#darker than I expected but only psychologically

[sencrose]

-- WHY LET THE OFFAL GO TO WASTE?

pairing: hoshina soshiro x f!reader

tags: DEAD DOVE, NONCON, noncon groping, choking, dacryphilia, hospitalization, injury, multiple/forced orgasm(s), power imbalance/dynamics, praise, psychological trauma, restraints

wc: 6.3k

a/n: title from butcher vanity. tagging this as dead dove bc it feels darker than the stuff i usually write? might also be bc the choking kinda squicked me out while i was writing this lol. anyways please read the tags and proceed with caution! ao3 link here.

summary: After a harrowing battle and a self-proclaimed failure of a first mission, you land yourself in the hospital. Your vice captain is adamant in playing a starring role in your rehabilitation.

It’s taking everything to keep your breathing steady. Even though the van sits in a heavy silence, you can feel the emotions radiating from your fellow combatants. Through the nervous shifts, shaking legs, and meditative rituals.

Some are itching to get out on the field to show off how far they’ve come, others are doing their best to calm their nerves. 

You fall somewhere in the middle.

Training module after training module, you’re all too aware of where you fall – last. Dead last. And not by any close margin; the gap between you and the next combatant is astronomical. It’s a miracle you even made it into the force, much less the third division. 

You come into your first mission with something to prove: your competence. Delusions are better left untouched, and you don’t have any expectations of being an overachiever. You don’t need to be number one, nor do you need to set any records. It’s simple: don’t come in last. 

The van slowly comes to a halt as you make it to your destination.

“Third division, rollout!” 

A chorus of ‘yes sirs’ ring throughout the van before you’re deployed into combat. Your team quickly splits off into their assigned positions until you’re alone. The once booming cityscape hangs in an eerie silence. No conversations to eavesdrop in, no cars rushing to get to their next destination, no music from local businesses trying to attract more customers. Just the sound of the occasional gunshot in the distance.

You hear your first Kaiju before seeing it, the sound of cement and plaster crashing into the ground. Thankfully, it’s not as large as you thought it’d be. However, it is more grotesque than you expected — the smell of rotten fish invades your nostrils. It vaguely resembles an octopus, or at least that’s the best guess you can muster with its tentacles thrashing about. 

You steel yourself, the temperature of your suit steadily rising as you focus. You steady your hands, aiming to shoot the core in one shot. In the scope, the creature’s eye swiftly meets yours. You press the trigger, the recoil hitting you harder than you anticipated – the butt of your gun strikes you hard in your chest, you nearly trip over your feet from the impact. Shakily, you find your footing and look out into the distance, waiting for the dust and rubble to clear.

Shit.

Your aim was just slightly off, only hitting the tip of one of its appendages. The creature’s tentacles flail wildly, but with a precision to its movements –  reaching out to nearby structures to pull its body towards, making its way to you. Your fingers shake around the trigger as it approaches.

Deep breaths.

Your heart races as you aim through the scope again, but it’s hard to focus on a moving subject. You shoot again, a bit too hastily still. The bullet hits another one of its appendages, slowing it down for a moment before it starts erratically scurrying towards you again. Your suit starts to heat up a bit more, devouring you in its all enveloping warmth. Sweat pools at your temples, beads sliding down the side of your face as you aim again. Your finger floats carefully in front of the trigger, waiting for the right moment to strike. With each street pole, building, car, the creature takes into its grasp, the more dust and debris clouds your vision.

Your nerves only build on top of each other, an unsteady tower of blocks threatening to fall, heart racing, as the crashes get louder.

There’s a miraculous moment where the dust settles, your reflexes taking over and shooting it right in the core. It falls, crashing into the building next to it.

Your breaths are heavy as you look over to its corpse. A dead kaiju smells even worse than an alive one. How do the cleaners deal with this on a daily basis?

With a soft buzz, your earpiece comes alive with a message from HQ.

”Congrats on your first kill!”

“Thanks,” you answer, trying to hide the shakiness in your voice. That was too close for comfort.

”Are you still in condition to fight?”

”Yeah, should be.” 

”Alright, make your way to N-3, they could use the backup.”

”Roger that.”

Just as you turn around to make your way to the next battle, the hairs on your neck come to a sudden stand, as you sense an overwhelming aura behind you. Chills run down your spine despite the suit running you warm. Dread swells in your chest and lead fills your legs, planting your feet on the ground.

By the time you turn around, it’s too late.

Everything happens too fast. 

Something pierces into your shoulder.

Warm crimson seeps out of the wound, drenching part of your suit. You don’t even register the pain at first, dazed from the scent of copper filling your lungs.

When the searing burn of having your flesh punctured finally hits you, you do your best not to cry in pain because that’s not what a proper combatant does. They produce results. (You do not have any notable ones.) They neutralize kaiju. (You’ve only neutralized one by the skin of your teeth.) But another is right in front of you, a golden opportunity. You can turn the tides.

Intent on revenge, you swiftly change hands with your gun, firing another shot at the kaiju. You step back, shooting another two bullets, the heat in your suit shooting to unbearable temperatures. Then you’re on your feet, and the only thought in your head is run, run, run.

But you’re not fast enough. It lunges towards you, its tentacle stretching and grasping your arm tight, too tight, too much. An unfamiliar and sickening crack rings in your ears, and you can no longer hold back your screams. They’re short lived, not through mercy, but through the kaiju flinging you to the floor like a ragdoll. You’re sure you hear another bloodcurdling crack when your back crashes on to the cement. Air is choked out of your lungs as you try to steady yourself, but your arms are in no shape to lift yourself up. Blinding pain sears through your body, and you start to lose track of where your body ends and the suit begins, engulfed in an all-consuming heat.

Before you even have the chance to recover, the creature’s tendril wraps tightly against your neck, the tight pressure cutting off your ability to breathe. Your mouth drops agape, desperately attempting to suck in air only to let out repulsing coughs and gasps before you’re left with nothing, a fish out of water. How ironic. Willing to take the risk of shooting yourself as collateral, you aim your gun point blank at the appendage, just for it to be smacked out of your hand before you can pull the trigger.

Panic and adrenaline rushes through your body in droves, limbs desperately flailing about to release yourself. It only makes things worse, the grip around your neck tightening. It feels horrid. The way your face numbs, your lungs burning with the desperate need for oxygen. Everything gets just a bit lighter, your vision, your head, your body. The pressure in your head builds and builds, an over pumped balloon just waiting to pop. 

Everyone always says it’s a possibility, but no amount of training could have prepared you for death. Part of you wishes it could’ve happened a bit more heroically, but that’s foolish. At the very least, you can take solace in knowing nobody’s around to see you at your worst, in your final moments.

With a sudden puff of wind grazing your cheek, you drop to the floor, sputtering and gasping for air. You look up to see a miracle in the shape of your vice-captain bestowed upon you.

Soshiro Hoshina arrives in silence, utilizing his blades to take down the monster. You’re barely able to keep up with his movements – he bounces from place to place without delay. In a moment’s time he’s already slayed the creature that put you in such a miserable state. 

He takes a moment to flick his blades, kaiju blood and bodily fluids splattering on the floor in a neat line before he sheathes his swords.

“Can you stand?” Hoshina’s hand reaches out towards yours.

“I think so.” You balance yourself against his body, wincing as you sling your arm around his shoulder, taking it one step at a time. Your body still burns from your injuries and the overheating of your suit.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’ll do better next time.”

The guilt of inadequacy and inexperience come to a breaking point as tears well up in your eyes. You try to hold back your sniffles, but with how close your face is to his ears, you know he can hear them.

“Yes sir.”

—

Hospitals suck. Unfortunately, you’ll be stuck here for the next few weeks while you heal from your injuries. On the bright side, your squad has been very kind in dropping you ‘get better soon’ cards, small gifts, and catching you up on all the drama happening within the organization. You’re truly thankful for them. And while visits from your fellow peers are expected, visits from your superior officer aren’t.

Hoshina knocks on the doorframe in his civilian clothes, a black t-shirt with a pair of sweats. You can’t help but notice how the fabric of his shirt clings to his body, showing a sliver of his muscles. In his hand, he holds a bento box wrapped in a fabric cover. If you’re being honest, you’re blown away by his kindness. 

“How’re you feeling?”

“I’ve been better,” you joke, “the doctors here have been really nice though.”

Hoshina unwraps the fabric, and uncovers the box, revealing a portion of curry rice with a side of steamed vegetables. 

“You didn’t have to go out of your way for this sir.”

“I’m just looking out for my cute junior.” 

The unexpected descriptor sends heat to your face and butterflies to your stomach. Did you hear him right? You sit in silence, unsure of how to respond back.

Hoshina breaks the silence, taking the reins on the conversation. “Have you eaten anything yet?” 

“Not yet, haven’t had much of an appetite.”

He grabs a spoonful of the curry, bringing it right in front of your mouth.

“Here, open up.” 

“Is this really necessary?” “Just open up. That’s an order.” 

His words aren’t anything you haven’t heard before, but they have you squirming in the bed. 

You hesitantly separate your lips, as the spoon enters your mouth. Hoshina’s hand hovers under your mouth in case any crumbs fall. You swear his fingertips just ever so slightly graze against your chin. Then again, maybe not.

The curry’s a bit hot, you move it around your mouth as you blow out some air to cool it down. It has just enough kick, the pieces of vegetables melting in your mouth with little effort. Salty, savory, with a hint of sweetness. It’s delicious.

“How is it?” Hoshina asks.

Your mouth is still full of food as you rush to finish it in a gulp.

“It’s great.” 

“That’s good to hear.” 

“You’ve got some on your lip.” Hoshina licks the pad of his thumb before using it to wipe the excess off the corner of your mouth. The heat in your face ignites, burning unbearably with embarrassment. 

“Sir, you don’t have to do this.” 

“The doctors said you should rest your arms. I don’t want you straining yourself,” he responds, continuing to wipe the mess off your face.

You’re not sure how to argue with that, nor do you feel like picking a fight with the vice captain.

“Alright.”

You sit in awkward silence as your superior officer continues to feed you. It feels far too intimate for your relationship – you wonder if he does this with the others. He brings the spoon up to your mouth again, gesturing you to open. Before you know it, you’ve gotten used to it, complying as if it’s an order in combat. 

“How long are you out of commission?”

“A few weeks, fingers crossed I’ll be out sooner though!” you say in between bites.

“That eager to be back out, huh?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

“Catching up? It’s only been a couple of days.”

“Well…” you hesitate. If you could, you’d be twiddling your thumbs. “I’ve been falling behind everyone else. I mean, I barely did anything before I landed myself in the hospital,” your voice nearly breaks, and you can feel tears forming, threatening to fall if you so much as blink. That all too familiar ugly ball forms and makes itself home in your throat. “Pretty pathetic, don’t you think?” you scoff, voice wavering. 

“Everyone gets injured at some point. Nobody’s immune to that. That includes all your peers and your superiors as well,” he states matter-of-factly.

“I guess so.” Tension gets tighter in your chest as you prepare for a lecture. 

“You come back faster from injuries when you’re younger too, so don’t worry too much about it. You did well.” 

The last thing you were expecting from Hoshina was praise. If anything you expected him to reprimand you more. Your heart beats a bit harder, a bit faster, and you hope Hoshina hasn’t noticed the climb in your heart rate on the medical monitor next to your bed.

It seems like it went unnoticed as he simply brings another spoonful to your mouth only for some of the curry to dribble down your chin.

“You’re a messy eater,” he teases.

“It isn’t intentional. It’s a bit hard to use my arms right now,” you joke back, head gesturing towards your arm sling.

“I’ll get it then.”

He licks the pad of his thumb again, wiping gently against your chin. He licks it again, this time brushing against the swell of your lips. You’re pretty sure there’s nothing there, but you remain silent. His finger scratches against the corner of your mouth, before tracing your lips again agonizingly slow, as if he’s committing every crevice to memory, his eyes half lidded with an expression you don’t recognize.

“Sir?”

“Yes?” His fingers pull away from your face, his head tilting to the side inquisitively, as if his actions a moment ago weren’t anything out of the ordinary.

“Never mind.”

—

The other day floats through your mind more than you’d like to admit. The warmth of your vice captain’s fingers as he caressed your lips, the way butterflies fluttered in your stomach as a response. 

He called you cute too, right? It probably doesn’t mean anything, you assume he’s like that with everyone. But it plays in your head on repeat like a broken record, and you have to think about kaiju guts to calm yourself down.

While you appreciate his penchant for lunchtime visits, you’re equally perplexed by it. There has to be more important things to do, especially as a high ranking official. Yet here he is again, preparing to feed you lunch by the spoonful as if he isn’t your superior officer with years of killing experience over you. 

“How’s the recovery going?”

“It’s going well. Things aren’t hurting as much anymore.”

“That’s good to hear.”

Hoshina unwraps the bento he’s brought in for you. It’s a bit more extravagant this time, soup, rice, and a variety of side dishes embellish the box.

Hoshina starts with the soup, lowering his spoon until it fills, before bringing it to his mouth. He blows on it with a gentleness that almost feels uncanny of a high ranking military officer.

“Careful, it’s hot.”

You open your mouth expectantly, obediently.

“Ah!” you yelp in surprise as the spoon of soup spills onto your chest, seeping into your gown.

“I got it.” Hoshina grabs a napkin and dabs it across your chest, but there’s something strange to his motions.

His fingers linger a bit too long after each press, as if he’s searching for something. It almost feels like they’re massaging into your skin, which feels excessive just to clean up a small mess. You’re all too aware of the heat surfacing to your face the longer he touches you. 

“Um sir, I think you got it.”

It’s as if he doesn’t hear you, intent on his mission of cleaning up his mess. His fingers dig deeper, kneading your tits over the thin fabric of the gown. Your breathing becomes more jagged the longer his touch lingers. You swear his finger grazes over your nipple, sending a rush down to your core.

“Sir,” you attempt to sound firm, only for your voice to come out in a shaky breath. 

He casually takes the napkin back and crumples it.

“No harm in being thorough,” he responds with an attempt at a reassuring smile.

You nod cautiously, questioning whether that really just happened.

“Yeah… Thorough,”  you quietly repeat to yourself.

—

It feels like months have passed, though it’s only been a handful of weeks. As time passed, visits from your peers have petered off, and all that’s left is the droning hum of the hospital equipment and your own thoughts. It’s the perfect storm to send anyone spiraling, to have you questioning whether you really deserve to have such a coveted spot in one of the most elite squads in the defense force.

So, you find yourself thinking about Hoshina. It happens more often than you’d like to admit. But it’s a natural progression, isn’t it? When he’s the only one who visits, who packs lunch for you every day. Sometimes you think he’s the only one who cares.

You don’t want to ruminate on it too long. But, you like him – or you think you like him. That’s why he has such an effect on you, right? The reason why your breath hitches, your heart skips a beat when his touch lingers a moment too long, even when his hands are in places where they shouldn’t be. A light bulb flickers on in your head.

Maybe he likes you back.

A knock on the door frame shakes you out of your thoughts, and you greet your regular visitor with a warm smile.

“How are you feeling today?” Hoshina asks, smiling back before taking a seat next to your bed.

“I’m doing great.” You rotate your arms before giving it a performative flex. “I think I’m just about ready to get back out there. The doctor even said I’ll be discharged in a couple of days.”

”That’s great news.”

Hoshina unveils the bento, even more spectacular than the last. There’s at least three tiers and you lose count at how many slots are in each tray. Each slot contains a side dish, many of them resembling fine art pieces rather than something to be consumed.

”Sir.” You pause, contemplating if you should reject his offer, “I can feed myself now.”

“You should take advantage of resting while you can.”

”Sir, it’s ok, seriously-”

”Are you talking back to your superior officer?” he interrupts with a seriousness to his tone you aren’t expecting.

You sit as straight as you can, caught off guard by his sternness.

”No sir.”

”Then open up,” he says with a smile, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. So you do, taking the offering cautiously, chewing thoroughly before swallowing. 

“You look like you have something on your mind,” Hoshina states.

You do, and he’s at the forefront of it – not that you would dare tell him. So you divert over to something normal, safe.

“How’s the squad doing?” you ask.

“That’s new.”

“What’s new?”

“You asking about others.”

Maybe the topic isn’t as safe as you thought it was.

“You calling me selfish?” you snap, a bit more accusatory than you expected. 

“You’re putting words in my mouth,” he says, arms raised by his head in an act of sarcastic surrender, “I said nothing of the sort.”

It’s your turn to say something, but it’s hard to get the words to leave your mouth.

“I haven’t seen a lot of them in a while,” you finally admit, “it’s been a bit lonely here.” 

“Of course, they’re being trained to the bone! Kaiju aren’t getting any weaker you know.”

What he says is true, but you don’t like that gnawing feeling of incompetence rising in your stomach. It’s been a bit rough for you these days, stuck in a never-ending cycle of bitter thoughts of your first battle, hyping yourself up to be better, and the inevitable ‘why bother trying?’ when you recall your hard work has earned you nothing thus far. Rinse and repeat. 

“I’m aware,” you say through gritted teeth, holding your tongue back as if it’s a dam keeping your self-deprecating thoughts at bay.

“You just gonna sit there and wallow in self-pity?” he asks, and his words hit you harder than you would like to admit.

“Self-loathing, actually,” you respond sarcastically.

“It makes no difference to me,” he sighs, placing his hands on the back of his head and leaning back into his chair, “but you want to get stronger, don’t you?”

“Yes. I do, sir.”

“Well I have just the opportunity for you!” Hoshina springs up from the chair with a clap, his sudden motion earning a flinch from you, “my schedule just opened up so I can train you.”

“I don’t want to waste any of your time, sir,” you reply softly, wishing you could just shrivel up in your bed. His offer feels unearned, the attention wasted on a poor performing combatant like yourself. You’re sure he has more promising things to do with his time.

“It’s not a waste of time to me,” he replies, “plus I get to spend more time with my cutest junior.”

There’s that special adjective again, the one that never fails to send heat rushing to your cheeks. It shouldn’t have you so visibly flustered, and you’re sure Hoshina notices your plight.

“A-are you sure?” you ask, nearly mumbling the words.

“As sure as this is goin’ in your mouth,” he says, picking up a piece of fried meat before bringing it towards you, “now open up.”

—

Once you’ve been dispatched from the hospital, it’s straight back into training. Nothing too intense, just enough to get you back into the swing of things is what the doctors said. Hoshina was ecstatic to look over your rehabilitation personally.

This has led you down an unfamiliar training room – cold, sterile, concrete walls resembling a brutalist dream. Something stands out like a sore thumb, an examination table towards the back of the room, and a medical monitor. Hoshina leads you towards the table, and gestures for you to sit down.

“We’re gonna start with some vitals.”

“Vitals?” you repeat, furrowing your brow. “What, am I in the hospital again?”

“No, not those vitals.” He waves his hand in front of his face as if to shake off the suggestion. “I want to see your unleashed power percentage. We’re going to try and test your endurance and get those numbers up. You were overheating pretty bad in that last battle, remember?”

It’s a sore memory you would rather forget.

“Yeah.”

“Then let’s try and get that number up,” he says while fiddling with the monitor, “you’ll need to strip.”

The last word sends a rush of heat to your face.

“Sir?” you ask, unsure if you heard him correctly.

“I have to attach these to get an accurate reading.” Hoshina smiles innocently and holds up a handful of wires and electrode pads connected to the medical monitor. So you did hear him correctly.

“Oh, right,” you reply with an uneasy chuckle, a rush of warmth to your face.  You take off your clothes, revealing your sports bra and underwear, feeling far too indecent in front of your superior officer. 

Carefully, you lie down on the examination table, the cold vinyl sending a chill throughout your body. Hoshina methodically presses the pads on various parts of your body, one on each arm, one on either side of your chest, two on your lower stomach, and one on each of your inner thighs. His touch lingers as always.

“Place your arms down.”

You obey, and feel the unfamiliar sensation of leather binding your wrists.

“Sir?” Panic rises in your voice as he tightens the restraints.

“Yes?”

“How long is this going to take?” you ask softly, attempting to hide your nerves.

“Shouldn’t be too long,” he answers, indifference in his voice, not acknowledging your very visible discomfort. His hand traces the leather around your hands before gently dragging down your forearm. 

“We’re going to get started now,” he says, his hand now tracing the inside of your thigh before stopping at your clothed slit, “you might feel some… discomfort.”

“S-sir?” Your breath hitches in your chest as you look down at his hand, the hand that wielded the blade that saved your life now looks foreign and distorted, mere millimeters away from your pussy. The hand that fed you warm meals and kept you company during your stay in the hospital, the hand of the captain you admired so much.

“You see that number on the screen?” Hoshina glances in the general direction of the monitor. It buzzes quietly, an ominous zero glowing in red on the screen. “It’ll show your percentage. Let’s get it to thirty today.”

Thirty? Dread swells in your chest, chills dancing on your skin when you do the mental math and realize that’s twice your personal record.

His finger twists around the edge of your underwear, pulling it down slowly, as if he’s savoring the view.

The number on the monitor goes up by one.

“See, this should take no time at all.”

Panic stirs and shakes violently in your chest like a carbonated drink on the verge of bursting as you come to the realization of what your vice captain has in store for you. 

Hoshina’s hand runs up and down your bare slit, sending a chill down your spine and a burst of heat to your face. 

“Don’t look so scared,” he says, his fingers rolling around your clit, “I’m no worse than a kaiju.”

You’re not sure that statement holds water.

His finger draws languid circles around your clit, a sensation that sends a warmth to your core, one you don’t want to indulge. Fear runs through you as you attempt to clench your legs shut, not wanting to give him any more than he’s already taken. 

“Keep these open for me, ok?” Hoshina teases, his hand pushing against your inner thigh to get a better opening. It’s not a fair fight. It was never going to be. His strength outmatches yours, plain and simple. With a carnivorous stare, he watches intently as he slowly pushes a finger inside of you, waiting for your reaction. You don’t want to give him one, but before you know it a high pitched moan escapes your lips as he makes it past the initial resistance of muscle.

Even in your state of undress, his eyes make you feel even more bare, staring hungrily at your figure, akin to a sculptor admiring a pristine slab of marble before the chisel and hammer makes the first chip.

“See? Nothing to be scared of,” he says, not that it does anything to quell the sick churn of terror and betrayal in your chest. In a moment’s time he finds that spot that has you writhing against your restraints, desperate to hide this side of yourself that shouldn’t be for his viewing pleasure. It’s just too much, the way his fingers press against that squishy patch, the way his other hand continues drawing lazy circles around your clit, sending jolts of ecstasy through your body you don’t want to indulge. It takes everything in you to hold back, not that tightening your muscles does anything to help. If anything, it just prepares you for the break to come. 

You knew Hoshina was talented, it’s all anyone ever talks about on base, but you didn’t think his talents would extend to something so lewd. His fingers knew just how to play with you, to keep you on the edge between anticipation and pleasure. 

Hoshina watches with a smile as you attempt to thrash your limbs and fail, only your back arching off the bed as you come undone. Tears prickle at your eyes as you gasp at the tension finally snapping, warm waves of pleasure washing over your core, spreading out to the rest of your body before fizzling out like seafoam.

When he takes his fingers away, you nearly mourn the absence of it. The way your cunt aches to be filled, the way the muscles flutter around nothing. You can barely make out the image of your vice captain in front of your eyes through your tears.

“Look, you’re doing great already,” he gestures to the monitor, glowing at a blurry six. How much more are you going to have to endure?

“Vice captain Hoshina,” you’re barely able to make out in between sniffles, “please let me go.”

“Why would I do that?” he asks, inspecting, admiring the mess you made on his fingers, “you’re making spectacular progress.”

It hits you then with absolute certainty. One, he has no intention of letting you go, and two, you’re going to reach thirty, one way or another. Before you’re able to lose yourself in your thoughts his finger grazes against your sensitive clit, bringing your attention back to him. 

“It wasn’t that bad, was it?” he mewls, fingers tracing your slick heat. You don’t want to admit to anything, don’t want him to stare at you so intensely. The way carmine eyes trace over your curves makes you feel small, a rabbit held up by the scruff of its neck, one bite away from being devoured.

He cuts you off before you can answer, his fingers making another entrance into your wet pussy. He starts building up that warm bubble in your stomach again, and you can’t bear to look at him. It’s embarrassing, lewd, the wet squelches your pussy makes for him, and it’s all out of your control. All you can do is lie there, take what he gives you. Like a good, obedient soldier.

He carefully inserts another finger and you wince at the intrusion. No matter how wet you are, the sensation is uncomfortable, fills you up far more than you’re used to.

“You’re taking it so well,” he croons, and you don’t want to admit the compliment goes straight to your core. After all, praise rarely makes it to your ears. His other hand grazes past your clit and you find your hips rutting into him, searching for the much needed stimulation. Hoshina is ecstatic to indulge you, drawing slow, loose circles around your bundle of nerves. He builds his pace again, fingers hitting deep into your g-spot, tighter shapes around your clit until the heat in your core builds, white hot.

“There, there, let it all out,” he coos, as if he knows you’re right on the edge, as if he knows your body better than you do, and your body submits against your wishes. That familiar warmth engulfs you again, washes over you until it fades as fast as it came. Everything aches –  you’ve never been so sore, muscles unable to relax with how the convulse around his fingers. You can barely register his fingers withdrawing, head too light and fuzzy from the aftermath.

You lie there, panting and drenched in sweat, reminiscent of those physical training modules you were so horrible at. You can only wish it was that.

“Keep that up and we’ll be done in no time.” Hoshina says, bringing you out from your post-bliss daze.

Hoshina hoists himself onto the table, lowering his pants and boxers just enough to show his cock. The sight of it sends a chill up your spine, has fear brewing a storm in your stomach. It’s just too big, there’s no way you’ll be able to take it.

But your superior officer is a man of incredible tenacity and talent. He’ll make it happen, whether you like it or not.

“No, no, no,” you instinctually attempt to bring your arms to your legs, only to be thwarted by the restraints, leather burning a rash into your skin the harder you resist.

He lifts your legs so they lay against his chest, the flushed tip of his cock now prodding against your entrance. The anticipation is worse, you think, your heart beating uncontrollably fast as you lie there, at the mercy of your vice captain. But maybe it isn’t. Hoshina pushes his cock into your cunt, pain piercing through your walls and he forcefully spreads them apart. He takes his time with it, savoring the changes in your expression with every inch pushed into you before letting out a harsh grunt once he’s fully bottomed out.

“Please, please, sir, too much-” You’re cut off by an involuntary noise from your own tongue, unfamiliar and salacious moans as he starts rutting into you harder.

“Show a little restraint, soldier,” he purrs into your ear.

It’s ironic, because you’re sure your he’s unable to hold any restraint as he fucks you, ruts into you like an animal in heat. His fingers press into your hips so hard you’re sure they’re going to leave bruises, and all you can do is accept his mark on you. It’s a side of your vice captain you’ve never seen before. You’re not sure if you recognize the man in front of you anymore.

“Sir, please, stop,” you beg, tears swelling in your eyes, a blink from falling.

“But you’re clenching around me so hard,” he replies, voice low and sultry, “bet you’re getting close.” 

His hand returns to your clit, pinching on it to coax a reaction out of you. And he gets exactly that – a yelp and your walls tighten around him and he groans. Cruel as he is, he draws languid strokes on your clit, and warmth bubbles in your core. His rough thrusts become more bearable, almost pleasurable, with the added stimulation. 

“Soshiro-“ you moan, his name slipping out of your mouth before you can catch it. It’s too late to take it back, a sly smile forming on Hoshina’s face as soon as it hits his ear. 

“Referring to a superior officer without their title?” he asks breathlessly, voice laced with poison.

“No, no, I’m sorry sir, it was an accident,” you plead, beg, hoping the desperation in your voice is enough to placate him. 

“Perhaps I’ve been too easy on you.” Hoshina’s hands wrap around your neck. “I commend your dedication to your training.”

There’s no room for the pressure to ease in. It hits you all at once. 

Adrenaline whirls and rushes right back into you, and your mind bloats with thoughts of running. But you can’t. Your state is close to that of a rabid animal, aggressively struggling against your cuffs, gritted teeth and all. The reflex to scratch at your neck, placated by the damn restraints. It only gets worse the more you struggle, your wrists rubbed raw from the leather. 

When his eyes glimmer at your pained expression, you realize Hoshina sees what that Kaiju saw in you. Weak. A plaything. Something to toy with and toss to the side once they’ve gotten their fill. 

“You can do it. I know you can do it,” he eggs you on with a smirk on his face. As if you’re an athlete and he’s your oh so encouraging coach. 

If the situation were any different, maybe you would be able to take solace in his words. But all you can feel is tension building in your stomach with each thrust, a sensation you don’t want to entertain. As it builds, guilt roars and churns like a storm in your stomach. 

It shouldn’t feel this good. It shouldn’t feel this good when the circulation to your head is cut off. When everything becomes numb except for the heat in your pussy. The longer he chokes you, the less your brain can stand to function and you’re just one step closer to indulging. 

Maybe you really are weak. 

”Is this what it felt like? Tell me if I’m getting it right,” he teases, his hands wrapping around your neck tighter, blood rushing to your head in a dizzying whirl. He thrusts into your pussy harder, striking a spot that only adds to your daze. 

You can’t bring yourself to look at him—not that you’re able to—tears blurring your vision until everything blends into each other.

“Cryin’ just for me? Can I ask for a bit more?” he asks, but you both know that you are in no place to refuse.

All you can let out are sad sputters and coughs, a sad attempt at a “no” that doesn’t reach his ears. 

Even through your tears, you can see the number on the monitor climb to the highest it’s ever been. Something resembling a choked laugh escapes your lips. Was it delusional? To think you had a seed of potential deep inside you, that your superior officer was willing to nurture it out of you?

Your train of thought is ripped from you, tension reaching a breaking point and you cum with choked moans and desperate gasps for air. Your body tenses, your walls clamping around his cock, gripping onto him like a vice.

Hoshina’s pace starts to slacken, his grip tightening harder around you until he slams one last deep thrust into you. Hot ropes of his seed shoot inside you, and you wince at the warmth.

Once his hands finally let go, it’s all wet coughs and desperate deep inhales. Once you have enough air, soft cries, much like the ones you let out on his shoulder just a few weeks prior, but now on a sterile table. 

The monitor hums quietly, a red thirty-two burned onto the screen.

“You’ll catch up in no time.”

[diejager]

who's the cruelest yandere out of the cod men in your opinion 😵‍💫 i wanna say price, but i'm interested in your own view!! ☄️🫣

Hmmmm I, honestly, never put much thought to who’s the cruelest of the bunch, but I am inclined to agree with you.

We all know Price, he’s an authoritative figure, he’s a Captain after all. With the rank and power of a captain, plus how successful his missions are, I’d say he’s also very respected. And we all know how respectable people hide dark secrets, no?? Price can be nice, but he can be as mean and cruel as he’s nice. He can be really cruel if he wants to, he doesn’t have a clean slate either, not with that stunt he pulled in MW1.

In my opinion, if given the opportunity (either as a yandere or simple a dark character) he’d be down right cruel, he’s a captain, he gets what he wants and what he wishes. With rank comes power, and with that, not much can stop him. He can still be sweet and soft, as any man, but he doesn’t shy from degrading and spanking. He might actually enjoy spanking, with a bit - a lot - of rope and handcuffs, it lets him have a lot more of control over you.

I’d put König somewhere behind Price tbh, he’s higher in ranking and power than Price, but he doesn’t do much about it, since PMC’s work differently than the military. I will say, however, that he can be rough and mean, cruel in a possessive way to show you who you belong to and who owns you. Bullying and possessiveness has a link in psychology (or so I’m told), and that just adds to the fire that makes König mean and imposing.

He’d definitely use his height and weight against you, pinning and degrading you in the cruelest way he can, a bully of some sort, but one just for you. König’s a dark man, as well, keeps his secret as close to his heart as he keeps his face hidden under his veil. He’s real physical, being bullied means that no one really wanted to be associated with him for fear of receiving the same treatment, so he grew up as a lonely kid. Which fuelled his possessiveness and jealousy. He’s extremely touch starved, it makes him like the thought of owning and belonging to someone physically and mentally.

Soap is third on the list, since he’s a bit more reckless and rowdy. He likes having his way, with how headstrong and boisterous he is, it’s at least expected that he likes getting what he wants. He’s not exactly cruel in a hitting or verbal way. He’s more of a “push over the limit” kind of cruel. He forgets your limit with how enthusiastic he is and it goes from nice to mean.

He’s not necessarily doing it on purpose, he’s just too enthusiastic! He’s a giver, but might give too much. And too much of good becomes bad. He’s a tad bit rough, beard burns and bruises, but he truly means no harm. He loves physically, kisses and hugs, hard hugs but only to show how much he loves you. Even as a darker character, he might be slightly more violent and degrading, but remember, he’s still headstrong and honest in the remake.

I put Ghost farther down cuz, well, he’s lived in a toxic household with an abusive father. He knows what it is to be hit, to be thrown around and to be berated for something he was innocent of. So while he is cruel to others, blunt and brutal with his words, he won’t raise a hand or his voice against you. It’s true that some of those that were abused grow up to become a cruel, callous and cold person, but that’s why he joined the military. It helps him control his sudden bursts of anger rather than taking it out on someone he cares about.

Even as a yandere or a morally grey character, if he learns to love someone, he’s not going to act out abusively. He knows what a toxic environment does to a person. He’s a soft carer, showing that he cares by memorizing your habits, your preferences, your little kinks and anything that makes you quirky. He might be a bit rough and mean, but he’d specify that he means none of it. After care is really, really important.

Lastly, Gaz, meh bby. Couldn’t do wrong in my mind. He’s precious and adorable. He’s dependable and likes to be praised and appreciated. I find it hard to imagine Gaz as someone cruel and demeaning. He likes being acknowledge for the things he’s done well, being given kisses and loving words. He’s a soft lover, he cares and gives a lot, but he loves being told how good he is.

We see how compassionate he is when he was first introduced in MW1, he doubts and hesitates, but always wants to help do good. He might have a slightly grey moral compas, but it’s extremely light when compared to Price and Ghost. He wants to help and means good, might be the reason he joined the military. Being strong and reliable to the person he cares about, to love you with all he can give. He’s not mean or degrading, unless you ask him to play the part, he won’t.

[g0g0at]

Ok this isn’t gonna be coherent at all but I have been thinking about Arthur being resurrected. Obviously he’s gonna come back messed up but I’m wondering about the physical aspects as well.

The amulet was also used to bring the prince back, and although it isn’t clear how long after his death it was used, that guy was in full zombie mode by that point. He could speak a little bit, but he attacked Arthur almost immediately, doing the classic zombie things.

So… is Arthur effectively a zombie now? Or did he manage to escape that due to only being dead for what half an hour? Does he still need to eat, sleep, ect? Will he get zombie like throughout the season, putting a time limit on the season? Like how John started forgetting things and drifting off cause of the presence of KiY, will Arthur start forgetting things, losing focus, maybe even becoming more aggressive while John is frantically trying to figure out what he did wrong, what is happening to his friend.

On a somewhat darker element, would he pick up the zombie diet? That would not be good, considering their “seeing death” power.

Would John not be able to touch Arthur at any point otherwise he would see his death again?

On a lighter note, could yorick walk him around like he did with the witch? That would be funny… and probably useful when John’s narration isn’t enough for a difficult task.

But also! Does he need to eat an sleep now? John has expressed annoyance, if only mild, at Arthur’s need to eat and sleep. It’s a part of being human John can’t access. And it’s part of being human no one would EVER expect to lose. Arthur losing a physical aspect of being human (rather than psychological) would be an interesting element to explore. It would also put Arthur in John’s position: without being literally human anymore, he will only be human in his emotions and psych.

Probably Kayne with reverse it if it does happen, but who knows?

[astroyongie]

Why Am I This Way - Psychology Answers

Note: hey guys! This will be a little series post mainly based on psychology. In order for me to congratulate myself for finally achieving my masters in clinical psychology I have decided to create these mini posts that will contain different questions that we often ask ourselves. In these questions I will provide psychological answers in which they will hopefully bring you a sense of understanding on yourself! Enjoy

“How Am I” Section

“I love to be alone.. am I weird?

What happens in the unconscious brain: 

To start off, it's important that we distinguish two types of people. the extroverts that focus on the exterior world and receive their energy from other people and the introverts that focus on their inner world and need to be alone to recharge their social batteries

For any interest in these type of personalities you can always check the works of Carl Jung, Isabel Briggs Myers and Katherine Briggs and the MBTI personalities 

Now is it weird that we love, need to be alone? Well no and it's perfectly normal. 

Social interactions are important and they influence one's mental health and well being but studies show that depending on your personality you will be more sensitive to one type of interaction.

Extroverts are the type that are influenced by their environment and introverts are focused on intention instead. 

Being alone allows the introvert to dig into his own self, and permits them to have access to fantasies inside their mind in order to recharge (contrary to extroverts that need to be around others to feel positive). Now we can ask, but are those daydreams and fantasies healthy? 

yes they are, contrary to the mainstream “oh day dream is a sign of mental illness”. No. everything needs to be balanced. Fantasy isn't something tangible but it doesnt stop being a fact. That way, the introvert shouldn't feel ashamed or say sorry for those fantasies that are fundamental for their well being and their functional self and perceptions. 

The fact of being alone allows one to think, it gives time to reflect on actions and events to process, it allows one to dream, and immerse in a positive comfort. introverts prefer to have deep conversations, instead of going for the superficial 

What happens inside the brain? Introverts are able to do quick information processing to the parts of the brain involved in inner experiences such as remembering, planning and problem-solving. This means that they are better at these areas than extroverts whom are not sensitive to dopamine and need to have rushes of adventures to release that hormone. 

On the other hand, introverts are also more sensitive to dopamine which is the reason why small interactions are enough to make them feel overstimulated. 

So it's not only a question of personality but also on how your brain is programmed.

So what can we do?

It’s important for everyone to understand boundaries and needs. Extroverts need to be around people not to feel depressed. introverts need to often be left alone to process events and recharge. when you are around one of these personalities, acknowledge their needs in order to become a better person for them

Introvert, your inner world is your safe place, a garden that needs to be taken care of. Keep your flowers bright and alive, and seek help when you feel that garden fading and becoming darker because that's when mental illness can snatch you.

The best thing you can do, extrovert and introvert, is benign yourself, to use your own resources and be your own initiative. Don’t follow what people expect of you, and instead follow what you need to feel secure and happy 

Now, you know where to work to become a better version of yourself

[unforgivenn]

16th Hour - #7 A life sold

Previous/ Masterlist

CW: Captivity, Psychological manipulation, Dehumanization, Panic attacks, trauma, threats, Short term amnesia, Power imbalance and coercion, Slavery, forced obedience, Marcus being a creepy bipolar whumper

When Samuel awoke, the world was different. It was darker, colder. The remnants of the drug still clung to him, making his limbs feel heavy and his thoughts sluggish. He groaned, his hand going up to rub at his forehead. God, he had a terrible headache- Wait.. Where the fuck was he? He looked around, his panic rising. The room was small, and cramped, with only a faint light filtering in through a narrow window. The bulb looked like it would fall down any second. His body ached from being sprawled awkwardly on the floor, but the physical discomfort was nothing compared to the mental anguish that washed over him.

His hand flew to his throat, trying to breathe. You cannot be having a panic attack now Sam! He scolded himself.

The door to the room creaked open, and Samuel flinched, his heart leaping into his throat. Marcus stepped inside, his presence filling the small space with an oppressive weight that made Samuel want to curl up into a ball and just disappear. The man looked down at him with a cool, detached expression, as if Samuel were nothing more than an interesting object to be studied.

“Good morning, Sammy.” Marcus said. “I trust you slept well.”

Samuel nearly gagged at the pet name. "Who- Who the fuck are you?"

Marcus only smiled, making Samuel almost want to turn over and puke from the disgust he felt from the man. "Concussion. Cute."

"Y-You- What do you mean?" Samuel looked up at him in both confusion and fear.

Marcus continued, his tone eerily calm, almost conversational. "You know, the transition to your new life isn’t always easy. Some adjustments are necessary. Like, for instance, what happened last night. You were heavy, and my men aren’t exactly the most graceful."

Samuel’s mind reeled, his words getting louder along with his anxiety. "W-What do you mean? What happened?!"

Marcus’s smile widened, revealing a hint of cruelty. "Oh, nothing major. Just a little accident. You hit your head on a metal rod. Concussion, minor bleeding. Nothing a little rest won't fix."

The words were like daggers, each one piercing deeper into Samuel’s sense of reality. "You—you're telling me... you're telling me they dropped me? They let me fall?"

Marcus shrugged nonchalantly. "It wasn’t intentional. But then again, accidents happen, especially in a place like this. You’re not exactly the most important thing here. You should remember that."

Samuel's vision blurred with tears, a mix of physical pain and the emotional weight of his situation. He was now at the mercy of a man who saw him not as a person, but as a possession, a commodity.

"Fuck you," Samuel spat, his voice weak but filled with a desperate, raw anger. "How can you just- just stand there and talk about me like I’m nothing?!"

Marcus’s smile faltered, replaced by a look of mild annoyance. "Oh, don’t get all emotional on me now. It’s not going to change anything. You’re here to be obedient, to fulfill your role."

Samuel’s heart sank further. The room felt like it was closing in on him, the shadows growing darker, more menacing.

"Please," Samuel pleaded, the word escaping as a pained whisper. "Please, I... I can’t take this. I need—"

Marcus cut him off with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Enough of that. You need to understand your new place. I’m your owner, and you will follow my rules. Failure to comply will result in... consequences."

Samuel’s thoughts spun with fear and confusion. What kind of consequences could Marcus be talking about? The auction had already stripped him of his dignity, his humanity. What more could they do?

Marcus straightened, his eyes narrowing as he assessed Samuel’s distressed state. "I expect you to behave. You’ve been given a new identity, a new role. Embrace it, or suffer the consequences."

Samuel’s tears flowed freely now, mingling with the grime on the floor. He was overwhelmed by the weight of his situation, the crushing reality of his new life as a commodity, a thing to be owned and controlled.

The bitterness of betrayal, the horror of his fate, the rejection by his own family—all of it was too much. He couldn't help but let out a small, broken sob.

Marcus ignored his distress. "You must be hungry, huh? I know the facility isn't exactly gentle with its livestock." He turned on his heel, his footsteps echoing as he left the room, the door slamming shut behind him. Samuel was left alone, his sobs echoing in the small, dark space. The silence was suffocating.

The weight of his new reality was unbearable, pressing down on him with every passing moment.

Samuel curled up on the mattress, the rough fabric scraping against his skin. His tears were a mix of sorrow and rage, a testament to the depth of his suffering. He wanted to scream, to fight back, but all he could do was lie there, consumed by an overwhelming sense of despair.

When he tried to get up from the sickly mattress, he realized he couldn’t. His eyes traveled down to his foot, which was clamped to a chain connected to the wall. Panic surged as he tugged at the chain, desperately trying to free himself.

The door creaked open again, and Samuel looked up, his eyes swollen and red. Marcus stepped in, carrying a tray with a simple meal. Just some strawberries and porridge.

Samuel choked on his sobs, his gaze darting to his chained foot. "Y-You... this..."

Marcus followed his line of vision and shrugged. "It's only until you earn my trust."

"You should eat now. " Marcus said almost immediately after, his tone cold and indifferent.

Samuel’s stomach twisted at the sight of the food, his appetite nonexistent. "I’m not hungry."

Marcus’s expression hardened. "You’ll eat. This isn’t a request."

Samuel’s resistance crumbled under the weight of Marcus’s authority. He took the tray reluctantly, the food bland and tasteless in his mouth.

"I suppose you must have questions." Marcus eventually broke the silence, folding his arms.

"I..." He stayed quiet, not entirely sure what to ask. "I don't want to be a pet..."

Marcus only sighed. "If I want you to be a pet, you be a pet. If I want you to be my lover, then you be my lover and show affection. If I want you to die, You fucking die."

"Oh." Samuel gave a small nod, swallowing the urge to shout at his captor.

Marcus stood up, his shadow stretching over Samuel like a shroud. “You’ll come to understand, in time,” he said softly. “This life you’re entering—it’s not so bad, really. It’s all about perspective. Acceptance. The sooner you accept your role, the easier it will be.”

Samuel shuddered at the thought. Accept his role? How could he accept being treated like an animal, a possession? The very idea was repugnant, an affront to everything he had ever believed in. But what choice did he have? Resistance would only lead to more pain, more suffering. He could already feel the edges of his sanity fraying, unraveling under the strain of his predicament.

“I... I can’t,” Samuel whimpered, his voice barely more than a breath. He couldn’t do this. He wasn’t strong enough.

Marcus sighed, a sound of mild disappointment, as though Samuel had failed some unspoken test. “You will,” he said with chilling certainty. “You will because you have no other choice.”

The finality in Marcus’s tone sent a fresh wave of terror crashing over Samuel. He was losing himself, slipping further and further into a darkness from which there was no return. The life he had known was gone, obliterated by the twisted system that had marked him as less than human. There was no justice, no mercy, only the cold, indifferent cruelty of those who held power.

As Marcus turned to leave, Samuel forced himself to move, to do something—anything—that might delay the inevitable. He reached out, his fingers brushing against Marcus’s pant leg. “Please... please don’t do this,” His voice choked with tears. “I’m begging you! Just... just let me go. I-I won’t tell anyone! I’ll disappear!! I swear! Just please...”

"You were chosen for this. You were born into this system, into this role. There’s no escaping it.”

With those words, Marcus stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him with a final, echoing click that seemed to seal Samuel’s fate. The sound reverberated in the small, claustrophobic space, leaving Samuel alone with his despair.

He lay there on the cold floor, his body wracked with sobs that he could no longer hold back. The reality of his situation was too much to bear. He was lost, trapped in a nightmare that would never end. The future stretched out before him, bleak and terrifying, a yawning abyss that threatened to swallow him whole.

The government that had done this to him—the system that had labeled him as livestock, as nothing more than property—was a machine of pure, unrelenting evil. It crushed people beneath its gears, grinding their hopes and dreams into dust without a second thought. There was no humanity in it, no compassion, only the cold, mechanical efficiency of oppression.

Samuel’s thoughts spiraled into darkness, his mind teetering on the brink of madness. He couldn’t see a way out. There was no light at the end of this tunnel, no hope of rescue. He was alone in this hell, and the only thing he could do for now was endure.

But for how long? How long before the weight of it all crushed him completely? How long before he lost himself entirely, becoming nothing more than the obedient, broken doll that Marcus wanted him to be?

All he could do was survive. One day at a time, one moment at a time. And hope—pray—that somehow, someday, this nightmare would end.

But deep down, he knew the truth.

It never would.

Taglist: @electrons2006/ @anutz1234/ @ash-reh/ @whumped-by-glitter/ @catnykit/ @morning-star-whump/ @paperprinxe/ @octopus-reactivated/ @whumpdemonium/ @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees/ @noeul-whumpppss

@whumpifi/ @fable-bug-real/ @cheesemctoastnuggets/ @deputydeputyp/ @thelazywitchphotographer/ @isntthisblank/ @noeul-whumpppssssss1234

@nuriiz134/ @fox-fox234/ @carosbee/ @writingphoenix @carolinethedragon/ @possumhoe/ @evagran/ @somebody327/ @someoneoninternettt/ @classyanchorlove/ @kiratheperson/ @boahamcock/ @pyromaiow/ @imarandomgamer/ @edward-mybeloved/ @skribl/ @aleki-lives-here/ @roskarovio/ @pentagramstars/ @ossknsma/ @abbyreader23/ @cluelesscameraman/ @alphabet-egg/ @cheesemctoastnuggets/ @deputydeputyp/ @thelazywitchphotographer/ @isntthisblank/@demetercabingreen-thumb/ @noeul-whumpppssssss1234/ @electrons2006/ @demetercabingreen-thumb

@vampiresprite/ @lucas--43/ @defire/ @mylifeisonthebookshelf/ @whumpwhittler/ @taterswhump

(lmk if you wanna be added or removed <3)

[ameliaszahmet]

Duncan , the most EVIL character in TOTAL DRAMA HISTORY- a psychological anaylsis of the narcissistic syndrome and the downfall of 3 great characters: Courtney , Gwen and Trent (and why Courtney made a list)

I want to specify something from the start. Duncan Courtney Gwen and Trent are ALL MY ABSOLUTE FAVOURITES . I just tried to make sense of this situation through a psychological point of view. Each time I analyze this it gets darker but a lot more interesting than expected. So the point is not hate them but figure them out.

I wrote this covering almost each and every aspect. courtney's sudden friendship with gwen , duncan as the one and only evil character , courtney's downfall and her list. I split this in more parts cuz it was already too long . So more parts to come .But in this one I cover their characters and their personalities

To understand better what really happened in total drama and that love triangle there is only one and ONLY ONE EXPLANATION for that . Narcissistic syndrome.

For those who don't know narcissistic syndrome refers to people who have a constant need for attention and a complete disregard of who they might be using to get that. We're not talking about someone just simply looking in the mirror we're talking about a complete painful form of abuse.

To get a better understanding of Duncan ‘s character we need to see how it all started . The first thing that Duncan did when coming to Island was flirt with whatever moved around him, torture animals and bully people. He pretty much made a point how he wants to be seen . A bully . “Being bad is cool.” He tried his luck with some girls on island :heather, lindsay , gwen , till courtney fell for it. "told you she wanted me". While for her it seemed like the best day of her life because she finally got her chance to express herself as she is without that pressure of rules and "perfect image" , for Duncan was just another usual Monday. She was so obsessed with rules ,raised to believe they are the only thing that keep her safe in society but the moment a bully showed her how to be free she accepted that immediately. She wanted to be free and Duncan offered what she wanted.

I do follow rules , that makes me a loser , right?

With his usual taste to break the rules it is quite obvious why he was fixated on Courtney and why he didn't try to flirt with other girls when she was around. He knew that at some point she would fall for him ,cuz Courtney = rules and Duncan LIKES breaking them.He saw her as a challenge and not someone he particularly liked for herself. He dislikes rules or police or law or anything that courtney mostly takes interest in: studying, school, being a good kid etc. He had a lot of girls, specifically those that "are crazy" . "I had crazier chicks and uglier or" hey I like that in a chick. "He likes to drive them crazy for him and the attention he's getting from them and Courtney gave him that each EACH AND EVERY SINGLE TIME.

While most of the guys have shown a particular interest for the girls they genuinely liked , like Trent for Gwen , Geoff for Bridgette , Owen for Izzy , and Tyler for Lindsay ,Duncan was the only one who tried his luck with ALL of them. Touching Lindsay's shoulder without permission, flirting with Heather the first moment he got there or flirting with Gwen later.

It is not unusual for a narcissist to use one or more victims to get their constant supply of attention and Courtney offered him plenty.

The situation changed in season 2 , especially when Courtney was not around anymore to give him that ,and Gwen's relationship with Trent was his PERFECT OPPORTUNITY to get it. He saw Gwen weak ,vulnerable during her difficult time with trent just like he saw courtney's obsession with rules as her own weakness, which made them the "perfect victims".

The sudden interest and the amount of time Duncan spent with Gwen made her confused enough about his feelings for her and Duncan knew that it would work against both her and Trent. He knew how much Trent cared about her and he used his jealousy to his advantage while turning his genuine love into a pathetic image in front of gwen. He saw this as an opportunity and not genuine interest. " Personally I would choose the money ", "I would remind you two about it when money' s divvied up" .While Trent valued her more than money and always as his first option Duncan saw her as a second option.

idk ....duncan? Not sure herself of her choice this was the very moment Duncan understood his plan worked. She made her confused for his own gain.

He instigated the doubt between them to make their relationship fall. A narcissist doesn't care who is he using for that as long as he gets to be the centre of attention and create trouble. He doesn't care about people more than himself. Just like he didn't care what Courtney might think watching this back home and seeing him doing this to people around him without remorse.

season 2 he noticed that Gwen 's relationship with trent suffers a change for the worst so he used that to his advantage. He told in his audition tape he is "resourceful" , he adapts to many situtations. His best skills are "fake tears"as he refered in his confessional . A skill that he proved to have it from a young age " oh mom was that your favourite vase? boo hooo" It is seen through his friendship with Alejandro how easy is for them to lie to women for their own convenience and even when both Courtney and Gwen were around.

those 2 are pretty much on the same page when it comes to seducing women without any regard of how they both feel. The main difference is one does it for the game and the other for "FUN"

Duncan can manipulate his goodness and his badness to his own advantage .

When he saw he's losing his game with Gwen he lured her back by saving her from the leeches trying to insist he's good while he simultaneously tried to send hints to courtney by using his relationship with Gwen and trying to make her notice him . All this while he tried to prove his bad boy image for a whole season. He doesn't want to be good, he doesn't want to be seen like this. It just happens his goodness was useful for him when he wanted to prove he's bad.

In season 2 he told gwen about the stars, and how good he treats his girlfriend because he knew this very thing would ATTRACT her when she was dealing with her hard time with Trent and offered her a safe option she can pick when her relationship with trent completely falls , just like he told courtney "oh look sweetheart how cool it is to break rules but I have a "soft side "so of course I'm not gonna hurt you." He knows Gwen is a kind girl in spite of her strong appearance just like he knew courtney is weak in spite of her forceful personality. He doesn't like to be seen as nice but it is not uncommon for narcissists to use that if it's proven to be helpful in achieving their goals. Duncan pretty much like Alejandro has to analyze the situation and act according to the victim's preference. Harold is obsessed with duty and honour? then Alejandro suggests "harakiri" , Bridgette's character turned completely dependent on Geoff ? then Alejandro makes her fall for him cuz she's weak without him. Dj has a curse problem? He creates a "gold fish" fakely making him believe he is not cursed anymroe.

Duncan operates in the same way Alejandro did.

He used Courtney's weakness and love for him against her to get Gwen and he used Gwen's trust and emotional vulnerability to get Courtney. To understand why it was easy to do this to them we need to see their characters.

For both Gwen and Courtney art is basically the only place they allow themselves to be weak

Both of them are sensitive souls who keep their feelings hidden in the hopes someone might get them one day . Gwen likes drawing , music and actual romantic stuff in spite of her dark strong goth appearance. And Courtney was the kind who never wanted other people see that she is weak , not even let them see she has a small fear or open up for a moment about her feelings ," you must be afraid of something"

"No ...nothing...."

or that her eye was hurt : " what happened to your eye girl ?" nothing! ! but it's worse.!!

" shh we don t want to let them know that. "

Her violin is the only thing she particularly feels attached to and her only safe way to actually express what she really feels. For many musicians, playing the violin is an emotional outlet and a way to express their innermost feelings. The physical closeness of the violin to the player’s body creates an intimate connection, allowing the musician to channel their emotions directly into their playing. She uses her violin to share emotions she wouldn't normally tell out loud just like Gwen creates art through her drawings revealing her deepest emotions on paper

Courtney has trouble trusting people fearing her weakness might be used against her and Duncan was the first person she completely let her guard down for. Why Duncan? She noticed he was "different". Until that" soft side episode " she did not have interest in him that much. He called her princess cuz she is spoiled not as a form of affection. that's why she hated it. She doesn't like to be reminded she has to keep up with a "perfect image" . All she wants is to be herself . Courtney mostly thought he is just a bully , just a plain bully. But the moment she saw that he has" a good side " she completely changed her mind "ohh, a bunny , wow he is nice??? " yet for him it was not something he is particularly proud of or wanted to show her. Everyone has a soft or weak or a mean side , something that Courtney and Gwen find it hard to accept .

That's for the first part. second to come.

[david-talks-sw]

Where do you sorta stand in terms of "Adhering to Lucas's" vision but also like "Well Lucas isn't making it so Star Wars is open to interpretation" Like don't get me wrong I don't like Karen Travesis's take on Star Wars for a whole host of reason and I think if anyone ever did a story and said "Well the Empire is right" then you are completely doing Star Wars wrong. But if someone legit wanted to do a story having a critical eye on the Jedi Order or IDK the Republic or even coming at Star Wars in a way that George Lucas wouldn't cover it cuz they are ideologically different, IDK, how far should that go?

I think the main thing to keep in mind is that it stays consistent with the spirit of what George Lucas was trying to say, if not the letter.

You can try alternative narratives, focus on certain characters, do it in different genres, but at the end of the day the message needs to stay the same.

And if you can't do that, at least try to be fair about your criticism of that message.

Different narrative, same conclusion

You can explore and certainly argue that the Empire brought about order and peace, and that it is better than the chaos and war present during the Republic.

You can argue that maybe, if instead of a Sith Lord who rules by fear, the Emperor was a benevolent dictator who lead by example, then the Empire wouldn't be as bad.

Legends stories have done this before.

You can even argue that the Rebels are terrorists and that the attack on the Death Star was the equivalent of 9-11 for the Imperial citizens, like this guy does.

But at the end of the day, that's a fallacy.

The previously-shown Empire storyline makes it clear that Moff Trachta is ambitious and greedy, as are his fellow conspirators. They're hypocrites who tell themselves "it's for the greater good" but really it's just so they can backstab each other to have the top job.

And the war the Empire's peace replaces was one orchestrated by the Emperor himself, so the entire regime is based on a lie, because really the only thing the Empire's system runs on is greed and fear, as shown in Andor.

Finally, while some of the Rebels' methods are hard and dark in nature... it's a war. And the narrative makes it clear that at the end of the day, the enemy they're fighting are space nazis. And 90% of the stormtroopers we're shown range from bullies to extremists. That one Imp pilot saying "millions died on the Death Star" also mocked Cara Dune for the genocide of her people, seconds prior.

The smaller narrative may take some deviations, it may question some aspects, but the larger one is consistent.

The moral of the story remains the same: the Empire is evil.

Different tone & characters, same message

When George Lucas made the six films, he had a very clear idea in mind, in terms of genre and style: imitating the Saturday matinee specials (think Flash Gordon), blend them with long standing psychological motifs derived from mythology, add dash of Buddhist philosophy: you get Star Wars, a movie for kids.

But I would fully expect a horror movie about a stormtrooper being hunted by an ice spider to go "fuck this 'we're all connected, we're all symbioms' bullshit. Die you creepy bastard!"

Same goes for Andor.

It's not rated PG-18, but it's still very dark. This isn't a movie for kids, it's a movie for teens and older. It opens with the eponymous character shooting someone in the face.

In Andor (and Rogue One) we see a side of the Rebellion we hadn't seen before. A darker one. But the genre of those productions demands a darker outlook on these concepts.

Cassian lives in a world where everything is nuances of gray.

He's the perfect kind of character to tell this story.

As is Dedra Meero. She is written as an underdog in the first half of the show. You're rooting for her. But then the series reminds you that: "hey, she's as much a nazi as the rest of them". She's willing to torture people to keep her job or get a promotion. The narrative frames her as ultimately evil.

Because at the end of the day the message is the same. The Empire is evil and it takes regular people to beat the elite 1%. Greed vs compassion, fear vs hope.

Now suppose there was a series opening on a "Gray Jedi" character, juggling between the Dark and Light Side with little to no effort or repercussion, sabering someone in the face.

That fucks with the message. Because it's okay for Cassian to do it, because Cassian doesn't need to deal with space magic, he lives in an un-mystical, cold and harsh part of the galaxy where you're either evil or less bad, rarely good.

But the 6 films make it clear that for Force sensitives, things are binary. They have to be or bad shit happens.

Gray morality works in Star Wars if we're talking about non-Force sensitives. In the case of a Force user, that's a darksider waiting to happen.

Criticizing the narrative via unreliable narrators

You mentioned Karen Traviss. For all my criticism re: her stance on the Jedi philosophy and their relation with the clones, I think her definition of Boba Fett is the best one yet (probably because she actually likes that character).

As a result of this personality, an eventual Boba Fett film would have to be Jedi-critical, because if you ask him, the Jedi took his father away from him. And you can argue using logical points all you want, his pain is emotional, not rational. Him being right or wrong is irrelevant, his pain is real.

Same goes with the recent Tales of the Jedi.

Dooku's an unreliable narrator, he is a character notorious for lying to himself and to others, he's poisonous and deceitful.

Of course three short films shown through his point of view would cast him in a noble "free thinking" light and the Jedi as infuriatingly obtuse.

The problem comes in when the author steps in and sides with the unreliable character with a subjective opinion and says that character is objectively right.

Okay, so now we have a situation where you've deviated from the established narrative.

You're having someone say the Jedi are asleep at the wheel and Dooku is the only one ahead of the curb when the movies and TCW show us the Jedi being just as aware and frustrated as Dooku is.

You're having someone say the Jedi can do more than what they're already doing, when Lucas' story shows us that there's really not much more that can be done, and Lucas himself confirms as much.

Which brings me to my final point.

Being fair with the criticism.

That's what it comes down to for me.

You can criticize the Jedi Order (I do so right here). But just be fair about it. And be informed.

For example, you can question whether the Jedi's rule of non-attachment is good or not.

But first you gotta know what attachment means, in the context of Star Wars. It does not mean "emotional attachments", aka "relationships". And it's not about repression.

So if you go into it thinking either of those things then your criticism isn't really 1) informed 2) done in good faith.

Because in Star Wars, the term "attachment" is used in the Buddhist sense. It's not about depriving yourself of bonds, it's about being able to let go and move on from who/what you love, when it's time.

Other example: you can argue the Jedi "accepted" the use of a clone army bred for combat because "we don't see it in the movies"... but you'd be disingenuous.

Because Attack of the Clones takes place over a bunch of days. You're not gonna be shown every second of those days. That'd be like arguing that "we never see Mace Windu eat in athemovie, so Mace is unable to eat".

AOTC is a movie about how Anakin fell in love with Padmé and lost his mother, and how Palpatine rose to power by engineering a war, a storyline shown through his and Obi-Wan's POV. The film isn't gonna stop and touch on a point that isn't directly relevant to those two storylines.

In TCW, you see the Jedi, some Senators and some civilians are the only people to treat the clones like, y'know, people. To argue the above, you'd have to deliberately ignore the 12 Jedi we're shown caring for their troops and just focus on Pong Krell.

Also, I think we've criticized the Jedi Order enough. Don't you think?

Different artists, mediums and tales have done it so much that the very clear, very obvious message of the Prequels has been twisted into something else.

If you look up any George Lucas interview between 1999 and 2021, he'll say it's about Anakin and the Senate's greed, it's about how a good kid becomes a bad man and how a democracy becomes a dictatorship. The Prequels weren't about the Jedi.

Instead of challenging the notion that the Jedi are good, which has been done baselessly for over a decade, I think it would now be fair to explore whether the Prequel Jedi were all that bad.

Oh. We're not trying to be fair? My bad then. Let's keep misinterpreting the source material because we like it more that way then say it was how it was originally intended to be.

[rvllybllply2014]

Aww thank you so much!! 

You're so sweet too! <3

Oh I see! Sorry for the mix up ;w;

Oh I did notice how quick Willem is to anger as a child! Sure he was otherwise handling the rejection well but it really only took one insult and he snaps to brutality killing Jerrell?

He didn't even look worried that he'd be punished for it either, which could easily play into him not expecting anger from the other Riverlords after his attack on the Bracken's..

And I agree he likely learned his anger issues & pride from his own father, with how aggressive Davos was as well, it seems to be a thing for their house!

Oof that Willem had hope for their future children marrying is just heartbreaking in a way, do you think it made him resent Raylon?

Amos's boy reminding him that hope would never come true? And being proof Amos had moved on from him?

Oh and the heartbreak Amos would feel, not just that Willem believes he could kill him, but knowing he killed his brother! How could anyone ever forgive that? Or even if he could eventually forgive, to still be in a relationship with the person..yeah I completely understand why Amos would brake it off.

(And why he'd hope aeron & Davos would brake up, cause what's stopping Davos from killing someone Aeron loves & putting him through the same pain?).

Poor Raylon! He'd fear so much for his father I bet, and who knows how the Blackwood guards Willem would assign him would treat him! :(

Ooh Amos being kept in Willem's tent is such a good idea! Especially considering he'd likely rather be in a dungeon than anywhere close to Willem.

And Willem trying to convince Amos to get back together..while wishing to inflict as much psychological trauma as possible, I can't help but to imagine some unwanted touching & kissing at least, if not full on sex in that tent..

And I love how just how obsessed & possessive Willem comes off here, like such a darker version of Davron! Which is fun for me cause there are somethings I don't like to imagine much for Davos & Aeron, like a darker side of being taken captive, abuse, rape, all that rough stuff.

Somehow it's easier to imagine with Willem & Amos, maybe because Willem just feels more brutal than Davos and Amos feels stronger than Aeron, like he could handle the dark roughness better, if that makes sense?

Thank you so much for answering my questions btw!! I really appreciate it! :'3

And sorry for sending this through another ask!

Not much room to reply in the comments ;w;

It’s totally fine I love getting asks or dms what ever makes you comfortable.

Yeah I feel like the Riverlords are just used to all the Bracken/Blackwood fights, and the fact that Rhaenyra just leaves without telling anyone to seize Willem so they’ll just not ignore it but not take it upon themselves to arrest Willem.

I honestly think house Blackwood has a trait of anger, being too prideful and just general instability. Just look at Blood Raven he called Aenys Blackfyre to a great council only to have him arrested and beheaded. That just doesn’t scream the most mentally stable person.

He definitely resented Raylon, it’s the missed opportunity for their houses and an also maybe a reminder of their youth. He’s the living breathing proof that Amos has moved on, and loved someone enough to produce an heir. He might even see something of a young Amos in him.

Amos always knew that Willem blindly follows whatever his father tells him to do. So if the order came down that he needs to kill Amos, Willem would not question it or hesitate. The point is really driven into Amos when Willem brags to him about killing Jerrell, he hadn’t known that he was Amos’s brother, all he knew was that Jerrell was a Bracken who hurt his pride.

Amos always warned Aeron about how his relationship with Davos will end in heartbreak. If Davos is even a fraction of Willem then he also won’t hesitate to kill Aeron if he’s ordered to. Once Willem finds out about Davos and Aeron, he tells Davos that he needs to kill Aeron. It’s why Davos was yelling about the boundary stones and also looked so heartbroken while doing it. He knows that Aeron will be forced to answer with a battle, and Davos knows that he’ll kill Aeron during the battle.

Raylon would got beat exactly once, it was the first night that they were captured. The guards tell him it’s because Amos defied Willem. And to drive the point home that Willem won’t hesitate to hurt Raylon for Amos’s actions, he has Amos stand out side Raylons cell to listen to his screams.

Amos would beg to be in the dungeons while at Raven Tree hall, instead of being in Willems room. Willem would also keep Amos chained to his bed. He won’t touch Amos until Amos is begging him to, but Amos never does, so Willem does what used he knows used to turn Amos on, it still works and soon he’s back inside Amos where he belongs. On the road Amos thinks he’ll get a reprieve from Willem. But Willem gleefully tells Amos that they be sharing a tent, no Amos will not be sleeping outside like his son nor will be sleeping with the horses. Amos belongs to him.

Willem is darker than Davos for sure, he embraces the darkness especially after he looses Amos, Amos was the light of his life. 20 years of embracing darkness will result in someone like Willem. Amos was raised harsher than he raised Aeron, especially after Jerrell was killed. Amos now has more responsibilities to his house. So he vowed to let Aeron embrace the softer sides of himself. Aeron still has nerves of steel but not as strong as Amos.

This is a lot of word vomit sorry. But I always have thoughts about Brackens and Blackwoods. They’re in the washing machine part of my brain on the most violent shaking part.

[sonic-love-island-official]

Sonic (Bio/Character design ramble)

Sonic's bio/ramble is here !!! This is not a drill !!!

Kudos to my sister, who took up writing Sonic's bio and commentary. She majors in Sonic Psychology, it's only right for her to continue writing, expanding on, and doing the titular character justice (because I sure can't ripp </3).

Info under the cut, as usual x

Sonic is a 25 year old influencer. He's lived in Green Hill for the majority of his life but his job and adventurous lifestyle often leads him far from home. Sonic's reason for entering the show was purely childish: a challenge. So Sonic arrives with the intent of messing around and having fun.

Sonic is free-willed and easy-going. This makes him a fun guy to be around and that's why he thrives on the Island. Given the fact he likes to have freedom... he's never tied down and struggles with commitment when it comes to love. He never stays in one spot for too long, therefore he can never stick around one person for too long. Sonic also has no type. Unlike other characters in the series or people on Love Island, Sonic gravitates to whoever he feels is giving a good energy back to him or someone he can bounce off (although he is not above basing things off physical attraction in some situations). Saying that he didn't arrive with the intent of finding love on the Island, doesn't mean he isn't genuine.

Ultimately, Sonic makes it clear that he doesn't quite know what he wants...

External design choices !! (visual appearance - incl. formation of base sim, references taken, makeup choices, fashion style... etc.)

Sonic is one of the characters I'm still not happy with and never will be because of the way the game works and my unreasonable expectations for this man. Sonic has been reworked twice in an attempt to get him perfect. When taking inspiration from the game series, Sonic took heavy inspiration from modern Sonic (Mainly the 2010's Sonic opposed to the early 2000's models.)

Sonic is the most iconic character in the series and so I wanted to do him justice by blending features of his design with the idea of him looking relatively desirable. In the first design his features relied heavily on his defining 'Sonic' features such as his pointy nose, big eyes and blue hair. His nose (in my opinion) was exaggerated when looked at front on and this was purely because of his skin overlay. His skin overlay was custom content and was the same that we used for Amy except there was one issue, it didn't work for males as it changed the way his facial features looked. As it looked fine on Amy, I thought nothing of it for Sonic, until it finally grated on me enough to change it. This is where his second design was made and thought out.

In Sonic's redesign, I gave more thought into how he looked beside other similar characters such as Shadow and Silver. As Sonic was the first to be made in the game, I didn't have the other two boys to compare him to. Now that the other boys were there to refer to, I could make sure they looked slightly similar. I decided to make their noses and mouths appear similar while keeping key things like eyes, hair and face shape unique. Sonic's eyes were kept rounded and big much like his canon design and so I wanted the eye colour to be accurate too. Sonic's eye colour is a slightly darker shade of green than Amy's and that was carried over into Sonic's design. When it came to his skin tone we had to look very closely at his Frontiers model. In a picture we looked at, we could see a slight olive undertone rather than pink. After some debate about it, we incorporated the skin tone into his redesign.

I've come to terms that I'll never be able to get Sonic right in The Sims 3, but I do like Sonic's redesign better (not to mention how proud of his side profile I am. He looks so good from side on <33). He went from looking older than 25, untrustworthy and unattractive, to looking Younger than 25, frankly cute and closer to his 'fakers', Shadow and Silver.

[ Acknowledging both designs is crucial, as a ton of screenshots have Sonic's older design in them as opposed to his newer one. And we'd rather perish than retake screenies because we altered him. I like to think it's a good display of what the design process looks like :) - bee ]

Sonic's fashion is fashion. As an influencer, he would receive a lot of branded clothes from sponsors or for product review. (This headcanon was formed from the SOAP shoes he wears in SA2). While also he'd need to keep up with fashion trends to maintain a good image. On the island, Sonic wears casual things such as sneakers (occasionally his classic red but he switches it up a bit), t-shirts, bomber jackets, jeans, cargo pants or shorts, things tend to be baggy for comfortability. Sonic also has a gold ring that he wears on his left, middle finger. This idea was not only a reference to the games and how many rings he collects, but more specifically a game where he wears a ring, Sonic and the Secret Rings.

Internal design choices !! (personality, characteristics, psychology)

I am a strong believer that Sonic is more complex than most think. He's very good at masking anything negative he's going through with a smile. A good example of this is in Sonic Frontiers. I took a lot of inspiration from Frontiers because in my opinion it is the BEST Sonic characterisation. I also took inspiration from SA2, Sonic X and many other games or media to count (Sonic's a pretty consistent character when it comes to some aspects of his personality.) In this, Sonic is a good blend of childish and mature. He tends to show his childish nature when interacting with Knuckles and Shadow or when things take a negative turn, he tries to lighten the mood with a joke to change the topic. His maturity shows when he gets fed up with people being disingenuous or rude to him and/or his friends. He also doesn't hold grudges and tends to see things that others don't. But Sonic isn't perfect because of his spontaneous actions and changes.

Sonic tends to act strangely if he feels things are getting too deep. He'll surprise everyone with an unexpected action that he can't justify himself. He cares for the people he loves, even if he doesn't know why.

Sonic tries to give people second chances when it comes to friendships and consistently tries to befriend or bring happiness to the most stubborn of people. It may be because he struggles with social cues on occasion, so he doesn't quite know when to stop sometimes.

When hurt, he places up a protective wall to try and shield himself from vulnerability. This is where Sonic shuts himself off from other people by friend-zoning or going cold in some situations. He keeps people who cause him to be vulnerable at arms length and will keep them there. So long as he can help it, anyway.

[ Except we do NOT give him that kindness. Everyone faces their problems eventually. Sonic most of all >:)) - bee ]

Fun facts / trivia :

A lot of Sonic media is included in this AU, so Sonic has 3 siblings. Sonia, Manic (triplets) and "Classic" (younger brother). This is because we thought it would be fun to add Sonia and Manic from Sonic Underground. Sonia ends up playing a big part in his arc. Classic could have been left or represented as a young version of Sonic but in the Twitter Takeovers, Classic is said to be a separate entity from Modern Sonic. And Sonic having many siblings just fitted his personality. [ I think I saw something about Classic/Modern Sonic and the dealio with them and the funky timeline, but I've forgotten what that was now. I love the idea of Brother Sonic so much to care lmao. Give him all the siblings. I trust him not to burn the house down <3 - bee ]

Sonic has ADHD. [ Yeah :) I mean- is this even a hc anymore. It's basically canon in my eyes hehe - bee ]

Sonic loves to talk and brag about his travels around the globe. Especially since he's previously visited Spagonia (home to the Sonic Love Island villa) before arriving on the show. This boy has a story for everything, and we mean EVERYTHING.

[watchnrant]

WandaVision: A Genre-Bending Exploration of Grief, Identity, and Superhero Storytelling

WandaVision is a bold, genre-bending triumph that redefines what superhero storytelling can be. The series opens with a surreal plunge into classic TV sitcoms, paying homage to I Love Lucy and Bewitched—a bold move that quickly proves its worth. WandaVision reminds us that emotional stakes can hit the hardest in a universe of super-powered battles.

Elizabeth Olsen is mesmerizing. Her portrayal of Wanda Maximoff is a masterclass in character evolution, as she moves effortlessly between sitcom whimsy and gut-wrenching emotional depth. Wanda’s desperate attempt to control her unraveling world is heartbreaking and terrifying, and Olsen makes you feel every ounce of that pain. Paul Bettany matches her performance with a comedic brilliance that brings new layers to Vision, turning their shared scenes into captivating emotional duets.

But WandaVision is far more than a love letter to nostalgia—it’s a fully immersive experience. Each episode meticulously recreates a different TV era, from the black-and-white charm of the 1950s to the neon flash of the 80s. The period details, from set designs to costumes, are spot-on, giving the series a rich visual texture. You’d be forgiven for thinking you were watching an episode of The Dick Van Dyke Show—until the cracks in the facade start to show, hinting at a far darker reality lurking underneath.

Visually, WandaVision is a feast. The shifting aesthetics aren’t just clever flourishes but integral to the story. As the series moves through different eras of TV, the visual style mirrors Wanda’s emotional unraveling. The glossy perfection of early sitcoms begins to fracture, reflecting the way grief and trauma distort her perception of reality. This isn’t just a fun gimmick—it’s a profoundly affecting metaphor for Wanda’s internal collapse, making her unravel something you feel as much as you see.

At its core, WandaVision is about grief, trauma, and identity. Wanda isn’t just mourning Vision—she’s grappling with who she is after everything she’s lost. Her immense power allows her to bend reality to her will, yet she’s unable to confront the emotional wreckage inside. The show visually represents this struggle, with each glitch and shift in her constructed reality as a metaphor for her fractured sense of self. WandaVision brilliantly captures a woman at war with her identity, trying to reconcile her past, pain, and future.

This identity crisis shapes Wanda’s every decision. Unable to let go of her trauma, she creates a world where she can hide from it. But as the cracks in her illusion grow, it becomes clear that even her immense power can’t protect her from the truth. The show’s layered narrative and visual style turn Wanda’s story into a poignant meditation on how trauma reshapes our sense of self and how running from grief only deepens the wounds.

One scene that perfectly encapsulates this tension is the dinner sequence in the first episode. What starts as a lighthearted sitcom fare quickly spirals into something unsettling as Wanda struggles to control her reality. The laughter fades, the lighting shifts and the discomfort is palpable as her carefully constructed world teeters on the edge of collapse. In moments like these, WandaVision masterfully balances its tonal shifts, moving from quirky homage to psychological thriller with a deft touch.

The series is a slow burn, but that deliberate pacing makes its emotional depth possible. WandaVision takes its time, allowing the audience to sit with Wanda’s grief and confusion. This might feel jarring for some, especially for those expecting the fast-paced action Marvel is known for. But this slower pace is essential to the show’s impact—it gives the emotional stakes time to breathe, and the payoff is worth the wait. As Wanda’s world unravels, the tension builds not through action but through her illusions’ slow, steady collapse.

Marvel’s decision to prioritize emotional complexity over explosive action in WandaVision significantly departs from its usual formula. This shift signals a broader evolution in superhero media that embraces introspection and character-driven storytelling. WandaVision shows that superhero stories can be just as much about our internal battles as the external ones, setting a new standard for what the genre can achieve.

While Olsen and Bettany are the heart of the series, the supporting cast also shines. Kathryn Hahn is a standout as Agnes, bringing comedic flair and a sinister undercurrent to her role. Her shift from a nosy neighbor to something far more ominous is one of the series’ most thrilling transformations. Teyonah Parris, as Monica Rambeau, adds emotional depth to the broader MCU connections, grounding the story while bringing her vulnerabilities to the forefront. Monica’s own experience with loss, having been snapped away and returning to find her mother gone, mirrors Wanda’s grief, adding layers to the show’s exploration of trauma. Both actresses enhance the ensemble, making WandaVision a rich tapestry of performances.

Matt Shakman and Jac Schaeffer deserve immense credit for crafting a show that blends absurdity with emotional resonance. The tonal shifts—from sitcom pastiche to psychological horror—could have easily derailed the narrative, but instead, they heighten the series’ complexity. Shakman’s direction and Schaeffer’s writing push the boundaries of superhero storytelling, resulting in a series that feels as innovative as it does intimate.

Another scene that stands out is Wanda’s confrontation with Agatha Harkness (Kathryn Hahn) in later episodes. This moment exemplifies the total collapse of Wanda’s illusion, and Agatha’s role as a manipulator intensifies the tension. The scene is a high-stakes emotional showdown that strips away Wanda’s defenses, forcing her to confront the pain she’s buried under layers of sitcom facades. This confrontation highlights the show’s seamless ability to shift from personal drama to supernatural spectacle, all while keeping the emotional core intact.

Of course, WandaVision isn’t for everyone. Its experimental structure and slower pacing may alienate viewers expecting the fast-paced, action-heavy fare typical of the MCU. But for those willing to embrace its reflective nature, the series offers a more profound, more emotionally charged experience. It’s a gamble that pays off in ways that redefine what superhero television can be.

WandaVision isn’t just a standout in the MCU—it’s a standout in modern television. Its blend of genres and experimentation with form transcends the superhero genre, positioning itself alongside Legion, which uses genre as a framework to explore deep emotional and psychological territory. WandaVision proves that superhero stories can be as rich, layered, and complex as any prestige drama, showing that sometimes, the most compelling battles are the ones we fight within ourselves.

So, is WandaVision a triumph? Absolutely. By blending sitcom nostalgia with emotional depth and mind-bending twists, WandaVision redefines what superhero storytelling can be. Marvel has set a new bar for its TV future, and if this is the direction they’re headed, count me in.

[brotrustmeicanwrite]

Writing Prompt? Kinda

I’ve had this idea for a while now but I haven’t been able to really put it into a story because it much MUCH darker and fucked up than what I usually write so I’ll just throw it out here because I don’t want it to go to waste and I’m also really interested in seeing what other people might make from it.

Genre: psychological thriller (ig? Whatever the genre for stories that are meant to make the reader really really uncomfortable is. On that note I’d put a TW here but the only way I can think to describe this is ig toxic relationship. But that barely does the prompt justice so proceed with caution.)

What would happen if two parallel universe versions of the same character for once didn’t have to close the portal that brought them together before it rips apart the essence of the universe and just got to interact? What if one isn’t the dark mirror of the other and they’re just completely identical up until the moment they first met? They are themselves and the other at the same time. They know exactly what the other thinks, down to the deepest most shameful thoughts; because they are the same person. They share the exact same memories, down to the most embarrassing, most awful things they’ve done, the secrets of which they swore to take to their graves; because they are the same person. What if they’re touch starved, what if they’re lonely? How close would they get once they realise that they can completely and utterly trust the other because they want the exact same as them? How intimate? After all, the relationship with the other is nothing more than the relationship with themselves, right? The other‘s body is nothing more than their own. Right? Whatever they do, to themselves, to each other, it’s the same as if they were still all alone. No one will ever know. No one but the other, who is just themselves.

This idea originally came from seeing a bunch of AUs from all kind of different stuff where different versions of the same character just got to hang out. Most of them are meant to just be light hearted fun but when I though about it I noticed just how weird and uncomfortable it would be to suddenly be face to face with someone who literally knows your every thought. If they manage to get over the discomfort the relationship could start out as „finally someone who I can talk to about my problems“ and be quite therapeutic but it also has the potential to get incredibly fucked up and codependent because every idea they have could be followed by „Omg that’s disgusting, they would never do that. No wait, they’re ‚me‘. They had the same thought, they would do that!“. At that point the only thing stopping them is weather or not they’re willing to abandon the social rules and expectations we have even for intimate relationships. Even normal people irl can go quite far with those things so just how far can they go?

And just to be clear, yes this is meant to be fucked up and uncomfortable and yes it can get fucked up in a sexual way, that’s the point, but I will personally strangle anyone who sends me a selfcest fantasy based on this. Not everything containing sex is meant to or even should be erotic. I can’t stop you from writing that and it’s not my place to do so but please don’t send it to me.

[phant0msworld]

This is a Jonathan crane x reader story, it will definitely have more chapters but this is the first.

No warnings for this chapter

Inhale Exhale

Being a teacher at Gotham University is certainly an experience, especially being a woman and a young one at the same time. Not getting taken serious from your older male colleagues or your achievements getting belittled.

On my way to the head of the psychology department I couldn’t help but think why he wants to talke to me, all of my classes are going well and i am doing my doctorate one the side while also teaching.

Standing before the office of the head of Psychologie always makes me feel rather anxious, the fear of being told that I can’t teach anymore hangs in my head while i knock.

„Come in“ I hear the rough and old voice of the old professor, i open the door and make my way in and say „you asked for me sir.“ now standing in the old office. Up on entering i see a man sitting across form the old professor , tho I can only see the back of his head , he had dark brown hair and I could see that he was wearing glasses.

„Ah Miss yes I was expecting you,you got my email about a new teacher starting here soon cause of the incident that happened with one of the other teachers where we had to fiere him. Well the new teacher is now here“ the old man says while gesturing to the man in the chair „this is Dr.Jonathan Crane he is new to Gotham and I thought since you too are similar age you could help Dr.Crane settle in and show him the university and assist him the first few weeks.“ the men in the chair turns around and looks at me, I look back right at him and give him a smile , I can’t help but think that he looks beautiful as I smile at him.

But at my smile he just scoffed and turns away

„yes sir that will be no problem for me.“ I say to answer the question, but I can’t help but think that this Jonathan guy already doesn’t like me.

„okay than that will be it miss, Dr.Crane I will leave you to her then if you have any trouble she will be your first source to go to“ the professor says first to me and than to him. Dr.Crane stands from the chair and I notice how tall he is,I turn around say my goodbyes to the professor and hold the door open for Dr.Crane he goes through the door and I let I fall back .

With the door now closed we stand alone in the hallway , „I didn’t get properly introduced i fear my name is (y/n) its a pleasure to meet you Dr.Crane.“

I extend my hand with a warm smile he takes,

„oh no the pleasure is mine miss but I do hope you don’t mind me saying this , I don’t need someone that looks after me and I don’t need and assistant so it was nice meeting you but I don’t think we will cross paths really other than a few meetings okay.“ he says that with such causality that it leaves me dumbfounded he just turns and goes leaving me alone.

„What an asshole.“ I say after he left, shaking my head i make my way to my next class.

The rest of the day goes by like anyother but Dr.Crane and his asshole behavior wont leave my head. It’s darker when I leave the uni and finally making my way home I had to do a bit of research in the library and can’t wait to get home and take a long hot shower and sleep.

Taking the subway alone as women inwendig it’s already dark is definitely not a good Idee but I have a pepperspray always with me and growing up in Gotham teaches you a few things.

The ride home takes about 45 minutes and seems like an eternity, the rain the fog and just the grey atmosphere dosnt help with it.

Finally in the hallway infringe of my apartment

I see that light is on inside, my landlord said something about a new roommate but I didn’t think they would be here already.

I put my key in the door and turn it to the side, up on opening the door I see him in my home. Him Dr. Jonathan Crane I freeze and just stand still not really processing what I see with my eyes.

[zestrya]

daydreams by your side, forever

he made you feel as if you were crazy, even when you knew the way he acted was unnatural he made it seem so natural. you knew all of his claims of love for you weren't true, still, you remained by his side, always letting his nurture this sick obsession with a frail hope for a blooming love.

pairing:: riddle rosehearts x gn!reader

cw:: yandere; unhealthy relationship dynamic; obsession; mention of physical/psychological abuse; stockholm syndrome. if i missed something, tell me, don't wanna trigger anyone.

notes:: may be quite ooc, especially since i got too lost daydreaming about him midway through.

it wasn't that bad, you thought to yourself. his touches were gentle, most of the time at least, as long as you were good for him, as long as you reciprocated his words of love, as long as you accepted being his living doll.

he wasn't that bad, you thought. he gave you everything you could ever wish for, only if you paid the measly price of your freedom.

you were scared at first and you'd be lying if you said felt nothing about it even today, still you were aware such feelings would do nothing but bring you sadness.

especially when the rosehearts was so observant of your every action, when even flinching away from his touch once would offer you an endless string of punishments, eyes raging in a freezing anger whenever he so much as deemed you actions as unfit of his partner.

how could you, a future member of the rosehearts family, port yourself in such an unsightly way?

the worst part was when he sighed with that depreciative look he sent your way whenever you missed any of his rules, his tone was as if he was scolding a dog and not his own partner, though at this point, you guessed you were even lower than any pet to him.

“[name], you know i hate to go over this all over again as much as you do, but i can't let you go any longer disrespecting the Queen of Roses rules.” he lied. you could see the way his eyes shone whenever it came to punishment.

it wasn't always like that, when you first became partners he was a gentle soul, not the most lenient, but still willing to teach you and follow your pace, but with time his state seemed to worsen, patience running thin with even the most subtle etiquette error, as the shadow beneath his feet grew darker with each passing day.

the days after the punishments were far better, he'd embrace you all day long if you so wished, he'd even ignore your existence if that's what would put you more at ease.

he was a good lover after all. one that could offer all you ever wanted and more, if only it wasn't a pure, underwhelming love, after all, how could he, when all of his thoughts were plagued by your existence?

there were times where he couldn't even sleep while thinking of you, face unusually serene as he hugged you to sleep, but he couldn't even notice how his arms were wrapped far too tightly for you to find any comfort under his touches, but even if you didn't have any sleep he'd smile, lovestruck, just to have some pillowtalk with his most precious person.

otherwise, on days you followed the rules perfectly you could expect the best treatment possible, he wouldn't be above a loyal servant at that point, letting you even use his lap as a pillow or having him act as your own hands and feet, his praises soaring as high as the skies, he just wasn't one to let good feats go unnoticed after all, all good job should be rewarded, after all, that way you'd be even more motivated to continue, right?

though, the rosehearts wasn't as just as he liked to paint himself, most of your problems arose from his petty jealousy, his mind getting muddled with obsessive thoughts if you so much as offered to pour tea to some of his guest at the unbirthday party, things being even worse if some headless fool such as ace appeared, touching you freely under the watch of the Ruler himself.

he learned to control himself, he said, at least under the guests watch, you thought.

when all the eyes turned around it was time for your hell to start, his hands gripping so tightly at your wrist that at times you were scared it would break, his body so close to yours that it seemed he would eat you whole if it meant he could keep you away from others, after all, he knew his many flaws better than anyone else, he never talked about it, but he was so insecure that you would leave him, that at times he even considered getting a contract from the ashengrotto so you would be forever tied to him.

what he didn't know, though, was that his love was like a serpent, one that wrapped around you so tightly that you didn't have any strength to get it away anymore, that even if his love wasn't just like it used to, he was still the riddle that you once fell in love.

love came in many ways, and even if his wasn't as safe as you liked to think, it was still the love that you choose to pursue.

[tessadiscordia]

Human Nature

In a future where vampires have integrated into human society, two outcasts explore the darker potential of their already precarious relationship.

Concepts: MTF x MTF, blood kink, vampire x human, mind control, blood drinking, biting, praise kink, hypnosis, yuri

CW for: consensual non-consent, sadism, masochism, blood

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Krista was not like the other humans. That is why Vespera had chosen her after all. They were alike in many ways, despite coming from two different species that were supposedly opposed on an ontological level.

Vespera was an undead, bloodsucking creature of the night. Krista was a mortal made in the image of the Divine, a being who had not fallen as far from the light of Heaven’s kingdom. At least not yet. Yet still, they came from similar backgrounds; both were discarded by their families at a young age, left to fend for themselves. That was how they found each other that fateful night. It seemed as though the stars themselves had brought them together.

For many centuries, vampires remained in the shadows, their existence only the subject of folktales and Hollywood sensation. The emergence of vampires into the public eye, and then civil society, had been the subject of a great amount of social tension for the first couple of years, but humanity as a whole soon acclimated to the new status quo. Vampires became citizens alongside their mortal counterparts. 

Since the signing of the treaty, it was not uncommon for humans and vampires to engage in unions such as that of Vespera and Krista, but there were unspoken expectations. The new laws stated that vampires and humans were made equal, and it was expected that vampires would never seek to undermine the autonomy of human beings. There was a strong stigma around vampires feeding directly from humans, whether it was consensual or not. Because of this,

vampires were expected to utilize blood banks and other alternative forms of satisfying their bloodlust. Countless product lines were invented to cater to this new market, leading to the rise of vampire-centered corporations. Blood-based carbonated drinks, blood-based smoothies, and other products popped up across the market overnight. Vampires were expected to consume blood the same way humans consumed water– packaged and labeled, rather than from the source.

If it became known that such acts were being performed by a vampire and their human partner, it was not uncommon for that sort of thing to be viewed through the lens of an unhealthy power dynamic. After all, the full scope of vampires’ influence over the human psyche was an ongoing field of study. The humans in question risked opening themselves up to all forms of emotional, psychological and even metaphysical corruption.

But Krista was not like other humans. 

When Vespera arrived home late one particular night, she found Krista standing topless in the dimly lit kitchen of their small, raggedy apartment in nothing but her sweatpants. Her dark hair done up in a messy bun and her bangs falling in front of and around her round face as usual. 

She greeted her girlfriend with a tired smile, “There you are. I was wondering when you’d get home. Long day at work?” Her voice dipped inquisitively. 

Vespera couldn’t help but crack a smile at the sight of Krista in such a state. It was common for Krista to put a considerable effort into her presentation, but she always bemoaned the obligation. She was pretty in a full mask of makeup with her face contoured and her eyebrows trimmed, and she was less likely to get weird stares in public, but Vespera preferred her like this. Her naked face and that little bit of acne, her hair wild and free; that sort of feral beauty she only ever got to see in the comfort of their home. She never understood why the world would seek to shun and lock away such a perfect angel.

Krista snorted, “Are you gonna answer my question, or are you gonna just stare at me all night? Take a picture, babe. It’ll last longer… hell, I’ll even wait for you to get your camera,” she teased.

“That is so unfair,” Vespera closed the distance between them and lifted Krista up by the waist. The human let out a squeak as her vampire lifted her onto the kitchen counter and they locked eyes. “You’re this effortlessly beautiful, and I’m expected to act normal about it. What sort of cruel joke is that?” Vespera teased right back, a smirk on her face.

“I think that’s perfectly fair,” Krista hummed. “I’m glad you’re in a good mood tonight~ Usually when you get back this late you immediately take to venting about your boss…”

“Oh, I could do that, believe me– but I have nothing to say that you haven’t already sat through.”

“Touché. Then it sounds to me like some stress relief is in order…”

“Oh, definitely.”

Krista pulled Vespera into a deep, passionate kiss. Their lips locked and between them, their tongues wrestled for dominion as their hands searched one another’s bodies for that perfect spot to hold onto. Krista moaned softly into Vespera’s mouth as she broke the kiss, leaving the thinnest thread of saliva between them.   

“I am so glad you’re in a good mood tonight,” Krista purred. There was a glimmer of excitement in her voice which intrigued Vespera. 

“You keep saying that. Something tells me that there’s a reason beyond, ‘I love my girlfriend very much and I wanted her to have a good day’...”

“Well, there’s something I wanted us to try tonight,” Krista started. “If you feel like experimenting, that is.”

“My dear Krista, always with her experiments…” Vespera shook her head, fighting back a smile. “Very well. I’m all ears.”

“It’s simple, really. I want you to…” Krista’s voice trailed off as her hand slowly rose above her shoulder, her fingers trailing across her own skin. Tilting her head to the side, she gently tapped the crook of her neck. 

“Oh…”

If Vespera’s heart still pumped blood, it would have started to beat a little faster. She felt a strange heat rising within her, and with it came a strong sense of apprehension. A growing dread in the pit of her stomach. 

She took a step back from Krista. “I… I’m not sure that I can do that. I’m not–”

“Hm? Why not? I didn’t do anything wrong, did I??” Krista started to panic.

“No– no, of course not! You didn’t do anything wrong, Krista. It’s just… we don’t know what could happen if I do that. I’m afraid of hurting you.”

Krista nodded slowly. “I understand. Trust me, I am very much aware of the risks. I also see the way that you eye me sometimes. Surely you must think about it, don’t you?”

“I do, but–”

“And I just know that Pepsi brand type-O barely even tastes like the real thing,” Krista laughed. “But me? I’m free range. Straight from the tap. When’s the last time you’ve had it fresh?”

Krista’s irreverent attitude towards this whole ordeal struck Vespera as slightly off-putting. Surely she knew not the full gravity of what she was requesting of her. How serious this could be, potentially. They stood before a bottomless pit of possibility, threatening to open a can of flesh-eating leeches that may be impossible to close after the fact. Perhaps more importantly, Krista was right. She had been eyeing her. She sometimes would fantasize about tasting her. The sweet flavor of her life essence on her tongue, crimson nectar running down her chin as she gorged herself. She banished those visions to the deepest recesses of her mind in an effort to maintain her civility. She believed such thoughts to be vile, beastly; confirming all of the worst suspicions held by humanity towards her kind. She had to be better than that.

“I could live another hundred years without it,” Vespera said. “I don’t miss it that much.”

That was a lie, and Krista knew it.

“You don’t have to, though. And besides, I’m not just doing this for you. Sometimes I wonder how it’d feel. Sometimes I crave the feeling of your teeth on my skin,” Krista admitted. “I want to bleed for you, Vespera. You say that you’re afraid to hurt me, but… that’s exactly what I need from you.”

Vespera could hardly believe what she was hearing. She must have been dreaming, no? She should pinch herself to make sure. She prayed that she would wake up so that she wouldn’t have to face this. Anything but this.

“I’m afraid, Krista. I’m afraid of– of hurting you.”

That was a lie, too. 

Krista saw through her. A look of surprise flashed across the human’s face, followed by a knowing smile. She had been right all along. They wanted the same thing.

“No, you’re not,” Krista hummed. “I think you want this just as much as I do, if not more. You’re just afraid of what that says about you.”

Those words were enough to stop Vespera dead in her tracks. The vampire was dumbstruck. 

“Don’t worry. It’s okay, Vespera. It’s really okay. This doesn’t change how I feel about you, and I wouldn’t look at you any differently. If anything– I want you to be true to just how much you want this. I want it just as much.”

“You… you don’t know what you’re saying, Krista…”

“I know exactly what I’m saying. I trust you, Ves. I’d trust you with my life.”

She beckoned Vespera closer. The vampire approached her quietly, closing the distance between them once more. Krista placed two fingers beneath Vespera’s chin and with them, she guided her towards the soft skin of her neck. Her other hand gripped the edge of the kitchen counter in excitement, her body shuddering as she felt her warm breath on her skin. 

“That’s it,” she whispered. “Take me, Ves. I’m all yours.”

Vespera’s mouth hung agape, her canines growing into more defined fangs better equipped for piercing skin. It had been ages since she had to use them like this, she couldn’t remember the last time she hadn’t drank blood from a can or a plastic bottle. She did miss this, and deep down she was so very grateful to Krista for allowing her to do this. Allowing herself to do this was the real battle. Even this close to victory, she could not help but hesitate.

“Go on, love. You’ve got me,” Krista continued to encourage her. Her lips bent into a pout and gave way for the next words that came out as more of a whimper than anything else. 

“I’m not going anywhere… I couldn’t hope to escape or overpower you, Vespera.”

The way she talked messed with her head. She was enjoying how into it she was, but with that sense of enjoyment came the bitter aftertaste of shame. She must have been deeply broken to be enjoying the idea of Krista's suffering this much. Those humans, they certainly must have been right about her. What they were doing was indeed problematic. It was wrong and evil. No place existed in polite society for what they were doing.

…But the sound of Krista’s pulse tugged at her mind and conjured up all manner of sinful feelings within her. The rhythmic pumping of her blood was hypnotizing. Warm, fresh blood. Directly from the source. It was being given willingly.

“I want to bleed for you.”

That was what she had said earlier. Those words echoed in her mind as she leaned forward, her teeth finally making contact with Krista’s skin. A soft moan escaped the human, her body shaking ever so slightly as her survival instincts kicked in. Vespera could smell her fear in the air, the scent was intoxicating. With it she could no longer keep herself at bay, and her fangs sunk into the flesh of her willing victim.

Krista let out a soft whimper as her body quivered in Vespera’s grasp. Her primal instinct was telling her that she was in danger, and she started to fight against Vespera’s advances to no avail. Her strength was unmatched, keeping her steady and trapped as she drank from her. Taking what was hers. 

“Ves– Ves, let me go–”

Her voice was enough to snap Vespera out of it. She pulled away quickly, her eyes wide with horror. “Oh, god– Krista, I’m so sorry–”

Krista’s voice had been but a shrill, pleading noise. She had never heard anything quite like it. It horrified her that her first impulse was to disregard her cries for mercy. Revel in them, even.

…But Krista’s whining seemed to indicate something different. She looked at Vespera with a bewildered and slightly betrayed expression, somewhat resembling a puppy that had been shooed off by its owner. “Why’d you stop? I didn’t mean it, Ves…”

A wave of relief washed over Vespera as she breathed a long sigh. 

“Now, unless I start tapping, I don’t want you to stop. Is that clear?” Krista suddenly sounded rather assertive. It grabbed Vespera’s attention immediately.

“Right. Of– of course…”

“Really, Ves. There’s nothing wrong with you if you’re enjoying this. And if there is, then who cares?”

“I care,” Vespera protested.

“Well maybe you shouldn’t. Maybe you’re messed up, maybe I’m messed up, and maybe none of it matters as long as we’re happy together. You ever think about that?”

Vespera wanted to engage in this moral debate with her girlfriend, she really did, but she could not take her mind off of the sound of Krista’s pulse. It called out to her, beckoning her forward.

“And maybe, just maybe, as long as we don’t let what others think get between us and what we want for ourselves, we can– ah!”

Krista didn’t get to finish her thought, not that it mattered. It seemed she had done a great job convincing her. She threw her head back and exhaled sharply as the vampire’s fangs plunged into her tender flesh once more, blood trickling down the side of her neck. Her hand gripped tighter around the edge of the counter, while her other hand dug its nails into Vespera’s back. 

“Ves– Ves, please…”

This time she ignored Krista’s pleading. She allowed the taste of Krista’s essence on her tongue to override her protective urges, letting her bloodlust take the wheel. She would give Krista what she wanted– she would drain her until she could take no more. After all, deep down, it was what she wanted as well. What she craved. Her teeth sunk deeper, blood gushing from the wounds, as she threatened to strike bone. 

A high-pitched cry rang through the apartment as Krista’s body twitched in her grasp. The poor girl shuddered, her voice melting into a pained, brittle squeak. 

“Ves, you’re hurting me…”

But she wasn’t tapping. Vespera could hardly believe it– Krista wanted her to keep going. Despite her begging, despite her twitches and cries, she didn’t want it to end. Perhaps they were truly made for eachother. 

Vespera retracted her fangs and hissed in Krista’s ear. “Be quiet, will you? You asked for this, now shut up and take it.”

Krista shook like a leaf in the vampire’s tight hold. She nodded quickly and without a sound, tears streaming down her cheeks and hitting the floor beneath her. A deep red blush betrayed her true feelings, and the girl tried her darndest to fight back a smile. 

Vespera saw it but pretended not to. She continued on, finding another spot on Krista’s neck and diving into her flesh. Krista held back another pained squeak, her breath hitching and her body convulsing. She suffered in silence.

“Good girl,” Vespera ran her hand through Krista’s hair as she continued to feed from her. 

Those two words alone made Krista’s body fall limp in Vespera’s arms. She was unsure if it was how viscerally horny she was or if it was the blood loss settling in, but she found it hard to sit upright. She gave up on it entirely. Her vision was spinning. Perhaps now was a good time to make her stop, she thought. She didn’t want to, though. She decided to wait a bit longer.

Vespera was lost in Krista’s crimson ocean. The warm, crisp taste of freshly pumped blood was utterly enthralling. All she had to do was lose herself in it. Krista had given her permission, so why should she deny herself? This was her nature, after all. She had been taught to hate herself for it, but here was a human willing to be her prey. Perhaps even a plaything. Krista’s subtle ticks and soft breaths lit Vespera’s desire ablaze, and her tears fanned the flames. She would steal every second she was offered and revel in Krista’s suffering until the girl finally relented. 

Then it came. The tap. Krista was halfway between consciousness and a blood loss induced coma, dark circles dancing across her vision as she stared up at Vespera with a loopy smile. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, her smile never fading.

“Should I call an ambulance?” Vespera asked, her words laced with genuine concern.

“No, no– I’ll be fine. I’ll be upright in a few seconds, I think,” Krista shook her head. “I just need a minute… then we can take this to the bedroom.”

“I don’t think it’d be wise for me to feed again so soon,” Vespera warned.

“That’s not what I’m asking you to do, anyway. Look at my eyes,” Krista practically ordered. Vespera wondered how even on the brink of passing out she still managed to be so demanding. 

Still, she did as she was told.

“Good. Now give me a suggestion.”

“You’re asking me to use my charm on you?”

“What does it sound like I’m doing?”

“But Krista, that’s–”

“I know, Ves. I know. I want you to make me black out. Tomorrow morning, I shouldn’t have any recollection of whatever is about to happen tonight,” Krista purred. “I’ll need you to remind me what you did to me. Could you do that for me, love?”

“Krista…”

Krista stared up at her with the first genuine pleading gaze of the whole night. “Please, Ves. I need this. I need it bad. I need you to bend my mind to your will…”

How could she ever say no to that pouting face? She sighed, her eyes taking on an unnatural glow as she met Krista’s gaze. Within seconds the girl’s eyes glazed over and her expression lost all emotion.

“Krista, can you still hear me?” She asked.

“Yes, mistress,” she answered in a flat tone. 

Hearing Krista completely enthralled roused a certain perverse excitement within her. She was effectively at her mercy, unable to resist any command she gave her at this moment. She knew that was the point. Krista wanted her to have her way with her, she had been pretty clear about that. Vespera thought that she should’ve felt guilty despite Krista’s orders, but she could not find an ounce of remorse. She was going to enjoy this just as much as Krista was going to– or would have, if she was still aware of what was happening.

In the morning, Krista was going to wake up with the brightest sense of fulfillment knowing that she had been brainwashed and defiled by her vampire mistress, and Vespera would have to jog her memory of the night they had. Every single excruciating detail. 

She took Krista’s hand, helping her off the counter and guiding her to her feet. “Come, now. The night is still young,” Vespera hummed. “We’re going to make the most of it, you and I.”

“Yes, mistress...”

“And you want to give me what I want, don’t you?”

“Yes, mistress.”

“Such a good girl. You learn so fast.”

Krista stared off into space, her eyes vacant of any and all life. She wasn’t there, really. Just an empty vessel subject to Vespera’s will until the spell was broken. Vespera was the only one who could set her free. Until then, she would do whatever was asked of her. She hadn’t learned anything, she had merely been broken by simple eye contact with a vampire.

Vespera led her out of the kitchen, through their messy living room and into the bedroom. She pulled Krista to her, planting a deep kiss on her lips before throwing her onto the bed in front of them. Krista fell onto the bed like a stiff, lifeless doll. Vespera climbed on top of her, holding her hands above her head and staring into her dead eyes.

“If only you could know how beautiful you look right now, my dear,” she sighed.

“Thank you, mistress. You are too kind to me. How shall I ever repay you?” 

Krista’s voice devoid of any will kicked her lust into full swing. She was going to thoroughly enjoy this, almost as much as she enjoyed Krista’s begging a moment prior. 

“I think I have just the idea…”

[krimiqueer]

So, Oderbruch. It was... not too bad. It's interesting to see this topic from a more "human" point of view. Some things were obvious, others less.

I expected something darker though, not necessarily darker as in more gore or horror, but maybe more psychological. It seemed a bit light on that. But also I expected something similar to Der Pass, where the characters have a lot more depth than expected, and were also more complex. Also, the whole bodies mountain gave me too much hope for something à la Hannibal lol

The cast was nice, Lucas had a secondary role and I expected to see more of him but alas, not so much. At least his character wasn't useless haha But in the second part of the show, he should have had a bigger place considering what his character was looking for and what he knew.

The way the supernatural aspect of the story is written is quite interesting. Like I said, it's a lot more human than what it could have been, and it's an interesting take. The only thing that was a bit tiring is how they dance around the topic even when everything is under their nose, and that's why Lucas' character should have had a more important role. He knew.

Anyway, not a bad show to watch casually (if you can watch some gore).

[not-poignant]

Hi Pia,

Behind-the-scenes-fic-ask, number 21 and falling falling stars please ❤️

21. What is something you didn't expect people to notice or gravitate towards in this fic?

Ooooo, okay, actually quite a few things!

So the biggest one is that I just never expected to have Dr Gary be anything more than an extremely minor character that Efnisien mostly reflected on. I never planned to write whole sessions, and the first one was only a section of a chapter rather than a whole chapter, because I thought readers would hate it.

I actually really hate reading a lot of fictional therapy sessions, especially when that's not the focus of the fic. Most fictional therapy sessions read like 'therapist is narrating pop psychology and telling this character everything they want to hear and they're subbing in for a kind parental figure' at best.

There are exceptions to that, but for the most part, I find that boring - it feels like a kind of writing that is not quite lazy, but a bit 'there are other more interesting ways to share this.' Therapists don't feel like real people in those circumstances, with their own motives, thoughts, intentions and drives. They feel like an extended part of the character's brain, or they feel like an empty function.

But Dr Gary was like, was a hit. I was getting a lot of asks about him, a lot of interest about him in the comments, and in the first few chapters, me and my beta actually kind of shipped him and Efnisien together before he met Arden (that's how we ended up with Underline the Black lol).

So yeah, that's the biggest one!!! And that one is a pretty big one. :D

Otherwise, I was also surprised by (but maybe shouldn't have been) how many Kadek/Efnisien shippers there are and Kadek/Efnisien/Arden shippers. I was like...hmm...how can I put this - Kadek has darker brown skin, and in those cases some readers don't really go for that chemistry. He's also 20~ years older than Efnisien, though he doesn't act like it, lol. Like, I personally shipped them even though I wasn't going to write them into the main story, but I was very reserved/aware that people might not want that. Especially with how confrontational and sometimes even mean Kadek can be.

Honestly that was like, probably the nicest surprise. It wasn't that I expected people to be awful, often I try and go in with fairly open expectations, it was more like I was prepared for people to not feel/see what I was feeling/seeing about a character. And I was okay with that, because he's a side character. But we got way, way more scenes with Kadek because of how people responded to him.

This story really couldn't have been what it became without the readers! The best part about not planning a story is I can follow the kind of momentum of readers. I don't believe in caving to fanservicey stuff, but I do believe in 'oh you're open to this? I can give you more of this!' or 'oh you like him!!! Yay!! I do too! Let's experiment with a whole therapy session chapter and see how y'all feel about it.'

:D That's my favourite part of writing, honestly. I actually kind of feel bad for the people who don't read fics as they go like this, and just read it all when it's completed at the end. Because they miss this kind of alive creation of this ongoing story, and they miss being a part of it. And obviously they also miss the agony of waiting for chapters, but as someone who reads WIPs myself, idk there's something very cool about seeing something come to life - especially like, if say early on you are like 'I love this character so much' and then a bunch of other people say it, and then the author is like 'well this character can make the story stronger so good news everyone, I'm putting him in more because you all love him so much.'

That's... like... *chef's kiss*

~

From this meme!