#and there are just some areas of life … that have been just completely taken over

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Ooo you’re doing Pressure!!

May I request an artist reader who, throughout the journey found some paper, pencil and made a little makeshift sketchbook and when later bought Sebastian’s document decided to try and draw him? Like maybe both when human and current (and maybe the monsters)? 

Perhaps he saw them sketching, got curious and decided to look through it when reader left it somewhere or just straight up snatched it and held it out of their reach and sees those sketches of him. Could be hurt/comfort or angst/fluff.

Of course you’re free to change any of the details but please keep it platonic TwT

Aw love this idea! And it works considering all the paper and notebooks in the drawers of the blacksite.

............

"Great, [y/n]. One moment, you're doing some harmless graffiti on a brick wall nobody cares about. And the next, you're risking your life for a stupid crystal in hopes you'll get a federal pardon.."

Sighing, you held onto the overhead handles within the sleek black submarine, feeling it shake and rumble as it breached the water's surface. And after hearing the chime, the door hissed and opened up, the platform extending out onto the dock of a place already familiar to you: Hadal Blacksite.

'No place like home..' As you stepped out of the submarine, you could hear HQ over the PDA system informing you of your objective in reaching the crystal and collecting any "loose assets" you find along the way...

As if you needed any reminders of what you were doing here.

Immediately, you unlocked the first door with the keycard and began your journey to room 100. Along the way, you found a good handful of research data. Nothing too special aside from folders, USB drives, and a couple blue DNA vials.

Then after narrowly dodging the Angler in one area and avoiding Eyefestation's gaze in the next, you reached a room requiring yet another keycard to exit. You checked the nearby office cubicle, finding it in the first drawer you opened.

But that isn't what made your eyes light up. Rather, it's what was right next to the card that did:

A brand new pencil to go with the sketchbook you've been carrying with you.

Because you weren't given the luxury of doodling while sitting in jail for over 90 days, you felt your creativity flames being snuffed out, leaving you itching to draw something again.

Before all of this, you had a decent following on social media with your art skills, and you could imagine that they're worried sick over your sudden absence. But you hoped that, if you survive and succeed in this mission, you'll be able to come back and reassure them that you're very much alive.

And perhaps show them what Urbanshade has been hiding from the public...that is to say the sea monsters that have taken up residence in the Blacksite since its lockdown, freely roaming and haunting nearly every room you step into.

With the makeshift sketchbook you had (and somehow kept even after death), you've filled its pages with simple and detailed sketches of each creature you encountered.

But you doubt that they would let you leave with physical evidence of entities nobody else in the world should know about...unless you somehow convinced the guards that they were "original characters" that so-happened to look like them, but you had a feeling that excuse wouldn't fly.

Regardless, they've given you tons of artistic inspiration, despite your many close-calls with them in pursuit of studying their features from afar.

Thanks to the files Sebastian Solace has shown you, you've learned how to safely observe the Angler from a distance and better remember their details. They were merely a grotesque face surrounded by smoke, so you didn't have to worry about drawing any limbs or tails (assuming they had those).

You encountered their variants so many times that you could recall the little things that made each them unique--like how Pinkie had four pupils, how Blitz was missing pupils in one socket completely, how Froger was..well..a big frog with lots of needle-shaped teeth, and Chainsmoker was a sluggish blobfish through all that smoke.

Making eye contact with Pandemonium was a death sentence..as you've already learned after trying (and failing) to safely observe him through a glass window. So you draw him as you see him in his file.

The Squiddles' "intimidating" faces were scary in the dark when you least expected them, but they served as amazing inspiration. You even had a page full of what faces you'd think they make up to frighten others. It's too bad you couldn't show them, however, as that required you getting in their personal space.

Eyefestation, Good People, and the Wall Dwellers were quite..risky to observe, as they had ways of quickly and painfully sending you back to square one if you weren't careful. Even so, you made some pretty damn good sketches..and you wish you could show them off to them, too, especially to the shark who'd probably appreciate a human's drawing of herself.

Even the DiVine, who were always frozen in poses for some reason, joined your ever-growing list of muses. The oxygen gardens were a nice place for you to rest and appreciate the flora for a few moments--before an Angler came along, of course.

Then there was Sebastian.

While he was fully aware of your artistic passions, in the beginning he seemed a bit annoyed whenever you came into his shop just to sketch.....or if you took an unusually long time to reach him. He just assumes you've stopped to "doodle" and wonders if you really care about getting out of this place alive.

He'd remind you that HQ could get suspicious if you're off their radar for too long, but you've stayed in his shop for 10-20 minutes at a time and not once did your diving gear beep. So you reassured him not to fret.

It was kinda sweet that he worried over you, an expendable, although maybe that's because you actually treat him with decency..and don't take his snarky comments to heart whenever you died.

Aside from the occasional eyeroll whenever you brought out your sketchbook, he did inquire about some of the things you've drawn, and you'd show him, bearing a little pride in your work.

All you'd get in response was a "neato" or "wowie, that's how you see them?" and nothing more.

It wasn't insulting, so...you'll take that.

Obviously he was more concerned about how much research data you were willing to fork over in exchange for supplies, and how far that equipment will carry you before your next demise. So you'd eventually close the book and barter with him for whatever wares were on his tail.

Unbeknownst to him, you've actually started sketching him as of late. Now that you've met him dozens of times, it was easy for you to recall his features without needing to stare at him for reference every five seconds.

That would not only be rude, but very creepy.

Then one day, you showed up to Sebastian's shop with enough data to be able to afford his document, which described him as Z-13, "The Saboteur" who the company wanted "dead on sight" if he was spotted or trying to escape.

When you had time to read the file on your own, you learned some..pretty shocking things about how he caused the lockdown, went through torturous experiments, and was falsely accused of nine murders and was proven innocent far too late.

The most upsetting part was that he was never informed of this.

He learned that after presumably stealing his own document.

It made you feel sick to your stomach, knowing he's the reason you're being terrorized by those beasts, but you couldn't find it in your heart to be angry at him.

If anything you were angry at Urbanshade for their "guilty until proven innocent" system--or in his case, being proven innocent didn't matter.

His human mugshot was also included in the file, and even with the black censor bar covering his eyes, he still looked like quite a handsome fellow. You could make out some details, and ended up drawing him on a separate page, too, although part of you wishes you never started.

You doubt he would kill you or rip apart your book for drawing him, but considering how volatile and rude he could be at a moment's notice..you did your best to conceal the sketches when you visited his shop.

You didn't want him to be offended or reminded of his past..and make him resent the one person who he almost considered a genuine friend.

Unfortunately, you'd soon come to realize that your actions were only heightening his suspicions.

And that it was going to come to a head next time you entered his shop.

...............

"Okay, I'm going to bite...what're you really hiding in that little book?"

"Pardon?" Pausing mid-sketch, you looked up at Sebastian, wondering why he appeared so disgruntled. "I'm..uh...just doodling like I always-"

"No, don't give me that "like always" crap." He huffed, flicking the end of his tail as he crossed his two arms over his chest, staring down at you. "Last time, you couldn't stop showing me a stupid face you'd think one of those S-Qs would make...and now you won't even let me have a sneak peak of your next "masterpiece"." He spat the last word, voice dripping with disdain. "Are you really drawing something...or are you secretly writing intel to give to Urbanshade?"

"...wha.." You blinked in disbelief, wondering where he'd get that assumption from. "Why would I ever do that?"

"Oh I dunno, maaaybe because you have access to my file and know my location? I bet you're gonna sell me out to those scumbags once you reach the crystal." He gnashed his teeth. "Did they say you'd get extra cash for leaving tips on my whereabouts, huh?"

"Sebastian, there's no reason for this hostility. I'm not giving any intel to anyone-"

"Then you wouldn't mind me taking a look at this, would you? Yyyyyyoink!" His third arm was quick to snatch your sketchbook away, holding it out of your reach as you jumped up in panic.

You were already dreading his reaction.

This could very well be the end for you.

"Please give that back! You'll tear it!"

"You look frightened. So maybe I should, considering you're writing secrets about.....about...." But as Sebastian finally looked at the page, all he saw were sketches of his current self, and you began to see a shift in his expression.

It went from pure anger, to surprise and confusion, and then to....something unreadable.

"These are...all of me?" His voice became quieter as he flipped the page, only for his breath to hitch upon finding the drawings of his human form.

And for once, he was completely speechless.

The details were immaculate, everything from his hair style to the scar he used to have across his face--given to him from an angry cellmate who thought he really did kill those people and tried giving him a "taste of his own medicine".

But the way you made him look was...incredible.

That's him.

That's really him.

The man--the human--he was before...

Before...

"Yes." Your face was burning with embarrassment, and your heart was pounding with fear of both death and ridicule, now knowing that your fate laid in his hands now. "I-I'm sorry. I should've asked for your permission and I know the details aren't perfect but you didn't let me........huh?"

Ceasing your ramblings, you noticed the tears welling in his eyes, and you were stunned. Then his shaking hands closed the sketchbook and returned it to you. "Um..are you okay? I'm really sorry if-"

"I...a-almost forgot what I looked like before all of this.." He raised a claw to wipe at his watery eyes, sniffling. "They're...good drawings, friend. I'm sorry..I...I-I didn't mean to..." His voice cracked, and he forced himself to stop, bringing his hands to his face. "Why am I crying over something like..t-this..?"

He hated looking so weak in front of you, yet he couldn't help the tears that kept slipping down his cheeks. A certain sadness was weighing heavily on his heart, yet at the same time he felt...honored that you wanted to draw him, putting your heart and soul into every sketch--with him getting the most effort.

You didn't overexaggerate him as the hideous beast he and everyone else was convinced he was, but just him as, well, himself. His smiles when he realizes it's you coming through the vent again, his cheeky grins when you buy up all his supplies, and even the one time he pouted when you died to Pandemonium because you risked it all trying to draw the moldy fish-creature.

The human ones, as you could tell from the way he broke down, especially hit home for him. Just from a mugshot alone, you were able to create a near-accurate depiction of him.

It made him wonder if you two have met before any of this happened.

Sebastian sniffled, struggling to stop the tears and expecting you to make fun of him as he finally uncovered his face. But instead he saw you standing there with your arms opened up. "I feel like you could use one of these. It's okay. I know you miss being human."

".........."

"C'mon, big guy. My arms are kinda hurting--oh!"

Without warning, he accepted your embrace and squeezed you tightly in his hold. Of course he was careful not to crush your diving tanks, and you smiled in appreciation and patted his back. "It's okay, it's alright..I got you. I didn't mean to make you cry."

He sniffled a few times, but otherwise said nothing and tried making sure you weren't supporting all of his upper body weight.

Curse his size. He wishes he could experience a normal hug again.

This one will do, though.

"I-It's...it's fine. Don't worry.." He finally spoke after a few moments, calming down. "As long as you don't tell anyone about this."

"I'll take it to my grave." You chuckled, letting go and stepping away so he could straighten his back out. While he did that, you gently tore a few pages from your book, to which he blinked in confusion.

"What are you doing with-?"

"Keep them." You insisted. "In case this sketchbook falls into a pit or gets waterlogged, I want you to hold onto these. Besides, I can tell you appreciate them a lot. So...consider it a gift."

"Why..thank you." A smile appeared on his face as he took the pages carefully. "Rest assured, they'll be safe and sound." He gazed at them both one more time, feeling a tug on his heart.

But it wasn't as heavy as before.

After neatly folding and stowing them away into his pockets, he saw you already sitting in one of the chairs, your sketchbook opened to a brand new blank page.

"Sooooooo what are you going to draw this time?" He tilted his head, ear fins twitching with curiosity.

"Hm...I did see a vision of a white glowing man a few rooms back. I think he was from...the Mindscape? There was a file talking about him and some floating gears and a white ball."

"Ohh yeah, he's an interesting guy. I'd love to see your interpretation of him." Now Sebastian was 100% invested, as he curled his tail around himself, resting his upper body on it so he could see your book better. "But y'know you won't be able to leave this place with sketches of-"

"I'm well aware of that...I could always change a few things and turn them into OCs."

"Hah. You should."

"Maybe I will." You snickered, grateful that you didn't have anything to fear.

At least somebody in the Blacksite appreciated your art.

[thevoidstaredback]

It all seemed to start within a snap of Time; the tick of a clock; the drop of a hat; the blink of an Eye.

Just before any of the assembled Justice League could leave the Watchtower, every alarm went off and pandemonium re-erupted across the space station.

"What the hell is going on?" Batman demanded as he and Robin re-entered the meeting room they'd just left.

Constantine and Zatanna were both using several different ways of communication, talking in frantic tone and jumping between conversations without losing any of them. Deadman had disappeared completely. The America based heroes were all getting calls, all just as confused as each other as to what was going on.

Batman pulled up a map on the projector, the one that was shown in the Observation part of the Watchtower, and glared at the red dot that was slowly taking over Illinois. "Constantine, Zatanna. What is this?"

Constantine glared back at Batman, "What we were trying to avoid by calling a meeting today!" He went right back to whatever conversation he was having in Esperanto.

"Yeah, look what good that did us anyway," Zatanna scoffed between conversations, "We were both late and ignored." She, too, had started speaking on Esperanto.

"That's where Red is based," Robin said quietly from beside Batman. "I-I need to call- make sure she's alright!"

Batman put his hand on Robin's shoulder. "Don't panic, chum, we'll get a plan started and then you can all Red Huntress." The boy nodded, but opened his own communicator anyway, likely to contact his team. Batman turned to the heroes in the room. "Everyone!" He waited until all eyes were on him before continuing, "Calm down. Constantine, Zatanna, find out what's going on-"

"Already doing that, Batsy!" the man hollered before jumping into a fourth conversation.

Batman's eye twitched behind the white lenses of his mask, but he otherwise didn't react to the interruption. "-the rest of us need to go and isolate the threat. We'll plan from there. Make sure your comms are on. Robin, get your team ready for rescue efforts and try to contact Red Huntress to see if she knows what's going on." When the heroes started moving, he grabbed Superman. "Where's Deadman?"

Superman shook his head. "No idea. He was gone by the time any of us came back in here."

Batman nodded and let him go. Everyone was on their way to Illinois right now, but there was something that Zatanna said that struck him as strange. He didn't have to wait ong before her three ongoing conversations all came to a stop. "Earlier, you said that Amity Park liked to stay in Illinois. What did you mean?"

Zatanna jumped when he spoke, obviously not realizing he was still there, but she answered him, "The city's been prime for supernatural activity since its founding. On top of the two dimensional rifts, that much magic contained in one area is bound to give it some form of sentiance, especially because most of that magic is death and life focused."

He hummed and left the room with a sweep of his cape. Containing the issue will be tricky if the source manages to move around them. Regardless, it needed to be done fast.

***

It took another twenty minutes before all five on Constantine's conversations ended. He had gotten the same unfortunate answer from all five of them, and, judging by the look on her face, Zatanna had been given the same news as him.

"We tried to warn them. We fucking tried-!" she slammed her fist down on the table, "But we were too fucking late!"

He ran a hand down his face with a heavy sigh. "C'mon, mate, let's go make sure they don't fuck anything else up."

"And help them defend the idiots that started all this? No way. Let them lie in the grave they dug."

"Horrible metaphor, love. And, as much as I hate to say it, we can't let the world get taken over."

"Why not? They've been practically begging for it to happen since Superman was first introduced. That's why the Green Lanterns had to step in and lay down the law, quite literally." She huffed. "Besides, the Realms won't be gunning for the world. They're looking for their child."

"And if they don't find the kid in perfect condition?"

"...I see you're point."

"Good! We're on the same page, then."

She sighed again. "How're we going to play this? Are we running interference?"

"No," he shook his head, "The only thing we can do is keep anyone from dying or attacking."

"Without Deadman to talk to the Realms?"

"Yep,"

"You realize how hard this is gonna be, right?"

"I'm gonna make Batsy pay me in hard liquor."

"Agreed."

***

The Justice League had set up a perimeter around the town of Amity Park, Illinois. They were a few miles out from the town, close enough to see it but far enough away as to not set off any panic. When Constantine and Zatanna arrived, they had made it very obvious that the town and it's citizens were probably very aware that they were there. They called another meeting, though only taking a few heroes away from watch. Zatanna was the one to explain things to them while Constantine kept tabs on the town in case it decided to move.

The heroes still weren't exactly sure what they meant by that.

Zatanna stood at the front of the heroes she'd pulled aside. Batman, Wonder Woman, Superman, Aquaman, The Flash, and Green Lantern stood in a half circle, all very clearly anxious to keep their eyes on the town. Too bad for them, this was her specialty, so she got to keep facing it while they turned their backs.

"They aren't going to listen to you guys," Zatanna said, "Like we tried to warn you earlier, their looking for a child that the US Government took from them."

"The one in the pictures?" The Flash asked.

"Yep," she affirmed, "His name's Phantom, like we said. He's this town's hero."

"I thought Robin said Red Huntress was the town's hero?" Aquaman wondered.

Zatanna pushed down the flare of anger with a deep breath. "Phantom has been operating for several months longer than Red Huntress. she is closer to being a hero while Phantom leans more towards being a vigilante."

"Is that why he doesn't stick around after his fights?" Superman tilted his head slightly in question.

"Yes," she glared, "Can I get back on topic, or are we wanting to waste even more time?" The heroes fell silent and she waited for a few seconds before continuing. "From what Deadman explained, Phantom is technically still a baby ghost because he's only been dead for about a year." She ignored the expressions on the heroes faces. "Not only that, but he's the favorite of several Ancient Beings. Think Primordials or Titans."

"Oh, dear," Wonder Woman whispered. Several had paled slightly.

Zatanna nodded. "Don't attack any of the Realms' people, not even in self defense. We're going to have to help them find Phantom, keep them from attacking the US Government, and keep the Government from attacking them."

"A bit late for that!" A new voice joined the group. They all startled, reaching for weapons and dropping into ready stances.

Above and slightly to the side of the group was a girl who looked to be in her late teens. She had teal-grey skin, a slight teal glow, and flaming teal hair tied in a high pony, bangs framing her face. Her eyes glowed the same radioactive green as Phantom's had in the picture, though less so. She was wearing black pants, a black crop-top, grey knee boots, and a single black elbow glove. There was a guitar strapped to her back that gave off a slight purple glow. Even from where the Justice League heroes were standing, they could feel heat radiating off of here.

"And you are?" Batman asked.

"Don't matter who I am, does it?" the girl sneered, "What matters is that you dickheads took one of ours." She very obviously assessed the small group, looking each person up and down with a frown on her face. "Phantom told me that this place had other heroes, so where were you?"

Superman blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Where were you?"

"I'm, uh, not quite sure what you mean."

"You're talking about when this place was catalyst for world threats, right?" Zatanna stepped forward.

The girl turned her full attention to the magician. "So, you knew?"

Zatanna nodded. "Me and my colleagues were keeping on eye on Amity Park after the rifts opened up last year."

The girl seemed to reassess the magician. "You're one of the ones Deadman told us about."

"You know Deadma?" Green Lantern asked. He was ginored.

"Yeah?"

"I'm Ember." She landed and held her hand out for a hand shake. "Deadman got the Council to agree to hold ourselves in Amity until the end of the day. After that, we move on our own."

Zatanna shook her hand. "I'm Zatanna. We're gonna find him."

Ember glared, tightening her grip, "You better. He's done more for this world than you heroes even know." She turned her glare on the others before flying back up. "And once he's back with us, where he belongs, we'll think about a cease fire." She left before anyone could get another word in.

Zatanna fell into a squat, her hands covering her face. "This is a nightmare," she whispered, "That definitely could've gone much better." She popped back up to her full height. "Well, you heard her. We've got 'til the end of the day to find Phanom."

The group shared looks, nodding at each other before separating to spread the word to everyone else

The first plan was the same one they had for every mission that needed quick recon done. Flash was sent out to get a location. Once he had one, they'd set off.

Part 1 Part 3

[aces-and-angels]

DONATE TO SHAHED'S FAMILY

dear moots/lovely lurkers:

if you've been online for these last few weeks- you may have noticed how often i've been pushing shahed's gfm. her campaign has been verified (source -> no. 224 on el-shab-hussein/nabulsi's sheet of vetted campaigns). and if y'all haven't had the chance to become acquainted, this is shahed:

shahed is a 21 year old who used to be a student at al-azhar university before the genocide began. with both her parents having taken ill, she is the sole provider for her family right now, including her five siblings, youngest of whom is just a baby. before the war, shahed used to take/share the most beautiful photos. this is one of them (taken from her tumblr @shahednhall | shahed's instagram

with the generous support of friends/strangers alike, shahed has been able to reach over $40K USD, enough to begin evacuating some of her family members (her younger siblings + her father) who are in desperate need of medical care

however, our work is far from over

shahed + her family are 17 strong and they all deserve a chance to live a life worth living. the situation in gaza is beyond catastrophic and grows more dangerous with each passing day. i have been in communication with shahed and would like to share her most recent message to me:

shahed: I have been displaced from my area, my circumstances are very difficult. I can't open the Internet for long periods, so I want you to help me more in publishing my campaign. I want to have reached a very difficult stage. I want to complete the campaign as soon as possible. I want to rest, I feel that I really survived. I don't want my campaign to stop halfway.

just yesterday, shahed shared that she narrowly escaped death while trying to get food/water for her family. the attacks/bombings at her campsite have forced her to move yet again

every displacement puts both a physical and emotional strain on these families. more often than not, there is little warning before they have to move- and when the time comes- they have to act quickly, leaving behind whatever they can't carry on their backs/can't afford to take with them <- yes, it costs money for them to be able to move.

every message i receive fills me with a mixture of relief and heartbreak-- i do not wish to know what i'll feel if i were to stop getting messages from shahed. i can't. not when i know there's a path to get her family to safety

that is why i am starting this donation match for her campaign. i don't have very much to offer, but i know that if enough people contribute a little, it can amount to a lot 🖤

for those able, please consider matching my donation of $5 USD (proof of donation below cut). shahed has a long way to go before she can achieve her goal of $80K. even if you cannot match me at this time (which is totally okay)- please share this post so others may have a chance to help

IMPT NOTE: @journalsforpalestine is raffling a set of beautiful journals. 4 winners will be chosen on August 31st. for anyone interested in entering -> please read the rules here for the first person to reblog & match my donation (and wants to enter in this raffle) i will give you my entry, so you will be entered to win twice* *(every entry= $5, so if you donate more, you will be entered accordingly).

current stats: $42,726 raised of $80,000 goal

tags for reach (sorry yall- please let me know if you wish to be removed from this list- no hard feelings, truly 🖤)

@timetravellingkitty @meaganfoster @briarhips @mazzikah @mahoushojoe 

@rhubarbspring @schoolhater @pcktknife @transmutationisms @sawasawako 

@feluka @terroristiraqi @irhabiya @commissions4aid-international @wellwaterhysteria 

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@mangocheesecakes @kyra45 @marnota @7bitter @tortiefrancis 

@toiletpotato @fromjannah @omegaversereloaded @vague-humanoid @criptochecca 

@aristotels @komsomolka @neptunerings @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @heritageposts 

@ot3 @amygdalae @ankle-beez @communistchilchuck @dykesbat 

@watermotif @stuckinapril @violentrevolution @mavigator @lacecap 

@socalgal @chilewithcarnage @ghelgheli @sayruq @northgazaupdates

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@br-eddrolls @0luna123 @block-swing-perry @eflatminorseven @mothtral

@charlie-charlie @bitterlyromantic @pseudonymousposting @divineclouds

@interact-if

@agnesandhilda @frostbitefae @dove-tears @soljierpg @assad-zaman

@claudeleine @error-core-animations @kengi-bengi-alt @juneybug @kodigobacktosleep

@apocalyptic-dancehall @imnotthepersonyouseek @toonirl @kingofthebookcase

@kazehita @yonch @ayoedebiris @pinkdreamscape1 @king-dail 

@caseys-soup-corner @shoogachi @killy @missusmousse @j0ckhead

@whoopsiedaisy20 @squidie-tittie @dreamingamongthestars @trexpel @mischief16

@aria-ashryver @mydemonsdrivealimo @cadybear420 @thosehallowedhalls @ascindio

[apas-95]

Is there a story behind China's one child policy that makes it not as horrifying as western media claims?

The defining feature of China's development for the past 70 years has been the urban-rural divide. In order to develop a semi-feudal country with a very low industrial level into an industrialised, socialist nation, it was necessary to develop industrial centres. To 'organically' develop industrial centres would have taken many decades, if not centuries of continued impoverishment and starvation, so programs were put in place to accelerate the development of industry by preferentially supporting cities.

Programs like the 'urban-rural price scissors' placed price controls on agricultural products, which made food affordable for city-dwellers, at the direct expense of reducing the income of rural, agricultural areas. This hits on the heart of the issue - to preferentially develop industrial centres in order to support the rest of the country, the rest of the country must first take up the burden of supporting those centres. Either some get out of poverty *first*, or nobody gets out of poverty at all. The result being: a divide between urban and rural areas in their quality of life and prospects. In order to keep this system from falling apart, several other policies were needed to support it, such as the Hukou system, which controlled immigration within the country. The Hukou system differentiated between rural and urban residents, and restricted immigration to urban areas - because, given the urban-rural divide, everyone would rather just try to move to the cities, leaving the agricultural industry to collapse. The Hukou system (alongside being a piece in many other problems, like the 'one country two systems', etc) prevented this, and prevented the entire thing from collapsing. The 'one child policy' was another system supporting this mode of development. It applied principally to city-dwellers, to prevent the populations of cities expanding beyond the limited size the agricultural regions could support, and generally had no 'punishments' greater than a lack of government child-support, or even a fine, for those who still wanted additional children. Ethnic minorities, and rural residents, were granted additional children, with rural ethnic minorities getting double. It wasn't something anyone would love, but it served an important purpose.

I use the past-tense, here, because these systems have either already been phased out or are in the process of being phased out. The method of urban-rural price scissors as a method of development ran its course, and, ultimately, was exhausted - the negative aspects, of its underdevelopment of rural regions, began to overwhelm its positive aspects. So, it was replaced with the paradigm of 'Reform and Opening Up' around the 1980s. Urban-rural price scissors were removed (leading to protests by urban workers and intellectuals in the late '80s), and the Hukou system, along with the 'one child policy', were and are being slowly eased out as lessening inequality between the urban and rural areas make them unnecessary. Under the new system, the driver of development was no longer at the expense of rural regions, but was carried out through the internal market and external capital. The development paradigm of Reform and Opening Up worked to resolved some contradictions, in the form of the urban-rural divide, and created some of its own, in the form of internal wealth divisions within the cities. Through it, over 800 million people were lifted out of extreme poverty - almost all of them being in rural areas - and extreme poverty was completely abolished within China. 'Extreme poverty' can be a difficult thing for westerners to grasp, wherein poverty means not paying rent on time, but to illustrate - many of the last holdout regions of extreme poverty were originally guerrilla base areas, impassable regions of mountainside which were long hikes away from schools or hospitals, wherein entire villages were living in conditions not dissimilar to their feudal state a century before. These villages were, when possible, given infrastructure and a meaningful local industry accounting their environment and tradition (like growing a certain type of mountainous fruit), or entirely relocated to free government-built housing lower down the mountain that was theirs to own. These were the people the 'one child policy' was aiding, by reducing the urban population they had to support. Again, there were exemptions for rural and ethnic minority populations to the policy.

Even now, Reform and Opening Up is running its course. Its own negative aspects, such as urban wealth inequality, are beginning to overcome its positive aspects. So, the new paradigm is 'Common Prosperity', which will work to resolve the past system's contradictions, and surely introduce its own contradictions in the form of chafing against the national bourgeoisie, as it increases state control and ownership of industry, and furthers a reintroduced collectivisation. Organising a nation of well over a billion people is not simple. It is not done based on soundbytes and on picking apart policies in the abstract for how 'dystopian' they sound. It is an exceedingly complex and interconnected process based on a dialectical, material analysis of things; not a utopian, idealist one. What matters is this: those 800,000,000 people now freed from absolute poverty. The things necessary to achieve that were, unquestionably, good things - because they achieved that. They had their negative aspects, as does everything that exists, but they were unquestionably correct and progressive things.

[ganondoodle]

(new totk rewritten - super rough concept)

so this was a super rough sketch for retrieving the enigma stone of the zora- im currently redoing it since im not happy with this one-

but i have run into a bit of a problem; see the reason why theres monsters causing trouble everywhere is bc ganondorf is trying to keep the stones out of raurus hand(s) thus creating all those bosses to hopefully stop link from reaching them, or at least to slow you down BUT i cant seem to decide whether it makes more sense if the whole reason they are split up among the other regions is because the ancient .. 'sages' wanted to ALSO keep them away from rauru, or if they were instructed by him to do this and await his return (which would be a good reason why they are wearing that sonau helmet still .. if they werent completely in on it i doubt they would do it lol)

(the thought being, would rauru be more likely to not give the stones away at all or he was too afraid that gan could wake up earlier/break free and get his hands on them first- so he sends his trusty servants- sages out to construct big temples and await his return but to stop gan if he were to seek them out first ... also possibly so all the stones arent in one spot, since they, in my rewrite, are the highest concentrated version of spirit energy and would emit an extreme amount of energy likely to attract something... yeha its all based on luminous stoens containting spirit energy and that also powering the shiekah tech .. made a diagram (?) about it once actually, though some parts arent true anymore bc im omitting the whole dragon transform stuff)

(im also using this concept for the skyward sword comic btw, the mining of the timeshift stones being the reason the lanayru region becomes a desert bc the lands been robbed of life energy meant to go back into the system over time edit: i mean this as in an environment was drastically altered from its natural state in an extremely short amount of time, which is generally a bad thing, not as in desert areas just being dead sand filled wastelands, theres plenty of life there if meant to be like that/given long enough time to adjust or turn into it)

while i want to make rauru a villain i also dont want him to be too overtly evil since ... thats kinda boring and just pushes that role onto someone else, im aiming for more nuance overall (which is also why gan isnt some goody two shoes perfectly fine with hyrule, like yeah .. the calamity was his doing still)- so im leaning more towards the latter- though perhaps the gerudo did so more with the intent to keep it away from rauru

(also, i am including mineru after all.. but only as a mummy like so (sorry) but her stone is gone when you reach it bc its been taken by the yiga- for which you have to tract them down and fight koga (and possibly supah/sooga) )

[sirfrogsworth]

Dinner with Aunt Denise & Uncle Jeff A Tale of Science Fair Photography

Ever since my parents died my aunt and uncle have done their best to fill some of the hole left in my heart. It almost feels like they adopted me in a way. They check on me. They help me clean. They helped me sort through all of my parents' belongings. And from time to time they invite me over for dinner when I'm feeling up to it.

Last week I got a new invitation. I had been feeling pretty lonely as of late so I graciously accepted. Before I left I saw my camera sitting on the table and realized I had this fancy new lens which is especially suited for taking pictures of people.

I thought to myself...

"This lens has only taken pictures of bridges at sunset."

Which is cool and everything, but I don't really want my only photos to be of bridges at sunset. I like taking pictures of other things.

I didn't have any lighting equipment handy—just a single external flash. And without a solid plan for how I was going to use it, I quickly packed said flash and headed westward. As I saw the sun lowering in the sky above the highway my big photography brain had an idea...

"I should take pictures of *people* at sunset."

I needed a reflector of some kind to bounce my flash against. I thought poster board would probably suffice so I stopped at Walmart and headed to the arts and crafts area. I found these tri-fold poster board thingies that grade school kids use to display their science fair experiments.

I got 2 for $7!

What a deal!

After I arrived I asked if my aunt & uncle minded having their photo taken. My aunt said she was fine with it but warned me that no one had ever been able to take a decent photo of her.

I'm typically not one to be braggadocious, but I replied...

"Well, that's because you've never had your photo taken by ME."

I'm not sure I should have been so cocky considering my lighting equipment is typically used to display the life cycle of earthworms, baking soda volcanos, and... potato batteries—which was the delightful and totally real project I just found on Google.

Science Fair Entry from Billy, Age 10

After a delicious feast of bratwurst, salad, and non-electrified potatoes, I convinced my aunt and uncle to sit for a sunset photoshoot. They even helped me set up my science fair project.

Science Fair Entry from Froggie, Age 42

I decided to do a quick test indoors to make sure my plan would work. Jeff volunteered for my first experiment.

Without my contraption...

With my contraption...

I think my experiment was quite promising. But would my idea hold up outside during the sunset with constantly dimming conditions?

We moved everything to the backyard. The tri-fold poster board was a bit ornery regarding its uprightness and needed to be tamed. My Uncle Jeff used a large rock, some pillows, and a step ladder to keep the makeshift reflectors in place.

I started taking test photos without the flash to figure out the background exposure.

Those pesky power lines were going to need to be zapped later in Photoshop, but I was really digging the scenery.

I dialed everything in, started taking photos, and even on the little rear camera screen I felt like they were turning out well. With the sun setting the sky looked like it was on fire. But then the batteries died in my flash and I was starting to lose that fiery sky as darkness began to creep into view.

Unfortunately, all of the potatoes were in our bellies so my aunt scrambled to find regular batteries in the house.

This photoshoot had become a complete team effort with everyone doing their part to make it a success.

Surprisingly it was my Uncle Jeff was giving me some bona fide model poses. He just naturally has some sort of... resting model face. Very masculine and authentic. And my Aunt Denise is just pure sunshine manifested as a person. So I had no problems getting nice expressions from her.

So... would you like to see the pictures?

Will I get a blue ribbon on my science fair project?

Am I building up the suspense too much?

Okay, here we go...

I suppose the only validation I really need is from the person who has never had a decent photo taken of them.

Let's see the verdict.

All of those hours and hours of photography training helped me learn the problem solving skills I needed to pull off a photoshoot with seven dollars in supplies.

Take a small light source, bounce it off something larger, and you get a big light source.

And big light sources make people look snazzy in photographs.

Easy!

Are you kidding me?

I lost to the potato kid?

What kind of rigged nonsense...

[getosbigballsack]

Toni, I need SatoSugu x Chubby introverted reader 🥺

Can you write something for my pitiful soul 🥺❤️

𝑫𝒐 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑾𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒂... 𝑫𝒐 𝒊𝒕 𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝑼𝒔

𝐺𝑒𝑡𝑜 𝑆𝑢𝑔𝑢𝑟𝑢 𝑥 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑥 𝐺𝑜𝑗𝑜 𝑆𝑎𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑢

𝑆𝑦𝑛𝑜𝑝𝑠𝑖𝑠: 𝑎 ℎ𝑜𝑡 𝑠𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑎𝑦 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑜𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑛 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑑𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔.

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔: 𝑈𝑛𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑠𝑒𝑥, 𝑜𝑟𝑎𝑙 𝑠𝑒𝑥 (𝑓𝑒𝑚 𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑒𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔) 𝑎𝑛𝑎𝑙 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑣𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑙 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑑𝑒𝑒𝑝 𝑓𝑢𝑐𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑠 𝑎 𝑐ℎ𝑢𝑏𝑏𝑦 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙, 𝑝𝑒𝑡 𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒 (𝐺𝑜𝑗𝑜 𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑠 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑝𝑢𝑚𝑝𝑘𝑖𝑛 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐺𝑒𝑡𝑜 𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑠 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑠𝑠)

𝐴/𝑁: @noroi1000 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑏𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑝𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑟𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡. 𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑏𝑢𝑡 ℎ𝑢𝑛 𝐼 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑𝑛'𝑡 𝑘𝑒𝑒𝑝 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑢𝑐ℎ 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟. 𝐼 ℎ𝑜𝑝𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑖𝑡. (𝑃𝑆: 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑓𝑜𝑟 5000 𝑓𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑠) 𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑡𝑠 𝑡𝑜𝑜 @tonicries her story gave me inspiration to complete a scene when it stumped me.

𝐺𝑒𝑡𝑜 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐺𝑜𝑗𝑜'𝑠 𝑊ℎ𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝐻𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑒

𝑊𝐶: 4.9𝑘

𝐸𝑛𝑗𝑜𝑦❤︎

It’s hot today and you’ve decided that it would’ve been a great idea to hang out at your best friend Gojo Satoru's parents' private house somewhere up in the hills for the weekend. It’s better to spend your weekend away from your hot apartment and it's a bit cooler around that area, and what better time to relax outside while staring at the hills as your other best friend Geto Suguru quietly reads a book while you’re laying down on Gojo’s chest. 

You three were all quietly enjoying each other’s company until Gojo got tired and bored and he decided to say, “Y/N, there is a question that I’d like to ask you.” 

Curious, you raised a brow at him while whispering, “Ask away.”

You feel him caressing your back, hands slowly moving down until they’re both resting on the back of your thighs, then he asks, “What are your views on oral sex?”

Your eyes grow wide, head slowly lifting off his chest to get a good look at his face. You see him biting his lips, patiently waiting for you to answer. You took a glance over towards Geto to see him staring at you while he also awaits for an answer. 

You clear your throat, unsure of what answer they could ever want from you, so you choose to say, “I don’t have much to say if I’m being honest with you. It just believes that every individual has the right to do whatever it is that they want in their sex life if they are comfortable with it.”

“Are you comfortable with it, pumpkin?” Gojo asked. 

You tilted your head to the side, eyebrow still raised as you gave him your answer, “It’s nothing to be shameful about so I guess I could say that I’m pretty much comfortable.”

“Ah so, that means that you’ve done it before right?” 

“Done what?” you asked Gojo.

“Oral sex, you’ve done it before with your ex-boyfriend right?” he questioned. 

You sat up on his lap, hands folding across your chest. “Why are you asking me that?”

“Just wanted to know more about my best friend,” he answers causally while shrugging his shoulders. 

“And your way of getting to know me a bit better is to ask me about my sex life?”

Gojo smiled, “I was just asking. I thought it would be fun to have a conversation about each other's sex life. Right Sugu?”

“I agree, I don’t have an issue discussing certain parts of my sex life with you two,” Geto answers in agreement. You’re a bit taken aback by how causal they both were uttering the word ‘sex’ out of their mouth. You believed that sex should noy be spoken about so casually, the act is intimate, one that is meant to share with someone you have some sort of deep love for. But with how loosely it fell from their lips, it would seem as though this is not the first time, they have conversations like these when you’re not around them. “So, are you gonna answer?”

You twiddled with your thumb, a small blush creeping upon your cheek as you answered, “Well yes, but I was never on the receiving end.”

That had Gojo and Geto sitting up in their seats, you almost fell from Gojo’s lap with how quickly he got up. “I knew something was off about him.” 

“Right,” Geto said in agreement. Slowly, you watch as Geto got up out of his seat and walked over to you and he knelt onto the floor. “So that dumb ex-boyfriend of yours has never eaten your pussy out.” 

You shook your head no. “Unbelievable, and he’s known for eating a lot of asses around campus? I mean I’m not against eating ass, I’ll eat your booty if given the chance to. But you’re telling me that he never thought about stuffing his face between these thighs.”

Once again, you shook your head no as embarrassment washes over you. Why are they making it so important? So, what if your ex-boyfriend ate other girls’ ass and pussy and not yours? It never bothered you, you never cared much about it. Your ex-boyfriend told you that once his cock is wet then everything else would be all right, so why are you best friend making it so important. 

“He’s an idiot Sato,” Geto commented, while lifting his hands to caress the apple of your cheek. 

“That he is. I mean how can one ever resist the urge to go between these sexy thick juicy thighs,” Gojo said while squeezing the side of your thighs. “If I were him, my face would be between them every single day, tasting what you’re hiding between them.” 

“I bet she tastes sweet Satoru,” Geto whispered as he stood up and rested his other hand on your cheek. 

“She does, I know she does,” Gojo said, his tone a bit lower than usual. Your face was hot, cheeks burning hard from their comments. You had no clue what to say after hearing what they both thought about you in just two simple sentences. Something sweet that they both can’t wait to devour. “Hey pumpkin, can I ask you something else?” 

Without even much, since you were beginning to feel hot and bothered from Geto’s hands on your cheek, and Gojo’s hand on your thighs, you whispered, “Go ahead.”

As Gojo was about to answer, Geto beat him to the punch, “Do you wanna… do it with me?” 

“Huh?” 

He bit his lips while gazing at you through his thin, yet beautiful eyelashes, “Do you wanna have sex with me… I mean with us, but this time you’ll be the one on the receiving end.”

“What, what…” you stuttered. Your cheeks hot and flustered from being embarrassed, you quickly pulled your head out of Geto’s hands, and quickly got up from Gojo’s lap, only for them to grab you and pull you down once again on Gojo, but this time with your back against his chest. 

“Come on pumpkin, it’ll be fun. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about after all we’ve both been wanting to do this with you for a very long time, “Gojo whispered as he spread both your legs over his lap and quickly lifted up your dress up and let it lazily fall onto your tummy, exposing your cotton blue panties underneath. 

Before you could even protest and tell them not to push you any further than they already have, Geto’s face was hovering over yours, forehead almost touching as he whispered, “Please Y/N, let us show you what you’ve been missing. Let us taste you please,” he said with a pout. “We really want to taste your pretty cunt, princess.”

What were you to say now? After all though you were a bit comfortable exposing yourself to your best friends like this, allowing them to touch you inappropriately and expose your most precious lady parts, you weren’t going to say no to them, because maybe, just maybe in the deepest parts of your mind, you wanted them to have their way with you. 

“Oh… okay but promise to be gentle.”

“No worries pumpkin, we’ll be as gentle as we can be just for you,” and with that said, Geto pressed his forehead against yours and captured your lips with his, while Gojo’s hands travels up to your thigh, caresses between your them and his finger gently rubbing your puffy clit through your panties. 

It’s unbelievable, to think that you were about to give yourself to your best friends. It was the furthest thing from your mind, given the fact that you thought they both weren’t into you and because you thought you weren’t their type. But the taste of Geto’s lips has you spreading your legs wider for Gojo to lay his hand flat against your pussy, cupping and thumbing your clit slowly to have your pussy dripping by the time Geto was ready to feast upon you; it had you thinking differently about them.

 Hot and messy, he slowly parted from your lips to trail kisses from your jaw down to your neck, his fingers coming up to make quick work on the strings at the front of your dress to reveal your breast to them, but with such little patience, he ripped the dress down in the middle, your heavy set breast bouncing freely at the sudden movement. 

You squealed, your hand quickly tried to cover them up, but Geto caught both your wrist in one hand and quickly caught your nipple between his teeth. “Suguru… don’t,” you tried speaking, but he shuts you by biting your nipple before covering your breast with his mouth. A moan slipped past his lips, eyes rolling back slightly as he continued to suck at your breast while his free hand went to fondle the other breast. Gojo was right, you’re tasty. 

“Hey, give me some attention too,” Gojo whispered underneath his breath. You snapped your head around to look at him, only to be met with his strawberry flavoured lips savouring the taste of yours. His tongue is hot, licking the roof of your mouth with every thrust of his tongue. Your cheeks burned; your body started to melt underneath their touch. “Hey, let’s take this inside yeah, it’s about to get messy.” 

… 

Gojo is extremely strong, given the fact that he was carrying you inside the master bedroom. He had both arms underneath your bottom, your thick thigh locked around his slim hips. You had one hand around his neck while the other held onto whatever was left of your dress. Your eyes were on Geto, watching as he wrapped his hair up into a bun before he yanked his shirt over his head and tossed it on the floor as soon as you three were inside the bedroom. Geto did not even bother to close the door, eager to get down on his knees before you and feast upon tempting flesh. Gojo carelessly let you fall against the bed while he took the time to get rid of his shirt too, before climbing on the bed, sat up against the headboard and beckoned you to him. 

You did so, slowly turning around to get up on your knees to crawl towards him. “Ugh!” you squealed, feeling the sting of Geto’s hand on your ass cheek. You pouted at him while you crawled into Gojo's lap, and the white-haired man wasted no time, spinning you around until your back was once again on his chest. 

“Gotta gets rid of these panties, pumpkin,” Gojo whispered, his large hands once again sliding up your thighs before grabbing the end of your panty. 

“No,” you said, trying to close your legs tightly together to prevent him from pulling down your panties, but Geto wasn’t having any of it. He was on the bed, pulling your legs apart while Gojo quickly pulled your panties down your legs, watching as the material pulled away from your soaked pussy, a string of your arousal attached to your draws only snapping when it was down past your thigh. 

“Now that's a wet pussy. Sato took such care of you, getting your plump pussy wet and ready for me to feast on,” Geto practically moaned as he got comfortable between Gojo’s legs, head resting against your thigh as he stared at your pretty pussy. “Sato, you got your phone with you?”

“Yeah why?” Gojo asked as he held your panty up against his nose, sniffing the crotch before taking a lick from the taste of your panty to taste your liquid, and boy he’s glad he got a taste, couldn’t risk such delicious delicacy miss his mouth. He tossed your panties off the bed while reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone. 

“I want you to get a close up shot of me eating her pussy,” Geto moaned as his face got closer to your pussy. “By the way, Sato?”

“Yeah,” Gojo answered as he searched for the camera app on his phone to start the recording. 

“Which hole do you wanna fuck after I’m done eating?” 

“Huh?” you muttered, shocked out of your mind as your eyes darted between the two of them.

Gojo chuckled as he hit record on his phone and held the camera above Geto’s head while getting a perfect view of your glistening cunt. “I wanna feel her pussy, but I wanna pound that tiny little butthole of hers.”

“Aw… I wanted to take her ass to pound town though,” Geto pouts as he kissed your puffy, wet pussy lips. 

“Huh… Toru… Sugu, huh?” you mumbled in utter confusion.

“We’ll share, I’ll go first then you can take the second hit,” Gojo suggested, completely purposefully ignoring the fact that you’re staring up at them waiting for them to acknowledge that they needed to ensure that you’re comfortable with whatever it is that they are about to do with you. In any case you were comfortable because you trust them, but it would have been nice if they had asked. 

“No problem. You hear that princess, Gojo and I are going to take such loving care of your tight beautiful holes,” and with that said, he immediately surges forward, his hot warm tongue pushing past his lips to lick between the folds of your pussy. Your eyes rolled back; lips slightly parted to release a breathy moan. Gojo so desperately wanted to kiss those pretty lips of yours, but he was enjoying watching as Geto licked and spread your folds with his tongue more. 

“Fuck!” you screamed, back arching slightly from Gojo’s chest the moment you felt Geto hot mouth captured your clit in your mouth, greedily sucking on your sensitive bud that had tiny pleasurable shockwaves slowly making its way up to your brain. You feel Geto’s hand removing itself from the back of your leg and slowly making its way up to rub your butthole.

Your body jolts, feeling his thumb rubbed and pressed itself into your butthole as he continued to feast on your pussy. He groaned in your pussy, head slightly tilting towards the camera just so that Gojo could get a perfect view of your messy cunt clenching and unclenching around his tongue as he thrust the thick wet muscle in and out and in and out of your pussy. 

“You like that pumpkin?” Gojo asked, spreading your legs a little wider; giving Geto a bit more room to get comfortable between your legs. “Look at him, he’s having the time of his life between your legs.”

And Geto hums in agreement, tongue still skilfully thrusting inside your clenching cunt. You could feel him smiling as he pulled his tongue out of your hole to flicker at your sensitive bud before sucking harshly at your clit and slurping up the juices that leaked from your clenching hole. 

He lifted his head from your cunt, spat on it again, and watched with glistening eyes as his saliva dribbled down the crack of your ass and onto his thumb that was still gently penetrating your butt hole. “Fuck, I’m about to have a feast here,” Geto mumbled to himself as he went back down on your pussy, tongue licking and spreading your folds, feeling your juices against his chin as it dribbles down to your butthole. 

He started kissing your cunt, slowly moving his head down until removed his thumb from your hole and laid his tongue flat against it; your butt cheeks clenched immediately, legs trying to close and push away from him, but then you feel it. Gojo’s big hand delivered a slap upon your thighs, and you immediately spread your legs open once again as Geto continued to feast upon you. “Keep those legs open,” Gojo whispered to you as he angled the camera downwards to Geto a view of Geto eating up your other hole. “He’s got to get your ass wet and prepared to take our cocks.

“Mhm’ feels weird,” you whimpered, legs trembling and threatening to close around Geto’s head, but Gojo wasn’t going to allow you to do so, not when his fingers were slowly creeping down towards your messy wet pussy to play with your throbbing clit. “Mhm… ah,” you moaned out, head tossing back against Gojo's shoulder, feeling the sense of overwhelming pleasure being rushed to your head. 

A few more licked at your puckered hole and Geto was quick to latch his lips back onto your cunt, not caring one bit if Gojo fingers were stimulating your sensitive nub, rolling his tongue harshly against your clit before sinking it back into your hole. 

Your toes curl, eyes squeezing tightly shut, unable to think or even to understand what was happening to your body, it’s like your body was no longer yours. To be absolutely going mad, with pleasure. 

Geto finally pulled away from your hole, fingers now replacing his tongue, rubbing, and poking at your hole before sinking two thick calloused fingers into your ass, slowly thrusting in and out in attempts to stretch you out. You’re so far gone, not knowing what to do with yourself, but whimper and cry as they continued with their sinful work as your body grew hotter and hotter, and that weird sensation in your tummy made itself known. 

“Ahh, I think she’s out to cum,” Gojo whispered, fingers moving from your clit and plunge them into your hole, moving in and out and curling and poking on your g-spot. You cried out, hands now finally having a mind out its own to grip onto Gojo thighs for support as the rest of you quiver and tremble, desperately in need to cum. “Mhm, fuck Sugu her pussy is pulsing so much around my fingers.”

“You should feel her ass,” Geto followed up, quickly spitting on his fingers before thrusting a third one into your hole. 

“No… No, I can’t,” you cried out. 

“Oh yes you can,” they both said in harmony, fingers expertly working both your holes. The heat in your tummy began to rise even more, legs now violently shaking and that heavy pressure that you feel inside you felt like it was moment away from bursting if they don’t let up on your holes.

You began breathing heavily, nails scraping against Gojo’s thigh as your back lifted slightly from Gojo’s chest. Feeling your pussy desperately clenching, you scream, “I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna Ohh.” Like a river bursting through the walls of a dam, your pussy clenched and burst, wet clear liquid forcing Gojo’s fingers out of your cunt. 

Geto groaned and he’s going down to lick up the mess from your cunt as you continue to squirt. “So good princess.”

“Good fucking girl. Pumpkin’s a squirter,” Gojo said as he tapped at your twitching clit a few times, then plunged his finger into your hole to get you cum all over his fingers just to get a taste. Geto on the other hand, gave no time to breath, his lips already on yours and you’re tasting yourself on his lips. 

His fingers were still working to stretch your ass, but he managed to untie the strings of his shorts and pushed it down his legs exposing his thick prompt cock to your eyes. You gasped and pulled away from his lips, eyes widened as you took in the sight of his thick, long, and pale cock with a reddish tip. He had pubes, but not as much as your ex-boyfriend did, but Geto sure had a bigger cock. 

“I don’t want it, it’s too big,” you said to them both as you tried and Geto’s fingers successfully slipped out of your now gaping hole and you did manage to crawl away from them. But you didn’t get too far, not when Gojo and his long lanky arms were close by, quickly grabbing onto your chubby thighs and pulling you towards him. And as he did so, he managed to pull his cock out of his shorts too. “No… no it's too big,” you said, staring at the weapon between Gojo’s legs. 

“Come on pumpkin, you can take it,” Gojo cooed at you, quickly roughly handling you back into his lap with your legs spread over his legs and his cock snuggled up against your cunt. “Suguru stretched you perfectly fine.”

“But… but” you began stuttering as you looked down on the cock that was slowly sliding between your wet fat pussy lips, just waiting patiently to penetrate you deeply. 

“It’s ok princess, just relax for us,” Geto whispered as he positioned himself between your legs and his large hand gently rubbing up and down on your thighs. “Satoru’s gonna stretch you out a bit more with his cock, so relax, be a good girl and take him as deep as you can inside you.”

Still staring at Gojo’s pale, long, curved cock between your pussy lips, you thought ‘you’ve already made it this far, it makes no sense you stopped dead in the middle of sex.’ So, with that thought you shook your head and whispered, “Ok.”

They both smiled, then you felt Geto’s hand slightly lifting both your legs, spreading them a bit wider while Gojo spat on his hand, grabbed his cock, and gave it a few pumps before pressing the pinkish mushroom tip at your leaking entrance. 

You feel Gojo’s lips against your cheeks, kissing and licking at your skin, as he dragged the tip along your sensitive clit, teasingly smearing your slick all over his cock. “I’m going in now,” he growled, then he immediately pushed in one long, hard upwards thrust into your dripping cunt, knocking the air out of your lungs. His head collapsed onto your shoulders, teeth sinking into your collarbone, biting back his moan the moment he felt your pussy hold his cock like a vice grip. 

“Fuck,” he muttered, gently pulling out then thrusting back in, and your sobbing as he painfully stretched you out deliciously. “What a tight fucking pussy. You wanna break my cock off, pumpkin?” he whispered against your shoulders, fingers quickly pinching and rubbing at your clit to give you a bit of relief. 

“Mhm… ngh it’s- It’s too big, pull it out, pull it out,” you begged, not used to having something so big, hot, and throbbing inside your pussy, stretching you, splitting you apart and beyond your limits. 

“No can no pumpkin,” A low growl escaped him as he pulled his cock out of your hole, until the tip was barely resting inside your cunt, only to thrust back into your warm cunt. Heavy thick balls slapped against the skin of your ass with each thrust of his hips, loud squelches of his cock pushing deeper and deeper inside your gummy cunt. 

“Oh God, fuck me,” you mewled, tears stinging the corner of your eyes as you watched as your cunt getting completely mauled by Gojo’s cock., driving you to complete insanity. Your lame ex-boyfriend had never fuck you so stupid, his cock is not even big enough to stretch you as much as Gojo’s cock was doing at this moment. Ripping and tearing, then shaping your hole to fit his cock. 

Your brain’s going numb, broken whimpers and moans leaving you each time he plunged into your hole. He’s shifting beneath you, angling his cock to hit that sweet spot within you and it has you bucking and keening on his cock, and he’s watching with hungry eyes as your tits bounce in circular motions with each thrust. “Gonna cum on this cock pumpkin, Suguru’s gotta fuck your little pussy too,” Gojo said to you, kissing your neck as his hand travelled up to squeeze and paw at your heavy swollen breast. 

“I… no- too much I,” unable to form a coherent sentence you bowed your head and cried out, hoping that they’ll understand your plea. And to your luck they did, but that doesn’t mean that what Geto was about to do to you was going to make the situation any better. 

Because here comes Geto whispering as he realised one of your legs and his fingers hastily rubbed figures of eight on your clit, “Well let me help you then.”

“No, stop please…” You cried as your trembling hands went to pull his hand away from your cunt. It’s no use though your hands were just trembling too much, so the only thing you just had to do was just sit there and let them skilfully worked their fingers and cock on and inside your cunt, pumping and pumping until your thighs twitched, eyes were rolling back and your breathing; short and forceful as they carried you to your orgasm. 

“Come on pumpkin let it go, let it go,” Gojo urges, fucking up into you faster and harder than he was before, and the black-haired bastard had the audacity to make his fingers with Gojo’s pace. Your tummy was hot. It burns… it burns, you thought and the next thing you know, you are squirting. Gojo cock slipped out of your squirting cunt, and he, smiling as he grabbed his cock and rubbed it on your sensitive clit and watched as your pussy gushed more clear liquid. 

“Move and let me slide in,” Geto said to Gojo, quickly grabbing both of your knees and folding them into your breast. And Gojo as quick as ever held the back of your knees and watched as Geto tapped his heavy cock onto your throbbing clit, the tip pressing into your cunt and when he was satisfied with the amount of you cum that coated his cock. He plunged in, stretching you impossibly wider than Gojo. 

Just how big are their cocks?

Geto paused, watching as your lips trembled, eyes still tightly closed and your pussy, clenching and unclenching, slowly shaping to fit his cock. A low groan fell from his lips as he leaned forward, chest pressing into the back of your legs, forehead resting on your head that is between your legs and he’s whispering, “And though Sato fucked you deep and hard, stretching this tiny little cunt. You are still so fucking tight.”

His hips started moving, slowly dragging his cock out of your wet hole, then without warning he abruptly slammed his cock into you. “Ah… Sugu ah.”

He smiled and kissed your lips as he pounded into your pussy mercilessly. He’s so thick, thicker than Gojo it felt as though he was about to burst your pussy wide open. “Oh fuck, fuck,” he grunted, his forehead resting against yours, sweat beading down his forehead and onto yours. He glanced down at you through his lashes, your lips all puffy and swollen from all the biting and kissing. “Open up your mouth princess.” You lolled your tongue out for him. He groaned as he gathered a glob in his mouth before spitting it on your tongue. “Swallow and show it to me again.” You did as you were told, he didn’t waste another second to spit in your mouth again. 

You swallowed then moaned, “I’m close again.”

“That’s what I want you to do,” he groaned as he straightened his posture to speed up his deep thrust. The sounds your bodies made as they slapped against each other and Gojo grunting from the feeling cock rubbing against your ass was driving them mad. 

“Yes… ah fuck.”

He leaned forward yet again and gave you the neediest, sloppiest kiss. His cock began to abuse your g-spot, each thrust punching every breath from your lips. And once again, you feel the pressure building up inside your tummy, you’re left with no choice but to cum on his cock, juice leaking from the sides and down his length. He kept on fucking your through your orgasm, fwop, fwop, fucking you deeper and deeper with each thrust, hitting that spot he knew that was gonna make you squirt. 

“Mhm… stop Imma shit…” Your body grew stiff and Geto had to quickly slip out of you to rub the tip of his cock on your clit as you squirted all over him. 

“There you go princess, there you go.”

“So proud of your pumpkin,” they both praised and Gojo managed to steal a kiss from your lips. Your tired, body spent, worn out all you just wanted to do was to close your eyes and sleep. But wait they didn’t cum. 

“Uhm… Toru… Su why didn’t you cum?” you asked them. 

“Oh yeah, where not done.”

Bamboozled out of your mind, you turned to face Gojo and said, “Huh?”

“We gonna tap your ass member?” Gojo reminded you as he lifted both your legs again and his cock now poked at your lower entrance. 

“And I wanna eat your pussy out while he takes care of your cute little hole,” Geto added as he got comfortable yet again between Gojo’s legs. 

“No- no, no, no I can’t… I’m tired, please.”

“Ahh pumpkin just a few minutes more, I promise you it’ll feel fantastic.”

And that’s the line you fell for, keeping your legs spread as they both hand their way with your hole, stretching and pounding you out with no mercy. They did try to be gentle, but your pussy was just so unbelievably tight and soaking wet, they kept you inside that bedroom for hours upon end, until you finally passed out into Geto’s arms, whimpering, and shaking, skin sticky and sweating. Thick globs of cum dripping from your holes, and your ass filled with nothing but kiss marks, hickies and hand bruises. 

They fucked you good, better than your dumb ex-boyfriend every did and they can’t wait to fuck your little hole and stuffed them full of them cum and just maybe breed you, but they’ll wife you up.

𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑑𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘? 𝐶𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑠, 𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑅𝑒𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑚𝑢𝑐ℎ 𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑. 𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔.

@getosbigballsack 2024

[ddarker-dreams]

mini love report — scaramouche

relationship health diagnosis — 50%*

symptom one — deeply insecure

for all his bravado, scaramouche is acutely aware that he's unpleasant to be around. he'd ask if you hit your head recently after hearing your confession. initially, he regarded you with suspicion (and loathing, that's what this churning in his stomach has to be). his beauty has been praised for centuries. traditionally, when his admirers draw closer, they're put off by his brutal honesty. he subjected you to the same treatment. instead of running for the hills like you probably should've, you stuck around. he compared you to a 'cockroach infestation.' very charming.

beneath this veneer of vitriol, he's internally panicking. he's irritable when you're around and wretched when you aren't. his underlings don't know which is worse. he was at a loss when he realized you genuinely weren't bumbling back into his life for his appearance or status. seriously, what is wrong with you? it'd be easier to understand if you had some grand ambition in mind, using him as a means to an end. without this excuse to hide behind, he feels... vulnerable. uncomfortably so.

everything he gets attached to is taken from him. he's forgotten, abandoned, discarded when his worth is found lacking. you could find someone else. someone kind, open, and warm. someone who isn't him. it's terrifying, a thought that makes his skin writhe. especially since, should this premonition come to pass, even he doesn't know what havoc he'd wreak...

symptom two — clingy

once scaramouche likes you, you're his person. not even in a strictly possessive sense (although there's plenty of that), but you're essentially all he's got. he's around more often than he isn't. he insists that without him, your 'stupidity would do you in,' so he considers his hovering a 'necessary evil.' this is for your sake! strictly yours. not his, no, whatever gave you that idea? a bit presumptuous, don't you think?

his habit of acting as your second shadow relates to his aforementioned insecurity. whether he realizes it or not, he's always trying to prove his worth to you. tasks you mentioned dreading will find themselves completed, he'll drag you outdoors if you've been overworking yourself, and he silently sits freshly cooked meals beside you. he once cut vegetables into heart shapes, only to feel so embarrassed, that he diced them into a dusty substance.

symptom three — unconditionally supportive

so long as it doesn't take you away from him, he'll help you accomplish anything you want, good or bad. this is what could come to him most naturally. he loves the thought of you relying on him. it makes him feel wanted, like he's fulfilling a role no one else could in your life. it doesn't have to be material items either. if you're struggling with an issue and come to him for advice, he's noticeably pleased, like a cat that got the cream. you sought him out, you value his input.

he excels at putting together plans and breaking them into doable steps. next-level executive function. you might not want to consult him if you've gotten into a disagreement with a friend, but if you're struggling to know where to get started on a project or goal, he's got you covered. he'll wave off any of your doubt, flicking you on the forehead and grumbling that 'it's doable, just leave it to him.'

primary area of concern

scaramouche views the world from a bitter lens. whereas some try to see the best in others, he sees the worst. this skepticism that's built up over centuries isn't going to disappear overnight. he'll make assumptions about your behavior that aren't necessarily true. he won't come outright and tell you his concerns either, the idea is foreign to him. it ends up falling on you to dispel his misconceptions, which can be an exhausting endeavor.

integrating him into your life proves to be a challenge as well. he can fake a sweet, friendly personality, but he'd only do that for interactions he sees value in. namely, leaving a good impression on your parents/any seniority figure whose approval is meaningful to you. he isn't trying to build a real connection, he just knows it'd be advantageous to win over those who you could you against him. he has no qualms about manipulating them either. he'd do this outside of your purview so you remain none the wiser.

prognosis

it isn't a smooth road. there'll be times where his words cut deep and his involvement in your life feels suffocating. he isn't sure what he's doing and it shows. however, when he extinguishes the light in your eyes, he stills his traitorous tongue. the guilt gnaws at him incessantly. it's a self-fulfilling prophecy on his part — by fearing that he can't make you happy, he's more susceptible to doing just that. should you stick around, this loop isn't destined to repeat forever. his trust in you will build. it's a fragile thing, sown in soil unconducive to growth. be tender in your nourishment and the roots will coil themselves around you.

*the universe has tried (and failed) to wrench you apart (0-20) your friends are praying that you'll break up (21-40) 'well it could/has be worse' bargaining mindset (41-60) a lil messiness as a treat (61-80) pure and wholesome (81-100)

[kimberly-spirits13]

Moving In

Pairing: Jason Todd x reader

Warnings: None

Summary: a short Drabble on you convincing Jason to move in with you

Word Count: 963

Your house was a haven for Jason. It was somewhere where he could lay down and forget all his troubles or simply sit in silence and not be overwhelmed by the life outside of your front doors. Despite the occasional complaints he hears from you about the woes of homeowning, he sees no flaw in your home. You were well off from your job, able to buy a nice home in the same area that Wayne Manor sat. It wasn’t intentional, you had been living in this home before you knew Jason, and through the years you had completed various renovations and upgrades to make it reflect you. There was a garden in the backyard filled with your favorite flowers, a sizeable kitchen where Jason likes to spend most of his time, sunlight poured through the floor to ceiling windows, and a few additional rooms catered to your interests were settled between the walls of the home. Convincing Jason to move in was not a hard thing to do. He hated living in an apartment and hearing his neighbors talk or walk around in the middle of the night when he was trying to sleep. You and Jason also found that it was a hazard climbing into the windows during the waking hours of dawn after patrol. A few close calls meant that most of the time when you were out on patrol, you two went back to your place to crash. It’s easy to say that he was delighted when you offered to let him move in after a long week of patrols gone south. 

         “You know, you should ditch the apartment, Jay.” You were laying on top of his chest, legs sprawled out over his and blankets nearly covering your face.

         “Whatcha mean Doll?” He stopped combing his fingers through your hair and started twisting small loops into it with his fingers.

         “Come live with me. You always talk about hating living in the city anyways and you sleep better there.” 

         “It would make patrols easier.” He commented, “You’re not delirious right, you’d actually want me to live at your place?” There was a tone of insecurity in his voice like at any moment you’d tell him you were joking.

         “I am not delirious Jason.” You sat up and looked at him, “I have plenty of empty room that needs you to fill it.” “There’s plenty of room for your books in the library and you practically already live there. I’m pretty sure more than 60% of your things are already somewhere in the house.” “You could literally move in right now.” 

         “I would love to live with you.” He said smiling, “but I think we’d need to, you know, make sure everything is taken care of before I move out. My lease ends in a week and I’d need to pack everything up” 

         “We can get boxes tomorrow.” You said, “You can just start leaving things for the next week, plus, you don’t have to stay in the apartment even if your lease isn’t over.”

         That was exactly a week ago and Jason was ready to move into your place. He pulled into the space in your garage that was meant for him with boxes loaded in the back of his car. There weren’t many boxes in his trunk, but he had a few odds and ends that he couldn’t send to Goodwill or throwing away. Most of the contents of the boxes were his books, some old mugs and pictures, the clothes that weren’t already in your house, hygiene stuff from his place, and other knickknacks he had around. After a few seconds of collecting his thoughts, he looked up to see you coming into the garage from the side door into your house with a smile.

         You took his hand as he got out of the car and shut the door to walk to the trunk and start unloading. Taking a few boxes at a time, the two of you gradually unloaded everything and put it into the room connecting to the garage. It wasn’t going to take a long time for you two to unload everything, the most daunting thing to Jason was permanently invading your space. Taking the box filled with mugs, you opened the cabinet in the kitchen that kept all the mugs and started carefully putting them in like they were meant to be there. 

         “Hey doll, do you have a place you want all of this?” He asked timidly.        

         Usually moving in somewhere wasn’t a problem for him and he knew where everything was meant. He knew that you didn’t mind and just wanted him to be comfortable, but at the same time, Jason was afraid he would mess something up, make you regret letting him live with you.

         “You know you can put stuff wherever. I mean obviously shampoo and conditioner belong in the bathroom and dishes in the kitchen but Jay, this is your home, I don’t mind.” You said comfortably.

         Jason felt his heart swell at your words. This was his house now. You might have been there first, but you were telling him that this was allowed to be his home. Everything was perfect, nothing was popping Jason’s bubble now. 

         He set his stuff down and watched as you walked over to him and wrapped your arms around his waist. In a moment of silence, he ran his fingers through your hair and put his chin on the top of your head.

         “I’m glad you’re here now.” You said softly, “I hated when you had to leave.”          Jason held onto you tighter and lifted your chin with his finger, “I love you y/n/n. You’ve given me the best life I could have ever lived.”

         “I love you too Jay.” 

[theabysss]

Salvation

pairing: sagau!Dottore x Reader

summary: When you die, the whole world collapses for Dottore, but maybe there is still hope?

warnings/tags: gn!Reader, religious + cult themes, description of the execution, description of injuries.

word count: 2.7 k~

note: I'm here again after all this time. (ーー;)ノ Brought you some Dottore, enjoy. Maybe there will be a second part, but I don't promise anything.

Scarlet blood spurts out and a severed head rolls down. Empty eye sockets are directed to the heavens, a happy smile frozen on your face, anticipating the end of torment, now sealed on your face with an eternal mask. Dottore feels his fingertips go numb, he stares blankly at your head and hair, matted with blood. The mechanical heart, which has never failed before, either skips beats or beats quickly.

His ears feel like they are filled with cotton and he hears no sound, the emptiness fills his heart drop by drop, leaving no space for anything else. What is this feeling called? Dottore tries to distract himself from the picture before his eyes and frantically tries to remember the right word, but his thoughts move slowly like flies stuck in honey. A flash of insight and a bitter taste appears in his mouth. Despair. A drop of blood runs down his chin; he didn’t notice when he bit his lip with his teeth. It seems that only ten seconds have passed since the execution, but to Dottore they seem like an eternity.

Out of the corner of his eye, he notices tears running down the Tsaritsa’s face. There is no trace left of her usually cold personality. The harbingers look no better, for each of them there has long been no one left more important than you, and to lose you like that was terrible. More painful than the worst wound they received in life.

The one whom the archons call the Creator begins their speech with an unpleasant grin, full of self-satisfaction. They talks about the impostor and how proud they are of their dear followers for capturing you for him. He is sick of looking at the other archons; the proud appearance of Morax and the other archons makes him rage. It spreads like hot lava from the heart to the hands, convulsively clenching in impatience, the desire to strangle this ancient reptile overwhelms Dottore.

Your most loyal follower huh? The fool who fell for the fake sent by Celestia. He was the first to accept this abomination without doubting it even for a second. You were so different, your auras were completely different. A liar or a pathetic fool, whichever was true, Morax was disgusting.

When the fake finishes their incredibly pathetic speech, it will be their turn: Tsaritsa, the harbingers, the ordinary Fatui, they will all have to lose their lives.

Mentally, Dottore estimates the distance to the platform where Celestia’s puppet stands. Even though his delusion had been taken away just like the rest of the harbingers, that didn't mean he was going to give up. Dottore runs his tongue over teeth, checking their sharpness and squints with satisfaction, feeling the salty taste of blood appearing in his mouth. There is nothing worse than an animal driven into a corner, knowing that there is no chance of salvation, but still intending to resist.

When he is led past the platform to the guillotine, he will take the chance and take revenge. Although it would be more correct to call this the restoration of justice. You were innocent, You were their god.

When the fake solemnly spreads his hands and orders the executions to continue, the sky of Teyvat darkens, anyone could feel the fury of the elements. Dottore exhales in amazement, drops of your blood slowly rising into the air and changing their color from red to gold. The crackling of electricity, the smell of burning, strong gusts of wind, the temperature drops lower every second, plants are spreading across the entire area, bright and screaming about their toxicity, the earth trembles underfoot, on the horizon he can see the sea rising in waves, each of which is higher than the previous ones, threatening to flood the whole harbor.

The fake looks at what is happening in shock, but does not have time to say a single word. Lightning falls from the sky and strikes Celestia's puppet, one after the other in an endless stream, they follow each other. Dottore's heart is filled with gloomy triumph and at the same time unbearable bitterness. If Teyvat could have intervened directly, why didn’t he save you, their Creator? Why didn't the world prevent your death? Or was it your desire to reveal the truth only when nothing will it be impossible to fix it, leaving them all with eternal regret?

When the lightning stops falling from the sky, the fake turns into a smoking piece of charred flesh. The Archons look in surprise at the one they praised as the Creator, understanding slowly appears on their faces. One by one they helplessly turn their heads towards your body. Morax is the first to fall to his knees in front of your head, Dottore sees how his fingers tremble as he hesitates to touch your blood-stained cheek.

Tsaritsa looks contemptuously at each of these traitors. Dottore knows that now she would with great pleasure impale each of the archons on ice spikes if only the shackles did not block her powers.

In a half-strangled voice, Morax orders the Millelith to release all of them.

After being released, Dottore and the rest of the harbingers follow Tsaritsa as she goes to the archons and… your body. Standing next to it is unbearably painful, his eyes cling to every scratch on your face, his heart falls into a cold empty hole, now that he can clearly see your empty eye sockets.

As far as he knew, the Electro Archon was to blame for this; he would have broken every bone in her hands, and then lowered her into a vat of acid and watched as her flesh peeled off from the bones.

Tsaritsa's voice is cold and gloomy when she speaks to the rest of the archons.

"There is no punishment that can atone for your sin and death will not be your salvation. You will live the rest of your eternity in pain, I promise you all that."

A drop of your golden blood slowly moves in the air, Dottore follows their movement with his eyes. Was there a chance to save you, why did everything turn out that way? Why he, Tsaritsa and the other harbingers turned out to be so weak and useless? They too were sinners, those who did not save and they will bear this sin until the end of their lives.

Dottore could still feel the remnants of your aura, faintly, but he could, and he closed his eyes, absorbing this feeling, which was soon to dissipate. Or not? Dottore's eyes widened, an arrow of hope piercing his heart. Your spirit was still here, weak, fading, still existing, attached to drops of golden blood.

"The Creator has not left us yet, his spirit is still here."

The face of Tsaritsa and the other archons lit up with faint hope, their gazes were directed at him, all-consuming, unwavering attention emanated from them, however, such a gaze was directed at Dottore from everyone who was present in the square.

"Collect all the blood, not a single drop should be lost; the soul of the Creator is attached to it. I can try to save Their Grace, but we must act quickly before their spirit dissipates."

Dottore is determined. He will succeed, he cannot fail, he will not make mistakes, just not in such an important matter as this. Despite the mental pep talk he gave himself, Dottore's palms become treacherously cold and he begins to nervously tap a rhythm with his fingers on his thigh.

He needed a workplace, his laboratories would be ideal, but he was not sure that your spirit would survive the trip to Snezhnaya. He had to act quickly, Dottore could feel the grains of time slipping through his fingers.

When he and the clones find themselves in the silence of the temporary laboratory provided by Qixing, Dottore allows himself only one nervous sigh before taking control of his emotions. The time for all the emotions will come later, when he successfully returns life to you.

He begins to give instructions to the clones, who are preparing everything necessary for Dottore's most important work. It’s good that he managed to drive out all the traitors of the archons and other personalities who tried to be present, even Tsaritsa, nothing should distract him, the price of a mistake is too great.

The punishment of the archons was temporarily postponed, Tsaritsa said that when you become alive again, you yourself will determine the punishment for these traitors. It's when, not if. Now the whole seven had to destroy Celestia, which had committed the unforgivable.

Your headless body lying on the operating table looked foreign, wrong of all places, you should never have ended up here. You should have enjoyed the balls held in your honor, the gifts offered to you by your followers.

To begin with, it was worth understanding whether it made sense to try to restore your human shell or was it already in a completely unusable state? A severed head is a big obstacle to the restoration of your body, but Dottore had no guarantee that your soul could take root in a synthetic body, and the ability to create it in a short time, so there was only one possibility left. It was necessary to attach your head back to the body, check the body for damage to internal organs and, if there were any, heal them. Before you begin the process of returning your soul to the mortal coil.

The test results showed, although not the most comforting results, but everything was not so bad, of course, with the exception of the severed head. General severe exhaustion of the body, which will be corrected by the correct diet after your resurrection, which will definitely be successful. It couldn't fail. After all, if he failed, would there be any point in his existence, in the existence of nations, in Teyvat? Without you, nothing made sense.

Dottore shakes his head, driving away bad thoughts and returns to work. In order for the head to subsequently work as it should, each nerve and blood vessel had to be connected correctly. Painstaking work that requires a lot of patience, well, Dottore never complained about its lack.

Hour after hour, the clock ticked peacefully in the background, measuring time, while Dottore and his clones painstakingly put everything back together as it was originally. The last batch of stitches signals the end of such a complex operation. The muscles of his back ached in protest against the same position for hours. Dottore looked at his work satisfactorily, touching the stitches and then immediately pursed his lips in regret. This is not how it was supposed to be. He walked over to the table and gave himself an injection that instantly banished any fatigue and made his mind crystal clear again. In a day he will definitely feel very bad when the kickback comes, but you were definitely worth it. In fact, if he were now offered to give his life in exchange for yours, he would agree without hesitation.

It was time to start the second stage, it was necessary to do something with your eyes. Unfortunately, all he could offer you now were temporary prosthetics, not as advanced as those he and the clones used. He will definitely replace them later with better ones.

One of the many things he regretted was that he didn't get to see your eyes, they should have been gorgeous. In legends they were described as unearthly, as if entire constellations and the endless night sky were reflected in them.

As gently as possible, Dottore cleaned your eye holes from dirt and blood, carefully stretched the wires to the back lobe of the brain, to which the optic nerves are attached, and finally inserted the prostheses. Dentures you should never have. The color looked inappropriate, too artificial, alien, wrong, Dottore swallowed dryly. He sits down on a chair nearby and wearily hides his face in his hands. Fatigue, not physical, but moral, covers him in a wave and the heaviness in his chest does not allow him to breathe. He knows that it will only disappear when you take your breath and your heart beats again.

Dottore was never particularly religious in his youth, he was interested in the story of the creation of the world and definitely admired you, but there was never any real reverence in his feelings then. Everything gradually began to change when he joined Fatui. Every year he learned more and more about you and his devotion to you only grew, gradually completely capturing his heart until there was nothing left in him except you.

All the humanity that was in him, no matter how little it was, was intended only for you. All his achievements were dedicated to you. He all belonged to you, only you. And at the moment there was nothing he could want more than to see you alive. The same desire burned with a passionate flame in the eyes of his clones standing nearby.

The last stage is the most important. Dottore carefully inserts a needle into your vein and begins to pour your blood back into your body. He feels your spirit waver, as if you doesn’t want to return.

He looks over your body; bright blue veins stand out on your pale skin, there are various bruises and scratches on your body, which he, of course, treated, but to his regret the healing was not instantaneous. This picture breaks him into fragments, leaving a cold emptiness instead of his mechanical heart, his inability to correct what happened. Was there any point in all his knowledge that he had been collecting for centuries if now it was almost completely useless at the most important moment of his life. All that Dottore can do now is pray, pray to you, to the elements, to Teyvat. Please come back, please, please, please…

He knew it was a selfish desire, this world wasn't worthy of you, they weren't worthy of you, not after what happened. But hope, a feeling that had not come to him for a very long time since the time of the academy, flared up in his soul. The last drops of blood poured back into your body and deathly silence fell in the laboratory. Those few seconds when nothing happened seemed like an eternity, frightening, cold, hopeless to Dottore. The claws of the unknown tore his heart apart, did he succeed? Would you like to return?

Your trembling breath and wide-open eyes bring Dottore into a state close to euphoric. You were alive again, relief fills him and makes him dizzy with happiness. He feels something wet rolling down his cheek and wipes it away in confusion. A tear. A lot of time had passed since the last time he cried, and he had definitely never had tears of happiness until that moment. Well, you always made him feel an unusual amount of different emotions.

When you go into a coughing fit, one of the clones instantly brings you a mug of water and looks at your face with concern. You take a few greedy sips, and then turn your confused gaze on him, gradually filling with fear. Dottore's heart clenches unpleasantly, this is not how you were supposed to look at him. Not what he wants and not how it should be.

You try to say something, but again break into a cough. Dottore instantly approaches, he wants… to console you, to assure you that you are safe, but the words lie like dead weight on his tongue. He carefully reaches out to your hand, but freezes millimeters from your skin. He felt confused, useless. You will probably be uncomfortable with the touches of a sinner like him.

You carefully peer into his face, by the way your gaze moves along the features of his face, it seems to him that you are looking for an answer to some very important question for you. And after a few moments, the answer seems to satisfy you, a relieved sigh escapes your lips and you reach out with your hand to his, carefully placing your hand in his.

Dottore swallows dryly, warmth rising up his arm from where you touch.

"Everything will be fine, Your Grace. Now everything will be fine, I promise."

Reblogs, comments, are always greatly appreciated! ヽ(o^ ^o)ﾉ

[cheriladycl01]

I cant do this anymore - George Russell x Wolff! Reader P3

Plot: You are the daughter of Toto Wolff team principle of Mercedes-AMG Petronas, you've worked your whole life to become an engineer. However, your dad has other ideas for you and doesn't want you to become a race engineer. You start to confide more in the Red Bull Racing Team Principle to help you get an engineering job, and see him as your present father figure.

"You ready for our first Grand Prix together Max?" you ask, testing with Max had gone really well and Christian was happy with the dynamic the both of you had. Max as gentle and kind as he was, he was very ambitious and that ambition when it didn't prevail often turned into anger.

Christian saw, in FP1 and FP2 when he didn't think he was performing that well, you just completely calm Max down and talk him through each component of what he needed to improve. He listened to her on took on board when to conserve his tires, when do take turns wider or more sharply etc. And testing couldn't have gone better for Red Bull.

"You know it, lead me to Victory Y/N" he grinned before hopping into the car. You walk over to your station making sure all of the data on the car is looking as good as it did yesterday in qualifying and to check for any errors that could mess Max up in his first few laps. Nothing stuck out, and you could tell that both the car and Max would perform well today.

"Is Y/N here i need to talk to her before the race" you heard through your headphones, you turn seeing George in his racing suit and helmet in hand talking to some of the mechanics.

"Mate, you are a driver. You should be getting in your car for radio check. You cant be in the Red Bull area okay?" he advises, making George look around quickly before huffing and walking away in dissatisfaction.

"Max, Radio Check can you hear me" you ask and get a response immediately.

"Yes, loud and clear! Today will be good!" he exclaims.

And how true he was, you guided him into P1, it was an amazing start to you helping Max win the Championship, Mexico had been an amazing drive for him. He shared a podium with Lewis and Charles. There were a few cameras that caught you and Lewis looking at each other and you giving him a thumbs up.

Media teams were about to have a field day.

"You are amazing Y/N! You know the car so well I bet YOU could be the driver! Those strategies were insane" Max complimented you as he'd taken his helmet off and pulled you into an insanely sweaty hug of thanks for a great first race.

"Oh god, I'm definitely not driver material! Don't tell anyone, but I don't actually have my drivers license" you cringe giggling at him, it was something you'd never needed. Your mum or dad normally drove you around before uni, and once you were there everything was within walking distance. It had just felt pointless.

"No way, you've got to be lying to me" Max laughs, wondering how you'd survived so long without something like that.

"Honestly George or Lewis used to drive me around a lot, when i had to go to the Mercedes HQ back home he'd take me if my parents couldn't! You say a light smile on your face before it turned sour thinking of the mousy brown haired man that had completely lost any trust you had placed in him.

"Lets not think about them. Lets talk about you coming with me, Christian, Geri, Kelly, Sergio, Hugh and Carola?" he asks and a massive grin comes onto your face.

"I'm invited to the Horner dinner, huh? That sounds kinda important and fancy. I might just have to decline" you joke making Max roll his eyes.

"No, you are joining us and are having fun and getting your mind off Thing one and Thing two" he jokes, you tried to keep a serious face but you really couldn't.

"Anyway, considering the Princess cant drive do you want me to take you back to the hotel?" he asks smiling.

"If that's okay with you!" you smile happily, he nods slinging an arm around your shoulder guiding you to the car.

"So when do I finally get to meet P!" you exclaim, even though you'd only been working with Max for a week, you'd gotten to know him very well. You had to considering he had to trust listening to you while he was driving round a track a 200 miles an hour.

"Hmmmm I think Kelly said she'd be bringing her to the race next week. It's Brazil so its an important one for her!" he admits. The conversation flew between you and Max, it was strange really it felt like you'd been friends with him for ages. You had to grovel when it came to any of the Mercedes Drivers in the past, so this easiness to making friends felt good.

That was one thing you'd struggled with. You had a love for F1 straight away considering who you parents were and where you were constantly travelling from race to race until you got to university age. So you didn't actually have many friends who stuck around.

You both eventually ended up at the hotel, you waved at Kelly who was waiting for the both of you and she pulled you into a big hug as she walked over to you.

"You both did amazing today! So proud of you! Y/N, did Max end up inviting you to dinner tonight!" she exclaims, wanting you to be there as well.

"Yes, I'll be there" you smile and say your goodbye's before dashing into your room to get ready for the dinner.

You struggled on what to wear and ended up calling Max to get Kelly to help you on what the dinner vibe was for tonight. You ended up showing her half the stuff you'd brought to Mexico with you and ended up picking one of your nicer dresses from Versace.

You took some pictures before a knock was heard at your door that had you confused as you were meeting up with Kelly and Max outside theirs in 30 minutes.

You opened the door, and looked up to see who had come to the door.

"Omg" you both said at the same time, you tried to slam the door shit. George wouldn't ruin your night, he didn't deserve too.

However, a foot and arm in the door and his general athletic body that made him stronger than you prevented all of that. He practically barged his way in.

You both stood there in awkward silence. George couldn't get over how beautiful you looked. I mean, you were always beautiful to him. But tonight in the black dress that he swore Donatella had personalized just for you, and the way your hair fell around you face in an effortless fashion. He couldn't look away from you.

"If you've come here to accuse me some more, then just leave. I'm about to have a really good night with friends, people who actually care for me and want me to succeed and if I'm being honest I do not need your negativity" you say, turning around to check yourself in the mirror.

"You look gorgeous tonight. So i wont do this tonight, but please meet me in between the Mercedes and Williams garage next week in Brazil. We need to talk. We've been friends for years and I don't want my stupidity to come between us" he says, stepping towards you going to reach out his hand. You step back, it took a lot especially with this ocean blue puppy eyes looking at you with that sad expression that would make anyone fold.

"Please, After Qually, I'm only asking for five minutes Y/N please" he begs trying to catch your eyes but you were doing your best not to look at them too often, knowing you would probably cave.

"I'll think about it. If I'm there we can talk, if not then its up to you if our friendship is really worth waiting for" you admit, walking to the door and opening it up for him as a sign that he should leave.

"I've waited long enough" he mumbles before walking out the door himself and leaving towards the lift that was down the corridor from your room.

The night had gone so well, you were really beginning to feel comfortable around those in Red Bull. The people at the table were being so kind to you as the newbie, Christian pouring you the water, recommending you dishes he liked whilst arguing with the actual Mexican in the room who knew the cuisine of the restaurant like the back of his hand, to offering you the salt and proceeding to do it for you had your heart melting.

It was stupid, really. You shouldn't be this emotional over an older man doing small silly little tasks that you could tackle alone but just was nice to have the offered help. Help that you hadn't received in recent years.

"I really want to thank you all for tonight, its been really nice to hang out with you. And i cant wait for a double podium in Brazil next week!" you exclaim clinking you glass with everyone around the table.

However, George still managed to creep into your mind thanks to his earlier disturbance.

Would he actually apologise?

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @urdad-hot

Hey guys, so i've noticed some people in the taglist aren't getting tagged, I'm not sure if this is username changes or what... but i will start to take of one that don't link to an actual page, so if you see your account name and its not working please feel free to message me, or comment her or on my masterlist of taglist so i can see your knew username!

[edensxgarden]

Baby fever with Lando, which then leads to sleepless nights… 🤫🤫

You had never particularly found yourself wanting to be a mother. When you grew old, you had visions of growing old with your lover, supporting him on the track until he eventually retired, and then traveling the world for leisure rather than for work. You simply had your whole life vaguely mapped out, staying alongside Lando, just you two.

But while laying in bed, scrolling through Instagram, you stumbled on a video. You watched as your phone played a video of Lando hugging a young fan, the boy crying in adoration and excitement at meeting his idol. A blush dusted your cheeks, and you couldn't stop watching. 

Seeing Lando being so good with the kid had your mind racing. You envisioned him playing around with a son of your own, a little baby for you to share. You couldn't shake the image of your happy little family, and it had you rethinking everything. Lando would be such a good father—the best father of your sweet kid—it made your heart clench. 

You were taken off guard when Lando walked into your room, dramatically flopping on the bed next to you. You caught vision of him, his hair messy and fluffed up, covered by a backwards hat. He wore grey sweats with no shirt, and his disheveled appearance did nothing but further emphasize your rosy cheeks. 

"What are you watching, baby?" He asked you with a curious smile on his face. These were the type of days you loved—lazy days where you laid together in bed all day scrolling through silly videos and binging some series you vowed to watch together.

In your flustered state, you shied away from his question, not wanting to admit that you had been watching this stupid video on loop for almost 5 minutes now. In the absence of your answer, Lando grabbed onto your phone and saw the reel your Instagram displayed, slyly giggling to himself at your attempts to retrieve your device. 

Lando looked back at you with a knowing smirk, the gears in his mind quickly working to read yours. Just looking at you, he could practically recite your exact thoughts, and he couldn't lie; the thought did quick work of turning him on. 

Lando was never quite on the same page as you about kids. He was never dead-set on having them, but a small part of him wanted one day to retire and raise a small family with you. Deep in your hearts, both of you knew you were far from ready for that, but that didn't matter in this moment. 

Lando grabbed your reaching arms, throwing the phone you were trying to reclaim somewhere safely in the room and pulling you towards him. He roughly claimed dominance over your mouth as you sloppily made out. Drool slipped from the sides of your mouths, and your teeth clashed together, but it turned you on beyond belief as you needily grinded yourself against his lap. 

"I got you, baby," Lando gruffly whispered to you as he skillfully pulled off your pajama shorts and made quick work of your panties, smirking to himself at the wet patch that soaked through the crotch area. He instantly sank his large fingers into your cunt, letting his thumb rest on your puffy clit, rubbing small circles onto it. 

You let your head loll back, letting your sweet moans echo through your bedroom while Lando expertly used his huge hands on your pussy. Lando always relished in the noises you made, pathetic and needy moans egging him on to make you cum around his fat fingers. 

Lando spoke with a condescending voice, babying you through the immense pleasure he brought you with just your fingers alone. He often found himself giggling at just how desperate you were for him. His patronizing laugh just made you wetter, wet squelching noises harmonizing with your moans. "Gotta get you ready for my big cock, yeah, baby? Gotta stretch you open." 

Despite the narcissistic act he had going on, Lando was completely enamored with you. He was so hard in his sweats, that he felt like he could go insane. His throbbing cock pressed against his pants, the leaky tip leaving a pearly wet spot against the fabric.

Growing needy himself, Lando increased the pressure on your swollen clit, pushing you over the edge as you tightened around Lando's fingers. Your body shook and twitched in pleasure, losing yourself in the feeling of Lando working you through your orgasm. 

Once you game down from your high, Lando was quick to rid himself of his pants, unable to stop his shakey hands from grabbing and pulling on his poor, deprived dick. He flipped you over so you were lying with your back against the plush mattress and aligned himself with your weepy hole, pushing in with a long wonton moan. 

Lando stilled inside of you, and desperate to feel him, you pushed your hips back on his, beginning to fuck yourself on his dick. Lando gripped onto your hips with bruising force, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths before signing out between gritted teeth, "Gotta stop that, baby, or I'll cum right now." 

You begrudgingly stopped your movements, letting Lando adjust to the squeeze of your walls around his cock. Once he regained his composure, though, there was no stopping him. Lando pistoned his hips into yours, fucking you with ferocious speed. 

He pushed your legs against your chest, holding them in place as he fucked you, reaching so deep inside that you could practically feel his fat cock in your stomach. Lando couldn't help his moans from escaping his mouth, his dirty mouth betraying him and spouting absolute filth as your cunt sucked him deeper and deeper inside. 

"Gotta fuck a baby into you, yeah? Gonna fuck you till you're all nice and pregnant with our kid." A loud moan interrupted his rambling, your pussy feeling far too good around his sensitive dick. 

"So tight around me, baby. Your sweet pussy is practically begging me to cum inside, fuck!" You unconsciously clenched around him, his lewd words forcing a moan out of you. 

Your legs began to shake as Lando moved one of his hands to play with your sensitive clit, feeling the familiar feeling washing over you. With a particularly deep thrust, you came around Lando's dick. Your tight walls squeezed around him, and he couldn't hold back any longer, emptying his heavy balls into your cunt and shooting milky white ropes of cum deep inside your pussy. 

Once he came down from his high, he rolled over onto his side, a loving look in his blue eyes as he pushed the leaking cum back into your cunt. "Don't wanna waste any of it." He clarified, and a proud smile flashed across his face. 

With a heavy heart, you regained the strength to look up into Lando's loving eyes. You whispered out to him, almost sad at your words, even though you knew it was for the best. "Lando.. you know I'm on the pill right?"

[yaut-jaknowit]

Okay, male who’s good with daggers and a double bladed staff, training in the forest where it’s just filled with fog, Vic'tao and Uihoy who watched reader train, decided he’s a perfect partner for them. But reader puts up a good fight, but was still taken by the 2 back to the ship.

A Worthy Challenge

Pairing: Vic'tao (male Yautja) x Reader x Uihoy (Male Yautja)

Word Count: 2770

Summary: A dense fog covers the area. The path you take worn down over the years. Every tree, every rock you pass, you know by heart. You followed the carved out trail to a small open space in the middle of the forest. Your little space carved out for yourself. This is where you go to train, to work on your skills with your staff. Until you are challenged by an unknown opponent.

Author Note: They get one look at him and go this is mine now. They literally just yoinked him.

Masterlist

Ao3

Nearly everyday, in the same spot you’ve claimed as your own, you perfected your skills. Years upon years have built up the necessary talents and muscles to wield these weapons you use as an extension of yourself. In your hand was a dual bladed staff. A weapon you spent a pretty penny on to get your hands on it.

The metal handle has been worn over time. From countless hours of it being wielded by yours truly. It no longer shines in the light.

Thick, heavy fog blanketed your training area. Not that bothered you. Since you were little, you’ve gone to this little slice of solitude from the raging world. The pathing lone worn by your feet. The area marked with your intials carved into a nearby tree. This was yours.

A deep breath filled your lungs with the nearly suffocating air. Your eyes drifted shut. You begun to lightly twirl the staff around and understood its weight completely. It moved where you wanted at each twitch of your muscles. It wasn’t just some staff. No, it was part of you.

Some of the moves you preformed were more similar to dancing. A way to loosen up your muscles before you began your true training. A warmup. Each use of the staff make your blood pump faster. Your heart started to quicken. The love for this skill you’ve honed was deep withing your heart. You opened your eyes and stopped while holding the staff horizontal.

Despite the fog thickening the air, you decided to keep pushing. Within your mind, you imagined an enemy. They stood on the other side of your space and threatened your way of life. You set a steeled glare on the figure and shifted into a fighting stance. Both ends of your staff ready to push this figure back.

You imagined them lunging first and wanted to establish a dominance over you. They went for offense first, anything to catch you off guard. Their own dual blades held firmly in their hands as they leaped for an attack. Swiftly, you rolled out of the way and blocked a hit meant to cleave your head off. Deep within your brain, you could imagine the clang of metal nearly deafening.

They go for fake swing to catch you off guard. Yet, the shift of their feet told you the story before they even spoke a word. You allow for them to swing at you again. To let them have the satisfaction of believing they had you. But you wanted this fight drawn out, to wear them down, to have them on their knees before you.

A snarl twisted on your face when one of their blades nicked you. The pain only adding to the fuel you pooled inside of you. You continued to push, not allowing this imaginary person to feel the satisfaction of injuring you.

In the middle of your fake fighting scenario, you were thrown off when you felt a gaze upon you. A shutter ran down your spine at the feeling. You paused. The scene fading away to the grey fog clouding the area. Your heartbeat thundered loudly in your ears. This feeling that grew made you incredibly uneasy. This wasn’t a feeling you’ve felt before. It made you believe you were… being hunted.

A predatory gaze.

Your jaw clenched, eyes flickering around to spot even the hint of what stalked you. All you could see was the shadow of familiar trees and bushes that filled the space. Your hand tightened around the shaft of the weapon, ready to defend yourself if someone or something leapt out. A cold sweat dripped down the length of your spine.

As much as you would love to fight this something, you felt it in the pits of your stomach this was a fight you wouldn’t win. You took a step back to head towards your stuff when your back pressed into a warm chest. A yelp tore from your throat. You leapt forward and spun around, weapon at the ready.

There stood a dark yellow humanoid figure. One that towered over you. Metal armor adorned its muscular, well fit statue. Metal covered where its face would be, blocking its features from you. Even the mask held a terrifying, blank stare that pinned you to the spot. Whatever this thing was, you were fucked.

In one of its massive hands was a staff of its own. A fight. It wanted a fight. You weren’t going to be making a run for it.

It pointed the tip of its staff at you, challenging you. You forced down the lump in your throat and filled your lungs with the thick air. If this thing desired a challenge from you, you were going to compete to the best of your ability. Even if it killed you. Which it might.

“You want a fight?” you asked for clarification and steeled your glare on the creature. Just imagine this fight like all the ones you’ve gone through. All the times you’ve come out on top. This is just another fight. Nothing new about it.

A sharp nod is your answer. “Fine, I’ll give you a fight. But first, let me grab something.” You took a wide berth around it to put on your belt. A belt that held your throwing knives. Anything to give you an edge to it. The more weapons, the higher chance you have against this massive figure. It was at least a foot taller if not more.

You took a few steps away to open the playing field some more. With the fog adding to the ambience of what could be your death, you tightened your grip on your dual bladed staff. The dense fog nearly made it difficult to see the figure standing less than twenty feet away from you.

The two of you stared the other down. It twitched it’s foot, a clear sign of its next move. Suddenly, it dashed forward and pushed strictly into your space. The sudden appearance of it scared the living daylights out of you. It took every ounce of muscle memory to throw up your weapon to block a hit that could possibly stabbed straight into your brain cavity.

But it didn’t stop. The beast kept pushing. You gritted your teeth and forced yourself to turn offense. Anything to get the upper hand before it got the best of you.

With a swift shove of your staff, you were able to knock its own out of the way long enough to make a quick swipe at its torso. Neon green blood spilt from the newly created wound at your hands. Your jaw dropped at the sight, but you weren’t given long to pounder what this thing was before it was upon once more.

When you blocked another hit, the metal in your hands revibrating harshly. The tip of its staff skimming off of your bicep. Your own blood added to the mixture.

The pain flared only once before you narrowed your focus back onto the creature. It darted forward with its weapon again and aimed at your stomach this time. You twisted away and used a leg to go between there legs. With a swift pull, you were able to knock it to its knees.

A grunt sounded from it. Before you had time to even understood you had downed it, your neck had been grabbed. The dual bladed staff knocked clean from your hands. You choked and clawed at the hand currently lifting you off of the ground. Your legs kicked out in hopes to somehow knock it down and escape from its clutches.

To no avail.

It pulls you close to it and bellows lowly from the depths of its chest. From behind its mask, it begin to chitter and click. As if talking. Not that you could answer in the moment but you found it odd. You couldn’t understand in the first place.

Through the fog, a shadow formed and grew darker and darker before a form appeared through the thick of it. The whites of your eyes were clearly visible at the new appearance. It looked to be the same build of the creature currently holding. Then, the new one, a dark purple, began to converse with its friend.

A little back and forth bickering occurred before the purple one pointed towards you with a harsh tone in its voice. You were promptly dropped onto the ground and coughed hard. Your lung surged for fresh air and gulped every last bit they could take.

Before you could fully recover, you were nabbed by the back of your belt and lifted onto a shoulder. There wasn’t time to even reach for your staff that the yellow one picked up. Once the shock wore off, you began to kick at your kidnapper.

An idea popped inside of your head. The belt. The throwing knives. You reached for your waist when the end of a pointed staff was aimed at your neck. Instantly, you paused and swallowed down a lump in your throat. Your hand timidly dropped down back over the creatures shoulder. The weapon was pulled away but the warning stuck like glue to you. You didn’t have the balls to attempt fate once more.

This position wasn’t comfortable for you with the front of the belt pressing into your belly. No matter how much you wiggled to either make it less unbearable or to be put down, neither of those happened. You had to take it like a champ.

It wasn’t long before both of them stopped and you heard a hiss of gasses being released. You attempted to peer over their shoulder but the claws holding you down pressed into your skin more. A quiet yelp sounded from you. You relaxed with a grumble, unsure where these things were taking you. Not that you could do much with the position you’re in. No weapon and it’s a two verses one deal. You would be getting the short end of the stick.

Something softly touched the ground. The purple one lead with you on its shoulder up a metal ramp. They carried you into… a space ship? You questioned deeply, unsure if you were dreaming or not at the moment. Your jaw dropped at the sight unfolding before you.

Mostly everything in your sight was made of metal. There were some things painted. It wasn’t all boring metal either. But patterns lined the walls, floors, and ceiling of this room they hauled you through. You tried to take in every turn they took in case you could book it out of here. With the way the one you fought was watching you like a hawk, that chance was little.

The purple one came to stop and let you slip down its shoulder. Your feet gingerly touched the metal floors. Instantly, you backed away and put up your fists in a defensive position. As much as you didn’t care for hand to hand combat, you were ready. Anything to give you a chance to escape wherever they’ve taken you or will.

Yellow snorted with their shoulders jerking up. A heavy glare was set on it as you carefully observed them.

Despite their faces being covered, you could tell these things weren’t human. The rough scales that covered their shoulders and sides of their thighs were any indication. Plus, their size and height was unnatural. Then, there was their primitive armor. Yet, here you stand inside what must be an alien spacecraft. You didn’t know to be honored or terrified. What could they possibly want from you? Besides the fight you had clearly lost being stuck, trapped in this room with the two of them.

For the amount of unluck in the world, you must have been up their in the top five. You had been captured by aliens.

Purple snapped its head over at Yellow with a heated glare you didn’t even need to see. Clicks and trills left their unseen mouths in rapid succession. Your fists drooped a little. Neither of them saw you as a threat. Nor did you want to test your luck again with the throwing knives again. That was a failure last time. It wasn’t going to change again.

Both seemed to come to an agreement. Their attention returned to you. Purple took a step forward. Instinctively, you reached for your knives in self-defense. A growled sounded from Yellow but the other one just huffed. At you first you thought it was for you but Yellow stood down and stepped away from you.

With this one the only one closing you, you deepened your anger, hands at the ready. It had to be the right moment to flick the knife at the approaching creature.

Except… It raised its hands as if calming a wild animal. “Do not fret, ooman.” It motioned to the two of them-“ do not mean harm.” It pointed at its chest. “Friend.” It spoke with semi-broken English. The words coming harshly off of its alien tongue. Your eyes narrowed. Words meant nothing in this situation.

Similar to a cornered animal, you snatched a knife free from the belt and with a simple wrist flick, sent it flying through the air. Right before it struck its mark, a purple hand was able to catch midflight. Your jaw dropped at the sight before you flung a few more in hopes it land on the target.

Each one was caught until you were weaponless. You cursed and repositioned yourself with your hands up, prepared to go down swinging.

Neither of them made the attempt to come after you though. You didn’t know if this was a good or bad thing to happen. That didn’t stop you from carefully watching them.

Purple dropped his hands and sighed before glancing over at his friend. Said creature grunted, arms crossed over his lean chest, your staff missing from his hands. The static metal mask he wore faced you, truly putting the fear into you. He began to march over to you. You tensed up but planted your feet, preparing for the worst.

This one came to a stop a few short of you, arms falling limp at his sides. “What my mate is trying to say is: we are not going to harm you, ooman. We are interested in you,” he explained. This time, he was more fluent in English.

Your eyes bulged out of your head at his words. ‘Interested in you’? Why did it have to be you to attract two aliens with bulging arms and beautiful voices? You swallowed down the lump in your throat and eyes the yellow on closely. “What are you trying to say?” you asked for clarification. Because why in the world did they think kidnapping you was a good idea?!

Irritated clicking sounded from underneath the metal. “You are good material for a mate,” he came out and said it straight to you. There was no beating around the bush. He just ripped off the band aid.

Mate? Like… like a partner? Romantic? You blinked at him for a few moments before breaking out into laughter. This all had to be joke right. Two aliens wanting your hand for partnership.

“Oh, man. You had me there. ‘Good mate material’! That’s funny,” you laughed and wiped away a tear that had appeared at the corner of your eye. Then, you looked back at them only to realize neither of them were laughing with you. They stated stoic. You gulped and tensed up. “You’re not kidding.” This time, you said it more as a statement than a question. You were coming to terms they were serious about their words.

Yellow grumbled then roughly pulled at tubing attached to his mask before the whole thing came off. “You are a great fighter-“ The rest of his words went straight over your head as you stared at his alien face. Instead of being disgusted, you could recognized the fact he was handsome in some terms. By gods name, what has gotten into you?!

It wasn’t long after that the other one did the same thing as well. Your eyes flickered between the two, unsure who to look at. Oh, fuck, what is wrong with you?

The purple one hooked his mask to his belt then gazed at you. You decided to stick to him for a short while. “Want to be Vic’tao and Uihoy’s mate?” he asked and motioned to the two of them. Now, this one was asking the same thing. What in the world was your answer going to be?

[sommerbueckers]

another part two pillow talk PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐤²

___________________________________________________________

✰ 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

✰ 𝐰𝐜 :: 𝟐.𝟖𝐤

✰ 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 𝐜𝐮𝐬 𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢 𝐝𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐭𝐭

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THE DRAGO FAMILY LAKE house was beautiful; the outside appeared like an abnormally large log cabin while the inside had been completely modernized from corner to corner.

Mrs Drago groaned, "I've never seen this much dust in my life."

"You say that every year," Catherine laughed, looking at her mom.

"Every year is dustier than the last."

As Mr and Mrs Drago set their bags down and headed into the kitchen, Catherine looked expectantly to Paige, "C'mon."

She led her upstairs, allowing Paige to stare in awe at every new area she saw until they reached their shared bedroom. There was a large bed in the middle of the room, the mattress covered in baby pink sheets with teddy bears scattered on them. Full length windows made up an entire wall, looking out to the incredible backyard.

The walls were decorated in framed pictures of Catherine when se was younger. Pictures of her in a kiddy pool with goggles around her head, pictures of her holding ice cream with what looked to be a young Zane and Sasha. There were also some that had been taken in the last few years, in a bikini on a boat, by a fire beside Noella, holding a black '8' ball over her face at what looked to be a party.

The room was like a glimpse into Catherine's past, Paige could watch her grow up just by looking at the walls. Paige smiled at a picture of a young Catherine, curls wild and untamed, in the driver seat of a Jeep with her tongue out. She had to have been about eight or nine.

"That was my uncle's Jeep, I used to pretend to drive it when he'd come up to visit," she heard the girl explain, and Paige turned to see her lying on her stomach with her chin in her hands.

Paige set the picture down and slowly approached Catherine on the bed. "He doesn't come to visit anymore?" she asked.

"He does, just not as often. I don't have to pretend to drive it now though, he actually lets me drive it around now."

"Must be fun," Paige used her hands to push Catherine's hair out of her face, then she trailed her fingers down and pulled out the girl's bottom lip. "You like to drive?"

Catherine nodded silently, put in a trance by the way Paige was completely towering over her. The presence of Paige felt overwhelming, yet mesmerizing, as if she commanded the very air around them. Catherine's gaze was fixed upward, challengingly holding the blonde's eyes. In that moment, words seemed unnecessary; the intensity between them spoke volumes.

"What about riding, huh? You like to ride Cat?"

Paige trailed her thumb across the girl's lip once more, only this time, she let it push past them and slipped her finger in. Catherine sucked gently, swirling her finger around the tip. Paige was spellbound with the way Catherine's plump lips looked around her finger, she imagined what they would look like around something much thicker.

Catherine rose up on her knees, slowly taking Paige's hand from her mouth and dragging it down her body. She tilted her head back when Paige's fingers came in contact with her clit through her shorts, it didn't take a genius to realize that she wasn't wearing any panties. Paige's own arousal grew at the thought of how easily she had access to Catherine, how easily Catherine had given her access.

Her hands wrapped around Paige's neck and she pulled her close, moaning softly into her ear.

"Want you to fuck me."

Paige pushed her down onto the bed, drawing out a yelp from Catherine when her back hit the mattress. The blonde began to unbutton her shorts, Catherine following suit as she untied the string to hers. Before either girl could get any further, a knock sounded at the door.

Catherine rubbed her hands over her face, releasing a frustrating sigh before saying, "Come in!."

Her mother's face appeared, a large smile plastered across it as she entered the room. "Hi girls," she said before turning to Catherine, "your father and I are gonna go to the grocery store to get some things for the fridge and for dinner, if you two wanna come and pick some things out you're welcome to."

A silent conversation was held between the girls before Catherine answered for the both of them, "No, just get some snacks and stuff. Some fruit too."

"Will do," Phoebe nodded, giving Paige a friendly smile before exiting the room and closing the door behind her.

They waited until they could no longer hear the woman's footsteps nearby, the pair holding in their laughter as best as they could.

"You still turned on?" Paige finally asked.

Catherine laughed, "Shut up and get over here."

BEING WITH CATHERINE'S FAMILY wasn't awkward to Paige — at least not while the curly head was around. The young teen stood in the kitchen, helping her mother cook dinner. They were making Ravioli pasta, a dish Paige always made from a can rather than from scratch. As Paige watched Catherine move around the kitchen with her mother, there was a warmth in the air that she couldn't quite put into words. Catherine, with her curls bouncing lightly as she moved, seemed completely at ease. She smiled at her mother, laughing softly at some inside joke they shared as they chopped vegetables and tended to the simmering pot on the stove. The scene was domestic and tender, a side of Catherine that Paige hadn't seen before. It was a simple, everyday task—cooking dinner with family—but to Paige, it was something else entirely.

Catherine’s hands moved with a practiced grace, chopping, stirring, seasoning—all under the gentle guidance of her mother. There was a harmony between them that Paige found mesmerizing. It was as if they were in sync, understanding each other without the need for words. Paige could see how much Catherine respected and adored her mother, and it made her heart swell. This was Catherine in her element, surrounded by the people she loved, doing something that was second nature to her.

As Paige watched Catherine move around the kitchen with her mother, there was a warmth in the air that she couldn't quite put into words. Catherine, with her curls bouncing lightly as she moved, seemed completely at ease. She smiled at her mother, laughing softly at some inside joke they shared as they chopped vegetables and tended to the simmering pot on the stove. The scene was domestic and tender, a side of Catherine that Paige hadn't seen before. It was a simple, everyday task—cooking dinner with family—but to Paige, it was something else entirely.

Catherine’s hands moved with a practiced grace, chopping, stirring, seasoning—all under the gentle guidance of her mother. There was a harmony between them that Paige found mesmerizing. It was as if they were in sync, understanding each other without the need for words. Paige could see how much Catherine respected and adored her mother, and it made her heart swell. This was Catherine in her element, surrounded by the people she loved, doing something that was second nature to her.

Paige felt a pang of longing, not just for Catherine, but for this sense of belonging, of being part of something so warm and loving. She realized then that her feelings for Catherine were deepening. It wasn’t just Catherine’s beauty or her sharp wit that drew Paige in—it was moments like these, seeing Catherine’s gentler side, her connection to her family, and the care she put into the small, everyday things.

The way Catherine laughed with her mother, the way she focused intently on getting the seasoning just right, and the way she nudged Paige playfully with her elbow when she caught her staring—all of it made Paige's chest tighten with affection. She wasn’t just falling for Catherine’s looks or charm; she was falling for the person Catherine was when no one was watching, the person who cared deeply and loved fiercely.

"Paige honey, would you like some wine?"

Paige perked up at the sound of Phoebe Drago's voice, smooth and suave. The woman was dressed in a large black sweater, jeans coating her legs even with the thickness that lingered in the summer air. She didn't seem to be bothered by it, only rolling them up when she had begun cooking.

Paige quirked an eyebrow at the question, glancing at Catherine who stood smiling with her hands on her hips.

"Sure," the blonde nodded unsurely.

Catherine retrieved three wine glasses from one of the cabinets, opening a fresh bottle of Brachetto d'Acqui and filling them slightly over what her mother considered an appropriate amount.

"Catherine!" the woman exclaimed, gently hitting her shoulder. "C'est trop pour elle." It's too much for her.

"Non, c'est bon," No, it's okay. Catherine waved her off, placing the glass in front of Paige. "Is that good for you?"

"Yeah, it's cool," she shrugged cooly.

Paige had rarely even tasted wine, let alone finished an entire glass. She imagined how her mother might react if she could see her now. Catherine swirled her wine thoughtfully, then lifted the glass to her lips. As she took a delicate sip, she closed her eyes in pleasure, letting out a contented hum.

Paige couldn't take her eyes off of her, watching how her tongue darted across her lips, and how her cheeks took on a light shade of red when their eyes met. Paige's eyes roamed over Catherine, drinking in every detail with fascination. She admired the way Catherine’s lips curled around the wine glass, how the light played off her flushed cheeks. She shifted her gaze subtly, mindful not to be too obvious, trying to blend her curiosity with a veneer of polite restraint. 

"So Paige," Phoebe asked, breaking the silence, "do you enjoy cooking?"

Paige hesitated, a sheepish smile playing on her lips. "Well, I've never really cooked much, unless you count instant ramen or something like that," she said, scratching the back of her neck with a chuckle.

Phoebe's smile was warm and encouraging. "Would you like to learn?"

Paige’s eyes brightened. "I’d love to," she replied, nodding enthusiastically. Though cooking had never been her passion, the prospect of stepping away from the stool and moving closer to Catherine made the idea irresistibly appealing.

"You can help me cut the dough," Catherine suggested, extending a pizza cutter. "Then we're gonna roll it so it gets kinda thin, and that's when you put the cheese filling in."

Paige was beaming down at her, a dazed look in her eyes. She should've been embarrassed when Catherine caught, and she would've if the shorter girl hadn't been giving her the same look. Those stunning brown eyes, framed by the longest eyelashes Paige had ever seen, were staring right back at her.

"That dough isn't going to cut itself girls."

When the cooking had finally finished, Phoebe turned off the stove, her movements deliberate as she retrieved her oven mitts from a drawer. "Catherine," the woman called, grabbing four plates out of the cabinet and setting them down in a stack on the counter. The curly head didn't answer. "Catherine," she called again, and still no answer. When she finally looked up, she noticed her daughter completely immersed in a conversation with Paige.

She noticed the not-so-subtle glances between them, the way their eyes met and held just a moment too long, the subtle smiles they shared over the simmering pots. She saw how Paige’s eyes would drift toward Catherine, lingering on her as if she were the only person in the room. Catherine, in turn, would catch those glances and respond with a shy smile or a soft blush, a quiet but unmistakable acknowledgment of something between them.

Phoebe observed all of this with the practiced eye of a mother who had seen these signs before. The gentle laughter they shared, the way their shoulders brushed as they moved around the kitchen.

With that, she looked to Catherine and said in a warm but firm tone, "Catherine, could you go help your father set the table, please?" The request was casual, but the underlying message was clear: she had noticed.

Catherine blinked, slightly caught off guard by her mother’s request. She wasn’t usually the one asked to set the table—that was something her father typically handled. She hesitated for a moment, her gaze flicking to Paige, who was still standing by the counter. There was a brief flash of surprise in her eyes, but she quickly masked it with a small smile.

"Sure," Catherine replied, her voice calm, though there was a hint of hesitation beneath her tone. She grabbed the stack of plates off the counter, reaching for the silverware in the drawer before carrying it out to the patio.

As Catherine left the kitchen, Paige felt a subtle shift in the atmosphere. The easy warmth she’d felt moments ago was replaced by a slight tension that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Her muscles tightened, and she found herself suddenly aware of the quiet hum of the room, the ticking of the clock on the wall seeming louder than before.

Phoebe moved to clean up a bit, but there was a certain stillness in her posture, a deliberate calm that only added to Paige’s unease. Paige tried to focus on something else, but the lingering tension nagged at her, making her feel slightly out of place. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something unspoken was hanging in the air, just out of reach, but she had no idea what it was or why it made her heart beat just a little faster.

"You know..." Phoebe started, her voice unnaturally calm. "The first time that Catherine told me she'd be staying after school to watch her friend's basketball game, I thought there was no way in hell." She let out a breathless laugh before she continued. "Catherine's never been interested in sports. So, me being a mother, I just assumed she had a crush on some stupid little boy. She asked a second time, and a third, and a fourth. And when the fifth time came around, I started to think, 'What about this boy is so special that he is getting Catherine to do something that her father and I have been trying to get her to do for years?' And so I came to a game to see for myself, and then I noticed, there were no boys!" the woman was still smiling, but Paige wasn't sure how genuine it was.

"I couldn't possibly think of one thing that the two of you would've had in common, not one. Your styles are different, your interests are different, your friends are different..."

As Phoebe’s words hung in the air, Paige felt her heart rate spike, a cold wave of panic washing over her. Her mind raced, scrambling for some kind of defense, some way to explain herself, but the more Phoebe spoke, the more certain Paige became that she had figured everything out. The calm tone, the way Phoebe listed their differences with almost clinical precision—it all felt like a carefully crafted interrogation. Paige could feel her palms start to sweat, her throat tightening as if the truth was stuck there, threatening to escape.

She forced a smile, but it felt weak, barely holding together the rising tide of anxiety that threatened to spill over. All she could think was how desperately she wished Catherine would walk in, flash that confident smile, and somehow smooth over the growing tension. If Catherine were here, Paige was sure she could defuse the situation with just a few words, turning the conversation in a safer direction. But Catherine wasn’t here, and Paige was left alone, trapped under Phoebe’s knowing gaze, feeling more exposed with every passing second.

"But there actually is one thing that you guys have in common, and do you know what that is Paige?"

Paige swallowed hard, her mind racing as she tried to anticipate where Phoebe was going with this. She forced herself to meet Phoebe’s gaze, even as her stomach twisted into knots.

"I—uh, I’m not sure," Paige stammered, her voice wavering slightly despite her best efforts to stay calm. She could feel the blood pounding in her ears, every muscle in her body tensed as she braced herself for whatever was coming next.

"When you look at each other, you have that same little glint in your eye that she does. It's so obvious a blind man could see it from a mile away. Like you two are the only ones in the room, like your ears only respond to each other's voices. You're not very good at hiding it."

Paige hesitated, unsure of what she could do or say to save herself, to save Catherine. In truth, there was nothing that could be done, and the blonde soon came to that defeating realization. "Are you mad?" Her eyes searched Phoebe’s face for any sign of approval or disapproval. Phoebe's expression was unwavering for a moment, the urge to cry slowly building inside of Paige. That was until the ends of Phoebe's lips curled upward, a smile breaking out onto her face.

"Not at all."

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[boatboysrowout]

please tell us more about the mall au, specifically etho and his pipe bomb, i need an entire thing of him running from the cops (i am your number one fan ignore that i only just found out about you that doesnt matter)

hey guys. wanna hear about white castle pipe bomb c plot?

this may come as a surprise to some, but etho is a natural at customer service. he’s always been a pretty chill guy- it takes a lot to faze him, probably a consequence of his proclivity towards explosives in his early years. that calm exterior translates well to working the front desk of a local electronics repair store (not that he had needed a summer job, really, but doc and beef both went home for the summer, and someone kept leaving him visa-friendly job applications in every nook and cranny of his dorm- he found one in his cereal a few weeks before finals, and even that one had nothing on the one he found folded up in his toothpaste).

that being said, being good at customer service doesn’t mean that he’s completely immune to the agonies of said customer service. being good at customer service just means that after the eighteenth laptop he has to factory reset while a teenaged boy swears up and down he had not in fact clicked on a link for sexy singles in his area, etho’s able to wait until the boy leaves before attempting to gouge out his other eye.

he’s searching for a screwdriver when his phone buzzes with a text, and after a longing look at his toolbox etho flips his sign to closed and heads over to the white castle. he makes a quick stop at the arcade tango mans to set a new high score on the pinball machine, effectively guaranteeing tango will be glued to the pinball machine until he regains the top leaderboard spot, and then continues on his way to the white castle, spirits high. 

etho’s good mood abruptly vanishes after stepping into the white castle, as bdubs has apparently deemed etho’s delay in arrival unforgivable and is now withholding the free fries etho had been promised.

etho slumps himself over the front counter, not unlike a wet cat, and starts causing a scene, whining about his awful day full of idiot teens and potential self mutilation that can only be staved off with free food. bdubs staunchly ignores him and cleo threatens to pour hot oil on his head.

eventually actual paying customers come in and etho’s continued presence becomes a problem, so bdubs heaves a sigh and offers the fries to etho as long as he pays full price for them, to which etho, an extreme couponer, reacts appropriately.

etho’s eye narrows as he peels himself off of the front counter, demanding the fries free of charge. bdubs refuses. cleo smacks bdubs on the back of the head and tells him to just give etho the fries so he'll go away.

etho gives bdubs one last chance to give him the fries for free, and by the time bdubs physically removes him from the premises etho is already plotting his revenge and heading straight back to the art store to collect a favor.

(you see, somewhere between the fifth and eighth laptop etho had to factory reset, tango texted him that he managed to jailbreak the pinball machine to accept a quarter for unlimited plays, and etho abandoned his job immediately to take advantage of the incredible deal.  

that was his intention, anyway. but what happened is this: etho had never really shaken off the hold explosives have over him. after he’d been put on a five different government watchlists by the time he was seventeen he’d taken a step back and started focusing more on computing and getting into college and other projects that were less likely to necessitate seizure by the canadian government. he’s clean. he left that life behind him.

however. 

when the sound of an explosion comes from the cute little art shop as etho walks past, there’s not a second of hesitation before he swung the front doors open and entered the shop.

it hadn’t taken him long to locate the source of the explosion, following a trail of smoke down a half hidden flight of stairs to a door with a hastily scrawled sign on it reading 'SUPER TALL AND HANDSOME EMPLOYEES ONLY.’

etho opened the door, walking into what has to be the world’s most pathetic meth lab. in the corner there was a stack of cardboard boxes labeled NOT DRUGS/DEFINITELY LEGAL SUBSTANCES. beakers filled with unidentifiable substances were bubbling over onto the table. a laptop near etho’s foot displayed results for a google search of ‘how to tell if a cut needs stitches and also how long can you set yourself on fire without going to hospital.’

“THIS ISN’T WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE.” a man who etho vaguely recognized from grian's beginning of summer introductions had shouted, throwing his body over the contents of the table in a desperate attempt to hide the beakers from view. a few shattered under his weight and etho heard him stifle a whimper. “everything here is perfectly normal and also legal.”

breaking bad played quietly from a tv somewhere in the background.

etho raised an eyebrow.)

in the end, they manage to work out a deal: etho would not call the cops or tell anyone about joel's secret little operation and in return, joel owed etho a favor.

and now etho will cash that favor in.

(“so let me get this straight. you’re pissed your friend wouldn’t give you chips for free and your first instinct is to go to a meth lab and steal my meth supplies to get back at him.”

“failed meth lab. and yup.”

“there’s something wrong with you.”

“at least i know how to make meth.”

“wait, you what.”)

they start small. prank calls, anonymous yelp reviews calling the really loud cashier short, launching fireworks through the drive-thru window. it doesn’t take long for them to get bored with that though, which leads to bdubs walking into the white castle one morning to discover a horse standing in the middle of the lobby. 

the horse seems very at peace with the situation, wandering over to chew on bdub’s hair as he sputters and cleo ignores the situation entirely. bdubs is left with the task of removing the horse from the store, except the horse seems to be taller than the doorway and not particularly interested in leaving, so eventually bdubs is forced to give up. There’s just a horse in their lobby now. 

it doesn’t take bdubs very long to become attached to the horse, much to the detriment of cleo. she’s running the white castle single handedly by the end of the second day, serving customers and manning the kitchen while bdubs whispers sweet nothings to the horse in the makeshift horse stall he made in the women’s restroom. 

it’s pointless to try and reason with bdubs, so cleo makes her way over to the art store basement where joel and etho have set up their base of operations. ignoring the now functioning meth lab, she demands the horse be removed from the premises in exchange for a reasonable one free small fry per week. 

reasonable to cleo, and least. both jeol and etho scoff at her offer and demand at least one large fry per day each, to which cleo laughs in their faces. she doesn’t bother making a counter offer, simply turning on her heel and walking out of the basement. she pauses for a moment at the front of the shop to make sure she hadn’t been followed before grabbing her lighter from her pocket, casually flicking it on and taking a step towards the tissue paper.

by the time joel and etho notice something is amiss the fire department has arrived, and they’re barely able to hide the evidence of their operation before firefighters are breaking down the door, carrying them out through the art shop, entirely engulfed in flames. 

(“so in retrospect, ripping all the smoke detectors out of the ceiling probably wasn’t a great idea on your part.”

“how was i to know i was gonna get into a war with an arsonist, all i wanted to do was mind my own business and make meth!”

“fail at making meth.”

“shut up.”)

now relocated behind the counter at etho’s repair shop, joel and etho prepare their final attack.

the plan is simple: using supplies salvaged from the meth lab, etho will construct a smoke bomb and throw it through the white castle drive through window while joel takes advantage of the distraction and steals all the fries the white castle possesses.

making the smoke bomb is a piece of cake, and when joel isn't looking etho sneaks a few of his own more... volatile substances into his backpack. just in case.

joel enters the white castle and cleo immediately clocks him due to joel being the most suspicious person alive always, but she cannot be arsed to investigate. it’s been a long fucking week. joel knows what will happen if he messes with her.

bdubs, however, feels an impending sense of doom through his Etho Senses and rushes over to the drive-thru window and whips it open, immediately screaming at the sight of etho across the road winding up his arm with a smoke bomb in his hand.

and that’s when things really start to go wrong.

because here’s the thing: etho’s been missing an eye for most of his life. he knows his depth perception is shit. but he’s so caught up in the adrenaline of the moment, and bdubs screaming isn’t exactly helping him focus, and listen the baseball scene in canada isn’t exactly thriving-

all of this is to say that etho activates the smoke bomb, winds up, and promptly chucks it five feet to the left of the drive through window. it bounces off the side of the building and rolls to a stop against the tire of the car that had been pulling up to order.

several things happen in very quick succession:

1. the smoke bomb begins pouring out smoke, completely obscuring etho from view and flooding into the white castle

2. bdubs attempts to continue screaming but immediately regrets it as copious amounts of smoke invade his lungs

3. the car which had previously been pulling up to the drive through attempts to exit the scene as quickly as possible, but due to the aforementioned copious amounts of smoke misjudges where the road turns and makes a hard left directly into the wall of the white castle

the very same wall where bdubs had leashed his horse mere minutes before, and the very same wall joel had been creeping along.

the horse and joel are immediately flattened, and upon seeing this bdubs’ impassioned screaming reaches pitches previously unknown to man, and all hell breaks loose.

cleo starts cackling and arms herself with a makeshift flamethrower thrown together with hairspray and a personalized lighter. bdubs attempts to leap out of the drive-thu window but his foot gets stuck and he falls out of the building, crumpling to the ground in a still screaming heap before scrambling back up through the drive-thru window and into the fray. joel manages to claw his way out of the rubble, finds himself face to face with cleo and her flamethrower, and has half a second to regret the his and hers shrek mugs that trapped him in this stupid country before he’s running for his life. 

etho himself ends up sitting peacefully on the bench outside the white castle entrance, his mask helpfully filtering out most of the smoke. it’s lucky he grabbed some extra materials from joel’s lab really, he knew bdubs wouldn’t hand over the fries without a fight. 

he’s in the middle of assembling a device that’ll definitely get him put on the american government’s watchlist and ignoring the screams coming from inside when two men rush past him into the white castle, shouting something about justice and burgers. etho waits for a second, and almost immediately they come rushing back out. he waves at their retreating figures, one of whom he’s pretty sure is the theater kid that tried to put on a one man show of macbeth during welcome week.

etho wraps the fuse around his pipe bomb and stands up, brushing the debris off of his pants and strolling into the fray.

he finds bdubs almost immediately, the man standing on the counter and clearly audible even over the fire alarms and incessant swearing from joel and cleo, who now both have improvised flamethrowers and are duking it out in the kids play area. despite the smoke bduds and etho lock eyes instantly, bdubs paling a few shades when he sees what etho has in his hand.

bdubs jumps off the counter and attempts to run to etho, but is cut off by an entirely engulfed in flames joel. it seems that bdubs did not learn a single lesson about the flammability of his hair product from his run in with grian at the beginning of the summer, because his hair bursts into flames after the slightest brush from joel, and this time cleo isn’t standing nearby with a fire extinguisher.

it should be noted that most of the white castle is entirely engulfed in flames at this point. etho’s at the center of it all, cradling his pipe bomb like a baby and searching furiously for his promised free french fries. 

he’s stopped by cleo who meets his eyes, smiles wide, and lights the pipe bomb fuse. 

-

etho and cleo stare at the wreckage of the white castle. look at each other. look back at the rubble.

the sirens in the distance are distinctly closer now, and both etho and cleo abruptly realize how much evidence is contained on their person. 

“joel’s probably fine.” cleo says. “i saw him run into the walk in freezer after i burnt away the last of his clothes and hair.”

etho nods. “bdubs is too short to get crushed by rubble.”

cleo hums agreement. they stand side by side for a moment longer before cleo turns to etho.

“well, i won’t tell if you won’t.”

with that she turns on her heel and walks away. etho sticks around for a few more minutes, watching the flames die down and the last of the white castle crumble. he digs around in his pocket for a moment and pulls out a blackened handful of fries, yanking his mask down to shove them in his mouth as emergency services skid into the parking lot. 

sticking around turns out to be a mistake, etho quickly realizes, as his white hair reflects the light from the police cars and catches the attention of every officer there. he takes off at a sprint, pulling his mask back up and booking it straight into moving traffic, dodging cars and leaving the yells of the police officers and the rubble behind him.

and that’s the last anyone sees of etho that summer.

(og link here!)

[haliteatiger]

Happy Werewolf Wednesday, ya'll! We're serving up a big pot of tea tonight so get those cups ready!

Special thanks to Blackbackedjackal and King for their help in putting this together, editing, and especially to Jackal for being so supportive and encouraging. I'm very much not normally the type to do call-out posts, but people need to be aware of Dogblud, as she has hurt, not only myself, but quite a few others as well, and seems to have somehow gotten away with behaving like this for 20-odd years. I'm of the mind she shouldn't be allowed to do so any more, hence this post.

TL;DR - Beware of Dogblud, aka Ashryn, aka DogofBlud, aka ThatDogMagic. Very, very long post under the cut.

With everything happening with DogBlud and Blackbackedjackal's studio, I felt emboldened to come forward with my own experiences with her. This is something I've been carrying around since it happened roughly 2 years ago. It was one of the main reasons that put me off drawing werewolves, my own characters, or engaging any more in the fandom. I've hinted at it a few times but I've never had the energy to come forward and deal with the fall out. I wanted to move on with the rest of my life because IRL was more important than online drama. And I knew her behavior would come back to bite her sooner or later, regardless of what I did. 

It's been very validating to see that I was right.

It was around the time that Blud and I became friends that I was feeling a bit burnt out on werewolves. I'd been trying to pull together my own werewolf-related project for something close to 12 years. The past 4 years had also been pretty draining on me creatively and socially, as it had for a lot of artists with regards to the pandemic. I also had some IRL things I was dealing with: mainly with my marriage and transitioning between medications to manage my anxiety + bipolar.

Unfortunately, I didn't have the foresight to screenshot everything at the time. I do have logs from back when we roleplayed together. There are several conversations in them but because they were saved as text documents, they're pretty dubious in terms of solid evidence. 

It would have been better if I had taken screenshots as it was happening, rather than just saving the logs. With what I *do* have, however, I feel as though it may be enough to make the point that I'm trying to make, and to exhibit how horrible things got.

I'll provide some context.

I had talked with Blud on and off over the years, and we had always gotten along. We had a lot in common and after we had started talking more, our friendship eventually grew into a collaborative project. We were going to combine our stories and write a comic based on it. We had a lot of discussions on how Blud was reticent to do this in the beginning and how she wanted a contract to be made up so that in the event that something *did* happen, we could both walk away feeling like it was handled fairly.

Honestly, I should have listened to the first alarm that went off in my brain, when, in an act of ominous foreboding she said something along the lines of don't be so sure, it could happen. It was in response to me being like "we're getting along so well and share so much of a bond right now. I can't fathom that being a problem!" 

The contract never materialized. It was something we had decided to do *after* we had put together something of a prototype project to see how well we worked together. It made complete sense to me at the time as we were both eager to focus on the fun parts of writing and drawing together.

It was decided that I would be the lead artist (doing coloring and final lines) while Blud would do everything else (which was inking, layouts, and the majority of the writing). The both of us felt that she had more experience in those areas. I also believed that she had a better knack for it as well. I had felt that she had a better understanding of story structure than myself. And I thought that Blud had felt the same way about my art. That I had the experience to take point on that. 

Since I had collaborated with other artists and writers before, I attempted to approach the project with the same sort of professionalism I always do. Especially the projects that I genuinely thought stood a chance of being published in the future. We had started out trying to get a feel for each other's flows and rhythms. I had expected Blud to try and meet me in the middle of where our processes would potentially differ from one another, so that we could develop a fairly smooth workflow.

I had also expected, according to our discussions on the matter, that we would value each other's opinions on things and take them into consideration. We had such good synchronicity already.

In the beginning, there wasn't any unusual behavior that caught my attention. Blud was a bit uncomfortable with trying out new things but I did my best to accommodate her so that our project could move forward without too much turbulence. She had also mentioned to me before that she was autistic, and since my husband is also autistic, I knew how difficult it could be when it came to adapting to new routines. But when it was time for her to deliver the first set of layouts, it wasn't at all what I expected.

What I had expected was something with margins, clearly marked boxes, and figures that I could do rough lines over. I also expected notes that confirmed what we had discussed earlier about the project; that way I knew what she wanted or if there would be any changes. She took offense to this, feeling like I was violating our agreement. Though Blud did try to give me space with regards to the actual art, and while she would offer criticisms here and there, I trusted her opinion as an artist and as a friend. But apparently that didn't go both ways. In fact, Blud seemed to be offended that I expected more from her.

Blud agreed to concede. She suddenly seemed fine with the changes that I had asked for after seeing the layouts. I guess she was feeling overstimulated by the change and I might have been applying too much of a critical tone to her responses to begin with. I have had to deal with rejection sensitivity throughout my life and it's certainly prompted me to approach what people say to me online with a bit of scrutiny (sometimes too much).

And while I was mildly annoyed, although admittedly I was more concerned with Blud's overall reaction to my asking for clarification about several things in the layouts, I let it go. But it seemed like there was a problem. The majority of my ideas were either rejected or outright overridden with Blud convincing me that my faulty memory had made me unable to remember what we had agreed upon. Or that I might have been misremembering in my own favor.

There was one time where we were discussing a monster's design. Blud had already decided to settle on one design that she had come up with, even as I continued to offer other suggestions. The story was to take place in my setting, so I was under the impression that I got to decide what kind of creatures should populate it. The conversation ended somewhat ambiguously. I had assumed that we'd come to a solid conclusion later. 

I came back the next day and it turned out that we were using her design because that was what we had decided on. "Don't you remember? You really need to do something about that faulty memory of yours, Tek. I can't be doing this for you all the time."

At which point, Blud would go back and meticulously scour the conversation until she managed to find a set of lines that would make it seem as though I had 100% agreed. Even when I tried to explain that I had meant something else, she took it as an affront on her inability to understand nuances due to her autism.

I admit that my memory isn't that greatest at times, but I've never had anyone complain about it before. And none of my friends have ever minded providing reminders to me if I did misremember something incorrectly. We all forget stuff at times, right? It's *still* something that I'm self-conscious about because (like a lot of people with ADHD) my memory seems selective at times. This was, apparently, a problem that I needed to manage. 

And even as I'm remembering these incidents to the best of my ability, I've already spent so much time recounting all of this to friends. I feel confident in my recollection. There are some details that may overlap or become entwined with other things, but it all basically tells the same story. Especially in conjunction with what's been said by others. You're free to take it as hearsay since I do not have screenshots to back this up.

I will mention (since I've been told it's something that Blud has taken particular interest in) that at one point, I did have a crush on her. I was having some problems IRL, and it was nice to have someone whom I felt actually understood me. I also felt like I saw a lot of myself in her. I think that, at one point, I did describe her as the kind of "girlfriend" I would want. Blud seemed to indicate the feeling was mutual.

Between our collaborative partnership and all of the details we shared about our lives, it did feel like an intimate relationship at times. I had no intentions of pursuing it. We were not compatible in our romantic and sexual identities, and I had no intention of leaving my current partner for her.

I had begun to notice red flags, even if I wasn't ready to accept them yet.

I've had experience with abusive relationships in the past but they were in person, and not online. I knew what to look out for and yet I was being willfully ignorant about our friendship. I wanted to give Blud the benefit of the doubt. I wanted the project to work *so* badly that I was willing to work with her increasing demands as the months went by.

I had no idea that those demands would change into, quite literal, temper tantrums. It would then trigger my fawning response which was due to an abusive family situation that I had dealt with before I moved to Canada. The tactic was this: concede to someone until there was a time that they either understood reason or I had the chance to use it against them if necessary.

I started to take screenshots. I wish that I had taken a lot more of them so that everyone could get a better idea of what was happening. I did go back and manage to record the majority of the first outburst. It was the first inkling I had that Blud wasn't playing with a full deck of cards. I knew that that would be one of the first conversations that she would promptly delete. And consequently, I was right.

This assortment of screenshots will exhibit the first serious confrontation that Blud had with me. I am absolutely *not* proud of how I handled this. I was literally panicking at the time and doing whatever I could to get her to calm down. Because I have a temper that can look similar to this in person, I knew that I had to wait until the post-tantrum clarity would hit Blud. I tried my best to not lose my own temper in turn but looking back, I feel that I came off as sounding too timid.

I didn't want to ruin this project.

I wanted to make a comic with an individual that I admired and respected as a fellow artist. And, with me not knowing how to respond, my main priority was to not make things any worse than they already were.

Below is the conversation in its entirety:

I had taken this screenshot on my phone after I had stepped away to compose myself. Blud had handled the confrontation and criticism with a reasonable amount of apprehension. But what had not occurred to me was that I could have said something that would remind her of past experiences with a roleplaying group.

It was something that had evidently scarred Blud for life.

I took away the wrong things from what she had told me, choosing to focus on the aspects of the "betrayal" that had appeared to bother her the most. And in hindsight, I did not see the correlation. I was genuinely apologetic that I had hurt her feelings.

But I *will* critique Blud for her poor handling of the situation. Whether or not I had hurt her feelings, no one is entitled to act like this or claim that this is what attempting to resolve a problem should look like.

I wasn't sure on how to initially respond to Blud. It had been ages since I'd had to deal with someone flying off the handle like that.

The following screenshots are where the conversation picked up, after she had already deleted the above message:

We had weathered the "storm" and after Blud calmed down, she was ready to communicate. There was a part of me that was genuinely sincere when I apologized to her. I did mean it when I said that I had no intentions of hurting her and that I hadn't considered how my statement would sound to her.

I had hoped that this had been a stress response due to factors outside of our collaboration. And especially when I took into account how she had interacted with me in the past. I knew that Blud had a lot going on IRL, and that she had already put a considerable amount of energy into this project.

I had taken her meltdown more personally than she could perceive that I would, because this was something that was acceptable to her. She had a "condition" that would absolve her of these abhorrent meltdowns and I needed to get used to them if we were going to continue working on that project together.

I was shaking the entire time we were typing in the chat.

I was sincere in my responses. I really did want to work things out with Blud and give her the benefit of the doubt. I could have been taking the things that she said too personally or maybe I had been reading too much into the situation. Was there a chance that I could have been misreading her outburst? I tried my best to keep an open mind though I was still somewhat baffled by the fact that she would have meltdowns as often as she did.

I confided in my husband and some other friends about the situation. They were also bewildered by Blud's actions.

By this point, I was struggling with the reality that this collaboration was most likely *not* going to work out but I still wanted to try. I still cared about Blud. We would still hang out together and talk about things like music, our characters, or our stories.

While I did have the foresight to go back and screenshot this section, I wasn't fast enough to get screenshots of everything else that I will be going over. Blud *did* admit to going back and deleting certain exchanges due to a mixture of shame; not wanting to look at them when she would scroll through our conversations. 

In retrospect, it was very telling.

And even after that meltdown, I still enjoyed the friendship that I had with her. I kept my guard up but I was willing to make compromises on her behalf if it resulted in better communication between the two of us. Blud made me promise to immediately tell her if I had a problem with something. I also agreed to keep notes of our conversations.

It worked for the most part.

In the end though, it became apparent that Blud wasn't willing to do the same for me (even after we had an extended conversation about it). I then realized that I had been tasked with basically *managing* her autism for her. I was already busy with my supposedly "bad memory" at the time; and Blud was more than ready to scroll back up through our conversations to cherry-pick a line or two of text to remind me of what was said earlier.

Because, for her, circumstances couldn't ever change. If they did, it would mean that Blud had lost control of the situation and that she was in the wrong. She could *not* be in the wrong. 

And if she was in the wrong? It would take solid evidence, three witnesses, and a court of law to prove it.

She had two other major meltdowns after this. I managed to step away from communicating with her through one of them and I don't remember the other meltdown lasting very long. She immediately deleted the texts of both of those instances before I could take screenshots of them.

It seemed like I could do nothing right when it came to Blud, no matter the lengths I would go to accommodate her. I knew that it was a common tactic used by abusers. I finally accepted that our partnership wasn't going to work out and I began thinking about an exit strategy. The final straw was when she began to expect me to be at her beck and call.

I had promised that I would be there for her, within reason, and I was willing to offer reassurances whenever she would ask me for them. The promise had been made back when we had first started to talk to one another with more frequency, before Blud had shown me her true colors. I would end up completely underestimating just how badly she would need reassurance.

To be frank, I underestimated a lot about Blud in the beginning.

I would end up mentioning that I enjoyed my space in several different conversations with her. That there was a chance that I might be offline for several days so I could take care of things IRL and recharge my social batteries. I'm somewhat of a recluse. And an adult who enjoys things that aren't online.

She said that it was fine.

I became incredibly anxious when I would talk to Blud, especially after her somewhat abrupt change in personality.

I then attempted to put my foot down about boundaries and this is what she had to say:

I decided to walk away for a bit and I came back after I had had some time to think things over. This wasn't healthy for either of us. I wrote a couple of sentences to say goodbye to Blud before I blocked her. I knew that my actions would probably infuriate her. She had told me in the past that she *hated* not being able to have the final word... which she was able to do through email:

“And I'm not letting you pretend you have control over the situation, or the high ground. You distinctly have neither. But since you're determined to stick to your 'principles' on this, I've decided to make it easier for you.”

She thought that she was absolved of all sins just because I had said that I would stand by her at her worst. And at the time that I said that, I had no idea that her worst would be her trying everything possible to protect her boundaries while stomping all over mine. It didn't matter what she said or how often she would apologize when I would confront her. She kept doing it.

I admit that I wasn't perfect in this situation either.

There were times when I was condescending, critical, or downright mean when I talked to Blud because that was the way I had felt when she was talking to me. I soon realized that it didn't matter either way. I could have been using the friendliest tone imaginable and she still would have perceived it as either mocking or dismissive on my end. There were even a few times where I would preface my explanations with an advisory “please know that I am not attacking you and try to read this in an understanding tone,”etc. I would then post an explanation I had spent hours picking at to ensure that there was no way she could misinterpret the intent. Even so, she still read the majority of what I said as criticism and would take it to heart.

I never expected Blud to do something that made her uncomfortable; nor did I expect her to overextend herself when it came to our project. I would go out of my way to make sure everything was fine when we would talk about it. I only expected mutual respect in return.

When we would get into discussions (arguments), she would never attempt to understand my point of view or let me explain myself. It would have made it about me when it should have been about Blud and her needs. She sometimes would agree to come to a compromise about something, but only if I would admit that I was in the wrong.

I know that if Blud was to look at these screenshots, she'd be incredulous that I'm trying to distract from the horrible things that *I* did. And those horrible things that I did? I tried my best to work with her.

It wasn't just her poor teamwork that bothered me. It was her attitude and the lack of respect that she showed me. She would never ask me to clarify something that I said; always assuming that it was a criticism against her. I can only speculate that Blud did not want to hear about how any of this was her fault, like in the email she sent me.

I don't know if I was actually her friend at any point. Friends make efforts to understand one another. Ideally, they’d want their friendships to continue, and they would want everyone to be getting along and having fun. She seemed to actively defy that.

I would argue that things like this don't just happen in a vacuum. There's almost always a reason for such things, but it's honestly a mystery to me as to where this vitriol comes from. I don't know why Blud sees monsters in every word, especially if they come from a  "friend". 

I've seen her viscously mock herself during meltdowns; it seems like she hates herself and expects everyone else to hate her too. I think that she wants it to be the truth, so that it validates the feelings she has about herself. The behavior patterns that I'd been exposed to are consistent with the idea that Blud is seeking confirmation about the personal assumptions she has about herself. It's what makes her so volatile to those around her. Yet, she refuses to break the cycle.

I hope that she can make that choice in the future but at this point, I'm not holding my breath.