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katyspersonal · 1 year

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*boots down door*

You mention Bloodborr OC's

GIMME ALL THE BACKGROUND!!!!

Allllllright, I think I will tell you about my favorite!

Strangely enough, I did only draw her ONE whole time so far, back in, what?.. June 2022? And it is only a headshot! But I always imagine her wearing cyan/indigo/grey clothes, fashioned after Old Hunters' aesthetic, and... a particular iron helmet with only one eye hole, yes. She is an OC based entirely on how you choose to read this line:

She appeared in my head based off a few factors; that we can clearly see Valtr being summoned with both eyes visible (not a single effort to obscure the second eye, unlike with Djura), we know that Impurity rune that LETS you see Vermin was discovered 'within a forbidden Beast Eater' (so, Valtr himself), we know that Valtr curses not only beasts but the 'freakish slugs and mad doctors', and we know that Clocktower Dial has a rune similar to Impurity but not exactly it:

(Thank you @val-of-the-north for handy refs ( x ))

That gave me a thought, aboutl Valtr being taken right into Research Hall labs upon his (rather dramatic) arrival in Yharnam; as someone who ate a beast, he was expected to be very much contaminated, and, well... Research Hall offered the so-called voluntary-obligatory treatment for such people. Either get killed before you became a beast, or be "treated" to not become a beast :') And this is where he met an Old Hunter Geranea, that was likewise dragged into research - and already missing one eye, since all patients get one eye removed to become an Eye Pendant + for easier access to their brain.

I always presumed runes system was a deciphering system more than it was a set number of the runes, since Ludwig and Adeline were able to envision their own runes without Caryll! So, Impurity rune is special - it is a concept. Every person has their own alternative of Impurity rune, as it appeals to the individual concept of what IS evil. Geranea quickly caught up that there was something abnormally filthy in Valtr and insisted that he should not have gotten 'water' treatment under any circumstances lest he'd erupt under it flourishing and die right after. People that yearn to exterminate evil see 'human dregs' as pests, but people who yearn to treat it peacefully see evil as flowers. Geranea was able to see the flowers akin tomb mold that you find across dungeons and Hunter's Nightmare sprouting from people before they died, as indication of how 'dirty' their blood was, and... let's say, Valtr had an extraordinary amount of them because of what happened to him.

She helped him to envision his own idea of evil as someone familiar with Caryll's runes language, deciphering the weird sounds his body was emitting, and helped him to escape by giving him her eye pendant to use as a bait on the string for a giant crow that was frequenting Research Hall's balcony - think of holding a carrot on the string before a donkey! As for her own fate? Well, she was able to see through utter corruption of both 'Sea' and 'Stars', rejecting both and becoming one of the few if not the only one patient that banished the Arcane from her body with raw hatred and willpower alone.

She would manage to escape the Research Hall and cover her identity in new costume and with the new weapon, to not get caught by the Assassins. And... of course, she'd get the bucket helm, to obscure her face! She was to contact Valtr later under new identity, but their friendship was just not meant to last; they had drastically different ideas on how to treat human dregs and fell apart in a very nasty conflict over it, parting their ways.

Ever since then, Geranea was a strange cross between a Hunter and a Blood Minister (don't confuse with Blood Saint!). She would find people afflicted with human dregs through seeing whether they displayed 'flowers' sprouting from them. Her having banished the Arcane influence from her very body and soul via spite alone granted her blood a special immunity against both Beast and Kin afflictions, so her treatment? It included taking the blood from a person, transfusing it into her own body, putting up the mental fight against this person's darkest impulses (or corruption of Great Ones), and, after immunity has been worked up, she'd give the 'healed' blood back to this person. Just... Giving them free antibodies against their OWN afflictions that she'd work on her own. Doesn't it sound like too good to be true?

Well, that it was. Not only effect of such immunity still COULD virtually wear down, but also poor Geranea would let evil, insanity and pain of people through herself over and over. And over and over and over and over and over... In the end, it cracked her up, and she grew to be corrupted and no longer able to process all this - becoming evil and twisted herself. Her last sane thought however? That was Valtr.

She crawled back to him, being terribly mutated and having twisted thoughts, reflecting empathy to all afflicted people she healed from their darkest impulses. Their last meeting in long time was essentially her telling him that he was right and begging to be killed, that he did. He knew what exactly ruined her, and his conclusion was: "The filth of this world doesn't deserve compassion of a kind soul".

He took her helmet though, as a further reminder to himself to always stay relentless before human dregs extermination, and never had a heart to alter it even one bit, despite having both eyes. However, he later met Yamamura, who reminded him of her with his tender, sensitive heart, and he was not to make the same mistake twice; so he was to send Yamamura away as a "spy" for Healing Church in hopes he'd find new friends there and forget the mission. Granted, Yamamura appeared to be a very stubborn and prideful man, so the mission still inflicted insanity on him - especially since he saw it through Valtr's rune, not his own.

So yeah, that's for the story..; In general, Geranea was a kind person willing to tolerate a bit too much and to sacrifice too much, that is a stark contrast to her resting bitch face and kind of a rude demeanour. I can't even call her a jerk with a heart of gold, she is just a good person that might appear slightly too forceful with wishing to help.

And! Flowers thing comes from my idea that many patients had lumenweed subtly growing on them during treatment! Here are Adeline's and Rom's for example:

Geranea's faded and died upon her rejecting the 'cosmos' with both her body and her soul, but she never got around removing them as they became too entwined with her hair. But I like to think that when she finally broke mentally, those flowers in her hair were glowing and flourishing again, as if to seek for salvation.

...Aaaaaanyway, I can't believe I never really drew her that much ;-; That face ref is like... this is IT. Boy, I gotta fix myself.

#ask replies #bloodborne #bloodborne oc #doodles #geranea the wandering healer #thank you for the ask!#i've got a few so i thought i will answer one character per ask #i came up with her in like what... summer of 2021? but she was just a text back then #and yet she is STILL just a text #got i really cannot coordinate who do i draw at ALL huh?#my most fleshed out character is never drawn #meanwhile the least thought out one was drawn at least 4 times #loooogiiiiiiic #it is a sad story though #she and valtr never really got to enjoy their friendship much #they hat like brief moment of reunion #before they fought very hard about whether 'damaged' people should have been killed or given a chance #and geranea's fate only solidfied valtr's already pessimistic and radical approach..

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that-ineffable-devil · 9 months

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I'm processing a lot of emotions tonight and I keep being drawn back to Good Omens--not just because it's the new hyperfixation or because it's so good. That's what I thought it was, at first.

But this year--hell, the last 3 or 4 months especially, I finally started taking steps to accepting and being myself. I'm rapidly approaching middle age and I'm only just now beginning to feel like I'm allowed to be me. I came out to the people in my household, a few select friends, and a few select family members--most of whom were wholly supportive. I started testosterone injections. I stopped trying to be someone I'm not. I stopped hiding who I am and who I love.

What does this have to do with Good Omens? Nothing. But also... Everything.

So much queer representation is in characters vastly younger than me--and that's good! I want queer kids to feel safe and loved and accepted in ways I never did. They deserve better than we had. And it gives me hope for their futures. I bawled like a baby when I watched The Owl House with my son and he was totally unphazed by the queerness. It's just how people are to him.

But when something like Good Omens comes along and not only grabs every opportunity to show average, everyday old(er) queer representation... It just. I've never felt more seen. More accepted. More hope for all our futures. And season 2 just knocked that out of the fucking park. And the nonbinary, genderfluid, and genderqueer rep? My God.

And it's not subtext, it's not it's own separate plotline where they're fighting for acceptance or dealing with hateful bigotry... It's just... Accepted. It's normal. No one questions it. No one even comments on it.

It's people of any age (even millions of years old) being unapologetically themselves and loving who they love openly and fully (with one notable uncommunicative group of two ineffable idiots, but they'll get there).

I just.

I can't express how grateful I am to see older queer rep at this time in my life. It's been a rough year, and I expect it'll get rougher before it gets better. But I've never been happier in my own skin, and it means the absolute world to see my literary and media heroes like Neil Gaiman, David Tennant, and Michael Sheen (and Terry Pratchett and everyone who worked on Good Omens, honestly) making this beautiful, messy, adorable, excruciating, wonderful, heartbreaking, ethereal, down-to-earth tale.

There aren't enough words in all the languages of the world to express how I'm feeling. "Thank you" just feels... Insufficient.

I just hope they know how much it means to people like me, especially after a lifetime of buried subtext and overt queerbaiting and media ridicule and general lack of acceptance, to experience this story with them.

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nikkotinamide · 6 months

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my observations and take on some nuances not conveyed in translation

to cope while waiting for Tuesday, I've been rewatching Ai Di scenes and noticed some things! this is my drawn out summary

*Disclaimer: I'm not critiquing existing translations, I think the translators have done a phenomenal job! Just wanted to add my 2 cents worth.

Part 2

Language Use in Kiseki

Ep 2

Here I realised, Chen Yi was the one who first said these lines to Ai Di, before Ai Di repeated them to Chen Yi in Ep 12. And the wording is exactly the same...sighs...these two

Ep 3

I died. After Chen YI delivered his line "我不找你，你就不会跟喔" - "Like as if you wouldn't have tagged along if I didn't find you", Ai Di actually mouthed "我就不会跟" - "I wouldn't have come". Given his facial expressions mocking Chen Yi's brooding face, I think he was being snarky and just parroting Chen Yi 😭

Chen Dong Yang asked them "当回总堂是回娘家" - basically asking them if they take HQ to be their maiden home. 回娘家 doesn't really have any deep meaning (except returning to your maiden home), but chinese/taiwanese dramas usually have female characters use this term when they are being bullied by their husband's family...make of it what you will...

Furthermore, before this he asked them to "叫老爸" (call me dad) when they called him 老大 (boss) and he kept making excuses for them in front of Zhou Ming Lei.

CDY really sees himself as their papa...

Ai Di calls Chen Yi "竖子". Coward fits the context but more directly, it is a derogatory way of calling someone a brat. Chen Yi gets upset because a punk younger than himself is being rude, and I think he got Ai Di's hidden barb - a reminder that Chen Yi is but a kid, especially in CDY's eyes, and how CDY will never see him as a man.

Ai Di makes a double entendre. He says "他会变老，你会长大。长大。" - "He'll grow old, you'll grow up. Grow big." 长大 in mandarin usually means growing up but can also mean /ahem/ growing big. To let Chen Yi know he's thinking dirty, Ai Di purposely looks down in the vicinity of Chen Yi's crotch and smirks.

Ai Di continues provoking Chen Yi, calling him 大哥哥 mockingly. Big bro is a correct translation but doesn't convey Ai Di's feelings. Here he's ironically calling Chen Yi the mandarin equivalent of onii-chan.

Our boy is a big ball of hurt and only knows how to express it through antagonising Chen Yi 🥲

Ep 4

Sighs. I really believe Zong Yi has a profound impact on Ai Di. Zong Yi is the one who told Ai Di that birthdays should be shared with people you like, and Ai Di took it to heart! He repeated this to Chen Yi in Ep 12.

Chen Yi I love you but I wanna smack you. Here he is speaking to CDY and in reference to their birthday, he uses "我的" (my), before adding on "还有艾迪" (and also Ai Di's), instead of using “我们的" (ours). Boy here really wants to be special in papa's eyes...

The translation is correct but the emphasis is lost. 那么 - so much. Ze Rui is asking Ai Di why he likes Chen Yi so much. Ai Di's dejection must have been so palpable Ze Rui felt he had to ask Ai Di just why Chen Yi was so good that Ai Di has to subject himself to so much pain.

Time for some Chen Yi redemption. Ai Di explains why. Again, translations are okay but nuances are lost. Chen Yi is the one who found Ai Di when he was so ill he was on the brink of death. Chen Yi is the one who cares for him the most (alt. gets in his business the most), the one who scolds him the most. And Chen Yi is also the one who looks after him the most.

替他 - substitute for him. Chen Yi really is Ai Di's everything so much so that he is willing to die on behalf of Chen Yi. There is a fine nuance between dying for (为他去死) vs dying on behalf (替他去死). I can't put it into words well but to me, I would say the former means there is an intentionality in following your fate, while the latter means there is an active choice in exchanging your fate for someone else's.

this post is getting too long, continued in Part 2

#kiseki: dear to me #chen ai #chen yi x ai di #ai di x chen yi #ai di #ramblings #they are making me feral

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writersdrug · 2 months

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Ghost x Reader x Konig: I Don't Need You (Ch. 10)

<- Previous - Next ->

Summary: Thankfully, things have been resolved between you and Konig. You start to settle in more with your team, and Roze shares a few thoughts with you over a smoke. The memories are still there, but just like the winter around you, they're cold and unwelcoming. You and Konig open up to each other a bit more, more than you had ever opened up to anyone.

WARNINGS: implications of masturbation, cursing, angst (if you squint?), plot building, graphic depictions of animal torture and death (PLEASE CONSIDER ALL WARNINGS BEFORE READING THIS, I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE MEDIA YOU CONSUME thank you kindly)

Notes: Yes! Hello! I exist!! I've been in a slump, and I really do apologize for that. Many of you have been very patient with me and I love and appreciate you all for it! I had to intake as much CoD literature as I could in the past few weeks to get me motivated, which helped a LOT (not to mention I discovered no fewer than ten works that currently have a hold on my heart). But it's here! I forced myself to write over half of the following chapter so that it would be less daunting to finish up. I also plan to make a wip post for yall, just to share will everyone what goes on in my rat brain.

This was edited at 3 am (god it's 4 am now, i just saw that), so if there are any grammatical or spelling errors you have my full consent to call me out on it! Please enjoy!

(sidenote, I completely didn't research how old you need to be to become a navy SEAL, so reader's age is a bit inaccurate in regards to that. pls ignore lol)

(last sidenote then you can read, does anyone have tips for customizing the layout of their fics? I see so many cool ways to style the font and cute banners and errything but I have no idea how nor what to do)

- - - -

The sky hung low with a blanket of gray. It looked like it was about to snow, although the threat was soon dismissed when noon came around and there wasn’t a single flake. The air was cold and dry, forcing me to zip my jacket up all the way and tuck my nose into the collar. I blew steady, warm breaths into my jacket and tried to soak up the heat into my bones.

It was as if the incident had never happened.

Konig and I ended up driving to the liquor store, which was a blessing, since I had run out of Yeungling (and I didn’t understand enough Turkish to converse with the clerk, nor did I have any of the appropriate money – Konig was graced with both of those necessities). We talked like there had never been a week and a half of silence between us. He talked about how he had nearly forced Ridgeback to drag me out of my room and into the common area, “… but it would have been too early for that.” He commented. That, and I would have rather died.

So life went on as normal: dreary, aside from shooting people and getting shot at. Nonetheless, it was normal, and there was a peace to be found in that.

I leaned against the building to the training room, with Roze to my left. I had intended to come out and soak up whatever natural light I could – when I saw her standing there, possibly trying to do the same, I felt the instinct to play it off as if I was just leaving the building. But she cocked her head in a greeting, and a part of me took an interest in her worry-free aura. Out of everyone, she always seemed to be the least-stressed person in the room, even in the middle of a warzone. It was the balm to my anxious mind that I never knew I needed, but gratefully stood by.

We remained together in a comfortable silence (one I would most definitely would not have been comfortable with a while ago), staring ahead, watching the indecisiveness of the brooding clouds above. I wondered what the rest of the world was doing – if they might have been as calm and carefree as us, or if they were in some kind of peril, and the horrors of it were blocked out by the clouds.

I was drawn back to the present when I heard the click click click of Roze’s lighter. I turned my head and watched as she shielded the weak flame from the wind, lighting the cigarette that hung loosely from her lips.

“You smoke?” I asked.

“Sure do.” She replied nonchalantly. “Want one?” she extended her pack of cigarettes towards me.

I glanced at the box, feeling a sour taste in my mouth.

I lay on my stomach, my muscles still twitching and shaking as I tried to even out my breaths. Ghost had tossed a thin blanket over my lower half. I hadn’t even moved from the position he had ruthlessly fucked me in – my body ached too much to even try, and my mind was still recovering from the past hour.

I watch Ghost as he reclined next to me, pushing the bottom of his mask up to place a cigarette between his lips. It was the first time I had seen any part of his face all day. He grabbed his lighter from the pocket of his pants that were discarded on the floor, lighting the end of the cigarette and inhaling. He tossed the lighter back down to the floor as he tilted his head back, exhaling a long stream of smoke. I watched it swirl in the lamplight, settling in a cloud around us. He continued puffing, staring at the wall across from the bed as I lay beside him, although I felt worlds away from him.

He'd started off the night with a mountain of stress from a mission gone sideways. Instead of the usual slow build, where he would run his hands under my shirt and kiss my lips slowly and tenderly – he had walked in and immediately demanded I remove my clothes while he began stripping out of his. I had assumed tonight was going to be a passionate one, until he threw me onto my stomach and shoved my face into the pillows. It wasn’t the first time he’d been rough with me, but it wasn’t just rough – it felt dehumanizing. An hour of constant, merciless thrusts, and a hand around my neck that restricted both my blood flow and my oxygen, and I had fallen into a state of shock.

But, in the end, I was happy to be caged in by him again.

I was happy.

He turned his eyes towards me, seeming to sense that something was off. He exhaled another puff of smoke. “Everythin’ alright?” he asked, completely void of any genuine concern.

I met his eyes with my own. I felt like I shouldn’t have to answer the question, and it stirred up a bitterness in me. But I didn’t feel like arguing with him, and I certainly didn’t want him to leave – so I nodded my head, slowly blinking my eyes. “Just tired.”

He hummed and faced the wall again. He brought one of his knees up and rested his arm against it. “Want a smoke?” he asked, still looking away.

I shook my head as much as the pillow beneath me would allow. “No.” I replied.

He sighed disappointedly. Apparently, my lack of enthusiasm after being used like an old fucktoy was irking him.

To be fair, I never spoke up about how I felt.

He grunted and rose from his position, snuffing out his cigarette in the ashtray by my bed, and picking up his clothes and pulling them on. My heart ached slightly as I watched him slide his shirt over his torso. I felt the threat of tears sting in my eyes as I wished his hands were holding me instead, keeping me warm and grounded. He pulled his jeans on and fastened them, buckling his belt rather quickly; and all while he faced away from me.

“Well, I know you probably need some alone time.” He muttered, sliding the skull attachment over his mask. “So I’ll get going. I’ll see you around.”

He grabbed his tactical vest and jacket and slung them over his shoulder. He paused by the door. “Thanks for tonight.” He mumbled, before finally leaving the room and softly closing the door behind him.

My eyes lingered on the ashtray with the half-smoked cigarette. A thin trail of smoke plumed into the air – I wanted to throw the tray across the room and shatter it. But it was Ghost’s, so I couldn’t; I couldn’t regardless, because it was a piece of him that remained with me, even when he left.

That, and the smell of smoke.

“Nah, I’m good.” I replied, facing the cold, empty base ahead of me.

“Good.” She said, pinching the cigarette and blowing a stream of smoke. “Stay that way. Did you know these bastards give you cancer?”

I chuckled into the collar of my jacket. “Do they, now?”

She hummed affirmatively, sucking another breath in through the cancerous bastard. “Who would’ve thought…”

We fell back into silence. I continued watching the stillness of the base, trying to see if the sky would follow through with its promise to fall. Now that my free time wasn’t spent holed up in my room, it somehow felt like there were fewer ways to spend it. With another mission on the horizon – a simple recon, yet dauntingly close to a heavily-guarded compound – no one was out and about when they usually were. Finding Roze outside and seemingly not worried was usual, however, and a warm sight, compared to how the rest of the team was on edge. Even Askel seemed grumpier than most days.

I hadn’t been seeking out someone to spend time with, no… that I would never do (or admit). But talking to a familiar face provided a comfort I had grown to need over the past couple of months. And, frankly, I felt like Konig might be getting tired of how much I ran to him when I craved social interaction. Though he had never said anything about it, I felt like I needed to branch out to other team members than just my Colonel. One might think I was trying to kiss his ass (I knew the accusation had already crossed Juno’s mind, but the young soldier was good at holding his tongue – when Konig was around, at least).

“You ever think about how ‘little girl’ you would react to this?” Roze asked, and I turned to face her. She had her nose scrunched, and a tinge of pink dusted over her cold cheeks. “Guns, war, no playdates or days at the beach…”

I sighed. “Probably would have cried.” I replied, allowing my freezing nose to poke over the collar of my jacket. “Especially if I had known that being a princess now adays meant spending more time worrying about becoming a hostage than anything else.”

Roze chuckled. “It’s a good thing we didn’t know then.” Her face was mostly blank, but I thought I noticed a hint of bitterness in the way her gaze landed on the ground. I watched her flick her cigarette with a bit more aggression than usual. “I would’ve tried to convince my entire family to run away to Scotland, live in hiding and pretend the rest of the world was a dream.”

“Scotland?” I asked. Soap’s cocky grin and heavy Scottish accent stirred in my mind, but it felt like nothing more than a small cloud of dust.

“Yeah – heard it’s fucking gorgeous over there.” She waved her cigarette in no particular direction. “Now, I don’t know how peaceful it is in terms of politics and war, but it’s pretty spacious. Simple, too. I feel like if I talked about throwing all my shit away and becoming a fisherman for a living, I wouldn’t get people trying to talk me out of it like I would in the States.” She took another drag, and laughed out the smoke.

“Fisherman?”

“Yeah.” She chuckled, a hardened smile gracing her lips. “I don’t know why it sounds so appealing… it just does.”

I hummed and looked back out at the compound. I wondered about Roze’s past; she had never said or done anything to indicate that it was particularly rough, as it was for the majority of us (us – I still wasn’t used to including myself, but it was becoming more of a habit each time), but the weariness in her eyes when she spoke about her younger self made me question what that girl had been through. Maybe it was just nostalgia. A yen for simpler times. Roze seemed to appreciate the simple things in life.

“You know Askel goes ice fishing?” she said suddenly.

I smiled underneath my jacket. “Seems like something he would do.”

“Every winter.” She continued. She dropped her cigarette to the floor and crushed it into the gravel. “He takes about three weeks of leave, if we’re lucky enough to get it, and goes to Norway. Sits on a frozen lake for hours a day, just waiting for a fish.”

“You make it sound like he’s never caught one.” I point out, my eyes lingering on the cigarette.

She shrugged her shoulders. “So does he. Every time I ask him what he caught, he just laughs. Says he’s never expects to get a bite.”

I closed my eyes and hummed in response. It was easy to picture the scene – Askel, sitting on a thick layer of ice, nursing the hoppy beers that he and Konig loved so much and waiting for a fish to bite. I wondered if he even bothered to reel the line in when he did catch something. Or if he even went fishing at all. Maybe he just went out there to get a sense of peace, to pretend that war and death didn’t exist.

The motion of thick, heavy snowflakes falling from the sky caught my attention. They landed on the skin of my nose, resisting the warmth for a few moments, before they eventually melted into trickles of water. A sudden gust of wind blew a flurry of them towards us, making the both of us flinch.

Maybe fishing doesn’t sound too bad.

- - - -

The shooting range was mostly silent, save for the occasional conversation between me and Konig. The lights were low, easily illuminating the gunpowder and dust swirling in the air. Konig and I stared at the paper target as we analyzed my shots. A few hit dead center, although most of them were clustered around the lower left of the bullseye. My lips were pursed into a scowl as I glared at my sub-par aim – it wasn’t typically so awful, but of course it was while Konig had been watching.

“Eh, are you sure you didn’t lie on your paperwork about being a sniper?” Konig asked as he stood behind my left shoulder, taking the target from my hands and looking at it closely. “You weren’t even ten yards from it. This is very poor marksmanship.”

I scowled in embarrassment, taking my pistol to the counter and pulling out the mag. “Rough day.” I answered bluntly as I started packing more bullets into the small compartment. It wasn’t a lie – I had barely gotten any sleep the night before. I was in the middle of a rather interesting dream involving me and Ghost, until my alarm woke me up before anything of importance happened.

“Very bad…” he mumbled to himself. I clicked my tongue in annoyance.

“Y’know…” I grumbled, loading the mag back into the gun and shoving it in my holster, “I don’t like stereotyping, but the boot really does fit you.” I walked past him and out into the hallway, not waiting for him to follow.

“Hmm?” he made an indignant noise, momentarily stuck in his spot, before he came jogging after me. “What does that mean? What stereotype?”

I chuckled. “Haven’t you ever how Germans are extremely blunt?” I asked.

“Austrian.” He retorted. “Do I need to brand that onto my face for you?”

“Wouldn’t do me much good, with the mask ‘n all.” I replied.

He laughed – rather snorted, as usual – “Ah, you’re right. Maybe I am blunt – just as much as you are defensive.”

I stopped at the end of the hall, right in front of the exit. “Defe-“ I turned on my heel to scowl at him. “I am not defensive! Where did you get that idea?!”

He stopped behind me, his eyes widening. He gestured an open palm in my direction. “This.”

I huffed, turning back around to punch the door open. The snow from earlier that day had ceased, blanketing the base in a thin layer of white. The moon seemed that much brighter against the crystalized ground, and the yellow lights scattered across the compound made parts of the snow look like sandy dunes. My nose tingled from the nip of the chilly air, and I pulled my jacket tighter around my body as the door fell shut behind me and Konig.

“Well, what am I supposed to say when you call me defensive?”

“You could agree.”

“But I don’t.”

“Which proves my point.”

I huffed in frustration, despite the smirk curling on the edges of my lips. “So, either I have to agree with you, whether I really do or don’t, or you’ve corralled me into a paradox.”

I can practically hear the gears turning in his head. “A what?”

“A paradox, like a – y’know, never mind. It’s too difficult to explain.” I let him fall in step next to me, although he was the one who needed to slow down to match my pace. “We can just agree to disagree, how’s that?”

“Agreed.” He nodded, and I chuckled. “It won’t change the fact that I’m right, you know.” He added.

I bit my lip and tried to keep my smile from growing ridiculously larger. I looked up at him and patted his shoulder – he looked down at me, and the corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled back. A stray, reddish-brown curl poked through the side of his balaclava, and I found the miniscule detail warming my heart through the cold air. He felt real, and in this moment, too human for this kind of life.

“Why did you choose the military?” I asked, turning back to look at the ground as we walked.

He hummed. “Isn’t that every boy’s dream?”

“Well, yes – but most of the time, it never becomes more than that.” I responded.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, mimicking my own position. “I’m not really sure what made me push so much for it. I almost didn’t make it, for obvious reasons.”

I chuckled. “Size does matter, huh?”

He looked down at me with a deadpan gaze, one that I refused to meet. “It almost did, in a bad way. And I almost backed out before they could be the ones to turn me away. But, of course, they knew they would find some use for my size – so they took me in.”

“And what did they do with you?” I asked, looking back at him.

“A ‘human battering ram,’ as my superiors had so nicely called it.” He framed the description with his hands in the air, as if it had been written on a plaque. I laughed and looked back down at my feet.

“Seriously?” I asked. “So they just had you breaking down doors, and then what?”

Konig laughed with me. “Well, I still had a gun, so I was able to shoot, thank goodness. And I had a bit more gear so I wouldn’t break my bones against the doors – I still dislocated my shoulder a few times, however…” he rolled his left shoulder, as if there was still a lingering pain from how often he had thrown himself at doors. “It was actually during a period of recovery when I proved that I could still be a sniper. My shoulder was still healing, so I had to give up being a battering ram for a while. I was sat with Horangi on the side of the mountain to give him cover. Of course, he was ambushed – he had to fight the Arschgiege right when we were given the order to shoot, so I had to take position behind the gun.” I noticed that his chest was puffed out a bit from pride. “That really knocked their pants off.”

I chuckled, choosing to ignore the inaccuracy of his phrase. “Did it now?”

“It did.” He replied, then looked at the ground. “For a moment. I got a good earful for overstepping boundaries that day, but it’s what ultimately landed me here – so I’m grateful for it.”

I nodded and hummed. “What was Horangi picked for?”

Konig shrugged, his hands now back in his pockets. “He never said what he and Commander had spoken about in his office. But, even if he wasn’t chosen – I like to think we come as a package. If I go, he goes, if he doesn’t, I don’t.”

I felt my heart warm at his words. The memory of how Juno had described Konig couldn’t be farther from my mind. It almost felt like I was talking to someone I briefly crossed paths with in my youth – not a war criminal, not the bloody and stiff soldier who had stepped onto the heli after our first mission. I envied his ability to separate his work stress from the time he had in between missions.

“Why did you decide to join?” He asked, catching me off guard.

It was only fair that I opened up to him, since he was so willing to do the same. Always the one to go first, too. But I had to be careful. I didn’t want this to turn into a pity party, and I didn’t want to dig anything up that I had worked so hard to bury deep beneath my subconscious.

“I was… a weird kid. Like you.” I said, making Konig scoff and roll his eyes. “Looking back now, I hate my younger self. I was so sensitive to what people thought about me, and I just wanted to be independent and strong. I wanted to be a ‘different girl.’” I gritted out the words that left a sour taste in my mouth. “I think I just wanted attention at first – of course, when I heard how everyone said they hated how annoying teenage girls were, and how gullible and weak they were, it just – it made me change. I wanted to prove everyone wrong, it wasn’t just about being different anymore. So, as soon as I turned old enough, I enlisted. Didn’t get to Navy SEAL right away, of course… but I joined every program I was allowed in until I could submit my application.”

I sighed, then chuckled. “Thought my family would say they were proud, that I was successful, that I was doing a good job… they were just angry. Said I was throwing my life away for business that didn’t involve our country.” I opened my mouth to say more, but I ended up scoffing and closing it once again. I felt like I had shared enough.

I looked at Konig, expecting him to acknowledge what I said. “That’s how the story goes…” he would say. But, when I met his gaze, I only saw concern. His brow was creased with what I imagined was pity, and my stomach churned. It was the exact opposite of the reaction I had hoped for. I only wanted to share stories with him, and now it was… this.

“I think you made the right choices.” He said, and I looked away.

“You don’t need to make me feel better, Konig. I appreciate it, but-“

“I’m not just trying to make you feel better.” He said, his accent slightly thicker from his exasperation. “You’re good at what you do. Your parents are just probably worried for you, and they don’t know how to show it.”

I bit down on my tongue, my eyes settling on the building in front of us with a hard expression. If only.

“Maybe that’s it.” I muttered, hoping he would drop the subject. He seemed to understand, and turned to look ahead with a disappointed sigh. My heart sank the tiniest bit at the sound, and I internally scolded myself. Still a people-pleaser, apparently.

We continued walking in silence, the buzz of the lights above us mimicking the static of a communication system that had been severed in a time where it was needed most. The edge of the barracks appeared into our view, just around the corner of the arsenal sheds that stood between us and our destination. I continued to stare at the ground, pretending to watch my steps and try to not slip on the snowy asphalt. My heart twisted with each second of silence that sat thickly between us. It wasn’t technically a fight, but somehow, it felt worse. It felt like the first time I had pissed him off, the first time we had spoken to each other – and god, did I already hate myself for the way I had acted towards him during those first few weeks. I didn’t want to drive another wedge between us, not after the ones that had already been worked back out.

I exhaled heavily through my nose. “Sorry.” I mumbled quietly, but loud enough that I knew it reached his ears. “Sensitive topics.”

He flitted his eyes in my direction, but didn’t bother to move his head. He sighed, and I nearly jolted when I felt his wide hand on my upper back. It rubbed back and forth, and it took me an embarrassingly long time to realize that he was comforting me. Or, trying to, at least.

“I know.” He said, and his hand rested on my shoulder. “I’m sorry for pushing you.”

I didn’t know how to respond. I was stuck on the feeling of the roughness of his palm, which I could gleam through the fabric of my jacket. How his fingers squeezed gently and released twice. There was no hidden meaning, no forced contact or any kind of attempt to put context into the touch. It was… natural. Warm, comforting, and it spoke a thousand words that I wouldn’t have been able to stomach if he had said them. It broke past my self-hatred and walls of ‘don’t be weak’ that I would have used as my defense if he had tried to verbally convey any sort of consolation. It was the first time I didn’t feel awkward about being so close to him, let alone when he was touching me. I wondered if he did this on purpose, or if he had no idea what he was doing at all.

I let myself stand nearer to him, almost tucked under his arm. I looked up and smiled as genuinely as I could – not that it was hard for me, but because I wanted to make sure that he really knew how much I appreciated the gesture. Although, if he knew that this simple act of comfort would pierce through my outer shell, was it really necessary?

“Thank you, Konig.” I said.

He looked down at me and smiled. That damn smile. I wondered how much more refreshing it would be when he wasn’t wearing his mask. It was already too much for my soul to bear when it was just the crinkling in his eyes that I could see.

“Anytime, Bonnie.” He replied, patting my shoulder before tucking his hand back into his pocket. I grieved minimally at the loss of the touch, but I was happy for what it was. “And I mean it. Anytime you need to talk – or not talk, and do that empty staring that you do – just come find me.”

I quirked an eyebrow in his direction. “Anytime?” I asked amusedly.

“Mhm!” Konig replied, his eyes on the ground as he watched his steps. Then, the realization hit him, and his eyes went wide with panic. “Oh- well, eh- I guess, not anytime-“

“You gonna tell me when?” I joked, and he laughed. “You need an open/closed sign on your door.” I jogged ahead, trying to reach the door to the barracks before he did.

“How about this?” he called out, and I could hear the grin behind his mask. “I’ll nail a chalkboard to my door, and if I’m busy, I’ll draw a stick guy jerking off in his bed!”

My cheeks burned after I heard him. “No!” I shrieked, laughing nervously. “You’ll traumatize Juno!” I quickly tried to pin this on someone other than me.

“Juno, hah?” Konig teased, and I had half a mind to run into the building and leave him on the quad. “I don’t care about him. Kid needs to be traumatized.”

I laughed and threw my head back, turning the corner around the arsenal shed. “That’s not very-“

Immediately, my heart leapt into my throat, and I gasped. Konig nearly ran into my back as he skidded to a halt.

Sick, sick, what the fuck, I feel sick-

“Stimmt etwas nicht?” he asked, concerned. “What- oh, scheisse-“

We both stared at the bird on the ground. A crow from the looks of it, though it was hard to even decipher that it was a bird in the first place, due to the state it was in. Its belly had been cut open, entrails and bloody bits pulled from the abdomen and strewn to either side of the bird. Its wings were stretched to their full capacity and most likely beyond it, crushed and missing a large number of feathers. Both of the legs appeared to have been ripped off and tossed to the left of the crow. Its beak was the worst of it all: pried open, the jaw probably broken from how wide it was spread. A haunting look of terror in the crow’s red, glossy eyes made a violent shiver run up my spine.

I exhaled shakily, my eyes still glued to the horror. “Holy shit – what the-“

Konig quickly walked around me and knelt in front of the crow. I shifted to look over his shoulder, still fearfully curious, but he held a hand out behind him, urging me to stay in place. With his other hand, he pulled at one of the bird’s wings, stiff and heavy. Whether it was frozen from the cold, or this was the effects from rigor mortis, I couldn’t tell.

“How – did a fucking fox do that?!” I asked. Are there even foxes in this area? How the hell did one get on base?

“Nein.” Konig replied, still looking at the corpse. His gaze fell upon it with a sense of… familiarity, maybe? “Not a fox, no.”

“Then what? It – whatever it was didn’t even eat-“

“I’ll take care of this.” Was all Konig said. He stood up and marched past me – I was barely able to catch a glimpse of his furious expression. His eyes were hard and narrow, and as he walked away, I noticed that his shoulders were tense and his hands were balled into fists. I didn’t dare say anything to him; he almost looked the same way he did after our first mission together, except this time, his anger seemed to be directed at something, instead of just a post-mission adrenaline high.

“I’ll see you later.” He said over his shoulder. There was an obvious fury to his words, and although I knew it wasn’t intended towards me, it still made me freeze where I stood – almost as if I might anger him more simply by taking a step after him.

Whatever it is… I thought, watching him disappear into the compound, he’s sorting it out. I can take care of myself. Although, with such an abrupt and tense departure, I was at a loss on what to do next. I looked back at the bird; its terrified eyes locked onto the sky above it, frozen in its last wish to fly away from whatever horror it endured.

A shiver ran up my spine, prompting me to look away.

- - - -

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#konig x reader #konig x reader smut #konig cod #konig smut #call of duty #cod x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x reader smut #ghost cod #cod #konig #ghost #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader

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wlfpet · 1 year

Note

Abby choking reader with her biceps!

AN; Sorry this took so long, its been killing me for fucking ever and I got stumped. Somehow I found a way to write something I could be a little bit proud of, so I hope ya'll like it!

content tags: Asphyxiation (2 in a combat context, one in an erotic context. r! receiving all three times,) fingering (r!receiving,) cunnilingus (r!receiving,) a normally degrading pet name used in a sexual context, abby is kind of mean in the beginning but warm sup at the end, reader is one of like a billion orphans that live in the tlouverse, sadge. mediocre action scenes. breast play (r!receiving,) abby gives r slurp and she didn't even pull her pants down

wc: 6.4k (woah...)

proofread?: i've rewritten this 4 times and never want to see it again.

The forest was dark and cold, wind whipping around you, through you, as you traversed deeper into darkness. It was getting dark, your radio had died a long time ago, and it had been hours since you had seen a WLF stronghold, or a stationary transceiver to call for help on. Your assignment was entry-level, sweep the grounds in WLF territory for any raider camps or pockets of traveling scars, but you were separated from your squad, and now, without any way to communicate with them, you had to find your own way back to the FOB before nightfall. You were turned around, in scar territory, alone; following the moon, sidearm drawn in your trembling hands. There was a ringing in your ears, cut only by the bumping of your anxious heart; pitifully, you wouldn’t be able to hear the cracking of rustling leaves and snapping twigs underfoot over the sound of your own fear.

There was a great cry as a shadow swung into your vision. You missed the blow narrowly, sliding backward as a body lurched into your vision. It rushed you, taking you by surprise, causing you to stumble as your pistol arm shot up wildly in the tight grip of your attacker. There wasn’t enough time for reaction, and before you knew it, you were carrying their weight. The two of you were thrashing, a bloody tug of war through the bushes and debris, you were fighting, the way that one fights before they die. It was a tornado of bodies, a cacophony of screams the clatter of a gun hitting the floor, and then the blackness of being blind as your head slammed into the trunk of a tree. Thick blood and spit shot from your mouth as you crumpled to the forest floor with a heavy thud, seeing stars.

You fought unconsciousness as you tried to regain your footing, but your assailant was too fast, grabbing by the collar of your jacket and dragging you across the tractionless, muddy ground. You were chest to the ground, pressed down with the full weight of two people as a hand fisted through your hair, holding your face to the dirt as you struggled with the last of your remaining power.

“Fuck– no, get the fuck off of me–!” You screamed, thrashing wildly on the ground, your torso pinned. An arm hooked around your throat. Your hand slapped wildly at the ground, looking for something, anything that could grant you escape. There was nothing; but as your fingers inched out, there was your gun. Before you could sweep it into your grasp, pressure bulged against your eyes, crushing your throat, tightening the skin of your face. Hands flew up, spurred on by true survival instinct to claw at the scar’s flesh, but the leather of your brown utility gloves only pawed weakly at the clothed bicep. Your lips pulled into a grimace, blood rushing to your brain as you fell in and out of consciousness. Like sick irony, there was nothing; but then, pressed to your temple was the cold metal of your sidearm. Your eyes squeezed closed, anticipating the bang.

“This is the part where you’d end up getting your brains blown out with your own pistol, rook.” The arm currently strangling you loosened, freeing you from its grapple. The disembodied voice- no, it was very bodied, actually, and still laying across you- jostled your temple with the dummy gun, exploding in mock recoil as a sardonic ‘–pchew!’ blew against your ear. It lifted away from you and you finally had the space to expand your chest more than a couple of inches. You rolled over onto your back, drawing a deep, reactionary breath, soothing the throbbing skin of your neck with a hand.

The woman towering over you in the darkness grimaced, unimpressed, leaning her weight against the tree trunk she had just used to nearly brain you. Anderson was your training captain; ruthless, built like an ox, and the top soldier out of anyone in the WLF, right hand to the Big Man, and you fucking hated her.

She was an unforgiving mentor; running you on drills long after everyone went home, failing you, hard, and was dedicated to kicking your ass for real every time you had a sparring match. This, in fact, was your third field scenario attempt with Anderson, and they never got better; the first time, throwing dirt into your face and ‘slitting your throat,’ then it was ‘shooting’ you in your abdomen and finishing you off with another to the chest, and now? Taken out after getting ambushed in a dark forest and having your head blasted open. She’d suck her teeth, cracking the vertebrae in her neck with a terse, ‘that’s how it is in the field, kid’’ as you walked behind her, winded.

“That… wasn’t a pass, was it?” You choked out, scooching yourself across the wet mud to sit up, drawing harsh, ragged breaths.

Anderson wrenched up a brow at you, unimpressed. “You really need to be told that wasn’t a pass?”

The matter-of-fact tone she took left you dumbstruck, crushed, burning from the inside out of embarrassment, the heat nesting in your cheeks mingling from the stinging pain from the fight. You were humiliated and more importantly, you knew she was right. That you had shit the bed, going 0 and 3. You wouldn’t be getting promoted to assignments, and if you kept dragging your feet, you’d be reassigned. But you could convince her, you had to convince her. “But everyone else from my class made mistakes, and they– they still passed!” You tried to seem firm and level-headed, but your throat got tight all of a sudden, and your voice was whiny like a child’s.

“Doesn’t really matter to me. I don’t train everyone else from your class.” She blew out flippantly, not even meeting your eyes, barely giving your pleas the time of day. It was her job to push you past your limits, to see how far from your comfort zone you were willing to go. To see how badly you could be beaten before you talked, how long they could torture you with guns or knives or burns before you gave in. But right now? She was more irritated than anything, and the truth she was biting her tongue on was that you were a completely lost cause.

Anderson cut the distance between the two of you and leaned in, closer than ever, towering over you like it was easy, looking at you as if she was seeing you from the inside out. Her smirk faded, falling to her barely-masked anger as she kneaded together her lips. Your eyes brimmed with tears as hers filled with indignation, annoyance, like you were an itch she couldn’t scratch; perpetually pissing her off. “You don’t have a clue in the fucking world, do you? The reality of what they do in the open city you’re in such a rush to get out to? What they’ll do to a wolf, out there?”

You did know, or at least you had heard stories. It was all common; rookies overhearing what deployed soldiers would bring back from their rotation, then telephoning it back in the barracks before lights out. The stories were always the same, scouting duos going out deep into the unclaimed territory, never to come back. It was no man’s land. it was suicide. After some days, they would stop calling into WLF frequencies. After some weeks, a new unit would be sent behind them, stumbling upon the bloated, swinging bodies. it would take another three days for recovery to get them back to the FOB, they would get buried in a large plot of land at the back of the stadium, reserved only for soldiers. It was nothing special, but the ones that were too high up would just stay there. Sometimes, it would keep you up at night, honest. You looked at your feet, almost submissively, trying to hide the tears that were threatening to leak. She was right, you fucked up, you kept fucking up. You forced your tiny voice to speak. “I’m sorry, I ju–”

“This a fucking joke to you, YLN?”

You looked into her eyes, she was tired of you. Tired of your constant excuses, how you never seemed to improve, how everything you did wrong ended up coming down on her shoulders. You had gotten bounced around from training class to training class on account of repeated failures, and at some point, they threw you at Anderson’s feet. She protested, she didn’t do fucking charity work but of course, the task manager gave a bullshit excuse, saying that was the direct orders from the big man himself, that if anyone could “fix” you, it was her. You were always fucking around, lackadaisical, terrible at your job. Always cornering her before the end of evaluations, begging for a good word, begging for extra credit. They called you ’tornado’ because you kept busting your ass during physical drills, which turned into ‘twitch’ because you couldn’t stop your gun hand from shaking during on-field drills. You were picky, even, complaining about the smell of the barracks on your first day in training camp.

Your mouth was open, gobsmacked, tripping on syllables, tongue dry all of the sudden, too dry, and you tried to blink back the wetness in your eyes before it dampened your cheeks. You couldn’t say anything because there was nothing to say. “No, I just– no, this, this is really serious to me. It’s really important to me.”

“But you want me to pass you? So that you can get your whole squad killed? So that they can ship your bagged-up body to the morgue? Fine, then. I’ll pass you. See? ‘You passed,’ easy– since we just like bullshitting each other.” The woman deadpanned, shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly, muscles bobbing under her skin, eyes dangerous, fed up. The harsh words had you simmering over with a quiet rage; at yourself, for fucking up from the beginning, and at your coach, for always being so hard on you.

“You’re not ready, kid, and I don’t think I can help you, either. Want my advice? There are a lot of other jobs they’ll give you at the stadium, but whatever it is here that you think you’re cut out for– you’re not.” She spoke through a tight jaw, and you could almost imagine sadness in her voice, but that couldn’t be right. She turned on her heels, heading back to the jeep the two of you rode out on, not waiting for you to follow behind her.

–

If she was nothing else, Abigail Anderson was a woman of her word. You had gone to pick up your evaluation records early in the morning, while the stadium was still quiet and everyone in the barracks was still asleep. It had become an odd kind of spectator sport to see how many consecutive fails you could rack up from mentor to mentor. In turn, it had become your ritual to collect your papers and make them disappear before anyone could ask. Your hands were heavy as you cracked open the envelope, opened it, and gazed over the lettering. There was a boxed-in ‘Instructor: A. ANDERSON’ in the top corner, and your face burned remembering the cold lecture that brought you nearly to tears.

whatever it is here that you think you’re cut out for– you’re not.

You hated her for it. For always being on your ass, for making everything so damned difficult. But you were disappointed in yourself for thinking that it would be easy in the first place. Disappointed that years passed by, watching from the sidelines as literal teenagers were deployed before you. Deep down, you knew she was right, that you should give up; but your eyes widened when you saw it.

INTERIM FIELD EVALUATION: PASS.

She did it to spite you but you didn’t fucking care, it was one step closer out of the program. You paced around, giggling to yourself; if anyone was up to see you, they’d think you were fucking insane. But no one was awake, and you’d be back in bed before all rise, so it didn’t matter. so you pressed the paper to your chest, as though you could absorb it through your skin. Fucking pass; you could lay down on the floor and die right here. You had to look at it one more time, just to make sure you weren’t dreaming. So you did, eyes flying all across the paper, your first pass in months; no, years and all you had to do was cry a bit. Wonder if Anderson would let it slide all the way to deployment.

Then you saw it.

CADET TRANSFER REQUEST

CADET #549226

From A. ANDERSON

To V. CHUNG

Fuck.

–

“I don’t know what you’re complaining about. Chung will give you all the passes you want.” You were towering over Anderson, who lay flat on the weight bench, adjusting the bar of weights over her head, angling and curling herself in preparation. She didn’t meet your eyes, only looking over a second in irritation as she saw you burst into the then-empty gym. You had planned to give her a piece of your mind, or at least beg and plead. It wasn’t working. She was flippant in the way that she always was, how she could reduce all of your feelings to petty quips and take the air completely out of your sails at once. She lifted the bar, barely any effort showing up as a kink in her brow, pressing it to her chest and then dropping it back down onto the stand jutting out from either side. Her muscles rippled, a thin mask of sweat dusting over her and twinkling in the light

that was a soldier, and she reminded you of everything that you weren’t.

“It’s not just about the passes. Everyone just–” against your will, a lump formed in your throat, and you turned to the side so that she wouldn’t get the satisfaction of seeing you cry. “Everyone just fucking gives up on me.” You weren’t a stranger to being passed around, but it was something new that hurt; a unique level of disappointment at everything, at yourself, that made the tears pool and run down your face. Trained by the best of the best, and you still couldn’t hack it.

It really was a dead-end for you.

Everyone knew the jokes and the rumours of the cadet that just couldn’t make it, but nobody could pinpoint just why, no matter how hard life kicked you, you wouldn’t give up.

Being a child in a QZ was hard. None of you were happy, or living particularly well, but you had your family, and small joys, Until it all fell down, until FEDRA abandoned one post for another and you were left, a child, at the mercy of the world. You blew around, another fringe society, another QZ. Those fell too, and the only thing you could remember some nights was that everyone was gone now, and it was just you. That was when you joined the WLF. Because you wanted to save the world because it was your only choice.

You tried to work hard, waking up extra early to run drills, trying to build up your form or your reflexes against all odds. You were like a fish, the way you could hold your breath underwater. Your pistol hand still shook from the chronic anxiety of the life you had lived before, but you could take your sidearm apart and put it back together faster than anyone else. But nobody ever noticed those things, just your fuck ups. Nobody saw you, just saw twitch, or tornado, just a compendium of everything you couldn’t be.

If you couldn’t do anything else, then maybe the suffering you went wasn’t worth it. Maybe what happened to you was just common. You *had* to be a hero.

Or die a martyr.

The words rolled out before you could stop them, and you were blubbering, tears rolling down your face, a thick coating of snot and drool coating your lips and chin as you sunk down, crying. Your hands fisted that damned form, crumpling it, and it rippled and burst under your fingers. This really was pathetic of you, groveling and begging at the feet of a woman who didn’t care, and deep down you were still planning your strategy of how to exit this room now that you firmly couldn’t play it off. You couldn’t face her anymore, or anyone, for that matter because Anderson would definitely talk. Your only option was to defect, ride out at dawn with nothing but the clothes on your back, no, dig a hole in the stadium and live there, with nothing but a straw in your mouth for breathing, no, shit idea, maybe you should just swan dive off the high side of the FOB and save yourself all the trouble, no, mayb–

“Kid.”

And you were still talking, like a dumbass. “–and i know i fucked up but– if you could give me one more chance i just need one more chance you don’t understand how much this means to me how important this is to me– please i’ll do anything and i get it if you just want me to get the hell out of your way but i just thought i just thought i could i just really really”

“Kid, stop talking,” Anderson was holding your hands gently in her own. Looking up at you from her now seated position. There was still the ever-so-slight crook of indignation in her brow, but she was speaking to you, gently, leniently. She felt bad, and there was a black spot of shame growing on her back from how she had treated you.

She was remorseful, and there was a dark spot of shame growing on her conscience for how she had treated you. She was hard on you because you were just going through the motions and cutting corners a lot of the time, but there was a determination that hadn’t yet been broken down and you were dogged, like she was once; and deep down, she did have a soft spot for your annoying ass.

“I’ll help you. I’ll help you out” Anderson spit out, watching a spark ignite in your watery eyes. Before you got too excited, she put her hand up, holding all of your hopes in midair for just a moment. “But– fuck, stop crying. Thought I was gonna have to get you on a damn psych watch.”

You nodded jerkily, exposed once again in front of her, wiping your tears with the sleeve of your thermal shirt, a windy inhale passing through your nose and dislodging the mucus in your throat. “Shit– fuck, fuck. Sorry.”

Anderson stood from the bench, barely giving you time to react before she angled into a striking position, feet shoulder-width apart, planted firmly on the rubber floor. Her fists were clenched, muscles working in her arms and making her look ten times bigger as she stalked around you, chin down, scanning for an open. “What are you waiting for,” she chided, cracking her neck to the side. It was weird, like she was trying to… encourage you? “Scenario three, from last week– remember?”

Then she advanced, walking you backwards into an empty space in the room, striking at your head before you had a chance to react. You swooped down, diving under her extended arm to barely miss the shot that probably would’ve knocked you out.

“Put your hands up, rook– they’re not gonna wait for you.” Anderson grunted and slammed down with locked elbows; this was your in– and you charged, albeit off balance to make the first connection, a glancing blow to her chin. The two of you fought around the room, exchanging blows and blocks, kicks and punches. Somehow, you had managed your way into her blindspot and swung to try and land a grapple around her neck with an impassioned “I got you!”

It was then, like a flash of light that your arm was intercepted and you were turned over onto your knees, Anderson crouched beside you squeezing your neck in a submission hold. Her bicep pressed into your throat, that ragged pressure that tightened every muscle in your body and turned on that sheer animal instinct to survive. You clawed above you, nails catching on the flesh of her exposed chest.

“You don’t have to announce it, its not a damn movie.” She spoke, trailing off into a whisper. It was all over, you did it again, miraculously continuing your 0-for-infinity losing streak.

But she let you go, and it was crazy but you swore that her hand lingered in your hair for a second as she stepped away. You laid on the ground, heaving. Anderson looked over you, looking at the rapidly darkening red welts on your throat, bruises on bruises layered from yesterday night. In the back of her mind, she could hear laughter, a conversation over drinks while her team was on recess.

“You’re fuckin’ brutal on the kid, Anderson. Trying to kill her?” Chung laughed, taking a heavy swig from his beer. A hand clapped against her shoulder from behind, swaying her from side to side, sloshing liquid out of her cup and onto the wooden table they were gathered around. Before she could protest Manny’s voice cut through the raucous laughter ringing off the walls.

“Bet you two shift swaps that Abs makes YLN drop out of the program before deployment!” He cried, drunk off his ass, jabbing his finger in any general direction before loosening his spider monkey-like grip. Abby’s back burned, her jaw clenching unconsciously with thinly veiled anger, they were her friends, but fuck these guys, honestly. She forced a coy smile, becoming the face of drunken jest.

“You guys fucking done?” She tried to conceal the sound of her discomfort with a laugh, but it was tight and terse and frankly, after years together anyone at the roundtable could pick up on her unconscious cues.

“What, Abs, going soft on us? Or maybe… you’re tryna’ catch another type of body– huh? huh?”

—

She watched you, fisting your hands together on the floor in a quiet sort of frustration. Tears threatened to pool in your eyes but you blinked them back, cutting your eye at her for a split second and then looking away. It was embarrassing, of course, but at this point, you were defeated. Anderson sat down beside you, hooking her hand under your arm and lifting you to sit upright.

“Anderson I–”

“–just, Abby.” She whispered, palming your knee, trying her best to commit to her insurmountable task: being comforting. The woman watched as your face tensed up and then went slack as you dug teeth into your bottom lip, looking off into nothing. “It’s not going to matter more, just because you die. You know that, right?” You didn’t speak. Nails ran skittishly against your shirt as you ran your hands up and down your arms, trying to self-soothe, unable to hide your grimace.

“Yeah.” You nodded slowly, as though you were trying to stave off your own denial. “Yeah.”

The hand on your knee became firmer, heavier as it stroked over your skin, her thumb rubbing a small circle where it began to meet your thigh. “I was serious– when I was talking about other jobs, you know? You can just live a good life, and that can be enough. There’s nothing waiting for you outside of the wall, kid.”

If it were anyone else, you could’ve been angry, you would’ve lashed out; but it was coming from someplace real, one of the only times you had ever seen Anderson– Abby, be anything more than a cold, stony prick. She had been stern with you because she saw herself in that tiny rage you had, the anger just below the surface that she could see in your eyes right at this moment. Because when you’re that driven about anything, the only certain thing to look forward to is a darkness that keeps on coming. It was the hard realisation, and you swallowed heavy. “Guess not.”

There was a vulnerability in the air, and before you knew it, you were leaning into her touch, pressing your body to hers, side to side. Your superior didn’t move, didn’t keen away or tell you off, just sat there, never stopping the motion of her hand. It was a long silence between the two of you, but then she stopped, began to stand, and like your body wasn’t yours you grabbed her arm, willing her to stay without a single spoken word. There was this weird, small flash on her face that you couldn’t place, until she just nodded, using her strength to lift you to your feet as well.

“Coming?” Was all that she said, and you nodded. Yeah.

–

It was what you had always wanted, the big luxury box in the sky. It was as though you could see everything from your place at the window of Abby’s room, the barracks, where everyone was still sleeping tucked in the corner behind the greenhouse, the sun slowly overtaking the dark sky, the very tops of the skyscraper tucked into the clouds, the FOB, overlooking everything ominously.

“It’s all yours?” you asked, no higher than a murmur as you looked through the parted curtains.

“And Manny’s,” Abby dropped her bag in the corner of the room, using her foot to kick it under her bedframe. “On an overnight, though. So it’s just me. One of the many perks you have to look forward to if you become a top soldier.”

“Fat chance.” You quipped bitterly.

There were footsteps behind you, but you didn’t think much of it as you closed the curtain. You turned away from the window and in a second the two of you were together, the blonde placing a hand on the small of your back and taking your mouth into hers. It was as though you were covered in white light, how everything became so blinding, so warm, extremely surreal in a way you couldn’t place. You’d wake up in your bunk, you were sure of it. Had to wake up in your bunk. But as the wet of her tongue played over your lips, you thought, maybe you didn’t want to wake up. You could dream forever and that would be fine.

“You know, you’re really hard on yourself, rookie.” The taller woman breathed, pulling away to speak. “Wouldn’t be a good mentor if I didn’t give you a morale adjustment.”

You moaned, leaning into it, the thickness of her thigh now ghosting against the spread of your legs. Her hand came up to run fingers gently through your hair, thumbing away the thin layer of sweat that formed on the nape of your neck. Her cockiness did something to you, and it was as though you couldn’t get enough skin to touch as you gripped her bicep deeper, feeling the muscle bulge with her effort. Her tongue disappeared into your mouth, swirling against yours, depositing the slick of her saliva down your throat. It was heavy and wet, built up like her own body, and it dominated yours easily, just like she had done in the gym.

“You with me?” She peppered a soft kiss, groaning as she took a fistful of your thigh, heaving it up to lock against her waist, the seam of your pants unwittingly pressing into your crotch through now-dampened panties. She pulled from you and you wanted to chase her, a deprived whine ringing out of your throat before you could stop it. Unbeknownst to you, the noise sent a shockwave to Abby’s clit, and she could feel her channel begin to slicken. Fuck, you were pretty. Her eyes narrowed, looking over your features. This should be against her ethical code, probably against proper conduct guidelines, but she wanted you so bad it was infuriating. She heard Chung’s voice again.

…tryna’ catch another type of body?

Oh, fuck you, man.

You nodded, and a frown overcame her. “Needa hear you, kid.” You looked down, pressed your face into her chest, kneading fingers into her open grey sweatshirt. It was embarrassing to say, and a part of her wished that she was as bad as you had always said she was, that she would just… do whatever this is and not make you vocalise how much you wanted her. The pit of shame in your stomach got deeper, but she soothed a thumb over your brow and it was like you melted. “We don’t have to do anything if you d–”

“I’m here. I’m with you.”

There it was; the confirmation, the greenlight she needed to lift you up, both legs under her strong hands now, and carry you to the two pushed-together twin mattresses of her bed. She looked down at you, laying on your back, blown-out watery eyes squinted as she lifted your shirt up just a hair to reveal the plush skin beneath. “Fuckin’ hell.” She whispered to nobody specific, running a thumb against your torso.

Abby met your eye, asking, and you nodded. She exposed you easily, lifting your shirt up and leaving you in just a bra from the waist up. Deft fingers locked under the straps and she pulled her hands down, mouth agape as your breasts spilled forward. If she believed, she would’ve compared the sight to viewing the kingdom of heaven for the first time, singing angels and all. A calloused hand trailed up to palm one, a thumb rolling across the pliant bulb of your nipple, the sensation causing it to rapidly harden to a stiff point. She took it, rolling it between two fingers and her thumb as she leaned in, taking the other in her mouth and grazing it between her teeth. A ragged breath was forced through your lips as you tried to regain your spinning consciousness.

“Fuck, nghh– Abby, fuck.” You moaned out, delirious. The double stimulation didn’t stop, and instead, Abby slid her jaw forward, biting one nipple firmly and gripping the other between two knuckles to pull, and you cried out. She sucked as though she was nursing, the slopping popping noises of her mouth filling the air in tandem with your moans and whimpers.

“Goddamned gorgeous, you know that?” She groaned, slapping your free tit with her hand lightly before walking her fingers down to your belt loop. With one hand she slipped down your sweatpants to your ankles, leaving you in nothing but light, stained briefs. Your cunt had soaked pathetically through the fabric, clit standing at attention. You were so wet that the thin cloth was practically see-through, the rouge of your cunt catching Abby’s eye. Through your underwear, a calloused thumb toggled your clit, ripping a half-sob from your body.

It was as though you were an overflowing spring of endlessly pure water, how the wet spot grew and grew. You fucked your hips upwards, trying desperately to rock harder into the new assailant, but Abby lifted her thumb away, depriving you of the sensation. It was so much, everything was spinning; your head, the room, your soul out of your body. Your cunt clenched around air as she drew designs on your thigh with a finger absentmindedly.

“Gotta be patient, little.” She didn’t look up, but there was a smirk on her face and a smile in her voice as brought her thumb back down. “Gonna take care of you, don’t worry.”

Her finger ghosted over the wet spot in your underwear and you twitched unconsciously. The blonde captured a thin sheen of your drip between two fingers, stretching the line back and forth. “So fuckin’ excited for me.” She pressed her nose down into your crotch, and you closed your thighs reflexively. Fine by her. She took a deep inhale of your pussy, and lathed at the wet liquid with her tongue. The rough texture of the fabric dragged over your clit, bringing the little red bulb to a fever pitch, as she sucked and slurped through it, catching salty-sweetness in her mouth. Her tongue pathed its way to your covered clit, flattening roughly over the sensitive bundle. The dual stimulation was driving you mad; the hard abrasion of wet panties slipping between your cuntlips, in and out of your hole as she licked and prodded, and the firm muscle of her tongue kneading at the pliant flesh.

Like she was showing off a party trick, Abby maneuvered her tongue, skillfully weaving it inside of your underwear to taste your ambrosia from the tap. Rough hands grabbed hold of your ass, palming and gripping as she pushed your thighs up and over to situate your feet over your head in the perfect position where your gooey pussy was squished together, oozing directly into her mouth. You kicked the sweatpants the rest of the way gone, and they flew into the corner of the room, never to be seen again. There was a groan like an animal, and you weren’t sure which of the two of you was the source as Abby tore your panties open, the two halves drooping weakly, and pressed your feet next to your ears. She devoured you with newfound vigor, catching a second wind the moment your walls clenched around her tongue, fucking you in and out as hard and deep as possible.

“Abby! Shit, shit, more. Please.” You whimpered, looking down to see where her disappearing nose bumped against your clit over and over again. She wanted you to fuck her face, grinding her head back and forth so that her lips massaged yours, her tongue searched for every spot, and her nose abused your sloppy nub, driving you crazy with sensation over sensation. You were coming over the bend fast, too fast, and everything flashed white and black in spades as your body trembled. Again, her thumb came up to drum against your clit, and your orgasm tore you in two, red hot. Your juices siphoned into the blonde’s waiting mouth, and she drank from you like an oasis.

Her body came over, you, shrouding you in darkness and the rolled over to lay flat on the bed, scooting over to plant her feet on the very edge. You were still trembling, still drooling from the slit in your legs that was happily prepped and used. The throbbing shook your whole body as you tried to catch your breath, and Abby’s arm jutted out, pulling you across the bed and onto her, chest to back. She hooked her knees through yours, and you could feel the force holding you open to give full exposure to your greedy hole. She licked a hot stripe up your neck and you whimpered, biting your lip. She pulled it free with your thumb, replacing it with a finger that she fucked in and out of your hot mouth. “Wonder where this is going, huh?” She angled her knees down, spreading you further, your pussylips slipping apart, cool air running against your clit. “Gotta see if it’s just your hand, or if you have a twitchy pussy too, baby.”

The moniker that usually filled you with red shame was now engulfing you with hot-pink lust, your cunny leaking down onto the bed. You were dumb and fuck-drunk as Abby pushed one of her thick fingers into you, slowly at first in order to get you used to the stretch of the tight ring. She curled her knuckle to press against your g-spot and you saw stars. She sped up her filthy pace, the sloppy sounds of your wet cunt reverberating in the air. Then, it was instant, her strong, rippling arm coming around to clench your neck again, palm rubbing your head gently. Abby added another finger, palm smearing your clit harshly as she fucked you deep, pace quickening. Her fingers scissored back and forth as she closed her elbow tighter, cutting off your breath and inviting the pressure you were by now so used to. You couldn’t tell her you were on the verge of cumming, a red-hot fire in your stomach burning hotter and faster as the plowed through your juices.

You were suctioning her fingers, barely letting them slip from your folds. She pulled them out nearly all the way and drilled back in, tiny splashes of liquid raining down on the mattress. You ground your hips as best you could in the compromising position, chasing your orgasm, so close to your own personal bliss that you started panting like a whore with no concern. Abby pressed open-mouthed kisses to your cheeks, to your lips, the taste of you still on her and mingling with your own saliva. You were dizzy, be it the pleasure, the slowly depleting oxygen in your lungs, or the fact that your mentor was currently palm-deep in your pussy, but you couldn’t keep your composure.

Your walls clenched around her, and you could hear her muttering in your ear. ‘such a tight pussy, Twitch, baby. Such a good pussy.’ And it was like you were summoned, cunt spasming as you came hard and messy, squirt shooting from you and sprinkling loudly through the ground. She fucked you through it, releasing your throat as your vision blurred, not letting you close your legs and bringing her free hand down to rub your clit in tandem. You tried to buck away from her to no avail, your cunt clenching wildly, juices bubbling over, lips red and sore from the sustained abuse. Tears rolled down your face as you took hungry breaths, your deprived lungs fighting for all of the air they could get.

The two of you lay together, panting, hearts beating against the other, and Abby pulled her palm away from the throbbing expanse of your swollen, used cunt. She unhooked your thighs, and the pressure of closing your legs again sent a ripple into your pussy that made you whimper something fierce. There was a long, pregnant silence, and then you spoke up, cheekily.

“So are you going to still swap me?”

“Not sure… it’s, whadotheycallit–? A conflict of interest.” She said, turning over and throwing a heavy arm over your chest, rubbing your bicep absentmindedly.

“But I’ll tell you what, champ; I’ll make sure to put a special training session on my schedule whenever you’re up for it. If you’re up for it.”

#abby anderson x fem reader #abby anderson ff #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson smut #abby x reader #abby smut #abby tlou smut #abby anderson x you #abby x fem!reader #tlou smut #tiki writes #time to go lay my ass to sleep

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mysteryshoptls · 6 months

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SSR Jade Leech - Platinum Jacket Voice Lines

When Summoned: A museum that has been standing for 100 years is a wondrous thing. My heart leaps for joy at the prospect of encountering exciting works of art!

Summon Line: What a perfect suit to wear to such a long-standing museum. Fufu... What say you, does it look good on me?

Groooovy!!: The ocean is rife with danger. Who knows what may have befallen this happy little crab afterwards...

Home: Time to celebrate their 100th Anniversary.

Home Idle 1: I often see rather strange flora in paintings that depict the Queen of Hearts. I would love to see some of those with my own eyes someday.

Home Idle 2: Every painting of the Fairest Queen depicts her flawless beauty in such a flattering light. It's no wonder that Rook-san admires her greatly.

Home Idle 3: Down in the ocean depths, the Sea Witch's favorite lipstick is very popular. The container is even shaped like a seashell... I recall gifting it to my mother once, as well.

Home Idle - Login: If any of the paintings depicting ocean tales interest you, please don't hesitate to let me know. Perhaps I can help increase your appreciation of them.

Home Idle - Groovy: Riddle-san is even knowledgeable of the tales that come from the ocean. I should follow his example and widen my own knowledge of tales from the surface.

Home Tap 1: I've been improving my own sketching skills each day, of course, so that I would be able to more accurately describe the things I encounter in the mountains.

Home Tap 2: Sebek-kun declared that he would like to test his strength against the supernaturally strong young man that was said to be a child of a god. I know could never possibly consider challenging such a person, indeed.

Home Tap 3: I could hear Ruggie-san's stomach rumbling as he stood before a painting of some apples. They were drawn so beautifully that I can certainly understand how it would invigorate his appetite!

Home Tap 4: The paintings here on the surface are very colorful and I enjoy gazing at them very much. Colors tend to fade the closer they are to the ocean floor, you see.

Home Tap 5: You think that I resemble the moray eel that served the Sea Witch? In all honesty, I also felt a sort of kinship with them too. Especially with our mismatched eye colors.

Home Tap - Groovy: The museum shop has tea blends inspired by all these great people? Thank you for that wonderful news. I must go buy some.

Duo: [JADE]: Riddle-san, is this not an opportune moment? [RIDDLE]: We seem to be on the same page for once, Jade.

Birthday Login Message: Is that supposed to be a present for me? ...Ah, no need to shirk. I will wholeheartedly accept this from you. You see, there are those who would attempt to startle me with trick boxes and the like, so... I was simply wondering what it was that you were planning on giving me. Fufu, I am looking forward to opening it.

#twisted wonderland #twst #jade leech #riddle rosehearts #twst jade #twst riddle #twst translation #twst birthday #mention: rook #mention: sebek #mention: ruggie #mention: riddle

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hakkasm · 24 days

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↑You can read all the pages from the link above!

[Comic] Mafia Sitter

I started writing in mid-January to submit to the Global Comic Award 2024 and finally completed it. Continuing from there is a long feedback.

The working time is two months for the main text and two weeks for the cover. Around January 11th, I received a DM from a friend saying, "There's a contest like this," and thought, "The deadline is the end of March... it's impossible for me (I've never drawn a completed comic before)." But it's a comic contest aimed at the world... My art style is only recognized in this contest... I couldn't ignore this contest. I was in the middle of making another piece, but I interrupted it, and I was full of anxiety about whether I could draw a comic in just two and a half months. However, the thought, "Instead of worrying, I should act quickly," came to my mind, and I started writing from January 13th, changing my mindset.

I spent 1 day on the script, plus 1 day typing the dialogue, and started the "completed 1 page per day" lifestyle from January 16th.

The goal was to complete 45 pages, but at the plotting stage, it was about 56 pages. When I actually started drawing the manuscript, the planned page allocation didn't match, and the total number of pages increased to 65. (I learned the importance of page allocation.) At a pace of 1 page per day, I wondered if I would make it by March... (I'm easily bored, I didn't think I could do 1 page per day.) So, I rearranged my schedule to make 3 pages on weekends, which would give me some leeway. This idea turned out to be a big success.

As a result, I achieved 1 page per day and was able to finish drawing all the pages by early March, leaving the remaining time to work on the cover, which is like the face of the comic.

Since I work as a company employee, I had to finish work by 8:00 p.m. to make time for the manuscript, which was a daily pressure. There were times when I finished the manuscript at 3:00 or 4:00 a.m. on weekdays. I fell ill. At that time, I felt like giving up. (On the day I fell ill, I slept for about two hours and resumed manuscript production after my condition improved a bit.)

It was truly a life of "pushing myself to the limit", but accomplishing it gave me confidence. 'Oh, I can make a 65-page full-color comic in 2 months.' It became an advantage for me. (I don't want to push myself like this anymore, though... haha.)

Thank you for participating in the survey for the title logo! The survey results leaned towards the left logo. While the left logo was packed with concept, its font style and thickness varied, resulting in imbalance when aligned in a row and making it difficult to use in monochrome. If the left logo had overwhelmingly won the votes, I would have chosen it. However, since the right logo also received a considerable number of votes, I decided to adopt the right logo.

Now all that's left is to see the results on Global Comic Award. I'm really aiming to win. Both the script and the art are amateur-level when viewed separately, but I balanced them out to make them good enough.

It's my first comic work... I really want a lot of people to read it! *If enough people like the comic and want to get a copy of the comic book, I can make and sell it:)

#comic #original #MafiaSitter #original character #art #global comic award

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bandgie · 9 months

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Predator & Prey

a/n: chapter 3!

warnings!: smut, over stimulation

5.8k words

They're a nice family. The husband, whose name is Sammuel, works as a lumberjack. He's a quiet man, but you can tell he's more than helpful around the house as he helps his wife cook dinner. The boys continue roughhousing despite their mom's warnings. All that's left is meeting Abigail, you can tell the mom is anxious for you to meet her.

You softly knock on her door, waiting until you hear a soft yes? from the inside. The room was covered in books. Shelves overfilling with scriptures and littered all over the floor. She picks her head up from the book in her hands, eyes meeting yours.

"Oh," is the first thing she says, "You must be helping my mom with the bar downstairs." "Yes, and you must be Abigail?" You ask.

She stands and walks over to you, closing the door behind you, "That is right."

Abigail sees the way your eyes look over the books. Some in English, some in words you've never seen before. Some look like they're old, as if they've never seen the light of day. You can feel her eyes peering at you, so you snap your eyes to her.

"Watcha reading there?" You point to the opened book on her bed.

An unsettling smile finds her lips, "Come, I'll show you."

You carefully walk to her bed, trying not to step on any of the books before you sit on her bed. She lifts the book and shows you the title "Can you read this?"

You shake your head, it's in a language you're unfamiliar with. "No. What does it say?"

She laughs, almost maniacally, "How to summon demons. Do you believe in such things?"

You look into her eyes, trying not to show how freaked out you were. "Not really," you confess. "I don't think spirits or ghost are a thing. People's imagination are just too creative."

You expect her to be upset at your response, but she seems excited. "Most people would say the same thing, but I know they exist. I've seen them."

Your eyebrows quirk up, you shouldn't be encouraging this conversation, but it would be a lie to say you weren't interested. "Have you?" She nods eagerly, "Yes! Listen closely. I was in this very room, reading when I saw a winged beast. It has feathers dark as night, feet like an ox's, claws like talons. It did not see me, but I watched as it stole one of the neighbors daughter in her deep slumber. They have yet to find her body, but I believe I know what happened to it."

A shiver goes up your spine, you did not think it would involve a kidnapping and possible murder. Feet like an ox? That's not Nyryx, though it's proof that there is more of his species.

"Incubi usually sleep with women while they slumber. However," she reaches for one the books on the ground, opening it and flipping to a page. She aggressively places the book on the ground, this one in English. It shows depiction of what an incubi is with written description.

"There are times when an incubus favors a female human. They'll steal her in the night and keep her until she dies of old age. That, or until they get tired of her."

Despite such a horrid tale, Abigail squirms in excitement. You eye the drawn depiction, trying to make sense of it. The pale skin, the black wings, the animal-like legs. It matches Nyryx perfectly. Why would be drink animal blood then? It clear that he needs something else, why is he allowing himself to eat the bare minimum?

"All they eat is a woman's cum?" you question. Abigail erupts in laughter, clutching her stomach. "You are so crude! I think we will get along." She wipes her tears and scans the writing, "Human life force is a main meal for them. They can survive on any life force, but straight from a human is the best source. Blood is a vital need for them to survive. It is like how water is to us. The essence of a woman, however, gives quenches their thirst for blood and gives them the power to use their energy."

The puzzle pieces started to fall in place. It should have been obvious from when you were being chased from the townspeople days earlier and what they called him. How upset Nyryx got when you called him an incubus. Still, wrapping your head around the fact that he's a demon is difficult. A different species that can do magic? Sure. But a demon? A creature from actual hell?

"So they're from hell? Demonic beings?" You voice shakes. Abigail looks back at the book, flipping through a few pages. "Not straight from the underworld, no. A woman is cursed to bare the child of Satan. The child born is a succubus or incubus, half human and half demon." She continues reading, fingers moving across the page. "It's possible that an incubus can be a full demon though. They go though a transformation from feasting on the blood of 666 children and stealing the essence of their own mother," Abigail actually grimaces for the first time, "Or some are straight from hell itself, created by Satan. These are a rarity though, I don't think we should worry about such things."

You breathe a little easier, Nyryx was born this way. He can't help who his father is, but the uneasiness in your stomach doesn't settle.

Abigail taps your shoulder and you look up at her in response. "Can I confess something?" She asks. You hesitantly nod, worried about what she's going to say.

"I have dreamed of being paid a visit by an incubus in my sleep. I cannot deny the excitement that courses through me at the possibility of it. It's why I learn to summon them. Have a demon please me at my will, take me as I desire." She pauses and looks at you, examining your expression. You do little to hide the confusion on your face, uneasiness settling on your features.

She laughs awkwardly, "I am aware of my revolting fantasies. Yet, I cannot help myself from imagining. Even if it's once, I would give anything for the experience. Even my soul." She waits for you response, and although you're a little repulsed by her kink, an idea pops in your head.

"Are you sure this is what you want? You want a demon to ravage you like you're a piece of meat?" You ask, making sure of her choice. She looks at you giddily, as is you understand her wants. "Yes. I am no maiden, if I'm being truthful, and I would love to believe an incubus can use me to its will. Am I a whore for admitting such things?"

You're all for body positivity and safe hook-up culture. But fucking a demon? You have to draw a line somewhere. "I don't think you're any less valuable as a person because you sleep around," you tell her. "People have fantasies, that's normal. But uh, honestly this is the first time I've heard this. I would just tell you to be careful what you wish for. And don't conjure things up, you never know what's on the other side."

She nods at your response, taking in your advice. "I suppose you are right. Demons are tricky creatures, they could do something I am opposed to." She shakes her head hands grasping at yours. She looks back you with curiosity in her eyes, "Tell me! Do you have any perverted fantasies?"

You softly laugh at her curiosity. It's been a while since you've talked to your friends back at home and the stories of your hook ups. You hum, pondering on what you've always wanted most.

"I guess I've always wanted to try a role-play. Me the inmate and other person the cop. But I can always settle for them eating me out," you share your confession. Before Abigail has time to question what you mean by 'role playing' and 'eating out,' there's a knock at the door.

"Girls? Supper is prepared," Meredith pokes her head in. Her daughter gives her a nod and stands off the bed, "We will be there soon." Abigail looks at you expectingly.

"Yeah I'd love to eat. I just gotta stop by somewhere real quick. I'll be back," you tell the both of them. Meredith smiles and nods, "No worries dear! I'll keep the food warm for you."

You give her a thanks and make your way out of Abigail's room, leaving the upper housed home and going though the loud bar. You shiver at the burst of cold air, you were so used to the warmth already. You grab your coat to secure it around your shoulder better before making your way to the woods, the sun starting to set behind the trees.

Once you think you're deep enough in, you lift your head up to look for Nyryx. It's a little hard to see with the incoming darkness and cluster of trees, but you can make out the outline of his wings and the swishing of his tail.

"Nyryx!" you call. "I have some news!"

He comes down from the trees, standing at his full height in front of you. You drink in his sight, Abigail's previous words getting to you. What would it be like? He's so much bigger than you or any man you've been with, would it hurt?

He folds his arms across his chest, talons hanging out, "Prey, I do not have the patience for your lack of words. What do you have to share?"

You snap back to reality, finding the words you need to say. "You need life force right? Well, I think it would've been better if you specified what type of life force you needed. I met this chick who had these books and the talked about in-...your species, I mean. And I learned a lot about what you are are-"

He's in front of you in a split second, hand grasping your face so your cheeks are squished together.

"What I am?" He spits. "You know nothing of me, or what I need. You hear stories from a human about my species and you think you know what it is I need? Pry, tell me that, what is it that I am?"

You stiffen in his grasp, your fingers curling around his wrists. His hold loosens on you, but he does not let go of yourself. You stare into his black eyes, anger and hurt seem to be there.

"Do you fear me?" He suddenly asks voice quiet. He locks his eyes onto you, looking for any indication of what you might say or think.

"I..." you trail off. "I'm not scared of you." He growls, unhappy with you response. "I mean, you're scaring me now, if that's what you mean. But it's not cuz you're a..."

"An incubus," he finishes, voice tight and irritated.

"Yes," you breathe, "not because you're that. I just happened to come across someone very knowledgeable in that stuff. I want to help you, Nyryx, I really do. But..." your eyes water. You hate to admit it, but you're starting to grow fond of the half-demon in front of you. It's clear he is not happy with what he is. You wish he knew that he is more than a half demon.

"Prey," his nickname calls you. "Why do you weep? Am I that horrifying?"

You shake your head, sniffing and laughing softly. "No. I just...I just want to help you. You're not eating right and I don't understand why. I don't like it when you're upset, and I said I have good news."

You tears fall softly, and you let him lick them off. His big tongue taking them away, the warmth of it makes your legs press together. He pulls away for a second before leaning in close again, this time his lips touching your eyes and cheeks. His other snake-like tongue pokes out, ghosting your lips. You gasp at the feeling, this was more than eating your tears. He was tasing you.

When he pulls away, his hands gently travel down, gripping your throat. "Don't keep this good news to yourself. Indulge me."

You blink a few times, getting a grip of your common sense. "I think I know someone who would let you do you thing at night. You could eat properly, get energy faster." He smiles widely at you, it's almost unsettling to see his sharp canines.

His talons play with your hair, "Do you?"

You nod, but for some reason they way he's looking at you is predatory. "Her name is Abigail." His smile falls. He releases you from his hold and scrunches his nose as though he smelled something foul. "I am not interested in taking advantage of women while they sleep."

"No!" you protest, "Let me explain!"

You tell Nyryx about Abigail's fascination with demons, her fantasies. He is stubborn at first, unwilling to listen further more. Yet, you persist. It's an easy cash grab. And you'll be there for more than one night. It's a perfect opportunity to store up his energy and stay satisfied until the full moon. You show him the bar, pointing to which window is her's.

"It's not even bad," you tell Nyryx, who is still hesitant on the idea. "She'll be into it. If not, you can just leave and we'll come up with a plan b, okay?"

When he finally agrees you show him how to high five. You're happy that you're taking another step closer to getting home, but a weird pit in your chest aches as you picture what is going to happen tonight.

You lay in the guest room, stretching your limbs out on the bed. A satisfied groan leaves you. You ate a big dinner and have a bed to sleep on? God has shown mercy on you.

Your room is small, but you're grateful. You have a single window that gives you a perfect view of the moon. You've always loved scenery, it's why you were standing at the beach in the first place. Your memories are cut short when you see a familiar flying beast go by. You sit up, ears straining to hear any sound of Nyryx or Abigail.

Her room is right next to yours, it shouldn't be hard to hear anything. It's not, you could hear the gentle steps of Nyryx's feet, the creaking steps adjusting to his weight. You should lay back down, mind your business, but you're so curious. And a little turned on.

You could hear the soft creaking of Abigail's bed, you nearly squeal in anticipation. Both of your windows are open, so you could hear pretty good even if the walls were soundproof.

You feel you stomach grow hot, your pussy getting wet. Man, you're such a pervert. But it doesn't stop you from hearing Nyryx shift on the bed. You put your back against the headboard and open your legs. It's different for the demon. He's literally designed to fuck women in the most controversial way possible. You though? You're doing this on your own free will. That makes it just a little worse.

You wonder what he's doing now. Is he going to wake her up? Is he going to fuck her with her clothes on? Will be just put it in? Or take his time?

You hand dips through your underwear, touching your warm folds. You keep quiet, softly rubbing your lower lips and spreading your wetness. You could hear Abigail toss and turn in her bed, humming softly. You imagine his touching her how you're touching yourself. He's getting her wet, prepared for what he's going to do.

You push a finger into yourself, biting your lower lip to keep yourself quiet. You slowly finger fuck yourself, staring outside the window. You haven't been with anyone recently, and this whole fiasco with being in another world had you stressed. It feels nice to allow yourself pleasure, relaxing into your own body.

You don't hear any moaning though, you suppose Nyryx does prefer to take his time. Or maybe he's stroking himself. You close your eyes and imagine it. You assume his dick would be the same color as his pale skin, but what about his tip? Maybe a bright red like a cherry on top. Or maybe a dark grey. The thought excites you.

You wonder how thick it could be. Hopefully you could wrap your hand around it, pleasuring him. You stick a second finger inside, a quiet whimper falls. past your lips. You imagine how it must feel to have Nyryx inside you, how warm it would be. You lift your shirt up to have your fingers play with your nipples. They harden immediately from the cold air.

You thrust your fingers in and out, thumb gently touching your clit. You hum, trying your best to keep your voice down. You hear the bed from Abigail's room move a little rough, he must be fucking her by now. But god, do you wish it was you. You wished you could feel how hard he is, how rough he would be with you and lick your tears away.

You thrusting harder, the squelching on your pussy getting slightly louder. You let your moans slip, making sure they're barely audible. You need more though, you want to feel it deep in your gut. You fingers are soaked in your juices and your knuckle deep, but you want more. Need more.

A gust of strong wind makes you shoot your eyes open, and you're staring into Nyryx's pitch black eyes. Your bed dips from his weight, and you jump at his presence. You were about to ask what he's doing before you become painfully aware of how deep your fingers are in you, how your chest is completely exposed.

You yank your fingers out of your pussy, a string of wetness connecting to your fingers. Your face burns with embarrassment, you were caught in literally the worst way possible. He remains quiet, face impossibly close to yours.

He reaches down one of his hands and grabs your hand that was inside of you. He places your fingers in his mouth, groaning at the taste. "What are you..." you start, feeling the warmth of his mouth.

Nyryx takes your fingers out of his mouth, "I should be asking you that no? I arrive to do my thing and all I can hear is how delightful you sound, how delectable you smell. You tempt me with your taste, prey."

"I was going to pay it no mind," he informs you, slowly going down against your neck to your chest. "I found it unbelievable at the thought of your desire aimed at me. Yet, I could hear your pathetic fantasies loud in my mind. Your craving for a demon like me."

He takes a nipple in his mouth, tongue sliding messily across your breast. You grip the back of his head softly, pushing him closer to your body. Your other hand covers your mouth, suppressing your moans. When you peer down at him, you notice two horns onto his head. Those are new.

"Did that book tell you about my abilities? How I can feel the pooling desire from the women I take?" He asks. You shake your head in response, not trusting your voice. He smile with your bud in his mouth. "During the time of arousal, I can sense the human female's wants, so I may get the most of life force she can spare me. The other woman was responsive yes." He pauses, lifting his head up to meet your eyes. He kisses your nose, your cheek, then gives a peck of your lips. You hiss in a breath, feeling the wetness between your legs unbearable.

His teeth nip at your earlobe before he gently whispers in your ear, "You though, you overpowered any feeling she was producing. Your need for me was impossible to push away." His lips travelled down you neck, your chest, you stomach, finally to wear you were aching. Your breath hitched in your throat as you opened your legs wider.

"I'm sorry," was all you could manage. You disturbed his mission, but he seems quite happy about it to be honest. "I'm a pervert I know. I just couldn't help myself."

He laughs at your apology and excuse, sliding your underwear down your leg to hang off one of your ankles. "Do not give me your apologies, prey. Give me your desires."

He plants a kiss on your clit, one hand reaches up playing with your nipple while the other steadies himself at you waist. Maybe you'll both regret this in the morning, but with how much your pussy is pulsating you don't care for the consequences.

Nyryx relishes in your taste, as if he hasn't eaten a good meal in ages. Which is mostly likely true. He licks to collect your juices, holding the flavor on his tongue as he groans, "Fuck the heavens above, you are my salvation."

He pushes his face further into you, not caring about how your hands found purchase in his hair. You moaned as Nyryx sucked on your clit, teeth gently grazing your folds. He experimentally let his lips graze your pussy, placing kissing on your wetness.

It was comforting, feeling the man-beast care for every part of your skin. Nyryx was more than ecstatic to please you, it was obvious by the swishing of hit tail and the twitch in his wings. Your curious eyes caught onto his horns. Not huge, but they were definitely not there before. Maybe they come out when he's like this, you think.

You hummed in approval as his tongue went up and down your cunt, wet noises echoed in the room. Your moved one of your hands from his hair to touch his horn, gently sliding your fingertips against it. He halted for a moment, black eyes flicking up to your aroused ones.

"Do they fascinate you?" He asks in a low tone. He doesn't bother to stop his mouth from eating you, but he keeps his orbs on yours waiting for an answer.

"Yes," you breathe, resisting your moans to speak properly. "I want to touch them."

He laughs at your response making your body vibrate. "You have my permission, prey," he smiles. "I suggest you don't touch harshly, they are quite sensitive."

You grasp one of his horns in your grip, gasping at how slick it is. Almost as though it was dipped in oils to leave it smooth. You stroke it gently, amused by the lewd sounds it makes. Nyryx softly moans at your touch, his tongue getting more brave to dip into your entrance.

When you pulled your hands away from his horn, a string of wetness hung from your fingers. You brought your hand to your lips and licked, curious as to what it tasted like, You could feel Nyryx's eyes on your movements, his smile on your pussy as you gulped. It tasted sickly sweet, slightly salty, but the most noticeable part was the burn.

Not like spice, but like fire. It traveled from your throat to the depths of your stomach. You made a strange sound as it burned, mouth hanging opening as you craved more of the substance. Before you had the chance to shove your fingers in your mouth, you felt unbelievably hot. You felt how much you gushed out onto Nyryx's tongue and how lonely your throat felt. The sudden crave to have his cock deep in your mouth was almost unbearable.

Nyryx laughed almost manically at your behavior. He happily gulped your excess of essence and gave you one more lick before leaning forward to your face. His eyes searched your expression, noting the blush in your cheeks and the swell of your lips. He smiled.

"Is it here?" Nyryx's voice was teasing. His clawed hand gripped your throat softly, running it up and down you neck. "Are you burning here?"

You nodded immediately, a pathetic whimper left your lips. "Please," you begged, "Kiss me."

One of his eyebrows quirked up, he hadn't expected you to say that. He quickly put his playful smirk on and leaned in close, "Only because you asked so pleasantly."

His lips met yours, they were hot and drowned in the taste of your pussy which you more than happy to taste with him. He smiled when you slipped your tongue inside his mouth. Nyryx's hands slipped to your waist and pulled you close, opening with mouth wider. You felt the smoothness of his tongue, your pussy throbbed at how much it missed his soft muscle.

Nyryx suddenly shoved his tongue deep into your throat, not caring about the drool that pooled out of your mouth and his. You moaned, greedily sucking on his tongue and your hands gripped the back of his head.

Deeper, you wanted him deeper inside you. The burn and itch was not satisfied, you needed more.

You pulled away from him despite your body yearning for his lips. His eyes opened to yours curiously, head cocked to the side. Your hands traveled down his back, feeling his smooth grey skin and black wings. He shivered at your touch, eyes closing for a brief second.

Your hands went around to feel his chest, giving a playful pinch at his nipple. His eyes hot back open and he look surprised at your gesture, but wasn't displeased. Yours hands kept going down until you met the waistband of his trousers. You slipped your hand under, but Nyryx was quick to grab your wrist.

"I understand my aphrodisiacs got you excited, but refrain from taking charge. I do not like to be challenged," though his smile was flirtatious, he tone was dead set. You nodded, ignoring the aphrodisiacs he said you ingested.

He moved back so he had room to yank you down fully on the bed by your hips. You laid flat, excitement pooling in your stomach as his eyes took in your form hungrily. You would've squirmed by someone staring at you so intensely, but all you could think about was how much he was going to stretch you out.

Nyryx lifted your shirt above your head, discarding it quickly until you were completely nude underneath him. He followed suit, throwing his trousers off to spring his hard cock free. Your eyes travelled down and your jaw dropped. You legs closed instinctively, that won't fit.

You took in his dark cock, matching his grey tone. His tip was slightly darker, a contrast to the white pre-cum that was seeping out. If it wasn't his color that surprised you, it had to be his girth. The thickness made you salivate, you've never seen a dick so heavy.

You swallowed thickly, eyes peering back to his. Nyryx seemed pleased, taking delight in your surprise. "Do not be fearful," he says calmly, as if he's gone through this before. "I may be half demon, but I am not so cruel to not give you pleasure on my cock."

You let out a breath and bit your lower lip. It's been a while, can you really fit him? Still, you reopened your legs, holding them by the under thighs. He smiled, flashing his sharp teeth, "Good girl."

He grabbed his cock and slid it against your cunt, smearing both of your arousal all over. You whimpered, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you felt his warmth spread. You could feel the veins of his cock, the tip he ever so carefully ran on your pussy. You could feel his grip tighten on your waist as he hissed a breath in.

He humped you for a while, loving how you writhed and begged for him to shove his dick inside. His tail wrapped around your ankle, pulling your leg a little more open. You felt him adjust on his knees, poking his tip inside of you. Your body clenched immediately to slip him in, but to no avail. Nyryx only laughed at you pathetic attempts.

"Please," you cried, still keeping your voice into a needy whisper. "Nyryx I need it, it hurts." "Aww," he coos, leaning down to cup your face. "Is my little human going mad?"

You felt your heart clench, my little human. It was most likely bedroom talk, but it didn't stop the deepening blush in your cheeks. Rather than answering, you cried. Tears falling down your face like you had been cursed at. Nyryx leaned down and licked your tears, humming at your saltiness.

"Forgive me, prey. I have a bad habit of playing with my food," Nyryx apologizes. He places a tender kiss to your lips before sitting back up, this time with determination.

He grabbed the base of his cock and lined it up with you as he used his other hand to steady at your waist. You lifted your hips up at his movements, trying to find a position that would have it slip in the easiest.

Nyryx pushed forward, his tip going in easily. Your mouth fell open when he went deeper, pussy clenching around his thickness. You whimpered, but the pain was still pleasurable. The half-demon was careful though, grabbing a pillow from behind you to place under your hips.

He reached up to stroke his horn for a moment and used the same hand to stroke his cock, most likely to lube his dick up so it could continue sliding in with ease. It worked, finally settling deep into your cunt like it was always meant to be there.

You loudly cried out, forgetting where you were for a moment. It hurt so good, you spread legs more so he could shuffle closer to your body. He softly thrusted once, your while body moving with him. You moaned, the burn deep inside your belly was finally being snuffed out.

You reached up to bring him down to your lips, kissing him carelessly. He moaned into your mouth, moving his hips deeply inside you. You cried pleasurably into his mouth, loving how he stretched you. You studied his face to see he was screwing his eyes shut. It was like he was focusing.

Nyryx was focusing, it took so much control to not abuse your pussy. You were so warm, tight, so inviting to him that he this was more than just a meal. Sure, he's been hungry for this moment in general, but you made him want to indulge in his own dark desires. Taking you rough, yanking your hair as he took you behind. This though, he was content was seeing your face twist in pleasure. Maybe next time he'll take you how he wants to.

A particular thrust made you moan loudly, bringing him back to this moment. You grabbed him shoulders as Nyryx thrusted a little more roughly into you. His wing flared out slightly, as though he was suddenly possessive of your body. He sat back up, a bruising grip on your hips as he drove into you.

Don't scream, don't scream. you told yourself. But the way Nyryx was kissing the deepest parts of you proved that it was difficult. He had to silence you by clamping a hand over your mouth. Not that you minded, you enjoyed his manhandling.

The burning thrust of his cock had heat building in your lower stomach. You clenched around him to add more pressure, letting him know you were getting close.

Nyryx groaned at the feel of your tight cunt. "Give it to me, prey. I'm starving."

You were worried about how loud you two were being. The bed was repeatedly hitting the wall, your muffled wails were beginning to get loud, but the loudest was the skin-to-skin clapping. The indecent sounds that it made.

"Oh fuck Nyryx, please don't stop, please," you begged, muffled. The boiling in your stomach was going to spill out, you just need a little...

His hand left your mouth rub on your clit, spreading your juices all over your lower lips. You moaned. The rubbing was almost painful, but it was so desperately needed in order for you to cum.

You covered your own mouth as you came, muting the sounds of elation into your palms. You groaned with every thrust Nyryx pushed into you, fucking you through your orgasm. You could feel your juices drip down and you're sure there was a white ring around his cock. Rather than letting you up, Nyryx pushed unbelievably deeper, tip crushing your cervix as his hand kept playing with your pussy.

"No!" you cried, words slurring. "It's too much!"

Nyryx gave you a wicked grin, his horns leaking with what you think was arousal. "You're going to take it," he commanded. You were sobbing at this point. You were begging to be fucked, but now you were begging for the exact opposite. Though, a strange part of you loved being painfully overstimulated.

He stilled in your hips, moaning like a wounded animal as he came. You felt is gush into you, his warmth spreading inside your stomach. You moaned at his release, finally spared from his tortuous fingers on your clit.

He pulled out quickly, face going down to face your pussy before he stuck his tongue out. You pushed his head away, but his hands were faster. He intertwined your fingers with his own as he ate you out again, collecting your release and his own.

"Nyryx puh-leaseeee," you wailed. You legs were forced open by his tail, holding one of your thighs apart. He ignored your pleas, he actually laughed into your pussy. "You beg so prettily," he pulls away for a moment. "I almost want to listen."

You think he was going to spare you pity, but instead he laps on your abused, puffy clit once more. You became a babbling mess as Nyryx shoved his tongue deep inside you, making sure to get every drop you released. Your body weakly struggles against him, your sensitive clit twitching.

When he finally pulls away, he notices how wet your face had become. He feels a pain in his chest, perhaps he went a little too far this time. He released your hands from his hold and his tail relinquishes your thigh. Your legs immediately close and you wince at the sensitivity of your pussy.

Nyryx moves so he rests besides you, pulling you into his sweaty chest. He kisses the top of your head as you scoot closer to him, eyes feeling droopy. His fingers gently caress your arm, the other underneath you. Even his tail wrap comfortably around the lower part of your leg.

"Apologies, prey," his voice sounds distance, you know you're falling to sleep. "I was famished."

a/n: okay so it's gonna be longer than 4 chapters oops lmao.

#smut #tw monsterfucking #monster fucker #monster fic #monster fun #monster #demon smut #demon oc #dark fic #dead dove fic #dead dove do not eat #chapter 3 #my fic updates #chapter update #predator and prey #demon

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echoes-of-mia · 3 months

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okay this is a long ramble and kinda personal, so bear with me, but i want to talk about being aspec in the joker out fandom bc I'm full of emotions and i need to share them somewhere

(just a short warning for internalised aphobia before i go on)

for context, i identify as aspec, more specifically asexual and some flavour of aromantic. I've known about the ace part for about 3-4 years now, the aro part is more recent and I'd say that before, lets say, a couple of months ago, I'd always seen that as something negative, something that makes me miserable, a deficit that will always be there and that others will never understand

and then i joined the (tumblr) joker out fandom around... june of last year, probably? and at first i thought "theres no way there are many queer people in this fandom, its essentially a boyband, and other aspec people? no way"

well, oh boy was i wrong

because not only is this fandom, like what, 90% queer? (i know someone made a poll at some point but i dont remember the percentages) but it's also around 50% aspec. and there's just this general positivity and support surrounding the a-spectrum in the fandom. like, some days ago there was an aphobic comment somewhere and before i even saw it my dash was FLOODED with people defending aspec people and i was just sitting in the kitchen reading through the posts and crying.

and yes, this is tumblr, i could have seen this coming and it's probably different on other platforms, but so many aspec people in one place, in one fandom, is still something that I've never experienced before.

so why are so many aspec people drawn to a slovenian indie/shagadelic rock band that, at first glance, is just 5 very good-looking probably-straight guys making music? that doesnt really make sense, right?

and then you see how much more they are. how they interact with each other. how comfortable they are in their sexualities, in their masculinity, in being themselves. you see a group of friends that love each other so unashamedly it's a bit unbearable to watch sometimes. you don't see them holding back because "thats not their partner!" or "that's reserved for romantic relationships!", you just see love. you see them supporting each other, being physically affectionate, looking out for each other, laughing together, even living together. vse kar vem could easily be a romantic song, but it's about their friendship!!

and what is all of that, if not THE dream of many aspec people? to be okay with not feeling sexual or romantic attraction because you have your group of friends that you love the same amount as allosexual/-romantic people love their partner(s) and to show it, and to know that they love you the same (and won't replace you with romantic partners) because they also show it, without thinking twice about it, without thinking about how others might interpret your relationship because it just doesn't matter as long as you love each other.

so of course aspec people see themselves in joker out. we see hope for ourselves in them, we are probably a little (or in my case very) jealous of their friendship, we want what they have or we just love to finally see real people live with the sort of affection we would like to have. (just to clarify, this is based mostly on what i feel, so other aspecs might feel completely different about this, idk why I'm trying to generalise this)

and this is about all five of them, but to take jan and nace as an obvious example: they love each other so much that the fans start to speculate, and they know about it. but instead of hiding their affection, they just keep on doing what they're doing. because they know how they feel for each other, and it's no one else's business, and they won't be stopping their love just because of "conspiracy theories". and to me it doesn't matter how they love each other (platonic, romantic, whatever), it matters that they do and that you can't help but notice it, because they show it in every interaction we see of them. the damon baker photoshoot just confirmed that, they look at each other and the amount of love makes me cry, it's so incredibly beautiful.

(just some other things i want to mention: them probably cooking mostly potatoes because nace is glutenfree. nace calming down bojan after his panic attack in summer. jan and bojan casually kissing on the lips during a concert. the jure and bojan getting married photoshoot. bojan touching kris's hair during concerts. kris being carried around during a photoshooting. jure and jan drawing a heart together. them gathering around jure's drumset during concerts. i could go on but for my sanity and yours i won't, there are so many moments that just make me soft)

I'd love to be more physically affectionate with my friends, but every time there's this voice in the back of my head saying what society has conditioned it to say, which is that that kind of affection is reserved for romantic relationships, and this voice stops me every time. i feel like bojan, jan, jure, kris and nace either don't have that voice (anymore?) or they've just managed to ignore it, they don't hold back and i admire that as much as i wish i could be like that.

and while i still have a long way to go until i can be affectionate with my friends without worrying about it or holding myself back, joker out have shown me that it's possible, because of them i finally have days on which i think that i can be aspec and actually happy about it. being aspec finally feels as freeing as it should feel and I'm just grateful

joker out has allowed so much queer joy into my life without intending to and although i don't think anyone i know irl will ever understand this, i hope that some of you can relate to this in some way.

I've said this a lot during the past two weeks but i can never say it enough: all the love to my fellow aspecs, and also to all the non-aspec people who support us <3

feel free to add to this if you want to; my dms are always open if you want to talk about it without posting about it, i love hearing other people's thoughts about stuff like this ^^

#i really want to write sth like this about gender too bc thats also connected to all of this #special love to sonja for all the moments of self-discovery we've had in the past months 💚💚#joker out #personal #thanks for listening to my rambles <3

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thankskenpenders · 1 year

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MORE behind the scenes Sonic info and other tidbits from the BumbleKast as I continue to get caught up. These range from September 2022 to early December. (This means there are spoilers for Frontiers in here.)

They're doing episodes even more often now, so I've got a lot to catch up on and I'm sure most of y'all do too!

1. The IDW comics are, in fact, canon to the games now. Ian was a little coy when first asked about it, saying he "would not argue against it" if people said the IDW comics were canon to the games now. "I have made it clear that the comics follow the lead of the games, so… as long as there's no contradictions anywhere, we're good." So, yeah, come on. The comics are canon.

2. Ian apparently pitched another idea for incorporating Sticks into the IDW series last year that was once again shot down, although he says this only makes him want to dig his heels in and try harder. (I'm assuming most of you are already aware of her shout out in Frontiers, confirming she's out there, somewhere...)

3. If Surge was a streamer, Ian thinks she would just grief people on Fortnite

4. On the October 7th, 2022 show, Ian says there is a behind-the-scenes answer for how the depiction of Silver's future in '06 can fit together with Rivals and Rush... but he can't talk about it right now.

It's hard to convey his tone through text, so just imagine he's saying all this with a big, defeated shrug:

"Here's the thing. Working on something else, I actually did get a straight answer, and it was... frustratingly simple. And, it's like, 'That works. [sigh] Okay!' No, I can't get into it - that's all private work stuff - but maybe it'll come to light eventually. But... there is an answer. And it works. And I kinda feel dumb for not thinking of it."

I honestly have no idea what this could be if it's something Ian hadn't considered, because he has talked about popular theories and readings before, such as the reading that Blaze was transported to the Sol Dimension at the end of '06. Maybe we'll hear about it in the comics, since Silver and Blaze are both back right now, or maybe they'll be the subject of a TailsTube episode.

5. Froggy is not sentient in any way he really is just a frog

6. Unrelated to Sonic, Ian was asked "who is best pony" and he said Fluttershy. My longest yeah boy ever dot jpeg

7. With Surge and Kit originally being pitched as purely synthetic beings before Sega suggested they be cyborgs instead, Ian says they would've struggled with whether or not they're even real, as opposed to the end product where they struggle with not knowing who they were before Starline modified them

8. When the female cast of Archie Sonic stopped getting drawn so busty all the time that was, in fact, a very specific editorial mandate from someone at Archie. Sega, on the other hand, has never cared.

9. Now that we're back to Classic and Modern being part of one nebulous timeline and the divide being more of a branding thing, Ian explicitly confirmed that the Classic-themed IDW Sonic comics are set in the past of the mainline IDW Sonic comics. They're set sometime after the events of Mania, and before all the Modern stuff. Just don't think too hard about it

But hey! If it's any consolation, this now means all the Classic characters like Mighty, Nack, and Honey are out there off-screen in the world of the regular comics, even if the casts are remaining separate for branding reasons for now. It also means Shadow is out there being held in a pod in a maximum security off-shore military prison during the events of all the lighthearted Classic comics lmao

10. Ian reiterates yet again that he's still pushing to try and get the Freedom Fighters back in some capacity where he can (as are others). He also says that he's pushing for them to return as a group rather than requesting individual members because he believes that's the best shot at getting any of them through Sega's approval process.

(I can't remember when the last time this came up was, but Ian has also implied that he thinks their best shot is to return as Classic characters since their one game appearance is Spinball.)

11. Ian outright confirms that the forward-looking character arcs in Frontiers are reflective of what he would like to see out of the main cast moving forward in the games. Not surprising since that's, like... the whole point of those arcs! But nice that he wants it to only be the beginning.

Ian does also say, however, that he's not guaranteed to return as the writer for future games since he's still a freelancer, but to editorialize here, I don't see why they wouldn't want him back for the next project.

12. On the subject of Amy's characterization in Frontiers, Ian personally pins her general seriousness mostly on the fact that she's the companion for the first island, where the mysterious and somber tone Sega wanted for the story is being established and Sonic is still trying to figure out what to do. He says that she'd probably have been more bubbly if she was interacting with Sonic on the second or third island, after he starts to get his bearings. I hoped this was the reason why she felt a little dry compared to Knuckles and Tails, so it's nice to hear this isn't the new direction for Amy or anything.

13. While "officially" Sage's name is just an anagram of Sega and a reference to her wisdom, Ian seems to be cheekily implying that it's also a nod to the annual Sonic Amateur Games Expo. Hell yeah.

14. When asked to clear up some Frontiers lore from the Egg Memos, Ian explicitly confirmed that some of the Ancients left the Starfall Islands and went on to devolve into the Chao as we know them today over the course of tens of thousands of years. He says, however, that this doesn't mean that Ancients and Chao are literally the same species, comparing it to the difference between humans and australopithecus. But yes, they're related.

#secret bumblekast knowledge

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genericpuff · 7 months

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alright so this is a post I've been wanting to write up for a little while now, but I was waiting on permission from a third party to post DM's (censored, of course). That permission has since returned with a yes, soooo

LET'S TALK ABOUT RACHEL'S HIRING PROCESSES-

okay this isn't gonna be as comprehensive as I'm making it sound BUT I've mentioned before on this page (albeit briefly and it's long since been buried) that I actually applied to be a background artist for Rachel a couple years ago, I think it was around the midpoint of S2, and it was (obviously) before I turned to the dark side of crit-n-shit-posting. I never got an email back, so that was that. I'd like to think there's a parallel universe out there where instead of joining the antiLO/ULO community, I became an assistant for Rachel and remained a fan. Enjoy that fridge horror thought.

That said, while I didn't get a response, someone on reddit mentioned that they did:

And they were kind enough to share further details with me in DM's.

Right off the bat, I'm fairly certain they were applying to the same ad I was (as it was a posting that Rachel had made on Twiter and the approximate years line up).

All that aside, considering what Rachel's process is like with her assistants (from what we've discussed here in GREAT detail), it's not shocking in the slightest that the vibe of working with Rachel from the very beginning was "IDK what I'm looking for".

Buuut that's not the end of the exchange because it gets better.

Mind you, this was back in 2019 and it was the experience of one user, so it doesn't necessarily reflect every assistant on the team or how Rachel does things down to the last detail. But it's pretty damning enough that you can still see the evidence of this kind of workflow in current LO 4 years later. If anything she's continued to operate with a rapidly declining pipeline because the art just keeps getting worse and worse.

Part me of wants to say that this could be on Webtoons, as they don't offer support to creators to have assistants. Creators have to pay for their assistants completely out of pocket, split from the income they make from Webtoons. This is why so many creators often don't have assistants or their 'assistants' are also their co-creators (see: Nevermore, which is drawn and written by two people working together).

But Rachel has an average of four assistants per episode, sometimes as many as eight in some cases (though it's been a while since that's happened so I won't really count it for this post).

That means Rachel's team is typically made up of five people, including herself, and that's not including the recent addition of copy editors (but that balances out with the times when Amy Kim isn't contributing , she tends to pop in and out).

Now, she's not the only person on WT with a team of this size, there are others with comparable teams if not bigger ones, but NONE of them seem to operate with as much inconsistency as LO does, and that's not on the assistants, that's on Rachel. She's said in interviews that she always wanted to be a director and that making LO on Webtoons was her way of achieving that, but she doesn't seem to have the integrity or leadership skills necessary to take charge when the team isn't working in sync. You don't see any of these insane art art inconsistencies in webtoons like The Kiss Bet or Tower of God (though they have their own problems, the art isn't one of them), and there are webtoons operating without a team at all that are drawing circles around LO right now, like Nevermore (which is, by the way, also edited by Bre Boswell, same as LO).

Now, that's not to say there isn't struggling underneath the surface, the creators of Nevermore have stated how difficult it is to work for Webtoons as it is, especially as creators who don't have assistants. But how is the #1 comic on the platform failing to meet the standards that come with its labels and awards? Why are the exceptionally better comics being drawn by 1-2 people not getting the attention or opportunities they deserve from the platform? And why does Rachel Smythe, one of the highest paid creators on the platform, still seem to struggle with managing a team of artists after five years of publication on Webtoons? Why does she choose to have a large team if she can't pay them adequately? Why have a large team at all if she's not going to utilize their skills properly? To further lighten the load of work onto others?

Really, it just goes to show the lack of care and respect all around - for the self, for the work, and for those who are pushing out the work and meeting the deadlines, whose reputations and potential are being dragged down with the comic itself.

#lore olympus critical #lo critical #antiloreolympus #anti lore olympus

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crepes-suzette-373 · 4 months

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Germa and French references

(Plus bonus Star Wars mention at the end)

Sanji's iron mask in the flashbacks immediately made me think of Dumas's works, but when I saw it I didn't think much about it. It's just like, "Oh I guess it's just part of the Sanji = French thing". Plus in one of the cover arts Sanji was drawn in a classic Musketeer outfit, so I thought it was just for fun.

But Twitter user Marudoro-san made this thread that pointed out a bunch of the same references I'd caught and said "Hey, maybe this is actually important to the plot later", and I think they have a point. So I figured I'd share what I'd already noticed, and I will highlight the input that I got from Marudoro-san in red here in this post.

Iron Mask

The man in the iron mask is a French prisoner whose identity is never truly known in history. In his novel, Alexandre Dumas invented a plot where the iron masked prisoner is the twin brother of King Louis XIV, and the plot involves the famous Musketeers from the previous novels in a conspiracy of switching the king for the twin brother.

At a glance, it might be just a literary Easter egg, but when I look at it again, I do start to have questions. Within the One Piece scenario context, this is unnecessary. In the Dumas novel, the mask seems to be needed to hide the prisoner's identity. But there's no need to hide Sanji's identity, and it's not to prevent him from shouting for help because he can still talk even with the mask. What is it for? Is it a clue that the Man in the Iron Mask novel is relevant to this story?

For one, the fact that the iron masked prisoner being the king's twin is noteworthy. Sanji is one of 4 quadruplets, but still. Marudoro said that maybe this is a sign that Sanji and Ichiji will have a confrontation later. This makes sense, because of the other Vinsmokes, the one most likely to represent a "king" would be Ichiji.

This is something I myself had considered before, that Ichiji specifically might later have a role as "Sanji's opposite". I don't know how yet, but the imagery and themes that I've seen so far seems to point that way.

Marudoro also points out that if you look into the Musketeer novels, Sanji has vibes similar to Aramis, who is described as something of a womaniser. Aramis happens to be the mastermind behind the twin conspiracy in the Iron Mask novel.

The correlation is vague, and it's hard to tell how is this going to be relevant, besides maybe "there might be other French history/literature references in Germa's storyline".

Les Misérables, Revolution, the French Royalty

The only two Germa servants who actually has proper names, head chef Cosette and Sora's personal servant Eponi, seem to be references to the Les Misérables characters Cosette and Eponine. Part of the narrative of Les Mis is the June Rebellion, an uprising of the anti-monarchists.

In the Soul Pocus song that serves as the outro of the WCI arc, the "lyrics" specifically has the exact word "guillotine". For many people, guillotine is very closely linked to the image of the French Revolution and the execution of King Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette.

Speaking of guillotine... Yonji's attack, translated as "Winch Guillotine" in the official translation, is actually called "Winch Danton" in the raw. This is possibly a reference to Georges Danton, and important figure of French Revolution, who is curiously executed by guillotine.

Sensei clearly knows the word guillotine, so why not just flat out call it "Winch Guillotine" like the translation?

For whatever it's worth, Danton was someone who was executed for opposing the new government after the first revolution. The revolutionaries got so bad that it was called the "Reign of Terror", so Danton turned against them and was trying to oppose this cruelty.

Yonji is rather visibly the least "bad" of the brothers and his reactions are almost like a "normal person" in a lot of ways, so maybe this is significant?

Marudoro-san said that the Nyasha/cat carriage the Vinsmokes were riding when they were about to meet Big Mum was incredibly similar to the funerary carriage of King Louis XVIII. While there are some differences, they do have a point.

Again, it's still unclear about what significance all of this stuff will have. Maybe the imagery of "revolution" and "King's funeral" indicate that Germa will be undergoing a lot of changes. Something that's beyond just the formation of Neo MADS.

The Knights Hospitaller... and Napoleon?

Marudoro-san says there's an interesting parallel between Germa and the Knights Hospitaller. This is a chivalric order that has privileges that puts them equal to a sovereign power. They have minimal land holdings, but has the standing almost on par with that of a nation. It's like the landless Germa, who is still recognised as a kingdom by WG up until their privileges were taken away after the mess in WCI.

The Knights has lost a lot of its power and territories in Europe through history, and finally, its headquarters in Malta was sacked by Napoleon. Marudoro-san highlighted that Big Mum's hat and sword was called Napoleon.

Marudoro-san took this analysis elsewhere, but for my part, I'm wondering if Germa almost being destroyed at WCI is a parallel of this attack of the Knights in Malta, with Big Mum being the parallel to Napoleon.

The possible proof of the Napoleon parallel is Law. Law was heavily instrumental in Big Mum's defeat in Wano, and his name are connected to events related to Napoleon's downfall.

Napoleon suffered a major defeat at the Battle of Trafalgar, and the man who was his jailer to the point of his death was a surgeon's son named Hudson Lowe. Law and Lowe looks different in English, but in Japanese both are spelled the same: ロー.

[Edit: Napoleon was also famously defeated in the Battle of Waterloo. In Japanese, Waterloo is spelled like this: ワーテルロー. It contains the same "ロー" as in Law's name.]

Marudoro-san said that Napoleon's invasion of Malta involved tricking the Knights to letting him dock under false pretences. I don't know how true this is, but at the very least this is a narrative that is accessible to the Japanese. One could argue that this is parallel to the conspiracy in Whole Cake.

If this parallel is really correct, then, this could be a hint of "Good Germa".

The Knights Hospitaller surrendered and survived that Napoleon encounter, with its status being even more diminished. Eventually it restructured as the Sovereign Military Order of Malta, which still has its sovereign authorities (Wikipedia says they can even issue passports and currency), but is now an organisation whose activities are focused on charity.

Bonus: The Jedi and Clone Wars?? (Star Wars)

Marudoro-san also mentioned that the 66 of Germa reminds them of Order 66 from Star Wars, which ended the Jedi order and enabled the Sith to rise to power.

I only understand Star Wars very minimally myself, but a fan I talked to on Twitter confirmed to me that they think so as well. Especially because there's the specific focus on Germa soldiers being clones, and it's reminiscent of the whole clone plotline in Star Wars.

Order 66 ended the Jedi. The 66 of Germa is in reference to the destruction of the old Germa Empire.

If this parallel is true, then this might confirm the theory that "Germa is not actually evil before". If we read that the "Sith" is World Government, and the old Germa is "Jedi", then maybe it's hinting that all the story about them being evil in the past is a lie? They may be awful now because Judge is so driven by revenge, but maybe they were actually not evil before.

#one piece #vinsmoke family #germa 66 #conspiracy theory #analysis #theory #literary reference

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buckybarnesb-tch · 11 months

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The Art Nerd

Modern!Highschool Klaus M. Pt. I

She was the only person in the school besides his family who gave him the time of day, let alone treated him with any kindness, even his siblings struggled with that half the time. She was one of the few popular girls who wasn't a bitch to all of the kids around her and he admired that about her, ever since the day she first spoke to him he hadn't been able to get her off of his mind and even he knew he was a little obsessed.

The first time she talked to him she was commenting on his painting. She had been sent to the classroom to drop something off to the teacher and as she went to leave she walked passed Klaus, seeing his painting. It was a beautiful, dark night sky and she was in love with it immediately.

'Wow. That is beautiful!' He was startled by her voice, usually completely focused when he paints which makes hearing other people a complication, though people don't usually talk to him so it's not often a problem. When he turned to see her he recognized her instantly, who wouldn't? She was one of the most popular girls in the school, though she wasn't completely cruel to those around her. Her boyfriend however, James, was an asshole who had abused Klaus both physically and verbally on many occasions, both that she knew nothing about that. He had never really looked at her before but now that he was his hands were practically itching to sketch those gorgeous eyes of hers.

He realized he had been staring at her a little longer than was humanly acceptable so he immediately stumbled over his words to say something. Anything! 'Thank you.' Thank you? Thank you?! That's all he has? He's pathetic!

'It amazes me that people can paint like that. I can't even draw stick figures.' She leaned closer to get a better look at his painting and he was overcome with her scent, inhaling as subtly as he could when he realized how Wonderful her smell is. Mango and Pomegranate? Along with something flowery that was just perfect and practically had him melting. He wanted to nuzzle his face into her neck and just take in her scent as deeply as he could. 'You're really talented Klaus.' He was instantly stunned. She knows his name? His name?! He was stunned but he surely didn't mean to say it out loud.

'You know my name?' He wanted to slap himself in the face.

'Of course I do. We've had 3 classes together since 9th grade. It's Niklaus, isn't it?' He nodded.

'Yeah, I know, it's a really weird name, I've heard it all before.' He joked but she didn't laugh.

'I don't think it's weird, I like it. My name is Y/n, how boring is that? Why would you want the same name as everyone else? It's unique.' She was sure of herself and he was touched that she liked anything about him, let alone something that he had been embarrassed of since he was 5.

'Thank you...I used to get teased about it by everyone, including my brothers. It's nice to know not everyone thinks it's stupid I guess.' She smiled and god damn if that smile didn't light up his whole world.

'I'm glad. I should go before my teacher thinks I ditched, I hope I get to see your painting when it's finished, it really is amazing. See you later, Nik.' With that she was gone and he was left there staring after her like some love sick puppy...which he absolutely was!

For the rest of the day Klaus could be found with his sketchbook in hand, drawing her beautiful eyes over and over again. He was obsessing over every little detail of her cute little nose and her full, kissable lips and by the time the last bell rang he had drawn her 4 times. He tucked the book into his bag and shoved his notebooks into his locker when he was suddenly shoved from behind, hands pushing him painfully into the locker before shutting the door behind him, laughter from 3 jocks outside for several moments before he could pull the latch and let himself out. That asshole had been abusing him since his first day of high school and now as a Junior the moron should be gone but he is, as he said, a moron and has been held back 3 times yet somehow still allowed to play football and to wrestle. How does a piece of shit like that get a girl like Y/n?

Over the next few weeks his crush grew into full blown obsession and even his brothers had noticed, the brothers he lived with who never notice anything! Kol teased him but he could be shut up pretty easily with a punch to the mouth, Elijah just warned his little brother of the risks of what he's doing. Though Elijah is in college now, he had been in the same class as James for years before the kid started getting held back and he knew very well that his little brother would get crushed if he pissed James off. Finn however just wanted details in the insane chance that Klaus actually got the girl into his bed, which Klaus found offensive. Finn was a dick when it came to women, everyone but his girlfriend Sage who had straightened him out when they started dating 2 years ago, though he was still a pig when it came to anyone else. If Klaus was lucky enough for Y/n to give him the time of day he would Never share details with anyone, especially his asshole older brother.

It was 3 weeks before Klaus spoke to Y/n again. He had finally gotten the painting graded and could take it home, and while he normally would take it home and hang it in his basement bedroom (a room his mother had fixed and given to him to make it easier for her son to avoid Mikael when he's angry or drunk), this time he had no intention of taking it home. He had been watching Y/n for weeks now and knew exactly where she was after school, walking outside and to the side of the building to see her with her cheerleading friends. He took a deep breath and steadied himself, walking over and instantly having their undivided attention as he got close, none of these popular girls probably ever having been approached by a nerd of any kind. Klaus was an art nerd, he spent all of his time in the art rooms, he wore dorky glasses sadly and he got incredible grades, he knew it and he was fine with it...most of the time. The only time he had a problem with it was lately as he knew a girl like Y/n, despite how kind she was, would never give him the time of day when it came to dating him.

'Are you lost, dork?' One of the cheerleaders asked and he felt his face heat up, ready to just give up on this stupid idea when Y/n spoke up.

'Shut up Stacey! He hasn't even said a single word and you're already being a bitch!' She snapped and all of them stopped laughing, having the decency to look at least a little bit sorry. 'Hi Klaus. What's up?' He grinned, ecstatic that she was so receptive to him approaching her at all, let alone in front of her friends.

'I um...I just finished getting the painting graded and I remember you saying you wanted to see it when it was done?' Her eyes lit up and she smiled a beautiful grin that Klaus instantly knew he would be drawing later.

'Yes! I can't believe you remembered! Show me!' He turned the canvas around and allowed her to see it, letting her take it from him to inspect it closer, her friends now moving to see it as well. 'Klaus...this is incredible! You are so talented there aren't words for it! Isn't this amazing?' She asked her friends who all looked quite stunned by it.

'It is, it's really fucking good.'

'Truth. You have some serious talent. You should be in like, some special art school or something.'

'Brittany is right. You should be! Tell me you're going to some fancy art college after next year?' Y/n asked and he shrugged, blushing like crazy now.

'I'm going to apply to a few but they're really hard to get into, you know?' She nodded.

'Well I'm sure you'll get in, they would be crazy not to like this. I love it Klaus, really.' He nodded, smiling and not taking it from her when she went to hand it back.

'Good. Because it's yours.' All of them looked up at him in surprise, some of the girls giggling while another poked Y/n in the side, all of them walking away at this point to head to the football field for practice.

'Klaus...I can't accept this. You worked so hard on it, and don't you need it for like, your gallery or something to apply to schools?' He shook his head, smiling at her use of the word gallery.

'No, I have some photos of it for my art portfolio, I've been putting it together for years hoping to get out of this fucking town. I do hope I have a gallery of my own someday, but that's a long way off. Maybe someday when that happens, years and years off you'll let me borrow it to showcase, either way it's yours. I enjoyed how your eyes lit up when you saw it, no one has ever really been interested in my art work before besides my little sister, though I think that's just because she knows my family doesn't care much for my artwork.' Y/n looked saddened by that and he hated it immediately, never wanting to see her sweet face frowning.

'That's fucked up. Your family should be supporting you, especially when you're this good! Why don't they?' She seemed genuinely upset for him and it sent butterflies fluttering through his stomach.

'It's complicated I suppose, my mother had an affair and I'm not my fathers son, my relationship with my parents has been...complicated to say the least but you don't need to hear about that. My siblings just aren't into art, simple as that. My older brother Elijah is supportive, as much as he can be.' He didn't like the look of pity on her face as he told her this and tried to get out of the conversation quickly. 'I hope you like it.'

She caught his arm as he turned to leave before wrapping her arm around his neck and hugging him to her. 'I'm so sorry you have to suffer through that. I can't relate to that exactly but my family is fucked up too, my dad is a drunk and my mom numbs the pain with drugs so I pretty much take care of myself. I can empathize is my point...thank you for the painting. It was very thoughtful, I'll take wonderful care of it, I promise.' He wrapped his arms around her, taking the opportunity to take in her scent and feel her body pressed against his. He had been dreaming of her for a month now and finally feeling her body against him was like he was back in one of his dreams, her breasts pressed against his chest firmly and it was all he could think about, his cock twitching to life in his boxers prompting him to let go before this became embarrassing. 'I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?'

'Yes. Absolutely!' With that she was gone and he happily watched her walk away, desperately wanting to know what her cute little ass felt like in his hands, or pressed up against his crotch as he held her to him tightly...if only he had some kind of a chance with her.

From that day on she greeted him every time she saw him in the halls, and every time it made his day. He had caved for the first time after that hug, practically running to his room as he got home and wrapping his fingers around his cock, trying like hell to imagine they were hers as he could still feel her breasts pressed against his chest. His hand had been wrapped around his cock ever since.

It was a week later at the end of the school day that he was grabbed from behind, dropping his bag as he prepared to be shoved into the locker again, but he wasn't. He was spun around and pinned to the locker door, looking up to see James behind him and for once he was alone. The halls were deserted as Klaus had stayed after school to finish his newest painting, wanting it to dry over the weekend so he could hand it in on Monday and he felt a chill run up his spine when he realized no one was going to help him if this jerk decided to beat him to death.

'You know, I've been shoving you into lockers and smacking you around for almost 3 years and until a week ago I had no fucking clue what your name was. So why is it that now it's all I hear?' His eyes widened, not having expected that at all. 'Tell me, Klaus...why is my girlfriend suddenly talking about you as if you're fucking Mozart with that damn 'Night Sky' painting she hung in her room?!' Klaus couldn't decide what his mind wanted to focus on, the fact that she hung his painting in her room, the fact that she's talking about him on such a regular basis that James is this upset, or that James has clearly been in her room quite often and imagining him with his hands all over her naked body makes Klaus want to set him on fire. He's willing to bet however, that he picked the wrong one instantly.

'Mozart was a composer, he wrote music, he didn't paint. Maybe you're thinking of Van Gogh with his painting 'The Starry Night'? Though mine is drastically different in every way so I don't know how you could-' he was cut off by the meat headed Jocks fist straight to his eye, his head colliding with the locker hard.

'You are becoming a complication for me Klaus, and I don't like complications when it comes to my girl. She should be focused on me! When I'm in her bedroom there's only one thing I want and it's not to hear about the complexities of your God Damn Fucking Painting!' The idea that James was not only fucking her, but disrespecting her on top of that when she blessed him with the ability to not only see but touch her gorgeous body set every inch of his mind on fire with rage. He was about to snap some sort of comeback that would probably get him beaten when they were both startled.

'James?' Both of their heads turned to see where Y/n had walked in from the stairwell. 'What are you doing?! Let Him Go!' She shouted and he was honored that she was sticking up for him, making him feel like the king of the world before he suddenly got punched again, this time in the nose making him cry out, feeling and tasting the blood that exploded from his face.

'No! He's gonna learn his fucking lesson! You don't go muscling in on a man's women, especially when you're a little punk who can't fight back!'

'Muscling in on-what are you talking about?! He's my friend! I shared with you how much I love the painting so you could learn something new about me, yet you still never paid an ounce of attention to anything except my tits! Let Him Go!' Her voice was firm and Klaus could tell she was pissed but if James noticed, he didn't care.

'You ain't been putting out like normal, what am I supposed to think, huh?! We've been together for over a year and I know how much of a little slut you are, if you ain't getting it from me then you must be getting it somewhere! I wouldn't have guessed this little fucker could give you any kind of fuckin' that's worth while, but stranger things have happened.' She hadn't been sleeping with him? Klaus wanted to think maybe he had something to do with it but his logical mind was telling him it more than likely had something to do with this morons attitude rather than Klaus.

'I told you that if you didn't start paying attention to me and giving a damn about our relationship that I wouldn't be dedicating myself to this relationship anymore! This shows EXACTLY how much you listen to me, now let him go! You have no reason to hurt him, besides, if it wasn't already clear from this conversation, we're done! You can find a new girl to put out, I hope she's as dumb as you so she won't feel the need to talk! Lord knows she won't be getting any actual conversation from you.' James looked stunned, like he didn't know quite how to respond but he seemed to figure it out when he pulled his arm back to hit Klaus once again. As James' hand came down Klaus was yanked out of the way and he collapsed to the floor on top of Y/n as the Jocks hand collided with the lockers painfully, causing him to howl in pain.

'You Fucking Cunt!' Klaus pulled her up to her feet and she looked over his face and he could see how badly Y/n felt about it. 'Fuck this shit! You ain't worth it, I mean yeah you have a tight pussy but you're so fucking needy! All the snuggling and the pet names and needing me to spend time with you every damn day! She's all yours, freak!' With that James stormed off and Klaus was left with Y/n pulling him towards the bathrooms.

'I can't go in there!' Klaus insisted, seeing she was taking him into the girls room but she just huffed.

'Everyone has gone home, and the cheerleaders have locker rooms. No one will come in here.' She pulled him through the doorway and pushed him to sit on the counter. Klaus watched as she wet a paper towel and began cleaning the blood from his face very gently. Even when his mother had cleaned him up after Mikael had beaten him again she was never this tender and careful, he found himself wanting to get hurt everyday if this is the treatment he got. 'I'm sorry he did this to you, it's all my fault. I should have known he would freak out if I tried to do anything other than take my top off.'

'Y/n, it is not your fault! He's either hit me or shoved me into my locker at least twice a week for 3 years. I'm sorry he treated you like that, you deserve so much better. He should consider himself lucky you let him see you like that, listening to what you say shouldn't be treated like a chore. He's a fucking idiot.' Y/n had stopped cleaning his face and all at once Klaus realized what he had said. 'Not that it's any of my business and I didn't mean-I-well I didn't mean to...I'm sorry.'

'Don't be. You're incredibly sweet Klaus, and you're right, he's an idiot. He's been held back 3 times, plus once in second grade, like how the fuck do you get held back in second grade?!' They were both laughing at that point and for the first time he felt completely comfortable with her, not nervous at all, he enjoyed how carefree she seemed. 'He's right though, I'm definitely needy. He loved it when I called him 'Daddy' but calling me pet names or caring for me or something as simple as snuggling after sex should be, was insane to him. Like, yeah, I have Daddy and intimacy issues, I don't comment on how stupid and childish you are, why cant you just let me feel small?!' He was stunned, she was talking to him so freely and personally that he didn't quite know what to do, but he didn't want her to stop. He definitely needed to go home and take care of himself now that he's picturing her in baby blue lingerie, calling him Daddy, and snuggling into his chest but he never wanted this moment to end. 'Oh God, I'm so sorry!' He quickly realized that he hadn't said anything after her little rant and he felt bad immediately. 'You didn't need to know any of that! I'm-'

'No! It's fine, I...I think it's even more shitty that you would be so vulnerable with him and he just spat on it. You deserve to be loved and cherished...and a Daddy to take care of you however you need. I...well I would have taken care of you...he doesn't deserve you.' He could see how red your cheeks had become now and he thought it was adorable. 'You can stop if you want. I have plenty of first aid stuff at home, you don't need to-'

'I want to. You deserve someone to take care of you too...I'm almost done anyway. You'll need someone to check on you, you might have a concussion.' Klaus shrugged at that.

'I've had plenty, if I was going to die it probably would have happened by now.' He joked but you did not look entertained.

'I'll do it. Come on, we can hang out and get something to eat. I'm starving.' His eyes widened and he wasn't quite sure how to react. His plan was to go home and jerk off until his balls were surely empty but now Y/n wants to spend time with him? Fuck Yes!

'Yeah...okay. Sure, we can go to my house if you want? The basement is my room but it's so big I made an entertainment center, we can grab some food and...hang out?' Klaus had never 'hung out' with anyone other than his siblings but he was ecstatic at the thought of the girl he is most assuredly in love with being in his room.

'That sounds like fun! Come on.'

Part 2

Klaus Mikaelson Masterlist

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