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candycandy00 · 8 days

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Character: Sukuna

AU setting: Church

spice level: NSFW

Mood: writers choice

Kinks: Non-Con(however would it be alright if it's consensual non con?), daddy kink, breeding, spanking, Size difference and Praise

(Could it be Fem reader? Thx !! :))

I might have added a couple kinks and took some liberties with the CNC kink but I hope you like it!

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. Sukuna as a Priest. Probably very offensive to Catholics (I know nothing about Catholicism so please look over any errors). Breeding. Spanking. Sort of CNC. Dubcon. Daddy kink (he’s a priest so Father is used instead of Daddy), light bondage. Size difference. Rough sex. Praise. Dividers by @benkeibear.

Part of CandyCandy’s 2k Followers Event! Any feedback whatsoever would be adored!

You stand in the drafty hallway outside Father Sukuna’s office, shifting from one foot to the other. He’s angry with you. He definitely saw that you were late for morning prayers, and he happened to be walking by when you flubbed reading the study verses to your students. As a new nun working in this Catholic school, you should be providing a strong example for the students to follow. Instead, they giggle when you try to scold them.

Father Sukuna, the headmaster, has had to discipline you several times now for your careless behavior and mistakes. You appreciate that he’s taking the time to give you such personal attention, but his punishments can be… severe.

And so you take a deep breath before knocking lightly on his door. He calls for you to come in, so you twist the brass doorknob and push the heavy wooden door open, then step inside.

The room is large, with high ceilings and tall windows along the back wall. The air is chilly, despite the low fire burning in the fireplace. You flinch when the door slides closed behind you, feeling like you’ve been sealed in.

There’s a large wooden desk in the center of the room, and behind it sits Father Sukuna, looking at you over the top of his reading glasses and closing the Bible in his lap before placing it on the desk.

“Do you know why I asked you to come?”

His voice is deep and smooth. His black priest robes do little to conceal his muscular form. As he pulls off his glasses, his unusual red eyes seem to shimmer. His handsome face is lined with black tattoos, remnants of his former life before joining the priesthood.

You fidget beneath his piercing gaze, thinking, far from the first time, that it’s a waste for someone like him to be a priest. Sensuality seems to ooze from every pore on his body. Every little move he makes, every word he utters with that voice, makes you think impure thoughts.

“I was late this morning,” you say, looking at the floor.

“And?” he prompts.

“And I messed up my reading of scripture.”

“Twice,” he adds.

You nod pathetically. “Yes, twice.” You raise your head then, meeting his eyes. “I beg your forgiveness, Father! I’ve only been a nun for six months now. I’m having a hard time adjusting.”

He stands up from his leather chair and walks around the desk to stand in front of you. This close, you’re very aware of how tall and big he is, how he towers over you, how he could throw you around like a rag doll if he wished. You can smell his cologne, a deep musky scent with contrasting cherry blossom undertones.

“It seems that you need more discipline, Sister. Did you come prepared?”

You swallow the lump in your throat, your face burning with shame as you reach your trembling hands down and grip your robe. Hesitantly, eyes on the floor to avoid his face, you slowly pull the fabric up to your waist.

Just as he instructed, you’re wearing no panties, only black silk thigh high stockings. Even with your soft thighs pressed together, he can definitely see your bare pussy, shaved the way he demanded.

“Ah, so you can follow instructions after all,” he says, and you glance up at his face to find him grinning widely. It’s an expression wholly unbecoming of a priest.

You watch as he steps back to his desk and uses one arm to knock everything off it with a single swipe. Then he pats the desk and says, “Climb on, and get in position for your punishment.”

You drop your robe and move over to his desk. He lifts you up and sits you on it, then you nervously maneuver yourself to be on your hands and knees. Your limbs are shaky as he walks around behind you and jerks your robe up again, letting it bunch up at your waist, leaving your lower half bare. One of his large hands sets upon your naked ass, then rubs down it, tracing your shape.

“As for what we discussed earlier… are you still certain?” he asks.

“Y-yes,” you say.

Two days ago, Father Sukuna proposed giving you “special discipline” to help you improve as a nun and turn away from your careless, sinful behavior. He said it would be intense, possibly painful and embarrassing, and that you would have to consent to allowing him full access to your body, using it however he sees fit. He gave you those two days to think about it. Today, you gave him your answer.

Now, with his eyes roaming over your exposed flesh and his warm hand squeezing the fat of your ass cheek, you don’t regret your choice, even if it’s humiliating. Because you truly do want to be the best nun you can be, and… being touched by a man like him, so tall and so intimidating, with those wild tattoos, makes your body quiver with excitement. So many nights you’ve laid in your bed, shamefully touching yourself while thinking of him.

He gave you a word, what he called a “safe word”, for you to say if you decide you can no longer handle the discipline and want to stop. Otherwise, he said, he would continue no matter what you say. The very thought of being completely at his mercy both frightens and thrills you.

Stepping around to the front of you, Father Sukuna pulls your rosary from your neck and winds it tightly around your wrists, binding them together and forcing you to lean more on your elbows than your hands. This makes your position slightly more unstable, and leaves your ass elevated higher than the rest of you.

He moves out of sight for a moment, and returns holding something in his hands. It’s a large wooden paddle with several holes drilled into it. Your eyes widen as you stare at the threatening object.

“Years ago, before I became Headmaster, this paddle was used to punish misbehaving students. We don’t do that anymore, but we keep the paddle around. Sometimes it’s effective to just have it lying on the desk when talking to an unruly student.”

He slaps the paddle into his open palm, resulting in a loud thwacking sound that makes you jump. “The holes supposedly make it sting more,” he tells you, that unnerving grin spreading across his face again.

Moving to your side, he holds the paddle up, looking down at your glassy, wide eyes, then he swings it downward, smacking the harsh wood against your trembling, vulnerable ass. You cry out in pain, feeling the burn of the holes, instinctively trying to scoot away.

Father Sukuna uses his free hand to firmly grip your shoulder, holding you in place, before bringing the paddle down again. This time the sting is enough to bring tears to your eyes and a scream from your throat.

But he remains merciless.

Thwack!

Three more hits, each one hard enough to make your body jump from the desk. Your ass burns. It has to be totally raw by now.

“Father, please! Forgive me!” you weep, your knees nearly collapsing, your face now buried in your forearms, your hands clutching the rosary that has them bound together.

Father Sukuna pauses and sits the paddle on the desk beside you. He uses his now empty hand to grip your sore cheek, kneading it, making you whimper.

“Spread your legs wider,” he commands, and you struggle to comply, scooting your shaking knees further apart. He leans over to look, making you flush with heat and embarrassment. “Such a sinful body,” he says. “You’re absolutely dripping.”

“I’m so sorry, Father!” you cry, desperate to close your thighs and hide your shame, but knowing better than to anger him.

You feel his hand slide down, and then his fingers dip into your wet folds. You shudder, fighting the urge to try to pull away. He laughs as his fingers brush over your clit, making you twitch. “Such a fuckable little cunt,” he says, and you glance back at him over your shoulder, shocked by his words.

“Father?” you ask, trying to ignore the feeling of his fingers stroking you.

“Hmm? Do my words concern you, Sister? I find that hard to believe when this soaked pussy is practically begging to be fucked. Do you want that? Do you want to be fucked by my huge cock?”

“I… I don’t…”

He suddenly withdraws his hand, picking up the paddle again in one smooth motion and then slamming it back down on your raw, stinging ass. This time it hits so low that it connected with your pussy. You squeal and jerk, and Father Sukuna holds the paddle up to his face. “You’ve gotten it all sticky,” he says.

After sitting the paddle back down, he reaches down with both strong hands and effortlessly flips you over onto your back. He grabs your bound wrists by the rosary and jerks your arms above your head, then forces your legs even wider apart. He pulls your whole body down toward the end of the desk, making your robe ride up even further, nearly exposing your chest.

He uses one hand to pull up his own robe and open the black pants underneath. “I fucked countless women before becoming a priest,” he says, his voice deeper than usual. “I thought I got it all out of my system. But fuck it, I’m still a man. So I’m gonna ruin this cute little pussy of yours.”

His tone of voice, his manner of speech, they seem different, rougher. “F-father, please,” you beg, “be gentle with me!”

He pulls a massive cock from his pants and lines it up with your entrance. “Not a fuckin’ chance!” he says, then immediately shoves himself all the way in.

You gasp as you feel yourself being completely stuffed, his hands firm on your waist, keeping you steady as he pounds into you. “Please forgive me, Father!” you sob out.

“Huh? Forgive you for what?” he asks, that maniacal grin on his face.

“F-for being so sinful!”

He laughs before he leans down and extends his tongue, licking a stripe up your crying face. “No need to apologize. Your tight pussy feels fucking incredible! This sinful body of yours is a blessing!”

You feel dazed, out of your mind, as his cock repeatedly slams into you. You have no idea what’s right or wrong anymore. You gaze up at him through teary eyes. “Is… is this part of the discipline? To make me a better nun?”

He reaches one hand down to stroke your clit, making your hips buck off the desk. “Yeah, I’m making you a better nun!” he grunts. “I’m making you my personal little slutty nun!”

You can’t take anymore. Your mind and heart are so confused. Only your body seems to understand Father Sukuna’s discipline. So you let go, you let yourself fall over the edge, and you scream out his name as you cum around his cock, clenching him with everything you have.

His grin only gets wider, his red eyes gleaming, as he fucks you even harder. And when you finally feel him pulsing inside you, followed by a gush of his hot sticky cum filling you up, you lose all strength, going limp on the desk beneath him.

Once he’s bottomed out, he pulls back and looks down at you. “Good girl, taking my cock so deep. I’ll forgive your mistakes this time,” he says as he buttons his pants and pulls his robe back down. His voice is returning to his more formal tone. “But if you don’t show more grace as an employee of this school, I will have to discipline you again.”

He reaches down and unties your hands, then gives your rosary back to you, leaving you speechless and stunned. You quickly recover and scoot off the desk, jerking your robe back down to hide the cum dripping down your thighs.

“Thank you, Father,” you say with a quivering voice as you hurry out of the room.

#sukuna x reader #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna smut #ryomen sukuna x reader #x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #Candy #candys2kevent

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gwenllian-in-the-abbey · 2 months

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Do you think Rhaenyra would have killed her siblings or it was mere paranoia on Alicent's side? The book doesn't provide a solid answer for this, and in the show it's clear that Rhaenyra would never harm her siblings.

Hi anon, I kind of went into it in this post, and although that ask was about Jace vs. Aegon III, I think the principle remains the same. In short, no, I don't think it was paranoia, but to understand why, we have to understand why Rhaenyra's brothers pose a particular threat to the stability of Rhaenyra (of Jace's) rule. Keep in mind, this isn't a moral failing specific to Rhaenyra, but simply a byproduct of the conditions of her inheritance.

I don't think Rhaenyra would have wanted to kill her siblings (or their kids), or even have planned to kill her siblings, but I also think that ultimately what she wanted wouldn't matter very much. All it would take would be someone wishing to rise in her esteem claiming that Aegon was fermenting rebellion, perhaps producing a forged letter as evidence, or an eyewitness who would swear that he had been secretly meeting with former greens. Could she risk it? Her brothers are weapons that can always be used against her. And at some point, it would be out of her control. Rhaenyra won't live forever, nor will Daemon, and when Jace attempts to take the throne, with no less than 7 legitimate male claimants alive who would have a claim ahead of him, there are bound to be challengers. The Blackfyre rebellion began with much flimsier pretexts.

We have real life examples of this. Henry VII intended to keep the remaining Plantagenets alive when he took the throne, as long as they stayed loyal. After all, they were his wife's family members, and killing them off would not be a good look. But the remaining Plantagenets would always be a threat to the Tudors. Ten year old Edward Plantagenet, the son of George of Clarence, was imprisoned in the Tower of London for 14 years before he was executed in 1499 for a supposed connection to Perkin Warbeck's scheme. Henry VII finally took action at least in part because he was negotiating a betrothal between his heir and the daughter of King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella. The Spanish monarchs did not want their daughter marrying a man whose succession could be challenged, and so Edward, the strongest claimant at that point, had to go. Henry VII's son, Henry VIII, increasingly worried about the stability of his own succession, became vulnerable to the whisperings of opportunists looking to rise in the king's esteem and eliminate their own political enemies. At this point, the remaining Plantagenet claimants became a source of paranoia, justified or not. The arrest and execution of Margaret Pole, the niece of Edward IV and Richard III, was based upon a tunic found in her home that supposedly represented her support for her son's claim to the throne and the restoration of the Catholic church in England. The tunic was almost certainly planted by Henry VIII's chief minister, the protestant Thomas Cromwell, the same man who orchestrated Henry's divorce from Catherine of Aragon (yes, the same princess whose hand Edward Plantagenet had died to secure). And Henry VIII liked Margaret, she'd been the governess to his daughter, and though they had their ups and downs, he certainly didn't hate her. Still, when her son was put forward as a rival claimant and she was accused of supporting him, she had to go too. And of course, going backwards a bit, there are famously the princes in the tower, Edward and Richard, sons of King Edward IV, who despite having been officially declared bastards (a law, you see, was not enough), were still enough of a threat to the throne that they were (most likely) murdered, whether by Richard III or one of his associates. Mere rumors that those boys still lived sparked rebellions during the reign of Henry VII.

And you can say well, there's a difference, surely, in that Rhaenyra is the rightful queen, and these other people were not? But "rightful" is not some inherent state of being, it's dependent upon who is in power. Every person who sits the throne believes themself to be the rightful king or queen. But Rhaenyra in particular gained her position because her father exercised his power and declared her heir in defiance of the expected order of inheritance, contradicting the very decision that made him king in the first place. After Viserys dies though, for all intents and purposes his wishes cease to matter. He is no longer king, and lacks any mechanism by which to enforce his wishes from beyond the grave. At that point, people will choose to support one claimant or another, based upon their own concerns (dragon math, precedent, oaths, promises made by one or the other, existing family bond) and to consider Rhaenyra or Aegon (or any other claimant down the road) the rightful king/queen. Rhaenyra's security upon the throne, like the position of Henry VII or Richard III, is inherently weaker because she comes to the throne through unconventional means. All it takes is a plague year, a famine, or a foreign invasion for any random group of lords to decide that the true king Aegon/Aemond/Jaehaerys/Maelor should be on the throne and that they should start a rebellion in his name. If Rhaenyra feels insecure in her rule, or in Jace's ability to peacefully inherit after her, it only makes sense to eliminate any potential rivals, and her brothers and their children will always be a threat, no matter her original intentions. Even if Rhaenyra keeps her word and does not harm her family, her brothers and their line pose a threat to Jace and his line as long as both lines exist.

So Alicent is not being paranoid at all, she's being realistic. If Viserys were to disinherit Rhaenyra, or were Rhaenyra to accept the peace terms and give up her claim, she would become simply another sister, but Aegon can never be just another brother to Queen Rhaenyra because in the eyes of some, he will always be a potential rallying point for dissenters, and if not him then his brothers, or his children, whether they want to be or not. That's the point Alicent is making. It's not a reflection on Rhaenyra's character, it's just that if it came down to a choice between securing her reign/Jace's succession, and the lives of her potential political rivals, it's not difficult to guess what Rhaenyra would choose.

#asks #aegon ii targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #alicent hightower #f&b #history

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zepskies · 1 year

Text

Break Me Down - Part 6

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

AN: This chapter is a heavy one, but ultimately shifts her relationship with Ben…

Word Count: 6,700 Trigger Warnings: (18+ only.) Attempted sexual assault, violence, mentions of domestic violence, torture, and past trauma. Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff.

Part 6: A Hot Meal

Frank informed you the next morning that Simone, the new chef, had to call in sick. Apparently she’d slipped a disk in her back after yesterday’s festivities.

Poor thing. You wished her a safe recovery, and an STD panel.

But that left you and a handful of hungry men gathered in the kitchen like stray cats.

Soldier Boy’s crew was a mere few. Some were former military, all were gruff, grisly-looking guys.

Frank was their leader, stocky and stoic, and an ex-Marine from the Dominican Republic. Followed closely by Saul, who was a taller blonde from Idaho, and ex-Navy.

Then there was Lorenzo, appropriately nicknamed “Loco,” who reminded you the most of Frenchie. Loco was Colombian, lean, and covered in tattoos, but generally the most laid back and always cracking jokes (dirty or otherwise).

You’d learned that he’d been in the same unit as Frank. And he was the one who took the second shift on watching you in the beginning of your imprisonment.

And finally, there was asshole Tony, the only true local. But you didn’t hold that against the rest of Colombia.

He at least was still sleeping after an all-night job, according to Frank.

You assumed Ben was still in bed as well, because he hadn’t yet graced you all with his presence.

The rest of them were staring into either the fridge or the pantry, trying to work out breakfast.

“I could whip up some eggs,” Loco said.

“You mean those rubbery shits you made yesterday?” Saul quipped. Loco frowned, but shrugged in admission.

“We’ve got cereal,” Frank pointed out.

“Cinnamon Toast Crunch?” Loco asked hopefully.

“Raisin Bran.”

“Maldito hijueputa. I can’t live like this.”

You watched them fumble around like they’d never seen the contents of a fridge before, shaking your head in disbelief. Were all men really this helpless?

You sighed and stood up from your stool at the breakfast bar.

“All right, guys. Step aside,” you said. “My powers are limited, but I can attempt an omelet of some kind.”

Frank discreetly let out a relieved breath, while Loco made fervent Catholic blessings to the Virgin Mary. Saul seemed to be reserving his judgment until he tasted said meal.

You smiled and took out two cartons of eggs, some evaporated milk, onions, garlic, ham and cheese, and some fresh spinach you found in the vegetable drawer. Then you rooted through the pantry and found the seasonings you needed, like sea salt, pepper, and oregano.

Yvette taught you this recipe, and it was one you’d been successful with before. So it stood to reason that you could do it again.

Within half an hour, you were serving sections of two massive omelets to each man (seriously, it might as well have been a quiche), with a generous portion for yourself. Though you still saved a large piece for Ben…and yes, even Tony.

Loco took a huge bite and moaned. Saul frowned in disgust and shot a fist into his shoulder.

“Shut the fuck up, man,” he reproached.

“But it’s hella good,” Loco said, rubbing his shoulder. He offered you two thumbs up and a wide smile. “Gracias, corazón.”

“You’re very welcome,” you said with a laugh, and fought hard not to blush in embarrassment. Frank gave you a rare, conspiring smile.

Who would’ve thought a hot meal could make you friends among criminals?

“Even Saul’s got nothing to complain about,” Frank remarked, noting the other man’s silence in his thoughtful chewing. Until Loco teasingly prodded him in the side with a fork.

Saul made a sound of irritation around a mouthful of food and fended him off with a warning look (and a threatening butterknife).

Loco tsked. “You have to untighten your asshole, my friend. You will give yourself a hemorrhoid.”

“You are my hemorrhoid,” Saul snapped.

You stifled a giggle.

Frank wore a deadpan look, but amusement still glinted in his eyes.

“He’s just mad because Loco put peanut butter in his gun last night,” Frank told you in a lowered voice. But Saul still heard it, because his frown deepened while Loco’s grin edged into a smirk.

“You know how hard it is to unjam that shit out of the slide?” Saul said. “Even the safety’s clamming up now.”

“Shit, I should’a put jam too!” Loco said. “PB&J in a barrel, no?”

Saul punched his shoulder again in the same spot as before. Loco made a pained sound, but took the abuse with a good-natured smirk.

“Very mature,” you laughed quietly.

“Fucking children,” Frank agreed, with a sip of his coffee. But something told you that he was fond of these assholes.

And that’s how Ben found you all.

He stood in the doorway with his arms crossed, for a moment just watching his crew eating, joking, laughing—with you at the center of it all.

He’d been standing here long enough without them noticing that he was actually getting annoyed, until Frank finally looked over and straightened a bit.

“Sir,” he said. All eyes in the room went to Ben, who raised a brow and strolled in with a casual, lazy gait. He nodded at his men, who all greeted him back with respect.

He noted you tightening up too, your expression turning more careful as you lowered your eyes and continued eating.

There was something about it that annoyed him. But he ignored that for now, in favor of heading over to the pan on the stove.

“Your plate is over here,” you mentioned, sliding over his breakfast. “Coffee’s still hot in the carafe.”

Ben flashed you a sly smile. “All right, sweetheart. Why don’t you get me a cup?”

He knew you’d frown, just like that, with annoyance glinting in your eyes. Try as you might, you couldn’t hide it all the time—your stubbornness. You were mouthy too, with an answer for fucking everything.

But when he took the proffered plate and tried the eggs, he raised his brows in pleasant surprise.

“Okay. So you can cook,” he said. “Good to know.”

You raised a brow at that, but you handed him a mug of black coffee. He took a sip and made a face of disgust.

“Jesus, could at least put some sugar in there.” He passed it back to you. “Fix that for me, would ya?”

Your brow twitched again, but you took the mug wordlessly. Saul got up from his seat at the bar and washed his plate in the sink himself before he left, followed by Loco, who thanked you one more time before he followed Saul’s lead.

You gave Ben his coffee while you started putting the leftovers away and soaking the pan in the sink. When Ben next took a sip, he coughed as his tongue was assaulted by sweetness. He shot you an irritated look.

“What the fuck is this?” he snapped.

You looked over at him with widening eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry. Too sweet?”

Your face was all innocence, but he was starting to figure you out. He caught a gleam of satisfaction in your eyes. His lips twitched, not sure if they wanted to smirk in amusement or frown in annoyance at your audacity.

Ben glanced over at Frank, who stood near you with an empty plate. Clearing his throat, Frank set his plate in the sink and also washed it himself.

Ben dumped his coffee there and gave Frank a look—one that said to fuck off.

His subordinate actually hesitated, making Ben’s frown deepen. But the man eventually left you and Ben alone while you finished up the dishes and Ben ate his breakfast. He didn’t mind complimenting the chef.

“You surprise me, sweetheart. Now, if you start cooking more often than you eat up the pantry, I may need to keep you around,” he remarked teasingly. And he dumped his plate into the sink while you were busy washing the large pans you’d used.

It was meant to be a joke. He’d said worse things to you before and you’d volleyed back playfully, or at worst case, brushed it off. So the way your head whipped towards him with a glare managed to take him by surprise.

“Maybe if you put as much energy into feeding yourself as you do into fucking your way through South America, you wouldn’t be such a helpless asshole,” you said.

It changed the air in the room, making it tense as Ben raised his brows at you. He straightened to his full height and approached where you stood at the kitchen sink.

“Care to fucking rephrase that?” he asked.

Did this bitch really just call him helpless?

You had one hand on the counter, maybe to steady yourself. Your chin took on a defiant tilt as you stared up at him and crossed your arms.

“At least your team has the decency to say thank you,” you snapped. “You can’t even be bothered. What are we, your fucking slaves? Should the whole fucking world bow to suck your wrinkly dick?”

Your vitriol somewhat put him on his heels. He stared at you, incredulous.

“I knew that doe-eyed Mary routine was a fucking show,” Ben growled. “Behold the salty cunt underneath. When yesterday, I know for a fact you were contemplating sucking on my cock like the fucking slut you are.”

Your expression became enraged. You aimed to slap him, with even your nails poised to scratch at his eyes, but he knew the attempt would hurt you far more than it’d hurt him. He grabbed your wrist and threw it away from him.

You huffed, irate beyond belief, and tried to walk away from him before you said anything else you’d regret.

But Ben’s hand closed on your arm again and whipped you around. You saw the anger in his eyes, the effort he was making to hold himself back. You both knew that with just a fraction of strength, he could crush you. He could end the game.

You were angry enough right now that you didn’t care.

“Do it,” you challenged. “Bat me around until I act right. You supes call yourselves heroes, but I don’t see anything noble about you.”

Instead of your arm, Ben gripped the counter next to you as his nostrils flared. His fingers bit into the tiles, cracking through them and making you flinch.

“Go to your fucking room,” he ordered. “Before I take you up on that offer.”

Before he loses his shit, you interpreted.

Your sister’s words again managed to cut through the red of your temper.

Protect yourself.

You hesitated, trying to slow your breath. Then, you lowered your eyes. And you scurried back to your room.

You only released your tears when you were blessedly alone.

Meanwhile, Ben was fucking fuming. He took it out on a potted plant, smashing it on the kitchen counter. He watched the fractals of clay spin off like bobble tops and the soil scatter across tile and in the sink.

All the while, he refused to actually acknowledge how your words had affected him—other than infuriating him.

You were stubborn, with a smart goddamn mouth. You clearly hated him, and not just because you tried to help Butcher put him back to sleep.

But he’d been spotting hints of attraction behind your blushes, whenever he teased you. He was mollified, slightly, with the knowledge that your body was interested, even if your mind was having a hard time being persuaded.

Ben could work with that.

But another part of him wondered…what the fuck was it about this girl?

Why does it matter if she’s fucking into me or not? What the fuck do I care? He certainly wasn’t wanting for pussy.

He should’ve gotten rid of you a long time ago. In fact, he should’ve shipped you back to Butcher, better yet, with a bullet through your skull so his band of morons would get the message…

But there was something about you. He’d known it from the moment he saw you in that club. When you broke dumbass Tony’s foot with that lethal goddamn heel, wearing black leather and a sexy gleam of confidence in your eyes as you walked away.

To continue your hunt for Soldier Boy.

If Ben was honest with himself, (and he wasn’t), you had a fire he just didn’t want to dim.

You were avoiding him. That was obvious. And maybe Ben was avoiding you too, a bit.

He whittled away the next couple of days with lines of coke, weed, and booze, among other things. Still, none of it managed to dull his mind enough to get a full night’s sleep. Because every time he closed his eyes, he dreamed of being in a metal coffin, unable to pry his eyelids open.

Most of it was flashes of memory mixed with nightmares. Of being frozen and defrosted, his head held underwater just to see how long he could go without breathing.

Being electrocuted on every surface of his skin to see which parts of him were more sensitive than others, less or more durable. What affected him more, bullets or acid, electricity or burning.

Then the serums that lit his blood on fire, making him feel like his bones were liquifying from the inside out…

Ben would wake in his large bed, covered in sweat. And it took a hell of a lot to even make him dewy.

The problem was, this was happening more often. Thanks to his abilities though, he was able to function on less sleep than most people anyway.

At night, sometimes he walked through the dark and empty halls of this huge fucking mansion that felt empty as shit, even when he crossed one of his men.

Sometimes, he wondered what it was all for—the long years of his life. Sometimes he wondered why he was still here, with no team, no family, no fame, and no real fucking life.

In the morning, after he cleared through the brain fog of post-drugging, Ben wandered downstairs and slurped down a mug of coffee.

Simone was back, and she dutifully put together a frittata for him. Really, he was craving some plainer eggs and bacon, but this would do, he guessed.

After he finished eating, he wasn’t really sure what he wanted to do. The drugs were starting to bore him, as were the women, if he was honest.

Ben ventured near the French doors leading to the backyard. He noticed you sitting outside in the garden, surrounded by little yellow flowers. Your mouth was moving, but he could barely hear you.

Slowly he opened the door, so you wouldn’t hear him. Ben approached from behind, but didn’t go far. He just got close enough to hear you softly singing, letting the wind carry your voice away. But now he heard you perfectly.

“If I didn’t care, more than words can say…if I didn’t care, would I feel this way?”

You had a good voice, he acknowledged. And just within the safety of his own mind, it reminded him of the way his mom used to hum along with the radio when she cooked.

His mouth quirking, he returned inside and fished for the phone in his pocket. He scrolled through his contacts and found the number for his favorite escort service here in Colombia.

Now that your anger had died down, you were feeling a bit guilty. You felt more than justified in raking Ben over the coals, and when you thought of how he’d snapped back at you, it still made your blood boil…

But somehow, your guilt remained. Maybe there’d been a better way to say those things. A gentler way that his massive ego could accept.

Though you snorted as you walked through the halls that were now second-nature to you. It was late at night, but not too late that your brain could be calmed and cajoled into sleeping.

He doesn’t understand gentle, your mind reasoned. All that gets through his head is brute force. And sometimes, not even then.

But he’d had every chance to lose his temper violently with you. While he’d certainly been an asshole, he hadn’t tried to break you. Just the kitchen counter.

Curiouser and curiouser…

Without meaning to, your feet brought you close to his door. Your hand was poised to knock…but you hesitated.

Then you heard the sounds coming from within, lusty feminine sighs and male grunting, and you grimaced. Memories of your previous experience in opening Ben’s door flit through your mind and made you blush.

Nope, not this time. You made a sound of disgust and backed away from the door, then fled back down the hall.

With a sigh of boredom, you supposed you could use a midnight snack. You’d just have to go it alone this time.

Fine, you thought, suddenly petulant. And you would make something good too. Something that took some effort, and he wouldn’t get a single morsel!

You went down to the kitchen and rifled through to find the ingredients you needed to make one of your mom’s old comforts: chocolate chip muffins. You didn’t have a Betty Crocker box mix, but you thought you remembered Yvette’s recipe to make them from scratch.

You found a mixing bowl and threw in the powdered ingredients first—the flour, baking powder, sugar, salt. Then you added the vanilla extract, the eggs, vegetable oil, milk, and whipped them up into a batter. You dipped a finger in to taste it so far, and you smiled with a pleased hum.

“Whatever you’re making, it already smells good.”

Your smile fell as you looked up. Tony walked into the kitchen with his booted foot.

You wanted to sigh. What the hell does this bitch want?

His long hair was tucked behind his ears, and he was dressed in tactical gear this time, complete with a belt, though curiously devoid of his gun.

The last time you’d seen him in this ensemble, he’d been kidnapping you. Maybe Soldier Boy sent him off on an “official” errand of some kind, like buying drugs off a cartel or something.

“Good evening,” Tony said with a nod. You nodded back at him, watching him as he approached the kitchen island. You made sure it remained between the two of you as you went to the fridge for some more milk. The batter was a bit too thick.

“What’re you making?” he asked.

“A roast chicken,” you sassed. He shot you a dry look and surveyed the ingredients across the counter. He reached for your open bag of chocolate chips and stole a few, scooping them into his mouth.

Rude, but you didn’t comment. You knew you shouldn’t snipe too much with him.

“Whatever it is, mind saving some for me this time?” he asked. “I heard you made breakfast for the guys the other day.”

“I did saved you some,” you replied. “Not my fault if the self-proclaimed King of Everything ate it all.”

In most ways, Ben was a bottomless pit.

Tony started to curve around the kitchen island. You didn’t miss the move, and you stepped carefully in the other direction.

“What? I just want to grab a beer,” he said, giving you a teasing smirk. “You afraid of me, mi vida?”

You were really sick of men giving you unearned endearments.

“Oh, yeah. Fucking petrified of the one-legged wonder,” you replied. Your voice was dripping with sarcasm. Tony’s sly façade fell into irritation.

There it is, you thought.

“You really are a bitch,” he said tersely.

“Takes one to know one, bitch,” you rejoined. It wasn’t your wittiest comeback, to be sure, but it still seemed to infuriate him. You should’ve been trying to diffuse his temper, not goading him. You just didn’t really think he would try anything after what happened last time.

But you were wrong.

Tony went after you, swifter than you thought possible with that big-ass boot. You muttered a curse and tried to evade him, but he grabbed you by your hair and yanked you back, making you shriek in both surprise and pain.

You had no choice but to twist and aim a shot to his throat with your elbow. While he choked, you aimed another blow to the bridge of his nose, knocking his head back.

You should’ve just fled the kitchen. Guaranteed, you could’ve outrun him. But his audacity made your temper snap. You followed up with a well-lined fist in the same region of his face, once, then twice, and he uttered a shout of pain as you both felt the crunch of his nose breaking.

But then he managed to grab your arm. The two of you grappled, him slipping his foot out of the way when you tried to drive your heel into his boot.

“Can’t get me twice, you fucking cunt,” he hissed, and pulled something from behind his back. Your eyes widened, thinking it was a gun.

And it was a gun. Just not the kind you anticipated.

A shock of electricity ran through your entire body as he tased you in the side, right below your ribs. You convulsed as he did it, unable to move until he relented. It made a few seconds feel like minutes of agony.

You couldn’t even scream. Even when he stopped tasing you, you gasped in air and lost control of your legs.

Tony hooked an arm around your waist and propped you up against the counter. With whatever strength you had, you raised your head, dazed and still in pain as you tried to grasp his shoulder.

He smirked down at you. With one hand, he ripped open your shirt so hard that the fabric burned against your already tingling skin. You gasped as you finally realized what he was about to do.

“Nnn…” you uttered, shoving weakly at his shoulder.

“Shhh,” he said. His cold and lustful blue eyes roved over your heaving breasts still held in your bra, the expanse of your skin. He was able to get a grip of the button on your jeans before you summoned enough strength to fight back.

You shoved your hand against his face, trying to impale his eyes with your nails. But Tony ripped your hand away.

“Fucking bitch. Even now you won’t behave,” he muttered.

He heaved you higher against the counter and pinned you there with a hand wrapped around your throat. He started squeezing, chocking precious air out of your lungs, but you kicked at him, bit your nails into his hand and clawed and fought as hard as you could when he tried prying your legs open with his knee.

You tried crying out, but it was just whimpers making it through his tightening hand around your throat. He got frustrated enough to just break the button on your jeans, ripping the zipper down in the process.

Then, two large hands closed on Tony’s arms.

Both of you looked up and found Ben’s steely green eyes. With a tightening of his jaw and a single upward shift of his grip, Tony’s arms broke. Bone struck through the skin, and the man screamed a horrific, blood curdling sound.

The hand wrapped around your neck released, letting you take in precious air. But that also meant you had nothing propping you up on your shaking legs.

You slumped to the floor against the kitchen island, then watched in horror as Ben grabbed the side of Tony’s face and bashed his head against the counter—over and over until his skull split open.

Nostrils flaring, Ben took in long breaths as Tony’s mangled body fell to the floor in a bloody heap.

Then he turned back to you. Your vision was a bit hazy as you tried to look up at him. Hot tears slipped down your cheeks as he slowly kneeled down to you, and helped you stand up.

“Easy,” he murmured. “You’re all right.”

But you couldn’t stay on your feet.

You made an uneasy sound, and Ben caught you when your legs couldn’t support you. You struggled to raise your head again, but you managed it.

Ben’s eyes roamed over your face and tried to discern what was happening. They held the question that he spoke out loud.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

What’s wrong. What a damn question, you thought.

Blinking, you tried your best to focus on his bearded face.

“He tased me,” you told him through shallow breaths.

Ben’s jaw clenched again, but all he did was nod. After a beat, he swept you up into his arms. You gasped, but he looked down at you in silent question. You nodded and relaxed against him, briefly closing your eyes.

You wouldn’t know how that small gesture affected him as he carried you out of the kitchen. And up the stairs to the second floor, all the way to your room.

He was careful in laying you down on the bed. You were still crying, and now embarrassed for your own modesty as you grabbed a blanket and tried your best to cover yourself, your ruined shirt hanging from your shoulders and all.

By the time you looked back over your shoulder, Ben was gone.

However, a few minutes later there was a knock at your door. You sniffed.

“Who…” you tried to speak, despite the pain and coarseness of your voice. “Who is it?”

“Frank,” came the response. You didn’t know if you wanted him in here.

But after a long moment, he spoke again.

“I’ve got some water for you,” he said through the door.

You licked your dry lips and tried to swallow, even though it hurt. Water, you could definitely use.

With a sigh you said, “Come in.”

Frank entered with a bottle of water and a med kit. You eyed him warily as he dragged a chair over and sat across from you where you laid on your bed.

“Can you sit up?” he asked.

You weren’t entirely convinced that he was here to help you. But his brown eyes were calm and steady, and you didn’t detect a threat in them.

“I was a paramedic before I enlisted,” he said.

You blinked in surprise. You eventually obliged him by sitting up, but you still held the blanket around your body. Ben must’ve filled him in…and sent him to check on you.

Tears welled up in your eyes again. Because every time you thought you had Soldier Boy figured out, the humanity of Ben surprised you.

“Can I see where he tased you?” Frank asked.

Though you hesitated, you opened your blanket enough for him to take a look at your bruised side. Sighing through his nose, Frank nodded. He wore medical gloves, and he raised his hands to prod at your neck.

You whimpered and leaned away from his touch. Frank slowly dropped his hands away from you. His eyes softened.

“You asked about my family,” he said. You gave a belated nod, once you remembered that conversation from a few weeks ago. Had it only been a month since you’d gotten here?

It felt like a year.

Frank held your gaze, and you remembered asking him. Got a family? Wife and kids?

He hadn’t answered you. You’d thought maybe there was a story there. Now you knew for sure that there was.

“I have a daughter,” said Frank. His tone held the weight of sincerity, just as his words held an underlying promise.

Your tears fell. You nodded and allowed him to finish patching you up.

He then left you alone, saying that he would bring you something to eat in a little while. But after the door clicked shut, you allowed yourself to let go.

You mostly spent the next day in your room. Frank came by to check on you, to offer you something to eat. You took what he gave you, but you only nibbled. You couldn’t quite bring yourself to enjoy eating.

You imagined it getting clogged in your throat, as a hand wrapped around it. First Antonio’s, then your father’s hand.

You remembered when you were thirteen years old, and you finally snapped back at him when he tried to cut down your mom again with his drunken cursing.

You remembered the dryness of his hands, one of them closing around your neck and squeezing until you saw black spots encroaching on your vision.

And your mom intervened, threw herself onto him. You held your little sister in the closet. She was far too little to understand what was going on, but she knew it was bad.

You covered her eyes, and you watched through the slits as he beat your mom within an inch of her life.

You remembered fumbling with the landline, whispering into the receiver until police sirens circled through the windows and illuminated the dim house.

You remembered until you had to shut your eyes against memories and hot tears.

It was another day before your room felt like a suffocating cage once again. Night had fallen, according to the TV guide, approaching midnight.

You had to gather your courage, but you got dressed into one of your new plain shirts and jeans (which Ben had bought you, you were reminded).

When your stomach growled, you frowned. You hadn’t been able to keep much down for the past couple of days. Sighing, you reached a hand for the doorknob.

Your fingers hesitated on the brass, but you remembered something Louisa told you the day she graduated from high school.

You hugged her tight with the broadest grin and kissed her cheek. With tears in your eyes, you held up her hand, which held a diploma with honors.

She had a chance to go to college—something you hadn’t had. But you were going to make sure she did.

“You’re a rockstar, Lou. I’m so damn proud of you,” you said. She laughed and wiped a tear from your cheek.

“It’s only because of you,” she said. “You’re a rock, sis. Even when you’re not.”

Your sister was a smart little shit, wise beyond her years. And that had stuck with you ever since.

You’re a rock. Even when you’re not.

Even when that insidious voice inside whispered things. That you were weak, not strong enough, not smart enough. A burden on your family, on your friends. A disappointment. A bitch with an attitude and not much else.

But you sucked in a shaking breath and frowned at yourself, your brows knitting together.

No, you thought stubbornly.

And you opened the door.

With cautious steps you made your way downstairs. You forced yourself to keep walking, your heart rate climbing, until you reached the kitchen.

You didn’t know what you expected, but Ben standing there and staring into the fridge was not it.

It was the first time you’d seen him dressed down, in sweatpants, a soft-looking gray shirt, and some old man loafer slippers. You couldn’t help a smile at the sight.

Maybe he sensed a presence behind him, because he perked up and glanced over his shoulder. Finding you standing there with a small smile, if a bit awkwardly, the corner of his mouth twitched upwards.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said.

“Hey,” you replied with a nod, and you braved entering the kitchen. It was spotlessly clean, almost as if nothing had happened in this room.

Except for the large section missing from the kitchen counter, revealing the cement underneath. Likely it had been too damaged to be repaired and needed to just be torn out and replaced.

Your gaze roamed across the counter to the spot where you’d been assaulted. You couldn’t help focusing on it, so long that your vision started to glaze over.

Until you realized that Ben was slowly approaching you. He had a beer in hand, which he must’ve grabbed from the fridge. You sucked in a breath and looked up at him.

“You’re up and about pretty late,” he remarked.

“So are you,” you returned with an attempt at a smile. “I got hungry.”

Ben huffed in amusement. “Figures…though not gonna lie, was feeling peckish myself.”

He gestured at the fridge dismissively. “There’s not much.”

He could’ve woken up Simone, you were ready to point out. But maybe, just maybe, something you said had gotten to him. Maybe he’d wanted to just figure it out for himself, but didn’t know where to start.

“Let me take a look,” you said instead. You went first to the pantry and took a brief inventory. “You feeling sweet or savory?”

“Savory,” he replied after a moment. He went over to the breakfast bar and sat down with his beer while you continued to rifle through.

“Hmm, how about spaghetti?” you suggested.

Ben raised a brow. “It’s almost midnight.”

You shot him a small grin. “So? You’re hungry, right?”

You could tell he wasn’t totally into the idea, but he shrugged.

“All right.”

You hummed as you gathered all the ingredients you needed. Ben watched you lay them out across from him on the counter: onions, tomato sauce, various seasonings, and more. He eyed the entire head of garlic you were getting ready to peel.

“Jesus, you tryin’ to kill a vampire or something?” he quipped. You gave him a wry look.

“Have you ever made spaghetti before?” you asked. This was as basic as it came, but the way he was looking at the vegetables told you the entire concept of peeling, cutting, and throwing them together into a pan was foreign to him.

“Probably,” he said with a shrug.

Meaning never, you interpreted. Ben really just had no idea how to cook, you realized. You didn’t understand how a century-old man was so lacking in everyday skills…

But maybe you did. The files neatly stored in your brain reminded you that he’d grown up a rich kid. Very rich. Then after he became Soldier Boy, he’d all too soon reached the pinnacle of fame. He’d made so much money in four decades that he’d probably never needed to do a menial task in his life.

Maybe you could get him to try.

However, you hadn’t realized it until now, but even after a full day, your body hadn’t fully recuperated from what you’d gone through. Maybe it was the latent stress, but you already felt tired, your body heavy.

With a growing idea in your mind, you finished peeling and crushing the garlic and grabbed two onions. You held up one of them for his view.

“Would you mind helping me?” you asked.

Ben sat back in his seat, crossing his arms.

“Do I look like Betty fucking Crocker to you?”

“Do you have to be so rude?” you clipped back. His lips twitched in amusement, until you sighed, and took a break from standing up straight to lean against the counter. Your side was starting to twinge from where you’d been tased.

“What’s the matter now?” he asked. His brows knit together, and you could almost swear you saw concern in his eyes.

But you pressed your lips together. It really pained you to admit it, but…

“Still a bit shaky,” you said, lowering your eyes. “I…honestly don’t know if I can finish this.”

For a moment, Ben just stared at you.

He frowned, then made a sound of annoyance.

“Christ,” he muttered, and finished off his beer before he stood. He took his time coming around the island to meet you.

“Fine,” he deadpanned. “What is it you want?”

A smile grew across your face, bright and grateful. You handed him an onion.

“Peel and chop this, please.”

You made room for him at the cutting board and gestured for him to move in there. Ben considered the onion in his hand and took the knife from you. And after a beat of hesitation, he cut the whole thing in half.

You made a halting sound, lightly touching his wrist. “I’d peel that first if I were you.”

“I know what the fuck I’m doing,” he retorted, but you read the defensiveness in his eyes.

Hiding an amused smile, you relented and let him do it the way he wanted. But you did notice that he started peeling off the first layer of skin before he started cutting again.

Meanwhile, you found a sauce pan in the cupboard and a pot for boiling the pasta. And the two of you fell into a strange, companionable silence while cooking together.

Until you noticed him glancing at your neck. You knew there were bruises there, still purplish, but healing. It reminded you to gather your courage for something else.

“Thank you,” you said, with difficulty. “For…for saving me.”

Ben’s gaze met yours, but all he did was nod. You’d expected him to be his usual cocky self about it.

“Why did you do it?” you asked. He paused in his truly horrendous cutting; irregular pieces of onion were all over the cutting board, but he was still going for the second one.

Then he huffed. “Would you rather I hadn’t?”

“Be serious,” you said, before you could censure yourself. He raised a brow at you.

“You know what?” he said. “Think what you want about me, but I’m not a fucking animal.”

His frown deepened, like he was offended at you just for asking.

Well, fair enough.

So you let it go as the two of you cooked together.

But as Ben was peeling the stubborn hide off the vegetable, it slipped out of his frustrated hands and rolled away. Thankfully it stopped just shy of falling off the counter.

You couldn’t help a small giggle at his expense. He had the strength of twenty men or whatever, but he couldn’t chop an onion to save his life.

Ben shot you a wryly amused look. “Oh, you better not be fucking laughing at me.”

That just made you laugh in earnest, even though you covered your mouth with your hand. His grin deepened at the sound, despite the embarrassment making his face and neck warm up.

He grabbed the hateful head of veg and looked anywhere but you as he got ready to try again. There was no way he was letting you, or this fucking onion, make a fool out of him.

But your soft hand soon covered over his. You offered him a genuine smile, your eyes gleaming.

“Want me to show you a trick I learned?” you asked.

He hesitated, but he eventually moved over and let you in on the action. You took up the knife, held down the onion, and cut the ends off first. Then you were able to more easily peel off the rest of the outer layer.

“You can do this part any way you want, really. But I like to cut it down the middle first, then chop up one half at a time like this,” you explained.

And you felt Ben move in closer behind you to watch your methodical work.

The heat from his proximity actually made you start to blush like a damn school girl. You tried to stamp it down, but heat flared into your cheeks when his hand covered yours and took back the knife.

“All right, all right, I got it. Move over,” he said. You huffed, but you grinned and let him continue…

By the way his eyes later lit up when he tasted the meal, you knew he really did like your cooking. Now, you didn’t want to feed his outdated views on gender roles…but you could admit, seeing him enjoy something so simple as your grandma’s spaghetti recipe was gratifying.

It wasn’t the first time you’d shared a decent moment with Ben. But it was the first time that it hadn’t felt like an act. You didn’t know what to do with that—or the conflicted feeling making your heart ache.

And you certainly didn’t want to find anything about him endearing.

AN: So first of all, sorry for all the angst and TWs in this one. But here lies the end of Tony's fuck ass. ✌🏽 And maybe she's starting to understand (and trust) Ben a bit more...

Next time: Two weeks later, Ben is getting under her skin in the worst (best) way. (AKA: the moment we've all been waiting for...)

You should’ve just pushed him away already…but his nearness was mucking up your good sense.

The truth was, you weren’t afraid of him. Not anymore. And maybe you didn’t hate him.

Maybe…

“Well, what’s it gonna be?” he asked you.

Your lips parted, halting on a reply.

Keep Reading: PART 7

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uzis-dopeaf-hat · 29 days

Text

Analysis of Episode 7

[MAJOR SPOILERS BELOW]

So I wanted to talk about the latest episode of MD and it's really hard to find people to talk about this with (surprisingly?) and the one discord I joined was a bit of a mess so I'm just gonna come here and try to word vomit cohesively.

Wanna start by saying that yes, even though V is no longer in the intro, I HIGHLY doubt she's dead or gone for good. I think the new intro is likely just the start of a new arc or progression of the story. We aren't supposed to know what happens to her, so they're taking any signs of normalcy of her being present away. They could have also just wanted a new intro in general (which I love!).

I would be incredibly surprised if she was permanently gone. I guarantee she has a clone like it's stated J (stated in episode 6) and N (mentioned in this episode by Cyn herself) have.

What I can see happening, however, is V not being the same as before. If the V from the last episode is damaged beyond repair, Cyn will need to get a new clone out for her. Cyn states in this episode that she keeps their personalities. So I doubt V would act like herself from before her DD days (though I did play around with the thought). I can see something happening where Cyn tries to delete the memory files of V interacting with Uzi and the events leading up to here and now. I'm not sure how practical this would be depending on how long they're planning on making the season finale be. I feel it would be easier to just have someone retrieve her or try fixing her (unless she is fighting this entire time, which again we don't know, anything is possible). If it is the case of attempted memory deletion, I don't think Cyn will be successful. I'll come back to this later.

It's revealed that the one chained up in the trailers is in fact Nori, who seems to be taken over by the Absolute Solver, or Cyn. It seems that the company is actually trying to remedy the mistakes of their former colleagues on Earth. They have created a patch that is located in a USB drive inside what looks to be a crucifix.

There seems to be a huge religious aspect, though it is not apparent why. Our researcher Ridley here seems to be wearing a Mitre Hat typically worn by bishops. I'm not sure if they're meant to be wearing a specific type of miter, but it resembles an auriphrygiata worn during celebrations of the sacraments. If we were to put whatever is happening here under one of those sacraments, I'd say the closest would be an Anointing of the Sick (meant to help various states of sickness in religious ways such as prayer). I think a big part of the religious aspect may be superstition on JCJenson's part, but considering what we see of Cyn being a seemingly eldritch being, I can't blame them.

"LAB SPACE FOR RENT LEASED RSCH012 - 'CABIN FEVER' PRIME CATHEDRAL REAL ESTATE"

So obviously this is partly a joke, with a cathedral underground being for rent and all.

But a catholic church is where some sacraments are held. Once again I'm not sure why they believe they need this space, but I doubt Glitch would pick this setting "just because." (or maybe they would, you tell me)

Alice refers to Uzi as a "witch" in episode 6, saying she's dealt with them before, and then immediately stating that "she hasn't seen 002 since she's left us to die."

Cathedral churches had many reasons for existing, but one small purpose they served was to ward off evil, specifically witches.

A pentangle was one of many symbols used to deter witches or anything thought to be an evil entity. The candles surrounding them are likely meant to be Votive Candles, meant to seek help from the saints.

Of course, it also seems to be a giant magnet which may have helped them more than the candles in this situation. This is about all I have for this episode regarding the huge religious themes (aside from the episode literally being called "Mass Destruction.")

Our intern Mitchell seems to realize something is wrong after grabbing Yeva (aka 048). I am unsure if these revelations make a huge difference in the outcome of events. It seems that when Yeva does save Nori from The Absolute Solver with the USB drive, they are intimately aware of how dangerous it is, as Nori seems to want her to chop her arm off when they realize the solver is going out of control. These events explain what happens to Copper-9 as the planet's core implodes in on itself, creating a huge crater in the planet. The rest we know: the planet freezes over and only the drones remain.

We cut to who we now know is Nori, in her - as I'll call it -her "Heart" form. It seems she is searching for the correct cross shown with the USB and has been all this time, only supposedly finding it in this episode. We can presume she finds it after running into N since she tosses a cross away after inspecting it and not seeing any resemblances to the crucifix in the video. She has the correct one later when she runs into N, so the only time she could have found it was between her leaving to enter the mineshafts and her actually finding the DD.

I won't be going too much into the dynamics of all the relationships in this post, but I definitely will make a separate post for those (feel free to ask for some as well) -- so I won't focus on any in-depth character analysis here unless I believe it needs to be mentioned for this post to make sense.

After "Tessa" and unfortunately N scare off Uzi, N is trapped inside the collapsed mineshaft with his human counterpart nowhere to be found. Likely because of the list she needs to find and confronting Doll.

It is also revealed shortly after that Thad and Lizzie seem to be looking for someone, most likely the person being V. I've seen some points where it could be possible V sent out a signal, which may explain why this just suddenly happens. I wouldn't be surprised either if she found a way to send a signal to Khan as well -- unless he suddenly decided to be a good father and look for Uzi (who apparently seemed to be last on his list of reasons for disliking DD's) I think he got some sort of clue as to what was happening from V or another outside source. We already know he went through Nori's closet along with Uzi's blueprints for her railgun to get information.

Back to N, Cyn reveals that she lets his team keep their personalities because of him. Whether or not this is true is unclear, as she manipulates N and many others to sway things in her favor. It's almost as if she sees them as playthings for her entertainment.

When she shows N a memory from before, seemingly right after or around Earth's destruction, we can see a symbol come across his face.

"ACCESS DENIED CONTACT ADMIN 'DARKXWOLF17'"

I know many people have already seen this, but I believe that Uzi has either intentionally put a safety guard on both N and V from episode 5, or that she has unintentionally done this.

It would make sense if she made the active decision to do this, to prevent The Absolute Solver from trying to hijack V or N again. This is why I believe if Cyn were to try to erase or tamper V's memories, she'd run into Uzi's failsafe. I don't think she'd exclude V from her protection, but we really don't know V's fate for sure until episode 8.

N finally runs into Nori, and as previously mentioned she now has the correct cross. She mentions he looks familiar. It's not because he's a Disassembly Drone, she already mentions this fact a few lines prior. I still believe there is huge potential for N to have killed Nori. It seems to be long ago since neither seem to really recognize each other beyond Nori's statement.

DDs don't vary too much in model, aside from 'female' versus 'male' models. Along with that, the two had much more important events happening in their lives, and N looks vastly different in his "murder" state as opposed to his normal one.

We don't know what exactly happened to Nori that had her ending up down here. I have a speculation that she likely wasn't down in the research labs the entire time, or else she likely would have found the Patch much sooner.

Something I want to point out about Heart Nori is her attire.

She is seen wearing something akin to a mourning hat (aka a widow's cap). Clearly, she is alive (and she seems to be confident of Khan's state), so why exactly is she wearing this? The veil is meant for privacy for a woman's emotions while grieving, so what is she grieving?.

It could be Nori is grieving the life she once had or the life she could have had before Cyn came and destroyed it. She is mourning herself and her losses while trying to remedy them. I think the veil also symbolizes that she will likely be closed off to others, hence why she is so crass and straight to the point. Perhaps in the next episode, it will be removed when she potentially confronts Uzi.

It's clear Nori believes all the bad things in her daughter's life are because of her, as she states "I caused every horror in her life." But she doesn't just sit and wallow in her sorrows, she decides to remain pragmatic and address the situation as best as she can with her knowledge.

Back with Cyn, or "Tessa" as she claims to be, she is seen walking through the same area shown before where Yeva resided. It seems the drones experimented on were chained up for precautions, as we also see several magnets on each drone's head. One of the drones even seems to have its teeth out and oil-coated on them.

We see her entering into JCJenson's "Project Cabin-Fever Database" to find the list she had previously mentioned.

I won't lie, this part perplexes me. Cyn apparently wants to take these drones (and presumably any connected drones) down. I'm unsure if it means just the top two or the entire list. Does "corrupted" infer that the specific drone didn't survive The Solver? Or that The Solver actually worked on them? I'm assuming "No Effect" means exactly that: The Solver had no effect on them when trying to "infect" them with it.

Cyn purges the list after viewing this, perhaps because it says "PATCH.2.1.8" next to Yeva. She doesn't want anyone to find out about the patch. She presumes that both Yeva and Nori are dead, so this not being true doesn't contribute to the fact she purges this list.

Purging the list also seems to purge the entire room, as shortly after confirming the process the area explodes to pieces.

We have an interesting encounter with Cyn and Doll here. Doll obviously believes she is talking to a human, and she asks about the patch. Presumably, she knew about this patch for a long while, just needing the key bug that Uzi found in episode 4 to obtain it since it was located somewhere underneath Cabin Fever Labs. Apparently, Cyn also needed this key bug, as it seems she couldn't gain access with just Tessa's skin suit. She knew about the patch from her previous encounters with Nori and Yeva, so her goal was to destroy it.

She tells Doll she essentially doesn't need her to go through with her plans, insinuating it's already too late to stop Cyn. Of course, Doll doesn't know this and is attacked by Cyn's true form after this short altercation.

This is startling (not referring to the jump scare, though it did its job), as Cyn knows that she's close to completing her goal. She doesn't need Doll at all, she is just another obstacle to eliminate (which she does so gleefully).

We see the results of Cyn's attack on Doll. "Tessa" shows up quickly after, and uses that as a guise to kill Uzi. I don't think this is purposeful, as N and Uzi are already separated and unless Cyn knows N is approaching doesn't need to use Doll's death as an excuse to blame and kill Uzi.

Perhaps this bought Cyn more time if N showed, but I find it more likely as a happy accident, as N finds "Tessa" before she's about to pierce Uzi's core.

Although, I don't think Cyn actually expected N to kill "Tessa." I believe she thought that N and Tessa's relationship was too sturdy to have N ever consider hurting her, let alone beheading her. Along with the fact that Cyn no longer knows N as well as she previously did, especially since he met Uzi, she seems to have miscalculated N's priorities.

The following fight deserves a post of its own, along with the analysis of N and Uzi's relationship, so I won't go too deep into it now.

So skipping that entire section (for now) let's jump back to Cyn. After Uzi and N's hug session, we see Cyn take Doll's body, proceeding to eat the girl's heart (which is seen writhing before being consumed). We can assume that the host is not necessarily dead until their heart is destroyed -- likely a big reason Cyn gave the Disassembly Drones so many offensive tools and the capability to consume Worker Drones: she wanted to create as many opportunities as possible to prevent a heart from surviving.

This may also explain why Nori survived, and why Yeva is presumed to be dead. Unfortunately, this means Doll is gone for good.

Cyn is labeled as what looks to be 001 (or 1001). We know she's not labeled as one of the experiments on Copper-9, but what was she the first model of? A normal worker drone? She was at the very bottom of a huge trash pile in episode 5, so this plays out if she was one of the very first models, especially one that may have been disposed of improperly early on.

It's obvious that the Absolute Solver existed before Cyn, but was this the first time it was able to successfully claim a host? It seems that The Absolute Solver and Cyn are one, and always have been since Cyn reawakened. Humans must have had evidence of The Solver existing beforehand though, since Cyn was marked with an armband here.

Something else to note about episode five...

Other drones in this scene were also labeled 001 (or 1001) So I am assuming it's more of a batch number if anything.

Back to episode 7, it seems that Cyn had been in Tessa's skin for a long time. She likely died with the rest of the humans in the manor. It is intriguing how the skin hadn't rotted off, but let's assume that Cyn's Solver helps create flesh to keep up appearances and keep Tessa's skin... fresh. This can help explain the blood coming from "Tessa" in episode 6 when she's bitten by a Sentinel.

It seems that Cyn intends to consume both N and Uzi after revealing herself. She states that she's "Honestly starving," before disappearing down the flesh chasm made long ago.

We see Uzi after her sacrifice... somewhere seemingly in space. Let's assume that this isn't some sort of vision/dream/hallucination she's seeing and that Cyn isn't manipulating Uzi's surroundings.

What she's seeing is Copper-9 from outside the planet... this isn't a flashback, nor is it the planet exploding. Remember Copper-9's core imploded on itself and sent bits of the planet out, hence why everything there is frozen over. I think she's seeing the core of (or supposedly the lack-there-of-one) Copper-9 here.

What is the core supposed to be here then? I'm not sure if it's meant to be similar to Earth where the core is made up of extremely hot metals. But with it exposed there's less pressure to help keep the core from melting (again, assuming it has a similar structure to Earth).

Copper-9 is no longer habitable for humans, so the existence of these metals in the core doesn't make sense.

Let's take a look at the scene before this.

Me and a few others played with the idea that Uzi fell into a black hole at the bottom. While I think a fun theory, I don't think that makes sense. The yellow sparks likely have something to do with The Absolute Solver, and Uzi ending up hundreds (thousands?) miles away from Copper-9 and her loved ones.

The way the light sparks reminds me of when Doll would teleport from place to place. I think Uzi may have been teleported away by Cyn since it seems Cyn was planning on consuming both her and N. It may have been a fluke on Cyn's part, though of course, we won't know for a while. Maybe Nori was able to manipulate The Solver in some way to prevent Uzi's death. Or perhaps Nori is also going to be in space scavenging or trying to determine a way back to Copper-9.

That's all I have for now. I'm planning on making a separate post for N and Uzi in this episode specifically at some point, along with some other character analysis and some final moments for others.

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weepingchoir · 1 month

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Imperium Sanctus

(...T)he phrase “Grimdark” may suggest the name of some 2000s era Goth club. It’s a recent coinage for an ongoing craze in “gritty” and dark fantasy settings, epitomised and popularised by George RR Martin, becoming the default tone for a whole range of feted fantasy offerings from Joe Abercrombie’s First Law series featuring a dark, brooding protagonist who kills a lot of people — and occasionally feels bad about it — to Mark Lawrence’s Broken Empire Trilogy featuring a dark, brooding protagonist who kills a lot of people — and occasionally feels bad about it.

Like many fantasists with a bone to pick, mister Milbank doesn't actually know when or where "grimdark" was coined. Knowing fuck all has never stopped a critic (indeed, The Critic): Milbank goes on to blame everything from Breaking Bad to The Sopranos, constructing a spurious history of dark fantasy(?) that ultimately singles out author Michael Moorcock as godfather of grimdark.

While Moorcock’s gory, British sorcery is a major influence on today’s grimdark, the inception point of the trend is in fact googleable: it’s been the tagline of gory, British science-fantasy wargame Warhammer 40,000 since its 1993 second edition.

In the grim darkness of the far future, there is only war.

Already this betrays the hopepunk's antimaterialist concerns. It doesn't matter that The Walking Dead and Boardwalk Empire are nothing alike. Taking the historicist tack, it becomes even less likely that they have a connection to 40K. But morality, as an immaterial concern, is a laser beam: it vaporizes material history. Grimdark is a specter on the pages of anything that irritates gentle sensibilities.

For the sake of avoiding googleable gaffes, Alexandra Rowland, author of books named things like A Taste Of Gold And Iron, and coiner of "hopepunk", in a follow-up essay:

There’s no such thing as winning forever. Evil cannot be vanquished, only beaten back for a day or two, and then it trickles back in, like water seeping through the cracks in a dam. Ask it of hopepunk, then: "What's the point?" And the answer is, of course, that the fight itself is the point.

In the noble brightness of the far future, there is only (___)?

Unlike Rowland, Milbank is a nothingpunk: The Critic is a conservative Christian rag pontificating everything from trans-exclusionary rhetoric to the dismantling of higher education. Which begs us to consider how Milbank so easily co-opts shades of Rowland's language to peddle a retvrn to Tolkien, on its face the last thing a fantasy author looking to innovate would want.

The Imperium of Man, the central setting of 40K, is an arch-conservative Great Man cult worshipping the once-Emperor of Mankind. This is the gate leading to the inner sanctum where the Emperor's corpse resides. Catholic readers may have noticed similarities to portrayals of the Archangel Michael fighting the Dragon (1400~, 1498, 1860), as narrated in Revelation 12.

Revelation is the tale of darkness enveloping the world, and the noble, virtuous men who persevere despite persecution and are eventually victorious in heavenly war(!). This is not dissimilar to J.R.R. Tolkien's "fundamentally religious and Catholic work", in which ordinary men persevere against darkness enveloping a world. Rowland and Milbank both champion Tolkien as exemplary, the former in the same breath as Jesus. Yes, of Nazareth.

The Lord Of The Rings is unmistakeably about the War of the Ring. Positing Tolkien's apocalypticism as aspirational fails to rebuff the basic conceit that war is a human constant and even a force for good. If this isn't the aim of a genre purported to concern itself with kindness and "giv[ing] a fuck about the people on the other side of the world", what is?

Aesthetics. Rowland doesn't call for a narrative movement with less conflict, but one that appropriately celebrates those that fall on the right side of conflict. Even just those that deigned to imagine, of slaying the Dragon, "probably drunk in a bar somewhere, I bet it can be done, though." (The writer's original temptation: a medal for thinking the right thing.) Millions of people die in Revelation, magnitudes more than in Game of Thrones, but the virtuous go to heaven forever. The Emperor of Mankind sits on the Golden Throne, Frodo bodily assumpted into the Undying Lands, Jesus curled up into a ball and just rolled away. All manner of things shall be well.

The transition from here to open conservatism is again in aesthetics, and thus stepwise. Having established Tolkien as the only fantasy writer he respects, Milbank derides grimdark as immature wish fulfillment. If you write fantasy at all, it ought to have a clear moral message, else you are devaluing reality by infesting Real (not in the Lacanian sense) conflict with magic missiles. But he's also established that realistic fiction with no clear hero is a faux pas. He wants Breaking Good and, like, The Walking Alive.

This is no surprise: if you were around for the Disco Elysium craze, you might remember this tweet (holy shit it's still up) calling for a game that uses Disco's systems to narrate the story of "a young witch" looking for her neighbor's cat. Take another step and this is the logical conclusion of an aesthetic that prizes upright moral posture: a world where the protagonist has to do nearly nothing to be good. The little village in the Alps and the events of Disco Elysium might be unfolding in the same world. But our little German girl with no problems doesn't have to participate in anything as unsightly as a Pinkerton massacre. Milbank disdains C.S. Lewis without knowing that what he wants is the end of Narnia, irrespective of the events that preceded it: the crowning of the king, who once was good. The Emperor protects!

#mine #warhammer 40k #don't argue with me if you're dumber than me

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wrathofrats · 3 months

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Yeah hi idk what this is I blacked out and came to and this was in the docs

Uhhh basically ifrits first church service and communion as hosted by Omega and alpha

Or omega baptizes ifrit and alpha lets ifrit drink the blood of Christ from his cunt.

Major warnings for intense blasphemy, mockery of the Catholic Church, degradation and religious shaming.

Also alpha is trans because WHY NOT

Ok enjoy.

A strong stream of incense wafted into ifrits senses.

The thick air of dust and smoke invaded him, his vision and hearing feeling more cloudy than usual.

He knelt on the carpeted steps to the church stage. Omega standing a couple of feet in front of him and looking impossibly large at this angle.

“What do you ask the church for your summon?”

He doesn’t think he should be looking up. Omega looms directly over him, staring at alpha who sits behind him. He acts as some sort of guide, as some sort of owner of ifrit, like he’s in charge of him.

Ifrit truly cannot make out alphas answer, the words tumbling over his head. Only the low tone of alphas voice penetrates the anathemic fog that surrounds him.

“Are you willing and able to fulfill your duties to bring up your summon in the satanic faith?”

A cold draft creeps down ifrits back as alpha moves to sit next to omega. He doesn’t look at his summon, he stares only up at his own form of deity. The shadows cast across his face make him more demonic, more monstrous than usual.

He reaches down and puts his wrist to alphas mouth, forcing him to sink his fangs into the rich vein of liquid. Omega serving as some metaphor for the word of their lord, his existence meant to praise someone higher but forced down with his own hands being covered in blood.

A warm wet thumb swipes across his forehead. Omega using the blood that drips down his wrist to mark him with the sign of the cross. It’s comforting in a horrific way. The warm sinister smiles of the church combined with the macabre comfort of the blood dripping down his face.

Ifrit thinks he too would bleed for the church if it held him tight like this.

“Do you renounce god and all of his empty promises?” Omega holds his book high with one hand, the other reaching down to unbutton the pants of his uniform. He’s already hard, a true testament to his devotion and love. It’s admirable.

Ifrits hand plaster together in front of him. “Yes father”

“Do you believe in the almighty father, the creator of the earth and all its demonic beings?”

A drop of precum beads at the head of omegas cock, long thick strokes milking himself of the holy liquid. Ifrit truly can’t help but stick out his tongue, desperate for a taste of their sick purity.

The book snaps shut. A screaming echo in the old room. Alpha doesn’t look up in fear of what has angered omega, ifrit being the antithesis and staring his leader in the eye in confusion.

“You’d think you’d know better from the pits. Rotten children don’t deserve to be saved”

The moisture leaves the fire ghouls mouth. He’s confused, scared, ashamed for being so greedy.

“You’re disgusting, I’ve let a sinful being kneel in front of me, offered to cleanse you of your blasphemous ways and you’ve repaid my kindness by being a greedy whore?”

“Father I’m sorry please forgive me-“ ifrits stammers out his apology through forming tears. Omega words cut deep through his devotion and lets it bleed through him, taking over his need to be.

��I hope your knees are raw. I pray you repent”

The book opens again and omega scans it for the place he stopped, continuing to stroke himself just above ifrits face.

He can’t tell when he becomes close, the act of masturbation only serving as a ritual to please his higher lord.

“There is no god that can give you your purity back”

Omega cums hot and thick across ifrits face and chest. Ropes of holy water landing on his cheeks, blessing him, baptizing him of his former demonic ways from the pit. He can feel the sin lift from his skin and burn with the holy liquid.

A rough sleeve wipes ifrits eyes, tilting his chin to smile at him.

“You’ve done well, you may savor the blood and body of Christ now as a child of the dark church”

The unmistakable sound of someone undressing comes from behind omega. Alpha rids himself of his clothing as omega slots behind him, both still perched on the carpeted stage and stairs. Candles and golden objects surround him like his own altar, his own ritual of body and blood.

Alpha opens his legs with a push from omega, hairy thighs leading up to his cunt, shining and on display. His clit engorged with devotion and peaking through his folds. Omega picks up a golden chalice, holding it high above his head, the other hand spreading alpha for ifrit to see.

“Through him, with him and in him, in the unity of the dark spirit, all glory and honor is yours almighty, forever and ever”

“Amen”

Omega tips the chalice over alphas chest, letting the red wine trickle down his body to pool between his legs. It stains his skin a crimson red, a stream from the top of his neck to his thighs. No doubt some kind of blood lain metaphor

“You may take your first communion my ghoul”

Ifrit doesn’t hesitate, dives between alpha legs to lap up the wine from his cunt, sucking the sweet liquid from his t dick. Alphas slick mixes delicately with the blood of Christ. His smoky musk catering the bitter sweet taste of the intoxicating alcohol. Ifrit truly cannot tell what he’s more drunk off of. The wine or the devotion he feels to his own lord.

#hey idk what the fuck this is either #I’m sorry #no I’m not #actually…..#anyways I did so much research for this #be so fucking certain of what this is before you read it jfc #the band ghost #ghost #nameless ghouls #ghost bc #fanfic #wrath writes #alpha ghoul #omega ghoul #ifrit ghoul

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fideidefenswhore · 1 year

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not for this to be the hill i die on or whatever but oh my god, ‘her parents were the catholic monarchs’ is not an argument. what is there to suggest her parents were any more against sin/more pious than arthur’s? catherine would later complain that during fasting periods at the tudor court, you could not receive meat to consume ‘even if you were dying [...] they look upon anyone that eats it as heretics’ , which suggests the early tudor court might have been even more rigorously catholic than her parents by comparison, at least in some respects...

#like if you don't find this argument equally equippable then i don't think you really believe in it lol #*applicable #by the same logic what reason did arthur have to lie/ how could he when his parents were so pious etc #they were both the same age so that one had a deeper formative experience than the other does not hold water #ALSO if this is those that receive kiss-ass titles from the pope are the morally righteous/superior island.........#what pray tell was Mr Fidei Defensor himself #since most of the same say he knew he didn't 'really' have a sound case #and somehow managed to pretend to believe he did for the last 20 years of his life #*also yes one was an oath upon the sacrament and one is just in the presence of friends #however there's a context to the former and it's also 20+ years after the fact #2) most of those that so vehemently argue this don't believe in henry percy's similar oath upon the sacrament #and 'the princes of the north' were pretty stridently catholic as well #have an open mind to the possibility that people could equivocate the truth out of self-preservation #and don't selectively apply that open mind #catherine was not the literal goddamn virgin mary

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lifewithchronicpain · 4 months

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Yeniifer Alvarez-Estrada Glick, remember her name because she is the first woman to be reported* to die from the fall of Roe and the Texas abortion ban. She won't be the last.

*There may be others we don't know about, but she is the first to make any kind of news that I have heard about.

The New Yorker link has limited access and I could only see it long enough to catch her name and find the response post that also includes details of her death. I first heard of this on the Rachel Maddow show. Here are some quotes:

Today, The New Yorker published a heart-breaking piece about Yeniifer Alvarez-Estrada Glick, a 29 year-old woman who died a few weeks after Roe was overturned. In the headline, the magazine asks, “Did An Abortion Ban Cost a Young Texas Woman Her Life?” The answer, without a doubt, is yes. So why is it so hard to say so? Anyone who works in the abortion rights world knows that bans have killed multiple people since Roe was overturned. The public hasn’t heard their stories, though, because families understandably don’t want their loved ones’ lives and deaths picked apart by reporters and anti-abortion activists. It’s only a matter of time, for example, before Republicans and conservative groups claim that Yeni’s death had nothing to do with Texas’ abortion ban. They’ll point to how the young woman could be inconsistent taking her hypertension medication, or the time she missed an appointment with a maternal fetal medicine specialist. They will find a way to blame her...

Yeni would be alive if she was given an abortion. Yet this young woman with hypertension, diabetes and a history of pulmonary edema was never even talked to about ending her pregnancy. Not when she went to the emergency room of a Catholic hospital just 7 weeks into her pregnancy with breathing problems, not when she visited an affiliated OBGYN who told Yeni she was at risk of having a heart attack and stroke. Abortion wasn’t even mentioned when Yeni was so ill that she had to be transferred to a bigger hospital where records stated she was at “high risk for clinical decompensation/death.” As OBGYN Joanne Stone, former president of the Society for Maternal-Fetal Medicine, told The New Yorker, “If she weren’t pregnant, she likely wouldn’t be dead.”

This is an election year and we are posed to either re-elect Biden who will appoint a judge that would bring the courts back to balance. Or Trump who is responsible for appointing judges specifically to end Roe v Wade.

There is so little the average American can do about this, but most of us have the power to vote. Please use it. And please pay attention to your local races too.

#roe v wade #abortion #abortion bans #texas abortion ban #texas #death cw #sexism #misogyny #feminism #pregnancy #abortion rights

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valenshawke · 16 days

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6 albums I’ve been listening to a lot lately! Plus one track from each that I’m especially fond of.

I was tagged by @captainhunnicutt. Thank you!

The Mandrake Project - Bruce Dickinson - "Many Doors to Hell" I waited 18 god damn years for this album. And while Iron Maiden has released four albums in that time period, I'm actually a bigger fan of Bruce's solo material. This song in particular does hit on a lot of things I liked to write about around the time his last solo album was released. A vampire who wants to be human again. Not quite, but I did (and do I guess) like to explore the blessing and the curse of being a vampire.

Vessels - Starset - "Telepathic" & "Telepathic (Acoustic Version)" Starset was the band @telekinetic-issue recommended to me after I recommended Ghost. So the great music exchange of 2022 lead, what is currently, my favorite Starset album. This song hit very close to me I listened to it obsessively as it very much captured my feelings towards my former best friend, before I finally managed to let that friendship go finally even though we hadn't really spoken since 2015.

72 Seasons - Metallica - "Lux Æterna" Probably the first Metallica album since, uh, forever where I truly feel like they band tried to put out a quality song every track (don't argue with me about Load & ReLoad, there was ONE solid album if they made better track selections and had a bit tighter arrangement). As for "Lux Æterna," it's one of those pick-me-up songs that motivates me to try to get my life together.

Infestissumam - Ghost - "Year Zero" In terms of album, it was this for Prequelle, Meliora, Impera. Impera, burned out listening to and absolutely hate one song on that album. Meliora benefits by having the Popestar EP on it, and thus having "Square Hammer." Prequelle has "Faith" and "Miasma"/"Dance Macabre" (you really need to listen to these two tracks back-to-back), and "Witch Image." Infestissumam I listen to the most and regularly since it has my all-time favorite Ghost song, "Year Zero" and the "band" at this time was more focused on using religious imagery in such a dark way that hits the bitter ex-Catholic heart of mine in such a way that no other band can.

Once - Nightwish - "Planet Hell" Tarja's last album with the band. Probably their last great album (no disrespect to Anette Olzon, Dark Passion Play and Imaginaerum were good albums). But a song about the contradictory nature of humanity and the notion that hell is really simply planet Earth? Yeah, that's a song for me.

Ghost in the Shell: Stand Alone Complex OST + - Yoko Kanno - "Lithium Flower" Yes, I'm trash. I know this. I'm Tumblr. I came to Tumblr because of anime and manga. But this song is just 1. Amazing. 2. And based solely on one line, it's like the character song for my blorbo. But Yoko Kanno is one of those composers where, once you hear her work, you just bow to her brilliance. Her mixing of styles and finding singers to fit whatever vision she has is nothing short of amazing. But this song is one of those that when it comes on, just don't bother me because I will ignore everything to listen to the song in full.

And I'm no-pressure-tagging: @beardedladyqueen, @spoczkot, @anisaanisa, @albatrossisland, @connie-rubirosa, @byronicbi, @transgalvantula plus anyone else that wants to do this!

#Personval #Val gets tagged #Yeah I have such basic musical tastes #But I am what I am

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fettuccin-e · 2 years

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Have Mercy Upon Me

i wanted to write Eddie with a religion kink lol and a corruption kink,, but as a former catholic child i didn't want to make the reader innocent or devout,, so this was born and it is fucking filthy i am slightly ashamed (Tags: Eddie Munson x Reader, fem!reader, religion kink, corruption kink, unprotected piv, blasphemy like a lot of blasphemy)

Eddie knows, truly, that you aren’t very religious. You wouldn’t smoke with him, listen to his music, wouldn’t be with him if you were. He knows you aren’t some blushing altar girl, innocent to a fault. No, you’re strong and steadfast, beautiful and a little dangerous. Walking sin.

But you still live with your parents, who are religious. Parents who plan on paying for your college, and don’t care that you’re dating Eddie, who knows he isn’t any parent’s first pick when choosing someone to date their daughter. They’re good to you, and him, so you’ve resigned yourself to going to church with them every Sunday morning, without fail, just like you have been since you were a child.

And even though Eddie knows that you aren’t religious, not since middle school, when you pull up to his trailer after church in a pretty white dress, little kitten heels crunching against the gravel, the air gets knocked out of his lungs. You look so pretty and pure, a perfect little church girl with your hair all done up and white skirt fluttering around your knees. You kiss him sweetly when you collide with him at the door, arms wrapped around his waist. You lean back to smile at him, eyes glittering at the prospect of spending the day with him, and he can’t help but smile back.

And then Eddie sees it; a little gold cross hanging on a chain around your neck, resting perfectly between your tits, and all of the blood in Eddie’s brain rushes straight to his dick.

You groan in surprise when Eddie leans down, kissing you harshly while he grips under your ass, lifting you to wrap your legs around his waist. Eddie's strength always manages to surprise you, his lithe frame hiding powerful muscles, as he keeps you plastered to him, grabbing at your plush ass through the white cotton of your dress while he carries you to his room. He tastes like morning coffee and cigarettes as he slips his tongue into your mouth, towering over you in his bed.

“As much as I’m enjoying this,” you giggle between kisses. “What brought this on?”

Eddie pulls back to look at you, at that fucking necklace, his pupils blown and lips parted. “It’s just,” he pecks you quickly, “God, baby, you look so hot in this little outfit.”

You can’t help your little laugh of disbelief. “My church clothes really do it for you, Eddie?”

But Eddie doesn’t laugh. His hand comes up to play with the little gold cross around your neck. “You have no fucking idea sweetheart.”

“Roll over,” you say, and Eddie doesn’t hesitate, rolling onto his back and allowing you to straddle him, pretty skirt draped across his lap.

“Holy- holy fuck, baby.” He groans when you grind onto the bulge in his jeans through your panties that are getting wetter by the second. His hands grip hard onto your hips while your eyes bore into his.

“You like me like this, Eddie?” you whisper. “Lookin’ all innocent for you? Perfect for you to defile?”

Eddie’s eyes roll into the back of his head at your words, muttering a little, “yes, yes, baby.” He whines when you stand to pull off your clothes, finally baring your pussy, wet and fucking dripping, to him. His eyes nearly bulge out of his head when your hands reach up to take your necklace off as he stutters, “keep it on, baby. Please?”

You smile at him, but your hands fall away, leaving the gold to rest on your bare skin. You hop up onto his bed again, but you don’t straddle his hips. Instead, Eddie grabs the fat of your thighs as you go to straddle his face, your pretty cunt sitting just over his mouth. “You’re gonna eat my pussy, okay Eddie? Think you can get me ready to take your cock?”

Eddie nods frantically, desperate to feel you against his tongue. “Please, pretty girl?” he whines, and you answer him by dropping your hips onto his plush mouth. He licks into you almost immediately, tasting how slick you’ve gotten for him, sucking on your pretty clit just to hear you groan for him.

“Oh, god,” you moan as Eddie laps at you, starved for your pretty cunt. Your words make him moan back at you, vibrations ricocheting up your spine. Your necklace is shifting against your chest, a constant reminder of where you were just an hour earlier, and you grin as a wicked idea pops into your head. It’s wrong, so fucking wrong, but the thought of it makes you throb uncontrollably.

“Oh, God,” you moan again, “forgive me.”

Eddie nearly stops in his ministrations at your words, cock throbbing painfully in his jeans. His pretty girl, praying to God while he eats your pussy, fuck, it’s almost too much. Eddie's eyes flutter closed, sucking even harder on your clit as you continue.

“Have mercy on me, oh-oh God,” you sigh as Eddie sucks and tongues at you, gripping your thighs hard enough to bruise. “Hide your face from my sins and-and blot out my iniquity, ah-”

Eddie’s hips are bucking up into the air as you pray, all while grinding yourself down onto his lips. Acting like the pinnacle of innocence while you use him for your own pleasure. He can hear your little moans getting higher, pussy throbbing in his mouth, and he licks into you harder, rougher as he tries to get you to flood his mouth with your cum. He whines a little bit when you pull yourself off of him, leaving him wanting and his face shiny with your slick.

“I’m ready, I’m ready,” you mutter, both to him and yourself as you move down to straddle his thighs, eyes and hands focused as you pull his belt out of its loops and open his jeans just enough to take his throbbing cock and balls out. “Gotta have you now, Eds,” you murmur, looking up at him as you move to finally straddle his hips, notching his cockhead against your little hole. He nods at you; you could tell him to do anything and he wouldn’t question you, not when you’re naked and dripping above him, cheeks flushed while that little cross dangles between your tits.

“Fuck, fuck, baby,” he mutters weakly when you sink onto him, pretty pussy clutching desperately at his cock. His hands find their way back to your hips, holding you steady when your hips meet his.

Your eyes flutter shut at the feeling of Eddie filling you up so well, stretching you out around him. “Open my lips, Lord, and-and my mouth will, ah, declare your praise.” You lift yourself up, dragging him out of you, feeling every inch, before dropping yourself back down roughly, feeling his fat cock drag across the most sensitive parts inside you. “Deliver me, oh, oh God, and my tongue will sing of your righteousness.”

You try to find a rhythm of fucking yourself onto Eddie’s cock through your words, choking on your spit when Eddie starts to move his desperate hips, meeting you thrust for thrust. “Shit, sweet girl, you feel, you feel so good around me, baby,” he moans beneath you, and he swears he can feel your fluttering heartbeat around his dick. “My good, good girl.”

A little tear slips down your cheek as you grind down on Eddie’s thick cock, still whimpering, “Against you, you only, oh God, have I sinned and done what is evil in your sight.” Eddie shifts his hips as you speak, plunging into your pussy so good that you nearly scream. “So you are right in your verdict and justified when you judge, ah, ah, oh fu-uck.”

Eddie can hear your breathing getting shallower, stuttering over your little prayers, pussy getting tighter and tighter, fucking throbbing. He knows his gorgeous girl, knows when you’re getting close, so he doesn’t hesitate in grabbing at you and slamming you down faster on his lap, eyes fixed on the way your necklace lifts and slaps back against your chest with every thrust. “Come on pretty girl,” he grunts, “you can cum. Gotta, fuck, gotta feel you squeeze around my cock.”

Little whines are escaping unbidden from your throat, and you can feel the knot in your stomach, aching to snap. You open your eyes to gaze into Eddie’s, his pretty brown eyes blown wide with arousal. “For I know my transgressions, and my sin,” you raise a hand to brush a reverent finger down Eddie’s strong jaw, his mouth gaping open. “My sin is always before me.”

With one final slam of your hips, the cord inside you snaps as you clench and gush down Eddie’s fat cock. “Oh God,” you whine, “Have mercy upon me.”

Eddie can’t hold himself back, your clenching pussy, your words, that damned necklace glittering in the light filtering through the windows, it’s too much to bear. “Fuck, fuck, gorgeous, so-so good to me, oh Jesus,” he gasps, hips bucking up hard as he spills into you, stuffing you with his cum.

You’re both breathing hard as you slump onto Eddie’s chest, his cock still buried deep inside you.

“Don’t think I can ever take you to church with me,” you sigh into the silence of the room. Eddie chuckles, a little hysterical and completely fucking satisfied.

“Fuck no, baby,” he says, and you tilt your head up to smile at him. “I’d be hard the entire time, sweet girl. Can’t be fucking you over the altar.”

“Bummer,” you sigh in faux-disappointment, and he laughs even harder.

#eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you

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