrog

Hey guys. You know what we haven’t done in a while? That’s right! Put on our tinfoil hats, get tangled up in an entire spool of red string, and do a ridiculous deep dive on lore and make up wild insane theories about the upcoming story drop!

That’s right we’ve got some--

First up. If you haven’t watched it already, here’s the trailer for the 6.2 story drop, specifically for the storyline we’ll be doing our deep dive on, Echoes of Oblivion.

Are you pumped? I’M PUMPED. Let’s do this!

Okay, so there’s a lot to unpack here, and I’m going to state outright, that the chances of this being on the money like Gravedrog is... well. I’ve got no lottery numbers for you this time around. I can’t believe no one took me up on that offer.  There’s always the possibility the storyline has absolutely nothing to do with any previously established lore, and they create something wholly new. And hey, if that’s the case, this is just free fanfic fodder for the masses.

But Charles did mention, I believe on the forums(?), that he’s seen one person guess what’s going on. The real question is... WHO GUESSED IT. HMM.

So I’ve been wanting to actually do a post on this a while, at least since Arcann’s voice actor accidentally made the slip up about Thexan being in this story drop. A large part of this theory/discovery goes to the lovely @confettininjabean​​, who found this piece of lore when we were getting tangled up in red string back in the Gravedrog days, pre-Nathema Conspiracy. Let’s just say, there was a... certain interaction on Twitter that had us thinking this had something to do with NC, and when it didn’t pan out we were like “Oh, weird, guess that wasn’t on the right track” and forgot about it.

Well, sort of. Because we were like, “that really seemed significant considering”, but hey, sometimes you hit upon a Gravedrog, sometimes you think Indo Zal is an evil mastermind playing 4D chess. In other words, when it comes to red string theories, you win some. You lose some.

Anyway. I forget why, but I went perusing on Wookieepedia a few months ago, looking back up this sort of obscure piece of lore for some reason. And something about it was.... FAMILIAR.

The article in question: https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Thought_bomb

May I direct your attention, to this part:

Hey. Where have I heard that before?

Aw. Aw shit. Well I mean, that can’t be right though, right? Because it’s Satele and a bunch of Jedi/like-minded Force users that are being possessed right? And besides this is an an ancient Sith ritual thought to be created by... 

Oh.

Oh wait.

But that’s a plague right? Not the same thing as a thought bomb. I mean it’s not like anyone in SWTOR has dealt with a Force plague--

Oh. huh. But you might say, “But Grey, that plague was invented by Terrak Morrhage, not Vitiate.” And you would be right! What I can’t seem to find confirmation of, thus far, is exactly when Terrak Morrhage lived, but by me and Jayde’s current reckoning, it seems like he may have been around possibly during the Great Hyperspace War, the end of which Vitiate used in his mad grab for immortality and power, manipulating what was probably a majority of the remaining Sith Lords into his brand spanking new ritual that he just needed a little help with.

Okay, and this is where we leave lore land, and enter into speculation land. I, um, just got sidetracked on Jedipedia (I’ll get to that), trying to find a codex entry regarding Vitiate I know I’ve read but I lost at some point. So, we’re going off memory here, but I’m fairly certain it’s stated in canon somewhere that prior to his ascension, Vitiate was obsessed with Sith alchemy and ancient Sith rituals. So if Morrhage pre-dated him, or was a peer, it’s possible Vitiate was able to learn about his plague, and adapt it to some of his other experiments.

Okay, back to the thought bomb for a moment. Full disclosure, I haven’t read the Darth Bane novels, so I’m going off of Wookiepeedia here instead of the source material (which is always a dicey affair), it says Bane adapted the thought bomb from notes on the ritual Vitiate performed. So, it’s possible the thought bomb is not a 100% Vitiate original, just a bastardization of it. But it’s interesting that the ritual itself gathers up and shreds the Force essence/soul of everyone in its path. Well, I mean, horrifying. But in this theory’s perspective, interesting in that when Vitiate used Zildrog as part of his ritual--where did all of the Force go exactly?

Because as you wander around Nathema, you hear the tortured whispers of every soul obliterated during that ritual.

This is talked about a little in the Revan novel, and it’s been a few years since I read it so I’m kind of going off memory again, but he basically created a void in the Force there. And remember... in the KOTET chapter we went to Nathema, he was actually visibly afraid a few times. Hmm... now why would that be? Was it Vaylin he was afraid of? Was it something else?

If memory serves, there wasn’t an actual explosion like as described with the thought bomb--because he wasn’t using the ritual as a weapon. He was using it to gather power, to shuffle off this mortal coil and live eternal as an annoying spirit who you just can’t quite squash out no matter how many mind mazes you build to keep him locked up. So, and again, this is speculation land, but all of that swirling Force and dead energy had to go somewhere right? I mean, Zildrog had his snack and went omnomnom, but where did the Force power go? And why was there a Void that constantly pulled at him and sapped away his power on Nathema?

Is it because the Force didn’t explode? Is it because he bound it up in his old disgusting decaying old man flesh? And the only reason he was alive because he basically made himself a little flesh horcrux that was destroyed at the exact moment we sent him off to the Void that he feared so much?

Hmm. Interesting.

Wait. Wait a second... I think there was something else he mentioned. Now, what was it?

You know, I had always assumed he was talking about Gravedrog being unleashed, since the whole reason he went to Zakuul was likely to find the Gravestone so he could pair it with Zildrog back on Nathema, and enact his galaxy-wide extinction event.

And maybe he was.

Or was he talking about his failsafe.

The one he knew would happen if someone destroyed his old, withered, icky body?

So... if the ritual/plague is some take on the thought bomb, and it infects any Force user like some prescient, who could have realized this is what 2020 held in store for us pandemic that spread rapidly and consumed everyone who touched it, until it made manifest what was once just thought...

Is the whole entire point of this to bring Valky back from the dead? Or is it just his last revenge? And what on earth would that last revenge be? Well... and just hear me out. Say there was this guy. Kind of an asshole. And he had this whole schtick about killing every single living thing in the galaxy and liked to consume whole planets in a single gulp just for funsies. Wouldn’t it be so funny if he, say, in the unlikely event he possessed some Outlander who happened to go “get out and get a job loser!” and booted him off to the beyond, and at the same time his old indentured servant and that chick he once possessed found his horcrux and destroyed that, wouldn’t it be a kick if that somehow kicked off a plague that consumed every single Force user in the entire galaxy until it had enough power and then exploded and completely wiped out all life in the galaxy, so that if the asshole who’s name totally isn’t Valkorion couldn’t live forever then neither could any. single. thing. in. the. galaxy.

I mean, that or it’s just a ploy to get him into one final boss fight.

But i dunno... I kind of just found the entire cast list of who’s in the Echoes of Oblivion storyline (warning, major spoilers and datamining on that link, and yes, that’s what distracted me on Jedipedia) and I’m kind of thinking. Having to keep the entire galaxy from being consumed by a sociopath’s final revenge kind of sounds like a pretty epic finale, don’t you?

And hey, if not. Free fanfic idea for anyone who wants it.

Oh yeah, also predicting the following:

We’re going on another mindscape adventure like in KOTET Chapter 9, but it’s Satele’s mind we’re in

It’s not actually Valkorion/Vitiate/Tenebrae, but a remnant/essence of him that’s made manifest by the ritual. Also he needs a combo nickname because I’m tired of having to pick one of three names. I shall call you Valkiatebrae. It’s a beautiful name. I know he’ll love it.

Vaylin and Thexan who we see in the trailer are probably also manifestations conjured by the quasi- Valkiatebrae

We’re going to Ossus? Or Ossus in Satele’s mind?

The Knight and crew missed a few of the death cult back in the storyline, and that’s who was either watching Tenebrae’s body, or who hijacked Satele’s ship OR they have some part in the ritual (perhaps the part to physically manifest  Valkiatebrae). We see them in the trailer above.

Regardless if any single one of these predictions is right I’m going to die of feels

Because I think Satele and Theron may have a scene together????? OMG

I’m screaming again

I’ll stop now

I’m sorry Charles I hope I didn’t do it to you again I couldn’t help myself, but hey at least I kept it in this long

EDITED TO ADD: Okay guys, I’ve been looking more at Jedipedia. I think I can safely hazard a guess that a LOT of fans of different characters are going to be super happy with this update. Just saying.

#the return of spoilers grey #swtor spoilers #spoilers and speculation #swtor 6.2 spoilers #swtor 6.2 #honestly there's a lot more #but i've been thinking about this for so long #i know i've forgotten to include half of it #and i haven't had time to find all of my source #but here you go guys! #one last hurrah #and i even found a way to shoehorn gravedrog in there for you!

[fabelyn]

Equivalent Exchange

Pairing: Childe/Zhongli (chili)

Rated: T for language Warnings: spoilers for 1.1 update story Chapter: Oneshot Chapter Word Count: 2525

Link to AO3

Summary: Some would see Zhongli’s penniless state as the most pathetic oversight.

Childe sees it as an opportunity.

And maybe that’s what Zhongli is hoping for.

“This is a pleasant surprise,” Childe lies easily, having tracked his target to this location. “May I sit with you?”

He stands beside Zhongli, and is disappointed when he shows no visible reaction to finding him so close after they’d parted with no contact.

The tea table Zhongli sits on is clearly made for one, yet that doesn’t deter him from nodding and making a welcoming motion, and Childe pulls up a chair. The table is small enough that their knees are almost touching beneath it.

“I apologize, I did not realize I would have company and only ordered for myself,” Zhongli motions the leftover tea.

“I see you’re still keeping the finest of taste.”

“Shall I order more for you?”

“Hm, no it’s fine, for now.”

Zhongli smiles. “This is nice, I don't think we’ve sat down to talk since you introduced me to the Traveller.”

So, not beating around the bush too much . “Hm. We were all so busy with the…funeral arrangements.” He chuckled, and Zhongli joined in. Childe let the levity rest between them for a moment before sobering the conversation somewhat. “And I was unaware if you wanted another meal… after.”

Zhongli raises one perfect eyebrow as if completely baffled. “Now, why would that be?”

Childe couldn’t detect sarcasm in the question so he just nods. “True, you certainly did achieve success in your endeavors, so I suppose you aren’t angry with me, at the very least.”

“You sound as if your goal wasn’t reached.”

Childe shrugged. “It was, since the Tsarista was satisfied, although there was… a surprising development along the way.” I did not think I was so stupid as to be interested in the target I was using.

“Surprising development,” Zhongli quoted slowly, then smiled. “Yes, you could say I too had some of that.”

“Indeed?”

“Yes.”

Childe waited, but no further explanation was forthcoming. He shrugged, it was only fair.

“Alright, so neither of us failed. But now we no longer have need of each other. I did not think you had further interest in keeping up a sham relationship, Rex Lapis .”

Zhongli stared at him, then smiled thinly. His mannerisms were still as gentle as Childe recalled, but the look in his eyes were much sharper than before.

“A sham? And yet, you’ve come.”

“You all but called for me. I got curious.”

“Did I? I do not recall doing such a thing, as pleasant as your current company may be.”

“You told the Traveller that you, Morax , had forgotten to plan for having mora a your disposal after your defection from your Archon duties, and they mentioned such a ridictulous thing to me. And it seems others have heard a similar tale of woe from you, I not in so many words.”

“Signaling that I find myself without monetary recourse may mean I require assistance here and there, but not that you must come assist me.”

“And maybe I did not come to offer aid, much less friendship, but to simply laugh at your predicament.”

“Did you?”

“Hm, do you really have no Mora? I find it truly hard to believe that after that amusing plot you tricked me into, and successfully making a deal with the Tsarista, that you would truly not have thought such a thing through. Not to mention, your alias as Zhongli did have a job at the Funeral Parlor. A detail I cannot simply forget given that is how you roped me into contacting you before.” Childe smiles brightly.

Zhongli remains unmoved. “Perhaps after so much time as the Archon, the concept of needing currency to live had become a detail beneath me and I did not factor it.”

“Is that so?”

They stare at each other, a standoff where neither wants to be the first to cede. Childe resists the urge to laugh: it is fun to try the patience of an Archon, yet it is also so unbearably frustrating, perhaps he will lose on-

“I am not in as dire straits as I may have…. accidentally appeared to the Traveller and others.”

Childe blinks in surprise; he had not expected Zhongli to concede so quickly. Or for it not feel like he had won. 

“As you surmised earlier,” Zhongli went on, “my employment at the Funeral Parlor could always be taken up again.”

“And yet, you haven’t done so.”

“Indeed.” Zhongli drums his long fingers on the table. “Retirement does not feel right if I am simply taken up another task. Perhaps if it were something enjoyable...”

Childe is getting impatient. “Is getting on your knees enjoyable?” He asks, wondering if the language was too crude for the likes of Rex Lapis to understand.

Zhongli raises an eyebrow, Childe decides to explain.

“The two women who helped pay for you this week, surely you have not become so old as to not understand what they were asking for as gratitude?”

Zhongli’s reply is completely out of Childe’s expectation.

“Why do you assume I would be on my knees?” He asks simply, and, before Childe can recover from that, continues. “And why does that interest you? Is that what you’d ask as payment for helping me now? Oh, pardon me, you implied you only came to laugh at my predicament, not help.”

Childe can simply agree and excuse himself. End this and leave. But if he had wanted nothing, he wouldn’t have come in the first place.

“Did I imply that? I think you misunderstood. I did come to help you after all. Although, naturally, I should have some equivalent compensation, especially since, from my understanding, this monetary aid would prolong itself as you have no interest in getting a job any time soon.”

Zhongli’s perfect poise slips a little, almost as if his shoulders have sagged in relief.

For the first time in… possibly, ever, Childe feels a twinge of what may be guilt. Spurned by Zhongli’s surprising candor, he decides it might be best, afterall, to not trick the... man... further.

“Rex Lapis, Zhongli, I’m not sure you realize who you’re after.”

“Childe, Tartaglia , a Harbinger from Snezhnaya, correct?”

Childe’s fingers twitch at the name coming from Zhongli’s lips. “Our previous camaraderie was all but manufactured so I could attain my results. Had my Tsarista not demanded subtlety and diplomacy, I wouldn’t have sought out the Funeral Parlor, and simply brought pandemonium to Liyue from the get go. I’m not the affable young lordling I acted as. Even the youngest Harbinger is still a Harbinger. I attacked the Traveller, I nearly brought destruction to Liyue, and I regret nor apologize for either. The precious friend you made before, he doesn’t exist.

“However, in acknowledgement of our good… ah… companionship thus far, I suggest you reconsider, and leave.”

It’s actually insane that, after everything, he came to Zhongli to simply allow him to leave when the man had all but tactidly said he’d sell his body to Childe. 

But from the moment he had sat so near Zhongli he realized he could no longer wear a mask, not for this. He could not see himself starting anything with the man while not being himself.

And he knows he won’t bear rejection well if their acquaintanceship goes further.

Zhongli stares at him, then begins chuckling.

“Oh, it seems I came here not to laugh at you, but to be laughed at.”

“Pardon my manners, but really, I never expected such silly words from you.”

“Silly?”

“Hm, yes. Let’s see. First of all, the cute persona-”

“...Cute?”

“-You crafted as Childe here in Liyue, while it may have been a performance sufficient enough to trick mere mortals, was hardly that convincing to me. I could see the look in your eyes even as you smiled. I never expected you to be a gentle soul. And as for what you tried to unleash, your glee towards it all, and your lack of remorse now… I see it all, I have lost my gnosis not my eyes. Childe, Tartaglia, whatever name you give yourself, I am pursuing you, not your disguise.”

Zhongli raises a hand as if to stop Childe from interrupting. Childe, however, had no such plans.

“That said, underestimating my observational skills is not enough to make me laugh. What dumbfounds me, yet touches me at the same time, is that you just said you’ll allow me to leave, and I think you mean truly meant that.”

“What about that?”

“Were you aware that I was offered a bonus for my willing compliance towards my end of the bargain?”

Childe blinks. He had not, and shakes his head, confused at the sudden turn.

“Very well. it so happened that this boon would have been to… interestingly enough… deny a request you had made, just after everything was over. I refused it, naturally, else you would not be here.”

Childe stiffens, and Zhongli’s smile widens.

“As you said, even the youngest Harbinger is still a Harbinger. It is unthinkable that they would waste one of their most precious resources staying in Liyue and not going elsewhere to further your Tsarista’s objective. It would be quite the demotion, your staying here, if not for the fact you requested it.”

Childe tries to laugh it off. “I-”

“Pardon me, but I’m not done. Of course, as strange as it is, there are maybe some reasons for it. Spying on the Qixing and the nearby Mondstat. Planning or organizing a future invasion. Certainly there are excuses that could be sufficient enough to make it seem that you truly had no other motive to stay here, other than to serve.”

“Precisely, so-”

“Still not done,” Zhongli says, voice a little deeper, stricter, and Childe finds himself shutting his mouth in too much excited obedience at the tone. Zhongli pauses, as if gauging Childe’s reaction, but then continues. “I waited to see if you would come to reacquaint ourselves, for the sake of your new task. You did not. So I may have made comments to the Traveller and others mentioning a monetary predicament, to see if you would come then. You still did not. However… two interesting things happened, do you know what they are?”

Childe just stares. Surely Zhongli doesn’t know-

“The first kind lady that offered mora in exchange for ah… in your words “me on my knees” was sadly caught in bed by her husband with another man.”

Oh Tsarista, Zhongli knows.

“The other one… a fire consumed parts of her home -a candle gone wrong, such a normal thing- and while she is fine and not in any trouble, she no longer can afford to spend money on others, at least not for a while.”

At Childe’s continued silence, Zhongli leans forward, reaches across the table and tucks an errant lock of hair behind Childe’s ear.

It takes all of Childe’s restraint not to lift his hand to where he was touched.

“Perhaps a gentler, humbler, soul than I would simply assume coincidence. But I am not that humble, and I recall the look in your eyes. So it amuses me that here and now, you offer me freedom from you, yet you’ve been quite keen to stay near and ruin any chances I may have of leaning on other people. You claim I don’t know what I want, but it seems to me you are the one unsure.”

Childe opens his mouth, closes it, then throws caution to the wind. “Being willful is my forte,” he says with a small laugh to be master of himself again. “I didn’t like where that was going, so I cut it short with those women. But I’ve concluded I don’t want to live more of a farce than I already do, so I don’t want anything with you where I have to pretend to be, well, not me.”

“You wouldn’t have to.”

And Childe truly believes it. And because he does, he says something he had never expected to.

“But you know, paying for your lifestyle for an indefinite amount of time will be too costly. Make I should demand your heart along with your body?”

It’s cheesy but it does the trick. Finally it seems he has managed to disconcert Zhongli, who clearly had not expected Childe to say something so outrageous. Childe laughs, because he hadn’t expected it either.

Zhongli recovers spectacularly fast. “Well now, I think the grace of having the former Geo Archon’s body at your command is recompense enough.”

“Oho, so now you abruptly understand the value of money?”

“No such thing, it’s just that even someone so out of tune as I can tell this transaction of yours is too one sided.”

“So, after all of…” Childe waves at the table between them, “whatever this conversation was, is that where we stop? Your body and nothing else?”

Well, not that Childe, who had been bracing for less than that, wasn’t happy , he simply wasn’t satiated.

“Hm… I never said that. I simply don’t believe mora is sufficient.”

The electricity that’s coursing through him almost feels like Childe had accidentally ignited his Delusion. He tries not to shiver and remain composed. “Fair enough. Then, oh mighty Rex Lapis, what price would you place on your heart?”

Maybe this had all been another carefully crafted ploy by the Archon, and he was planning to entice Childe into obedience, or reveal Snezhaya’s secrets-

“Hm, I believe this sort of transaction can only be done if the same thing is exchanged in return.”

Childe blinks. 

Oh. 

He really should have seen that one coming, shouldn't he?

He can simply lie. But he won’t.

Hesitant for the first time, he looks down at the empty cup between them, and reaches out to play with it. “... That would be tricky. I don’t know if my… if what I have to offer has the same value of yours.” And because he really can’t seem to stop running his mouth today, he dares add. “It might even be more than yours. Or. Or maybe less, of course.”

Zhongli’s hand reaches out lightning fast to hold his own over the table.

“I highly doubt that,” he says softly. “However, we can put that part of the deal on hold for now and discuss the, ah, terms and values at a later time. Unless this needs to be a package for you?”

Childe snorts, no longer discomfited, but finds himself turning his hand to properly hold Zhongli’s. “Oh please, what kind of fool would throw away this deal? Alright, so according to our deal, you’re mine-”

“My body, for now. Don’t try to trick the God of Contracts so brazenly.”

“I am brazen, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. But fine. And in turn I am your walking wallet.”

“Are you not going to put a limit to how much I can demand from you?”

“Are you?”

“I can handle anything.”

“So long as you can, my wallet will handle your demands. And. I don’t see my tasks here in Liyue ending anytime soon, so we can discuss the rest later.”

“We have a contract, then. Ah, could you kindly start by dealing with this meal?”

“Certainly, but you’re following me tonight.”

*

*

*

Notes:

I did this in a feverish state after the new storyline dropped (this was posted to ao3 yesterday), so apologies if it's not that good. I did consider trying to extend it a bit so it did not feel too fast, but the last time I tried doing a "long oneshot" things, ah, backfired into a massive WIP and I did not want that again.

I hope it wasn't too bad. I've never written for this fandom before, so I don't know if I got them down correctly. My main concern was Childe, who to me comes of as slightly sadistic and I could see him being the possessive sort, if he ever came to care about anything. Plus he is unrepetant in his crimes.

#genshin impact #chili #childe #zhongli #childe/zhongli #childe x zhongli #my fic

[unmaskedagain]

I Knew You Were Trouble

I got really inspired today. This is another crossover fic. It’s actually with one of my all-time favorite childhood movies. Can you guess the crossover before the end?

 Marinette knew he was trouble the second he walked in.

           Like there was nothing Marinette was surer about than the fact that she was in some serious trouble.

           Not school trouble. Not friend trouble. Not boy trouble. Not bully trouble.

           No. The trouble that resulted in Marinette’s parents attending her funeral.

“Care to introduce yourself,” Bustier smiled at her newest student.

           The boy gave the class a polite smile, “Kal.”

           Marinette swallowed hard as she fought the urge to run from the classroom; run, call her grandmother, never look back. But she wouldn’t. She couldn’t. Her Aunt Aggie had always told her to be brave when faced when the forces of evil.

           She wouldn’t run from the likes of Kal.

           Marinette just had one question.

           How was he here? How was he alive? How did he look exactly the same now as he did in the pictures from twenty years ago?

           Her cousin had destroyed him, like she did his father. In the battle of light versus darkness; good versus evil, Good won. Light won. Kal had been sucked into an endless void, dead, never to be seen or heard from again.

           …Until today.

           The handsome dark haired boy looked around the class with clear distaste. He wore a shirt and black pants. He eyed the students, with a bored expression on his face. The girls swooned when he smirked there way. Marinette kept her face black as his eyes looked over her; doing her best not to draw attention to herself.

           Then the oddest thing happen; Kal didn’t blink twice at Marinette. He barely looked like he knew she was in the room. That didn’t mean much to Marinette. The bluenette practically radiated magic some days. He’d figure her out in no time. No, Marinette couldn’t play defense with the likes of Kal. Offense only.

           Bustier directed him to the back of the class, to the only empty seat available… Next to Marinette. And once again, the bluenette cursed her rotten luck. However, her heart was filled with hope with Lila got involved.

“Maybe Kal can seat next to me,” Lila said. “There’s enough room with me and Adrien. I know what it’s like to be new. I can help you.”

           Kal rolled his eyes, “I’m good. But thank you.” And swaggered to the seat in back. As he sat down, he winked at Marinette. Marinette smiled brightly at him like she would at nearly anyone. Though to do so, she had to stab herself in the leg with a pen to stop herself from stabbing him.

           The class started. Bustier began teaching her lesson unaware of the drama that was just about to happen in her class.

“Must be my lucky day,” He leaned in and whispered to her. “I get to sit next to the prettiest girl in school.”

           Marinette kept the smile on her face, as to not draw any attention their way, though not it felt more like baring her teeth, the same way some animals did when they attacked. “How’s your father?” Marinette whispered back. “Kalabar, wasn’t it?”

           Kal’s black eyes widened in shock before settled on a pleased expression. “A witch,” He stated. “Good. I’d thought I’d end up killing myself stuck around mortals.”

“They’re not that bad,” Marinette was quick to defend. Her mother was mortal after all. “Mortals that is. The kids in this class,” Most of which were now her ex-friends. “Kind of suck. Why are you here?”

“They suck,” Kal chuckled. “And yet you’re here. A long way from...” He seemed to remember where they were as he cast a quick look around and his voice lowered, “Our native land.”

Marinette pretended to flip through the pages of her textbook. “You’re a long way from the dark pit in hell you crawled out of,” She hissed. “Planning on taking over the world again? Because I have no problem kicking you right back there.”

Kal snorted. “Such righteous fury. You remind me of…” The amused looked turned into a glare. “Cromwell?”

Marinette giggled and nodded, “Marnie’s my cousin.”

Rage overtook Kal’s face. All the lights in the classroom suddenly exploded. Shadows grew stronger as Kal’s magic was unleashed, and seemed to overtake half of the class room. The only light came from the sunlight behind Marinette, and radiated from the bluenette as she let her magic rise in all its glory.

And once again, the darkness of a son of Kalabar and the light of a daughter of Cromwell battled against other.

           The kids panicked.

“Everyone remain calm,” Bustier said. “If there is an akuma we’ll be alerted. Ladybug will take care of it. Everything will be fine.”

“Akuma?” Kal asked, his eyes still trained on the Bluenette, with a raised eyebrow.

           Marinette shrugged, “Welcome to Paris.”

           Then he smiled at her; really, honestly smiled. It was the most mesmerizing sight. And she forgot. For one second, she forgot the evil that she was always warned lurked in the heart of a Kalabar.

           But now she understood why her cousin had fallen so hard for him when she was a teenager. Marnie hadn’t just been a foolish, naïve teenager head over heels for some guy she just met. No, there was more to it. There was something alluring about the way Kal held himself, the aura he projected; the way his magic sang to hers.

           Marinette just wondered one thing…

Why does the devil look so much like an angel when he smiles as you?

The class went by quickly. Witch and warlock feigned relaxation, while going over every spell they had ever learned in their heads.

When the bell rang, Marinette was gone. She flew out the door as fast as her feet could take her. She couldn’t go home, she knew; not yet. So instead, she headed to the library. In the far back where they put all the outdated computers.

She sat down on the top of an old table and tried to catch her breath. Then out of the shadows, literally, walked Kal. He shook his head at her, “Don’t you know?” He asked the Cromwell witch. “No matter how fast light travels, it finds the darkness has always got there first, and is waiting for it.”

Marinette crossed her arms, “And yet all the darkness in the world cannot extinguish the light of a single candle.”

Kal raised in hands in surrender, “I don’t mean you any harm.”

“That sounds like a lie.”

“I’m serious,” The dark haired teen stated. “You can tell. I know you can. It’s a Cromwell gift. You can always tell when someone is lying. Listen to me carefully. I, Kal, son of Kalabar do not mean you any harm. I was not aware you went to this school. I was not aware any witch of the Cromwell bloodline was in France. Okay?”

           Marinette wanted to stomp her foot in protest. He was telling the truth. “Why are you even? Why do you look like that? Aren’t you like in your late thirties?”

“I should be,” Kal frowned, “I should be thirty-five. I should be a graduate of Witch University. I should be back home, in the family mansion, with a family of my own. Or about to start one.  I should be an adult, living a life of my own. Do you want to know why I’m not?”

“Why?”

Kal sat on top of the table across from Marinette, “Because after the fight with Marnie was sent somewhere; in a prison the forces of light and dark had created during our battle. I was stuck in a place outside of space and time. Outside of reality. That existed everywhere and nowhere. An endless void. Every world and realm I went to was frozen on the moment I was sent there. Just after midnight on Halloween night. And it never changed. The clocks never ticked, not once. The sun never rose or set. The moon was never full or new; just a crescent in the sky. The flowers never bloomed. There was nothing and no one but me; wandering from empty town to empty town. I never knew how much time had passed. Sometimes it felt like an eternity had gone by, sometimes just a few minutes. It didn’t matter one way or another; I never aged. The tricky party was not going completely insane. And I spent a lot of time wondering I had or not. If I deserved this what I did, for the people I hurt.”

Marinette remained silent as he talked; truth ringing in his words.

“I read every book in the Witch University library,” Kal continued. “I read every book in the Oxford University library. Half to keep myself from going crazy, half to try to figure out a way home. I never did. Some things just don’t make sense. Like a bunch of Cromwells being powerful enough to break the barrier between our world and mortal realm.” He laughed a bit there. “Then one day, the entire world shook, literally. And then I’m falling, and the next thing I know I’m landing in the middle of your Agatha Cromwell’s kitchen. She looked exactly the same too so I think I hadn’t been gone that long. Then she tells me with this pitying look on her face; twenty had gone by.”

           Kal closed his eyes as anger coursed through his veins. He clenched his fists. “Twenty years. I had been gone for twenty years. In twenty years, do you even know can happen? You were born. You grew up. You are the exact age I was when I left. And still you are younger than the amount of time I was there. When you said you were a Cromwell; for five seconds I thought you were Marnie’s daughter. Because that’s how long it’s been. Both realms have changed and left me behind. My friends are all grown up; they have kids and lives and stories. My mother passed away while I was gone. I don’t recognize my own home; the place I was born, raised, lived, laughed, and loved. And that same place doesn’t recognize me either. Saint Agatha Cromwell took mercy on me and sent me here. You were right, I did crawl out of hell.”

           It went quiet. Neither knowing entirely what to say. She couldn’t believe her aunt didn’t warn her she was sending a Kalabar her way. Oh, she was so telling her grandma.

           Marinette broke first. “You didn’t deserve that,” She said. “Sure, you turned everyone in your world into human. And everyone here into monsters but no one hurt. Most don’t even remember. You didn’t deserve an eternity of nothingness. Prison, yes. But not that. You were just a kid. You’re just a kid.” Like me, she didn’t answered.

           He nodded stiffly.

“If it means anything…” She said. “Marnie still swears you were the toughest villain she ever fought. And she took down a guy who tried to steal her family magic, hired a witch killing knight, and tried to destroy the doorway between the worlds forever.”

           Kal blinked, a bit stunned, “That’s a compliment if I ever heard one.”

           Marinette giggled. He smiled. And once more, Marinette fought not to look away. She was a Cromwell witch. She would not go weak in the knees over a Kalabar.  “Let’s just agree to stay away from each other.”

           He got off the desk, letting the darkness of his magic flair up, and he leaned toward her, “I don’t make deals with Cromwells,” He whispered. Marinette’s breath caught in her throat. “So why don’t you be a good little witch and stay off my bad side.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” Marinette whispered. “This is my city.”

“Then prepare to see it burn.”

           Marinette couldn’t stop the giggle that came from her. “You’ve already had time to catch up on Batman movies?”

           Kal grinned, “That was the first thing I did.” He smirked. “I think you and I could have a lot of fun, Marinette. Teach the mortals a thing or two. I’ve been here less than a day and I already want to turn half the class into toads. Specifically that Lila girl.”

“Yeah,” Marinette shrugged. “That feeling never quite goes away.” It gotten worse, if anything. Her friends had all turned against her; fell one by one to Lila’s lies. “But I’m a big witch. I can handle them myself.”

           Kal stuffed his hands in his pockets, “Yet you haven’t. And I don’t think you want to. Even though every part of you screams you should.”

           Marinette shook her head, “We’ve evolved past that.”

           Kal shrugged, “If you ever change your mind…” He moved to leave but then turned back around, a rose was in his hand, “Or maybe I really did inherit my father's attraction to Cromwell witches.” He gave her the rose.

           Marinette took it, a small smile on her face. “You shouldn’t let your magic do you’re talking for you.”

           He didn’t answer; just disappeared back into the shadows.

           Yep, Kal was trouble.

           And Marinette was definitely in trouble.

#ml fic #ml salt #class salt #halloween town #marinette dupain cheng #Marinette deserves better

[having-a-hyperfixate]

The Final Day’‘

This is absolutely going to be long and rambley af so I’mma just put a cut here. This is just one massive post for the entire rest of the game.

Rindo is back in the RG somehow. Which makes less than no sense. What was that crazy beam. Shibuya is GONE there isn’t an RG to send him back to, even if someone did want to send him back?

That beam reminded me of the Jesus beams not gonna lie.

But… Fret. Presumably Nagi and Beat too. They’re. Gone. Poor Rindo… That’s the worst kind of gaslighting. Reality itself is gaslighting this poor kid. ‘Your best friend in the world is gone, so gone that no one remembers him. You don’t even get to mourn properly because there is no one TO mourn.’  I am also not okay.

I assume this random talking to us at Hachiko is the dude I saw a brief glimpse of in a screenshot from the final trailer. Hazuki Mikagi, okay. Everything about this is supremely weird. 

Leading this weirdo around and he asked how we feel about emotions? Um, what?

Was he responsible for that beam of light?

This whole thing is extremely unsettling, I don’t think I like it. The music is all… serene, this guy keeps asking existential questions, who even comes up to some kid clearly having a bad day and demands a tour of the city.

He knows Rindo’s name even though we never told him. Not sure if that was a slip or an intentional nudge that Something is going on but there we go.

‘I should take this chance to apologize for Kubo. He’s a real piece of work.’ WHAT. YOU SEND HIM TO SHINJUKU?!?! IS THIS KID GOD!? WHAT!??!

‘Exorcised’. Like a demon. Which is a psychic rank you can get in the first game, and probably this game, ergo, a thing that exists in this universe.

Okay. So this Hazuki guy is Something Else. I dunno if he’s an Angel or higher or WHAT. He’s something. And he “exorcised” what Fuckwad had Fallen to when he decided not to stop at Shinjuku and continue on to Shibuya. But he only did this after Rindo faught so hard to stop it. And then he gave Rindo what he thought Rindo wanted. And now he’s here trying to understand why Rindo is miserable. Which to us, as humans, is obvious: the people he loved, the connections and family he had made through the game are all gone and worse, no one remembers they ever existed.

And now he’s being offered the chance to try again. This feels like a double edged sword. And I don’t care.

Okay I actually kind of appreciate the thing Hazuki is pulling here. He knows what it is that Rindo wants, I’m pretty sure he’s listening to his thoughts, actually, and in order to make Rindo own up to it he’s arguing the ‘no’ position. Giving Rindo someone to argue against so he can convince himself.

WHY DOES EVERYTHING HAPPEN AT UDAGAWA.

Bruh some of these clips were in the announcement trailer.

(I can’t wait to read the secret reports. That’s gonna be a wild ride.)

Oooooh that’s what ‘exorcised’ means. That is hardcore. He definitely deserved it but that is uh. Slightly inconvenient.

Can we actually contact Rhyme this time PLEASE. Oooh Rindo worked out Kaie is waiting for Rhyme. :O I’M FINALLY GONNA GET MY MASSIVE COUNTER OFFENSIVE FUCK YES. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH I’M PUMPED LET’S FUCKING GOOOOOOO!!!!

Who’s gonna protect them. Beat. Really. Just give them the damn pins at this point. They both know their ways around a fight and Kaie might need the backup. If we lose, we’re all toast regardless, and if we win everyone gets put back where they belong.

AAAAAAAAAAAH SHE’S HERE!!! RHYME!!!! Aw… She can’t see Neku and Shoka cuz they’re actually dead. That’s really depressing. Makes sense but like. Oof. Especially for Neku.

I love that Rhyme still has a saying for everything.

This timeline is going to be a mess by the time I get everything positioned correctly lmao

Beat’s ‘How do you know about my sister?! Right, future.’ is never going to NOT be funny. It’s very refreshing to have a time travel plot where people just listen when he tells them shit needs to happen.

Is it acutaly Shiki time ohh my god. I might cry. Please tell me she has a face now. If her face is still illegal I will actually scream.

I’m offended. We didn’t get to go see Shiki. The betrayal. OH but now we might be? Stop playing with me, game. GIVE. ME. SHIKI.

Rindo was freaking out that we weren’t gonna be able to get rid of all the Noise around the café and I definitely threw my hands up and yelled when I saw the word ‘zeptogram’. And I read it before he said it, cuz I read v. fast. Nice to see you again, idiot. Please don’t go berserk again.

I am. Very impressed that Minamimoto managed to work out where the Dissonance Noise are coming from, down to the exact energy source that creates them. He nailed it. Well done sir.

I think… he’s proposing we awaken the city and use the energy generated by the thoughts and emotions of the living people to neutralize some of the Dissonance Noise that are waiting in the pin. Erode some of its power.

“How about this: I’ll talk, you type.” Lmao.

I got denied Shiki again. Part of me is annoyed. The other part of me is like ‘are they saving her entrance for when she can see Neku again properly because I can live with that’.

OH the Hishima cutscene is voiced now OKAY. Guess that means this is the one. Rhyme is voiced too. This is gonna be it.

And she speaks Minamioto. Coo.

Huh. Neku’s power is to sync with people. Which he learned to do in the first game. From Mr H, with the harmonizer pin. (Twister is playing and I have Emotions help) And now he’s gonna do it on an absolutely MASSIVE scale. This is insane. I am 1,000% here for it. Sync, Dive, Remind. And if I had to guess, we’re doing this atop 104.

Alright Shiba. ‘Mere. Tsugumi’s eyes aren’t all freaky anymore yay. Oh snap. He’s gonna unleash the Plague Noise against the Dissonance ones. Nice. Turnabout is fair play. I’m kinda sad Fuckwad isn’t here to witness that.

Alright. Change. Our. Fate.

SHIIIIIIIIIIKKKKKKKKKIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I gave myself a headache ow.

“07734.” “Ew. Hey! Don’t just spout off numbers and walk away, you jerk!” That was amazing.

FUCK ME SIDEWAYS. OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD. NO. NO WAY. I DIDN’T THINK THERE WAS ANY WAY. OH. MY. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH. This is the first time Neku’s seen him since Joshua failed to stop Coco from killing him. I’m. A puddle. Help. Neku looked so happy. My cat is slightly concerned haha.

Neku still holds his hands like he’s got the headphones. The same pose as in the first game when you scan. This gives me all the feels.

“They’re just mindless thoughts” Okay so I’m mentally exhausted at this point and I processed that as ‘thots’ and it was hilarious. BEGONE THOTS.

Okay this thing right here? This is a final boss. And it is cool as fuck. Too bad it’s trying to END ME. So cool. SO. COOL. Here comes phase 2 lol. I died and had to redo it. FML.

That. Was awesome. A worthy successor to the epic final strike of the first game. 999% eh?

I continue to not like Shinjuku rules. Once you’re a Reaper, leaving means you get erased once the game ends? Disrespectfully, fuck that. Oh don’t you dare, Shoka. Don’t. You. Dare.

Oh, Joshua is here. PLEASE. Lmao Shoka’s reaction. I’m sure he appreciates that, the drama queen.

*facepalms* Joshua strikes again. I’ve missed you, you little shit. You are terrible, but I missed you. Rindo, I’m pretty sure she’s fine. I think captain helpful over here reincarnated her for you. Since you saved him and his city. I guess I’ll see though.

Uzuki and Kariya continue to be adorable. I love them. And yeah, good luck calling in that debt from Minamimoto, Coco. Gooooood luck.

I’m having a lot of Joshua centered emotions right now there is too much Joshua all at once help. “I should have known I could trust you.” You are killing me dude. You really, really should have. I’m going to turn that line over in my head for way too long, I just know it, but let’s try to get through this before my brain turns off completely. “Let’s not keep her waiting.” OKAY THANKS I’M GONNA CRY AGAIN.

What Hazuki was saying about ‘purifying’ as opposed to ‘destroying’ Shinjuku makes me think that restarting it in some form was always part of the plan, so hopefully they’ll have luck with that. It’s still profoundly fucked up that any of that happened, and even more so that it was sanctioned. I’m. Going to be hung up on that for a while once it sinks in.

This poor idiot hitting on Rhyme is about to get got oh no XD

Shiki is breaking my heart. Aaaaaaaah!!! Reunioooooon.

Ooof it’s been a month since Rindo saw Shoka. Big oof. Joshuaaaaaa.

And then they almost got hit by a car lmao. OMG HE MISSED HER FRIEND REQUESTS AHAHAHAHAH YOU GOOBER. Neku really should have warned them that Joshua is Like That lol. Even when he’s being helpful it’s in the must backhanded way possible.

I would very much like to know why on earth Shinjuku needed to be obliterated though. Like. Does that… Happen often? Maybe the secret reports say.

Speaking of, time to get those, along with the rest of the trophies.

!!!! The title screen updated, NICE. Can’t let anyone who hasn’t beaten it see that but NICE.

There’s another Another Day. Oh boy. I am not ready for that madness yet.

Random thought as I was moving this from word, where I typed it: I’m really, really fucking glad they didn’t decide to deal with Mr H the way they dealt with sleezy mcfuckwad. That would have been… I don’t have a word.

#let's liveblog: neo twewy #w3d7'' #neo twewy spoilers