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circyexistforcontent · 1 year

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The boys with a succubus/incubus god?

CULT AU WITH A DEMON READER

❀ synopsis: “And no marvel; for Satan himself is transformed into an angel of light.” 2 CORINTHIANS 11:14

❀ warnings: slight suggestive content, biblical themes, cult themes, yandere themes, just dark content ahead. Remember you're trespassing on big boy/girl/kid territory, so just be aware of what you're reading ok?

❀ notes: This will contain a lot of dark themes since this is a cult AU and Sagau. But again, thank you all for 400 followers! I don't know how to thank you all (maybe I do, I want to start a event, but let me clear my inbox real quick). spoilers for genshin lore guys...

Being summoned to another world is...certainly interesting...

You didn't expect the moment you open your eyes to be greeted with such colorful characters, and in an RPG game no less. But you aren't complaining of course! This just makes things more entertaining for your part. And being worshipped as a god? This is an entire amusement park!

Your poor, poor acolytes...they have no idea what they have just brought upon this world. If you really were the creator of all no wonder Celestia decided to just one day order the archons to commit genocide. Your influence must have also greatly affected your creations which can explain why some of your acolytes have a questionable history.

Being in your presence just heightens their obsessive tendencies, if they weren't the type to hesitate to kill for you they sure aren't hesitating now. Some might even go as far as to kill in public in front of other devotees. It doesn't matter if it's supposed to be a joyous occasion, you were in danger (or at least they try to justify their actions..) and as your devoted acolyte, they should protect you. (Shenhe, Traveler, Heizou, and Childe)

There are already ones that kill for you, but with your dark influence, they start to get a little bolder with their feelings. It would just start with lingering thoughts of your touch before it gets more provocative and they start imagining it more often. If they were brave enough, they would think about it while you were still in the same room as them. How sinful, but you don't mind♡ (Cyno, Gorou, Ei, and Zhongli)

They are the ones who know something was wrong with the supposed "Almighty one". They can just sense that something was not right and will immediately distance themselves from you as much as it hurts them too. They would observe you from afar to confirm any of their claims, but it backfires. Your voice is one of a siren, and like a pirate, they follow your voice only to be drowned in the very ocean they loved. But they didn't know drowning in the ocean can be this...euphoric (Dainslef, Venti, Ayaka, Kazuha)

This batch has more control over their yandere tendencies, but their acts of worship intensify. Festivals/Holidays will be hosted by them, and while some of them don't have the influence and money to host an event they will be helping with the preparations for the event (Jean, Noelle, Ayato, Ningguang, Diluc)

They will worship you, but some may take a step back after seeing you out of character. You were always so considerate and kind, they didn't think you would order them to draw your symbol with the khanreian's hilichurls blood. At the end of the day, they will still do what you please in hopes you will have a reward for them.

If you have any features from your demon form (slit pupils, horns, claws, sharp teeth, wings, etc) they won't think anything ill of them. If anything some would adore them openly. Dragons exist, and hybrids aren't uncommon on Teyvat. They would assume you might be a hybrid of a greater celestial species, and it would have many legends based off of it. The acolytes that have horns or any sort of similar feature would feel connected to you in a way and are honored to even have something in common with you.

But no matter how they claim to adore you or how honored they are to worship you, they can feel themselves hurl at your mere presence. Some even feel ill when they stay beside you for too long, and they would assume they are being punished. Or you are feeling negative and one of your powers is to project your emotions onto the environment around you.

But is it really? You have the same smile on your face while they choke on their own blood. You laugh at them after they confess to you about the night terrors that they get every time they spend a day with you. You left them to die after you "trained" them to get stronger.

They are foolish to convince themselves that you care, but some like to believe that you are doing this cause you care for them, how pitiful of them. I'm going to give an example, Venti would try to argue with you if you ever try to spur trouble on Monstadt, saying how it's not right and that the people should have a say in your decision. But after hours of gaslighting convincing he would shut his mouth as you declare a new law that restricts basic human rights. His people will understand, this is normal for sure...right?

The other archons like Ei and Zhongli, mostly Ei, will not think twice about your new changes in their nation. Nahida would be the ONLY normal archon who would know that you are no god. You're just a poser, a demon, a vermin from the underworld taking advantage of your follower's obsession. She will try her best to make her nation aware of who you really are, but what's the guarantee they will listen to her?

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theladyismyshepard · 2 months

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Hi there I haven't requested anything here in almost 2 years now and I won't lie I miss it, so if it's alright can I ask for Astarion and shadowhearts separate reaction to the Reader who is a magic user coming from a different world where magic is seen as a disease and those who have control of it are marked with a lightning like mark on their cheek

(Similar to the bearer mark from FF16)

I actually have a dusty old draft that's been collecting 2 years worth of cobwebs and it's a WIP that haunts me every time I see it when I open my drafts... and that just so happened to be a request of yours @adryanscott... so for you? Anything at all. The outline seems a little different, but bear with me

Tags: Mentions of abuse, torment, descriptions of chronic illness, Bearer enslavement canon to FF universe

Will You Be My Final Fantasy?

You were but a child when the magic lying dormant beneath your skin burst forth, crackling at your fingertips and ready to be cast. You were but a child when you yourself was cast away by your own parents, your entire world shifting upside down when you were sold off to the highest bidder. Gaia did not feel too much like home anymore, not when the people you had come to know as family and friends looked upon you with such disdain. The neck-breaking pace of which you had gone from carefree to chained was a shellshock that you were forced to adapt quickly to lest you learn the lesson of just how expendable you really were to your own people. At first, it had cut you so deep down that it pierced your soul.

Once the branding tattoo had marked the flesh of your cheek to signify the power brewing underneath, you were scorned. The people of Gaia thought you to be diseased and more monster than human. They feared your power and what you might be capable of, so they had come up with the idea of the bearer mark. Not only did it act as a red flag to warn others that you possessed natural magic and that you were owned, it dulled your powers in a painful way that left you with a permanent uncomfortable itch just beneath your skin. No amount of scratching or tearing away at the skin of your cheek would bring you relief, and at first, your struggle provided a great source of amusement for your enslavers until you began slacking on the quality of your duties.

As the years gave way to decades, the fiery fury that fueled your desire to see another day had slowly begun dwindling. You felt as if you yourself was an upturned hourglass, and with each grain of sand that flowed with time, your hope for something better faded with it. All you were living for was an end… an end to your torment, an end to your captors, an end to your miserable existence. You weren’t sure if you’d call yourself lucky or not that your Masters demanded back-breaking physical labor from you rather than casting spells at their convenience. With each draw of your magic, you felt a stiffening in your bones that brought with it a deep chill that was impossible to ward off. Maybe you were diseased…

The day had started as any other had in the past couple decades, with you rising in time with the sun to get prepared for a gruesome day of withering yourself away to nothing. As you glanced up to the sky to watch the first peeks of sunlight bleeding into the blanket of night, you couldn’t help the furrow of your brow when you noticed a small tear. Your lips parted, but as you took a step forward for a closer look to assure yourself that you weren’t hallucinating, there was an audible ripping sound as the tear in the sky widened into a large hole. Before you could even feel fear chill the blood in your veins, there was a gigantic ship soaring through, and across the horizon. You had never seen such a horrific-looking vessel that had long, flowing tentacles such as the one overhead at the moment, and your flight instincts kicked you into overdrive as it veered in your direction.

There was no time to register the long, fluid shadow of the tentacle hovering over you before it struck, and all you could do was watch on in horror as your hands began to disintegrate. First, you lost feeling in your fingers before the cracks broke apart your wrists, leaving nothing in its wake. The disintegration process didn’t take long to travel along the lengths of your forearms and up your biceps, and no amount of harsh gasps of air could pull enough breath into your lungs. You were fading fast. As your arms disappeared, you began to choke on the tightness in your chest before ash peppered your tongue and lodged itself along the walls of your throat. With a final gurgle, your eyes disintegrated and darkness enveloped you until there was nothing left.When you had awoken, you discovered yourself in a world where nearly everyone wielded magic. It was a culture shock that left you reeling, and even though you witnessed open displays of magic, even from some of your own party members, with no repercussions involved, you didn’t feel safe enough to expose yourself for what you were.

Shadowheart –

Even as you found yourself drawn towards Shadowheart, and felt yourself relating to the air of mystery (you understood better than anyone the need to bury the past and never let anyone see), you were so traumatized and so used to being seen as an animal to be used until broken that you could not speak the words. You were too fearful of being cast away yet again.

When Shadowheart had kissed you after revealing some of her own memories, you had tasted the bitterness of both the wine and of your own backstory on your tongue. It was the perfect moment to open up to the cleric, especially when you had never seen her eyes look so soft as they did when they gazed upon you at that moment. She had even asked you about your Bearer’s mark…but panic had seized control over any inklings of rationality you had left, and you had mumbled something about “everyone else had one” and “giving into the peer pressure”… The romantic atmosphere didn’t go any further than that, and you were grateful because the tightness in your chest proved too distracting to properly worship Shadowheart’s body. As you learned more and more of Shadowheart and who she affiliated herself with, you gauged other people’s reactions and deduced that her magic was frowned upon by many.

Her head never ducked beneath the weight of heated gazes sent her direction, and she never faltered at barbed words spat at her. You were in awe of how confident and self-assured she seemed in her worship, and you felt the connection between you two surpassing just your ability to relate. You admired Shadowheart to the point where you wanted to be more like her. You wanted to be free… But as you glanced between the woman you had come to care for and the shackled Nightsong, you couldn’t help thinking that Shadowheart was the true one in chains. To give blood, sweat, and tears your entire life and still have to fight through fire for any scraps of approval… it sounded too close to home for you. And if you yourself could never be free of the chains still holding you to Gaia, you would fight like hell to rid Shadowheart of hers.

You knew talking her down would prove challenging, but what you didn’t expect was how easily you had revealed your magic to the indignant woman. It was the accusation of you being clueless and ignorant spat so venomously at you that did you in. What do I know?! What do you know?! And it was the same moment your irritation boiled over that you remembered that she would never know if you refused to say something. Before she could turn her assault back onto the Nightsong, you sent a wave of your worst memories through your connection, and you were so overwhelmed yourself that you didn’t notice Shadowheart falter.

You can smell the leather of bootstraps as your bones snapped beneath heavy stomps. You can feel the sting of your open wounds rubbed with salts. You can hear the mocking laughter as your body writhes in a pool of your own blood. The stench of your boiled flesh was so pungent that you could almost taste it. There was a gnawing hunger that threatened to eat away at your stomach, and after a while, any thought of food would make you sick enough to dry heave. Through it all, there was the constant heartbeat in your cheek where the mark was tattooed. Sometimes you fear that the poison used in crafting the ink had seeped into your very pores and was burning you from the inside out. You were itchy, and so very stiff… And you couldn’t tell anyone. Keep your pain hidden. No one can help you. They’ll all hate you. You’ll be sent ba–

There were hands cradling your face, and the abrupt touch had you jolting out of your memories. Shadowheart was standing before you with tears welling up in her eyes and spilling down her cheeks. Concern and anger had flared across your connection as she glanced you up and down, desperately searching you for any lingering wounds or scars. Her eyes stopped on the lightning-shaped mark on your cheek, and you felt her thumb trace the skin below it, too hesitant to cause you additional hurt. You hiccuped as you became emotional at finally revealing the extent of your torment to the woman you loved. Your hands were shaking as you reached up to loosely grasp at her wrists, and she curled one hand around the back of your neck to bring your foreheads together.

“Never again,” Shadowheart swore thickly past her own tears, “No one will ever harm you again, not for this, not for anything…”

Your shoulders shook as an impending panic attack loomed over you.

You were taught to be ashamed of who you were, that you were less of a being and deserved the world’s spite just for being alive. You had watched people just like you call upon their magic one time too many, and the stiffness in their bones overtook them and morphed them completely into stone before withering away to dust. You were afraid of yourself for a very long time, and here this woman stood before you with nothing but love and sorrow on her face. Sorrow for what you had gone through, sorrow that you felt forced to hide from her, sorrow for you thinking you were anything less than perfect. She leaned up to place the gentlest kiss you’ve ever felt on your mark, and butterflies filled your stomach as your heart started racing.

“You have always been magnificent… I love you,” Shadowheart insisted earnestly, both of her hands now holding you close by the back of your neck, “And magic or no magic could make me need you any less, I assure you… Could you ever hate me for my magic?”

“Wh- No!” You rush to insist, but your shoulders deflate as her point reaches you… Maybe it was time to finally let yourself believe that you were really out of that place, and you never had to go back.

“I know what it’s like when something is too hard to let yourself believe… but you’ve helped me to see that there just might be the sweetest of rewards in doing so,” Shadowheart said before capturing your lips in a kiss intended to banish all doubt, and when she pulled away, she finally turned back to the Nightsong with nothing but sympathy in her heart.

You watched on in amazement as Shadowheart broke three sets of chains all at the same time.

— — — — — — — —

Astarion —

Despite the fact that a vampire had threatened to kill you in self-defense and still joined your party, you couldn’t bring yourself to fully open up. Each time his silky smooth words were close enough to reach you, your chest would seize up, keeping any and all secrets trapped within. As the weeks turned into months, you and Astarion had grown closer along the dusty trail. You had helped him to feel safe enough to confide in you about Cazador and the torments he had endured by his Master’s hand. You had felt your own misery and pain bubbling within your vocal chords, just begging to be released and revealed to the vampire. If anyone could understand the years of enslavement you had gone through because of your magic, it would be Astarion.

But throughout decades of cruelty, punishment, and humiliation, the one thing you never learned how to endure was being looked at as if you were something to be treasured rather than exploited. You knew where to cover when the blows started coming, you knew how to disassociate when the hunger set in, you knew what it was like to be more dead on the inside than on the outside… But you didn’t know how to react to any display of affection. How were you supposed to respond? You never quite learned how to convey compassion or how to accept it, and all you could do was curse yourself when you’d notice his shoulders slump the tiniest bit before his signature smirk was back in place to hide his own vulnerability.

But you had seen the smallest glimmer of how truly broken Astarion was, and now that you did, there was no unseeing it. Every sugary drawl, every deflecting answer, every flirtatious banter, it was all a facade, one that always seemed two steps away from crumbling. You wanted to help him, to fill in every fissure of his cracked heart with your presence until the very idea of Cazador was gone from his being, but you still felt too diseased yourself. When your fingers itched to reach out and comfort him when you’d notice the foggy haze of the past clouding over his eyes, you’d instead lift them to scratch at your burning bearer’s mark.

And bless him, Astarion had asked you about the tattoo one night after you had let him feed from you. You two were lying side-by-side as you gazed up into the vast blanket of stars, and there was a comfortable silence between you two that had only been broken by the question. He made no immediate comment even though you knew he felt you tense up next to him and you greatly appreciated it, especially knowing his penchant for starting trouble and watching others flounder in it. Before you could even attempt to think quickly on your feet, his hand had snuck down between your bodies to grab yours, and you were the one linking your fingers, squeezing his grip as the tension left your body. Only when he felt you fully relaxed did he assure you that that sounded like a topic better suited for another time. Your clasped hands never let go, even as you two fell asleep.

When your travels had brought the party to Baldur’s Gate, it was a chaotic mess with people wedged into any and every crevice. There were murderous cultists, sneaky thieves, and Astarion’s “sibling” spawns lurking about. The vampire tried his hardest to appear unaffected by the warnings, and he was successful to those on the outside looking in, but the tadpole connection was a deeper rooted relationship that proved nearly impossible to withdraw from. His emotions were a waged war, going back and forth and back again, and you so badly wanted to reach out and grab his hand to comfort him just as he did for you, but you had the same suspicion that this was a topic better suited for another time.

But you felt it, boy did you feel it through your connection… The same haunting feeling that clung to your bones, the chronic illness that stiffened your joints and left you too restrained in your own body, the horrific notion that you would never really belong to yourself, not ever again. Astarion’s back was rigid the entire way to camp, all traces of his charismatic aura gone. He was on edge, and would remain so forever until his Master was defeated, releasing him from the invisible chains still binding him. The rest of the party knew well enough to give him space (though everyone pretty much had their own problems they were in the middle of overcoming), but you would not leave him to wallow in the burning itch to go forth and rip, tear, kill…

You had the sense to bump up the urgency of seeking out Cazador’s lair and striking him down in Astarion’s name… but if he was as powerful as led to believe, and if there would be a chance of losing each other, that night wouldn’t be for Cazador, it would be for you and your love for Astarion, for him and his love for you. If he required a night of distraction to get him to the impending final showdown the next day, you would offer whatever he needed; If he needed blood, if he needed words, if he needed your body… With each gentle kiss that you placed on his skin, he seemed a little less further away. And as you watched him cum and was immediately brought to your own peak as well, you knew then that you would do anything to free this beautiful man.

You let that thought guide you as Astarion was forced under Cazador’s influence once more. The sight of him entrapped in the red beacon of his Master’s control had petrified you. To reach his full Ascension, Cazador had to absorb the special spawns’ life source, reducing them to a pile of ash, and you were paranoid with each attack he unleashed, each time he opened his mouth, that he would utter the spell to take Astarion away from you. When you could no longer withstand the mental torment, you raised your hand, and watched the magic crackle to life at your fingertips. Your cheek was burning, and you could see from your peripheral that your lightning-shaped mark was glowing, but you didn’t let it dissuade you. You were on a mission to save your lover, and you would use everything in your arsenal to do it, including your magic, even if it crystalized you in the process.

Your party members were thoroughly surprised to see you casting spells, but you couldn’t focus on that, not when Cazador was staggering on bended knee before attempting to rush back to his coffin. As Astarion dropped to the ground, he wasted no time in chasing after to peel the lid away before Cazador could begin healing himself. A weight lifted from your own chest when Astarion drove a dagger through his biggest nightmare over and over until his own sobbing pain began bleeding dry. He was free… and you will be, too…

As you stiffly knelt at Cazador’s dead body, right beside Astarion– always beside Astarion– you cupped his cheek with one hand, and grabbed the back of his neck with the other before bringing him into the sweetest of kisses. You scratched at the hairs at the base of his neck and before you could talk yourself out of it, you released all of your memories through your connection. You felt his gasp on your lips, but you pressed on, he deserved to know your biggest secret considering he shared his with you. He needed to know that you saw him… far deeper that he originally knew. You could taste his tears even after he pulled away.

“Oh darling…” Astarion whispered, his throat raw from screaming himself hoarse while boiling over, “I hate that you understand a little more than others… and I hate that such a beautiful soul like yourself has been bruised so heavily.”

You sagged into him before hugging him tightly. He began petting your hair and cooing praises into your ear, pressing an occasional kiss to your forehead every so often. You eventually craned your neck and caught his lips into a kiss, and if he couldn’t sense the love through it, you made sure to spread the warmth through your tadpole connection. His lips curled into a smile wide enough to break the kiss before he collected himself enough to pepper a handful of quick kisses onto your own bashfully grinning mouth.

“You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me–well…” His eyes momentarily cut down to Cazador’s body before meeting yours unwaveringly. “And I would continue to love you lifetimes after you were gone, only hoping you would return to me again someday.”

He dropped a reverent kiss to the back of your hand, brought you into one last searing kiss, and moved to stand, helping you up as he went. Astarion had a way of making you feel so safe and loved, even when exposing yourself, your body and your secrets. He would always assure you that he has his own skeletons in his closet… but at least they were finely dressed might he add.

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tojigasm · 1 year

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somewhere saw the prompt “ure too pretty to cry bad tears” and dilf!jake has rotted my brain.. the mental illness is real

this is so Lana Del Rey (here's part 2)

It's when you confess. When you pour your heart and soul into sobs and tears that seem to swallow you whole as he holds you.

The rough of his hand against your back, cupping you to his chest in such a fashion it does little to soothe you, pulling hoarse cries and broken sobs from your raw throat.

You're not sure what you expected, not when you'd decided on a whim to confess your deep felt adoration for the older na'vi. Something you'd kept hidden away in your flushed grins and giggles, and the way your stomach flipped when he'd come around.

You suppose it was rather naive, rather unrealistic for you to assume he'd felt the same way. Yet, a part of you held onto the hope that he did, even if he'd pretended for a sliver of that moment when he only stared down at you, brows furrowing.

And you hated it. Hated the way you knew what was coming, knew by the sad smile and the deep furrow of his brows that he didn't feel the same. That, and a part of you always knew, you'd just be the girl who he'd seen his daughter in, nothing more and nothing less.

"I know, sweetheart." he speaks into your hair, kissing your temple, "I know." but he doesn't understand, and it only urges you to cry harder into his chest, humiliated and heartbroken yet you can't find the strength to pull away from his warm comfort, though in the end you know it will never be the same. He'll never look at you the same, the relationship will never be the same, and eventually you'll part, and you might not even see him again after that. And that terrifies you, but all you can do is cry.

You're blubbering into his shoulder, small hands digging crescents into his azure skin. "M'sorry-" you try, voice cracking through with another rough sob.

Jake only soothes a hand over your head, "it's okay." and his voice is so soft, and you can hear the sadness and mirrored hurt in the way he tucks you under his chin, rocking you gently.

He holds you like that for a long while, letting you settle and play with his tail as you calm. Still sniffling and on the verge of breaking down once more. And he can hear it, much like Tuk cries right after falling; surprised and scared. But he doesn't know how to comfort you anymore, doesn't know how to look at you without confusing you.

Jake drags a hand down your back softly and you crack again, crying into your arms in his lap. "C'mon, sweetheart, y'gotta calm down," he links your hand with his, drawing circles with the pad of his thumb over your soft skin. "You're too pretty to be cryin' this much over an old man like me," he chuckles softly.

you pull out of his lap, sobbing when you meet his face, "you don't understand!" you nearly shriek, an immature sobbing fit yet amid your tears you hope he hears you. or that maybe the way it comes out is somehow different this time, and maybe he likes you back.

"Honey-" Jake tries, watching you stand on wobbly legs, wiping at your nose as you pant. His eyes harden and you know you've done it. It's the look he gives hsi kids when they misbheave; his ears faltten some and his voice deepens," You're just a kid."

He doesn't wait for you to respond, instead, he moves to his feet, making his way to stand beside you. When you don't look at him, he grabs at your chin, turning your head upwards to meet his amber eyes, "Go home."

#jake sully #jake sully x reader #dilf jake sully #avatar

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rinixo · 2 years

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holy terrain

Din Djarin/Reader | 3.5k | Rated E | afab reader, no y/n, sex pollen trope, description of illness, PIV sex, description of violence

Part 2/alternate version of cherry waves where Din gets sex pollen’d instead of Reader.

read on ao3

After finishing your data collection, you grabbed the now-sleepy baby from the Mandalorian and returned to the ship. He had mentioned some business he needed to take care of – of what kind you didn’t know, but assumed it might involve blaster fire – so you opted to return and get the cargo in the Crest ready for departure while he was gone.

Settling the baby into his floating cradle, you left him secured up in the cockpit while you busied yourself with sorting through your delivery of supplies. You didn’t know when Mando would return. Sometimes he’d be gone for a couple of hours, and sometimes a few days could pass before the ramp lowered and he trudged into the belly of the Crest. Initially, being left alone like that freaked you out, especially the first time. It had been just a couple weeks after you had joined him on his journey. The Mandalorian had been in need of credits, and was offered a job as a bodyguard for some dignitary. What should have lasted no more than a day turned into four, with you cooped up in the ship with the baby not knowing if Mando was going to return or not.

He did, of course, and after you chewed him out he agreed to be more transparent about how long he’d be gone in the future. Since then you hadn’t had any problems, but him being gone for more than a few hours still made your heart thrum with anxiety. It was a dangerous galaxy, and you were on a dangerous journey. Not having Mando around to help protect you and the child was stressful.

Yawning, you finished up the cataloging and stretched your arms over your head. You’d been up for half a day, and the caf you had earlier was now wearing off. “A nap wouldn’t hurt,” you murmured to yourself as you headed towards your cot. With the baby tucked away safely, you didn’t see any harm in napping away the time before Mando returned. A few months ago you wouldn’t have been able to sleep while waiting for him to return, but your comfortability with the whole arrangement had increased. “I’m sure he’s fine.”

He was not fine, actually.

He had accepted what he thought would be a simple bounty job, tracking down a scientist who been implicated in several biological terrorist attacks. However, after tracking the man down in an abandoned med lab, he had gotten the jump on the Mandalorian hunter. After a brief struggle, Din currently had pinned the man to the ground, arm pressing against the windpipe of the scientist. In the man’s hand was a syringe, now empty from where he had slipped it through the cloth around Din’s neck and injected him with the yellow-ish liquid inside.

“Tell me what you just injected me with,” Din hissed, “And maybe I won’t break your neck.”

The scientist – a slimy bastard with greasy, lanky hair – choked out a hoarse laugh in between gasping for breath.

“Tell me!” Din grabbed the man by the collar of his tunic, and slammed him up on to the decrepit examination table in the room. The man winced from the blow.

“An experimental drug,” he choked, “Just finished perfecting the only dose when you so rudely interrupted-“

Growling, Din smashed his fist down next to the man’s head. As much as he wanted to smash the mans face in, the bastard had the upper hand as long as Din didn’t know what the drug was. “Get to the point. What does it do, and where is the antidote?”

The man shook his head. “No antidote. It’s not a poison. It’s going to increase your body temperature, raise your blood pressure, heighten every nerve ending in your body until even the sensation of air brushing against your skin will be enough to drive you mad.”

Well, that sounded very unpleasant. Din pulled the small blade he kept strapped to his side out, and pressed it up against the man’s throat with just enough pressure to draw a trickle of blood. The scientist gulped, apparently not sure if he should continue to toy with his life.

“Tell. Me. How. To. Counter. It.” Din warned, “Or I’ll carve your damn throat open so slowly you’ll wish you were never born.”

You awoke a few hours later to the sound of the Crest’s ramp lowering, the familiar sound of Mando’s boots thumping up into the cargo hold. Yawning, you sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. You were glad to see him, and ready to get going to your next destination.

“How did the job go?” You asked as Mando brushed right past you. He didn’t reply, and you frowned.

“That bad?” You called. “Hey, I have a list of coordinates I think we should look at-“

“Just upload them to the nav computer,” Mando replied gruffly, hoisting himself up the ladder. With a hiss, the door to the cockpit open and shut again, leaving you alone and utterly baffled in the hold.

Standing, you debated going up to the cockpit to confront him, but decided to just clean up in the ‘fresher instead. He could get over his bad attitude and whatever bit him in the ass on his own for now. You had a fairly decent day, and didn’t want to spoil your mood by getting into some pointless argument.

A shower and a meal later, you sat in the hold, flipping through your datapads mindlessly. Mando hadn’t made an appearance in that time, and you were still content to wait it out and busy yourself with other things.

Another hour passed, and just before you were debating on going to bed when the sound of the Mandalorian climbing down the ladder into the hold made you turn. He brushed past you again, heading to the refresher and shutting himself inside. You raised an eyebrow in question, and continued to sort through data with one eye on the refresher door.

He was in there for an abnormally long time, you decided. Mando usually waited for you to be asleep to take a shower and do whatever else he did in there, but you knew he did so with impressive efficiency. The minutes kept ticking by, and yet there was no sign of him.

Maybe he was sick? Your gut tightened with concern at the thought. What if he needed help? Your debating on whether to get up and knock on the door was interrupted by what you thought was a low groan from the tiny space.

Immediately concerned, you rose and strode to the refresher door. “Mando?” You knocked, pressing your cheek to the cool metal of the door. “Are you ok? Do you need help?”

Silence, and then a gruff response. “N-no,” he responded. “F-fine – ‘M’fine, don’t worry about it-“

Stars, he sounded awful. His voice was strained in a way you had never heard before, and you knocked again. “Mando, you don’t sound fine. Open the door? Maybe I can help.”

More silence, and you sighed. Stubborn man. “Please, Mando, what’s wrong wi-“

The door suddenly slid open, and you were facing his chest, which was currently armor-less. In fact, all of his armor (save the helmet) was piled on the floor of the ‘fresher. You stumbled back slightly, concern still evident on your face.

You hadn’t seen him without his armor before now. You knew he was broad, but hadn’t appreciated how much of his bulk was his own body and not just the layers of armor. His shirt hung relaxed, and you could just barely see skin peeking out from the neck of the garment. Part of the shirt was tucked into his linen trousers, which were slung loosely around his hips. You swallowed, eyes darting from where they wanted to linger at the apex of his thighs up to the helmeted face.

“Are…you ok?” You questioned, and watched as he clenched and unclenched his fists. “You’re acting…strangely.”

“I got injected with some drug,” Mando replied hoarsely. “The bounty I was after jabbed me with it.”

It was then that you noticed how his shirt clung to the curves of his chest and shoulders with sweat. A droplet trickled down from under the edge of his helmet, and you stepped forward.

He responded by stepping back from you, which resulted in him backing himself up against the refresher door. You halted yourself, hair on the back of your neck rising. There was a sudden tension between you and the distressed man. You had the uncomfortable feeling of being watched like a prey animal, with Mando as the predator.

“Ok,” you said slowly. “Injected with some drug. What does it do?” You wrung your hands together. “You’re not going to die, right?”

“N-no,” Mando replied. “It’s not deadly, I think.”

Relieved, you continued. “Is there a…cure? Something to nullify it?”

He shook his head. “That piece of bantha shit said there wasn’t. It’s going to make its way through my system eventually, it’s just-“ Mando sighed, rubbing the side of his neck. “It’s very…unpleasant.”

You grabbed your data pad, feeling like you needed to do something to not feel so helpless. “Maybe there’s something on the ‘net that can help-“

A groan made you look back up at him, and he shook his head again. “Already looked. There’s just one thing that will make it more bearable but it’s…it’s not-“

“What is it?” You pressed. “Mando, you’re obviously not doing well, if there’s something that will help…”

He turned his face away from you, as if in embarrassment. “No, it’s-“

Frustrated with his continued evasiveness, you stepped forward. Reaching for his hands, you cupped them in your own much smaller ones. His skin was burning up, like there was a fire raging inside him. He let out an involuntary groan.

“The d-drug,” he grit out, “It’s a synthetic hormone. It fucks with your nerves – my whole body is on fire.” You tried to let go of his hand, concerned you were overstimulating him, but he grasped your wrist to keep you near.

“It can be converted, or something – changed – by the natural release of normal hormones. Hormones that are released during-“ he swallowed roughly.

“During sexual intercourse.”

Your expression was one of confusion, and Din was immediately grateful that it wasn’t one of disgust. It took everything in him to confess this to you, despite every cell in his body begging him to fuck you right then and there. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if you had recoiled from him. Part of him guessed he’d wish the drug did kill him.

“…Sex?” You questioned. “What kind of drug…whatever could the purpose of it-“ you shook your head. Din had been wondering the same thing.

“Maybe more refined it could be sold as an aphrodisiac,” he guessed. “Or as a tool to debase, torture…maker this is torture.”

“You couldn’t just, uh,” you flushed. “Uh, get yourself off? Wouldn’t that be the same thing?”

He let out a short bark of a laugh. “Why do you think I was in there for so fucking long? It hasn’t done anything.”

He watched you swallow roughly again, noticing how your eyes darted between his legs. The pink tip of your tongue licked your lips, and in that moment it was the most arousing thing he had ever seen. Or at least in the last ten minutes. You grasping his hands had been up there on the list too.

Silence seemed to stretch forever, though in reality it was for just a few heartbeats. You worried your lip with your teeth, obviously thinking about something.

Looking up, you stepped a hair closer to him. He had to tilt his head down to see your face.

“Do you want me to help you?” You asked firmly.

Din thought he might die. Your inquiry was everything he both wanted and dreaded to hear. He would have been lying if he hadn’t often thought about wanting to fuck you, to feel your soft curves and slick channel. In his desires it would have been softer, more meaningful. He wanted it to be special. This was…

“Mando?” The sweetness of your voice was overwhelming. “Let me help you.”

This time he swallowed roughly. Your thumb rubbed soothingly over his hand. Part of him wanted to refuse and tough this out, and not bridge that gap he had been toying with for months. The drug coursing through his veins, coupled with his crushing desire for you, pushed those thoughts down, and he nodded.

“Please.”

You led him over to your cot. You had decided that your sleeping space was more suited for this task – his own sleeping quarters were somewhat cramped. His bulk took up most of that space – with you in there your maneuverability would be extremely hampered.No, you needed more space.

Your heart thrummed with excitement and nervousness and concern. Yes, you had been attracted to him for a while and in any situation would be ecstatic to have this chance realized, but you genuinely wanted to help him. You wanted to help relieve the symptoms he was currently experiencing.

Turning, you swapped places with him, backing him up against the edge of your cot. “Sit back,” you directed. He collapsed onto the mattress pad, and you pushed his shoulder gently to get him to back up so he was sitting up against the wall. His legs were spread, and you climbed up to kneel between them.

“Can I touch you?” You inquired, and his response was a breathy ‘yes’. Your hands moved to explore his chest and stomach, and you shuffled closer to slide your hands underneath his sweat-dampened shirt.

Maker, he smelled amazing. You felt his abdomen jump and twitch as you lightly dragged the pads of your fingers down. Coarse hair guided you a path to the top of his trousers, and you bit your lip as you slipped a hand beneath them to grasp his iron-hard cock.

Mando moaned as you twisted your wrist and slowly jerked. You had taken charge, figuring it would make him feel more comfortable if he didn’t have to initiate. He was obviously enjoying it, with the way he leaned his head back and groaned from behind the helmet. If you weren’t turned on by him before, you absolutely were now.

You continued to stroke him, enjoying how he throbbed and jerked. He was bigger than anyone you had been with before – your fingers barely made it around his girth, and the length of him made your cunt throb with the need to feel him inside of you. You wondered if he was always like this or if it was a side effect of the drug.

You started to slip off your linen shorts, trying to be careful and not break your hold on the man before you. His pants slid down his thighs, and you shucked your own off and climbed onto his lap.

He groaned at the loss of your hand on his cock as you positioned yourself in his lap, hovering over his twitching length. One of your hands went up to his shoulder to steady yourself, the other dipping between your legs to guide him into you.

You had never felt a stretch so delicious as you slowly slid down, spreading your thighs wider to accommodate his impressive girth. You let out a slight hiss, mouth opening in a small involuntary ‘oh’. Trying to steady your breathing, you didn’t notice how he had snapped his head forward to watch you work your way down him.

Wiggling your hips, you closed your eyes and willed yourself to take him to the hilt. He groaned above you as your thighs shook with the effort until you were seated shakily with him completely inside of you.

From the first touch of your soft hands on his trembling skin, Din knew he was a goner. It took everything in him to not come right then, every touch sending signals of pleasure through his highly sensitive nerves.

Stars, then you had wrapped your fingers around him. He marveled at the way your hand stroked up and down his cock, which was so hard it was almost painful. The head weeped with clear droplets, slicking your motions around him. It was so so good, better than he could have ever wanted, but it still wasn’t enough. He needed more.

And like you could read his thoughts, you had climbed into his lap and taken him inside of you to the base. The first clutch of your tight, hot cunt around him immediately relieved much of the burning sensation running through him. He groaned as you sat there, trying to get used to the feel of him filling you so sweetly.

“Fuck,” he breathed, and with that you slowly started to ride him. You moved to grab his hands in your own, and placed them on your hips.

“You can touch me,” you said with a gasp. “Hold me here.”

Din’s fingers clenched the soft material of your top, and he began to work with you as you slid up and down his cock. He was already so close, and silently willed himself to make this last as long as he could.

The noises coming from your lips were delicious, soft ‘ohs’ and hums. In return, he growled low in his throat, lust making him feel like a beast. A million thoughts raced through his mind, all having to do with the way you were making him feel and the way you fit against him like you were made to take his cock. He was so close.

Awed by the way you could read and interpret his body, he whined as you rolled your hips, delighted in the way you worried your lip in the same way you did when you were concentrating on something. He liked feeling like a puzzle you were working to solve, like his pleasure and release were a goal to be reached.

“I’m close,” Din choked, cock throbbing. “W-where-“

“Inside,” you gasped. “Come inside me, fuck-“

How could he argue with that? His thighs flexed, sac clenching, and he gripped your side firmly, holding you still so he could piston up into you.

You let out a low wail, both hands coming up to grasp his shoulders. One of his went down to your arse, and kneaded the soft flesh there.

“I’m gonna come-“ he choked out.

“Fuck, me too, c-come in me Mando, please-“

White hot pleasure seared from his lower back as he thrust himself into you one, two, three more times. He felt his cockhead pulse as he started to come, groaning as ropes of cum coated your tight cunt.

“T-take it,” he breathed out, and you shrieked as you found your own release. The sensation of you pulsing around his own throbbing cock was unlike anything he had ever experienced before, and pleasure blinded him as he felt his sac tighten again. Maker, he was still cumming. “Take it take it take it-“

Whimpering, you wrapped your arms around his neck and buried your face in his shoulder. He hissed as your teeth bit into the muscle there, not hard enough to hurt but enough for him to feel it. He wanted you to mark him up, and briefly wished he could take his helmet off to taste you as well.

Slowly both of your orgasms began to subside, and Din lowered you gently down, cock still lodged firmly inside of you. He leaned his head back, trying to steady his breathing. His arms came to wrap loosely around your waist, and you shakily raised your face from his should to look into his visor.

“Feel better?” You asked breathlessly, and he let out a short laugh.

“Better does not do justice to how I’m feeling.” He kneaded your arse softly, and your lips lifted into a half-smile.

“Good,” you replied. “That was-“

With a small yelp, you fell silent as he lifted you with him to lay you down onto your back, cock not once leaving your sensitive cunt. He settled between your thighs, weight just barely bearing down onto your slighter form. He thrusted shortly up into you so that you felt just how hard he still was.

“You’re doing so well,” Din groaned. “Can you take more?” As the burning sensation began to return, albeit less intense than before, he knew was not above begging for you to allow him to fill you up again.

Closed eyes and an arched back were your response, and your hands came up to palm at your breasts over your top. “Y-yes-“

With another thrust, Din began to take you once again, knowing that this would not be last time this night and every night yet to come. Walls he had built since he was a child had collapsed, and even when the drug was no longer coursing through his body he knew he would crave sharing these sensations with you until all the stars in the galaxy burned out.

#din djarin x reader #mando x reader #din djarin smut #the mandalorian x reader #mandalorian smut #the mandalorian

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zerobaseone-zhanghao · 3 months

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the coffee shop encounter

This is Part 2. Part 1 will be linked below.

t/w: sugar mommy!reader & sugar baby!Bada, adult!reader & minor!Bada, accusations, little bit of angst

a/n: hi guys! I hope you enjoyed part 1, and if you haven’t read it yet then please read that before you read this but for the best understanding (linked above)!!

=====================================

You hadn’t heard from Bada or her parents in a few days, so you just assumed that they said no and Bada forgot about it, that was until one day you received a phone call from Bada.

“Hi unnie, can you come over to my house today? My address is ***” “sure! I can come, do you need me to bring anything?” “Umm.. I don’t think so” “okay I’ll see you later” “okay bye unnie!”. She sounds cheery, maybe her parents decided in favour of you.

You’re currently in your company building so you decide that it’s probably best to grab some documents before you go just in case Bada’s parents aren’t sure about you.

After grabbing everything that you may need, you get into your car and drive to the address that Bada told you on the phone. It’s a beautiful little house and you gather your belongings before walking up to the door, you quickly fix your clothes before ringing the doorbell, you looked professional as you always do for a day at the company.

Bada opens the door, flashing her gorgeous smile to you and welcoming you in, she points to a pair of slippers she has at the door for you so you slip your heels off and replace them with the comfy slippers before following Bada into the main room where both of her parents are sat.

“Hello Mr and Mrs..” “Lee” the man replies, “ah Mr and Mrs Lee and.. random person it’s nice to meet you, I’m Y/N L/N” “it’s nice to meet you Y/N, this is our lawyer” “so we want to know the basic arrangement first off” “I understand, I would like to support your daughter financially to help her to gain as much experience as possible to help her gain her dream job, all I want in return is to spend time with her” “and about global opportunities?” “I want her to have a look for opportunities that she’d like to do and I’ll pay for the trip and I will go with her, if she’s not comfortable I will get 2 hotel rooms but it’s completely up to Bada”.

“I’ll completely support Bada financially, I’ll pay for her trips, opportunities, dance classes and living expenses, she’ll also have disposable income from me”. “How often would you want to see her?” “At least 1 hour, once a week but it’s completely up to Bada, I am flexible so if there is a week where maybe she’s ill as long as she contacts me to let me know beforehand”.

“Do you have limitations?” “Obviously nothing sexual as she’s a minor and anything that Bada is uncomfortable with is a limit as far as I’m concerned. I would want this to be as comfortable for her as possible”.

“Hmm something seems fishy” “eomma” “you’re a 20 year old millionaire and you’re not a chaebol (nepo baby), how can we be sure you wouldn’t be dragging our daughter into some illegal activity?” “Eomma stop!!” Bada complains before running off to her room. “I understand your concern and I have documents with me which prove I am who I say I am and my profits are correct if you want to see them? I haven’t taken part in identity fraud, embezzlement or tax evasion”.

You hand the documents over to Bada’s parents as they have a look at them. They then hand the documents to their lawyer who confirms that the documents are correct. Bada’s mom holds your hands “Bada has been so excited about this opportunity, now that I’ve made sure that this is safe for her, who would I be if I took this away from her?” “That’s great, thank you!”.

“Could you go fetch Bada from her room?” Bada’s mom asks you “sure I’ll fetch her”. You walk towards Bada’s room, the door labelled with her name and a cute drawing of a wave to match. You knock on the door, “Bada, you okay?” The door is unlocked so you walk in to see Bada lying on her bed facing towards the wall so you can’t see her face.

“Bada” you lay a hand on her shoulder and she flips round to face you. She has obvious tear stains on her cheeks and red eyes. “Aw honey, it’s okay” you give her a hug, “I just can’t believe that my parents would accuse you of something like that”. “It’s okay baby, I completely understand your parents, you’re their little girl, they just want to protect you”.

She hugs you tightly, “I’m glad I’m not going to lose you”, “me? Or this opportunity?” “No you unnie, I noticed you as well in the cafe and I thought you were pretty and when you spoke to me I thought you were really nice and soft spoken”. “That’s so cute Bada, you’re so sweet” “do you think my parents would mind if I kissed you?” You chuckle, “I think so, I’m an adult and you’re a minor, I don’t think they’d be very impressed”. Bada leans closer, “well unnie, to be honest, I don’t care what they think” she turns her head and moves even closer, kissing your lips.

“Bada” “please be quiet unnie” she kisses your lips again. You can’t take it anymore and you pull her closer by her waist and kiss her passionately. Good thing her parents didn’t see.

#bada lee x reader #bada x reader #swf2 x reader

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bubblepopsims · 2 months

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previous- next Noah and Josiah spice

Script under the cut

[Josiah: “*groans* We need to get up..”] [Noah: “No. I am drawing the curtains. We only slept for 4 hours.. maybe. Who fucking meets at 9am?”] 2.0 [Josiah: “*chuckles* A very very anxious sister and bestfriend.”] [Noah: “Well.. *chuckles before sighing heavily* That’s cute and all.. but after our flight being delayed Mulitple times yesterday. Might I add.”] 2.1 [Noah: “I am allowed to be grumpy.”] [Josiah chuckles and crawls his way out of bed: “okay little grumpypants.”] [Noah: “Hey, where are you going?”] 2.3 [Josiah’s thoughts: “Oh look at him!] [Noah: “If it’s coffee, I want some.Please”] [Josiah’s thoughts: “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! HE IS SO FUCKING CUTE!!! FUCK ME UP!”] [Josiah: “mhmm…”] 2.4 [Josiah: “You know what? It can wait.”] 2.5 [Noah: “*chuckles* oh yeah? Once again it seems like everything is going against me. First I had to get up early, and now I am being denied coffee.. how is this benefiting me exactly?”] 2.6 [Josiah: “I’m going to show you.”] 3 [Juju: “Why did you stop it?? We were getting to the good part!”] [Izzi: “Baby, by all means watch it in your free time.. But I cant see Josiah doing anything remotely filthy *laughs* fuck god. Him even just being sexy… No.”] 4 [Izzi: That fucker is truly a brother to me. I am all for him getting it on and being in love.. but I am okay..”] [Juju: “Well. I’m curious so ill be poking and you will probably too just because you cant help yourself from not knowing.”] [Izzi: “Fuck you*laughs* Valid. Alright we can watch it later.”] Ruby and Tobias portion [Juju: “I cant..”] [Izzi: “What?”] [Juju: “WHAT do you mean WHAT?? She is not real dude.. she is squatting…. What is that like..80 pound weights plus bar..i cant read what it says on the weight for shit..”] [Izzi: “To my surprise of not being surprised… the weights says 20…yeah 40 each, plus bar.. squatting atleast over 100 including the bread that baking.. Tobias calls it a bun. *Laughs*”] [Juju: “I want ti see tis woman in the ring… Fuck WHY couldn’t you guys just sucked it the fuck up nd TALKED sooner?!?!?!!?!?!? We could have seen her DESTROOOOYYYYY!”] [Izzi: “*Laughs* don’t worry. We will see her one day.”] 1 [Ruby: “You know I find you sexy when you are annoyed with me.. you always get this “I am debating on what I am going to do with you” look in your eyes..”] [Tobias: “I am very annoyed that this little thing that you are doing right now is Turning me on, making me forget that I am annoyed at the fact you are still working your body lie you are not fucking pregnant.”] 2 [Ruby: “Tobias, did you really think I was going to stop? The Doctor has yet to tell me to stop.. Soooo until that day comes, I the future fucking Mother of your dorky cute buns will be making sure that the buns are incubated in a unbreachable stronghold which is me.”] [Tobias: “Mmmm..Unbreachable? You sure about that? Mind if I take a chance at it?”] 3 [Juju: “*chuckles* Pervert. But if you must know.. Ruby totally blue balled him.”] [Izzi: “unapologetically at best.”]

#ts4 #ts4 simblr #ts4 screenshots #sims 4 #the tribe #ts4 story #my sims #oc: Josiah #oc: Noah Fl0pera #oc: Izzi #oc: Juju #oc: Tobias #oc: ruby #The recap leading up to the wedding

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carcarcraziiv2 · 4 months

Text

The Woman with the Pink Hair (P. 1, 2, 3)

Hello my friends! I bring to you The Woman with the Pink Hair! This is a Vi x Fem! Reader fanfiction.

I will post this gradually, maybe once or twice a week until it is fully out! (If you are impatient, you can view it on my Wattpad-> @DatBishCar)

Please note that this is the first piece I wrote after a HEFTY (I mean years long) hiatus from writing.

P.S. Lowkey I KNOW there's a bunch of shit I could fix in here to make it better due to my practice over the past year or so, but I just... I'm so lazy rn LOL. Anyhoooooo....

ALSO- here are the TW for you lovelies! (This is for the WHOLE SERIES)-

Violence, mental illness, oral sex, dominant tendencies, torture, kidnapping, plotting?... lowkey there's probably more but you should get the gist here, AS ALWAYS ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK ILY<3

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

PART ONE: INTRODUCTIONS-

Staring at the wall. You often found yourself staring at the wall while you were bored, zoning out thinking about things. How lonely your life had gotten, while at the same time it is better than it has been in a while. You had your freedoms to go do what you wanted - walk, paint, draw, listen to music. As you did those things you constantly seeked inspiration from the little bits and pieces that showed themselves to you in every crack and crevice.

You enjoyed finding the positives in things that didn't always seem positive. Hell, you were living in an old shack you rented from a grungy man who you weren't sure even actually owned the place. He did, however, have the keys.

Deciding you needed some fresh air, as fresh as it can be in the undercity, you gather yourself to head out for a stroll through the dark streets and into the markets and shops. You enjoyed people watching, perhaps you would run into someone interesting. You grabbed your jacket, a purple and black lots of pockets kind of deal, and your beanie and put them on. Your medium length hair was in a bun on the lower part of your head, and you had pieces of hair flowing down in front of your face on either side. You liked the wispy look of it.

You quickly found yourself in the center of the town after a few turns and blocks that you had memorized by heart. The place was always semi crowded. People doing grungy things, illegal things - but in your eyes, you saw beauty. You saw people smiling, laughing with their friends. Even as there were people who looked at you with an evil glint in their eye as you walked past, you were not afraid. You knew this place like the back of your hand, you grew up here after all.

After reaching one of your favorite places to eat, you walked to the counter and ordered some soup. Honestly, there was no telling what ingredients were in it but you trusted the chef as they always made delicious things. A few minutes pass, and you grabbed your brown, watery looking stew and headed over to a table nearby. There was no one sitting there, and the furniture was mostly clean unlike some of the surrounding options which were covered in trash, dirt and spilled food. As you sat, you looked over to the large red headed woman who cooked and served the food.

"Thank you!"

"You're welcome, honey," she replied with a warm smile. She was kind of like family to you, since you didn't really have any of your own. In fact, a lot of the shopkeepers and people who constanted the area were as such. You rarely saw people you didn't know or hadn't at least met once.

The soup was warm, salty, and amazing as usual. You finished every last bite and took the common decency to return the silverware and bowl to the counter, rather than having them come grab it from the table. You liked helping them out whenever you could, as they would do the same for you. Turning around, you looked about. Still seeking inspiration, you were torn as to whether or not to just go home. You did have to work in the morning but were unsure as to how much you actually cared about getting rest beforehand. Scanning your surroundings from right to left, you looked at all the people, until you saw someone unfamiliar leaning against a wall, hood down, with bits of pink hair peeking out from beneath it.

You were intrigued.

Gazing at the person standing there, your creative curiosity and interest peaked. You wanted to know what they looked like, and luckily right as the thought crossed your mind someone approached the woman, and she took her hood down.

She looked tired, worn, beaten and bruised. Your heart hurt thinking about anyone going through the things that would result in looking such a way. Behind all of that surface area, you saw beautiful features, however, and felt your heart race a little bit as the woman scanned the area while chatting. You were nervous she would catch you staring, so you pretended to look down quickly.

The woman was becoming more agitated speaking with the person in front of her, and suddenly pushed them away. She started walking quickly away from you.

Oh no... you thought. You did not want to lose this person, as creepy as that sounds. You decided to follow them only for a few minutes. Sometimes strangers led you to streets and places you would have never gone to yourself. You weren't only following her to be creepy.

You jumped up and started walking in the same direction as the woman. She was fast, so you had to speed walk a little bit. You took a few turns and short stops, all at places you had been before and studied before. Although you were interested in her, you decided that you would turn around and head home.

Right before you turned heel, the woman turned down a narrow dark alleyway. Ok... you thought. Now what is she doing? You waited a few moments before turning, too. You didn't want her to see you and recognize you. She looked like she might get a little angry about that.

Very quickly, you realized you had made a mistake. Three large men appeared from the shadows in front of the woman. And she stopped, looked up to the sky, and sighed loudly. You took the opportunity to hide behind a stack of boxes that were next to a dumpster on the left side of the alleyway. You peeked out from behind them and watched the confrontation ensue.

"What do you need, boys?" The woman said, stepping over to lean on the wall next to her, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.

"We saw a pretty girl like you, and decided we needed to have you. What'ya say, sweets?" One man said. His voice was gravely, low, and you swore you could smell him from where you were. The other two men were sneering behind him, adjusting their waste bands.

The woman laughed. And she laughed loudly. Your eyes widened at the sound, it was like a sweet music, even in this scenario.

"You don't know what you're about to do, dirtbag," the woman said while laughing. The man's expression quickly changed to one of anger, and he started approaching her. "I wouldn't do that, if I were you," She warned. The man laughed slightly and kept approaching, to which the woman responded-

"Idiot".

---- Vi's POV ----

Vi sneered at the man coming at her. She had a rush of adrenaline from the argument she had with the junky at the markets earlier already and needed to get rid of the urges she had to punch something. She decided these guys would do the trick.

As the man approached, Vi took the cigarette out of her mouth and flicked it at him. He jerked back. Really? Afraid to get burned? That should be the least of your worries. As he jerked back, she grabbed him by the front of his coat and head butted him, wasting no time while he was in shock to bring her right fist up and slam it into his face.

"By the way, the name is Vi."

The other two men started to approach her, and she gave them a look that said "really?". They came to her from opposite sides, and she easily grabbed both of their backs, took a step backward and slammed their heads into each other. The men both collapsed to the ground rubbing their heads and yelling at one another.

The first man was starting to get up off the ground, but this time he looked afraid. Vi gave him a look that made him tremble and told him "Get the fuck out of here. You and these two dumbasses. I don't want to see you causing trouble to anyone again. Got it?" They hesitated, "I said get the FUCK out of here!" She yelled this time. The men got up and ran away like little children. Pathetic.

Vi turned around and saw someone staring at her from behind a dumpster. It was that girl from the market, the one that caught her eye. She had noticed her following her but didn't think she still was at this point. Vi grew angry, her adrenaline still running high through her veins.

---- Your POV ----

As the fight finished up, you were holey prepared to turn tail and book it out of here. You decided you were following someone really dangerous and became scared. That is right about the moment when the woman turned around and looked right at you, rage in her eyes.

You stumbled backwards, turning and trying to run away. "Fuck" you muttered as you slipped immediately after trying to start running. You looked backward for a brief moment as you stood, and realized she was right behind you. The woman shoved you roughly into the wall behind you. Her hand on your neck.

"WHO are you? WHY are you following me? WHO are you working for?" The woman yelled in your face. Although you were afraid, short of breath and absolutely dreading what was to come you were enamored by her beauty. "Hello?!" She broke you out of your trance, "I asked you a question!"

"N- n- no one! I'm not working for anyone" you stammered, your voice weak from the vice like grip she had on your neck.

"Liar," she said calmly, her grip tightening ever so slightly on your neck. You felt pressure in your cheeks and above your eyes, and you became truly afraid that you may die.

"I- I'm no- not lying," you struggled to say. "I just tho- thought you looked go- good so I followed you to get inspi- inspiration for my art."

Her grip loosened ever so slightly. You sensed she could tell you were afraid. Maybe she could tell you were not lying, but you were unsure. You really couldn't trust strangers down here. She shoved her finger in your face, and bit her teeth together. Through this, she said -

"Don't fucking follow me again. That is creepy as hell." She released you and you fell to the ground, rubbing your neck.

"I- I won't!" you promised, looking up. But realization quickly hit that she was already gone, as you saw her walking the rest of the alleyway past where she beat those men, with her hood up and hands in her pockets.

You took the opportunity, got up, and ran your ass all the way home. You heart was beating very quickly, and you were still terrified. Hyper aware of everything around you. The wind making the tendrils of your hair fly next to your face as you ran.

Finally, you got home and got inside, collapsing on the ground from exhaustion.

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

PART TWO: Ubiquity

The next few weeks, you continued on with your life. Going on walks, working, eating, and drawing. Drawing someone who you could not get out of your head. The woman with the pink hair. After your encounter, you swore you saw her everywhere. Places you had never seen her before.

One day, she was at the market getting food from your favorite place. She looked like she liked the woman who had previously given you your soup. She was smiling, and you noticed her put down a gracious tip onto the counter before collecting her food. You stayed very far back before cowering and going back home.

Another day, she came into your work. You didn't think she was looking for anything in particular, she was just browsing, probably bored. You watched from the back-room door as she fumbled with some of the little figurines you had placed out and watched her put them back down as if they were so fragile, she might break them by breathing on them.

On this particular day, you headed to work. You were tired and worn out from the last weeks' worth of work already but still had today before you finally got a day off. You worked in a small nick-nack shop that a lot of people who created gadgets frequented. You decided to stop and grab some coffee at the warn down coffee stand out front of the shop you worked. The stand was musty, creaky, and downright shouldn't even exist anymore. But what are you to do when you are so limited to recourses as you are down here?

"Hi, can I have a coffee, something sweet?" You smiled at the barista. They did not smile back.

"2 dollars." They stated. They were tall, skinny and looked as if they were addicted to... something. You handed them the money and they gave you your coffee, immediately turning away to attend to the next customer. You started taking a sip, it was bitter, and you let out a hiss. Slowly turning to your left, you jumped and let out a little yelp.

It was the woman. She was standing beside you against the wall, staring at you as if she was pondering something. Her eyebrows were furrowed, and she took a drag off her cigarette.

"You still following me?" She smirked. Your eyes widened and you felt your heart beating a thousand beats per minute. She was wearing the same getup. A red jacket that looked warn. Her tired look was no longer, but she did look wary and had a few scratches, including one on her lips.

Her beautiful pink lips.

"Hey, my eyes are up here," she snorted. You gasped.

"Oh, shit. Sorry... No, I am not following you. Trust me I don't want to get strangled again." You said way too quickly. A few people glanced over at the two of you, and you lowered your head. You could feel your cheeks becoming red.

"Then why are you everywhere I go? I have seen you at least 3 places besides the first time we encountered one another. Who are you?"

"Well like I said, I am not following you," you stated. You felt a little frustrated that it wasn't getting through her head. "And I don't appreciate you accusing me of such!"

She laughed. That same beautiful laugh she had right before she beat the shit out of three huge men.

"It wouldn't be the first time, weirdo. Now, I am not going to hurt you again. Trust me. I was in a fit of rage and... yeah. Just can you trust me on that?" She looked genuine. You felt yourself loosen up a bit. "What is your name? I'm Vi," she reached her hand out towards you.

"I'm (y/n). And I guess I can," you stated hesitantly. You reached your hand out and grasped hers. It was calloused and hard against your soft one.

"So, you're really an artist?" She asked, sitting down on a bench across the walkway. You followed, and sat next to her, looking at your wristwatch. You had about 30 minutes until you had to go in to work behind the coffee shop.

"Um... yes. It's a hobby," you said shyly. You brushed a loose piece of hair back behind your ear and looked over at her. "And you're a street fighter?" You said raising your eyebrow.

She laughed again. You couldn't help but smile too.

"Well, technically, I guess you could call it that. I really only fight when I have to, or if I am in the mood to do so. I am the kind of person who just goes with the flow, I guess. I have no real goal right now...". You noticed that she was becoming saddened, but not enough to fully show it through her tough face. She stretched her legs out and laid back against the back of the bench and looked up at the sky. You noticed a few features you hadn't previously. She had a tattoo on her cheek that read VI and a gear tattoo on the side of her neck. She had scars, a lot of them. You wondered where she got them but put the pieces together and assumed they were probably from fights.

"Do you fight a lot?" You blurted out, unsure if the question would offend, anger or sadden her. She looked at you dead in the eyes with her sky-blue ones, serious as can be.

"Yes."

She was so mysterious. You wondered about her life, her story. You wanted to know more about her but there was still and underlying fear and feeling of uneasiness around her simply because of how the two of you first interacted. You rubbed your neck as you remembered the happening.

"I am sorry for what I did to you before. It was out of line. I shouldn't have assumed you were some person who was hired to go after me." Vi reached up and put her hand on your shoulder for a split second. You felt yourself get warm all over and blushed.

"Um, I guess it's okay?" You shrugged. You weren't actually okay with it, but you didn't want it to be the reason why you two wouldn't talk again. You wanted to talk to her again, so you gathered yourself and in a brief confidence asked, "Do you want to hangout sometime? Like we can get coffee or food or something?"

She looked taken aback, and you immediately began trying to remedy the situation. You were embarrassed. "I- I'm sorry it's okay if you don't want to I totally under-"

"(y/n), Its okay. I would like that." She stopped you and stated. You smiled coyly and looked down at your coffee, then back up at her.

"Okay, cool. Meet me here tomorrow, same time?" You got up. "I have to go to work, actually. Like right there. I am a few minutes late..." You couldn't believe that 35 minutes had already passed by and knew the boss man was not going to be happy that you were late. You said your goodbyes and headed into the shop.

You were right, the man was not happy.

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

PART THREE: Awkward Encounters

You and Vi had plans to meet the next day. On one hand you were giddy with excitement. On the other, you were nervous. Very nervous. You weren't entirely sure you could trust the temperament of this woman. As you laid in bed, you had thoughts of what the day ahead would look like. What kind of interest did Vi have with you? You were certain you had interest in her, but you didn't know what kind of interest it was. You imagined the two of you in different scenarios, such as friendship, or as lovers. Friendship seemed amazing, but lovers felt even better. You smiled at yourself and rolled over. Either way, you decided you were going to have a good time.

--THE NEXT DAY--

Waking up energized, you decided since it was your day off, you would try to do as much as possible. If Vi was up to it, perhaps she could tag along. You got up in the morning from your bed and comfortable plaid duvet to go shower. In the shower, you washed your hair as well as wash and shaved your body. The water was warm as it caressed your figure. You imagined it was Vi.

What am I thinking? You contemplated. You two had only just met and it was a strange encounter to say the least. You shook your head in dismay, blushing at the thoughts you were dismissing. You hopped out of the shower and grabbed one of the towels right outside the curtain. You always laid the towel on the toilet seat so it would be easier to get to. Stepping out of the shower, you stood in front of the mirror above the sink. You were a tidy person, but today it was a little bit messy in there.

Taking a small hand towel, you swiped the glass on the mirror so you could see your reflection. Although you looked tired, you still felt energetic. You were too giddy to feel tired. You decided today you were going to put on a little bit of makeup, just mascara and eyeshadow. Walking out of your bathroom and back into your room, the towel draped across your midriff, you looked in the closet to pick out an outfit.

Deciding on black jeans, a baggy brown knit sweater, and your warn old brown boots you tossed them on. The sweater was warm, which was perfect for this time of year in the Undercity. You got everything on, tossed on a few rings on your fingers, and headed to the door. beside the door was a coat rack, which you grabbed your oversized black leather jacket off of and threw on. You smiled as you walked outside and took a deep breath of air.

Your heart was racing, but this time it was from excitement. Never had you thought you would be so brave as to ask someone you had just met (who admittedly had almost killed you) to hangout. You rolled your eyes at yourself and dismissed the thoughts from coming back. You refused to let that ruin your day or come back up ever again.

You made your way down the street and your usual route to the coffee shop in front of your work. As you approached, you had hoped Vi would be there early, but she was nowhere to be seen. It was 5 minutes before your set meeting time, but you were not worried. You ordered yourself and Vi a coffee at the stand and sat at the bench you both had your first meaningful conversation at. Taking a sip, you looked around and took in the area, hoping to remember every last detail that you may not have already memorized.

You looked down at your watch and realized time had already passed. 10 minutes, actually. You were getting worried that she wouldn't show up. After another 5 minutes, you decided to get up and walk into the shop you were employed at. The shop keep looked confused why you were there, but you said-

"Don't worry, I am just visiting. I rarely get to come in here as a customer."

"Oh, okay." he smiled slightly. He seemed to be in a better mood, but then you bumped into a shelf beside you. You jerked yourself to the right to correct it and ensure nothing fell off. "Just don't break anything," he sighed, rolling his eyes. He was a big man, not fat but muscular. He seemed like he could handle himself in a bar fight if he had to.

"I promise I will not break anything," you laughed slightly. You turned your back to the man and back towards the window out front, and you saw her.

She was beautiful, sitting there on the bench on the same side she had last. Her fingers were tapping the back of it and she was looking around nervously. You decided to set down the figurine you had in your hand and rushed outside. You were relieved she actually came.

"Vi!" you smiled, rushing over to her. She smiled back and began to stand, when you felt someone run into you, knocking you to the ground. You were shaken, and looked up towards the direction the person was going. "S-Sorry!" you hollered to the person, but they kept going.

"Watch it, Asshole!" Vi yelled in their direction, coming over to you to help you get up. Luckily, you had already gotten rid of the coffees as they had gotten cold. You stood and brushed yourself off, thanking the world silently for the ground not being wet today. Sighing, you turned to Vi and embraced her in a hug.

"I am so glad you made it," you smiled, releasing her. She had not returned the embrace, but you were okay with that. Not everyone is a hugger and she appeared shocked.

"Oh, uh yeah. Sorry about that. I had some things I had to take care of," she muttered, appearing to blush and took her hand through her hair. As she did this, you couldn't help but watch the muscles in her arm flex, as she was only wearing a t-shirt. She cleared her throat, and your eyes darted back over to her face.

"So, um, are you hungry?" you quickly changed the subject. She nodded, and you started walking. She followed.

The two of you walked side by side for quite some ways and decided amongst yourselves to go to one of Vi's favorite places. You had never been there before, but you had walked by it many times. You were in awe at the fact that you had not ever seen Vi before. You walked inside the establishment with her. It was large and smelled of drink. You noticed a decrepit old bar towards the back, and wooden tables all around. There were a few people in there, but not many. Vi walked to the back and sat at the bar. Sighing, as she looked around.

"You know," she started, "My dad used to own this place. He died trying to protect my family." A pained expression crossed her face. You frowned.

"Oh, I am so sorry..." you weren't the best at comforting people and looked down at your hands. Luckily, Vi decided she wanted to change the subject and called the bartender over, ordering you both a drink. You didn't normally drink, but today you were willing to allow it. After all, you did decide you wanted to have fun.

After a few rounds, you both and really let loose a lot. You were laughing with each other and had gotten to know more about each other's lives and interests.

"...And then!" Vi laughed as she was finishing her story, "He fell on his ass into the puddle, right beside us!" You grimaced and laughed with her. She had just told you about a fight she had gotten into. It seemed to be a lot of the talking points she had, but you didn't mind. Actually, it impressed you how confident she was in herself.

In your tipsy state, you leaned forward, putting your hand on her thigh to keep your balance. She looked down at your hand, and back up at you.

"I am sorry for following you," you slurred. "I thought you were so beautiful... I wanted to see what you were about..." blushing, you turned away, but your hand still laid on her thigh. You felt a warmth over your hand and looked back over. Vi had placed hers there, on top of yours. Butterflies fluttered throughout your stomach.

"(Y/N), it's okay. Really." The two of you had gotten closer, without even realizing it. "To be honest, I saw you at the market before I even started walking. You were looking down at your hands, but I could tell you were pretty. I almost came over to you, but I chickened out."

Your eyes widened, and you blushed profusely. You leaned towards her slightly. You weren't even sure she was interested in women, but you didn't care. You were really really hoping she was. Suddenly, Vi removed her hand from on top of yours, and lightly placed it on the back of your neck. She looked you in the eyes, and you tilted your head ever so slightly looking back into hers. She leaned in, pulling you closer gently, and pressed her lips against yours. You leaned into the kiss and melted. Her lips felt like heaven against yours. They were soft, supple, and warm.

As she pulled away, you felt your hand absent-mindedly reach up and caress your mouth. You were blushing even harder than before and looked at her. She was smiling a huge face splitting smile. She looked proud.

"Wow," she stated.

"Wow," you repeated back.

"Bet ya weren't expecting that, were you?"

"No, but I liked it. Did... did you?" you asked nervously.

"I wouldn't have done it if I didn't want to." She giggled. You smiled and turned back towards the bar, twirling your finger around the straw in the glass. You wanted another, and so did she. You knew because soon there were two new drinks in front of you both.

You looked over at Vi. She was just finishing a sip of her drink and looked over at you as she set it down.

"Do you want to come to my house tomorrow and see some of my art? I already saw you fight, so I figured it would be fair if I showed you some of the things I have done," you asked sheepishly. She smiled, but this time it was sly. Like someone looking at something they wanted to eat, to devour.

"Absolutely."

The two of you finished your drinks. The day was nearly over, and you hadn't done any of the things that you had planned. You were okay with it. In fact, you wouldn't trade how this day went for anything. Before leaving the establishment, Vi offered to walk you home. You had a feeling she wanted to keep you safe, and you appreciated it even though were not afraid. This also made it easier for her to find your home the next day, so she could come look at your art.

You continued talking to one another as you walked back to your house. She had her hands in her pockets, and you had yours in your own. The streets were dark and there were hardly any people out, as most of the shops had closed.

Approaching the old shack of a house you called home, Vi let out a whistle and turned to you.

"Quite the place you got here, huh?" She grinned, teasing you.

"Hey, its home to me alright? Can only do so much down here." You reached up and lightly smacked her arm. Before you could lower your hand, she grabbed your wrist and pulled you close to her. So close, both of you were touching bodies. Vi was taller than you, and looked down at you slightly, as you looked up at her. She smiled and planted another kiss on you. This one more passionate, inviting. You could feel her warmth enveloping you as her arms held you.

Releasing from the kiss, you tried to stammer out a goodbye, but Vi had already started walking away.

"See you tomorrow, sweet stuff!" She said, waving as she walked backwards. She had a huge grin on her face.

"O-Okay! See you tomorrow!" You smiled back. You turned around and got inside, shut the door and leaned against it. You did a little happy dance in your spot.

Wow... you thought. That was amazing.

PLEASE LIKE AND COMMENT IF YOU ENJOY :D Drop a follow if you wanna stay updated on these! There are TEN more parts in the series! Oml...... lol <3 I hope you enjoyed so far!

#Vi Arcane x Reader #vi x fem reader #Arcane x Reader #Arcane Fanfic #League of Legends Fanfic #vi arcane #vi fanfic #vi x reader #vi league of legends

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sulfies · 21 hours

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In your heavy bleeding au, does Desmond remember his bleeds or does he just black out during the whole process? Also, does he have certain triggers?

Love all your au stuff btw owo

Im glad my au is infecting everyones brain muhahaha

to answer, when I draw Desmond with yellow eyes and fainting like a damsel I think in my head its one fo 2 things:

1) he is having such a heavy bleed(hehe pun) his body shuts down and all he can do is to live thru the bleed basically, he would not be able to tell its a bleed even if someone told him it was one(they cant tho since he is stuck in the bleed in his head) so he just has to ride it out. It probobly disorients him quiet a bit once he gets out of it for hrs maybe in some cases days.

2) he is having visions from apple and its such heavy knowledge his human brain kinda goes overheat mode.

In the end you can determine yourself (since its an au nothing is set in stone lol) if he remembers or not but for myself:

I think on 1)

he doesnt remember all details, after he is out of the episode he probobly remembers who the bleed was about and some context but not all, but some stuff lingers for few hours sometimes days as mentioned. maybe he finds hard to switch to the language he uses the most or his emotions carry over, like if it was about altair right after he lost his ranks, he feels some petty anger towards Malik he cannot explain but he can figure out it was cocky-altair memories probobly due to context clues. They are probobly like dreams(or nightmares) in a sense where the more he tries to remember the more he forgets about details…

for 2)

He is just not that smart enough (sorry Des ur no Altaïr…)to explain what the apple showed him but he probobly does remember in a sense; if its things like a remedy, a basic invention or instructions that he can learn from a yt video normally he can muscle memory to make em. its more like “how tf did u do that” “uhhh i have no idea” withing a limit lol so he cannot invent phones bc he probobly cant even make a phone in modern day

——————

for his other heavy bleeds where he is not passed out with eyes all gold I think some of the same rules as 1) apply where he doesnt know he is in a bleed, especially if he is bleeding as someone bc at that moment he thinks he is that person, but someone could snap him out of it if they tried (usually if he is bleeding ezio and actual ezio shows up he can make Des snap out of it but its not foolproof) and afterwards he probobly remembers most of it (to his horror) bc he did actively and physically live thru it. Like w the fic where he thinks there are guards after him but its a bleed, after he learns it is he still remembers them and sees them

but again I think the fun part is u can kinda make Des suffer in anyway you want (again…sorry Des…)so no rules are set in stone, so if you dont want him to remember anything after bleeds you are free to do so and ill probobly break these guides aswell lol

————-

for triggers hmm i think anything you want could be a trigger lol but it doesnt have to be “triggered” to happen. I think like that other fic when he first time-travels and lands in Italy or Levant he would most likely have a bleed where he thinks he is someone else sooner or later bc the enviroment shocks him and confuses him (as time travel does) so something that “shocks” him can send him into an episode but he could also be totally fine in another scenerio

in my hc w the fainting ones, they are similar to seizures w how they come and go (I do not get seizures so my research is very limited) so sometimes he can guess it will happen few seconds to min before but he cannot stop them and sometimes it just gets him by suprise, for the ones where he doesnt faint he again has no idea when it will happen and most likely cannot tell it will, those ones are probobly more affected by “triggers” but they dont have to be as I said above

ty for askingg sorry to give an essay as response lol

#take a shot everytime i say bleed to experiance your very own bleed #dont #im sorry desmond lol ı swear I do love you thats why I gave you a harem of assassins #assassin's creed #asks #heavy bleed effect au

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davekat-sucks · 17 days

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Below is my "I strongly dislike Davekat and wish it wasn't canon and don't have ill will towards fans of it, but I do think they are being ignorant on purpose because Dave's character fucking sucks cock after Act 5" rant. Apologies but I needed to share this because it's almost 4/13 and I'm feeling festive.

You know why most of the fandom left homestuck around 2013-2014? cause of long pauses between updates and then we got stupid content that wasn't going anywhere. I left the fanbase DURING [S] game over. I fucking checked out because that was the stupidest fucking flash it could have possibly been and at that point I was waiting for a moment to just give up on the story and come back to it when it was finished.

I'd say most of the homestuck fandom seems silent about what they think about the story. Every fanbase is like that, most people watch from the sidelines and I do that too. I usually say nothing about the media I consume. Sometimes, rarely, I'll go through homestuck's reddit around this time of year and I'll see common sense. (There is hope!) But a good chunk of the people who stayed with the homestuck fandom through all of Act 6, or younger fans who are just joining it now, are able to just take whatever is given to them and not think anything through. I'm not saying anyone in the fanbase is stupid, no, I'm saying that they don't care enough about the story to admit what is good writing and what is shit writing. They don't care about writing. They don't care about the characters. They care about fannon. They care maybe, MAYBE, about activism.

A good chunk of the fanbase seem to be Davekat stans. Why are there are so many Davekat fans? It's because they can just eat the sludge. Maybe they grew up off of it so they can tolerate it. (I think Act 6 does a number on a motherfucker and makes you lower your standards so low that any content will do.)

Some people think any canon gay rep is good gay rep, but who would want to be represented by this? In Homestuck 2, Karkat is demoted to "Dave's boyfriend" and Dave was a selfish jerk through nearly all of Act 6. Dave was such a good character in Act 5, and Act 6 just had him ignore rose's alcoholism and ignore terezi's struggles. He didn't care about anything. Karkat at least somewhat tried to help Terezi or cheer her up. I can't understand for the life of me how someone like Karkat would end up with someone as selfish as Dave was. (Dave was selfish in the pre-retcon bit but still! why show us that? the epilogue was no different Dave abandoned jade instead of talked to her and let him know he wasn't interested in her because he's gay. I hardly recall what was going on at that part of the story, I just remember being dumbfounded that the story reinforced Dave only cares about himself.)

I wish Dave was written differently. I wish he had SOME, an ounce at least, of chemistry with Karkat. Instead what we got was Dave childishly drawing dicks on Karkat's face in some Hussie art and that pretty much sums up their whole relationship. A massive L for Karkat. I'm fine with Karkat being with meenah, nepeta, jade, davepetasprite for christ's sake! Just not the person that Dave ended up being. Why does fixing Dave fall on Karkat? Dave isn't the only shit character. I can't believe that John just gave up fully and completely. I find it hard to believe that Rose, at the end of the story, wouldn't advise John to train with her so he could learn how to use his new powers to go fight the empress. Why doesn't John do more with his powers? Why isn't John a better dad in the new content? I would imagine he would have tried to be like his own dad. Why did the story write Jake the entire way through like he was so worthless he wasn't worth our time and then dedicate so much of the story to him? I could go on and on about this, and I did go off so I will stop here.

This fandom and this story is going to continue circling the drain. The only thing that could possibly save it is a full overhaul and rewrite from people with skill who actually LIKE the characters. If anyone cared about the story THEY WOULD PRESS FOR THAT!!! If anything Hussie wanted to actively destroy any good will the fans had towards it. Maybe he fucking hates the story, I never looked to far into any of the backstory of how homestuck was made but I assume he fucking hated it from how he wrote Act 6. It's so sad to see because most of the characters had something really special about their stories. It's a story that is all about potential. It was crushed under the weight of it's own stupidity. Wait. I'm not done! What the fuck was that part where Dave left a note for Jade that said "I missed you" and a little red band? I didn't ship them but it certainly felt like Dave was into her or at worst leading her on. Am I supposed to believe that Dave was just fucking with her? Was he trying to be there for her? I guess he was fucking with her or trying to be into girls cause he ended up with Jade only to leave her in the epilogue. Why did he turn out to be such a prick!? Why didn't he talk to her? What point is the story trying to make? Abandon everything when you find out who you really are like your old friends don't matter anymore? Dave was maturing in act 5. Why the fuck is the story like this!!!?!?! YOU'RE TELLING ME THIS IS THE SAME MOTHER FUCKER WHO GAVE IT HIS ALL TO HELP? WHO SAVED ROSE'S LIFE AND THEN WENT TO DIE ALONG SIDE HER IN CASCADE? I FEEL LIKE THE ONLY REASON HE TRIED TO HELP BRING JADE BACK FROM THE DEAD IN GAME OVER WAS BECAUSE JADE WAS A SPACE PLAYER AND THEY NEEDED ONE TO TALK TO HER DENIZEN SO SHE'D BIRTH THE DAMN FROG THING OR WHATEVER!? DOES DAVE JUST SELECTIVELY DECIDE WHEN HE'S HAD ENOUGH BEING A COCKSUCKER? IS HIM BEING ABUSED BY BRO A GOOD ENOUGH EXCUSE TO IGNORE HOW LITTLE HE GIVES A FUCK ABOUT ANYTHING?!

WHY DO PEOPLE THINK THAT DAVE IS EVEN GOOD AFTER ACT 6?! WHAT GAME WERE THE REFS WATCHING!?!?!?!

Long story short, Karkat deserves at least somewhat better. Thank you.

Very well said! Everything about this is perfect! People excuse Dave's actions is because of the whole Bro Strider being abusive to him as he grew up. So they think it's okay for him to not move on past it or grow better as a person. Instead, he will just wallow himself in self pity and everyone must feel sorry for him. One could say it's projecting too. Ignoring the fact that Jade had to live ALONE when growing up on an island with an animal guardian. It may be normal for trolls since they have a society that relies on this, but it's not the same for Earth or humans. Not only that, but didn't Dave find out that it was BRO STRIDER who faced against Jack Noir and helped Davesprite ESCAPE? So wouldn't that put into more question about how he feels about his brother and wonder if there was more going on behind the scenes than what he saw? Like why would BRO let Davesprite, who just a Dave from a Doomed Timeline, protect him, knowing how he will be killed? Was his training helpful or did something else make him be this way? It still technically happened by Post Retcon too. So that event and fate is inevitable for Bro Strider. Closest interaction Dave had with Karkat pre-Act 6 is through the memo with John, but even then, he's just fucking around with Karkat. Taunting him to say that interspecies romance is a thing now between the Beta Kids and Trolls and Dave is ready to bang Terezi if Karkat doesn't step up to his game to admit his feelings for her. Maybe it was kind of shitty to use Terezi's feelings and their relationship to mess with someone else that he knows has feelings for her. But dude jumped the chance to use it against Karkat when he thinks humans dating alien trolls should not be a thing. We see Dave do showing kindness. From things like hiding all his dead Daves from Jade so she wouldn't get upset and him having a good time with people like Rose and John. It shows that he is capable of being a good person and probably would wish to be a better one. He wants to be BETTER than Bro. Be someone that treats others better. Maybe even towards his own kids if he decides to have one. But sadly, we live in an age where having a family is a bad thing now. Karkat really deserves better and Dave sucks as he is in these recent HS projects. I don't think James Roach or HICU will make him any better. And Davekat will be hard to make it go away with how the people who work on Homestuck and ones outside of it (like Requiem Cafe) will pander to it because they know it will get the most attention and money. Like carrot on a stick. Even the carrot is rotten, they will still take it.

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v3nusxsky · 11 months

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Hi,

Would you maybe consider writing a part 2 to ‘Little love’ but this time with young Larissa and reader? 😌

My darling| Agere

*Authors note~ Agere has made a reappearance and I'm so excited to write it*

Trigger warnings~ little r cg Larissa young morissa cgs shapeshifting r regression

Prompt~see ask^^^^

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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Previous~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~That was how Larissa Weems stumbled into her dorm to find the pair of you a few hours later, snuggled up as morticia had holding you securely to her side. She wanted nothing more than to be the one holding the adorable child, who looked and absolute copy of yourself. Prehaps one day you'd trust her with Emery too.

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Since that day Tish kept your secret not knowing Larissa had walked in on you both. You hadn't felt the need to regress in a while. But today was completely different. You'd had a rough night, feeling rather I'll through the night, your sleep had been anything but restful which meant your mindset and headspace was already so fragile. It wasn't surprising when you woke up feeling rough and the need to slip. Tish had left for an early morning class so when you felt your body shift, emery taking place in your bed.

Larissa was certainly an overachiever so it was unsurprising that she had naturally completed most of her subjects work for the semester. Allowed her to have the mornings to herself while you and Morticia normally would leave for class and she could relax. Unlike today, she turned around to be met with a sniffling two year old child. The blankets seemingly swallowing her tiny frame. Larissa knew of your shape shifting abilities but apparently the little girl who was snuggled up to your other roommate.

Emery heard some ruffling noises which seemed to startle her, a strangled whimper of dread was all that came from the blankets. Larissa came close to the bed where she could see the mess of curls from the little girls head. "Oh hello darling" Larissa murmured moving the blankets to peak at the little girl. "Da? Mm emry" she sniffled causing the blonde to smile. "Very pretty name baby" she whispered to her not wanting to startle the girl, "are you sick little darling?

A sniffle and dry crackly cough wrecked through her tiny frame, a whimper following it as she began to cry. "Hurts" the little girl sobbed reaching for Larissa. The blonde happily came to lay with the little girl as she clung to Larissa immediately, "da dada." The shock hit Larissa instantly, she'd called her da? But she'd never trusted you enough to slip. Clearly the little one thought highly of you. "That's right baby, I'll be who you want me to be."

It was as if something switched in her brain, as she snuggled close to Larissa, exposing her now raging fever to the blonde. "Oh baby! You're burning up my love" Larissa gasped, "let's get you a bath baby." Apparently Emery was a fussy little who became clingy. So Larissa had to draw the bath with Emery sat snuggly on her hip. When it came to putting the little in the bath that was harder. Larissa adverted her gaze while settling you in the bath, whispering words of reassurance to Emery as the cool bath worked to bring her fever down.

After the bath, Larissa settled her little darling into bed, blankets tucked around her. A quick message to all your class teachers excused you both for the day, where she could now spend all day comforting you and helping you through this sickness. After some medicine was taken Larissa snuggled with you. And that's where Tish came back to see Emery snuggled onto Larissa's chest as she read a book.

"Is that?" Was all she murmured before Larissa nodded and you whimpered in your sleep, "mommy?" She was drowsy and truthfully she wanted to be held by her two favourite people as she battled this illness. That's exactly what she got which is how it came to be that Larissa and Morticia would be Emery's care givers. The little girl happy she was mommys little love and dadas little angel.

Word count~ 697

#anon answered #v3nusxsky answers #fanfic #anon requested #larissa weems x reader #larissa x you #larissa weems #principal larissa weems x reader #principal larissa weems #larissa x reader #larissa cg #weems #weems x reader

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butchhamlet · 4 months

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hi it's me again im the anon who dropped about 800 words about ocd hamlet a couple weeks ago (maybe longer, time has been weird for me lately).. it made me soo happy to see it resonated with you and with some other people who reblogged it as well!! i've been projecting on hamlet ever since i read it and it feels like every time i read it i learn more about him AND me... and ever since Symptoms showed up he's been even dearer to me and im just so glad people like my interpretation as well :)

i hope it's ok for me to do this again because i want to talk about what if lady macbeth has ocd also. and i know this is sort of well. dangerous if that's the right word because 1) lady macbeth IS the villain in her play even if i love her from the bottom of my heart and i support everything she does and ocd is already an incredibly stigmatised and misunderstood 2) hand washing is possibly THE most stereotyped compulsion that sort of epitomises this really warped view of ocd in the public consciousness. i personally do not have handwashing as a compulsion or really any physical compulsions that are direct responses to my intrusive thoughts so i will try to be really really careful when im talking about this. + other disclaimers: again while i have definitely experienced symptoms of ocd i do not know if i have it and i am NOT diagnosed + ocd experiences are different for everyone + you cannot diagnose a character because they are not real + this one is mostly projection and is more a frame of reading than it is an interpretation grounded in textual evidence (esp since i will be talking about the sleepwalking asleep a LOT and she is technically, well. sleeping.) so just. take everything with a pinch of salt and please let me know if i ever overstep!!

im mainly going to be drawing on experiences close to real event ocd even though i know that typically real event ocd is defined by the fact that the sufferer blows their past mistakes way out of proportion and/or question their memories, and i guess i cannot say that lady macbeth’s guilt is completely unjustified because uh. she did kill a man.! but i do think her behaviours after the murder reflects what i’ve seen people speak about online as well as some of the experiences i’ve had.

guilt as illness

this is more general to the whole play i guess but i wanted to point out how the consequences of the macbeths’ regicide is absolutely portrayed as a disease. there’s a LOT of foreshadowing in lady macbeth’s advice to her husband in the immediate aftermath of their murder: she tells him not to “think / so brain sickly of things”, and says, “these deeds must not be thought / after these ways so, it will make us mad”. (2.ii) the doctor later alludes to “infected minds” (5.i) in relation to lady macbeth’s madness. the fact that the fixation on guilt is seen as an illness i think fits so well with ocd: whenever im having a bad day with intrusive thoughts and mental spirals it genuinely feels like there is something festering in my brain like a parasite feeding on anxiety.

guilt is also so intrinsically linked to sleep in macbeth: famously macbeth comes out of the king’s chamber ranting about how he may “sleep no more; macbeth doth murder sleep”, and lady macbeth’s obsession pours out of her when she is sleeping (and this is exactly why a doctor is called). i would argue that fucked up sleep is somewhat presented as an illness in ‘macbeth’ too; or if not, at least unnatural. this idea is all over act 2 scene ii (right after macbeth commits the murder) but i think it’s best epitomised in act 3 scene iv: “you lack the season of all natures, sleep.” (lady macbeth) season as in both night-season and seasoning/preservative. so sleep is both a natural part of life, and something that keeps things the way nature or god intended. the doctor says too that disturbed sleep is “a great perturbation in nature” (5.i). nightmares are DEFINITELY depicted as illness: macbeth says that they “sleep / in the affliction of these terrible dreams / that shake us nightly” (3.ii)

insomnia is highly associated with ocd since the obsessions/compulsions prevent sleep and sleep deprivation increases the commonality AND duration of obsession. if a significant portion of your day is spent devoted to obsessions/compulsions, there’s a chance they may become assimilated into intrusive dreams, since dreams are generally regarded as a way that the brain processes memories. thus, we can see that the way guilt in ‘macbeth’ is linked to disturbed sleep parallels how ocd is linked to sleep disorders. so not only is guilt itself an illness in ‘macbeth’, it links to other disorders too

2. withdrawal from dialogue

lady macbeth stops being on equal footing in terms of number of lines with macbeth after the murder. from act 3 she really only responds briefly to what macbeth says, and she’s not even in act 4. i sort of see that as her being dragged under her spiralling thoughts and retreating further and further back into her mind. i know i definitely zone out a LOT more on days where im being absolutely bombarded by intrusive thoughts. she’s definitely disoriented by the begining of act 3:

nought’s had, all's spent, where our desire is got without content. ’tis safer to be that which we destroy, than by destruction dwell in doubtful joy. (3.ii)

the whole soliloquy (if you can even call it that—it’s only 2 couplets) is riddled with paradoxes and confusing wording. her mind is completely scattered and it feels to me as if she’s just been arguing with herself. this might be reaching slightly (as if this entire post isnt kind of reaching already. sorry) but to me it kind of mirrors the absurd leaps of logic my intrusive thoughts and rumination can sometimes take: how can it be “safer” to be destroyed? how can “joy” be doubtful? it doesn’t make sense, and it’s confusing and frightening, but it feels absolutely real. (also note: as you’ve said before ocd is sometimes called the doubting disease. and lady macbeth calls her experience “doubtful”….

3. the mad scene

(disclaimer again i KNOW she is supposed to be asleep the entire time BUT i am going to. sort of. ignore that. sorry</3)

in the beginning of act 5 scene i, lady macbeth’s lady-in-waiting says,

since his majesty went into the field, I have seen her rise from her bed, throw her nightgown upon her, unlock her closet, take forth paper, fold it, write upon't, read it, afterwards seal it, and again return to bed — yet all this while in a most fast sleep.

i’ve never experienced physical compulsions myself, but this sort of repeated, methodical act matches how i’ve seen people describe them. the doctor specifically calls them “actual performances”, which suggest, i think, something mechanical and dictated in some way; “perform” is definitely a word i’ve seen people use to descrive carrying out compulsions. (do correct me if i’m wrong!)

then let’s look at lady macbeth’s actual speech:

out, damned spot, out, I say. — one, two — why, then, 'tis time to do't. — hell is murky. — fie, lord, fie, a soldier, and afeard! what need we fear who knows it, when none can call our power to account? yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him?

the jumping around of her thoughts honestly feels exactly like my mind alternating between intrusive thoughts and desperately trying to justify why they aren’t true. she goes from reflecting on her debillitating guilt, to being anxious about going to hell, to replaying and checking her memories, to reassuring herself (and macbeth) that she won’t get caught, and then to thinking about her guilt again. it’s a rapid-fire, relentless cycle that continues throughout the scene. she’ll jump from reenacting a moment with her husband, to the obsessing over the blood on her hands, then back again. notably, in her address to macbeth, she never seems to be reenacting the exact same moment. she taunts him for his cowardice seemingly before the murder, then pleads with him, saying that “banquo cannot come out his grave”, then goes back to when they are fleeing the crime scene. i think this reflects the sort of distortion of memory that constant memory checking and ocd can cause. the moodswings and the flip-flopping between “everything’s fine” and “i’m going to hell” are also SO intense and honestly it’s exactly what it feels like on my worst days.

in the entire scene, lady macbeth speaks in prose instead of verse: it’s obviously a sign of madness by itself, but i also think it reflects the complete loss of control she has over her thoughts and actions. in the beginning acts she is all about control: she demands “spirits / that tend on mortal thoughts” (1.v) to do her bidding, she tells macbeth to “leave all the rest to me” (1.v), and she tells him what to do at every moment. but at this point in the play she can’t stop the onslaught of regrets, guilt, and memories, and she can’t even control herself physically.

speaking of the elephant in the room: the excessive handwashing. i think of lady macbeth’s handwashing as less of a reaction to a genuine fear of contamination, but as something more akin to body-repetitive behaviours like skin-picking (dermatillomania) and hair-pulling (trichitillomania, which i think i have) which are associated with ocd.

i sort of headcanon lady macbeth to have absolutely horrible skin splits on her hands (<- this part is complete projection): and so following this interpretation, i think of her handwashing sort of as a form of self-flagellation because rubbing her hands continually will make the skin tear and bleed. (gore tw?) that, then, fits in with the blood on her hands: in her semi-conscious state she thinks it’s duncan’s, when it’s really hers.

i know that another common compulsion is counting: and lady macbeth does count (“one, two—’tis time to do it.”) one of the reasons people with ocd may count (and there are many reasons, this is not the be-all-end-all) is “attaching meaning to particular numbers where certain numbers will induce anxiety, while others will reduce anxiety. for example, if you assign special meaning to the number three, you might count your steps by threes, or lock and unlock your car three times before driving, or any variety of other action ruled by this magic number.” (<- quoted from nocd website)

i also know that repetition of words or phrases is another common compulsion. and these are lady macbeth's final lines:

to bed, to bed; there's knocking at the gate. come, come, come, come, give me your hand. what's done cannot be undone. — to bed, to bed, to bed.

4. her death

in your ocd hamlet post, you talked about how hamlet’s death is almost peaceful in his “silence”, and how horatio, despite knowing all his flaws and obsessions, believes wholeheartedly in his salvation. (that honestly means the world to me, by the way, so thank you.) the macbeths went through EVERYTHING together: the planning, the crime itself, the aftermath—it’s clear from their dialogue that at the beginning of their sufferings they saw each other go through sleeplessness, nightmares, and obsession. but over the course of the play, they completely fall apart. (i think the last time macbeth uses “we” to refer to the two of them is to say “we’ll to sleep” and “we are yet but young in deed”, which is the most ironic thing ever.) macbeth’s only response to lady macbeth’s death is “she should have died hereafter.” i honestly don’t know what that means in terms of the ocd reading, or in comparison with horatio's reaction to hamlet's death. i'd love to know what you think.

thanks for bearing with me!! i’m a bit less confident in this reading than i am for ocd hamlet, and it’s more likely i’ll get something wrong about ocd in this one, but sorry i just wanted to unleash this somewhere i hope that’s okay and genuinely please tell me if i say anything wrong or insensitive! i also typed this over 3 hours and went over the text as if this was a homework essay.....? and it is now almost 2am so i’m sorry if this isn’t coherent. i hope you’re having a wonderful day :)

hi same anon here i forgot to put this in but. i listened to verdi macbeth opera mad scene una macchia è qui tuttora the whole time i was writing that thing in case anyone would like to know...... i love it so so much my favourite video recording is by sylvia sass on youtube https://youtu.be/tP59Ox8MdQ4?feature=shared&t=319 AND there are full productions of the opera on youtube as well. thank you so much for reading!!!!

YES.... YES..... YESSSSSSSSSS I LOVE AN OCD LADY MACBETH... IT'S ABOUT THE GUILT IT'S ABOUT THE REPETITION DOES EVERYONE HEAR ME? TODAY WE ARE DOING GUILT AND REPETITION

i have had similar thoughts about the sort of inherent trickiness of it (oh, the lady who washes her hands a lot has ocd? whoa, totally original thought that has nothing to do with pop culture perception of ocd) (and also she did kill a man). but you really said it all with that ksdhfdksnfdsn. i will pitch in that i DO have handwashing compulsions and tbh. i personally think lady macbeth ocd reading is a net win even if it does trail a little close to stereotypes because if you dig even slightly deeper than "haha handwashing" it allows for an examination of ocd not just as an action but also as a manifestation of guilt and illness. which is SO macbeth. the body politic is sick the government is sick!!! again im taking the words right out of your mouth here this ask whips ass

shaking your hand on conceiving of ocd as something parasitical. really feels like there is some Thing up there feeding on my brain. (also on intrusive thought dreams. fucked upppppp like man leave me alone)

AND ON THAT NOTE i feel like even if she is asleep it can still be ocd. i say this with no medical training whatsoever and this isn't, like, me asserting that people actually do compulsions while asleep, but on a narrative level, the emotional processes happening to her character are petty clear even if she's sleepwalking, right. once again no medical training whatsoever

the jumping around of her thoughts honestly feels exactly like my mind alternating between intrusive thoughts and desperately trying to justify why they aren’t true. [...] the moodswings and the flip-flopping between “everything’s fine” and “i’m going to hell” are also SO intense and honestly it’s exactly what it feels like on my worst days.

YEAH. YEAH. YEAH. the ugly intrusive thought -> self-reassurance -> self-reassurance makes it worse -> intrusive thought (harder and worse) spiral. and literally this is EXACTLY what it feels like. me when i accidentally say something rude and then i'm evil for three days. except she killed a man

YEAH YEAH YEAH YEAH YEAH YEAH YEAH YEAH YEAH YEAH YEAH. ON AN ANALYTICAL LEVEL AND A PERSONAL LEVEL. LITERALLY THE LEAPS I CAN DO IN MY BEAUTIFUL MIND TO BE LIKE WOW IM JUST LIKE LADY MACBETH (BLOOD ON MY HANDS). YOU N ME BROTHER

and re: her death and the macbeths splintering apart. that is honestly the most painful part of this play for me, as a lover of evil couples and also of their specific dynamic. the fact that they mesh so well at the beginning (i mean, they argue, there's friction, but they're clearly on the same page--they enter their first shared scene both thinking the same thing and a lot of their communication is in implication) and then they just. fragment. and i think with the OCD ladymac reading it's even worse, because the thing about OCD at least in my experience is that. at some point the people around you stop being able to understand what the fuck your problem is. even when they're trying really hard. because it doesn't make any sense! the compulsions don't make logical sense the self-flagellation doesn't make any sense none of it is SOLVING anything but it also does make sense, To You, on a level you cannot really explain to people that don't Get It*. and so like. the macbeths are already breaking apart because of their responses to the murder, and this is just one more thing coming between them. she is trapped in a cage in her brain that he cannot see.

*(i think not infrequently about the overlap between OCD and psychosis; i haven't experienced psychosis and obviously there are major differences, but i relate a lot to what psychotic people have said about, like, the ability to hold multiple contradictory truths at once. my compulsions will not actually stop disasters from happening, but they also will. you could maybe pull in something about macbeth's parallel loss of control + his hallucinations? but i'm not diagnosing macbeth with psychosis necessarily i'm just saying words).

anyway, anon, i am always extremely impressed by your dedication to writing out quotes and coming armed with evidence, and also your analysis fucking bangs. this is such a good ask i need to frame it on the wall your mind is huge. i hope you have a wonderful day as well :)

#max.txt #macbeth #lady macbeth #asks #also my secret is that i wrote a sort of macbeths-inspired short story about that ocd psychosis overlap thing #but i can't post it yet because i'm trying to make someone give me money for it #i can't write anything that isn't about shakespeare apparently.

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