#[ and treated like less then human anywhere they went ]

[gifti3]

Im in such an obey me mood today haha

other than "pls dont tell asmo about that",,,, i have questions about these freaking vegetables (im putting under the cut since im talking about food and bad eating habits/diet related stuff)

im assuming they would have to be mixed with other regular ingredients to prevent the hunger but it sounds like ppl would use them as the main component in a dish or just eat them by themselves

So does all of it get digested? No leftovers (waste) comes out the other end im guessing? is it like a magic type thing?? it has to be right? Cause if not...ur body will take the calories needed to replace the ones burnt, take the nutrients, and the rest will just get tossed out

And since it doesnt make you full, like wouldnt it be way too easy to overeat this type of thing? so you could accidentally end up making urself go to the restroom more often :/

Ig if it gives u the nutrients u need that itll be useful then. So maybe its a 'heres ur macros for the day' type dealo? but u still have to go eat an actual meal or make sure u mix it with other stuff tho

[aworldofyou]

Before I sleep, don’t forget. Irish are indigenous peoples too by their own right, and deserve the respect warrants the name.

[bravevolunteer]

the only high school teacher michael ever got along with was his art teacher

[good-advice-ganondorf]

Majora's Mask and what it means to be grown up

(aka my collected analysis of the Legend of Zelda Majora's Mask)

I will say that generally I don't think Termina is purgatory, or a dream, or anything like that. To me, Termina is kind of like a Silent Hill type parallel world, where you face your deepest traumas.

First, the parallels between Majora's Mask, and the child section of Ocarina of Time.

The first dungeon for both games is in a vast wooded area, there are woodland races inhabiting both areas, the Kokiri for Ocarina of Time, and the Deku for Majora's mask. The second dungeon is in a great mountain, inhabited by the Gorons. The third dungeon is in a vast body of water, inhabited by the Zora.

Then, things split. After Jabu Jabu, Link becomes an adult. After Great Bay, there's Ikana Canyon. A land of nothing but Death.

Who caused the death of Ikana? Who else but the king, Igo Du Ikana. Ikana was plunged into disrepair, after Igos started a war with a clan of Ninjas, to receive a powerful artifact, in a great and mysterious temple. Sound familiar? It should, this is exactly what Ganondorf did, after Link was sealed away for seven years. But Ganondorf was successful.

But Ikana isn't completely occupied by the dead, no. Pamela remains, with her father, turned into an undead monster. Much like Sheik, the last Sheikah, who is revealed to be Zelda. And her father? He's never seen, but I'd imagine it would be easy enough for Ganondorf to become king, if the other one was no longer around. From a man, to a corpse.

So, if Ganondorf is a parallel to Igos, and Zelda is a parallel to Pamela, what about Link? He's a little different. I believe that, along with Kafei and Tingle, all three of the transformation masks are a representation of Link, and his feelings towards being forced to grow up.

Tingle is, as we know, a 35 year old man who thinks he's a fairy boy. Similar to how link was a 10 year old boy, who thought he was a fairy boy. I believe Tingle is a reflection of what Link could have been if he never left Kokiri Forest. An adult hylian man, thinking he's a Kokiri.

On the contrary, Kafei is distraught at the idea of becoming a child again. He's weaker, he can't marry his fiancee, and everyone treats him like well, a child, despite his maturity. I believe this is how Link feels after becoming a child again. He used to be a strong adult, and even if he's not as mature as Kafei, he still went through a lot, and knows a lot more about life now. Kafei even reuses Link's model and animations.

There's a reoccurring theme in Ocarina of Time where Link just doesn't belong anywhere he goes. He's an outsider to the other races, because he's a hylian, but he's also an outsider to the hylians, because he was raised as a Kokiri. I think the transformation masks reflect that.

The Deku Butler's Son is what he could have been as a Kokiri. He could have been a happy little boy, living with his father, and his community. But Link and the Deku butler's son both left home to explore, and as far as both the Kokiri and the Deku are concerned, neither came back.

Darmani is what he could have been as a Goron. A powerful hero to the Gorons, celebrated by them for clearing Dodongo's Cavern. A close link between the goron elder, Darunia, and their sons. Both him and Link remain after death, lamenting on their histories as heros.

Mikau is what he could have been as a Zora. Maybe not a cool as hell guitarist, but a husband to Ruto, and Prince of the Zora Who would stop at nothing to keep her happy and safe, like infiltrating a fortress, or climbing inside of a whale.

Even the Fierce Deity is just Link, but back as an adult. As if so much changed so rapidly, he felt like he transformed into something less like himself, and more like a powerful god. He could have continued being strong, and powerful, the defeater of Ganon, but he had to become a child again. He has to stay as a small, and unknown child.

The ages of the masks even match the human life cycle. According to the debug menu (and if you subscribe to the theory that Link and DBS's ages were swapped), DBS is 5, Link is 12, Darmani is 30, Mikau is 78, and, Fierce Deity is 17, likely due to his model being recycled from adult Link's. Link starts the game in the body of a 5 year old, then a 12 year old, then a 30 year old, then a 72 year old, and finally, a God.

We don't exactly know how Link feels. But I can't imagine it would be easy to go from a child, with no concept of death, to be thrust into a position where he's forced to fight and kill an adult man so much stronger than he is. And then everything was just reversed. Like that. As if it never happened. And only Link remembers the impending doom he faced. All he can do is remember Ganondorf's reign. Almost like he's reliving the same few days, again, and again, and again.

[satzumosupremacy]

Nothing More, Nothing Less

Male reader x Yujin

4k Words

Tags: Smut, Cheating

Yujin always calls you during her boyfriend’s business trip, and it’s always every three months—secrecy at its finest. A pattern that you learned as Yujin kept coming over after a year of meeting her.

You got someone’s daughter, another man’s girlfriend, all under the sheets, screaming your name so desperately and erotically in your bed—no guilt, no shame. Although you never planned to keep having her, the adrenaline and thrills of another man’s woman in your bed were like no other feelings. She’s just what you want and need.

Speaking of which, a relationship with her would end in tragedy—assumingly or not, but the same way she’s cheating with you could be the same with another man. It’s only assumptions. Neither of you knows the future or what it holds.

Day three is the best, and it’s mostly every time. Yujin only had another day to recover after her legs became weak. Rarely, it sometimes becomes so passionate to the point that feelings and romance can spark dangerously. The whole house becomes a mess with clothes all over the floor, misplaced pillows, and unfinished drinks. During the night, the lights would be all off with just you and Yujin fucking in the dark. Bodies did all the talking.

The only thing you knew about her was that she just wanted to fuck—day and night. Of course, there will be breaks in between. There aren’t such things as genuine feelings of love, apart from just being together under the same roof naked. Yujin never wears a bra, knowing it’s going to be off either way, and you love seeing her nipples poking out her shirt. 

“I love the way you touch and fuck me.”

The wholehearted confession she made as you spent time on the bed naked with her. Assumingly, you know her boyfriend doesn’t satisfy her, and it was a pity. Yujin needed more than just vanilla. She deserves more for the beauty that she is.

In fact, she’s good at using her mouth, apart from the dirty talking. Those very eyes of hers are always desperate and hungry for more. It’s surprising how you got a beautiful woman in bed without her boyfriend knowing. You’re keeping her secretly fucking and cumming anywhere she wants. Sex with her always leads to a hot mess most of the time and all tired after, lasting hours, and sometimes before the sun has risen. There’s no such thing as a quickie.

Mostly every time, but not always, you would act like her boyfriend out in public or even inside the house. It’s always natural with Yujin—maybe that’s what went wrong when she’s smiling with you more and keeps coming over during her boyfriend's trip. 

——

It’s been around three months since you kept track; you patiently waited, knowing she’s going to text. Speaking of the devil, you received a text, and it was from her.

Yujin: I’m coming over

She knew what days you were busy or not. You waited for Yujin, but it didn’t take long until she showed up at your door again, knocking shamelessly with no guilt.

“You look beautiful today,” you said with a gentle tone.

“I have three days to be with you. Give it to me.”

“Yujin,” you paused in silence while she looked at you.

“Yes?”

“You want something to eat first?” Fucking Yujin isn’t the only thing you wanted, but treat her with respect—the beautiful woman she is. She’s a human being at the end of the day.

“Give me a taste, and then we can go out for something.” You know her after all the secret rendezvous. If Yujin wanted something, she’s going to do whatever it takes, and she’s already digging under your pants with a smile so wicked and mischievous. 

“You look nice in those clothes, Yujin.”

“My boyfriend bought them. And you’re taking them off one by one.”

“Yujin that’s…” You tilt your head, somehow wondering how wrong it was, yet the sensation feels undeniably correct as her warm hands tease your cock.

Just when you believed you had witnessed the wild side of her, she never fails to leave you speechless. As the days unfold, everything else doesn't matter—she'll be in your bed, completely naked with her panties stained with your cum.

“Shh. No one knows what we have between us, Daddy.”

“Lay your head on the couch, ass on the floor,” you commanded. She loves it when you’re in control.

“As you wish, Daddy.” With a smile and a slow blink, Yujin's so beautiful that you can do anything to her. She’s in your very hands and arms at night. Yujin lays her head on the cushion of the couch while her body is slanted on the ground with her legs spread and her ass being the only thing that’s keeping her positioned. She gladly opens her mouth wide—tongue out. You shove your cock in her mouth slowly until it disappears, keeping it deep into her throat with small, quiet chokes from Yujin. 

“Good girl.” You can tell she’s smirking from the corner of her mouth just from being called that. “You look so beautiful with my cock in."

No words were exchanged as you increased the pace of your thrusts. She gasps, chokes, and her eyes shut tightly under the intensity. Gently brushing her hair behind her ears, you enjoy the view of Yujin.

Pinning her down isn’t the only thing you love. Bending Yujin to a table, countertop, bed, wall, or even standing is what you also love. You have all the control while she freely moans and groans. It’s the same for Yujin—she loves to fuck you in the most narcissistic way for her pleasure. Her body is a drug; toned thighs, silky hair that gets messy after fucking, and even her beauty keep you yearning. Sometimes, you wouldn’t even pull out but go for another round after cumming. Yujin deserves it, as do you.

You love the feeling, her, and her very own sense of bringing you this much pleasure. You pull out halfway and shove your cock right in to make her gag even louder. It’s cute of Yujin—hotter as you keep doing it continuously. 

No woman gave you the pleasures like Yujin. Maybe it’s that she’s over, maybe she’s cheating with you, or Yujin has been longing for satisfaction for a while.

“Fuck, Yujin.” You said, groaning and taking deep breaths. Her tears begin to form, her eyes all red like lightning, as she only had one goal: getting you to cum inside her mouth. You continuously shove your cock, and it always gets messy when her saliva leaks out from the corner of her mouth. You grunt and groan, forgetting that she’s technically someone else’s woman, but Yujin’s all yours for several nights, and you’re taking advantage of it. “Just like that. I know you missed this."

You pull out of her mouth to let her breathe. Yujin looks up to you, glaring with desperate eyes. She spits on your cock, then wraps her hands again, jerking you off and squeezing it with love. Saliva and pre-cum were the only things dripping onto her clothes. “Taste good as always.” 

“Just for you, Yujin.”

She kisses your cock, slapping it on her cheeks with a smile. “I can never get tired of you.”

“How badly did you wait for this moment?”

“Too fucking long. Maybe because I love your cock better than my boyfriend’s.”

“Let’s keep it that way. He don’t need to know what you can do. Let him miss out.”

Yujin laughs, “you make me so fucking happy.”

“I could say the same. But hey, less talking, more sucking, please.”

“You’re so eager to cum in my mouth aren’t you?”

“Why wouldn’t I, Yujin?"

“What about my pussy? Im also your cum-slut.”

“Bend over right now and we won’t be able to go for dinner if you’re that curious.”

“What if I do bend over?”

“Let’s-” Her thumb rubs on the underside of your tip, sensitive enough to make you stumble in your speech. “Fuck, Yujin,” you groaned. And her eyes were purely lustful at the way she was looking up at you. 

“I think we should stay home, Daddy."

“What’s so special about eating out when I have you, Yujin. Am I right?”

“Eat me after you cum.” Yujin sucks on your cock again, slurping loudly and making a mess like she was sucking on a popsicle stick. You brush her hair behind her, wanting to see Yujin sucking you off so beautifully. And you’re always baffled by seeing Yujin so nasty, hot, and even beautifully sucking on your cock. It’s a blessing. 

“Right there, Yujin.” Her tongue’s sliding underneath your tip. The area she loves teasing you the most. She laughs with enjoyment as you try to stand straight. Bobbing, slurping, sucking, moaning, and humming—it’s all you hear from Yujin. 

Paradise, or rather the feeling of pure euphoria. In her company, time seems to stretch, and neither of you mind if the world momentarily stops revolving.

She grabs your thighs and tilts her head to the side. Her cheeks are massaging your sensitive tip. Overwhelmed by an endless flow of sensations, grunting, and panting, she’s amazing at pleasing you.

“Yujin.” You groaned her name, a longer tone of pleasure as you kept brushing through her hair.

“Mhmm.” She hummed, smirking and smiling with your cock inside her mouth.

It’s torture and pleasurable at the same time, and you don’t want to do anything about it. She continues to bob her head; her gags got louder, chokes got harder, and eyes closed so beautifully to see her eyelashes all done for you. Your breaths got heavy, panting more as she kept going. Euphoria is where you’re still at. Without a word, you push your cock right inside her deeper and nape against the cushion of the couch harder.

“I’m going to cum if you keep doing that, and I’m going to cum deep in your throat.”

Yujin nods in agreement, gazing directly at you with lustful eyes. Her throat contracts the deeper you go, and you love the feeling. You thrust slowly, faster by the second, until she begins to choke and gag loudly like usual. By any means, you would rather ruin her makeup that she put on just for you. Even if it took an hour, the look on Yujin’s face would be the aftermath of satisfaction between the two of you. 

“Take it like the little slut you fucking are.” You felt her swallowing every drop of saliva and pre-cum, until choking was what she got for doing it. Letting her swallow isn’t what you wanted—a mess is what you want to see. You go deeper, pausing as she sits still without any muscle or movement being pinned down. “Don’t swallow, and be my good girl. Make a mess like you always do. Don’t be shy; it’s not like you.” 

She blinks slowly, with a tear falling. A sign that Yujin listened. Her hands squeeze your thighs as you pull back out halfway, shoving right in her mouth again—continuously. Seconds turn to minutes; she’s such a mess as you look at her. 

You hold onto the side of her face with a grin, whether or not you’re going to cum like this. It's not about her at this point; it’s all you—the feeling of pleasure cumming inside her mouth. And Yujin’s going to take it all like the shameless slut she comes over for.

“I’m going to cum.” You tell Yujin, and her eyes are closed shut with her head pushed harder onto the couch. Yujin coughs from all your cum down her throat, and she’s taking it with a smirk so slutty. You feel her swallowing all your cum, and you pull out as her mouth is still wide open, just licking off the extra on her lips, brushing it with each finger to savor the taste on her tongue.

“That was so much,” Yujin said, catching her breath. She wipes her lips clean and sits on the couch, quickly spreading her legs out, beckoning you for an invitation so seductively.

“Such a slut you are, Yujin.”

“You’ll shut up when you eat me out.” And she's right. You kiss her thighs, quickly licking on her folds, and she moaned right as soon as she felt your warm tongue circling in all the right places. Yujin’s legs hang onto both your shoulders, squirming around the more you eat her out. 

Her legs pin you in, and you aren’t going easy. It’s also been too long since the last time Yujin came over. You were hungry just for her. With her moans being more erotic, you know all the spots to make her melt and weaken. You grabbed onto her tits, squeezing them the hardest, as Yujin could only tolerate the aggression. 

Squirms, slight jerks, and her moans breaking became continuous. She tilts back, only her back arching as her legs pull you in harder. Your face became planted to her pussy. Breathing isn’t your worry; getting her to cum hard is all you wanted—right in your face.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…..fuck!” Her body sinks onto the couch uncomfortably, but you’re making her like this. You wouldn't take it easy on Yujin; you want her exhausted after. “You’re gonna-”

With a pause from Yujin, you felt her body tense as she screamed uncontrollably in the most erotic way. She's cumming earlier than you ever expected. It's just minutes later that her breathing slows down. “When was the last time, Yujin?"

And you continue to kiss her thighs until she gives you an answer.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said and looks to the side, embarrassed to cum earlier than you expected.

“Talk to me,” you kiss her thighs passionately, “you taste so good though. And it’s always every time that my I get a chance.”

“You aren’t disappointed, are you?”

“Not at all. Let’s go to the bed. I’ll make you happier than him.” You carry Yujin to the bed without her answer. “Just relax, and I’ll do the work today. You’ll be sleeping so comfortably tonight."

“So confident of you.”

You threw her on the bed, and she fought to be on top as you let her let it happen after a few seconds. She laughed, chuckled to be happier with you. “I should fuck you romantically. We can do what you want tomorrow, Yujin.” 

“At least let me be on top. I want to feel loved tonight. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Her words made you gulp, just wondering what was happening to her without you. Although you were curious, you didn’t want to ask. "Feel free to do as you please tonight, Yujin."

“I’m sorry, this isn't how we usually are on the first night, but thanks for understanding.”

You beckon her to get closer, kissing her passionately until she begins to grind on your cock. “I’ll love you for tonight. Maybe tomorrow if you need it also, Yujin.” 

“Shh, I’ll turn off the lights. Just let me have it my way. Cum as much as you want. It’s mine, Daddy.” Yujin gets up and shuts the lights off, even closing the blinds to a pitch-black bedroom. She gets on top of you, just her hands jerking you off slowly. Her hair brushes onto the sides of your cheeks as Yujin kisses you more romantically. “Love me tonight."

“Ready when you are, Yujin. Ride it as long as you want.”

A night like this wasn’t in your favor, or either, as you imagined, but you willingly accepted her feelings, just for the night.

The moment she puts your cock in her, Yujin gets closer to you in a more lustful way, staring at you romantically. And the kisses quickly became tongues fighting. Yujin grinds slowly the moment you trace over her figure, just caressing her in the most gentle way.

“Say you love me. Just for the night.”

And you’re surprised at what she wanted you to say. Regardless of whatever is going on in her life, you’re the one she’s cheating with. “I love you, Yujin.”

“Should we fuck to a slow song? Let’s try something new.” Yujin sits on top of you and browses for a song on her playlist. While she was on her phone, you caress her thighs, which you love to feel. The slow and soft, with the gentle squeezes you made, only made Yujin giggle with happiness. 

“You’re always smiling when you’re with me, Yujin.”

Yujin seductively gazes you up and down in the slowest way with a teasing chuckle. “That’s because I get to be with you, Daddy.” 

The song starts playing. You heard how slow the beat was, and it can come off sexual due to the lyrics. The moment Yujin lays down on top of your chest, both of you moan together as she starts to ride you.

Neither of you broke a single eye contact while the song was playing. The moment was with her, fucking each other like both of you are in love, and that’s how it remains. Even Yujin had her hands on the sides of your cheeks, begging you not to look away and keep staring at her, and only at her. 

It gets more dangerous when your heart starts fluttering while Yujin already has butterflies in her stomach. Neither of you wanted to admit any of this and quietly continued with the song in the background. Her breathing became heavier, moans got softer, yet it sounded erotic at the same time while you’re balls deep in her. And both of you are in the moment together, quietly.

The time each song changes, you can only assume how long she’s been riding you without any words. Every three to four minutes is typically how long a song lasts, and you’re grunting the longer Yujin rides.

She continues kissing you, from neck to lips, and you join her for passionate kisses. It didn’t take long for tongue kisses to start happening. You hold her in like you love her, tilting your head the opposite way from Yujin and making her hair a mess.

Not until the fifth song starts playing, the music suddenly pauses as you hear her ringtone. Yujin looks at the phone and puts it on silent, playing the song again to not disturb what both of you are doing.

“It’s just my boyfriend,” Yujin said in an annoyed tone and quickly gets down towards you again to continue.

Her kisses get more passionate, riding you to the rhythm of a slow romantic song. You caress her body to your desires in the early night.

“Fuck, just like that, Yujin,” you groaned.

“Daddy,” Yujin whispered in your ear purposely, “this pussy is all yours.” She gets off and lays beside you to be on the bottom.

You quickly get up on top to hear Yujin moan loudly for the split second you shove your cock inside her. She’s a beauty while her hair spreads on the pillow. And without a word, you pin her arms above her head, thrusting slowly with the rhythm of the song. 

Song after song, Yujin starts to pant every second with you, knowing she’s going to cum, and you’re almost at your limit. Her body jerks, quivering into Yujin cumming on your cock as you quickly choke her neck gently. 

“Good girl,” you groaned with a deep voice.

Not long after, she hugs you while you’re balls deep in her, thrusting slowly. And you continue to stare at Yujin, right in each other’s soul, while she nods from her body brushing against the bedsheets. 

You begin to choke her, not like she wouldn’t smile if her airway was blocked. Yet, she wanted love and affection tonight, and you’re giving it to her. You kiss her lips, biting them softly for the warm breaths you feel. 

“Get up and bend over for me, Yujin.”

“You love seeing my back, don’t you?” Yujin gets up and spreads her legs, looking back at you putting your cock back in without rest. It’s her toned back and ass that you love so much—just a shameless woman sleeping with you that doesn’t belong to you, but only on the bed. The backlines on her back when she arched always looked so beautiful. 

“Shh. Just moan for me, Yujin, like you always do.”

Her back arches more to give you a show of her body that you always get. “You’re fucking me so damn good,” Yujin murmurs into the pillow.

And you push her down, stomach flat on the bed with her moaning more erotic. Nothing sounded better when Yujin moaned in your bed all the time; it was pure bliss. Just music to your ears, and again, the thought of cumming inside her would be the best feeling every time.

You nibble on her ear, smelling the faint tropical shampoo she used today. It turns you on the fact that she got ready just for you. Yujin grips the pillow harder with her face planted. For not even a second, she wouldn’t stop moaning; it was just the right pace that Yujin loved: deep and moderate thrust—enough to feel loved.

“Say you love me, Yujin,” you murmured and groaned into her ear, just dancing with the devil and making feelings involved at this point.

“I love you, Daddy,” Yujin said, breathing along the rhythm of your thrust.

“Turn around, I’ll cum inside your pussy.”

She turned around quickly after you pulled out, beckoning you with a smile so happy that her legs spread open for an invitation. “Give it to me; no need to tell me.” 

So you would, and she wouldn’t care anyway. Yujin loves how your cock throbs inside her, coating her tight walls in warm cum each time. You can tell she’s addicted to you, your cock, and everything you do to her, even in the smallest ways to make Yujin happy and loved.

“Don’t stop,” Yujin pleaded.

You’ve lost count of how many songs went by. Yujin is in your very arms, gripping you so tightly. Her hands are soft and warm, and you feel how much love she needs for this. Neither of you would be able to tell if this is love or just wanted a rendezvous. 

You thrust deeper, pushing her thighs against your pelvis. Yujin moaned harder with her neck begging for attention, and you kiss her neck, making her tilt into the pillow while her arms were pinned against the headrest. 

“Cum in me, Daddy. I want it!”

Your cock throbs with each stroke, and Yujin has it all deep inside her. You grunt, only thrusting harder as your body hesitates. And you cum, erupting inside Yujin while she moans from feeling it flood her walls.

“Yujin,” you said, toppling down towards her and going for a kiss that she accepted. You felt the warmth of her body after you waited for months. “Cumming inside you is so satisfying.” 

Without a word, she holds you in, kissing your lips like you belong to her. You heard her moaning and humming as you joined Yujin for a romantic kiss. Back to your awareness, the song was still playing, and you turned down the volume to mute, not even caring if it was still playing silently. 

“I need to shower after this.” And she stares at you with a cute smile.

“Need me, Yujin?”

“No, you’re covered in my scent. I want to smell myself on your body.”

“Join me tomorrow morning, Yujin.”

She nodded with a seductive smirk and grabbed her phone. You stare at her naked body until she closes the door to the bathroom with a bright smile.

It’s been more than twenty minutes after she came out the shower. You’re relaxing on the bed with her, quiet as you both stare at your phones and cuddling.

“Want to see my panties? It’s so drenched and stained with your cum. I could feel it.”

“So dirty of you, Yujin.”

“And you love how I’m such a dirty whore for you.” She gets up on her knees and opens the slit of her panties for you to see your cum stained. “What do you say? The night is still young, Daddy.”

There weren’t any second thoughts. You get closer to her as Yujin closes her eyes with a smile to meet your lips, until you suddenly come to a pause. “Forget tomorrow; how about joining the shower with me? Then we can crash on the bed again.”

“Fine. That’s if we can even make it on the bed, Daddy.”

[sweaterkittensahoy]

My chronic pain disabilities (hip fuckery; migraines) do not stop me from working. It doesn't mean I should treat my disabilities with less respect than disabilities that DO make it impossible to work.

When my endo pain was at its worse, I did all the things I was supposed to do--according to HR--to protect my job. I filed ADA paperwork. I communicated when I used it. I had the doctor's note. Etc.

Two days before my hysterectomy, I got a call from HR. "Oh, we're not sure we'll have work for you after you recover."

Which, first of all, is fucking illegal to say to someone who has ADA paperwork in place with you.

And, second of all, you're a fucking liar. I was the ONLY tech writer in a company of 500 people. Don't bullshit me.

I should have filed a complaint and sued the fuck out of them, but all I wanted to do was be able to possibly get out of pain and not have to worry about my paycheck after that. So, I called someone else in the company who I knew would lose his shit if I told him I'd basically just been told I had no work to do.

Two days after surgery, I had an email from HR to my personal account. Which, technically, they ALSO should not have used to contact me while on medical leave that was--like my disability paperwork--100% lined up and signed off on.

But the HR person wanted me to know that "Oh, looks like there IS work for you! Lol! Didn't know!"

This is bullshit. She was very aware.

Years later, I'm at a much better company. My supervisor, who is nothing but supportive, recently floated that it might be good to have ADA paperwork in place for my migraines because they flare during stress, which is the time I'm needed at work THE MOST.

No shit: I went into hard shutdown for about two minutes after he said it. It wasn't a threat or a dismissal of my migraines. It was him going, "Oh, hey, so no one can ever try to use them against you to say you're bad with stress, you might do this."

But all I felt was how I was absolutely fucked over by a bad company because they said, "You need to follow these legal steps," and I did, and they still tried to get around them.

So, no, I'm not dealing with getting punished if I have more than 2k in my bank account. I'm not dealing with people touching me, or my assistive devices (I don't currently use any). I can park anywhere in a lot and walk to the store entrance. But I was disabled, and I AM disabled, and I have had people try to punish me for existing in a body that just fucking HURTS because it HURTS.

It's Disability Awareness Month. I am disabled. Less so than I was ten years ago, which is a fucking stroke of luck. But also my right hip has started to go now, and who knows what the next 10 years will bring.

It's Disability Awareness Month. If someone says, "I'm disabled, and I want to talk about my experience," please pay attention and listen and learn and understand there's all sorts of ways disabled people are fighting to be treated with basic human dignity and under the basic rule of law.

[tears0fsatan]

☆ 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒

✦ ⊹ ˚˖ warnings... mentions m!reader a few times but can be read as gn for the most part lol, implied romantic/queerplatonic relationship but interpret it as you like, its pretty soft man idk what to say

 :¨·.·¨ ♥︎  a.n... need more dateables content on my blog sigh>.<)) i began this all the way last year in april.... (∩﹏∩) i am slowly clearing out my drafts and reqs okay!!!! (i hope the halloween special final will be out before this years halloween...)

DIAVOLO !

now, we all know he's a bit ... behind on things outside of ruling an entire realm so he most definitely had to ask barbatos and lucifer for suggestions.

he was taking you all these fancy, bougie places with a clear itinerary in mind (thanks to the influence of a certain avatar of pride) that at the end of the day felt more like a tour of devildom than a date.

on the last of his planned out date, it ended up raining and the two of you somehow spent the last couple of hours talking to each other underneath the shade of a tree where you found out that all the dates were thanks to diavolo's right hand men.

after that talk you finally convinced him to take you places that were dear to him and to allow you to plan future dates as well.

he insists on paying, regardless of how much you protest and tell him that you also have pride as a man (it's just something you have to deal with sorry).

take him on a date in the human realm and watch as this scary ruler of all demons turns into a big baby, fascinated with everything (now its your turn to play tour guide).

if you get him one of those cheap, silly little keychains you find in gift stores, he'd treasure it for as long as he lives.

if you get anything matching (be it a shirt, keychains, plushies, you name it), he'll have the biggest sparkling eyes you've ever seen on a living being and beg you to wear it for the rest of your time in the human realm.

his favourite dates are the ones where you and him simply enjoy a cup of tea and snacks barbatos prepared in the castles garden glass gazebo (its domestic and he likes seeing you in his 'domain' so to say).

BARBATOS !

picnics. with your favourite snacks he's prepared from as early as the night before.

appreciates every moment alone with you especially since it's rare for the two of you to be together without the others around.

he always goes for something he knows you'll like, and if you don't enjoy a particular part of the date he'll keep it in mind.

the most important part of the date to him is seeing you happy and being in your company.

thought there would never come a time where he would be peeved by diavolo calling for him until one day the demon lord forgot about his date with you and wondered where he went.

after that diavolo encouraged barbatos to go out with you more often (would not take no for an answer no matter how much barbatos tried to turn him down).

he'd be a bit hesitant to go to the human realm since he'd be so far away from diavolo but the thought of being alone with you is just so tempting (he's a demon after all) he can't decline.

if you bought him a little plush keychain TRUST it would be posed carefully in the kitchen where he can see it every day while he prepares the de facto demon kings meals.

he would take you to the most unknown and hidden spots in devildom that even diavolo wouldn't know of their existence and turn it into a frequent rendezvous spot (and perhaps it excites a small part of you, perhaps because it's more or less a secret that only you and barbatos share).

SIMEON !

simple minded. likes going anywhere with you.

gotta say though, he especially likes the way your eyes crinkle when you smile after tasting a homemade sweet treat.

doesn't have an ideal date with you but dates where you two bake together are his favourite.

also note. he will tear up if you turn the tables on him and prepare him some treats of your own specialty (his only smiles wider when he hears you grumble about being as much of a househusband as he is).

even if you make something that could rival solomon's cooking, he'd still eat it with a smile (because you made it all for him and he would be a fool to pass it up).

if you guys go out for a stroll in any of the three realms, he'd always have his hand on you (fingers intertwined with yours, arm coiled around your waist and such).

he'll find some small treasure from the date and keep it tucked away somewhere.

loves taking pictures with a polaroid so he can treasure the memories (he especially loves taking candid pictures of you, especially while eating one of his sweets of course).

be prepared to gain weight if he takes you up to the celestial realm, he will make sure you eat every single angelic dish until you couldn't do so much as waddle around.

likes taking you around the celestial realm and telling you all the stories of his past and some passed down stories from other older angels.

while passing through the many gardens of the celestial realm, he'll sneakily pluck a flower or two for you until you end up with nothing less than a small bouquet (and more often than not getting a rather lengthy scolding from michael).

SOLOMON !

you know that UR card of him where he takes you on a magic carpet ride??? yeah expect that sort of shit constantly.

he is so fond of you and your reactions and that just makes him wanna toy around with you all the more.

he's not ashamed to cause a ruckus in all three realms as long as he can see you either laugh until tears gather in the corner of your eyes or cling onto him while half heartedly yelling at him, he's willing to pull out all his little tricks up his sleeve.

he is such a menace but you can tell he puts a lot of thought and care into his surprises, you can't find it in yourself to be upset with him (and truth be told you do enjoy the rise he brings out of you).

during a rare moment of vulnerability, he'd take you around his hometown and reminisce his youth, telling tales of ancient memories that only he would remember (noting the way his eyes shone with an emotion you couldn't quite pinpoint).

never one to dwell in his nostalgia for long, he would take you to another spot and spin some hauntingly believable ghost story just to scare you (whether you believe it or not, solomon will most definitely try to sneak in a few spooks here and there especially with magic).

after he would torment you and every other living being in his vicinity, he'd like to end the day by doing something comparatively calmer and laid back, perhaps something as simple as cuddles, reading together (or maybe even him reading to you), or watching a movie.

© 2024 TEARS0FSATAN. please don’t translate, modify, repost or plagiarise my works anywhere.

[mysteriousl0ser]

FUCK IT, TADC EP 2 THOUGHTS MAJOR SPOILERS!! BE WARNED

LETS GO!! Pomni is still pretty screwed up over her first day here, I mean this is all fresh and new to her so like DUH. everyone else here is somewhat or entirely adjusted and kind of just cope with the fact that theyre here I dont think pomni has really processed how long theyve been here?? In the pilot she seems SO bothered by how okay they are with this and willingness to do caines fuckass adventures

i dont blame her, anywho pomni in her nightmare-induced state starts to abstract, she had to face an abstraction early on in her days here which like have to be pretty truamatizing (duh) and cried out to ANYONE, but where she called for help literally no one helped her “oh well” they though

Pomni doesn't feel like anybody else cares, shes the only one whos still going through an adjustment phase and freaking the fuck out while everyone else is just going along with the adventure, something she still thinks is kinda pointless and doesn't get why anybody would waste their time here doing when they COULD be looking for a way out, why is she the only one who seems to still be distressed here? To feel lost? At least from her perspective, it seems that way. Unfortunately, these people have already been here for a while.

Pomski then meets someone whos just like her, their whole reality was shattered and they don't belong anywhere, mirroring how pomni feels at the moment, even if she still has some sort of grip now vs when she first got here

And she finds comfort in that!!! Why is it that this NPC feels more real than the ACTUAL REAL PEOPLE trapped here with her??? Whatever the reason, its something to hold onto. Something to LATCH onto. Hes Real. or at least he feels real, and maybe she feels like she belongs with him because at least he knows the feeling, something shes not really felt w anyone else before

This comfort and solidarity she has with gumigoo is shortlived however as she gets brutally reminded that he wasnt real. The anchor she had vanished and there's quite literally nobody to catch her fall.

And i feel like ragatha trying to comfort her the way she did didnt help AT ALL. it was kinda a sore reminder that gumigoo is easily replaceable, and GOD thats so frustrating?? This thing felt so real to her and nobody seems to care that he just vanished!! If they could be so apathetic to this whos to say they wont just treat her demise just the same as she thought they would???

But then something important happens. They have a funeral for Kaufmo, someone whos been established to be their friend way before Pomni ever came here. And maybe it didn't ever settle in before that kaufmo was a real person! Literally!! And he was real to them. Just like gumigoo though less directly they relate to being in pain and kind of in shock of losing someone who they cared about and who was a real person to care about to them AND LIKE YOU CAN SEE WHERE IT CLICKS IN HER FACIAL EXPRESSION HERE, THE CHANGE IN HER EYES AND THE WAY HER EXPRESSION LOSENS AT THIS IDK IT DRIVES ME CRAZY GOD THE ANIMATORS WENT OFF W THIS EP VS THE PILOT IM IM IM

anyways anyways They have their funeral service, theres quite literally no reason for anyone to just lie and go along with whatever bs caines got going on, this also quite literally has nothing to do with him. This is kind of their own little way of keeping some sort of human traditions and respect for the human persons that get stuck here because they care. HELL you can even see pomni feel a little guilty here when ragatha says that his funeral was disrupted cause she arrived here

anyways thats exactly it!! They fucking car!! This whole time pomni thought that they just didnt care and were kind of apathetic or downright patronizing her over all this and mocking her or whatnot, like in her dream sequence. But no, they all talk respectively about their memories and experiences with kaufmo, the things they shared together and the feelings they had. EVERYBODY was grieving. Ragatha who always tried to put on some cheerful and kind of irritating (to pomni at least) everythings fine facade (which also kind of feels less real to her at least i think so but i don't think she figured it to be a coping mechanism) to just straight up start crying and breaking up a bit, even mentioning how this does not ever get any easier and how shes had to deal with this plenty of times before.

Zooble the usually apathetic and kind of asshole who keeps to themselves and gives off i don't care energy and probably gave off the impression that they didn't care about anyone here and just treated the people stuck here as an unfortunate fact and nothing more actually being vulnerable and probably doing the same as ragatha talking about their memories with kaufmo

Kingers ALWAYS kind of zoned out or not really taking anything seriously and just being there completely lost in space, but here hes grounded, and even earlier in the episode when ragatha needed it most he remained grounded then too (tho pomni didnt see that i just wanted to mention it). Just like the others he grieves and lives in the unfortunate moment

more of the kinger being grounded when the thought counts

GANGLE- dude even if its for just a moment she smiles here despite having her tragedy mask and like her whole shtick is being of whatever mood or emotion her mask is allegedly wether she wants to or not, but no here shes more than just that, she smiles for a bit when reminiscing her moments with kaufmo only to go back into crying, and man shes always crying with her tragedy mask but its beyond as far as anyone can tell wether or not its really her or just because of her mask, but here? its really her, no matter what the mask on her face shows!! shes genuinely smiling despite having her comedy mask and shes genuinely crying which is very blatantly obviously different to the usual mask cry etc etc

heres something about all this, it hits pomni in a way. These people ARE real, and they care. They care about her, they have nothing else but eachother and THATS something to latch onto. Thats something to hold her down, even if they just met pomni

SPEAKING OF JUST MEETING POMNI she literally expressed how she didnt wanna just LEAVE gumigoo there by himself because she believes no one should just be left there

the circus peeps just met pomni and just like how she felt a real connection to gumigoo in this digital hell she feels a sort of connection with these people too. Theyre gonna have her back all the same, maybe she wont feel so out of place and alone. BONUS THING!! The literal only times she genuinely smiles is when she feels this real connection to what feels real to her and has a genuine and sincere moment with these people whether it be an npc or a trapped member. Idk it just means something to me how significant both these moments are tipped off with a genuine smile a REAL SMIE!! (id add pictures but tumblr has a 30 image limit) OH ALSO BONUS BONUS THING THE DIFFERENCE IN OUTRO MUSIC IS SO IS SO ITS SO the outro song for the pilot kinda feels so ethereal and out of the moment at least to me it kinda feels like it you're slipping through the cracks and just, existing within yourself as the rest of the world around you kind of shatters into glass or melts into water or something i dont think ANY of that made any sense but its loud and its blaring and its so out of reach in a way, mad disassociation vibes but the outro song for the 2nd ep is a lot quieter yet its right there, at first it starts really small, lonely even. trapped by yourself but as the music gets louder and more instruments join in on the song it kind of has a comforting feel? bittersweet? even? its grounding ina way which is much different from how the first one felt at least to me lmao and the comforting feel kinda only emphasizes what I was talking about earlier- the comfort in having that anchor of reality with having a real moment with these people and making that connection yk? and like as i was saying at first the song starts off with just one instrument, at the start of the episode pomni feels utter alone and out of place even if these people here with here are stuck in the same situation as her, together alone. but as the other instruments join. in it kinda uplifts the song a bit, its not one sole instrument anymore like how in the end pomni feels that connection with everyone else, not so alone anymore idk jackshit about music theory so this is entirely a feelies talk instead of like- music lore? so don't take anything i say as like- idk some professional speak im just a nerd nerding about silly digital fixations ANYWAYS THATS ALL FOR NOW I AVE MORE TO SAY BUT THIS IS LONG ENOUGH LOL if you actually read all the way down this far thank you for listening!!! i really really appreciate it :]

[insanescriptist]

Cremation is just another fun(erl) service

So blaming random 4am thoughts that have been plaguing me all day for this

----

Jason woke to a bright room, thin sheets and the smell of a hospital embedded in his body.

First as always, assess. Hospital. No affiliation printed on the walls or anywhere. Private room, but small. That door looked like it led to a private bathroom. Generic flower picture, a mounted screen turned off. Really fucking bright sunlight from the windows.

There was no fucking way he was in Gotham then. Everything was too nice. Normal by standards outside of Gotham. There were blinds, not metal shutters. The walls were cleaner than Gotham allowed outside of Downtown and he could see greenery through the window.

Okay. So what had he been doing? Jason remembered and then wished he had his Jerichos to shoot himself with. Mystic Shit™. Okay. Okay. That was not one of his better ideas, but if he's recovering in a hospital, it worked. World saved.

So recovery. How fucked was he?

His skin looked so fucked. Which meant he had been worse. He's had time to recover and lose muscle tone in, going by how twiggy his arms were. His hands looked good. Clearly someone knew he cared about those if they went through the effort of restoring those.

Hmm, that was odd. No matter how much Jason hated the Lazarus Pits and all its by-products, it would have been a faster and more simple way to recover from near-death than the long incarceration in a hospital for a John Doe.

Jason wasn't sure if he'd been abandoned yet again by those who called themselves his family because he could, "take care of himself," or if he had been written off dead. Again.

Hospital beat the coffin by a long shot.

And it was with that cheery thought, a nurse -obvious meta human nurse- came in and burst into excited Japanese, because that was of course, his luck.

It's after the nurse and doctors leave that Jason loses his shit.

It looks like he's sulking in bed, but mentally everything in his head is exploding. Imploding.

Three. Fucking. Years. Coma.

Burn victim so bad they not only expected him to die in the first couple of days, but still expect it because of the infection risk his fucked up skin represents.

Still the conversation with the medical staff -of varying degrees of bizarre- was enlightening.

No, he has no idea who he is. Did he ever get anyone visit? How did he get here?

Of course some amnesia is to be expected. No, some of the nurses visited. No one knows how he got here.

Does he know what his quirk is? Uh?

Trauma blocked amnesia, the doctor mutters.

What's the last date he remembered?

Saturday. Maybe? The last year? No, I'm pretty sure my memory is shit and I'm trying hard not to freak out over not knowing anything. So could I get the year number?

And then there's the fucking year number. Once he got it translated into more normal terms.

Mystic Shit™ said fuck you to the future.

Except Jason knows this is not his future. Again, if it was, this would have been treated as a fucking inconvenience. Effective skin restoration goop -the proper name escaped him- was easily available to those with the right connections. A normal baseline human with 2nd and 3rd degree burns would be fine in less than two weeks with it, with nary a trace to show for it.

Thanks to the three year coma, his muscles were all atrophied as fuck, despite their best attempts at physical therapy. Because of all the burns and later burn scars and infections making it basically impossible to actually do fuck all about maintaining muscle tone until he was basically burnt skin and bones anyway.

He was so fucking weak now. It wouldn't last forever. He'd escape this hospital before he was discharged, before whatever "benefactor" showed up for whatever "purpose," he was suppose to serve now, as they had the medical debt over his head or was threatening his loved ones or whatever. If one didn't show up in the next week, he was losing his genre-savviness, because shitheads always wanted to claim shit, if it looked useful.

And Jason was used to looking useful, until he was no longer useful and they just didn't care. The amnesia made him less shiny, but Jason couldn't pull off the brain dead zombie imitation without actually being a brain dead zombie crawling up out of his grave.

So under the thin hospital sheets, Jason twitched his muscles.

Two weeks of emotional freak outs, watching the news, physical therapy and drugs Jason had had enough.

And he broke out.

----

Yeah, he regretted it almost immediately. Hard not to in the stupid paper gown, barefoot and bare ass.

Thankfully people were people, even with the plethora of meta humans he had seen, so it actually wasn't hard to find clothes. Someone left a hoodie in their car and Jason broke into said car. Put on the hoodie. Hotwired the car and drove off.

Somehow for being in the fucking future by two centuries and change, cars really hadn't changed. More evidence of Mystic Shit™ slamming him sideways.

He drove to the next town over, picked another direction, drove some more. Parked the car near what looked like a chop shop, negotiated the car for some money. He probably got ripped off, but better than nothing.

He walked to a corner store, bought some flip-flops after bullshitting an excuse that his had broken. First aid stuff. You know, for his feet. Hair dye in three different colors, because Rose Wilson could pick out a bad dye job at a hundred meters and so Jason learned how to dye his own hair properly so as to avoid her mockery, only to get mockery (affectionate) anyway.

It was a mix of instinct and lifelong observation that let him find an empty apartment quickly. He stole some sweatpants and passed out on the bed.

----

The thing is, Jason doesn't regret his crimes like Bruce thinks he ought to do, with a massive pity party and flaming self-hatred and punching criminals instead of shooting them. He hates the necessity of doing crimes, even if that crime is a net gain to society, but that's why all his serious crimes are premeditated. He's homicidal, not a psychopath.

Not Pit-mad either, no matter what the rest of them might have thought.

Again, he's homicidal, not a psychopath. And when he doesn't have to be some sort of costume soldier to be discarded by family for the disgrace of disfiguring the memory of a dead boy? He's actually chill and boring.

That is to say, he crashed at that apartment for three days, felt progressively more like himself, especially after the dye job -white hair all over, now a solid and boring black- but it still didn't change all the other issues the Mystic Shit™ inflicted on him.

This body isn't actually his. Too young, scars not right where the burns didn't fuck him over. Thankfully his existing coping mechanisms for dysphoria work and it's shoved to the side.

It's also a shit body. Not even a month out of a three year coma with inadequate -by his standards- of medical care. It's weak and building muscle to do everyday civilian shit, is going to take months to do. Pushing as hard as he did during the escape wrecked him the next three days. Jason may not know what's going to happen, but with his luck, it's going to suck and training is preparing to make it suck less. The only certainty he's got is that his skin or lack thereof is going to kill him from infection if he doesn't fix it.

He's got no legal identity here. Which basically puts him back onto familiar ground of legally dead.

Beyond the lack of paperwork, he's got a lack of funds. He also has no easy target to steal funds and equipment from, even just for fun.

For more disadvantages, he's in a different country, with different laws and a whole different culture. He would be climbing on board a fucking plane to Gotham, if it existed in this world, for some familiar ground.

He really is the unluckiest Robin. It also means he is also the most prepared Robin.

---

The first six months after waking up in this mockery world of heroics were the absolute worst.

He started at one foot in the grave and crawled out of it before the casket could really eat him alive. Jason had experience in casket busting. He didn't wanna repeat it.

He still didn't know who he was -in who was he inhabiting- but it wasn't like Jason had a lot to go on. 'His' quirk was thermo-manipulation, most obviously in the blue fire he could call to his hands but he could do some ice too; it was thanks to Duke's light and shadow manipulation that he had even tried for the duality. He had white hair. Presumably Japanese heritage but quirks had really erased or blurred a lot of racial lines. Also presumed dead and young.

Access to the Quirk Registry took some doing, but again, not everyone followed basic computer security, much less what it took to keep someone bat-trained out of their systems. Again, for nearly two centuries in the future, a lot of the technological development had stagnated. Searching through the Quirk Registry hadn't yielded any result but none of his other methods had struck anything either. And he had looked at the recently dead and/or presumed dead. Sure, he had some leads that looked viable, but he wasn't going to follow those up yet.

He had fixed a few of his most pressing issues the past six months. His ignorance of the local area, the local and national politics and so on. This world supported and had an entire industry catering to making child soldiers and sell their image and reputation to make money and more child soldiers that called themselves Heroes.

His weak ass body no long cried doing daily tasks and only hated him after working out. Yes, Jason was pushing it but he was well aware of how months of preparation could mean shit in the face of seconds.

His infection risk was severely reduced after quick research bender let him make the most generic knock-off brand of the skin restoration goop in a shitty homemade lab. Did it fix his skin being patchwork fucked in places? Some. He wasn't going to get feeling back properly, but at least he looked more normal. Maybe with enough moisturizing he might look a little less Frankenstien's monster.

He also had a cash inflow. It wasn't great, but it supported his apartment. And the second set of papers. And the 2nd apartment.

Which meant in grand old tradition for Jason, time for him to bounce to the next apartment and come up with a new name.

[sewinrat]

If you are/replace Sebastian includes;

*Reader is female mentioned but I could care less, you just have to be human. Have I done something like this before can't remember...

Oh you poor soul. You don't even know how you got in this mess. You were one day suddenly locked up in a plastic cage and this strange man bought you for an even stranger boy. Now you're stuck with them forever.

The closest you act to in terms of 'first meet' is close to Pomni. And yes you have went into the UNKNOWN and Luther had to pull you back but in this case, the unknown is much more dangerous.

And now you're trying your best to hide and run away from all of them in their weird crazy house of nonsense. Unfortunately you can't even hide well because Randal's dolls will always find you. Luther is another thing. You can't act out in front of around him or else you'll be a 'bad pet' and "that's not how girls supposed to act." His words not mine. Even if you've been put in the ridiculous jester outfit. You'd prefer if they put you in those discipline outfit forever if it means to leave you alone. It doesn't matter if you lose your body.

You got a high chance into being part of the family because Luther might want a little sister but let's not go there. This time.

The other two 'people' in the house, Nyen and Nyon, you thought you could trust but apparently not. You try to avoid them both, mostly Nyen because of the times he threatened you. Although Nyon doesn't do much, it's best to not engage in any way. Why am I describing things like this is your diary?

Actually you might have a diary. But hide them well or else everyone and I mean EVERYONE will read it if you misplaced it anywhere. Randal loves to snoop especially around you. Luther says it's to get to know you better but like a parent, he's a liar because if he reads anything he doesn't like, he'll punish you accordingly. Nyen can use it to manipulate you and make fun of you but Nyon reads it... And that's it. He doesn't do much about it but he's bold so he will gave it back to you even if it's open and in the middle of reading it.

After maybe weeks or even months if time manages to slip later because if you cannot make sense of time, how can you even know the time - you're getting use to it. Not comfortable of course but it's to the point where you aren't actively scared to even look behind you.

You know what, you should be just a little bit grateful that you are Randal's 'friend' while also being under him by being a pet because if you remember in Lucid 14, it shows that Randal likes to keep parts of his 'friends' as the bible recruiter dudes were leaving(But it could also imply that it's his first time doing it while alive or smth). So yeah that's one way to lose skin.

Ranfren Characters thoughts on You(ooc);

Randal: "Oh you met my friend?? Did she escaped again if you knew em... Eh impossible but since you know her, I KNOW YOU~!! A friend to my pet is a friend to mee now come here and let's have some funn." How did you get in touch with her- actually doesn't matter to Randal, more friends the merrier.

Luther: "Hm. Troublesome at first but oh well she's just getting use to her new home that's all so I won't blame them for that. Getting docile but still needs precautions." Somehow he treats you more of an experiment than a pet. Maybe you're those last options regularly people would consider to.

Nyen: He exited the interview because a reaction of the 'new' pet of the house from him is a waste of time to him. You're not worth his trouble. But he did said something about how fun watching you struggle when him and or his master catch you escaping.

Nyon: We couldn't find him to get an interview so we came to the conclusion that he has nothing to say about you. Maybe a little pity. That's all.

Bonus? Tsukada Satoru: "Ah she's quite cute but should keep a certain distance away from Randal. Hm? Jealous? In what way or to who exactly? Randal? Oh I could never. Randal is my best friend, I'm just protecting him away from her." Maybe if you play his heart well, he'll take more of a fancy to you.

[blackmoonowl]

Fuck it. Danse fanfic with the reader trying to help him get over his suicidal tendecies

The aftermath.

Paladin Danse x reader

Warnings: suicidal ideations, Danse coming to terms with being a synth. After blind betrayal

Danse lived for the brotherhood, and now it felt like he had nothing.

The bunker he now called home felt empty, and he looked at the ceiling. You had spared him, and he was forever grateful for it. But he never felt so alone and lost. Part of him wondered if being spared was truly the best for him. His sulking was interrupted by the sound of someone opening the bunker door. Now on full alert, the ex-paladin jumped up from the mattress, reaching for his weapon.

"Danse?" A voice called out through the bunker, your voice. His body relaxed visibly as he let out a deep breath. The former Brotherhood paladin pulled himself off of the old mattress on the floor, getting to his feet.

"I'm here," he responded, hearing the footsteps immediately approach him. It didn't take long for you to appear from behind the crumbled wall. He looked pathetic no doubt, and he felt a deep-seated sense of shame. You smiled at him, setting down your bag.

"Scribe Haylen told me she got your message, told me to send you her regards. Anyhow, how are you feeling?" You carefully asked, your eyes raking over his slightly disheveled form.

"Doing as well as can be expected, given everything that has happened," Danse replied as he sat down on an old office chair that surprisingly didn't give in despite its age. "But I'm doing better now that you're here."

He didn't miss the way your smile briefly widened at that, a sight that made his weary heart feel a little more at ease. You quickly interrupted the moment of silence, clearing your throat as you gestured to the bag.

"I got you some supplies, should keep you going for a while," you smiled at the synth sat in front of you. It was a far cry from the honorable Paladin you had encountered back at Cambridge. The sight made your heart clench, but you knew better than to bring it up right now. "Figured you could use it, since you know... it's best for you to lay low right now."

Danse's eyes lit up slightly as he reached out to grab the old, worn out pre war shopping bag. "You didn't have to do that for me," he softly muttered, that look of embarrassment never really leaving his face. He had fallen so low he had to accept handouts from the knight he once sponsored, and it felt bad, even if he appreciated your thoughtfulness.

"You're right, I didn't. Danse looked back up at you as you replied. "But I wanted to, you deserve it... after everything."

His lips quirked slightly as he pulled a pack of Fancy lad snack cakes out of the bag. The treat loved by all synths, it felt like some sort of sick joke.

"Thank you," he relented, having to keep himself together so he wouldn't show you just how broken down he really was. "Glad to know I can still rely on you, despite everything." That last part was almost mumbled as he put the item aside again.

"Hey, listen," you began, struggling to find the words. "I.. I know this isn't easy for you. But I'm not going anywhere, okay? I don't see you as any less than I-"

"You should," he cut you off. The synth furrowed his brows, his fingers curled into his fist. "I know you told me than I'm still myself, and I thank you for it. But that doesn't make this easier. Sometimes I wonder if I deserve to live, if I... if I.." he fought back tears as he trailed off, refusing to meet your gaze as his head hung before he spoke again. "That I should be destroyed, for the sake of others, for the sake of the Brotherhood and all they stand for."

"No you shouldn't," you firmly protested, your own heart sinking. "We went over this, you deserve to live just like anyone else. The fact you were created in a lab doesn't make you any less human to me."

"I wish I could believe that without question." Danse tried to keep his voice steady. "But I'm starting to doubt that. The time I've spent here.. I've never felt this low. The Brotherhood declared me dead for a reason."

"Danse," you tried again. "I don't care about that, you're still the same man who took me under his wing when I first joined up. Nothing is going to change that. Not for me, and not for Scribe Haylen." Reaching out, you put your hand on his shoulder, giving him a reassuring squeeze. Danse swallowed thickly as he finally raised his head to meet your gaze. You silently put your other hand on the side of his face, caressing his cheek.

"I don't deserve this," he breathed with a slightly shaky tone. It was a strong contrast to his usual stoic and determined resolve. "But I can't bear the thought of you leaving me as well." His hand came up to rest against the one you were using to cradle his cheek.

"You do deserve it," you firmly responded. "You deserve everything... you are everything." Those words seemed to break the damn as his eyes became glossy, firmly blinking to shoo away the tears. You pulled him closer, your arms circling around his shoulders as his face buried against your stomach. It seemed to catch him off guard, but slowly he raised his hands to grip your waist, a few tears escaping his eyes.

"Thank you.." he managed choke out. The first tears that he shed in what he presumed to be his entire life. "For everything, I wish I could repay you."

"How about accepting that you deserve to be cared for?" You attempted a light joke to cheer the synthetic man up slightly. With a deep sigh, he nodded.

"I'll try, promised." He finally pulled away, flustered and relieved mix of an expression on his face. "Would you mind.. staying a while?" he finally questioned. You smiled at that.

"Of course."

[togglesbloggle]

🔥The ice giants

Oh, this one's tricky. Do people have strong enough feelings about the ice giants for opinions about them to be unpopular? Even NASA doesn't care enough about them to send a spacecraft more than once in a blue moon. I think I'll try to weasel out of this one with the opinion 'all planets are interesting, even Neptune,' on the grounds that uninterestingness is itself the dominant opinion.

The midcentury explorations of the solar system were, in retrospect, kind of crushing for the human imagination. We went from totally unbounded speculations about the diversity of worlds- imagining robust ecosystems on Venus and Mars as late as the 50s and early 60s- to a series of photographs showing cratered, dead, atmosphere-less worlds. And 'realism' became accepting these photographs, building a story of the cosmos that is not just sterile but quite simple, treating the solar system as conforming closely to low-complexity models of planetary formation. Gravity collects micrometeorites and gas particles in planetoids and moons according to the ratios predicted by temperature and distance from the center of the accretion disk; terrestrial worlds close in, gas giants further out, ice giants further still. The planets sort themselves by density, with interior deformation or sortition based on thermal gradients, radioactive decay, magnetic forces; moons find a stable orbit or don't, and that's that.

But the thing is, once you actually get past that superficial Voyager flyby-photograph, these worlds all tend to have dramatic and exciting particularities of their own. Look at Pluto! Look at Titan! Look at Enceladus! Look at Ceres! Probably the most boring and well-studied planet I can think of is Mercury, and even that has cool stuff like solid ice at the surface.

Part of this is just noticing over time that the interface between planets and space (that is, their surface) is not always or even usually the most interesting part of them, and assumptions to the contrary are an understandable but misleading form of Earth-chauvinism.

And a larger share of it, I think, is just that once you get something substantially larger than an asteroid, the combined influence of so much volume, so much mass, and so much time just tends to amplify the variance of your system incredibly far beyond what you'd expect from your 'terrestrial, gas giant, ice giant' template. The model is actionably useful, don't get me wrong, and worlds rarely vary so much that they outright break their category. But nothing the size of a moon or planet is actually simple, and nothing on the scale of four billion years is actually stable. And so each of these things, no matter how straightforward the template, will gradually tilt and totter its way within an unfathomably large space of possibilities to something that is practically speaking unique, and which reveals something new about the cosmos that you can't find anywhere else.

If the ice giants seem simple, it's a reflection of our methods and our technological limits, not the planets themselves. We are, generally speaking, absolutely terrible about investigating gaseous worlds on their own terms- and maybe we simply don't have the right tools or the right questions yet to figure out what makes Neptune and Uranus special. But it's only a matter of time.

[bibibbon]

Quirks and MHA society

Throughout the manga there is this reoccurring theme of people not being able to use and control their quirks and the quirk system being broken but honestly this plot point never really goes anywhere in my opinion or if it is used it's not used properly and never reaches it's fullest potential.

Like we see people break the law a bunch of times by using their quirks illegally and we see people state that they cannot control their quirks but nothing is done about it. We never see people arrested for quirk use unless said quirk use harms people.

If it's illegal to use your quirk then how is it that you have middle schoolers freely using their quirks in school or how normal members of the public use their quirks? Also what does this mean for people born with a heteromorphic quirk? Is part of the reason they're discriminated because they can't turn if their quirks or is it because so heteromorphic quirks make the user look more alien and less human? The government in MHA doesn't seem to be very strict about quirk use laws but states that it is (hori failing in show don't tell again🤷‍♀️)

What about people whose quirks are dangerous if they don't release it? What do they do? Do they just have to suffer or does the MHA government have a facility where people can safely release their quirk? This doesn't seem likely considering that izuku, ochako, Katsuki and miriko ran into someone who they(miriko and bakugo)deemed a villain for not being able to control his quirk. This case is treated as a one off incident but it really isn't. If one person has a quirk like that then that means so many other civilians do and they could of been pushed into villainy due to it. Hori establishes that the MHA universe lacks establishments that help people discharge/release or deal with their quirk but he never outright does anything with this plot point (it's mainly used to justify characters actions or villainy)

Horikoshi also introduces the half baked idea that quirks can influence ones personality and desires. This idea is introduced mainly in the MVA arc to ig justify characters (like toga and tomuras) actions and behaviours. I think it could of been a good idea if characters end up acting similarly or develop similar traits that come from their quirk however as I mentioned before the idea is half baked. Toga having an interest/craving in blood because thats how her quirk works makes sense but it's not heavily established. When it comes to toga we get mentions of how broken the quirk counselling system is and how instead of helping her to deal with a quirk that makes her have such a strong fascination and affection to blood it only made her suppress the urges until she went off the rails into full insanity. When it comes to tomura this idea is only used as an excuse (almost) for his actions, his quirk is used to demonise him and make him more of this completely psycho villain who loves to destroy things because that's his nature?!? When it really isn't.

Quirk counselling is a plot point with so much wasted potential. Like how did quirk counselling work? Was it a legal requirement or was it recommended? Did it actually help some people by helping kids understand their quirks, help them with control, offer any support equipment if needed to deal with the quirk and teach children morals? It seems like people with ordinary common quirks benefit more from the system then people with unique quirks that have unique side effects. We are told that toga's quirk counselling was full of adults not understanding and telling her that she is a weird psycho who is obsessed with blood instead of actually helping her. We see curious herself admit that there are many problems with the quirk counselling system and how it only benefited people with certain types of quirks and how it was basically a place teaching and breeding children to learn "right" and "wrong".

We see the quirk counselling system fail but it's never addressed. MHA chapter 22 shows how people with powerful or uncontrollable quirks tend to be failed by the system just like how toga and tomuras were. Eri is a special case you can't even know if she is just being trained or if she attends general counselling because in all truth we aren't told. Eri also faces the same problem where she can't have too much build up for her quirk or it will hurt her so shouldn't MHA dive deeper into the idea of quirk counselling and people not being able to control their quirks. Heck you even have all might state that he has noticed a lot of people can't control their quirks which brings the question is quirk counselling only for young people in elementary school and not for older people because people like midoriya who had a quirk in his teenage years was never forced to do any quirk counselling by the government?!?!?!?

Overall, in my opinion quirks in MHA is a wasted potential of a plot point and topic. MHA fails to truly delve and dig deep into topics like how the government fails in providing help with quirk counselling or establishments that help people deal with their quirks, or how less people know how to control their quirks being a result for the quickly failing system or how badly the law is reinforced . These ideas intertwining with quirk inequality and how it affects peoples day to day life could of all been interesting points to explore.

[golvio]

As somebody who shaves in an “old-fashioned” way that’s come to be coded as “masculine” in recent decades, it’s got me thinking about about how Ganon was portrayed in TotK and how Nintendo could’ve used that to characterize him more coherently.

A lot of people tend to draw Ganondorf with body hair because bearishness is kind of the “in” thing for more masculine and solidly built characters. However, in his actual key art in TotK along with his ingame model, not only are his hair and beard meticulously trimmed and styled, but he also has absolutely no body hair anywhere else on his body, which means his grooming routine likely involves some pretty intensive shaving/waxing.

Like, shaving is EXTREMELY time-consuming. Shaving the old-school, “masculine” way with a safety razor or an outright barbershop razor blade is even more time-consuming. You have to wash the area clean first. You have to mix and keep mixing the lather to keep applying it to prevent the razor from getting caught on your skin and making microabrasions. You have to use the safety razor very slowly and carefully to make sure you don’t nick yourself, then seal any nicks that do happen immediately with a styptic pen. After you’re done, you still have to do extra steps to make sure your skin doesn’t get those red rashy bumps from microabrasions or trapped ingrown hairs that can get infected, such as putting on aloe gel, rubbing your skin with a wet alum block and rinsing it off after a few minutes so it doesn’t leave chalky residue behind, then applying moisturizer and waiting for it to absorb.

It points to Ganon having an extremely meticulous, regimented, and time-consuming grooming routine, having to give himself a full shave on his arms, legs, and chest every few days or so on top of daily maintenance of his facial hair. It makes sense to me, given that the Extremely Cleanshaven look to be covered up with cooling head coverings, wigs and false beards was something of a beauty standard among upper class men and their attendants in Ancient Egypt. Ganondorf’s desire to project a composed, “kingly” aura would of course extend to meeting certain standards regarding his own appearance. Being so “put together” is also a big blinking social signal that he’s A Man Of Status, as he’d actually have the time/money and resources/assistance to regularly perform such strict personal grooming rituals.

But it also makes me wonder how he’d regard men who were less meticulous about grooming and hair care. Would he find hairiness a sign of slovenliness or poor upbringing? Would he be kinda grossed out the first time he went to Hyrule and saw a hairy leg or back hair on an older man? Would he get snooty about the more lax standards of grooming for men in postindustrial Western patriarchal societies in amusing/less amusing and more classist ways?

It also makes his throwing away his sense of self at the end of TotK even sadder. Like, when a character who was formerly so concerned with appearing well-groomed and put together suddenly stops their routine and goes to seed, you know something’s gone horribly wrong. The poor guy’s stuck with an eternal neckbeard and messy, molting feathers, and that would’ve driven him nuts if he still had his brain! Who’s going to brush his hair and bathe him? Who’s going to trim his horns and keep his scales moisturized and polished so he doesn’t get all flaky and itchy? Who’s going to treat and cover up all those unsightly, sensitive looking blemishes? The poor thing! 😭

But, also, it makes certain details about his beast form more interesting in retrospect—how he puts more care into his appearance the more connected to his humanity he is. His at least wearing a cape and a suit of armor along with some accessories in ALttP, only to lose his clothing as he lost touch with himself. His resurrection in Oracles being his mother dressing him up in an outfit he would’ve worn if his soul and mind were intact by his mothers as a dying act of love. His wearing a similar outfit when Yuga resurrected him, only for that to feel like Yuga halfheartedly dressing him up like a doll as a matter of precedent/personal aesthetic, which Ganon has no way to appreciate or consent to.

His blobby, amorphous appearance in BotW, which he tried to move away from by attempting to restore his human form and reconstruct impressions of his old signature jewelry with so much time and effort, only for the result to come out shoddy and incomplete due to Zelda and Link’s interference, and then his abandoning it entirely to become a naked beast at the very end when he was backed into a corner. And then, in TotK, his preoccupation with “looking the part” of king of the world who got to defeat his destined opponent even though he could’ve just slaughtered Link right there when they first met.

Just…you could do something with that. There’s so much you could do with that, both to reinvent the man for the soft reboot and recontextualize his prior appearances with a new personal detail that can act as a barometer for his overall mental health as he changes, rearranges, dies and resurrects! But then they just…didn’t? They just said a line in an interview and didn’t even put it in the game? 🤦

[petrichorium]

Quid Pro Quo

in which you attempt to seduce il dottore in the desperate hope that he will save your life, and come to realize it’s not entirely faked

dottore x fem!reader

word count: 7.2k reader: afab, leaning fem (no pronouns, neutral names, feminine clothing, pussy/cunt/clit/breast used) tags: EXPLICIT CONTENT, blood, violence/chopping off a hand (not toward the reader), possessiveness/jealousy, manhandling from both parties, corruption vibes, biting, idk what to tell u man it’s dottore, established relationship but also they’re getting together, chronically/terminally ill reader (kept vague; dottore is treating it), reader is called “pet” and dottore is called “my lord” but it’s not a kink thing they’re just emotionally constipated, heavy petting, fingering, edging, pls don’t be fooled genuinely the smut is so vanilla compared to the rest of these tags KDNFKENF, implied oral (reader receiving) at the end but it’s fade-to-black

“my lord, this is absurd. have i not been dutiful? have i strayed?”

“very different things from devotion and affection, i’m afraid.”

who is he, you think bitterly, to demand those of you? to demand you tell him at all, let alone here and now with so little warning?

“well?” his voice is merciless. it has you panicking, desperate not to disappoint.

“i—” the words catch in your throat. you choke on them, swallow them down before they can ruin you. frankly you can’t even be certain what you’d have said.

dottore frowns, slumping back in his chair and lifting an arm to rest his chin in his hand as he regards you. “pity. i thought you less delicate than this.”

“you’re being cruel,” you say in a desperate attempt to make him relent, but he scoffs meanly.

“i’m a cruel man.”

“not to me!” this time it’s a wail. your lip quivers involuntarily, and even to your ears you sound like a petulant child as you cry, “never to me.”

“don’t pout. don’t—” he cuts himself off with a long-suffering sigh. when he speaks again it’s low, muttered; less to you and more to himself. “damn it all, what you do to me…”

you might find it flattering if you weren’t so riled up. tonight, once your blood cools and you return to your room, you’ll let your mind stray to it—the growl of his voice, the tempered emotion, the way his fingers twitch as if to reach out for you.

perhaps you’d have let him, if he’d done so rather than turn his eyes back to you with a glare and spit out yet another accusation.

When you’d first approached Dottore with a proposal, you never anticipated he’d accept it.

You’d been desperate, alone and moraless, shackled with an illness only curable to those more fortunate than you. You weren’t fool enough, not even back then, to think he’d accept out of pity, or even something as human as lust for you. Even now you don’t quite understand why he’d agreed.

But by some miracle he did, and now you stand here months after you’d thought you would die, bundled up in a heavy wool coat lined with plush fur, dragged out to the main palace just to be ordered to sit and wait until his convening with a number of other Harbingers has ended.

You have no right to complain. Being paraded around like a glass doll—or rather hoarded like a priceless jewel, never left in the company of others long enough to consider abandoning your promise—is the price you pay for who you’ve thrown your lot in with. And you can breathe freely without coughing. You can move without growing weary, you can stand without pain. These are the true luxuries Dottore has given you. You’ll wait for him, even if you grow bored in the meanwhile.

Two guards stand watch over you. For a time they were regular, familiar faces who shadowed you whenever you went anywhere beyond Dottore’s wing in the palace. Then you made the mistake of calling one by name in front of him, and now they change every few days.

“Boys,” you call out to them, louder than you mean in the silent, cavernous hall. “Would you come with me to take a walk? Just in the arboretum, nowhere far.”

They exchange a brief look, certainly debating the chances of trouble from such a proposal, before seemingly coming to an agreement and nodding in unison.

You stand, eager for a change in scenery. What happens next, however, you couldn’t anticipate.

A guard’s hand finds your shoulder. As soon as it touches you realize your mistake; you’d started down the wrong way, headed deeper into the underbelly of the palace rather than towards the grand conservatory in the center. If you had more time you’d turn on heel and apologize sheepishly, and he’d remove his touch, and all would be well.

But a second is all it takes. His fingers brush the thick wool covering you and a moment later you feel a whistling blade followed by the horrifying sound of flesh being severed in a single brutal strike.

You scream, lurching back—the severed hand is still on your shoulder, limp, and the horror of that doesn’t sink in until your sudden movement makes it slide off and fall to the floor with a sickening thud.

Before you can get far, though, an arm slings itself around your waist and drags you back in an ironclad grip. Your shoulder slams into the wall first, and then your back, so sudden and forceful that it knocks the wind out of you.

Dottore has you pinned against the back of a recessed niche. You’re tucked away like this, hidden to all eyes except his, which you’re certain take in your disheveled form greedily though you can’t see beneath the mask to confirm—and your gaze stubbornly remains pinned over his shoulder either way. Your chest heaves, still catching your breath, but the heavy beating of your heart is hardly from terror anymore.

His fingers find your jaw. They’re big as they splay across your cheek, grasping firm to tilt your head upward and force you to look at him. That gloved hand is covered in blood, hot and slick; you can feel it smeared over your face and neck.

“My lord—“

He’s kissing you before you can finish the word, teeth clacking against yours, licking in past your lips before you can close them. On instinct you bite down, but despite the taste of copper flooding your tongue he doesn’t pull back—in fact, he presses in closer, groaning into your mouth.

“My lord,” you try again, voice muffled entirely, “you’re out sooner than anticipated.”

He kisses you harder, drawing an embarrassing noise from your throat. It’s all you can do to keep up, but you attempt to speak more anyway.

“What is this? You—“

The sound he lets out is feral, growling; it stops you in your tracks, throws every word out of your head. But it’s too late. He pulls back fully to look at you, unreadable even to your discerning eyes.

“I return to find you attempting to leave,” he says, low and dangerous. “And another man’s hand upon you.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “If anything he was stopping me. I only wanted to visit the arboretum, my lord—“

“The arboretum is the opposite way.”

“Yes, which would be why my guard was directing me the proper way. And you cut off his hand for it!”

Too impassioned. Your mistake. Dottore shoves you against the wall again and you wince, eyes slamming shut. This time he goes for your neck, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses down the taut surface as you angle your head to give him ample room. Soon enough they turn even more heated, nibbling at you with those sharp teeth and sucking harshly at the dip of your jaw.

You melt against him, weak-kneed and floating. His lips leave your skin momentarily. He’s still close enough for his breath to puff against your neck with each pant, but he hovers, waiting until you’ve opened your eyes and let your half-lidded gaze meet his own to lean in again and sink his teeth into your shoulder.

The noise you let out is obscene. You have no control over it; it’s wrenched from your lips instantly, something like a yelp that trails off into a breathy moan. All things considered he hasn’t bitten you too deeply—you’ve certainly received worse by his own hands—but he breaks skin with those teeth, and when he releases you the sting is only slightly soothed by his tongue lathing over the mark.

“Lord Second!”

He pulls away from you with a snarl. You’re left panting, legs shaking, relying on his hold to keep you up as you close your eyes and let your head fall back to rest against the wall. It’s Pulcinella who has played savior long enough for you to catch your breath; you can hear his chiding, the annoyance in his tone, the sternness as he demands Dottore let your unfortunate guard leave to get his wound tended to.

“I’m hardly stopping him,” Dottore says dismissively. His hand comes up to your face. You aren’t anticipating it, jolting and opening your eyes when the leather of his glove makes contact. His grip tightens, fingers pressing into your cheeks and pursing your lips. “No need for you to get involved, rooster.”

You can see how he intends to return where he left off before he leans back in. His grip is so secure you couldn’t turn your head to escape his kiss even if you attempted it, but you know better than to try.

“Wait!” you gasp out against his lips. “Not—ah, in front of—“

“Oh, now you’re feeling demure. Didn’t care about your guards, did you?” His hand slides down to wrap around your throat—not quite choking, but undeniably present. At the same time he bites down hard on your lower lip. “A decision for you, then. Would you like me to stop, or to dismiss the boy?”

“Dismiss him,” you say without hesitation, not entirely altruistically. Dottore is always put in a far better mood if you allow him to do as he pleases with you.

“Listen to your companion, Dottore,” pipes up Pulcinella from the other side of the hall. “Pierro would be displeased by this scene.”

“Lucky, then, that he hasn’t stumbled upon it.” Again, Dottore turns away from you to face Pulcinella. Again, you take the moment to catch your breath. “Why are you here?”

“I was sent to fetch you. Lord First would like a word privately.”

Another snarl. This time, however, he seems to understand he has no choice. When he returns his attention to you it’s clear that he intends to pull away entirely.

Beneath that damned mask, his eyes aren’t visible. Still, his grin is sharp enough that you can imagine the wild look they likely hold, the one that never fails to send a thrill through you. The blood on your skin has dried somewhat to become tacky. He leans in once more, licks a long stripe up the column of your neck, lips coming away covered in scarlet. Something settles in the pit of your stomach.

“Go clean up, pet,” Dottore says, low enough that it’s meant for only you to hear. “I can’t stand the stench of another’s blood on you.”

Frowning, you pry yourself from his hold as much as he’ll let you, unfulfilled though you think you ought to be grateful that he’s willing to let you compose yourself. You huff. “We’ll continue this conversation later.”

Somehow, that grin sharpens. He reaches out with a hand again, fleeting—gentle, even—as he crooks his finger beneath your chin to lift it slightly. “As you wish.”

And with that he pulls away. The hand on your back nudges you over towards your remaining guard and then Dottore is gone, with a final keep your hands off growled at the poor man (who assuredly does not need the warning, not with his partner’s blood still staining the floor beneath his feet) before he stalks off to follow Pulcinella deeper into the palace.

Hours later, after a long bath and attendants having dressed you in clean clothing, Dottore summons you to his lab.

Though it’s located in a separate building, it takes you mere minutes to arrive; you know the path by heart, and while there will always be assigned guards and the occasional assistant lurking, few fatui agents linger longer than necessary in the halls belonging to the second harbinger. Such dallying always increases the risk of being purloined for use as a test subject in some fatal experiment or another.

You’ve been told that when you’re not around the place is crawling with segments, too. You know of their existence, of course—have even seen a few from a distance—but Dottore has long refused to let you near any of them.

His lab always runs on the colder side, even for a Snezhnayan facility. If you regularly wore clothing in it you suppose it might be more bearable, but he rarely summons you for reasons which allow you to keep anything on.

You think longingly back to your chambers, made cozy and warm with the help of your personal effects and a number of mechanical heaters in varying levels of prototype courtesy of your eccentric lover. He can be considerate, you’ve learned, when he truly wants to—though he would never willingly admit it. In the case of providing you warmth he maintains it’s merely because he can’t stand your shivering when in bed with you.

You’ve refrained from pointing out that you never shiver when he is there to keep you warm.

Dottore’s office door is open, and you know you can enter without announcement, but you choose to linger in the doorway and reach out to rap knuckles against it twice.

You can see him sitting at his desk across the room. Despite how you’re the only one who would approach him now, he wears his mask, gloves still on, dutifully paying sole attention to his work—or rather seemingly, because he shifts as you enter, and you feel his eyes on your back when you turn to close and lock the door behind you.

The shoes you wear are soft slippers, flat upon the ground. You almost regret not wearing anything with a solid heel; perhaps if your approach came announced by the loud clacking of metal upon marble he wouldn’t ignore you so. Either way, you note how his arm shifts as you elegantly step past his chair, clearly itching to reach out and hold you.

You settle yourself upon his desk, legs crossed demurely, the chiffon fabric of the nightdress you’d been tugged into pooling prettily around your thighs and draping over the edge.

His eyes might be concealed but you can tell by the angle of his head that he’s staring. You’re glad for it—the little show you put on, leaning back to emphasize your chest and angling to draw attention to your legs, should not go unseen. You sigh dramatically, reaching up to pull the dressing gown from your shoulders and let it fall to your waist, and that’s what ends it.

He huffs (you might be so bold as to call it fondly exasperated) and turns back to his work without a word.

Perched on his desk like this, you can easily lean forward and reach out to lay hands on the mask he wears over his eyes. He stiffens, head snapping up, one hand catching your wrist in a harsh grip just shy of aching.

“Did you lock the door?” he hisses, all too used to your insistence of not fucking a masked man to even ask what you’re doing.

You roll your eyes and stubbornly continue on your mission. “Yes, my lord. When have I ever left it unlocked?”

Nobody but his fellow harbingers would dare to interrupt one of his appointments with you, and a locked door has never kept the likes of them out, but you’re not entirely keen on the idea of being interrupted either, so you dutifully turn the bolt every time.

“I seem to recall my last assistant.”

“That woman had a key and far too much nerve for her own good.” It’s true—you had locked the door that night, though you’d also goaded her privately beforehand just to see the look on her face when Dottore gave her no mercy like every other person unfortunate enough to have walked in on you nude.

Dottore’s eyes glint as you remove the mask fully, his mouth tugging into a pleased little smile. “Jealousy becomes you, pet.”

Your scowl does nothing to deter him. As penance you set the mask down on the far side of you. If he wants it back, he’ll have to lean over you to reach—even with his absurdly long wingspan—and almost certainly end up with his face in your lap.

A very bold part of you hopes he does.

For now, though, your annoyance is unquenched. So you tilt your head, letting his eyes fall to the slope of your shoulder, and speak. “If you called me here for anything, tell me or I’ll simply leave.”

He dips his head as if focusing on the papers before him. “And if I merely wanted you to pose on my desk like a pretty little ornament while I work?”

“You think I’m pretty?” you tease without missing a beat. “Truly?”

He doesn’t deign that with an answer, though he allows himself one more lingering scan of your form before turning back to his work.

When he does, you shift and recross your legs. It’s pointed, timed for the moment his eyes flit over to you; an uncross and a shift to the other leg on top, fast and smooth but with enough time to give him a good look of what’s between your thighs.

Or rather what isn’t, because you’d refused the undergarments your attendants had tried to throw on you. The movement bares your cunt to him in its entirety; you see his eyes hone in on it, his mouth slacken, the reaction involuntary and borderline feral in the fleeting seconds before your legs close again.

And then you watch him frown, as if witnessing his very thought process dawn upon his face—the realization that you’d made the trip without anything beneath your nightdress has him irritated.

“Presumptuous thing you are,” he growls. “What if I’d called you here for treatment?”

“You said we’d finish that talk.”

“This,” he gestures at the entirety of you, and you snicker in return, “does not suggest talking.”

“I didn’t choose what my attendants dressed me in.”

It’d been laid out for you when you’d come out of the bath; all gossamer layers and intricate lace, low in the front and short at the bottom and held together by only a satin ribbon. You’re inclined to think Pantalone is the true culprit. Dottore likes such things on you, though he insists he holds no preference, and therefore one of the tried and true ways the shrewd man has come to flatter your capricious lover is to throw luxuries at you—lavish jewels and thick furs and long billowing dressing gowns—and instruct for you to be dressed up in them like some spoiled, pampered lapdog before you next visit the lab.

You can’t say you mind. The dress you wear now is the kind of soft only an exorbitant amount of mora can buy, perfectly tailored and clinging to every curve that should most be flattered. Calling it a nightdress, while you’ve been doing so, likely does it more credit than deserved. The intent is assuredly not for sleeping. With the matching dressing robe it proves modest enough, though not as you wear it now; pulled low and teasing over your arms, the tie fallen loose to give no coverage.

“Your attendants send you off like a lamb to slaughter.”

You shrug. “A willing one.”

“Fair enough. Tell me, then, willing as you are to enter this wolves’ den. You were particularly appalled by my actions this morning—the longer I’ve had to ruminate, the less remorseful I’ve become. He ought to have known better than to lay hands on you. Unless, of course, you encouraged it.”

“Oh, please.” Now you roll your eyes openly, toss your head with the motion just to emphasize it. “My lord, I don’t even know the boy’s name. I simply believe removing his hand was a punishment unfit for the crime.”

“And yet you kissed me. You threw yourself at me, really, despite all those tepid protests. Would you have let me fuck you there, I wonder? In front of your guards, knowing that I would never let them live after?”

Your cheeks heat at the accusation. “No, I—”

“Is this not what you wanted? My infatuation? Don’t tell me you’re second guessing now that you know exactly what it entails—it’s too late. The thought of another man touching you…” he trails off, but you hardly need him to finish. You’re well aware of just what he’s thinking. “Why do you think I never allow my segments to come near you?”

Your brow furrows. “They are younger than you, of course. I assumed their volatility posed too great a risk.”

Dottore scoffs, low and dismissive. “Hardly. The true reason is that the resources required to remake them are so great.”

It takes you a moment to understand the meaning, but when you do it has your mouth parting. Should a segment interact with you, he’s so certain he’d kill it that he’d determined it simpler to keep the two parties separate. A shiver runs down your spine—to your chagrin, you doubt it’s horror.

“Your segments are yourself, my lord,” you attempt again. “They are bolder than most agents, and guaranteed to be attracted to me as you are. You cannot hold the guards you assigned to the same scrutiny. The boy was merely leading me away.”

“What of my poor assistant, then, hm? What is the difference between the boy and the girl? I should passively allow every warm body to touch you and cannot even have a lab assistant? She was a quick one—certainly not at the caliber of my segments but decent enough in their absence.”

“You regret disposing of her, then?”

“No need to sound so bitter, pet. I have no regrets. Your company is far more preferred, and…” Dottore trails off, letting out a low chuckle, voice a purr laced with meaning not well hidden, “I hardly need to tell you that you paid me back thoroughly for whatever loss I might have incurred that night. But my point remains—the boy easily replaced, the girl less so. What difference do you see?”

“That the boy would not have dared compete with you, even if he’d found me alluring,” you hiss. “The girl had intentions that insulted me.”

“Intentions?”

“With you, which you knew, so I should hardly need to say it. I almost pity the poor thing—you intended all along to kill her, you simply decided to have fun with it along the way.”

“Only when I realized just how much I enjoy your jealousy. Truly, I ought to bring another in. Any agent hungry enough for the position would naturally desire an even higher one at my side…”

You frown and, in a motion so fast you can’t really think it through, reach out to hook your finger into the ring of that harness and yank him upward.

The noise he lets out is something between a hiss and a groan, rich and growling and heated. No shock is clear on his face; rather, he stares up at you with a grin that exposes sharp teeth, teeth which part to let a pink tongue run along his lower lip.

When you speak it’s steely. “Few people in this world would find you standable, my lord. I must be touched in the mind to feel for you as I do.”

“Oh?” You’ve stumbled into some kind of trap, you realize by the tone of his voice. “Tell me, then, what do you feel for me?”

“What?”

“Be candid, now.” His grin only grows wider. “Don’t hold anything back. Admit that you’ve come to love me.”

You recoil, yanking your hand away as though you’ve been burned. He falls forward rather than back, arms against his thighs, laughing harshly while you shuffle further away.

“What?” you say again, poisonous in tone. “Where did you—who said anything about love?”

“Is that not what you were implying?” His words are smug, incapable of being swayed. Still, you have no choice but to try.

“No.” You’re stern, leaving no room for question.

“No? You refuse to admit it? Perhaps we ought to revisit our arrangement, then—“

“No!” He raises an eyebrow at the outburst, but you’re far too panicked to be ashamed. “My lord, this is absurd. Have I not been dutiful? Have I strayed?”

“Very different things from devotion and affection, I’m afraid.”

Who is he, you think bitterly, to demand those of you? To demand you tell him at all, let alone here and now with so little warning?

“Well?” His voice is merciless. It has you panicking, desperate not to disappoint.

“I—” The words catch in your throat. You choke on them, swallow them down before they can ruin you. Frankly you can’t even be certain what you’d have said.

Dottore frowns, slumping back in his chair and lifting an arm to rest his chin in his hand as he regards you. “Pity. I thought you less delicate than this.”

“You’re being cruel,” you say in a desperate attempt to make him relent, but he scoffs meanly.

“I’m a cruel man.”

“Not to me!” This time it’s a wail. Your lip quivers involuntarily, and even to your ears you sound like a petulant child as you cry, “never to me.”

“Don’t pout. Don’t—” he cuts himself off with a long-suffering sigh. When he speaks again it’s low, muttered; less to you and more to himself. “Damn it all, what you do to me…”

You might find it flattering if you weren’t so riled up. Tonight, once your blood cools and you return to your room, you’ll let your mind stray to it—the growl of his voice, the tempered emotion, the way his fingers twitch as if to reach out for you.

Perhaps you’d have let him, if he’d done so rather than turn his eyes back to you with a glare and spit out yet another accusation.

“You lie to yourself more than you lie to me—convincing yourself you find me disgusting, telling yourself your interest is faked. But you and I both know you enjoyed that incident this morning just as you enjoyed what I did to that girl. You enjoy me. You want me, so cease this foolishness and let me have you.”

“You have me,” you say automatically, and the scoff he responds with makes you recoil. It’s snarling, animalistic, accompanied by him lunging up from his chair to corner you in the curve of his desk.

“I don’t mean this scheme.” Dottore looms over you, arms on either side of your body. The hard wood of the desktop digs into your ass as you lean back precariously. “I don’t mean your little stratagem, which I only entertained out of amusement—”

“Yes, of course,” you snap in return, suddenly enraged as the shock wears off and you lunge forward, forcing him to reel back, “this shrewd scheme of mine, desperately selling my life to you lest it be snuffed out, which you only agreed to because you found the concept fascinating. Except now you say it isn’t enough to own my body, you are owed my heart, too—and I must serve it to you on a gilded platter because you are too cowardly to give me yours first.”

“I have no heart to give, stupid thing. This is for your benefit.” Still, you see his jaw tense. He returns to his chair, and the movement is heavy; he sinks back as if in a trance.

No heart, he claims, as if he is still satisfied with the arrangement. No, he can hardly hide such things from you. He has become too fond and now burns with the need for you to tell him you feel the same—you know this, know it like you know his touch against your skin and his body easing into your bed next to you during the night.

But you also know how volatile he is, both at his core and, more precisely, when discussing this very topic. This is not something you can push too far; unfortunate for the both of you, then, that you are just as stubborn, especially in the face of inequity.

It isn’t fair. You shouldn’t have to bare yourself if he’s unwilling to do the same.

Crossing your arms, more for self comfort than any determination on your end, you slide yourself down from the desk and make to leave. You doubt he’ll let you, but you’ve made up your mind to try—and sure enough he sits forward, ready to move.

“Come here,” Dottore demands, and tenses when you shake your head and take a bold step away. “You’re not leaving, pet, we haven’t finished this.”

“I have no interest in discussing anything with you if you’re going to be so callously selfish.” It’s a futile attempt, you know, but you try to dart off anyway, leaving your dressing robe behind to flutter down and settle on the floor. He lunges over and catches you immediately.

You struggle against him, really just to make him work for it now, and he meets the challenge in kind, lifting you easily and dragging you back to his chair despite your squirming and incessant protests. Soon enough he has you sideways on his lap, a heavy arm around your waist to deter any further attempt at escape.

“Are you going to stay put?”

You cross your arms again and stubbornly turn your head away. “I don’t suppose I have a choice.”

Instead of speaking, he lets his hand find your neck, scruffing you like a troublesome kitten and forcing you to face him with a thumb and forefinger on either side of your jaw. For a moment he scans your face. Whatever he sees there excites him somehow; his free hand tightens against the dip of your waist, groping at you, trailing down over your hip to the curve of your thigh and squeezing there, too, as he draws your legs even closer.

Initially, when he leans in, you think he’ll go for your neck. Instead he captures your lips in a surprisingly subdued kiss—closed-mouthed, slow, lingering. Something you might call sweet if it came from anyone else. He doesn’t part much when he pulls away; he stays close, foreheads nearly touching.

“If threats won’t work,” he says, lips brushing against yours with every word, “then I’ll simply try a new tactic.”

When he kisses you again it’s what you’re used to from him, all heavy and hot, his tongue delving into your mouth eagerly. You feel the need to gasp for air within seconds, but he never gives you enough, and always leaves your head spinning.

You wish you could hold out and let him work himself up trying to get you to respond. But it’s as if your very bones cry out for him now, as if your blood sings for his attention. You return the kiss in kind despite the lack of air, coaxed into it without him even trying, only spurred on by each sharp-toothed nip to your lips and suck to your tongue. Soon enough, however, your lungs begin to burn, and you tear away from him to pant desperately, lips parted as you struggle to catch your breath.

Never deterred, his tongue darts out to lick up your chin—you’d been drooling, you realize, and your nose wrinkles at the thought that he apparently hadn’t had his fill of your spit even with a kiss like that. Then he nips at your cheek, hard enough to make you jolt in his lap, which in turn causes that hand on your legs to press you down against him, though none of those things give him pause as he kisses down the line of your jaw.

His hand tilts your head back now, or perhaps it falls on its own, baring your neck. Your eyes flutter closed and your breath hitches as his teeth graze your pulse point, the barest hint of pressure, followed by an open-mouthed kiss, both of which are accompanied by his other hand dragging you closer against him.

Dottore’s gloved fingers are deft (when are they not, you ponder fleetingly) as they slide up your thigh to dip beneath the ridden-up hem of your dress. His thumb finds its mark first—he dips it between your folds, trailing up through the wetness there to slick it before brushing higher against your clit. Already that has your breath hitching, the sensation of his leather gloves against you there always odd; when he presses more firmly, in quick little circles, you gasp and squirm in his hold, your hand instinctively flying to clutch at the wrist that disappears under your skirt.

“My lord—”

He turns his thumb just the right way to have you keening, bucking up against him and turning your head into his arm. His hand has moved from your neck to your back, and he uses it along with a grip around your thigh to pull you up until you’re straddling him entirely. All the while his thumb never stops; the motion has pleasure steadily building in your core, golden-warm and only getting hotter. You can feel how wet you’ve become already.

“We’re still talking, pet.” He might be, but if he thinks you’ll say a word then he’s sorely mistaken. “I’ll draw a confession from you somehow. Perhaps if you phrase it as a demand, you so love to give me orders. What do you want from me?”

That free hand slides further down beneath the nightdress, cupping your ass briefly before sliding higher. It drags the dress with it to reveal the entirety of your legs and presses against the small of your back, urging you to grind harder against his hand, sending white-hot sparks throughout your body.

It’s a slow and steady task, working you up to the edge, but he throws himself into it with vigor. Soon enough you feel yourself coming towards it, climbing up so high you can see the peak, almost inevitable.

“What do you want?” Dottore asks again, and you shake your head in mindless refusal. His thumb dips down to slick itself again, sending a shiver through you as the pad presses just barely into your pussy and brushes over your folds on its way back up to your clit.

You nearly lose control over your voice when it returns with a vengeance, hard and fast, just on the good side of painful. He knows your body acutely well by now; can feel every twitch and writhe, hear every bitten-back moan and breathy whimper, rewarding you for them all until you can feel just how close you are to tumbling off into bliss.

His thumb stills. You whine, struggling against him, determined to get that final bit of stimulation and push yourself over the edge, but the attempt is futile. His hold on you is steadfast; you feel the high fading, desperation seeping in.

“What do you want?”

Not enough for that.

“I want you to make me cum,” you demand petulantly, fingers digging tighter into his arms.

It earns you a disappointed little click of his tongue. You’re forced to sit like this until you’re pulled entirely from that precipice, the sensation bringing tears to your eyes as you bite back a wet sob.

He takes the time to release his grip on your thigh and lift his gloved hand up. The black leather shimmers in the light—you hadn’t realized how wet you were—and he takes his time bringing it up to his face to lick it clean with meticulous fervor.

Then he reaches out, placing the very tip of his thumb against your lip.

“Bite,” he commands, so you do, teeth catching hold of just the folded leather over his skin. He pulls his thumb away, tugging his hand free entirely with the glove left dangling from your mouth.

The glove is removed from your mouth to be replaced with two of his fingers. Even you so rarely get to see his bare hands—you have many more chances than most, to be sure, but it’s always a treat—and you open eagerly to allow them entry, sucking, swirling your tongue around them and grinding down against his lap for stimulation.

Soon enough he’s pulling them out to lower his hand and ease a finger into you. If he’d kept up his rubbing at your clit that would have been enough to bring you over, you think miserably, back arching at the feeling. It fills you up so much better than your own. His thumb returns, warmer and softer and so much more intense without the leather.

Already he’s building you up again, starting off harder than before, prodding at the rim of your cunt with a second finger once you stop clenching so tightly. His other hand moves, reaching up to the thin strap of your top and tugging it over your shoulder. It allows him to free your breast, peaked in the chilly air of the room; still gloved, you squirm when he brushes his thumb against your nipple, then pinches lightly. The mild pain makes you jolt—he takes that moment to lean in and suck it into his mouth, at the same time pulling his finger from your cunt and pushing it back in with the second.

Dottore’s arms don’t hold you anymore, you keep yourself balanced on his lap by clinging to his shoulders. His still-gloved hand slides in to squeeze at your other breast as his teeth graze your nipple and his fingers assault your cunt. It’s all too much, too quickly; you throw your head back and he lets out a muffled groan as the motion presses you further into his mouth.

When you’re openly moaning he can tell you’re nearing the end again. With one final nip at the tender skin of the underside of your breast, he pulls away just enough to speak.

“What do you want?” he tries again, but you can hear it in his voice now—the heady lust, thick on every word. His fingers don’t stop their movement at first, not until he seems to remember what his intentions are, and even then they only slow.

Before he can remove them you reach down to grab his face in both hands and pull him up to kiss you. He returns it with the same vigor you give him; his fingers delve back in, pressing deep and full, thumb coming up to rub at your clit again, and you cum hard.

The wave that washes over you has you moaning into his mouth. His free hand leaves your breast to find your back, big and warm between your shoulders, pulling you even closer as you buck into his still thrusting fingers. Your whole body is buzzing, hot pleasure coursing through you.

You go limp against him when it finally subsides, breaking the kiss, boneless and satiated as you tuck your head into the crook of his neck. He eases his fingers out of you; you clench involuntarily as they exit, whimpering a little and receiving a soothing rub from just his thumb between your shoulder blades for your troubles.

For a long moment you let him hold you like that. Panting, shaking in the aftershocks, you cling to him and he rearranges your dress for some semblance of modesty, pulling the front back over your breast even as he continues to leave sucking kisses to every available part of your shoulders and collarbone and neck. His hands trail across your body, greedy and groping, less to calm you and more to take full advantage of how limp and pliant you’ve become.

And perhaps it’s because of that, or perhaps being satisfied has put you in a more agreeable mood, or perhaps you simply want to reward him for being so weak to you (because, certainly, all those many months ago when you’d first come to him cold and desperate, he wouldn’t have been so lenient), but you give in.

“I want you to court me,” you say, muffled against his shoulder. The moment the words pass your lips you feel him relax beneath you, tension fading from his shoulders. Dottore says nothing, however, and so you continue. “I want to be your lover in actuality, rather than because of an arrangement. I want you to give me treatment because you care for me—I want you to fuck me because you care for me, not because I owe you a willing cunt.”

“I care for nothing, you simple creature.” Still, he shifts beneath you, and for the first time tonight you feel him hardening against your thigh, brought on not by you cumming on his lap but by your confession. “Tenderness is beneath me.”

“Yes, of course, my lord,” you tell him smugly, just to be a brat. “You gave in just now because you do not care for me at all. In fact, this entire conversation was initiated by you because you were completely satisfied by our arrangement, and it didn’t make you seethe every time you thought about my affections being faked to avail myself of your—”

He interrupts you by sinking his teeth into your neck, just a few centimeters above the scabbed-over bite he’d given you earlier, and you break off with a wrecked moan as you fall limp against him. You claw at the back of his neck in retaliation; a poor attempt, as it only seems to rile him further. He laps at your weeping wound for a moment before fixing his mouth to your pulsepoint and setting about leaving another kind of mark.

When he finally pulls away you can feel the low throb of blood blooming beneath your skin, his heavy gaze burning against you as he stares. For a beat he’s silent, and then he’s leaning in to lick at your neck more, hot tongue running over every blemish—you’re quite certain more of your skin there is stained than not, angry black and blue and purple beneath the surface. The wide, low neck of the dress gives him ample access.

“I will allow it,” he finally mutters, muffled with his mouth well occupied.

“Hm?”

“I will court you,” he clarifies, low and annoyed at having to say it. “Though make no mistake, it is entirely for your benefit.”

“Of course. You have no desire whatsoever for courting.”

“Careful, pet.” He shifts you now, positioning you more comfortably on his lap. “If my hearing were worse, I might think you were asking me to throw you out and let you return to your quarters alone for attendants to dote on you rather than me.”

“Don’t you dare.”

You expect him to return to his work with you dozing away on his lap—it would hardly be the first time—and wiggle, shifting against him to rest your head against his chest. Eyes fluttering shut, you settle for the many hours to come.

And then you’re jolted back into the world of the waking when he stands, taking you with him.

Yelping, you scrabble for purchase, grabbing at his shoulders as they shake with mean snickers, but he doesn’t go far. A moment later your back is hitting his desk and he’s sweeping his piles of papers aside to lay you out on the solid wooden surface.

For half a moment, Dottore stares. Those eyes drink in the sight of you—chest heaving as you catch your breath after the scare he’d given you, pretty nightdress pooling at the top of your thighs, which are still trembling from the shattering release he’d drawn from you earlier.

“Epsilon is overseeing the transfer of your belongings to my chambers,” he tells you clinically. “You’ll live there from now on.”

“Oh,” you say, all breathy, sounding more than a little brainless even to your own ears; your mind is admittedly still a haze of endorphins and, stupidly, the giddy high from your newfound status. His hand is soaked with your cum, slick as he grips your jaw and turns your head toward him to look at you as you struggle to keep your heavy lids from closing.

“I don’t imagine they’ll be done for quite some time. In the interim…”

He lets go of your face to bring his hands to the hem of your nightdress and shove it up over your stomach, nipping just beneath your navel as he kneels down.

And then his tongue is sliding through your folds, big and hot, and he’s latching lips to your clit in a sucking kiss that has you gasping and your back arching and your hand flying to grab at his hair. When he pulls away the look on his face is smug; his hands pry your thighs from around his head and pin them to his desk with a strength you’ve never hoped to fight back.

“Perhaps I can draw out a true confession if I bring you to completion a few more times.”

With that Dottore buries his face back into your cunt, and you let your head fall back with a soft thud against his desk.

[deer0skullz]

Does anyone else feel like Umbrella Academy, What We Do in the Shadows and Our Flag Means Death went down very similar paths or is that just me?

To preface, this is mostly based on how I felt as I watched the shows but also on some of the opinions I picked up from the fandoms.

Also, I’m not going to go back and rewatch all of these shows for the sake of a Tumblr post so I’m working from memory and if you feel like I’ve misremembered any of the plot/ characters let me know.

1. Started as well-received and highly acclaimed live-action fantasy shows with ensemble casts.

Based on my own opinions and what I remember from other fans, UA seasons 1-2 were fairly well received, as were WWDITS seasons 1-3/4 and OFMD season 1.

They’re all definitely different genres of fantasy but I’d say they still all fit under the label. And they obviously all have ensemble casts, with the Hargreeves in UA, the vampires (and Guillermo) in WWDITS and the pirates in OFMD. Even though the plots and characters can be quite different they all have similar vibes.

2. Noted for having open queer representation.

Klaus and Viktor in UA, pretty much the entire main cast of WWDITS, and multiple main characters in OFMD.

3. Tied to already established and respected creators.

UA is based on the comics written by Gerard Way who, of course, is also well known for My Chemical Romance. WWDITS is based on the film by Jermaine Clement and Taika Waititi, who are both executive producers of the show. Taika was also involved in OFMD as the actor for Blackbeard and as an executive producer. He has his name tied to many acclaimed films like Hunt for the Wilderpeople, Thor Ragnorok and Jojo Rabbit.

These are obviously not the only famous people tied to these projects but it’s just a sample of the talent involved in these shows. I feel like the fact that there was so much talent working on these shows makes my next point more interesting.

4. Experienced drops in quality and/ or introduced problematic elements that caused fans to lose interest or respect.

Again, this is opinion based and if you still liked the shows during these seasons then more power to you.

My overall feeling about all of these shows is that they lost a lot of the joy from their initial season(s) as they went on. Like, they just got significantly less fun to watch. But they also had more specific individual issues that I would like to get into.

I stopped watching UA during season 3 and don’t plan on watching season 4. I feel like a lot of people will already know what I might be referring to with this but yeah, the scene where Allison *did that* to Luther made me so sick. I feel like that season absolutely destroyed her character, and as I said, it just wasn’t anywhere near as fun as seasons 1 or 2.

WWDITS is probably the most successful of the three in my eyes but I could still apply the same argument about loss of enjoyment. The “Guillermo wants to be a vampire” plot line got very stale for me, especially with how they “resolved” (?) it. Saying “oh he’s a vampire now oh nevermind he doesn’t actually like being a vampire and also can’t be one anyway so everything’s back to normal” felt like such a waste of time for me. I know a lot of people also criticised the show for queerbaiting because of the Nandermo plot lines and teases. I wouldn’t necessarily call it queerbaiting but I would agree that the “will they, won’t they” is very played out at this point. Another big criticism I have of the later seasons is how Marwa was treated. The fact that she had no autonomy and was being forcibly changed mentally and physically to appeal to Nandor was treated as like, a running joke and I just found it kind of disturbing. Dark humour is pretty common throughout the show, but given how often her character appeared it felt a lot more, significant than throwaway jokes about drinking human blood. I feel like they could have done so much better with her character.

OFMD is probably the most egregious example of the 3. Season 2 was just not good. I’m not saying it was the worst thing I’ve ever watched but it was incredibly disappointing. The pacing was off, the characters were off, the dynamics were off. It was all just very off. The huge cliffhanger ending with Evil Blackbeard felt like it was resolved way too quickly and everything else in the season felt equally rushed. A lot of the character dynamics, but especially Ed and Stede, just felt wrong to me. From what I understand there were production issues or something so I’m not saying the writers just woke up one day and decided to be bad at their jobs but I can only really judge a show by what I saw on my screen, and what I saw was so far removed from the quality of season 1.

5. Finished on a sour note.

UA ended after 4 seasons, with the fourth being released on Netflix today. I haven’t seen anything that indicates whether this was the intended endpoint or whether it was cancelled. WWDITS will end after season 6 which comes out in October. Again, I can’t find anything indicating whether this was the intended endpoint. OFMD was cancelled just a few months after the release of season 2 in October 2023.

I can’t tell other fans how they should feel but for me I’m incredibly disappointed that 3 shows I really enjoyed saw a gradual (or not so gradual for OFMD) drop in quality that ultimately culminated in them just… ending.

Like I said, I have no interest in US season 4, but I am still somewhat hopeful for WWDITS. I would be really happy if they could bring it back to what it was.

Conclusion

I don’t know what the point of writing this was other than the fact that I’ve always associated these shows as having the same vibes and I feel like it’s interesting that they have a lot of similarities and went down similar paths. Also I just like yapping.