#but it explores v similar themes and it is so so interesting

[piratespencil]

What if you read The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas and asked, “What if the child was determined to escape their fate? Would it be morally right to help this child be free, knowing you would be dooming thousands to starvation and poverty and despair? Or would it be morally right to stop this child, even kill this child, to protect those thousands? And what if the child, in order to escape their fate, had to do terrible things? Had to hurt and kill? Is that child still innocent? Even as they get older? At what point does that child become a monster, even if they are a monster of your making? It is not enough to walk away - the child is here, at your doorstep. What will you do?”

If any of that sounds interesting to you then you should watch Dororo (2019), a one season anime that is pretty much exactly this concept except it’s set in feudal Japan and involves demon hunting.

[beescake]

i am in love with your sollux i think

sollux love party :]

if you’re interested heres some of my personal fondness thoughts on him.. big warning for the mega long read ahead aye

as we alr know sollux's rejection of participation somewhat mirrors dave's rejection of heroism, but even without getting cooked to completion i still find sollux's character v compelling beyond the fourth wall

as someone who doesnt get a pinch of that Protagonist Sparkle to begin with, he can openly say he wants to leave anytime…. and unlike dave, he actually Can leave the scene anytime. but he can never be truly Free from the story via permanent character death like the other trolls.

his irrelevancy is indeed relevant - he’s there so u can point him out.

while his image is intended to be a relic of past internet subculture, his role is not only about hehehaha being a Chad or a 2000s cyberforum 2²chan haxxor ragequit gamebro.

his continued existence also happens to add a Bit to the overarching themes of homestuck! a Bit that gives him longer-lasting thematic relevance compared to the trolls who could’ve had more character potential but didnt get to survive beyond the main story.

the Bit in question:

his defiance contributes to the illusion of agency (treating characters = people with autonomy). he’s “aware” of it, and that recognition is worth noting enough to forcibly keep him alive as both reward and punishment.

considering how his personality & classpect is designed its definitely a very haha thing for hussie to do LOL. he’s made to be op asf so he's resigned to doing dirty work, gradually deteriorating along the way but never truly dying. as fans have mentioned before, him openly rejecting involvement after a while of grim tolerance is like if the sim u were controlling suddenly stopped, looked up and gave u the finger while u were step six into the walkthrough for Every Possible Sim Death Animation.

but since he’s just a sim… the more he hates it, the more you keep him around. if ur sim started complaining abt your whimsical household storyline you’d definitely keep that little fuck.

but yeah i like that sollux is just idling. the significance of his presence being that one dude who's always reliably Somewhere, root core Unchanged, no individual ambitions (possibly due to fear of consequence?), and design-wise: a staple representative product of his time.

compared to dirk's character, who has aged phenomenally well into the present (themes of control + AR + artificial intelligence, clearer exploration around navigating relationships/sexuality, infinite possibilities of self-splinterhood and trait inheritance), sollux's potential is really... contained. bitter. defeatist. limiting and frustrating in the way old tech is.

the world continues moving on to shinier, brighter, more advanced automated things - minimalist and metaverse or whatever but sollux is still here 🧍‍♂️ going woohoo redblue 3d. (tho personally i imagine his vibe similar to what the kids call cassette futurism on pinterest mixed w more grimy grunge insectoid influences eheh)

conceptually-speaking,

at the foundation of it all, the rapid pace of modern development was built off the understanding of ppl like sollux in the past, who were There actively at work while the dough was still beginning to rise

thats one of the cool things abt the idea of trolls preceding humans! the idea that trolls like sollux excelled back when lots of basic shit still needed to be discovered, building structures like networks and codes from scratch, and humans will eventually inherit and reinvent that knowledge in ways that become so optimized it makes the old manual effort seem archaic, slow, and labour-intensive.

but despite information/resources/shortcuts being more accessible now, much of the new highly-anticipated stuff released on trend still end up unfinished, inefficient, or expiring quickly due to cutting corners under severe capitalistic pressures

meanwhile, some of the old stuff frm past generations of thorough, exploratory and perfectionistic development still remains working, complete, and ever so sturdy.

those things continue to exist, just outside our periphery with either:

zero purpose left for modern needs (outdated/obsolete)

or

far too important to replace or destroy, bcs of its surprisingly essential and circumstantial usefulness in one niche specific area.

which are honestly? both points that sum up sollux pree well.

dramatic ending sorry. anw are u still on the fence or are u Sick abt him like me </3

[accio-victuuri]

another interesting angle about wyb’s hat during the GQ event. i looked up both cpf and so/o wardrobe accounts and i didn’t see them identify where the hat came from. everything else tho was chanel, and the suit was dunhill which the brand themselves posted about. we didn’t think too much about it at the time cause we were too busy connecting it to luffy and other things.

now a post from fans & a little bit of detective work tells us where it could possibly come from. a fan posted about a hat store (hat of cain) in raffles hotel where xz stayed and took photos for his ralph’s club event. they look v close to what wyb wore.

if you go back to xzs vlog, there is a cut (p3) where you see downstairs from XZ is. people are saying that it is close to where the shop is. so that was a little clue from them. we have talked about how it appeared out of character for xzs to post a vlog in the midst of all the GQ event noise. they could easily post it the next day or even the weekend so it will go on hot search or better yet, so he won’t be accused of trying to steal the spotlight from other celebrities. no we think we know why. and why he was trying to match ybo’s caption. it’s him ( allegedly ) trying to say that he was responsible for WYB’s fashion accessory of the day. in his own way, showing off the same way that wyb was. 🤍

I’M SORRY XZ & XZS, we didn’t catch up on that hint sooner. We could only do so much investigative work. Lol. We will be better next time 😌😌😌😌

You can visit their IG to compare and see for yourself how similar it is to what WYB wore. I also looked up their website and Raffles Hotel was listed as one of the locations that have their store. You can even see one of their ig posts that talks about their product and a detail inside the hat ( p3 is yibo and p4 is the ig post ) is the same as yibo’s. I’m not an expert so i don’t know if this is a standard when making all hats with the same material but i have to say that the similarity is v interesting.

I mean, what are the chances really???

You have XZ who was recently in Singapore. Very publicly at that and it was not a secret that he stayed at Raffles Hotel. At this time, the theme of GQ MOTY was already set and they have already given the theme of the guest having to walk on land & water and not just your usual red carpet. Maybe XZ picked it cause he knew how much WYB loves hats. It could also be to match what he would be doing for his public event where he is the Guest of Honor.

Then WYB comes in and showed off this hat. We were all thinking it’s One Piece & Luffy coded, which it could be, but we’re now only realizing the deeper meaning. Why he was so attached to it too. YBO released a bts video earlier 12/9 and WYB was joking that he had a hat too like the one rowing, so that means he can also row the boat. Turns out, the style he was wearing is called a boater hat. So it fits. XZ bought it for him as a souvenir that he knew WYB would like, with the thought of the GQ event’s theme.

Maybe XZ wasn’t even implying that WYB wear it that prominently. He just thought of WYB when he saw it and being the person that he is thought that it would be a good accessory for a photoshoot related to WYB’s public event. Maybe he can explore parts of the old town venue and get some shots of him with it. However, much like WYB loves to show off things that XZ gave him, it became his main accessory for the day ( not my words, YBO said that in their caption lol ).

Lastly, I remember one of XZ’s staff was holding a raffles paper bag when they were going home. What’s on it that he had to hold it for safekeeping? If the shop was in the Raffles Boutique, wouldn’t a thing bought from there use the hotel’s paper bag? Wouldn’t you want to hand carry a hat like that in case it gets deformed when shoved in a suitcase?

Anyway, this is all a coincidence 👀👀👀

[youandtom2]

The Hunting Ground (18+)

Dom!Tom Holland x sub!bratty!Reader

Summary: How else would you get adventure back into your life than to visit a speakeasy that's definitly not a kinky-cult-sex-club? Themes: EXPLICIT, BDSM and mentions of BDM, dom/sub, knife play, breath play, unprotect p in v, oral (fem rec.), orgasm denial, overstimulation w/c: 13k oops

a/n: it's late and it's 13k so I'll probs revisit another time whoops. apologies if writing gets sloppy.

MASTERLIST

“Come on. This has got to be a joke. This is the kinkiest cult shit I’ve ever seen.” 

“Nope. Not a joke.”

“When I said I was looking for something exciting and adventurous, I didn’t mean a sex club!” You flippantly disregard the masquerade mask onto the couch, whilst your friend Danny, holds his elegantly in his hand as if it is the beholder of all his memories. 

“It isn’t a sex club. It’s…an opportunity.” Danny’s lips twist into a smirk that wavers between sweet and sinful. That alone should’ve told you that his opinion on this ‘club’ was simply that. An opinion. A biassed one at that. The other thing Danny doesn’t account for is that opinions are subjective, interchangeable and while he sees his little kinky sex club as an opportunity, you see it more of a shameless hookup with cultic motives. 

But you’re curious to hear how he can possibly sell this to you. “Oh yeah? An opportunity for what? Enlighten me.” 

Your friend coyly swivels his hips playfully, that all too familiar bashful glow emanating from his olive cheeks. He leans gayly over the edge of the couch with his bottom lip snagged between his teeth, entrapped in his childlike manner and embracing his inner Princess Diaries by swinging his feet. He so desperately wants to say ‘to flirt with hot men and recklessly have sex with them with no strings attached’, but to your surprise, his answer is a little more profound and in-depth.

“To meet like-minded people who share similar interests. To embrace a community that doesn’t judge you for what you like, who…take you as you are. It’s actually very liberating.” 

“Puh-lease! You threw that innuendo in there on purpose. Look. It’s a sex club. You meet up to have sex. That’s the common ground.” 

“Oh my God, you speak about it like it’s a brothel and you couldn’t be more wrong. Okay, okay, I’ll admit, it’s a little provocative, but it’s not like some sex dungeon, it’s a speakeasy. There’s a bar, drinks, music, dancing, it’s totally chill. You don’t even need to have sex, it’s not a guarantee.”

You fold your arms, staring outwardly and chewing your lips as you mull over the possibility that it might not all be what you initially think it is. But the only way to prove otherwise is to go. Dammit you wish you weren't so curious. 

“And…what’s this place called?”

Danny smiles contentedly. “The Hunting Ground.”

~~~~~

“Do I really have to wear this?” The flimsy black ribbon of the mask trickles through your fingers. The shell is midnight black with a faint covering of silver lace, embellished with enough sparkle to catch your eye under the streetlights. Ahead of you is what looks like an ordinary bar under the false name of The Playground. The tinted windows and low purple LED lights inside is a clever ruse to fool anyone who is none the wiser to believe that the mystery is revealed when you step inside, leaving no other incentive to keep exploring. However, hidden behind the facade of an ‘ordinary bar’ as confirmed by Danny, is the speakeasy. It’s quietly genius; it’s all hidden in plain sight. 

“Yes, you have to wear it; it’s like a pass for entry into the club since it’s invitation-only. Plus, anonymity is kinda a thing here. Especially for newbies if they’re not too sure what they’re looking for. You get all types of people here. You’re bound to find someone who is yours.” 

You roll your eyes as you tie the ribbon tightly around your head with a grunt, the thick plastic mask sitting squarely on the bridge of your nose. “Anonymity, sure. These things are as good a disguise as Superman putting on his glasses and all of a sudden he’s Clark Kent and completely unrecognisable.” 

“Trust me. They do their job. Oh and one last thing.” Why is he smirking again? “Sub or Dom?” 

“Come again?” 

“What are you, Sub or Dom?”

You blink. “I don’t know. I don’t even know what that means.” 

“God, you’re so vanilla--they’re, um…types of people.” Danny vaguely explains and purses his lips, thinking as he evaluates you. “Hmm, we'll stick to sub for now. When you get inside grab a white cup.” 

“Fuck sake.” 

You follow Danny down a poorly lit, narrow staircase and you get a sense of entering a restricted area, having it not as well decorated, but then you remember; it’s supposed to be secretive and unwelcoming to any wandering stranger. The staircase is quiet compared to the floors above you and below you, giving off a feeling of limbo, neither here nor there as the pounding of the bass-heavy music distorts your sense of direction. There’s two different songs playing and they blend into each other so well that you can’t quite tell what is coming from where, but the further you descend down the staircase, the more obvious it becomes. The floor above you is phased out when you come to a stone archway, lined with plum velvet curtains hanging at either side where wisps of vapour spill from the room. A fiery red spotlight casts a shadow where the words ‘The Hunting Ground’ are projected on the wall to welcome you. Danny stops you before you enter.

“And you told me this wasn’t a sex club,” you quip, motioning to the entrance to hell.

“Remember it’s just to socialise. Nothing needs to happen, okay? After a drink or two, you’ll start to loosen up and have more fun.” 

You huff. “I’ll take your word for it.” 

You take one step into the stuffy haze and instantly you feel the change in aura, perhaps because you know what people are here to do. Danny patiently waits with you as you soak in the sights, the smells, the heat and the very suffocating atmosphere of the room in front of you. A fine mist hovers in the air, just enough to hinder your view of anything further than 10 metres in front of you - probably intentional to hide the erotic acts in the corner - and only the blacklights and the dancing neon laser lights shoot through. Unlike the bar above, the music is slower and less adrenaline pumping, perfect to fulfil its purpose of enticing its listeners to socialise rather than all-out partying, but in effect, it makes you more nervous; how do you socialise with people you’ve never met? You bump shoulders with Danny is a quiet plea to stay close.

A few people within eyesight turn their heads as you enter in your sage green dress, making their judgements on you through the narrow slits of their masks, a symbol of membership to the club, identical to the one you wear. Under the cover of darkness, the masks do actually provide a sense of anonymity and you take back an earlier thought; what the hell are these masks going to hide? Everything apparently. 

You decide not to linger around the entrance any longer for you feel that others can smell your hesitance a mile off. You make a B-line to the table adorning white cups, directly across the table that hold a much smaller number of black cups, and perpendicular to a table with grey cups. As soon as the rim of the cup touches your lips and alcohol sears your throat, you ease a little.

“God, I feel like I’ve just entered the mafia. Why is this place so stiff?”

Danny laughs inwardly. “Oh they’re stiff alright.” That earns him a swift elbow to the ribcage. “Ow!” 

“You said this place was chill and judgement free.” 

“It is--”

“Then why do I feel like I’m being victimised?”

For a fleeting moment, you catch Danny’s eyes flitting over to the white cup you hold in your hand, being quickly emptied by you. There’s obviously significance behind the white and black cups and you’re certain Danny knows why as he too picks up a white cup with conviction, but what significance they have is being purposely withheld from you.

It’s definitely a cult thing. 

“They just want to get to know you. Give them a chance. It’s all with friendly intentions, I promise.” 

“Uh-huh.” 

Like Danny said, there’s all sorts of people here; men, women, and more situated around the room whether it’s standing in small clusters around a table or sitting in smaller, more private groups in booths. Few white cups, some grey cups, but black cups hold the majority. Some are dressed more provocative than you would ever dare where some keep their secrets to themselves. Those who begin dancing are booming with confidence, sashaying their hips while others simply observe with a glass of whisky in hand. Even hours into the night, you’re still pondering over the likemindedness of such a diverse group. There must be something that ties these people together, because every hour or so you catch a glimpse of couples' escapades, hand-in-hand as they disappear through another archway with a black curtain. 

“I’ll be right back,” Danny murmurs into your ear.

“Where are you going?” 

“I’m just going to catch up with a friend. I won’t be long. You can manage your own for a bit, can’t you?”

“Don’t think I have much of a choice.” 

Danny quickly disappears into the smog and across the dancefloor, and by the time he reaches the bar, he’s out of your sight and anxiety creeps in. As ever, you find solace in the very alcoholic drink, quietly sipping away in a dark corner of the room. 

Or at least you thought you were in the corner of the room…

The solid wall behind you suddenly swings open and you lose your balance, falling backwards into the void that has just opened up. Your heart leaps to your throat and your lungs flood themselves with oxygen to prepare for what you know will be a painful fall and the loss of your dignity. Inches from disaster, a miracle happens when two hands reach out to hook underneath your arms and break your fall, leaving you hovering over the floor until the stranger finds the strength to bring you back to your feet again. Sadly, there’s nothing to be done about your drink that puddles on the floor…

With a breath of relief, you quickly compose yourself, turning around to see that indeed the wall you were standing against was actually a door, and in that doorway now stands the masked stranger that saved you from your fall. He stands just a couple of inches taller than you, dressed in a black suit (it could be navy - it’s just so damn dark in here) but replaces the standard crisp, white shirt with a baby blue one, keeping it casual with undone buttons by his collar. You want to make more guesses of his appearance but this club’s obsession with anonymity is slowly becoming a nuisance. 

“I’m so sorry, I really thought that was a wall.” 

“No worries, it’s easily done.” His words are smooth and puckish, and you feel like he genuinely believes you when he places a gentle supporting hand against your back. 

“Right? Especially with a place like this, I mean, would it hurt to turn up the lights even just a little bit?” An innocent laugh escapes you but the second you see his lips parting in what you can only assume is disbelief, you instantly feel like you might’ve crossed a line. His hand drops and sinks deep into his pocket. So much for no judgement…

“Well, we could but most members here know there’s a door here.” 

Caught. 

He doesn’t watch for your reaction as he picks up the empty white cup from the floor, long, slender fingers holding it tightly while he studies it for a moment and the corners of his lips tug a little before settling it on a nearby table. You’re still not privy to the colour codes and their meanings, and something itches inside of you when you see this stranger turn to you with a knowing smirk on his face. Because he knows. 

He folds his arms, muscles defined in the tight squeeze of his blazer and stands stoically before you. “You’re looking a little lost, newbie.” 

“I’m just waiting on my friend Danny. He’s the one who brought me here. I don’t know why to be honest. I don’t really think this is my kind of scene.”

The stranger tilts his head curiously. “How so?” 

You snort. Isn’t it obvious? “I mean the mask thing is a little weird. And the segregation of cups? What the hell is that all about? Like, I’m always down for something different but the anti-religion cult vibes just isn’t doing it for me. I haven’t been here that long and already I’ve had so many daggers from people that I just can’t tell whether they want to kill me or eat me.”

“Oh my God, you really have no idea, do you? Tell me then, if this place doesn’t suit your majesty’s preferences, why are you still here?”

This stranger doesn’t need you to take off your mask to know that there’s a scowl taking over your features. Affronted, you decide to mirror him, folding your arms and delivering his own stinking attitude back to him. 

“Cut the sass. You asked me a question and I answered it. If you listened, you would’ve heard me say that my friend brought me here. Said that if I was looking for something exciting and adventurous I should come here, but I’m not seeing either. Anyway, what does it matter to you?” 

“Careful, newbie. Some people here don’t take too kindly towards being spoken to like that. It can get you into a lot of trouble, unless you’re searching for it, in which case, Danny was right to bring you here. And tell him he should’ve put a straw in your drink too.” 

You’re so fed up with these innuendos. “I don’t even know what that means!” 

The stranger takes a step forwards and brushes your shoulder with his. You hold your breath as he leans down close to your ear and murmurs words that sound like a threat. A shiver descends down your spine. “Ask him to explain it. Tell him that Tom told him too.”

Your stance stays strong as the stranger sweeps past you in an obtrusive manner without a word to spare. Finally out of sight, you give in to the urge to roll your eyes and scoff with as much conviction until satisfied, having suppressed it in front of that stranger. You’re never one to be so outwardly rude to someone, but unless it’s warranted, then by all means, give them hell. 

The interaction has somewhat soured your mood, and considering that this place has yet to prove any of Danny’s claims of what a ‘friendly, non judgemental’ place this is, you might make the move to leave. You’ve been here long enough and you doubt that the fun has yet to come.

Not three steps towards your leave, you’re stopped by Danny emerging from the smog like a phantom. “Oh hey! You’re alive! See? I told you’d be fine.” 

“Yeah, not fine, Danny. Don’t leave me ever again.” 

“Such a drama queen. Where’s your drink?”

“Spilled it almost falling over. By the way, what do the colours on the cups mean? Some guy ‘Tom’ said that you were to tell me what they mean.”

His smile drops and hangs ajar, eyes wide as he processes the words, the name you’ve just invoked. “Tom--did you just say Tom?” 

“Yes, why? He also said that you should’ve put a straw in my drink too. Danny, for the love of God, what the fuck does that mean?” 

Annoyingly, he ignores your last question. “What did you say to him?” 

Danny devotes all of his attention to you as you recount the interaction from beginning to end, sure not to leave any details out. As your friend, all of your expectations are placed on him taking your side in it all, but with each word you spill, he cringes further and further into himself. 

“Then I told him to cut the sass--he was being so rude to me!” 

“Oh you have got to be kidding me!” You’re struggling to understand why your friend has descended into a fit of laughter, creasing over until he can no longer catch his breath. It’s great that he’s finding it so hilarious that he can’t even seem to straighten himself up to give you an answer, but what’s even better is that you can’t even begin to imagine how many people are witness to Danny descending into mania while you stand with your arms folded, a slack jaw and a look that could kill. And even if some can’t see it, they can bloody well hear it. “I cannot believe you said that to him!” 

“Danny, I don’t have time for this. If you don’t tell me at least something, I’m leaving.”

“Wait, wait, wait, sorry, I’ll tell you, okay? I’ll tell you.” After wiping the tears from his eyes, he latches onto your arms and pulls you into his side, directing you to look out at the room before you. “Okay, so you remember the question I asked you before we came in? About being a sub or a dom?” You nod. “The cups are representative of that. White for sub, black for dom. Grey if you don’t particularly have a preference. They’re sometimes called switches.” 

“Okay, but what does sub and dom actually mean?”

“They’re just abbreviations. Submissive or Dominant if you want to be proper. They define what a person likes to be in the bedroom. Dominants are usually controlling, they like to manipulate and gain pleasure from using submissives in whatever way they like. Submissives gain pleasure from being controlled, from being told what to do and will usually go through extreme measures to satisfy their doms, and in lieu, themselves. For example, see over there?” Danny points to a booth of what looks like two guys sitting on either side of a girl. They are shadowing over her, running fingertips up and down her leg whilst she sits bashfully in the middle. “Two doms and a sub.” 

You look to another area of the room and in the corner you see a woman, dressed in the tightest latex corset you could imagine, and she looks fucking amazing in it. Full of luscious curves. Her confidence is striking as she walks with her head high like she owns everything in the room. She somehow makes picking up a black cup look sexy, drinking from it until it’s empty but inexplicably doesn’t swallow. With her puffed cheeks, she grabs the face of a man who kneels beside her, opening his mouth—“Oh my God!” The words spill from your lips as you watch the woman spit her drink into the man’s mouth, swallowing with glee in his eyes.

“Anyone can be sub or dom. That’s why the cups make it so much easier to identify who’s who and cuts out all the small chat bullshit in between.” 

Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit. This is a fucking sex club. “But how did you know I was going to be a sub?” 

“I just guessed. It takes a certain confidence and skill to know how to be a dom, and no offence honey, but I don’t think you’d be a good dom.”

“And the straw?” 

“Signifies a bratty sub. A sub who likes to be controlled but also loves the fight against it. Anything to piss their dom off.” 

“Hold on. A brat?! Who the fuck does this Tom guy think he is? He’s talked to me for no more than five minutes and he calls me a brat?” 

“Shhh!! Shut up!!! Oh my God!!” He hurriedly ushers you away from prying ears and you feel a sort of trepidation when he looks around cautiously. “Honey, you know I love you and I care for you but you have seriously fucked up to the point where I literally cannot protect you from what’s about to happen.” 

“What? How?” 

“Tom’s the owner of this place.” He’s trying to hold in his laughter again. “And you just stood there and insulted everything about his club to him--oh my GOD you are so dead. I’m weak just thinking about it.” Had he not been squealing and bouncing on his tip-toes in a nervous but weirdly excited way, you probably would’ve taken Danny’s warning a little more seriously. In Danny’s overly-dramatic fashion, his translation of ‘dead’ just means that you’re only slightly in trouble. 

“So what, he’ll probably just kick me out.” 

“You better wish that’s what he’ll do because Tom is a capital D-O-M and is a stickler for obedience. He has everyone, sub or dom, address him as sir. It’s like one of his rules.” 

“Sir? Really? Are we back in school?” 

Your own mocking laughter is the last thing you hear before a voice creeps up behind you, settling deep into the canals of your ear and shocking you into a small but powerful fright. “We can be if you like. At least then I can teach you a lesson or two about how to respect me, newbie.” The way his voice instantly scorches everything inside you is mildly terrifying. It’s the mixer in your soup of emotions; trepidation, anxiety, curiosity, exhilaration, anticipation, swirling together in the pit of your stomach.  

You and Danny’s eyes are locked in a stupor, both of you donning guilt-ridden, colourless faces. You think it wise to follow Danny’s lead in not speaking, not moving because only he knows the repercussions that you face. Besides, if you listened to what your brain initially told you to do, you would be in a lot more trouble.

A wordless plea twinkles in your eye and your heart plummets when you see your friend respond with tightly pursed lips and a subtle shake of the head. 

“Next time you bring your friends, Danny, I would expect you to inform them on how to conduct themselves around me. You should know better.”

“Sorry, sir.” Danny’s voice wobbles. Fucking wobbles. Loud and proud Danny, centre of attention on the worst of days, always one to speak his mind and is never afraid of judgement, and now he’s…scared. 

“Now go. Justin’s waiting for you.” The unfamiliar person Danny has become swiftly brushes past you with no more than a final apologetic look and disappears further into the centre of the room. A certain desperation keeps your eyes on him for as long as you possibly can until you eventually accept your defeat, standing here alone with Tom stalking very close behind you. You notice his shadow standing just on the coast of your peripheral, lurking. 

After an excruciating silence, Tom eventually murmurs into your ear, just the edges of his mask skimming the side of your hairline.

“Follow me to my office. We need to have a chat about rules.” 

“Okay,” you breathe. 

Sure enough the door you nearly fell through enters the hallway leading to his office. It’s well lit, spotlighting the framed memorabilia on the wall and you almost choke a gasp when you see what they contain. Whips, paddles, cuffs, chains, anything of an erotic nature is framed, dated and hung on these walls in plain sight. Tom catches a glance of your awestruck eyes from over his shoulder, smirking wickedly. Little do you know that that isn’t even half of his collection. 

He enters the office first leaving you to nervously trail in behind him. 

“Sit.” 

The tickle of velvet feathers your bare thighs, knees already knocking together while Tom takes a stand behind his desk, underneath the low-intensity spotlight that shines down on him from above. Your eyes skate over his features the second he unties his mask, shadows hugging every sharp angle from the crook of his brow bone to the contour of his cheeks. Holy fuck. Your knees lock tighter together.

“Mask off.” It falls to your lap. When you look back up at him, you see that he doesn’t bother hiding how he takes in every inch of you and it makes the burn of his stare even more obvious. “What do you know already?” 

“Um, not much. Danny told me about the masks, Doms and Subs, the thing about the cups, addressing you as ‘sir’ and…” you clear your throat, a previous anger returning, “having a straw in my cup.” 

“Ah, so he explained it to you, did he?” Fuck, even his grin is perfect. 

You bite your gums, eyes averting. “Wish he didn’t.” 

A piercing whistle rings in your ear, short and sharp in the small, panelled office causing an audible wince. “Oi, eyes up here.” Did he just whistle at you? “I’m going to handle this very delicately because you’re new, but if you keep testing my patience then I won’t even give you the chance to back out.”

What the fuck. 

“Since your friend failed to explain the rules, I’ll have to do it instead. This is my private establishment and I expect anyone who enters it to follow my rules, including newbies like you. Rule number one: respect. Respect for me, respect for others, respect for the property. Simple, yes?” 

“Yes.” His eyes widened slightly, “sir.” 

Tom begins to circle around his desk, nearing you. You tuck your feet in underneath the chair as he leans against the desk a foot in front of you. “Rule number two: boundaries. Boundaries must be set by every individual and must be adhered to by every individual. That includes things they consent to and things they don’t consent to, and safe-words should be agreed to and abided by also. Yes?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“And I know you know rule number three.” 

But does he know that you also hate rule number three? Grinding your teeth together, you bite back his answer. “Yes. Sir--” Before you’re able to utter another syllable from your lips, Tom has your cheeks in the pinch of his fingers, pulling you from your seat until you’re just a breath away from his own. Despite the circumstances of your racing heart and your throbbing cheeks, you come to realise that Tom has brown eyes, that his suit is really black, that he has one strand of hair that curls against the rest. Shit. You’re really dipping your toes into muddy water here. 

“See this fucking attitude of yours? Drop it. If you’re really so eager to talk, you’ll tell me what it is you want out of this. And know that before you start speaking, you’re on your last warning.” Thankfully, his grip loosens but it doesn’t disappear completely. Keeping you just as reigned in as before, his fingers sink to the curve of your chin and curl around it gently. It’s hypnotising enough that it coaxes you into spilling the truth.

“A little bit of excitement and adventure. Danny suggested I could find it here. So I came to find out for myself.” 

“And?” 

“I’m…not sure yet.” 

“We can certainly offer what you’re looking for, but it depends what kind of adventure you want to take. Do you want to explore or do you want to experience?” 

“What’s the difference?” 

Tom drinks in your curiosity, content with a quirk to his wet lips. All is silent in his sound-proof office, the beat of your own heart thundering in your ears and it’s the only thing you can tune into while the incredibly intimidating man in front of you sadistically drags out each and every second. “We can start off slow, test your endurance and your tolerances, discover your likes and dislikes, introduce new things one at a time, a soft start over a number of weeks.” 

“...Or?” 

His pupils dilate. “Everything all at once. A full session, right here, right now. Thrown in right at the deep end. No restrictions and I get full control. An experience to say the very least.”

You gasp and the breath gets stuck in your throat. As the idea is spoken into words, you can’t help but picture everything you saw in the hallway, the whips, the paddles, the chains, the ludicrousy of them ever being used as sources of pleasure and begin to feel yourself being overwhelmed. Albeit, the rebellious side of you plagues you with the mentality of saying ‘fuck it’ and trying it anyway, its voice ringing with the sound of your youth; willing to try everything, to say that you were brave enough to try it, to run away from the boring life of always saying no because you just weren’t sure. You might even find that it’s something you like…

“What do you say?” He whispers with the small coaxing of his thumb gracing over your pout. “And don’t leave it up to me. I think you know what I would prefer.” 

You take a breath, cheeks already flushing knowing what’s to come. “I…I want the experience.” 

He doesn’t move aside from his lids opening a fraction wider. “Say it again. To be sure.” 

“I want the experience.” 

A slow, salacious moan sings through his sigh, his breath crashing against your skin like a wave. “Mmmm, I was so hoping you would say that. I’ve been wanting to put this brat back in her place all…night…long. Now I can. All. Night. Long.” Warmth encircles your neck and you realise that his hand has completely captured your throat, controlling every breath you breathe. You desperately try to whimper but even then, all your sounds are clamped down by him. Sensing danger, your own hands reach for his wrist as he pushes you back against the spine of the chair and shadows over you with fire in his eyes. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. 

“Safe word?” 

“Err…” You don’t have one. You’ll have to make one up. What did you have for dinner last night? “Pasta.” 

Tom chuckles but accepts it. “Pasta it is.” 

When your one and only chance to speak is taken, Tom quickly readjusts his grip on your throat again, closing it off until your skin is tinted red with exertion. He sinks low, invading your space until there’s nothing but him in your darkening sights, until his lips skim the tips of yours.

“I’ve been wanting to get my hands on you all night. Do you have any idea how hard it was to keep that urge at bay? So fucking hard. I knew you were a newbie, but fuck, you were so fucking rude. You know, you never even thanked me for helping you up earlier. Instead, you chose to insult my club and my customers, and when you do that, you insult me. That doesn’t fly with me and something will need to be done about that mouth of yours.” 

You gasp erratically, fighting for breath and his vendetta against you refuses to relent. Just as blackness consumes your vision, just as you're hanging on the precipice of consciousness, he finally relieves the tension and you gulp down air like it’s your drug, your lifeline. Almost simultaneously, Tom thrashes his lips against yours, seizing back whatever oxygen you just gained in a vicious attack. His tongue slips in almost too seamlessly, brushing against your own and tasting every inch he can reach.

From one method of suffocation to another. With his hand no longer occupied at the base of your throat, you find it clamped to the roots of your hair, keeping you detained as he forcefully kisses and licks every part of your mouth, barely leaving any time to breathe. It isn’t painful as such, but god damn it’s overwhelming. The small squeak of struggle easily gets swallowed up by him and he growls for more. In time, another is drawn out but this time it's the result of Tom’s other hand pulling down the neckline of your dress and finding your tits, pinching and squeezing with a passion that’s guaranteed to leave behind a bruise. To say you completely underestimated what the experience is and how little prepared you are for it, is under-statement of the fucking century.

He really isn’t shy, is he?

Minutes go by and you’re losing sensation in your swollen lips and Tom can sense that too; you become lethargic, sloppy and out of control but that’s exactly what Tom is waiting for. He can feel the plumpness of your lips as he drags them out slowly between his teeth, perfect to have wrapped around his cock. 

He stands to his tallest, your hair still tight in his grip. “Do you have anything to say to me?”

“I’m…I’m sorry, sir.”

“What else?” 

“Th-thank you for helping me up, sir.” 

“There’s actually one thing you should know about me,” he murmurs darkly. “If someone is apologising or thanking me, I expect them to show their regret or their gratitude to me. Usually on their knees. That way, I know they mean it.” 

“And if I don’t?” You are genuinely curious. 

A shadow casts over his face, eyes glowering at your words. He clenches his jaw so tightly that you have to remind yourself to unclench yours out of fear. In quiet, articulated words, he provides you with the first piece of insight of what kind of night lies ahead of you. “I will fuck you and edge you against this desk until you are spent of every piece of sanity that keeps your bratty brain together. Even if you beg, even if you are crying out for release, I will not stop until you are nothing but my cum-filled slut.” 

“Fucking hell,” you whimper quietly, but he hears it all the same. 

“I would think very carefully about your next words, newbie, or you’re going to become very familiar with my temper.” 

Hey, you said you were up for the experience…right? 

It takes just a fraction of your lips to curl into a smirk for Tom to realise your motives. Provoked by just the smallest of your smiles, he runs his tongue along the lining of his cheek. He can’t quite tell if he’s insulted or pleased, regardless, the result of either is the same; he will have you reduced to absolutely nothing if his life depends on it. After all, he doesn’t allow insults to run dry on him, he snuffs them out as soon as possible and that’s the lesson you need to learn. 

“Don’t fucking do it,” he warns one last time. How generous of him. 

The air is tight and feverish, and so very, very quiet. Until…”Fuck. You.” 

Your words trigger a pregnant pause, leaving just enough time to hear a pin drop before something sinister happens. A cacophony fills the room: the wooden scraping of the chair legs as Tom yanks you from it, the squeal and the grunt that marry together, the clutter of objects as they fall from the desk to the floor, the resounding thump as your body mercilessly collides with the wooden desk and subsequent the yelp of pain to be heard by no one other than Tom. 

The brute’s groping hands impatiently tug at your dress, whipping it up to sit around your torso and the moment your ass is exposed to him, he wastes no time to drill his hips into yours in a desperate bid to split your legs wider and keep you still. The sweltering heat of your cunt seeps onto his trousers and, even contained, his cock feels it all. The harder he pushes to force you down, the harder the edge of the desk cuts through your pelvis, and the longer you stay there, the louder your pleas become. And every second of it all is like heroin to him. This is his high. 

Tom rips your underwear from you, the thin material reduced to rags in seconds and just as quick, they become your bindings. With your hands now tied behind your back by the remains of your wet thong and your head smothered against the wooden surface, you are unequivocally oppressed. 

“Stay there, and don’t move.”

“Yes, sir.” 

“Don’t bother trying that shit with me. You’re too late. You’ve already made your decision to be a brat, so I’ll fuck you like one.” 

The recognisable sound of chain links clinking together stops your heart dead in your chest. “Wait, what are you doing?” You try to shimmy a look over your shoulder to take a peak, but you can’t see Tom crouching down behind you. 

“Extra precaution.” Cold metal tightly hugs your ankles, grinding away at your bone with every tug. There’s little room to move, you can barely bend your knee without causing yourself harm. You didn’t want to believe it, but the reality is true: he’s chaining you to his desk. 

“No fucking way.” 

“Yes way. This is what you asked for.” He leans down to leave a patronising kiss to the shell of your ear, unbinding your hands and placing them exactly where he wants them, gripped to the edge of the desk beside your head. Not chained, but the wordless warning to keep them there is evident in the squeeze to your wrists. You’re almost crucified to the desk. It’s enough to make your sweltering body shiver. “And I’ll gladly provide.” 

Without warning, he spits into your ass and stops to watch it trickle down to your clit with hunger ruining his patience. He collects it with deft fingers, spreading it through every lip of your cunt, all the way back to gloss your puckered hole. You can feel every movement of his whether feathered or anchored, following the path of his fingers from your asshole to your clit and back again, only stopping to teasingly circle your entrance. He repeats it over and over and over again until you’re leaking with your own slick, glistening underneath the singular spotlight and the fire of Tom’s eyes. It’s tantalising. Worse yet because you can’t move to stop him. You’re stuck with a burning cheek pressed against the desk and your hands trapped under what feels like Tom’s invisible reins. 

“Look over to my clock and tell me what time it is.” 

“It’s 11:57pm.” 

“Good to know.” 

By 11:59pm he has you teetering towards the edge of your first orgasm with as little as two fingers and a thumb violating your cunt. By the turn of a new day, he has you wishing you had just said sorry and meant it. 

“Such a tight little pussy.” He groans behind you, littering small kisses along the base of your spine and your ass. His two fingers enter you again, anchoring down on the spot that winds you up so perfectly, stroking it with the curl of his knuckle and just when you both sense the coil tightening, he picks up speed and power. Anxiety and excitement broil in your stomach. 

“Oh God, f-fuck, I’m gonna cum.” He already knows this. He doesn’t need you telling him. In fact, he’s familiarised himself with the quivering of your thighs, the shaking of your body and already, he knows exactly when to stop. “No! Fuck!” You grieve over the loss of your climax quietly with a small groan laced with heavy breaths. 

His gruff, irritated voice buzzes straight down your ear, vibrating with impatience. “You will take what I give you. And you will thank me for it.” 

The voice that spills from your lips is hardly recognisable. Whining, winging and moping, you don’t quite understand where the grovelling came from and how it took over, but you can’t find it in you to stop it. 

“Thank you, sir.” 

And just like that, the routine starts again and without a doubt, the result is the same. 

Muscles ache, bones shaking, you feel yourself teetering on the edge of liquifying here on his desk. Alas, Tom possesses the ability to keep you solid like no other man has, keeping you somewhat stable and conscious enough to make you feel every last drop of his torment. No matter what sweet relief you feel when he gently massages your cunt, it’s completely forgotten about the moment he slaps the back of your thighs for moving your hands one centimetre out of place. And just like that, you’re back in the room. 

When Tom painfully edges you for the sixth time, he asks you to read the time again. The digits of the numbers have blurred since the last time you checked, but you can just make them out. “It’s 12:32am” 

He smirks. “Good to know. Fuck, look at the mess you’re making on my floor.” A flat palm smacks against your cunt, seizing at the stimulation. Your thighs beg to squeeze together, anything to build up some friction to tame the urge but the chains rattle beneath you, keeping you contained.

He tames the fire with the lick of his fingers that curl eloquently onto your clit and swivels it around in circles in the same, insatiable manner as before. At first, you think he’s going to build you up again like he has done for the last thirty-something minutes and you’re not so sure that your mind and body can take the strain, but you feel the pressure of his other hand anchoring down onto your back, pressing your stomach flat against the wooden desk and eliminating any chance you have of escaping. Not that you had any before, but Tom’s a man of guarantee rather than possibilities. 

It’s new and the prospect that he might allow to cum reignites the exhilaration in your core. 

Effortlessly, he sets your nerves on fire, plucking every one with overstimulation and you're on the cusp of the well-desired orgasm that you’ve waited for for what seems like all night. You writhe so desperately for it that your pebbled nipples are starting to chafe underneath you. 

Tom’s maniacal laugh drifts into your ears, his lips pressing soft, tender kisses against your ear and your neck. “What do you want?” 

You open your mouth and moans spill out, not the words of an answer. He continues to ruin you anyway. “I want…I want to cum. Please!” 

“So you don’t want my forgiveness? You’d rather cum instead? So fucking selfish of you.” 

He rips his fingers from you and the sensation is lost. “NO!” 

“Yessss.” 

~~~~~

You still haven’t came yet. How the fuck have you not been allowed to cum in all the pleasure Tom’s fingers and teasing words have granted you? He hasn’t allowed you to move either leaving all of your muscles, joints and sanity aching against the stiff wood as you remain prisoner to his chains. And as his prisoner, all of your self-control has been stripped from you. With your eyes closed, voice gone, mind vacant, Tom decides to finally, finally, re-evaluate the situation. 

And by re-evaluate, you mean change position. 

Now unchained, he forces you to lie on your back and you’re thankful that the desk is long enough to support your head, because when you are being punished with extremities, the littlest things can be a saving grace. 

“Tell me the time.” 

You look over, Tom catching a glint of your red cheeks and the imprints of the wooden grain etched into your skin. “It’s…it’s 1:23am.” 

He grins wickedly, licking his lips, and with a smooth wink, he replies. “Good to know.” 

“Please, Tom.” The crack is your voice is liquid gold in Tom’s ears and with his hands skating over your thighs, he hears what you have to say. “I’m so sorry about earlier. I am…so sorry. Please--I…I can’t take it anymore.” 

“What is it you want?” 

“I want your forgiveness. Please, sir.” 

He sees it. He really does; the desperation in the tear that leaves your eye, the look of absolute surrender donning your features in fear that he won’t accept your apology, and even in the way your body warms at his touch tells him that there’s nothing else that you desire. That’s the part he loves most and the main attraction for his dominant tendencies; the moment when the bad turn good. When they’re at such a loss with their original intentions that they have no other option but to surrender and submit. From brazen words to pitiful pleas. From bratty attitudes to willful compliance. From ‘fuck you’s to ‘thank you’s. When that switch is pulled, that’s when Tom knows he’s won. 

He holds your legs dearly in his hands, your swollen cunt perched directly in front of him as he crouches to the floor. It’s red, puffy and glistening in the light, screaming out to be touched, filled and ultimately freed of the orgasm that is running ragged inside. 

He eases the slight quiver in your thighs with a grounding kiss, powerful enough to emboss just the traces of teeth marks onto your skin. 

“What a good girl you’ve become.” The same kiss is planted on your other thigh, just a hint closer to your crying cunt. “I’ll tell you another thing about me,” he whispers, feeling the softness of your skin against his lips. “I don’t just dominate and manipulate people, I manipulate pleasure too. I control it. I can stop it from happening, but sometimes I can be in the mood to make sure it never stops happening.” 

You take a breath and hold it. The anticipation of what’s about to happen savagely ruins your mind that you just can’t settle your pulse, and even if you try to slowly release that breath, you realise that it is all in vain. Your heart still positively thunders in your chest. 

“And guess what, sweetheart?” 

Traces of your voice weakly spill out. “What?” 

“I’m in that exact mood.” 

Tom doesn’t waste a second before his tongue is licking a fat, wet strip up the centre of your cunt and completely destroys your sanity. It’s slow, meticulous in its travels as it covers every inch of you from your hole to your clit and your body involuntarily searches for more. It’s like a wave, rolling over your cunt before crashing into the bundle of nerves at the end. Your cries vibrate through your body, all to be felt by Tom when his lips tightly seal around your cunt, suffocating it with the heat of his mouth and the lashings of his tongue. It’s incredibly enthralling; being constantly aware of every small minuscule change in direction. From thrusting into your hole with tenacity to swirling tightly around your clit in a frenzy, there’s no telling what he’ll do next. 

Your body drips with sweat and you can’t decide if it’s from all the involuntary squirming upon the table or if it's the fire within, being fuelled by Tom’s uncontained lust. There’s a small explosion waiting to happen inside you, and Tom holds the detonation trigger.

“Holy fuck.” 

“Mmmmm.” 

With his head buried beneath your thighs, his hands blindly roam your body. They descend down your thighs and over the valleys of your hip bones, shaping the contours of your waist before feeling the grooves of your ribcage as they expand with each pant you breathe, until he finds your tits, groping and pinching where he can. In both of your minds though, his hands are an afterthought, especially when his gorgeous mouth is massaging your pussy so rhythmically, moving against you like a ship on a wave. 

“Ohhhh my God,” you whimper, feeling the burn in your abdomen descend deeper and deeper towards your cunt. You’re so close it hurts. Your legs start to twitch closer together.

“Legs open,” he mumbles. “And look at me. Look at who’s got you shaking.” 

You cast your eyes downward, unblinking as he sucks and pulls at your cunt with his lips, making what you think to be the most salacious, delicious sounds a man could make while eating you out. 

“F-fuck. Tom, please—.” 

Tom’s dark lashes lift, lids heavy as he stares at you with such forbidden intentions that it’s enough to make you shiver. Neither of you break the connection and you think it might just be the final nail in the coffin. With a deathly snarl, he claws at the back of your thighs, lifting them until they are pressed harshly against your chest and pans all of his attention, mind, body and soul into forcing you to cum. You sob as his tongue darts out, abusing your clit in all directions and it slingshots you directly towards the climax you have been aching for. 

“Tom!”

With a final flick of his tongue, you crash into your orgasm. It immediately wreaks havoc on your system and splinters your sanity completely, so much that you can’t tell whether you're ascending or crumbling right here on his desk. Your lips part to scream, but your consciousness is shattered into a million pieces and your voice is lost. Wood creaks as your nails dig into the edge of the desk, white-knuckled and numb with a grip so tight you swear you feel your bones begin to bend under the strain. 

Like he promises, Tom doesn’t stop. Despite being trapped between your thighs, despite the wriggling and writhing, your pleas and desperate whispers, Tom doesn’t stop. Not for one second. 

Every flick of his tongue is more intimate than the last, plucking at your nerves so harshly, nerves that are already pulsing and in need of mercy. Regardless, Tom remains kneeling, feasting on you like you are his last meal, last drink, last breath he’ll ever take. 

Swimming through the pain, you come out of the other side to find another climax already waiting, just seconds from bursting as drastically as the first one. With one final pleading look to Tom, his dark eyes swallow you whole, subliminally telling you that he’s more than ready to keep this cycle going for as long as he deems necessary. 

Mercilessly, his lips seal around your cunt, tongue slithering itself straight deep into your entrance, still not yet satisfied with what he’s tasted all ready. You’re so wet, and with Tom’s constant laving and licking he only just adds to the mess that he spreads with his hands to your thighs until the glossy sheen catches your eyes. The sparkle of it makes you truly realise for yourself just how aroused he has made you, the sight so alien from your own eyes. No man has ever worn you down like this before. It’s…unnerving. Only because you’re not sure if this is supposed to be what it’s like.

As another orgasm explodes, your body shudders violently on the table, his hands digging themselves into the crooks of your knees being the only thing to keep you from completely wriggling away. Your head collapses against the desk and gives way to a desperate whimper. It isn’t cute, it isn’t coy or coquettish like what you’ve heard before in porn or films. It’s raw, painful and very, very real. 

It never seems to end. You’ve lost the ability to determine when one climax ends and when the next starts. 

By the fifth time - at least, you think - he claims yet another, an hour later, you break. 

After his torture renders you thoughtless, mindless and perhaps a tad vacant, your instincts quickly take over. Your hands whip from the silent hold he had on them and swing down to push Tom’s head full of curls away from your aching cunt while it still throbs through the orgasm. He grabs your wrists, far too quickly for your liking. Tom watches your every movement through his brows, still latched onto your clit, giving nothing away of the disapproval you know he would be demonstrating had he not been so adamant in eating every particle of you. “Please,” your hoarse voice scratches your throat, sounding nothing like you. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll do anything, please--ah, fuck--it’s too much.” 

Slowly, deathly slowly, Tom’s lips detach from you, finally granting you freedom, salvation, relief. Yet he just can’t resist recoiling every other second for just one last taste, one last swift lap of his tongue from entrance to clit in one clean strip. The moment all touch detaches from you, your thighs swing close, nursing the pulse that squeezes at your abused clit, taming the orgasm as it flickers its last flame. 

“Fucking hell,” you pant. “You truly are a sadist.” 

Tom only chuckles, deep, dark, leaking from lips soaked in your slick. It rumbles straight to your core. “Tell me the time, sweetheart.” 

Bleary eyes lazily drag themselves over to the clock and after a few blinks, the numbers sharpen. “It’s 2:38am.” 

His fingers tickle up your shin, tracing circles around your knee. “So, so good--” you gasp, darting to catch his hand before it sinks between your thighs. He smirks, “--to know.” 

Your sadist allows you just one minute, you know because he counts it, to cool down and let your body reset; a glass of water, a clean rag and a comfy seat, unshackled and dressed. He also very calmly warns you as he sheds his blazer and unbuttons his cufflinks, rolling his sleeve up his tanned, muscular arm, that although it’s very late into the night, traipsing on the verge of closing, that you still have a long night ahead of you.

A small breath narrowly slips from your lips while you hold his stare. You can’t even dwell on the gravitas of the situation, not risking spending the valuable seconds of your - likely - only cool down. So you bite your lip, sit yourself down and quietly regain your energy.

Your heart beat doesn’t slow as quickly as you want it to. The exhilaration doesn’t leave your system either, stuck in a perpetual cycle of replaying all that had just unfolded.

You force your way through a breathing exercise sitting on the chair he originally placed you in, facing forward, blocking him out behind you because you know that one look at him and he would detonate all that you had worked to subdue. Once calm, the tether between mind and body reconnects and there’s one thing that screams down the line. 

Filled with pleasure, yet still feeling empty. Yet to be fucked. 

Tom alerts you that your cool down has come to an end as he saunters out of the dark corner behind you. It felt like barely a second. He had watched you the entire time, eyes roaming your figure, how it shook, how it quivered, how you barely managed to stand on your own two feet as you jumped from the desk, body scorching with the heat from your core. You were like a new-born deer learning to walk while he was a wolf waiting in the shadows.

Sat on the chair, you spin around to complain, attitude brimming, mouth open, words at the ready and…“Hmph!” His hand clamps down hard onto your mouth, pinching your nose with the other. Not a breath slips through. 

“Here’s me thinking you had learned to know better than to talk back to me.” His body arches over your head above you, tilting your head back to catch the panic glaze over your wide eyes. You think he’s going to do something rash, something to make you regret even thinking about turning around to answer him back; a slap to the face, a tug to your roots, something as evil as his wicked voice sounds in your ear. 

So you can't exactly blame your heart for tripping over itself when, as smooth as butter, he lowers his head, lips puckering to lay a slight kiss to your forehead. It feels like air, an offering that doesn’t conceal something malice behind it. A fragile dusting of comfort to your skin, gentle like a snowflake feathering down onto the ground. Your conscience arrows towards it.

When he lifts his hands from your mouth and nose, you don’t find yourself desperately sucking in the air you lost. Rather, you inhale slowly through your nose and out through your mouth. It had to be that small, insignificant little kiss that lay your nerves to rest. 

Tom is one hell of a manipulator. 

His lips remain lingering on your skin, skating over the surface, mirroring his hands as they trickle down your cheeks and hold your jaw in their embrace. He whispers…“Do you think you can behave like my good girl again?” A small hum of confirmation buzzes at your lips. It isn’t enough for him. “Take this as your warning. If you decide to be a brat, if you decide to not listen to every word I say from now on, know that I cannot be responsible for what happens to you.” 

The severity of his caution has your eyes opening just a fraction wider, able to read the same warning that traces his words in his eyes. He means it. Really means it. Danny’s words echo around your head. ‘He’s a stickler for obedience’. What is he about to do to you that it’s imperative you listen to what he says? 

You could say no. You could invoke upon your safe word and make it stop right now. But when you delve deeper into the part of you that made you agree to this in the first place, you find that it still roars with life, telling you that your need for adventure hasn’t quite been satiated. 

You swallow, throat bobbing under his digits. “I understand.” 

He scrunches his nose in delight. “Perfect.” 

You don’t turn to follow his movements to the back of his office, your ears tell you what you need to know. A cupboard door squeaks open, old, rickety, likely an antique. Then rustling. Objects hard, soft, textured, plastic, rubber, metal. A hum of satisfaction, then the closing squeak of the door, different to the first. His footsteps near you, perching directly behind you while you feel the soft sweep of his torso brush against your hair. 

Then darkness. Soft, pillowy darkness that floods your vision. Remnants of light trapped in your irises float around like shooting stars before fading completely. It’s the only thing you can hone in on as the knot tied behind your head tightens, confirming that he has indeed blindfolded you. 

“Remember your safe word.” He breathes into your ear in earnest. Pasta. “Don’t hesitate to use it.” 

“Yes, sir.” You don’t know if he’s still expecting you to say that, but you do it anyway to stay in good graces with him. You’re not entirely sure if it will make a difference to the impending danger Tom warned you of. Even if it doesn’t, Tom’s lip still curls anyway. 

“Good,” a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth has you blushing, “now don’t move.” 

A single breath is all you have to prepare yourself before something cold eases across the skin of your arm. Insubstantial, almost weightless, it falls from the curve of your right shoulder and descends down until it reaches your hand, resting on the velvet arm. The sensation is ghostly but frigid, gliding but piercing. You can’t quite work out what it is…

The same icy coldness retraces its path back up your arm, floating and gliding along your clavicle and stops directly at the base of your throat, the pit where your collar bones meet. 

It knicks your skin. 

“Oh my God--”

“Don’t. Move.” 

Holy fuck. It’s a knife. It’s a knife. It’s a knife. It is a fucking knife.

That’s the metal object you heard. And its sharpest point is resting directly against your neck.

Your skin pales and your stomach swirls with nausea. All your efforts to stay still and keep calm drains very quickly and panic floods in. Any chills the knife aroused in its cold path is replaced by small beads of sweat, your entire body blazing, screaming danger. Surprisingly, among other things, your nipples begin pebbling, brushing harder against the silk slip of a dress that adorns your body the more the blade's sharpest edge tickles along your skin. Your heart pounds, the sound of panic-infused adrenaline thrumming in your ears, comparable to the time you went on that rickety, old roller coaster when you were younger. 

You guess the memory isn’t too dissimilar; forced to feel the thrill of having your own safety rest in someone else’s hands. You have no control here. 

It’s…intoxicating. 

A dark admission on your behalf, but you’re here for the experience, right? 

You dare not speak, dare not break his rules as the peak of the very sharp knife trails lightly up the column of your throat as its runway, bumping over your trachea, scraping the finest layer of your skin, commanding you to incline your head as it rises higher and higher. Your lungs expand and you can’t deflate them until the knife flicks off your chin. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! 

In the stone cold silence of his room, the resonating shwing of the knife rings in your ears. A small respite. 

From what you can hear, Tom moves behind you somewhere. The creak of the floorboard dances from the left to the right and back again, giving you not one hint of where he plans to strike next, subjecting you to the torment of crippling anticipation until he does.

Suddenly the blade comes into contact once more with your skin, laying its long, razor sharp edge against your neck. Your body freezes, your nails scratch the edge of the armchair. 

“Stand,” Tom commands sharply. The knife’s blade maintains the same pressure on you, even as you come to a stand, knees knocking beneath you. 

Seconds later, the chair clatters behind you, just the swiftest of touches of velvet to your calves before it crashes off to your left, and where four legs once sat now stand just two. Tom. The warmth of his breath flowing past your ear is a stark contrast to the cool blade on your throat. But it’s the low grumble bubbling against your back that plucks a chord deep in your stomach. You can feel yourself getting wetter…

“I can feel your heartbeat hammering against your ribcage, newbie. Worried?” 

Yes…

“Or is it more than that? Excitement? Anxiety? Lust? Desire? What is it? Tell me, a penny for your thoughts.” 

“Nerves. Mostly. But…exhilaration and curiosity. And confusion.” 

“About?” 

“Do people actually get off on this?” 

He chuckles at your naivety. “Lots of people do. It’s perfect for keeping any brat in their place. But you’ll find it’s mostly the sort that spend all day bossing people about. Whose jobs are to take on the burden of responsibility, leadership, authority. If it’s been a particularly long and hard day for them, they come here. This is their relief.”

“To be held at knife point?” 

“To relinquish control. To let someone else take the reins for once. To be controlled rather than being in control. The knife just adds that flare, the incentive to keep them in that headspace of receiving orders instead of being  the one to make them. It could be a gun if you’d like,” he jests. You’d shake your head, but you might slice your throat in the process.  

You take a constricted breath, feeling the weight of the knife’s edge becoming just that little bit heavier. “And…do you like it? Being the one in control?” 

He presses himself against you as if to mould the contours of your body into his, lips furrowing deep into the crook of your outstretched neck roaming where they please. His free hand anchors down onto your hip, slithering its way across the expanse of your abdomen where, if he held you long enough, would feel the flutter of butterflies wings coming from within. Alas, he spreads his fingers, sinking lower onto your pelvis, teasing the curve of your pubic bone and presses down hard, bending you into him. As if the knife he holds against your neck isn’t controlling enough. 

His erection pokes and prods at your backside. He’s so hard you release a whimper. What you would give to feel him inside you. 

Tom’s words speak directly onto your neck like he’s tattooing them onto you. “I love it.” A beat, then--“Tell me,” he says, low in tone and volume. “Your dress. Any sentimental attachment to it?” 

“No.” 

The knife’s blade glides to the strap of your dress on your shoulder and picks it up, pulling it taut. “Good.” 

One tug and the material snaps. 

A small yelp falls out and a flinch has your shoulders raising just an inch closer to your ear. The integrity of your dress now hangs precariously with just one strap holding on for dear life. If one thing is for certain, it won’t be holding on for much longer. You smother the urge to scold him for ruining your dress, your property, and lest you forget the threat of the very sharp knife he holds against you, it’s only the straps, you could tie them back together as a temporary solution. An easy fix. 

The knife repeats its actions on the other side until your dress hangs lifelessly around your hips. The cold air bites at your nipples and Tom doesn’t wait one second before he brings the tip to circle around the little bud. 

“Oh--” You can’t stop your head tilting back onto Tom’s shoulder when the slight overdose of adrenaline makes you dizzy. The tickling sensation refuses to relent, crossing over the valley between your tits to tease your other bud just as salaciously. 

Just when you find pleasure of the tip running rings around your nipples, when Tom’s hand sinks to cup your pantiless sex, when his scent rushes in through your nose, a harsh slap of the blade's flat edge to your tit whips you back to caution. It’s unexpected. Being blindfolded, every touch is. Any touch you feel, whether blade or not, makes you flinch. Quick as a bolt of lightning surging through your body. It’s torturous because in your darkness, in your paranoia, you’re permanently recoiled, shielding, flinching at nothing, waiting for the next hit.

He’ll strike. You know he will. Not knowing when is killing you. And he knows it. 

“You asked if I like what I do-” his finger sinks into you, skimming over your clit wet with your slick, “-from what I can feel, I think you like it too.” Your hips buck to gain more friction from both his fingers and from his hard cock pressed against your ass, desperate to feel that euphoria of pleasure again. A sick, twisted crack of satisfaction surges through you when you hear him moan. “Shame you’ve forgotten your manners.” 

The surface of the knife slaps you again, harsh against your nipple. “Ow! T-thank you, sir.” 

“Better. Now move.” 

A few blind steps clumsily place you facing a wall, palms resting flat against the wallpaper while Tom kicks your feet further apart. He makes sure that while he puppeteers you to never let you forget that the knife he holds is always within close proximity, that if you dare defy him, he wouldn’t hesitate to use it. Gentle scrapes, warning knicks, cold presses, even to go as far as break skin would he warn you. 

The audacity he has, though, when he takes the knife and slices his way through the remaining fabric of your dress, leaving you to stand stark naked before him. That’s going to be less easy to fix…

“You ripped my dress!” 

“Problem?” His voice is challenging, subliminally daring you to bite the bait.

“How the hell am I supposed to get home with no clothes?” 

The fiery attitude that tries to bloom inside dies the instant he presses the flat edge of the blade flush against your cunt. The cold surface lying against your heat causes a stutter in your breath. It pushes upwards, almost lifting you off from your feet and onto your tiptoes from fear that any slight movement of defiance would trigger excruciating pain. It’s dangerous, careless, and reckless, and you wish you could scream it, thrash around, push him away and yell in his face. The compulsion is overwhelming. If only you didn’t have a knife to your cunt…

“Telling me your problem isn’t going to make it my problem.” 

Your jaw slacks, away from his prying eyes and you suppose you could allow yourself just one moment of freedom. Just one moment of no restraint because releasing what you’re dying to say would just be as gratifying as the first time Tom allowed you to cum. You can easily feel the knot that’s dying to unwind, and saying what intransigent words would tease out the knot inside you, and also send him reeling. 

He wants to call you a bratty sub? Fine. That’s what he’ll get. 

“You are such a bastard, do you know that? I think you’ve spent too much time being told ‘yes, sir, of course, sir, thank you, sir’ that it’s all gotten to your head. Maybe you could do with being reminded that not everything you do deserves that.” 

Quick as a whip, the blade snaps to your neck, digging into your skin that you feel it tearing your skin. The wince is evidence of your pain, but Tom ignores it, settling on placing his focus not on the knife he holds against you, but how quickly he can undo his belt, his trousers, springing his hard cock free and lining it up with your sopping cunt. 

Without a warning, because you don’t deserve one, he thrusts into your core, holding your breath hostage under the knife. “So fucking tight,” he stutters to himself. Even for him, the sensation is immense. His next message is for you. “Cheeky little bitch. Think you’re clever? Think you’re funny? We’ll see who’s laughing when you’re begging me to stop.”

Your bodies clash as Tom begins rutting his hips against your ass, the staccato notes of skin on skin and the room swallows every snap, barely making out the door. He fills you, stretches you, and ruins you within seconds and you can’t explain how the pain you feel translates so quickly into pleasure. You feel yourself needing more of it. The stretch, the burn, the knife, it’s indescribable.

His relentless pace maintains, stopping every ten or so seconds to ensure he fills every inch of you, submerging himself to the hilt and mercilessly grinding his hips against you, rolling around your cunt. Without fail, your hands claw at the wallpaper when he does, begging for reprieve. 

“When I tell you,” he pants, lips pursed and eyes ablaze, still holding the knife firmly against your neck. “You are going to give me everything.” 

He drops himself, snatching a slab of flesh between your neck and shoulder between his teeth and bites viciously in his frustration and you howl. His thrusts only become faster and harsher.

“I need to feel you squeeze around my cock.” A hand slides between your bodies and starts toying with your clit. “I’m not going to stop until I feel you cum around me.” 

Tom effortlessly tugs at the elastic band in your stomach and you are about to snap. He overloads your senses, violating your sensitive cunt to the point where you can feel it pulse in anticipation of the orgasm that is threatening to spill. Under the knife that now trails down your body, a pressure builds and it clenches your muscles with its tight grip, and with each pounding Tom hits you with, it grows a little closer to letting go. 

Tom fucks you in phases, fast, slow, harsh, gentle, silent, loud, anything and everything thrown into his efforts to completely tear you apart. If it’s regret he’s after, he’s got it. If it’s an apology he wants, it’s there for the taking. If he desires to hear you begging, then it’s on the horizon. You’re willing to give because you’re not sure you know where your limits are, and with your legging threatening to crumble beneath you, you sense that you’re about to get a good idea. 

Tears brim your eyes only to be soaked up by the blindfold, a quiet plea for release. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, please! ” Tom denies relief, keeping you squirming on his cock until his needs are satisfied. He has no care for you writhing to get away, because he can easily drag you back where he wants you with just a swift reminder of the blade that pierces your skin. You’re certain by now that you have tiny little cuts littered over your body, accidental or not. 

“Tom, stop! I can’t! It’s too much. Fuck!” He doesn’t heed your cries because to him, they are the symphonies he is waiting to hear. 

Your entire body quivers and with the flick of his deft fingers and the thrust of his cock, you come undone. There’s no holding it in anymore. The elastic band snaps and a white-hot wash of pleasure convulses through your body. Blood pumping at your core but Tom isn’t relenting. 

The squeeze of your orgasm around his cock is suffocating, but yet just as painfully pleasurable as he needs it to be for the euphoric feeling to consume him. Finally, as the walls of your cunt contract once more, he cums inside you. But by this point, you are weak and Tom can clearly see just how destroyed you are. Nevertheless, his selfishness convinces him to pull away and sink into you over and over again, slower and with purpose. 

“Don’t you have something to say to me, sweetheart?” 

“I’m s-sorry, fuck, I’m sorry!”

“Taking me so well. My little cocksleeve, aren’t you?” He peels away the blindfold to find your eyes over your shoulder, but in your pain and exhaustion you can’t focus on much else and your eyes serve a very glazed-over look. “Look at me,” he spits, you obey. “You’re mine. This pussy is mine. Remember that any time you want to act like a brat.” He thrusts into you again as a testament to his words.

“Yes,” you meekly whisper. The word comes out of your mouth before your sex-inebriated mind can comprehend what he actually said. Once it does, you gulp. 

“Yes, what?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Good girl. Stay still.” Blinded by bliss, Tom pulls from you and with his size, it’s a feeling equivalent to an orgasm in itself and you hiss. Your pussy is hot, swollen, pulsing and leaking and yet somehow, as evident as it is for how sensitive it is, Tom can’t resist one more taste. The knife clatters to the ground. Salvation.

“No, no, no, no, it’s too much, Tom, please, I’m begging you.” The words drip with a desperation you don’t recognise. He simply hushes you, kneels behind you, splits you apart and continues to savour the taste of your arousal, meticulously circling his tongue around the small bundle of nerves once again. The warm, wet muscle glides from entrance to clit, cleaning you up of your wetness and replacing it with his own. For as excruciating as it is to endure so soon after an orgasm, you find yourself melting into the feeling and dizziness envelopes you in a warm hug. 

~~~~

“Tell me the time,” he murmurs, turning you around. 

Your eyes peer to the clock. “Fuck, it’s…it’s 4:29am. When does this place close?” 

Tom sniggers, floating over you with a smirk. “It closed an hour and a half ago.”

“What?! Why am I still here?” 

“I’m the owner of this place. I decide who gets to stay and I promised you an experience did I not?” 

“You did,” you agree quietly. The slight stickiness between your thighs bears a reminder of the experience and suddenly you’re burning again. You bite your lip, trying to contain the coy giggle like a teenager with a crush. “Some experience that was.” 

“Sweetheart, that was child’s play,” he laughs.

“What?”

He pulls you close, skin to skin, soothing out your muscles in a gentle massage. “You didn’t actually think I was going to show you everything, did you?” 

Would it be stupid of you to admit that you did? “I don’t know, you did say--”

“That I would give you an experience. Something new, something outside your comfort zone, something you hadn’t done before, an adventure.”

“But--” But the paddles, the chains, the whips, all the things you saw outside…

Not another word lets slip before he cups your cheeks, holding your stare and wordlessly silencing you. “If I had shown you everything, there would be no incentive for you to come back again now would there?” You shake your head. “While you may think I’m a sadist, there are some things within BDSM that newbies like you just can’t be thrown into. Trust me. I wouldn’t put you through that. At least, not yet.”

“Like what? Tell me, I wanna know.”

Tom’s lip curls. He’ll definitely be seeing you around here soon enough given you’re so invested. “Voyeurism, roleplay, flogging, bondage, anal, wax play, primal, orgies, consensual non-consent--”

Your brain fumbles over his words. “Wait what? What’s that?” 

The way his eyes lit up so brightly. He brings you closer to brush his nose against yours. “Consensual non-consent or CNC. A fetish where people enjoy being either the victim with the extreme lack of control or the predator with extreme control. Sometimes called rape play--” your eyes widen, “--but it is thoroughly negotiated beforehand and varies from scene to scene. Consent, as well as safe words, are vital. But for some people, verbally communicating consent takes away from the mood. To overcome that, they assign consent to an object. It would be agreed beforehand, could be a red scrunchie that you tie in your hair. If you came here one night wearing a red scrunchie, I would know that you would consent to me taking control over you. Perhaps drag you away against your will, take you somewhere where no one would see, make you get on your knees, suck my cock…” his voice reduces to a whisper and lets you feel his words on your lips. “Would do things to you…”

“Oh…”

Tom sighs, pulling away and composing himself. “For another time.” He winks. “But for now, you need to clean up. There’s a bathroom through that door. Feel free.”

“Oh, uh, thanks.” 

~~~~

You don’t emerge from your bedroom until early afternoon the next day. In your true stubborn nature, you do anything you can to prolong the confrontation with Danny. He knows what prevailed between you and Tom, and munching away at a bowl of cereal, you find him smirking at the breakfast bar. All because he knows he was right, he knows that bringing you to the Hunting Ground was the ideal thing for you. You can’t deny him of it.

His eyes find the bite mark on your neck first, bruised and marked. Then to the large T-shirt that he’s certain isn’t yours. The memory of Tom dressing you in it last night has your heart thrashing against your ribs. 

“So how did the kinky-cultish-sex club turn out for you?” He grins, a smile stolen from the Cheshire cat. 

You click your tongue, deliberating the two ways you could go about this. Against your better character, you grin back at him, colour rushing to your cheeks. 

“When can we go back?” 

[yeuphoric]

╰   * some fandom based / fandom inspired plots i'm looking to write here or on discord. if you're interested, please shoot me a message & i'll get back to you asap !

bratz . i have yasmin & sasha so would love to have a cloe & jade for a fun lil mumu. we could explore them travelling the world, being influencers, and also getting into hijinks just like in the show / movies / games. we could also include some of the supporting characters like their love interests and enemies and other friends. idk just an indulgent and nostalgic vibe because everyone was doing barbie plots not so long ago but i was always a bratz girlie and felt like i was missing out on the fun lol.

greek mythology . pretty open to ideas for this, would prefer it not to be set in a specific fandom though. i'm down for it being historical, a modern au, a fantasy style au ( think g.ame of t.hrones, etc. ), anything really ! i have a.pollo, h.ephaestus, p.ersephone, p.oseidon, & z.eus, but i'm happy to explore others depending on what we decide the plot to be. dark & potentially t.aboo themes welcome for this but not expected.

yellowjackets . right now, i'd like to do an oc plot / mumu inspired by it as i'm already a part of a canon rp for it. we could just throw a bunch of our ocs into a survival situation and see how they go or just focus on one particular dynamic among the chaos. also, i'd love to do something where we explore the different timelines, such as them while they're stranded and then them after they've been rescued or even 10 / 15 / 20 + years down the line when they've " moved on " but end up being forced to confront it all again. i'm down to include a mix of female & male muses in this, and i'd be down for it getting dark & d.ead d.ove.

alien . i'm just obsessed with the idea of a group of muses being on a spaceship for work / a new life and then crazy things start happening and shit goes south. friendships breaking, new alliances forming, paranoia and suspicion is high, resource hoarding, a lil bit of love and lust along the way. something along those lines. bonus points for token android character who is treated like trash by some of the crew, and maybe they actually are bad and the one behind all the chaos, or maybe they're good and trying their hardest to ensure the survival of the crew ( double points if there's one crew member in particular they develop a soft spot for ).

rdr2 . outlaws on the run pls !!! it can be two outlaws running from their past, an outlaw and someone they pick up on the way, or a whole gang of muses that are up to no good / starting a new life / trying to evade the law. again, would prefer this to be fandomless but with similar vibes to the game.

cyberpunk 2077 . anything !!! i just need a futuristic plot that is set in a backdrop of crime, unrest, and poverty that's covered up by ever evolving tech, garish neon lights, and looming buildings owned by corporations. a city of dreams but also death and decay. would love something inspired by v & johnny but honestly i'm game for anything.

far cry 5 . i have john seed as a muse so if anybody is down for john x deputy things ..... ??? but i also just fuck with the idea of there being a family cult that take over and control a town / county and from that, a person / group rising up to save their friends and home. religious, dark, & d.ead dove themes welcome.

baldur's gate 3 . i haven't finished the game yet ( i'm on act 3 ) so ideally nothing canon but i'm obsessed w the fantasy adventure vibes lately so a plot / mumu inspired by the chaos & unpredictability of it would be chef's kiss.

animal crossing new horizons . something cute & fun to welcome in the summer. based on a tropical island ? all arriving as strangers but forming a community to create a new home for themselves ?? relationships blossoming, businesses & services starting up, tasty lil slices of daily life ??? making our own ocs based on villagers / npcs from the game ????

[fowlfics]

This year's @fandomtrumpshate browsing period is open!

One Piece has 18 offerings from 13 creators! You can see all of them RIGHT HERE or have a look at the sparknotes below!

Bidding runs from 5th March 2024 8 am EST, to 9th March 2024 8pm EST. You can help raise money for non-profit organizations - you can see the full list of those HERE!

For One Piece fanfiction:

Less than 5k:

CaptainSupernoodle (@scribble-dee-doo) - Charity specified (Middle East Children's Alliance *, Never Again Action *, Any/all listed environmental orgs) • Up to M rating •

ShadowSpires (@shadow-spires)- Any Charity • Up to M rating • "For One Piece I'm currently only up to Zou, so I want to focus before that. My main ships are ZoLu, LawLu, and ZoSanLu, with a focus on devotion/loyalty."

Between 5-10k

ladybug114 - Any Charity • Up to T rating • "I can write for either the anime or live action, with the caveat that I've seen about 250 episodes of the anime. I won't write anything that ships Luffy with anyone. I won't write any sexual content."

altokiwi (@altokiwi) - Charity specified (Bellingcat *, Life After Hate, Middle East Children's Alliance *, Never Again Action *, Any/all listed environmental orgs) • Up to M rating • "for pairings, I'm more familiar with Zoro/Sanji, Nami/Vivi, though, I'm super down on writing for almost any f/f ship or rarepairs as well. For gen fics, I'm more familiar with the Strawhats, the Vinsmokes, the Revolutionary Army and the Marines."

juurensha (@juurensha) - Any Charity • Up to M rating • "Zoro/Sanji, Luffy/Law, Robin/Franky, Nami/Tashigi, Zeff/Garp, Crocodile/Mr. 1, Crocodile/Mihawk, Shanks/Mihawk, Yamato/Hiyori"

Emily Fowl (that's me!) - Any Charity • Up to E rating • "I love exploring the themes of brotherhood between Ace, Sabo and Luffy. Additionally, I like making Ace meet Roger and/or Rouge, having Sabo recover his memories early or stretching Luffy's luffiness to its absolute limit. Other characters I'd be happy to write about as the main characters of the fic are the Strawhats, Nika, Law & Rosi, the OG Hearts (Bepo, Shachi, Penguin), Dragon, Roger, Uta, Crocodile & others (feel free to ask!)"

Thursday - Any Charity • Up to E rating • "Especially interested in: poly ships, lgbtq+ characters and identities (especially trans and non-binary characters), found family (or just family) dynamics. i especially love to explore how relationships change and i'm a big fan of queerplatonic and just platonic relationships in general!! i love to include the hurt/comfort trope a lot. i also really love to world-build and i enjoy doing non-traditional things for a lot of different dynamics."

Between 10-20k

Trinipedia - Any Charity • Up to E rating • "Luffy/Zoro, Helmeppo/Koby, Sanji/Zoro, Mihawk/Zoro, Luffy/Sanji

For One Piece fanart:

facethestrange - Any Charity • Up to E rating • "I'm offering colored digital art. Anything between 1-4 characters in one picture. The scope and style is going to be similar to the art in my AO3 profile, no matter how high the winning bid is. (To see representative examples of what you'll be getting, please only look at works from the last 1-2 years - some older ones are a very different style and lower quality.)"

PYRZQXYL - Three offerings; Two are both Any Charity • Up to M rating • Unwilling to address: hard 'no full frontal' rule, erotica otherwise v. negotiable; One is Any Charity, Up to T rating • All are: "PORTRAITURE(S) (up to a triptych) // ILLUSTRATION (of a scene, up to three (3) characters), fanfiction scenes (w. & only w. author's blessing)"

Arandin (@arandin-art) - Any Charity • Up to T rating • "For a book cover with a fully illustrated background 10$ must be added to the minimum amount. Each additional characters represent 5$. My favorite pairings: LuSan, ZoSan or LawSan... But I'm open to your ideas nonetheless."

For One Piece fan labor:

ShadowSpires (also in Section 1) - BETA • Any Charity • Up to E rating • 10-20k range • "For One Piece I'm currently only up to Zou, so I want to focus before that. My main ships are ZoLu, LawLu, and ZoSanLu, with a focus on devotion/loyalty. Open to most other things, though, including Crew Feels!"

altokiwi (also in Section 1) - CULTURE PICKING, SPECIALIST EXPERTISE, TRANSLATION • Charity specified (Bellingcat *, Life After Hate, Middle East Children's Alliance *, Never Again Action *, Any/all listed environmental orgs) • Up to E rating • "Depends how much the bidder contributes.. For translation - 1k words per $4 bid. Expertise and Culture - 1k words per $2 bid. Fan labor details: Culture picking - Mexican culture (everyday life, food, language, etc) Specialist expertise - Medical equipment/devices (particularly in a clinical setting). Engineering in general. Translation - Spanish <-> English. If the text is not your own, please make sure you have the author's permission! (or public blank permission works too)"

For One Piece fan audio & video:

ShadowSpires (also in Sections 1 & 3) - PODFIC • Any Charity • Up to T rating • Less than 5k • "For One Piece I'm currently only up to Zou, so I want to focus before that. My main ships are ZoLu, LawLu, and ZoSanLu, with a focus on devotion/loyalty. Open to most other things, though, including Crew Feels!"

Alistair_Nightly - PODFIC • Any Charity • Up to E rating • "Depends how much the bidder contributes. $10 - up to 10k words; $5 per 1k words after that, capped at 50k words. Stuff I'm especially interested in working with: - Found family - Soulmates - Friends to Lovers / Enemies to Lovers - AUs / Cross-overs / Collabs - Non-hetero relationships (I'm especially indulgent of boy-love & bara, but all flavors are welcome. including hetero) - Adventure stories - Horror/Thriller/Slasher - While I love good mimetic fiction, I am especially fond of speculative fiction"

aaronantium - VIDEO • Any Charity • Up to E rating • "Video details: I will make a music video with a song of your choosing. It can be multi-character, focused on a single character, or a shipping vid. I'll do a minimum of 1 minute and a maximum of 5 minutes (I can do a section of larger songs, but five minutes is the max length for the final vid). [For] One Piece I'm good to work with either live action/animated or both, but if it is a ship vid I don't want to do anything that is incestuous or underaged."

If you're interested in bidding for a One Piece offering, but can't find something you'd like among the ones listed above, don't fret! Plenty of creators picked "any fandom" on their offerings!

[iamthenerdqueen]

The Red String of Faith - Chapter X

Idol!AteezXOCs Soulmates!ot8AteezXOCs OCXOC Slight Social Media AU!

MDNI 18+ ONLY

slight twigger warnings:Polyamory, group of 10, two OC's -feel free to replace one OC with yourself if you'd like- , listen this is an idea me and my best friend had and is something for fun read at own risk, not edited as always, also we are starting to explore themes such as bxb and gxg if thats not for you, this story may not be for you.

Chapter V, Chapter VI, Chapter VII, Chapter VIII, Chapter IX. Next

While Lia was getting her world rocked, Lyra was actually going on the date she and Mingi had haphazardly planned. 

“Listen, you’re probably the only person I’ve met who hates cream cheese like I do and cream in savory food. It just gives me the ick,” Lyra said across the table to Mingi as they ate their dinner. 

Really it had started a little awkward as they were trying to determine where to get food, both of them being not picky but also very attached to their comfort foods. Eventually, they came across a small restaurant that seemed to have a diverse enough menu and seemed private enough that it was comfortable for them. 

“Exactly, there is something just gross about food with cream cheese as the base and cream. I like cheese in some things just not as the main thing in a dish,” Mingi said while chewing on a piece of his steak. 

“Like we were saying earlier, we are not picky eaters, just not adventurous eaters.” Lyra said to him before giggling as he tried to wink at her across the table, it just ended up with him blinking at her. Their whole night had been like this, honestly since they had started getting ready in their hotel room they had been giggling or making each other laugh. Part of it was they hadn’t spent as much time together as they would have liked and were a bit awkward with each other, the other part was they were quickly finding that they were so similar it was impossible not to laugh. 

They just sat there for a while chatting, going back and forth learning about one another, observing the others habits

“I’m sorry i’m eating so slowly, I-”

“You don’t need to apologize, you’re not eating too slow. I’m a fast eater, enjoy your food and take all the time you need or want, Bub.” Mingi just smiled at her as he continued to eat. 

“Why do the two of you call me that, actually why do you have a nickname for all of us?” Mingi’s question was more than valid, they really had just been spitting out nicknames for the boys left and right.

“You know, I’m not entirely sure. It’s just something we’ve always done, well Lia started it when we were younger and it became a habit for both of us. It’s how we show some of our love I guess,” Lyra smiled at him and softly began to play with the fingers of his left hand that rested on the table between them. 

“I like it, it makes me feel special,” there was something so charming in the way he smiled at her in that moment, it was almost hard to describe. It wasn’t like the sexy grins he would flash on stage, no this was something different. It made Lyra’s heart race and she could feel the heat rushing toward her cheeks. 

This was all very different for Lyra, she had never been on a legitimate date before. Nothing like this, at least. Sure she had gone out with people, but there were never any real dates or anything where someone else had shown interest in her. 

The waiter came and quietly left the bill on the edge of their table, before walking away to give them their privacy. Lyra reached over to her purse and began to pull out her wallet, she had full intent to pay. By the time she had gotten her card out of her wallet, Mingi was already handing the bill back to the waiter as he passed by the table.

“Uh, excuse me sir, I was going to pay,” Lyra said a little bewildered at how fast he had paid the bill. 

“Sorry Doll, but you can’t pay tonight. I asked you on this date, so everything is my treat tonight.” Mingi was incredibly smooth when he wanted to be. In the next few minutes they were on their way out of the small restaurant and on their way to see the Paris nightlife. 

The one thing Lyra loved about cities , especially ones as old as Pairs, was being able to walk everywhere and here there was so much history in the stones under their feet that made the nerdy side of Lyra come out just a little more than average. The real struggle was containing the urge to share all of her random ass facts stored away in her brain about Paris. 

Lyra was losing the battle with herself pretty majorly as they walked towards the Champ de Mars gardens to sit and watch the Eiffel Tower light up the dark night sky,

“Did you know that it wasn't Marie Antoninette who said the famous quote ‘let them eat cake’ but it actually traces back to Jean-Jacques Rousseau about 24-years before the French revolution when Marie would have been 9 years-old or so.” Lyra was kinda rambling at this point but Mingi just listened with a small smile on his face and grabbed her hand in his as they walked. Mingi had a mask on his face, plus he had worn his glasses and had purposefully chosen some nondescript clothing. He wasn’t trying to hide that he was out on a date, no he really just didn’t want anyone to interrupt them or to take pictures of Lyra without her being able to make that choice. 

“How do you remember so much? It’s like the whole world is locked away inside your brain, it’s so cute.”  The mask on his face obstructed Lyra's view of his expressions, but she knew he was smiling from the way his eyes crinkled and the way his entire face lifted with his words. 

They kept walking toward the gardens, playfully swinging their intertwined hands between the two of them. Their shoulders brushing against one another from time to time, it was the simple pleasure of just being with each other. It was peaceful to just walk with each other and to have this little romantic moment. 

Mingi was even nice enough to place his own jacket on the ground so they could sit and look at the tower before them. It was one thing to see it during the day, but at night it was something completely different. Everything was as if they were two completely different people, no major things hanging over their heads. In this moment they were just two soulmates, together having a romantic date thinking about all the wonderful things they could do in this life with their 8 other partners. 

“I was surprised when you asked me on a date earlier,” Lyra let him know as they stared up at the lights. 

“Why? I was so nervous, I thought you’d say no,” He had pulled his mask down so they could talk a little more intimately and so they could read each other's facial expressions a bit better. 

“I would never say no to a date with any of you, I love spending time with you. Every moment I get to spend with y’all is something I cherish and besides how else would I have figured out we both hate cream based foods.” Lyra laughed as she quickly kissed Mingi cheek and rested her head on his shoulder. 

“But why were you surprised that I asked you out?” He asked her again a little more pointed this time. 

“I’ve never been asked on a date before, I mean i’ve been on dates but either I had to ask to go on the date or it was more of a ‘lets hang out’ sort of thing,” Lyra said from her spot snuggled into his side

“How is that even possible?” Mingi was truly astonished at what she had just told him, it really made no sense that he was the first person to ever take her out on a date like this. 

“Lots of reasons, Lia and I were two total opposites when we were teenages. I was the outcast and she was the popular girl. It’s a wonder we became friends before finding out we were soulmates. I was a very….” Lyra stopped for a minute obviously thinking back to that time in her life, “very weird kid. I liked all the nerdy things and had a very hard time making friends until Lia. I had a couple friends of course, but I was way too awkward so everyone treated me like the little weird kid.”

Lyra’s words hurt his heart a little, he knew what it was like to not be the most liked during school. It was never easy to be treated like that. But he didn’t say anything as she spoke, he just listened as she continued. 

“I remember boys used to ask me out as a joke, something that could make all the other kids laugh. Every time it happened I felt a little part of me break and hide somewhere dark. I never felt pretty enough or well liked. I wore a hoodie everyday in highschool, even when it was over a hundred degrees outside. I became mean and harsh to everyone I didn’t consider a friend. I did my best to not be seen and to not see anyone else. I thought I was so ugly, that I would never be worthy of anything. Then Lia came into my life like a goddamn storm as she does anyone's life. Even as only my friend she never let me think for one second that anyone could make me feel less than. Reminded me all the time that I was worthy of anything I wanted and that I was beautiful,” Lyra stopped for a second to laugh a little bit, “I still don’t really buy the beautiful bit, but she changed my life and helped me find those parts I had hidden away. Looking back, I could have been a totally different person in high school if I was just confident in myself.”

Mingi sat, still just watching her. How could anyone, any stupid little boy, think that the person in front of him was anything less than wonderful. He considered himself the luckiest person on the whole earth, each of his soulmates were kind, gorgeous, smart, and they gave themselves so wholly to each other. 

“They must be fucking idiots in that town then, because I know I would have had such a crush on you as a kid. Smart and funny, I would have been a fanboy practically. What did teenage Lyra even look like?” Mingi said, trying to lighten the mood and to make sure she knew just how much he wished he could go back a few years and find both of them sooner. 

“I think I have my senior picture on my phone. OH! I do have photos of me and Lia from when we went to prom for sure. Let me try and find those,” Lyra said, grabbing her phone and instantly going to her photos app. As She was scrolling she saw that Wooyoung had messaged in their smaller group chat. 

“Oh god, I just saw Woo’s messages. Dear god, I knew she was loud but the whole floor, and sir just for those comments. You ain't getting nothing tonight,” Lyra said playfully to Mingi. 

Before long they were scrolling through young pictures of themselves, Mingi showing her ones from their days in high school and as trainees while Lyra showed him the ones from when they were in high school as well as some of the ones of her from college. Listen, nothing beats the outfits from bid day. 

“All I’m saying is…. It really looks like a cult from my perspective,” Mingi said as Lyra showed him the ones from her last days as a college student. 

“Sir, just no. It’s not,” Lyra laughed as he raised his hands in protest. She knew they would be on their way back to the hotel soon, so that he could get a good rest before the chaos that would be the next couple days before they were traveling again. They had already gotten some photos for the Ateez social media of Mingi in front of the giant building behind them, now they were just stalling. Sure they would still be just the two of them, but it felt like the date would be over in a sense once they left. 

“Thank you, for bringing me here and wanting to take a little weirdo like me on a date tonight,” Lyra said as they once again were walking down the history-filled streets of Paris, pretending they were any other couple. 

“Thank you Lyra, for saying yes. Yes to coming with me tonight, to all of this. You could’ve run, hell any normal person probably would’ve at the idea of having not one but nine soulmates. On top of that they’re idols and come from a country that is across the world. To jump head first into the idea of being with them and moving to the other side of the world just to be close to them.” Mingi stopped the two of them on the sidewalk so he could look at her face as he spoke, “I don’t think I would’ve if I were the two of you. I would’ve been terrified, hell I was when we first realized that the two of you were in the crowd. I couldn’t stop my mind from racing, the whole concert I just kept looking at the thread spilling over the stage over to the two of you. There was one point where both of you had your hands up and were dancing, you were holding each other's hands. I could see the tether to each of you so clearly. I just wanted to run to the two of you then, I was scared. I’m still scared of the unknown, but we're together and that makes it all okay, Lyra.”

Mingi gently titled her up and kissed her. And they stayed like that kissing and being with one another, so purely for a moment. Then Mingi pulled away and rested his forehead against Lyra’s so sweetly. 

That's when they felt the first drops of rain fall against their hair, cold and wet. He pulled her back to him as the rain started to fall harder and kissed her again. It was like a scene from an old Hollywood movie, where the girl and the guy find each other once again against all odds. 

After a second they heard a crack of thunder in the distance, turning to see where the lighting was and laughed as they began to sprint toward the hotel now only about a block away. 

“Hey,” Mingi called a few steps behind Lyra as they came to take shelter under the entryway of the hotel “Lyra, I love you.”

“I love you, Mingi,” Lyra said as she leaned up to kiss him one more time. Before they entered the hotel and made their way back to their room. 

After that night Europe passed by like a fever dream, they were constantly busy and on the move. Lia was still filming the content she needed, Lyra was helping the translator as much as she could, and the boys were so busy it seemed like they barely had time to sleep at night. 

Before they knew it, the girls were boring their flight heading for South Korea. The plane that would take them to their new home, new life, all the wonderful and hard times ahead.

A/N: Shorter chapter to finish out our first arch of the story, YAY! Some cutesy fluff to follow the smutty smut of last chapter! Next, we will have another one-shot and then the start of arch two! WOOOOO!!!

[heliza24]

Shakespeare Comparisons: Young Royals and the Henriad

I saw this post comparing Young Royals to Julius Caesar the other day, and I actually don’t think Young Royals is that closely connected to Julius Caesar. Sure, August betrays Wilhelm. But there are lots of things that don’t match up at all: Brutus, not Caesar, is the protagonist of that play, Caesar is not a contemporary of Brutus but something of a father figure, and Brutus and Cassius decide to kill Caesar because Caesar is threatening to become king and end the Roman Republic. None of those things are actually very similar to August and Wilhelm’s characters or relationship.

There is, however, a glaringly obvious Shakespeare comparison available to us in the form of the Henriad, or the plays Henry IV Parts 1 and 2 and Henry V. The protagonist of Henry IV Parts 1 and 2 is actually Prince Hal, the prince that will go on to become King Henry V in the final play. At the beginning of the first play, he spends most of his time shirking all royal duties, drinking in a tavern in Eastcheap with his perpetually drunk and broke friend Falstaff. Over the course of Henry IV Parts 1 and 2, Hal has to wrestle with the idea that he will soon inherit the crown, and decide how and when to step up to this responsibility. These plays are literally about the coming of age of a young and erstwhile prince just like Young Royals. 

There are few similarities and differences between the stories that I think are interesting to explore. In the Henry IV Parts 1 and 2, Henry IV struggles to maintain control of the crown. He took the throne as a usurper, defeating Richard II, and throughout the course of these two plays he fights to defend his position from rebels who would in turn usurp him. Because of this precarity, he’s aware of the fact that Hal will have a hard job as his successor, and that currently he’s showing no signs of being up to the task. He instead sings the praises of Harry Percy, also known as Hotspur, the young rebel who is Hal’s age currently vying for the throne. Despite Percy being his enemy, Henry IV recognizes all of the qualities of leadership that Percy displays, and wishes that he were his son instead of Hal (“In envy that my Lord Northumberland/Should be the father to so blest a son/A son who is the theme of honour’s tongue”- Henry IV Part 1, Act 1, Scene 1). But Percy is also hot-tempered and impetuous and possessed by toxic masculinity, and it becomes clear to the audience that he would not be a good king. When he learns that the reinforcements he expected are not going to arrive, he rushes into battle against Henry IV’s forces anyway, allowing Prince Hal to kill him.

In Young Royals, there is a similar precarity to the monarchy, not because someone is threatening to overthrow Kristina, but because modernity threatens to make all contemporary monarchy obsolete. Because of this, Kristina puts a lot of pressure on Wilhelm to maintain the image of the crown. In addition, August becomes a pretty neat parallel to Percy. August succeeds at fulfilling the expectations of a nobel placed upon him: he is straight, feels comfortable wielding authority, and actively wants power where Wilhelm rejects it. August is in some ways the favored son of the royal court, and his promotion into the line of succession feels reminiscent of the way that Henry wishes Percy could be his heir instead of Hal. Similar to Percy, August’s hamartias also revolve around his impetuousness, anger, and complicated relationship with masculinity. 

There’s an incredible scene in Henry IV Part 2, where Prince Hal is called to his father’s deathbed. Mistakenly thinking that Henry has already died, Hal tearfully takes the crown from his father’s pillow and places it on his own head. Henry later comes to and rails at his son, accusing Hal of wishing him dead and of being too impatient to assume Henry’s power. Hal protests; he meant only to wrestle with, and lay blame upon, the crown which he assumed had already killed his father. Hal speaks of the crown as a metaphor here, as something that sucks the life from those that are forced to wear it: 

Coming to look on you, thinking you dead, And dead almost, my liege, to think you were, I spake unto this crown as having sense, And thus upbraided it: “The care on thee depending Hath fed upon the body of my father; Therefore thou best of gold art worst of gold. Other, less fine in carat, is more precious, Preserving life in med’cine potable; But thou, most fine, most honored, most renowned, Hast eat thy bearer up. (Henry IV Part 2, Act 4, Scene 3)

Hal putting on the crown in this scene is a significant step towards his ultimate acceptance of his responsibility to rule. Even though he believes the crown to be a kind of poison, he knows he must wear it. It points to the self-sacrificing, humble king he will become in Henry V.

There’s no direct allegory to this scene in Young Royals, but the discussion of the crown as a kind of poison feels very apt for the themes of the show. As Lisa is fond of saying, Wilhelm being queer would not be an issue if it weren’t for the spectral crown hanging over his family and his destiny. This scene also makes me think of how Wilhelm asks Kristina to just be his mother and not the queen for once in season 2. Even though the crown has not literally affected Kristina’s health, it has killed off the part of her that is Wilhelm’s mother first. The crown has permanently altered their relationship.

I think if we’re drawing parallels between Young Royals and the Henriad, there’s a couple of different ways we can find connections between Prince Hal’s days of frivolous drinking at a tavern in Eastcheap and Wilhelm’s time at Hillerska. Eastcheap was a market street in the City of London (by which I mean the historic city/The Square Mile, not what we think of now as the entire city of London.), far away from any palace, which would have been populated by working class folks. The tavern is a place where Hal can be with his friends, away from the pressure of royal life. So in some ways, Hillerska works as Wilhelm’s Eastcheap. Or maybe I should say Erik’s– Erik’s description of sowing his wild oats and enjoying his time at school before things got serious seems very similar to Prince Hal’s attitude. Or perhaps more accurately we could say that Wilhelm’s adventures in Bjarstad are analogous to Prince Hal’s time in Eastcheap. This is Wilhelm’s predominant exposure to working class people, and he forms a close connection with Simon much like Hal does with Falstaff. (This however, is where the similarities between Falstaff and Simon end). 

At the end of Henry IV Part 2, Hal is crowned King Henry V, and willingly renounces his old way of life. When he sees Falstaff at his coronation, he tells him that he should “presume not that I am the thing I was” (Act 5 Scene 5) and banishes him. To me this feels reminiscent of the way Wilhelm renounces Simon publicly at the end of season 1. The difference here is that by the time Prince Hal renounces Falstaff, his transformation into King Henry V is complete. But Wilhelm’s rejection of Simon only occurs at the end of his first act, while he still has all of seasons 2 and 3 to continue to grow and make different decisions. Because of this I think it’s important to keep in mind that we don’t need to draw one-to-one comparisons between Young Royals and the Henriad, or any other classic text, in order to acknowledge that the two works are playing with the same themes. Lisa and the writers of Young Royals didn’t set out to create an updated version of Prince Hal in Wilhelm, but I think it’s impossible to write about the coming of age of a young prince in the Western World without being influenced, at least indirectly, by Shakespeare’s work. 

On a personal note, I think it’s amusing that I've been obsessed with the Henriad for about a decade, but it took me writing this post to realize that this long standing interest probably primed me to love Young Royals. I really am consistent if nothing else. 

Thanks to @bluedalahorse for helping me organize my thoughts on this as always. If there are any other Shakespeare/Hal lovers in the Young Royals tag I would love to hear your thoughts on these comparisons. And if this has you interested in the Henriad and you want to check out a production, I highly recommend the recorded Globe productions starring Jamie Parker as Prince Hal/Henry V.

[ultfreakme]

One thing that bothers me about jujutsu is that the author doesn't know how to develop some characters. 1 Shoko Ieri is an interesting character but I find her apathetic without a cold and superficial personality. 2 itadori yuji doesn't seem to be a protagonist he seems more like a tool than the protagonist of the work. 3 nobara had no development dry and emotionless death. and many other characters. There were only 2 characters that really had development, which was gojo and geto, for me, they were the only ones that had it. Why do you think the author did this, is it because he didn't want to develop the characters that's why he killed many important characters? I would appreciate it if you respond.

Yeah he's bad at developing female characters. Shoko seems very interesting but her powers haven't been really explored and she's relegated to waiting on the sidelines. Obviously she doesn't have to fight to have development but her skills can still be interwoven into the story. Although, I do think her personality makes a lot of sense. All her dead friends and colleagues are deposited at her feet and their life or death depends on her. If she becomes emotional, she wouldn't be able to survive it. The detachment is necessary for her to do her work. My only gripe is her lack of screen time and lack of focus on her during the Hidden Inventory Arc.

Nobara's death feels like such a waste. Now I'm not a professional writer but I do know a thing or two about planning stories from writing fics.

I usually plot out key events and fill in the blanks as I go along. There are times when I have to remove or alter a key event from the outline because while filling the gaps, the characters reacted differently to what I first imagined. So I come to a crossroads; modify the character so they'd trigger the key event, or change the key event? It's a juggle between both.

I think Akutami had all his key events in place to convey the overall theme of his story but when filling the gaps of the outline, the characters gained their own voice and started acting too differently to accomplish the key events. So maybe he chose to alter and remove characters instead of changing the story trajectory?

Eg: Yuuji v Mahito needs to happen -> Yuuji defeats Mahito but fails in killing him -> Kenjaku gets Mahito -> Start the Culling Games

Now, Mahito needs to be alive by the time Kenjaku arrives and perhaps this could've made sense if it was just Yuuji v Mahito & maybe Todo. BUT. Nobara is handcrafted to destroy Mahito. She is accidentally the perfect opponent for a majority of the main villains(she could probably find a way to take on Kenjaku or be key in figuring out how he works).

Nobara's capable of being a grade 1 sorcerer and is aware that Mahito can transform souls. We saw Nanami being unaffected because he protected himself with CE so Nobara SHOULDN'T HAVE DIED THERE even if she wasn't aware of the Mahito switch because we have precedent that a grade 1 or similar level sorcerer is harder to transmogrify and can protect themselves! Nobara is fine with excruciating pain and likely has a good grasp on souls because of her powers so even if was changed, I don't think she should have died in Shibuya.

That Mahito fight, emotionally would have paid off way better if Yuuji + Nobara destroyed him. But that fully deviates from whatever emotional arc Akutami has planned for Yuuji so it just, couldn't happen. So he removed a character (also Mahito needed to be taken by Kenjaku to start CG so, it's for practical reasons as well).

I think Yuuji's lack of presence is also because of this altering the character thing. I don't know if Akutami like, really thought about the power scaling well? Because prior to the last 10 or so chapters, Yuuji was NOT strong. Him not having a CT really set him back in terms of ability. Plopping him into a setting where everyone is more powerful than him accidentally made him seem futile in taking down Sukuna and Kenjaku. The problem, I think, is:

Yuuji's been nerfed.

The story itself keeps mocking or rejecting his dreams to help others and makes his dreams seem futile and foolish.

Strength and selfishness is important in Culling Games and even Shibuya arc. In Shibuya arc he got to grow stronger but in CG he's nothing extraordinary or stand-out. CG is like a bunch of egomaniacs fighting so I thought Yuuji's uniqueness would be exemplified to discuss what true strength and selflessness means but it just, continues being an ego clash of 'might is right'. Right now, it's getting more even but it took way too long for Yuuji to find his footing and now everyone has lost track of Yuuji and his visions. It's like his goal of giving everyone a respectable death has been deemed too stupid.

Like you START the series by giving your character a goal; be strong, protect others, don't die alone. It's fine to change these goals....but now Yuuji's goals haven't been given enough focus so I have no idea where he's at right now because the series turned into a death game.

I think Culling Games is terrible at giving the main characters anything. The new characters are fine, but after watching the old cast die off, it feels harder to get attached to any of the new people because-- Why? None of the main characters interact with them and when they do it's all just fights, and we never know the new characters beyond their CT. Often times they just die anyways or disappear.

I think it's coming back to Yuuji now. I binge-read the manga up to the middle of the Sukuna v Gojo fight so I'm not really done processing all the information to really see what Akutami is trying here.

On Gojo and Geto- yeah they feel really well developed. Geto's arc is contained and done so it's impossible to tamper with or make worse. I find that a lot of writers do well when a story is shorter and there's a specific start and end goal. Gojo too, I agree although Akutami seems to have had a hard time (I think him dying was tragic but I see no point in him coming back anymore, his death was done well. I think we just grew numb as readers to deaths because it keeps happening repeatedly). Gojo and Geto were plotted even before the main series so they probably had a lot more time to be fleshed out and written so it's no surprise they're so well done.

WRT why Gege Akutami made the choices he made? I don't know. I've only been back in JJK fandom for a like a month or two. I don't want to speculate on his thought process when I'm not really that good at keeping track of the characters and their progressions but if I had to guess....I think this is happening for practical reasons. CG characters are numerous and new, each with weird CTs. I can't imagine keeping track of ALL of them and using their weirdly specific CTs to their full potentials at all times and writing on a weekly basis.

Characters will be left behind, powers will go unused. I think this wouldn't be as much of a problem if we had a main cast focus but we don't. We spend a little too much time with the side characters and one-off characters with zero involvement from Yuuji so when these characters disappear, it feels all the more strange.

My boring answer to the lack of development on many side characters is a weekly schedule pressure thing.

His other reason for killing off characters might be two things;

the man doesn't know how to write female characters

the themes of JJK makes it so that death is normal and plot armor isn't spared for main characters.

First point's self-explanatory, but the second...I think this is what happens when you don't put plot armor on anyone. The entire franchise imo is a critique of social systems that oppress the people living under it and even having the ability to see the damage the social systems cause isn't enough to stop them, only potentially raise awareness and do small fixes. Geto's arc is like, a very on-the-nose example of how capitalism makes it so that the laborer is detached from the product their work is contributing to. Just like in real life, we may be aware, but we individuals can't do shit. The only ones who manage to thrive are the ones who are already powerful.

If JJK is following this theme, then it's mandatory for characters to suffer. No one can escape this(well, no one has found a way to). These deaths become important in showing how depressingly futile things are. It is unfair, it is wrong. But modern society is just, like that. The weak get trample, only the strong can speak. In a world ruled by strength, there is no point pursuing anything else(*ahem* Sukuna *ahem*).

So in a way I think the death part works. They would work better and feel justified if the characters weren't forced to be developed on a tight schedule and Akutami knew how to write women.

That's my......huge answer. Idk if this properly answered the ask. It's just my opinions. Idk, what do you think?

Thanks for sending me this btw!

[onefleshonepod]

Hi! My wife is looking for some new books and I was trying to remember one that was mentioned briefly on the podcast- something about lesbians who can’t touch each other? And then they brush pinkies at some point? What was that book? (Also, your analysis is brilliant and we both love the podcast soooo much!!)

hi! 🖤 thank you so much for the kind words!!

i’m very sorry to say that the book in question is not about lesbians – it’s six of crows, a young adult novel by leigh bardugo (in the same universe as the grisha books, which were recently adapted as a tv show on netflix).

the couple we love brush pinkies for two microseconds in the sequel which completes the duology, crooked kingdom (mild spoilers for the first book in the plot summary on goodreads).

i (baily) love these two books so much (as does kabriya). all the characters are delightful and well fleshed-out, the books are very funny, and there’s an exciting and twisty plot which tests all of the characters and slowly reveals their backstories.

some more book recommendations, for you/your wife and for other people who may be interested:

sticking to leigh bardugo’s work to start, i also love this book of short fairy tales from the same grisha universe (my review on goodreads). kind of hate linking my own goodreads review here in a self-indulgent way, but i hate the idea of rewriting reviews and summaries i've already written more, so there you go.

i honestly find leigh bardugo very inspirational because she substantially improved as a writer between her first series, the grisha trilogy (which relies heavily on ya cliches like the mean girl, the most specialest chosen girl ever, and the love triangle with normal guy next door and hot but morally questionable guy) and the crows duology.

if you’re looking for things to read that are like the locked tomb:

more work by tamsyn herself:

her novella “the deepwater bride,” which is not available online but can be purchased for a reasonable price here.

“the magician’s apprentice,” which is available in full here, is an early exploration of some of the themes that arise in john’s relationships with alecto and harrow in the locked tomb

“chew,” a short story about cannibalism set during wwii

"the woman in the hill" (have not read)

“the house that made the sixteen loops of time” (have not read)

wlw sff books i have enjoyed, in no particular order:

a memory called empire by arkady martine: an anti-imperialist epic, written with a historian’s love for the byzantine and aztec empires. intricate worldbuilding with spectacular little diegetic poems and excerpts that i personally really enjoy. also uses the 70s science fiction conceit of overthinking social encounters to the point where one conversation can take up to fifteen pages (think dune and early dragonriders of pern) – i love this but i know some people who grew up reading today’s snappy ya fiction really don’t. contains a memory device that i suspect tamsyn was inspired by for aim/the messenger. a debut novel with some pacing issues – it read a bit like an exponential growth graph, leaving barely enough time to explain what was happening before the book was over. i haven’t read the sequels (i have a hardcover copy of the second book sitting on my desk literally right now) but hopefully they are better paced.

the traitor baru cormorant by seth dickinson: i’ve ragged on this series for its heavy-handed writing, telling and not showing, and thinly-sketched time skips, but despite all that it’s an enjoyable read. a very dark anti-imperialist tragedy set in a homophobic empire loosely based on late victorian britain. lots of economic intrigue. has similar psychological and medical horror to harrow the ninth beginning in the second book, if that’s something you enjoyed.

the unspoken name by a.k. larkwood: the story is thrilling, the world is interesting, the characters are lovable, the names are luxurious, the romance is cute, and i plan to read the sequel. the science fantasy vibe is very similar to tlt. however, this book is trying to cram three books into one. the time skips are frustrating because it robs you of organically coming to know and like these characters. loved it but be warned!

she who became the sun by shelley parker-chan: speculative historical fiction about a chinese emperor (do not google this emperor like i did bc you will be spoiled for some elements of the story!!), with minor fantasy elements. parker-chan does interesting things with gender if you’re interested in that aspect of the locked tomb series. however, it is definitely set in quasi-fantasy ancient china, not a homophobia- and sexism-free future. this was my favourite of the three major adult fantasy novels with central f/f relationships released in 2021 that were often lumped together on social media, lol.

speaking of those novels, i also enjoyed the unbroken by c.l. clark. it has a similar anti-imperialist storyline to the locked tomb, inspired by the real-world history of morocco and france. definitely has some debut novel issues (the pacing was very uneven), but i loved the characters.

foundryside by robert jackson bennett: a unique magic system called 'scriving' that allows you to essentially speak to objects, interesting plot, and a sweet but honestly kind of understated and forgettable romance. slow to start but has a satisfying and wild ending that sets up the next book in the series.

the ruthless lady’s guide to wizardry by c.m. waggoner: a light but delightful and hilarious fantasy romance. not at all similar to the locked tomb in terms of atmosphere – this has oddball victorian steampunk vibes.

the long way to a small, angry planet by becky chambers: in many ways, this series not at all like the locked tomb – it’s very cosy and sweet and low-stakes. in one way, though, it is like tlt – imo the locked tomb is fundamentally a warm-hearted book series full of love for humanity, even though there is a lot of horror and loss and grief. you can’t take loved away, etc etc. becky chambers writes from the same point of view on life and love, but without the horrors. these books always have interesting and inventive worldbuilding. sometimes the voice of the author peeks through in a clumsy way when detailing the leftist policies of her invented worlds but since i generally agree with the author politically it doesn’t bother me. the excellent sequels are linked stories, not a direct continuation of the same plot.

sisters of the vast black by lina rather: hey, nuns in space!! some of them are gay. i gave this four stars right after reading but i can't remember anything about it, so take from that what you will.

the raven and the reindeer by t. kingfisher: wlw retelling of the snow queen!

daughter of mystery by heather rose jones: alternate history fantasy romance / fantasy of manners set in a made-up european country. enjoyable lady and bodyguard dynamic.

monstrous regiment by terry pratchett: fantasy comedy about a fictional war in discworld. the fact that i'm putting this in wlw is a bit of a spoiler; i'm sorry, try to forget that.

some wlw sff books i thought were “okay” to “fine” but you might like better:

the priory of the orange tree by samantha shannon: i feel obliged to recommend this because we’ve mentioned it so much on the pod. a solid three stars. interesting enough, just not mindblowing in any way. here's a good although mildly spoilery review if you're interested in a more articulate encapsulation of some of my issues with this book.

this is how you lose the time war by amal el-mohtar and max gladstone: it’s fine. too flowery for my taste. would have preferred to read unrelated poems from these authors and read this story written by other people.

starless by jacqueline carey: standalone fantasy with a very promising start, great central relationship, and well-sketched setting, but the plot slots into a prophecy that’s already 90% complete and the world is saved all within the last 50 pages. as long as you’re not expecting anything else, you’ll probably enjoy it! i like jacqueline carey's other work as well. i read her book santa olivia like a decade and change ago; iirc it's a wlw romance between a boxer and a werewolf in a post-apocalyptic future, but i barely remember it so can't really rec it.

bone shard daughter by andrea stewart: it’s decent. an anti-imperialist story set in a society reminiscent of ancient china. there are lesbians. interesting magic system built on draining life from unwilling subjects of the empire to create magical constructs with, essentially, computer code written on shards of these subjects’ bones.

the jasmine throne by tasha suri: another book that is fine. also anti-imperialist, with interesting magic based on spirits from hindu mythology. i loved the worldbuilding inspired by indian history. there were definitely pacing issues in this book though – the central relationship lurched from place to place without any super natural development in between, and it seemed like the book was trying to end about seven times before it actually did.

non wlw sff i love:

a natural history of dragons by marie brennan: a personal favourite of mine. the beginning of a series following essentially a female charles darwin in an alternate history england. really is nothing at all like the locked tomb but i love it so much. here's my non-spoilery review of the fifth book.

provenance by ann leckie: my review on goodreads. i personally got really pissed off at the ancillary justice series for doing a hard left turn away from the universe-spanning objectives and alien horror i expected based on book one, but i love the author’s other work, including this book.

all systems red and the rest of the murderbot series by martha wells: nothing but hilarious romps with murderbot. i can never remember anything that happened after i finish reading but i always enjoy the experience. here's my review. i love martha wells’ other work as well, like this standalone fantasy novel and this portal fantasy series. there’s an author-approved free download of her debut novel available here.

the curse of chalion and the sequel, paladin of souls, by lois mcmaster bujold: very warm and happy and above all thoughtful reads. my review of paladin of souls is here. the penric and desdemona series is set in the same world; it's a gentle and feel-good novella series which only gets better as it goes on. lois mcmaster bujold is best known for the vorkosigan saga, which is extremely good – don’t START with my favourite, komarr, but please read enough so that you love miles and then read komarr (my review here).

the goblin emperor by katherine addison: god this is so good. SO good. i can't put it better than i did in my review.

velocity weapon by megan e. o'keefe: a somewhat complicated but mostly straightforward scifi adventure – the complexity comes from the timeline and structure of the book, something i enjoy picking apart in the locked tomb.

spinning silver by naomi novik: i love naomi novik’s writing and plotting. imo, her plots unfold in the same inexorable way as tamsyn muir’s, where the characters are established and placed in situations such that they move into and resolve conflict in a way that is shocking and thrilling at first read but perfectly fitting and inevitable in hindsight.

natasha pulley’s slow but thrilling novels, particularly the watchmaker of filigree street (my review) and the bedlam stacks (my review).

sixteen ways to defend a walled city by k.j. parker: a whip-smart fantasy based on the byzantine empire (or the late western roman empire). anti-imperialist story from the perspective of someone within the empire itself. uses the very weak device of just swapping skin colours and doing Fantasy Racism against the white people, which you just kind of have to laugh at. the narrator is very misogynistic but imo funny enough to get away with it – you can tell the author is making fun of his character as much as the character is bitterly taking witty jabs at the world around him. there are 3 books in this series now, all excellent.

the wee free men by terry pratchett: speaking of monstrous regiment and terry pratchett, nona pov reminded me a lot of tiffany aching, beloved of younger me.

rivers of london and the rest of series by ben aaronovitch: my review here of the first book. the subsequent books are all better than the first, tbh, but the first isn't bad by any means, just kind of weird. the series has a charming protagonist with a very gideon-like outlook on the world (for a straight dude lol).

infomocracy by malka older: thought-provoking near-future scifi.

powers by ursula k. leguin: showcases ursula k. leguin's always-excellent worldbuilding. profoundly human and full of love. my review here.

winter’s orbit by everina maxwell: m/m scifi romance. i have to be honest, i read this first when it was published as original fiction on ao3 and i haven’t read the published version, but i don’t think it’s changed too much except to add more political intrigue. very sweet. contains a memorable scene with scifi skiing.

sunshine by robin mckinley: my favourite ever vampire story. robin mckinley has also has done a lot of excellent fairy tale retellings.

sff short reads:

this list is already way too long, so i'm just going to recommend two short story authors i love:

rich larson, story 1 that i love (my review), story 2 that i love (my review).

sarah pinsker, story 1 that i love, story 2 that i love

non-fiction (specifically about space):

the end of everything by katie mack: my review.

packing for mars by mary roach: i love mary roach so much. a laugh-out-loud read.

poetry for locked tomb fans:

incarnadine by mary szybist: strong gothic catholic vibes. i described this collection on gr as “numinous and gruesome.”

poems by denise levertov, who converted to catholicism in 1984. i prefer her poems about nature, but there's a lot of stuff there for the religion enjoyers.

horror:

i'm absolutely not a horror connoisseur, but the horror book that i think gideon the ninth fans are most likely to enjoy is we have always lived in the castle by shirley jackson. there's a fucked-up sibling relationship, a horrible antagonist who's just some guy, wild twists and turns, and a big old crumbling house.

i also loved the bloody chamber by andrea carter, particularly the bluebeard retelling.

the merry spinster by danny lavery: more dark fairy tale retellings. my review here.

[prpfs]

Looking for M/M or F/F pairings for The Fall of the House of Usher. I’m 21+ and write multi paragraph to novella normally. Discord is preferred. I’m a regular replier so would be seeking the same. I’ve got no real limits but I will respect yours.

An interest I had would be playing an OC against either Tammy or Leo. I do prefer queer ships so i’d like it to be f/f or m/m. A few concepts I had imagined were based around the lore of Verna and her power, her realm, and other beings like V being in the world. It might be interesting if one was sent to seduce an Usher, to use their desire to be loved against them. This would actually turn into a genuine love story, but would be full of dark themes and plenty of angst.

For Tamerlane, another idea I had was regarding one of the call girls, if Bill maybe leaves one night and the girl shows up after Tammy forgets to cancel - maybe Tammy asks her to play pretend at being a friend to her instead, for the same fee. They talk the night away. Maybe spend the night together. An affair begins, love blooms but Tammy being an Usher is problematic. I’d again prefer to play the OC, so I’d be looking for a Tamerlane.

I’d also be interested in writing Camille opposite your OC, whether that’s an assistant, perhaps an informant that works at Rue Morgue, or a similar concept regarding a demonic being sent to tempt her.

I’m pretty much up for anything, however.

Although I would want to write a romantic pairing as our main plot, I do love side characters and I adore exploring other bonds. So I’d really enjoy being able to write scenes with the other Usher’s! I want to dig into the sibling relationships particularly.

Like and I’ll hit you up 👻

like and they'll get back to you

[findroleplay]

Looking for M/M or F/F pairings for The Fall of the House of Usher. I’m 21+ and write multi paragraph to novella normally. Discord is preferred. I’m a regular replier so would be seeking the same. I’ve got no real limits but I will respect yours.

An interest I had would be playing an OC against either Tammy or Leo. I do prefer queer ships so i’d like it to be f/f or m/m. A few concepts I had imagined were based around the lore of Verna and her power, her realm, and other beings like V being in the world. It might be interesting if one was sent to seduce an Usher, to use their desire to be loved against them. This would actually turn into a genuine love story, but would be full of dark themes and plenty of angst.

For Tamerlane, another idea I had was regarding one of the call girls, if Bill maybe leaves one night and the girl shows up after Tammy forgets to cancel - maybe Tammy asks her to play pretend at being a friend to her instead, for the same fee. They talk the night away. Maybe spend the night together. An affair begins, love blooms but Tammy being an Usher is problematic. I’d again prefer to play the OC, so I’d be looking for a Tamerlane.

I’d also be interested in writing Camille opposite your OC, whether that’s an assistant, perhaps an informant that works at Rue Morgue, or a similar concept regarding a demonic being sent to tempt her.

I’m pretty much up for anything, however.

Although I would want to write a romantic pairing as our main plot, I do love side characters and I adore exploring other bonds. So I’d really enjoy being able to write scenes with the other Usher’s! I want to dig into the sibling relationships particularly.

Like and I’ll hit you up.

-

[triviareads]

ARC Review of A Holly Jolly Ever After by Julie Murphy and Sierra Simone

Premise:

Winnie Baker, a former child star with no career prospects after her divorce, is tapped to play the lead in a Hope Channel (After Dark) Christmas movie alongside former boybander and current pizza franchise owner Kallum Lieberman, who will be playing a sexy Santa Claus. The problem is, Winnie has no idea how to go about being sexy on camera...

My review:

I loved the concept of an inadvertently sexy Hallmark movie in A Merry Little Meet Cute, and it seems so did the world at large because now Hope Channel is putting out a softcore Santa biopic (complete with magical peppermint cum) which I think is just inspired.

Winnie grew up in a conservative, Christian environment and was a child star which resulted in her loved ones and the media expecting her to maintain this perfect, god-honoring image. She's recovering from purity culture and has never experienced sexual pleasure due to internalized shame and one terrible partner. Enter Kallum, serial bridesmaid fucker and fresh from a leaked (and later licensed) sex-tape. After an awkward fake orgasm on set, Winnie requests sex lessons from Kallum at first to find her own pleasure, and then it rapidly evolves into them hooking up on the reg.

Similar to Winnie's sexual awakening, she also has this moment of questioning the compulsory heterosexuality she was raised with (at a Christmas-themed strip club lol), and while it didn't go much further than that, I did like the call out.

I liked Kallum more than I was expecting. I'm not usually a fan of himbo heroes, but his easygoing nature and unconditional acceptance of Winnie as she is was lovely to read. He's never infantilized the way some heroes of this persuasion are; a decent portion of the narrative is about him learning to own up to shit he wouldn't have in the past. I also liked the dad bod rep— body diversity in heroes is even rarer than with heroines, so reading about a man who is big, has a belly, and can absolutely get it was a nice change of pace.

I really liked the friendship between Kallum, Nolan, and Isaac. Male friendships is something I don't see often in romance novels. They've been through a lot and are often separated from each other, but they still have the kind of relationship that allows them to hit each other up after months of no communication, and then an hour later they're crying together about unrequited love.

In terms of conflict, I was on the edge of my seat for most of the second half waiting for the ex-husband or Winnie's uber-conservative parents to fuck shit up, but what we got instead was this really interesting moment of delayed uncertainty on Winnie's part regarding the suitability of Kallum as a long-term partner. I wasn't entirely sold on the inciting incident that caused Winnie's doubts, but it felt like such a valid fear and overall, Sierra and Julie did a good job of exploring the potential perils of a himbo partner.

The sex:

I loved reading about Winnie experimenting with masturbation and figuring out what worked for her. It was written in a way that was curious and joyful despite her delayed sexual exploration thanks to being entrenched in purity culture for so long. Basically, the Peppermint Stick vibrator was the gingerbread-scented hand lotion of this book (iykyk).

And once Winnie finally gets going, she and Kallum can't be stopped. There's a subtle emphasis on p-in-v sex not being the be-all-end-all (or a given, at first) which kinda fit the vibe of Winnie's almost high school-esque sexual experimentation with Kallum. Later on, there is, in fact, the rare contemporary romance butt stuff (do I think there should have been pegging at some point? perhaps).

Overall:

I had a lot of fun reading this Christmas-themed romance! It was sweet and sexy, and I look forward to reading the next book which I'm guessing is about Tragic Widower Who Assumes His Late Wife Wanted Him To Have That Threesome, Isaac Kelly.

Thank you to Avon and Harper Voyager and NetGalley for an advanced copy of this book in exchange for my review.

[fxrtunas]

— — FORTUNE TELLER

An RP multimuse blog for Allan Kier, an original NPC based on the FFXIV world!

current draft count: 50+ current inbox count: 80+

owed starters: 0 owed asks: 8

Guidelines (UPDATED 9TH NOV):

hewwo!! call me termi (25+, any pronouns)

Allan is a non-wol oc btw in case the following information is confusing!

am a filthy multishipper hehehe

hey look at allan’s sausage fingers in the pic above

this is p much a multimuse blog but all the other muses basically revolve around allan so expect to see 80% of allan content kljalksjf

allan is likely to gravitate to extremes for what he wants, so torture/manipulation/etc. may be present on this blog!

i am v bad at rmbering all ffxiv lore but i will do my best ljaflksjf

i tag 'trigger tw' for any sensitive content!

i have a busy irl and other commitments! bc of this is i am naturally very slow and will take random hiatus’!

pls don’t rush me into replying to things or remind me in any way ;w ; this is a hobby for me and i tend to withdraw and get slower if i feel stressed fjlkdjsg

i do drop threads quite a lot; this is just to keep drafts from getting bloated. the reasons range from not knowing how to repond, not having the muse for it, it was a casual thread, or feeling like our muses’ relationship has progressed past that in other threads! it’s nothing personal at all, and i’m always happy to initiate new stuff!!

^ that being said, i tend to keep drafts if its the only one we have between our muses and/or we have anything planned for it!

FYI:

my main rp partner is @echobled​ so replies to their muses tend to be prioritized!

feel free to turn any prompt u sent that i answered into a thread!

i have a very low social battery so if you see me around on the dash and not responding to dms, it’s nothing personal! i’m probably just mentally drained and its easier for me to do small stuff while i recover ;w ;

Permanent Interaction Call (like at ur leisure no matter how long its been :3c)

Gentle wishlist ;w ; (pls also feel free to send me ideas u wanna do for ur muse!!)

Replying to one of my open starters is the easiest way to interact with me! i love doing one-liners as much as multipara/novella stuff, and oneliners require much less brain so! its my fave way esp since it can Evolve into smth more so don’t be afraid to jump in on em!

i love angst, hurt/comfort, romance, smut, and dark themes the most, but am happy to rp everything else, those are just faves kljaklsjf

open to familial/platonic/antagonistc dynamics and pre-est stuff if we can plot chemistry ;w ;

allan is an original NPC! the easiest way to look at him is as a blue sidequest giver LKJASLKFj completely missable, u get like. idk a handshake or a kees on the cheek (or more) LKJASKLFj but he does have a backstory that helps lend darker elements to plotting. its v flexible too in how light or dark it can get to make sure i don’t go too heavy with my rp partner if that’s not what they prefer. that being said, i did mention i love dark themes, so hmu if that’s what ur interested in!!  also love to explore deeper plots connected to my rp partner’s muse too!!

Allan Kier (main muse)

Age: appears mid to late 20s Gender: cis male Orientation: gay Eye colour: purple Hair colour: purple Skin colour: light brown Height: 170cm | 5'7 Notable features: tattoo on his right cheek (further back, mostly hidden), several dotted scars on left side of waist, a long scar from his left shoulder blade to his lower right back Job: Astrologian (abilities similar up to lvl 40; grows or changes class depending on story) Alignment: chaotic neutral

Brief History:

Not much is known about his earlier life. However, he lived in Sharlayan for a significant amount of time as a low profile arcanist.

Was secretly banished from Sharlayan for [redacted].

Went to Ishgard since he had some contacts there, making it easier to hide from [redacted]. However, due to starting over completely and relying on those contacts, he owes a major amount of debt that he pays off with his special ability, [redacted].

At some point during this, he becomes an Astrologian.

After the Dragonsong War, he travelled around more often, figuring it's safe to do so after the time he spent in Ishgard. He still revisits Ishgard to deal with his remaining few debts every so often.

More on Allan!

ANCIENT + SHARDS —

Asclepius (the Ancient Allan is a shard of):

Gender: cis male Orientation: asexual demiromantic Eye colour: glowing pale purple Hair colour: orange/light brown Skin colour: light brown Notable features: scar down his right eye, tattoo on his right temple Job: DRK (more proficient as a WHM, but abandoned it) Special abilities: soul sight - able to see and interpret the essence and shape of souls at will. prophetical sight - receives uncontrollable visions when he rests; this ability only got more wild in his waking time the closer the sundering came. Brief history: 

was known to have talents in medicinal care and healing, and had prophetic visions that would lead him to isolate himself often. 

was even offered the Seat of Emmerololth which he turned down quite fast. 

after receiving visions of the Final Days and the Sundering, he disappeared from society for some odd years, then came back as a DRK and sought adventure in an effort to forget all that he had Seen. 

he was running around... somewhere... when the Sundering happened lkJKALSJF 

he is p much a v big hermit and had like one (1) friend that returned to the star (verse dependent, he could also have Azem as a friend but... that’s probably it....... wheeze)

more on asclepius!

Selene (shard of Allan in the First)

Age: appears in her late 20s Gender: cis female Orientation:lesbian Eye colour: red Hair colour: black Skin colour: light brown Height: 196cm (6′4) Notable features: jagged scar from her chest to her left hip, scar on the back of her left thigh, another three scars across her right shoulder blade Job: BLM main (abilities up to lvl 80)

Brief bio: 

born of Eulmore to high-ranking soldiers in the army, Selene served and protected her home for many years. 

she defects to the Crystarium after learning the dark truth behind Eulmore’s inner machinations and rejecting them.

more on Selene!

Naila (Voidsent shard of Allan)

Age: ??? (appears in her mid to late twenties) Gender: ??? (she/they mostly) Orientation: aethersexual (she will lay with anyone to have aether basically LKJAFK) Eye colour: gold Hair colour: purple Skin colour: light brown Height: 150cm (4′9) Notable features: the biggest floofiest tail. her voice will also become quite gutteral/demonic when indimidating someone or when she loses control (either from anger/pleasure/shock). Job: WAR

Brief bio: 

the person that summoned Naila into the Source swiftly met an end when they prepared horrendously poorly for her arrival. Now Naila runs around in their body. 

she doesn’t necessarily need aether considering she’s in the Source, but she still has a craving for it. 

she only wants to have fun; she found the Thirteenth boring and dull but the Source? The Source is full of people she can play with to her heart’s content. 

recently, she’s caught a whiff of aether so enticing, so delicious that she’s can’t quite bring herself to think about anything else. 

she otw to eat Allan

more on naila!

Asclepius 2.0 (yet another shard of Allan)

Age: early 30s Gender: cis male Orientation: pansexual Eye colour: purple Hair colour: black Skin colour: brown Height: 209cm (6′10) Notable features: long scar across right cheek to right eye Job: ??? FSH

Brief bio:

bascially a reincarnated shard of asclepius that has fragmented memories of ancient times 

what shard who knows

he is vibing and just wants to fish 

was p much mistaken as one of the Fourteen upon recruitment but then they found out he’s just a normal dude back in ancient times so they just kept him subservient LKJASKLFj

more on asclepius 2.0!

OTHER:

Mahalina (Allan’s sister)

Age: appears late 20s/early 30s Gender: cis female Orientation: asexual panromantic Eye colour: emerald green Hair colour: magenta Skin colour: brown Height: 192cm (6′3) Notable features: very scarred up body, indicative of heavy torture. she wears heavy-duty make-up to hide burns on her face. Job: GNB

she’s a filthy pvper LKJAFSLKSJf

a big sister so she takes on responsibility a lot + has/had a lot of pressure from her mother when in sharlayan, so she can seem v snobbish and arrogant. she loosens up a bit during post-hw!

starts her search for allan during post-hw as well and finally finds him in post-sb T___T

then she suffers a near-fatal injury and disappears during ew... smadge...

more on mahalina!

OTHER BLOGS: @omnirush, @chacss

[marshmallowprotection]

With V’s route MC in mind, then do you think Ray’s route MC is very naive and trusting? Always giving Ray the benefit of doubt because despite how sketchy he and this cult is, MC can’t shake the feeling he’s a gently person?

Or are they just really REALLY naive? 😭 I wonder if GE worries about that, since they’re so kind, understanding and trusting.

I don't think the Another Story MC is naive. There's no right or wrong way to go about explaining this because Otome MCs are generally, in most cases, written to be empathetic people who give everyone the benefit of the doubt and fight their hardest to ensure that people are aware of their worth. They love their chosen route's character but the circumstance and how they act can deviate to fit the vibe of that one they're chasing, but some of the the overall characteristics are more or less similar. It's a rough base that you can use to insert yourself as most people want to love and help the characters.

You kind of have to be someone who does that to be an MC that will wind up going to dangerous places or doing seemingly dumb things that most people wouldn't. Most people aren't going to go to another location because they know better, be it to a cult in the mountains in which you're going to face despair or an apartment you've never been to in a hallway that holds danger you don't even see. For the sake of a game that allows you to explore these themes, you have to go out of your way to do dangerous things.

MCs are like that to allow you to explore a full range of things without feeling like the MC is their own character. It's just like [Y/N] stories on the internet. It's not an entirely blank character, but it gives you just a bit of spice so you can insert yourself in there without feeling like the characters love the MC model instead of you. Since that's one of the things that can disconnect certain Otome players. That's why you've got Otome with faceless MC that allow you to be yourself and Otome with actual MCs who you're just playing as to romance them.

Personally, I try to look at it like this: If someone offered me a place with free room and board, I'd be dumb enough to take that. That's a product of living in a society where I can't afford to take care of my needs. That's how cults get people, tbh. They will chase those who are on the fringe of society and manipulate them with things that they're not able to get help with. There's other ways cults get to the people they want, but that's a common theme.

Sometimes, I wonder if the AS!MC is homeless or struggling with a lot, and that happens to be why Ray found them. Yes, he was trying to find someone who fit his dream, but if they happened to be the kind of person that is in need of some kind of help? He could use that to his advantage. It's hard to say if that's the case because of how it seems as though via the Fried Chicken Prologue Ending and the Assistant Ending since the MC seems to be living just fine in those.

But, still, I wonder if the implication is meant to be that MC is willing to go because they've got hardship in their life and this seems like a useful experience they can use to move forward. It can always be that the MC is just too nice for their own good and wants to help Ray as they can, but... they're too self-aware about things when it comes to Ray, Suit Saeran, V, and Rika in the route. They're not lacking any sort of ability to see danger.

So, hey, while it's interesting to imagine why the MC is written the way they are that makes sense contextually in universe, the answer that's real is more boring since it's just to allow you to project what you want onto them. It's why the MC for the RFA members is able to enter the apartment without anything to mention their background. It's all for your benefit to insert yourself.

GE Saeran and Saeyoung both affirm to the player in the game that they shouldn't be so naive to trust people they speak to on the phone without knowing who they are. Now, it's up to you to decide if that's because you trust too much in the people around you despite being able to see danger, or if it's because you don't see a threat from the people around you at all because it never clicked.

[bothfeetinthegrave]

| pinned post |

Hello! I go by Rabbit or Rory (he/him), and I have returned once again from the clutches of work to write - albeit on a much smaller scale! I've been here on and off for around 10ish years, so if you've met me before it's great to see you again!

This is a blog for Eden Muir, a (slightly) vengeful spirit character developed for a D&D game set in an urban environment. Explores themes of existence after death, being someone else’s failed project, changing perspectives, learning to love yourself as you are, and learning to reconcile anger.

Go ahead and let me know if you'd like to write a thing.

I have sideblogs too! If I’ve followed you and Eden doesn’t make sense, I might have followed you with Corazón ( @belovedcorvid​ ) in mind. Or, if you’re interested in Eden’s more specific, affiliated O.ne Piece verse, follow me at @malpractising

| c a r r d | m e m e s | O P  v e r s e  | i n t e r e s t   t r a c k e r |

MUN: Rabbit

STATUS: Low Activity

ASK BOX: Open

ANON: On For Now

DISCO: ivoryrabbit ((please tell me who you are though!!))

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Mobile Rules Under the Cut

| speed and posting style |

Anyone who’s played with me before knows that I’m the slowest guy. It can take me weeks sometimes to reply to things depending on work and my health. However, if it’s been longer than that, feel free to nudge me a little just in case I missed something.

I tend to write multi-paragraph style, with small text but otherwise minimal formatting. I use icons sometimes, but not always. If you would prefer I use normal text size / no images / etc, let me know - I can accommodate these things. If there’s art of Eden in icons, I made it. Any commissions or work by other artists will be credited as such.

| playing nice |

I’m not even sure if it’s necessary to add any more, but of course: it’s not cool to godmod, control other people’s characters, kill each other without discussing combat first, badger people for speedy replies, etc. Please be a nice human. Not interested in talking with people that are racist, anti-LGBT, etc.

| tags and content warnings |

I will always, always, always tag triggers for you, especially if you list them in your rules page. If I miss one, or if you’d like me to tag something new, shoot me a message so I can add it to my tags! Violence and other NSFW content types will always be tagged an thrown under a cut. Eden’s character has a lot of violence and body horror themes, so if those aren’t for you tread carefully.

Triggers for me: Please tag all images of broken teeth with tw:teeth or something similar. I have just about every iteration blacklisted. Additionally, please tag all content involving a/b/o threads/art/etc and, for lack of a less loaded word, ‘x humanoid character has/gets/is ‘cursed’ with x animal traits/whatever now’ threads/etc as well. I have just about every iteration of both of these blacklisted (I think). Any general a/b/o tag will work just fine; for the latter, I suggest ‘animal traits tw’ or ‘zoomorphism tw’. If you post this that’s fine, but I might not be able to follow you.

Deeply personal reasons for me as an individual and as a professional / animal advocate - For clarity: hybrid or shapeshifter characters that actively deal with their hybridity and its consequences are not the same thing. I have a problem when humans put on animal characteristics like costumes for aesthetic purposes / kink / amusement / etc.

| shipping |

Writer and character are both of age, so shipping is fine as long as the other character and writer are of age as well. I will not write with underage muns at all, full stop.

If we’ve interacted and you ship a thing, whether it be romantic or platonic, you should let me know. I probably ship it too, but tend to second guess my reading of things like that.

| asks |

Asks are neat. I try to answer them all, but again : I’m a slow guy and Tumblr eats them sometimes. If I can’t come up with a good response for what you sent me, I’ll let you know so we can do something else instead.

If I answered an ask of yours and you’d like to respond / make it a thread, that’s awesome! I just ask that you put your reply in a new thread and @ me rather than reblogging the original ask.

| memes |

I have a complicated relationship with writing games. I love them in concept and love getting to send my friends things and answer questions / draw prompts / etc, but the havoc they bring to my notes can make it impossible for me to run a blog. Please don’t reblog memes from me if you don’t follow me, or if we don’t interact - makes it too easy to lose replies when notes are a mess.