#I’m obsessed with drawing non human characters as humans

[jibberjibbsart]

Friendship something something magic

[length-of-edward]

Personally i think one of the main issues with anti ship discourse and generally exclusionary policies (especially within queer spaces but that’s a whole other post for another day) is that you cannot draw a line for what’s “correct” or “problematic” without hurting someone. We’ve seen it for ages with trying to exclude the “bad ones” and accepting the “good ones” and being obsessed with morality and purity

And all the label policing, thought policing and criminalization of fiction and thoughts distracts from actual real life violence and non-consensual /immoral acts. Once you start equating expression and coping through fiction and/or fantasies to real life desires and values we move away from harm reduction. When you start criminalizing thoughts/fantasies/kinks you deem immoral and marking them as just as bad as acting it out in real life you end up doing more harm than actually reducing/preventing it.

Believe it or not, most people actually know how to seperate fictional morality from decent humanity and empathy and common sense in real life. Why do you think morally grey characters, villain characters and dark romance/dark fiction is so popular?

Yeah sure, there might be people for whom fiction and reality blends together but i honestly think that that’s a problem that should be talked with a therapist about and is not caused by the fact that the taboo fiction exists.

I don’t personally like or agree with everything within proship spaces but i’m sure as hell not gonna harrass people for consuming certain media or accuse them of actual horrible crimes they have not committed.

Freedom in fictional media is important for self expression in many different ways - and media literacy is a critical skill all people should have

[ash-and-starlight]

Ciao Ash I’ve been following your work super closely for a few years and I now feel like I can ask you this, especially since you seem to be so kind with everyone and always explain yourself so well!

I work in illustration and I’ve been drawing for 10 years. For the kind of illustration I do, I rarely have to draw characters. I can draw people, in a very detailed manner too (portraits and studies and such) but when it comes to incorporating characters in my illustration style, I just can’t seem to get it right. Especially with characters who don’t exist so if I want to do fanart, I always have to do it in a way that is not very coherent to my illustration style. Which is unfortunate since I’m in a lot of fandoms and would really like to make fanart I like.

I rely on references a lot, so if I have to draw someone who exists in my style, I struggle and study and put a lot of work and time in but then I’m mostly able to. But characters from fiction? Absolutely not. I especially struggle with consistency: the character always looks different every time I draw them, no matter how many notes on their physiognomy I make…the fact that’s not a real person I can copy the features of on paper really hinders my practice. I also struggle with immediacy and synthesis: since they never look the same I always end up over - characterizing them and that is the opposite of how I illustrate.

How were you able to maintain such a consistent and stable look to these characters? Is there something I don’t know of or that I haven’t been doing and that I should? You really inspire me and I admire your work SO much! It’s remarkable how you built such a recognizable look.

Ti prego aiutami sto diventando pazzo in culo se non risolvo questa cosa voglio disegnare i miei blorbi !!!!

All the love,

Elio

Ciaooo aaa ty for the nice wordsss :’))

and ok i will try to answer as best as i can bc i’m not a professional in the slightest and also i basically have the diametrically opposite problem as you 😭 90% of my art is blorbo oriented i’m a blorbo artist first human being second. but it’s not like i have the charisma uniqueness nerve and talent to stray much from that.

ANYWAY that being said i’m sorry to give you the Very Hated answer of “u just gotta practice” but i think that’s true! i think drawing characters outside of studies (which are always nice and good etc) might not be something you’re used to, and u just need to stretch your drawing muscles a bit in that direction too!! style and consistency are something that develop organically, so i’m sure that if you keep trying you’ll look at your art one day and be like “oh shit this works!”

Usually when i draw characters i’ve never drawn before i make little studies/portraits to figure out how to draw them (evidence 1/2/3/4) which i think could be a pretty low stake way for you to practice? like maybe you can start off with one referenced portrait and then try to draw the same face from other angles but without looking at that reference and just try to figure out what are the important features that make that face recognizable? Expression sheets are another way u could do this, and then you’d have a nice self made reference board for next time.

or you could start smaller and draw different shapes of eyes/noses/mouths etc to get the hang of it, and once you’re satisfied start building your character with the features you’ve drawn

lastly i cannot stress this enough draw that blorbo NOW!! get fucking obsessed with that freak!!! let them fuel you with the brainrotting blazing passion of 28473 suns and you’ll manage to draw a hundred beautiful faces without even noticing

spero che tu riesca a cavar fuori qualcosa di utile da questo sfaso 😭 in ogni caso sono sicura che riuscirai a disegnare i tuoi blorbini devi solo smadonnare un po’ quando necessario e andare avanti 💕

grazie mille ancoraaaa mwah

[yanderemommabean]

So small slightly deeper explanation of the anti/pro shipping drama for the bean who asked about it.

The reason people put proshippers dni is because the pro shipping community is heavily infected with people who think it’s ok to ship children with adults or to ship siblings in a non-platonic manner and that they shouldn’t be called out for it.

I’m all for shipping whatever you please do long as it’s not incestuous or pedophilic. Those are where I draw the line because allowing it in spaces makes it easier for predators to claim they’re just in their actions.

Anti-shippers usually try to call out predators in spaces but aren’t without their own bad apples with the aforementioned people who take it too far with harassment.

It’s a very nuanced situation because I don’t think people should be harassed over shipping but problematic ones l mentioned should be addressed in a serious manner and called out so they less of a chance to groom others.

(No hate this is just a topic I know a lot about and figured I’d give a better explanation on the topic, I don’t consider myself to be on either side but a neutral party. Love your content and hope you have a lovely day Momma bean!)

I don’t think people should be harassed for noncon stuff either to be honest, it’s dark fiction and as long as the author tags it right they should be left alone because people with actual noncon kinks are respectful of the safe word and want you to feel safe and secure. I think dark topics like yandere and obsession should be explored with characters and writing for those who can handle it or at the very least have a small interest in the genre.

I understand why people think fiction of this is bad. I’m a victim of this horrible crime and I understand never wanting to touch the topic. But this helps me feel in control and to express darker things that I’d never want in a million years in a healthy way. It’s ok to not like noncon 100% fine! But to shame people who do it safely and have warnings and let you know how dark it’s gonna get? Idk man. Idk. Doesn’t sit right.

I’m not shaming people who like vanilla stuff either not one bit. I want them happy and healthy and feeling safe in their little zone! It’s just the people who proclaim to be sunshine and rainbows often turn to be the hurricane in disguise. Just because you like wholesome media, it doesn’t make you a wholesome person.

I write horror and worse and y’all know me. I like to think I’m pretty nice and welcoming. ((If not let me know??? This is supposed to be a shame free blog after all???))

I get not wanting to read or write for non consensual scenarios and much worse but it’s just another dark medium certain people including me use to escape reality or to even heal from trauma. There’s a reason I write mine so gentle and protective yet scary and demanding. It makes me feel like I’m not damaged goods and that I’m wanted even if it’s more or less not reciprocated lol

Idk I’m rambling at this point I just think people should leave people alone as long as real life, flesh human beings aren’t being hurt.

-Mommabean

[soapsodasanta]

My attempt at day one of oc-tober by bweirdart :D I did this in an hour and a half cause I forgot

This is Percy, (he/him) hes 17 in this, non-human, and I have an obsession with him rn (probably because I haven’t fleshed out my other ocs enough) but also I <3 drawing his hair and body type

I’ve had him four about four or so years, and he’s a main character of my story that only exists in my head at the moment. He’s changed soooo much in that time and I love him so much :))

And also I have no idea how much of oc-tober I’ll actually do but I’m praying this won’t be the only one…

[as8bakwthesage]

I think the biggest issue with fandom is probably the lack of moderation.

And I don’t say this meaning “fandom should be moderated,” no. I mean, people in fandoms tend to do things in excess or can be very overindulgent with certain things. Fandom lacks personal or individual restraint.

Yes, it’s good to read fiction that will challenge you and will make you uncomfortable, but it’s also important to approach those subjects carefully and when reading or engaging with this material it’s important to step away and engage in other content. (This is about the on-going discourse regarding whether it’s okay to write about difficult topics. The answer is “yes*” *but please also do research, if you are a survivor learn about other people’s experiences. Fuck, if you ain’t a survivor, do this regardless.)

Yes, it’s healthy to self ship and there are psychological benefits to it, but it’s also important to also have real and healthy relationships with people. Platonic or romantic. It’s also important to recognise when something is too far. (This is about how people tend to take their obsessions with characters too far, and don’t engage with actual real people in their day to day lives.)

Yes, it’s healthy to have coping mechanisms, but don’t glorify or make light of serious issues such as rape or incest or abuse. Organisations have written guides on how to write topics such as suicide or rape and how to best approach these kinds of topics in fiction. Use them please. (This is about “proshippers.”**)

Yes, art should be free of censorship, but please let’s respect the wishes of the creator when it comes to the character’s sexualities, romantic preferences. And yes, it’s healthy to draw vent art or write vent fiction but please don’t post your incest/rape/abuse fics about your personal trauma online where people can see it and be cunts about it. (This is about how people frequently disregard aroace characters’ sexualities in order to ship them with other characters. This is also about “proshippers.”)

Yes, it’s good to have debate and talk with your fellow humans, and you shouldn’t be afraid to speak to other people. But it’s also important to know that your experiences may not be universal and bigotry is a very real thing. (This is specifically about fandom racism and how people treat people of colour in fandom because holy shit, white people, listen. Stfu and listen.)

Yes, it’s okay to have something as a means of escapism. But not to the detriment of other people. (This is about Palestine, and Sudan, and Congo.)

People have gotten waaaay too comfortable sharing very intimate and personal details about themselves online. Publicly too. Stuff that maybe you should reconsider before sharing with others, such as your mental disorders/traumas/real names/etc. And obviously, I can’t talk about every single aspect of fandom and the nuances behind a lot of stuff, but hopefully my point is at least somewhat clear. Approach anything you do online with restraint.

I think the best piece of advice I’d give to folks would be this: Please always think about the work you engage with, think about other people when posting and how they will feel, and that just because this is the internet, it doesn’t mean that you are anonymous. Have empathy. Approach conversations in good faith. Ask for clarification if something isn’t clear. Go outside. Seriously, go outside. Open a window in your room. Do other things too. Read fiction or non-fiction stories, depending on which is more out of your wheelhouse. Please go actually read the books you claim to be experts on. Go out of your way to follow more POC who are in your fandoms. Don’t ignore the real world.

**I put “proshipper” in quotation marks because I’m doing that annoying thing where people put quotation marks over terms they think are weird or when they are being sarcastic. In this case, I think proshipper as a term has been very much muddled in so much fandom discourse that it’s very hard to talk about proshippers without someone not understanding what the fuck the other person is talking about. In this case, proshipper means someone who is comfortable shipping characters regardless of the level of abuse prevalent in the relationship, and even romanticise it to some extent, portraying these relationships as desirable.

[fluffytriceratops]

Random facts about Nefertiri. <3

Again, drew her older for the hell of it. I love Nefertiri so much, she’s such a wee Angel. Raphie is very proud of his little book worm and Kristina enjoys having a mini version of her lol. 😊👌

I drew this one around the same time as the Monet one, I just haven’t posted it yet lmao. I’m having a bit of art block rn, so I haven’t been drawing anything TMNT related lately. I really want to, but any time that I go to draw something involving TMNT my brain basically short circuits and I can never figure out what to draw lol. Hopefully this’ll pass soon. ^v^

Tags: @thelaundrybitch @rheawritesforfun @digitl-art-monstr @turtle-babe83 @mysticboombox @leosgirl82 @drowninghell @lec743 @raphslovemuffin80 @post-apocalyptic-daydream @squirrelfurs @bibiz82

(If you would like to be tagged in my future TMNT (+tmnt oc) related work, feel free to let me know and I'll happily add you!)

Have a lovely day/night! I'm sending the very many virtual huggles to you!! Remember to take care of yourselves!!! <33

—

- She was named after a character from The Mummy Returns, one of Kristina’s favourite movies. In the movie, Nefertiri is the pharaohs daughter, the princess of Egypt and the guardian of “the bracelet of Anubis”. Kristina had been obsessed with the films since a young age, and because of her own Egyptian background, wanted to name her daughter something involving it. Plus, Evie/Rachel Weisz is 👌💕

- Loves spicy, sour and bitter foods. The complete opposite of her sister. And when I say spicy, I mean spicy. It’s her shit. And she barley breaks a sweat.

- Due to a complication, Nefertiri doesn’t have a shell or a plastron. She has what appears to be parts of a shell that never fully grew on her back, but besides that she’s completely bare. Like that of a human. Except with green scale covered skin, of course. Among other mutant features.

- Most people call her Nefertiri, but she also goes by a nickname, Tiri. It’s her most common alias besides her actual name.

- Her snout is always buried in a book. She lives and breathes to read, write, and learn new things.

- Tries to pull jokes like her sister Monet, but she’s terrible at it. And her form of a good joke are dad jokes, they’re her go to. Monet hates it, but she finds them very amusing.

- Like her ma, she has a photographic memory. Her family/friends like to tease her about being an encyclopedia/dictionary because she knows and remembers so much stuff.

- Because of her Auntie Iris (@digitl-art-monstr 's OC) Tiri found a passion for art/painting and does so in her spare time quite often. And because she's been doing it since she was a kid, she's actually quite talented at it. It becomes a passion of hers, and eventually a way for her to express her feelings and vent. Plus she gets to hang out with Iris more, which is great.

- Nefertiri went through a series of complications when she was born. This created a lot of health issues that she constantly struggles with. Her family wasn't even sure she was going to make it, in fact, there were a few occasions where she almost didn't. After Kristina's C-section Nefertiri and Monet were both placed into incubators where they would remain the rest of their term till they were ready to be born and brought into the world. Monet seemed to be doing fine, more than fine even. But Nefertiri almost immediatly started going down hill. Donatello hardly left the lab, and neither did Raphael and Kristina. Monet was able to come out of her incubator as soon as her term was up, but Nefertiri was forced to stay in hers for a few more months. She had been growing much more slowly than her twin sister. And was much more fragile because of it.

- The first few years of Tiri's life were the hardest. Everyone was afraid that even the smallest fall would be very damaging and possibly even fatal. Her immune system was basically non-existent, and therefore it was much easier for her to get sick as well. Everyone treated her as if she was made of glass. Or the finest of crysal. Bumps and bruises were taken much more serisouly, and she wasn't allowed near anyone when they had even the most basics of colds/illnesses. Nefertiri was basically forced to sit on the sidelines wrapped in bubblewrap watching as Monet and her cousins lived a relatively normal childhood. Raphael was scared to be too close to her, worried he'd accidentally hurt her. It took a lot of courage from his family before he was even convinced he could hold his daughter. For the first few years of Tiri's life, she didn't know much besides the main rooms of the lair (she wasn't allowed in certain rooms) and Donnie's lab where she got daily check ups.

- But the older she got, the stronger she got as well. She's still extremely fragile in comparason to her siblings (yes, there's more than just Monet and Tiri hehe) but she learns to hold her own quite well. Or at least, well enough.

- Tiri grew to be quite envious of her family/friends due to these reasons. She spent a lot of time alone because she wasn't allowed to play with the other's at first. And the only ones who she really spent time with, were the adults. When Monet got to start training, Nefertiri still wasn't strong enough phyiscally to do so. Tiri was very upset about this, and even Monet grew insistent that her sister join in, but the adults believed it was too risky for Nefertiri to start training yet. Colds could even become fatal for her if they weren't careful. So not only did Tiri start later in life, but she also started training later as well. At least, so the adults believe... Late at night, when everyone was asleep, Monet would sneak out of bed and take Tiri with her. Than she would teach her everything she learned the day before. This became a nightly routine of there's. A secret which was later revealed.

- Despite lacking in certain areas physically, Nefertiri was quite advanced intellectly. Especially with being around Kristina and Donnie 24/7. She has a love for knowledge, just like her mother. And prides herself on being extremely intelligent.

- Because she has no shell, Donnie created one for her. Just like how he created his Battle Shell to protect his own soft shell. (I have yet to design this, so I don't know much about it rn-)

- Nefertiri's weapon of choice is the kusarigama.

- Tiri tends to be quite rational and calm, and is usually seen as the voice of reason, especially when it comes to her sister, Monet. However, she can lose her cool under stress.

- "There's a place for everything, and everything has a place."

- Nefertiri has a confident and responsible, if somewhat controlling, personality. She tends to worry if things get out of control. She is very organized. She developed a need to be a perfectionist. She enjoys being the most organized of the family and can’t help but encourage others to do the same. As well as being a driven individual, Tiri dedicated her free time to training as well as studying.

- She does seem to be more empathic than her sister, Monet when it comes to understanding other people’s feelings and daily problems. She tends to express many concerns for her friends and would even go out of her way to try and do the impossible for them.

- Although Nefertir is often the most conscientious and considerate of her siblings, at times she can be pedantic and controlling, once even suggesting that she considers chewing a prescribed number of times before swallowing as a normal practice. Being the responsible one, she constantly reminds her siblings and her friends to do their work and is often paranoid when things aren’t organized. This tends to drive those around her insane at times when she stressed about it too often.

- Often times, she doesn’t listen to what other people say and assumes the situation for the worse. When push comes to shove, she would often show-off and proves to others that she can be more or just as skilled as they are in certain events.

- Tiri often would disagree and argue with Monet, who is her polar opposite. While in contrast to Monet’s rebellious and care-free personality, Nefertiri is controlling and organized and because of their opposite personalities and different ideals, Tiri and Mo often argue and have various conflicts, leaving friend's/cousins/family members stuck in the middle of their fight. Also, another trait for Nefertiri is bossy. While arguing with Monet, she bosses her around but no knowing that it sometimes hurts her feelings.

- At the end of the day, however, Mo and Tiri are extremely close and love and value each other deeply. They look up to each other a lot, and are there for each other no matter what, even if they are fighting.

- Also, stress painting because yes-

[hasarjunadoneanythingwrong]

Have you read the Mahabharata? If you did, what do you think about the way Arjuna was characterized in FGO? As far as I know (I haven't read it but I'm considering it), he's considered one of the big good forces and a close to ideal hero for the majority of the book, so I was wondering what people make of Fate's decision to give him his conflict about "appearing as an ideal hero."

i keep meaning to read it and then getting distracted by other shiny things (drawing) and. Not reading it. But I do know of the General Plot lol. Honestly at this point I’m legit thinking I’ll just buy a physical version bc I think I do better w that-like when I found a physical version of the Bhagavad Gita at a library I got through half of it in one sitting you know? It’s just uh. Getting out in a pandemic :’) scary

as for fate’s version….uh I’d say it’s a mixed bag? Since I basically didn’t know anything about him before I discovered the fate version I wasn’t really familiar w his changes…

I do think having his character focus on the guilt he feels for what happened in his life and his own personal responsibilities in regards to what happened isn’t actually a bad take tbh-the Bhagavad Gita is basically him going ‘uh I don’t want to Murder My Family’ and his Friend who is God has to convince him of his duty as a warrior and human to continue moving forwards and do what he’s supposed to be doing, but even after all that it doesn’t seem unrealistic to assume he has regrets given like. 3 of his children die most of his family die he kills his brother etc etc like. This isn’t an interpretation of him that comes out of nowhere, even after the war most of his relationships end in tragic ways the dude just couldn’t catch a break and it makes sense that it weighs on him-there’s a whole thing about how even though he’s Krishna’s closest friend he still wasn’t able to be enlightened! bc he’s only human, yknow.

The problem is that in fgo his conflict starts and ends with him shooting karna. Like in his bio

3/5 of the descriptive boxes mention Karna (they also have some other random inconsistencies. His human father was NOT called king kuru). There’s no mention of his childhood living with ascetics in the woods, or the multiple times the kauravas tried to kill him and his brothers when they were young, or the many ordeals and trials he went through to EARN the gifts he received from the gods-even his friendship with Krishna is just a footnote they add one to clarify that he’s different from arjuna’s mind demon. They make a single vague mention of his other brothers and mother-not even by name, and then dedicate the rest of his bio to karna. Not the family he lived with, but a guy who was, and I’m sorry to say this, really not that important to the general plot of the mahabharata.

In comparison karna’s own profile only mentions arjuna three times. Total. :-) despite the fact that when I look at the original text he seems much more obsessed with arjuna that the other way around but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ anyway my theory is that arjuna wrote his own profile in a depressed haze at 3 am and that’s why it’s so bad and also makes no sense and is heavily pro karna for basically no reason bc otherwise wtf

This is also reflecting in his in-game writing, especially early on, and it’s something I consistently see people who are more familiar with non-fgo arjuna complain about lol. If they acruallly branched out more into the conflict he had and how it continues to haunt him (why not bring up bhisma’s death? He was much more important to arjuna? And arjuna also had to kill him?) he’d be a great character, but as it is they still struggle to move on from the karna thing. Even in the junao cbc event they couldn’t fucking resist leaving karna out of it lol

Though tbh if you ignore his profile and lb4 arjuna is a pretty decent character? The karna but needs to be dropped but even when they have him as an enemy (too often) he always pulls through and does the right thing in the end

This is starting to fall apart but basically: the bones of his character are good, but they need to

A.) rewrite his fucking profile

B.) stop with the karna vs arjuna shtick we get it we get it please fucking explore literally anything else fucking ask karna’s thoughts on it about it even just stop going ‘haha what if…they….fight!🤭’

C.) GIVE HIM MORE LINES why the hell was karna the first one to bring up their mother. Why was karna the first one to bring up their brothers by name. Arjuna LIVED with his brothers. He actually got ALONG with them. Why does he never talk about them?? Lasengle PLEASE

D.) just like do more stuff about his life that has absolutely nothing to do with karna. I’m not even joking this would fix his character. He has so much to work with that they don’t touch

[skinsharpenedteeth]

Summer Sons Sex Week 2022

Hey there fam! I know this isn’t a huge fandom (yet), but I wanted to start a challenge for anyone who wants to dip their toe in writing/drawing/mood boarding/whatever for Summer Sons by Lee Mandelo. This is a challenge I set myself last year for a different fandom and it was a way for me to stretch myself. You can do any pairing and there is no set word count! Drabbles welcome and encouraged as much as full length fics. I’m aware I’m putting this out there on short notice. 

Posting will start on Monday, July 11, 2022 and end Sunday, July 17th, 2022. I will make a collection on Ao3 if you’d like to post it to the collection, or if you want to post it on tumblr just tag it #SummerSonsSexWeek2022 or #SSSW22 and I’ll be sure to reblog it! 

The daily challenges are as follows:

Moanday (July 11) - Something about being loud. It can be about one of the characters being obsessed with how loud their partner gets, it could be about hearing someone moan and listening in, or it could just be about someone making a lot of noise eating chocolate and it turning sexual. Whatever you choose, the main idea is MOANING. We wanna hear it!

Tongueday (July 12) - Tongue-fucking, ass-eating, licking, slurping, whatever! Get those tongues waggling!

Wetday (July 13) - Shower sex, omega slick, pool time shenanigans, spit as lube, whatever. Give us your dirty wet stories. Today is a flash flood zone. 

Thirstday (July 14) - Thirst photos made them do it? Drunk sex? Being turned on when you can’t do anything about it, but fucking obsessing over the person you wanna sex up? Let’s see our faves parched and dying for a drink.

Frotday (July 15) - Frottage! Non penatrative sex that isn’t a blow job or a hand job. Classic clothes on frot? Naked frotting? Sleep frotting? 

Shushday (July 16) - Muffled sex! Are they going to get caught in a semi-public location getting off? Is there someone asleep in the same room as them? Is someone holding a phone conversation while the other is edged? It’s all about controlling your volume. 

Sexday (July 17) - Any kind of sex! Write whatever you want!

A Note about Posting : This fandom includes a trans character. Please be sensitive to others and put appropriate warnings and tags about the language and situations used including this character. No one likes to be triggered unintentionally. 

Special thanks to @redcole for helping me with the prompts and generally being the most lovely human.

[azulawriting]

I changed my opinion on Ulquiorra, surprisingly.

Before I begin, I wanna say this: I’m not structuring these long rants, nor am I expecting to make a lot of sense. If anything, these are just really long shower thoughts.

Watching the anime, I did not really fathom how bleak the entirety of volume 40 and the final Lust chapters in volume 41 are. I’d argue it’s the darkest Bleach has ever been, manga-wise. From the poem at the beginning of the volume to the title of the chapters themselves and the finale, which is chapter 353. For simplicity’s sake, I’ll call the entire set of chapters I’m referring to as the “Deadly Sins” arc.

I’m not one to take too seriously the poems are inherently significant to the characters themselves. I think that they should be mere accessories to what’s being shown in the story and not necessarily complementary material. I generally consider symbolism to be a very complicated thing to handle, and conveying any element of narrative significance through symbolism is rather hard. Plus, I don’t think that generally speaking, Bleach is a series that is driven by symbolism, which is why I don’t give too much importance to the poems nor to the non-jokey additional drawings at the end of each chapter in a manga volume.

But that changes when it comes to Ulquiorra, and the Deadly Sins arc is a brilliant exemption to the rule. In the anime, once again, most of this is lost and I only remember Ulquiorra as being a very powerful villain that had a great final fight against the main character. It was impactful and dreadful by how it reverted classic shonen tropes. He was a powerful villain for sure, but even then, Aizen and Ichimaru were more interesting villains than him, even though Ulquiorra is the only villain who has killed Ichigo. Hell, even Starrk, Grimmjow and Harribel were more interesting to me back then.

As I finished chapter 354, I realize that Ulquiorra might as well be one of the most interesting Arrancars. And all of that changed through some very subtle, symbolic story-telling in the poem in volume 40 and the two end-of-chapter drawings in chapters 353 and 354 in volume 41.

I think that he’s the only character where it makes a lot of sense to give more importance to what would otherwise be accessory symbols to his characterization within the chapters. And it’s because of the nature of his conflict with the aspect of death he represents as well as, paradoxically, the sin he’s not aware of until the very end of his existence. His inner conflict is hidden, maybe even bottled up, up until the point it unambiguously manifests to both him and the reader.

The Deadly Sins are in and of themselves full of symbolism, whether that is through classical literature like Dante’s Inferno or more secular interpretations of the theme. Sins are as human as they are a transgression to God’s will. I’m not very religious, but I believe that part of understanding why Ulquiorra is so interesting as a character is that he transgressed the laws that brought forth his very existence. God’s will, to put it that way.

His insistence on understanding what “the heart” is, let alone being confronted by that foreign concept in any way, goes against the aspect of death he is supposed to represent. Despair leaves no room for love, hope or any human connection. The source of his obsession with it, his Lust if you will, is the heart. The concept he cannot quite wrap around. The poem at the start of volume 40 is a realization of his yearning and interest in humanity. For what he can never hope to come close to. It is no wonder, then, that he ceases to exist the moment he comes to fully understand what the heart is. In the moments leading up to his understanding of the heart, Ulquiorra starts being more emotional than I’d even ever thought imaginable. I mean, as far as my memories go, the emo Espada was a wall of ice with minor cracks in it.

The manga, however, makes a point to approach him as close to the heart as possible even before his eventual demise. And even his last thoughts are centred on just how close the heart had always been. And the image at the end of chapter 354 is only the culmination of those final, soothing, yet forever haunting final thoughts. The broken English almost seems intentional, almost as if to say the remnants of his conscience got cut mid-way before truly picturing for the reader what the heart is besides that single, scribbled black dot on the page. 

It makes for a rather tragic character. As ruthless as Ulquiorra was, especially in that final fight, Kubo uses mere symbols to humanize him far beyond what his actions led me to believe in both the anime and the manga chapters alone. Although, I will admit that I was shocked to see him scream at Ichigo. I was even more shocked by the fact that that scream, unlike the anime, took as much space as Ichigo’s own denial of his victory by the end of the fight. It brings a very interesting mirror image that only enhances the weight of his final moments.

[burn-the-retcon]

I’ve witnessed an awful lot of drama caused by the claim going around that the Strilondes are canonically Jewish and therefore it’s okay to harass people who do things like draw them celebrating Christmas. It not being okay to harass people over drawings and Dave canonically helping Jade set up Christmas decorations (in April) aside, I can categorically state that no, I am pretty sure they are not. Cut for length, anti-Semitism, and general anti-religionism (on Hussie’s part, hopefully not on mine); please read whole post before commenting.

The evidence which gets cited as proof here is the fact that Dave and Rose came up with elaborate metaphors involving “ethnic weddings”. I’ve seen at least one person claim that Dave must be Jewish because “he knows what happens at Jewish weddings”. This baffles me completely. I know what happens at Jewish weddings and I’m certainly not Jewish, and by that argument, Hussie must be Jewish because he’s the one who wrote it. I’ve also seen a claim that Dave is “obsessed with Jewish weddings”. He mentioned them exactly one time. By that logic, he’s also obsessed with meteors - he discussed those more than once, even!

That aside, let’s look at what he and Rose actually said, starting with Rose’s because it came first chronologically.

Removing the lid signals the moment your life becomes a great whirling batshit pandemonium, somewhat resembling the chaos of an especially ethnic wedding. Somewhere, a soused uncle deliberately shatters china on the floor. Muddy livestock is decorated, and then lost track of. The question “Who’s mule is this?” at times can be heard over the din.

Coming from a Jewish writer, I could accept this as a bit of self-deprecating humour. Hussie is not Jewish, and has a track record of at best tone-deafness and at worst actively cruel mockery of minorities. To my non-Jewish eyes, this doesn’t even look like the correct offensive stereotype. Intentional shattering of crockery is a Greek stereotype, not a Jewish one. As for Dave...

TG: im feeling pretty friggin MATRIMONIAL all a sudden TG: take a look down by your foot see that little bottle TG: stomp on that shit like its on fire TG: noisy ethnic dudes are flipping the fuck out and waving us around on chairs til someone gets hurt TG: im your 300 pound matronly freight-train TG: and my gaping furnace is hungry for coal so get goddamn shoveling

This is at least vaguely like a Jewish stereotype, but again, this comes off like an outsider mocking others’ traditions. He didn’t even get them right - in every case I’ve seen it’s been a drinking glass that gets stomped on, not a bottle, and Googling doesn’t turn up anything about bottles being used. I also note neither of them used the word “Jewish” at any point, but used “ethnic” - a word which implies, at least to me, an out-group that the speaker is not in.

This aside, human religion of any kind is never discussed again except idiomatically, until Rose compares the story of Adam and Eve to splitting the atom, in a scene where she’s supposed to come off as a rambling drunk. Then, we get the other scene usually cited for the Strilondes’ Judaism, the wedding.

This is a much stronger point, but when you look at this there’s a level of nastiness beneath the surface. Rose and Kanaya both look discomfited and surprised, not happy, implying they either didn’t suggest this or are nervous about being picked up and shaken around or both. There’s a Jake face in the background looking shocked and appalled, and he’s just copy-pasted from the Trickster pages but this implies we’re supposed to think this is weird. Worse, the characters doing so are in Trickster Mode. Trickster Mode’s entire deal was the characters acting irrationally and impulsively, had a whole long spiel from the author insert about how it’s a horrible idea, and is portrayed as more or less analogous to drug usage. This is not giving me the impression that we’re supposed to think the chair-lifting is anything but something to be mocked.

Finally, they set up a planet-wide society in which no human religions exist anymore, including Judaism. I can’t find the quote anymore but Dave in the epilogue specifically states dismissively that only troll religions exist on Earth C and even those aren’t popular. If it was so important to them, why didn’t they keep it and tell others about it?

This ties into a general pattern of how religion in general only comes up in the comic to be made fun of or portrayed as a disaster. The kids make idiomatic references to God, but never display any signs that faith means anything to them. John refers to Jesus as “an adult bearded human who was magic”, which is more like how an alien would describe Jesus than anything that comes out of the actual aliens’ mouths/keyboards. Rose specifically brings up Adam and Eve when she’s drunk and babbling. No one celebrates any religious holidays except for Jade and Dave setting up Christmas-in-April with the shittily drawn decorations which is supposed to be them fucking around and pretending to get the presents Jade never got before, not actually finding meaning in a Christian holiday. Gamzee’s religion veers between a reason to mock him and a reason he’s dangerous, and it hasn’t escaped my notice that his theme song of a sort is “Miracles”, by a rap duo who are very spiritual with a Christian influence in their personal lives, and it’s used to make Gamzee look like even more of a dumb stoner. Karkat and Sollux have an exchange about how “MIRACLES ARE POOP STAINS ON GOD’S UNDERWEAR” and “makiing fun of people’2 reliigiion i2 the be2t thiing two do”. And the kids don’t have any qualms about themselves being worshipped as gods in the new world. I am not personally very religious (best I can say is I don’t disbelieve) but I’m familiar with how religious people think, and if the kids were religious in any way, they would not simply throw out their views when something supernatural happened. People who believe in God would be more likely to, from my experience, consider themselves tools of the “real” God behind the scenes and spread the word about the God they worship, not want to be worshipped themselves. They’d consider themselves extremely powerful tools, yes, but still tools, not the ultimate wielders. Not all religions or subsects of Judaism believe in a literal god, just in codes of behaviour and historical connections, but if it was at all important to them, they would at least think about how their faiths connected to what happened to them. The fact that they seem so blase about supernatural happenings in general is probably a sign of clumsy genre switching - it went from “parody of adventure games with characters as stand-ins for the player” to “philosophical rambling with characters in their own right” - but there sure as hell isn’t any canonical support for them practising religion of any kind either way, or even being aware it exists except when they want to make a weird metaphor.

[moohnshinescorner]

Vengeance is rarely clean.

HANS by S.J. Tilly is now live! 

Cassie

How to make the handsome, brooding man across the street notice me.

Step one: Deliver baked goods to his front porch, even though he never answers his door and always returns the containers when I’m not home.

Step two: Slowly lose my mind as a whole year passes without ever running into him, no matter how hard I try.

Step three: Have my boudoir photos accidentally delivered to his mailbox instead of mine. Have him open the package. Then have him storm into my home for the most panty-melting scolding of my life.

Step four: Still figuring out step four.

Hans

I’m a dangerous man.

A man who has spent the last two decades removing so many souls from this earth that it’s a miracle my hands aren’t permanently stained red.

I’m a man who belongs in the shadows.

I certainly don’t belong in my pretty little neighbor’s bedroom when she’s not home, touching her things and inhaling her scent.

I shouldn’t follow her. Shouldn’t watch her. Because no number of cookies on my doorstep will change the fact that love isn’t an option for me.

The only option left for me is violence.

  Download today or read for FREE with Kindle Unlimited

Amazon: https://bit.ly/3RZvLLe

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Read the Alliance series now!

MY REVIEW ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Once again Ms. Tilly has blown me away with her story telling. Hans is an absolute silent killer. He is not only quiet when he sneaks in and slits your throat open, he is mysterious, dangerous, obsessive, intense and a good guy. Yep I said "good guy". And nobody better touch anything that his Butterfly touches or they just my lose a head or hand. This guy is intense and insanely possessive.

Cassandra, "Butterfly" is a sweet woman. She is a bit forgetful and seems a bit high strung and nervous. Her baking is terrible, but she means well and little does she know she has a stalker. He watches her every move, but it is not for why you would think someone stalks another. No her stalker is protective. He makes sure her hair dryer is unplugged, gas lines are tight and not leaking, windows shut and doors locked. Yep all the things Butterfly tends to forget.

This book like all of her books starts off out of the gate with a bang. It is a non-stop suspense and action thriller, mixed with smutty romance and I loved every minute of it. It is an intense story written with pure perfection. It has some triggers in it such as, stalker, human trafficking's, kidnapping, violence, and lots of blood and gore.

It is so hard to pick a favorite in this series, but if I had they would be in this order: DOM, HANS, KING and then NERO. I fell in love with each and every character as I read the series. Each one has his thing and together they make an unstoppable team. I know the author states this is the last in the series, but I think Karmine needs to have a story and join the Alliance as well. Think of the possibilities. "hint hint"

I want to go on and on about this book, but I do not want to give away anything. You have to read this book and all of it's predecessors. They are must read for all of the smut and dark romance readers out there. The books draw readers in and have them on the edge of their seats the entire time. From the very first page until the last, these books leave readers panting and wanting more. If I could give any of these books more than five stars, I would rate them at the maximum of a million to infinity. They are that freakin' good. Don't miss out. Pick up a copy immediately.

[redrobin-detective]

Half of

Danny Fenton was half ghost. Or something.

No one was quite sure what that meant exactly or if it was even true. A ghost in a pure white suit had announced it during an attack on the town until he was beaten and silenced by Phantom. It’s been three days since then and the nerd hasn’t been at school. Not that Dash was looking for him or anything.

Dash worried, for just a second, that something bad happened to him. The Guys in White creeps had been asking questions around school the last few days. There’d been a noticeable lack in ghost attacks around town, maybe another ghost got to him? What about his ghost obsessed parents? Surely they wouldn’t have done anything to their own kid...

“Think Danny will be in school today?” Kwan whispered nervously, leaning in close to Dash’s side. Talking too loudly about the elephant, or ghost he guesses, in the room got people very forcefully interviewed by the government. 

“Why the hell would I know?” Dash grumbled, shaking his friend off to shove his hands deep into the pockets of his letterman jacket. “No one knows what’s going on, Manson and Foley haven’t shown up either.”

“I hope they’re ok,” Kwan said quietly, looking down at the floor. 

“Why do you care?” Dash grumbled, harsher than he meant to.

“You and everyone ditched me for Danny when Paulina was dating him, remember? Sam and Tucker were real pals and Danny, well he’s weird but not really that bad.” Kwan said bitterly before his eyebrows twisted in confusion. “That was actually pretty out of character for Paulina to date him now that I think about it, maybe he was, like, using ghost magic to control her?”

“That’s stu-” Dash was interrupted by the usually noise of Casper High going dead silent. He and Kwan shrugged at each other. He saw Star down the hallway, staring at something. He caught her eye and mouthed What is it at her. Her eyes slid back over to the hall before mouthing Fenton back. 

“Shit,” Dash couldn’t help but mutter under his breath, “Fenton’s here.” He glanced over at Kwan, trying to hide his nervousness. “Guess we’ll find out if he’s some sort of ghost freak after all.”

Kwan eyed him for a second, “you know if Danny really is half of a ghost then maybe you’ll want to quit it with the names.” The warning bell rang for first period. “You guys have homeroom together with Lancer, right? Just, I don’t know, don’t make him mad or anything.”

“Man, don’t even joke,” Dash said with a strained smile. “It’s Fenton, what’s the nerd gonna do?”

XxX

Fenton always sat in the back right of the class so seeing him there wasn’t that strange. What was strange was that he was there before the bell rang, not looking sweaty or exhausted or beaten up. Seeing him sitting there with an almost bored expression, casually leaning one arm over the back of his chair. It was eerie, seeing Fenton try to act normal. Dash felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on his head as he stiffly walked by the nerd he usually smacked when he walked by. He thought he felt Fenton’s icy eyes following him as he passed. Dash made sure he didn’t scurry like a wimp to his seat but it was a close thing.

“Class, please stop staring at Mr. Fenton and let us begin,” Lancer sighed, unsuccessfully trying to start the class.

“Do you know the ghost boy?” Paulina asked, slamming her palms on her desk and ignoring their teacher. “Because if you’ve been holding out on me-”

“I mean everyone in Amity Park knows him,” Fenton shrugged. He’d been so chill this morning, like the whole thing wasn’t bothering him. It only made Dash more antsy. He bounced his leg under the desk.

“Can you do anything cool? Like fly or shoot lasers from your eyes?” Mikey asked, leaning forward with curiosity.

“I can do lots of cool things,” Fenton sniffed. “I know a lot about the space program and local astronomy. I draw sometimes and I’m think I’m pretty good. I also have super flexible joints so I can do this.” He grinned a little as everyone squealed when he bent his thumb back so far it nearly touched his wrist. “Of course,” his grin turned into an eye roll, “no one really cares about that only my supposed superpowers.”

“What is a half of, exactly? What that ghost called you?” Dash found himself asking. He almost didn’t want to be heard but Fenton turned to look at him anyways. 

“What do you think it means?” Fenton questioned back. Though he had a teasing smirk, his eyes looked dull and dead. Dash couldn’t look at them and ducked his head. 

“Alright, alright, enough with the questions. The Fenton’s gave Danny a clean bill of health and allowed him to rejoin class so that’s all you kids need to know. Now, back to what we were actually talking about.” Class continued as expected but everyone still snuck glances at Fenton. He’s not sure what they were all waiting for, him to suddenly turn green or sprout horn or whatever. But Fenton just sat there, still as anything, trying to act normal and it just didn’t fit him right and it was all just. Wrong.

XxX

Dash was relieved Fenton wasn’t in his second or third period classes but they did have the same lunchtime. For the first time since he was skinny, bucktoothed 6th grader, Dash wanted to hide away and eat his lunch in private. But Fenton wasn’t the only one trying to keep up appearances.

“Alright, what has everyone got,” Paulina was whispering to the table by the time Dash was sitting down. “The day is halfway over, someone had to have seen him doing something ghostly.”

“I mean we don’t know how long he’s been like this,” Star commented, flipping her hair as pretense to sneak a glance at the loser trio near the back entrance of the cafeteria. “He could’ve been hiding his for a while.”

“Fenton’s always been weird,” Dale commented with a sneer, stabbing at his beefaroni. “Since day one, he’s been jumpy and clumsy and goes through weird mood swings.”

“Maybe he’s never been normal,” Kwan said with a little frown. Now Dash knows this wasn’t true. He was the only one at the table who’d gone to the same middle school as Fenton. The nerd had talked too much about space and was always tripping over something but he’d been like all the other annoying brats in middle school. Dale was onto something, Fenton had changed once high school hit which means whatever is up with him as been going on for a while. Years. 

He suddenly felt eyes on him, a cold, crawling feeling that made his breath catch in his throat. Dash squeezed his eyes shut and breathed a silent sigh of relief as the eyes turned from him. They didn’t return but Dash found he couldn’t eat after that.

XxX

“Dude, did you hear about Fenton?” Victor said in an excited but still hushed whisper as Dash was leaving fifth period. 

“No, what did he do?” Dash asked with dread.

“He had gym last period and apparently he’s been faking his loser weakness. He crawled up the rope climb like a goddamned spider monkey and then slid himself back down. Don’t know how he didn’t have intense rope burn from that. He also beat Charlie, Katie and Veronica on the sprinting portion. Must be those ghosty genes.”

“Fenton did all that?” Dash asked, he bit the inside of his cheek. Hard.

“Yeah it was crazy, I thought Tetslaf was gonna pass out,” Victor laughed. “Maybe we should get him to try out for the football team, he’d be a great running back or-”

“Come on, Vic,” Dash laughed but the sound came out wrong. “Why would we want Fenton on our team? He’s, he’s Fenton! Just a skinny, weird little wimp.” Vic side-eyed him a bit before clapping Dash on the back.

“World’s changing, Dash. First ghosts, now half ghosts, it’s all wrong but you just gotta roll with it. All I know is I have 2 years left in this hell hole before I leave this miserable place for Chicago and never look back. I recommend you do the same, after all,” Vic grinned again but it was sharper. “Fenton’s always been your personal punching bag, not every day you learn your victim has superpowers.”

“We don’t know what the hell is up with Fenton,” Dash defended. Vic just shrugged.

“Yeah but he’s always been a freak now we know he ain’t human. Who knows what else he’s hiding?” Vic said with a smug smile before wandering off, giving a halfhearted wave over his shoulder as he left.

Dash stood in the hallway, trying to get himself under control until the warning and late bell rang. Only then, when he was certain he wouldn’t run into Fenton, did he head to class. 

XxX

“Should we follow him, see where he goes?” Paulina said, biting onto one of her nails in nervous excitement. Paulie was gorgeous and overall pretty cool but her thing with ghosts sometimes tired Dash out. Now more than ever. 

“Come on, that’s like stalking,” Kwan scolded. “Even if that wasn’t illegal or whatever it’s just not cool. They had a rough day today, leave ‘em alone.” That icy chill returned and Dash looked out of the corner of his eye to see Fenton and his cronies walking out of the school. 

Truthfully, Dash didn’t think Fenton had that bad of a day. Yeah people were asking questions but he’d side stepped them all, gave non-answers. Other people talked about Fenton’s supposed strength in gym but there’d been conflicting reports, some said he flew up the rope climb, others said he levitated doing his push ups. Dash really didn’t know what to believe. Fenton was just acting, well, like Fenton. He paused for a second, stopped walking before catching up with the group.

Maybe... maybe Dash was getting caught up over nothing. There really was no proof Fenton was this ‘half of’ other than what one dumb ghost said. He thought back to Fenton’s grin during first period; stupid nerd was probably milking his 15 minutes of fame and bully free time. His earlier fear and uncertainty burst into flames until a familiar anger was burning in his gut. Now this he knew what to do with.

“Yeah, well his day is about to get rougher,” Dash heard himself say as he stomped off to where Fenton was smiling tiredly at something Manson was saying. “Hey Fentonio! Think you’re pretty cool with every paying attention to you but I-”

Fenton gasped suddenly, like a hiccup only his breath misted out in front of him cold as a winter’s day. Dash stopped midsentence watching as Fenton’s whole face twisted. His earlier weary but tolerant annoyance that he’d been projecting all day was stripped away. He glared at Dash with an expression that was hard as ice and full of an exhaustion and bitterness he couldn’t begin to understand.

“As payment for being forcibly outed,” Fenton spoke up loudly enough that most of the school yard could hear him. “I was promised a week.” His eyes slowly but methodically scanned the crowd who had frozen in place at his authoritative tone. “Where I didn’t have to deal with ghosts, so I want to know... Who is trespassing on my haunt.”

Fenton’s mouth opened impossibly wide revealing what seemed like rows of sharped teeth. He curled his fingers into claws and, looking closer, his fingernails had indeed become real claws, as sharp and deadly as his teeth. His eyes blazed an impossible, ectoplasmic green and his dark hair developed streaks of white. He was terrifying, monstrous, but he was still Fenton. That feeling that had been eating at dash all day came back full force. Not the realization that Fenton had powers or whatever but that he had been hiding it in plain sight through ghost attacks and bullies and failing grades. This had always been Fenton, they just hadn’t seen. Until now that is.

And now the script had flipped and Dash didn’t know how this Ghost Fenton, who still was the same Fenton Dash had wedgied last Wednesday, fit. A green blob ghost materialized over by stairs, quivering and wailing in some ghost language. It turned and fled, presumably in the direction of the Fenton Portal to escape Fenton’s wrath. Fenton’s glowing eyes tracked it for a moment before he straightened up from his hunched posture and... was human again.

He brushed his hands through his black hair, lazily blinked blue eyes and, when he smiled, his teeth were normal. But Dash had seen, they all had. He’d let them see but to what end, he had no idea. Fenton turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow and another small smirk, just as tired as earlier.

“Sorry about that Dash, I take my vacation time very seriously. You were saying?” Fenton said with a smug lilt but his eyes were still dead and there was a bit of fear in them now. Despite his powers, he still gripped his backpack tightly.

“When your dumb little vacation’s up, Fentionail,” Dash said with a shaky voice. “It’s-it’s back to business, okay? Punches and wedgies and locker shoving. You,” he voice cracked a bit and he fought it down. “It’ll ramp up now that I know you can take it.” Fenton blinked, once then twice before he smiled. This time it wasn’t annoyed or scary or fearful but like the dumb grins he usually gave his dumb friends. 

“Yeah okay, we’ll start back up next week. The usual time?” Dash nodded, not knowing what else to say. “Alright, see you around.” He turned to walk away before pausing and turning back. “Actually you should be careful on who you shove into lockers, it can get hard to breathe in there and not everyone can phase out of them. You never know who’ll turn up dead,” he grinned and his eyes flashed green again, “if only half.”

That said, he and his friends walked away, ignoring the stares of the entire school on them. “Oh and it’s halfa, not half of,” Fenton called out over his shoulder. “I’m not half of anything, I’m just a whole me even if the details get a bit complicated.”

“Bye Danny, see you tomorrow,” Kwan called after with a grimace. No one else said anything for a minute until Dash found the strength to move his legs from where they’d been planted. He clenched his fists to hide his shaking and continued his walk home. Everyone else slowly did the same, talking quietly among themselves.

“What the hell was that?” Dale asked in a nervous high pitched voice. “What the hell did I just see?”

“Fenton being a weirdo but that’s nothing new,” Dash shrugged with a confidence he didn’t have yet. But if Fenton could show up to school after being outed and then willingly show them his inhumanity, then Dash needed to up his game. Couldn’t let the nerd be cool or anything. “So what if he glows or whatever, he’s still Fenton. Look I gotta get home, it’s Pookie’s feeding time and he is NOT going to believe the day I had.

[daddyissuesyo]

Monsta X Yandere Headcanons

tw: implied sexual content, non-sexual consent violation, murder, suicide, emotional and physical abuse, harm/endangerment, severed ties with family, vulgarity

seriously guys this is intense

Shownu: The Protector

- you pique his attention and he asks you out, seemingly normal

- becomes obsessed after the first date and captures you on the second

- avoids physical harm unless absolutely "necessary" to keep you in line. manipulates you until feeling as though you failed him.

- reckless, unconditional love

- you can't help but reciprocate a little; he's just so caring & attentive

- vanilla sex, because he loves you

- funds EVERYTHING you could possibly want: fluffy comforters and a massive mattress, personal maids, deluxe coffee maker, stuffed animals that he doesn't let you name, etc.

- you thought your dynamic was normal until you caught him dragging the limp body of the postman that accidentally saw you changing into a shed

- from that day forth you feared him, yet didn't stop loving him

- "you are my entire world. my everything. we need each other. forever and then some."

- will not kill you unless he convinces himself others will and death by his hands is the better option

Minhyuk: The Deluded

- i n f a n t i l i z e r

- pities you, oh so much

- thinks you are a helpless baby in dire need of rescuing

- treats you like a porcelain doll & refuses to let you make even the smallest decision for yourself

- convinced you are just as infatuated and dependent on him as he is you

- on good days, he will draw bubble baths, play card games with you, and play G rated movies, pausing every minute to explain what happened

- on bad days, he will yell at you, bind your limbs, and carve his name into your flesh

- simply doesn't understand your disobedience and grief and takes it out on you, hoping to "knock sense into you"

- unlike many yandere archetypes, he enjoys parading you about like an accessory. has friends come over to admire you

- "i know it's too much for you to understand, but you need my care. where is this behavior coming from? don't you love me?"

- you'll kill yourself before he can, driven to the point of insanity

Kihyun: The Jealous

- no pets. no friends. no contact with the outside world aside from media he approves.

- shelters you like mother gothel

- insists you cut off all male contacts, even family (if you are lgbtq, it's best not to reveal this to him because then you won't even be able to speak to female family members)

- doesn't hesitate to murder any man you won't cut off. forces you to watch.

- comforts you afterward in a sick way

- you have to PLEAD to go anywhere

- if he allows it, you must wear a face covering and stay by his side

- tends to be rough in bed; he lets loose all his pent-up frustrations on you

- isn't COMPLETELY out of touch with his humanity; treats you well on birthdays and holidays and even permits a supervised phone call with your mother

- "you overwhelm me. you fill me with so much joy and so much rage. you'll never know the effect you have on me, sweetheart."

- inevitable murder-suicide in the end. i give it no more than 5 years.

Hyungwon: The Sadist

- it's all a game of cat and mouse to him; he kidnapped you while you slept after stalking for quite some time

- keeps you in chains in his basement

- decorates his home with your missing posters like a real sicko

- will torture the living shit out of you with no remorse. inflicting fractures, head trauma, slicing you open, digit dismemberment, drowning, strappado

- gets off on your fear more than your pain

- unlike the others, he recognizes when you're suffering; he just doesn't care

- destroys your self-worth and self-esteem by berating and insulting you. it's your fault you can't tell he means "I love you"

- sex entails bondage, degradation, and cruel laughter. incorporates pet names like: "bunny," "little lamb," "kitty," etc.

- may get bored of you and seek out a new victim, leaving you inexplicably desperate for his attention (which is all part of his game)

- always comes back to you after he's maimed and fucked who knows how many people. and you let him every time, holding out hope that he'll stay

- "you're never going to escape me. i hope you know that."

- would rather almost kill you and keep reviving you. you're in it for the long haul.

Jooheon: The Two-faced

- like shownu, things begin typically

- gradually shows his hand over time, but you're blinded by your feelings for him (he's a very good faux boyfriend)

- waits until your most vulnerable moment to attack

- strict and often overbearing; will beat you black and blue to the point of unconsciousness

- will actually apologize, but he doesn't stop

- tries to keep things around that you enjoy and allow domestic hobbies (congratulates your accomplishments but doesn't want to fuel your ego too much because then you'll leave him)

- struggles with internal conflict over how to treat you. wishes he could be more lenient but can't bring himself to

- allows you to have family and friends over while he's present

- very good at acting normal, it's scary. will flash you a psycho smile after they leave.

- "i'm sorry things have to be this way. if only you could see... i really do love you."

- kills himself in the end due to guilt

Changkyun: The Unhinged

- yes, yandere are psychotic, but changkyun is another level

- if you try to escape or resist him, he just stares at you with round eyes, slowly growing a grin that turns into a crazy laughing fit

- protects you from outside forces, unaware that he's the greatest danger in your life

- only upside is he takes you out on the town

- slaps across the face. sometimes at random, just to let you know he's in control

- you live on eggshells, unsure if he's in a loving or violent mood

- a strange dichotomy of worshipping you and craving your attention, yet feeling like you should be the one begging for him

- fucks hard and often, but can't look at you after

- owns an industrial freezer and locks you in there until you collapse from hypothermia III

- "w-were you trying to escape? FUCK no. what don't you understand, hon? you're my fucking property."

- will stab you repeatedly in the end, smiling with tears streaming down his face

Would anyone be interested in me developing these characters/storylines further?

[angstyantoinette]

Yandere! Lenore Headcanons

Warnings: NSFW, gaslighting, forced relationship, kidnapping, emotional manipulation. i mean, c’mon, it’s Lenore.

♦️I DO NOT CONDONE THESE BEHAVIORS IN REAL LIFE.♦️

Lenore is the epitome of a yandere who uses emotional manipulation to get what she desires. She’s a diplomat, wishing to maintain peace with other countries, and in doing that...it’s very easy to get ensnared in her web of lies. She is sneaky, hellbent on completing whatever goal she sets herself to.

One day, she just so happened to see you. Looking out the window, absent-mindedly, she saw a small, running figure in the midst of the Styria snow. 

It was alarming surprising to say the least; if any humans were to find it’s way out here in the cold, they wouldn’t survive long. For this one to be so proficient in their movements, they must be an experienced traveler of some sort. And regarding the cold...you must be wearing some kind of fur. As she continued to watch you, she took note that you never fully came near the castle; you were careful to stray from it’s grounds and never come close. So, you were a smart one...how very cute.

She will most likely become interested in you from either a grand, powerful gesture or maybe even a pathetic encounter, but Lenore probably won’t pay much attention to you if she doesn’t see a benefit for herself. But in a Yandere universe, Lenore will do whatever it takes to snatch you up and claim you, keeping you with her forever. That being said, consider yourself very unlucky if she decides to pursue you. 

She’s the kind of yandere to never be too fast, nor slow with her plans in action; and she will try to use her skills as a master puppeteer to draw you in. No longer will you be able to keep your distance, away from the demons, away from Lenore. 

If it’s one things we all know by know it’s that she’s a cruel, a truly sadistic individual. As we see in her interactions with Hector, she’s alluring...almost hypnotic in a sense as she lures her food to exactly where she wants them. Her abilities to gaslight and trick others makes it easier for you to mess up; cue an unfair punishment.

But you’re not her food, but you’re definitely her prey in a different sense. She will not stop at just seeing you and letting you go if she gets bored. If the latter does happen, she will kill you. I’m warning you; don’t struggle or resist. You may just find your end coming closer than you hoped. 

Your original accommodation is a partially-luxurious cell; I say partially because Lenore will use your weaknesses against you in order to demean you. She loves it when you beg for mercy, when you beg for her to let you go. It reminds the both of you that she’s the one in control, your life rests in her hands, and she lives to see the horror in your eyes as you realize that this time, you might not live to see another day. 

Personally, I feel as though Lenore would reward you just as much as she likes to punish you. If you obey her commands, if you listen to her and just stop struggling Lenore will give you gifts. If she knows that you’re hungry, she’ll slip you a hunk of bread. If she wants you to look nice, she’ll brush your hair, maybe wrap a soft scarf through your locks. 

Lenore has the final say in everything to do with you, and the other vampire sisters who she works with could give less of a shit; unless Lenore suspects or catches them trying to kill you, they mostly do anything to keep out of her way where you’re concerned, not wishing for any jeopardizing of ruling Styria.

One of the hardest things about being her darling is that you never actually know how Lenore feels about you. Does she love you? She sure seems to enjoy taking care of you, rewarding you, pleasing you over and over again. Does she want to kill you? You just hate it when she starves you. Why can’t just Lenore let you die, instead of beating you and throwing you around like a doll. She keeps you guessing, and you are thrusted unwillingly into a sick game that bids for your life. You have to constantly be on guard, your lover just treasures it when you cry at her feet, begging for her love which she so diligently gives you. She only punishes you when you deserve it, pet.

The worst feeling of all...is the power that Lenore holds over your head. If you were to try and escape, the outcome could be different depending on her mood. Forced cuddles? If she was feeling nice about it and generous, you’d be forced into her lap, swaddled in blankets, her claws keeping you close to her chest. But no matter how nice she may play herself out to be, Lenore is a monster. Everything she does ‘for you’ is for herself, and she will always be above you.

NSFW

WARNING: DUB-CON, NON-CON, GASLIGHTING.

Except, Lenore’s version of love is breaking, then building her darling up again. If it takes making you cum until you can’t anymore so you just shut up and listen, Lenore will relish in your punishment.

She prides herself in her ability to use your own pleasure against you. You can’t help it. You hate it, when these sexual acts should be so gratifying and sensual, they are performed as though you’re being tortured. Which you are, of course. You hate your body’s betrayal against your better judgment when you cum from Lenore’s touch. This woman has taken you, hunted you down, and forced you into sickening submission.

She has ruined you in many ways, but once Lenore finds a sweet spot to abuse, it’s game over. She loves blindfolding you, tying you down to her lavish bed, with the air making your body prickle with goosebumps; partly from your nakedness, and partly from your fear. She literally makes you guess what she’s going to use on you, and if you get it wrong (you almost always do) she uses it on you ten times harder. She gets off on your pain to the worst level.

Her ways of “pleasing” you makes you orgasm so many times, but Lenore will always finish the job with oral sex. In terms of giving and receiving, she is mostly a giver in her own fucked up way, but she mostly goes down on you to prove a point or as a harsh punishment. Although, since you’re her lover, Lenore really wouldn’t mind you being forced getting between her legs to serve her occasionally.

“Pet, how many times do I have to tell you? You are mine, and you always will be. You never had a choice! That being said, lie down like the good pet you are.”

***********************

so shit just got dark. i wanted to try something new, and i love this show and loathe this character, meaning that it was very easy for me to make her sound as bad as she really is, perhaps even worse. Lenore is so well written and well acted in Castlevania, and she needs more content in the fandom. i am NOT romanticizing her behavior towards Hector or what i’ve written in any way, i just thought it might be interesting to see how she would act if she genuinely “loved” obsessed over someone. Hector is just so gorgeous and cute, he deserves the best. poor boy.

anyway, hope you enjoyed! ♦️

[punemy-spotted]

Of Blackbirds and Barons: Chapter 1

Chapter 1: You Make The Rain Fall Harder

Relationships: Mob!Helmut Zemo x Reader; CEO!Billy Russo x Reader; Mob!Helmut Zemo x Reader x CEO!Billy Russo

Warnings: Non-con/Dub-con; Dark!Fic; Mob and Mafia Elements; Character Death (Minor and Major); Threesome; Possessive/Obsessive Characters; Blackmail/Coercion; Kidnapping; Mentions of War; Human Rights Violations; Contract Killing; Mafia AU; Possible Dead Dove: Would Not Eat; Complete Disregard for Actual Rules of Journalism and Style Guides; Other Chapter-Specific Warnings May Apply

Chapter Specific Warnings: Non-con; Drugging/Date-Rape; Fingering (F-Receiving); Vaginal Sex; Unprotected Sex; Possible Breeding Kink; Kidnapping; Obsessive/Possessive Zemo; Dark!Zemo; Human Rights Violations; Discussion of Destruction of Novi Grad and Sokovia; Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

Chapter Summary: The problem with having sympathy for the Devil is that he will drag you down to Hell regardless.

Author’s Notes: Another series! Because I can’t get enough of Mob!AUs! Zemo makes his dark entrance. And this IS dark, so read at your own discretion. As always, all of my work is 18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Masterlist

The long tradition of the Duchy of Sokovia, that which once stood the test of time against the Tsars of Russia, began to crumble long before its borders did, its sweeping architecture and decadent mystery giving way to the sharp lines of Brutalism and the characteristic industrialism of the Eastern Bloc. Still, the Sokovian people managed to maintain their identity in the face of a new kind of empire, bringing greenery and art to a brisk, concrete world.

There is no Sokovia now, not the way one would think, but there are still Sokovians scattered around the world, clinging to the traditions of their once-home and searching for a banner to be united under.

A banner carried by a man like Helmut Zemo.

The caret blinks back at you with a mocking sort of finality, a metronome counting down the seconds to your ultimate frustration. Once. Twice. Thrice — you lose count, staring at the screen until your vision crosses and the words blur together, until only his name remains.

Zemo.

Baron Helmut Zemo.

Your notes are expansive, excessive, papers strewn about you and you look at each scribbled anecdote, each carefully dictated word, each photograph you have annotated until it is more red marker than actual picture and you are… frustrated.

Where do you put all that passion? He asked you over champagne and charcuterie.

You know this man.

You know this man like you know your own soul. You know this man who has bared his soul to you in turn and how are you supposed to impress upon the world that he has shown you the broken heart beating slow and painful in his chest in just a thousand words?

There is nothing. Nothing you can do, nothing you can saywhich could even begin to encompass the horrors which he has experienced and now as you painstakingly tap out word after word describing the grand beauty of his apartment, you wonder if this really was what your life was meant to be.

These are… fluff.

This is a man who has managed to unite an entire fractured country under his royal banner and yet the project wants to know about the indoor garden of his apartment, wants to photograph him in fine suits and know his haircare routine and this can’t be it. This can’t be the face of the man you see everywhere now, moreso since you picked up the assignment, purple-masked and surrounded by brass wings, over the homes of Sokovians all over New York.

And not just there.

I am a man, he told you with his hand on your thigh, But I can become an idea. And an idea is immortal.

You let your eyes skim over the photographs you took, a collection of banners and graffiti and billboards all proclaiming the need for the Sokovian people to come together and heal. To show that their small country — broken and divided in the wake of an attack by a rich megalomaniac’s private military — could not be taken down simply because its borders had been erased and its capitol turned to rubble.

We live in an age of information, and through information we are boundless.

It should terrify you.

It does terrify you.

But inside of that terror is a sick fascination with the man, isn’t there? That’s the trouble with you investigative types — peel back the layers enough and you find yourself capable of feeling sympathy for anyone.

He flaunts his power, and yet it’s innocent. Is it so wrong, then, to want to bring my country back to its glory?

No, you remember answering shakily, but not as well as you remember the pinpricks of heat his fingers left on your skin when that gloved hand brushed over you arm.

Breathe deep, hover fingers over your keyboard and try not to feel like you owe him the weight of the world. He approved of this, even suggested a word count and a topic of conversation — any chance to put his name out into the consciousness of the public, it seemed, to raise interest for the gallery by raising interest for the cause. Make it indulgent. My people, they enjoy art. They enjoy knowing that their leaders have preserved the past for them.

So do it.

… Baron Zemo’s New York penthouse is its own garden amongst a sea of steel and stone, a veritable museum of priceless artworks rescued from what remained of Sokovian museums and ministry buildings. It is, in its own way, an ode to the spirit of Sokovia, which lives on in the hearts and minds of its people around the world. He displays artworks of the many displaced Sokovians, gesturing broadly to a 3D model of an art gallery he intends to have built near the memorial at Novi Grad — with the consent of the Slovakian government — and speaking fondly of his intention to showcase the lost art of Sokovia as a reminder that loss of land cannot be the loss of an identity…

The artworks, they will be painful at first. But the gallery will showcase more and more, and eventually we will have hope.

He waves a gloved hand over the pieces he has preserved. Sokovian history. Scenic expanses, fields and flowers, a city skyline dotted with domed cathedrals. Each painting marred some way too, you can see when you look close. Patched canvas, the dusting of ash and rubble in the corner of an ornate frame, a trick of the light revealing repainting to cover up damage.

A stone hoof sits on a bookshelf, The attached horse and rider blown to rubble in the attack. I’m told it was of Emperor Ferdinand, but my archivists have not been able to confirm, he tells you as he stands behind you, his hand resting soft on the small of your back.

Come. There is more to be seen.

More to be experienced.

His living room is a garden.

It smells like fresh jasmine the moment you walk in, ivy climbing the walls and you swear you can hear birdsong from more than the pigeons cooing outside. Flower arrangement is an often looked down upon art, but the gardens in Sokovia were impeccable. My father won several awards for his pieces before his…

He trails off and you watch him, seeing the pain paint his face as openly as if he meant for you to watch the facade crack and then back to that placid, pleasant calm, a serpentine smile on his face as he extends to you a hand and guides you to the open air of his balcony and bids you Sitbids you Enjoy bids you I have looked forward to his meeting.

It is a pleasure to meet you, Baron Zemo, you begin politely, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear and trying to avoid the way his eyes follow your fingers, feeling seen, We’re grateful for the honor of your patronage for this piece, we know you could have —

Nonsense, he cuts you off with a wave of his hand, gesturing to his butler and then leaning back comfortably in his seat as champagne and various cheeses are brought forth, You are my guest, and I am grateful you agreed to come meet me here, to assist with my… project. Now. Please, enjoy, I do not want to treat this as strictly business.

Is that why he had you come alone?

Don’t.

Don’t dwell on it.

It happens all the time, right? It has to.

A somewhat reclusive man, not keen to be in the limelight, in need of public attention to achieve his goals — you are a means to an end and he is your means to an end, surely you can understand.

Is that why he wipes the honey from your lips and kisses it off his fingers?

This is going to be a difficult conversation and you know it. You can only gush over houseplants and rose décor for so long before it becomes… trite, before you’re a part of the problem, painting a shining veneer over a half-decade old injustice

But he is warm, warm and friendly and you cannot help but laugh to his response when you draw attention to the architecture to draw attention from your blush — Very modern, yes. We are in New York, after all, and the old ways are fine for country houses but not so fine, for sunny penthouse apartments —not noticing the way he looks like he’s just smelled blood at the sound of it, the narrowing of his eyes and the hiding of his inscrutable expression behind a sip of champagne.

Well then. Shall we get started?

Of course.

Why don’t we start with your plans for opening night?Your notepad is out, the recorder sitting in front of you to pick up the sound of your voice and his, ready to commit everything to memory.

Of course. We cannot deny the… elephant in the room, I think you Americans call it. There are many who took pictures of the aftermath of the attack, and not enough who have seen it immortalized…

… The tragedy of Novi Grad and the consequential absorption of Sokovia into its surrounding countries weighs heavy in the Baron’s living room, draped in ivy and jasmine and hanging vines but also in photographs of what was left after a private military corporation chose to turn human lives into a war game.

No one knows who Ultron is, only that he is dangerous, that his technology rivals that of the SHIELD Syndicate’s Tony Stark, that he is willing to ally himself to the highest bidder, and that he is fully capable of unleashing endless destruction upon the world…

You will never forget the photographs he shows you, all that death and destruction in the golden light of his balcony, all that warmth and all you can see is cold bodies bathed in concrete dust.

They call to you, when you close your eyes — answer for our crimes — and you remember the way his voice changes too, so soft and solemn, the brush of fingers against yours when you touch the bombed out shell of a country mansion My home, in Sokovia, to the gray-and-blood horror which forms the centerpiece of his display, and you remember your research too, that the Baron is a widow, that his title is inherited from the most tragic of circumstances, that his son was an innocent lost in the attack and you are furious too, at the senselessness of it all.

It is a tragedy yet unanswered for, more than half a decade since the dust settled.

That quote sits front and center on your mock-up, wondering if you could make whatever editor who would inevitably rip this piece to shreds — just before publishing its corpse alongside some glamour picture of the Baron his coat — finally see the error of ignoring the tragedy. You won’t, but it’s worth a shot, as you lean back in your chair and stare at the screen again.

Sometimes you think about it.

Watching Novi Grad happen from the comfort and safety of your living room, wrapped in blankets as open war broke out in the capital city of what had once been a crown jewel in an ancient dynasty. A playground, a show of force.

Sometimes you hear the screams.

The blinking carat waits for you to add more to this story, to decide where you want to go.

… The Baron plays a game with his interview, insists on knowing his guests just as we insist on getting to know the enigmatic leader who has risen up a beacon for the displaced people of his homeland. We will not be recreating our answers in this article, as they were of course of a personal nature, but we do thank the Baron for taking the time to get to know us just as he bared his soul, his sorrows, and his hopes to a gaggle of strangers seeking to make him known to the world…

Tell me of you, sweetling.

Me? This interview is about you.

And so I must tell all my secrets for free? No, I insist. A secret for a secret.

He watches you with a hunger, coal-black eyes an invitation. Slide your gaze away or fall and who knows what depths he will drag you into and what you will find there?

No.

Don’t look, don’t look as you sip the tea Oeznik brought when you politely declined the champagne — Another time, probably — and let it brace you with its bitterness, let it clear your head.

Breathe.

You’re in too deep now, trapped in this cave of wonders… and wouldn’t it be worth it? Know him as he knows you, follow the trajectory of the smiling man before you.

What would you like to know?

Tell me how you taste his eyes whisper.

Tell me what it would take says the curve of his fingers over your hand.

Let me put you on display hums the razor-blade of his smile.

Tell me what drives a woman to take on such a … dangerous line of work, is the final inquiry, innocent and curious and gentle and you sip your tea and smile.

Is it dangerous?

You must know how many secrets you uncover — and the lengths the keepers will go to in order to hide them.

If people get hurt, shouldn’t I bring that to light?

How noble of you, he tells you with another hum, with his fingers squeezing yours, with his eyes fixed on the gaze you refuse to send his way, It must be quite thrilling.

Let me thrill you too, sweetling.

Pull away.

Do it.

Pull your hand away, make an act of it, pick up a candied strawberry and press it past your lips, let the sweetness soak your tongue and wash away the bitter thoughts, let yourself be bright and chipper and pretend you are not afraid.

Because you’re not.

Of course you’re not.

You are in control here, you must be in control here.

This is nothing. This is a casual interview with a handsome man in his handsome penthouse, an interview about architecture and art galleries and you were a correspondent once and you are meant to be friendly here, not afraid, so what are you afraid of?

What is it about his coal-dark eyes and too-sharp smile that turns your blood, that sends you back into your hutch, little rabbit, what is it about the way he prowls at the corner of your thoughts that makes you shudder so?

What are you running from?

Who are you running from?

Your turn, sweetling.

Mmh?

Our deal, or have you forgotten already?

Yes. You have.

It’s his eyes, you keep insisting to yourself. They drag you in, so dark it feels like you’re drowning in the void of them, searching for the light at the end of the tunnel.

It’s a chase.

It’s what you’re good at.

Right — I’m sorry, I’m…

You blink.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

The fog in your thoughts doesn’t fade, confusion crossing over your features and ill delight crossing over his. All you had was tea, tea and some of the candied fruit his butler brought for your enjoyment, how can you feel so…

Hazy?

So…

Upturned?

Something clatters behind you and you realize it’s the chair you were sitting on as you stand, unsteady and abrupt, lost in the moors of your own frantic thoughts and there is his hand on your elbow, so careful and soft and there are his lips before yours, so…

Tempting.

Somewhere, a woman croons to you of falling rain and rushing blood and the room does spin round as you stand still in the open air of a desire that is yours and not your own all at once. Shhh, shhh, let me help you whispered in your ear, a hand to your cheek and you…

You blink.

Reality flows into view like a sudden bath of ice water. Jerk away from his iron grip, raise your hands and try to resist, shake your head and N-no, I think. I think I need to go, I’ll just call a cab —

I cannot let you do that, sweetling. Not when you are finally within my reach.

His hold is steady. Unbreakable, even, as he pulls you close and you might even be dancing with the way his arm wraps around your waist the moment you fall into his chest, Don’t look so afraid, sweetling. No one will hurt you, here.

I will protect you like a jewel.

Your mind is still yours — the dose was just enough — but your limbs? Your limbs are tied to his strings, lost as he guides you right back inside, lost as he gestures for Oeznik to close off the balcony.

Your place is somewhere else now.

You belong underneath me.

He guides you inside, jasmine intoxicating your senses and wisps of smoke seeming to float past your eyes. Reality blends into the fantasy, the Baron and his prize, the gentle touch against your soft cheek, the cradling against his form and he is…

Determined.

A door opens. A portal into another kind of decadence, with soft sheets and softer touches, the sliding of a mouth over yours as your escape clicks shut behind you and you are pressed between wall and man and you are consumed.

Curl your fingers into the lapel of his coat, lose yourself to the pressure of his lips, the sharp nip of teeth against soft flesh. He tastes of champagne and honeycomb and you are saccharine on the tongue, a mess of sighs and admonitions left unsaid.

My precious thing, whispered into your unfocused sighs, I will take such fine care of you.

And you want to protest, want to insist you are free you are uninterested you do not want this man and his hands under the cotton of your blouse but the words tangle on your tongue and instead all you can do is whimper.

Whimper, and hear him chuckle against your skin, a line of kisses drawn from your parted lips along your jaw until he’s found the thrum of your pulsebeat to draw a gasp the moment his teeth scrape against the delicate skin. He must mark you his, after all, and this he will gladly renew, over and over.

Over and over as he draws you to bed, lays you amongst soft cushions and softer sheets, indulges in the soft curves of you in the golden glow of the room. Your clothes — so conservative, so professional, so unnecessary — he makes short work of even with what mild resistance you manage, Shh, shh, do not fight me.

The heat is yours and not yours all at once, warming your skin and leaving you flushed, leaving a trail of burning want along your skin where his fingers trace over you and centering in your core You need this, sweetling, look at you…

Do you?

Is it you who needs this or he, he who has begun to kiss along your skin, he who presses himself between your legs so impatiently? The accusation lives in your thoughts and passes past your lips as a strangled Nnh-no, ignored without ceremony or appeal.

Protests are useless when your tongue can form no words and your limbs can do nothing but writhe, seeking structure in the grip of his sheets as he unravels you with a press of his lips to that soft center of yours, slick with a need you cannot own and yet all yours.

He maps you with a hungry gaze, fingers already tracing the plushness of your folds, gathering slick like he might have been collecting nectar and you watch him pull back, watch him bring his hand to his mouth, watch him wrap lips around his fingertip and drag the taste of you onto his tongue, One day I shall make you taste how sweet you are…

One day, after he has savored you so deeply.

You are so full of words they burst out of you on a normal day and yet nothing you say comes to light, just the bare whimpers and anxious mewls of your needy self as he returns to inspecting, to enjoying, to savoring the reactiveness of your body.

He touches. He touches as if he has owned your body a thousand times, he touches as if you are delicate, as if you are breakable, as if his fingers might lead you to shattering around him here and now and you…

Are so close, already.

So close, trying to find the strength in your muscles to pull away, to speak something beyond desperation with every curl of fingers against your cunt, with every pleased hum he utters in response to the flex of your sex. Shh… no more fighting, sweetling, I know you can be good.

He knows you can be good, he says, with all the innocence of a man trying to convince his cat to stop clawing the couch, not a man presently holding your legs open with one hand at your thigh and the other curling against your walls while you arch your back. It builds, the pressure, it builds and builds and builds and — Let go, sweetling. Let me see your ecstasy.

Is that what this is?

You keen. You keen softly, desperately, brokenly, as skilled fingers find the spot which makes you, which leaves you breathless and flushed and sobbing, a trickle of tears making their path down your cheeks as you bite your own lip to muffle the sounds you did not know you could make. Wordless and pleading and he notices with a cold smile the way you seem to succumb, hips no longer desperate to escape the curling, stretching assault of two — no, three — fingers preparing you for him.

Hips pressing back towards him now, a betrayal of your conscious-yet-barely-focused mind, that lustful sweetness in you taking over and he can only watch in awe. Awe not at your surrender but at your perfection, muttering in a language you do not understand and yet you understand perfectly what he means — he will have you, all of you.

Ah, I shall so enjoy playing with you more, sweetling.

But not now.

Now his impatience outpaces your need and both outpace his cruelty, his desire to see you beg and so instead he pulls back his hand — and hears the desperate N-no, please don’t — to bring a cruel gleam to his dark eyes and even barely conscious as you are you know he is beautiful.

Beautiful and cruel, as he frees himself and curls fingers around his cock, rubs your own slick onto that soft skin, hisses at the very feel of you like it must be a preview to how you will make him throb, and presses himself over you. Presses himself over you, absorbs the cry of pain or anguish or relief which pours from your plush lips with the punishment of a kiss just as he sinks, hips pressing against yours, stretching you with his full length and Now we are one, my sweet.

Now we are one.

He will take fine care of you but you, you take finer care of him, so plush and tight around his senses, so desperate as you cling, so lost and wanton and he kisses away the tears which continue to sting your cheeks and hisses half-sensible promises into your ear — You will always be mine — as he ruts his hips and practically shoves you forward with every thrust, dragging you back with a snarl and the pressure builds.

Builds and you moan, builds and you sob into his hungry mouth, builds and you hold to him as if he were the last thing which made sensein the world builds and you are consumed and he is consuming, and the release is both of yours, spilling deep inside of you and that too is the final shackle upon your soul.

You sit. In the darkness of your office and you remember, worrying the cuticle of your thumb and staring at the words you have typed while your memory drifts back to that hazy reminder.

… A discussion with the Baron about Sokovia reveals a country rich with history. Once a Duchy of the Hapsburgs during the era of the Holy Roman Empire, the deeply Catholic country clings to the Austrian and Italian tradition of ceremony and indulgence. Baron Zemo plays an example of the hymns sung in the many cathedrals which once filled the country, a mixture of Sokovian and Latin to raise the soul to divine heights.

The Baron speaks of the country’s culture with a warm fondness, of how even during Soviet occupation, the people managed to enjoy games like ice hockey, and football (the European, variant, the Baron would like to emphasize), and even spent time indulging in horse racing. Surrounded by Slovakia and the Czech Republic, it keeps a similar tradition, with a twist…

No, that cannot encompass all that you discussed, and yet that is what the recording shows, words traded back and forth which you do not remember, a conversation of laughter and warmth and none of it slots into what your mind tells you occurred.

You erase. You rewrite. It is the same passage, over and over, fingers acting unbidden of your frantic will and eventually you give in, demand to be done with these words and this screen, eventually you desire peace.

… Baron Helmut Zemo is many things. A historian, an ambassador, a politician, an activist. He is a widower, a man trapped in the past, a man with lofty dreams for the future. He wears his sorrow as well as he wears his happiness, and for those who still call themselves Sokovian, he is their shepherd into a new age.

And as the door to your office opens, your keeper.