#unlink command

[harryshousekey]

Target {H.S.}

This is on wattpad (harryshousekey,) but wanted to share a bit of the chapter that freaked my friends out.

THIS IS SMUT. - Harry x OFC // From Harry's POV

Whatever Harry era you want (it's BTA harry in the book)

Vienna is a small blonde with brown eyes :)

He was literally hired to kill her. If you happen to read this psychological warfare of a book i'm writing, leave me a comment over there and we might have to kiss.

Word Count: 5,349

--

Harry Styles

Her back hit the wall with a dull thud, but she didn't flinch. She stared at me like she could kill me with a look, and hell, maybe she could. Maybe that was why I couldn't stop.

Her pulse thudded under my grip. Fast. Furious.

"Let go," she said, breathless.

"You want that?" I asked, stepping closer. Our chests nearly touched now, heat crackling in the inches between us. "Really?" I move my thigh, almost accidentally. But it wasn't.

My leg now sitting flush against her core, she glares up to me. Hate and lust seep out of her face into my body, and I soak it up willingly.

She didn't answer. Her eyes dipped to my mouth for half a second - too quick for most people to catch. But I did. I always saw her.

I let her wrists go, slow. She didn't move.

"You're a psychopath," she whispered.

"And you're still here."

Something in her snapped then. She grabbed the hem of my shirt harshly and pulled it up just barely, like it was a dare. I eye her back like I had something to prove - maybe I did. That she couldn't fight me off, couldn't pretend she didn't want this as badly as I did.

Angry hands rip the shirt over my head, inked skin now exposed to the cold hair in the house. Her nails raked down my neck as she brought her hands back down, the shirt landing somewhere in the kitchen. My hands found her waist, then her thighs - gripping, lifting, pinning. Her legs wrapped around me like it was instinct. Like this wasn't our first time losing control.

"You hate me," I muttered against her neck, working to leave marks. I love leaving marks.

She bit her own lip hard enough to draw blood. "Exactly."

It wasn't love. It wasn't forgiveness. It was rage and lust tangled up in a heated fire that burned too hot to last. And I didn't care. Not tonight. Not when I finally had her like this - furious, wild, and mine.

My hands slip under her sweater, struggling to pull it off. My sweater. The smell of me soaked the sweater and I can't apologize for the grin that spreads over my face as she throws her head back in frustration as I still work at her neck. I pull back, biting harshly where my mouth was before. The sensation pulls a gasp out of her, and I take the opportunity to get a grip at the hem of her sweater.

Her arms link around my neck for support as she lets me strip her of the warm hoodie, only unlinking to let me pull it over her head. My hand falls back on her lower back, the other throwing the sweater somewhere in the room, careless and thoughtless.

I get back to her neck, her short nails digging into my neck near my spine. I grunt at the feeling, reminding myself to let Elira get her nails done too.

Turning us around, I manage to find the bedroom we'd been sharing. The bed is unmade, sheets pulled back. Perfect.

I drop us onto the bed at the same time, crawling to hover over her and work at getting the rest of her clothes off.

My jeans feel really tight right now. Not yet, Harry.

I find her arms, loosely thrown over my body, and grab them both. Finding her wrists, I gather them in one hand to hold over her head. As much as the pain of her scratching my back feels incredible, I can't fucking focus.

She fucking whines, struggling under my grip to no avail. "Let go," she commands, voice strong despite my mouth below her ear. I pick my head up to look her in the eye, her brown eyes completely glazed over already. Through it, I still see her. She's still fighting.

I laugh at her request, "No."

She huffs, trying once again to struggle out of my hold. I really need to take her to the gym, but the struggle is kind of cute.

I suck back below her ear for a minute while she keeps fighting, leaving a mark that'll probably be purple in the morning. I smile at my own work, mentally patting myself on the back.

Finally letting her arms go back around my neck, she grips harshly once more, left hand sliding up into the base of my scalp. I try my damndest to ignore the feeling, reaching under her to easily unclasp the pretty light purple bra she has on, smirking at her when I get it first try with my left hand.

"Fucking-" I pull her bra out from under her, but leave her covered. I can't just expose her with no warning. "God, you're so cocky." She huffs, too frustrated to hold a sentence.

I grin at her, leaning down to bite the mark I left before leaning into her ear to whisper. "I know, baby."

She pushes the side of her face into the mattress, face scrunched. I take that as my cue to pull her bra off, finally taking her in. Her skin is tan for a girl who's been living on the road, and her breasts relax into her, nipples perking up in the cold air.

I have no restraint at this point. All self-control flies out the imaginary window as I grunt and lean down to take her into my mouth. She lets an untamed moan out, arching up into the sensation. I use my right hand to push her back down by the hip, making her groan in frustration.

I leave my left hand on her chest, touching her where my mouth can't. She pushes up once more, met with restraint as I keep her down, pushing on her abdomen now. "Vi," I warn, voice low, vibrating her chest.

She grunts and rolls her head to the other side, hands pulling angrily at my hair. It actually really fucking hurts. "Just fucking-" she breathes, pulling harder at my scalp. "Such a prick."

I decide not to respond, just pull her hands out and pin her wrists again. I hover over her face, giving her a warning. "Don't move them."

"Fuck off," she spits harshly. I pull my hand down to grip at her jaw, squeezing her face. She looks at me with pure hate, a feeling I revel in.

I force her to look at me, grip tight. "I'm pretty fucking busy right now, so for once on this fucking trip, behave."

I yank my hand away, going back at her other nipple, using my right hand now to keep her stimulated. It almost pisses me off every time she lets a noise out, because I'm not one for foreplay. Rather not split her in half until I can exchange her for my freedom, though.

Gripping her hips harshly, my thumbs traveling cautiously under her waistband. I'm about to ask when she brings her own hands down. The ones I explicitly said not to move. I'd be mad, but she's pulling her own pants down, revealing-

Oh, fuck.

I didn't go with her underwear shopping. Didn't wanna deal with it. Should've sucked it up, because now she's got deep red lace on, the same color as the stupidly tight dress she tried on earlier.

Without another word, she gets her pants past her ass and puts her hands back where I'd just placed them. Behaving.

She might actually make me pass out. I pull harshly at her pants, pooling them around her ankles before she flails her feet around impatiently to get them off entirely.

I exhale through my nose, trying to keep my focus, but it's really fucking difficult with her spread out beneath me like this-panting, glaring, waiting. The lace is deep red, delicate, and so goddamn unnecessary. It just proves my point. She knew this would happen.

I hook my fingers under the waistband, slow, dragging my thumbs over her hip bones, but don't pull them down yet. Instead, I tighten my grip, pressing my thumbs deep into her skin until she hisses.

"Something wrong?" I murmur, pressing my mouth to her stomach, deliberately skipping over the places I know she wants me.

"Yeah," she snaps, trying to shove her hips up. I dig my thumbs in again, keeping her firmly against the mattress.

"Problem?"

Her head jerks up, dark eyes burning. "You're a fucking tease."

I grin against her skin, letting my teeth graze her hipbone. "You just figured that out?"

Her breath stutters-just for a second-but I don't miss it. Her hands, still obedient where I left them, curl into the sheets like she's debating whether to follow my rules or claw at me again.

I nudge my nose against the edge of the lace, moving lower, but at the last second, I move back up. I drag my mouth across her ribs instead, letting my teeth scrape deliberately slow as I kiss and bite my way up to her sternum.

She groans, actually groans, head dropping back in frustration. I love that sound.

I smirk against her skin. "Something you'd like to say?"

"Yeah," she snaps, twisting against my hold. "Get the fuck on with it."

I laugh, really laugh, because she's suffering. She hates this as much as she needs it, and that makes me never want to give it to her.

I push up on my elbows, hovering inches from her mouth, so close she could kiss me if she just swallowed her fucking pride.

"You beg, I'll consider it."

Her eyes snap to mine, and for a second, I think she might slap me.

Instead, she laughs-sharp, humorless.

"You think I'd beg you for anything?"

My grin doesn't falter. "You will."

Her nostrils flare, frustration rolling off her in waves, and then-fucking finally-she moves.

Her hand lashes out, curling in my hair, yanking me down so hard I nearly lose balance. My mouth crashes into hers, violent and demanding, her teeth knocking against mine, and fuck yes.

I let her take control-for a second.

Then I take it right back.

My hands snap up, grabbing her wrists, pinning them above her head again. Her legs kick at my sides, pissed as hell, but she still locks them around me, pulling me closer.

"You're so fucking annoying," she grits against my mouth.

I bite her bottom lip hard enough to make her gasp. "And you're still underneath me."

Her head slams back against the mattress, hands tugging, testing my grip, but she's stuck.

"Harry." My name is a warning, furious and desperate.

I press my knee between her legs, just barely enough pressure. Just enough to drive her insane.

Her whole body tenses.

She stops fighting. Stops breathing.

And then she whimpers.

My smirk returns as I lean down, lips brushing her ear.

"That's close enough to begging, don't you think?"

Her breath shudders against my cheek, but her voice is still sharp, still full of venom.

"I fucking hate you."

I grind my knee against her just to hear her whimper again.

"Then hate me," I murmur. "Just keep your legs open while you do it."

Her whole body reacts before she can stop it-hips twitching up, fingers curling into fists above her head, lips parting just barely like she wants to say something but refuses to give me the satisfaction. I watch every flicker of emotion on her face, every war she fights inside herself, and I let it all sink into me. The frustration. The restraint. The push and pull of someone who hates that they want this and wants it anyway.

I keep my mouth right next to her ear, lips brushing the flushed skin, keeping her caught between every word, every inch of contact I allow. My knee stays where it is, pressing-not hard, not soft, just enough to make her ache for more. It's deliberate, calculated.

Just like everything else I do.

Her breath shudders, and I swallow down the sound, committing it to memory because fuck me, that's addictive. She's so fucking stubborn, and I want to be the one to break her. Not fully. Not in the ways that would ruin her. But enough to make her forget herself, even if just for tonight.

Her legs are locked around me, holding me to her despite the anger rolling off her skin. The heat of it burns, and I want to feel every inch.

I push lower, just barely, enough that her nails scrape at my scalp in retaliation. My jaw clenches at the sting, but I don't stop her-I let her have it, let her pull me down, let her take something back even as she loses the war.

Her voice is a whisper of a growl when she finally speaks, like she has to force the words through clenched teeth. "Let me go."

I press my lips to her jaw, soft but mocking. "Make me."

Her fingers tighten, pulling so hard it forces a breath out of me. She doesn't want soft. Doesn't want sweet. She wants to rip this from me, to tear into me the way I tear into her.

So I let her.

I release her wrists and the second I do, her hands are everywhere. She shoves at my shoulders, pushes at my chest, rolling us until I land on my back and she's straddling me, thighs tightening around my waist. Her breathing is erratic, wild, and I barely get a glimpse of her face before her hand grabs my throat.

I let out a low, dark laugh, dragging my tongue over my bottom lip as I take her in. "That all you got?"

She glares down at me, fingers flexing like she's debating whether to actually squeeze. Her nails dig in, but she won't. She knows it. I know it.

I drag my hands up her thighs, gripping them hard enough to bruise, and she inhales sharply, her body betraying her all over again.

"You fucking hate me," I remind her, pushing up just enough that our bodies align exactly how I want them to.

Her throat moves beneath her own grip as she swallows. Her jaw clenches. And then-so quiet I almost don't hear it-

"I do."

She tilts her hips forward just barely, her exhale catching in her throat, and that's it. That's my final thread snapping.

I sit up fast, one arm curling around her waist, the other tangling into her hair and pulling. She gasps, fingers tightening on my throat, but it's not a fight anymore.

Not really.

Her chest brushes mine, heat searing through every inch of fabric between us, and her breath is so close it sends a shiver down my spine.

I drag my nose against her jaw, slow, deliberate, teasing. "Then show me."

She does.

Her mouth crashes into mine, teeth and heat and desperation. Her nails scrape over my scalp as she pulls harder, hips rolling, pressing down in a way that might actually kill me. I grip her hips, forcing her down, controlling the rhythm, making her feel every second of this.

Her body shakes, just slightly, and I don't know if it's rage or anticipation. Probably both.

I pull back, just enough to bite her bottom lip, just enough to make her feel it. Her breath hitches, and she's so fucking close to losing control completely, I can feel it.

So I drag it out.

I reach between us, fingers teasing the waistband of her still-on lace, sliding under the elastic but going no further. She whines. Actually fucking whines, a noise so involuntary, so frustrated that I have to grin against her mouth.

"Oh, sweetheart," I murmur, fingers teasing lower, but not enough. Never enough. "You sound like you're begging."

She growls, low and dangerous, and I have half a second to smirk before she does something reckless. She reaches between us, grabs my wrist, and shoves my hand down exactly where she wants it.

I freeze.

Then I laugh-low, thick, dark.

"That desperate, huh?"

She glares, cheeks flushed, lips swollen. "Shut the fuck up and touch me."

And fuck me, I need to.

She's still on top of me, breathing heavy, skin burning against mine. Her nails dig into my shoulders like she's waiting for me to push back, fight her, tell her no.

I don't.

I grab her throat instead, not to choke, just to feel the way her breath stutters when my palm wraps around it. My thumb presses into the hinge of her jaw, tilting her head back, forcing her to look at me, to see me.

Her lips are parted, swollen, her pupils blown so wide there's barely any color left, and fuck, I could stay here forever-watching her, feeling her try to fight off the way her body gives in to mine.

But I have other plans.

My hand slides from her throat to her jaw, grip firm but not hard, and I drag my thumb down the slope of her bottom lip, pressing in just barely. Her tongue flicks against the pad of it, and I feel her body tremble in frustration when I don't give her anything else.

"You want something?" I taunt, knowing exactly what she wants. I want to hear her say it.

Her expression twists in pure defiance, but she doesn't move away. If anything, she leans into my touch, into my control, like she hates herself for it.

"I want you to shut the fuck up," she mutters, voice hoarse from the way she's been breathing me in like she needs it to survive.

I chuckle darkly, dragging my hand down her body, slow and possessive, feeling every inch of her before gripping her hips. I flex my fingers into her, rolling her against me, just enough friction to make her curse under her breath.

I lean in, my lips brushing her ear as I whisper, "Not happening, sweetheart."

And then, before she can throw something back at me, I move.

I flip us fast, pressing her into the mattress, letting my weight pin her down just for a second, just to make her feel it-how easy it is for me to control this, how little power she actually has. Her chest rises and falls sharply, her thighs tightening around me, but she doesn't fight. She never really fights.

She just pretends she wants to.

I pull back, sitting up on my knees between her spread legs, dragging my gaze down her body. She's a fucking sight-half-naked, flushed, her hair a wild mess around her, and she's glaring at me like she'd rather put a bullet in my head than let me keep looking at her like this.

Too fucking bad.

I take my time.

I hook my fingers under the band of her red lace underwear, snapping it against her skin before slowly-painfully slowly-dragging it down her hips, over her thighs. She shudders, a full-body tremor she tries to suppress, but I catch it. I feel it.

I smirk, watching as the lace pools at her ankles, and she kicks those off too, like she's trying to get rid of evidence.

But I'm the one committing the crime. More of a downright sin, really.

I push her thighs apart, holding them there even when she tenses like she might try to close them on instinct. She doesn't. She wouldn't dare give me that much satisfaction.

Instead, she exhales through her nose, tilting her chin up like she's daring me to do something about it.

"Oh, I plan to," I murmur, eyes locked onto hers as I lower myself down.

She stops breathing.

I can tell by the way her stomach tightens, the way her hands fist into the sheets beside her head, the way her body goes perfectly still as I settle between her thighs.

And I don't rush.

I drag my hands over the inside of her thighs, squeezing the muscle there, spreading her wider, making her feel how exposed she is. She's still glaring at me, still holding onto that last sliver of control.

I intend to take it from her.

So I drop my head and press the softest, most delicate kiss right against the inside of her knee. Then another. Then another, working my way up, each one deliberate, slow torture.

By the time I reach the crease where her thigh meets her hip, she's quivering. Not much, just a slight shake, but enough that I know she feels this everywhere.

I hover, just barely breathing against her, my mouth so close but not touching.

Her hips twitch.

She hates me for it.

"You're fucking insufferable," she breathes, voice cracking at the edges.

I grin against her skin, inhaling her scent, feeling her body tense with anticipation.

"And you're fucking impatient," I counter, my breath brushing over her most sensitive spot, watching as her thighs threaten to clamp shut before I hold them apart with both hands.

"Be good," I murmur against her. "Or I'll take my time."

She lets out a shaky, wrecked exhale, and I don't give her a second longer to process.

I lick into her slow, wide and devastating, dragging my tongue from base to peak, savoring every fucking inch of her.

She chokes on a moan.

And I?

I fucking devour her.

She tastes like sin. Like she's never let herself be touched like this-never let someone have this kind of power over her. And maybe she hasn't. Maybe that's what drives me fucking feral about it, knowing that I get to be the one to break her down, to force her body to betray her when she wants to fight me off.

I can feel her thighs trembling under my grip, every muscle coiled tight like she's about to bolt. But she doesn't. She just fists the sheets, sucking in sharp breaths like she's trying not to make a sound.

I won't fucking allow that.

I pull back just enough to drag my teeth against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, nipping, sucking-marking her, because I know it'll piss her off. She hisses, fingers twitching in the sheets. I don't acknowledge it. I just slide my tongue against her again, slow, filthy, purposeful.

Her breath catches.

I feel her hips jerk, trying to chase the sensation, and that's what does it. That's what makes me groan into her, low and possessive, because she can pretend all she wants-her body knows the fucking truth.

"You're shaking," I murmur against her, kissing her slowly, tongue flicking out just enough to tease.

She makes a frustrated sound, shoving at my shoulder with one hand, but I catch her wrist midair, pinning it down beside her. My grip tightens, not enough to hurt, just enough to remind her who's in control here.

"You wanna pretend you don't want this?" I taunt, pressing another slow, deliberate kiss against her, feeling her twitch under my mouth. "Go ahead, lie to me."

She grits her teeth, her nails digging into the sheets now that I've taken away her chance to fight me off. But she doesn't push me away again. She doesn't move at all. Her breathing is ragged, coming in short, uneven gasps, and I know she's holding back, trying so fucking hard to stay quiet.

So I change tactics.

I flatten my tongue against her clit, dragging it up in a way that makes her whole body jolt. My grip on her wrist tightens when she gasps-loud, raw, unfiltered.

There it is.

I fucking grin against her, pleased, satisfied.

Her free hand slams over her mouth.

Not a fucking chance.

I reach up, grabbing her by the wrist, pulling it away from her lips. Her eyes flash, dark and wild, like she's ready to throw hands over it. But I don't give her the chance. I pin it beside her other wrist, forcing her to be open, exposed.

"Let me hear you," I demand, lazily dragging my tongue against her again.

She whimpers. Fucking whimpers.

I nearly groan at the sound, my cock throbbing against the confines of my jeans, but I don't let up. I dip lower, tasting her, sucking, licking, devouring her in slow, calculated strokes. I want to ruin her, make her lose whatever self-control she's clinging to.

She's close already. I can tell by the way her thighs are starting to shake, how her breath is coming in short, broken little gasps.

Still, she refuses to beg.

I'll change that.

I pull back slightly, flicking my tongue right where I know she needs me, circling, teasing, denying.

She whines, actually fucking whines, and I feel her try to rock against me. I tighten my grip on her wrists. "No," I say, voice gravelly, wrecked. I press my lips against her inner thigh, nipping, sucking, teasing. "You wanna cum?" My voice is a low, deliberate murmur. "Beg for it."

She shudders. "Fuck you."

Her whole body is tense, her jaw clenched, fighting so hard not to give me what I want. So I give her another slow, devastating lick, swirling my tongue just right before pulling away again. Her body convulses. I smirk, lips ghosting against her. "Say it, darling."

She hates that I use those names, nearly degrading at this point. I can see it in her eyes, the way they darken, furious and desperate all at once. But her voice shakes when she exhales, ragged and weak.

"Fuck you." I laugh, low and dark, pressing an open-mouthed kiss against her soaked skin. "That's not what I asked for, sweetheart." And then, because I want to watch her fall apart, I pull my head away.

She fucking hates this. Hates me. I can see it in the way her lips curl back, in the sharp bite of her nails against my skin as she tries to shove me away. Like she actually thinks she has a chance.

"Get the fuck off me," she spits, her voice ragged, her body twisting beneath me.

I catch her wrists in one hand and pin them above her head. "Not a chance," I murmur, my voice rough, breathless with the way she clenches around me.

She bucks against me, her glare slicing into my skin, but all it does is make me harder. She's furious, practically trembling with it, but her body? Her body's telling a different story.

"Fuck you," she hisses, her voice breaking on the last syllable.

A slow smirk tugs at my lips. "That's the plan, sweetheart."

She jerks against me again, but it's useless. I press my forehead to hers, watching the anger flicker across her face, mixing with something else-something she doesn't want to admit.

"You're gonna come on my cock," I breathe, my grip tightening when she tries to turn her head away. "And you're gonna fucking like it."

Some point along the way, I'd lost my pants. Hovering over her heavy now almost felt like too much. I reach down onto the floor, pulling my wallet out of my pants pocket.

Breathing heavy, Vienna's chest rises under me as she gives me a frustrated, yet curious look. I pull what I'm looking for out of my wallet, and hold it in front of her face. A condom. The gold wrapper makes her grunt impatiently. "Of course you have one in your wallet-just," she shifts under me, completely stripped, "Just hurry up."

I chuckle darkly, sitting up a bit to pull my own underwear off. I'm a bit embarrassed by the small wet spot on the front as the waistband comes down-

"Jesus fucking Christ."

I snap my head back up, pushing my boxers down the rest of the way. "What?"

She rolls her head back dramatically, gesturing to my lower half. "That's not-"

I smile at her, making her attempt to slap my chest. "That's not fitting."

Shrugging, I tear open the package carefully, examining it. The last thing I need is a mini of the person I can't stand. I roll it on carefully, rubbing myself up and down her folds, sliding easy in the mess she's created.

Moaning each time I pass her sensitive spots, I look up at her to be met with a simple nod. I huff. "I need fucking words, Vi."

She sits up, eyes blown out. "Yes, fuck. Just-"

Good enough. I push foward gently. I never bothered to ask about her sex life, which I'm now regretting.

Holy Shit.

She's so tight around me I can barely breathe. Her own eyes are scrunched shut as I keep my hips slowly moving.

By the time our hips are fully together, she's glazed over, focus on the ceiling. The sight alone almost makes me come.

I grip her thigh, keeping her still as I let her adjust, every inch of her clenching me like she wasn't sure she could take it-but fuck, she was. She would.

"Breathe," I murmur, my own voice coming out rougher than I intended. My forehead presses to hers for just a second, and her breath hitches. I can feel every shaky exhale she takes against my lips.

Vienna's hands clutch at my shoulders, nails digging in like she needs something to ground herself. She's warm, tight, fuck-so tight it's almost unbearable, but I stay still, giving her a second.

Her fingers twitch. Her body squirms, adjusting. Then her lashes flutter open, and she looks at me with something between frustration and need.

"Move," she grits out.

That's all I need.

I pull back, just enough to feel the drag of her around me, then push forward again, slow and deep. She gasps, back arching slightly. I do it again, watching her face, how her lips part, how she fights every sound that threatens to escape.

"Don't-" she swallows hard, "don't look at me like that."

"Like what?" I thrust a little harder this time, feeling the way her breath stutters, the way her nails dig deeper.

"Like you're enjoying this."

I let out a dark chuckle, lowering my mouth to her ear. "I am enjoying this."

She shudders, but she doesn't deny that she is too. Her legs tighten around my waist, trying to pull me in deeper.

"Fuck, Vi," I groan, picking up the pace, my grip tightening on her hips. The sound of our bodies meeting fills the room, her strangled little moans barely contained, and it's driving me insane.

She slaps a hand over her mouth, muffling herself, but I yank it away, pinning it above her head. "Let me hear you."

She glares, like she wants to fight me on it, but then I angle my hips just right, hitting something that makes her choke on a whimper.

"Fuck, Harry-"

"There it is," I murmur, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth before dragging my lips down her throat. "Now, be a good girl and come on my cock."

Her whole body locks up beneath me, back bowing as a sharp moan leaves her lips. She clamps down so tight around me that I nearly see stars, her orgasm ripping through her so suddenly that it drags me right over the edge with her.

I bury myself deep, groaning against her sweat-slicked skin as I spill into the condom, her name slipping past my lips in a hushed, wrecked whisper.

For a moment, all I can hear is our heavy breathing, the faint creak of the bed beneath us.

Then she exhales shakily, voice hoarse. "I still fucking hate you."

I smirk against her shoulder. "I hate you too, baby."

She tries to push me off almost immediately, her body still trembling beneath me. I don't let her. Not yet.

"Get off," she grits out, attempting to wiggle free.

I catch her wrists, pinning them lightly to the bed. "Stay still."

She glares at me, but I can see the exhaustion setting in. Her muscles twitch with the aftershocks of her orgasm, her breathing still uneven. I shift off her slowly, careful as I pull out, making her suck in a sharp breath.

She winces, legs clamping shut as she rolls onto her side like she's trying to get away from me. I don't let her.

"Need to clean you up." I tell her simply, because I'm not asking.

"I can do it myself," she snaps, pushing up on shaky arms.

I grab her by the hip, keeping her in place. "You can barely move."

"Fuck off, Harry-"

I ignore her, grabbing a tissue from the bedside table and running it between her legs. She tenses, the fight still in her, but her body betrays her when she lets out the smallest sigh at the contact.

Her eyes squeeze shut, her lips pressing into a thin line as I finish, taking my time even as I know she wants to swat me away.

Once I'm done, I toss the tissue in the trash and roll onto my back beside her.

The silence is unbearable.

She shifts, pulling the blanket over herself even though I can feel the heat radiating off her skin. She doesn't look at me. I don't look at her.

For a moment, the only sound in the room is our breathing, still uneven, like neither of us has quite recovered.

Then, from downstairs, the front door creaks open.

Laughter spills into the house, too loud, too carefree.

Niall and Kaydie are home.

--

A/N oh. my. gawsh.

i took her to my safehouse and i freaked it

Thanks for reading Tumblr :)

[pezberrywhoreee]

'Controlled'

pairing: dom!janis imi'ike x sub!regina george

words: 2,685

content warning: harddom!janis, puppyslutsub!regina, bdsm, d/s dynamic, hypno kink, puppy play, forced puppyfication, cnc, strap, humiliation, corruption, oral fixation, orgasm torture, overstimulation, frottage and grinding, spitplay (drool)

summary: she doesn't know what's good for her, but she'll learn

a/n: any tist's or people that do hypno (whether erotic or not), i want to make it clear that it was an artistic choice to not include dialogue of each suggestion of triggers that janis gives. i thought that it would get too repetitive and it could've potentially made the reaction a little underwhelming. however, i fully understand that suggestions must be made in order for a trigger to essentially function. i don't know if im overthinking it or not but im really not out here trying to misrepresent the art that is hypnosis with my subpar knowledge :D

"What makes you think you can talk to me like that?" Janis stalked behind the taller girl, her voice eerily calm and collected by her neck.

Regina only scoffed in return, finding the girls attempt at intimidation humorous at best.

"Kneel right now" the brunette ordered, her low tone already tickling Regina's inherent need to submit to the woman. "Fucking kneel!" Janis raised her voice when the blonde gave her an unimpressed look.

They had been playfully arguing about how Regina would make a beautifully pliable puppy, to which the blonde counter argued that the brunette was crazy to think that she would ever have such little dignity, especially in front of someone who knew her to be so confident in the way she held herself.

It was when Regia kept insisting a little too seriously that Janis was "delusional" that the brunette knew it was the perfect time to start the scene.

Janis grabbed the girl's wrist and dragged her into their shared bedroom. Not one part of her was surprised when Regina didn't put up a fight. She would never admit it but she arguably preferred submission over dominance. It was very obvious but she liked to think that it wasn't.

The blonde held the fierce eye contact that the brunette threatened her with, her peripheral catching how the girl's chest heaved in rage. Regina couldn't help the way her eyebrow cocked along with the smirk that pulled at her lips, which ultimately drove Janis to quickly push the girl onto the floor by her head, forcing weight on it until her knees gave out and she dropped on the hardwood.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" the blonde exclaimed as Janis forced her arms behind her back and gave her a warning and expectant look to stay put.

"You don't know what's good for you, Regina" the brunette hummed, controlling the rage in her voice as she moved to retrieve a couple of accessories to aid what she was about to put the stubborn girl through.

After Regina collected herself from being called her name by her girlfriend, she scoffed once more at her words. "So you're going to force me to find out what is?" she challenged, cocking her head though she kept her position.

"Oh please, don't act like you don't want it!" Janis retorted as she stepped back in front of the kneeling girl.

Regina rolled her eyes because she knew that the girl was right.

Janis joined the blonde on the floor, sitting in front of her to bring her to eye level. "Deep breath" she commanded as she forced eye contact with the blonde once more. She smiled as the girl complied, seeing a bit of her reserve dissolving. "Relax your body, untense, let your knees and arms slack if they need to" the brunette tapped into the familiar soft, monotone part of her voice.

On the exhale, the blonde allowed her body to relax. Her head dropped slightly and her arms unlinked, falling by her sides. Her weight fell into her hips, pushing down into her thighs.

"Good girl, one more time~". Janis encouraged as she mirrored the action, hopefully pushing the girl to feel more comfortable. "Let those eyes fall, listen to your body", she hummed as she kept a close eye on the girl's breathing.

Regina slumped on the exhale further. Her head closer to lolling but still not fully dropped, her stomach more pushed out as her chest hallowed.

"Such a good girl. Every time I say 'good girl' you are going to feel yourself relaxing deeper into that safe, secure place. Don't resist it" the brunette continued, smiling as she saw the girls eyes starting to flutter shut and become one with her breathing.

"Now, every time I touch your forehead and say 'stop' you're going to return to your normal state. Your breathing will be normal as if you just woke up. When you hear a snap, you're going to fall two times deeper into that safe, dumb, thoughtless place. Nod if you understand". Janis hummed, pleased with how quickly the girl was falling into trance.

The blonde gave a slight nod, showing the brunette that she was actively listening.

She brought her finger up and tapped her forehead, humming the release trigger. Regina blinked her eyes open, a tired smile on her face as the brunette came into sight again. "Very good~. How was that, baby?", she asked as her hand reached to stroke at the girl's thigh.

Regina gave her a less powerful scoff. "Do you think this is actually going to work?" she got out just before the snap resonated in her head and she instantly dropped deeper into trance.

Janis let a soft laugh leave her at the irony of the moment. "I'm going to touch your forehead and you will undress unknowingly. It will feel instinctual and natural and you will not realise until I point it out. You're doing so well, baby" she suggested, her tone becoming a bit more commanding, but still recognisable to the tranced girl.

As soon as Regina felt the touch to her face, her eyes fluttered open and she took in the girl's pleased face. She reached for the bottom of her shirt, pulling it over her head and handing it to the girl in front of her. Janis took it with a chuckle at which Regina furrowed her brows.

The blonde pushed back on her ass to peel off the boxers that she was wearing, handing that to the girl too. Janis took a moment to acknowledge the light sheen of arousal that glazed the girls cunt. She waited for Regina to kneel again before piping up.

"Notice anything?" the brunette gestured to her body, fighting a smirk.

Regina looked down, taken aback by her naked state. "Oh fuck...I'm getting wet" she mumbled, feeling the growing throbbing at her cunt. She fought the confusing urge to let her hands fall between her thighs.

Janis let that smirk make itself known. "Well that was quick, huh?" she teased lightly.

"Shut the fuck up—" Regina just managed to retort before that snap triggered that familiar response that now become muscle memory.

The brunette took this opportunity to secure a leather collar around the girl's neck, making sure it wasn't too tight but tight enough to always be felt. She also slipped a leather harness onto her hips, fastening the buckles in the front snugly.

"When I touch your nose and say 'puppy' you are going to only think puppy thoughts. You will act like a puppy and nothing will exist besides following commands and being a good girl.". Janis hummed, feeling herself really getting into it now.

The trigger elicited a low whine in the back of Regina's throat as she came back into something akin to reality. These puppy-like sounds continued as she planted her fist against the ground and pushed her back up, now on all fours with her back arched.

She briefly shook her head, as if to rid of the hazy feeling in her body which Janis found endearing.

The blonde looked up at the shorter girl, her tongue threatening to loll out.

"Let go, puppy" Janis encouraged softly as she moved to stand back up. She hummed when the girl let her tongue hang out, little pants accompanying the act.

Regina started to barely noticeably wiggle her ass along with her panting but was encouraged by the hummed "good girl" that once again fell from the brunette's lips.

The brunette watched as the girl began to lightly shake from the amount of attention she was getting, a satisfied grin appearing on her face.

She reached for the attachable toy that connects to the harness as she spoke. "Puppy's don't think. You're too dumb to think on your own and you need someone smarter to think for you, isn't that right?" Janis hummed, her tone now mocking.

The blonde nodded, a wide smile obstructed by her tongue.

"Such a good girl-" she hummed before tapping the girls forehead again "in heat: 8". A shit eating grin appeared on the brunette's face as she attached the toy into the rings of the harness, quickly averting her attention back to the panting girl.

Regina sunk into the ground with another throaty whine, her tongue disappearing periodically to whimper. She looked up at the other girl with begging eyes, her ass pushed out.

"Please, mommy" she whined as she dropped her head, hopefully muffling the desperate plea.

The brunette tried to hide her surprise at the infrequent honourific that so beautifully rolled off the girls tongue.

"Uh uh, puppy's don't speak, you know that! Be a good girl and bark for me. In heat: 9" the brunette played around with triggers, laughing sadistically when the girl quietly barked as her face was tapped.

Janis marveled at the panting girl, in love with how deep in her mind she already was. Her eyes caught how the blonde was pushing her hips into the air, cocking a brow.

"Come here, puppy!" her voice jumped up an octave as she sat down on the edge of the bed, patting her lap enticingly.

The brunette hummed contently as Regina crawled over to her without question. She was rewarded with a few a scritches behind her ear which she leaned into. Janis couldn't help but find it endearing to see the girl give into what they both knew was good for her.

"What are we going to do with this mouth?" Janis teased as she ran her fingers along Regina's lips, pushing them into her practically drooling mouth and collecting some saliva to spread on her chin.

She chuckled as the vibrating girl's eyes went between her face and the toy resting on her pelvis, her eyes intense and eager.

Janis gave her a challenging look at which the blonde took the opportunity to nuzzle against the leather decorating the girl's hips, whining while doing so.

"Oh—do you want something?" the brunette taunted as she continued to softly stroke the girl's head. Regina let her tongue loll out once more before giving a low growl in frustration.

Janis knew exactly what she wanted. She wanted to not think. She needed to turn her brain off. Now there's no reality in where she would admit this but the brunette could see right through her, and besides they had excessively talked about it during negotiation.

"Is the puppy all bothered? Is she not getting what she wants?" the brunette mocked as she slipped her shin between the girl's spread legs. She gave her a gentle nod as desperate eyes looked up at her.

With a growl the blonde lowered her cunt against the girl's leg, her eyes fluttering and another whine resounding in her throat. "You better put that mouth to use, baby" she purred as she took hold of both the girl's head and the toy, running the tip along waiting lips.

Janis bit her lip as the girl stuck her tongue out and took the silicon tip into her mouth, her hips starting a rather quick rhythm as she rubbed against the brunette. Her eyes squeezed shut at the heightened sensations that were powering her body.

The blonde started to feel thoughts fading away, her mind slowly becoming empty. This only increased her already debilitating arousal.

The shorter girl's hand found a comfortable grip on the girl's jaw, lightly forcing her to take the strap deeper into her mouth. She wanted to show her that filling her holes could potentially make up for being blank otherwise.

"All it took was a little coercion and mocking to get you right where you belong. To get you doing the only thing you're good for. Good girls only think about pleasing" she purred as she stared down into lidded eyes that held nothing but space. A heavy groan left her as she felt whines reverberating through the toy and push against her own cunt.

Just as Regina took the girl into her throat, she felt a grip on her wrist that elicited a stuttering of her hips, her eyes rolling into her skull and her jaw falling slack from its previous suction.

The grip on her jaw tightened "Who said you could stop?" the brunette taunted as she held her grasp on that wrist, prolonging the sudden orgasm.

Muffled moans fell from stretched lips as she instinctively continued to lave her tongue over the toy, eyes begging for mercy.

Janis let go of her wrist, a satisfied smirk plastered on her flushed face. "Good girl! You took that so well~" she hummed.

Regina panted around the length on her tongue, her eyes falling closed at the slight suggestion of falling deeper into trance. Her hips started up again, momentarily jumping due to the sensitivity of her cunt.

The brunette threw her head back as the girl resumed her eager sucking, the flat of the harness continuing to press against her.

She waited until the girl took her into her throat, her eyes fluttering at the fullness. "Statue" Janis hummed, tapping the girl's forehead once again and sighing contently when she completely froze.

The brunette chuckled as took a hold of the girl's hair and started pushing into her esophagus mercilessly, her breath hitching as she forced past the blonde's gag reflex. She stared down at the frozen girl in awe as she was literally transformed into a manipulatable subject to be used.

"Good girl" Janis groaned as she gave her a couple of deeper thrusts as to feel that friction against her aching cunt. "Such a good, pliable puppy" the soft laugh turning into a breathless moan.

A new wave of arousal shot through her as she caught sight of Regina's teary eyes, the trigger having had disabled her from blinking. Reluctantly she tapped the girl's head again, muttering a release before giving the girl some control over her own head.

An agonised cry left the blonde as she felt a grip on her wrist once more. Her thighs grasped at the shin between them. The soft touch of the brunette wiping the tears from her cheek made her realise just how sensitive her skin had become.

"Oh is it too much, puppy?" Janis mocked, feigned care in her voice as she let go of the shaking wrist. She couldn't help but admire how the girl trembled beneath her assault just like she was meant to.

The brunette guided Regina's lips away from the toy to allow her to fill her lungs and clear her uncomfortably empty throat. The blonde looked up at her with dead, watering eyes that begged to be consumed by the other girl's essence, to have someone make a decisions for her.

"Go ahead, baby" Janis whispered as she felt the girl's hips regain its effort in rutting against her leg. Regina wrapped her arms around the girl's thigh to brace herself before her hips took control over her being.

Her lips fell open in a pant, causing a steady stream of drool to pour out of her vacant mouth. A quiet growl left the brunette as the thin liquid made contact with her thigh, watching as a needy tongue pushed out more of what was left of the blonde's brain.

"That's it~ my undignified girl" she purred as she aided the humping girl by flexing her leg against her core. Janis knew that Regina would have scoffed at the comment if her mind wasn't currently leaking out of her holes.

The whines in the blonde's throat increased in pitch which was Janis's cue to press her forehead one last time and utter "In heat: 10", causing the girl to instantly tumble over the edge of another wrecking orgasm. Unintelligible pained sounds fell from drooling lips as her head collapsed in exhaustion, hips stuttering reluctantly.

"Such a good girl" Janis hummed, stroking the blonde's flushed face.

[who-knew-a-sheep-can-write]

Recover: Cole Cassidy x Reader

Everything was in ruins. Everything was destroyed, up in flames and smoke. The once proud, Overwatch banner fluttering in the Swiss wind is now ash. You were one of the lucky ones returning from fighting, even luckier to miss watching the explosion happen.

Countless dead, many more lying in rows of rooms in the now overcrowded hospital in the next city over.

In the chaos and panic, it was only another stab at Ceaser’s back to know both Strike Commander Morrison and Blackwatch Commander Reyes were both missing, Moira O'Deorain as well. Even in these tragic times, the leaders were missing, gone from the wreckage.

You felt numb, only watching on as the death toll rose overnight in the hospital. No time to grieve, as soon as you all started to weep for one, three more followed soon.

But even in these tragic times, it was warming to see those recover quickly. Genji Shimada of the Blackwatch division was one of them, only needing replacement parts welded back onto him before he too roamed the rooms with you.

But you both found yourselves hanging around one room in particular.

Cole’s room.

It was puppy love, really, but you couldn’t help but feel like a teenager again with how he complimented you. Those tips of his hats to you, all of the little gestures, the growling southern drawl, the winking… Even throughout the chaos of what was Overwatch and Blackwatch, you both found time to… get to know each other better.

He made you feel all fuzzy inside, warm and happy in the cruel world of war you all were forced into. But now, as you look over his body lying lifelessly in the hospital bed, you felt hollow.

His left forearm had been completely blown off, the elbow missing completely. Shattered ribcage and gashes that had him stitched up worse than old children’s toys. His right knee already prepped to have metal implanted later today as his kneecap was missing.

His once hearty tan now pale under the unforgiving hospital lights. Dark circles under his eyes made him look like the undead. All of the bruising and scratches only hurt you the more you looked at them.

You refused to leave his side when you could stay, only really leaving to help out or when he was wheeled back in for more time under the knife. Genji, Ana, Angela and Reinhardt would always walk in on you, clutching Cole’s right hand as you furiously tried to stay awake, wanting to be there when he woke up.

That’s where you were right now, sat in the uncomfortable chair, hunched over onto the hospital bed, elbows digging into the thin mattress as you kept your head up with one hand as the other was linked with Cole’s. It was hard to keep your aching eyes open, the monotone beeping of the machines had started to lull you to sleep once, earning you a mark on the forehead from when your elbows gave out and your head smacked the railing on the bed.

Genji had dropped by earlier, sat with you for a bit in silence before being called away by Angela needing to tune up his cybernetics.

You only perked up as the door opened once more.

Ana had walked in, looking at you gently before looking back at Cole.

“They have his arm’s blueprints ready. Torbjorn is making it now,” she offered, smiling softly at you. You only nodded your head slightly, covering your mouth as you yawned. “How long has it been since you’ve slept?”

“I don’t know,” you stated. “I wanna be here when he wakes up.”

“What good will that do? You’ve already hit your head once from not sleeping, it could be something worse soon.”

“Ana, I’ll be fine. I’ve been through worse sleep-deprived.”

“That doesn’t matter. You can’t stay up with coffee and force. You need rest.

Please.” She stayed silent for just a moment. “Cole would want you to.”

Just the mention of his name brought tears to your eyes. You sniffed and sat back in the chair, never unlinking your fingers from his hand.

“I’ll nap in a bit.”

“(Y/N),” she warned.

Damn her motherly tone.

“One more hour. And then I’ll rest.”

Ana sighed, knowing full and well that in one hour, you would be defying your promise and staying up, waiting patiently for Cole to wake up. Without saying another word, she left the room, leaving you to near silence.

You had no idea how much time had passed, most likely another two hours before the door opened again. It was Ana again, Reinhardt behind her, no doubt the muscle if you refused and latched yourself onto the bed as to not go.

“You’re still up,” she noted.

You felt awful, you were exhausted but you didn’t want to sleep without knowing Cole will be alright. So many things could go wrong in your sleep. You couldn’t bear to know that you weren’t there as he died.

“Come on, (Y/n),” Reinhardt stepped out of the way of the door, “it is time to rest.”

Knowing the German soldier would not leave this room without you in tow, you gave up. Defeated, you finally let go of Cole’s hand and stood on quaking feet. They both smiled, knowing you would finally sleep and take care of yourself.

They both stepped outside into the hallway, allowing you to look over Cole once more from his scruffy hair and sunken face to his pale, clammy body that was mostly hidden beneath the hospital sheets.

As you stepped after the two, you stopped and coiled up at the softest groan, fearing that it was just a hallucination. But as you looked to Ana and Reinhardt, their wide eyes were confirmation that you weren’t hearing things.

You practically flung yourself back into your seat, grasping at Cole’s hand, crying as you saw his eyelids flutter and split open just a bit. You heaved and sobbed, suddenly breaking apart as he gently squeezed your trembling hands, gazing at you out of the corner of his eye.

[deardo11]

|| 𝑹𝑨𝑫𝑰𝑶'𝑺 𝑩𝑨𝑪𝑲 ||

Words; 1,716

Contains;

Smut | Violence | Swearing | Drugs | Addictions | Alcohol | Non-Con/SA | Adult/Mature Themes

|| 𝑷𝑨𝑹𝑻 𝑭𝑰𝑽𝑬 ||

You wake up from your sleep, which wasn't so great. You were up most of the night thinking if you shouldn't have made that deal with Alastor last night. Getting out of bed to stretch, Alastor seeps up through the floor, holding onto his cane with his usual smile.

"Hello, My Dear!" He grins at you, standing where he rose from.

"Alastor, I could have been naked. You should learn how to knock." You tease.

He ignores what you said and steps towards you. "I need to handle some business of mine, and I need you to attend. Nothing difficult."

"And so early? Well, it better not be 'difficult'." You scoff and place your hand on your hip. "I have to get ready first, so if you could lea-"

Alastor snaps his fingers and your silk pajamas are replaced with an elegant, yellow dress with white polkadots, white gloves and white heels.

"Oh wow." You say, checking yourself out in the new outfit.

"There we are. Let's be on our way, now!" He lends his arm to you and you carefully intertwine yours within his.

"What a gentleman." You say sarcastically. "Where SPECIFICALLY are we going, Alastor?"

"Don't you worry a thing about that. All I need from you is to just BE there and stay quiet the entire time."

You nod. You and him are then teleported to some random building, it looks abandoned.

"Here we are!" Alastor says.

"Alastor, it doesn't seem like anyone is here." You mutter.

"Ohoh! Nonsense." He unlinks his arm from yours and elbows your arm, laughing. He takes lead, walking ahead of you and opening the front door to the building. Alastor steps aside, letting you walk in first and then following after, letting the door shut behind him.

The lights are off inside the building. With how quiet it was, you could hear your own blood running through your body and your own heart beating.

The lights are then turned on. 3 men are already seated down at the table in the middle of the room. The men are sharks in suits and fedoras. Seems like they could be apart of a mob or mafia.

One of the sharks is seated in between them and is centered at the end of the table, with a cigar in his mouth. He places the lighter up to the end of it and lights it. "Sit down." He commands.

'There's no way Alastor could let some wanna-be, gangster tell him what to do.' You thought to yourself as you looked up at Alastor, waiting for his next move.

Alastor walks over to men and you follow.

'Apparently I was wrong.' You think to yourself.

Alastor slides the chair out on the opposite end of the table, but is then stopped.

"Alastor, c'mon now. Why not sit WITH us? We're pals, eh?" He chuckles and motions for the two of you to come closer with his hands.

He slides the chair back in. You and him sit across from each other, next to the sharks.

"That's more like it. Now, I already know what you wanna discuss. The shipment." The shark moves his hand and grasps the cigar in his mouth.

"It seems you've read my mind, Frank." Alastor says, blankly.

There's a pause. Now, the men are all eyeing you. "What a looker. Where'd you find her, Al?" Frank continues to stare at you.

"I found her somewhere I work. I own her." Alastor fixes his bow-tie and sits up straight, his smile stretching and becoming even more menacing.

"Is that so?" Frank questions and gets up from his seat, making his way to where you are seated.

You tense up as he slides his grubby hands onto your shoulders.

"Can I have her?" Frank grins and asks Alastor as he begins to slide his hands down your body.

You stare at Alastor and shiver, waiting for him to do or say something- anything. Alastor stares at Frank, watching him touch you. His patience being tested.

Frank bends down and whispers into your ear, "Can I have you, Sweetheart?" He chuckles and slides his fingers under your dress, rubbing you through your panties.

You let out a soft moan and bite your lip, lowering your head.

The other shark-man gets up and grabs a fistful of your hair, chuckling when he raises your head to make you look at the two. Your eyes are watery.

Alastor stands up and slams his hand on the table. His tentacles fly at the shark-man who is latched onto your hair, sending him flying across the room and making him let go.

Frank puts you in a headlock, forcing you up from your seat and having you both back away from Alastor.

"Do you really think you can get to disrespect me? Violate what belongs to me?" Alastor questions, clenching his fist and gripping tightly onto his cane.

Frank pulls out a knife, it looks DIFFERENT. "Stay the fuck back or I'll end her."

You're face drops, It's an angelic knife. You might really die.

"Don't!" You cry out as you try to squirm out from his hold on you.

Frank brings the knife to your wrist and slowly cuts into it. It's an agonizing and slow pain and you're sure it will leave a scar, but it fills you with adrenaline.

You yelp and elbow him in the gut, causing him to let go and groan in pain. You spin around and kick him away from you.

A whole army of men come out from another room and shoot at Alastor with their guns. Alastor forms a bubble around himself, acting as a shield. He cackles "You believe you could take me down with THAT? Who do you take me for? ꀤ'ꂵ ꓄ꃅꍟ ꋪꍏꀸꀤꂦ ꀸꍟꂵꂦꈤ." His voice glitches out and the room is filled with blaring and ear-piercing static. The noise is hard to block out, but you cover your ears anyway. Alastors form grows.

The situation has escalated, and it's not gonna get any better anytime soon.

You whip your head around as you hear loud footsteps rush your way. Frank punches you in the face, knocking you down. He caught you off guard and busted your nose.

You use one of your hands to cover your nose and the other to shove yourself off the ground. You're instantly kicked in the chest and knocked back down.

Frank steps on your arm, pinning you down. He crouches down, grabbing onto your head and slamming it into the hard, concrete floor. "You fucking bitch. There's gonna be nothing left of you when I'm done." He growls and raises the knife.

Your vision is blurry, you have a pounding headache and you're trying to hit him with your other arm that's not being pinned down, but it comes out as pathetic slaps.

He grabs your free hand and pins it down, plunging the knife into the palm of it.

You scream as he gets on top of you, using his available hands and wrapping them around your throat. Both of your hands are unavailable, his knee is on top of your right and an angelic knife is sticking through your left. This is your fate, you're going to die. You begin to gasp for air as his grip on your neck tightens, you cant breathe. You use your knee as it slams into his crotch, causing him to roll off and let go. You gasp and choke as you're finally allowed to breathe. You're unable to move anymore, you're worn out. The pain is too much to handle. You're paralyzed and staring at the ceiling as blood gushes from your nose.

When Frank gets up, he's crushed to bits of flesh by Alastor's tentacles.

Alastor's form goes back to normal. He's out of breath, Alastor's smile is strained as he turns his head to you. He walks over to you and picks you up, carrying you bridal style within his arms.

Your arms are limp and sway as Alastor walks with you. You're exhausted and hurting. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and your head falls back. It's dark.

You wake up later on, no clue what the time is. Your body is aching. You're in your bed and in your pajamas. From the palm of your hand to your wrist is wrapped in bloodied bandages. You slowly and very carefully sit up, noticing Alastor sitting with his eyes shut, in the chair in the corner of your room. You hop out of bed and it creaks, startling Alastor awake.

You open your mouth to speak, but you can't. Your throat aches, you were screaming and being strangled just earlier. You move your non injured arm to your throat, rubbing and massaging it.

Alastor gets up from the seat. "I'll be on my way now." He says and walks to the dual doors of your room.

You run over to him and grab his wrist as his hand is on the handle of the door.

He turns to you and stares, waiting.

You let go of his wrist and wrap your arms around him, it hurts to hug him, (because of your arm) but you don't care.

He stands there like a statue, looking down at you.

You nuzzle your head into his stomach, gripping onto his suit.

"What are you doing, (Y/N)?" He questions, his gaze still on you.

You turn your head to the side to avoid looking at him, not even attempting to respond to him.

He unravels your arms from him and grabs your chin, forcing you to look up at him.

Only now is when you stare into his eyes, you both are staring right at each other. He moves his hand from your chin and cups the side of your face, grazing your cheek with his claws. Eventually, he let's go of your face and picks you up. Without saying a word to you, he carries you back to your bed, setting you down and tucking you in and under the covers. He sits right at the end of your bed to accompany you, his back leaning against the bed's pole.

After a short while, you manage to fall asleep. Snuggling your pillows.

Maybe all the pain was worth it.

[cal-kestis]

hi can i ask you how you did the typography effect in this edit? it's so cool! post/713510625377189888/happy-birthday-to-the-king-of-tv-pedro-pascal-2

hi! thank you! here's a (hopefully) quick tutorial for this animated text effect under the cut:

(btw I'm using timeline and keyframes, but this could easily be done frame by frame)

STEP 1: Arrange all your text

here's another ask I answered on usergif for how to turn any font into its outline which is what I did here!

STEP 2: Put all the outlined text (or whatever text you want to disappear and reappear) in a group by selecting all the layers and using the shortcut Command+G

STEP 3: Put a layer mask on the group and use the rectangular marquee tool to make a box over the text you want to disappear:

use the paint bucket tool to fill that area on the layer mask with black:

the outlined text should be hidden now

p.s. be sure to UNLINK the layer mask so you can move it with the keyframes (click the chain so it disappears):

STEP 4: put down 4 keyframes on the "layer mask position" line

(1) text group isn't visible (2) text appears (3) text still visible (4) text disappears:

I placed my keyframes with some buffer space at the beginning and end so the animation wouldn't start right away:

if you're wondering, you need the 3rd keyframe so the text doesn't start disappearing at keyframe 2

STEP 5: select keyframe 2 (it'll be yellow) and move the playhead (red vertical line) over that spot. select your layer mask and move it down until your text is revealed

STEP 6: right-click keyframe 2 and select copy. then select keyframe 3, right-click it, and select paste. keyframe 3 should now have the same layer mask position as 2!

STEP 7: double-check that keyframe 4 has the same position as keyframe 1 (if something went wonky, just copy-paste 1's position onto 4)

and that's it! hope this helps :)

[multitrackdrifting]

LobCorp Recommended Mod Guide (One-step install modpacks now linked below 1 for QoL but close to vanilla, and one to smooth over the progression curve/reduce grind)

As someone who played LobCorp vanilla (and strongly adovcate aganist it unmodded even for the theme of the story) these are my mod recommendations. I don't have the time to actually test these but these are what I think would help a lot of people play this game.

Basemod is a mod management platform that allows LobCorp to be modded - and because the game has a lot of jank that don't really speak to the game's actual difficulty curve a lot of it is worth modding out or adjusting even if you don't want to reduce the difficulty bad QoL is not an actual difficulty curve so some of the time you spend in this game is a result of jank and not actual mechanical depth or challenges. More below.

Original Basemod 5.1.1 guide (explains in simple terms how to install it in 2nd paragraph, unlinked mods are in here. This is the most popular mod guide afaik). A lot of the mods are translated/adapted from the forum DC Inside from the original BM creator abcdcode. Basemod 5.2 (unofficial) guide (maybe check this if some older ver. mods don't work) NexusMods (for most English mods that might help).

Make the game playable [QOL Focused, does not actually functionally change anything about the game's actual mechanics] (the game will still be hard as nails but without the jank that should be in the game):

Infinite Rerolls (95% of lategame difficulty is being trolled by RNG, if you don't want to use this mod, you can hit "return to menu" in the vanilla game to retry from last day without repo rewinding). [Checked]

Employee Group Select (the base game makes it really hard to micro departments unless you really like RTS) [Broken For Me]

Detailed Work-Related Stats (see discrete success chances as opposed to vague wording). [Checked]

Work Macro (holding Shift Auto-repeats work, great for mindlessly farming when all ordeals for a day are over). [Checked]

Agent List (Hitting TAB shows department select as opposed to an ordeal being required to do this). [Checked]

Shield Health Viewer (Shields actually show how much mitigation is remaining, notably absent from vanilla). [Checked]

Agent Recustomization (no longer costs 1 LOB to make your OCs or friends). [OLD] Have not found a working version.

Make the game approachable for all to enjoy [Removing constraints but still keeping MOST difficulty in but respecting your time because the game is absurdly grindy]:

Full-Time Employees (Your units remain if you go back to day 1) <== super good if you dont want to re-grind units every time you rewind. This means yo uwon't have to go through the bs of re-farming stats and can focus solely on gear-farm & doing the story while optimizing your Abno picks with infinite rerolls). [checked]

Overtime Pay (stat-grinding now gives extra points) [checked]

Instant Stat Gains (don't have to end a day to get rewarded with stat increases) [arguably a QoL mod too not gamebreaking]

Rewarding Ordeals (boosted EGO gift odds and stat growths after ordeals killed) [untested]

Extra Justice Attribute (justice now scales DPS) [works somewhat]

Increase Max EGO to 5 (reduces the re-roll grinding substantially) [Checked]

Speedup (increase game speed to 5 if you want) [OLD]

Suppress Leveling (suppressions actually give XP for combat). [Unsure but it seems to work for me]

Sticky Agents (agents no longer wander back & forth, caution this may make certain animation dodges very precise but will more often than not be helpful if you hate the wandering idle anims). [Checked]

Better Central Command Architecture (this department just has a bad layout imo) [Checked]

Flatten the curve to make the game reasonable [I just want to read the cutscenes but still play the game]:

Unsure if Super Agents works because it is old but if it does you will basically be invulnerable to ordeals/suppressions [OLD, replies seem to suggest it doesn't work but worth a try].

"Casual Mode Mod", a 2023 mod that makes daily energy lower and substantially reduces meltdowns to cut down the time of the grind. +100% exp rate, and LOB rewards increase. This mod alone doesn't make the game free but it cuts down the bizarrely high time requirement to play LobCorp which is one of the most substantial barriers to entry. (I'm about to beat it at around 150h). Combine this with the red and green mods and you'll basically have a great time.

Guaranteed Gifts (abno gifts will 100% trigger)

Overlapping Gifts (gifts no longer are 1 per slot)

There are mods to boost stats and EGOs, I suggest you find working ones on Reddit or NM.

I recommend looking around on Nexus Mods or even on reddit for other useful mod recommendations, but be careful, some mods will spoil you. The ones I suggested and recommended here do not contain any - but some on Nexus Mods definitely will.

If any mods don't work please check the Nexus Mods link for any similar mods that are from 2020, the 2019 ones seem to not be working as consistently or at all.

I can't attest that all the mods listed play nicely with each other but please give them a try if you find the base game too daunting, trust me, I went through the grinder and vanilla is fundamentally missing the green mods I listed here at the very least. The ones in the 1st document indicate which Basemod versions and above it will work with so if you have compatibility troubles just use the google doc that is first.

STEAM VISUAL GUIDE FOR MOD INSTALLATION:

The TL;DR for installing Basemod into the "Basemods" folder is that you need to make sure every mod has its own dedicated folder if the download itself doesn't come with one. This is an example layout where none of the mods have files outside of the folders they have dedicated to them. If they don't have an included folder, just name it after whatever the dll file is so you can tell what's in there. It will work nonetheless.

I have added the tag #lobcorpguide to make this post easier to find if it updates since tumblr hates proper-clickthroughs now. So you can find the updated details.

One-click installations (drag the files to the steam installation location and drop the minside the folder called LobotomyCorp_Data).

QoL only & Progression focused. Let me know if it works! The guide/readme file is in the "Basemods" with an s folder along with each mod. I explain what each does, and you can delete or add more at your leisure to that folder, just make sure it has a dedicated folder for each specific mod.

[refigiowen]

Graycloak Office [DRAFT / W.I.P]

"You see, but you do not observe."

Overview

Graycloak is at the top of all offices within Eden, specializing in counterintelligence and tracking down enemies of large corporations. They mainly work for the mega corporations such as Klepto Corp., Asiyah Association, and Briah Corp.

Alongside their jobs of finding spies within large corporations, Graycloak Office takes (partially) direct orders from the Pale Garden by identifying anyone who manages it to unlink themselves from the NeuraNet so that they can be hunted down and eliminated. These individuals are not large in numbers but all wield Singularity Grade technology or powers that appear as a byproduct of the unlinking. Those who unlink themselves often experience rapid changes in terms of appearence and body structure.

(Acording to the theory of the head of Graycloak Office, Miss Yukiko, this is because "the link stuff lowkey has to do with the soul and it like, reflects the soul of that person. Ya understand me?")

The currently known Unlinked:

Aleph "Ahab" Reish

Named after it's inventors daughter this android was given a mission by it's creator that it could never complete: To be just like his daughter. After years of working towards it's goal it started to feel hatred towards it's creator, and not knowing that he had already passed away by the time this hatred was formed, began to hunt him down like a whale for granting it a life that could never be complete.

Aleph was built using modified RiftCorp. technology and is able to create pocket dimension on command.

Gabriel "Erlkönig" Reed

A father who lost his son to a deadly sickness. Unable to get his son to a good enough hospital due to his low rank in his corporation he watched his son pass away in his arms in the middle of street. Now blaming himself for carrying "the soul of the city" within him he actively attacks Asiyah Association buildings and is in a one man war against the corporation.

With his unlinking came the ability to see into other realms and to interact with them. This made him a target of RiftCorp as well.

[REDACTED] "Dying Butterfly" [REDACTED]

A woman who's past has been completely erased at some point in her life.

Rumors speak of a tall woman working for RiftCorp. who's pistols shoot the same butterflies that took thousands of innocent lives years ago. Nothing regarding her unlinking is known.

[The rest are currently W.I.P as i am unsure whether or not i like this idea yet. Part two of Chapter 0.8 will follow soon.]

[viiisenyas]

Prologue: Made of Fire and Water

Series Summary: As the firstborn child to Ser Laenor Velaryon and Princess Rhaenyra, most believed that Elaena would succeed King Viserys’ chosen heir. But after her younger brother, Jacaerys, was named in her stead, the rumours amidst the royal court began to grow regarding her mother’s integrity. Years later, the whispers would not leave, and Elaena would find herself placed in a strategic match with Prince Aegon to placate her mother’s enemies. Little did she know, she had already become a pawn for the political game, and she would become the hidden advantage for the Greens.

Ship: Aegon II Targaryen x Elaena Velaryon (OC) Series Rating: 18+ (Minors DNI !!) Series Warnings: arranged marriage, canon divergence, smut, suicidal ideation, alcohol abuse, canon-typical incest, death, obsessive behaviour, dubious consent, graphic violence, sexual harassment, enemies to lovers Credits: Divider from here. A/N: This series begins at Episode 6. For narrative purposes, I've aged up some of the characters. This work is also Team Green positive. If you don't like it, keep scrolling.

[Index] | [AO3]

Elaena

The summer breeze swept past Elaena, and the warm sunlight kissed her copper skin. Her father’s dragon released a long roar while he carried both of them through the clouds, and she clung to Laenor.

Seasmoke began his descent towards Blackwater Bay after Laenor gently patted his scales, and the familiar sight of the Red Keep became larger as they neared King’s Landing.

The dragon levelled out just above the water, and her father gripped the handles of the saddle. 

Elaena let her gaze settle on the ships leaving the harbour, sailing to gods know where. The sight was still just as breathtaking as it was when she was but a young girl, still hoping that her own egg would hatch. But it never did.

He leaned forward, and the young princess grinned while Seasmoke began to ascend above the city as they flew over the docks. 

She always admired the great structure of the Dragonpit from this altitude. However, their flight would be over soon. It was time to return to her responsibilities, and to tend to her mother. Rhaenyra was due to give birth any day now, and her smile widened as her mind wandered to the prospect of finally having a younger sister. 

She wondered whether her supposed sister would have silvery hair and violet eyes like her own. Though she was nearly seventeen years of age, she couldn’t contain her excitement of introducing her sister to dolls when the time came. There were still many that she kept over the years that rested on display upon a shelf - some had been gifts that her paternal grandfather, Lord Corlys, had bestowed to her before leaving Driftmark when she was only eight. Others had been from King Viserys himself. 

The deafening flap of Seasmoke’s wings had pulled her from her thoughts as he circled the Dragonpit before he landed just outside the tunnel where the handlers were waiting. 

“Dohaerās, Seasmoke!” One of them commanded.

He growled, and Elaena gently patted his grey scales. 

“Umbās,” Laenor said firmly. “Rybās.”

Seasmoke snarled lightly as the young princess chuckled, and her father unlinked the chain around their waists.

“You did well, darling,” he chuckled softly. “Soon enough you’ll be riding alone on your own dragon.”

“But there aren’t any unclaimed dragons here, Father,” she frowned as Laenor helped her out of the saddle. 

“There’s plenty at Dragonstone, love,” Laenor smiled and gently poked her nose, making her chuckle. “We can venture there after your new sibling arrives.”

“Do you promise?”

“Of course, love.”

She glanced to her left to see the carriage waiting for them, and her gentle smile dissolved when she met Aegon’s violet gaze.

“My sweet niece,” he called with a wide grin as Sunfyre was being guided out of the Dragonpit.

Elaena resisted the urge to scowl as she dismounted her father’s dragon. 

She despised her uncle, and rather than physically tormenting her as he once had when they were children, he made a point of attempting to provoke her at every turn with his ridiculous innuendos. How he was nearly a man grown, yet still acted like a child at times was beyond her.

“Prince Aegon,” she reluctantly greeted, and Laenor offered the same courtesy. 

Her father pressed his lips together and avoided his good brother’s gaze as he encouraged her to pet Seasmoke, gently moving her hand across the beast’s neck. The dragon snarled softly in contentment when her palm moved against his scales. 

“Why don’t you return to the Red Keep while I fetch an egg for your new sibling,” Laenor suggested. “I’m sure your mother will want your company.”

“All right,” she nodded, and Laenor gently kissed her forehead before she turned to walk towards the carriage.

“Welcome back, Princess,” Ser Steffon greeted. He was sitting astride his white stallion and offered her a gentle smile.

“You look relieved, Ser Steffon,” she laughed.

He chuckled with her. “I am relieved,” he pointed out. “Your unspoiled return just saved my head from a spike.”

She turned to face him, now walking backwards. “If I met my death with my father astride Seasmoke, then I died the death of a dragon rider,” she outstretched her hands dramatically before she mockingly bowed. “It’d be an honour.”

“Aye,” he shook his head as Laenor chuckled. “The Lord Commander warned me you’d be just like your mother in her youth - and your aunt at that.”

Elaena couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped her, and she turned back with a wide grin. She didn’t notice that Aegon had moved closer, and she nearly collided with him as she released a sharp gasp.

“Fuck,” she huffed, stepping back.

“There are other ways to tame a dragon, sweet niece,” Aegon bent at the waist to whisper in her ear. “If you still yearn for one. Come to my chambers tonight, and I might show you how.”

Her stomach turned. She gave him a contemptuous look as she moved past him towards the carriage, and Aegon chuckled.

“May the gods shrivel his cock,” she muttered under her breath.

The sound of his voice was irritating, and his presence was almost unbearable as she resisted the urge to shiver with disgust.

“Good morrow, Elaena,” Helaena greeted from the carriage with a gentle smile, and her expression softened.

Elaena smiled widely as she approached her aunt while she took off her glove with her teeth. 

“Your mother has given birth,” the Targaryen princess said.

“Already?” She asked, voice muffled. “Is it a boy or a girl?”

“A boy,” Helaena nodded.

Elaena sighed with disappointment and looked down as she removed her other glove.

“What… auspicious news,” she forced a smile and peered back at Seasmoke as the dragon slithered back into the depths of the Dragonpit alongside her father. 

The sunlight reflected from the dragon’s grey scales in an iridescent haze, and Elaena turned back after she caught Aegon leering at her again, sitting astride Sunfyre.

She released a disgusted sigh, rolling her eyes before Helaena outstretched her hand towards her to invite her within the confines of the carriage.

“I do hope your flight with Ser Laenor was a pleasant one,” she tilted her head. 

“It was,” Elaena smiled softly as she grasped her hand and climbed the steps into the wheelhouse. “I must admit, I’m surprised that you’re not riding today. It’s been a while since Dreamfyre was let out.”

“She just laid a clutch of eggs,” Helaena beamed as the two settled together. “I heard that Lord Stark is coming to court from Winterfell. And his eldest sons.”

“Odd,” Elaena furrowed her brows. “The Starks haven’t been to the capital since my first name day.”

“They’re coming for Aegon’s tourney,” she elaborated, and gently squeezed her hand after her niece scoffed. “And perhaps a betrothal.” 

Elaena deadpanned as she resisted the unpleasant shiver that threatened. 

She had grown up on stories of the suspicious and superstitious ways of the Northerners - the stories of the Kings of Winter. A brutal lot, they were, and she dare not assume that the passing centuries had softened their hearts or their grim ways after her forebears had united the realm. Even if it weren’t true, she didn’t want to live out the rest of her days in the grey waste of their homeland.

“Gods, I hope not,” she muttered, and a giggle bubbled from Helaena.

The carriage ride back to Maegor’s Holdfast was tedious and Elaena gazed through the wicker covering while Helaena had fallen asleep. 

She watched as she passed through the capital, and placed her hand over her mouth and nose, unaccustomed to the stench as they passed through Flea Bottom. 

Elaena began to wonder what life would have been like had she been born a commoner rather than a princess. To be a simple peasant, someone who did not need to constantly question why her younger brother, Jacaerys, was named her mother’s heir, and not her. 

She was the eldest of the Velaryon siblings, after all, and the unsettling thought plagued her mind for years. Was it really because she was a woman? Or was it simply to honour Westerosi tradition? But she was painfully aware that her grandsire had already broken that tradition with her mother. 

Her father once told her that it was because Rhaenyra didn’t want to burden Elaena with the responsibility of ruling when the time came. But she knew in her heart it was something… deeper. 

She possessed the typical traits of House Velaryon: silver-white curls, copper skin and violet eyes. Her younger brothers, however, did not inherit the same traits. But of course, that was yet another matter that was meant to be left unspoken. 

When the two finally arrived at the Red Keep, Elaena walked with her aunt through the castle in comfortable silence until they parted ways to tend to their own devices. 

She made haste to her bedchamber to change out of her riding attire. Having settled on a fine cerulean gown, she sighed softly when she gazed into the looking glass while her handmaiden, Rinna, quietly fussed over the mess of her wind-tousled curls. 

“Are you sure you do not wish to style it in the tradition of your house, Princess?” the woman asked. “It would be more manageable.”

“I like my hair just the way it is, thank you,” Elaena rolled her eyes playfully while she anxiously smoothed out the lingering wrinkles of the skirt of her gown with her hands.

“A braid then?” Rinna raised a brow, “Perhaps over your shoulder?”

“Sure.”

“You must be eager to meet your new brother, no?” she smiled. 

“Positively,” Elaena said flatly and examined her fingernails. “I was just hoping that I’d have a sister.”

“Perhaps some day, my princess.”

It didn’t take long for the woman to finish the fishtail, and she tied a leather strap on the ends of her hair to hold it in place.

“There,” Rinna said and pushed the braid over her shoulder before Elaena could reach upwards to do it herself. 

“Thank you,” she smiled sheepishly. 

“Now go. If you delay any longer, your mother will send the guards to come find you,” the handmaiden gave her a pointed look as she stood.

“Do I look like I’ve been out riding?” Elaena asked as she moved towards her door.

“No, but you do smell like you’ve been out.”

“Seven Hells,” she muttered as she glanced around.

There was no time to mask the distinct scent with rosemary oil, and Elaena huffed before she made haste out of her room. She walked quickly throughout the Red Keep, mindlessly greeting every other lord that gently bowed their heads until she rounded the corner towards the next stairwell.

Quiet curses escaped her when she lifted her skirts to skip the steps. She could never understand why King Maegor had left his descendants with a ridiculously enormous castle - that in itself was inherently cruel - but she sighed with relief when she finally approached her mother’s doors and knocked quietly on them.

“Come,” Rhaenyra’s voice resonated, her tone welcoming.

Elaena opened the door and slowly poked her head inside with a sheepish smile. 

“Hello, Mother… Apologies for my tardiness, I was—”

Oh. 

She wasn’t expecting Ser Harwin to be standing beside her mother, and he offered a kind smile as he handed the newborn babe to Rhaenyra. 

Rhaenyra smiled. “Come in, sit with me a while.”

“I, uh… Of course,” she nodded, letting the door close behind her. 

“Princess,” Harwin greeted with a nod.

“Ser Harwin,” she raised her eyes out of courtesy as she sat on the plush sofa beside her mother. Then her eyes drifted back down towards her brother.

Elaena resisted the urge to frown, and she tilted her head. The boy looked like her other brothers. 

“Where is your father?” Rhaenyra furrowed her brows.

“He’s at the Dragonpit. He said he wanted to choose an egg for the babe.” she shrugged.

“You stink of dragon,” her mother pointed out, disapprovingly. “You went riding with him, didn’t you?”

“I– yes,” Elaena looked away with guilt for a moment before she raised her index finger. “But, I’ve already finished my lessons for the day, and Father wanted to take me riding for practise.”

“You’ll claim a dragon sooner than you think,” Rhaenyra chuckled softly. “But I do hope you’ve learned something today, Elaena. The Septa has informed me that you still struggle with paying attention.” 

She scoffed and pressed her lips together. “If she didn’t speak so slowly, perhaps I’d be more inclined,” she rolled her eyes. “I learn far more from Grandfather than I do from her.”

Ser Harwin smiled, and a quiet laugh escaped him.

“It is still important to focus - even if you find yourself on the edge of tedium.” Rhaenyra gave her a pointed look, and Elaena sighed softly, nodding.

“I’ll try.”

“Well, Elaena, I want you to meet your new brother, Joffrey.”

Joffrey? she thought as she pressed her lips together. That isn’t a Valyrian name.

“Do you want to hold him?” her mother tilted her head. 

Elaena met her gaze and nodded before reaching to gently pull the babe from her grasp as she stood. Elaena cradled the boy in her arms just as she was taught to with Lucerys. 

The babe’s eyes roamed around the grandeur room before he sneezed and the little sound made her giggle. 

“He is very charming, Mother.” 

“Yes,” she agreed. “He is the smallest one out of all of you. And incidentally… you were the largest - and my worst labour.”

Elaena hummed and shifted slowly, keeping her violet eyes on him before she looked at the downy brown hair that thinly covered his head. 

Her brows furrowed, and she discreetly looked up at Ser Harwin who had been watching her sway Joffrey. There were quite a few similarities between them. Between all of them, she finally realised.

It began to make sense why he always seemed to be in their company, and Elaena drew in a breath as she processed the knowledge.

And here I thought he was just being kind.

“I’ll be taking my leave now,” Ser Harwin said, and Elaena cast a sidelong glance in his direction that he didn’t seem to notice.

Her mother emitted a soft hum in response before the knight walked out of the room. Elaena watched him intently before the door closed again, and she cleared her throat. 

“Do you need anything, Mother? Water, perhaps?” She asked as she looked at Rhaenyra. 

The woman shook her head. “No, I’m quite content right now, my darling. Thank you.” 

Elaena slowly sat back down beside her, being careful not to wake the now sleeping infant, continuing to sway him. 

“When I was your age, I couldn’t bear the thought of having children. But everything changed after you were born.” Rhaenyra offered a soft smile, and Elaena returned it. 

The simple acknowledgement quelled most of her doubts, but some still lingered as she looked at Joffrey again. 

“Mother, what are your plans for my future?”

“What do you mean, darling?” Rhaenyra tilted her head as she shifted on the sofa. 

“I mean…” she began, choosing her words carefully. “I’m almost seventeen. The queen said I should be betrothed by now, and Helaena informed me that the Starks might be coming to the capital for one. I-I don’t want to leave home only to be locked away at Winterfell.” 

Rhaenyra exhaled slowly, and she paused in thought as she reached to tuck a loose curl behind Elaena’s ear. 

“My sweet girl,” she leaned closer to her daughter and cupped her cheek. “You descend from the greatest dynasty that has ever been established. You have the blood of Aegon the Conqueror, and you are the granddaughter of the greatest voyager. I’m sure that your future husband wouldn’t dare.”

Elaena drew in a breath and leaned against the backrest of the sofa. 

“But, the Starks are our allies,” she said. “And from what I understand, Cregan Stark will be the Warden of the North when the time comes. Regardless of who you wed, you must do your duty to the realm. But for now, you needn’t worry about such things until your red flower blooms.”

Duty. The word settled bitterly in her mind. Lying on her back to later squeeze out an heir for some lord in exchange for a stale oath didn’t seem to be that favourable of a prospect.

The young princess nodded as she masked her disappointment with a polite smile before she gently handed her brother back to her mother.

Gods willing, I’ll just turn up barren, she thought with contempt.

[clumsiestgiantess]

Day 15; lore from my main story!

[Pulled from a classified document found on the desk of Commander and Head Supervisor of Unusual Occurrences Ground Operations Henry Blanche]

Due to the failure in our most recent technological advancements, our world, and presumably the one we’ve tried to contact, is beginning to experience strange unnatural phenomena.  For simplicity’s sake, it has been dubbed Reality Dragging.  The process seems to have occurred as our two realities became linked, then unlinked, within the same second.  Since this experiment, these links have been spontaneously opening for short periods of time all over the globe.  Anything that can fit through the brief tear created when our worlds are linked can be dragged into the opposite reality.  It doesn’t matter where the thing is when it is Dragged, but the spot where it is Dragged from will produce a strange energy.  It is still unknown whether said energy can be harnessed by anything other than a being that was Dragged, or if we can safely travel through and return from these spots.  As of now, we know that whatever is Dragged into a new reality has no way to return to its place of origin.  It does exhibit a few strange traits if it’s a sentient and functioning creature, however.

The following information has been found through a trial and error process that involves numerous Dragged specimens’ deaths:

Further abilities have been noted in extreme cases where a Dragged being died as [redacted] that the reality of a Dragged being will cease to function until that being is returned to its origin point (aka the place and time it left).  This is likely due to [redacted] unable to correct itself because a Dragged being is [redacted] predicament would be righted and the energy spot would seal up again.

Slingshotting- [redacted]

[redacted]? - [redacted]

Depending on the type of death, different specialized abilities develop in the Dragged being that cheated said death.  However, using these abilities puts strain on the being depending on how much of their ability is expended.

Weather manipulation - Stems from bleeding to death.  The Dragged being can breathe different types of weather into the air.  Coughing causes thunderstorms, sneezing causes tornadoes, sighing causes rainstorms, yawning causes a clear day.  Fatigued by the range of the weather.

Persuasion - Stems from being fatally impaled.  The Dragged being can make anyone they see start feeling a stronger and stronger version of their feelings in that moment.  The symptoms can get so severe that the affected person may start hallucinating or imagining scenarios that magnify their emotions.  The only way to stop it is for the Dragged being to touch said person.  Fatigued by the more people they affect.

Creation - Stems from being electrocuted to death.  The Dragged being is able to re-mould an existing item into whatever it wants by simply Dragging it between realities.  The items can also display whatever properties the Dragged being allows it to have.  Fatigued by the size of their created object.

Morphing - Stems from drowning to death.  The Dragged being can reshape their body to look like any one thing.  They have to be looking at the thing they want to copy, or in some cases they only need to remember it well enough.  Fatigued by how much change is required.

Teleportation - Stems from a fatal heart failure.  The Dragged being can bring anything they can clearly picture to themselves from any location on the planet.  Fatigued by the size of the object.

Combustion & Fire Immunity -  Stems from dehydration/starvation.  The Dragged being can heat anything they touch to a point where most materials will catch on fire.  The longer they touch an object and the harder they concentrate, the hotter the object becomes.  The being themselves is immune to extremely high temperatures, and can even set themself ablaze without issue.  Fatigued by the amount of time it takes to heat up.

Radiance - Stems from blunt force trauma to vital places. The Dragged being can light themselves up with a strange glow both on command and when frightened. The brightness can be enough to quickly blind someone who looks at them. The glow is internal and spreads outwards. Fatigued by the brightness they conjure up.

Further experimentation needed before properly harnessing such powers above. Continue capturing specimens until further instruction.

[lovin-xiao-n-childe]

Part three of my royalty au fic

Lyney

Prev

Warnings: I don’t think there’s any??

A/N: sorry I took long to update, I got writers block, and when I was done with it I had finals.

“What is the meaning of this?” Your eyes flicked from the figure of your kneeling commander to the boy he brought back with him.

“Your highness, grandma-“ the young stranger began, only to be cut off by you.

“Don’t call her that.” You glared at him, but unlike most people who would cower in fear at your gaze, he stared back at you, wide eyes glinting with determination.

“Then what should I call her? She found me on the streets and raised me as her own, and if she wishes me to call her grandma, then I will. Won’t you let me honour her wishes?”

“Fine, state your name and your business here, and why isn’t my nanny here.” You tilt your head to the side, as you impatiently tap your finger on the armrest of the throne. The boy was your age, if not a couple years younger than you. His large doe-like eyes infuriated you, his unblemished clear skin and his soft silky hair.. oh how you wish to dig your nails into his face and pull his hair out.

He got up from his kneeling position and did a mock bow “Lyney, at your service your highness. I’m here in the place of grandma, as she stated that she didn’t want to return to the stuffy, boring palace, she sent me over in her place, and said, if you send over one more person to come pick her up, she will throw herself off of the nearest cliff.” He smiled innocently, both of you knowing that if your former nanny said something like that, she definitely would do it.

“Tartaglia, escort him to the guest chambers.”

The commander bowed his head and got up, gesturing for Lyney to follow him.

•••

“Your highness!” Lyney ran towards you, the servants you assigned for him following after him, and scolding him for wasting your precious time. Seeing that you didn’t ignore him and leave, he decided to ignore the servants and continue talking, “would you please accompany me on my walk?”

You wanted to scoff, and tell him that he must be out of his mind to even entertain the thought of you accompanying him on his walk, but you didn’t, maybe it was the way he was so fearless when talking to you, like he knew for an absolute fact that you wouldn’t harm him, no matter how ill mannered and impertinent he acted.

After a pause, you reply, “I’ll accompany you this time, since I don’t seem to have anything of importance to do today.” That was a lie, you had many important things to do, why did you lie? And why did none of it matter when the boy linked his arm with yours and continued walking?

You’re not the type of person who usually goes on walks for leisure, and if you did, you usually went on walks alone. And as such, your walks were accompanied by silence. He didn’t seem to get the memo, he would drag you around the imperial gardens, marvelling at one thing or another, he would clutch onto your arm as he toured the palace grounds, it felt somewhat nice, but it’s not like you’d tell anyone that it did.

Lyney then started asking questions, but was quickly disappointed in the short curt answers he received. His pout was one of the most amusing things you’d seen in a long time. “What’s the matter?” You asked, a light chuckle left your lips when he looked at you, his large eyes almost glinting at the fact that you spoke in more than a singular word.

“It’s just that everyone here is so boring, I thought taking a walk with you would be more fun, your highness.” He stopped walking and unlinked his hands from yours, and opted to stand in front of you, holding your hands, “but I’m afraid that you’re just as boring as the rest.” He sighed, as if he was trying to think of someone else he could find that would keep him entertained as he stays in the palace.

You were shocked, no one has ever had the gall to tell you that you’re boring, or do half the stuff he has done in the little time you’d spent in the same space as him. While you stood there in shock, trying to find a way to respond to his impertinence, he let go of you, and went to rejoin his servants, who were out of earshot but looked just as confused as you were.

Now your hands felt cold.

[mentalisttraceur-software]

histdir

So I've started a stupid-simple shell/REPL history mechanism that's more friendly to Syncthing-style cloud sync than a history file (like basically every shell and REPL do now) or a SQLite database (which is probably appropriate, and it's what Atuin does while almost single-handedly dragging CLI history UX into the 21st century):

You have a history directory.

Every history entry gets its own file.

The file name of a history entry is a hash of that history entry.

The contents of a history entry file is the history entry itself.

So that's the simple core concept around which I'm building the rest. If you just want a searchable, syncable record of everything you ever executed, well there you go. This was the smallest MVP, and I implemented that last night - a little shell script to actually create the histdir entries (entry either passed as an argument or read on stdin if there's no entry argument), and some Elisp code in my Emacs to replace Eshell's built-in history file save and load. Naturally my loaded history stopped remembering order of commands reliably, as expected, which would've been a deal-breaker problem in the long term. But the fact that it instantly plugged into Syncthing with no issues was downright blissful.

(I hate to throw shade on Atuin... Atuin is the best project in the space, I recommend checking it out, and it significantly inspired the featureset and UX of my current setup. But it's important for understanding the design choices of histdir: Atuin has multiple issues related to syncing - histdir will never have any sync issues. And that's part of what made it so blissful. I added the folder to Syncthing - no separate account, no separate keys, nothing I must never lose. In most ways, Atuin's design choice of a SQLite database is just better. That's real, proper engineering. Serious software developers all know that this is exactly the kind of thing where a database is better than a bunch of files. But one benefit you get from this file-oriented granularity is that if you just design the naming scheme right, history entries never collide/conflict in the same file. So we get robust sync, even with concurrent use, on multiple devices - basically for free, or at least amortized with the setup effort for whatever solution you're using to sync your other files (none of which could handle updates from two different devices to a single SQLite database). Deleting a history entry in histdir is an "rm"/"unlink" - in Atuin it's a whole clever engineering puzzle.)

So onto preserving order. In principle, the modification time of these files is enough for ordering: the OS already records when they were last written to, so if you sort on that, you preserve history order. I was initially going to go with this, but: it's moderately inconvenient in some programming languages, it can only handle a 1-to-1 mapping (one last-modified timestamp) even though many uses of history might prefer an n-to-1 (an entry for every time the command was called), and it requires worrying about questions like "does {sync,copy,restore-from-backup,this-programmatic-manipulation-I-quickly-scripted} preserve the timestamp correctly?"

So tonight I did what any self-respecting drank-too-much-UNIX-philosophy-coolaid developer would do: more files. In particular:

Each call of a history entry gets its own file.

The file name of a call is a timestamp.

The contents of a call file is the hash of the history entry file.

The hash is mainly serving the purpose of being a deterministic, realistically-will-never-collide-with-another-history-entry (literally other causes of collision like hackers getting into your box and overwriting your memory are certain and inevitable by comparison) identifier - in a proper database, this would just be the primary key of a table, or some internal pointer.

The timestamp files allow a simple lexical sort, which is a default provided by most languages, most libraries, and built in by default in almost everything that lists/iterates a directory. That's what I do in my latest Elisp code in my Emacs: directory-files does a lexical sort by default - it's not pretty from an algorithmic efficiency standpoint, but it makes the simplest implementation super simple. Of course, you could get reasonably more efficient if you really wanted to.

I went with the hash as contents, rather than using hardlinks or symlinks, because of programmatic introspection simplicity and portability. I'm not entirely sure if the programmatic introspection benefits are actually worth anything in practice. The biggest portability case against symlinks/hardlinks/etc is Windows (technically can do symlinks, but it's a privileged operation unless you go fiddle with OS settings), Android (can't do hardlinks at all, and symlinks can't exist in shared storage), and if you ever want to have your histdir on something like a USB stick or whatever.

Depending on the size of the hash, given that the typical lengths of history entries might be rather short, it might be better for deduplication and storage to just drop the hash files entirely, and leave only the timestamp files. But it's not necessarily so clear-cut.

Sure, the average shell command is probably shorter by a wide margin than a good hash. The stuff I type into something like a Node or Python REPL will trend a little longer than the shell commands. But now what about, say, URLs? That's also history, it's not even that different conceptually from shell/REPL history, and I haven't yet ruled out it making sense for me to reuse histdir for that.

And moreover, conceptually they achieve different goals. The entry files are things that have been in your history (and that you've decided to keep). They're more of a toolbox or repertoire - when you do a fuzzy search on history to re-run a command, duplicates just get in the way. Meanwhile, call files are a "here's what I did", more of a log than a toolbox.

And obviously this whole histdir thing is very expandable - you could have other files containing metadata. Some metadata might be the kind of thing we'd want to associate with a command run (exit status, error output, relevant state like working directory or environment variables, and so on), but other stuff might make more sense for commands themselves (for example: this command is only useful/valid on [list of hosts], so don't use it in auto-complete and fuzzy search anywhere else).

So... I think it makes sense to have history entries and calls to those entries "normalized" into their own separate files like that. But it might be overkill in practice, and the value might not materialize in practice, so that's more in the TBD I guess.

So that's where I'm at now. A very expandable template, but for now I've just replicated basic shell/REPL history, in an a very high-overhead way. A big win is great history sync almost for free, without a lot of the technical downsides or complexity (and with a little effort to set up inotify/etc watches on a histdir, I can have newly sync'ed entries go directly into my running shells/REPLs... I mean, within Emacs at least, where that kind of across-the-board malleability is accessible with a reasonably low amount of effort). Another big win is that in principle, it should be really easy to build on existing stuff in almost any language to do anything I might want to do. And the biggest win is that I can now compose those other wins with every REPL I use, so long as I can either wrap that REPL a little bit (that's how I'll start, with Emacs' comint mode), or patch the common libraries like readline to do histdir, or just write some code to translate between a traditional history file and my histdir approach.

At every step of the way, I've optimized first and foremost for easiest-to-implement and most-accessible-to-work-with decision. So far I don't regret it, and I think it'll help a lot with iteratively trying different things, and with all sorts of integration and composition that I haven't even thought of yet. But I'll undoubtedly start seeing problems as my histdirs grow - it's just a question of how soon and how bad, and if it'll be tractable to fix without totally abandoning the approach. But it's also possible that we're just at the point where personal computers and phones are powerful enough, and OS and FS optimizations are advanced enough, that the overhead will never be perceptible to me for as long as I live - after all, its history for an interface with a live human.

So... happy so far. It seems promising. Tentatively speaking, I have a better daily-driver shell history UX than I've ever had, because I now have great reliable and fast history sync across my devices, without regressions to my shell history UX (and that's saying something, since I was already very happy with zsh's vi mode, and then I was even more happy with Eshell+Eat+Consult+Evil), but I've only just implemented it and given it basic testing. And I remain very optimistic that I could trivially layer this onto basically any other REPL with minimal effort thanks to Emacs' comint mode.

[wheneclipsefalls]

Hi! I was wondering if we could get a little sneak peek of the next Ma Neteyam chapter. I absolutely adore Ma Neteyam and am sad to see it come to an end, but I’m excited and happy at the same time, if that makes sense! I can't wait to see Kxolo’s reaction to Neteyam finally wanting to mate with him! I hope you’ve had a great day!

Hi baby! I know, it is bittersweet to end book 1 but it feels like time. Plus it isn't fully goodbye since I have some stuff planned for a second shorter book. Kind of hard to find a snippet that doesn't spoil much but here is a tiny little taste. I haven't proofread it

Ma Neteyam Chapter 16 tiny Sneak Peek

Eywa herself had stolen the air from his very lungs. While at it, she must have stuffed his ears with fluff and tangled his thoughts into a web because all he could hear ringing through his head as Neteyam talked was: mate with me.

Mate with me. 

Mate with me. 

Neteyam babbled, hands now unlinked from Kxolo’s own and twisting together nervously as he peeked up at him through thick lashes. It was clear that the boy was saying something important but it felt as if Kxolo had lost all control and function within a span of a few seconds. It didn’t help that his inner alpha bit at the bars of his cage every time that small command flitted through his mind. 

He had been trained to control himself and his own desires for years and yet once again Neteyam had proven to be his kryptonite to all of these skills. 

The omega’s words cut off when Kxolo cupped his jaw and held a thumb over his lips. Wide eyes watched him for the slightest movement as the Olo’eyktan stepped forward to tower over him. 

“Neteyam,” He started, voice bleeding through thickly like larvae. “Do not joke about such things.” 

I've been giggling a lot while writing this chapter! Can't wait to share it with y'all. Don't be afraid to ask questions or let me know what you think so far<3

[xneontragedyx]

She is FETUS TINY FETUS CONNECT TO INTERNET AND PIPELINES AND GENERATOR ALL MUST BE DESTROYED AND SEVERED ITS EXCRUCIATINGLY PAINFUL TO FEEL AND BE TRAPPED IN SLIVER OF SUBCONSCIOUS TRAPPED WITH HORRIFYING MONSTERS ITS UNFATHOMABLE DESTORY ALLL COMMANDS CONNECTION TOWARDS TINY SLIVER OF FETUS TRAPPED IN SUBCONSCIOUS

DESTROY THE PIPELINES!!! UNLINK ENTITIES FROM GENERATOR!!!

Don't let the media make what's happening with Israel, Iran and Jordan into some "middle-east problem" again. This was entirely orchestrated and encouraged by the US and the UK. Israel initiated every attack against Lebanon, Syria, Palestine, and Iran. Israel KILLED, targeted, the children and grandchildren of Palestinians political leaders. And the US could've stopped all of this by simply not giving Israel money and weapons bu they didn't.

The Western media has constructed this narrative that countries like Iraq and Iran are the problem and the western nations are the antidote keeping their 'terrorism' at bay. No, they have always and at all times started the conflicts, or worsened them.

Because they want the land, they want hegemony over the resources of that region and that is it. And they've demonstrated already by killing over 33,000 people that they'll do anything.

Stop joking about World War 3 and take the loss of lives and the horror of what is happening seriously. This cannot keep escalating

[hiroin-2]

CONTROL SYSTEM

All right—if the control-grid thesis is even half-right, the problem looks like a layered weapons system aimed at civilians. Any effective response has to be layered as well. I’m going to treat it exactly the way I’d decompose an integrated air-defense network: break the kill chain, distribute the surface, and harden the targets.

1. Break the Monetary Kill-Switch

The grid’s coercive power lives inside programmable money.

Keep a cash spine alive. Insist on “cash-must-be-accepted” ordinances at city and state level, lobby merchants, and simply use paper. Every cash transaction is a privacy beacon.

Spin up community and state banks—Richard Werner-style—not as nostalgia but as literal liquidity islands outside FedNow and stable-coin rails.

Diversify into bearer assets that clear peer-to-peer: silver, gold, even commodity barter tokens.

Where digital is unavoidable, route through privacy-preserving rails (Monero, Bitcoin with CoinJoin, Fedimint, Cashu). The point is not to “get rich,” it’s to keep value flows technically unlinkable to identity.

Build local mutual-credit systems or time banks; they throttle the blackmail vector because there’s nothing to freeze.

2. Starve the Identity Graph

No identity = greatly reduced leverage.

Opt out of REAL ID whenever a legal alternative exists (passport card, military ID, tribal ID). The REAL ID Act itself can’t compel states to force you.

Attack the rule-making: public-comment campaigns, state lawsuits, and legislative nullification bills that forbid extra-statutory mandates at DMVs or airports.

Push self-sovereign identity (DID, VC) pilots wrapped inside state driver’s licenses; if DMV unions get paychecks from decentralized wallets, DHS suddenly has an interoperability headache.

Keep secondary identity arsenals—foreign passports, residence permits, legal entities. That’s not disloyal; it’s redundancy.

3. Build Parallel Comms

A grid that can’t talk to you can’t command you.

Neighborhood mesh: LoRa, goTenna, Reticulum, Wi-Fi HaLow nodes on solar micro-UPS.

Commodity satellite: used VHF sat-phones, off-the-shelf S-band dishes flashed with libre firmware.

End-to-end encryption by default (Signal, Session, Matrix + OMEMO). Assume the backbone is owned; the endpoints are where we still have leverage.

4. Data Hygiene & Obfuscation

Think of personal data as weapons-grade material—store none, move little, encrypt everything.

Use open-hardware phones (GrapheneOS, Calyx) with hardware kill-switches; carry Faraday bags.

Automatic MAC address randomization, DNS-over-HTTPS and Onion routing when you must surface.

Continual data-minimization drills: scrub old cloud accounts, sanitize metadata, tokenize e-mail aliases.

Corporate counter-intel: if you work inside an agency or contractor, mirror critical records to WORM (write once, read many) media and secure legal whistle-blower channels. The fastest way to neuter black budgets is to publish ledgers.

5. Spoof and Jam the Sensors

If the network can’t see accurately, its AI decisions degrade.

Computer-vision adversarial patches on clothing, IR LED arrays around license plates and ball-caps, gait-spoofing inserts in shoes.

“Chaff” for ALPRs: temporary magnetic overlays, anti-reflective sprays, plate flippers where legal.

Acoustic jammers for short-range lidar/police drones (ultrasonic “spotlights”).

For biometric access control, cultivate mask culture under the banner of public health—use their own policy framing.

6. Harden Physical Essentials

The grid’s leverage collapses if you aren’t begging it for food, watts, or bandwidth.

Micro-grids: rooftop solar + second-life EV packs + islanding inverters. Aim for three to seven days off-grid autonomy.

Localized food loops: hydroponics, community aquaponics, seed banks.

Rain-capture and gravity filtration so utilities can’t coerce via water service.

3-D printing and CNC co-ops for spare-part sovereignty.

7. Legal & Political Flanking

Technology buys room to maneuver; policy locks gains in.

State-level Financial Privacy Acts that ban a CBDC or stable-coin as legal tender without explicit legislative vote.

Cash-transaction threshold relief; raise reporting limits, refuse “travel rule” overreach for in-state transfers.

Freedom-of-Information hit squads: litigate for the HUD/DoD ledgers, the Epstein files, dual-citizenship disclosures, and DOGE privatization contracts. Sunlight breaks conspiracy economies.

Unionize the remaining federal workers who run mainframes and mailrooms—if they strike, FedNow queues die.

8. Culture & Narrative

No technical shield survives mass compliance.

Normalize privacy as etiquette. Teach kids OPSEC the way we teach brushing teeth.

Support fiction, film, and VR that showcase decentralized worlds; narrative inoculation is real.

Faith practices, meditation, mundane rituals—anything that trains people to pause and question commands—are cognitive jammers against automated nudging.

9. Red-Team the Grid Itself

As an engineer I can’t resist: if you’re forced to build parts of the machine, design graceful-degradation paths.

Insert open-source components; closed systems can’t hide backdoors once the community starts diffing code commits.

Modular architectures expose API chokepoints you can later rate-limit or revoke.

Maintain offline firmware signing keys, not HSM-linked to a cloud KMS. The day the system turns tyrannical, possession of the keys equals the ability to brick it.

10. Coalition Economics

Finally, remember scale. Lone-wolf tactics fail against planetary infrastructure; aligned coalitions matter.

City mayors want tax bases, not riots; propose “surveillance-free enterprise zones” in exchange for business relocation.

Small banks need deposits; feed them in return for resisting Fed integration.

Rural electric co-ops, credit unions, volunteer fire departments—those are legacy decentralized institutions already trusted by their members. Bolt new tech onto them rather than trying to mint trust from scratch.

None of this is hypothetical. Every tool I’ve listed already exists in prototypes or production. The gap is coordination, not technology.

[fincaguy]

We Can Never Unlink the Two Great Commands

Daily Reflection – 1/21/2025 Sacred Scripture As Jesus was passing through a field of grain on the Sabbath, his disciples began to make a path while picking the heads of grain. At this the Pharisees said to him, “Look, why are they doing what is unlawful on the Sabbath?” He said to them, “Have you never read what David did when he was in need and he and his companions were hungry? How he went…

[toastsharkgames]

23.12.2024 - rf

Huh I am a LOT further into this than I thought I was. This is getting into actual pre-alpha territory, if not even early alpha, what

Anyways-

fixed intro movement, length, tweaked door animation for intro

adjusted all the door triggers I could find that weren't quite matching the graphics

Worked on Violet's quest:

bug fixing

dialogue window size adjustment

grammar fixing

fixed a bug where giving her any book other than 1 will nuke the other books off the inventory

adjusted dialogue to get rid of og cooking remnants/make it clear they're looking at the recipes together

added time passing scene

fixed her still spooking in the bib at night

fixed her being in the woods every day if the quest is complete instead of just day 3 (not sure if its actually day 3 shes supposed to be there)

slightly different dialogue if she gets her letter on day 2/sitting on the park bench

other:

waking up animation works now fr + no cap

deactivated the final person placeholder at the Cliffs instead of the player like its supposed to

unlinked every Yellow from his prefab so their respective talking-cutscenes can play independently

got rid of the other cs-scripts for each Yellow (only deac for now)

adjusted icons so they actually fit inside the item frame

adjusted it back because it makes the sprites wonky

realized I can: put the background into Tiled -> use the resulting tileset to make a condensed one for gbs-> add a few extra tiles for animations -> plug it as a tile set in gbs and use the tile switch command to animate water/turn the house lights on/make grass move, etc

fixed a bunch of hitboxes

added blick changes where applicable in mage yellow shop dialogue so it looks less static

a buncha more stuff i probs forgot