#and replace you with someone else to do its bidding

[the-girl-with-too-many-ideas]

You know, from the perspective of the SVSSS world, Shen Yuan and the system would be regarded as Lovecraftian horrors if you think about it.

[starfxkrinc]

was thinking about how you said jj would pass you around to his friends wanted to add onto that..

they’d be going at it for hours taking turns using all your holes and high fiving each other while you’re just babbling how good it feels and saying thank you to jj

afterwards they just leave you there cum dripping down your face and out of your pussy, ass, and mouth, condoms all on your body

and as they’re pulling up their pants they’re making bids to jj asking if they can use you for a day or two and how good you were while you’re just a passed out wreck on the bed

UGHDJDKLSLDDND need to be used by a group of 40 something year old men who smoke and drink all day and are the exact guys my mom used to warn me about :,\

.🐞

oof you really didn’t want to at first but jj just has a way with words….

and at the end of the day its all so he can brag right, because you know he showed him that video even if he wont say it. cause everytime you walk in the room you can feel their eyes roaming over you, and jj gets the bright idea of “well maybe they can touch her” so he lets em. he lifts your skirts and lets them take their time rubbing and groping you til he decides its enough and sends you back to bed.

next time it escalates, youre barely through the door before jjs scooping you up and sitting you in his lap during a poker game with a hand down your shorts. now its whoever wins gets to suck your pussy off his fingers. they play multiple rounds.

then he just drops all pretence of whats about to happen next time theyre over. youre already home, in bed minding your business when jj yanks you out in nothing but one if his shirts and your panties and just bends you over. getting fucked in front of his friends you can take. then they start unbuckling their pants. and jj pulls out to put his dick in your mouth and someone replaces him behind you. youre getting pounded and passed around, it feels like theres a million hands touching you everywhere and theres little else you can do but whine for jj as his seemingly neverending stream of friends make you cum over and over.

[thebisexualwreckoning]

@jegulus-microfic | Day 9 - Heart | Word count: 739 | tw: vomit, human experimentation, animal death, human death (technically mcd but he gets better), descriptions of surgery on cadavers, life threatening disease, blood, body horror, gore, basically dead dove do not eat

Now, with that out of the way, I am honoured to present to you THE FRANKENSTEIN AU

Fic under the cut

They'd been ready. They'd been prepared. And yet when James finally drew his last breath, Regulus had to run across to room to empty his gut, retching till there was nothing left in him any longer. Sirius was right there by his side, rubbing circles into his back until he could finally breathe again. He'd felt a sharp pang of guilt then. James may have been his other half but if soulmates existed, then James would have been Sirius'.

Regulus manages to pull himself together. They have a short window of time before it's too late to do what they have to. The previous experiments had been successful, but Regulus didn't want to take any chances when it's James' life hanging in the balance.

Remus is there when they reach the lab. He'd been one of their first tries, back when they still didn't know what exactly they were doing or whether it would even work. But despite the scars that litter his body now and the eerie feeling of something not quite right whenever someone looked at him for any extended amount of time, it had worked.

They still don't know the how of it. When they find out about James, Regulus had spent the entire time at his side, unwilling to move even an inch while Sirius had torn up Black manor trying to find a solution, any solution to save his life. That's where he'd found it, tucked away in some long forgotten corner in the family library.

They hadn't believed it at first, wrote it off as a madman's ramblings. But as time passed and James grew worse, they had no choice but to hedge all their bets on the book in a desparate bid to save him. And it had worked. Despite all logic, it had bloody worked.

"It's time," Sirius says, handing Regulus a pair of gloves. Sirius and James might have been the geniuses who figured out how to bring the dead back to live, but no one else but Regulus could do this. He'd practiced, taken apart dead bodies over and over again till he had it down to an art while the two of them were pouring over books.

He takes a breath and lifts the scalpel. The process was simple. Cut a flap into the patient's chest, take out their heart, replace it and shock them back to life. The book said to use lightning but Sirius had figured they could just use electricity. Getting the replacement heart had turned out to be the most difficult part of the process. It had to be hunted and prepared by the receiver. James wasn't yet so weak that he had to stay on bed rest, but he was still in no condition to go hunting. In the end, they found a baby stag seperated from its mother. James' hands had shook as he raised them but they struck true.

It's almost time now. Sirius stands in the corner of the room, tapping his feet on the linoleum. Remus presents him with the open cold box and Regulus takes a deep breath. He picks up the glistening heart and places it in the gaping hole of James' chest. He threads his needle one last time and stitches James back together.

Sirius takes a step forward, stops, and says, "Are you ready?"

Regulus looks at James. He's beautiful, even now, covered in blood and guts and other bodily fluids. He's glad he has Sirius here with him, glad that he has someone who doesn't ask him whether he wants to do this but only asks when.

He nods and Sirius grabs a bunch of cables, going around James and attaching them to his body. James' blood is slick on Regulus' hands and he feels the urge to throw up again.

Sirius takes his place beside him and squeezes his hand before finally hitting the damned switch. There's no big explosions, no electricity arching through the air, only a soft buzz and then its over.

For one heart-wrenching moment, Regulus thinks that it hasn't worked. He lets out a quiet sob. It's not fair. Not after everything they've been through together. They were meant to survive this. Sirius' hands are a vice grip around him, the only thing holding him up. Regulus makes to move for him, kiss him one last time, hold him and refuse to ever let go.

And then...... James moves.

[musickgeek]

The Same {Bucky Barnes x Reader}

Third Person P.O.V.

The Avengers stealthily boarded the cargo ship, covered by the darkness of the night. They had spent months chasing her, The Reaper. Another deadly soldier who Hydra had used to replace the Winter Soldier. She seemed to be popping up everywhere, and the Avengers were sure she was up to no good. She left death behind her as if she were truly the one to wield the scythe and lead the souls. But the killings had stopped two months ago, and she was on the run from them. They were glad for the spared lives, but frustrated at how the clues to find her got scarcer and scarcer.

Fury's sources had tracked her this ship exporting various weapons out of Africa. Though it seemed to have no connections to Hydra or any smugglers on their radar, it was definitely a dangerous and illegal ship. Still, they had to focus on the target above all else. If she was traveling with military grade weapons and explosives, it did not mean good news.

The team split up, searching for her. And who should find her first then her predecessor, Bucky Barnes. "I've got eyes on her," he whispered into the intercom, "on the bow, portside. She's going through the crates." Before Bucky could engage, a rumbling came from within the ship. "Explosive going off in the hull. Everyone get off the ship!" He heard Natasha call. Bucky saw the Reaper start running, and gave chase with determination. Every attack against Hydra felt personal to him, he wanted to make them all pay. He wanted them to lose.

He grabbed her by the back of her jacket, which made her whirl around, freeing herself from his grasp. She put her arms up as if this were a mere sparring match. "Soldat de iarna. El trăiește până la urmă." Bucky was caught off-guard. Romanian? "Soldatul de iarnă a murit. Omul adevărat a trăit."

"If you call doing someone else's bidding living." She snapped, lunging at him with a left hook. The both swing and dodge and miss until The Reaper finally caught Bucky in the gut. She tried to run, but he recovered enough to grab her ankle. It proved to be a futile effort and the explosions in the ship got closer and more violent. A large blast no more then hundred feet away releases enough force to knock them over board into the water below. 

(Y/n) P.O.V. 

I gasp for breath when I get to the surface. My body aches from the impact, and I growl at the  frustration of being caught. The Winter Soldier pops up about ten feet from me, trying to contact his team. I assume it's no use when he slams his hand into the water. More explosions come from the ship making it increasingly more dangerous to be around. The soldier spots me, and begins swimming toward me with malice in his eyes. "You guys blew up the ship? Aren't you supposed to be the good guys?" I snap. "We didn't do this! Why were you on that ship, Reaper?" He growls. "That's a need to know basis." I look around and spot something in the distance. Without waiting for his response, I start to swim away. "Where do you think you're going?" He calls.

"There's land about a mile that way, and I don't see your team anywhere around here. Not that I would find their presence real welcoming. Think you can keep up?" I ask mockingly. "I'm a super soldier with a metal arm. I think you should ask yourself that." He snaps.

"Ah, you wouldn't let me drown, would you?" I ask, already swimming again. He responds gruffly. "That remains to be seen." The water swirls around me, rough and choppy and dark, but warm enough. Its terrifying and threatening, part of what makes the ocean so beautiful. The perfect killer. The soldier ends up few yards ahead of me, and reaches the sand before me. He glares at me the whole time I pull up. "The hell do you want?" I hiss. He ignores the questions.

"The other Avengers will find us soon. When they do, you'll finally be caught." I clench my teeth in anger. If only he knew. Maybe he wouldn't be such a douche. But he doesn't deserve to know. He doesn't deserve a thing from me. "Not if I find a way off first. Or get rid of you. Or Hydra beats them." I notice the slight change in demeanor. I realize he fears them. I smirk. "What? Can't even handle the word? They fucked you up good, didn't they?" He stalks towards me, real close to my face. "Shut up." He quickly grabs my wrists, cuffing them before I can react.

Dammit. I've lost my touch.

"Kinky," I retaliate. "What part of 'shut up' don't you understand?"

"The 'up' part. Why is that the phrase to tell someone to stop talking?"

"Smart ass...you shut your jaw up-why am I having this conversation? Let's just go. We need search for food, a clean water source, and a signal."

"Well, I can't help with my hands tied and all, so I'll just sit here, and-"

"Your legs work. I'm not leaving you alone." He grabs me to make sure I don't separate. He has an intense look as he walks like in a movie. I sign in defeat, too tired from the swim to argue. This is going to be...interesting. I need to find a way to escape or, like he said, the Avengers will capture me.

~~~~~

We survive the first few days with a great struggle. Although we were both trained for this situation, how to survive while stranded in many environments, we spend too much time at each others throats to get much done. 

"You're doing it wrong."

"I'd like to see you try and do this while your hands are cuffed together, jackass."

Things calm down after what I'd guess to be a week in. We give up on being picked up anytime soon, and any escape. He uncuffs me, deciding I'm more helpful with the free range, but keeps a close eye on me. Two weeks in, and I give up on escaping entirely. Either Hydra will find me and use me again, or the Avengers will find me and kill me. I think I prefer the ladder.

"I never would have guessed your friends were so incompetent. I mean, we weren't that far from the wreckage." I say one afternoon. We lie in the sand under the shade of a tree. Where he once would have ignored or argued with me, he instead says, "You know? Me too. They managed to find me after all." 

"You must be delirious to be agreeing with me." I joke. He chuckles. "Maybe." I roll over so we're looking at each other. "What's your name?" I ask. "Your real one, I mean." He narrows his eyes at me, as if trying to figure out the hidden meaning. "Why do you care?"

"I'll tell you mine in exchange." He still looks skeptical. "Come on, shouldn't we try to work together here?" He's silent for a moment. "James Bucannon Barnes. My friends call me Bucky." I snicker at the name. "Bucannon? What are you, a 100 years old?" 

"Yes." He answers with such intensity that I don't even think to question it. I know what Hydra is capable of. "Oh. I'm sorry." He shakes his head. "Your name." It's not a question, but a demand. Maybe I shouldn't hand over that information, but it's been so long since I've introduced myself or heard my name that I can't help myself. "(Y/n) (L/n). I don't know what my friends call me. I'm not a 100 years old though." He shakes his head again, but with humor this time. "You can laugh, I'm hilarious, 'Bucky.'" I mock. Now he frowns. "We're not friends."

~~~~~

"You know, Barnes. I bet we could build a pretty decent raft with the stuff around this place. We can't stay here forever." Though we had found springs of fresh water, were able to fish and forage, and could find shelter in small caves, I didn't want to spend the rest of my life here. I want more from the life I was dealt. "And go where? We don't even know what direction land is in, and we would lose the vital resources we have. We'd likely end up lost at sea, and die of thirst."

"Then stay here. I'll go without you. You guys want me dead anyway." I insist stubbornly. "That's not- I don't want you to die, (L/n). We're not your precious Hydra. We want to put a stop to your massacre." He spits. "At any means necessary, even killing me?" I ask for confirmation, but I know the answer. "I won't let you condemn yourself to death." He insists. I'm shocked at his phrasing. Maybe it's just him remembering himself in my place, but it's the most care someone has shown me in a long time. "Okay, Barnes." If he's shocked by my easy compliance, he doesn't show it. I drop the issue, even after a month of being stuck here.

~~~~~

I sit on the shore while Barnes uses the makeshift spear to fish, yelling at him still. "You don't know anything about me or what I've done! You think you're so high and mighty? You've done everything I've done and worse!" He doesn't respond, but his stabs at the fish get more aggressive. I notice the wave getting darker, rougher, and faster. "And now what? You wanna prove you're so manly but catching nothing? Get your head out of your ass, Barnes. There is a storm coming, come back to shore." He stops, and turns to face me, not making a move toward me. "So you can yell at me more? I already know what I've done. You can't insist I know nothing about, Reaper. I've been studying you for months. Do you have any remorse?" 

Before I can answer, A huge wave crashes over him. He falls over. "Barnes! Look out!" Another wave seems to wash away because I lose sight of him. "Fine, let the idiot drown." I growl to myself. I take a few steps towards our shelter before stopping. "Dammit." I turn back, and sprint towards the water. The water is rough and cold, but I dive in anyways. I'm coming, I'm coming, My lungs burn by the time I find his motionless body floating toward the bottom of the reef. I kick hard, and grab him under his arms. Jeez he's heavy. With massive struggle, I drag the dead weight onto shore. I'm exhausted from the ordeal, but still fly into panic when I realize he isn't breathing. I can't be stuck here alone. I can't let him die. He deserves more from this life too.

I begin the compressions. "Come on, Barnes. Come on. Don't give up. I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry. You're not a bad guy, you didn't serve it. Come on, please. Barnes?" His body shudders underneath my hands. "James?" His eyes fly open, and he gasps. "Bucky!" He sits up quickly and coughs up water. I sigh in relief. I rub his back a little to ease him. "Let it out, it's okay." Once it's up, he lays back, heaving a little. "You okay, Barnes?" He looks at me, smiles slightly, and says, "Bucky." My face scrunches in confusion. "What? Did almost drowning scramble your brain?"

"You called me Bucky. You panicked. You care about me." He mocks, sitting up. I quickly get defensive. "I do not. I just can't have your friends thinking I killed you."

"Sure. You don't care even little that I die?"

"...It'd get boring around here."

He chuckles. "Thank you, (Y/n). I guess you saved my life."

The usage of my name feels so personal, but right. I frown. I can't get attached, I have to keep running. "Well you can make it up to me. When they come for you, the Avengers I mean, don't tell them I'm here. Please. Tell them I escaped, I drowned, anything." His good mood turns sour again. "I can't do that. You're still a wanted criminal."

"You don't understand. I don't work for Hydra anymore!" I snap, standing over him. "Well you did!"

"So did you!"

"That was different, I didn't have a choice, I wasn't in control!"

"Neither was I!" Shock fills his face. I fall to my knees again in front of him. "Neither was I. I didn't choose to be theirs. I didn't choose anything." Silence. Silence is so incredibly powerful. It allows for a whirlwind of emotion and questions in a short amount of time. When he finally does speak, it's barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry. I-"

"Don't. Don't do that."

"I should have recognized the patterns. You were hiding from them, not us."

"Don't worry about it, Barnes. Seriously. Let's get you to a fire."

~~~~~

I start us a fire to warm us up before the storm hit. He looks somehow both pensive and awkward. "I don't remember my old life. I try to, but it's so fuzzy. I'm worried it's gone forever." I admit. "It's not. I promise."

"And if I don't like it?"

"Change your future." He says simply. "I found my own file. I got too curious, but hid it. Then I ran away. Apparently, I was a police officer." I look into the fire, but I feel his eyes on me. "I'm sure you were a good one. You still have the compassion."

"If only I'd had it sooner, saved people like I was supposed to. Like I wanted to, I think."

"You still can."

"They killed my family to avoid another situation like you." 

"I'm sorry."

"Everything is gone for me. I think it would be easier to die, James." I start to cry, my chest wracked with sobs. He comes right up next to me, closer then he's ever been, and lifts my head to make me look at him. He brushes the wet hair stuck to my face away. "Thank you. For trusting me. I've fought this battle, (Y/n), It will be okay."

Maybe it's the glow from the fire, or maybe the sight of the moon, or the crash of the ocean. Hell, maybe just being stranded here so long. Something pulls me even closer to him. I hated him. Why am I doing this? Why is he responding? We both lean in, inches apart. But it's ruined.

"We've surrounded you! Put your hands up!" We fly away from each other, hands up, red dots pointed at us. It takes only a look to see it's the men I've tried so hard to run from. Hydra. "This couldn't be more perfect. The Winter Soldier and the Reaper. Just who we've been looking for." From the corner of my eye, I see the slight tense of Bucky's muscles, the fear he extrudes. I won't let him suffer this way again. He's suffered far too long. Battle after battle. I can't let that be his life anymore. I keep my hands up, slowly standing in surrender. "I will go with you, willingly, but if, and only if, you let Barnes go. We all walk away, and leave him here alone. The Avengers will come for him, and cause you more grief. They have broken your words out of him, it would be starting over for you. They won't come for me. Take me, leave him alone. You don't need him anymore."

The soldier in charge nods at the others, seemingly accepting. They know they are no match for me, for us. I get on my knees, and allow them to cuff me. "(Y/n), no-" He starts to stand, but a nearby soldier butts his rifle into his stomach. He doubles over, groaning. "I said leave him alone!" I seethe. "Fall out." The leader calls. The soldiers drag me away, leaving Bucky by the fire. I close my eyes as they lead me, trying to capture the the feeling of freedom for the last time. The smell of the salty sea air, the cool breeze in my hair, the soft sand on my feet. I force myself to focus on my senses so I don't have to think about look of panic in Bucky's eyes, how pretty he looked when I thought he would kiss me, or the grief swelling my heart that I may never see him again as the real me. My only real comfort as I'm chained to the metal floor of this Hydra ship is that I saved him. I know the Avengers will find him soon, and he will be happy with them.  "O sa fie bine." I repeat.

Third Person P.O.V.

Only a mere hours later did the Avengers find Bucky on that island. That had managed to track the Hydra team there. They found him alone by the fire, surprised at the tears, guilt, and regret in his eyes. "We have to find her, we have to save her. She gave herself up for me."

"Save who?" Steve asked carefully. "(Y/n). Hydra got her, they-"

"Who?"

"The Reaper, the second assassins, (L/n), her. She's like me, we have to...We have to...Fuck." He couldn't even find the words to begin to explain to them that they were all wrong. Steve, understanding him like no one else, puts a hand on her shoulder. "We'll find her, Buck."

[crazylittlejester]

I can yap about anything? Sweat. So I have this LoZ AU I’m slowly making, it’s set post TotK. I’m calling it Royal Depths and let me tell you most of the plot I have for it. This is so long but I must ramble.

TotK!Zelda and Link went missing a few years after the end of the game. Link died and Zelda was captured by a dark force, who was somebody who was close to her. They became “king,” bidding their time in a slow process to reinstate the monarchy back to its formal glory over several Hylian generations. They made sure to have 7 children each generation, becoming the 7 maidens who each oversee different parts of the kingdom. Later in the king’s years, there would be a “chosen successor” to the king voted by the people, but the dark force would always replace the successor after they “died.” After doing this around 3 time already is when the story starts.

Link, the hero, had been reborn as a Zora to King Sidon. He is cursed to be a middle child. He has an older brother named Blueberry(TotK!Link named him) who’s based on a shortfin mako shark and a little sister named Mipha who’s based on a lion fish, like actual Mipha’s concept art. Link is a white tipped shark. He has singing magic, because I like the musical magic in the previous a bunch. Whenever he starts to speak or sing something else, the magic is ceased. After the Zora equivalent of his 16th birthday, he received the Triforce of Courage on his left hand. The spirit of TotK!Link(im just going to be calling him Tears from now on) also appeared, and tries to act like the Hero’s Shade in TP. Link though, is utterly horrified and doesn’t want to even think of being a hero. Hyrule has been peaceful for so long already. Ganon and Zelda have even been born yet. So he traps himself in his room most of the time. He trains and studies in preparation for the worst, but he doesn’t want to make any more connections. People call him the Hermit Prince, and his family is very worried about him. He also has a habit of slipping out of the Zora Domian in the middle of the night.

Zelda hasn’t and will not be reborn, because she is still alive and is being kept as a power source for the kingdom. Yeah. But, she is able to use some of her magic to contact someone, anyone, and to be able to give the Triforce of Wisdom to them. Enter Helix, a mostly regular adult human living in Lodrum. They’re a friend to the Oracles, who only recently appeared this generation, and they are cast out as heretics by the Hyrulian monarchy. Helix doesn’t really care about that, he’s a human after all. Until they receive Zelda’s message and power. In a dream, she tells them that they must go to the castle and stop an evil king with the help of Link. Very vague. Helix goes to the Oracles and they send him off the Hyrule Castle. Suddenly she’s now crowned as the “true” successor of the long missing Princess Zelda. Her name is now Zelda “Helix” Hyrule. They still like to go be Helix, that is their name after all, but they tolerate being called Zelda by the Hylians. His only goal and focus while he’s here is to find the hero, and kill the evil king. He thinks that it would be Ganon, based on the legends.

Ganondorf, or just Ganon, is only like, 10 years old in Gerudo years, but like 12 in human/hylian years. He’s a child, and is trapped within his home and garden by his mother, who believes she’s doing the right thing. She is not, she’s sealing her own demise like this. Everyone believes that he would grow up to be the demon king, just like he did every other time he’s been reincarnated. He’s lonely and scared, scared of himself and what everyone’s telling him he will become. He’s not doing well. Then, one day, an odd bird appears in his garden. It has a long, sleek white body, with pale blue wings. It cozies up to him pretty quick, when all other animals seem to be afraid of him. Soon after that, an oddly dressed purple-cladded Hylian jumps over the garden walls, calling for his bird, Sheerow. Enter Ravio, the main character of this story.

Ravio is the secretary for Hilda, the Prime Minister of Lorule. Lorule is further along in industrial progress compared to Hyrule, Lorule having 2010s vibes while Hyrule is in its equivalent of the Victorian Era. Ravio has magic, but he prefers to do magic tricks rather than actual magic. It’s more fun for him. He was named after Ravio the Merchant, aka AlbW!Ravio. Ravio is obsessed with the story of the Merchant and the Hero, the story of how Lorule was saved with the help of a hero from another world. One day, he receives his world’s equivalent(I’ve been using this word so much)of the Triforce of Wisdom, which looks like where the Hylian Triforce of Courage would be if you turned the Triforce upside down. So when Hilda shoves Ravio in the now open portal to Hyrule, people think that he could be the new hero. He constantly says he’s not, but is his counterpart and is searching for him. He first gets dropped in the middle of Gerudo desert, and a couple of Gerudo help him get to Gerudo Town, since he looks enough like a vai and he also doesn’t know what the words “vai” and “voe” even mean.

But yeah, he goes to Gerudo Town(which is much larger than it was in TotK), and basically adopts Ganon and brings him with him to Hyrule Castle. Well, it’s more like Ganon brings him along to the castle since there is this royal meetup between the kingdoms of Hyrule. Ganon and his “””””mother””””” are representing the Gerudo, Old man Tulin(he’s so old guys but he’s still full of energy) is representing the Rito, Yona and her children-including Link-are representing the Zora, and Helix is also now the main representative of the humans and hylians, along with the king.

Ravio and Ganon have gained permission to explore the castle, and the eventual reach this big garden with a long river at the end of it. Ganon loves it, he loves gardens, and is having such a good kid with the biggest smile on his face as frolics around the place with Sheerow by his side. Ravio’s known this kid for less than a week but is more than willing to kill someone for him I’ll have you know. The garden is also the place where Helix goes to relax and de-stress, which is not happening when she sees the future demon king she’s convinced she’ll have to kill running around in it. She’s very confrontational, only calming a bit once Ravio reveals his mark of the Lorulian Triforce. She’s convinced for a hot second that he’s the hero, but he’s not, just his counterpart from another world, which Helix just can’t seem to get. Another world? How crazy is that?

Then, they both hear a scream coming from Ganon, near the river. A corrupted, monstrous looking thing that looks like it’s made of fire crosses over it in one step, and the battle commences. They’re trying their best, Ravio trying use ice magic(not very effective), Ganon trying to use his own fire magic(not very effective), and Helix doesn’t even know how to use his newfound light magic properly yet(again, not very effective). She pleads to Ravio to go get the Master Sword, since he’s the only one who has a chance of pulling it out of its pedestal. Then, someone is singing. It starts to rain, it starts to pour down hard. Ravio drapes his cloak over Ganon so he doesn’t get hurt by the harsh rain, and the three watch as the monster screams and quickly dies right there and then. On the ground there is this odd, clearly evil, glowing sphere, which gets hit with a Zora spear, shattering it. Link jumps down from the castle roof, says hello, and the rain almost immediately stops once he speaks. He walks directly towards Ravio, while the group are just staring at him with wide eyes and agape mouths. Link introduces himself to Ravio and only Ravio, asking if he really is from another world. Ravio asks back if Link has been there the entire time they were fighting, and Link enthusiastically says yes. Ravio punches Link squarely in the face.

Uh uh, that’s enough of direct storyline for nowww. The Happy Mask Salesman is also here, and Tears lead Link to him to get a Hylian mask. So he can also transform into a Hylian. During the night, he runs off to the circus, and is a semi-famous acrobat. And he can’t speak while wearing the mask, since normally when he speaks the magic he casts stops. But the mask’s magic is way too powerful for him, so he just can’t speak.

Also Ravio, Helix, and Ganon can see Tears, thanks to the Triforces they have. Link has to pretend he can’t see or hear him while in his normal Zora form. And because he’s a Zora with a Hylian soul, he has maybe gender(species?)envy of Ravio. He thinks he’s in love but he’s not, he’s aroace, he just wants to be him not be with him. Ravio also hates Links because of aforementioned stuff above, and also because Link acts very suspicious around him. Ravio has major trust issues. He also is obsessed with the hero, which is also Link. Isn’t that fun? Oh, and everyone calls Link “Herm” because he’s a so called hermit.

A good chunk of the story is focused on the Depths, and the group exploring it to figure out why these monsters are appearing. Eventually, they find Zelda underneath the castle, Tears just breaks because he didn’t know where she was and that she was being used as a power source, and the king finally reveals themselves as the big bad. To the heroes he does at least, but he manages to convince a good chunk of the public that they are the bad guys, because Ganon.

And that’s about it for now haha. 1,708 words, ho boy. Wanted to talk about this for a while, feels great.

Sorry this took me so long to respond to, I wanted to really make sure I had the time to sit down and read it all, and I finally did so YIPPEE!!!

Link died and Zelda was captured by a dark force, who was somebody who was close to her <- GOD DAMN.

They made sure to have 7 children each generation, becoming the 7 maidens who each oversee different parts of the kingdom <- this sounds like a fairy tale almost and im OBSESSED.

Link, the hero, had been reborn as a Zora to King Sidon. <- LETS FUCKING GO ZORA LINK?????? OH MY GOD!!!

BLUEBERRY. PERFECT.

The spirit of TotK!Link(im just going to be calling him Tears from now on) also appeared, and tries to act like the Hero’s Shade in TP <- WOAAAAAAAAH.

Link though, is utterly horrified and doesn’t want to even think of being a hero <- he’s so real for that actually, i adore him

People call him the Hermit Prince, and his family is very worried about him <- Okay so I’m completely obsessed with your blorbo. I am holding him so gently rn

Zelda hasn’t and will not be reborn, because she is still alive and is being kept as a power source for the kingdom. Yeah. <- DAMN.

Enter Helix, a mostly regular adult human living in Lodrum <- OOOOOOOH

Suddenly she’s now crowned as the “true” successor of the long missing Princess Zelda. Her name is now Zelda “Helix” Hyrule <- WOAAAAAAAAAH

Ganondorf, or just Ganon, is only like, 10 years old in Gerudo years, but like 12 in human/hylian years. He’s a child, and is trapped within his home and garden by his mother, who believes she’s doing the right thing. She is not <- OUGH???????? HE’S TEN????

Everyone believes that he would grow up to be the demon king, just like he did every other time he’s been reincarnated. He’s lonely and scared, scared of himself and what everyone’s telling him he will become. He’s not doing well <- you are so evil. you are so so evil (im clawing at the walls screaming btw, holy SHIT!!! /pos /pos /pos)

Enter Ravio, the main character of this story <- FUCKING PLOT TWIST??????

Lorule having 2010s vibes while Hyrule is in its equivalent of the Victorian Era <- Fucking obsessed with this btw

Ravio has magic, but he prefers to do magic tricks rather than actual magic <- HE’S SO ME OH MY GOD

basically adopts Ganon <- OH GOOD, SOMEONE NEEDED TO

Old man Tulin <- TEARS IN MY EYES

Ganon loves it, he loves gardens, and is having such a good kid with the biggest smile on his face as frolics around the place with Sheerow by his side. Ravio’s known this kid for less than a week but is more than willing to kill someone for him I’ll have you know <- Ravio im right there with you

Then, they both hear a scream coming from Ganon, near the river <- LEAVE THAT LITTLE GUY ALONE /ref

Ravio drapes his cloak over Ganon so he doesn’t get hurt by the harsh rain <- i hate you so much for making my heart hurt over this mental image what the fuck (i love you. /p)

Ravio asks back if Link has been there the entire time they were fighting, and Link enthusiastically says yes. Ravio punches Link squarely in the face. <- I LAUGHED OUT LOUD

During the night, he runs off to the circus, and is a semi-famous acrobat <- WHAT A LEGEND

He thinks he’s in love but he’s not, he’s aroace, he just wants to be him not be with him <- OUGH.

Tears just breaks because he didn’t know where she was and that she was being used as a power source <- i am shaking you rn, but so gently and with so much kindness. But also how could you do this to me

Wanted to talk about this for a while, feels great <- IM FUCKJNG INVESTED

I have no idea if you’re writing this, drawing this, exclusively letting it live in your mind, but if you do like produce it physically anywhere… PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD SEND IT TO ME IM EATING THE DRYWALL IN EXCITEMENT RN THIS IS SO FUCKASS /POS I LOVE ALL OF THIS OH MY GOD GOOD LORD I LOVE UR BLORBOS I AM HOLDING THEM SO SO SO SO GENTLY RN OH MY GOD!!!!!!

as you can see i am god’s most normal man. Anyways, THANK YOU FOR SHARING!!!!!

[acemmetry]

A Poor Man's Dilemma / Poor Man p.2

(Available here!)

CW for:

-Hallucinations

-Paranoia. This is the majority of Spamton's section, so just... watch out

----

Five days had elapsed since Swatch had bid farewell to their beloved creation.

  They didn't think about it. There was nothing to think about, and no time to think it! Not when they were alone in the confines of their chambers, not when conversation found itself scarce, and not when they were stalking the Mansion halls with nothing to do because Queen had so generously gifted them a mandatory vacation to "Give Them Time To Mourn".

  What a splendid idea, they had thought on numerous occasions, to be left alone with one's thoughts. Not that they needed that! There wasn't anything to think about, so why not get back to work? The purpose of their whole vacation was ludicrous, really. There was nothing to grieve anyway, except maybe the time they were losing every minute they wasted "vacationing".

  Tasque Manager's words, from the recesses of their mind, echoed, and Swatch, however reluctant they were to do so, pushed aside their pride and listened out of respect for the woman.

  You have every right to be upset. Something that you created and cherished is gone, all because someone else wanted to get their grubby little hands on it. You spent so long protecting it just to have to destroy it. Anger, resentment, sorrow. It's okay to feel an emotion outside of your professionalism; your personal life has been affected, not your work life. But, you are responsible for acknowledging your feelings. You have to let yourself feel them, otherwise they will fester before growing out of control. Ignore your feelings, and you'll be ignoring you. Don't do that to yourself, okay?

  How she could help with their every problem, they had no idea. She was an amazing individual, capable of doing and handling so much, and it hurt them every time she had to play therapist with them. Relationships are supposed to go two ways, and if they wanted any chance at romance with her, they needed to return the favor. But how?

  I'm getting off topic here, they thought, their hands busy with making a recreational drink (they had to specify it as such to the Swatchlings who were charged with keeping them away from work, since their underlings had been half a second away from dragging their boss back to their room). Let's think back to my feelings. Why am I upset, aside from NEO?

  Yesterday morning, when Queen had just barely started up for the day, she had summoned all the Mansion staff for a "press conference" regarding the circumstances of their "fresh-out-of-a-coma" guest. The pang of guilt they had felt at the term had just as quickly disappeared upon hearing that the vermin was to be employed at the mansion. According to her, it was "A Trial Run For Rehab" and "A Funny Idea". Frankly, it was the worst idea they had ever heard of, and the woman was infamous for her terrible decisions! Rehab? As in, rehabilitation? There was no "rehabilitating" that menace. He had absolutely no desire to change himself for the better, which only became more obvious as the days went on. He had been nothing but a pain with a holier-than-thou attitude ever since he had woken up. They could only imagine how much worse he'd be since today was his first day of his, as Queen had put it, "community service".

  "Spamton, I implore you, put on your tie. It's a clip-on, you should have no problem getting it on."

  It had only been two days since the puppet's waking, and a lot of adjustments were already being made. For starters, he was still missing an arm, and an order had been placed with a parts manufacturer for a new one. Normally, the limb could just be reattached, but considering that it had been in such disrepair without any hope of being salvaged, it had been decided that he simply get a new one. The last purpose his old arm would ever get to serve would be as a reference for its replacement. His other arm would soon follow suit, as it, too, was so utterly decrepit. His doctor had been astounded upon finding out it could still function.

  "I'M MORE A [Bowties, Half Off!] PERSON. IF I'M [[working minimum wage]] HERE, I'M DOING IT IN [Keep up with the latest fashion trends!]."

  He had been absolutely baffled upon learning that the Mansion had a personal Ambyulance, as though he had forgotten how frequently he had visited them during his last days at the Mansion. At its (quite aggressive) insistence, Spamton had begun running an antivirus program that minimized the glitches in his speech and body. It left him jittery and a bit laggy, but such mannerisms could be tolerated if he was at least somewhat coherent. Though, they couldn't help but wonder if anything could be done for the ad interruptions.

  "Bowties aren't in the uniform. You work here, you wear the uniform."

  Ah, yes, and he was made to wear a uniform, the same uniform that their Swatchlings wore, to officiate his status as a mansion employee.

  "I DIDN'T [Invest in our 2 year plan!] ON [This is the thanks I get for working overtime?]."

  "Well, you signed the paperwork."

  "SAY IT [[As You Wish!]]. IT WAS A [legally binding contract]. A CONTRACT."

  "Spamton, I'm not going to keep arguing with you. Follow instructions or I'm getting Swatch."

  "[[Easels]]? OH NO, WHATEVER WILL I-?"

  "Pardon," they said, stepping into the conversation, a finished Butler Juice in hand. "I heard my name." They had been eavesdropping. "Am I needed for something?" They knew exactly what they were needed for. Apparently, Spamton had begun exerting some sort of extreme caution around the Mansion's Head Butler to avoid pissing them off. It was strange, but they would be a fool for not utilizing such a tool to their advantage, and their coworker's current situation called for just that.

  Tasque Manager shot them a grateful look as they drew near. Spamton, on the other hand, stiffened, letting sound only a single click before falling silent. Somewhere in their subconscious, they felt disgusted at the satisfaction the reaction gave them.

  "Swatch, hello," Tasque Manager said, masking her relief with an air of polite professionalism befitting such a remarkable woman. "I was just filling in our new employee on our uniform policy. We need, uh, a second opinion, if you wouldn't mind." They shook their head to show that no, they didn't mind. She smiled. "Great! Now, should he wear his tie, even if he is an unwilling hire, or make himself look like a clown by wearing a bowtie?" She spoke in a voice that betrayed a playful, chiding tone, as though she were gently explaining to a child why they were wrong. It was no doubt a tone meant to tease Spamton, who's hands they could see were already beginning to clench.

  "Oh, the tie, definitely!" They responded in the same tone, walking up from behind Spamton to rest a hand on his shoulder. The man's head turned ever so slightly so they could see the scathing look he was burning into them. "Willing or not, an employee is an employee, and as such, expectations are to be met. And besides, we don't hire clowns. Tasque Manager, the clip-on, if you please."

  Tasque Manager, amusement gracing her expression, traded Swatch the tie for the drink they were holding as they spun Spamton around to face them. To mess with him, they took their time in getting him sorted out, opting to straighten his collar and dust off the wrinkles in his suit after the tie was clipped into place. A smile had to be wrestled off their face when, after tilting his face this way and that to check for dirt they knew to have been washed off, Spamton decided he'd had enough and pushed away from them, face flushed with a mix of anger and embarrassment.

  "Well," they remarked with a smile (it had won, in the end). "You're all set! Now off to work with you." Before they set off to their room, they informed Tasque Manager that she could keep the drink she had taken from them, seeing as it had been made for her. She thanked them with the same smile that always melted their heart, and then they were walking away, ignoring the fluttering in their chest in lieu of adjusting the cuffs of their sleeves. While the look on Spamton's face had been worth the prolonged contact, they felt as though they had dirtied themself during the interaction. They'd have to wash the suit.

  "Aw, what's that look for?" They heard Tasque Manager, tone light and mocking, from behind, likely addressing the puppet. "Going to give me the silent treatment too? I'm devastated." They smiled to themself upon hearing that.

  If every interaction with Spamton was going to go like that, then maybe they'd be able to tolerate his employment here.

    If every interaction with Swatch was going to go like that, Spamton was going to kill himself.

  Just the sound of their voice made him freeze up, and only God knew why. Not that they'd tell him, seeing as God hated him.

  Why was it, that whenever they were around, a dread unlike anything he had ever known would wash over him, and his joints would lock up? Every time they came into physical contact with him, he had to fight tooth and nail with himself to keep from trembling under the touch that felt like fire on his skin. Hell, if they were so much as in the same room as him, his voicebox would just... stop working. What was with that?

  The Tasque Manager had asked if he was going to give her the silent treatment. I don't intend to. In fact, he had thought. I'd be calling you a bitch, but I can't exactly do that if I can't talk. In lieu of a response, he had just further soured the look he was drilling into her face.

  If it wasn't obvious enough, he was not fucking happy.

  The next few days crawled by. Not a moment had gone by where Spamton wasn't being monitored, either to ensure he did his job or didn't escape (he suspected it was both). The only time he was alone was when he was locked in his room for the night, which he fully utilized to his advantage. When retired to his chambers, he would write down what he'd memorized of the routes and schedules of his, ugh, "coworkers", in favor of deciding an escape plan. He had once known such information, but seeing as he was not being kept in as opposed to out, things had most definitely changed to accommodate him.

  Today, he was feeling... irritated. His tedious chores and lack of escape progress hadn't bothered him (he was endlessly patient) until the Mansion's doctor (He still hadn't quite wrapped his head around that. Where were they during his breakins when he was beaten black and blue?) decided to install an AdBlock in him. Apparently, it was to help get rid of the ads "permeating" his speech, but all it did was make his body ache, his eyes hurt, and his throat sore. Hadn't that antivirus- the one that made his insides shaky and his skin itchy- hadn't it been enough? His thoughts were already laggy enough with the addition of the antivirus, he didn't need an AdBlock to make everything worse.

  This is hell, he thought as he clipped on his stupid tie for his second day of "work". He fumbled with it because he forgot what be was doing.

  This is hell, he thought when Queen dropped by his "work station" to talk to him for hours on end on the third day. Her voice drilled holes into his head with how... sharp? it was.

  This is hell, he thought, only four(five?) days into formulating an escape plan. He couldn't take it anymore! Either he lost his mind "working" here, or to the factory reset he was promised were he to leave without Queen's consent, all because of that stupid, fucking, contract! At this point, he was willing to risk the reset, because at least then, if he managed to escape, he'd be free of this hellhole. If not; oh well. It was better than his brain slowly succumbing to the rot that was monotonous labor.

  It was final. The time had come for his half-baked plans to hatch.

  ***

Day 1. Though he had decided he'd overstayed his welcome, he still had enough sense to take it slow, so when the next day came around, he played his part. His uniform was donned, his breakfast was ignored, and his "coworkers" were treated as nothing but insignificant; such was the usual with him. However, his daily chores were different each day, so hearing that he had been assigned kitchen duty for the day had been a welcome surprise. If memory served right, the kitchen was a maus magnet, and Swatchlings, the "coworkers" who were constantly watching his every move, were terrified of maice. To pass up an opportunity like this would be stupid.

  Eventually, through discreet searching, he'd found one of the little pests, and his plan was put to action. With the creature caged in his palms, he set it loose in the kitchen instead of outside like he was supposed to. The reaction was instantaneous; the first Swatchling to lay eyes on the thing freaked the hell out, causing the Swatchlings around it to take notice and also freak the hell out. Soon, they were all freaking the hell out, and Spamton was able to slip out amongst the chaos.

  Sadly, he didn't get very far, as the Tasque Manager was quick to arrive to the scene and discover him unsupervised. Though she had no doubt been suspicious, she had let him off the hook upon hearing that the maus had "frightened him into fleeing".

  He didn't pay much attention to his day after that. Why should he, when his attempt at escape had failed? Ah, well, there was always tomorrow.

  All that was left to do was hope that the buzzing under his skin would disappear by then.

  ***

Day...2? 2. He'd had this stupid "job" for about a week. Probably. Who was counting? His day started off as it usually did these days: shitty. Granted, he had just woken up, but he didn't doubt that anyone in his situation would also be unhappy, regardless if they had slept in a soft bed with silken sheets and fluffy pillows.

  Today's "job" was pottery watching.

  Why? Why was that a thing? Did Swatchlings normally watch pottery all day, or was this just one of those "you-keep-a-lookout" scenarios? As in, pointless busywork given to him for the hell of it?

  This wasn't even "busywork"! He was just sitting around watching fucking pottery!

  This was so boring. How does one even get out of watching pottery? Knock over a vase? Experience taught him that such an action would get him beat within an inch of his life, so clearly, that wasn't an option. He'd be instantly apprehended if he were to just walk off, so he couldn't do that either.

  He was loathe to admit it, but it seemed as though there was no attempt to be made today. By the time he was escorted back to his room, he felt drained beyond measure, which meant there would be no planning, either. Besides, he likely wouldn't have been able to focus anyway, what with the buzzing under his skin having turned into an irrelievable full-body itch.

  He probably wouldn't be able to sleep tonight.

  ***

Day...- did he need a calendar? He should probably get a calendar if he couldn't keep track of the days. Not that he had been able to in the first place. His pre-installed calendar only ever worked enough to tell him the date of his upload anniversary. How long had it been since his last one? He couldn't remember. His brain felt fuzzy.

  When he woke, his skin felt like it was crawling. No matter how much he itched, or how hard, the bugs in his body kept skittering over his bones. Regardless, he went about his day.

  Someone kept trying to talk to him as he worked. Their voice ground glass into his ears- did he have ears?- so it was hard to focus on what they were saying. Not that he was trying to, anyways; his attention was focused solely on sweeping up a tasque trail of dirt into a dustpan, a feat that proved quite difficult with just one arm. He didn't need any help, though. After all, he'd handled worse during his break-in days (which were what, two weeks ago?), like that one time his leg got caught in an oversized maus trap, and he'd had to detach it to get free. Reattaching it had hurt just as much.

  Or! How about that one time he'd been kicked to the curb after-

  His thoughts exploded into screams of wrong. Wrongwrongwrongwrongwrong. It never happened. Did something happen? What had he been doing? He couldn't see anything past the green in his vision.

  Suddenly, he was in his room. When had he gotten here? The abrupt change of scenery left him reeling, and he hadn't registered the other person in the room until they, voice muffled as though filtered through static, spoke. Were their words directed at him? He didn't know.

  He slept, for he was too tired to listen.

  ***

What day was it? Where-? No, wait, that was a stupid question. He was at the mansion.

  What exactly was it that he was doing? Polishing stuff? Silver stuff? When had he even woken up? It was hard to focus on the task at hand, but trust him when he says he's trying. It wasn't his fault that the shadows in every reflective surface, moving about in his peripheral, kept distracting him.

  Wait. Shit. They were moving?

  He checked behind him, and saw nothing. A heated glare focused on the shadows in the silver before him bore no fruit either, and with growing unease, he concluded that he was just seeing things. It's all in your head, he told himself when the darkness continued to dance at the edge of his vision. You're just seeing things. There's nothing there.

  At some point, a pair of eyes had appeared from the abyss, doing nothing but boring into his flesh. He started checking behind him at regular intervals to make sure that they weren't actually there, nothing was watching him, he was just imagining things. However, a presence soon accompanied those eyes, which had him twisting around double time to make sure no one was there, because nothing was wrong, nothing was wrong, nothing was wrong.

  He gave up polishing altogether when be saw hands reaching for him from the dark, the presence bristling, and he couldn't take it anymore. He had to leave, run, hide. Where were the dumpsters? It couldn't get him there.

  One of the hands managed to grab his arm, pulling him back, back into the abyss, and he jerked violently against its hold, static cursing spewing from his mouth. The hand's grip tightened, and then came a voice, loud and sharp, and he froze. He knew that voice.

  Slowly, no sudden movements, he twisted towards it, and felt his voicebox turn to stone in his throat upon seeing the face it belonged to.

  No. No, please. He hadn't done anything.

  The feeling of his arm- the right one, the one he was missing- being ripped out of his shoulder burned itself to the forefront of his mind, and it was then that he became acutely aware of how tight their hand was on his arm.

  There was nothing stopping them from tearing it out of the socket. That's what they were going to do, wasn't it? They were going to tear out his other arm before- and the back of his head stung at the thought- throwing him against another wall and blocking his escape. Phantom pain blossomed across the surface of his body as a shoe from his memories stamped bruises onto his skin, accompanied by a voice screaming at him to say something. But he couldn't say anything, not even to beg for the pain to stop! He couldn't make one sound past the clog in his throat! Any moment now, he'd be pummeled into the floor until he became nothing more than a stain, and he'd be helpless to stop it.

  An unfamiliar expression crossed his attacker's- no, that wasn't right, they weren't attacking, why weren't they attacking?- face, one of... concern?, and the grip on his arm was released. Suddenly, there was confusion, and apprehension, and relief, and fear.

  A torrent of emotions swept through him, and he couldn't help it; his mind was pulled under, and he passed out.

  ***

He woke up in complete darkness.

  Nonono. Not safe, not safe, it gets you in the dark.

  He was paralyzed where he lay, too afraid to move to turn on the lights. If he moved, it'd know he was there. Did it already know? The presence circling his bed was hungry. Had it found him, or was it still looking? No, the better question was, had it already gotten him? If so, what was it going to do to him? He wanted to strangle the heart beating a hammer into his ribcage into silence, because it was too loud, and if it hadn't found him before, it certainly would now. Please, just-

  Light flooded his vision, and through his sudden disorientation, he could feel a spike of anger in the presence as it retreated into the shadows of-

  So he was still in his room, then. It hadn't gotten him. That was good. Where had the light come from, though?

  He turned to find a black mass standing in the doorway to his room, one shadowy tendril... arm?... hovering over the light switch, but before he had the thought to panic, it stepped out of the room, closing the door behind it. Just like that, he was once again left alone with the presence in his room, but this time, he had the advantage; the presence was limited to the small pockets of darkness tucked away in the corners of the room. Relief flooded every fiber of his being when the weight of such a revelation pressed down upon him, and, bonelessly, he sank into his bed. For now, he was safe, and there was nothing the presence could do but watch as he drifted off into unconsciousness.

"I think something's wrong with him. Aside from the usual."

  Tasque Manager looked up from her butler juice at the sound of Swatch's voice. They had, in one hand, a cup of koffi, still steaming, while the other was scrolling through a page in their tab book. They hadn't looked at her.

  "What do you mean?" She inquired with a sip of her drink. "Is this about Spamton's recent behavior? I thought he was just acting aloof to get out of work. After the second chance we're giving him, too!" Curious, she set her cup on the counter and leaned closer to Swatch to read over their shoulder.

  "See, that's what I thought to, but ever since that..."  They stilled, caught in either a memory or on a missing word. "...Reaction, from a couple days ago-" Momentary stupor forgotten, they held the tab book closer for her to see, the page opened to the data log for Spamton's behavior. "I've been looking through his log for a pattern to his behavior, and I noticed something." They scrolled up until they found what they were looking for, and she was left to follow their finger as they pointed. "Around this time, he was acting as usual. Cocky, sarcastic, prideful. Again, usual. However-" They scrolled down. "Here is where his behavior started to change. He became quiet, fatigued, and antsy, and only got worse as time progressed. It got to the point where we had to leave him holed up inside his room, and I belieeeve..." They had been slowly scrolling down as they talked, but now they were scrolling back up with triple the speed. "This." Their scrolling stopped with a jab of their finger at the page. "Is the cause."

  Further, she leaned, until her chin was resting on their shoulder and she had to stabilize herself with a hand on their back. The log seemed to have recorded just a run-of-the-mill day, until she read about the doctor's visit. Right. For that AdBlock installation.

  Interest piqued, she slipped off her stool to stand behind Swatch, leaning her body into theirs in favor of reading comfortably. After the visit, according to the log, his speech, though purged of ads, was slurred and lagging, with the man himself acting skittish and distracted, as though he wasn't all there. Her brows furrowed as she read. No doubt his recent behavior was brought about by the AdBlock, but what in his programming would cause him to react in such a way?

  "Swatch." Her eyes raked through the log again, hoping to catch some crucial piece of information that she had missed, with Swatch doing the same. "What species of Darkner is Spamton?"

  They paused, then leaned against her, arms folded across their chest. Their faces were mere inches apart. "I, uh..." Their brow furrowed. "Hm." Tasque Manager rubbed circles into their shoulder, as if that would help their inner search query load. However, they both continued to read over the log; with two sets of eyes looking, how could they be missing something? "I believe his core coding is that of Addison origin, though he could just as easily be a Trojan program. It's hard to tell with how, uh, all over the place his programming is."

  "Hm, yeah." She chuffed out a laugh. "He's gotta be an Addison then, because I don't think her Majesty would let a Trojan stay in the mansion."

  "Would she even know if she was?"

  "Probably not."

  They both chuckle at that, momentarily forgetting what it was they were talking about before returning to the task at hand. Tasque Manager felt that a burden had been lifted during the brief moment of mirth, and was about to crack another joke to keep the atmosphere elevated when something finally clicked for her. Mirth made way for confusion as she turned her head to better face Swatch.

  "What happens when you install an AdBlock in an Addison?"

  They locked eyes with her through a side look.

  Leading up to now, nothing interesting had happened.

  Before the start of the work day, they had gotten into uniform, eaten a breakfast of frozen bagel bytes, and caught up with their unread messages. Only one had caught their eye: a text from their cousin, wishing them a Happy New Year's. It had been sent two months ago, and served as a subtle reminder that they should check their messages more often. They didn't bother opening the rest of them, so they were marked as read.

  Work did what work always does: it dragged until a customer gave them something productive to do, then went right back to dragging. The Addison across the street, oftentimes having nothing to do, would occasionally come over to converse, which was... nice, but distracting. At least he wasn't annoying about it.

  There was nothing interesting about lunch break either. They'd step off the clock, pull out whatever they had packed that day from their inventory, then settle down at whatever bench caught their eye. The Addison across the street, Displayse, always managed to find them, and would thereafter spend his lunch break in their company. However, he never used the time to eat.

  It was only after today's lunch break that the "interesting" presented itself.

  "Oh, I think it likes you," the blue Addison beside them commented, thinly veiled adoration seeping into his tone. A tasque was rubbing against their leg, and honestly, they didn't know how to react. They weren't a tasque person.

  Suddenly, the feline stood to perch its front paws on their knees, effectively knocking them out of their stance. Displayse practically squealed in delight. "Awww, Targetooooon. You made a new friend!" He knelt to start skritching it behind an ear, cooing, "You're just a little sweetheart, aren't you? Yes you are!" A loud inhale. "Yes you are!" The tasque began to headbutt his hand, purring, and that's when they saw it. A collar, fastened around its neck.

  "Displayse," the orange Addison commented. "This is a mansion tasque." At that, Displayse's hand flew away from the cat, as if burned, and he began to glare suspiciously at the creature while rubbing his wrist. His antics went ignored.

  Without the physical attention, the tasque went back to kneading their knees, mewling. "I'm assuming I have a summons to the Mansion," Targeton state, bending slightly to read the name on the tag. Skribbles. "This must be a newly employed tasque if its letting people pet it."

  "A summons?" The blue Addison repeated, cautiously reaching out to pet the creature again. "Booo. You were going to introduce me to your cousin today." His hand began to scratch under its neck.

  "Auctionelle can wait," they said, walking off in the hopes the tasque would follow to begin its escort. "Queen cannot." Finally, it peeled away from Displayse to take the lead.

  ***

As it turned out, Queen wasn't the one who had been waiting.

  The Tasque Manager herself greeted them at the Mansion's entrance, releasing her pet of its duties as she insisted they walk with her to "the problem". Though her explanations on the way helped to answer their unspoken questions, they were still curious as to how the Cyber World's most orderly and meticulate professionals hadn't been aware of such a piece of information as vital, and usually obvious, as a Darkner's species.

  "How didn't you know your guest was an Addison?" They inquired when finding room to speak. "With that in mind, why an AdBlock? Addisons are an ad-based species, an AdBlock would be... less than ideal."

  "Yet you sell them?" Targeton cast her a side glance.

  "Right, but not to Addisons, seeing as it's basically ad deterrent. I would have bought one myself were that possible. Light knows how annoying Addisons are."

  "You're an Addison."

  They barked out a laugh. "Not an affiliation I'm content to admit. Now, about my question?"

  "Right, of course." The Tasque Manager cleared her throat, looking a smidgen embarrassed. "We installed an AdBlock because, well, again, we didn't know, but we didn't know because-" An awkward cough. "Because his code is in tangles. We had to look through his files from when he lived here to actually determine his species, though the file was quite the hassle to locate."

  "He doesn't live here currently?"

  "...It's...a special situation."

  How perfect was their timing, for the two of them to reach their destination just as their conversation had ended. They stood to the side of a door, which the Tasque Manager opened before motioning them to go inside, imparting them with the knowledge that a Swatchling would be waiting right outside were they to need anything, and leaving. She didn't need to tell them she had other matter to attend to by the way she speed-walked away.

  Just by standing there, they could feel the eyes of the room's occupant boring into the side of their head, so without looking, they reached for the doorknob parallel to them and pulled its conjoined door closed. The promised Swatchling wasn't here yet, and they weren't about to step into a room with a quarantined stranger without the comfort of backup. Until then, they were content to wait. Hey, it wouldn't hurt to go over the information they had gathered in the meantime.

  Firstly, the Tasque Manager had said that the Addison was easily agitated. While that did cause need for caution to be tread, they knew that such a behavior was common for an Addison saddled with an AdBlock. Their multitude of product testing experiments gave proof of this.

  They also knew that the agitation was a cause of anxiety, not anger. In these situations, Addisons tended to develop a nervous demeanor, as well as sensory issues and a paranoia of sorts, and would understandably react to their surroundings negatively. Of course, the level of anxiety an Addison felt varied with each individual, but roughly, they were to be approached the same way; calmly and casually. Anything that indicated distress would only serve to further set them off.

  Secondly; the tenant didn't live here. Hadn't lived here for quite some time, according to the Tasque Manager. With that said, it would be safe to assume that the circumstances of his stay were contributors to his stress, alongside the fact that his code was, supposedly, "in tangles". What could that mean though? How could one's code be so "tangled" that their Darkner type couldn't be identified.

  Whatever. That Swatchling still wasn't here, and they weren't going to waste time waiting around because of a little nervousness. They weren't nervous. Get it over with, Targeton. Open the door and get it over with.

  Idly, they remembered that the Tasque Manager hadn't told them the resident's name, but that problem solved itself as soon as they stepped into the room. Its occupant, still staring holes into them, wore a face they hadn't seen in well over fourteen years, not since it was last on TV. Whatever apprehension they felt before coming in vanished in light of their shock.

  They couldn't help it. They started laughing.

(Originally written 2/9/23)

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Michael de Adder @deAdder :: Tucker in Russia

* * * *

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

February 7, 2024

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

FEB 8, 2024

Amidst the Republican meltdown in Washington, a disturbing pattern is emerging. 

Under pressure from former president Donald Trump, Republican senators today killed the $118 billion Emergency National Security Supplemental Appropriations Act that provided funding for Ukraine, Israel, and Taiwan and humanitarian assistance for Gaza and also included protections for the border that Republicans themselves had demanded. 

Senator Kyrsten Sinema (I-AZ), one of the team of senators who had negotiated the bill, called out the Republicans who had staged photo ops at the border and insisted that Congress must address the rise in migration across the border… until Trump told them the opposite: “After all those trips to the desert, after all those press conferences, it turns out this crisis isn’t much of a crisis after all. Sunday morning, it’s a real crisis,” she said. “Monday morning it magically disappeared.”

After four months of Senate negotiations over the bill produced a strong bipartisan agreement, Trump pulled the rug out from under a measure that gave the Republicans much of what they wanted, partly because he wanted the issue of immigration and the border to run on in 2024, it seems, but also to demonstrate that he could command Congress to do his bidding.

It appears that Trump is trying to turn the Republican Party into an instrument he can use as he wishes.  

Senator James Lankford (R-OK), whom Senate minority leader Mitch McConnell (R-KY) tapped to negotiate the bill, today told the Senate that four weeks ago a right-wing media personality had told him “flat out—before they knew any of the contents of the bill, any of the content, nothing was out at that point—that told me flat out, ‘If you try to move a bill that solves the border crisis during this presidential year, I will do whatever I can to destroy you, because I do not want you to solve this during the presidential election.’” 

Lankford added, “[They] have been faithful to their promise and have done everything they can to destroy me in the past several weeks.” (MAGA radio host Jesse Kelly later claimed he was the person to whom Lankford referred, and called the Oklahoma senator a “eunuch.”)

It is not a normal part of our political system to have members of Congress deciding what laws to support on the basis of threats. 

In Politico today, Burgess Everett reported that Trump-aligned MAGA Republican senators Ted Cruz (R-TX) and Mike Lee (R-UT) are calling for McConnell to step down because he backed the national security measure with the border fixes MAGA demanded, suggesting that negotiating with Democrats is off-limits. Trump has consistently called for McConnell to be replaced with someone friendlier to him. 

Senators aligned with Trump—Ron Johnson (R-WI), Rick Scott (R-FL), and J.D. Vance (R-OH), as well as Cruz and Lee—took a stand against the national security measure, creating such pressure that McConnell’s supporters quietly turned against it. Everett noted that the rapid about-face Senate Republicans made over the national security measure “is evidence of a major drift away from McConnell’s style of Republicanism and toward Trump’s.”

Senator Lisa Murkowski (R-AK) said, “I have a difficult time understanding again how anyone else in the future is going to want to be on that negotiating team—on anything—if we are going to be against it.” She said: “I’ve gone through the multiple stages of grief. Today I’m just pissed off.”

Trump’s takeover of the Republican Party is showing as well in his attempt to take over the Republican National Committee, in particular a plan to replace as its chair his hand-picked loyalist Ronna McDaniel, who has ties to the old party, with someone even closer to him. Since 2016, “[t]hey’ve merged the DNA of the president’s campaign and the RNC,” a Republican operative told Matt Dixon, Olympia Sonnier, and Katherine Doyle of NBC News.

Josh Dawsey and Michael Scherer reported yesterday in the Washington Post that Republicans are afraid to stand up to Trump out of fear that he will retaliate against them. In Politico today, Peder Schaefer described how in Republican-dominated Wyoming, Democrats are afraid to admit their political affiliation out of concern for their safety. 

Yesterday, Politico’s Adam Wren pointed out that Trump has spent much of the last week attacking elections officials in Indiana for helping former South Carolina governor Nikki Haley, who is running against him for the Republican presidential nomination. He is apparently working with loyalist Representative Jim Banks (R-IN) to push the lie that Haley had forgotten to fill out the paperwork to get onto the Republican primary ballot and that election officials were cheating to get her onto it.

Officials say that these baseless accusations are an attempt to sow distrust of the 2024 election. 

“Trump is reinforcing a narrative where the only acceptable outcome is his victory, thus preemptively delegitimizing any electoral defeat,” Evansville attorney and former Indiana Republican delegate Joshua Claybourn told Wren. “It sets the stage for yet another crisis of legitimacy in the November general election.”

Mike Murphy, a former Republican member of the Indiana House of Representatives, offered Wren a different theory about Trump’s actions: “The bottom line is he’s completely unhinged. He is literally off his rocker.”

But there is a method behind the madness. Trump’s actions are not those designed to win an election by getting a majority of the votes. They are the tools someone who cannot win a majority uses to seize power. 

Trump’s base is shrinking as his actions become more extreme, but he has a big megaphone, and it is getting bigger. As Robyn Dixon and Natalia Abbakumova pointed out in the Washington Post today, Putin’s awarding of an interview to right-wing former Fox News Channel personality Tucker Carlson in Moscow this week “demonstrated Putin’s interest in building bridges to the disruptive MAGA element of the Republican Party, and it seemed to reflect the Kremlin’s hope that Donald Trump would return to the presidency and that Republicans would continue to block U.S. military aid to Ukraine.”

Yesterday, Representative Matt Gaetz (R-FL) introduced, and more than 60 House Republicans co-sponsored, a resolution denying that Trump had engaged in insurrection in his attempt to overturn the 2020 presidential election. 

Former District of Columbia police officer Michael Fanone, who was badly hurt on January 6,  said the resolution was “a slap in the face to those of us who almost lost everything defending the Capitol on January 6th, including protecting some of the very Members of Congress who are now attempting to rewrite history to exonerate former President Trump. 

“But no piece of paper signed by a group of spineless extremists will ever change the facts about that dark day:” he wrote, “the insurrection was violent, it was deadly and it will happen again if we do not expunge the MAGA ideology that stoked the flames of insurrection in the first place. Rep. Matt Gaetz and every supporter of this resolution must be held accountable for their lies and un-American efforts to undermine our democracy.”

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

[lettiegrief]

Summary chapters 15, 16 and 17 of Qiang Jin Jiu

Xi Hongxuan and Yao Wenyu are the new featured characters.

Yao Wenyu has not had much participation so far, but Xi Hongxuan was the one who “led” the student strike.

The purpose of the strike was to pressure the emperor into taking Shen Zechuan back to prison, and they all said that the emperor was being manipulated, that there are treacherous ministers, which is all very real, and makes perfect sense with who is really the leader of this strike.

It was up to Xiao Chiye to disperse these students, which is bad because this could make him lose the already weak favor that his clan has. Xiao Jiming is already giving his blood to prove his loyalty to the emperor, even leaving his brother behind in Qudu.

“The villain stands before us and the eunuchs endanger the state! The Dowager Empress exercises control over state affairs and refuses to return governance to her rightful master. Those who must be overthrown are treacherous ministers and traitors like you!”

This is 100% true and it gets even better once we know who the mastermind is. 

Shen Zechuan is this mind, he simply got the students to protest against the emperor, to make serious and very real accusations against the government, encouraged through someone else to make them fight against the Imperial Bodyguards themselves, all of this putting himself in the crossfire as you pit your two enemies against each other. Fantastic.

Ji Gang drank his tea and said, “Was killing Xiaofuzi a ploy to let Chuan-er leave?”

So, apparently the one who killed Xiaofuzi was Ji Gang? Or Master Qi?

“Auntie, all the literary talents in the world look to the Imperial Academy. Even the Elder of the Secretariat himself would find it inadvisable to intervene.”

And this is another reason why Shen Zechuan's move was very smart. These students are important people, difficult to have their decisions questioned.

The ironic thing is that this rebellion happened more because of the Dowager Empress, since the emperor is afraid of her and does her bidding while trying to balance it with his own wishes.

If she wanted to ensure the continued growing power and authority of the Hua Clan, then she needed a submissive and obedient emperor.

If Emperor Xiande could no longer fit the role, all she needed to do was replace him.

Well, who would have thought that she has every intention of continuing to rule and change emperors to maintain control while turning the emperor into a submissive puppet. It's because of her that all this chaos is happening, I don't doubt that she has her hand in the Shen Wei case.

[...] However, in order not to offend me, Her Majesty turned around and dismissed Shen Zechuan's death penalty and locked him up. If Shen Zechuan doesn't die, he will become the root of the problem.”

You can better understand why the Xiao clan is having to prove its loyalty. Proving their loyalty means sacrificing their freedom and not questioning the emperor's wishes and orders, which means they can't do anything about the Shen Zechuan case, which is horrible even then for them because the one who put them in this chaos was Shen Wei, and they want revenge. But they won't have revenge because the emperor doesn't want to displease the Dowager Empress either.

Trying to draw for myself:

Shen Wei has made the Xiao clan dependent on proving their loyalty to the emperor for the rest of their lives → the Xiao clan wants revenge on this, but they will only get revenge with Shen Zechuan's death → the emperor doesn't want to give this sentence to Shen Zechuan because he is afraid of the Dowager Empress, who is the one who wants to keep Shen Zechuan alive → the Xiao clan cannot kill Shen Zechuan on their own because that would be treason, that is why Xiao Jiming is giving his blood to prove that he is loyal, because since it is the Xiao clan that wants revenge the most, they are the ones that really have the power to cause a rebellion because the emperor refuses to do what they want. And in this the emperor offends everyone because apparently the Dowager Empress doesn't want the Xiao clan, which is a threat to her wishes, to have a leading role.

Oh and there's also Li Jianheng, who the Empress Dowager doesn't like, and the emperor went against her when protecting him, but he made up his mind not to punish Shen Zechuan. He's really offending everyone here lol 

The Empress Dowager is already suspecting that the one who organized that rebellion was someone from the clans, and as among the clans, Xi Gu'an is the commander-in-chief/translating to teacher of the military fields. One of the minds behind the rebellion is Xi Hongxuan, Xi Gu'an's younger brother, but it will be easier to distrust Xi Gu'an, who is Ji Lei's sworn brother, and if the Empress Dowager distrusts Xi Gu 'an, Ji Lei will also be affected. Shen Zechuan is starting a great trap that will put the royals at war with themselves.

Xiao Chiye also didn't allow those students to be arrested. I believe he did this because of the Xiao clan's debt of loyalty to the emperor, so much so that the emperor praised him. But this is also bad because Xiao Chiye ends up displeasing an important side too, and it's all thanks to the Empress Dowager. Because he didn't allow the strike to continue, but he also didn't let the Imperial Bodyguards arrest the students because these students are important people in politics, offending them this much would put the emperor in a crossfire, and the Xiao clan would lose favor both these students and the emperor.

What chaos.

Xiao Chiye is negotiating fairly with Ji Lei, and will end up losing more things, but he must be used to it by now poor guy lmfao. Fortunately he is smart enough not to trust Ji Lei completely.

[kidmachinate]

Farewell

Sometimes, we just have to say farewell to something taken too soon. Someone taken too soon. Opportunities or possessions taken too soon or that need to be replaced but cannot be. There's been a list of farewells but I'm not being very vocal about it. There's no need to be.

Under the assumption people want to grow, eventually you come to not only realize who you are as a person but the long list of things you don't and shouldn't have to deal with. The wild thing is these thoughts come at a time in which things are going pretty good in my personal life. I don't want to jump the gun or anything but for the first time in a long while, I had a feeling week of work and was actually happy about it. This was a victory week and something I hope to get used to. While it would be nice to celebrate that with others, they don't have to live your life, nor would they necessarily feel the same way about something going right for you. Sometimes you have the extra hand, sometimes you don't. Shouldn't stop you from seeing what has taken place.

Communication is a valuable thing when you care about someone or something. Saying whatever you can to try and go towards a set goal or outcome. If the needs don't line up however, this could mean that it doesn't work out between the two parties. In my current line of work, over half my clients are signed up for a service I just learned about. Given they know not a ton about us as a startup, they have to trust you. Trust is key and also where communication comes into play. When trust does, everything else slowly crumbles. It's like this online, professionally, family, friends, spouse, children. You can't avoid this. People will eventually go their own way. If it's a business that is pretty much guaranteed. They'll find someone else to fill the seat.

We too, in one's adult life, are essentially filling seats. As we grow, there may be less and less of them. Not inviting certain people to the table anymore. Making sure the glass you have to pour from is not only enough for everyone plus yourself, but you are able to do it in the first place. If you're serving too many and neglecting yourself, you're in trouble. If you've attempted to repair a fractured relationship and it goes the same way or unattended, you know all you need to know. I'm not one to give up on things, but if it is time, it is time.

So...as hard as it may be sometimes, I bid farewell to not only just what is not of value to me but any source I know does not value me as a person. Might also be time to say farewell to things that no longer will exist, like a dead franchise for whatever form of media you like. Doesn't mean you can't remember the good times and it goes for people too. When it has taken its natural course however, you smile, nod, and leave it be. It could be the very thing that clears your mind and/or a path to your very own personal growth. Decluttering, if you will. People or things, releasing the excess things will bring a more vivid vision towards the end goal.

I'll end this with one of the better things and a reference to the picture. Castlevania main line (canon stories) may have died with Shanoa in Order of Ecclesia, but that doesn't mean it has to die in our hearts. Thank you to the fandom currently taking a chance on me and my voice submissions for an awesome fan project. It has brought me joy and considering much else since in the direction of progression.

[kylesvariouslistsandstuff]

7 to 7: The Scrapped Pixar Originals of the '10s

The other day, I was revisiting the concept art of the cancelled Pixar picture NEWT.

NEWT, as many would know, was going to be an adventure story about newts. Little amphibians that kinda look like lizards. Two blue-footed newts, the last of their endangered species, a guy and a gal. They have to mate to save their species. Sounds familiar, doesn't it? The Blue Sky film RIO did this story, but with blue macaws.

NEWT was announced by Disney Pictures and Pixar in April 2008, then penciled in for a summer 2011 debut. This would've been the feature to succeed TOY STORY 3 on the release schedule, and coincidentally, this was the year RIO opened. It was pushed back months after its unveiling, as it played musical chairs with CARS 2, formerly a summer 2012 release. And then as time passed, NEWT was without a release date...

If you frequented the corners I did in the early 2010s, you would've known NEWT was dead before Pixar said so. Floyd Norman, who needs no introduction, casually let it slip in a reply section in early 2010... And then a few months later, Pixar officially announced that NEWT was cancelled... Unprecedented, in a way... An original movie, previously announced, was no longer moving forward. They then proceeded to dump a ton of concept art for the movie... The other remnants of the movie are merely small Easter eggs seen in TOY STORY 3 and BRAVE.

Many seem to believe that NEWT was scrapped by Pixar brass because of its similarities to RIO, and that they wanted to avoid another ANTZ vs. A BUG'S LIFE situation... But given how many other similar animated movies have opened near each other, I never bought that. ANTZ vs. A BUG'S LIFE was its own unique case, while almost every other similar-movie situation was really just coincidence. NEWT and RIO were no different. (This of course applies to big studio movies, *not* cash-in mockbuster shovelware like those Video Brinquedo movies.)

The real reason is more fascinating. Former Pixar president Ed Catmull stated in 2014 that they had first removed director Gary Rydstrom from NEWT, and then gave it to Pete Docter (current CCO), fresh off of directing Oscar winner UP. Docter showed them an idea he had been working on the previous summer, and they decided to go with that movie instead, leaving NEWT to collect dust. What was that idea? INSIDE OUT...

A rare instance where an animated movie outright replaced another one in development, because most of the time in these big studios... That never actually happens. For example: Sony Animation did not jettison Genndy Tartakovsky's POPEYE movie in favor of THE EMOJI MOVIE. Tartakovsky's take on the classic sailor was openly disliked by top Sony brass at the time, such as Amy Pascal, and he was off the movie by the end of 2014. The studio wanted to make a POPEYE movie, but under another director, as Genndy went and focused on HOTEL TRANSYLVANIA 2. THE EMOJI MOVIE was thought up by animation vet Tony Leondis on his own, and three studios got in a bidding war over his concept, Sony being the winner... And that was some time in mid-2015. So, no correlation. I think a lot of animation fans were simply upset that they cancelled Genndy's POPEYE, but saw EMOJI MOVIE through to completion. That's not the same as putting two separate movies on a table, and voting on which one to go through with.

Anyways, back on track. NEWT. Not cancelled because of similarities to RIO, cancelled because it seemed like no one wanted to make this picture. I found it kind of bizarre that Pixar, which was being run by John Lasseter at the time, didn't hand it to someone else after Docter pitched INSIDE OUT. I get the sense that he hated it, and just wanted it off the runway. Either that, or it was perceived as a standard talking animals adventure and not the usual "what-if" stuff that Lasseter's Pixar tended to favor. For whatever reason, it's a shame, because this is a movie I'd like to see happen. Who knows, maybe Docter - given that he doesn't run Pixar like Lasseter - could let either Rydstrom return or give someone else a fair shot with the concept. Maybe it can be turned into a short film or a Disney+ special/featurette... Who the heck knows!

Pixar released only four original features in the 2010s, which were BRAVE, INSIDE OUT, THE GOOD DINOSAUR, and COCO. Four original movies, against seven sequels. NEWT being made would've definitely brought things a little closer... But that wasn't the only picture that got put on ice during this tumultuous decade under a Lasseter who was letting all that leadership (not just Pixar, but also Disney Animation, Disneytoon, and various parks positions) get to his head...

Around 2010, Henry Selick and his CinderBiter Studio struck an ambitious collaboration with Pixar to bring out the studio's first stop-motion film, and their first feature co-production at that. First known as SHADEMAKER, THE SHADOW KING got very far in production. Lasseter, however, aggressively micromanaged the picture and imposed all of these changes on Selick, ballooning the budget. The picture was aiming for an October 2013 release, but after a change in leadership for Walt Disney Studios Motion Pictures (this is when we went from the inexperienced Rich Ross to former Warner exec Alan Horn), and no faith in Tim Burton's then-upcoming stop-motion pic FRANKENWEENIE, THE SHADOW KING was cancelled and all the props and hard work done on the film were destroyed. Workprint footage still exists, and Selick was allowed to shop the concept/script to other studios.

So that would've been 6 original films. Heck, Selick could've even adapted Neil Gaiman's THE GRAVEYARD BOOK for Pixar, so we could've had 7 non-sequel movies *and* Pixar's first feature film to be an adaptation of pre-existing source material. (Prior to this, two stories by William Joyce - THE LEAF MEN AND THE BRAVE GOOD BUGS, and DINOSAUR BOB - were in consideration for the Pixar feature treatment. The former was eventually made at Blue Sky and titled EPIC.)

Lastly, to my knowledge, there's an eighth film... A film we know little about, that was to be directed by Pixar long-timer and Brad Bird collaborator Teddy Newton and written by Derek Connelly (a regular collaborator w/ Colin Trevorrow), a film some news sites talked about in late 2012... But not Pixar themselves. Something that was said to be a little edgier than the usual Pixar fare. Someone I know, who attended an event where Newton was present, learned that this was the case... And that it ultimately didn't make it because of how edgy it was. With the way they made it sound, that could've possibly been Pixar's first PG-13 film.

Speaking of PG-13, one of BRAVE's directors wanted to be the one to make Pixar's first "adult" movie. That was Mark Andrews, the person who essentially "finished" the movie that originator Brenda Chapman had started and had been kicked off of. Andrews had an original sci-fi film lined up at Pixar as far back as early 2012, when BRAVE was in the final lap of production... But eventually, it fell to the wayside and Andrews apparently left Pixar. That film likely would've been an early 2020s release, I reckon.

With all that, there is an alternate history where Pixar balanced out the flood of sequels that dominated their 2010s. Of course, those particular sequels existing is rooted in some *very* convoluted and sometimes legal stuff, which explains why we got at least three of those movies. That's another story for another day, and I've talked about that extensively in the past... But, it's interesting to note that a lot of originals were in some form of development during that decade, but sadly didn't make the cut... This all coincided in a decade where the sequels all flooded out, leading some people to think "Has Pixar sold out? Are they just a sequel factory now? Did Disney gut them of their soul?"

The reality of the situation is usually boring-er than that. Lasseter didn't greenlight some originals and outright pulled the plug on other ones, and Pixar's original contract with Disney didn't allow for sequels...

However, under its current leadership, Pixar could very well dust off an idea that may not have made it in the past, and could try again with it... That's not the first time that's happened. WALL-E is a great example of this, it was born out of an unmade movie called TRASH PLANET that was in development during the mid-to-late 1990s. It even went back and forth between Pete Docter and its eventual director, Andrew Stanton. By 2000, Stanton ended up pitching another idea he had been kicking around for some time, FINDING NEMO... but by the time NEMO was nearing completion in early 2003, Stanton revisited the robot... And WALL-E was his next picture...

Sometimes these things can be saved...

Wouldn't it be kinda mindblowing if we had heard that NEWT was back and was going to be one of the studio's 2025-2026 releases? I'd be delightfully surprised.

Anyways, that's some fun facts stuff I wanted to share.

Here's a list of a Pixar 2010s that could've been:

TOY STORY 3

NEWT

BRAVE

CARS 2

MONSTERS UNIVERSITY

THE SHADOW KING

THE GOOD DINOSAUR

INSIDE OUT

FINDING DORY

UNTITLED TEDDY NEWTON FILM

UNTITLED MARK ANDREWS FILM

THE GRAVEYARD BOOK

CARS 3

INCREDIBLES 2

TOY STORY 4

..

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[begaydodrughailsatan]

BDIDBSOADOSNTIEBR AARRUUGGGG

i dont know if your thinking s1 s2 or inbetween for this idea, but im thinking s1 and oouuughhg chewing on this like a dog and a bone

Thinking like 13 year old tj, he hates ron because ron is trying to be a dad to him, but he doesn't WANT a dad he already has one just because hes dead doesn't mean he needs replaced! Which is why he pushes back against ron so hard

But glenn is the MASTER of being kind to someone in ways that dont feel pitiful, no one wants to be pityed but everyone pitys tj, poor kid his dad is dead. But glenn knows how to help people in a way that feel normal like hes not helping (theres a post i made about ron and glenn a while ago that someone else adds tags to that explain this way better then me rn)

Terry is cold, alone, scared, and christ hes only 13. He saw his dad die years ago, and he got him back, of course his dad wasn't really dead his dad would never leave him. He let his dad turn him into a vampire, he wabts to please his dad its been so long since he saw him he wants to prove himself to him. And what emo 13 year old dosent want to be a vampire?? But it wasn't his dad, he was some guy, some horrible person who manipulated him by pretending to be his dad, making him do his bidding help him kidnap and kill kids and villagers. And now here he is, a vampire, guilty of horrible things, alone, and trapped. Anyone would see that kid and pity him, but not glenn, glenn doesn't pity people.

He finds the cage, he yells at tj in a stupid cheerful tone, tells him to move sp he can shoot the lock with his human gun. He doesn't stop to have a deep conversation terry doesn't want to have you asks "you good kid? Hell yea lets go" and hands him a knife. Terry choses to stand as close to him as possible, glenn doesn't say anything, terry choses to grab on to the back fo his sleeve, glenn doesn't say anything, he lets him. I mean even acknowledging it would be super embarrassing for a teen, glenn just lets him.

"Everyone is fine, got all those other kids out to little shits tried to bite me heh"

He dosent try and soothe tj, it would only make him pull away and isolate more. He says everyone else is okay, he shouldn't feel bad, and im not comforting you because you not a baby the needs pity. I trust you. Something most adults wouldn't give to a 13 year old, trust. 

I just BDJDNDIDNSOSNOANRIDBFJ AARRRUUGGGGHH WWWAAAAAHHH ICCYYY HELLPPPP

🫵 How do we feel about sobbing, pathetic, broken men covered in blood alone in a jail cell

HOT AS HELL!!! PUT THAT SAD MAN IN A SAW TRAP!!:D

[drabbles-mc]

Out of Time

Amado Carrillo Fuentes x F!Reader

For Day 29 of @whumpril's 2023 Challenge: surrender

Warnings: 18+, language, angst

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: In true drabbles-mc fashion, I have no idea what happened here with this one but I thoroughly enjoyed writing it. We love fics all based on vibes in this house lmao. Also, thank you @hausofmamadas for giving me a little nudge out of my comfort zone. tqm, df 🥰

Narcos/NMX Taglist: @thesandbeneathmytoes @garbinge @winchestershiresauce @panagiasikelia @616wilsons @hauntedforsst @mirabee @buckybarneshairpullingkink @boomclapxox @nessamc @southotheborder @supersanelyromantic @padbrookcottage @mysun-n-stars @raincoffeeandfandoms @justreblogginfics @ashlingnarcos @proceduralpassion @artemiseamoon @narcolini @cositapreciosa (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

Once it all started to unravel the way that it did, Amado decided that there was no other choice. Surrender was never going to be an option for him, not the way that it was for the godfathers. He wasn’t going to turn himself in and simply do his bid. What would it all have been for, then?

So there he was, packing his bags. All the work he’d put into his beautiful home, or rather, all the money he’d put into his beautiful home making others do the work, and now he was going to take off and leave it vacant. It was a small loss, he supposed. With the money he had he could afford to make just about anywhere home. It was a skill that was going to come in handy, too, because he didn’t know how long he was going to have to be on the run before he finally settled down somewhere quiet enough for him to live out the rest of his life in quiet, secluded luxury. That’s really all he wanted now: to be left the fuck alone.

The suitcases that were on the floor beside his bed were already filled with clothes. The zippers on them were strained, nearly to their breaking point, but they still held. There was another still on his bed, open and only half-full as he continued to pack away more clothes into it. Part of him felt like it was a bit ridiculous, packing up his clothes and some of his other easily replaceable belongings, but he still found himself doing it. Maybe it was sentimental, he wasn’t sure—there wasn’t enough time for him to sit back and try to figure it out.

He was the only thing in the entire house making noise, so it wasn’t difficult for him to hear the sound of someone else coming up the stairs that would lead to the hallway that held his bedroom. He reached for his gun even though he wasn’t quite sure who it would be. If it had been the cops, or the feds, they would’ve already caused a scene. They wouldn’t have been able to make such a quiet entrance—they wouldn’t have sent one man in alone.

He moved quickly, quietly across the floor of his room. He positioned himself so that he was hidden behind his open bedroom door. His breathing was slow, controlled as he listened to the footsteps slowly but surely get closer and closer to his room.

Through the sliver between the door and its frame, he caught the silhouette of the person as they started to step into his room. The second he was able, he stepped out from his hiding place, grabbing them and pushing them back towards the wall of his room with his gun pressed underneath their chin before he even had a moment to stop and check and see who it was.

When the wall stopped him from being able to keep pushing the person, he finally looked to see who it was. His eyes widened when he saw that it was you, the nerves that had been mounting went away, replaced instead by guilt when he saw the fear in your eyes with the mouth of his gun pressed harshly against your chin.

“A-Amado?” you stammered out, unable to even get your arms to cooperate enough to try and push him away from you.

He lowered his gun, tucking it back into his waistband as he loosened his vice grip on you. “Querida? Qué paso?” He knew that he should’ve been apologizing for nearly splitting your skull in two, but the question came out first instead.

There were still goosebumps on your skin even though the only thing still touching you was Amado’s warm palm. His fingers curled around your bicep, thumb tracing back and forth to smooth over the way that he’d gripped onto you so harshly before. You were trying to get out the words that you wanted to say, but it was proving to be more effort than you thought it was going to be.

“Estás saliendo?” you finally asked, a slight tremor to your voice.

He hesitated at that for a moment. The answer was evident—he knew that you knew. He wondered if you just wanted to hear him say it. Maybe you were looking more for the answer to the question that was coming next: Why? Although you were also smart enough to put together the broad strokes of the answers to that question as well.

Stepping back from you, granting you some more breathing room but with his hand still on your arm, he nodded once. He watched you look at the suitcases on his floor, the one sitting on top of his mattress. Your eyes traveled around the room—it was the only spot in the house where things were looking like they’d disappeared or were out of place. All that square footage and the only room with things that mattered enough to take with him was his bedroom.

“Cuándo…” your voice trailed off, not quite sure if the answer mattered once you started to ask the question. The exact time of his departure wasn’t what your real concern was. Whenever it was, it was clearly soon. Too soon.

Selfishly, the next question you wanted to ask was, “Were you just going to leave without telling me?” but you couldn’t manage it. It seemed small, childish even, to ask that when hardly two minutes before he’d had his finger on the trigger of his gun that was pressed against the bottom of your jaw.

Clearing your throat, you allowed yourself to lean back against the wall behind you for support, taking what you could get. “Adónde vas?”

He gave a slight shake of his head before shrugging. He made just enough of a motion with his arm, like an attempt at throwing his hands up in defeat without truly committing to it. “No sé.” He huffed out something that would’ve been a laugh if the air surrounding the conversation between you hadn’t felt so heavy. “Lejos de aquí.”

You nodded slowly, trying to process what he was telling you, still trying to process the scene that you were seeing in front of you. For as much of a mess as Amado’s life could be, his house had always been spotless. That was one of the perks of never having the time to be there—it never got to the point where it looked lived-in. The only person who had been around enough to even try to make a mess had been you, and you were always careful. But now his room looked like it had been pulled apart, broken down like an old car in search of decent scraps to put into a new one.

Pushing yourself off the wall, you slowly walked over towards his bed. Aside from the wrinkles at the foot of it where he’s been rotating out his suitcases, it still looked perfectly-made. The pillows were all in their correct spots, the blanket and sheet by the head of the bed still folded and set to perfection. You found a spot beside his suitcase and sat down, trying not to think about the way that he was watching you so intently.

You reached into the suitcase, fingers dragging along the fabric of one of the last shirts that he had thrown into the bag. The black cloth passed so smoothly beneath your fingertips. An impulsive part of you wanted to ball it up inside your fist, leave a set of wrinkles that he would have to contend with whenever he got to wherever it was that he was going. Leave him some nuisance to sort out that would make him think of you once he had left you behind. You thought about it, pressed the pads of your fingers harder into the fabric, but then you stopped and just smoothed over it with your palm instead.

“Esto es el fin?” you asked, “Para nosotros?”

For us might’ve been a little presumptuous on your part. But you still deserved an answer. After all, you’d caught the man getting ready to leave without offering you so much as a goodbye or a warning first. If you were here, you might as well make him to through the effort, the pain of stating the obvious. You’d earned that much at least, you’d like to think.

He frowned at the question, and you tried to figure out if he was frowning in confusion because the answer seemed obvious, or if he was frowning because he was actually sad about leaving you behind. Maybe it was something else entirely. Still, you waited patiently for his response.

He shrugged, pausing a moment, his brows knitting like he was trying to think of an answer that wasn’t the most obvious one. “Sí…” he dragged the word out for a beat longer than necessary as he reached up, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment.

“Amado,” you said as you shook your head, sadness plaguing your voice, “what the fuck?”

His eyes snapped back to you at that. You weren’t sure what caught him more off-guard, the sudden switch or the heaviness and sadness that accompanied a question that was usually shouted between the two of you in anger.

He walked over to the bed, positioning himself so that he was standing between your legs. He looked down at you, silently waiting for you to look up at him. “Qué quieres de mi, mija? Hm? Digame.”

“I—” you started, stopping yourself short as you shook your head. The reality of it was that you weren’t really sure what you wanted from him. A heads-up? An invitation? For him to go back in time and not wind up on a path that led to him having to make the choice to either live on the run or to surrender and die in prison? Sighing, you dropped your chin towards your chest as you admitted, “Yo no sé.”

“Hey.” He rested his hand on your shoulder. When you didn’t look up at him, he said, “Mírame.” When you finally looked up at him, he repeated his question. “Qué quieres? Quieres salir conmigo?”

You found yourself shaking your head even though you weren’t quite sure if that was your real answer. You tried not to think too hard about the way his hand warmed your shoulder, about the look in his eyes that you almost thought meant he wanted you to say yes to the question.

“No puedo…” you started, stopping and shaking your head, “I can’t just…”

He tilted his head, like he was curious, almost confused. “Por qué no?”

You leaned back, shock all over your face, “Por qué n—” you cut yourself off, shaking your head, unable to believe that he really just asked you that.

Maybe you should’ve expected it. The rest of the people in his life could pack it all up and leave just like he could, after all. You were the one thing that wasn’t like all the others. You were the only one in his world who couldn’t trade it all in with the flip of a switch. Maybe that’s what the offer was, though, an opportunity to change that.

Despite the fact that you’d thought about it, contemplated it for longer than you thought, you knew that you weren’t going to go. It was an easy choice for Amado. If you had been left with the same choices that he was, you’d probably pick the same thing. But those weren’t the choices that you had. There was so much more left for you here than there was for him, and despite every hopelessly romantic bone in your body, you knew that neither one of you was enough to sway the other. Amado was going to leave no matter what you said, and you were going to stay no matter what he offered.

Reaching, you took his hands in your own. You tried not to think about the tears gathering at the edges of your eyes as you gave him a small pull towards you, trying to coax him to come just a little closer to you before he left you for the last time. You watched him, all of him, the slight slump in his shoulders when he made the decision to give in, when he realized the answer you were going to give him.

He knelt down in front of you, putting himself just below eye-level with you. Your fingers were still threaded through his. Your lips twitched as you tried to keep your tears from spilling, keep your bottom lip from trembling. Leaning forward, you rested your forehead against his.

Taking a deep breath, you said, your voice shaking more than you’d ever admit to after the fact, “Tu sabes…”

You felt the rise and fall of his shoulders and chest from the deep breath that he took. Precious seconds that he didn’t have an excess of anymore, still being spent on you, for you, with you. “No puedes salir,” he said, his voice heavier than you thought it was going to be.

He didn’t know why it hit him so hard. Just a few minutes ago he was ready to leave without even saying goodbye, knowing that for one reason or another he wasn’t ever going to see you again. He’d been ready for that. Maybe the melancholy would catch up to him when he finally slowed down, maybe then he’d feel a passing twinge of regret. What he felt now though was so much more than that, heavier on his shoulders.

Leaving without telling you would’ve been all on his terms. He was in control of it. He wouldn’t have had to stick around to see the pain on your face over it, either. By then he would’ve been long gone. Also, if he had just left without telling you, he wouldn’t have been stuck in the situation he was currently in—he wouldn’t have been getting rejected by you.

Taking one of your hands out of his and resting it on the side of his face, you traced your thumb along his cheekbone, over the stubble that was growing longer, somewhere between unruly and an actual beard.

“No,” you finally said, your voice soft.

The two of you lingered that way for a moment, letting that one word hang between you, the short, simple confirmation that this was the end of the road for the two of you. It didn’t have to be, but it did. Amado couldn't resign himself to what life would look like if he chose to stay, but you could. You had to.

He took a deep breath, and for a fleeting moment you thought that he was going to have something profound to say, something that would shake the foundations of the entire situation. Or maybe he’d kiss you, something so fierce that it would blot out the heart-wrenching reality that the two of you were facing something that would sweep you off your feet one last time. But he didn’t do either of those things. Shaking his head with his forehead still pressed against yours, he let out the breath he’d taken in before getting back up onto his feet.

Neither of you said anything else as he went back to packing up the last of his things. Every item he put into the pile, you found yourself running your hand over it. The next shirt, each pair of pants, rinse and repeat.

By the time he was done, with all of his bags now stacked by the door, you were hoping to have something more to say. He was hoping you’d have something more to say too, because this part had never been the part that he was good at.

Walking from his doorway back to the bed, he sat on the mattress beside you. He let his hand wander, allowed his fingers to hook into yours. He was looking down at your joined hands rather than in your eyes. “Estas segura de esto?” he asked.

You chuckled quietly at that, the sound a little sad beneath the humor of it. It felt like you were supposed to be the one asking him that question. He was the one leaving everything behind to start over somewhere else, drop his old life in favor of a new one without knowing how it would play out. Your life was staying startlingly the same. The only thing that was going to change was that Amado wasn’t going to be in it anymore.

Finally forcing himself to look you in the eyes again, he saw the hint of a smile on your face. He mirrored your expression, knowing exactly what you were thinking. He gave your hand a light squeeze. “Ven conmigo.”

Your smile widened a bit at that, the tears in your eyes growing. “Es mi última oportunidad, yea?”

He nodded. “Yea.”

Leaning in, you pressed your lips to his. It was soft, drawn out longer than it would’ve been any other day because you both knew that it was going to be the last one. He leaned back into you, not the way that he usually did, not in a way that was aimed to escalate or rile you up. He was soaking it up, savoring the feeling in a way that he didn’t take the time to do nearly enough before.

When he finally pulled away, his eyes were still closed for a few seconds longer. You studied his face while you could. When he finally opened them, all he said was, “Lo siento.”

Your automatic reaction was to tell him that it was okay, but you both knew it would’ve been a lie. Part of you wanted to make a joke about how he should get going before he missed his flight, both of you knowing that the humor lied in the impossibility of it. But nothing was making it past your lips. Instead, you leaned in and kissed his cheek, unbothered by the stubble when maybe on a different, better day you might’ve been.

With more effort than he thought it would’ve taken, Amado forced himself up onto his feet. He leaned down, pressing his lips to the top of your head before walking towards the door. He picked up his bags, lingering in the doorway as he turned back to you. You could spot the lingering sadness in his eyes that hadn’t been there when you’d shown up. Still, he managed to give you a smile.

“Disfruta la casa, yea?” He took another step back out into the hallway. “Para mi.”

You nodded, the sad smile on your face pairing a little too well with the tears that were beginning to trickle out onto your cheeks. You desperately wanted something more to say, but the same emotions that were clouding your mind were also choking out any chance to give him a comeback, to end things on the same note that they’d started so long ago. But you couldn’t, so you watched him turn and disappear out of the doorway, the last of your seconds with him finally spent.

[r0-boat]

Scp!Volo ramble

Cw: yandere, fear play, horror, death,

Somebody requested more Volo, so here's this : ) it's been in my drafts for fucking ever

I focus a little more on horror :)

Also I apologize I don't know how to correctly add time

Scp: V-A

A teardrop necklace made of and anomalous platinum attached around the neck of its host unable to be taken off by them or anybody else.

Anyone who puts on the necklace will be unable to take it off.

The necklace itself grants the wearer immunities against all known diseases and Advanced regenerative properties even granting immortality however... something or someone will continuously hunt and torment it's wearer.

---

Scp V-B

His is mostly human as if he crawled his way from the Distortion World itself.

This entity can only be seen by the wearer of Scp-A when completely still, out of your peripheral vision, scientists studying this SCP believe that when the brain is under stress or fear this is when the entity shows its self. However he can only move when you're still and not looking directly at him.

His body and form completely pitch black nothing but dead silver eyes and his wide smile.

he only hunts one person his beloved prey, slowly whittling down their Mental Health, nightmares and their dreams. Instilling fear into his prey's heart forever continuing the torment.

Researchers of the SCP Foundation are continuing to research this unseen SCP.

Promising the wear of the necklace freedom from the SCP.

Right now the wearer is kept in one of the SCP Containment sites, free to roam and to immediately report to any researchers if one of its hunts begin

Researchers currently don't know what the relationship with the SCP is to it's wearer. There will be nights where the person wakes up to the entity choking them to night the Wearer sayes that they could feel a hand slowly stroking their hair.

Even though the entity itself cannot be seen it can still interact with objects. This was apparent when the subject woke up in their containment cell only for their walls to be painted an anomalous black liquid. "I will have you, no matter how many years, how many decades, how many centuries it takes me"

In one of the reports the wearer and their lover we're staying together in the same house and when night fell for the Wearer reported both of them to go to sleep. The wearer heard noises in the kitchen.

When they went downstairs they saw their lover sharpening the knife against an old Warden down Whetstone.

Confused the wearer came up to tap their Lover's shoulder.

The lover turns their head their eyes normally a brilliant shade of green now replaced with dead storm gray ones, wide to the grin on his face grabbing their arm squeezing them before laughing I'm Maniac laughter in the voice that wasn't his until soon something that said chills down their spine.

" Nothing will keep me away from you"

He yanks them closer, the sharpened knife just resting against their skin. the possessed lover gives the wearer a kiss on the forehead before plunging the knife in his own body.

Scp v-B gets more and more violent when it's where is seen interacting with any other person.

Even having the ability to possess other bodies to do it's bidding.

Whether he can possess his Wearer is unknown currently and the subject seems to shiver at the thought.

His capability of possessing things doesn't stop at just humans showing even possess objects and even mannequins which was shown on camera when researchers dressed as civilians took Scp V-A's wearer out to a shopping center and one of the mannequins moved to touch their shoulder.

At night seems to be when Scp V-B most active, when there is no light when the world sleeps and the prey is utterly alone in the dark with nothing but anxiety to keep them company.

It's obsession with its wearer continues to grow. Researchers of the foundation conducted a test with Scp V-A's Wearer in attempts to spot The Entity the subject is placed in a pitch black room with cameras that can detect and the anomalous activity....

-nothing happens for 1 minute-

00:01:20: the subject is heard quietly sobbing.

00:01:54: a figure starts to manifest behind the subject the outline of its body suggest it is a young adult male with long hair reaching just passed it shoulders standing at about 6;03 ft

00:02:06: the subject stays still as instructed, The Entity runs his hands along the subjects sides. While the subject is seemed distressed shaking Place, holding their mouth to cover and quiet their noise.

00:02:19: the entities closer their whole body now touching the subject The Entity seems to lean on their shoulder Whispering something in their ear but it is not audible to the camera.

Whatever it whispered seem to cause the subject to react jumping out of its grasp, screaming and crying out for the MTF to come get them they looked visibly distressed.

Subject will not be reprimanded for going against orders since the data needed was collected.

Amnestics will be recommended to make the subject forget about this testing attempt, for their mental health and further cooperation.

[1kook]

dreamy

—pjm x (f) reader

summary; You try to not let it get to you, but Jimin is so cool and you want him to be your boyfriend so bad. warnings; ANGST lol, fwb, reader is very :(( rating; mature (18+) bc tiny smut lol  misc; small smut scene, a happy ending <3 wc; 2.5k

notes; i have to post on #JIMIN’s bday or else i cannot live with myself anyway here’s me trying to fit an entire novella plot line in less than 5k words clap for me except maybe don't bc its not proofread anyway hbd jimin <3

Jimin is a nice guy, but you doubt he’d make a nice boyfriend. He fucks you hard and fast, just as you like, but hardly goes out of his way to sprinkle in any other requests. He’s got a one track mind, doesn’t dwell too long on what you say or how you’re feeling. Doesn’t matter because he’s just supposed to be a fuck buddy, the hot guy you met at a party, so you don’t let it phase you. But, well. Jimin is dreamy.

Sometimes he holds your hand while he eats you out and it sends your thoughts into a frenzy, makes your heart pound a little too fast to brush it off as just arousal. He’s got this gorgeous smile, plush lips framing pearly teeth, and when he flashes it your way, it makes your knees weak. Tells you you’re pretty when he picks you up from class, always holds your hand on the way to his place for your routine fuck. Cute and nice like an angel, but just like an angel, he hardly gives a shit about anyone’s feelings but his own.

He laughs when you ask him to hang out that weekend.

“What, like a date?” he snorts, bare chest glistening from his post-fuck exertion. You're pressed against his side now, circling his pretty brown nipple with your finger. “That’s corny.”

You try to not let it get to you, but Jimin is so cool and you want him to be your boyfriend so bad. “Yeah, silly right,” you murmur, ear pressed to his heart. It’s calming and soothing, a slow thrum that contrasts with your own racing heart.

He’s not one for dates or for romantic things like that. But neither is he some player, a cheater, a two-timer. You can count the number of times he’s slept with someone who wasn’t you in your weird fuck buddy relationship, and all four of those had been when you first started sleeping together and only when you had been out of town. You’re no saint either, so you try to understand. He was just horny, liked getting his dick wet, and sometimes he couldn’t wait for you. Understandable, you tell yourself, but your heart hurts a little bit when he begins snoring without really answering your question.

See the thing is, you really like Jimin. It’s been a little over a year now since you’ve met, so you’ve had plenty of time to learn all about him. He doesn’t like pancakes for breakfast, prefers them for lunch actually, and laughs when you tell him that’s weird. He’s got this really dorky laugh, something between a bell and a whistle— it depends on the situation. Sometimes, Jimin likes when you play with his hair, and other times he doesn’t. He’s a sweet boy, you know he is, so why won’t he settle down?

You hate to attribute it to some past trauma, some “my girlfriend broke my heart when I was seventeen” mess, but the more time that passes you begin to believe it’s true. Jimin was a tough nut to crack, and the longer this drags on, the longer he ignores your feelings, you begin to doubt you will ever see them fulfilled.

Maybe you should end this now before it’s too late.

You don’t stay for breakfast the next morning, simply kiss him goodbye at the door like always. He’s older than you, about two years, so he doesn’t go to school anymore, just chills at home all weekend. “I’ll see you soon?” he grins, low-lidded eyes tracking the movement of your mouth as you bid him adieu. You never give him a solid response, figure a guy like Jimin will forget about you soon enough.

Then, suddenly, it’s been two weeks and he doesn’t reach out. Yeah it hurts, but it’s better than having confessed to him and losing him all at once. You’d rather this ending than the one where he terribly rejects you, breaks your heart into a million pieces, and throws you away. Still, it hurts.

Jimin was so cool. He was smart and confident, had a snappy sort of attitude that he liked to use now and then. He could be mean in bed, lick your cunt until you cried and call you a stupid girl when he wanted to. But that same tongue had snapped at a guy who was trying to pressure you into bed with him at a party. That first night you met, where you had sillily followed him home after his dashing intervention, you had thought it would be nothing more. Just a fling, just a fuck.

But then he was in your bed and in your head, twinkling eyes and cocky grin trailing after you everyday. He was so pretty and so suave, made you feel good even when he was being mean. But you suppose most cocky men like Jimin are like that. They know they don’t disappoint, even when they’re not really trying.

Jimin doesn’t call or text. You don’t see his car pull up outside your campus anymore. He’s gone and that’s that. You cry a little (see: a lot) and pretend you’re over him. You definitely don’t think about his soft laughter or his hands on your chest. Nope.

So that ends.

Or so you think.

Your friends say you’re mopey and sad, too down for someone who wasn’t even your boyfriend. It’s true, which sucks, but they honor your admittance by taking you out to a bar that night. It’s supposed to be chill and relaxing, just some drinks with the girls to soothe your aching heart. But the name of the bar reminds you of something, of someone you can’t reach anymore, and you don’t even know why. You’ve never been here before, never even knew this place existed. But everything about it brings you back to Jimin, like you’re in his space now, and you’re unsure why.

It reminds you of his laugh, his smile, to the point you swear you can hear it, right beside you, down the bar, to your left—

He waves.

There’s this look he used to give you every time he picked you up from your last class, this mix between adoration and lust that made your skin tingle with excitement. It’s not there now, in fact, it’s replaced with the complete opposite. It’s, like, the meanest look he can muster, something akin to a scowl. He smiles, but it’s so plastic-y and fake, it makes your head hurt. He’s so obviously unimpressed with you, probably because you ghosted him before he could ghost you. Maybe his pride is hurt and looking at you grosses him out. Maybe he just hates you.

Either way, eleven pm rolls around and you’re crying in the bathroom. Your friends are out on the floor having fun and singing karaoke. They think you’ve gone inside because you got your period, because that’s what you’ve told them. You don’t know how to explain that your ex who isn’t really your ex is out there looking at you like you’re a piece of gum stuck under his shoe. They’ve never even met Jimin. Why? Because he wasn’t your boyfriend. Who meets their friend’s fuck buddy? No one.

You sniffle, press a balled up tissue against your eyes in a feeble attempt to save your makeup. The bar isn’t that small, but neither is it huge. There’s only a few bathrooms in the back, and you’ve been hogging one of them for some time now. Someone knocks on the door, and you don’t even get the chance to ward them off before the crappy knob jingles and the door bursts open.

“Come on,” he grumbles, “you’re not the only one who’s gotta piss—“

He pauses, meets your eye through the mirror in surprise. “I’m sorry,” you blubber, hurriedly washing your hands in an effort to avoid his gaze. Jimin lingers at the door, which has long since fallen shut, and watches you with the eyes of a hawk. Your hands tremble and shake, fumble over the towel dispenser three times before you’re hastily making your escape. “Sorry,” you mutter again, head downcast as you move around him for the door.

Just as it cracks open, the music from outside filtering in, he slams it shut with a flat palm. You flinch, close in on yourself as he steps behind you. “What’re you doing here, doll?” he murmurs, deep yet careful. Tentative. “You don’t like bars.”

You know you don’t like bars. You didn’t know he knew that. “I’m with some friends,” you explain, jump when a hand touches your shoulder. “I— I’ll leave soon.”

A second attempt for the door is thwarted by Jimin. “Don’t,” he startles, breath heavy against your ear. “Don’t leave again…” he sighs, forehead against your shoulder. And then, quietly, “why did you leave me?”

Your heart syncs up with the music outside, thunders in your ears as you purse your lips. You don’t want to talk about it now, don’t want to confess to these emotions that drown you. Especially not when he’ll never understand nor will he ever care. It’s best to leave it as is, you convince yourself, slowly shrugging him off.

“We don’t want the same things,” you reply, eyes burning with the need to cry like a baby. But it’ll weaken your argument, make you look like the sentimental girl you know he won’t like. “It wouldn’t work anyway.”

The hand on your shoulder jerks you around, makes a gasp catch in your throat when he crowds you against the door. He’s got that same glare on from before, the one he had sent you across the bar earlier, and it makes your lower lip tremble when it’s this close. “You never asked me what I wanted,” he hisses.

It is then that you realize it isn't anger or disgust, but frustration that paints his features. It’s pure, unadulterated confusion and distress on his pretty face, furrowed brows and narrowed eyes pointed your way. You don’t know what it means, don’t know what he wants. “I,” you choke, weakly covering your face with your hand before he can see you crumble. “I just wanted you.”

Jimin deflates, steps closer until his body is pressed against yours, hands on your shoulders. “And you have me, doll,” he murmurs, bumps his nose against yours. “Always have.”

You shake your head, choke on a sob that bubbles up your throat. “No, not like that,” you stress, losing yourself in the emotions you spent so much time bottling up. “I wanted more.”

Jimin shushes you, guides your head into the crook of his neck where you paint his skin in dark mascara tears. “Is this about the date?” he sighs, patting your head gently.

“It’s more than just the date,” you cry, fists curling into the material of his shirt until it rumples beyond repair. He doesn’t understand.

Jimin nods, let’s you cry and sob until you’re feeling better and someone else is pounding at the door, yelling at you two to get a proper room. You don’t want a room, you only want his heart. 

He takes you home again, helps you out of your shoes at the door because you’re still sensitive and quiver like a leaf when you walk. His bedroom is familiar, smells like him and his detergent. You miss it so much, want to savor it once more. Something in your gut says this is the last time, this is just Jimin getting one last fuck out of you before he really abandons you.

So you cry when he sits down on the edge of the bed. He hasn’t even said anything, hasn’t even taken his socks off yet, but you’re already a mess.

And of course he’s there to catch you, tugs you between his legs to look up at you as if you’ve hung the stars in the sky. “Don’t cry,” he whispers, reaching up to brush away your tears. But it’s not your fault that he looks like that right before he’s going to break your heart.

He’s so cool, even when you’re falling apart in his hands. “You don’t want me,” you sniffle, let him guide you onto his lap. “You just want to fuck and that’s it.”

Jimin leans his forehead against yours, warm breath washing over your skin. “I never said that,” he murmurs. “We’ve been over this.”

You huff. “Well you never said you did either,” you snap, rubbing at your eyes.

You cry and cry some more, until your sobs subside and you’re left with the hiccups afterwards. Jimin maneuvers you beside him, lets your hair spill across the sheets as he lays you down. They smell just like him, make your head spin when he kisses your cheek softly. “I want you,” he confesses. “I want this.”

You shake your head vehemently. “No, you don’t,” you sniff, but you’re not so sure. It’s what you’ve been telling yourself for the longest. Hearing him say otherwise sounds weird, even if he’s saying what you want to hear. “You don’t.”

Jimin catches your hand in his, pins it to the mattress. “I want you to be mine,” he adds, swallows your cries of denial with his lips. He kisses softly, and for the first time, it feels like he’s paying attention to you. Not your body or your lust, but your heart. “Had me feeling like shit when you didn’t come back. Like I lost something big.”

You still cry when he kisses down your neck, over your chest. His hands pull your clothes off, carefully like you’re a present for him to unwrap. Those plush lips you love so much drown you in kisses, over your tummy and your mound, until they’re buried between your cunt. “You’re mine,” he husks out, hand entwined with yours.

His eyes are dark from down there, long lashes blinking up at you as he dips his tongue in the places you crave him most. It brings you to a shuddering end, has you whimpering his name into the empty air until your toes are curling and you’re coming against his mouth. Jimin has never shied away from you, and doesn’t know, sits up with a hazy look in his eyes as he wipes his face with the back of his hand.

Jimin wastes no time undressing, pushes off that sexy jacket until his lithe body is coming into view, thick thighs and lean abdomen. He slides right into you, holds your knees to your chest as he fucks you like never before. It’s slow and sensual, makes you shiver when he says your name in that low register of his. “Don’t leave again,” he whimpers, cock throbbing between your walls. He’s desperate today, ruts like you’ll slip right between his fingertips. It’s funny because you're the same way, clinging onto his shoulders until you’re practically glued together.

You come and so does Jimin. He pants against your ear, feels so warm and heavy on top of you. He doesn’t say much more that night, just plays with your hair. But he asks you on a date, mentions something about a carnival. “Yes,” you respond right away, because, well.

Jimin was dreamy. Maybe he’d be a good boyfriend.

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[adxmparriish]

everything he needs - read on ao3 track 3 of DEDICATED - a jurdannet roulette collab fic with @hazelsheartsworn @figonas @slightlyrebelliouswriter23 @laequiem

SIDE A: TRACK ONE -> TRACK TWO -> TRACK FOUR -> TRACK FIVE SIDE B: TRACK ONE -> TRACK TWO -> TRACK THREE MASTERLIST

writer: lizziebxnnet words: 3.2k rating: explicit -> dom/sub undertones, light bondage, orgasm denial, overstimulation, cock ring

Instead of Faerie bowing to us both, I bow to her. I’m all too willing to oblige. All the anxiety I felt earlier, the rapid beating of my heart I so hated, is replaced by something else. Want, need, pleasure, pain… I am nothing but Jude’s. There is no more room in me for anything else. “Let’s play,” she says. Yes, my evil seductress, let’s play. I am your pawn.

tags and fic under the cut

I am edgy.

Anxiety rolls around inside me, a living monster with claws and fangs crawling beneath my skin.

It’s no secret that most days being High King brings me little joy. I’d much rather laze about, drink wine, kiss Jude until I’m senseless, or simply be. The duties, while not always unbearable, drive me over the edge more often than I’d like to admit.

As the moon rises and filters silver light into our chambers, I glance over to our bed. Jude, beautiful as ever, is draped over the sheets looking at me. There’s a glint in her deep brown eyes that scares and arouses me. Her grin is mischief reincarnated, and I stare back at her with intent. Adjusting the crown on my temples, I turn to face her completely.

“I think I’d rather be on the other end of your knife than deal with any of this,” I say.

“I’m inclined to agree,” she replies, flopping over to lay on her back. She still wears her silk nightgown, some flimsy black thing she purchased at the sex shop. The straps are barely there, and a low neckline leaves little to the imagination. It hardly covers the mocha skin of her thighs, although I can hardly complain. “How would you feel about… a little game?”

I raise a brow. “Should I be worried?”

“Of course not,” she says with a wink, rising from the bed and moving to the dresser. It does nothing to calm my anxieties.

She opens the first drawer, rifles through it, and then pulls out one of our new toys. In her other hand, she holds a remote. The skin of my face grows warm. She pads over and shows me what she has.

It’s a cock ring, but there’s a small attachment on the side of it. She flips a switch on it, then presses a button on the small black remote. Immediately, buzzing reaches my ears and the ring begins to vibrate. I reach out to touch it, feeling the vibrations under my fingertips. Jude looks up and when we meet gazes, I can feel her excitement thrumming through her.

The ravenous beast under my skin loosens its grip, and I find want growing in its place. Wanting her, wanting this, wanting to try something new. To be under Jude’s control would be the most wonderful of changes — a much-needed release from duties and being High King. I want to just be hers, to be Jude’s husband, her plaything. I smile at her, my beautifully wicked wife, and surrender to her.

Not bothering to wait for a second longer, she pops the buttons of my pants and yanks them down. I’m half hard already, the mere thought of what this day will bring exciting me. She sits our new toy on the floor beside her as she kneels in front of me. She scoots closer, then looks up to meet my eyes. I stare at her, transfixed by her beauty. Chestnut hair, long and lush, falls down past her shoulders. Her legs, so strong and powerful and covered in soft, tan skin, fold underneath her. Her hands, callused and sneaky, reach out and grip my cock. My breath hitches in my throat.

She strokes me lightly, teasing. I close my eyes and my head falls back, exposing my neck. When I feel the warm heat of her mouth on me, I gasp her name. Her plush lips swallow me down, her tongue tracing the line of a vein that runs down the shaft. I reach out to touch her, to twist her hair between my fingers, but she swats my hand away. She’s such a treacherous, wicked thing.

I feel a fire begin to burn in my belly, my release within reach, but as if she can read my mind, she stops. She pulls off with a pop, and I open my eyes to look down at her. She has the toy in one hand, my cock in the other. She strokes me a few times, then slides it over me, securing it at the base. The pressure is slight but still intense. She licks the tip, collecting a bit of come that has collected there. Damn the meetings, I think. Nothing is more important than this.

She presses a button on the remote, and I see white. The vibrations rattle through me, making me groan. Pleasure ripples in my blood, and then as soon as it begins, it stops. I don’t know if I’m relieved or aggravated. I glare at Jude, but she seems emotionless. I know better, though. I know she’s relishing in the game of her own creation.

She’s switched masks. She’s the same Jude, the same woman I love so dearly, but she is a different version. She’s always High Queen, but now she’s mine, and I am hers. Instead of Faerie bowing to us both, I bow to her. I’m all too willing to oblige. All the anxiety I felt earlier, the rapid beating of my heart I so hated, is replaced by something else. Want, need, pleasure, pain… I am nothing but Jude’s. There is no more room in me for anything else.

“Let’s play,” she says.

Yes, my evil seductress, let’s play. I am your pawn.

* * *

Sweat collects on my brow, and when the vibrations finally stop, I fear I might come purely from relief alone.

I look to Jude sitting beside me and notice the smallest of smiles playing at her lips. The Living Council is either clueless or pretending to be, and I’m not sure which is more ridiculous. I can feel the redness on my skin, and hear the panting breaths leaving my mouth. For more than an hour, I’ve sat in front of all of them and been brought to the brink of ecstasy more times than I can remember, only to be denied over and over again. I feel deranged, manic, unhinged. I want to come so badly that it is all I can think of. My hand longs to grab myself and rip off the wretched ring, but I don’t. I sit. I obey.

I know that, late into the night when Jude and I are in our chambers, I will be rewarded. It’s the only thing that keeps me grounded.

“I don’t think it’s wise to trifle with the Court of Teeth,” someone says, and I should know the voice but I don’t.

“High King? What do you suggest?” someone else questions me, and I turn my head to the sound.

As fleeting as a strike of lightning, the vibrations start again. I grip the table, knuckles going white, as sensations rock through me. My eyes are open but unseeing. I can hear nothing but blood rushing in my ears, the pounding of my pulse. I shiver as everything aches, my cock almost sore from being denied for so long. I think someone says my name, but I can’t respond. My normally sharp tongue denies me.

“Are you alright, darling?” Jude asks from next to me, her hand laying on my forearm, and I almost come undone. The mere touch of her fingers against my skin causes a cascade of feelings, all of which crash into me roughly.

The buzzing stops and I deflate, my breathing ragged and slow.

“I fear I am not, my Queen.” I look up and the entire table stares with looks of concern on their faces. My already warm face flushes darker, embarrassment flooding to the surface.

“Excuse us,” Jude says, gripping my arm and pulling me upright. “Cardan needs to lie down and rest.”

I can hear people bidding us farewell but I don’t look at them, don’t even acknowledge that they spoke. I am led forward by Jude’s firm grip and sure steps. All I know is her and my own desire that swims through my veins. We walk for what feels like hours but I’m sure is only minutes, and then we reach our chambers. When we’re inside, Jude makes quick work of my clothes, stripping me carefully. When my pants are off and thrown to the side, I look down.

My cock is bright red, almost angry. Jude’s hand grasps it and I choke on a moan, my hips bucking in her grip. She looks up at me in wonder.

“So good,” she says, stroking me twice before letting go. “My beautiful, obeying husband.”

I ache at her praise. She leads me to the bed and I fall on my back. Jude begins stripping her own clothes, but when she pulls off the belt holding up her trousers, she tosses it on the bed next to me. She climbs on, pushing my arms up to the headboard. Involuntarily, my hands grab the wooden bars.

Jude straddles me, her body completely naked now, and bends forward. If I tilt my head forward just a bit, I could capture a nipple in between my teeth. I don’t, though. In this game, I don’t touch unless Jude instructs me to do so.

“Remember our colors?” she asks, and I nod. It’d been the first thing we established when we uncovered this new world, this new game. Green for go, red for stop, yellow for let’s slow it down.

She takes the belt and wraps it around my hands, then the bars of the headboard, before fastening it and pulling it taut. I pull and nothing budges. Our eyes meet and the glimmer in hers captures me in a trance. She leans down and kisses me.

Her tongue traces my lip and I open to her immediately, letting her consume me. When she takes my bottom lip between her teeth, pulling gently, I melt into her touch. Her hands are in my hair, fingers tracing the sharp point of my ears. My tail thrashes, then wraps around her leg. The tuft on the end strokes her inner thigh, right below her core, and she gasps into my mouth. I breathe it in, bathe in it.

I cry out as the swell of her ass brushes against my cock, and it twitches, aching for release. Immediately she sits up, pulling away and denying me.

“Jude,” I beg, pulling at the belt that holds my wrists.

“What?”

“Take this damned ring off,” I demand. Her brows raise, and I know at once I’ve made a grave mistake.

Her strong, threatening hand grabs my throat and squeezes, just hard enough to catch my breath. My eyes widen, my arousal grows even more, and my hips undulate. I fight for some kind of release, some relief of the pressure and pain growing, and find nothing. The lack of oxygen makes my head spin, but I force my eyes to stay open.

Jude leans down, her lips brushing against my ear. “You, my dearest Cardan, are not in charge.”

She eases on my throat, releasing me. She traces the line of my jaw with her fingernail, slowly and carefully. I can’t tear my gaze away from her, not that I would want to. In her element, she is ethereal. I shrink under the power she holds in the palm of her hands.

“You want to come?” she asks. It feels like a trick question, but I nod regardless. She shakes her head, disapproving.

“Use your words.”

“Yes, my Queen,” I say.

“That,” she declares, “is too bad.”

Despite her words to me, she turns and reaches down, removing the ring. I groan at the small release. She shimmies back so her sex looms over me, and I lick my lips. She is dripping, heat radiating from it. Any other time, I’d lean forward and taste her, my tongue dipping between the folds. Instead, I wait, my cock practically pulsing as it aches between my legs.

The warmth of her mouth engulfs me and I groan, her name a curse on my tongue. My hands yank at the belt holding them, the leather digging into my skin. I feel crazed, so much pleasure and pain swimming together and making me drown. I can’t focus on anything except her mouth, her tongue, the slick of her core tantalizing as it hovers over my face.

She hums as one hand roams, pinching the skin of my thigh, and tears prick at my eyes. A shock runs through my system and it takes everything I have not to release into her mouth. I am dizzy with desire.

“Baby,” Jude murmurs against my cock, her tongue licking a long stripe, “taste me.”

Like a starving man at a feast, I don’t waste a single second.

I lick at her, tasting every sweet inch of her. It distracts me from the wicked ways of her mouth in the most pleasing way. She moans at my ministrations, her hips bucking when I catch her clit between my teeth lightly. I devour her, unable to satisfy the hunger growing inside me. She is a long drink of water after a hot day, and I am parched.

Every inch of me burns for her, and I feel my orgasm building in my spine again. I moan into her center as it climbs, higher and faster and stronger.

“Jude,” I plead, “I’m going to come.”

Her wet mouth moves away from me, and my eyes sting as I’m denied again, my climax crashing to a halt. Every part of me hurts, longing to release. I feel like a bow, stretched taut and thin. Tears leak from my eyes and through the mist, I can see Jude’s face hovering over me. I blink the wetness away, and her hands brush the tears from my cheeks.

“You’re doing so well,” she murmurs, kissing my face. I almost forget about my throbbing cock through the haze of her words, but it’s still there.

Jude places her hands on my chest and then lowers herself, her sex wrapping around me as she moves down. I whimper at the feel of her, so warm and tight and lovely. Her mouth hangs open at the sensation, and her eyelids flutter closed. Again, I am struck by her beauty. She is radiant as sweat curls the hair by her face, drips down her neck, and pools in the swell of her breasts. I long to reach up, to cup one in my palms, but the damned belt still holds my wrists. She opens her eyes when she’s fully seated.

She wastes no time. She bounces in earnest, taking me under her power even more than I already am. I buck my hips to meet hers. The sound of our skin slaps together, and it makes the sweetest song. She leans forward, changing the angle so I go deeper, and my eyes roll in the back of my head. Pleasure like I’ve never known rolls through me like a wave, and I make an embarrassing noise in the back of my throat. My mind is nothing but Jude, Jude, Jude, Jude. It recants through my brain like an enchantment.

“Jude please — “ I begin, but a moan cuts me off when she rolls her hips.

“Not yet,” she replies to me, already knowing my request. I slam my head back against the bed, jerking my wrists against the belt tying me down. I want to come so badly it blinds me, makes me crazy. I whine and Jude looks at me.

“Color, Cardan.”

“Green,” I say immediately, sure as ever. She denies me but I relish it. I will come with her permission or not at all.

She smiles at me, and I glow under her approval. I am nothing if not her servant.

“Harder,” she commands.

I plant my feet against the mattress and bend my hips, pounding into Jude with reckless abandon. She forgets herself, crying out and gripping my ribs. Her nails dig into my skin. She closes her eyes as I meet her, over and over, the slapping of our skin ringing through our room, although I can hardly hear it over the pounding of my heart.

“Cardan,” she shouts, throwing her head back, “Gods, you feel so good.”

“Fuck,” I chant, slowing down and fucking her slower, deeper, hammering into her so hard that it jolts her.

Finally, a sweet release comes as she fiddles with the belt, untying my hands. I immediately have one hand on her hip, the other at her clit. My thumb circles and flicks it, making her groan loudly. Her hips falter as her own release threatens to overcome her. If I can’t come, I’ll be sure she does.

I can tell she’s close. Her breaths are short, her eyes are closed, and her legs shake. I grip her hips and flip us over. I pull her close, letting her legs dangle over my shoulders, and take her roughly. I pick up the pace, grab her by the back of the neck and kiss her hungrily. It’s clashing tongues and teeth, but it drives me wild regardless. Her warm breaths tickle my lips as she pants, completely overwhelmed. I circle her clit with two fingers, and a throaty sound rips from her throat.

“Come for me Cardan,” she demands, meeting my thrusts with her own.

In an instant, my body responds to her command, and like a wave crashing on the shore, I come. My vision goes black, then I see stars. It’s blissful pain as it rocks through me and leaves me breathless, every inch of me completely spent. Jude, delirious all the same, follows me. Her hands grip my back, nails digging into my skin as she unravels. We moan into each other’s mouths, kissing until we’re dizzy with it. I fuck her through the aftershocks of our orgasms, then collapse against her.

I clutch her, desperate for her closeness. She returns the grip, pulling me into her chest. I nose her neck, leaving wet kisses down her pulse. She hums happily as I cradle her in my arms. She rubs my back gently, and when I roll us so my back hits the mattress, she lays her head on my chest.

When I push her damp hair from her forehead, she grabs my wrist. It’s red, lines from the belt creasing the skin. She kisses it, then grabs my other wrist and does the same. My heart, so often cold and hard, is warm. I touch her face, my thumb brushing the soft skin of her cheek. She smiles at me, and I can’t help but smile back.

“Your games are evil,” I say to her, making her smile wider. “Although I should have known. You’ve never been an innocent one.”

She laughs. “Neither have you.”

“I cannot argue with that.”

My fingers play in her hair, brush against her skin, and trace the round curve of her ear. Moonlight filters through our curtains and casts shadows across her face. We are both exhausted but I kiss her anyway, slow and sweet. She melts into it, wrapping her arms around my neck.

I love her, devastatingly so. Not telling her seems criminal.

“I love you, darling Jude.”

Her lips meet my jaw, and she kisses me there.

“I love you too,” she says.

As always, I wonder how I got so lucky to win her affections. When her fingers graze my neck, touching my pulse point, I realize for the first time, I don’t much care how we got here. What truly matters is that we are in this moment, basking in the love we’ve built. Whether I’m lucky or blessed, or somewhere in the middle — all of it fades to black in the warmth of Jude’s embrace.

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@slightlyrebelliouswriter23 @figonas @laequiem @hazelsheartsworn @jurdannet @jurdannetrevels @thefolkofthefic @kingandfireheart