#but i do want you to see this i do want to be transparent so here it is again and in more depth in the tag | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hurthermore · 2 days

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Hey! Just wanna say I ADORE your Bimbo series ❤️

I have an idea for the next one; The reader teases Alastor for being an old, grumpy man. She's spending too much time on social media & video games to pay attention to him. Then, he punishes her for it. Wink wink! ✋️🍑💦

»»------► 𝙱𝚒𝚖𝚋𝚘 - 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟺 (18+)

▻ 𝙱𝚒𝚖𝚋𝚘 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟸 (18+) ▻ 𝙱𝚒𝚖𝚋𝚘 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟹 (18+)

Pairing: 𝙰𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛 𝚡 𝙵!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Word Count: 𝟸𝚔

Warnings: 𝙽𝚘 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝, 𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚜𝚎𝚡, 𝚋𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚡 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛, 𝚗𝚘 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢, 𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚜, 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚜𝚒𝚣𝚎 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚔, 𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚌𝚔, 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚞𝚕𝚐𝚎, 𝚍𝚎𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐?

A/N: 𝙸 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚐𝚛𝚞𝚖𝚙𝚢 𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝙰𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛, 𝚋𝚎𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚎, 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝙼𝙾𝙽𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙵𝚄𝙲𝙺𝙴𝙳

Alastor deeply regretted buying you that damned piece of technology.

For the past few days, instead of being all over the Radio Demon like you usually were; instead of always being in his presence, talking to him, holding him, kissing him, and fucking yourself into his cock, you had, for some reason, been consistently dwindling the amount of attention you usually gave him to play on that silly little gaming console you had asked him oh so prettily for.

As he questioned himself on why he had even purchased it for you, he knew it was because he was so easily swayed by you; that he adored you and wanted to see that pretty smile on your face; it was only a very welcomed luxury when you begged with that that pretty little voice of yours, when you placed your even prettier lips around his cock as a way of persuading him to buy things for you.

He’d buy it for you even if you didn’t do those things; but you didn’t need to know that.

Even now, as you sat in his lap, the both of you in his radio station whilst he broadcast his mass of screaming souls to the entirety of hell, you seemed to simply ignore his presence as you fiddled with the buttons of your newest piece of technology. He didn’t like how much your mental absence toward him had his chest hurting ever so slightly; but despite that, he still remained in his smiling neutral facade.

Looking down at you, he wondered if you were torturing him on purpose by wearing that semi transparent babydoll nightwear he had bought for you recently; the same one that allowed Alastor to admire every erotic detail of your body, to the front of your core squished against your thighs, to your stomach scrunched up due to the bend of your position, and how beautifully erect your nipples were. It was quite the task for him to contain himself when you looked so ethereal; so undeniably erotic.

Alastor craved to ravish you, just as he did quite often.

If only you would cease playing that ridiculous game.

You were a smart little darling, despite how ditzy you could be, you weren’t so stupid that you were unaware of how much the simple sight of you turned him on. You must’ve known what you were doing to him.

Alastor knew you did.

As he watched you hum away as you swayed your head along with the music from your game that Alastor was positive you could barely hear over the screams of his broadcast, he etched his sharp talons underneath the flimsy piece of clothing you wore, pressing them against the thick of your thighs before he sunk the tips ever so slightly into your squishy femurs. His upper lip snarling ever so slightly as you refused to give him even a drop of attention even as he damaged the perfect skin that encased your innards.

You wouldn’t even flinch.

With a huff, he leaned his chin into your shoulder as uncharacteristically morbid thoughts of your true feelings towards him clouded his mind, he turned off the microphone connected to his broadcast. “Tell me, do you only love me so you can get what you want?” He didn’t mean to ask it with venom drenched into his words, but he couldn’t help the way his chest constricted from the doubt that had funnelled its way into his head.

“Don’t be silly Al. I love you.” You mumbled as you continued to press the buttons on the console; still refusing to even glance at him.

Grabbing the device from your soft hands, he slammed it against the console of his radio station. “Then why do you persist in depriving me from your attention to play with such frivolous technology?”

Rolling your eyes as he snatched your game from you, you turned around in his lap to finally face him. “God, you’re such a needy, grumpy old man aren’t you?” You mocked him before pushing your chest against him; poking your index finger in his face. “You’re so pathetic it's cute.”

Were you trying to test him?

To piss him off?

You were extremely lucky you had him wrapped around your little finger, else he would’ve shredded your perfect body into little tiny pieces for saying such things to him. Instead, he sunk his claws into your neck with a look that forced your facial structure to express worry. “I’m offended you think such things of me, my beautiful little darling; it looks as though I’ll have to show you how frighteningly vigorous I can be.” He whispered into your pretty face before conjuring a black appendage to tear your overly exposing nightwear in two.

Slamming your back into his broadcasting table, Alastor watched as you moaned out a bundle of screams as he began shoving his cock in between your exposed and glistening folds without warning; you couldn’t believe he had pulled his length out so quickly from his suit pants as you began panting. Your tight cunt struggled to allow him to enter in one push due to the lack of foreplay; but this is what you deserved, being the little mouthy brat you were.

With both of his hands on your delicate throat, Alastor put so much pressure against it that he could hear tiny gasps of moaned plea’s escape your throat that struggled to intake a proper breath as he painfully pulled his cock out of you, only to slam it back in; only this time, its entire length finally sunk into your beautifully pleasurable wettening walls, forcing a scream to rip from your constricted oesophagus.

Conjuring more black appendages, he commanded the tentacle-like affixes to tightly wrap around your thighs, the fat around them popping out as the slimy protuberances pressurised with a harshness like no other. Drool dripping from his mouth, Alastor began to groan at the sight of you below him; your perfect face almost draining in colour, his sharp hands wrapped around your beautiful throat, your thighs squished into oblivion, and the squelching that filled the room as he fucked his fat cock into your unready cunt.

He couldn’t handle it, especially after not having you on his red length for the past few days due to your persistent gaming. Gritting his yellowed teeth, he forced the appendages around your thighs to bend your femurs into your chest, putting you in a mating position that allowed him to pulverise his cock against your cervix. Groaning, he smashed his lips against your breathless ones as he craved for passion from you, he could feel you attempt to kiss him back; something that made his heart burst with love, but the dizziness he was inflicting on you due to his brutal pressure on your larynx and savage, deprived pace he was fucking you with had you unable to truly focus on his lips.

Alastor could feel his balls tighten; a sign he was close to spilling his lovely white cum into you, but he needed to stop. You were due for a punishment, and he had barely scratched the surface. Calming down his pace, stilling his ministrations to prevent himself from ejaculating, his grip on your throat loosened, causing you to cough up breaths of air as drops of sweat from Alastors forehead splattered against yours.

For some reason, after your breathing began to calm down, you began to chuckle; causing your boyfriend's ears to twitch with every mocking laugh. “I knew you were an old man, but come on. You can’t even last two minutes without needing to cum? Can’t even make me cum, baby?” You snickered as you gyrated your waist with his cock still inside you, testing his limits as you snaked your tongue against his adorably frustrated expression. Immediately, he slammed your head into the table with an odd amount of care before he bit the tips of his razor sharp teeth into your neck after you spoke those words; his cock began thrusting into you with a pace that he was dead set on breaking your pelvis with.

Groaning, Alastor was beyond angry as you kept testing him to the point he hadn’t realised his body began to morph; not until you wrapped your hands around his stitched neck and let out a blood curdling scream from those pretty flushed out lips. “Oh god, Al, don’t stop!” You screeched in a pleasured pain as his cock began to grow thicker and longer inside of you. Letting go of your neck, Alastor admired your pained expression before he looked down to your stomach; he couldn’t prevent the low growl that had left his throat as he watched his growing cock force a large bulge to emerge from your lower belly.

It wasn’t until Alastor found himself standing at double your height that his body decided to halt morphing; his cock forcing your stomach to contort around it as it stretched out the gummy walls of your cunt. Panting, tears left your oculi as your boyfriend stilled his massive length inside of you. “You change your tune so quickly, my love.” His voice came out so much more distorted than usual; as if it was glitching along with every word on his tongue.

Crying out, you let out a sharp gasp as his overly large hands wrapped around the entirety of your waist; his thumbs pressing down on the bulge his cock enforced as he tried to move, to slam his cock back into you, but he couldn’t.

He had grown so big that your cunt became simply too tight for him to move.

Tightening his grip around your waist, he picked you up from the table before his heavy breathes consumed your auditory senses as he began moving you along the entirety of his length, forcing a mixture of pain and pleasure to mumble and curse out from your lips; crying as Alastor used your body as a damned fleshlight. His ridiculously large cock made your stomach bloat to the point you thought he was going to tear through you every time your thighs met his pelvis bone. “That’s it: cry for the ‘needy, grumpy old man’, my lovely, desperate, little whore.” And you did; ever so prettily. Gripping onto his prolonged neck that was covered in stitches, you begged for him to kiss you; begged for him, only him.

Complying to your demands enthusiastically, Alastors back began to bend, his fucked up form covered the entirety of your sight before his drool soaked lips connected with yours rather softly; his head moving up and down every time he moved your body along his length.

Surprisingly, as Alastor retracted one of his hands from your waist, you still felt secure; not a moment did you believe you would fall. His clawed finger tips only slightly brushed against your clit before you could feel your thighs shake; primarily from the sheer atrocity that Alastor was fucking into your cunt.

Feeling your bud throb as his monster cock invaded far more than whatever should be invaded; along with his sharp claw teasing your clit ever so slightly, your cunt began to spasm in pleasure, ripping a loud, debauched moan from your larynx. Your wet, expanded, pretty little sex began to grip onto Alastors cock tighter as you began to squirt splashes of lust induced liquid onto your lover's body; and from how harshly your core tensed around him, a sensation deep in his own nether regions snapped, filling your womb up with a stupid amount of sperm as he splattered his cum deep inside of you.

Slowly pulling you off his length, Alastor groaned as he watched the mass amount of his ejaculation cascade from your puffy and widening cunt, only to shove his fingers inside you, forcing you to cry out as he made sure the rest of his cum stayed deep inside your womb. “Don’t worry love, I believe this wraps up my example,” Alastor’s voice echoed, still slightly distorted as his body began to slowly morph back to his normal size; forcing you to become limply dumb. “I’ll clean you up now; so relax for your needy old man.”

»»------► 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

@saccharine-nectarine @daintydreams-blog @lunaramune

#alastor x reader #alastor x you #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #hazbin alastor #reader insert #x reader #alastor x reader smut #hazbin hotel #alastor smut

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nanaminokanojo · 3 days

Text

THAWING ICE QUEEN (part 107)

–one night of fooling around with the annoying campus king gojo satoru (he thinks so), turns into...well, something else more long term

CHARACTERS: gojo satoru x you | geto suguru | jjk characters

MASTERLIST | CHAPTER INDEX

<<prev part 107 next>>

A/N: This has prose.

“What?”

Nothing was making sense. You don’t even know if you’ve heard right as you watched everything suddenly slow into a snail’s pace and blur out into nothing but colors. It was as if you were submerged in a transparent water tank where nothing was exactly clear, not sight or sound, although you were somehow aware of what was going on. You knew your father stood up from his seat, looking deathly pale as he looked towards the stage. You followed the direction of his eyes, that, too, seeming to take an eternity to accomplish as you turned your head and saw none other than Gojo Satoru standing behind the podium, smiling bright as he addressed the applauding crowd, dazzling under the ambient lights and seemingly not existing in the same realm as everyone was.

You whirled around to look at Kento, having to steady yourself on one of the chairs as questions, one after the other started to flood your mind, except you couldn’t voice them out, not knowing which one to ask first. Why was Satoru suddenly named the head of a company his maternal grandfather owns? Does he know the real reason why you were leaving? Did he do just that for you? What the hell was your father telling you to ask your friends what he was doing there? You held onto Kento’s arm, your eyes conveying every single one of the things you couldn’t say. His expression told you everything you needed to know.

“What?” you asked again, but your voice came out weak, drowned out by another round of applause that was addling your thought process, making you incoherent and unable to do anything. What did you want to do anyway? There wasn’t one thing that came to mind, not even the scathing smirk your father shot your way when your eyes met his again. You just wanted it to be over, but then again, in what way?

You swallowed, thick and hard, wishing you could say something. You knew what it meant, that same accusing look he threw your way all those years ago when your mother died, a core memory that hardened at the back of your mind. He might not have said it out loud, but it spoke volumes of how he wished you were gone instead of her, how he blames you for the loss of the only woman he ever cared about. He looked at you the same way now as if you wounded him the same way again, as if you were making him go through the pain again.

He held you frozen with his cold gaze, making you hold your breath until it hurt, when suddenly, he turned away to address someone else behind you. “I believe congratulations are in order,” he stated in a tone that was anything but congratulatory, “Mr. Gojo.”

“Hardly, but I believe thanks are in order,” Satoru responded, repeating your father’s words and returning it to him. “I have yet to fulfill the purpose of it all.”

You heard the smirk in his voice as opposed to seeing it, unable to move on your spot as Kento kept you steady, merely looking down on the floor. You wanted to do something, anything, take him away from there perhaps. Your father wasn’t worth the time, not Satoru’s anyway. Mustering all the wits you had left, you finally managed to turn around, looking at Satoru to ground yourself. He was there. Everything will be okay…right?

Satoru smiled at you and winked as if to answer your unspoken question. He stepped towards your father, and in a low tone, said, “If you think you can use me to hurt your own daughter, you couldn’t have been more mistaken.” Although he kept a pleasant look on his face, the playfulness was gone, replaced by a threat instead.

Your father scoffed. “Very valiant of you then, young man. All this for my daughter.” He chuckled. “But you said it yourself. She is my daughter, and what goes in our family neither involves you nor does it change things because you suddenly decided you’d want to go this far for her. Commendable, I must say –”

“I’ll take that as a compliment without the catch, if you don’t mind.” He leveled his expression with your father. “Of course, you are right. It changes nothing if you still want Y/N to leave, but she can decide on that without you threatening to tear me down should she disagree.”

You merely blinked slowly as your thoughts were confirmed, but before you could even wrap your head around it, Satoru was suddenly beside you, taking your hand in his, boldly displaying it in front of your father.

“Satoru –”

“I love your daughter, Atty. L/N. And yes, I’m willing to go through lengths to make her happy. I may not decide on that, but I’m giving her the freedom to do just that without anyone, not even you, interfering in it.”

The older male glared at Satoru. “This was all in vain, but you knew that.”

“We’ll see,” the blue-eyed menace beside you stated in that happy-go-lucky tone of his, even having the gall to grin at your father. “Now, if you don’t mind…” He shifted his gaze to you, a love-struck smile replacing his earlier expression. “I have a date with your daughter, father-in-law.”

With that, he turned around, dragging you away, but not before you saw your father fall onto his seat, evidently seething as he watched the pair of you go. But before you could dwell on that thought, you heard Satoru’s laughter ringing through the hallway as he looked back at you with nothing but that tender, adoring look he always has for you, enough to convince you to join in as you both ran towards your own fairy tale albeit momentary.

A/N: Hi, everyone! Just gonna leave this here for now and will update this over the next days one or two at a time, depending on how much I can create per day. Again, thank you for the love. We're almost to the end! Thanks for staying.

TAGS LIST: @arxliana @neeneee @charlie-xo @aelynaneedsalottathing @arizzu @cloudxp @justpuddinglol @mikkies @nyfwyeonjun @whats-humanity-lol @letthewindlead @whore-of-many-hot-men @localgaytrainwreck @pikibee @bloombb @mr-underhills-things @lysaray @chocoyanchan @poemzcheng @bookswillfindyouaway @dreamxiing @koutaroo @taelattecookie @kazuhasmaid @weebbuscuit @moonmalice @taengkatsu @reagan707 @to0ruu @shirabane @yell0wdreams @r0ckst4rjk @megtheebimbo @tmvll9 @kibananya @ti-mame

PHOTO/IMAGE/GIF/FANART/ANY MEDIA CREDITS TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

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fiber-optic-alligator · 17 hours

Text

Desperation vs. Domestication (Pt. 2)

Pairing: IDW Drift x Human Reader

WARNING: This story contains soft vore. If this makes you uncomfortable, please do not read this story.

Word Count: 4431

Summary: Though you have been lulled into a deep sense of security by Drift's kindness and comfort, you still haven't completely lost the need to be free. A terrible nightmare refuels your desire for escape...but Drift isn't someone who wants to let you go.

HEEHEEHEEHEE I REALLY WANTED TO WRITE A PART 2 OF THIS...so I did. It's because Drift is my all-time favorite Transformer and I absolutely LOVE putting my favorite characters through angst. If you enjoyed reading part 1, then I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Likes, comments, feedback, and reblogs are never expected, but always appreciated! Enjoy! :D

Here is the link to pt. 1 if you haven’t read it!

Two months later…

You dream of Earth tonight.

There are fields; you are standing in one. Long Bermuda grass tickles your ankles with the gentle presence of the planet recognizing its own. The endless green is splattered with occasional droplets of color: pink poppies, yellow sunflowers, marigolds, dandelions. It is warm. There is a slight wind blowing, playing with your hair. You turn your face towards the sunlight and bask in the relief of knowing you are home.

All of a sudden, you hear a sound. Thumping. Steady, rhythmic. Loud. You feel the wind die down and suddenly the sun is gone, and there is only darkness. A massive shadow blots out all of the light. You see a figure looming over you, red-and-white with bright blue eyes that stare into your soul and make you feel terror.

You try to run, but find you cannot move your legs. There is nothing you can do when you watch a giant hand reach down in slow motion and pluck you up, holding you between titanic fingers. The monster’s mouth opens, and then you are tumbling down, right into an abyss of metal and isolation. The Earth melts away forever. You are trapped. You are alone.

Shooting forward out of your nightmare, you hear yourself scream. The squishy floor underneath you makes you lose your footing when you scramble upward in a blind panic and fall into Drift’s stomach wall. Everything moves, the organ grumbling unhappily at you being awake. Your hands scramble at the mesh cables. Little pink bubbles of cybernetic blood pop anxiously beneath their semi-transparent surfaces. The walls close in to squeeze, holding you in a secure hug, attempting to keep you still. But you cannot think. You are scared, and you feel trapped, so you desperately begin to thrash and fight against the stomach.

Drift’s voice booms above you, panicked. “Little one? Little one?!”

“Let me go!” you shriek. “Please, letmegoletmegoletmego!”

The walls loosen up, freeing you. You collapse into the fetal position, gasping while sweat beads your brow and your heart goes crazy.

Drift presses his hands over his middle. “Little one, little one, shhhh, shh, shh, shh,” he hushes frantically. “Safe, safe…safe, all is safe...no need for fear…”

Gradually, you calm down. Only when you are no longer trembling does Drift tentatively begin to squeeze you again. In and out, slow kneading, like he’s silently coaxing you to continue breathing at a healthier pace. “Little one…okay?” he asks.

Your voice quivers. “I-I’m fine. I’m okay. It-It was a bad dream. A nightmare.” You sit upright and lean into the stomach wall. Drift holds you close, the undulating muscle relaxing you with its constant massage. His biolights pulse and flicker, a clear sign of his stress. You woke him up with your screams. It makes you feel bad, so you snuggle his cables further. The robot’s stomach is not a big place, but Drift likes to be conscious of you. The support you provide him in completing this task is obviously appreciated, because he hums softly and pats his hand over where you are.

There is peace again. Peace and warmth. But you don’t feel the usual safety. There is a lingering pit of dread growing deep within your gut, foul roots clawing their way through your body, leaving you jittery, uneased. Your nightmare is the first one in months, and it’s a sure sign things are not right.

It has been such a long time since you thought of your possible escape plan. You don’t know how long, but you do know that you can’t be comfortable here anymore. Your mind is sending the signals loud and clear.

No more stalling, you think to yourself. No more being complacent.

You are not domesticated yet.

When Drift lets you out of here…you will go through with the plan to take an escape pod home. For real this time.

It takes you weeks to perfect your plan. And when you do finally have it all figured out, you come to the conclusion that things may end up being more complicated than you thought. Escaping a spaceship filled with giant alien robots is hard enough, yes. But then there’s the issue of what will happen when you return to Earth. You don’t know how long you’ve been abducted. It could be months. It could be years. What if all of your family and friends are long gone by the time you get home? What if things are so different that you’ve been completely left behind?

No. You can’t think like that. A sharp patting to your cheeks snaps you out of it. Keep it together. This is the moment you have been waiting for. Regardless of what awaits you on Earth, you will be there to face it.

You’ve packed everything you own into a small fabric knapsack your mech gifted you during your first days here (Who knew robots are such good knitters?). It’s not much, not much at all: snacks Drift gives you, strange pellets that clean your teeth, three cans of filtered water…but that’s all you really require for the trip you are going to embark on. You don’t believe it will be particularly long. The escape pods need to have some sort of device that allows them to leap through lightyears to their destinations. You believe this because you’ve watched the mothership do it from the observation windows Drift likes to bring you to sometimes. Hyperspace will occasionally be activated, with stars and planets blurring together into dazzling white paint streaks before coming to an abrupt halt in a totally new galaxy.

Now, do you know how lightjumping works? Absolutely not. Last time you were on Earth, no such human technology had been invented yet. So you don’t exactly know how you’ll get the escape pod to lightjump like the ship does. But you’ll find a way. You have no choice.

Now for the hard part: getting away from Drift long enough to activate the escape pod and blast away. He’s not going to make it easy for you. Drift doesn’t like letting you out of his sight if you aren’t in his room, and hardly lets you roam free. You’ve spent hours, both within his stomach and out, pondering how to go about this. It’s left you with the agonizing decision that you’ll just have to wing it somehow.

The door to his room slides open. You’ve been sitting on his berth with your hands beneath your head and one leg crossed over the other, thinking, thinking, thinking, that at first you nearly didn’t hear him come in. You sit up to greet him with more eagerness than you’d like to show. The nightmare didn’t stop your affection for Drift from rearing its persistent head.

There’s no waiting for him to give you his time today. When he enters the room, his focus is immediately on you with no prior distractions. Drift walks with a spring in his step, his finials perking up like an enthusiastic dog. You notice a small white box he holds in one hand, and think nothing of it. Drift’s room is decorated with countless knickknacks from other planets. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s brought some strange little souvenir home.

“Hey, big guy,” you murmur happily when he kneels down before you. He settles the box to the side and cups both hands behind you, humming his typical car engine-purr greeting. You hug him when he draws you forth so he can nuzzle his nose into your middle. “I’m guessing you missed me?”

Drift beep-boops excitedly. He gives you an affectionate tickle to your side, causing you to giggle. Your reaction delights him. He keeps it up, and pretty soon you are laughing so hard your stomach hurts. “D-Drift, s-stop! I-I can’t breathe!”

He gives you one last light prod, then ends the bout of torture with more cuddles. You recover from the laughter, feeling airy and light like nothing else matters except for the giant robot holding you.

“Little one,” he coos. “My little one.”

“Mhm,” you mumble goodnaturedly. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m yours.”

He suddenly looks like he’s remembered something very important, and he straightens, chirping rapidly. You watch as he grabs the white box and, to your surprise, presents it to you. You glance at it, then turn to him. “For me?” you ask, pointing at yourself.

He chirps again and nods.

You take it from him and open it with a slight air of confusion, because he’s never given you something like this before. You think it might be a piece of jewelry, or some sort of charm. But what you see inside is neither of those things. You suck in a sharp breath of pure disbelief and go numb.

It’s a collar. A damn collar. Sleek and narrow, its solid red with a single white stripe circumnavigating it. On one side is a strange symbol of a boxy red robot’s face-the same symbol he has on his chest. These are his colors, you realize. He’s making us match. He wants the other mechs to know that he owns you.

Drift rumbles expectantly. When you remain frozen, unable to pry your eyes away from the collar, he gently pries it out of your now slightly shaking hands. With extreme carefulness, he clasps it around your neck. It fits comfortably and locks with a quiet click.

“My little one,” he repeats. “Mine.”

He’s not trying to scare you. You know he isn’t. Yet your throat is dry, and the snug weight of the collar makes you feel sick.

You need to get the hell off of this ship.

You spend the night feverishly trying to break the collar off, working yourself up like a caged animal driven mad by captivity. But no matter how hard you yank at it, it remains stubbornly fast around your neck. You refuse to eat the food given to you and cry yourself to sleep within a very concerned Drift’s belly, who can’t seem to console you no matter how hard he tries.

Drift doesn’t know what to do with you.

You’ve been moping ever since he gave you the collar. Over the next few days, any sort of drive to escape has left you. You're depressed and disappointed in him for what he’s done. You don’t want to talk to him. You don’t want to accept any of his gifts. Blanket after pillow after plushie-all made by him, with the crude markings of homemade love-are ignored. You shy away from his touch and reject his attention. When he swallows you at night, you give him no inclination you care. You sit like a stone within him and just…stare off vacantly, unable to ignore the collar around your neck.

He’s brought you to the ship’s doctor multiple times. On the first trip, the old red medic bot looked you over and finished his checkup with a shrug and dismissive chuff. The second time, he growled at Drift and waved him away. And on the third time, he didn’t even let him through the door. There’s nothing physically wrong with you. But mentally, how could they know? How could he know he’s hurt you? You trusted him to treat you with some level of respect despite your situation, and he had, until now. The collar was your breaking point. There truly is no way for him to ever see you as anything more than a pet, and it hurts you, because by god, you love him.

“…Little one?”

Drift calls out to you with a soft, sad tone. You huddle up tighter beneath one of your blankets and give no answer.

You hear him shift at his desk. There’s silence between the two of you that is not wanted. He heaves a low sigh and tries again. “Little one…please?”

Damn your heart, you can’t keep giving him the silent treatment when he sounds like he’s about to cry.

You push the blanket off of your head. Drift slouches in his chair, back bent like an old man’s. His finials are drooping, and the glow from his biolights is dimmer than usual. He’s obviously been letting his personal hygiene go for the sake of finding a way to help you, and it hurts to know he’s in this state because of your shitty attitude towards what he simply sees as a gift. The collar is a curse, but you can’t exactly tell him that, can you? This entire situation is all your fault.

It's the treacherous part of your mind which attempts to convince you of this. It partially works. Giving in, you sit up slowly, drawing the blanket tightly around your shoulders and tilting your head while giving him a questioning look.

He’s surprised by your action, like he genuinely wasn’t expecting you to respond to this extent. But he takes advantage of it. Drift offers you a hopeful smile and picks something up from his desk. He stands and walks to you, going slow. You don’t flinch when he crouches down to your level. The warm light of his eyes leaves a kind feeling on your skin.

Tentatively, Drift extends his hand. In his palm is a piece of chocolate, one of the many treats he has at his disposal to provide you with when he feels you are being especially good. It’s an olive branch. A reach in the right direction.

You hesitate…and then you think, Oh, what the hell. Staying mad at Drift when he has no clue he’s done something wrong in the first place won’t get you anywhere. So you accept the candy and take a small bite.

He sags with relief, exhaust whooshing from his nose as he watches you eat with a smile. When you're finished, he moves his hand closer, twining the palm around you and resting the tips of his digits against your head and sides. You hold his index finger, resting your forehead against it and closing your eyes as a sign of trust. But you feel guilty.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, knowing he won’t understand. But you say it anyway. “I love you. I love you so, so much. But you're destroying me. I can’t stay here anymore.”

A tear slips down your cheek. You don’t notice it until Drift gently brushes it away.

“I have to go.” Your voice breaks. “I need to leave. I hope you’ll learn why. And I hope you won’t hate me for it. I-I don’t think I could handle it if you did. Please don’t hate me. Please don’t think I hated you.”

Drift coos. His reply is indecipherable. You think he’s trying to comfort you…but you’ll never know for sure.

He doesn’t swallow you tonight. You don’t know why; maybe he thinks you need a break. Maybe he just wants to hold you in a different fashion this time. You stay awake hours after he falls asleep, your little form nestled in the crook of his neck while he snoozes on his stomach with his arms crossed beneath his massive pillow. You peer off into the darkness, listening to his quiet breaths.

For the longest time, you’ve thought of this room as yours and his. A space the two of you share together. Ours. It's fed into your delusional ideations of a future in which the two of you learn each other’s languages, where you stand on equal ground, you belonging to him and him belonging to you. A future where mechs and humans join hands and say “I see you. I know you. I understand you and you understand me. Neither of us is higher than the other.”

But it will never happen. The collar around your neck is physical proof. There is no future between the two of you anymore. If you want to be you again…you need to let Drift go.

You shuffle away from the bot’s neck and stand. The only parts of him that are lit up right now are the red symbol on his chest and the soft blue of his mouth. He’s so peaceful. This giant alien, who you know has fought in many battles from the scars you can see, is soothed by your presence. You, an insignificant little human being. The dynamic is honestly quite hilarious. You're like his very own version of a chihuahua.

You want to hug his nose, knowing you will never have another chance again. But Drift is a light sleeper, and you're testing the waters enough already. You can’t risk it. It pains you, but you drop your arms and turn away.

Using the metal ladder he made for you so you’d have easy access to his berth, you climb down and grab your knapsack. Quietly padding across the long expanse of the room, you make it to the door. It senses your presence and slides open. You force yourself not to look back when you walk out.

You wonder if he will cry for you when he wakes up and finds you gone.

The spaceship is ominous at night. The only thing you can hear as you traverse the hallways is your heartbeat pulsing in your ears. You're trying to be quiet; passing by multiple rooms with slumbering bots inside has you holding your breath and then letting it out in a forcefully slow, reedy wheeze. You are, after all, a mouse in a prison filled with cats; slow and steady and silent wins the race.

You survey the elevator when you get to it, at a loss of how you’ll possibly find a way to operate it due to how small you are. A miracle finds its way to you, however, in the form of a mech. This one you don’t recognize. He has a similar color scheme to Drift, but is noticeably bulkier, with a strange cannon sitting on his right shoulder and a blue eyepiece over the adjacent optic. All of his focus is on the datapad in his hands as he summons the elevator. You wait for the doors to open and for him to step inside before darting after him. Luckily he doesn’t look up fonce on the short journey. Your cover remains unblown when the doors part again and he heads off. You go in the opposite direction, because like hell are you going to follow the strange robot to someplace where there are probably more strange robots.

You slip in and out of sight, staying far away from any mechs who are awake. They do not see you, which means you are doing this right-though there are some alarming instances where you think you’ll be caught. One such occurrence happens when a tall, thin blue mech with a chest like the front of a helicopter nearly sees you duck into an open storage room for quick cover. Its single orb ominously scans the darkened room. You watch from beneath a large shelving unit, terrified out of your mind. You don’t move, nor do you make a sound, keeping a shaking hand over your mouth.

Finally, after what feels like hours, the mech stomps away. You let your head fall forward respitefully.

You know you're nearing your one-way ticket to Earth when you see bright yellow signs plastered on the walls with loud black alien words telling you to hurry left with the help of large arrows. Escape pod symbols, accompanied by a funny little robot mascot, are the giveaway. You feel a sort of giddy euphoria swell up within you. You're almost there. You're going to escape. You're going to go home. It all seems far too good to be true; sure, you’ve imagined this scenario happening over and over again, but you never really did believe it would happen.

You pinch your arm multiple times just to make sure you aren’t dreaming. This is not in your head. This is happening. You really are going back to Earth.

Your collar suddenly vibrates. And then it starts to screech.

You nearly jump out of your own skin. The alarm is loud, piercing, and undeniably going to alert someone to your presence. You slam your fists against it multiple times, but it doesn’t let up. Your heart sinks when the realization of what's going on hits.

Shit. He put a tracker in it.

You need to run. You shove yourself forward into a full-on sprint, dashing down the last remainder of this hallway, then turning the corner and seeing the numerous escape pods all lined up in the wall. You choose the first one, grabbing the edge of the circular door and pulling with all of your might. The tendons in your neck strain as you grunt and slowly bring the door back with you. Clamoring in, you give it one last heave before it shuts on its own and seals you inside. You hear the lock click into place. The entire cabin flickers to life, with the lights on and the control panel booting up. As you expected, everything is far too big for you to reach. But it seems you won’t need to. A loud robotic voice emanates from the central console, speaking to you in the native mech language.

Your collar is still going off. You don’t have a lot of time.

“I-I can’t understand you!” you yell over the din. “I’m a human, from Earth! I speak English!”

The voice pauses. Seconds later, to your amazement, it talks, and you can understand. “Language notifications made. Destination updated. Scanning…” A panel on the ceiling pops open, and a blue light filters out, washing over you. “Scanning complete. Species: Homo Sapien. Homeworld: Earth. Milky Way Galaxy. Status: Critically endangered. Suggesting immediate travel to Earth.”

You clap your hands. “Yes! Yes, that’s it! Earth, set the destination to Earth!”

“Destination set. Awaiting command to launch LOST LIGHT LIFEPOD 01.”

You are about to give the order when something slams against the door. You whirl around, your heart stuttering when you see who’s there. It’s Drift. He’s made it. And he looks horrified. With trembling fingers, he yanks on the handle. When the pod remains fastly shut, he pounds on the circular window with so much force the entire thing shudders and you think he’s going to rip it right off of its hinges. “Little one!” he screams, voice muffled beyond the barrier of glass. “Little one! Open…!” The rest of the sentence comes out as sharp metal shrieks.

You stand there helplessly. The pod once again inquires for your command, yet you can’t find it within yourself to speak.

Drift is doing everything he can to get to you. He’s like a rabid beast, clawing at the window, teeth bared in visible frustration. His biolights are going mad when he roars and sends his whole body into the door. This time, it does give a little. You can see some dents in the gray metal.

This…is a side of Drift you have never seen. It is desperate, vicious. And it terrifies you. You stumble back to the opposite end of the pod and curl up, hugging your knapsack to your chest like a child squeezing their favorite stuffed animal. Drift continues his futile attack on the door, but pauses when he makes eye contact with you. His face falls. His fists relax and slide downward to press palm against the glass.

He’s quiet as he seems to reflect on how he just presented himself front of you, then whispers heartbrokenly. “...Sorry.” Tears stream down his cheeks. His hot vexation melts away and exposes his remorseful center. “Sorry. Sorry, sorry, sorry. Little one. Y/N.”

Oh my god.

All noise ceases when you register what he just said. Your name. He said your name. He’s never done that before. You didn’t think he knew your name.

He learned to say it. For you.

Drift whimpers like a kicked dog, moving to crouch lower. “Y/N. Y/N, please. Stay. Stay with me. Please don’t go. I love you.”

You’ve changed his life. You don’t need to be told this. You know you’ve brought him a sense of joy he hasn’t felt in years. You didn’t come here of your own free will. But you freely chose to love him. You gave yourself up and became his everything while he became yours. Isn’t he your home? Isn’t he the one who saved you? Can you really leave someone who cares about you so much?

Your legs move on their own accord. Your heart beats with his and you take tentative steps towards the door. Drift twitters and gives you an encouraging nod, gesturing for you to keep walking.

Why do you want to leave him so badly? Why would you want to throw away this perfect life?

Your little human hands come to rest right over his massive robotic ones. You two are separated, but you think you can feel the warmth coming from him. Drift bonks his forehead against the window anticipatingly. “Come on,” he whispers. “Come on. It’s…okay. You're okay. Please.”

Your hands are human. You will never see another pair again if you return to him.

Your life is not supposed to be perfect. A human’s life is messy, and disastrous, and chaotic, and beautiful. His life is too, but not in the same way as yours.

“Goodbye, Drift,” you murmur, voice breaking. “LOST LIGHT LIFEPOD 01…take me to Earth.”

The escape pods hums and rumbles. “Command accepted,” it announces. “Preparing ejection in three…two…one.”

The last thing you see and hear before the pod lurches forward and rockets out of its dock is Drift’s agonized expression and his wrenching wail.

Your vessel speeds away. You get a fantastic view of the ship in all of its stunning glory. It felt so gigantic when you were inside, but from out here, you can fully comprehend its overwhelming proportions. You watch it rapidly shrink as you gain distance from it, until it's just another speck of light in the universe. And when you can’t even see that anymore, you allow yourself to collapse against the floor eagles-spread. You gaze up at the ceiling, feeling surprisingly hollow. There is no victorious sense of triumph, no excitement to return home. You don’t even know where home is anymore. Somehow, after everything you’ve gone through, you’ve come out even more lost than you already were.

The waterworks start shortly after the escape pod jumps into hyperspace. Heaving sobs, messy tears, you lie there and weep to the stars, not noticing when your collar finally stops beeping.

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plusvanity · 1 day

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Yesterday, I wanted to say that people who blocked me did the wiser thing, but today, I want to touch on a recent issue, a hugely (intentionally) misinterpreted and degrading problem.

The controversies that people started to spread about me literally make me sick to the stomach.

They don't give a fuck about my countless explanations of how this ship is my comfort ship, designed to help me heal from severe abuse, self hatred, body dysmorphia, depression and anxiety.

I try to switch from unhealthy coping mechanisms to something that is both productive, helpful and most of all, harmless (because it's imaginary).

They felt the need to turn something that I created as my own personal fictive escape into a gross sadomasochistic, abusive and extremely toxic 'excuse' for 'why is this ship and not that?'. My guts twist for seeing such cruel assumptions when I have one thing that makes me happy (a story, a healthy narrative) viciously turned into a gruesome scenario that is not what it is at all.

The fact that they accuse me of shipping fair-skinned, blonde people is also the biggest hypocrisy that they could come up with when they themselves forget that Øystein's natural hair is blond and his eyes are blue in their own double-standard ship.

The fact that accuse me of romanticizing self-harm while they themselves 'like' (I have proofs) and approve art of EuroDead self-destructive romanticism shows their duplicitous and impostor nature. This is not to be taken as an insult, but an obvious fact concluded by their behavior.

My ship has little to do with physical looks and everything else to do with the in-depth psychology. It's not me, PlusVanity who says that there's a gigantic overlap between highly-autistic traits and trauma response (in personality disorders), it's Freud, Jung, Lacan's teachings and many other's scholars, neurologists and psychiatrists came to this conclusion many many years before you and I were even born. If you, dearly-opinionated friend, think that you can prove to these honorable psychoanalytical figures (and me, of course) otherwise with credible and well-documented research and not your 'I don't like that just because' synthetic opinion, I will gladly listen to what you have to bring up. I am well-versed in the philosophical and psychological domain, and I can provide solid arguments to everything I claim.

It's more than just unfair to point the finger at me, accusing me of a ludicrous sadomasochistic and 'subliminal racial element' in my art just to satisfy your late frustration with an ' good-enough explanation' for something that you never even bothered to look into because otherwise you would know that you are wrong. I'm not spiteful, I'm just pointing your flaws in logic as straightforwardly and inconsiderable as you seem to point mine, but it's not like you will actually try to understand what I'm saying because this must imply 'admitting defeat' and a kick in the ego, so you don't even bother with my transparent explanations. That's alright.

This message is for the people who are open and mature enough to read the motive behind my art and writing. This monologue is not for the ones who blindly accuse me of horrible things or a hidden agenda that I don't have or try to promote.

If you think that you know better than me, you simply don't. Why might that be? Because I am the author, because you don't think with my brain and you have no access to what I stand for, other than my words and actions and neither my words or actions stood for any type of abuse or political extremism.

You also put words into my mouth by calling me a fan of Varg, when I'm most certainly not, but I mean you hate me, of course you will say such things. Everyone who's following me knows that I not only hate Varg, but mock him daily for his spiteful persona.

I do not engage in any drama, I am not here to fight anyone.

I will only have civilized conversations (if openness exists). I am here to be and share with my friends the one thing that makes me happy. To subjugate me for simply having a different view than yours is tyranny and black and white extremism.

Pairing real people is morally bad, but this includes all real people. Not just Varg and Pelle, but Øystein and Pelle too. Doesn't sound fair now, does it? I understand why.

Anyone is free to believe anything, but a conspiratorial opinion will never compare to the ultimate truth that only the author can provide.

Please block me if you wish for. This is a far more mature approach than lurking here or sending hate. I hope this is constructive.

To sum it up, I'm beyond hate and ingoing frustration. I will gladly wish my late-proclaimed haters a wonderful day even if they roll their eyes. 🖤

You cannot change options, you can only provide your insight.

Be kind, be open, be alright 🖤

I wish this post can be shared so a lot of people can read this 🙏

#my ramblings #pelle ohlin #varg vikernes #burzum #per yngve ohlin #true norwegian black metal #dead mayhem #mayhem

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sgiandubh · 1 day

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But first, time to say good-bye

It was to be a late departure (bureaucracy will someday kill us all...) from Athens, an endlessly diverted way North through a very early summer and some fitful sleep near the border, where poppies were already in bloom and elusive to the camera:

I promised to share with you my story with Mycenae the day I would leave Greece for good. Yesterday was the day, so here goes.

I first went to Mycenae on a horrendously rainy day, in November 2018. The place struck me as a haphazard settlement of sorts in the wake of some ancient apocalypse, which was absolutely correct. We stayed in my colleague from Culture and Press' car, munched on some horribly stale koulouria as all hell broke loose outside, when she finally told me: ' you know what, I am happy we made it here: in Mycenae, you can only hear and tell the truth, you know'.

I have to say I ogled in suspicion. I was wet, hungry and completely unused to the Greek way of dressing everything up in mythology. She spoke Greek as I speak French and knew perfectly well what she was doing. She was casting a spell - an unbreakable one, for which I will forever be grateful. Oh, and as all myths would have it, the Lion Gate was closed, by the time we arrived.

It took me almost two years to go back there, during the pandemic, scared summer of 2020, when everything was empty and glorious to fully take in, like a big gulp of colors and sounds and life. My digs were to be always the same: unassuming Petite Planète, the last B&B in town, a stone throw away from Agamemnon's treasury, owned by the Dassis clan of archaeologists.

Their story begins in Constantinople, around 1875, when Konstantinos, a young orphan, begged Heinrich Schliemann to take him along to wherever he was traveling. He quickly became indispensable and helped with the first digs in Mycenae. He was the one who found Agamemnon's mask:

When the digging was over, Schliemann bought him a tiny house for two pence and a half and told him to stay there. 'Many people will come to visit and they will need food and a roof. Make sure you do your best and it will make you a rich man.'

And they came. In droves. If you ask nicely, V. will show you their reception rosters, safely tucked away in a bank vault, in Argos. I had the privilege to see Virginia Woolf's signature and I was stunned. Schliemann's two pence house is now doubled by a garish modern addition you can see from the main road as La Belle Hélène B&B ('my cousin Agamemnon is a greedy idiot', says V), but Schliemann's room is piously kept as it was when the strange German gentleman left them to their fate. As is, they did not become rich, but that does not matter. You will always find a place at their wonderful table, where Mamma Dassis cooks the same food they ate back in Constantinople and they would not have it otherwise. The new, bigger and better B&B is called Petite Planète because of V's father undying passion for Saint Exupéry's Little Prince. It permeates everything without being obtrusive, because sometimes 'the essential is invisible to the eye'.

Back in 2020, they were worried. Very worried. The Lion Gate was open again, but the 'cretins at Google' wouldn't have it and kept on listing it as closed, on their maps. People were canceling their bookings. The village stood unusually quiet and forlorn.

I made no promises. But I did phone some people at the Greek Ministry of Culture. The least person I expected to be of any help, H, a transparent, mousey freeloader, who was always the last to leave all of our events in the hope we'd take her to dinner in town, happened to be some sort of underling at the Archaeological Sites Department. She immediately understood what I wanted her to do.

Three days after I left Mycenae, on my road trip to the Mani peninsula, I received this message in my Booking inbox:

This started it all. And from that moment, all my Greek roads will lead there. It's also been a long time since I have trouble forcefully paying them for my monthly stays (booking and paying in advance helps, though), something they adamantly refused last time I went there:

'G., the girl wants to pay.'

'This is ridiculous, of course. This girl is family.'

Someday, I just know I will be back. For good.

After five years and a half, many more fabulous stories (Mycenean potter and poet, anyone? mad postman? Kyria Stamatoula and her goats? Kyrios Pandelis and his jams?) the only thing I know about Greece is that, for all its (many) misgivings, this land is about two things:

Friends and Heroes.

#psa #life as is #Peloponnese #mycenae

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alienve · 1 day

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Just noticed that the background of Vere’s drawings contain symbols of the LI, and maybe even some of their endings.

1. The crow feather (mhin cuz duh) but notice that it’s kinda directly on top of the plants, possibly symbolizing Leander b/c of the scene where he gives a makeshift flower to Mc OR could have something to do with the sewers being overridden by plants in the Amaryllis District. (lmao is that how you spell it??)

2. Top center you can see Leander’s knife thingy

3. Mid left is Ais’ bracelet, it’s also being covered by Mhin’s crown feather

4. The tea on top left (duh Vere) but it’s also green, I take this as it being bitter maybe? So maybe one of his meh endings

5. Mc’s key in top left corner (Could be Vere or Leander, maybe even both)

6. Kuras’ glass vials in bottom center

7. Kuras’ jewelry also at the top right ( so far he’s the only one to actually wear gold jewelry/trinkets)

7. Next to the vials is the nail file thingy and maybe what looks like a drawstring bag, have no clue and I’m probably grasping at straws but these could probably relate to background LI (Elyon and Sen)

8. The two rings overlapping each other at the top right corner of the page, possibly symbolizing marriage or some form and devotion

Also wanted to talk about the placement of some of these items starting with the rings

1. The rings are very close to the page, could argue this wouldn’t mean anything because the tea is also close to the page, but this just seems like normal placement (you have a refreshment while doing something a lot) but I think this placement is significant because it’s a continuity in the drawing of the LI Vere has done so far, meaning that the possibility of a romantic and whimsical ending is possible for all the LI

2. If Vere hates Leander so much, tf is his knife doing there? Bro really just out here stealing

3. The items directly placed on the page correlate to Leander, Kuras, and whoever tf that nail file belongs to

4. The lighting is very reminiscent of that one scene in the trailer when we’re introduced to Leander, suggesting he has a lot of significance to many of the LI’s fates, NOT to mention that his knife is the closest and directly in the source of the light

Then, there’s the condition of the paper and Vere’s teacup:

The paper is slightly ripped at the edge and wrinkled all around, as someone that is a serial eraser, this could mean he was either vigoury erasing previous sketches of Mhin, which makes sense because many of the sketches seem transparent, or that he’s low on paper and they’re in poor condition for age, but looking back at the bag, there seems to be a stack of paper in there, so?? I’m going with the serial eraser cuz that’s so real of him

And then there’s his dialogues of the sketches for Mhin and Kuras:

Mhin’s is more playful and teasing, while he doesn’t say anything for Kuras, there is mention that he was heavily bribed to draw him AND that the sketches of him were so crude that they were deserving of a whole other paper. I think this could translate to rightfully seeing Kuras as more of a threat than Mhin, and not wanting to piss him off ( as he already wants the mf dead) or that he truly does put his all in the drawings because of how much he enjoys handmade gifts and considers this such

That’s it fr (possibly lying)

*showing pictures sorry it’s out of order*

#touchstarved game #kuras #ais #leander #vere #kuras touchstarved #ais touchstarved #mhin #mhin touchstarved #serial eraser type shit #can we slander this man a lil more pls I love him

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hiskillingjar · 2 days

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just a doll on a string

Relationship: Ren Hana/Reader, Fox/Reader Rating: Explicit Contains: Vaginal Sex, Intercrural Sex, Drugging, Dollification, Blood, Light Bondage, Vomit Mention Length: 2300+ words

a very kind request from @woofykill, thank you so much, angel!

my fic commissions are open, so if you want a fic of your own, enquire within!

"Huaah..."

You let out an unsteady moan as the sharp needle slid out of your arm, a bead of blood oozing out of the pinprick in your skin.

You didn’t know the name of the drug now pumping through your system, but you knew that it was probably (definitely) the reason you were immediately feeling dazed and confused, and your brain was feeling hot.

Unable to think of words to say (would you even have any, if you could?), your heavily made-up eyes, skin coated, painted with smeared eyeliner and black kohl, peered up towards Fox as he set the empty syringe down on his desk and approached you slowly, the heels of his shoes tapping metallic *clangs* on the filming room floor.

"There we go, that's it," Fox crooned, his voice low and horribly comforting as he swept a hand through your dark hair and urged your hazy eyes upwards, the handsome crease at the corner of his own crinkling with fondness and lust. "That's a good girl. You’re responding perfectly, darling. It feels good, doesn't it? I made sure that it would…"

"Mm," You moaned softly, keening up to his touch and pulling at your handcuffs (the same that bound your ankles together underneath your thighs). They were the soft ones, pink leather with padded, lined interiors. They were there to restrain you, to keep you still, not to hurt you. "You...ahh, you didn't need to…to drug me..."

"Ah, but I wanted to, sweetheart," He replied with a sharp titter (his practised laugh, the laugh of a showman), his clawed fingers idly tracing down your heavily blushed cheeks and over your full lips. "It's just so nice seeing you so docile for me...so dreamy, so lost...like I could do anything I wanted to you and you wouldn’t have the energy to stop me. It's really too adorable. How could I possibly stop myself?"

Your lips parted obediently (mechanically, like you didn’t have control over the gesture) for his fingers and, satisfied that you had done what he wanted, he pressed them down against your pierced tongue. His golden eyes were practically gleaming as you drooled messily down them, down his palm, down his wrist, letting saliva and spittle cover your lips, your chin, pool down and soak into the front of your white top.

"Look at you," He murmured, his voice thick with something akin to awe and lust in tandem. "So messy, my girl...I'm really going to have to get that fixed, aren't I?"

You gurgled helplessly as he pressed his fingers deeper down your throat, your dark eyes rolling back in your skull at the feeling of his sharp claws raking over your tongue and the delicate walls of your windpipe.

For whatever reason, though, the painful sensations that you should have been feeling, were expecting, were replaced by nothing more than hazy pleasure, and you could already feel cool wetness begin to soak into your panties as you gagged and spluttered around his fingers even more.

If you had the mind to, you might have felt ashamed that he had subdued you so easily, so carelessly.

But your mind was far away now, and all you could think about was the daze of pleasure you were currently floating on.

"Yes, you're getting it now, aren't you?" Fox then added, settling down on one knee in front of you, his free hand reaching up to idly grope at your chest, fingers tracing over the semi-transparent spots where your drool was soaking in the worst, making the thin material stick to your skin and sheen through white. "You're...familiar with this drug, aren't you, sweetheart? You missed it..."

"Upfff..." You groaned, trying to press your teeth together as he forced his fingers deeper, almost deep enough to make you retch and gag.

And yet, it still felt...so good.

Mind-meltingly good, even, good enough that you had to press your thighs together to stop your cunt from throbbing so much.

"You know, if pain is making you this wet," He annunciates his point by forcing your legs apart again and pressing his knee against the wet fold of your cunt, relishing in the high whimper you let out as soon as he did so. "Imagine how good true pleasure would feel, how good it would feel to take my cock inside of you...you might just lose your mind, hm?"

Without warning, he then drew his fingers back roughly, hard enough to immediately trigger your gag reflex and force a small amount of stringy vomit from your throat and down your front.

God, even the stomach acid burning your throat felt good.

Despite the pain, despite how much it should have been hurting, you were still moaning mindlessly and drooling like an idiot all the way down your front, your eyelids fluttering like a broken baby doll as you tried to acclimate yourself to the white-hot pleasure.

"Ahh, that won't do," He grimaced at the vomit stain with a shake of his head, wiping his fingers off on his trousers. "No no, it won't do at all. Messy girl.” He chided softly with a low ‘tut-tut’. “I'm going to have to get you redressed…you know, since you can’t look after yourself properly anymore."

As if on cue, you suddenly felt firm hands reach down to the cuffs around your wrists and ankles, unclip them with ease (he hadn’t even put in that much effort to bind you, it seemed) and wrestle the stained clothing from your lax body.

You didn’t resist in the slightest, of course, since all of your limbs were totally lax and malleable as the clothing was stripped off.

You just hoped that you’d get redressed into something cute.

Fox simply stood in front of you and the firm hands, smiling with placid amusement as you were redressed into a tight tank top (adorned with a tacky graphic in pink and white and glitter, so different from what you’d normally wear) that clung provocatively to your full, pierced chest (clung a little too tight, your breasts were practically spilling out of the thing), and a pink, plaid skirt that wasn’t long enough to cover your backside, let alone your scarred thighs.

This was exactly the way Fox wanted you, though.

Pliant, agreeable, and dressed like a total slut.

"Much better," He praised with a sharp grin and a nod, taking his slow steps back in front of you as your wrists and ankles were chained up once more (even tighter, forcing your chest and hips to jut forward, as if you were presenting yourself). "And you were such a good girl too, letting yourself be posed and dressed, just like a doll...such a sweet, little thing."

His fingers reached down, then, and rubbed against your now bare cunt underneath your skirt, evidently satisfied when he found it drooling with wetness by the way his ears twitched and his tail immediately began to wag.

"I think I should give you a reward for that, don't you?"

Once again, you felt the authoritative pull of firm hands on each of your bound limbs, as you were pulled up against a familiar foam wedge, your limbs widely splayed outwards in spite of your binds and your half-lidded eyes rolling up to the ceiling, to the single, swinging light bulb.

The air in the filming room was cool on your hot cunt, enough to make you tremble and your nipples swell with blood and perk up, though that was nothing compared to the amount you were trembling when Fox approached you again, unzipping his suit trousers and placing a firm hand on your spread thigh.

"Just look at you," He sighed happily, sliding a hand into his underwear (expensive, Armani or some other designer brand) and slowly jerking himself to full hardness. "A helpless little doll underneath me. Everything a man like me could want. It's difficult to resist, you know." He licked his fangs idly as he pressed the head of his cock against your slit, running it up and down and feeling your oozing wetness slick up his length. "Mmf…and I've never been very good at resisting, as you well know~"

You were unable to do anything else but lie back pliantly and tip your head back as Fox's slim hips pressed to yours and he slid his cock inside of you, almost immediately groaning at the tight clench of your kegel muscles around him.

You, at the very least, had enough of a mind to make this good for him, it seemed.

You let out a long and dreamy moan at the pulsing sensation of his cock inside of you, to which he took in a sharp hiss through his teeth as you clenched up even tighter.

He somehow pinned your body down completely with his own, keeping you still, and you relished the opportunity for him to be so close to you.

"God, your little pussy is so tight," He groaned lowly in the back of his throat, his hands on your thighs clenching as he forced himself entirely inside of you. You could feel the initial swell of his knot against your slit and your entire body ached for it to fill you completely. "You fit around me so well…like…” He gasped again, his ears tilting forward. “Like you were moulded for me.”

"Nghh..." You groaned, panting wantonly open-mouthed and tipping your head back again and again as your spine arched dramatically, the short chains of each of your cuffs jangling with each hard thrust of his hips.

"If I could do nothing but fuck you all day long, I would in a heartbeat," He was panting himself (he did have a good twenty years on you, after all, and you had enough of a mind about you to be turned on by that), his free hand reaching up to the front of the tacky tanktop you'd been forced into, groping and pawing at your breast while he fucked you like he was born to do it. "Mph...too good."

"Nfff..." You bit your lip hard to hide a delirious smile, as you felt him nibble and nip at your neck, his chest pressing to yours, his twitching ears tickling your cheek and making you giggle yourself. "Sss...hah..."

"Oh, sweet girl, you can barely even speak, can you?” He murmured with an eager grin, rubbing his face against the juncture of your shoulder and your neck, scenting you like a fox would (you would know that, if you had even half a mind about you.) “Mm, if only you could see yourself right now, sweetheart…if you could see what I've turned you into."

"NGH!"

The sudden flash of pain was a surprise, enough to make you bite your lip unexpectedly hard, as his sharpened claws pressed deeply into your skin, tearing the flesh and muscle of your thigh and breast, and forcing rivulets of blood to drown and paint your skin with gruesome smears of red.

"Good girl," He praised, eminently satisfied by your pained reaction, as he pressed his hips even harder against yours, like he was trying to force his swelled knot inside of you (you couldn't do it easily, after all). "Good, pretty, little doll..."

“Hurts…hah…” You gasped as your hips bucked erratically against his. “Mpffff, pleaseeee, more…”

In spite of the blood, the torn skin, the damaged muscle, the drugs pumping through your system, coursing through your bloodstream and melting down your brain, made the pain feel like burning hot, overwhelming, overstimulating pleasure, easily the best you had ever felt, enough to make your mind fuzz and blur, and your vision go white.

"Oh, that’s perfect," He growled raggedly, baring his teeth like a man starved and narrowing his eyes, as he pulled his cock from your cunt and forced your soft thighs together with a mean slap. "That's just-" He then slid his cock between them, lubing his erratic thrusts with pearly beads of pre-cum and blood. "Mff...fucking perfect."

"Fox...nghh," You mewled, gasping as the head of his cock kept grazing over and over the worst of his scratches (impossibly deep, deeper than you thought any knife could ever go), feeling like he was teasing and stimulating every nerve in your body all at once. “T-Too much, hah…”

"Mm, that's no good either," He purred villainously, grabbing your cheeks with one hand and forcing your head back to the foam wedge, digging his claws into the marred skin around your injured eye as he kept bucking against the soft flesh of your legs. "You're sounding far too coherent right now, love...what, has your cocktail worn off already?"

"Nghh..." You slurred mindlessly, your body growing tense.

"Hmph, do I need to give you another dose?" He then asked, tilting his head with a broad grin, before he lowered his face down to yours, close enough that you could feel the heat from his cheeks and his breath on your skin. "Do I need to dull your brain even more so you'll always be my dumb, little doll, hm? Is that what you need, baby?"

You could still feel how hard he was, even when he wasn’t fucking you...at least he was enjoying this as much as you were.

"God, your body is so hot right now...twisted little dolly," He let out a barking chuckle (his real laugh, the one that only you saw) and pressed his cock-head back against the worst of your cuts, forcing the skin to tear and rupture even more like he was trying to create another hole. "You like it, don't you? You like that I'm threatening you and thinking about the best way to cripple your mind...mm..."

He licked his jaws before he leaned in to scent you again, and pressed a hungry bite to your neck, lighting your body up with another electric shock of pure pleasure.

"Let's try another dose first, though..." He growled, pulling back just enough so that those firm hands could plant your shoulders still against the wedge and line the needle's point with the harsh bite mark.

"Maybe I'll have to schedule you in for a lobotomy after we're done here...at least if the drugs don't work~"

#tpof #fox tpof #ren hana #ren x mc #ren x reader #fox x mc #fox x reader #fics #commission

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exitrowiron · 2 days

Text

Wage Transparency

Numerous states and some cities now require employers to disclose pay scales, salaries and wage information for existing and potential employees. The applicable jurisdictions continue to proliferate so many companies have simply decided to provide this information in every market. In my experience, the company established such broad salary ranges that the information wasn't particularly helpful, however it did require the company to address the compensation for those few individuals who, for whatever reason, fell below the minimum of the range.

Too much granularity of salary information can, of course, cause conflict with an organization but in general I think more transparency is better than less.

Very early in my career I was given responsibility for the annual budget process. This was before online budget software was available, so I created a very sophisticated (for that time) Excel model with VBA routines, etc. Each manager was given an excel file with the historical costs/revenues for their department and provided with instructions on how to complete the budget for each line item. In order to calculate the correct payroll taxes, etc. managers were instructed to enter the name, salary and bonus of each of their employees. This Excel sheet was then hidden and password protected.

You can probably guess the rest of story. This was before Excel had really strong password and encryption features, so I had a backdoor to the payroll sheet and when all the files were submitted, I could see every employee's salary and bonus.

Seeing which functions were paid the most was extremely motivating and ultimately guided the next decade of my career. I knew exactly what job I wanted and how much to negotiate for my compensation. Beth and I were willing to make the necessary sacrifices (including relocating 3 times) because it would be worth it.

Rather than bitching that I was paid too little, I was motivated to do what it took to get the better paying job. I wonder what would happen if companies were more transparent about their payroll.

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elradquackity · 2 days

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🌈🍓 VRC Guide for New Users

since i think some rqs are new to vrchat and radcon is coming up (17th-19th)!

PC USERS:

you can use vrchat without a headset but you won't be able to do tracking gestures

basics of WASD to move and space to jump, ESC opens the quick menu, R opens the avatar settings menu (more controls here)

some avatars have custom gestures or expressions in the R menu, GoGoLoco is the most common manual gesture set

some worlds and avatars are PC only or quest only. be aware of whether your avatar is quest friendly or quest users will only see your fallback avatar (by default it's a robot)

quest users can use their arms, do automatic expressions and grab things. you cannot. some ways quest users can interact with the world or avatars aren't possible on PC

AVATARS:

avatars are found through avatar worlds, a world someone hosts with avatars to choose from

there are avatar search worlds with catalogs of avatars to search for. the most popular at the moment are Prismic's Avatar Search and YAAS (Yet Another Avatar Search)

if the option is left on, users can clone your avatar and you can clone theirs. this setting can be turned off so no one can clone your avi

by default, you can save up to 50 avatars in your favorites. avatars you upload and fallbacks don't have to be favorited. you can also see your recent avatars

as mentioned above some avatars have custom gestures and expressions in the R menu, some also have avatar customization options in the R menu under the category gestures are in

some people's avis are capable of putting overlays on your screen, change your settings in shield level to disallow things like particles from anyone besides friends to avoid this

you can hide someone's avi in specific by selecting them and clicking the option to hide their avatar

you can change your avatar height at will in the R menu, and reset it by clicking reset avatar. you also have access to emojis, text chat, personal mirrors and cameras in the R menu

GROUPS:

groups have banners which can be displayed on your profile and above your nametag by clicking "represent this group" on a group you're in, everyone can see the groups you're in and representing

some groups are just made for representing because of this, for example, pronoun groups

some groups are like clubs where they actually host gatherings and events, or have some sort of join requirement

WORLDS:

your status decides whether other users can join your world or see what world you're in. there are explanations of each status color in game

worlds have public instances but you can also make instances that are restricted to friends, invite-only, groups etc, you can make your own instance of any world at any time

you can invite people to worlds, request invites, or join through portals that people drop in the world

a lot of worlds are interactive and have things like seats, pens, mirrors, toys etc depending on the world

MAKING YOUR OWN AVI:

you can't upload avis until you've played a certain amount, so spend time in the vrc community to get verified for creating

you need vrc creator studio which is on the vrchat site as well as unity in order to upload an avi. a 3d modeling tool like blender also helps

you can use vroid studio to easily make a custom avatar, but you'll need the vrm to vrchat converter, follow this guide

booth has free and paid assets for vroid studio and vrchat

transparent textures will glitch in unity and turn black in game, so all textures on your avi need to be 100% opaque

there are performance requirements for uploading both pc and quest avatars, some will let you upload still with poor performance and some will stop you from uploading your avi

you can use easy quest converter to get a pc avi quickly ready for quest, you'll need to upload your avi for both pc and quest if you want everyone to see it

you can install gogoloco on your avi using this guide

if there's anything anyone wants to add feel free ^_^

#rqc 🍓🌈#rqc 🌈🍓#radqueer please interact #radqueer #rq community #rq 🌈🍓

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yume-fanfare · 3 days

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i wanted to ask where did you buy your ra*bits trip album?? i wanna get the knights one but idk which is the best site to use,,

i bought it from animate.shop! they do international shipping and it comes with an a3 clear poster (as in, it's made of thin plastic with small transparent windows so you can see through in the light, it's really cool!). they also have (available internationally, i believe) an option to pay a bit more and get magnets of each member. cdjapan also has international shipping, but doesn't come with any preorder bonuses. amazon jp has shipping too i think

you can also look through all the bonuses and if you really like any that don't have international shipping, you could order it through a proxy service, who will ship it to you but explaining that could be a whole another post hskfjsls

the preorder bonuses per store, last i checked, are:

animate (intl shipping): A3 posters, magnets available

amazon (intl shipping): rectangular can badge

tower records: plane ticket

tsutaya records: big photocard (with a polaroid-like frame)

rakuten: postcard

hmv: small photocard

gamers: microfiber cloth (15×18 cm, it's like the one you'd use for glasses)

all of these are of the album cover image!

you can also expect an 15€-20€ extra fee for customs + IVA 😔🫡

#a mí es que de aduanas m cobraron más porque pedí más cosas pero a una amiga que pidió solo el álbum fue 14'95€ si te sirve #y si tienes cualquier otra duda me dices hskfjskfjsk #la cantidad de dinero que he gastado yo en álbumes de japon es algo que no debe ser mencionado #enstars #knightzp #preguntas

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suffarustuffaru · 2 days

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The fanbase is scaring me, the redesigns brought up some weird people that are REALLY passionate about Liliana being half naked

Like theres a whole war going on on twitter rn and the poor character designer got harassed

My problem is with the amount of people upset with this, like i knew we had a bunch of pedos around because of the way tappei writes the girls, but damn i didnt think there were this many of them 💀

yes ive heard about that....... im answering your ask late oops haah but i hope the situations a Bit better..... the toxic parts of this fandom give me a headache but my usual motto is to stay off twitter, touch grass, ignore people, and then hold onto my own viewpoints unless proven wrong alsjdflsdj but like. yeah this fandom is a bit tough to stay in when it comes to certain circles (for example the amount of people low quality shitposting / ranting about the fandom or whatever on rezero ao3 atm in the past days/weeks is. mm. interesting). not my first time being in larger fandoms that make you sometimes feel like youre fighting in the trenches (you could name off a few big fandoms notorious for being toxic that date back to like 2016 and odds are ive been in a couple lajdlf) but yeah seeing people complain about liliana and capella's designs and then overly fixate on emilia's boobs when these three characters have more to bring to the table than just that and theres lots and lots of good things to say about the s3 trailer and their designs..... mm. yeah. im squinting hard at a few of the things ive heard on that. but anyway!!

like the new designs are an Improvement. In General. like ok, as a boob haver myself ("boob haver" is the funniest phrase to me alsdjfls but it is true nonetheless, i am one) i do not give a shit about emilias larger boobs like ok?? her boobs are bigger?? she is still my fav ever and sometimes it just happens when youre still a growing teen/young adult and emilias back to her more revealing main outfit when she wore a different outfit in s2 so the difference in chest size is really not that much. but liliana and capella? those are Improved designs. i think ive talked abt the treatment of underage characters / characters who appear underage on my blog before (and i definitely couldve worded myself better then but i stand behind the fact that some of the stuff otsuka and tappei do regarding this in rezero is just Unnecessary).

could designs like emilia's still be improved on in other ways? yeah 100%, just in the sense that there could probably be changed a bit to fit her slightly more timid and soft spoken personality. or you could take different directions on it in general if you wanted. ive seen some great redesigns of her main outfit!! though her main outfit in of itself is pretty nice to look at imo and its iconic and well-known for a reason. im of the personal opinion that i wish it was a little less revealing in the same vein that her s2 main outfit was (i like that outfit a lot!!) but its still a really solid design overall.

i had some faith after seeing the anime designers fix up typhoon's original design to be More Appropriate, and i love how the essence of liliana and capella's designs were kept the same. like its not just that theyre a little less revealing (and even then, theyre both still showing a lot of skin!!! which is good!!! i like the improvement while keeping the main stuff the same), but stuff like liliana's pants aren't transparent (probably to make it easier to animate?) and the yellow/orange gradient in capella's hair looks great!! they also both look more like grown women which is a bonus. unless youre Weird about this shit which is unfortunately a small percentage of the rezero community. like you cant win with those sort of people ig, bc capella's boobs are bigger too ljasdlfj youd think that win more people over.

also i appreciate capella's sports bra bc unlike elsa's outfit it Actually looks like it's supporting her chest. if youre someone with boobs and you dont have a flat chest, youre gonna need support when being active or itll Hurt. and elsa Does Not have proper chest support okay. ill forever wince remembering elsa's design in that sense HAH....

anyway but i digress. i got no clue what to do with toxic people in fandoms despite spending a lot of time lurking in large fandoms with loud toxic people haah.... its hard to do much about it especially with increasingly declining media literacy rates everywhere.... the notorious misogyny/homophobia/etc that can happen sometimes in anime communities.... that sort of thing. i kinda just avoid it when it comes to rezero in specific, or briefly talk about it on here, or rant about it to myself in my head or chat with pals about it in private if it really frustrates me that much!! and id say im a pretty patient person hah... im not frustrated often. and the fandom is not all weird people of course and i can attest to that as ive chatted with a lot of people here... ive also seen a lot of people leave due to the fandom's Issues which is. totally fair tbh.

and i think rezero is often a "baby's first fandom" so to speak... i dont mean that in a bad way of course but its more like its the first exposure to fandom and fandom etiquette and fic etiquette and that sort of thing when it comes to english circles. or at least its a pattern ive noticed, so my theory is that that occasionally that combines with toxic fans and then you get a few people complaining about the community and how bad our fics are on rezero ao3 ig lajdlfjsdlf. which is false by the way :<< and an annoying misuse of ao3 as a free creative archive :<<

but ultimately i hope the rezero character designer's alright (and honestly theyve done super super great work - like the anime Did Not need to give emilia a bajillion outfits and go above and beyond with improving liliana, capella, giving the suwens and their hometown a whole unique aesthetic, etc). and also while i have stuff to criticize with otsuka and tappei... and the toxic parts of the fandom hah... i still enjoy rezero apart from that and the uproar with the designs has not chipped away at me too much!! ive been in this fandom long enough i guess lmao i just roll with punches at this point T^T but i also just try to look on the bright side a lot in general so ;-;;;

these are the sorts of things i like to be aware about but i dont like to get myself super involved with it (since itll probably make it worse and/or make me stressed for no good reason lmfaoo) and i wont let it enjoy the parts of rezero that i do enjoy a lot (which is to say like. the other 98% of rezero hah). so. getting off twitter is the biggest godsend i promise lajdlsfj.

but anyway!! yeah i dont have much organized thoughts on all of this, this is just me rambling my feelings on it. hope this all makes sense anon <3

#idk how things are on the eastern side of the fandom but the western side can be a little. wild yes.#ask #i try to be as fair as possible in my opinions ljasldfjd but yeah like. people complaining about the designs. i dont agree with it for a Lo #t of reasons. and on a lighter note #honestly my only thing with capellas anime design is that her eyes arent more red!! :<< but her pink eyes look very nice too though <3 #i hope to see like a red-pink gradient on them maybe... thatd be cool...

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