#It might take a while though because there's so much to say

[sabanakurou]

★ Leona x Gn!Reader, Reader is Yuu here! Mentions of Grim too but like, BARELY. A little over 1k words!

★ SYNOPSIS: In short, you made realizations about your relationship with Leona that you probably should've had... months ago.

★ A little warning for possible OOC, bad writing, and grammar mistakes, hehe! Regardless, I hope you enjoy :D

Being sure of yourself was something that you took pride in. That was the case back on Earth and especially the case now that you were thrown into Twisted Wonderland— a place so unfamiliar that you might as well have been considered an alien.

Maybe you already were? You were magicless with a strange fire-hazard for a cat-raccoon thing. Even now as you walked towards the botanical garden, you were carrying Grim. It wasn't hard at that point to take into account the way the other students looked at you. With their scrutinizing eyes and avoidance, you figured that your guess isn't so far off from the general opinion of the public.

You didn't care, though! You're CONFIDENT that you've experienced enough to have already met the worst jerks that this “d!$ney-knockoff house of villains-ahh” college had to offer.

Well,

that is…

…until you met Leona Kingscholar.

The most prickly jerk you ever came to know. A man so VILE that you're on your way to meet up with him in the garden for your regularly scheduled naps.

Honest to whatever God your current world had, as much as you wanted to moan about how long the stick in Leona’s mud of a butt is, he's nooooot… the worst guy ever. Actually, deny it as you might, the prince of the Afterglow Savannah was more of a friend than a jerk to you.

Still a jerk though.

One heck of a comfortable one, at that (much to your dismay). In fact, in recent times, he's quite the substitute for a pillow, if you could say so yourself. And you do! You even insisted on meeting today just to nap because you sleep better when Leona is your pillow.

"Huh?"

You suddenly stop walking, hit with the reality and weight of your own thoughts.

You use... Leona as… a pillow?

You… you use Leona as a pillow…???

You… huh…????

????

‘I DO WHAT NOW???’ You suddenly drop Grim onto the floor in the middle of the hallway, hands flying to your head as a slow, slow, quiet crisis takes over you. It was as if you gained sentience the moment you thought too deeply about your relationship with him.

No, but seriously!? Now that you put more of a conscious effort to evaluate your actions, you realized that you've been so affectionate with Leona! Using him as a pillow, resting on his side, napping with him in the garden and in his bed…!?!? In his bed for goodness’ sake!

How come no one has told you that you do these things!? (Ace and Deuce have mentioned it before.)

Why has no one mentioned how weird it is for you to act that way with Leona!? (Many have mentioned it: Namely the Heartslabyul folks, the first years, and even Grim.)

Is this even legal!? (It is but you were not being rational at that moment.)

“OH MY GOD!?”

So much for being sure of yourself!

Thinking back to your entire relationship, you wouldn't be able to say when it all started. When did the frightening lion of a beastman stop being so… frightening?

Was it after the Octavinelle fiasco when the subtle touches— lingering and often leaving an explicable amount of warmth in an otherwise tepid patch of skin— started to come about? You never would've thought that you'd say this but forced-proximity does wonders with communication and you did stay in his room for a good while (but you still don't advocate for it…).

Or was it after VDC when the softness held behind each of your gazes when you come across one another reared its worrying head?

Worrying to the point that the once untouchable prince became within reach of your hands, of your heart, and of your mind to be consumed with him, him, and only him.

When did the two of you stop being hesitant but oh so very careful as to avoid any alarm?

When exactly did the sands of your friendship break down into something so… different yet all the same? Like a sandcastle broken by the heavy tides. The foundation may have been broken and yet the material was still, irrevocably, sand.

Who knew a crisis driven by cuddles could induce metaphors?

And metaphors aside, you like the beach, and the sand, and the waves. Very much. It was always so warm to the touch, just like h— Oh.

When did—

“Oi, Herbivore, eyes on me.”

Leona's voice snaps you out of your overactive mind in an instant, as if your entire being knew that its main focus should be the person right in front of you. The person that had your left cheek cupped in his hand that could easily cover your entire face up if he wanted to do so.

But he won't. Especially when you haven't flinched away when you both knew how keen you were with keeping to yourself.

He would've backed off the moment you showed any reluctance. After all, your comfort is his priority. But you haven't shown him the slightest bit of discomfort and he was willing to take the chance to assume that perhaps he wasn't just seeing things when he thought you looked at him in a way no way else had before.

And by the Sevens were the two of you so compatible as similarly, your brain had decided to grow blank with only one thought to entertain it with.

No beastman should ever look that soft.

And yet, he does.

Because of me.

What the hell were you thinking? You weren't even fully conscious when you dragged your body to find his after your little crisis half an hour ago.

You supposed that that was simply another thing you aren't sure of.

“Herbivore, c'mon. Look at me. You can't possibly ignore me when you were the one who insisted on meeting up.” He almost whispers and you could've sworn that your heart had melted faster than anything under the scorching sun.

You almost felt like defying him just to see how far he'll go.

But you look at him anyways— eyes peering right into his viridescent ones that shined so ethereally under the setting sun.

You met this vile, vile man's gaze, growing worried as the sound of birds chirping could've beaten the quiet volume your voice had taken. Still, you spoke, albeit without any thinking,

“Oh, God, I like you.”

And at this point? That was apparently the one thing you were sure of.

★ END NOTE: hiiii, I REALLY like Leona and SHORT YAP!! I always felt like he'll be the kind of love where you'll suddenly realize that you love him one day. Maybe the realization gets prompted because of how comforting he is, idk 👉👈 anyways!! header by me and stuff :D!

[rafeslvbug]

introducing…cia!rafe

back to basics!! (physical)

height: 6”4, intimidating for younger officers. would definitely use it to his advantage though, lift you up while kissing, or to reach things from high shelves. have you on his lap so you can be levelled, lean his arm on your head.

build: 200lbs. veiny and back muscles top priority. would participate in all those pull up/chin up challenges back in training.

age: mid thirties. experienced, lets everyone knows it. when he arrives on base, they only need one look at his face to know he’s superiority. they bend over backwards for him.

looks!! (specific)

scars and war wounds: bullet wound in his lower abdomen, that he got a week before your first year wedding anniversary during an attempt to take down a large cartel. always has bruises on his arms, scratches up them and his back too. bullet skimming his skin on his top left shoulder, and below on his upper arm too.

badge: never takes it off. always dangling round his neck, under his shirt, or tucked into his pocket with his wallet. always prepared to take it out if need be, flashing it when he has to. would honestly shove the badge in your mouth if you spoke too much.

personality

paranoid: rafe is always cautious. when you go shopping, walks in the park, restaurant dates. who knows what spies there could be? and it’s justified– on one occasion there really was someone who tried to take you from him, and rafe didn’t let you out the house without him for three weeks. drove you to work, kept an eye on you, drove you home. closed all the blinds, gave you a course on how to notice the people against him, always watching out the windows.

decisive: makes decisions immediately. they’re not uninformed, he always gets the facts first, then makes his choice. but he doesn’t hesitate– says it’s how you end up getting caught. can’t pick a restaurant? he can do it. can’t figure out which order to do chores in? barking out orders like he’s talking to his officers. luckily, you’re a nurse, you often have to make split second decisions, so he doesn’t have to worry about indecisiveness in dire situations. he doesn’t like people who do that.

firm: no arguments, you might want to argue, but there’s no chance for it. he makes a choice, he sticks by it, you can’t change his mind– for better or for worse. might occasionally interrupt you if you try to counter back at him, tends to forget he’s not always in action, and treats you like one of his men/women.

dislikes

ties. makes him feel scratchy at the neck, dangly and get in his way. can’t wear his badge when he wears them and has to wear full collared tops too. wears it to important briefings or meetings. always makes you tie it for him, because if not, he’ll spend hours trying to perfect it in the mirror.

when he turns up at a military base and they don’t show him the respect he’s owed. he’s the highest ranking officer wherever he goes, and expects to be treated as such.

when you try to get him to quit his job. take it easy. he’s never taken anything easy, he wants to fight for his country, protect people. he believes he has to do this.

your teary voice when he’s badly injured on the plane back, holding a bullet wound down, telling you to tell his son how much he loves him– because he doesn’t say it often. telling you to be strong, that he might not make it. the sobs you bite back that hurt his heart more than the bleeding.

likes

missions going his way. success. protecting his country. stopping harmful organisations. doing what’s right.

coming home to you. your son. the way you inspect him when he comes in, scanning for every injury. he doesn’t like the coddling, but he loves that you care.

showering with you. sleeping with you. lunch with you. mundane things that are drastically different when he’s on missions. he showers hardly, no time, no space. beds are small and cramped. lunch is rationed, quick and on the go. but with you, he can take his time. do things properly.

family and people-specific hcs

his nicknames for you: sweet thing, baby, darlin’

his nicknames for your son: little agent, kid, son

he’ll always come home if he can avoid going to a hospital, rather being patched up by you than some other random doctor. you’re his personal nurse at this point.

would constantly assess his son growing up to see if he’s cia material. you’re forever scolding him for it, but he does it unintentionally. watching him carefully while he plays with his toys, overanalysing each comment he makes like it could be something insightful.

[softsunnyy]

okay, let me talk about this because i'm a horny ball with access to tiktok, and i need to talk about whatever's on my mind, starting with what it's like to kiss Lando baby

my sweet boy might react with a huge smile, giggling, and attacking your face with more kisses; clinging so tightly to your body that you know there's no turning back. You'll have to hold him in your arms until he has to move. But it's not really something that bothers you; he's just sweet, adorable, and you'd give anything to see him smile like that more times throughout the day.

now... there's also another option... when his kiss is slow, deep, with one hand on your cheek and the other on your waist, taking over that space as if it belongs there, touching your skin under your shirt, while he reconnects his lips to yours; this time with more desperation.

and the room echoes with kisses; one after another, while he enjoys and takes full advantage of his privileges as your boyfriend; with his hands running over your body, which he knows by heart.

then he moves down your neck, and you know it's dangerous, that things could get out of control, but you can't say no, not when his gaze melts you, makes you feel small, ready, at his complete disposal.

and if you're on his lap? you better start moving. You'll draw those sweet grunts and gasps from him, with his lips close to your ear, making you listen closely, sending a rush of heat to your pussy, which quickly began to throb.

and you roll your hips, feeling how he reacts for you, while his mouth takes care of biting and marking your neck, as if it were nothing, as if it wouldn't cause you problems later. He was just enjoying too much how your skin is changing color because of him, igniting something inside him that is more primitive, wild, feral, but that you don't dislike at all.

this possible reaction from Lando only leads to an entertaining moment, where you don't need to go fast, since we know he can go slow, hard, and still have you falling apart on his sheets, breaking into a thousand pieces while you whimper his name over and over like a broken record; with your hands fisted on the bed and your cheeks stained with tears from the pleasure that only he knows how to provoke in you.

and even though his gaze changes, and his touch becomes more possessive, when you finish, he's back to being your sweet boyfriend, with a tired, yet boyish, proud, completely annoying smile, and with his hands bringing you closer to his body, while he leaves kisses all over you again, unable to detach himself for a second.

he's obsessed with you, and he just loves you too much, and i can 100% see how a simple kiss from you could have him reacting in either of those two ways, like his call to stick to you.

but that doesn't matter to you, does it? because he's your sweet boy. You'd do anything to see him so happy and excited, especially after the stress of every race and every decision.

[paigepithetics]

Can I just say I love love looove the moments in "Suffering" where Odysseus says things that are actually true, or reflective of what he might say to Penelope, even while he's playing along with the siren. Like:

"Don’t you miss me? / More than you know."

It's a tender endearment, but it’s also true whether he's saying it to Penelope or the siren! "More than you know" because you’re not really her, and the siren doesn't know the depth of how much he misses his wife.

Or little phrases like "as good as it sounds" and "for you, I would die." Like yes Odysseus does just want to be with her!! He would die for her!! He means it, even though he’s pretending. That’s what makes it hit so hard in my opinion, that he’s hiding real feelings in the performance, so the siren thinks it’s for her.

And that long-suffering sigh at the end followed by "the things I do for you," ugh. It feels like an old inside joke, the kind of thing you say when your partner asks for something small and you pretend to complain, but you’re already doing it with a smile. It’s sweet, familiar, and completely gutting, but also... he is literally doing the impossible for her!!

And it's such a rich line coming right off of "Monster" where he's resigned himself to doing whatever it takes to get home. He is drawing his bow and thinking only of her, only of the things he'll do to get back to her.

But what I think hurts the most is how he slips into the rhythm of this song so easily. That kind of flirty back-and-forth must feel so familiar to him! It’s muscle memory; he’s done this with her a thousand times, and he wants so badly for this to be her, for it to be real. For a moment of that teasing, effortless banter again. You can hear him reaching for it, even knowing it’s not her.

And I think that's also why his anger in "Different Beast" is so palpable too. He had to look at a siren wearing his wife’s face, using her voice, pulling him into something that felt like home, and then hurt her. He had a flicker of normalcy, a moment that felt like her again after so long, and he had to destroy it with his own hands.

[candycandy00]

As Heaven is Wide - A Doflamingo x Reader x Corazon Fanfic Part 4 (Final)

In a world where Doflamingo and Rosinante were raised by Celestial Dragons after their parents died in an accident, they grow up to be notorious world nobles in their own right. And then they buy you at the Human Auction. Now trapped between two very different brothers, you’re shared like a toy. Maybe they’re not so different after all.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

This chapter is very intense! Please read the warnings!

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. Heavy Dubcon! Dead Dove Do Not Eat! Master/Slave Dynamics. Violence. Manipulation. Squirting. Size Difference. Humiliation. Bondage. Forced Piercings. Blood. Captivity. Drug/Aphrodisiac Use. Pain. Reader is described as little but only by ten foot tall men. This is a brutal, dark fanfic! You’ve been warned!

Any comments/feedback is greatly appreciated! Title comes from a song by Garbage (which really fits the mood of this fic I recommend it!). Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more and @benkeibear!

You’re sitting in one of the unused bedrooms in the Donquixote manor, your hands cuffed behind your back. It’s been nearly an hour since you were brought here by two guards who refused to tell you where Rosi is. 

There’s a window to your right, the curtains drawn back to reveal the darkness of night.  This was supposed to be a very different evening. You and Rosi should have already landed on a small nearby island and bought a bigger ship by now. You should be holding hands while buying supplies and planning your new lives together, even if you felt strangely guilty about leaving Doffy behind. 

A guard opens the door and roughly pulls you out of the room. You don’t bother asking any questions, you’ve already learned that these men have nothing to say to you. 

He leads you down the familiar hallway and to the door of Doflamingo’s bedroom. You were expecting a dungeon, but you’re not entirely surprised. 

Doffy will surely kill you now. You just hope it’s quick. You worry about Rosi though, about whether he’ll be killed as well or just imprisoned here for the rest of his life, doomed to be tormented by his brother.

The door opens and you’re shoved inside, nearly falling before regaining your balance. Funny how much you’re thrown off by having your arms behind your back. 

Doflamingo is standing in the middle of the room, at the foot of his massive bed. His feathered coat and red suit jacket are gone, leaving red pants and a black dress shirt unbuttoned. In the chair nearby, Rosi is sitting, not restrained but looking pale and slightly dazed. His eyes meet yours, and he stands up. 

“Are you alright?!” he asks, rushing over to you. 

“I’m fine. What about you?”

He leans in close and says in a hurried whisper, “I’m so sorry! He forced me to take the drug again! He’s got something terrible planned!” 

“Rosi, sit down,” Doflamingo says, and Rosi hesitantly obeys. Then the older brother approaches you. “Do you have any idea how angry you’ve made me?”

You shake your head. “We just wanted to be free,” you say, trying to edge back away from him. 

He grabs your arm near the shoulder and pulls you closer to him. “You belong to me. Both of you do,” he says then drags you over to the bed. He positions himself in a sitting position, his back against the headboard, and pulls you into his lap, your back against his chest. 

With his bare hands, he rips your dress open, all the way down the front, leaving you completely exposed. You cry out at the sudden motion. 

“Stop it, Doffy!” Rosi yells. “You don’t realize what you’re doing! She didn’t even want to leave. I had to talk her into it!”

Doffy’s hands are groping your breasts harshly. “And why should that matter to me?”

Rosi looks from you to his brother. “Because she has feelings for you. I noticed, and it scared me, so I rushed the escape plan. She actually cares about you! About both of us! She might be the only human in the world who does!”

Doffy pauses and moves one hand to your chin, turning your face so that he can see your eyes. “Is that true? Do you have feelings for me?”

You wish you could see his eyes, to get some kind of read on what he’s thinking. Instead you only see your terrified face reflected back from his sunglasses. After a moment, you nod. “I do.”

Even you don’t understand why. The heart is a mysterious thing you suppose. 

Doffy grins in that terrible way that spells imminent danger. “I’m touched,” he says in a clearly sarcastic tone. “So touched that I’ve decided to show mercy.”

You stare back at him in disbelief. He’s not going to kill you? 

He must notice the confusion in your eyes, because he laughs and adds, “I still have to punish you though.”

With that, he reaches one long arm over to the nightstand and retrieves a little wooden box. He sits it on the bed beside you and opens it to reveal a set of what appears to be small golden hoop earrings. Oddly, there are three instead of two, and each of them has a very sharp, pointed end. 

Is he… going to pierce your ears? For what purpose? 

“I’m feeling so merciful tonight that I’m giving you gifts,” he says, grinning widely. “Even lowly human women like jewelry, right?”

You glance over at Rosinante, who looks just as confused as you are, but it might be because the drug is taking effect. His eyes are glazed over, his face reddening. 

Suddenly Doffy’s left hand moves around you to your right breast, giving it a squeeze before his fingers hold your nipple in a firm grip. He’s behind you, but he’s so tall he can easily loom over you and see what he’s doing as he pulls one of the small golden rings from the box. 

“Don’t worry, I already had these sanitized. We don’t want our cute toy to get an infection.”

You realize with horror what he intends to do, and instinctively try to squirm out of his grasp. With your hands cuffed behind you and his arms around your body, that’s an impossible task.

His right hand edges closer to you, the sharp point gleaming. You whimper, only getting the chance to say, “W-wait!” before you feel the cold metal pierce through your tender nipple. 

You scream, your body jerking in agony as Rosi jumps up from his chair and rushes over. 

“Doffy what the fuck?!” he yells, panicking as he tries to decide what to do to help you, seeming afraid to actually touch you. “You said you’d show mercy!”

Doflamingo still has one arm snaked around you, holding you in place. “This is mercy,” he tells Rosinante. His hand slides up to your throat and rests there. “It would be so easy to snap her neck. It would take no effort at all for me to rip her arms right off her body. I’ve killed countless slaves just for mildly annoying me. And she betrayed me. Her brains should be caked on the bottom of my shoes right now.”

Tears have already filled your eyes. You look down and see the ring, the tiny trickle of blood dripping from it, and nearly faint. You look back at Doflamingo. “I’m sorry,” you say, desperate to make all this stop. “I’m sorry we left…”

His face turns toward yours. “I know you are,” he says in a fake soothing voice. “That’s why I decided to give you a less permanent punishment.”

What he’s saying makes sense, in some terrible way. You expected to die for trying to escape, and your own guilt for leaving him behind is eating at your frazzled mind. You watched him crush a slave’s skull for dropping his coat. The fact that he’s not killing you for your crimes is an absolute shock. 

You collapse back against his chest. “Just do it,” you say weakly. 

Rosi looks horrified. “No! This is insane! If anyone deserves to be punished, it’s me!”

Doffy laughs then, loud and clear, the sound filling the room like a cloud. You feel it rumbling in his chest at your back. “Rosi, this is your punishment!”

With that, he quickly grips your left nipple while grabbing a second ring, then plunges the sharp end through your flesh before anyone else can react. 

You scream again, your body going rigid in Doffy’s lap for a moment before falling limp. The pain is blinding, burning, and you’re completely helpless against it. Your mind feels foggy, your vision hazy. You turn your head to look up at him, your face streaked with tears, your hair messy. “I’m sorry, Doffy… I promise I’ll never leave you alone again…”

What are you even saying? You barely understand the words yourself. You should hate him more than ever, but your heart is breaking and you don’t even know why. 

Doffy doesn’t reply, but instead looks at Rosi and holds out the box. “I saved one for you.”

Rosi’s eyes are wet and wide. “What? Where would I even…” His voice trails off as a look of pure horror spreads over his face. “No… you’ve gone mad, Doffy!”

You hear what they’re saying but your mind is so broken at the moment that you don’t comprehend what’s happening. Doffy pulls your legs apart, then slips one hand down to peel back the folds of your pussy. “Right here. Go ahead and put it in.”

That’s when you realize where the third ring is going. You snap to sudden awareness, trying vainly to get away, but just as before, Doffy has you in a vice grip. 

Rosi drops the box onto the bed. “I’m not doing this. She’s too sensitive there… it’s too cruel! You’ve done some sick things in the past but this is fucked up even for you!”

One of Doffy’s fingers lightly strokes your clit, making you shudder. “Rosi,” he says in that frighteningly calm tone he uses when angry, “if you don’t do it, I’ll rip out all her pretty little organs and decorate your room with them.”

You look up at Rosinante, trying to focus on his face. “It’s okay, Rosi. Just do it. Just finish this, please.”

Rosi stares at you, then at his brother. “I’ll never forgive you for this, Doffy,” he says before taking the final golden ring from the box. He sits on the bed, turning toward you, then very carefully holds your clit between his thumb and finger. “I’m sorry,” he says to you. 

“I know,” you tell him, fresh tears in your eyes. 

With Doffy watching, grin on his face, Rosi brings the point close. His eyes flick from the ring to your face, then back again. He takes a deep breath, then pushes the sharp edge into your tiny clit. 

Either because he was so hesitant, or because he’s trying to be careful, he’s much slower than Doffy was, ironically making the pain a thousand times worse. 

You scream louder than ever before, unable to bear the agony coursing through you, your legs kicking out wildly until Doffy holds them down. Rosi hurries to fasten the ring, then looks at his own handiwork. 

He’s panting, his eyes wild. You hear Doffy say, “Looks like the drug is really hitting you now!” before you black out. 

You don’t know how long you’re out, but when you wake up, you’re still in Doflamingo’s lap, in his bed, your arms still bound behind you. The first thing you feel is pain. The piercings are sore now, not at all helped by Doffy’s fingers playing with your tits. 

As you become more awake and aware, you feel another sensation. You look down to find Rosi gently licking your freshly pierced clit. Your body shivers, wracked by a powerful combination of pleasure and pain. 

When Rosi looks up, his eyes are completely dazed from the drug, his tongue softly prodding at the ring as his fingers slide in and out of your drenched pussy. 

His drug addled brain probably thinks he’s soothing you, but this much stimulation is quickly overwhelming your senses. You’re going to cum soon, and your body is twitching as evidence. But before you can climax, Doffy’s hand moves to your face and turns it toward him. 

Oh. His sunglasses are gone. A pair of deep red eyes are staring at you as Doffy’s mouth closes over yours, kissing you passionately. He never kisses slaves, but his tongue is in your mouth, exploring, tasting, as the fingers teasing your nipple rings become gentle. 

Rosi is still devouring your pussy, his tongue slipping through the gold hoop and very lightly pulling on it, making both pain and pleasure shoot through you. Your whole body is shaking, the two brothers easily pushing you over the edge. You moan into Doffy’s mouth as you cum, squirting all over Rosi’s face as he laps it up. 

After it’s over, the brothers uncuff you. Rosi takes off his own shirt and covers you with it, then picks you up. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Doffy asks, straightening his clothes. 

“To my room,” Rosi says, as if it’s obvious. 

Doffy puts his sunglasses back on. “No. You haven’t been punished nearly enough for the shit you tried to pull. Both of you will be confined to the holding cell until I decide to let you out.”

Rosi frowns. “You can’t do that to me, I’m-“

“You’re my brother, and you’re on thin ice,” Doffy says darkly. “But don’t worry, the two of you will enjoy yourselves. All your food and water will be spiked with the drug. Fuck each other until your brains are mush.”

Rosi starts to say something, but four guards appear at the door, waiting to escort you both. He glares at them. “None of you fucking touch her,” he says. The guards look uneasy, probably because they’re caught between obeying two different Celestial Dragons. They eventually nod, allowing Rosi to carry you down the hall. They lead the two of you down a set of stairs and down another hallway, in what appears to be an underground dungeon. 

You can see several “cells”, all with bars across the front. Each room has a small shower, sink, and toilet. You feel your gut twist when you realize anyone who walks through this area will see everything you do. Maybe you can get Rosi to stand in front of you to block their view. 

Though… if you’re both taking the drug, neither of you will probably care who sees. 

Each cell also has a small, fold away bed and a single wooden chair. It certainly doesn’t look comfortable for two people to stay in. 

You wonder what these cells are for. Misbehaving slaves? That’s the only answer that makes sense. 

Rosi walks into one of them and sits you on the bed. A guard walks in with a folded bundle of linens, including a clean dress for you, then walks back out and locks the gate-like door behind him. 

Once the guards have left, and the whole area is empty aside from the two of you, Rosi helps you pull the dress on before you fall asleep on the bed. You’re too exhausted to be worried. 

The next several days pass by in a blur, time losing all meaning after you both gave in to thirst on the third day. With both of you affected by the drug, you crave each other constantly. Rosi fucks you on the small bed, against the bars, in the shower, bent over the tiny sink, and even in the chair. You ride him like he’s a wild beast, cumming so many times that you pass out nearly every day. 

At some point Doflamingo appears on the other side of the bars. You have no idea how long he was there before you noticed him, because you’re currently preoccupied. 

Rosi is sitting on the floor of the cell, his back against the wall. You’re on your hands and knees in front of him, nestled between his spread thighs, deep throating his cock. 

When you notice Doffy, you pause and pull away. Your mind isn’t working properly. You should be screaming curses at the monster on the other side of your cage, but instead you smile at him and extend your hand, beckoning him. 

“Doffy! I missed you! Come here!”

For a moment, he doesn’t move or speak, then he opens the barred door and walks inside. He loosens his tie as he makes his way across the cell, stopping briefly at the small shelf where your supply of bottled water sits. He grabs a bottle, snaps off the lid, and takes a long drink. 

Did he just willingly drug himself? 

He unbuttons his shirt and pulls off his sunglasses, his every move seeming sensual to your eyes. He grins as he drops down to his knees behind you, finally descending into your dirty world with you. He turns you around with ease, so that you’re on your back, the cold stone floor against your bare skin. He opens his pants, pushes your legs apart, and begins fucking you right there in the cell. 

Ah, you really did miss him! You missed the way he shoves all the way in with each thrust, the way he turns you into a toy for his satisfaction. 

Rosi shifts positions so that he’s sitting beside your head, his fully erect cock still waiting for your attention. You turn your head to the side and take him back into your mouth, messily smearing around saliva and precum. Rosi’s hand lovingly strokes your hair while Doffy’s fingers play with your clit piercing. It feels so incredibly good to be stuffed full by their enormous cocks, your legs are trembling already. 

You pull away from Rosi once more, looking at each of the brothers in turn. Then you smile sweetly at them and say, “I love you!”

They both stare at you for a moment, then glance at each other. 

Rosi’s voice is soft when he asks, “Which one of us do you love?”

You giggle at that. “Both of you!” Then you wrap your lips around Rosi’s shaft again. 

Doffy laughs loudly, and you can see that his red eyes have taken on a hazy look. The drug is hitting him now. He gives your clit ring a small tug, making you whimper around Rosi’s cock. “You belong to us,” he says in that deep voice of his, fucking you even harder now. “I’ll never let you go!”

In your drug induced euphoria, his words sound like a twisted love confession. The sheer joy of hearing it makes you climax, your body convulsing with pleasure, your pussy clenching Doffy while your throat constricts around Rosi. 

They both watch you come undone, and moments later, they both cum as well, filling your waiting holes. 

*****

A month later, you’re sitting on the couch in Doffy’s office, Rosi beside you. Doffy is yelling at a slave who misplaced some paperwork. He suddenly reaches out and grabs the woman’s neck, prompting you to stand up. 

“Doffy,” you say, drawing his attention, “you promised.”

He sighs and releases the woman, who drops to the floor, gasping and sputtering. He looks down at her and says, “Get out of my sight.”

She scurries out of the room, then Doffy walks over and closes the door behind her. He promised you he’d stop killing slaves, and so far he’s kept that promise. You hope someday you can convince him to free them, but for now… baby steps. 

He returns to the couch and sits down, then takes hold of your wrist and pulls you onto the couch beside him, right between the two brothers. 

“If you were any other human, I’d kill you in the most gruesome way possible for undermining me in front of a slave,” he says, his hand slowly pulling up the lacy ruffled layers of your dress. 

Rosi scoots closer, his own hand pulling your right knee away from your left. “Like I’d let you do that,” he says to his brother. 

Doffy laughs, his hand slipping into the front of your panties. “She gets turned on when I say things like that. She’s already wet.”

“Really?” Rosi asks, his hand joining Doffy’s. Two sets of fingers are between your thighs, one of them opening your folds while the other begins stroking your clit around the ring. You don’t know whose fingers are doing what, but you moan as you lean back against the couch. 

“So, who’s room are staying in tonight?” Rosi asks you, a warm smile on his face. 

Doffy scoffs. “Of course she’s staying in mine. You’re welcome to watch from the chair, Rosi. Or you can just listen to her screams from your room.”

Rosi frowns. “I think she prefers my room. She loves taking control, riding me until she cums as many times as she likes.”

Two fingers lightly pinch your overly sensitive clit while another pulls at the ring. You shudder as you look from one brother to the other. Do you choose Rosi’s gentle lovemaking that makes you feel worshipped and adored? Or Doffy’s rough and harsh fucking that leaves you unable to walk the next day? 

“Can’t I have both?” you ask in your sweetest voice. 

They look at each other, then both grin. Doffy uses his free hand to turn your face toward him. He kisses you deeply before saying, “Such a greedy little human, wanting two Celestial Dragons all to herself!”

Rosi kisses you next, his lips warm and soft on yours. “We can share you again tonight, since you asked so nicely.”

And so your life as the toy of two monstrous brothers continues. You lost your freedom the day they bought you at the auction, but you’re not too upset about that anymore. After all, you have two new toys of your own. 

Tag List : @miruto @sharkuu 

[earthsparked]

Hallo!! Hallo!!

It's me!!! F.T!!

Tomorrow is going to be my birthday:D(June 26)

I randomly want to ask on how bots would feel or how they'd act about their human friends on their birthday!

Like would they give their human companions gifts? Would they willingly sing happy birthday? Etc?

-F.T

Happy birthday, F.T.! 🎉

Hot Rod is a little confused, but he gets the spirit. This is a special day for you because you emerged from an egg delivered by a stork that landed in a cabbage patch or something (he does not need details). Therefore you are being treated to a new competitive sport, which he has created: having the best birthday. This IS a competition and he is going to win it. You’re getting presents (weird ones, possibly stolen). You’re getting food (definitely stolen). You’re getting a very confused bagpiper who has been hired to follow you around and make sure everyone knows it’s your birthday.

Optimus is a lot more low-key. He actually has some grasp on what the day means, and though he’s not much into presents, he definitely wishes you a happy day. Maybe he spends some time with you talking about your life and what you’re proudest of having done. I bet he’d do something like take you for a drive to have a heartfelt talk about where you want the rest of your life to go, while enjoying some beautiful scenery.

Drift would be in the middle: he’d get the specialness of the day, for sure, but he might be hesitant to engage too much out of fear of insulting you somehow or overstepping. He’d definitely invite you to meditate with him, and probably give you some insight into your life through a deep philosophical conversation from his perspective of spectralism. And then he’d solemnly tell you how much better the world is with you in it, and hesitantly give you a present that he got someone else’s help to pick out for you. Something in a color that really represents your best qualities and his hopes that you’ll have a fruitful year.

Whirl is dragging you to the bar. You’re going to do karaoke and shots. Or you’re going to watch him do karaoke and shots. Either way. He threatens everyone into singing happy birthday to you. Ends the night giving you some incredibly expensive present you’ve wanted for ages, and absolutely will not say where he got it from or how he knew.

Bumblebee is more in tune with human culture, so you’re getting the full traditional birthday experience. Fortunately UberEats is a thing. A catered party, balloons, a cake, some small but very funny and cute gifts. He definitely reminded all your family and friends about the party by hacking their phones so nobody forgets. Gets in a little scuffle with Jazz and Blaster over who gets to DJ the party. This leads to some interesting musical selections.

Ratchet acts like he doesn’t care, but he gives you a book on some subject you’ve been fascinated by for ages. Gruffly brushes it off when you thank him. Yeah, yeah, go on, he’s busy. Get out of his medbay. Secretly smiles to himself after you hug his ankle and bounce off to go read your new book.

Jazz throws a rave that turns out to be a trap for the Decepticons. They bust up your party, but you had a killer time first and Jazz has done something insane like hack into your favorite restaurant and given you free food for life.

Prowl also hacks something for your birthday. You get a notice that your student loans, medical debt, credit cards, car payments, parking tickets, mortgage, etc. have all mysteriously been paid off. He will never admit to doing this.

[conelluwrites]

Getting Baby Trapped Headcanons

Featuring: Thanos (Choi Su-bong), Nam-gyu, and Hwang In-ho Warnings: manipulation, stealthing, dub-con, drug use (Thanos), AO3 link Explicit Masterlist here Other: I might do fics about this later... much 2 think abt

Choi Su-bong | Thanos

He doesn't do it maliciously, please believe him baby :((

He does it under the influence 100%

There's no pin pricks in condoms, no throwing your pills away, he absolutely does it just because he's high and thinks you'd be a cute lil mama

Please don’t be angry :((  He just loves you so much

He just says he’s got a condom on, but he definitely doesn’t

You’re not a stupid woman, you definitely know the difference, but he doesn’t care

When his drug addled brain finally clears up he does feel a bit guilty and begs for your forgiveness

When those two lines finally show up much to your chagrin, he jumps and fist bumps the air

Absolutely ecstatic, especially if you test positive during one of his high times

Please, cariño, we can do this.  Don’t be mad with me, baby girl.  You’d be the prettiest baby mama in the world.

Nam-Gyu

Does it maliciously, the fucker!

He gets scared you’ll leave him and instead of talking about it like a big boy he decides the best option is to knock you up

Does he want a kid?  Nah, not truly- he’d be a shit dad, that’s what he tells himself anyway

But that doesn’t matter-- what matters is keeping you tied to him with his bastard

Breaking up with him is still an option, but you’d still have to see him and he’d smooth talk you right back into his arms

Definitely stealths

Don’t try to call him out on this, he will belittle you mid-sex for being such a bitch.  How could you accuse him of something like that!

He’s a cocky ass when those two lines appear and you’ve been throwing up

Pats your back when you puke while covering his nose and tells you to hurry it up

Poor girl, huh…  I thought you were one of those proper women who use birth control.  Damn shame, oh well.

Hwang In-ho

He just wants a family with you, you’re his second chance

He’d never verbally call you a second chance, of course, and he doesn’t generally see you that way.  He adores you, practically worships the ground you walk on, please don’t doubt that he loves you

He’s more subtle, though he’s prepared if you call him out- pricking holes in the condom and convincing you that you don’t need birth control

After all, why do you need birth control?  Condoms have a low risk of failing, he knows what he’s doing, and you’ve complained about the side effects before

Definitely more manipulative than either Thanos or Nam-gyu.  He’s in this for the long con.  He doesn’t care how long this takes, how many cycles he has to wait through, he knows it’ll happen

Initiates sex more often, but not too much more than usual.  With your hormones back to normal after quitting birth control you start to initiate more often than usual

He holds you after sex, brushing his fingers up and down your arms and whispering sweet, calming words.  He always does after sex care, even when he’s gentle, but there’s even more gentleness behind his actions now

He’s so damn pleased when he sees you hold out the test to him, your face flushed and looking flustered

He takes it and sits it aside and then envelopes you in his arms, tucking your head into his neck

It seems we’ve been blessed, hm?  I suppose even at 98% effective that still gave us a 2% chance.  Well, no use in complaining about it.

[vampstarkey]

ֹ ִ ♱𝅼 Uncontrolled

-MASTERLIST-

♱ Summary: Rafe is your stepbrother, the typical boy who always gets into trouble, surrounded by bad influences and impulsive decisions. But everything got worse when you started dating your first boyfriend; that day, something in him simply snapped. From that moment on, Rafe became more explosive, possessive and aggressive, dominated by the irrational jealousy he felt for his sweet and untouchable little sister.

♱ Warning: noncon? drug use, incest, humiliation, degradation, unprotected sex, pussy slapping, head stomping, oral sex, ass slapping and cheating.

♱ note: I don't know what to say about this, but I put so much naughtiness in this fic that I think I'll meet all of you who liked it in hell LOL ( i love stepbrother rafe ) 🫣

The night was completely taken over by a storm, lightning cutting through the sky while heavy rain hammered the roof, filling the air with that constant, relentless sound. You had just gotten back from a date with your boyfriend, the smell of wet earth still clinging to your clothes, which were partially soaked despite the raincoat having spared you from the worst. Your damp boots left footprints on the floor as you walked to the small table by the door, dropping your keys with a hurried clink, not really caring.

You headed toward the living room, adjusting the collar of your coat, until your eyes widened at the utterly deplorable scene in front of you. Rafe was slouched on the couch, hunched over the coffee table, meticulously arranging white lines on a tray with an old card. Without wasting a second, he leaned over the powder and inhaled deeply, so focused on his addiction that he didn’t even notice your presence. “Fuck… this shit’s good,” he muttered to himself, throwing his body back, running a hand over his face, breathing heavily as if it were some kind of relief.

Your eyes rolled instantly in pure disapproval, and a knot of irritation tightened in your stomach. It didn’t take long for you to conclude that Ward and Rose were obviously not home. Only then would Rafe have the guts to pull something like this right in the middle of the living room, like it was no big deal, without caring who might show up.

With your hands resting on your hips, body stiff, your voice came out sharp, almost cutting “What the fuck, Rafe.” He jumped up from the couch, startled, staring at you with wide eyes and a flicker of nervousness in his voice. “Shit, girl, you scared the hell out of me.” In a hurry, he tried to cover the tray with a pillow, a pathetic and desperate attempt to hide what was already blatantly obvious.

“You really think I don’t know what you were doing, Rafe?” Your voice was firm, cutting, sharp as a razor. You weren’t stupid, you never had been. “That’s none of your business, Y/n,” he snapped back, now with that harsh, arrogant tone full of anger you knew all too well. That tone only came out when he was frustrated or pissed off about something.

I yanked the raincoat off my body and tossed it carelessly onto the couch, sighing loudly as I rolled my eyes. “Don’t pull that crap with me, Rafe. Dad would lose his mind if he caught you doing this shit here,” I shot back honestly, not even bothering to sugarcoat it because, frankly, it was the plain truth.

He let out a dry, mocking laugh, running a hand through his blond hair, completely unfazed. “Oh please… as if you cared. You don’t give a damn about anything… not even me,” he said in that careless tone, like he was just throwing words around. His words hit like a punch, and it took you a few seconds to process them, staring at him in disbelief.

As you got rid of the coat, Rafe, with that filthy, shameless look he never even tried to hide, finally noticed how your clothes clung to your body. The black t-shirt, now partly see-through from the rain, revealed way more than it should, and the tight, short white denim shorts seemed like pure provocation to his eyes even though you hadn’t intended it. But of course, being the complete bastard he was, he couldn’t just ignore it.

“You say that like it’s nothing, Rafe. I’m your sister, of course I care,” I snapped back, crossing my arms, feeling my face burn with anger and maybe with shame too, because of the way he was looking at me.

He let out a bitter laugh, looking away like it was nothing. “Yeah, right… spare me the act. You care so much that you were out there rubbing up on your little boyfriend, huh?” he spat, that sarcastic, venomous tone clearly meant to provoke me.

His audacity left me speechless for a few seconds, it was surreal how cynical he could be. “That has absolutely nothing to do with this,” I fired back, clenching my teeth, feeling my blood boil.

Rafe ran his tongue over his lips, his eyes blatantly trailing down to your legs, not even trying to hide it. “Doesn’t, huh?” he asked, his voice low, dragged, provocative, crossing his arms like he had all the time in the world. “Funny… ‘cause those shorts are screaming something else.”

Your whole body tensed, a mix of anger, discomfort, and indignation boiling in your chest. “For God’s sake, Rafe… are you listening to yourself? Do you even hear me when I speak, or is your brain so clogged with coke that you can’t even grasp what decency is anymore?” you spat, crossing your arms tighter, trying to shield yourself from his gaze.

The boy laughed, shaking his head, running his hands through his hair again, like he was trying to keep control or maybe just holding back from saying something even worse. “Decency? You? Talking about decency, princess?” he scoffed, flashing that crooked, sarcastic smile, lightly biting his lower lip. “You walked outta here all dolled up to play the good girl with your boyfriend, and now you come back acting like a saint.”

“You’re pathetic,” I snapped, clenching my fists, feeling my nails dig into my palms. “Seriously, pathetic. You think you’re so superior, so righteous, but look at yourself, Rafe… look at this scene. Look at what you’ve become.”

His jaw clenched, the smile disappearing for a moment. His eyes darkened, heavy, filled with something you couldn’t tell if it was anger, frustration… or something far more dangerous. “Careful with what you say, Y/n,” he growled, leaning forward.

The silence that followed was so heavy it felt like even the rain outside had quieted. You swallowed hard but didn’t back down. As much as that look scared you, you weren’t going to bow your head to him, not this time.

“Get the hell out of here,” he snapped, turning back to the couch and throwing himself onto it, crossing his legs like he wanted you erased from his sight. “You can’t tell me what to do,” I shot back, my voice steady, though it started trembling more from rage than fear.

Rafe let out a short, mocking laugh, shaking his head, clearly amused by your stubbornness. “Oh, you wanna stay? Fine. Then sit down and watch, princess.” His face hardened, the smile vanished, and he shoved his hand into his pocket, pulling out another small bag of white powder. “Because I’m gonna snort all this shit right in front of you.”

Your chest rose and fell rapidly, blood boiling. You walked quickly up to him, stopping right in front of the couch, trying to keep your tone firm but controlled, knowing how unpredictable he could be. “Stop it, Rafe… You know you don’t need this. You know exactly where this is taking you…” you said, holding his gaze even though your palms were already sweating.

He lifted his head, locking eyes with yours, his gaze full of pain, rage, frustration, and pride. “I don’t want to stop,” he replied coldly, practically spitting the words. The second he opened the bag, you lunged forward on impulse and ripped it from his hands, gripping it tight like your life depended on it.

“Give it back. Cut the crap and give it back. Now,” he growled, standing up so fast it made you stumble a step back. He huffed, clenching his fists, visibly losing control. “I’m not giving it back,” you replied firmly, clutching the bag even tighter like it would disappear if you held it hard enough.

His gaze grew even darker. And without thinking twice, Rafe lunged at you, his large hands grabbing for the bag, pushing his body against yours forcefully. You fought back, tried to dodge, pushed him off, held on as much as you could, but he was stronger. In the middle of the struggle, he shoved you hard onto the couch. “I gave you a chance, little sister,” he hissed through clenched teeth, his voice low, threatening, his gaze burning with rage.

Even pinned against the couch, you resisted, struggling, holding the bag tightly against your chest, refusing to let go. “Get off me, Rafe! Let me go now!” you screamed, fighting back, feeling his hands gripping your arms tightly while his body practically pinned you down, trying to immobilize you at all costs. It was a battle of strength, of wills, and neither of you was willing to give in.

In the desperate attempt to keep the bag against your chest, your hand slipped in the middle of the fight. The tiny bag tore, and the white powder burst into the air before falling straight onto your thighs, staining your skin, the fabric of your denim shorts, and part of your shirt.

“What the fuck!” Rafe growled, narrowing his eyes in disbelief, staring at the scene like he was about to explode. His fists clenched, his jaw tightened so hard it seemed like his teeth would shatter. “You’re insane, Y/n! Completely insane!” he yelled, running a hand through his hair, pacing back and forth, absolutely losing it.

You looked down, staring at the powder scattered across your legs, staining your skin, trailing almost up to the crease of your thighs. Your chest was heaving, breath quick and heavy, not believing that this had actually happened.

Rafe stopped abruptly, grabbed your chin with one hand, his blue eyes blazing like a dangerous idea had just sparked in his mind. His expression shifted almost instantly, from pure rage to something far worse. Something dangerous.

“Oh, you wanna play, huh?” he said, voice low, drawn out, with that crooked smile loaded with bad intentions. “Fine… now you’re gonna deal with the consequences, sis.”

He stepped closer, eyes fixed on your powder-stained thighs, lightly biting his lower lip, and added in a tone that made your whole body shiver, you didn’t even know if it was from fear, nerves… or both. “Since you wasted it… there’s only one way not to let it go to waste.”

He crouched in front of you, hands going straight for your thighs, and you froze. Your heart pounding so hard it felt like it would explode inside your chest. His expression was intense, full of tension, desire, and something else. Something you couldn’t even name, but it was definitely nothing safe.

Rafe slid his firm hands down your thighs, spreading the white powder further across your skin. His fingers squeezed your flesh tightly, as if he could no longer tell whether it was anger, lust, or just that damned addiction consuming every part of him.

Without a second thought, he leaned in, gripping your thighs firmly, and slowly dragged his nose along your skin, inhaling a line formed in the middle of the scattered powder. The sound of the snort was heavy and deep, and immediately after, he threw his head back, breathing deeply, eyes closing as the effect hit him.

“Fuck...” he murmured through clenched teeth, quickly returning, thirsty for more as if it wasn’t enough. With one hand, he pressed even harder on your thigh, leaning in again, dragging his nose along the inner part, inhaling another line, stronger, longer, as if he was inhaling you along with the drug.

His body trembled, his breath heavy and uneven. “You drive me crazy,” he whispered hoarsely, looking up at you with eyes filled with something indistinguishable whether it was just frustration or a completely twisted, insane desire.

His hands moved up and down your thighs, spreading the rest of the powder, and between snorts, he paused, lightly biting your skin, pressing his lips against it as if he needed more always more.

“Look what you do to me...” his voice came out low, hoarse, heavy, as he ran his tongue over his lower lip, tasting the bitter powder mixed with your scent, your shivers, your tension.

Your cheeks burned instantly, your whole face on fire, as if the heat from your own body was trying to shield you from that surreal, unsettling, suffocating situation. “R-Rafe... s-stop it...” you stammered, your voice breaking, squeezing your legs together in a desperate attempt to protect yourself, to close off, but his hands kept you open, vulnerable, completely exposed to the madness he was feeding. “What's the matter? I think I need to get those jean shorts off you, babe..” he licked your thigh slowly.

“S-someone might come... you know that... that we can't...” your voice came out shaky, tight, trying to sound firm, trying to hold on to the little sanity you had left, but even you knew that your words were as fragile as your resistance at that moment.

Your eyes searched for any exit, any loophole, while your entire body trembled, not only from nerves, but from that absurd arousal that seemed to consume even the air you breathed. Your thighs were still stained with cocaine, your skin hot, sensitive, as if each of his touches left invisible marks burning on you.

“Shut up,” he growled lowly, tightening his grip on your chin, forcing you to keep your eyes on his, his gaze so deep, it seemed to pull you in, drown you. “Shut up,” he repeated, slower, more threatening, as if his voice could hold you there, immobile, unable to react.

“Then be a good little whoree and stay quiet.” Rafe pulled your shorts down, throwing them away without caring. He didn’t fail to notice the beautiful thin panties you were wearing, where a wet spot was already forming. Before removing them too, the blond left a hickey on the inside of your thighs, quickly turning them purple. “Shit..” you muttered amidst a guilty moan.

Rafe left trails of kisses all over your thigh, then finally ripped them off you abruptly. He pulled your legs, placing them one on each side of his shoulder and then before sucking you, he put his nose right in the middle of your pussy, smelling your scent. “So fucking good..” He said looking at you.

Without delay, he stuck his tongue in your already slippery folds. You couldn't say anything else at that point. All you could do was feel the sensation that your perverted brother was giving you. He had imagined this so many times that it was almost sickening. Rafe just wanted to have you completely for himself.

Your eyes closed and your body went completely limp, as if he no longer wanted to fight it. He sucked your pussy with desire, moving his tongue up and down while he looked at you like a pervert. Your pussy slid on his tongue. It was easy to turn you on, after all, you had only had sex a few times.

Your eyes rolled back for a moment. Your boyfriend had never sucked you as well as Rafe. "God, this feels so good," you said between moans that gradually became more and more desperate. Rafe stuck his tongue inside your little hole, playing with you.

His tongue sent shivers down your spine, he did it so fucking well that for a moment you forgot that the one sucking your pussy was your stepbrother. His tongue fucked you and you got wetter and wetter. “You like this, don’t you? Of course you do, I always knew what a slut you are” the words were turning you on more and more, you felt like you were going crazy.

“You’re a real whore, come on, tell me that” Rafe said, slapping your pussy hard, making you scream. “Say it now” the boy ordered once more. “I’m a whore… your whore…” You had never felt so humiliated and dirty for saying that and as disgusting as it was, you were enjoying it.

He laughed with satisfaction, moving his tongue to your clit. “Now I own this pussy, do you understand?” Rafe squeezed your thighs, smearing his face even more in your wetness. “Y-yes..” I said, rubbing myself almost automatically against his face.

The blond sucked you with such pleasure that it seemed like you were going to run away, it was as if he needed it, more than breathing, he was drowning in your pussy, as if he wanted to take everything from you until the last drop. You were sensitive, so sensitive that you would come undone at any moment.

Rafe slapped your clit again, making your body react with delicious spasms. “This is what you deserve, you little slut.” You writhed as you moaned in despair, more slaps were given to your pussy, you moved as he hit and hit more and more. “R-rafey, that hurts..” Your voice came out trembling with pain and at the same time with excitement.

“Poor little whoree, am I hurting you, babe?” He said in a mocking tone as if he was just being ironic and didn’t care at all if it hurt. “Yes, it hurts” Rafe laughed, giving another slap. “It’s a shame I don’t care” He went back to sucking you, taking you by surprise

Rafe sucked harder, sucking your clit. You grabbed his hair as your legs began to tremble around him “Fuck yes, just like that..” You said whimpering. “Daddy barely knows what a slut he has inside the house” Rafe said without caring, drowning his nose in your pussy.

You grabbed him tighter, cumming in his mouth.. Your hot liquid quickly slipped to the older man’s reddened lips, Rafe wasted no time and cleaned your entire pussy with his tongue. “Delicious” He said satisfied with your orgasm.

You quickly closed your legs and settled yourself on the couch. Your hair was stuck to your forehead because of the sweat. So Rafe went over to you, sitting next to you and brushing your hair out of your face. “I’m not done with you yet.” The boy came closer, pulling your black shirt up without asking for permission. You were braless, and your nipples were hard, as if they were begging Rafe to put them in his mouth.

And that’s exactly what he did. Rafe grabbed one of your breasts and put it in his mouth, playing with it. With his free hand, he played with the other. You lay down on the couch, making him lie on top of you while he sucked you. “Delicious breasts.” Rafe rubbed his face against them, like an insatiable pervert.

Rafe stopped paying attention to your breasts, turning you around roughly, leaving you with your back to him. Now, he had the view of your perky ass. It was a fucking temptation. Rafe slapped your soft ass, eliciting a scream from you. “I like hearing you scream..” You whimpered again, mumbling softly in pain.

With agility, Rafe pulled his polo shirt off, exposing his defined belly and his big juicy biceps. It was a shame you couldn't see it since your back was turned to him. Rafe unbuckled his pants belt, pulling it off and holding it in one of his hands. Then he forcefully brought the leather piece down to your fat ass, slapping it. "ghrr.. stop, it hurts." You buried your face in the couch to muffle the scream of pain.

Without mercy, he hit you once more, leaving you completely red. "You're a bad girl, a very bad girl." With each slap on your ass, you screamed. Tears began to run down your face and down your cheeks.

Your moans of pain were like music to his ears. He was enjoying watching you suffer, having you so surrendered to him, so vulnerable. You were getting scared and Rafe could see it, which only made him even more excited.

It was an unbearable burning sensation, your body was getting weaker and weaker, until he grabbed you firmly, keeping you upright on the couch. He hurriedly took off the pants he was wearing along with the underwear that was getting in his way and positioned himself behind you. Without warning, he pushed his cock inside your slippery pussy.

He didn't even bother to get a condom. He thrust so hard inside you that you gave a small spasm. "S-shit, why didn't you warn me?" you said between drawn-out moans. "Stay still." Rafe brought one of his hands in front of your face, covering your mouth, while with his other free hand, he grabbed your arms and placed them behind your back as he fucked you like a whore.

His cock went in and out without difficulty, you seemed well prepared for him. "What a greedy little pussy, I'm going to do some damage right here." His hips slammed against your ass as he thrust with desire and without mercy.

You could feel every inch inside your cervix, he was hitting you so good. The mascara in your eyes started to smudge, wetting your entire face, which mixed with the tears that were falling. His cock was so big and thick, you didn't know how you were holding it all, it was like ten times bigger than your boyfriend's.

Your moans were muffled by his hand that was still covering your mouth. Rafe started to moan, his moans were so desperate, as if he was loving fucking his little sister so much, it was hoarse and made you so horny. Your pussy was dripping, as if it was begging to be violated and fucked more and more.

Your body started to writhe, your legs went weak even lying on the couch. "Dirty slut, you're loving playing with your brother's cock, aren't you?" He laughed at you and your desperation below him. “Dirty sluts like you deserve to be fucked like real whores.” The way he humiliated you was deliciously sinful.

Rafe finally took his hand off your mouth, letting you moan. Your slutty moans were now loud and echoed throughout the house. Luckily, there was no one else there besides the two of you.

You could feel your orgasm approaching once again. You couldn’t believe that Rafe would make you cum again and as good as the last time. It was totally unbelievable. “Please…” You begged between sobs and more tears. Rafe took his hands off your arms that were positioned behind your back and put his foot on your head, stepping on you while still fucking you from behind.

You felt your head being pressed against the couch. For some reason that made you even wetter. Rafe felt like he was going to cum in your pussy at any moment and you needed it so much that you would humiliate yourself just to feel that cock cumming inside you.

You turned your head to the side, watching him thrust inside you, at that moment the blond could see your pretty face, exhausted and with the makeup coming off, so hot.. “Princess face with a whore’s attitude” He mocked as he thrust faster, your pussy was almost exhausted. “Fuck, I’m almost cumming…” Your voice came out low and tired, you were almost there, so close..

Rafe took one last breath, putting it more precisely, that thrust was enough and you came undone on that huge cock. You were so weak that you could barely move, Rafe pulled out of your slit, which was now completely destroyed by him. The boy lay down next to you, seeing you in that state and stood behind you. “My little girl is so tired.” He ran his hands through your sweat-damp hair.

You didn’t even look like the same person who was fucking you a few seconds ago. You couldn’t say anything else. He just watched you, completely exhausted, on the living room couch. “I’ll take care of you, princess.” Rafe kissed your neck from behind and caressed your waist lightly. The only thing you could think about was the fact that you had to get up before anyone came and saw that scene.

You didn’t know why, but you felt like that was just the beginning of everything that was about to come.

[fertabranche]

Reverse 1999 3.0 spoilers warning.

Sentinel’s design and the clothing crisis of the French Infantry during WW1.

This is not going to be a real analysis of her design because I don’t know enough about WW1, the army, or her, but I fell into a bunch of rabbit holes in a row so I need to give this knowledge a purpose now lol.

I didn’t source this because most of it is in French but hopefully it won’t be too inaccurate. I tried.

Ignoring her Batman boots because hell yeah, what really struck me about her design was the white pants. I don’t know how well known this is outside of France but the pants the infantrymen wore during World War One sort of reached urban legend status. The uniforms did change quite a bit during the war but the pants were never white, so I’m not quite sure why they chose to dress her like that.

Maybe this will end up being meaningful, like maybe she’s part of a special arcanist regiment I don’t know, or perhaps it’s just meant to make her stand out a little more. But this might be relevant context for the story in any case, so here’s the story of how a pair of pants allegedly killed a bunch of people during the war.

Historically French infantrymen went into WW1 looking a lot bolder.

the garance uniform (1829-1915)

For a very long time, flashy colors were preferred for military uniforms so soldiers would have an easier time spotting each other in the midst of battle, especially because gunpowder smoke was causing such big vision issues.

There was also a social aspect, so much so that when smokeless powder was created at the end of the 19th century and most European armies subsequently got into camouflage, the French very much! Did not!

Or more like, they debated about it, like a lot. They had first become aware of the anachronism of the uniform at the very beginning of the 20th century during the Second Boer War (1899-1902), where the British troops debuted khaki uniforms, which advantaged them greatly. (And though that’s what I’m focusing on because of R1999, I need to clarify that there were more issues than just the fucking pants lmao.)

The debates lasted for over 10 years, with several unsuccessful design attempts and much much social backlash. They notably almost managed to change it to green in 1911 thanks to a particularly motivated Minister of War, but unfortunately a plane crash-landed on his head and he died.

Part of the difficulty here was that it had become a public debate. A former minister even declared "Get rid of the red pants? Never, the red pants *are* France." And as WW1 was drawing closer and closer, people became very into the idea of getting revenge against the Germans for the War of 1870 while wearing the national colors. Nevermind that the red dye in question was apparently produced in Germany of all places.

This is an example of the "attaque à outrance" (attack at excess) military mindset that was very much still prevalent in Europe at the time. Also called "cult of the offensive", it was based on this idea that willpower was the strongest component of a military victory and henceforth, rushing onto the enemy was preferable to defensive strategies. I’m not going to get into the obvious propaganda of it all, but let’s just say that wearing your literal flag is certainly related. Back then, the uniform seems to have been used as a fashion statement meant to glorify the soldier’s patriotism and masculinity.

Eventually, a decree was finally signed in July 1914 to give up on "l’uniforme garance" (the name of the red dye). At the end of the month, on July, 28th 1914, the First World War would break out.

It would take over a year for the new uniforms to be both produced and fully distributed among the French troops. The garance uniform is quoted to have caused the deaths of thousands of French soldiers in the early phase of the Great War, both because its impracticality and sheer visibility.

I must clarify here that the pants are but one example of how WW1 forcibly transformed international warfare, and how industrialized weaponry defeated the cult of the offensive. Unfortunately I do not know jackshit about war so I will not elaborate, but there were many more mistakes made at the time, this is just one of the more striking one.

the horizon blue uniform (1915-1921)

At first, they had decided to mix blue, white and red (national colors) threads to continue the patriotic trend but ended up picking this grey-blue color instead, because it was a lot more efficient to make, and all of the other neutral tones had apparently already been picked by other countries.

I should mention here that though this was a stark improvement from the previous uniform, its camouflage properties were heavily criticized both during and after the war, especially when compared to the muddier tones of other armies. So much so that by the end of the war the Germans had apparently developed special technology to be able to spot the blue horizon even easier.

ANYWAY, that’s the uniform the NPCs seem to be wearing in Sentinel’s trailer. It’s the color most associated with the figure of the "poilus" (hairy ones), a term of endearment for the WW1 French infantrymen. Not that they were particularly hairy, especially since they had to shave to wear gas masks, but it appears to have originated as an expression of rustic everyday masculinity.

Sentinel is dressed quite differently here however. Her i1 uniform is pretty unmistakably blue horizon, but this one is a lot darker. I believe this is her i2 outfit since it’s also on her splash art. It’s too early to say what it’s supposed to be exactly, but darker blue was most common amongst higher ranking officers. This could make sense but her trailer names her as a second class soldier so I really don’t think this is why. It could be one I just haven’t found in my research, but my money is on the arcanist regiment because that sounds just like something they would write.

All in all, none of this explains why her pants are fucking white in both outfits. I really did look but I didn’t found anything that would make sense in this context. It probably does not matter at all, it’s certainly just a stylistic choice, but I am invested now I hope this is lore lmfao.

[burrythebusy]

Hello hrkg nation...

So, I was on the htk tag (as one is) and someone posted this screenshot from the novel when Kagiura is saying the room feels a lot emptier without Hirano and... shout out to OP because that literally changed my brain chemistry. Idk why but it literally clicked a switch in my head despite me reading the novel before and that specific part numerous times.

Not to overanalyze but this brings up a greater point in my years of being obsessed with HtK that reminds me that these two already destroyed one of the obligatory boundaries of being in a senpai/kouhai arrangement, moreso hirano though, by foregoing the expectation of "im supposed to help my kouhai become acclimated and fostering a friendly environment between us so that you can rely on me when needed (while also maintaining a respectable distance between he and I so that he can grow independently and do the same thing to a kouhai next year)" by becoming addicted to the feeling of spoiling him and being spoiled in return with honesty, genuine gratitude and happiness.

And what makes me bring this up is, its not unusual to become close to someone in a semester or to even begin to really like someone in that time. What always gets me though is that the level of sincerity never wavered. The feelings were never surface level. They have a deep and crucial understanding of each other that I wouldn't hesitate to call love. This doesn't apply to just Kagiura though, but Hirano. Now I might be reaching HEAVY and im not sure exactly what I might be saying with this, and this is gonna be a hashtag Flaming Hot Take bc some people dont see it this way and that is A-Okay 0 hard feelings. But im so convinced (and almost always have been) that Hirano has been in love with Kagiura for just as long as Kagiura has veen in love with him. Let me preface that it is no more meaningful if this is the case but this is just something I've been sitting on for literal years and I fear it only took me this sentence to decide to believe it wholeheartedly.

(Screenshot from my e-novel)

Kagiura saying the dorm feels empty without Hirano (affectionate), and this being Hirano's (equally affectionate) reaction.

So, I've actually noticed this pattern with Hirano: when affection is expressed between him and Kagiura, his verbal reaction is something along the lines of "tiredness". As in, Hirano will give or receive affection to/from Kagiura and tiredness is deemed the reason. Now, i dont recall this ever being done with his friends so thats why im extrapolating this phenomenon to hirakagi only (if im wrong lmk). Anyway, here are the examples, other than the one listed. And there are actually more than i thought

Exhibit A: Volume 6 Extra

I think this is the first one we see at all, and its comedic and hes being kind of aggressive about it PLUS we wouldn't think much of it at all because Kagiura literally did NOT sleep since Hirano accidentally slept in his bed. But just note that Kagiura is basically getting a kick out of seeing Hirano embarrassed (which to me. Is affection because. This is Hirano and Kagiura) and Hirano is just like "get your ass to bed." This example is probably less of one than the next ones but 100% worth talking about since this is post Kagiura confession (not sure where in the timeline though) and it still follows the theme of affection/tiredness, as Hirano is recognizing it and deeming tiredness to be the factor making him say what hes saying. Just like in the screenshot.

Exhibit B: Volume 9 Extra (1)

(Definitely in a relationship here LOLLL) And for some reason Kagiura decides that Hirano is acting spacey, and Hirano AGREES. Like, to be fair, Hirano was acting pretty gay this whole extra but its interesting to me that Kagiura is all abashed by Hirano being all suave and congratulating him and his first reaction is, "So... you really ARE tired" (re: Hirano using him as a pick-me-up in the first place). Why. Is it because Hirano is being affectionate? I MEAN, YEAH kagiura clearly took it as such hence the blushing and acting all embarrassed and then proceeding to be like "you must be tired. Anyway youre not being confessed to are you."

What stumps me more is how Hirano agrees with him. We know Hirano will get defensive at stuff Kagiura says (throwback to "them's fightin' words, asshole") and idk the exact wording in japanese but the idea that Hirano just casually agrees to kagiura ascribing his behavior to being spacey and he has nothing to say to it... interesting.

Exhibit C: Volume 9 Extra (2)

Mere moments later on the train when Hirano says "you can be stinky with me bae 😍", Kagiura is embarrassed by this clear sign of affection and what does Hirano say? "Man, am I tired" Okay we GET it. Again hes making a point to emphasize his tiredness and for what? To excuse that hes saying crazy shit? Mkay

Exhibit D: Whatever the hell this is

This... this whole page. Man i don't even know where to begin. Hirano is straight up unabashedly giving Kagiura googoo eyes. I had a violent reaction to seeing this extra. The point here is that Kagiura looked at him, got caught off guard by this absolutely unmistakable "im gonna take a bite out of you in the next ten seconds" look and his question is "are you sleepy". And its like. Okay sure hirano looks a little drunk (in love) yes but. He also looks wide awake. But he does say "a little".

Okay hold on I have to add that I'm genuinely tweaking out over this extra like YES I've seen it before but after volume five and just. Everything i am genuinely aghast at how obvious this is. Like oh my god. Hes practically drooling. Im loosing the plot so bad. What i would do to have this voice acted. Yoshitsugu Matsuoka you absolute legend i KNOW you'd cook for this

Anyway so yeah. I also noticed with two of these examples that its Kagiura mentioning the tiredness and its Hirano agreeing, and with one its Hirano saying it himself, and with two its Hirano saying it to Kagiura. Idk if what im saying makes sense but here's kinda what im getting at (again this extra genuinely made me lose my train of thought happy pride i guess damn): for Hirano, maybe its some sort of code, or something hes experienced from someone else, or maybe its just embarrassment covered up that has become an inside joke, im genuinely not sure, but Hirano will disguse affection as him being tired, or Kagiura's affection as him being tired, and Kagiura recognizes this too.

Why this stuck out to me with the novel is that, so early on, so soon in their relationship with each other, Hirano is already recognizing this affection hes receiving from his roommate, one that is in the general sense no different than his usual honesty and sincerity when it comes to Hirano, and Kagiura himself at this point hasnt quite come to terms with being in love with Hirano at all, just that he HAS deep affection for him. And yet Hirano picks up this DISTINCT affection in a way we've so far only ever seen referenced post-confession AND when theyre in a relationship, that makes him say, "You must be tired".

In other words, we see Hirano, far before Kagiura admits his own feelings or even realizes the extent of them and far before Hirano can even consider his own feelings LOVE, use a phrase that we've only so far seen used in contexts in which the two are being obviously romantic in their affection (the only POSSIBLE exception being Exhibit A but the whole reason that whole thing happened the way it did was because of the romantic context to this otherwise embarrassing but negligible occurrence) and he doesnt even REALIZE it. Even if Kagiura was actually sleepy (and he was), and even if hes just being a little shy, the idea that Hirano's first thought was "dodge" and that dodging is something we see come up in such a specific, familiar way in such specific circumstances following what we would brush off as insignificant in the scheme of things just has me tapping my chin and then going EUREKA! Because Hirano loves him and has and its that simple. Hirano has always associated whatever feeling he had at that moment from receiving a particular flavor of affection with tiredness, with sleepiness, with someone saying those things because theyre not all there right now, they wouldnt USUALLY do that because if they did, it wouldnt make me feel this way, so here is a reasonable explanation. That same principle is then applied to himself; if im saying things that make me feel this way, that are a reflection of how i feel, in such a way that i would never actually do but here it is, just slipping out of me, I must be tired, I must not be all there, otherwise this wouldn't happen, I wouldnt say it.

Hirano loves him, and even if it’s not as AGGRESSIVELY as current Hirano, I think this was at LEAST the beginning of it. Hirano already killed the boundaries of their relationship in order to achieve a comfortable dorm life for both of them, and by doing so he created this situation between the two of them in which there is a very unique sense of closeness and understanding, and bond brought about because they are who they are individually and then with each other. Kagiura is honest about how he feels and before now he wasnt necessarily hiding his affection for Hirano, not in a way that matters. And then he tells Hirano that "Without you, it felt lonely" (with you, things feel whole, and right. if i had to choose, i would rather be with you (i wanna be with you (more than anyone in the world))) and Hirano feels this affection in such a way that creates a pattern in his behavior that he repeats in the future when he knows too that Kagiura is the person he wants to be with more than anyone in the world, where he gets to have that spot beside him, right where he wants to be, right where Kagiura wants him to be, and he says it now. "You must be sleepy." (Because it must be you, Kagiura—so earnest and honest, so much more so when you're tired that you would say such embarrassing things that no one would ever say to me—and not me, who feels each syllable in my chest and remembers the feeling each moment I spend with you in a future I do not yet know I had been wanting).

Also ignore every typo i am so sleepy and im gonna reread this tomorrow and go "burry was onto nothing 🔥🔥" but for right now we will Pretend

[clinical-space-podcast]

Okay here it is. The moment that zero of you have been waiting for: My infodump about framing devices and modern audio fiction.

If you're a newer fiction podcast listener, you may have asked, "Why do so many shows pretend to be some real thing?" And if you're a newer fiction podcast creator (as I am), you may have asked, "Do I have to use a framing device?"

Short Answer: It's never been a requirement, but it is fun for some creators, it is useful for some stories, and the tradition of it dates back farther than you might think.

(Extremely) Long Answer:

I would say that the tradition's lineage can be traced back in two directions, separately: horror and radio.

Horror.

This one goes way back. Way way back. Dracula, Frankenstein, etc etc... There really is something about what we would now call "found footage" that creates a workable balance between believable and unbelievable - make it seem like it could have actually happened, however impossible the story is, and (if done right) the horror aspects hit deeper. Combine that with the automatic sense of the unkown that comes from only reading snippets from a few characters' personal perspectives; horror thrives on the unknown.

[Tangent] The podcast Re:Dracula, which I feel should be mentioned here, is a very interesting representation of all this - as a direct adaptation, it maintains the framing device of the novel Dracula: the letters. Its extension of the device is brought not in the audio format but in the RSS feed format. No attempt is made to explain why we're hearing the voices of the characters, as many fiction podcasts default to, rather the immersion comes in experiencing the sense of time between the missives. [End Tangent]

Moving into film, found footage actually took a while to make it onto the scene, but once it did, oh my god did it change everything. Okay, Blair Witch was technically not the first found footage horror film, but we're not going down that rabbit hole. Most would call it the first good one, or at least the first successful one. Which is interesting because at this point we've had plenty of films based on books with framing devices, most of which entirely do away with the framing in the adaptation. So why was 1999 the year film was ripe for framing devices to enter the horror film genre in a big way? I would say it's plausibility. Personal-sized video cameras were now (relatively) affordable, and had been around long enough that people who made and watched films were familiar with them. So it's now a believable thing to be able to cobble together a documentary from clips found on a camcorder, and so they do and now the horror market is changed forever. Next comes copycats, and movies that take the concept and make it their own (like Cloverfield and Paranormal Activity), and movies that parody the now-ubiquitous trope (like Grave Enounters).

So by the time fiction podcasts take off, found footage horror is well established as a beloved reawakening of a beloved literary tradition. And it fits easily in audio horror for much the same reasons as it did in video horror. Think Magnus, Archive 81, probably every SCP podcast, and so on. And within audio fiction, the horror genre is very popular and very much a trendsetter, historically speaking.

Radio.

I could probably get away with just discussing a single event here, and you can probably guess it, but I'll try to go for a broader scope than just the autumn of 1938.

So, honestly, as far as I can tell, old radio shows had a habit of using framing devices just for funsies (or at least for lots of different reasons that I could get lost in exploring but I won't). Importantly though, they largely used different framing devices than books had used up to this point. They were innovative, which is an attitude that certainly transferred into modern audio fiction. Without digging too deep into any of them, here's some notable examples:

Let's start with The Shadow because of course we start with The Goddamn Shadow. This one used a very soft framing device, since it doesn't really explain why the audio broadcast exists, just why it's coming to you in audio format instead of visual: The Shadow has invisibility powers. Yeah I know that's a pretty weak connection, but it's a connection the show attempts to imply: The Shadow often manifests as a disembodied voice, and that ties in to it being a radio show. 🤷🏻

Sherlock Holmes (the one with Basil Rathbone) used a somewhat stricter framing device in pretending to be conversations between Holmes, Watson and an interviewer, in which they describe the events of solving the mystery after the fact - pretty similar to the framing of the original books, but adapted well to audio.

Dragnet framed itself as police reports, I think.

Dimension X and X Minus One both, to varying degrees, frame themselves as tales coming to the listener from the actual future and from an actual alternate universe, respectively. (If you ask me, they should have traded names.) Of course, this doesn't make much use of the audio format specifically, but it illustrates that by this point framing devices in audio were a tradition and not unusual at all.

~We now return you to the music of Ramón Raquello and his orchestra.

Yeah okay here it is. We have to go here.

October 30, 1938 was a day that changed science fiction, audio drama, FCC regulations, and probably the entirety of scripted performance art, forever.

Orson Welles' radio adaptation of The War of the Worlds was so flawlessly framed as breaking news that it famously caused something of a mass panic. While the extent of the panic was slightly exaggerated, it's true that the show was so well done that many people who missed the beginning (or didn't pay attention to it) thought the nation was actually being invaded.

The story that they wanted to tell relied heavily on the device of being a purported news broadcast, and there's no doubt that its impact stems from that device - we're still talking about it 90 years later, and not because of the plot of the story.

I'll leave the parallels and differences between the legacy of War of the Worlds and that of The Black Tapes to be explored by someone else.

Modern Audio Fiction Carries On the Tradition.

Broadcasts.

I've already mentioned TMA, Re:Drac, and Black Tapes.

I haven't mentioned Welcome to Night Vale, which (love it or hate it) was without a doubt one of the biggest catalysts of the audio drama renaissance in podcast form. We all know people who have only ever listened to one fiction podcast, almost invariably either TMA or WtNV. And Night Vale came first and got popular first. Its format as a small-town news radio broadcast has been imitated, innovated, responded to, and intentionally avoided more times than I can count. Very much worth mentioning is that Night Vale popularized the idea of using a framing device not as a way to add plausibility to its stories (nothing could, it's peak absurdism after all), but to add structure. The author knows what to write where, the listener knows what to expect when. Another appeal of framing devices, and another reason why they're so widespread.

Tapes.

Ah yes the tapes. Horror podcasts and their tapes. Drowning in tapes (/lh). It works so well because (a) it's an easy fit for found footage audio, (b) it adds a "spooky" analog horror vibe, and (c) it's fun and fairly easy to design, and forgives a lot in terms of recording quality and editing skill - good for creators at all levels of proficiency. Voicemail and voice memos have similar benefits but without the well-loved "spooky analog" aspect.

Limitations.

The Bright Sessions, Moonbase Theta Out, Wolf 359, and quite a few others all have something in common: they eventually gave up their framing devices. In my opinion, the shows' improvements after doing so is not by any means a reflection on framing as a concept, but instead a demonstration of a show's need to adapt as it grows. Sometimes Episode 149 follows the same form and format as Episode 1, sometimes it doesn't, and a creator's ability to accurately assess whether the format fits the story they want to tell leads to decisions like this (which can be really difficult decisions to make), but ultimately, doing what's best for the story itself always pays off.

When you choose a framing format, you sort of lock in how you're going to write the show and what it's going to sound like. This can be very useful. Like in writing poetry, some of us work better under constraints - it causes us to flex our creativity. It also, as explained above, creates a framework, a formula, which can make it easier to outline an episode.

But it doesn't work for every story. Some shows hold on to their framing devices too long, the plot filling and stretching the format until the frame is bursting at the seams. Conversely, though, I say a series shouldn't abandon a device if it doesn't need the new narrative freedom to further the story - something to fill the absence of the episode format as a player itself in the work.

Form as Storytelling.

This is, in my opinion, one of the greatest (and too often untapped) strengths of framing devices in any medium. I LOVE IT when a piece of art uses its medium as part of the art itself. What part of your story can you only tell because of the medium you're using? What unique part of your medium can you use to enhance the story?

Some absolute favorite examples of this idea from other media, in no particular order: the ending of The Murder of Roger Ackroyd, the very end of Zelda TotK, Shakespeare's frequent use of play-within-a-play, the Thor fight in God of War, tons of bits of Series of Unfortunate Events (the books), the twist and out-of-game-play in DDLC, all of WandaVision, the elephant scene from It Takes Two, Asteroid City...

It's something I kind of want to see more of in audio fiction: powerful moments in using the medium of audio as a tool to tell the story rather than only a limitation to be written around. Framing devices help with this, but there are a lot of opportunities in other tools too. I find it in horror and comedy series, and few other places.

Conclusion.

This went on way longer than I expected. I have too many thoughts about it. To sum up:

Why are there so many shows pretending to be some real thing? Because there is a very strong tradition of it in audio fiction, because it provides a lot of structure and benefits especially to newer creators, because it allows for the medium to be part of the art form in a way, and of course because it's fun!

Should I use a framing device in my fiction podcast? My dear, nobody can answer that but you! Ask youself if it would improve your story, if it would improve your writing ability, if it sounds fun to you, and if it would create a show that you would want to listen to (I always say that you should be your own target audience; if you would want the thing to exist, odds are someone else will enjoy its existence). If you use one, you're in good company; if you don't, you're in good company. If you start with one and drop it for season 3, or if you start without one and pick it up partway through, you're in good company. You can do a full-cast immersive found-footage show with sound effects, you can do an audiobook as a podcast, and you can do anything in between!

Feel free to add corrections, context, and additional notes to any of the above. I'm not a history expert, I'm just a nerd with internet access.

Peace and love on every planet, y'all.

[beetle-ze-bub]

I have this Au idea based on The Deal by Mitski cause for whatever that feels like a Stan Pines song and I can't fully explain why.

Anyways, basically, during Stan's drifter days he stays in some pretty unusual places with more than a few weird characters. So, at some point or another, he somehow hears about this deal you can make with the Night itself. Midnight, walk alone, etc, etc. Just like the song.

Stan has never been one to believe, or even just be interested in spirituality or magic or whatever; that was his brother. But he decides to keep the story in his back pocket, if for no other reason than to have an interesting story to tell people.

But maybe at some point when he's feeling like he's at rock bottom, after something especially bad happened (idk the Tijuana incident or the trunk, or losing his kidney, something like that) – and/or while drunk – he decides, 'Fuck it, I got nothing else to lose', and decides to try the deal just for the sake of it. The worst that could happen is nothing, right?

Like in the song, he tries to give away his soul, because he really is pretty sick of all the hurting and the pain and shit. Also reasoning that, since nothing will likely happen, he might as well go big.

This is where it diverges from the song somewhat. Because for what he'd take I think it'd depend.

If he was drunk and/or in an especially bad spot, I wouldn't be surprised if he said, like the song did, he would only take the consequences. But, at the same time, I think he knows enough about bad deals to realize that if – on the very off chance this is real – he's giving his soul away, it should at least be for something good. Maybe he'd ask to get Rico off his back, or for that million dollars, or make it so he never broke Ford’s project (though I feel like this isn't likely as even in its divine grace, the Night can not change the past. Maybe Stan would even get a feeling somehow, as though the Night tells him this.), or even just to keep Ford safe and/or happy. Idk rn, but yeah.

After the deal is struck, Stan feels lighter somehow. Like something is missing. It's not bad that it's gone. It's not good either. It's just missing.

He'd probably still have the same talk with the bird, but after that I feel like he'd keep drifting across the country. Not out of a need to escape, or hit his big break, but just instinct. Habit.

He'd probably still call his mom, but it's almost professional in how he talks to her, clinical. There's no attachment there, really. He loves her, or at least likes her, to some degree. But it's muffled and smothered, and so, so quiet that he can't make out the sound of it anymore. Like a soft tap at the back of his brain, so light he can hardly recognize it happened. He can't say for sure whether he'd feel much if something happened to her.

Maybe Ford, depending on what Stan wished for, suddenly finds the night welcoming. Something caring and kind and protective of him in a way he can't really explain. Obviously it can't be, it's the night; just a time of day. It's not doing anything. But he still can't help but feel that way.

Or maybe even his life has suddenly gotten so much better. He's suddenly been offered a bunch of grants, people are vying for his research or his reviews of their work. He's being offered hundreds of prestigious positions and people are dying to have him give interviews or lectures. And while Ford is obviously ecstatic, and riding the high of all this praise and his accomplishments being recognized and getting everything he's ever wanted (what about his brother?), he can't exactly… remember, what he accomplished or published that got him all this attention.

But that doesn't matter! He's sure it'll come to him! He's just too focused on his now busy schedule, that's why he forgot. After that he has to get back to his current anomaly research too. But he's sure it'll come to him in time.

Again, depending on what Stan wished for exactly, and even what time he made the wish, maybe Ford sends the postcard to Stan again; whether it's about Bill or something else, idk. But when Stan comes something's wrong. It looks like Stan, talks relatively like Stan.

But he's empty. As though he's been drained of everything Ford remembers made Stan Stan. He was ready for a hot-headed, angry brother. Not this… shell.

If Ford still opened the door with his crossbow, he would be visibly surprised, sure. His eyes widened, his mouth opened in shock, he even took a step or 2 back. But there was no scream. There was no snarky comment or angry blow up at his behavior. If Ford still shone a light in his eyes Stan still pushed him off him and frowned, but he only said “Stop that.” in a mildly upset voice. When Ford apologized Stan said “It's fine”.

…And that was it. No biting remarks or angry glares. Just an awkward silence as Ford stared at this facsimile of his brother.

When he tells Stan he has to show him something he wouldn't believe, he only asks “What is it?” Even when staring the portal down, while, again, he is shocked. It's only in the generic way you'd see in something like a stock photo, or some guide book on emotions. Only in the basest, least-effort way you could get someone to understand you were displaying shock.

Because that's what it felt like, Ford realizes. A display. Like the emotions weren't real. Or if they were, they were so shallow that might as well be. The display wouldn't even last long. The briefest of flashes before fizzling out unceremoniously and disappearing completely.

Idk maybe something something, Ford finds out what happened somehow, goes bird hunting in some fairytale, fae esque trial of character way or something. My main idea was the Stan making the deal and the empty birdcage Stan that comes as a result.

[the-ruby-enchanter]

You're no feminist. You're not only placing blame of Tamlin onto Feyre but you're saying that Feyre's revenge was stupid /petty as if he wasn't @busing her and his ugly lapdog was just watching it all fall apart . Just like that boy did with his mom .

Rhys's sister ain't alive that nasty man's actions caused her to die . Some of you need to know how to comprehend material . Her head was floating down a river , Tamlin is nasty and cruel person . His soulmate is Lucien and only Lucien

"When you only interact with people who share the exact same opinion as you... Same favorite characters, same takes, same echo chamber where you can throw even your most delulu theories around without risking anyone throw free hate... sounds cozy, right?

But even then — even in your carefully curated comfort zone — people still find the time to crawl into your inboxe just to send this kind of messages over fictional characters. 🙃 Wow. How great!"

Let me say it louder for the ones in the back (and I’ll keep saying it, again and again):

The way I perceive a story, its characters, its events: that interpretation belongs to me. Not you. Not your circle. Me.

That’s the entire point of fiction! It’s meant to spark different perspectives, emotions, even contradictions.

We’re human beings, not clones. We think differently. So if you need everyone to agree with your opinion 100% of the time… you’re not looking for conversation, you’re looking for a cult.

And oh, don’t come at my boys just because you lack the imagination or empathy to put yourself in their shoes — especially when we never got to hear their full stories.

You don’t know what Lucien went through in Beron’s house. You don’t know if he exchanged messages with his mother in secret, living under the constant threat of a powerful, abusive High Lord. What exactly do you expect him to do? Stand up and die for rebellion while no one even sees it?

And for my lovely blondie Tamlin — you’re so quick to condemn him while you forgave Rhysand in a heartbeat, even though he actually abused and sexually harassed Feyre Under the Mountain. But I guess it’s fine now because he “had a reason,” right? Because we heard his story.

But what about Tamlin’s story? What if, for just one second, you considered what he went through?

You really think Amarantha, who lusted after him since his childhood, wouldn’t do horrible things to him once she had him caged like a trophy in her court? You think he came out of that untouched?

Let me remind you: it was Rhys who willingly offered his “services” to Amarantha.

Tamlin rejected her for years. And still ended up her prisoner.

Now let’s get real for a sec:

Questioning my feminism because I see nuance in a male character? That’s not only childish, it’s embarrassing.

Real feminism is about advocating for all people — women, men, everyone in between — especially when they’re misunderstood or mistreated.

Sometimes men are victims. Sometimes they’re trapped by the way a story is told. And recognizing that doesn’t make me any less feminist.

If your feminism only supports women who dress a certain way, act certain way, think a certain way, or hate the “right” characters… then it’s not feminism. It’s just another form of control.

(It's just like the kind that supports “freedom” when women can wear what ever she want until she choose to wear a hijab and cover her self, that suddenly doesn’t count as freedom anymore, I'm not saying you do that but the way you persieve things hit the same way)

Also, can we talk about the joykiller you are for a moment?

I adore the theory that Tamlin and Rhys’s sister were old lovers and that she might come back as his mate. I love it. It makes so much sense to me.

You don’t have to agree. But messaging people just to tell them their theory is “wrong” or “won’t happen” , are you allergic to fun?

If you don’t like it, scroll. It’s free. No one’s forcing you to engage.

And lastly, It’s a real shame you messaged me under “anonymous.”

Because people like me? 😇 When we disagree with someone’s opinion, we either ignore, scroll past, or worst case hit block.

We don’t send sneaky little anonymous hate messages like cowards.

Have a beautiful day. Or don’t. That’s up to you. ✌️

[madam-whim]

So I want to get my little Solstice rant out there...

So, the season of the worm cult is finally here, and with it our beloved bread boy. But at what cost… Suffice it to say I’m still pretty much heartbroken about what happened, even though I’m so happy about all these beloved characters coming back. But that doesn’t mean I’m 100% satisfied with how the story went.

The story, at its core, is good -  but the ending isn’t great

I want to preface this by saying that I think the zone was great overall, though some of that certainly comes down to personal preference as I really enjoy Sanguine content, and the main story was, for the most part, really good as well! Not good enough to give Summerset or Elsweyr a run for their money, but definitely good enough that I got insanely emotional over it (holy shit the music during Gabby’s farewell… I cried), something I genuinely missed these last few years.

I am also still not over that one conversation with Gabrielle, where she admitted to being in love with Darien.

That said, I think whatever was up with the Gift of Death was handled just a tiny bit poorly, and so was Darien’s writing. (I’ll talk about that later, but want to preface it by saying I absolutely don’t blame the writers for this one!) The last quest had its great (if terribly sad) moments, but also just a few weaknesses that I hope might be cleared up in part 2.

This is gonna be a long one, so I’m gonna put it under a cut.

What the hell is Darien and why isn’t it talked about anymore: The Summerset Memory Gap

Anyone remember that bit of dialogue in Summerset? The one where we could approach Darien and basically go “You’re not really a Breton, are you?”, and he’d say he didn’t really know himself? We know that man has barely any memory of his early life, and while we know he has a “father”, this might all simply be due to altered memories. Other people have discussed this in far greater detail, but basically there are a few things that Darien could be, and my list is by no means complete: - Someone who used to be a normal Breton, and is now something a bit different, changed by Meridia

- A vessel holding some of Meridia’s power, who acts as her champion when she wishes to get involved

- A Demiprince of Meridia

Personally, I think it’s between option 1 and 2, but my point in all of this is that Darien was never, to my understanding, really dead. We know from his one letter found in Orsinium that after Coldharbour, he retained his consciousness at least, and after Summerset we assumed that he was, well, gone, but again, not dead, just dormant until Meridia needed him again. 

And I would assume the Vestige would have told Gabrielle this, and yet she believed him to be really dead and decided that therefore, she could bring him back with the Gift of Death.

So why does Gabrielle get that idea when she should know Darien is not really dead? And why did it work? 

Was it 

a) a really lucky coincidence, with the Gift being a tainted Light of Meridia and using it for its assumed purpose purifying it, but the Coloured Rooms already changing its functionality so that Gabrielle could actually “summon” Darien?

Or was it

b)  that its use within Meridia’s realm purified it, as Darien said, but it was only returned to its original state? Which would then mean that this caught Meridia’s attention and she sent Darien, because the artifact likely wouldn’t have worked that way anymore.

It’s a bit confusing, and I kinda like to know which option it is, because I want to know if if was Gabrielle or Meridia who really did the thing. I’ll take it though, even though I feel like it’s a flaw in the story’s logic. But I’m really not too happy with Gabrielle really thinking of Darien as dead instead of trapped somewhere else.

Omitting previously established lore

And that, specifically,  leaves me with some questions. What on earth happened to the hints that we were fed during Darien’s seven year MIA phase? There’s just the general Meridia negativity that was all over Southern Elsweyr and Greymoor (remember Southern Elsweyr daily quest man, who repeatedly informed us she was not good and liked stealing people). 

And then there were also really solid clues that there was something up with Meridia, namely one quest, also in Southern Elsweyr, where it was explicitly stated that she’s in need of a new, more loyal champion, as well as the Kilkreath quest in Greymoor, where Meridia did fuck all to stop literal undead from overrunning her followers, leading me to believe something was preventing her from intervening. Even if she didn’t care about her followers, undead in her temple are canonically something she hates and wants OUT.

There was also the fact that Gabrielle quite literally told us she joined the Antiquarian Circle for Darien-related reasons. Girl was researching how to break into the Coloured Rooms. Mind you, this was also after Summerset, so we can assume that even with the Golden Knight Vanishing Act 2, she didn’t believe he was dead at that point. Again, the Vestige would have told her.

So why does she suddenly act like she believes just that in Solstice? Where did all the rest of the lore go?

The only thing I can come up with is that all of it was discarded to make the whole thing more palatable/easier to get into for new and returning players who haven’t been frantically checking every DLC for even vaguely Meridia-themed scraps and who the writers either can’t or won’t expect to catch up on several years of clue hunting. 

The Season of the Worm Cult was marketed as a continuation of the base game story, so everyone was aware of that. But new players and those returning after a long time might not know about Summerset, and really, that was seven years ago. Many folks who were around for Summerset aren’t playing anymore. I imagine the quest was written with a target audience in mind that doesn’t recall events from every chapter that ever happened.

Now why does the writing feel a little flat in some places?

There were a few little things bothering me as I was making my way through the MQ. I think the biggest thing that concerned me at the end was how flat everything felt after Gabrielle’s death. Mostly Darien’s reactions to it, especially with how Gabrielle spoke of him before. He references her, honors her sacrifice of course, but he just seems to take it all in stride. I know that this is partly just due to how he is – ever-cheerful, optimistic guy who pushes forward because there’s no other way – but I would have liked to see some genuine grief from him instead of a bread joke someone snuck into his dialogue. (Yeah, I smiled. But still.) Especially after everyone was safely out of the Coloured Rooms and there was no more need to run off and face the Wormies.

I also think the entire MQ very… impersonal at times? In some places it feels like the Vestige and everyone around them suffer from memory loss specifically affecting their personal relationships, unless you make it a point to go through specific dialogue options. I know that, again, this is likely so that any new player can jump right in and not constantly wonder “Why does this NPC talk to me as if we’re old friends?”, but that’s canonically what they are! Especially Covenant Vestiges! They have been close with most of the characters involved in Solstice for - depending on how you interpret the timeline - years! In my case, I go with ‘one chapter per year’ so my girl’s known them for 10 years. These people are more important to her than anything else and I would have very much appreciated to be able to lean into that a bit more.

And, like, I get it! We’re coming off a series of one or two year standalone stories that you could jump into without any previous knowledge. Blackwood, High Isle, Necrom and Gold Road as well as any additional DLC during those years required absolutely no knowledge of previous stories or returning characters. (I’m counting Blackwood since having played Orsinium was in no way relevant to what was going on there, aside from having met Eveli before, whereas in the Markarth DLC, for example, it would have been a good idea going in with knowledge of Rivenspire.) So yeah, going back to referencing older content more might be an adjustment, but it would be so much better for the depth of the story!  

Is it rushed?

In my opinion, the ending is. I would have wished for Gabrielle’s death to have a bigger impact especially on Darien (who also might just love her) and Skordo (who’s been her friend for years). I would have liked an option for the Vestige to address the topic with them, because the Vestige is also among her closest friends. I suppose I was just a bit bothered by how quickly the quest was concluded. I know that it’s intended to be just “the middle of things” and there’s gonna be a whole bunch of Stirk Fellowship folks arriving at any moment, but to me it seemed like at least some of the people already there should have been… in shock? Grieving? At the end. As it is, Azah’s grief over Merric’s death in the prologue was given more room than what surely the characters would have felt about Gabby dying, and that doesn’t sit right with me.

My advice: Make a choice who you’re writing these quests for!

In all honesty? In my experience there are only two types of people playing this game. Those who actively go questing, listen to all the dialogue and know what happens in the story, and those who rush through for skill points and achievements. If anything, there is a very small “middle group” who has a vague idea of what’s going on but doesn’t particularly care.

So, dear writers, just write for the group that actually loves your work. For the small but dedicated fanbase that’s been (in this case) turning over every pebble in search of Darien hints for the last seven years. For the people who can handle more than the most straightforward, simplified storylines. That means you don’t have to go “Previously on ESO…” as if we can only play one quest per week (one little summary at the start of the second half of an arc is okay and much appreciated). Instead, you could give the characters more depth and feelings, and you could bring in references to long-ago DLC and simply assume that the person who actually reads through all the quests/listens to the dialogue will remember and know what it’s about. I promise. It would improve the quality of the quests so much and be a huge step in returning them to the insane level they were on in the base game and certain older chapters and DLC.

Yes, I know the writers will never read this. I am a small blog with no reach. I also know it’s just a dream of mine and they probably have been told to make the quests easily accessible for people who have no idea about previous stories. But I still wanted to get it out there.

Still, and I need this to be understood, I LIKED this questline. I have been waiting for it for seven years and I’m so glad to have it.

That being said, I see three ways this could end…

Now, as for my predictions regarding how the whole thing will turn out: Mannimarco and Vanus both have to come out of this alive (or close enough to it anyhow), if not, practically ancient TES lore will be contradicted. But what of our beloved friends?

We finally get a happy ending (not bloody likely)

There is a chance, however small, that we somehow get to save Gabrielle and keep Darien, this time around. Knowing Darien and his role in previous arcs, it’s not likely, but a woman can hope, right? It would be a nice ending to the whole Worm Cult mess, with the Daggerfall gang all back together, without any dead or missing friends this time. In all honesty though, one of the reasons I think this won’t be the case is that Gabrielle being in love with Darien and him having some feelings for her at least is now canon. That paired with the fact that so many people ship Darien with their Vestiges, and the writers maybe not wanting to take Darien away from player characters, makes the whole thing a tiny bit complicated, doesn’t it? I suppose we’ll see if we get flirty dialogue options for him like we did for Raz. (I sure hope not...)

We lose them both and the Vestige goes bonkers

There’s also the distinct possibility that we’re gonna get hit with a worst case scenario: Gabrielle stays dead and Darien, once again, sacrifices himself and the cycle starts again. Now, if this happens, I genuinely doubt we’re ever going to see Darien again after that – we’re not going to get him back another time, or it would begin to feel less impactful. That said, my Vestige at the very least would absolutely lose it if this happened. That woman has been held together by a support system of one Orc warrior, one Breton mage and a gaggle of vampires for the last few years. If she loses even one more of them, her sanity might just walk off the nearest cliff. I can’t be the only one with this problem.

The Switch Back

And then there’s the third option, in which Darien and Gabrielle switch back – he sacrifices himself, maybe even permanently this time, to bring her back. I don’t want to think about this one too much. Mostly because Darien/Gabrielle is my OTP.

This is it for now – big rambling post of the year concluded. What do you all think? I would love to yap about your thoughts with you!

[olrinarts]

your animatic has given me severe brainrot. the idea of narilamb having murder-dates where they decide who gets custody of the crown for a while is driving me insane. It's precisely the brand of absolutely nuts thing that no normal creature would do but two immortals who have really odd relations with death, both literal and figural, absolutely would

RIGHT THOUGH

okay so. lazy fic under the cut but i have SO MANY THOUGHTS

(for the record, 'lazy fic' is just what i call it when a ramble accidentally ends up containing a scene or two and the entire time the tone continues to be 'me rambling through an ask/DM with a friend', and if the thoughts get too long, i will separate it into its own post i prommy)

(the lazy fic has, in fact, required a new post. and probably some others, and this has opened the floodgates of letting y'all see my other lazy fics, but still have this part)

new AU is hide/seek AU this is a thing now R.I.P. (animatic, 1 / 2 / 3 / 4)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

so first of all, can i just. scream about the intimacy of it? like yes, it sure is murdering, but the TRUST aspect makes me feral

like the first time they agreed to do this, it wasn't a game yet, and it would've been at least two or three decades on from his defeat - it was an offer Esriaal made freely, and they couldn't know for sure yet that it would work, or that the same immortal trait would be Esriaal's as a mortal, or how to make a vessel work without directly wearing a crown, since Esriaal DID still have a job to do

to say nothing of the work that it would require to adjust the cult to the idea of their gods swapping back and forth, or even Narinder being a god properly half the time if it worked

but Esriaal had spent long enough as a god to know that not only would his help help, it was what they wanted to do and they felt like it would genuinely do a lot of good for the concept and administration of Death itself - like they put a LOT of thought into it beforehand, and Narinder probably had no idea that they intended to offer, let alone that they sincerely wanted to share power

but when they offered, there were still a lot of unknowns, and it required Narinder to be willing to resurrect them after, and considering they were still kinda navigating the aftermath (narinder works on a different timescale, happens when you're several millennia old), there was a genuine chance that he might just. choose not to resurrect them, and take over

but they offered anyway

and narinder, who hadn't expected the offer in the first place and was honestly still struggling with the idea that it might not be HIS cult anymore but that both Esriaal and the cult itself still very much wanted him around (Esriaal having betrayed him in the hope that maybe, maybe, they could resurrect him after, and not having expected him to just pop out already alive), just has to have that surreal moment of realising that they mean it

that they're offering because they sincerely believe there's a chance that not only will he accept but will keep his promise, and they think that chance is worth the risk of him betraying them or declining outright (i mean. there's 0 chance he would decline. but still)

so he accepts, and the first time is kinda unceremonious - the two of them meet one night in the temple, Narinder stabs them with the Crown and down they go, but they don't pop out mortal the way he did

he has to resurrect them intentionally, and boy howdy did he panic a little until they were alive again a few minutes later, admittedly pretty shaken but like. not distrusting, just because they haven't been used to being that kind of dead in thirty-ish years

but he brought them back, the way he promised he would, and he's definitely the god of death, and things worked

they agreed on a month, and the next time was still not particularly ceremonious, but they both tacitly knew it was kinda a whole THING now

shit i'm gonna need a new post for this (i'll edit in a link to the new post when it's up)

[accioepiphany]

I’m halfway through season 4 of the bear and I think I get now what my problem with the show is… it should have ended at season 1

And I’m saying this as someone who looooooved season 2. But I’m now understanding that that season was overtime… it was a spinoff… it was a remake years after lol

Cause what I’m seeing in season 3 and 4 is them hammering a point that was so beautifully made Season 1…

The whole you had fallen out of love with your passion, but seeing someone else have that spark can help you revive it. The, if you manage to get out of your head for a while you might connect with others and build something with them. The, you need to figure out some things to stop hurting people but that doesn’t mean you are not going to hurt them ever again… The… you gotta try!! And that’s what keeps your present.

That was literally all there exposed AND resolved in season 1. And the ending to that season was actually perfect in ways of giving hope without closing the doors to whatever might happen.

I love The Bear for its art. For the cinematography, the editing, the music!!!! But much like Carmy, I feel in a loop with it. Like it keeps trying each season to make the same point over and over. And though I love when we get this little episodes exploring each characters lives like Forks, Napkins, the fourth episode this season… I think for my own sanity and relationship with the show I’ll just take all these seasons and the ones to come as little specials. As windows into what my favorite characters are doing, the little adventures they are getting into. Because otherwise I’ll never leave the time loop lol