#the way of absolute candor | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

carriesthewind · 11 months

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Good evening everyone! As I said in an answer to a previous ask, there wasn't a public call-in line to listen to the Show Cause Hearing in Mata v Avianca (the ChatGBT lawyer case) today.

However, while we are waiting for a transcript of the hearing (because there was a court reporter! yay!) and a written decision by the judge, we did get this absolutely anxiety-inducing live tweet of the hearing:

(Caveat: this thread was not an official transcript of the hearing and should not be taken as such. It is possible the actual events and statements made in the hearing differ significantly from this report - i.e., take this with a grain of salt and reserve final judgement for the actual transcript.)

I'll put the full thread with some (light) commentary below the cut.* But the overall impression I am left with is that the judge seems to feel this pair of attorneys are treating their duty of candor toward the tribunal with the same seriousness with which they are treating their duty of competence to their clients. (And in this case, that's a very bad thing.)

*The full thread except for a soon-to-follow part 2 because I ran out of space for images again.

(All of the following screenshots are from the above tweet thread by Inner City Press @ innercitypress on twitter, made on June 8, 2023.)

Normally I would overlook that "you, personally," but in this case, you really get the feeling that the judge is concerned that LoDuca might just start talking about what Schwartz did again.

Establishing LoDuca's base of knowledge - he should know how to look up cases and check if they are real; he should know what a real case looks like.

The March 1 submission was the plaintiff's opposition to the motion to dismiss, where they first cited the fake cases.

How bad this answer is depends, I think, on LoDuca's wording here. Best case scenario, his statement about Schwartz was a specific statement about what inquiry was reasonable for him to do under the circumstances (which - for that first filing - I think is actually a reasonable argument. You don't expect your colleague to just make up cases). Worst case, this reads like him trying to wiggle out of his obligations. I will withhold judgement until I see the official transcript.

Rule 11, by the way, refers to Rule 11 of the Federal Rules of Civil Procedure. Rule 11(b) states:

(If you remember the Order to Show Cause, we are dealing with a Rule 11(b)(2) issue here. Rule 11(c) allows the court to impose sanctions for violations of Rule 11(b))

Oh no, bad answer. (If anyone reading this is good at photoshop, I cannot express how badly I want a version of the "this sign can't stop me because I can't read" meme with the sign being the quote from defendant's reply where they say, "The undersigned has not been able to locate this case by caption or citation, nor any case bearing any resemblance to it.")

Oh that is not a good way of characterizing those orders. (Those were the orders, remember, where the Court said, "By April 18, 2022, Peter LoDuca, counsel of record for plaintiff, shall file an affidavit annexing copies of the following cases cited in his submission to this Court: as set forth herein. Failure to comply will result in dismissal of the action pursuant to Rule 41 (b), Fed. R. Civ. P.")

I would simply perish on the spot.

Oh yeah, I forgot to mention in my original attempted summary of "Varghese" - the first paragraph states that it is a wrongful death suit by the widow of the passenger. Then the second paragraph states that the passenger was denied boarding on a flight due to overbooking and thus missed his connecting flight and therefore incurred additional expenses. The case was such nonsense that I legitimately forgot about that inconsistency by the time I got to the end.

Your honor I plead "2 stupid 2 sanction."

(I believe the "different fonts" is in reference to the April 25 affidavit, in which the case names - and some of the surrounding text - are in a different font from most of the text in the affidavit. It seems like this is because they may have been copied straight from ChatGPT. See e.g., #3 below. It's hard to tell just based on this twitter thread, though.)

A short and simple answer! You did it!

"I have all the answers I need" is not a good sentence in this context.

Very genuinely: shorter is better here. At least I don't think he hurt himself with that statement.

Judge Castel: How do you conduct legal research?

Schwartz: I research cases.

Judge Castel: Do you read them?

Schwartz: Well, I may have once upon a time, but after hearing you ask that question in this context, I have decided to retire from the practice of law forever and also possibly sink into the ground and die. Also, by answering "yes," here, I just realized that I'm either admitting that I read the cases I submitted and therefore must have known they were fake, or else I just possibly committed perjury. Oh shit oh fuck.

Oh god I'm cringing myself into a pretzel just reading this.

Hey, by the way? You can actually use google (esp. google scholar) to do legal research. (It's not a good tool and you will miss things, but it will do in a pinch.) But. Um. If you know that...why didn't you double check your cases at very least on google when you were told they seemed to be made up?

So, once again, I am going to withhold judgement until I see the actual transcript. That said, if Schwartz did say this, I would like to compare it briefly to a part of the chat transcript he provided to the court. Here is the first question asked about the Montreal Convention in the provided transcript:

"analysis"

Oh god. I can't even provide commentary on this one. I hope this is worse than the actual transcript will prove to be. I'm reading through my fingers like I'm watching a horror movie.

"Misperception" (or "misconception") doesn't work once you have evidence that should cause you to doubt - like not being able to find a case that was supposedly published in the Federal fucking Reporter.

This is overshooting "2 stupid 2 sanction" into "too stupid to function."* You either looked for "Varghese" or you didn't. If you looked for "Varghese," it is not credible that you continued to have a good faith assumption that ChatGPT couldn't lie. If you didn't look up "Varghese," you just lied to the Court under oath.

*Just to be clear: for an ordinary person, this would be a very understandable lack of knowledge issue. A lawyer has no excuse not to know this.

Judge Castel: Mr. Schwartz, I think you have the fucking audacity to try to lie to me to my face in my fucking courtroom.

Honestly at this point I'm surprised he could still talk. I think screaming, "I'm melting, I'm melting!" as he vanished into steam, leaving his crumpled suit behind, would be an appropriate response.

NO.

Oh no, oh honey.

Ok. Two options here (again, assuming he actually fucking said "They said they couldn't find them," in response to the Court asking, "When Avianca said you cited non existent cases?"):

Schwartz is once again trying to purposefully downplay what the defendant's reply brief actually said and dodge responsibility.

Schwartz honestly, truly believes that when the defendant filed a reply containing the line, "The undersigned has not been able to locate this case by caption or citation, nor any case bearing any resemblance to it," they were just asking for assistance with their legal research?!??!

I honestly don't know which is worse.

Oh no....

Oh man, I haven't gone over it here yet, but I think that "I looked up the judge" is a panicked attempt at bringing up a talking point the Professional Responsibility Lawyers raised in their memorandum of law. (Again, I'm giving this reading of his response with the caveat that it is based only on this thread, not the official transcript, which might read very differently and contain different/more info.) The Professional Responsibility attorneys noted in a footnote that two of the judges listed in the "opinion," including the "author," were actual 11th circuit judges, and the other is an actual 5th circuit judge. My read of this footnote was as an extra little detail tossed in by the Professional Responsibility attorneys to try to dress up their argument that the "opinions" had various "indicia of authenticity."

But here's the problem. If Schwartz is telling the truth - if he was reading carefully and critically enough that he bothered to look up the judge (why would you do that if you didn't think the case might be fake?!) there is no way he could have missed that the case was gibberish. Again, if this is really what he said at the hearing, he either lied in the hearing, or he must have know the "opinions" were bogus when he gave them to LoDuca to file.

"Did it cross your mind" - if the court actually said this, oh my god.

Hey, that's the point that I made in my original post(s)!

This whole thing about the "+h" to "th" with the notary date is from the recent affidavits filed on 6/6/23, you can read them about them if you want, I'll be honest, I don't really care as much about the notary stuff so I'm going to skip it for the moment.

....and I've run out of space for images again. Part II to follow shortly!

#ai bs #2 Stupid 2 Sanction

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mikavlcs · 1 year

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Static Patterns

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x fem!reader

Summary: Wednesday’s struggling to say those three special words, so she decides to instead show you how she feels.

Warnings: soft/ooc!wednesday(!!!), reader’s kinda unserious, sorry

Word count: 1.8k

Notes: this was requested by @beauty-in-the-brkdwn, hope you enjoy<3

Masterlist

Never in her life had Wednesday felt more stupid than she did now.

Mere months ago, she had faced and overcome unthinkable odds, defeating an undead pilgrim and saving the entirety of Nevermore from destruction. A feat she pulled off with moderate ease.

And now here she was being bested by something as trivial as words.

It was humiliating to think about, even conceptually. That she—an aspiring writer—was struggling with words. A communicative tool she had mastered using before the age of five. This was even worse when paired with the fact that what she was struggling to say was so torturously simple.

Three words. Eight letters.

A phrase that millions were able to say in passing and yet the thought of actually saying those words to you was somehow more daunting than the Hyde and Crackstone combined.

It shouldn’t have been, she knew that. Her candor was one of her defining features, a thing of pride even. But when combined with everything they symbolize, those three syllables suddenly weighed a thousand pounds on her tongue.

She tried and failed multiple times and as bitter as defeat tasted, she had no choice but to swallow it down and rethink her strategy.

Thus, a new, different approach was taken. After all, they did say that actions spoke louder than words. One of the most fundamental rules when writing was show don’t tell. So she settled for showing you how she felt rather than vocalizing it.

It started small with something as small and insignificant as breakfast. One morning she decided to procure a bowl of your favorite cereal and another, smaller bowl of assorted fruits.

You would always whine about how they were gone by the time you got there—which was entirely your fault, seeing as you arrived nearly ten minutes after everyone else did—so she figured this was a good place to start.

The excitement on your face as you took your place next to her told her she was correct.

From there it branched out slowly, like roots growing within soil.

She would take your books from you and carry them while she escorted you to your classes—even the ones she didn’t attend with you. It made your commutes much easier since nobody dared step into Wednesday’s way while she marched through the halls.

Stealing snacks for you from the kitchen became a daily occurrence. And with a few well-executed threats, she was able to take them free of charge. They were left in your locker, Wednesday feigning surprise when you found them, but you both knew the truth.

When you mournfully showed her the C+ you got on your Botany test she demanded politely offered to tutor you.

It even got to the point where she was willing to indulge in what she would consider blasphemy—physical touch.

This specific form of affection was something she vehemently avoided, its alleged pleasures something that eluded her. But you abstained for the sake of her comfort, so she would be willing to put forth an effort for the sake of yours.

It wasn’t much, but sometimes at lunch when she was absolutely sure no one was paying attention, she would tentatively cross her pinky with yours. And when you sat across from her at the Weathervane, she lightly rested her hand over yours.

She would admit—never aloud—that it wasn’t terrible.

You noticed the abrupt shift in her behavior, of course. The first few times you let it be, curious glances in her direction your only acknowledgment of the situation.

But eventually, the questions started, and Wednesday being always prepared, had her answers ready on her tongue.

“Your complaints about these being gone every morning are tiresome, so I got them for you since you can’t be bothered to show up on time.”

“Your feeble arms looked like they were struggling more than usual. The pitiful display has gotten rather boring.”

“These grades are not reflective of your limited intellectual abilities, it’s disappointing. I’ll fix that.”

Her snark never had much effect on you, so the excuses always earned an honest, if a bit bewildered chuckle from you (though she swore she could see fear in your eyes after that last one). But you didn’t question her further.

If she were to hazard a guess, she would say that you refused to inquire about her actions because you were afraid she would stop upon confrontation. And she knew you didn’t want that.

It was clear to her that you were enjoying her efforts. You were always a more inherently joyful person than her, but she had never seen as many smiles and blushes from you as she did these past few weeks. It was a pleasant thing to witness, she supposed.

And perhaps, somewhere deep down in the dark recesses of her mind, she was enjoying it as well.

You were late, like usual.

The Saturday study sessions she set up were scheduled to start at 12:30, meaning that you would arrive at 12:40. Your chronic tardiness was something that was so deeply ingrained that even she couldn’t correct it. She had long since given up trying.

She instead used the extra time to her advantage.

Opposite of you, she arrived every Saturday at 12:20 on the dot, preferring to be early so she could secure her favorite booth in the back of the café. The time before you arrived was used to plan out the lessons she would cover with you and color-coordinate her notes to make sure they were easy for you to understand.

The usual medium hot chocolate you ordered was placed on your side of the table, steam rising steadily from the top, but a new addition was the croissant she decided to order alongside it on a whim. You would appreciate it, she knew, you were always hungry.

At exactly 12:40, she heard the bell on the door chime and the familiar sound of your footsteps followed. She fought against the urge to straighten up and look back at you, gluing her eyes to the notes she was organizing.

There was movement in her peripherals as you slid into her sightline, the crooked grin on your face immediately identifiable, even out of focus. “Hey.”

“Hello,” she greeted evenly, sparing you only a glance as she pushed the pastry further over in your direction. Naturally, your eyes followed the movement and lit up comically once you spotted the food.

“For me?” you asked rather redundantly, the beginnings of a smile pulling at your lips.

Wednesday gave you a blank stare. “You’re the only other person at this table.”

That stupid, stunning smile only widened. You picked the croissant up and took a bite, never breaking eye contact with her. “Thanks, Wen.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, running her eyes over the expanse of your face. Then, “Now, open your textbook to page 274.”

Your face dropped but you obeyed.

Thirty minutes were spent taking notes and going over terms. A great use of the early afternoon in Wednesday’s opinion, though she knew your feelings would differ vastly.

You were focused on working for all of ten minutes before you started sending her long, blatantly obvious glances from across the table.

At the fifth consecutive look in a row, she decided to confront you. “If you have something to say then say it.”

You didn’t seem surprised to be called out, but you still took a minute to delve into your concerns. “What…is all of this?”

She paused her writing, glanced up briefly. “I’m not sure I understand your question.”

“Yeah, sorry that was vague,” you apologized, lightly shaking your head. “I mean all of these things you’ve been doing for these past few weeks—carrying my books, getting me my favorite foods at school, helping me study, and now buying me things…I love it, really but I don’t want you to do this because you think you need to-“

“I don’t,” she interrupted. “I do nothing out of an abstract sense of obligation, you know this.”

She didn’t have to see you to know that you were smiling. “Yes, I do. I just want to make sure that you know you don’t have to do all of this if you don’t want to.”

You were giving her an out. An unnecessary one, but the thought managed to be both touching and offensive. That you would sacrifice something that you are clearly enjoying for her was…courteous.

But the fact that you could possibly that she—Wednesday Addams—was doing anything for someone else because she “felt as if she had to” was nauseating and it needed to be fixed immediately.

“I do. Want to,” she said, her normally seamless cadence stunted as she tried to phrase her thoughts in a way that wasn’t painfully embarrassing. “I’m attempting to express the depth of my…feelings toward you.”

“Feelings? And what exactly do you feel for me?” Your tone was sincere, but there was a hint of smugness in it. Like you already knew the answer to your question.

“Disdain, at the moment,” she deadpanned as her mind receded elsewhere.

If she were to stop talking now, she knew you would drop it and take the win for what it was, but, strangely, she didn’t want to stop. The repulsive desire to open up pulled at her and she couldn’t help but lament the devastating effects that these cursed feelings continued to have on her.

Wednesday accepted her fate, took a deep breath, and swallowed her pride.

“In all seriousness, I…don’t hate you,” she ground out. “At all. Quite the opposite actually. And I felt it was important to let you know that, even if it was only through small, inane gestures.”

There was a moment of silence. Then another, and another. Unable to resist, Wednesday lifted her eyes to you and found that you looked positively awestruck. Eyes wide, brows raised, and lips parted. Utterly speechless.

She drank in the admittedly rare sight.

Slowly, the astonishment abated, and a wide, unruly grin crept onto your face. She knew right then that you were about to make her regret her confession.

“Awww,” you cooed, and, to her horror, you moved forward to press a warm kiss to her cheek.

Wednesday grimaced and glanced around to make sure that there were no witnesses to your display of affection.

Thankfully, it seemed that no one had seen or if they had, they made the smart decision to look away before she gauged their eyes out.

She turned back and glared at you with as much murderous intent as she could muster, trying to seem utterly disgusted with your behavior. But she knew the undeniable burning in her cheeks told you everything you needed to know.

Giggling, you sat back, reaching over to thread your fingers together with hers. Your smile tempered, softening around the edges until only tenderness and an emotion that she was becoming all too familiar with remained.

You leaned forward again, and this time, she was too enraptured to bother looking around.

“I love you too, Wednesday.”

#wednesday #wednesday addams #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x female reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams imagine #jenna ortega

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changeling-fae · 7 months

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You know, thinking about how Raphael and the Emperor fill similar roles but with different methods and how Raphael’s “better the devil you know” takes on a double (triple?) meaning. Raphael straight up tells you what he is and uses that as leverage against the Emperor who deceives you pretty much the whole time.

And for a lot of people it works, people in general prefer honesty up front and while Raphael is absolutely a shady devil, most people would respect his candor over being lied to from the start. Not everyone of course, the Emperor’s tactics still seems to work on a lot of players, given how many never learn he was manipulating them from start to finish.

But I really do like the scene of Raphael laying out all his cards and giving you an opportunity to compare them against the Emperor.

The Emperor could argue he lied about who he was because no one would trust an illithid (which is likely true) but he now has the disadvantage of another shady being persuading his target because said shady being was up front with who he was.

I do vibe way more with Raphael (obviously lol), and I recognize a lot of it is, yeah he was upfront about who he is and his motives. And while arguably headcanon territory, it’s still pretty clear that Raphael has some “affection” (in his own way) for us versus the Emperor who the moment you break through his facade, clearly cannot feel affection.

When he tries to seduce your character and if you turn him down, the narrator actually makes a pretty clear note of planting suspicion about how fast and suspiciously quick the Emperor changed tactics and words despite 5 sec prior talking like he cares about us.

Actually I wouldn’t say it’s that headcanony that Raphael has an attachment to us, all the jokes aside about him having a crush, we get the evidence that he has an attachment from other places aside from Raphael’s mouth.

The diaries and plaque (if you sign the contract) proves it in the sense that in game, Raphael never expected us to see his writings or his vault. And the archivist in the vault says something along the lines about how special we are to Raphael and how Raphael has a “softer spot” for mortals than most, and the archivist says all this to us thinking we’re just some random devil in disguise. Information that wasn’t meant for our ears technically.

Meanwhile you got the Emperor over here who is very good at faking affection and sympathy until you start to examine him more. Then he drops it like a rock, it’s almost scary how quick he can.

Raphael is oddly relatable because he is kinda pathetic in his own way. You can see where and how he got to being who he is. The Emperor is, well, alien. He’s definitely very good at utilizing his old memories of when he was mortal to his advantage, but that mortal is dead and he’s basically just another illithid, just one who happens to be more independent than most.

And while this is all speculation on my part, it’s clear that Raphael both hates but is attached to mortals, likely because of his own existence. He’s half mortal but lives and is bound by the rules of hell like a devil. I think he envies some of the freedom to choose that mortals have, and that’s why he’s so insistent that mortals don’t have choice. He wants that freedom to choose but can’t because of his nature (“hell, hell, hell has its laws”) and he’s trying to convince either himself and/or mortals that they don’t have a choice either, to cover up that envy he feels.

Imagine being the child of one of the big bad archdevils who rules over a layer of hell. There probably is a level or feeling of helplessness that he never had a choice but to be what he is.

And you can contrast that with the Emperor who is no longer mortal and while definitely fighting for his own independence and freedom, is quite content to be what he is.

Considering the whole game has strong themes about choice, fate, and freedom, it’s just fun how even the antagonists shares those struggles same as our characters and the companions.

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 raphael #raphael meta #bg3 spoilers #I have too many thoughts about this terrible (affectionate) devil man #1am thoughts

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hakkusan · 3 months

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One thing I noticed (out of the many things to be noticed in the trailer) is the way Wille seems so different from the boy we got to know in the first season. Which, of course, is to be expected after everything he's been through, all the pressure he's under and the expectations he's trying to meet. Anyone would crumble. And it's so unfair because he's not just anyone and so he is not allowed to crumble. He has to change and adapt and try his damned best to stay in control of things that he has absolutely no control over. The prince was a frustrated and lonely, yet awkward and endearing boy who yearned for freedom and managed to find it in Simon. The Crown prince is now a hardened version of the boy he once was; we see him fight for what he wants, yes, and we are proud of him for it, but we barely see him smile anymore and even Simon, who was once an escape for Wille, is now shackled by the same chains as him.

Season one and two brought about many changes for Wille and we watched him become more resilient and proactive in the way he deals with the hand he's been dealt. But along with that comes the loss of the childlike innocence that most teenagers still get to hold on to. I think Simon has always represented that for him; a glimpse into a different world, one of innocence and candor and purity. A world where his happiness never has to come second to his obligations. It feels as though Wille is trying to figure out how to reconcile the two worlds he exists in: the one of love and the one of duty. And it seems as though he's completely aware that he won't be able to split himself into parts so that he can live in both. He's going to have to choose. And I cannot even imagine how absolutely terrifying it is having to make that choice.

I'm rambling. I'm scared. I miss our season one boys who were all giggly and soft and pure and did not have to deal with all this shit.

#young royals #young royals season 3 #young royals trailer #endgame?#scared shitless #wilmon forever

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dreamingofep · 8 months

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Sinned Awakening pt. 4

An AU Elvis fic

(Vampire!Elvis/Vampire Austin!Elvis × reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Request: No

Prompt: Getting promoted to be Elvis full time housekeeper, you realize the man holds secrets beyond belief and your undeniable attraction makes you fear the unknown. Fem!Reader]

TW: Cussing, tension, angst, SMUT, cheating, fingering, the usual dirty stuff

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4.4K

A/N: Hello everyone!

Welcome to part 4! The spicy stuff is here and it’s here to stay🤭 I hope you enjoy all this and can't wait to keep building this relationship and the secrets that lie beneath it. Please let me know what you think in the comments or send me a message!

Thank you again!

Sorry for any spelling mistakes and overall goofs.🖤

The bag of ice burns into your neck making you wince and huff out a frustrated groan. You did this to yourself. There was no one else to blame. Well, maybe Elvis. You could blame Elvis for doing this to you but begged him to do all of it you. Every last thing. Now you’ll never be able to look at a piano the same without picturing Elvis eating you out on top of it.

All last night you kept replaying the events in your head, how you have never felt so satisfied and wish you could somehow reenact those feelings he gave you.

There was one way you could…

No. Absolutely not. This was a one-time thing and you just have to live with the memories.

You managed to avoid Daniel and he never saw you walk in the door with the huge bandage plastered across your neck. You couldn’t go to sleep right away and tossed and turned for hours it seemed. The shame didn’t wrack through you like you thought it would, it was quite the opposite. There was something so addictive about him. About being close to him and when he was fucking you, there was no word to describe how it felt.

Looking in the mirror, you inspect how your bruise is looking. After icing it all night and a bit this morning, the swelling went down and the purple coloring was much less prominent and diluted. It still showed and you thought putting another bandage on would make it even more noticeable than it already was. You decided to dab some makeup on it and hope no one asks any questions about it.

Getting to work, the locker room is empty thankfully and you get your uniform on and stock up on some cleaning supplies that aren’t in your cart. The ticking of the clock rings in your ears as you wait for the minute hand to hit the twelve-clock mark, making it three pm.

The familiar ring fills the room and you eagerly pick up the phone.

“Housekeeping, this is y/n,” you say happily.

“Mr. Presley wishes to see you.” The click of the receiver doesn’t surprise you and you make your way to the elevator with your cleaning cart.

This trip to the penthouse made your stomach have butterflies, making your heart beat wildly at the anticipation of just seeing him. You really don’t know what to talk to him about when you get up there though. Are you two just going to act normal and act like the events that transpired last night never happened? That was a lot to just suddenly ignore.

You walk past the men in the hallway and they keep their heads down, standing there like statues as they always did. Pushing the double doors, you walk into the suite and get greeted by those dark blue eyes. He takes your breath away, the second you step foot into his space, you just want to collapse into his arms and do what he wants.

You take a deep breath before speaking, “Hello, Mr. Presley,” You say softly.

He smirks, amused by your candor, “Hi honey, you can call me Elvis if you’d like,” he says sweetly. You smile looking down at your feet, not wanting him to see that his charm is working.

“Thank you, Elvis. Where would you like me to start?” you say shyly.

He stares at you and doesn’t look away.

“I didn’t really call you up here to clean honey,” he says gruffly.

“Umm, Mr. Presley I really should do something that pertains to my job…” you say a bit intimidated by his tone and presence.

“Fine. You can take the trash out of all the bathrooms first,” he says courtly, his face showing amusement as you are trying to stay as far away from him.

You nod your head and go to the guest bathrooms and get everything in order. When you turn around to grab something from your cleaning cart, Elvis is behind you.

“Mr… I mean Elvis you’re really going to have to stop sneaking up on me, you’re going to scare me off,” you tease.

“Hmm, I don’t think much scares you but I hear you loud and clear,” he winks at you, making you blush.

You head back to the living room and it’s almost in perfect condition, leaving you surprised he called you up here again.

“Not having that many crazy parties hmm?” You ask him jokingly.

“Haven’t had many people over. Being a recluse and all as you say,” he quips. You can’t help but laugh at the little dig he made.

“Well I guess you need some more friends then Mr. Presley,” you tease.

“It seems you’ve been my only company lately,” he says slyly.

Your cheeks continue to burn and you can’t help but wonder what he thinks about all of this.

“Well I’m very sorry for that,” you tease.

“No please, don’t ever be sorry. I much rather have you around,” You glanced up at him as he has that familiar twinkle in his eye, making you look anywhere else.

“Did you sleep okay last night?” he asks.

“Uh, yea I slept fine, did you sleep okay?” You ask, feeling uneasy to talk to him so freely like this.

“No not really but I’m fine. I don’t need much sleep,” he says cheekily.

You try to scurry away from this awkward small talk and act like he wasn't stuffing you to the hilt with his cock last night.

Jesus, focus.

You check in the little half bath that’s by the front door and fold some hand towels for any guests he might have. Looking up in the mirror, you see Elvis behind you again, having a devious look on his face. You jump and turn around to face him.

“I still make you nervous? Even after everything I did to you last night,” he insinuates

Your cheeks flush and you feel your heart dance wildly.

“Well, I don’t know who can ever get used to being so close to you Elvis. But I guess even after everything that transpired… you still make me feel on edge.”

He steps toward you and you fight the urge to step away like you always do.

“Mhmm, good,” he murmurs darkly. “I don’t want you to get too comfortable,” he grumbles as he looks at you in the mirror, his hands on your shoulders to turn you back around to face the mirror. His body pushes up against your small frame and you both let out a soft moan when feeling each other like this.

He places a soft kiss on your neck, making chills run down your body. His lips feel cold yet so soft and plump, you could let him kiss your neck for hours if he wanted.

“And if I do get… comfortable… then what?” You ask in an airy manner.

“Then I would have to put you back in your place,” He says low.

“And where’s that? On top of the piano?” You insinuate. He bites the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling and nods his head at you.

“Mhmm… that’s one way,” he trails off, his hands finding your hips and squeezing them. You involuntarily push your body back into his rigid frame and let out a slow exhale.

“There are so many rooms we can use tho. I was thinking more of a way to get you to listen to me and not be so obstinate,” he alludes. Your body felt like it was on fire again having him pressed against you. Your breathing became shallow and the more you breathed in, the more you took in his delicious scent.

“That’s going to be a challenge, I don’t think you know me very well, I’m very difficult,”

His hands trail down the front of your body, scrunching up the material of your skirt to expose your panties.

“I think I can find a way to… persuade you,” he notes.

You look at him in the mirror drunk on you already and feel your arousal begin to form. He smirks down at you, almost like he can feel your slick forming because of him, and continues to kiss your neck. You try to break away from him but it feels impossible, looking in those mesmerizing eyes that suck you in every time.

His fingers find your sensitive bud and he starts to rub slow circles there, watching as your head falls back onto his chest.

Your breathing becomes labored and you try to swallow the moans you want to let free. You feel him press his cock into your ass and the soft groan he gives when he does that sends throbs to your core.

He works you like he’s known you your entire life, giving you exactly what you want before uttering a word.

He picks up one of your legs and bends it at your knee, placing it on the counter and stretching it out before you, giving him a better view of your soaked panties.

His lips feel like fire on your skin, making you want more of him and have your body more on edge. You watch as his fingers pull your panties to the side, letting the cool air hit your core and leaving you panting for more from him. Watching in the reflection his cold, long fingers spread your lower lips apart, you see how he exposes your weeping core to him in the mirror and watches his face looking at you hungrily, hearing him groan in your ear.

“Fuck baby look at yourself, this kitty needs so much attention hmm,” he asks sensually.

You can’t help but moan at his words and you shut your eyes closed, so sexually frustrated.

“God fuck please, I should probably… leave you alone,” you moan quietly, the sound of his dirty words making you wetter by the second.

He cocks his head at you, examining you carefully before speaking.

“Is that really what you want honey? Or do you want me to take care of that needy pussy.” He groans in your ear.

“Elvis I, I can’t. I shouldn’t,” you pant.

He looks amused at you like he knows that’s actually all you want. You want him to fulfill this newfound need for him that he created. This undeniable need for him to please you for hours. You feel his finger tease your entrance, rubbing there before pushing it inside you. You cry out to him, feeling the pleasure run through you the second he’s inside you.

You watch in the mirror how his finger curls inside you and is covered in your arousal when he pulls it out of you. His other hand glides over your chest and into your shirt, unbuttoning it to show your breasts in your plain white bra. He squeezes your breasts and watches as your face begs for more. The way he’d touch you was all too much yet not enough. You wished you could wrangle this need you have for him but nothing will do. He’s created a monster and you’re more than okay with it.

“Elvissss,” you moan, looking at him in the mirror.

“What honey, tell me what you need. Don’t need to fight what you want,” he coos.

You are breathless at this point and can’t believe he has you like this. This needy, whimpering mess in his bathroom.

“Fuck me. Please, fuck me,” you groan breathlessly. He gives you a sly look in the mirror as he enters another finger inside of you making you buck your hips.

“By the looks of it, I’m already fucking you darlin’. What more do you want?” He growls deviously. You cry out loudly as he moves his fingers faster in and out of you, making wet, sloppy noises come out of your core. You keep crying for him to give you what you want but he doesn’t listen. He’s a master at teasing and keeping you right on the edge. His fingers weren’t nearly enough and wanted to be fucked with something much bigger.

“Please, no more teasing,” you beg.

He chuckles and smiles at you in the mirror, “I’m just doing what you asked honey. You’ll have to be more specific,” he spats.

Your hand reaches around and finds his straining cock in his pants. You carefully watch his face as you rub him through his pants. How it turns from smug to pleasure in just one motion.

“I need this, please. Don’t tease me anymore,” you plead. He grins at you in delight, finally hearing the words he’s been waiting for. He pulls his fingers out of you and puts them to his mouth, licking them clean. You take your leg off the counter and turn around to face him, lust reading through him again. He placed his hand around your neck, squeezing lightly as you release a soft moan. His eyes get drawn to the side of your neck that you tried to cover up with makeup but his keen eyes noticed the splotchy spot.

He groans as his index finger traces the spot he left, “I’m sorry about this, I couldn’t help myself,” he snickers.

“You were really trying to take a bite out of me hmm?” You joke

“You have no idea how much I’d love that,” he growls darkly. His mouth is back on your neck and sucking on the same spot he did before. You moan and push yourself more into his body. This bruise was never going to heal if you kept this up. You gasp at the urgency he has in his body, how he really feels like he is trying to take a bite out of you. You thought your need for him was insatiable, you think somehow his is even worse. He suddenly stops and picks you up, wrapping your legs around his torso.

He carries you to the bedroom where it’s low-lit once again and he has a few candles on. Your heart beats wildly and wait for him to make the next move. He sets you down and he casually walks to the window sill.

Your eyes linger on him, wanting him to break the tension in the room but he doesn’t budge. You’re so tempted to just walk out now while you still have your dignity and clothes left intact. You glance back at the door that he left cracked open but the booming of his voice gets your attention.

“You still being difficult hmm? Then I’m going to be difficult too” He says gruffly.

“Come here.”

The throbbing in your core continues and his eyes pull you in.

You walk over to him carefully and step in between his legs, looking up at him nervously.

“This is dangerous,” you whisper.

He glided his hand up your thigh, making you inhale sharply.

“Yes, I know. But that’s not going to stop you,”

His hands then move to the inside of your legs, feeling the soft flesh there, then zipping the skirt and pulling it down off your hips. He undoes the last remaining buttons on your shirt and flings it to the side, watching as it flutters to the ground in a crumpled fashion.

“I shouldn’t like it this much… the way you make me feel good,” you say a bit breathlessly, knowing that you need him more than you realize.

“I know honey, but don’t fight it, let me keep making you feel good. You have no idea how much I love being inside you,” he groans. Your heart thumps and your breathing is hitching with every salacious word he throws at you.

“Please make me feel good again. But this has to be the last time,” you say to assure yourself more than him.

A smile forms on his face and his fingers cup your pussy, rubbing his fingers through your sopping wet folds.

“I can do that for you honey, you feel nice and ready for me,” he teases, “I don’t like that last part though,” he growls. He grabs one of your legs and wraps it around his hip, slithering his hand down to your throbbing bud. He looks up at you in awe, so infatuated with every sound you make as your hips grind into his fingers. You feel him spreading your wetness that is now spilling onto the side of your thigh and rolling down. His fingers find it and he slides it up, bringing that finger to his mouth and licking it.

A moany cry comes out of you and you keep begging for him.

“Fuck baby you need it this bad huh?”

You nod your head profusely wanting him so bad. You don’t want to waste any more time and take your bra and panties off in one quick motion, needing his skin to touch you without any barriers.

“Yes, Elvis. Please,” you moan.

You were a moth to the flame and there was no escaping Elvis. He was just what you wanted and something about him made you feel whole. Something you haven’t had in the longest time.

As wrong as this all was, maybe it was the time to make a rational decision about being with Daniel. Was this an act of pure lust or was there something more…

None of that mattered now as he squeezes your hips and turns you around, your hands against the cold window bracing yourself for what he was going to give you.

“What are you doing?” You say surprised by his sudden forcefulness.

“Making you listen,” he hisses.

His tip rubs through your folds, causing an agonizing sensation through you having been teased for far too long. He doesn’t care, he’s in control and will keep waiting for as long as you can take it. Your whimpers escalate and you try to push your hips back into his length to get some kind of relief.

Suddenly you feel his hand wrap your hair in a tight grip and pulls it back, making you gasp with how rough he’s being.

“Here’s what’s going to happen, honey, I’ll fuck you, but I don’t want you leaving after. I have to show you more ways of how I can please you,” he says darkly.

“Elvis, I-I-I can’t stay here for long. I don’t want people getting suspicious,” you hiss over your shoulder at him. He yanks your hair again, making you cry out.

“What are they going to get suspicious about? That you come up here and beg for my cock and get no cleaning done hmm?,” He growls in your ear. Chills rush through your body and you freeze, obeying his orders whether you like it or not.

Before you know it, you feel his long length plunge into your wet heat, filling you so quickly and powerfully. You cry out his name, overwhelmed by the forcefulness. His grunts fill the room and the grip he has on your hips is tight, you’re sure that this is going to leave bruises there too.

“Ahh, Elvis,” you mewl.

His hips move faster and your breathing hitched every time you feel him get deeper inside of you.

“What honey, you can’t take this cock after begging me for it? You want me to stop,” He spats darkly, pulling his length completely out of you. You gasp, wanting him to fill you again and stop playing this game of his.

“Ah, no, please. I want you,” you beg.

He plunges his length back inside you, stuffing you to the hilt making both of you groan loudly.

“Good that’s what I thought,” he says snidely, “Tell me you’ll stay longer,” he groans with a snap of his hips making you gasp.

“N-no, I can’t,” you whimper out. His hand wraps around your throat, holding it there making you groan.

“Then I’ll stop fucking you, is that what you want?” He growls.

You’re completely at his mercy now but you’re more than okay with it. Your moans grow louder the harder he snaps his hips into you.

“No please, I-I-I’ll stay,” you manage to squeak out.

“Mhmm, such a good girl,” he growls.

The way he moves his hips is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. The way he can make you completely surrender to his every last breath.

You squeeze your eyes shut as you try to adjust to how he’s taking you. The way he’s handling you is different than last time. Yesterday he wanted to discover you, take his time and make you feel things you’ve never felt before but now, he’s fucking you like his life depends on it. Like he’s been dying for this.

You feel him quickly pull out of you and turn you around. Looking up into his eyes with shock and bewilderment, you see the dark bluish-grey pools there where the ones icy blue ones were. He must notice your stares as he looks down at your body.

“Are you okay? Your eyes are so dark,” you ask shakily.

“Don’t worry about that baby I’m better than okay right now,” he says quickly as he picks you up and rests you on the window sill ledge. The cold glass hits your back and you visibly shiver as you look at him with hunger in his eyes.

“Fuck,” he moans. He goes straight for your neck and sucks there, groaning and breathing in deeply as he does this. It feels so dangerous the way he possessively sucks at your neck, like he’s trying to mark you or something. Another part of you likes it, like he should be sucking on your neck for the whole world to see that you belong to him.

Oh god no. No, it can’t go that far. This is just sex it doesn’t mean anything more than that.

With a grunt, he’s back inside you and filling you so completely. This position feels more intense as you are both at eye level with each other and feel the rise and fall of your chests. You can’t hold on for much longer as he rubs your clit with his thumb and coaxes you to reach your orgasm.

“Yes, honey you feel so good. Taking my cock so well,” he coos in your ear. You shut your eyes and groan at him, angry at yourself for liking everything he ever says to you.

Your walls flutter around his length and he grins at you, grinding his hips into your faster to get you closer to your release. You keep your eyes shut, trying to savor these feelings he’s giving you but your focus gets snapped away as you feel his hand on your jaw. He kisses you passionately, attacking your lips with his and your tongues swirl against each other. He breaks the kiss and looks at you with a dangerous glint in his eyes.

“Cum for me, show me how good I make you feel,” he demands.

Your body shakes and you squeeze around his length, making you cry out his name over and over. It’s all too much and somehow you’ll know you’ll be wanting more later. He slows his pace and continues to watch you moan through your orgasm. Clinging onto his arms, you gasp and try to get ahold of your emotions.

Elvis quickly pulls out of you and you watch as his hand wraps around his cock, wet and sticky from your arousal. He groans as he slowly pulls his foreskin back and exposes his red tip and rubs his thumb there. He keeps this slow pace as you can’t look away from what he’s doing to himself. Wishing you could be the one to do that.

He looks up at you and grabs your hand, pulling you off the ledge. He wraps your hand around his length and you jerk him slowly, watching his face form into ecstasy.

“Make me cum baby,” he says low. You nod your head and start moving your hand faster, hearing the slick sounds your hand on his length is making. Watching him get off like this is so unbelievably attractive and makes you want him to take you again. His breathing labors and you feel him twitch in your hand. Quickly, you sink to your knees and pump his load on your breasts. He looks down at you in awe, so lust driven and filled with pleasure. You keep looking up at him as he continues to cum hot thick spurts on you. You don’t understand why this is so hot but you can admit that it was just as enjoyable to him as it was for you.

The last few drops come out of him and he’s left breathless, biting his lip as he looks at your hungrily, watching the spurts of his cum drop down your breasts.

“Fuck, you know exactly what I wanted huh?” He smirks.

“I had a feeling you might like it,” you say coyly.

He walks swiftly to the side of the bed, giving you a great view of his behind leaving you on your knees on the floor. He pulls the handle of the top drawer of the small nightstand and pulls out a Polaroid camera. Walking back to you and sinking onto his knees too, he looks you over.

“May I?” He asks as he raises the camera up. “You look too good to not be photographed,” he marvels to you.

You nod your head before you can form a coherent thought. Placing your hands underneath your breasts, you lift them slightly and squeeze, giving him the best view imaginable. You look directly into the camera lens, showing off your big doe eyes, and wait for him to take the picture. He grins at you and raises the camera to his eye, leaning back, and pressing the shutter button.

Click.

He pulls the film out of the top of the camera and shakes it. He set them down on the ground and takes your breasts in his hands, rubbing your nipples causing another electric shock into your system.

“God you make me want to do so many bad things to you,” he whimpers softly.

You blush at his words and look down at the discarded Polaroid, capturing you covered in his seed and for him to keep for as long as he wants.

“Well I told you I’d stay, you better show me some of those things you want,” you look back up at him challengingly, biting your lip to keep yourself from smiling. You know you’re in deep trouble with him, sinful thoughts filling your head with the most alluring man to ever exist sitting right in front of you. And lord, what lovely sins you’ll commit with him.

•

Tagging 🖤:

@powerofelvis @burninlovebutler @neptuneismysister @velvetelvis @ccab @presleyenterprise @elvispresleyxoxo @loving-elvis

@prompted-wordsmith @sillybookmarks @dkayfixates @rosepresley @ellie-24 @rktismylife-blog . @myradiaz @lookingforrainbows @elvispresleygf @tacozebra051 @thatbanditqueen

@18Ikpeters @flwrs4aust @emma181873 @austinswhitewolf @eliseinmemphis @everythingelvispresley @chasingwildflowers @idontwanttoputanything @ohjustpeachy @elvisalltheway101 @austinsmutler @kingdomforapony @generoustreemystic @kendralavon7 @lettersfromvenus @claire-elvisgirl

@ashtag6887 @burnthheparaphilia @richardslady121 @jacqueline19997 @returntopresley @iloveelvis @rimartin11 @that-hotdog @louisejoy86

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cemeterything · 7 months

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This sounds like an amazing scene. Please tell me more.

so Valentine and Reaver (tentative names, i'm still not sure i like them) are both extremely damaged people living utterly miserable lives in a pre-apocalyptic world. Valentine is a celebrity, a star soldier, a former no-name nobody orphan of the apocalypse who gained fame and fortune and success through apparent sheer good fortune, hard work, and innate charisma. but she has no identity outside of piloting. they lost their entire world as a kid when her town was destroyed, and as a result of that traumatic experience developed the belief that the only way she can ever hope to matter or be worth anything is by making a name for themself, making herself impossible to ignore, for fear of dying alone and forgotten. so they've dedicated their whole life to piloting, and sustain themself on the praise and adoration of the masses and her superiors, and have virtually no life outside of that, let alone plans or dreams for the future. she doesn't often let herself entertain her own personal desires, believing it's pointless; doesn't form connections with other people outside of the professional and transactional because they feel they have nothing else to offer. they're a shell of a person, a pretty face for the propaganda posters and a brilliant smile and shiny medal-laden uniform for the press and a machine of war to inspire the troops. and because of her single-minded total dedication to piloting, she's always first to volunteer for combat and last to accept any assistance or admit to any perceived weakness; their body is literally falling apart from pushing it too hard and hidden beneath their clothes is a patchwork of skin grafts and wounds that refuse to heal held together by glue and stitches and infection that's slowly spreading and killing them. but Valentine is determined to keep going until she drops or dies in combat, to be a martyr for the cause and for public opinion. she has nothing else.

Reaver is more or less the opposite. he's washed-up, a failure, out of time; a good soldier and a good man but a bitter, lonely, cynical wreck of a person. he was never recognized for his efforts like his peers, possessed too much candor and not enough charisma to ingratiate himself with his superiors, was well-liked but always secondary at best to those who burned brighter and were willing to compromise their principles and ethics in exchange for opportunities for advancement and promotion. he drinks too much, cares for himself too little, treats every opportunity to save lives like an obligation and every failure like an inevitability, pushes everyone away before they even get close out of fear of being hurt or abandoned again, and has generally made himself hard to love. at the same time, he's resentful, aloof and unapproachable, sneering with contempt at everyone around him and taking a certain grim satisfaction in self-sabotage and lashing out because it allows him to justify his misery. he and Valentine hate each other because he pities Valentine more than he resents them; he sees Valentine as naive, overconfident and shallow, a bright young thing that will be used til it burns, so he's cruel to her. and Valentine, in turn, is furious at Reaver for his selfish attitude, for allowing himself to descend into despair and self-loathing at the expense of potentially the entire rest of the world, for giving up the opportunity to do good and childishly railing against everyone who comes near him because he didn't get patted on the head enough for his efforts.

they absolutely loathe each other at first, because they see their worst fears in each other, their worst selves, who they could have been if things had just been a little different, and the brutal truth that they would be no better off or happier in the other's place. however, they're forced to work together and regularly be in close proximity to one another by the inexorably advancing apocalypse and budget cuts in military spending, and their bitter conflict helps to peel back the layers and walls they've built up around themselves and get them to confront how badly they've been failed and hurt by the rest of the world and begin to find solace in each other, in their shared experiences and pain and the love and comfort and hope and meaning they can offer each other.

#oc: valentine #oc: reaver #reval #you can probably see both the nge and terror influences lol

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alex51324 · 5 months

Text

Already seeing some rancid takes on Con's new interview about OFMD S2, so here are some points to ponder:

As was pointed out when the strike first ended, we are not owed, and should not expect, complete candor from the actors. Doing press is part of the job, to promote the project, and focusing on positive aspects is expected & customary.

That doesn't mean that Con is necessarily lying through his teeth when he says, " I have nothing but love, respect, and faith in David Jenkins. Trust him. He knows what he’s doing." It could be anywhere along the range from that, to he absolutely 1000% means it with his whole chest.

(And we really shouldn't try to read the tea leaves about which is it, because even a convincing rumor of "Oh, yeah, Con totally tipped us off that he thought it was dogshit" could have professional consequences for Mr. O'Neill in real life.)

But--

At the same time, we do not owe Con (and I'm sure he does not expect) the last word on how we feel about S2 in general and Izzy's ending in particular. Con (presumably) knows things about David Jenkins's vision for the season (and/or plans for season 3), that we do not know. That's fair, but it's also fair for us to evaluate what we actually saw.

If there's something we don't know, which (if we knew it) would make Izzy's death (and the season as a whole) work better, then--why don't we know it?

A choice was made to not show that information, and (given the way TV production works) it was probably a group decision, but the buck ultimately stops with the showrunner. He presumably didn't intend for the season finale to alienate a large (and vocal) swathe of the audience, but it abso-fucking-lutely did, so it's fair to ask what he was trying to do, and speculate about he could have done differently to have the effect on the audience that he wanted to have.

In terms of my personal reaction, I've kind of been swinging around wildly, but the basic throughline is that I suppose it might be possible for David Jenkins to dig himself and his show out of the hole he's put them in, but I'm having a lot of trouble seeing how. Especially if we add the caveat that it's a "this is what was intended and planned for all along" thing, and not an "oops, our bad" retcon.

But I'm willing to be proved wrong about that! As I've said before, maybe the little wooden boy really can pull it off. Middle installments of trilogies are notoriously hard, and sometimes they improve once part 3 is in place.

I don't think this new interview is anything game changing, but it could be a point on the optimistic side of the ledger. Maybe David Jenkins really does have a plan! Maybe he'll even be able to carry it out (even though, from all appearances, the plan for S2 seems to have had an "It's September 1st, boss"-sized hole in it)!

But ultimately, I'll believe it when I see it.

#ofmd #ofmd critical #izzy hands

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notinmyvocab · 9 months

Text

Laundry Day

There's a mix-up at the laundromat. How embarrassing.

LarissaxOFC, swearing, general dorkiness

read part ii here

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

Alice stared at the large pile of laundry on top of the dryers, recognizing a few pieces of her clothing mixed into the jumble.

“Oh my.”

Alice turned to see a tall, striking woman approach. The woman reached into the pile and pulled out a garment that clearly belonged to her. “Seems someone was impatient with the dryers,” Alice said to the woman.

“Just my luck,” Larissa muttered. Of course, her washer and dryer needed replacing right before she needed laundry done. Using the Jericho Laundromat was a perfectly logical solution until her new washer and dryer showed up, but now she was regretting the choice.

“Well… guess we’ve got some sorting ahead of us.”

“Indeed,” Larissa sighed.

“Alice, by the way.” It seemed logical to introduce herself considering they would now tasked with sorting through each other’s personal items.

“Larissa.”

Larissa. It was an exquisite name, made even more divine when said in such a warm, buttery voice. But now was not the time to indulge small crushes; there was laundry to do.

Armfuls of clothing were brought to the back of the laundromat, away from prying eyes. This would be easy, Alice was sure of it. Their styles were rather different. Everything casual belonged to her, and everything elegant belonged to Larissa. Simple.

And for a while, it was. Wordlessly, the two women sorted through the clothing, taking what was theirs and handing off what wasn’t.

The silence was then replaced by a soft melody, upbeat and catchy. Alice was humming.

“What song is that?” Larissa asked.

Alice silenced herself, a tad embarrassed. It had been an unconscious action and now she had to explain something that would probably make her sound like a complete dork. “It’s um… so there’s this… musical. And there’s a song called ‘My Freeze Ray.’ But like… it takes place when two characters are at the laundromat.”

She braced herself for the judgment; for Larissa to roll her eyes or scoff. Instead, Larissa smiled, and suddenly it was easier to breathe. The two fell into conversation.

Larissa was a principal. Alice worked at the Weathervane.

“How odd; I’ve never seen you there before,” said Larissa.

“I’m always there before opening, and in the back. I’m the baker.”

Larissa raised her eyebrows. “Do you mean to say that you’re responsible for the orange-cranberry muffins?”

“Guilty as charged.”

“Those are my absolute favorites; I get one every chance I get.”

Alice blushed, grinning stupidly. “I’m actually really glad to hear that. I was messing around with a family recipe and came up with that.”

“Well, it’s delicious. You have my mark of approval.”

The two women basked in the kind moment, but it was terribly brief. They had gone through most of the laundry at that point. The idea of ending the conversation so soon wasn’t what gave each of them pause, though. It was what remained.

Alice wouldn’t say she was embarrassed by intimates, but the idea of Larissa possibly handling her plain cotton underwear mortified her. It seemed Larissa felt the same, for the older woman also hesitated.

Deciding to take initiative, Alice plunged her hand into the piling of clothing and pulled out the first thing her fingers curled around. It was her own underwear, thank god. She began folding.

Larissa watched intently, not captivated by the garment, but by Alice’s candor. Feeling emboldened, Larissa did the same, grabbing a pair of her stockings. She folded them delicately, unable to ignore Alice watching her out of the corner of her eye.

The silence that befell them wasn’t uncomfortable, but there was a certain tension that Alice couldn’t name. She tried powering through it until she noticed that Larissa began folding a pair of panties that she definitely recognized.

“Oh, um… I think… those are mine?” Her cheeks flushed as red as the panties that Larissa held: lacy and revealing.

Larissa looked down at the garment, her cheeks also coloring. “Oh! I’m sorry I thought… I um… I have a similar pair; I thought they were mine.” Embarrassed, Larissa handed over the underwear. “You um… you have good taste.”

Alice giggled, more out of embarrassment. “Thanks. There was uh… there was a sale somewhere.” She dug into the pile of clothes again and grasped a pair of underwear that she prayed was hers.

No such luck.

“Here,” she said quickly, handing off the thong, trying not to let her gaze linger on it. She didn’t wear thongs, never having a need for them. But it seemed Larissa didn’t mind them; there appeared to be a few in the pile.

Mortified, Larissa snatched the thong away from Alice, and tried collecting the ones remaining in the pile.

“They’re cute,” Alice said, trying to make Larissa feel better about the whole situation. It was awkward for the both of them, but they weren’t suffering in awkwardness alone. “You… you’ve got good taste, too.”

Jesus. Could she be any more of a loser?

Alice exhaled heavily. “Okay, we have to sort through out things. People wear underwear and bras and stuff. It doesn’t have to be weird, right?”

“…Right,” Larissa agreed, albeit hesitantly. She wasn’t used to being so exposed, especially to a stranger. “I suppose you’re correct. We’re both mature adults.”

Alice wasn’t so sure about mature. She fancied herself mature for her age, but honestly she couldn’t help but imagine Larissa, this tall goddess, wearing the thong she held in her hands.

Panicking, Alice pulled out her cellphone as if someone was calling her. But Larissa saw that the screen was black. “Sorry, gotta take this,” Alice said, putting her phone to her ears and walking out of the laundromat at a brisk pace.

Once outside, she put her phone back into her pocket and took a deep breath. Fucking hell. This situation had gone from mortifying, to chill, to mortifying again. Maybe she should just leave? She could always buy new clothes, right?

“Alice?”

Alice looked over to see Larissa approaching her.

“Sorry, I just…” Alice faltered. What could she even say? She wanted to throw up.

“I actually have to get going. I have a meeting to get to,” Larissa said quickly. “If you don’t mind… I can bring the rest of the laundry to my place in the meantime, and you could… if you have the time, you can come over tonight and we can finish sorting?”

“Yes,” Alice answered immediately, not even giving a second to the offer some thought. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Give me your phone.”

Alice complied without question, handing over the device after unlocking it. Within seconds, Larissa added her contact and texted herself so that she had Alice’s number as well.

Already Alice felt immensely better about the whole ordeal. They could continue this in true privacy, and she could take some much needed time to get her head on straight.

“There,” Larissa said, handing back the phone. “I’ll send you the details when I’m out of my meeting.”

Alice agreed, and the two women parted ways, Alice returning to her apartment and Larissa storing the laundry in the trunk of the van and heading off to her meeting.

A few hours passed, and Alice wondered if Larissa would ever text her. Surely a stranger wouldn’t just steal her clothes? Then again, there were a lot of weirdos out there.

Finally, her phone buzzed. Overeager, Alice lunged for the device and opened her messages.

Sorry about the wait! All settled; come on by!

Another message told Alice the address. Perfect. Alice was about to store her phone away in her back pocket when it buzzed again; another text message with a photo attached.

And what a photo it was. Larissa stood in front of her mirror, hair pinned up still and makeup immaculate. But instead of the dress she wore earlier she wore… oh fuck.

Alice’s heart stopped as she stared at the photo, mouth going dry. Apparently the red lace panties Larissa mentioned owning had a matching bra and garter set.

Another text: you’re right, I do have good taste 😉

#larissa weems #fanfiction #my writing

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certifiablyinsanez · 3 months

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Buckle in guys this is gonna be a doozy. Keep in mind that some people have sworn this isn’t their experience with the fandom and frankly I would like to know what spaces you are in because this is mine:

As someone who loves HH and HB, I’m going to say it; the Hazbin and Helluva fandoms are probably the worst I’ve ever encountered. Here are my top 5 gripes. Mentions of SA within the show ahead.

1. The problem fans have with the actors, studios and of course, most of all Viziepop. I’m not going into that drama, the point I’m trying to make is that white cishet men have been getting away with absolute murder for ages in this industry and have not received even a crumb of this much flack. The fact that an independent, queer, woman of color is being put through the SHREDDER online and her work is devalued despite having extensive queer, BIPOC creators, cast and characters frankly leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I don’t think she’s perfect and free from criticism but I’ve seen people foam at the mouth in defense of people like Taylor Swift (despite her being a billionaire because yes being a billionaire is never ethical and an eco terrorist). I don’t think I have to spell out the double standards further.

2. The HORRIFIC sexualization of characters. This is so bad I have to split it in categories.

•In Helluva Boss it’s Loona. Seriously, the way people are absolute CREEPS about Loona is one of the worst cases of perversion I’ve seen of a character within a fandom. And I watch anime. I’m very familiar with the incel-y, body-pillow having, foaming-at-the-mouth weird perverts that come with animation. The fact that it’s possible Loona started out the show underage makes it worse but here’s the kicker…if Loona was not and is not underage, the obsession with her is still gross to me. About 90% of content with her is basically rule 34. They joke about it in the show with the fourth wall break, but honestly guys? Get a hold of yourselves. Especially under certain context that she might be an SA victim is worse. (See the syphilis comment in the pilot. That disease manifests symptoms over years this isn’t necessarily canon but if it ever does become canon in the future it will make the sexualization downright unforgivable).

• ALASTOR. Alastor would be a clean #2 below Loona on the sexualization scale. As an asexual aromantic person, I’m frankly insulted (but not surprised) by the fandom’s approach to Alastor. Alastor is a canonically asexual character. People will (and have) argue with me that he’s canonically ace but it’s technically not confirmed that he’s aromantic and therefore use that as a justification to use him as bait for shipping wars and fic material. Viziepop said that she doesn’t mind certain things and has the one condition that we be “respectful”. I honestly think the fandom has entirely and spectacularly failed at that. People see Alastor in 2D. He’s witty, funny, sassy, self-assured, dare I say fabulous. Therefore, people seem to forget he’s ace. I’ve literally seen people say “I’m supposed to believe this guy is ace?” YES! Because he is! This hurts me as bad as it does because I have been out as aro ace for 10 years now and I’ve been exposed to so much vitriol at our community. If you haven’t been exposed to that, I’ll just say that the general picture people have of our community is that we are robotic, loveless, and empty from something people consider as fundamentally “human”. Still to this day people debate whether we’re even real. Alastor doesn’t fit that picture with his candor and charisma, and therefore people drop his ace identity at the drop of a hat. I can see it happening here because I’ve seen it happen with real people countless times. Even if that’s not how you see it, look at it from this perspective:

It’s confirmed that Alastor had no relationships in life or in death. Some people swear that he’s canonically sex-repulsed which I agree with but can’t confirm so I don’t claim it to be true canon just yet. But look at it like this. What have we seen from Alastor so far? Angel’s advances disgust him. He rebukes all advances. It’s canon that Alastor very likely cannot see others in a romantic way (and here is why I’m sure why): because he thinks pretty much everyone is beneath him. Yes it seems he is friendly with fellow cannibal overlord Rosie and lets Nifty touch him whereas others cannot, but what does it tell you when the “closest” people to him don’t catch his eye in the slightest? Because pairings in these shows are EXTREMELY intentional. I should also say the reason I’m adverse to shipping Alastor with anyone is the same reason I don’t ship Sir Pentious with anyone. It’s absolutely not important to their character. I understand having a fascination with him, believe me I love him too, but it really seems as though these shows have been reduced to shipping fodder. Also, Angel is canonically gay and no one ships him with women because that is something folks can understand and have respect for. I personally don’t see the difference between the two (in terms of sexuality).

3. The hyper-criticalness of it all. I honestly feel bad for the cast and crew because I swear y’all are never satisfied. I see endless complaining that Hazbin sucks because the “developments are bad” or some shit. What??? Including the pilot there have been 5 EPISODES. For fucks sake WAIT. Many great stories didn’t start off awesome. Why did we all forget that stories take time to come off the ground? I feel like everyone’s been poisoned by the writing advice that if you don’t “immediately hook the viewer on the first page/episode then it’s bad” or something. With Helluva Boss that has more episodes, its usually the fact that people hate the female characters. “Loona is a bitch to everyone”, “Octavia exists solely for Stolas’ development”, “Millie doesn’t exist outside Moxxie”. I’ve even seen people SYMPATHIZING with STELLA. Okay, first of all:

• Loona is canonically the lowest class in hell and very well could’ve been born and raised in a pound for 17 YEARS. Imagine if you grew up in prison and your only chance out was for someone to come along and buy you. If the comment from the pilot holds any weight (it may not but it might), then she was SA’d too. That’s complex trauma folks and ITS NOT PRETTY.

• Octavia literally had her own episode that showcased development for both her and Loona as well as the rest of the cast. But at the end of the day, her being sidelined for Stolas isn’t a shock because who is going to carry more weight in this story? Her, or her father who is the love interest of the MC? Stolas has a bigger role, that doesn’t mean Octavia is good for nothing else. I think it’s an interesting showcase to have her as a teenager going through the trauma of a divorce initiated by an affair. It’s a very real thing that happens but I never hear talked about. I just think that it’s a pointless battle trying to have her and her fathers importance be equal. From a storytelling perspective they just aren’t and it’s okay.

• Millie is a WONDERFUL character! For anyone who has seen Demonslayer, I say that Millie got the “Mitsuri Kanroji treatment”. She’s one of few female characters that isn’t necessarily defined by a traumatic past. So far it seems like her story is a country girl born and raised on a farm with lots of siblings and somewhat iffy parents. Not exactly as dramatic and horrifying as Moxxie’s mob past, or Blitz’s life ruined by fire. I know the biggest critique is that she’s nothing outside Moxxie. Like, I’m sorry, what? Since when is it a crime to be madly in love with someone you married? I would say Moxxie is more dependent on Millie than the other way around and yet the burden of that is placed on Millie and I KNOW it’s because she’s the woman. I ADORE Millie because she’s just…normal. She’s funny, bright, sweet and bad af. If I’m being perfectly honest, I’m not entirely sure as to why she is hated so much. I genuinely don’t see what’s not to love about her.

• STELLA??? Guys it’s gone too far. Do you sympathize with her because Stolas cheated and the marriage was just as arranged for her as it was for him? Because after everything she’s done I don’t care in the SLIGHTEST. Because Stella had ALWAYS been cruel. Did you not see her kid picture??? She TORTURED LITTLE ANIMALS. If someone does that in real life, we don’t defend those people for a second. It’s clear that she’s hit him before. That shot where Stolas catches her hand implies that there were many times that Stella did that and he did not intercept. Stella always talks bad about Stolas no matter what. Whether it’s to her friends at parties or to Stolas’ actual face. I know she brings him down around her daughter too. She humiliates him any chance she gets while Stolas has been shown to usually refrain from doing so (does Via even know it was her mom who tried to kill her dad?). So far we have not seen her have any real love for Octavia (Stolas put her to bed always and she never got up for her). But also, the tiny detail of SENDING AN ASSASSIN AFTER HIM. And she had not a cent of concern for how that would affect Via. I genuinely see nothing in her that’s worthy of defending. Sometimes women are abusive guys I don’t know how to tell you this.

4. The hate on Hazbin ladies. People hate Charlie, Vaggie, and Nifty. They always say it’s because Vizi cant write women, I just think it’s the fact that their media literacy is in the toilet. If Charlie was anything other than the eternal, naive optimist the story of Hazbin wouldn’t even exist. It would be impossible. No one else would’ve ever started such a project as a soul rehab in hell. I’m excited to see more developments with Vaggie (cuz I know that five episodes isn’t enough to have the perfect picture of a character) but so far I’m fine with her. I like how easy and low key their relationship is. Which is funny because everyone else hates it for the same reason. Nifty is comedic relief and everyone LOOOOOVES those characters…when they’re men, which Nifty isn’t so they hate her.

5. Finally, the fact that I can’t tell who are the haters and who actually likes the show. Because the tie in with the hyper critical responses but also the fact that people cannot simply not interact with this media. Some people genuinely watch it to shit on it. I don’t understand why. Please leave us in peace to have fun and enjoy. I’ve never seen so many haters in a fandom space before.

If yall have a response like “bro where the fuck have you been interacting with the fandom” PLS tell me where y’all have been avoiding this because this shit has haunted me EVERYWHERE.

#hazbinhotel #hazbin hotel #helluva boss

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lanaevyssmoved · 5 months

Text

OC + Random Associations

tagged by @cetra , @sleepsvessel & @bootheminiaturegiantspacehamster thank you ^_^

Animal

Afhiri sea slugs, isopods (dairy cow and zebra), geckos and other various reptiles, cats, small birds, musteloids (particularly raccoons and red pandas), viverrids, japanese raccoon dogs, opossums Candor lions, various eagles (wedge-tailed, golden, crowned), hawks, swans and geese, bighorn rams, crocodillians, sea turtles, elephants, animals that use sun compass orientation Cirok corvids (raven, crow), dogs (rottweiler, doberman, pinscher, greyhound), venomous black snakes, scorpions, spiders (particularly trapdoor spiders and sicarius), bats, black caiman, sharks

Colors

Afhiri pastels! pink, yellow, orange, green, blue, white, black Candor changes depending on form but in general purple, blue, red, yellow, orange, gold, brown, white, black Cirok black, grey, white - absolutely no Colour (thanks to booboo i now think of like toxic waste green when i think of cirok too)

Month

Afhiri September Candor August Cirok November

Songs

Afhiri tapi tapi - tempura kidz fear. moe shop and fun - sir sly. sir sly's vibe is way off for afhiri but the lyrics were written for her Candor a sun coloured shaker - yndi halda and (spring) this was your place - sunlight ascending Cirok jouska - evenS (probably favourite song of all time btw) and i come with knives - IAMX

Number

Afhiri two/2 Candor three/3 Cirok four/4

Plants

Afhiri celandine, sunflower, pink tulip, daisy Candor bay tree, gladiolus, heliotrope, rose Cirok chives, anemone, begonia, deadly nightshade

Scents

Afhiri fresh morning, grass, dirt, cotton candy, bubblegum Candor cedar, musk, sandalwood, the ocean, burning Cirok decay, death, rot, overwhelmingly of resin

Gemstone

Afhiri tugtupite Candor meliphanite Cirok magnetite

Time of day

Afhiri sunrise Candor midday Cirok night

Season

Afhiri summer Candor summer Cirok winter

Places

Afhiri taverns, meadows, by rivers and lakes Candor monasteries, temples, places of worship Cirok the dank, cold and forgotten, the forbidden

Food

Afhiri sweet things, nothing good for you Candor warm meals Cirok raw meat

Drinks

Afhiri sugary sweet drinks, energy drinks Candor various teas (green, oolong, herbal, black) Cirok piping hot black coffee

Element

Afhiri air Candor fire Cirok water

Seasonings

Afhiri garlic, ginger, cinnamon Candor paprika, turmeric, bay leaves Cirok dried chives, cloves, saffron

Sky

Afhiri the most beautiful sunny cloudless summer sky Candor a colourful golden orange, red, and purple with light cloud cover Cirok stratus clouds, grey, calm and quiet

Weather

Afhiri warm day with lots of sun and a gentle breeze Candor blazing hot summers day with minimal to no wind Cirok cold winters day with fog and light snow

Magical power

Afhiri manipulative magic that makes someone act against their own will, anything that makes them laugh or dance. also the magical power of Insults Candor holy smites, blinding lights and divine energy Cirok phasing into the realm of the dead to walk partly as a ghost

Weapons

Afhiri shortsword and dagger combo, dual hand crossbows Candor mace and shield, longbow, floating/flying greatsword Cirok dual daggers, throwing knives, poisons and venoms

Candy/Sweets

Afhiri cotton candy, bubblegum, and i designed her with fruit salad in mind! Candor spicy roasted pecans, maple roasted sweet potatoes, sea salt dark chocolate Cirok liquorice, black jack, toxic waste

Method of long distance travel

Afhiri roadtrip in a classic volkswagen camper van Candor flying Cirok underground trains

Artstyle

Afhiri impressionism, abstract expressionism, street art, dadaism, CoBrA and fauvism Candor baroque and classicism Cirok optical art and minimalism

Fear

Afhiri of the self, of emotional pain, of returning home Candor of imperfection, of failure, of not being worthy Cirok of being seen, of death, of vulnerability

Mythological creature

Afhiri azeban, mujina, nymph Candor chalkydri, phoenix, psychopomp Cirok tsuchigumo, black dog, gargoyle

Piece of stationery

Afhiri a childs box of crayons, dairy Candor fountain pen, ruler Cirok ink, letter opener

Three Emojis

Afhiri 🤡🍀🪈 Candor ☄️🎇🪽 Cirok 🕷️♟️🔪

Celestial body

Afhiri the moon Candor the sun Cirok black dwarf

THIS TOOK ME FOREVER GUYS... TWO DAYS. I WORKED ON IT FOR HOURS. i hope........ its worth it <3

tagging @cetra @dekariosgale @courierseis @euryalex @hibernationsuit @jerichoes @vanoefucks @captaintiny @gwynbleidd @arduath @rcpunzel @avallachs @fuckitwebhaal @hexdruid @sovereign-spaw @galesgrandad @thefathersbride @dandeyrain @doggybone @swanfey @voerman @full---ofstarlight @chaos-storm @covenscribe @raphaelsboudoir @simtalics @kymal @graynstairs @neonbutchery @hungryblackbird @moxley @thlix @isayashai @darlinghowl @astarionsfordf150 @moon-jun @lovaboy @ratscrap @picklepals @crazy-lazy-elder-sims @rigaudon @neosunbrella @sternenstaub28 @centipisde @kirkwall @lusus--naturae

#fray.txt #oc afhiri #oc candor #oc cirok #this was so rough man.#also candor and cirok dont eat or drink so.#lots of VIBES #and lots of trying to limit myself #as u can see i failed at limiting myself in multiple places ^_^#IM SO HAPPY IM DONE MAN #i know its long on ur dash but im not read moreing the entire thing it took me too long. U WILL LOOK

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throwaway-yandere · 2 years

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Waking Up A Lying Dragon (Yandere!Morax/Reader)

A/n: I do not condone any "yandere" actions in real life, this is just a twisted version of the character for entertainment. This will also just be a loose interpretation/version of the myth "Bakunawa". I'm not very knowledgeable on the topic. I'm very sorry if the details were so off. ((I swear I'm not obsessed with the master/servant troupe this fic is just in my drafts way before yandere ayato lmao))

Unreliable synopsis: A widow/er gets exiled to Teyvat, only to realize it is worse than prison.

Cw: Canon Divergence. Yandere themes. Power imbalance. Mostly gn!reader (the reader likes women.)

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

There is a saying you've heard in Qingce Village long ago. Your memory is weak now, but it went along the lines of "it is hard to wake up someone who is pretending to be asleep." The verbatim phrase had slowly eroded over time, as you can only pick up synonyms on what you hope the original passage was, but the meaning stands true.

You know well how much harder it is to convince those who chose to be ignorant more than those who are uneducated. Your world had always been a sea of ignoramuses and greed, the present is no different. You need only look at the man beside you for that frustration to resurface.

On a sunny day like this, you wished you can bask in the morning sun alone. "Zhongli", as he calls himself these days, sits with such eloquence and calm beside you that one would easily mistake him to be a righteous man. You scoffed. He is not.

Noticing your gaze, Zhongli straightened up. He adjusted his collar as a faint blush powdered his cheeks. There is a subtle smile on his face as he takes a small sip from his cup. You felt your stomach churn. Just what did he take your glare for? Although he is debatably more salacious in this new form he had taken, your gripe with him won't ever bubble to lust. You refuse to allow it.

You turned away. Hate him or not, you just can't win against him.

"For this lovely afternoon, we gather around here today to recall the tale of Rex Lapis's feat of sealing the terrifying sea dragon, Bakunawa! They are an absolutely perilous dragon that resides on Liyue's seas and our nation's greatest traitor! It is a story told often and one all of our children have heard, yet there had been recent developments found by the wonderful scholars of Sumeru, so keep your ears open!"

Iron Tongue Tian spoke in his usual velvety voice. Most passersby in the streets perked up upon hearing his implications of ancient discoveries.

You shook your head.

Bakunawa was a remarkable traitor in Liyue's Legends. With the archon's passing, it would be low for the storyteller to spread false news, right? Well. You have a fair share of encounters with corrupt and misinformed individuals so you're not placing bets on any of these.

You and Zhongli simultaneously placed your teacups down and eyed Iron Tongue Tian.

"So listen, let me tell you how it is... The tale begins centuries before the archon war, as a well-renowned xiezhi approaches Rex Lapis in candor..."

-----

"Salutations, Sovereign Lord Rex Lapis! This humble servant calls to bring forth news, should thee wish to hear it."

An illuminated immortal beast called out to him and bowed. Morax did not expect a xiezhi to approach him at this hour, but with how strangely uneven its breathing was it must be urgent. It's an even more curious thing for the intelligent ox-like beast not to label the news in either a positive or negative light. Especially when Rex Lapis himself bestowed these adepti the ability of hypersensitive tell spotting for the sake of maintaining law and order.

There are rarely any visitors allowed to enter Morax's domain. Considering how this was Yanfei's father, a friend of his, who was sent to deliver the message, it must be urgent.

Morax, in his human form, clothed himself with a lengthy hanfu with earthly tones. He may only be equipped with a fan and a pipe, but his presence alone is enough to make anyone tremble. The xiezhi learned of Rex Lapis' philosophies of Gold, and this is just one of many ways he displays placid intimidation. Who would even dare make a misstep when the Lord of Geo stood before them?

"Speak."

The pink-haired xiezhi lifted his head.

"There is a water dragon who trespassed Mount Hulao," he said. "They appear to be an outlander outside Teyvat. They're not particularly hostile, but they do not allow humans to interact with their nest either."

His gaze sharpened. "The dragon already nested in the mountains?"

"Yes, my Lord. They have already formed a domain for themselves by the lake, but Mountain Shaper's adamant on allowing them respite, if only for a moment..."

Morax hummed, uprooting the Vortex Vanquisher from the cracked earth. The xiezhi took a reluctant step back. The earth rattled in Morax's footsteps, and the way his golden light flickered through the cracks was amiss in his usual walks. Something tells the xiezhi that this was planned, yet he has yet to lay a finger on what caused his mood to churn into unusual distress.

"Then, shall you collect a few things for me?"

The xiezhi appeared visibly confused. His Lord would rarely ask for his assistance, as he preferred lower adepti to do his biddings. Perhaps this was a sign that this is more confidential than he thought.

He nodded. "What is it that you wish for, my Lord?"

Morax pulled out a list from thin air. The parchment is pink and laced with a hint of gold. The xiezhi could slightly see through the paper and noticed how the handwriting is akin to Lord Guizhong. He bowed his head to avoid accidentally being on the receiving end of Morax's wrath.

"Hold your head up high, dear friend," Morax spoke as he handed him the scroll. The Adeptus nervously grabbed the list "it is your job to find the ingredients listed here."

Rex Lapis did not lie, the paper is filled with ingredients. However, the xiezhi expected it to be an instruction for smithing a powerful weapon, yet this was a guide on making "good tea". The poor lawyer cannot tell whether this was better than mining cor lapises or not, as one of the requirements entails a need to harvest violetgrass. Still, he would suck it up. Especially if he wants to be married to his mortal fiancé before winter comes.

The xiezhi gulped "T-tea recipes, my Lord?"

"Yes," Morax nodded, yet oddly enough there is a smile behind his stoic eyes.

"It would be rude not to entertain guests, is that not right?"

---------

Morax entered the domain with ease. His guess was right that the rumored water dragon wouldn't endanger any of their visitors, as there was not a single hint of a trap or weapon. If anything, the realm was picturesque, with limitless orange striped skies, unfamiliar trees, and tropical pearls. The scenery was a stark contrast to the ones observed in Guili Plains. He can hear water flowing in a small stream.

Was this meant to replicate their old home? Perhaps that is why the dragon chose Liyue. The north cannot accommodate those with warm tastes.

Morax instinctively reached for his weapon as he noticed something walking toward him.

"Greetings to the one who governs the Plains of Returning and Departing. I am Bakunawa, a Sea Dragon from outside Teyvat, and I'm humbled to be acquainted with Your Grace."

His alert demeanor stilled and his breath hitched.

It was you.

You stood before him as an ethereal mortal cloaked with a cherry headdress and long pure silk that barely covered your form. The skin of your neck was bare yet laced with beads and golden tattoos. Had your eyes not glowed with vertical slits, he would've dubbed you as the most beautiful and handsome mortal he had ever seen.

But it was not your form that he was enamored with.

No, it was your presence.

Call it draconic instinct, call it fate. Not one label nor descriptor fits what Morax had felt when he first met you, and he was eager to spend centuries to figure it out.

"I must admit, I did not expect a personal visit," You chuckled softly "I fully expected for you to send your armed subordinates instead. Do I appear passable at best? I have heard from Mountain Shaper that you prefer conversations in this form."

"Y...Yes."

Morax caught himself. Did he, the Prime of the Adepti, stutter over something as minuscule as appearance?

He cleared his throat. Morax recalled from Guizhong's teachings that grueling conversations often start with tea and small talk. Well, if he must...

"You do not offend. You have a talent for upholstery. I bought jasmine tea. What is your motive for staying in here?"

"…"

"… Pfft-- Hahaha!"

You laughed while holding your sides. Even though you looked away, he could tell that your eyes were beginning to water. For a moment, Morax's knees felt wobbly as he watched your eyes brighten and crease over his comments.

Enchanting.

"You are as blunt and, err, interesting as they say!" You snapped your fingers in amusement. Your cheeks were rosy and your grin was wide. "Believe it or not my liege, I come here only to rest."

"It is your job to make me believe those words." Morax deadpanned.

"A fair point," you said. "However, I am not sure how to persuade you. Shall I recount the events that led me to your abode?"

"I will judge if the story alone will suffice," Morax spoke, "but proceed."

"Well then, let's pour ourselves some tea!"

-------

"There are seven moons where I'm from" You pointed to the fake sky above. "In my prime, I possessed quite a large stature. The mortals in my continent feared that I would swallow the moons out of ignorance, and would make strange noises with their damn pots and pans to rile me up– I know that look on your face. I've seen the same thing on Mountain Shaper's– Trust me, this will be relevant and it gets better."

You winked at the end of your ramblings.

Morax laughed curtly and crossed his arms. If you were sharper you would've noticed the faint pink blush on his cheeks. "I'll take your word for it. That does sound quite troublesome."

You clicked your tongue "It is. There is nothing more useless and vile quite like a human mortal."

Morax flinched.

"Are you not being too harsh with your judgement?" He took a sip of his drink. Morax hoped your opinion was not a threat. He had met adepti and yakshas alike who gaze at mortals with disdain, yet they were all charmed by their appeal in the end. "You may find that they aren't as bad as you say."

He almost wanted to fumble a rash apology after seeing your shoulders drop. You appeared akin to an orphaned child of a burned village, yet his point stands firm like a lone salvaged chapel.

You muttered, "They killed my sister."

Morax's eyes widened. He nearly spat his tea.

You gazed up and looked directly into his amber eyes.

"That was not the only thing they took from me," You grumbled. "They burned my mate's house and left her entire family to succumb to famine while I was away."

"I pride myself on being a patient being, despite my undesirable circumstances, yet I had let my anger fester deep enough. I had decided to swallow a moon they loved so dearly in return."

You were certainly more loquacious when berating mortals, something Morax silently made note of. Despite your distaste for humanity, you still wore their skin to accommodate his preferences. The notion made the dragon's heart skip a beat a little.

"And did you succeed?" Morax gazed down at his cup while you chuckled sardonically.

"What do you think?"

You opened your palm. Morax had to squint to see the little speckles resting on your hands. His eyes widened. There is no mistake. It is a culmination of both extracted stardust and starglitters. His breathing paced slowly. To think there would be a being who would dare defy the heavenly principles, even if such Teyvat's laws do not apply to them.

But that wasn't truly what caught his eye.

It was the gold ring on your finger.

"I succeeded, but failed to steel myself." You said. "In the end, these humans frightened me with their strange noises and led me back to sea. As pathetic as that sounds."

"The world I hailed from retained but a single moon," you spoke. "And I'd take a leap in the dark that this world used to have two more that accompanied that lone moon in the sky. I wonder if there's a crack behind that wall..."

Morax went silent. Those slew of words weighed a thousand threats, yet spoke of none.

"You had done all of that for a mere woman?"

"Are you not fuc– Did you not listen?" It's a good thing you caught yourself. "Humanity took my sister. They killed her because they mistakenly believed her weight was sinking the island. Humans are rash. Cruel. And they do not deserve my pity. There were multiple atrocities they have committed, and... And I suppose that was when they crossed the line."

Morax felt perturbed. Your reasonings were far from enlightened, at least in his viewpoint at the time. "Taking their moons is not a fair act of justice."

'No shit.' You took a long deep breath.

You heard this all before. The same lecture was spoken before you were shunned from your realm, and they all came from holier-than-thou dragons patting each other on the back over their skewed sense of morality when other creatures do not operate similarly. They are godlings with endless crimes yet these same faces would dare act empathetic over the lives you've taken after you've been driven out.

If they were not driven by political motives, they were emotionally detached. They cannot and WILL NOT comprehend how one can be enchanted to meet a woman like your lover. It appears that Morax fits the latter description.

He doesn't know. He didn't know.

The silence was beginning to become a nuisance for the both of you. You coughed behind your hand. "I… admit. After her death, I am no longer a patient benevolent being. Sorry, let us both put that aside for now. What matters right now is the issue that I am stranded in a foreign land."

"And what is it that you hope to achieve?" He muttered, causing you to tilt your head.

"Allow me to phrase that properly, Bakunawa. I am, for a lack of a better term, 'a blockhead'. I have but a smattering of knowledge when it comes to these dealings and quite frankly I am reliant on Guizhong." Morax said, slightly massaging his temple after imagining Barbatos's grating voice. "What is it that you are trying to tell me?"

"My new friend, Rex Lapis," You inched closer beside him.

"May I tempt you and Lord Guizhong with a service contract?" You said. Maintaining his breath turned difficult as your fingers intertwined with his.

"I assure you, I may have a questionable background but someone with my repertoire is hard to come by."

-----------

You raised an eyebrow at Zhongli.

"I did not seduce you in any shape or form." You grumbled, giving him a dirty look "Seriously, Morax, what lies are you feeding your people?"

"OUR people have quite an imagination, my dearest spouse," Zhongli chuckled as his thumbs gently caressed your thigh. You cringed.

You divert your attention back to the storyteller, ignoring the way his filthy hands seem to crawl upwards.

You can tolerate this. You can tolerate this. You had to quietly chant that, lest you might just accidentally pray to the "deceased" Rex Lapis for your safety.

"The water Dragon went on to serve Sovereign Lord Rex Lapis and the late Lord Guizhong as their most loyal retainer for over hundreds of years. But alas! As you all may know, the latter turned to dust, and what comes after had crumbled Rex Lapis' foundation of trust...."

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

The Dust had settled.

You were afar when it happened, fending off the great waves as you slash through the perilous winds. The dim skies accentuate the glow of your spear. You could no longer tell if the salt you taste is off your sweat or the ocean and the same goes for your blood and theirs. Guizhong purposely stationed you to fight silent enemies because she knew of your phobia. You appreciate her consideration.

Some nights, you wished you were able to save her with just your appreciation.

Only when you emerged victorious against Osial's lackeys did you hear a shrill cry from Cloud Retainer. You snapped your head and reached your hand out in fear that the engineer needed assistance, slightly annoyed at her interference. When you leaped your way up, she was in pristine condition. Her feathers were barely covered in dirt just like her claws.

You sighed in relief.

You never liked loud and sharp noises.

It had always been your greatest bane.

"What the hell are you yelling for?! There is no time to coddle your eccentricities, Retainer!"

Her wing pointed to her north, trembling. You expected her to open her mouth with her predictable "One must" opening, but she didn't. You followed her gaze and occupied her telescope.

The shores of Yaoguang Shoal were far and truthfully the sight was left to your imagination. There were however, two silhouettes you were familiar with and the view was not pretty. Above the sands, you make out the form of your Lords and friends, Morax and Guizhong.

Your head lowered as you cursed under your breath. You just know that he is beside himself holding back silvery tears.

To have a loved one be stripped away...

He knows. Now he knows.

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

"My Lord," You moved to pass the curtains. The beaded threads slide over and reveal the form of Morax's drained form. He still insisted on remaining human as he buried his nose in writing paperwork after paperwork. Out of respect, you entered his abode as one as well. It is no secret that you worry over his health. As his most trusted retainer, you had voluntarily stationed yourself outside his room for most of your free time. "I bought you some food and water from Mount Aocang."

There was no response.

You sighed. You should've guessed as much. You were in a similar state, might've been worse, a day after you knelt beside your wife's ashes. It was just unpredictable how the man you saw screamed and summon meteors from the sky grieving so uncannily silent.

"Why are you offering me fish?"

"Oh, I..." You scratched behind your ear. "I supposed it was an unconscious decision. I often gave my wife seafood when she was under the weather... My wife is an avid fan of seafood– was, an avid fan..."

You looked back at the memory of your old life so fondly, back when you waited for nothing more than eating with her by the banana leaves. Morax's face sharpened in a mocking pointed look. Your heart ached for a moment, fearing that the sentiment is not appropriate for those in grief to hear.

"Shut it."

Your sympathy slightly cracked. Perhaps it was not appropriate for you to mention your deceased loved one when he is in this state but to be so uncouth about it? A bit unacceptable. You pulled the plate closer to your chest defensively.

"But you must eat–"

"I find seafood distasteful." He bit back. "The mere sight irritates me. Dispose of it. Now."

"Mo–"

"BAKUNAWA!!!"

You trembled.

His eyes looked directly into your soul and you felt it dissecting your being. Judging. Hateful. Words cannot fully describe how unpleasant it becomes being near Morax's presence when he was menacing.

But Morax faltered when he saw you flinch.

He had almost forgotten your fear of loud noises.

"Do not mention your DEAD wife ever again." He spat and glowered. Morax picked up a pen again and hastily pulled out a parchment from his study table. You assumed it was yours as he began to inspect it closely.

"I should revise your contract."

"You didn't hate seafood last time we dined with Pervases." You mumbled mostly to yourself, not wanting to uncover your grief over the young yaksha's passing either. It certainly will be the last time you ate with him. You didn't want to use Pervases as a dirty trick to distract Morax from condemning your wife's memory, but you knew that with him, you must grasp at any straws for an immovable force to budge.

"I do not like it now. Bakunawa. Throw it away. A mere mortal's preference will never influence my own."

You scoffed.

A mere mortal? Had he become this petty? Using your deceased wife's favorite things as a weapon against you? Just so you would leave?

You want to be just as petty. You want to hurl insult after insult, but you have matured. He reminded you of yourself in the ocean many moons ago. You should know how grief comes in waves, clinging onto shore once in a while. This is a dragon stripped away from his closest confidant, much like how the love of your wife was taken from you.

If this is how he grieves, then you respect it.

He is a sleeping dragon, but it is not time for him to wake up.

"I see. I shall leave you alone for tonight." You smiled faintly.

"Get some rest, Morax."

After you left, Morax reached out his hand but you were already gone. He placed his pen down and rubbed his forehead. That was not how he wanted that conversation to go. He did not mean to be passive-aggressive, but he can't help but be irritated when you speak of the dead mortal.

You mention her name every moment you two were alone together, and he's starting to suspect that you do so on purpose. Her name is a constant reminder that while you penned your name in his contract, you will never belong to him. The gold on your ring finger solidified it.

Morax sighed.

He wished you stayed with him until he felt better, and not the opposite.

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

You turned back to your original form. Your human heart was uneased and erratic the entire time you were alone with Morax. It's strange because you always felt secure around him, but being around a grieving person is likely a complicated ordeal. The uncomfortable sensations seem to stem from your human vessel, and the tingles have yet to subside despite reverting to your old scales.

You sat at a rock in Guili Plains. The field remains tilled with blood and residues of fallen divine beings. Ashes are scattered along with blood-stained mud. Traces of the battle left not one house standing. Morax was forced to move the survivors to the harbor. Had Guizhong survived, she would've calculated the damages and costs to repair the civilization. She would've been alongside you and Morax, pinching the bridge of her nose as she writes off what needs to be done. You could see it clear as day. Guizhong would've patted Morax's head and reassured him with hopes for the future. It left a bitter taste in your mouth just imagining it.

Because she reminds you of your wife. And now she had passed on as well.

You wondered if the two finally met up there. Lord Guizhong had expressed interest in meeting your wife someday. You wondered if they were fast friends.

But you also wondered if she's happy in the afterlife.

Being a sea serpent dragon, your eyesight is not as great as a crane's which leads you to have doubts.

Is it possible that Morax himself was the one who put Guizhong out of her misery?

"You may have won, but you shouldn't let your guard down, Bakunawa."

In one swift motion, your claws pressed against Beisht's neck. Her back was pressed firmly against the cracked concretes. A dangerous laugh echoed throughout the barren land. She, with her overflowing confidence, grabbed your hand and dug the blade deeper down her neck.

"Do you really think I'd come after you with my true form?"

Ragged as she may be, Biesht had been such an eye-candy. Her eyes were inviting and her lips were just as tempting. She's personally not your type, but you can see the appeal. Her sharp eyelashes and long painted nails are to die for. It's no wonder Osial tied her down as his mistress.

But this isn't Beisht herself.

"A water mimic." You grumbled distastefully. Your claws retract and morphed back into human nails. With apparent distaste, you won't let her rile you up in your divine form.

"Ten points to Bakunawa." She said sardonically.

"What are you doing here, Beisht? Your strength wanes-- you can barely maintain your mimic's shape. What could you possibly achieve by such a reckless ambush? Do you realize how idiotic your plan was? Do you have a death wish?"

"Tut-tut! Won't even allow me to speak? Such hostility!" Beisht snickered. "What's with your self-righteous attitude? There are no tales of chivalry and glory born from a wasteland. Don't suffocate yourself with such fake ideals, my fellow monster."

This serpent is the exact opposite of your wife.

"I…" You sighed. You were both equally jaded, the only difference between you two is that one is willing to hide it. "Why aren't you with your husband."

It was not a question yet she humored you anyways. "Trapped down there, but don't worry I'll join him eventually."

As she should.

"I wasn't fucking worried."

"To answer your previous question: I figured I should greet my new neighbor." She laughed. "After all, we're bound to be cellmates."

You clicked your tongue. Her smirk widened. Despite being at the bottom of this struggle, she seemed to be under the impression she had it under control. Your grip on the mimic's wrists tightened.

"What do you mean by that?"

"You're a serpent dragon like me, not a pathetic mortal. I'm sure you know what I meant, don't you darling? It's very similar to how Osial won't let me meet other beings."

You refused to meet her gaze.

You know. Everyone knows the look Morax gives you when he thought no one was staring. You know how both his human and draconic hands hover above your own when they shouldn't. They practically mirrored yours one fateful summer on the seaside. They were a striking similarity of who you once were to your wife.

A dragon's love can be suffocating. You admit that you are not free from criticism when you were just as hopeless. You once tried to court your wife by leaving human and animal hearts on her doorstep among other gruesome courtship methods. It was only through her mercy did you learn how love must be kept in moderation. She forgave you of your sins. It was only through her guidance did you learn that love does not translate to possession, nor should it be stifled by rigid rules.

He does not think the same.

Morax is desperately in love with you, but your heart belongs to another. That is a violation of your shared contract that neither of you had to acknowledge, and with how the winds changed and blew the cold away, so too will his disposition.

At that moment, you started to think that gentle reminders of your marriage won't be enough to keep the dragon at bay.

"He wants to lock me up to quench his obsession." You breathed shallowly. "He just hasn't discovered a sociably acceptable reason to do so."

"Smart dragon." She cooed and smoothed out your ruffled human hair. You quietly groaned. "I'm sure we'd be good friends under the sea. You'd be my favorite neighbor."

"I will be your only neighbor."

"Oh? Do you want points for that as well?"

You gritted your teeth. "I don't need your approval."

"Hmm, but you need others, don't you? Poor poor Bakunawa," she mocked.

"Finally got a taste of what it feels like to be accepted by society, only to sink back to the abyss. What a tragic tale."

Beisht looked behind you. "I'll be heading off now, his servant approaches. Do visit my chambers sometimes, won't you, love? I just know we'd make great accomplices."

She kissed your cheek.

"Beis–"

Her water mimic fizzled out.

"Bakunawa, Rex Lapis calls for you."

You snapped out of it.

The last Yaksha met your gaze. His arms were folded and he himself was just as indifferent. This command spells trouble for you, but you cannot bring yourself to complain. Xiao's eyes were tired and you do not wish to add more to his troubles. If he did saw Beisht and did nothing, it was likely due to the karmic binds.

You nodded.

"I'll be there at once, thank you, Xiao."

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

In hindsight, you should've been warier at the fact that Morax summoned you close to the shore where Osial was imprisoned in. Yet you still needed to clean up the remains of this war. It is your sworn duty to help Morax's people. Even if it meant going door to door to exterminate foul sea miscreations.

A bit ironic, considering Morax's whole spiel about eating seafood earlier.

"You have called for me, my lord?"

"Bakunawa…" He said. You do not like how he looked at you. "There are things I would like to confess."

You do not like where this is going.

"Go... Go on..."

"Bakunawa, I..."

He blushed as he took your hands. Morax's eyes were directly staring into your soul. You wanted to immediately pull away, but the thought of offending him with that more than your rejection started to creep in. You both stared at each other with uncertainty. From an outside perspective, it would look adorable. From your perspective, this was an absolute nightmare.

"I love you."

"Morax I–" You immediately stammered as he leaned forward.

His lips felt soft when pressed against your palm.

Morax pulled back.

He squinted.

"So... You still chose her."

You looked at your hand. Your wedding ring glowed.

With newfound resolve, you nodded.

"Always."

"I see..." Morax scowled.

"You must hope that you will not regret your choice."

The ground shook below you.

You didn't realize what was happening until you screamed your lungs out from the fall.

"What the– What's this..."

Morax looked down at you, distraught.

"BAKUNAWA, YOU ARE CONDEMNED TO A LIFE OF ETERNAL IMPRISONMENT FOR VIOLATING CLAUSE I OF SECTION A." A mechanical voice echoed around you.

"... What?"

"YOU WILL NOW UNDERGO PUNISHMENT BEFITTING OF TRAITORS. GLORY TO THE PRIME OF THE ADEPTI."

CLINK! CLANK!

You winced. Not due to physical pain, but due to the noises around you. You tried to turn back into a dragon but to no avail. Any effort you had in making the noises stop was futile until you regressed to a shaken mess.

Your eyes started to water as you gazed up at Morax through the glass. He stared back with discontent.

"M-Morax..."

You were wrong-- You were lied to.

Your assumptions and good intentions led you right into the dragon's trap.

You weren't looking at Morax when he was grieving. You were looking at yourself through Morax.

The cold-blooded dragon did not inch closer to you when it rested. It did not take solace in the warmth and kindness you offered. The reason it drew near, the reason it wrapped itself around you, was so it could snare you-- trap you to become his.

It is hard to wake up someone who is pretending to be asleep. And Morax had one eye open this entire time.

With how you ignored his affections for you, perhaps you were pretending as well.

Humans, dragons--- they're no different. All are filled with greed and unadulterated obsession. You never would've thought that a day would come that being shunned by humanity would be more enticing than receiving affection from a fellow dragon. There is no doubt that refusal will end with a terrible fate.

Because divine beings don't truly kill their enemies, they break them.

And you can't turn back to your original form.

You felt like vomiting.

The noise. It's getting louder

They kept clinking.

Clanging.

Clanking.

You could no longer hear your own thoughts.

"Make it stop."

You gritted your teeth as tears start to blur your vision.

You kneeled.

Your nails are dug through the shell of your ears.

You feel blood on your cuticles.

"MORAX MAKE IT STOP DAMNIT!!!"

You were sobbing. You were trembling.

He only looked down on you.

You can't tell what the scowl on his face meant from all the noise.

He left and robbed you of your only view of the outside world.

"MORAX!!! MORAX COME BACK!!!!"

He left you there for two hundred years. Trapped in the shell of the mortals you hated and the sounds they created.

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

"And so, the terrifying Bakunawa was sealed away for trying to seal our moon! Legends spoke that they had fallen asleep and never reawakened when Osial recently reemerged, but a recent theory emerges from the sea…"

His hooked listeners leaned forward with anticipation, including Zhongli.

"Theorists believe…

That Bakunawa had escaped, and roams Teyvat to this day!"

You laughed.

Your laughter was as misplaced as a joke told at a funeral, but you cannot help it. It was so surreal. The proclamation had you shaking in your seat, holding back tears. You could just die laughing from these hysterics. Your face felt numb. The audience looked at Zhongli's once elegant and composed lover reduced to nothing more than a mere maniacal madman.

It was loud. It was jarring. It was eerie.

Zhongli held your hand to "fix you" and you stilled, but not without a final cackle.

Escaped? What an optimistic assumption! Morax took pity after watching you shrivel up in fear for two centuries. There was no means of escape from a domain created by Lord Guizhong. They all label you a traitor and now they think of you as a miracle worker. Can't they pick a side?

"(Y/n)." Behave yourself. That was a command.

You gave him a taunting look. Your face urged him to 'Go on. Call me by my real name' and he grunted.

"Pfft… Ah, my apologies, my husband," You waved your hand dismissively. Your hands were still jittery, and a few laughs managed to escape your lips. "Clause III, isn't it? I forget that I had come dangerously close to losing it. Do forgive me, everyone."

His grip tightened. Ah, right. You shouldn't mention your "freedom" contract in public.

"Clause III?" The boy behind you shared hushed whispers with his mother.

"… Do you not believe such stories, Mx. (Y/n)?" The storyteller spoke in low tones. "What do you find so joyful about such an alarming tale?"

Ahh, what a lark. You grinned briefly. Such manner of speech does not faze you.

"Oh no, quite the contrary sir I find it to be quite believable!" No man would ever believe such a reply. "Do tell-- What happens next?"

"W-Well," Iron Tongue Tian fixed his collar. One could argue that it was due to the summer heat, but you know better than that. "The tale ends here for today, if there is any more progress, I shall indulge everyone with the next chapter!"

"Oh no! We can't have that now can't we?" You looked around with a faux troubled expression. They stared back at you with varying degrees of discomfort.

Zhongli glared. "(Y/n)."

You sauntered to the stage and patted the storyteller's shoulder.

"Don't worry folks. I, (Y/n), shall continue this tale."

"(Y/N)!"

Zhongli called out to you, louder than before.

The earth trembled and clouds began to gather. Liyue Harbor slowly turned dim as the shades filtered sepia tones. The boy in the crowd held back tears, causing his mother to give you a dirty look. It wasn't just her, everyone looked at you the same way the mortals back home gazed at you.

With fear and hatred.

It was not (Y/n) they were meant to hate, but the true villain who sat with them. Your chest and eyelids felt heavy. But you were easier to hate as you tried to enlighten them with the truth.

Once again, Morax reduced you into nothing more than a blubbering, foolish villain.

The saying remains true. It is hard to wake up someone who is pretending to be asleep.

Finally, you turned to Zhongli with thin lips. He's already in front of you with a hand reached out. Perhaps the only reason why no one dared criticize you in public was because you were this respectable man's spouse. You bit your lip. Deep down, you had never been this upset in over five hundred years. You want to go home.

They were quiet.

There were no pots nor pans nor screaming to be heard, but the silence was just as loud.

"Let's come home, darling." He whispered threateningly.

Home is where your wife was.

"How…" You took his hand and whispered to his ear. Your voice cracked and your grip tightened.

"How can I go home?"

Zhongli did not answer. Instead, he dragged you away from the crowd. Neither of you spoke until you reached your shared house.

"Get some rest."

For once, you complied without question, something Zhongli greatly appreciated. You had enough for today.

You simply nodded and entered your bedroom.

Without warning, Zhongli's arms wrapped around your waist from behind. You stared at it. Those hands. They never once failed to reach out to you, but you lacked the will to grasp them. You shut your eyes close. Maybe it's time that you hold them as Morax insisted.

Your hands lingered above his.

Perhaps it's time you pretend to fall asleep as well.

#yandere fanfiction #yandere genshin x reader #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere oneshot #yandere zhongli #zhongli x reader #yandere genshin impact #morax x reader #yandere morax x reader #tag: liyue's monsoon #i had a male reader in mind when i wrote this tbh #yandere zhongli x reader #i lowkey simp for this characterization of beisht lol #ansy-writes

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