#( verse i. ) man of many tricks

[insectduck]

My niche Keith Kogane headcanon is that "Thief" by Imagine Dragons from the Smoke + Mirrors (Deluxe) album is HIS song, no if ands or buts, it just screams mullet emo 'delinquent' in the desert bonus with space motifs. If you told me it was written by the angsty fuck himself I'd totally believe you lmao

[nowisthewinter]

And to think the animated movie version of Nimona was almost this close to being shelved if Netflix had not picked it up.

Yes, it’s good. It’s very good. I’ll let other people talk about the plot points, the characters and the pretty nifty soundtrack. (Santogold? Yes, please.) 

I am here to talk about the animation.

Watching this movie made me realize what I don’t like about Pixar movies lately. Yes, Pixar’s the king of realism. And, yes, Nimona is way more design simple compared to Pixar. But the one thing Nimona has over Pixar is how the characters move. 

Pixar characters don’t really move. Yes, they walk. Yes, they gesture. Yes, they will do things.

But they don’t “act.”

For example, there are many parts of Nimona where you could turn off the sound and still follow the story like it was a silent movie of old. The characters’ body language and facial language tell a story on their own. They fill up a whole screen with their mannerisms. This is Buster Keaton. This is Charlie Chaplin. This is Harold Llyod. 

You don’t really get that with Pixar. And while that was fine years ago because everyone was striving for realism and Pixar was showing everyone how to animate hair, now, it’s.....boring. 

Realism isn’t the end goal anymore. It’s a one trick pony that really should be out to pasture. Now people want to see what else you can do with animation. Spider-man: Across the Spider-verse showed that there are a wide range of styles you can pull from. Even taking ideas from Impressionism, Modern pop art (Check out Jean-Michel Bisquiat) and commercial art (See Bollywood film posters for example). Nimona is now showing how much acting range you can get from their animation. I’ve already watched it twice. Once for the story. The other just to watch the characters “act.” I’ll probably watch it a few more times because that animation, THAT ANIMATION!

I want more of that. Take notes, Pixar. 

[ixiot-ghostrebel]

Hey dude. It's me - anon with that SAGAU!kid!reader idea. Well, I was thinking about Liyue or Sumeru men (I'm that kind of person, that's into guys LOL). If there is a relationship, then only platonic one (or maybe father-child in Zhongli's case).

So I will try to go with Zhongli, Baizhu, Alhaitham and Cyno (probably Gaming, cuz he's like a son to me) That's it for now Hope I didn't ask for much tho 😅

CONNECTED TO THIS IDEA!

Aye aye, Anon! God!Child! Reader Platonic Meets Ups It is!

Also plz note that I might not be able to list every Sumeru/Liyue man there is in Genshin bc Im doing this at the top of my head—

Sumeru And Liyuen Men (And Gaming) With The God Child.

(Warning: Might be OOC!)

Cyno

The General Mahamatra may not exactly be well-versed when it comes to comforting words (except his puns—and even then, many people would say otherwise), but Cyno is a sincere man. You can trust that he will stick to his word.

And he does, when he promised to look after the Almighty Creator who is a child (not unlike Nahida, but they certainly have more of a mindset of a child—). But was he expecting your chaotic behavior (explosives Klee Style)? Yeah...No.

Bro nearly thought you were held at gunpoint or tricked/manipulated into doing it until he realized you did on your own.

"...Your Grace...Please don't blow up the store again." So instead of protecting you from harm by others, Cyno is more focused on protecting others from harm by you. As much as he doesn't like to think of it that way, you were a lot more dangerous than any eremite or sand monster there was out there.

At least he's still doing his job, being the General Mahamatra! You gift him a flower crown, and he has to take it or else. :)

Tighnari

Since he works with many young forest rangers, and tutors Collei, Tighnari is probably used to dealing with children. Dealing with the Almighty Creator certainly wasn't going to be an issue under this Forest Watcher's eyes.

That was...until you blew up a rishboland tiger. By yourself. On your own. Without getting hurt.

He was not the only freaking out, mind you. Collei was losing it, and Tighnari? He's internally screaming and getting metaphorical heart attacks.

"Your Grace, what were you thinking, running off like that? I know you're strong and you want to protect everyone, but you can really hurt the environment and—" He tries his best to hold back his sassiness while he scolds you, considering some children are much more emotional than others.

He sets up some basic rules for you to follow to make sure that you respect the Avidya Rainforest grounds, but also protect yourself from any form of harm.

Bro becomes a helicopter parent while you're under his care. Have fun, and I hope you enjoy mushrooms. Collei will cook you something else if you don't like what Tighnari cooks, though. :)

Kaveh

This man. He will BUILD you toys. He will DRAW you stories. He may even tell you stories himself.

Mehrak is your best friend when you're around Kaveh. And that man tries his best to make sure your time with him is good. He also refrains from drinking, which is nice! He's improving a little! :D

Absolutely gets worried if you run off without him knowing or if you're hiding from him for too long while playing hide and seek. He goes into an utter MELTDOWN.

And if you blow something up? Boy, if you thought Tighnari getting metaphorical heart attacks was bad, think again—Kaveh might actually get a heart attack.

"Your Grace! What—What were you thinking? Where were you? What did you do? Why did I hear an explosion?!" He's trying to keep himself as calm as possible, but Kaveh is an emotional man. He's kind of failing—

Luckily, with your go-lucky attitude, you pull Kaveh around and take his mind off of work and your explosions! Win-win! :D

Al-haitham

The moment Nahida assigned him the task of taking care of the Almighty Creator, who is a child, bro is planning his things carefully. He is safe-keeping his books, he's renovating Kaveh's bedroom (bc yes), he's buying a few colouring books and crayons.

What he caught him by surprise was not how trusting you were to new strangers you barely knew. It was how you had fun with explosions and exploding everything in your path.

You can imagine as you're being carried away by the Scribe, he's giving you a one-sentence scolding.

"Your Grace, don't ever do that again, it's not nice." He would go into further detail, but he's sure you wouldn't care all that much about data and analysis and stuff like that, so he just ends it as it is.

You're still gonna do it, there's no doubt. It's just now Al-haitham is preparing for your next incoming attack as well.

Zhongli

Grandpa gramps is here woohoo! He's probably the most calmest out of everyone on this request list LOL. You can imagine he's following you calmly, apologizing and paying (through Childe's money cough) for the damages you caused.

Believe it or not, but it was Hu Tao who found you first and decided to take you to Mr. Zhongli for babysitting. He contemplates how the Director found you and brought you back.

The first time you explode something, he is definitely surprised. And concerned of the people who got hurt. You can't fault him for being worried for the mortals that were involved—Liyue Harbor is basically his child. Bro's been governing it for thousands of years.

"Your Grace, Little One, let's try not to put strain in the efforts of an adult's day-to-day life." He scolds you, and will definitely be more keen on your whereabouts, but he does this in a gentle tone. At the very least, you give him something to do that doesn't require him to present himself as the supposedly "deceased" Geo Archon.

Baizhu

With the guy's health issues...it's hard to say if he'll be able to keep up with you and your constant outings all around Liyue Harbor. Changsheng is definitely worried about Baizhu's stress levels as he has to figure out what you did this time and make sure no one was harmed.

He constantly has to ask Qiqi to go find you since he literally cannot keep up with your speed, lest he actually faints or something. You were that quick.

Luckily, if he hears of your whereabouts, he will definitely arrive just in time to apologize and give free check-ups to everyone involved in your explosion party.

"Now, Your Grace, please refrain from hurting others. It's not good to hurt someone's health." You can certainly expect Baizhu to give you a scolding—as well as a basic understanding of medical care in case either you or someone else will need it, and he can't make it there in time.

Like Kaeya (And Tighnari in this post), Baizhu will definitely write you some rules in a notebook and makes you recite them at least twice a day so that you remember not to hurt other people or damage your own health.

He is a doctor for a reason. It's his job to look out for others—even chaotic children with explosives.

Gaming

HAVE NO FEAR, GAMING IS HERE!

Bro is basically your Big Brother who does cool dances and gives you snacks and protects you. Since he's a real foody, you'll definitely know which places are the best to buy snacks!

You find his Wushou Dancing cool as well. He takes pride in it tbh. I mean, who wouldn't be ecstatic if the Almighty Creator loves it?

He does get a bit panic-y when he sees you blow things up, though. As much as he wants to pursue Wushou Dancing as his daily career, he still needs his job as a Shipment Guard.

"Y/N! No! Don't blow that up—!" Yes, he took you out once to travel with the shipment goods for one time, and he's never taken you with him again unless you promise not to blow anything that are near the goods.

He usually leaves you in Liyue Harbor when he's making these Shipment trips, but once he returns, you can certainly count on him to give you some tasty snack or a fulfilling dinner, as well as a free small Wushou Dance.

Big Brother Gaming does not disappoint!

Ghost Rebel Side Notes: I AM VERY DEAD. I AM SO SORRY SOBBING. Life hits you hard and fast sometimes sigh. I've been so busy I haven't been posting much—but rest assured, I have quite a lot of posts for you guys very soon!

✦ Check out The Ghost Rebel’s Blog Description & Info Page to See if Their Mailbox is Open! ✦

[allamericansbitch]

since y'all seemed to want this.... here's the live notes i took while listening to each song for the first time (bold are thoughts i had during later listens)

fortnight: 

‘i was a functioning alcohol till nobody noticed my new aesthetic’ what the fuck does that even mean…

love the fact she gave post the female collab treatment. don’t wanna hear what he has to say. 

they’re voices sound actually good together? 

some pockets of the melody are catchy

okay i don’t hate this 

ttpd:

her red flags are on fire in this song lol

this seems very half-cooked

also jacks weird mixing continues to plague us all

CHARLIE PUTH???? WHAT THE FUCK WHY HE HERE

tattooed golden retriever??? ……no way

my boy breaks all his favorite toys:

i blinked and it’s half over

this also is like… half cooked and didn’t need to be released tbh

i love the way she sings the second verse tho

down and:

the production does not match the vibe

did tpain produce this

i’m… kinda bored lol

like i have nothing to say this also didn’t need to be released tbh 

this grew on me a lot actually

so long london 

the production is so futuristic? 

oh im obsessed with how she sounds on this one

her talk-singing in the verses is great

honest lyrics without any clunky unnecessary metaphors! a win!!

the fast-paced verses with th slow chorus is really really cool

a favorite so far

daddy i love him

i can barely hear her? the bad mixing continues 

‘growing up precociously sometimes means not growing up at all’ oh yeah WE KNOW

is this…… is this about her dating matty and loving how people hate him… no fucking way she’s this stupid

SHE IS BEING THIS STUPID

‘it’s white noise’ yeah yeah that’s exactly how id describe him  

.... anyway y'all remember when fans really believed the little mermaid theory and this song was supposed to be about how 'joe stole her voice' lmaooo

we will pretend this one doesn't exist!

fresh out the slammer

are we getting another ‘i didn’t cheat technically’ song lol

what is this weird tempo change….

okay kinda catchy

it’s sounds exactly like you are in love at the end….. jack is really out of tricks

florida

‘my friends all smell like weed or little babies’ what the fuck is she even talking about anymore 

i’m sorry but i’m laughing at the phrase ‘fuck me up florida’

again the production sounds so detached from the vocals 

i honestly still have no idea how i feel about this one

guilt as sin

an real instrument?? wow crazy 

okay she’s kinda cute? catchy and fun, love the melody

i love when she goes up at the end of the vocal 

okay…. i don’t mind this one she’s catchy, a little too long and drawn out but cute

who’s afraid of little old me?

what is this production? it’s way too soft to be as threatening as they’re trying for 

why did jack push her vocals back so far when she’s supposed to scream…. that’s ruins the whole thing…. she’s supposed to be screaming and threatening….. not quiet and far away…. hello

this song is trying very hard to be threatening but it’s not... vigilante shit 2.0

‘you wouldn’t last an hour in the asylum they raised me’…………… upper middle-class pennsylvania? 

‘i’m drunk on my own tears isn’t that what they all say, that’ll  sue you if you step on my lawn’ okay bar?

the bridge was good but that’s about it.

i can fix him 

…………… not another matty song oh god

‘i can handle a dangerous man’…… im too stunned to speak this is so embarrassing 

wow taylor really is that girl who like ‘women supporting women’ and then dates/defends a racist bf…. a walking example of white feminism

intersectional feminism found dead.... twice....

loml

okay this is really nice? 

I WAS ACTUALLY ENJOYING THE SONG WHY DID SHE RUIN IT BY SAYING ‘MR STEAL YOUR GIRL’ 💀

if we ignore that one line we're good this is good. im refusing to let that line ruin such a good song

i can do it with a broken heart

‘bitch smile’ why are there so many cringey lyrics on this album lol

what is this song omg why do i kind of like it 

taylor please learn depressed isn’t a synonym for sad 

they recycled the mastermind production 

wait till taylor finds out most of the entire world is sad while they're doing their job and has to pretend they're not

smallest man who ever lived 

oh i think i like this?

‘you said normal girls were boring’ GIRL AND YOU DIDNT IMMEDIATELY GET UP AND LEAVE??? EWWWW??? she's not beating the pick-me allegations

'i just wanna know if rusting my sparking summer was the goal' okay love that line

i like this a lot

the alchemy

no….. no way this is real

i cannot

THE SPORTS METAPHORS WE JOKED SHED DO THAT AND SHE ACTUALLY DID IT OH NO 

touchdown ✅ teams ✅ benches ✅ winning streak ✅ the league ✅

she’s doing…… the worst thing ever this is so laughable 

the corny lyrics are on overload 

‘this time it’s heroine with an e’ didn’t she write folklore? i can’t remember 

that literally was an snl parody of a taylor song

clara bow

love how the guitar sounds… bet money this is an aaron track 

a stevie nicks reference!! a win!!!

i like this one a lot no cringey lyrics yet

nope never mind she name-dropped herself don’t like that

overall really liked it tho

the black dog

i think i like it?? this is kind of what i expected the album to be

okay for once the weird production choices kind of pay off

imgonnagetyouback

kinda catchy? 

she loves a fancy car getting wrecked line

the pre-choruses are the best part 

this would’ve been better without the jack of it all bc he loves a song that doesnt build to anything

this just comes down to personal preference: i don’t like her lighter vocals with jack’s heavy production (ie most of lover lol)

the albatross

a real instrument!!! production that matches taylor’s voice and is well mixed!!! aaron’s arrived!! 

i think it’s solid, has good writing and she sounds great. that's about it.

chloe or sam or…

took me a solid minute to have any semblance of a fuck to know what was going on but okay

okay i love this one

wayyyy more emotive than like… most of the original album

a lot of the 2nd version (or whatever this is lol) are way more emotive, maybe because her voice isnt drenched in reverb so we can actually hear her voice emote better

how did it end

this sounds like an old school adele song? 

i love this one too…. 

her being upset people wanna know what happened but then also feeding it while promoting the album oop 

i love the story of this one it's so refreshing

so high school

THE PRODUCTION is so good ugh aaron never fails 

the man here is a walking red flag girl and the lyrics are ~not it~ but the production is too pretty to hate it

fuck these lyrics are so bad lol

maybe if i disassociate hard enough i can ignore the lyrics and just listen to the production and vibe

give me a karaoke version of this song and we'd be so back

i hate it here

i mentioned disassociation and she made a whole song about it!!!! this one’s mine!!!! 

‘without all the racists’ GIRL HUH

WHAT WAS THE REASON

also... girl don’t act like we don’t know you’re fine with that lololololol

if i had a dime for every time i was liking a song to then have it slapped away because of a bad, out-of-pocket lyric…… 

thank you aimee

this isn’t grabbing my attention 

oh the bridge is interesting 

it’s meh 

i will never be thanking the people that bullied me thanks tho

i look in peoples windows 

what do you mean aaron didn’t produce this??? it’s well-made and has instruments? 

i love this one, again a really interesting and unique concept that's very refreshing to hear at this point when a lot of the songs feel repetitive

the prophecy

aaron guitar!!!! 

she’s nice i like her 

i've really grown to love how she sings this one, the melodies are cool.. however i feel like we've heard the same melody.. like on this exact album... where she upturns at the end of every line...

cassandra 

this seems very…. familiar… idk i feel like we’ve covered this (i mean there are 31 songs we’ve already covered everything lol)

this is such an aaron song, that's a classic 'the national' piano

i like her voice in this one tho, sounds good

peter

oh love i love this

now this? THIS feels the most like a taylor swift song

once again she’s at her best with a simple instrument and emotive simple lyrics

the piano reminds me of champagne problems

the bolter 

i like this! the chorus is so cute

oh i like that ending line a lot!

she’s cute, a little long and drawn out but cute

robin

i haven’t seen anyone talk about this one

welp…. i literally have no feelings toward this one but sounds pretty! 

the manuscript

oh this is soooooooo powerful 

i love this concept 

her ending the album on another introspective album that sums everything up a la dear reader yep yep!!

if you actually read of this ily 💗

[blissfulip]

—Legion

On AO3

Priest!Viktor x F!demon!reader

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Priest Kink, Blasphemy, Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Self-Flagellation, Demon Sex, Demon Summoning, Demon/Human Relationships, demon reader, AU - Canon Divergence, Post medieval era, Dubious Science, Church Sex, Roman Catholicism, Catholic Guilt, Improper Use of Catholic Rituals, Shameless Smut, Masturbation, No use of Y/N, third person.

Cw: Handjob

Words: 2k

[A/N: Happy Easter Sunday lmao, also whoever picks up all of the 'easter eggs' (get it wink wink) gets a kith and hug from me (let me know if you want to be tagged or removed in future fic updates!)]

Tags: @ihopeinevergetsoberr @chemical-killjoy @jinxed-jk @bobobomao @queen-of-elves @thedustybunny @syren201 @thayfass @thehistoriangirl @hypocritic-trash-baby @zaunitearchives

Previous Next

III. 

Viktor stood frozen, the voice that whispered those words echoing against the walls of his head as he gazed upon the creature before him, a figure blindingly bright yet of simultaneously all-consuming darkness. The sight obscured his thoughts and left him adrift in a sea of terror. How could he have been so blind as to believe that he could command such power without consequence? Or rather, was it the naivete of believing nothing would come of it that turned against him? 

The very essence of his faith fractured—that earth-shattering feeling that had become all too common for him that day—threatened by this insidious presence. What had he unleashed upon the world? What horrors awaited him in the wake of his hubris? Viktor trembled, and his soul lay bare before the abyss, but something sinister took him out of this blossoming meltdown; she, the creature, looked familiar.

And achingly so, yet her form eluded him like a half-remembered dream. Faces swirled in the depths of his memory, merging and shifting like shadows cast by a flickering flame, but he was unable to put a finger on them.

"Do you not recognize me, Viktor?" Her voice cut through the air, eerily sweet.

Viktor recoiled in horror at the sound of his own name coming out of her mouth, the weight of her words crashing down upon him. 

“I manifest to you as a reflection of your own desires, an amalgamation of every soul you have ever yearned for, sweet human.” She hissed as she offered Viktor a hand to help him stand, her touch oddly warm as they both sat on the bed. “Do you not see it? That young woman from the bakery, or the one you always look at for a tad too long while you buy turnips? You don’t even like turnips,” she smiled slightly. “What about that woman who comes to confess every week? The one with the slightly hoarse voice that you love, even that tan young man with the green eyes,. Yes, yes, I know about him too; I am him too.”

“Who…what are you?” He asked amidst a short-lived surge of bravery.

“My name is Legion,” she said with an off-putting tone of irony, “for we are many... or however that verse goes. Mawkishly sentimental if you ask me.” She chuckled and seemed to deflate in disappointment at her attempt at humor not being acknowledged. She sighed in oddly human-like resignation, “I don’t have a name, Viktor, but I know yours , and you know what I am.”

"I seek nothing from the likes of you, Demon, you don’t know me." he declared, though doubt gnawed at him.

"You do, and it is the truth that I know you; your biggest fear is to remain ignorant and blind to the truths that lie beyond the veil of your mortal existence; I can feel it. " She whispered against his ear. 

"You are but a trick of the darkness; I will not succumb to your temptations."

"Oh, but Viktor, you already have ," she purred. "You summoned me here, drawn by your own curiosity. Your anger simmers beneath that stoic surface, against the silence of the heavens and the absence of answers to your prayers. But I answered, so why direct your anger at me ?"

“I have faith in Him; God will intercede in my favor.” He said, covering his face ith both hands, afraid his expression would betray something that confirmed her accusations.

“Yet you question his wisdom and his justice. You resent his silence, you doubt .”

“I love Him, and I will repent; I will.”

“Why? Faith without cynicism is a hollow shell. Will you let yourself be domesticated like a beast? A man of science like yourself?”

The spark of courage grew into embers inside Viktor’s chest at the mention of his work. Although he remained silent, not wanting to concede, she saw it in him, just like she experienced every emotion that grew within the transparent exterior that contained his soul.

“Embrace this fire, and you will obtain what you seek.” She said, gently laying a hand over Viktor’s. 

His shoulders slumped in resignation, but even as he acquiesced to her demands, a seed of guilt still remained. What would God think of him now for consorting with a creature of darkness? Would he be cast aside and condemned for eternity for his folly?

"What do you fear, judgement?” Viktor nodded.

“Your god is nothing but an egregore," she declared, her voice a whisper. "A figment of mortal imagination, born from the collective beliefs of humanity, he only has power over you if you allow it."

“God is my shepherd, He…” He started to recite, but his voice betrayed him.

“Yahweh, Tetragrammaton, Adonai, El, Elohim, Shaddai, Tzevaot… it does not matter who you so fervently pray to! Ancient egregores hold no power over the ancient gods.” She started saying in a firm tone, her volume high in affront. “And you, my sweet, are so unfortunately Christ hunted…a lot of work to be done.” She continued, her voice tuning back down to her previously silky tone.

Viktor's breath caught in his throat, but simultaneously, the weight of her words lifted a heavy chain that had previously hung around his neck. Although this—his God’s identity and how much power He held—seemed to be a point of contention between him and his conscience, every word she uttered seemed to confirm things he had been long thinking about. But the smell of culpability Viktor emanated was pungent, and what she saw in his heart was a whirlwind.

She was proud that he had let himself be guided by his urges, that he had, even if only for a small moment, felt true freedom in pleasure. She felt his fear when he remembered he would need to face father Isidore and then she felt his rage. He felt so strongly against him that for a second she imagined he would be nothing short of a monster, his robust yet sweet face was an interesting sight to find framed in Viktor’s memory. 

She felt sympathy and sadness and confusion, she felt worried for the young girl with the twin braids just like Viktor had, and felt intrigued as to how she had come in possession of her coin, but what mattered most to her in that moment was one problematic sensation; despondency. Viktor was close to giving up, he had nearly decided rage was useless and so was science.

“Let’s begin by working on the heavy guilt you carry.” She said, after a long silence. Viktor noticed an unsettling tenderness in her eyes when he, for the first time, looked directly into them. 

“I made a vow.” He answered, his voice breaking as it turned into a whisper.

"Do not let the chains of guilt bind you, Viktor," she murmured. "The church may preach of purity and righteousness, but it is built upon a foundation of hypocrisy, and you don’t need me to tell you as much.”

“I know of the behavior of some members of the clergy, but why should...”

“I don’t speak of individual transgressions; the church as an institution seeks to negate eroticism and sexuality, yet it embraces them in its most sacred rites.”

The deeply puzzled expression in Viktor’s face prompted her to elaborate.

“Think about the things you do during sacrament; think of the smell of incense, the touching of beads, the kissing of sacred objects, the rubbing of oils... Think about consuming the physical body of the idol you adore, and think about what it makes you feel—enlightenment, apotheosis. Remember the deep pleasure you extracted from the pain of self-penitence? It’s nearly devine, is it not? That necessity to envelop all senses?” 

Viktor nodded.

“And that feeling you get of being close to god in a way that nothing else will get you to—that sensation of being outside the perception of time and space—have you experienced it?”

“I have, in prayer.”

“Can I show you what true ecstasy feels like? One that starts and culminates in yourself without any divine intervention? 

And once again, Viktor simply nodded. The air crackled with a tension thick enough to suffocate him, his breath shallow and rapid. A rush of anticipation surged through him, mingling with a primal curiosity that threatened to consume him whole as she slithered behind him. The shift of weight on the mattress gave him a strange awareness of the materiality of what was taking place, and the hot breath on the left side of his neck caused the last string of sanity holding him together to loosen. 

For a second, he wondered if she was nothing but a very sly yet human woman that had somehow found a way into his room, but that idea was quickly quenched as both of her hands slowly glided along the sides of his still-clothed thighs, emanating that unnatural white glow that was clearly not of mortal nature. 

Her touch was delicate and warm, her nails slowly creeping up to the hem of his cassock as she pulled it up to reveal the trousers underneath. If Viktor had any idea of what she planned on doing, he would have been of more help, adjusting to make his clothing easier to remove, but unaware of what awaited him, he sat there immobile. 

After some mild struggle, she managed to get to the stubborn clasp, and the slight accidental touches ignited a fire within Viktor's veins, sending tendrils of heat coursing through his body. Soon enough, there was nothing in between them, and the cold air that came into contact with the streak of viscosity that had dampened his underpants sent goosebumps across his arms. 

She hadn’t even made her way to his cock yet, but with each gentle caress around his stomach and thighs, Viktor's senses were heightened to a fever pitch, his body aflame with a hunger that burned brighter than any candle. With the first feather touch along his shaft, he felt as if he were teetering on the edge of a precipice, poised on the brink of a pleasure so exquisite it bordered on agony. 

And then, with a slow and deliberate motion, her hand closed around him, sending shockwaves of ecstasy racing through every fiber of his being. A guttural moan escaped his lips as she began to move, her rhythm mechanic and intoxicating. With every teasing stroke, Viktor's breath hitched, his body responding eagerly to her touch. 

"Ah…God!" he gasped, his voice a hoarse whisper of longing. 

She froze on her tracks, drawing out a protesting whine from Viktor. “Do not call upon his name now; at this moment, you belong to me .” She spoke, her voice still sweet but laced with a tinge of resentment.

Viktor's mind swam in a haze, his thoughts fragmented and disjointed as he desperately nodded in agreement, before she resumed the pace of her moment. And then Viktor felt himself hurtling his head back onto her shoulder, his world reduced to nothing. She gently removed the sweat-drenched pieces of hair from his forehead and whispered words in a language he could not understand while her hand continued its path down to his neck and back. 

 For a second, he felt a reminder of the stinging pain on his shoulder blades, and then it faded. As he reached the climax of his arousal, he cried out desperate pleas, only this time to her and himself, finally surrendering to this intoxicating embrace. After letting him breathe for a while, she took one of his hands in hers and placed the copper coin on it. Viktor knew he was bound to her now.

And in that moment, there was no room for guilt or shame, only the unquenchable thirst for more.

[valentine-cafe]

˚◞♡ 𝒋𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒚𝒊 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒆𝒓𝒂 209 — the snake-hybrid mad doctor◞ ₊˚

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ᥫ᭡ “ darling, i have dealt with many hearts, but I've never come across one as pretty as yours, ” ꒱

. ˚◞꒰verse꒱ 209

. ˚◞꒰face claim refs꒱ ( x ) ( x ) ( x )

. ˚◞꒰species꒱ grim reaper, snake hybrid

. ˚◞꒰ethnicity꒱ chinese

. ˚◞꒰age꒱ 46

. ˚◞꒰gender꒱ male

. ˚◞꒰mbti꒱estj

. ˚◞꒰aliases꒱ the doctor, the surgeon, doctor herrera, the heartless, the black plague ( by enigma, the resistance ), snakie-boy, snake-bitch ( by haitao )

. ˚◞꒰appearance꒱

𖹭. oftentimes seen wearing his deceptively kind smile, fooling even the most skeptical of people when they catch a glimpse of the red painted lips stretched out on his face.

𖹭. deep amber snake eyes are often hidden by a pair of maroon contacts, hiding away the truth like the rest of his general body language and confident posture.

𖹭. long, silky black hair that falls past his shoulders, usually put into a half-ponytail or let loose.

𖹭. is able to unhinge his jaw, putting on display, his forked elongated tongue, rows of sharp teeth and his two snake fangs protruding whenever he yawns

𖹭. wears a wide range of jewellery, thin gold necklaces and chokers covering his neck and shoulders. while his ears are covered in a pair of standard lobe piercings, along with a helix — right ear covered in a conch and tragus piercing. rings covering his fair toned fingers.

𖹭. stands at the towering height of 6’7 ft ( 201cm ), with a lean and well toned figure.

𖹭. androgynous, sharp and soft facial features.

𖹭. very fluid and elegant in the way he moves and overall looks.

𖹭. primarily dons the red makeup styles.

𖹭. extremely vintage styled aesthetic in fashion choice, loves wearing poet shirts and suits.

𖹭. he has a frenum piercing ( peepee piercing )

. ˚◞꒰personality꒱

𖹭. deceivingly kind and serene demeanor hiding the sadism and manipulative intentions and ulterior motives.

𖹭. he is deceptive in every way and form, his sharp intelligence silencing those who speak against him or try to prevent him from succeeding his goals.

𖹭. has a silver-tongue riddled with false kindness and care the fools that decide to affiliate themselves with him, bringing them into a sense of comfort and security that never was there to begin with — using their confidence as an advantage

𖹭. on the inside, you see the sinister, sarcastic and malicious sociopath that is the true part of the so-called “goodhearted” poet.

𖹭. charming and charismatic words and actions concealing the greedy and sadistic side of him.

𖹭. prefers silence over loud talk, and maintains his anonymity and mystery due to this factor — getting him to talk is not a possibility, even if you tried by forcing it out of him.

𖹭. can be sassy and give blunt replies to people he finds himself irritated with.

𖹭. moodiness is a result of both his snake dna and his traumatic past — or because his husband is not around.

𖹭. calculative and witty — has a great memory and uses it often to note down the speech patterns, movements and body-languages of the people around him.

𖹭. his perceptiveness is the next in line to his intelligence, you cannot outlie the master liar and manipulator, he knows your tricks.

𖹭. hard to anger and irritate, and will applaud you for your audacity and stupidity for trying so.

𖹭. should this man find himself infatuated with someone, he will put his possessiveness and obsessiveness on display. showing you his yandere tendencies and greedy behaviour around them.

. ˚◞꒰with a lover꒱

𖹭. very sweet. very verbally and physically affectionate. you see the more humane side of him that others do not

𖹭. he is exceptionally patient with you. always assuring you when you need and comforting you

𖹭. he loves spoiling you. especially taking you out clothes shopping and letting you try out whatever it is that you may wish. loves seeing you flustered whenever he pulls you into a clothing shop. flustering you whenever he snatches your waist in front of a mirror

𖹭. always worshipping your skin with kisses. he can barely keep his hands off of you

𖹭. possessive, but hides it well with his poetic and loving words. he is most definitely a yandere type. willing to do whatever it takes to keep you at his side.

𖹭. very verbal about how much he obsesses over you, as much as he is clear in his actions that he wants you for himself and no-one else. should anyone look or talk to you in a way he does not like? he will gouge their eyes out, or use them as his newest “patients”

𖹭. loves teasing you and flirting with you until you have lost your breath from giggling or whining for him to shut up

𖹭. a very passionate lover and has no problem in showing his passion for you neither. even when it’s in public

𖹭. pda? what’s that? he’ll pull you into his lap even in a cafe. or kiss you in booths. have his hands on you. anything to show that you are his

𖹭. if anyone lays a finger on you. . . they are dead.

. ˚◞꒰strengths꒱

𖹭. increased bodily function: advanced strength, speed, agility and durability.

𖹭. heightened senses: advanced sight, smell, hearing, taste and awareness of surroundings.

𖹭. healing factor: an average healing factor that heals his injuries far quicker than most

𖹭. fangs and bite: has a set of snake fangs that can secrete two venoms: a paralytic, which he uses for sedation, and a fatal. he can switch between them. and especially powerful bite

𖹭. talons & venomous touch: he has talons that secrete high levels of venom. this venom is extracted by thin wired implanted on his wrists that carry his venom to his nails, resulting in venom-induced touches should he use them on someone.

𖹭. snake physiology: has the flexibility of a snake, therefore his body is able to move in the fluid motion that a serpent would. he is able to dislocate his joints with ease and twist his body in whichever way he prefers. his jaw can unhinge as well.

𖹭. poison immunity: immune to poisons.

𖹭. elastic jaw: the ability to unhinge his jaw to drastic measures

𖹭. hyper climbing and clawing: able to slither up surfaces

𖹭. seismic sense: able to feel vibrations in a seismic way whenever his limbs touch surfaces. he can feel these from quite awhile ago

𖹭. enhanced lung capacity: able to hold his breath for longer

𖹭. stealth: can move around swiftly and quietly

. ˚◞꒰weaknesses꒱

𖹭. poison addiction: due to building up a poison resistance by intaking the substances, he is now immune to poison but in turn has grown addicted to the intake of them. he now does it for the fun of it and as a coping mechanism.

𖹭. abandonment issues: if he is away from the people he loves. this can result in erratic episodes and even have a negative affect on his physical well-being

𖹭. fainting: should he grow overwhelmed, he is prone to fainting.

𖹭. apples: has a mild allergy to apples and takes medication for it.

𖹭. reapers: not much is known of this condition. . . come back later and perhaps you might find out?

𖹭. apples: has a mild allergy to apples and takes medication for it.

𖹭. oranges: has a bad allergy to oranges.

𖹭. daylight: as a nocturnal reaper, daylight and other bright sources of light can weaken his senses of sight as he is used to the darkness of the night.

𖹭. d’akar: an anti-magic material that can greatly weaken him if he comes into contact with it. he, especially is affected by this.

𖹭. extreme emotional attachment: while reapers may remind one of humans, they are not. they are beings with very empathetic instincts and have souls bigger than the average mortal being — a thing that has been with them since their creation. they become extremely attached to things they love and it may cause them to become erratic if enough they love is taken away from them.

. ˚◞꒰relationships꒱

𖹭. rishen herrera: husband, business partner, best friend

𖹭. yuè mèng yáo: mother, deceased

𖹭. zhào mùchén: father, deceased

𖹭. zhào hàoyú: younger brother, deceased

𖹭. zhào haitāo: younger brother, enemy

𖹭. zhào xīyáng: younger brother, deceased

𖹭. wèi lìxuě: enemy

𖹭. liú tàishī: enemy

𖹭. alessio agresta arias: “rival”, deceased

𖹭. lorenzo agresta arias: enemy

𖹭. park tae-hyun: enemy

. ˚◞꒰story꒱

sly grins and skilled yet devilish hands. hidden by kind eyes and serene smiles. how could a gaze like that watch with glee the suffering of experiments?

a mad doctor to match his mad scientist for a husband, experimenting and tormenting enigma and inhumans with the excuse of making a better world. jingyi herrera designs medicines that no other verse has even seen. so what if it's at the cost of a few souls? it's for the greater good. 

so he'll indulge in his insanity. in his horrid morals and his lust for knowledge, for his twisted sense of justice. all if it means succeeding in all of his ambitions and staying at the side of his beloved.

. ˚◞꒰extra꒱

𖹭. he is a doctor and has a clinic on the second floor of valence. he specialises in most areas of anatomy and is a skilled doctor and surgeon.

𖹭. he is also the co-chairman of valence

𖹭. he is fluent in asl and csl

𖹭. he speaks chinese ( mandarin ) and spanish ( latin american )

𖹭. has a cat named Beatrice Herrera Reina the 2nd queen of the abyssal dread

𖹭. loves old-timey romance movies

𖹭. as much as he is mature, he does love giving his assistants a good scare every now and then when he thinks they are being lazy. . . and by scare we don’t mean by lighthearted pranks.

𖹭. likes collecting tea sets.

𖹭. he sometimes smokes

[vikkirosko]

Hello there. Can I get Zoey, Alejandro, Samey, Brick, and Gwen with a S/O who has the personality of Carmilla Carmine (Hazbin Hotel)?

Headcanons Like Carmilla Carmine

👢 Alejandro x Reader 🐃

From the first time you met, Alejandro saw you as a serious opponent. You were a determined man who knew how to get your way. You seemed tough as flint, well-versed in many areas. Alejandro understood that seeing you as an ally would be much better than among enemies

You saw perfectly well the tricks and tricks he used, and he was pleased that you could appreciate his efforts. However, there were moments when Alejandro came to your aid. It was at moments when your seemingly endless calmness was cracking. You rarely lost your temper, but when that happened, Alejandro managed to prevent problems, because you still had to work together and he couldn't let you ruin everything because you were pissed off

Sometimes you and Alejandro spent time just to relax. It was nice for him to chat with a good conversationalist, especially considering that you could keep his secrets and not use them against him until he used yours against you. Thanks to this unspoken agreement, you could really call yourself people close to each other

Alejandro was confident that together you can get to the final of the show, and only then he will be able to face a really worthy opponent. You had different goals, but he wasn't going to lose to you, no matter how well he treated you

🪖 Brick x Reader 🥾

Your communication with Brick began with respect. He saw perfectly well that you were confident, determined, and knew how to get your way. You were a good opponent, respecting someone else's strength. You were even similar to him in that. Unlike Jo, who commanded him harshly, you treated him with great calmness, which made Brick feel calmer and more confident when communicating with you

You knew that Brick could take some things too seriously and that's why you didn't let others use it. He treated you like an older friend, whom he respected and tried to take similar care of, not even deciding to think about feeling anything more than friendly sympathy for you

You looked after Brick and made sure he stayed in order. You didn't laugh at him and supported his ideas. You worked well together, moving further into the show. Brick knew that you had your own reason to participate in the show and he hoped that if he didn't win, then you would win

Perhaps after the show you could meet and chat again, but without having to worry about the show and the cameras. Perhaps then he would be able to behave more freely with you and not worry about anything

💚 Gwen x Reader 📖

When Gwen met you, she was surprised that someone like you decided to take part in the show. You seemed like a serious and confident person who would consider such a show just stupid, but here you are, a participant in the show intending to win, and Gwen was glad to see a person who was going to play fair

She enjoyed spending time with you. You were a good conversationalist, respected her interests and didn't laugh at her worries. She knew she could trust you, because you weren't going to use her secrets against her. Gwen returned the favor, which made you work well together. At least as long as you could work together, she was going to use it

Sometimes you and Gwen spent time together. She was glad to be able to relax at least for a while. You knew places where there were no cameras, noticing such things. You were a really attentive, insightful and determined person, so she could at least take a short break and not think about the show

You were one of those contestants on the show that she wouldn't be sorry to lose to. You were an honest, sincere participant in the show and she knew that you would use your winnings for good and would not use dirty tricks to win

👥️️ Samey x Reader 😇

From the first day you met, Samey saw in you the person she wanted to be like. You were confident, determined and could always defend your opinion. She would also like to be able to stand up for herself in the moments when her sister once again used her and behaved as if she was innocent of anything. But she couldn't fool you with that

You were the one who believed Samey, perfectly distinguishing the twins from each other. You stayed by her side and decided to teach her how to stand up to her sister. You weren't sure if she would be able to fight back physically, but at least mentally she had to stand up for herself, and not tolerate rudeness from her own sister, and you tried to make sure that she could really protect herself

You were pleased when you saw that she was really able to fight back against her sister. You worked together until she dropped out of the show, but Samey wished you luck, hoping that you could win, and she was waiting for a serious conversation with her sister, and she was not going to let her push herself around

She was hoping you could see her after the show. You managed to get closer and she wanted you to continue communicating even after the show was over. Samey hoped that you would be the person with whom she would be able to share both the good and the bad moments of her life

🏹 Zoey x Reader 🌺

Zoey always seemed kind and attentive to others, and she really was, but she also had a more determined side, the side of a warrior that you could see. You could also be called a warrior. You were a determined, confident and practical person. You and Zoey were able to find a common language, and one of the reasons for that was that you wanted to help her reveal more of her more militant side of her personality

You could work together, because Zoey knew that you were an honest person and she could trust you. You fought back against those who were rude and tried to cheat. Zoey liked how determined you were and she often listened to your advice, knowing that you wouldn't cheat. Sometimes she didn't even understand why you decided to participate in the show, but she was glad that she wasn't alone and she had your support

You were the one who gave Zoey confidence. You were the one who helped her believe that she could win. You really didn't mind her winning, as you once told her. You thought she was the contestant who really deserved to win, while your words made her feel embarrassed

Even when you left the show, Zoey was the one you supported. She found out about it after the show ended and you were able to meet. She hoped that you would continue to be able to communicate, even when you stopped being participants in the show and became just yourself. Zoey was sure that you were still the same person she took a liking to

[zaceouiswriting]

Fairy Prince - Hearts of Leviathans - Ch.41

Character: Sky x male reader, Riven x male reader, Brandon x male reader

Universe: Somewhere in Winx Club/Saga

Warnings: None

Author's note: There is a new character below. He might be a rival of the three roommates.

Grumbling under the shower's warm water, I try everything in my power not to let my anger out. I suppress the fiery rage that wants to slam Corey's head into the nearest wall I see. How could someone like him order me to do anything? But here I am, naked and wet, and the scent of flowers wafts into my nose. I don't know where it's coming from, but I must admit it calms me down. It must have been that damn Riven again. Somehow, he has a million tricks up his sleeve despite apparently being nothing more than a street kid. Even a blind man can see something wrong with him, but I just can't get past the barriers he's put up. Frustrated, I slam my fist against the wall, my anger quickly evaporating under the calming scent.

As I emerge from my bathroom, I immediately run into Corey, who seems to have been waiting for me with some of my carefully folded clothes beside him. He raises an eyebrow questioningly and tilts his head slightly, surprising me. After a few cautious steps, I stand before him. Without hesitation, he dresses me like no one has in years. All the while, my eyes rest on the artifact I made for him around his arm. I can't help but smile, knowing he'll be safe with it no matter what since he's already agreed to be one of my people. And if my hunch is right, like the feeling in my stomach when I made it for him, it'll show its use sooner rather than later.

"By what honor did I deserve this treatment?" I put a particularly sarcastic tone in my voice to make it clear that this is unusual, even for a moron like Corey.

"I had to check something," he murmurs. So, the intense gaze I felt on me wasn't just the imagination of a lecherous young man who misses the love of his life a little too much. Furthermore, it isn't helped by the constant "compromises" I make to keep Riven close. "You should remain vigilant, Your Highness. Some closest to you seem to be under a spell."

My whole body immediately stiffens. So, I'm not the only one who noticed something is off with these three? Slowly, I turn around; my gaze makes Corey, the Aura Master, quiver. "What do you know?" My voice is garbled; one of the crystals on my ring glows brightly as my hand shoots forward, grabbing him by the throat before he can answer. As I pick him up, suspicion rises within me. Is he one of them? Can this be another attempt on my life? Is this even the real Corey? He seems so different, and yet it could be him. It feels like that night when my little brother Galan almost died because of me and the 'Black Hand' assassination group. Of all their bounties, I am the only one still alive, although they have tried many times to take my last breath. The organization is so old that there is no documentation; people only know rumors and legends. Despite their legendary status, they could not kill a young boy protecting his bleeding little brother. This could easily be one of their clumsy attempts.

"Do you truly think I haven't thought about it already?" I couldn't hide my disappointment. How could I, when someone supposedly close to me, thinks so little of me, almost as if I were a greenhorn? "I may not be the most diplomatic type or well versed in administrative matters, but when it comes to war or infiltration, I always keep both eyes open, although I'm not sure what they have taken or were forced to take, as their behavior is strangely unstable; one day they act one way and the next day completely different."

I see Corey's cheeks glowing red out of the corner of my eye. He's obviously embarrassed, probably because I called him out. All the while, he is dutifully dressing me right down to the shoes I wear, strangely without a single incident, like he's done it a million times.

As soon as I'm standing in front of him fully clothed, I grab his jacket and tie, straightening them so they fit properly. "Never forget, even if others don't know it, you represent me, not my grandfather, our planet, or our country, just me, since the day you put this artifact around your arm." His gaze quickly jumps to the artifact, and a one-sided smile plays around his lips for a second.

He slams his fist against his chest, holding it at a twenty-five-degree angle, his back stiff and his legs close together. "I understand, sir!" he calls suddenly. 

When I hear this, I shake my head speechlessly. I already regret all my actions, but he is one of the best and will only get better in the future. I am sure of that. Despite this, as long as he is by my side, I know that the future I saw will never become a reality.

I walk past him without saying a word, but before I know it, he's the one opening the door to the suite and even the hallway. He's too attentive, even considering I finally accept him, almost as if he wants to protect me from something.

Walking through the empty hallways, I motion for him to walk beside me, which he does reluctantly. Risking a quick glance, I see him chewing on the left corner of his lower lip. But why would he be nervous?

My interest quickly shifts as I see no one anywhere. Although I could ask Corey, I don't think he wants to talk right now. He seems too preoccupied with his thoughts. He looks pretty cute like this, with his head slightly tilted and his mind obviously in the clouds. As I watch him for a while, a giggle escapes me out of the blue.

Suddenly, Corey's head turns towards me, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "I'm sorry," I mumble, still giggling. "You looked just too cute, so deep in thought."

His confusion is quickly replaced by a shy blush, his right hand flying to the back of his neck, scratching it awkwardly. Although visibly embarrassed, a small smile still curls on his lips. My heart beats a little faster; his smile always gives me a warm feeling as he is like my big brother, which is why his stupid little brother and I are so close.

When I push him a little more, Corey quickly looks away; he obviously doesn't want to be teased further. I get the hint and turn away from him. I try to suppress my giggles, but I can't manage it.

It's a pretty comfortable atmosphere between us until we reach the cafeteria. Silence reigns in the previously chatty room as we step through the archway. Within a moment, I see all eyes on me, and none of them are nice. It baffles me. I thought I had left all that hostility behind, but even the few fairies who had become friendly couldn't be colder to me.

I open my mouth to ask the room what's happening but stop when I feel the hostility growing. Instead, I look for help, but no one seems to think I'm worthy. When I try again, a scream suddenly rings out.

"Keep your filthy mouth shut!" I know that voice already, Stella, and she's angrier than ever. Yet when I catch her eye, I can see a certain glimmer of satisfaction in it, while her face wears a facade of fury, like a courtier showing his ruler everything he wants. She walks around her table and toward me. Within a short time, an echoing sound and a stabbing pain stunned me even more. Her manicured hand withdraws from my face. "You disgust me when you try to force yourself on a fairy... it's simply revolting."

When I hear her words, I want nothing more than to burst out in laughter, but her slap has made me angry. I raise my hand to return what I have received. As my hand shoots forward, I watch the movement with eager anticipation. Just before I feel her skin beneath mine, my hand gets stopped. Even though I can see it, it takes me a moment to realize it. Slowly, my gaze travels up my arm, only to find Corey's hand, preventing me from receiving proper compensation. I'm about to give him a piece of my mind, only to feel the same sting across my other cheek.

While I'm arguing with Corey with just our eyes, Stella is already on another rampage. "Do you believe me now?" she screams into the room. "He just tried to hit me! What kind of man would do this?"

Anger erupts throughout the room before I can say anything in my defense. The fairies jump up and throw the most disgusting words they can think of at me while the specialists sit back and either stare at me in disgust or look down at their food. They are no longer protecting or defending me like they were before. No one, not my roommates or Vinok, has said anything, not even Corey, who still holds my hand.

What's going on? Have I entered another dimension? But when I see Stella's dirty grin, I immediately realize she has staged the whole thing. I even have an idea what she's referring to. Looking for Bloom, I find her, although her eyes are nowhere near mine. She has one arm crossed over her chest, holding her other side, hopefully out of shame. After everything that happened between us, I thought she was different. I even thought we could be friends. Friends, what a strange word. Almost everyone I've ever called a 'friend' has not only disappointed me but betrayed me.

A burning sensation suddenly distracts me from my dark thoughts, but it wasn't a slap this time. Before I know it, I feel tears gathering in the corners of my eyes. I don't realize the next moment until my head is resting on a solid chest. One hand presses my head against it while the other holds my body upright. I didn't even notice my knees going weak. "Don't," the guy whispers, his voice deep and soft like caramel. "They don't deserve to see you like this."

I try to breathe calmly and hold back the tears, but it's hard. But seconds later, I can no longer restrain myself. I let all my emotions flow and cry silently against his chest while he strokes my head soothingly.

I have no idea how long I stand pressed against his chest; neither does he urge me to move on, nor does he even mention that I should stop crying. But at some point, I just feel exhausted and weak. I want to hug him so badly, but Corey still holds my right hand in the air. When I catch Corey's eye after forcing my head away from that warm, firm chest, I see nothing but shock and fear, but I don't care. It will be the last betrayal I can accept that day.

"If you do not remove your hand from me, soldier, I will cut it off, travel back to Gyonos, give it to your family before I massacre them all, and bring you their heads on spikes."

But the second I'm about to walk away, the same hand that was holding my head to his chest flies to my waist, just in time to stop me from collapsing. He tries everything in his power not to damage what's left of my dignity, as he has to almost carry me out of the room.

He carries me out of there with no problem, still making it seem like I'm walking, even though I'm barely touching the ground. When I see him trying to carry me back to my dorm, I beg him not to do it because I don't want to face my roommates anytime soon after what they did.

He looks around momentarily and quickly changes his path to the other side of the school. "Just pick a room; the door will be open," I whisper, barely awake. Those few tears have already robbed me of all the energy I had left. I haven't had such a rush of emotions in years.

As told, he opens the next room and finds a richly furnished room with a large, finely carved bed made of black wood and covered in red velvet. Although annoyed, I say nothing, as the building is playing tricks on me again.

He helps me get into bed. As soon as I'm under the covers, he tries to leave. Even though it's selfish, I ask him to stay. I see hesitation in his eyes for a moment, but soon after, he sighs, shakes his head, and turns around with a gentle smile on his soft-looking lips

Without hesitation, he takes off most of his clothes, literally jumps into bed, and buries himself under the covers until he is right behind me. He wraps his strong arms around me, his olive skin a stark contrast to mine. I just lie there for a while, unable to fall asleep despite the protective arms around me.

(Callisto, or at least the one I could find closest to what I'm looking for. If any of you know someone who better fits my vision, with dark curly hair, olive skin, muscular, and a bit cocky, please let me know.)

"I never believed those deprived rumors about you," the guy behind me suddenly says, "not since you told me about him at one of our hangouts after your personal training."

His confession stiffens me. I told him about my first love. I don't remember it. "Callisto, are you sure?" I hear it first—the uncertainty in my voice. Am I unsure of my memory?

“Absolutely,” he replies almost immediately, “Ma-”

Startled, I turn around in his arms and press my hand over his mouth. "Please don't."

His mysterious dark eyes, which I can never read, become softer, and something sparkles in the corners of his eyes. He nods slightly, and I take my hands off his truly soft lips; now I know for sure.

Nothing is said for a moment; we just look at each other until I see his gaze dart down and back up again. "You know, I never thought we would end up like thi-"

"Callisto," I interrupt him rather rudely. Even he seems taken aback because he moves his head slightly back. "Now is not the right time for any romantic gestures."

His deep chuckle, rippling through his body, fills my heart with warmth and makes me sink completely into him. I can no longer resist his natural charm and let myself melt into his strong frame, with my head firmly against his chest.

"Okay," he finally replies, his chuckles fading. He tightens his arms around me, and his lips suddenly touch my ear. "Then I'll hold you until you feel better."

Before I know it, I breathe a sigh of relief, knowing that I am protected, at least for a little while, because I am sure he won't do anything while I sleep peacefully in his arms, like the knight in shining armor that he is to me. Maybe he's the right choice. But as my mind drifts to sleep, I remember my three roommates. Could I forgive them? Could anyone really conquer my broken heart?

[Masterlist]

[novy2sirius]

WORD MAGIC

“the real secret of magic is that the world is made of words and that if you know the words that the world is made of, you can make of it whatever you wish.” ~ terence mckenna

— words have power. “elites” know this so they take advantage of it. some of these aren’t bad though. some say stuff like this is farfetched and i used to think it was until i saw just how many words have secret meanings behind them. the words we say affect our reality. the reason they make things this obvious and put it in front of our faces is because they believe it heals their karma by “telling us” even though they’re not technically actually telling us directly they’re still telling us. according to the rules of karma if we don’t acknowledge what they’re telling us to our faces that is our problem

spelling -> (spell)ing - casting a spell

matrix -> my tricks

universe -> uni (one) verse - one song, one truth

planet -> plan ET/plan net

internet -> enter net

spiritual -> spirit ritual

spirit -> spear it - the fifth wound of jesus

emotion -> i’m ocean - we’re made of 70% water and water is the element representing emotions

bless -> be less

bless you -> be less you

good morning -> mourning = having deep sorrow

revenge -> r(even)ge

mental illness -> (men)tal illness

television -> tell a vision

broadcast -> (casting) a spell

pray -> prey

jesus -> he’s us - and je sus = i know, in french

amen -> (amun) ra - the word is derived from an ancient egyptian god

earth -> heart - rearranged

human -> hue man - hue = attribute of color (color is light) - light manifested into physical form

alcohol -> sounds like the arabic word “al-ghoul” which translates to “body eating spirit” or “beast” in english - refer here for more

sacred -> rearranges to scared - this is on purpose to keep you scared of sacred things such as astrology, numerology, rituals, etc

ritual -> right to all

demon -> the mon-ster

devil -> de/the evil

blame -> be lame

parents -> a pair who rents

write -> rite - a rite is a ceremony or ritual

page -> paging someone = summoning them

beauty -> be you ty

abracadabra -> in hebrew means “i will create as i speak”

wizard -> wise ard

[lis-likes-fics]

Rhyme and Reason

Pairings: Corinthian x dream!Reader Word Count: 8.7k words Prompt: Corruption Kink Warnings: NSFW, explicit descriptions of death/murder, torture, descriptions of blood, smut, fingering, oral (f!receiving), slight hair pulling, multiple orgasms, p in v, unprotected sex, corruption kink, creampie, fucking in front of a dead body... A/N: There are only two left, guys! I might be able to do this! This took a minute to write cause ADHD is a bitch. But I finished and I hope you like it! Thank you and Happy Holidays!

The little party you find yourself in is just that, little. It takes place in a bar rented out by the set of hosts, a get together with maybe a little over twenty party-goers.

It took so long to find him.

When your lord Morpheus disappeared some fifty years ago, you and the rest of the Dreaming were left…confused. You thought that maybe it was a test? He wanted to see how loyal his creations really were to him, their king. Would they revolt the moment he no longer gave orders?

But, after the first two decades, you concluded that he was just…gone. And you, among many dreams, left as well.

You spent the next twenty years in the Waking world, searching the world aimlessly for something to inspire you.

When Dream still resided in his realm, you would sing for him. He dreamed up a dream of music and song and you became. He loved your songs, he was inspired by the music you made.

When you sat in Fiddler’s Green, you would sing about the butterflies fluttering through the breeze or the bees in their honeycombs. When you sat by the sandy beach, you would sing about the lap of the tides against the mouth of the sea. When you looked up at the skies, you would sing about the sun and moon, how they loved each other so.

On some nights where you danced in the heads of your mortal lords, he would be there, in the seat in the back, listening to you soothe the minds of frightened children or ease the thoughts of anguished men.

Morpheus loved your sweet music, your heavenly song. You reminded him of someone, someone he loved very much.

Much he knew nothing of how you longed for more than your kindly poetry and prose. You loved the gift he bestowed upon you, but you grew weary of your melodies of dancing birds and sugar cane.

He knew nothing of the way you gazed at the dark and twisted dreams that walked his realm, the way they strut, the way they smirk, the way they spin their fables and tricks and white lies. You wished you could sing in deviant keys, tales of wicked fantasies and depraved beasts.

How you longed for the voice of a siren, rather than the whistle of a songbird.

So you looked for inspiration. And you found it.

The humans were a new kind of nightmare. Yes, they had so much love and light and whatnot, but the depravity. The debauchery and sin you found among their kind, it was more than you could have dreamed of.

You didn't just want to sing their songs, you wanted to create them. You wanted to write your verses as they wrote theirs. You wanted to sing your tales and inspire the rest in the same way your sweet lyrics did.

But you didn't know how. You searched all over for someone to teach you, to show you how to take their sullied natures and adopt them into your own poesy.

Soon you realized that no man could teach you how to sing. You'd almost given up your pursuits of fulfillment until you heard of him; a dream you'd never met but had heard of so many times before in the sleeping realm, a nightmare so infamous and so curiously revered by your former lord. You'd heard it through the mouths of chattering men, then read it in the paper. A “man” whose deeds were so reminiscent of the devil, everyone had to know his name, to know who to protect themselves against.

The Corinthian.

He captured men and took their eyes. He made them see all the wonders of the world. And you wanted to sing them.

It took so long to find him.

You seduced and bribed and begged your way through every little turn in order to get to him. And now you're here with a drink in your hand and so many inspirations surrounding you in this little bar.

And he is beautiful.

It's things like him that inspire you to sing. He’s charming and tall and the sight of him, his dark glasses—which hold more truth than eyes could ever tell—frame his face as the golden rim adores his golden hair. You catch yourself staring too often, so enamored and enchanted by the symphony that he is.

But he'd noticed you too, in the moments where your eyes don't find his. Of course he had. He knows exactly who you are, the music of the Dreaming. He hears it in every little breath you take, the gentle lilt of your voice. You were spoken of with as much regard as he was, though in the more virtuous way rather than in the way of his own notoriety.

What an odd little creature. He'd heard so much about you, how sweet and gentle you were. How Dream would sit for hours and listen to you sing in the meadow. And here you were, surrounded by the darkest of creatures, unbothered but so curious.

How nice you would be to…play with for a while.

“Well, hello there.”

His voice seeps into your skin and has goosebumps rising along your body. You turn and look up at the Corinthian like he was a sight to behold. Your eyes are slightly widened with wonder, and you look like you'll get to your knees and begin praising him at any moment, as though he is some great saint.

“Oh,” you breathe, trying and failing to be subtle. “Hi.”

He leans his elbow on the bar, looking you up and down through the dark of his glasses. “What's your name, little thing?”

You scramble to organize your thoughts once more. He's scrambled them with just the sound of his voice. “Uhm,” you stutter. Shaking your head, you offer him your name.

He chuckles lightly, his charming smile curling over his lips as he shakes his head. “No, hah,” he mutters, “I meant your alias.” He turns a little as he motions to the people in the room, dark souls able to be free in the little space of this bar. “Everyone here has an alias. What's yours?”

“Mine?” You clear your throat. “Oh…” You hadn't thought about that. You rub your palm against your thigh, smoothing your dress over your legs nervously.

He thinks you're precious. He turns with a chuckle, looking around the room before gesturing with his head toward two men talking amongst themselves.

“You see him over there? On the right?” he asks. You nod, staring at the man as the Corinthian speaks. “That's the Extinguisher. He's a pyromaniac. He traps his victims in their own homes and covers them in gasoline. Burns it to the ground, starting with them.” The way he speaks is like music, and you get lost in it.

He stares at the wonder on your face, his lips twitching into a curious grin. “Him, there? He goes by the Boa Constrictor. Like the snake. He ties up his victims real nice and tight until their skin turns purple and numb. Then he…” he breathes a little laugh, “...ties a rope ‘round their necks and keeps it there…nice and tight, until they stop squirmin’.”

He expects you to pale, to see the fear light up in your little eyes. But you don't. You stare, hypnotized by his voice and his words.

“Wow,” you whisper. “What about her?”

He smiles wide, looking at the woman in question. “Oh, her?” He licks his bottom lip. “She comes in a pair, only the public doesn't know that. Actually, they think it's a man. She and her friend over there are known as the Tailor, but they call themselves the Seamstresses. You see, it's easier to be taken seriously as a man in this age, otherwise no one would bat an eye at their art.”

Your eyes twinkle with wonder. He doesn't think you realize it when you grab his arm, clutching it as you continue to listen, watching the two ladies talk. He leans nearer to you, speaking gently into your ear.

“They slice the limbs off their victims, nice and clean cuts, and stitch them back together after they've already bled out.” He tilts his head. “They're actually quite sweet.”

You sigh, almost like you're in a dream. “Woah.”

He turns his body back to you, and you realize your hand grasping him. You let him go, offering an apology through a small smile as you looked up at him. He watches it fade, the wonder returning as you take him in.

“If I had to guess who you were…” he says quietly, his voice a whisper as his eyes wander your face, “I'd say you were the Whisperer.”

You tilt your head, watching every little shift in his face as he speaks. He smirks, “Am I right?” You blink at him, moving to speak but unable to find the words. “The artist who sews the mouths of her victims shut so they can't speak,” he seems to lean in further, his voice getting softer and softer as your eyelids flutter. “Sings a little song to them as she…slits their throats wide open.”

You sigh, nearly folding under the weight of his gaze. You nod gently. “Y-yeah,” you rasp, clearing your throat. “Yes, that's me.”

He smiles wide, leaning back to release you from the spell. You let out a breath at the distance, seeming to come back to yourself. “I admire your work,” he says. “That job you did up in Malibu was just…beautiful.”

You don't know where that is, but apparently this Whisperer did. You nod, “Thanks. Thank you.”

“In fact,” the tips of his fingers brushed your hand, turning it to hold in his palm, “I would love a demonstration. Up close and personal.”

You bring your other hand to graze the side of his palm. “Would you mind giving me the honor of witnessing it firsthand?”

You swallow thickly, staring at him. Firsthand… “Uh, I don't have…thread on me.”

He shrugs. “Well, I'm sure the Seamstresses wouldn't mind lending their tools. If we ask nicely anyway.”

“Well–”

“Come on,” he chuckles. “Just…one little show?” He shows a finger, grinning his charming grin.

So pliant to his word, you give in. “Okay.”

The proud grin he displays is wide and triumphant. “Well,” he says, “thank you very much.”

~

The Corinthian opens your door as you step out of the car, looking out over the large building lit up from the inside and crawling with people. He offers his hand, which you take gratefully as your stomach turns, anxiety and anticipation sharp in your gut. He gives you another charming smile.

You both walk inside, taking in the nightclub still in full swing. It's a Friday night, so there are plenty of people here looking to let loose after a long work day.

There's a small band on stage playing upbeat jazz, a singer performing for an enthused crowd. You know this song, you know every song.

The Corinthian’s arm wraps around your waist, pulling you close to him as he seems to glare at the bodies mingling with one another. It's possessive, like he'll cut the eyes out of anyone who so much as glances the wrong way at you. You lean into him.

He leans down to your ear, his smile returning as he speaks gently. “Who here sparks your interest?” he asks. “Who fits the bill?”

You look up at him. “What do you mean?”

“A target.” He looks around the club, as though he's searching for someone who sparks his own interest. “Most artists have a pattern among their chosen…” he makes a gesture with his hand, trying to find the right word, “canvases.”

You like the way he speaks. It's poetic.

You lick your lips. “What's your pattern?”

“Oh, me?” He shrugs, looking over the crowd again. “I don't follow anything specific.” Tilting his head, he hums, “I suppose I do have a bit of male preference… but I'm not picky.”

“Ah,” you mutter.

“Well?” he wondered. “Anyone?”

You look around at all the people, dancing and sweating and talking. Eventually, your eyes land on a man. He's tall and lean, with black hair messy from dancing.

He reminds you of someone.

“Him.”

The Corinthian’s gaze finds the object of yours. A grin curls devilishly over his lips.

“Very nice.”

“So…” you look up at him, “What do I do?”

The urge to play with you is strong, like it's embedded in the tissue of his being. “You don't know?”

You nod quickly, trying to figure out what to say. You're supposed to be a professional.

“Well, uh, yeah, of course I know,” you clear your throat. “B-But what do you think I should do?”

He chuckles, turning you to face him as his hands cup your waist. He leans in, moving slowly as his lips brush your ear. He lowers his voice to a deep hum. “I always find that seduction works wonders.”

You nod gently as he pulls aways. His black shades stare into your eyes, dark and compelling. “Alright.”

He chuckles, jutting his chin out toward the man, your canvas. “Go on,” he bids. “Take him to the hotel a few blocks down. I'll be waiting for you there.”

Again, you nod. He knows best.

“Okay.”

He grazes his knuckles along your cheek, granting you one last grin before turning and leaving you to your own devices. You would be fine.

You turn toward the dark-haired man, taking in a deep breath before setting a small smile upon your lips. You begin walking over to him, sinking into the music to blend in with the crowd. Even as your hips sway and your face shifts into something more sultry, your hands tremble as the anxiety slips into your skin.

Stepping up behind him, you get his attention by placing a palm on his slim waist. He glances down at your hand and follows it up your wrist, your arm, your shoulder, up to your pretty face as his own smile spreads across his pink lips. “Hello,” you smile gently, leaning forward just enough to tilt your head back to look up at him.

He turns, enjoying the way your hands shift to stay at his sides, your thumbs feeling over the fabric of his shirt. He’s handsome, easily falling victim to your own charm as he lets you seduce him. His smile widens, though he doesn’t look predatory, like a lot of men you’ve come across among the years. He’s charming.

“Well, hello there.” He looks you up and down, and you take in the sight of his pale blue eyes as he does.

You just keep smiling, and it’s all you have to do for him to fall further and further for your charm. “Hi,” you lick your bottom lip.

Considerate of you, he places his hand on your shoulder and brushes it down your arm slowly until he slips it into your hand, holding one of them and setting his other hand onto your own waist. Yours eased to his shoulder, and soon you were holding one another as you danced on a slow tempo to the quick rhythmed music.

“How's a pretty girl like you doing on a night like this, hm?” he wonders, his voice warm and just as smiling as his lips.

You shrug a shoulder as though you're shy. “I'm doing alright,” you chuckle lightly, breathily. “Are you having fun?”

He hums. “Now that you're here? So much fun.” He watched you appreciatively, biting his lower lip and sighing. “You lookin’ to play with little ole me?”

You tilt your head gently. “Do you like to play?”

“Doll,” he chuckles, “I love to play.”

You giggle softly, and you watch him seem to almost melt at the sound of it. “You wanna play with me?” you lean in a little closer.

“Do I?”

You stand on your tiptoes so your lips brush his ear as you whisper, your words light and airy. “Why don't we go somewhere more private so we can…play?”

He sighs longingly. “Oh, I love the sound of that.”

You smile wide, pulling away from him as you keep your hands firmly clasped. “Well, come on then,” you say as you pull him gently toward the door. He walks with you, joining your side and exiting the club with you on his arm.

As you're walking out, his lead taking you in the direction of his car, you find yourself humming the song that had been playing inside under your breath. His gaze turns to you and he finds himself even further under your enchantment.

What a wonder you are… An angel from heaven.

He helps you into his car, shutting your door and rounding to the other side as he takes his seat as the driver. “So where are we going?” he asks, looking at you with anticipation seeping through every pore.

You smile, and he swears you speak like a melody as you say, “I've got a room down at the hotel.” You bring a hand to your face as you rest your fingers just under your chin. “We shouldn't be interrupted there.”

He grins. “Whatever you say, doll.”

~

He's been so sweet, much closer on the sweeter side of the men you've met since you first came to the mortal plane. Graham, he said his name was.

You nearly felt bad about what was going to happen to Graham…but you wouldn't be putting him to waste. No, you would be honoring him. He would inspire your songs, he would give life to them. That was an honor you felt befit him, an honor he deserved.

The hotel comes into view, and your stomach flips. Graham parks, opens your door like a gentleman, and then offers his hand as the both of you enter the building. You glance around as you walk, wondering what you're supposed to do now. He just said to meet him here…

You walk, tucked into his side as you try not to aimlessly wander. He stays close to you, almost dutifully, and you don't notice the way he gazes at your face.

You look up at him, an innocent—almost naïve—glow to your eyes that makes his smile grow. “You're beautiful, you know that?”

You hum lightly, smiling gently. Your gaze wanders from his and falls upon a conference room door, the window on the door reflecting something off its surface.

Your eyes catch on the silhouette of such a familiar man. You walk over, pulling Graham with you as you push the door open.

“Thought we were going up to your room, doll?” he wonders. You pull him into the dark conference room, glancing around for your new mentor and finding nothing but shadows.

You turn back to Graham, thinking on your feet as you give him a smile. “I…just couldn't wait that long,” you chuckle lightly. You step forward, your hands on his chest.

He smiles, pushing the door closed behind him with his foot and turning the lock as he looks down at you with a smile. “Sounds good to me,” he grins.

He holds your body close, wrapping you up in his arms. Your smile falls as he leans in closer, and when his lips brush yours, you can't help but push him away with the gentle push of your fingertips.

He seems concerned as he takes you in, holding his hands up enough to show he isn't going to hurt you. “What's the matter?”

In the corner of your eyes, you catch a shadow. Your gaze lands on the Corinthian, hidden in the dark space behind Graham with a finger held up to his curling lips, and your breath hitches in a small gasp.

You watch him silently, watching as his hands gesture toward the both of you. He just nods, urging you on.

You look back at Graham, his eyes still just as concerned as before. You remember to smile, stepping back toward him as you slowly set your hands on his shoulders. “Nothing,” you whisper. You kiss him, and he takes a moment to allow you space before his hands fall to your waist again. His lips are soft, comforting.

Tilting your head, your eyes creak open to see the Corinthian again. He smiles reassuringly, lifting his hand to cover his eyes. After receiving your confused look, he just gives another encouraging gesture. You figure, he knows best.

Pulling away again, you keep your hands on his shoulders. Graham opens his eyes, watching you smile up at him. “Close your eyes?” you ask gently.

He chuckles, amused, “Why?”

You bat your lashes, a subtle but rapid blink that makes him pliant to you. “Trust me?” Your voice is gentle and small, a whisper he has nor reason to doubt.

He just sighs and laughs, shaking his head as he brings hand to cover his eyes, peeking at you teasingly before hiding behind his palm again. You look to the Corinthian for more instruction.

He raises his finger to tap his throat. You watch his other hand come up, balling into a tight fist. He punches his palm soundlessly. And you understand.

You place your gaze upon Graham once more. His pretty face, his messy black hair, his pink lips, his closed eyes hiding pale blue rings around his pupils. You clench your fist, feeling the tightness in your fingers, the strain of the skin over your knuckles.

You take in a deep bracing breath, and he's still waiting patiently for you. Patient, gentle, good.

And you strike him hard in his throat, your fist colliding with his Adam’s apple as his eyes bulge from his skull. He tries to gasp at the sudden impact, the sound barely coming out in a painful wheeze as he raises his hands to his throat.

He looks at you, his eyes wide with shock and confusion. His mouth is open wide as he gapes, trying so hard to speak, to breathe, to figure out why.

You hadn't even realized it when the Corinthian moved, his hands landing heavily over Graham’s shoulders as he wheezes and gasps, making the most dreadful sounds in an attempt to breathe.

“Hello, there,” he grins, Graham’s eyes finding him and bulging. When did he get there?

His gaping mouth tries to form a word, and the Corinthian tilts his head to hear it before chuckling lightly. “Don't try to speak. You'll find it hurts more.”

He pulls a chair from the large conference table and sits him roughly down onto it. Graham doesn't try to bolt, the door is locked and he isn't confident in his ability to get out of here with the Corinthian as your apparent partner. He tries to speak, to negotiate, but he can't get any sound past senseless croaks.

The Corinthian joins your side, wrapping an arm possessively around your waist as you stare at the man you'd doomed. Doomed. That's a nice word.

He opens up his jacket, reaching in an inside pocket as he pulls out the silver needle and red thread he'd procured from the Seamstresses.

“Now, beautiful,” he says, handing it over to you, “why don't you take this while I help you out a little?” You look at the tools he offers, blink a couple of times before picking it up.

His crooked finger brushes under your chin before he turns away toward your friend again. He rounds to another chair, which he pulls from its spot tucked at the table, a duffle bag you hadn't noticed before sitting in the seat. In the bag is rope, strong rope he uses to tie Graham to the chair as he kneels behind him.

You glance at the needle. “What do I do with it?”

He looks up at you as he wraps the rope around the back of the chair and his chest and ignores Graham’s struggles. He says it like it's obvious. “You'll sew his mouth shut.”

Graham struggles against the rope, but to no avail. The Corinthian makes a tight knot, looking at him with a warning in his tone. “I suggest you be nice and good for her or…” he smiles, his hands on his shoulders as his lips brush the shell of his ear, “I'll just have to intervene. And you don't want that.”

Graham goes completely still, sweating and crying now. The tears roll down his cheeks and he gives you a desperate look.

You realize your hands are shaking, like the first time you even stepped foot toward him.

“I…” you mutter, staring at the needle.

The Corinthian’s smile remains unchanged, encouraging. “Come on,” he says as he stands, walking over toward you once more. “Don't be shy.”

The anxiety curls in your stomach, shakes in your hands. You take a step back, turning to him timidly as you don't meet his eyes. “I'm… I'm not her,” you say, struggling to get the words out as the nerves eat away at you. “I lied… I'm not the Whisperer. I'm just…some dream… I'm just a dream.”

He laughs, and you watch him as the confusion sinks into the features of your face. Graham is out of both your minds as you stare at him.

“Well, I know that.” He chuckles, stepping into your space as he grabs your free hand, cradling it in his palm. “But you're not just any dream, are you? You're Aria. One of Morpheus’ special dreams, his little song.”

Irritation rises in your belly and you shake your head, stepping back and letting go of his hand. “I'm not Aria,” you bite. “Not anymore. I hate that name.”

He raises a brow. “Do you now?” His smirk is devilish. “Who are you then?”

You stare at him, offering the name you'd take thirty years ago when you left the Dreaming for the first time, your new name with its new rhythm and rhyme. The Corinthian repeats it back to you, tasting it on his tongue like honey.

You take your bottom lip between your teeth, another step taking you away from him. “But I'm not the Whisperer.”

He shrugs. “‘Course you're not. I made her up.” You watch him, surprise in every crevice of your face. He reaches out and takes your hands, pulling you close again as he watches you, the look I'm his eyes almost predatory as he lowers his voice for you to hear. His words seep into your skin.

“But you want to be, don't you?” He smiles, “I can see it in your eyes, you wanna be more than Dream's ‘little song’, don't ya?”

Graham watches, feeling his vocal chords easing in the slightest bit. He still can't speak, can't scream, can't get any sound out but a whisper so quiet, he still can't be heard.

“You want to be something not so sweet,” he continues. “You wanna sing something other than Kumbaya, holding hands with your neighbors and bein’ all nice and happy.”

Your lip twitches at the mention of that song, a campfire song that felt like a pinnacle of your distaste for the music you've been forced to sing. “I hate Kumbaya,” you mumble.

He chuckles. “Don't we all?” He brushes his knuckles along your cheekbone, smoothing down to rest underneath your chin. “You can be so much more than that. I know it. You can leave behind all that sweetness, and become like me. Remake yourself in your own image.”

He raises your hand, still cupping the needle and thread in your palm. “All you have to do…” he gently pushes your palm toward your body, separating each word as he does, “...is take the needle.”

He takes a step back, giving you space to think.

You look down at your palm, contemplating. This is it. This is your chance to become more than a little songbird. You could become better. You could fulfill your own hopes and dreams and become a better version of you.

Your fingers curl over your palm.

Your eyes turn on Graham, and fear flashes across his face. You take the first step toward him, then another, and he begins to squirm in his chair as you do. The Corinthian tuts, walking toward him as he places his hands on his shoulders to keep him down, still.

He smiles, a dark and wicked smile. “There you go,” he encourages. “Do it. Become more than that sweet little dream. Do what you want to do, not what you were made to.”

You take the string of thread and punch it between your thumb and forefinger, stilling your breath completely as your slightly shaky hands work to thread the needle. It takes a moment for you to get it through the eye, letting out a relieved sigh when you do.

Graham keeps squirming, despite the uselessness. You stand in front of him. “Take a seat,” the Corinthian says. “It'll be easier.”

You set your free hand on his shoulder, lowering yourself onto his lap as you straddle him. His mouth forms a word, the slightest whisper tearing painfully from his throat as it did. Please. Please. Please.

He casts a desperate, pleasing gaze upon you, his life in your hands—the hands of the beautiful siren who had forsaken him. You watch him with an unwavering gaze, the anxiety and anticipation curling your brows.

He is so good. So genuinely good. The kind of good that stares at your face and calls you beautiful. The kind that keeps calling you beautiful until you no longer have the capacity not to believe it. He's the kind of good that holds you when you're sad, wipes away your tears when you cry. The kind of good that makes you feel better about living in such a cruel world.

And you want to feel bad about taking his life away, about taking the rhythm of his heartbeat away.

But you can't, and you don't. And honestly, a rage and desperation flares within you as you stare at him. Because he is good. And that's just the problem, isn't it?

For so long, all of your songs have been so good. Songs about dancing birds and twinkling stars and buzzing bees. Songs about hope and love and care and whatever else. And you're sick of it.

You were only drawn to him because he's good.

You need something new, something a little fiercer than the blazing sun in the sky, something a little darker than the moonless night. You need inspiration.

And he could give it to you. The Corinthian would help.

You begin to move your hands toward his face, and Graham desperately tries to move away. You sigh, looking up at the Corinthian. He understands immediately.

Taking Graham’s face in his hands, he holds his head still and his jaw securely closed. He bears his teeth like a frightened animal, breathing quickly as whispers of protest strain in his crushed vocal chords.

You use one hand to hold his lips closed. The Corinthian nods along with you. “Just at the corner. Right there.” You slide your pinched fingers over to the left corner of his lips. “Very good. Now just…push it in…”

You position the needle, holding there for a long time as you internalize taking this step. All you have to do…is push it in.

The needle pierces his flesh, sinking into his skin as he screams silently, held still as a statue by the Corinthian, as though his strength is nothing to him.

The sharp end comes out on the other side of his bottom lip, and you pull it all the way through as the red thread becomes redder with the blood staining it. You pull until you have enough length, tying the end off with steadier hands.

“Very good,” the Corinthian praises. “See? You're a natural.”

He takes in his success, his great triumph. Dream's little song…nothing more now than the outlines of a nightmare waiting to be filled in with a little more color. He almost feels drunk off the sight of you, straddling this man as you continue to pierce him with your needle and sew his lips shut, tight, taking away the one thing you were made to do.

Sing.

Such a sweet little bird you are now, a corrupted and twisted little dream in the hands of a wicked nightmare.

He watches you thread the needle through his flesh as Graham continues to cry and try and try and try to scream, to have someone hear him, save him from the pain and torture. But you're all alone in here, locked inside this room with nothing but the night…

As you focus, you find yourself easing into the task. Pinching and piercing and pulling and repeating. You smile, calm as a melody comes to mind.

You hum it, lower and slower than the original speed. The Corinthian watches, in awe of you as you continue to work. He almost swears the rhythm of Graham’s silent breaths and cries begin to form to the rhythm of your song.

“Say ‘Night-ie night’ and kiss me,” you whisper, leaning forward to kiss the tip of Graham’s nose. “Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me.”

You poke the needle through the end of his lip, piercing the far right corner slowly, calmly. “While I'm alone and blue as can be…” You tie the end of the knot, singing a little slower as you do. “Dream a little dream of…me.”

You lean forward and cut the thread with your teeth, taking in the sight of your good work. The Corinthian lets Graham go, and he just sits there, still sobbing, his face wet with tears and blood and sweat.

“Look at that,” the Corinthian admires, laughing deep in his throat as he sets his hands on your shoulders and shakes his head. “Beautiful.”

You stare at him, taking in the sight before you. The Corinthian’s hands fall to your waist, and his head rests at the crook of your neck. Graham’s eyes struggle to stay open, his vision blurry with tears and the adrenaline and pain crashing down and making it hard to find the will to stay conscious.

“Look at all your hard work,” the Corinthian hums, the sound of your song still playing in his mind. “How does it feel?”

You look at him. His dark blood is crimson as it stains his shirt. His messy black hair is only worse now, his pale blue eyes brighter and paler as his pupils grow to the size of a coin.

He looks beautiful, you think.

“Different.”

The tip of his nose brushes underneath your ear. “Do you want to finish it off?”

You nod gently.

The Corinthian fishes a sharp blade from the inside of his jacket. He takes your hand and wraps it around the handle, gripping it tight and helping to guide you.

“Right…” he moves the tip of the blade to press against Graham’s straining neck. He presses it right under his chin, starting from the far right, opposite the needle, “...here.”

“Here?” you ask as he lets go, keeping the blade steady.

He nods. “Right there.”

You lift your other hand to hold the back of his neck steady. Graham watches, terrified. You stare him dead in the eyes, unblinking, unwavering.

You carve the blade into his throat and slice. All the way across, you take your time in slowly slitting his throat. You only blink as the blood sprays out of his sliced arteries and spray all over your face and neck. It keeps spraying and keeps spraying, coming in spurts as he chokes on his blood, gurgling and coughing.

You continue to stare at him, even as you've finished even after he has died and the light has left his eyes and the songs have left his soul. His eyes are bulgy and he's drenched in blood. Butchered.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch a dark hand reaching out to Graham. You want to turn, to see her take him, to watch as he is swept away in the hands of Death to his afterlife. But you don't. Watching Graham, you see the flickers of hope in his eyes die out as the life leaves him and replaces it with emptiness. A momentary silence is filled with the gentle flap of wings.

The Corinthian comes back to mind as he pulls you back enough to see the whole of your work. He shakes his head in admiration, smiling wide.

“Your first one,” he says.

“My first one.”

“How does it feel?”

His hands on your hips pull you back against his body. You lean into him. “Different.”

He chuckles lightly, one of his hands moving from your waist in favor of sliding up the length of your body to wrap around your throat, resting there as he holds you securely. His other hand slides down your arm and takes the knife from your hand.

“I think you liked it,” he hums in your ear, dropping his knife on the table with a clatter and holding your neck tighter. “Having his life in your hands?”

You swallow thickly, staring at the dripping blood as the crimson on your face dries. “I–”

“Say it,” he cuts you off, his lips right by your ear, his teeth nipping at the lobe. “You loved it. You loved silencing him.”

He feels your shallow breaths beneath his palm. Still dazed, you say, “I–”

“Say it.”

You take in a slow breath, filling your lungs before you admit it, the curling in your stomach gone and replaced by the chills along your skin. “I loved it,” you sigh. “I loved silencing him.”

He smiles triumphantly. “I know you did,” he chuckles. “Now look at you. A new person, a new dream.” His smile widens and his hand tightens. “You're just like me.”

“Just like you.”

“A nightmare.” His lips graze the shell of your ear.

“A nightmare.”

You lean into him with a slight moan when his lips press against your neck, kissing it with insistent lips and insistent teeth. “Just like you,” you whisper, like the repeating lyrics of a song.

“Just like me.”

Your eyes flutter at the way his teeth nip at your flesh. “A nightmare.”

“A nightmare.” He turns you around in his arms, moving you so your back presses against the table. His lips crash down on yours, swallowing you whole as they do. He can taste the blood staining your lips. You melt against him, weak and wanting as his body presses flush against yours. He bends you back against the table, laying you down as his lips trail down to the skin of your neck, kissing and biting and sucking.

“Look at you,” he breathes. “A corrupted little dream.”

Corrupted. You like that word.

“Corinthian,” you moan, bringing your arms up as your hands wrap around the back of his head and keep him close to you.

“My little dream,” he scoffs, his hands gripping your body tightly.

You go to speak, but he cuts you off. He laughs wickedly. “But you're not a dream, are you? And you're not a nightmare.”

“Cor–”

“You're just a little whore, aren't you?” he smirks, riding your shirt up as his hand slips under it. “A little whore who wants to be something else.”

You moan. “A whore.”

His face is inches from yours again as he speaks quietly, his voice low and rough and dangerous. “You thought I wouldn't know what you were when I saw you?” he questions, finding it amusing. “You thought I wouldn't know you were just a dream trying to be something she isn't?”

Your breath has picked up, heavy as your head spins. “I–”

He's not having it. He silences you again, holding your throat still as he makes you look at him, as he makes sure you can't look away. “Let me show you what you are,” he breathes. “Then I'll rebuild you into something you can be.”

Enchanted by him and his words, you breathe deeply. “Show me what I am,” you echo.

He nods, “That's right.”

“What I can be.”

“Good girl,” he praises. He attacks your mouth once more. It's a bruising kiss as he wraps you up in him. His hand grips your neck tightly, constricting your breath a bit as he does. With one hand, he rips your dress from your body and lets it fall to the ground in rags. You gasp as he does it, your body now exposed to the chilly air as you're left in nothing but your undergarments.

He hums deeply as he looks over you. He smiles. “Dream had it right with this body,” he says, running his hand over your skin and listening to the way you moan.

He hooks his finger around the waistband of your panties, pulling them roughly down your legs to reveal yourself to him. “Look at you,” he breathes as he smooths his hand over your mound. “You're so pretty, aren't you?”

You moan when his long middle finger sinks inside of you, sliding between your damp folds. He's surprised by how wet you are, though he supposes he shouldn't be.

You immediately clamp down around his finger, and he lets out a long sigh. “Such a tight little thing.”

Your legs move to close at the intrusion, not new to the feeling but still not quite used to it either. He just forces them apart, keeping you spread wide for him as he does. “Don't you hide yourself from me,” he says, thrusting a second finger inside of you as you moan at the stretch.

He pumps his fingers in and out of you, collecting the gathering wetness as he watches you through his dark glasses, admires the way your body responds to him.

Your hips meet his hands as he keeps touching you, eager to feel more of him as your shallow breaths continue to pass between your lips. When he pulls his hand from you, you whimper at the loss, clenching around nothing in an attempt to feel him again.

You watch as he sets his fingers on his tongue, closing his mouth around them and suckling with a deep hum. He caresses your name with his lips as he looks down at you. “You're delicious, sweetheart,” he says, and your body keens into his touch.

His hand around your throat tightens as he bends down so his face is hardly separated from yours. “I bet you'd just love to feel my mouth on you, hm?”

You nod quickly, “Please.”

He laughs darkly, kissing you roughly and letting his mouth trail down your body—down, down, down until his mouth ghosts over your fluttering pussy.

Your back arches when you feel his hot mouth against you. His tongue laps against your folds and he suckles around you, tasting the sweetness of your nectar. His tongue flattens against you as he begins to lick you up.

His hand loosens around your throat before ultimately letting go to hold your grinding hips down. Your mouth falls open and you give into him, tangling your fingers in his hair and encouraging his mouth against you.

He laps at your pussy like you're the finest wine. He can taste the virtue that pulsed in your veins, and he can taste the darkness beginning to replace it. His tongue delves inside of you, his lips wrapping around your throbbing clit and suckling gently.

The pleasure jolts through your body like a fire, and you’re entirely willing to let it consume you. You want to feel its burning flames lick at your flesh, searing it from bone to turn you to ash and create something new out of the remains.

The Corinthian sinks three fingers into you after a while, pumping them in and out as you enjoy the delicious stretch with closed eyes, moaning and grinding. He looks up at you, looking for your eyes and finding them hooded.

You mewl when he pulls away from you. “No, no, no,” he says. “Open your eyes, sweetheart. You gotta watch me make you mine.”

You do as you're told, opening your eyes and doing your best to keep them that way. He praises you with another “good girl” before he's wrapping his lips around you again.

He enjoys every second immensely, tasting the sweet nectar of your arousal as he coaxes it from you, taking the grinding of your hips every time he curls his fingers or sucks on your clit.

You moan his name as you feel the rise in your stomach tightening with an oncoming pleasure. You clench around his fingers, your clit pulses against his tongue. You've forgotten all about Graham's body slumped in his bindings, you'd forgotten the blood staining your face and neck. It's all the Corinthian.

You throw your head back roughly and gasp when you cum, your head spinning as the back of it smacks against the table. Your thighs tremble and shake as he refuses to let up, sinking his tongue deeper inside. Your moans almost sound like tiny cries as you grind your hips into his mouth.

He licks his lips, tasting you on his tongue with an immense amount of appreciation. "You're fucking delicious, baby,” he hums, smirking dangerously.

He sits up to his full height once more, his hand finding its place around your throat as he bends down to kiss you again. The taste of yourself on his tongue is intoxicating.

His lips smack as he pulls away from you. Without a word, he flips you onto your stomach atop the table. He grabs a handful of your ass, squeezing it roughly. The breath is forced from your lungs as your chest presses against the table.

The Corinthian tangles his hand in your hair as he roughly pulls your head up, making you look up as your eyes fall on Graham.

“Look at him,” he hums. “Look at all that good work.”

You do. You take in the sight of him with a new set of eyes. The red thread keep his lips shut tight. He'd made such wonderful sounds when you'd sewn them. You'd taken his song and added it to your own, his fear and his desperation had been the perfect addition to your symphony.

His blood soaks his clothes, as well as your face, what was once crimson now darker from being exposed to the air. You can still hear the way he choked, the way he gasped for air that wouldn't come.

His skin was so pale, his eyes that were once a pale blue now cloudy and grey with the mask of death. His once pink lips are just as grey. You can still see the smile they made, the words they spoke. The things he could sing.

You could still hear him singing.

You moan when the Corinthian’s hand presses between your slick folds again. He smiles, another dark chuckle slipping from his lips. “There you go,” he says. “Nice and slick for me. Be a good girl and say please.”

You let out an airy breath, mumbling a tiny whisper of, “Please.”

But he isn't convinced as he groans and shakes his head. “No, you can do better than that, sweetheart. Now I'm not going to give you what you need until you say please.”

Desperate and needy, you let out another breathy moan. “Please,” you whine again, louder this time as your words form into a melody. “I need you. I need you to make me yours.”

He's drunk off your obedience, the way you gave into him so easily from the start. He inclines his head, satisfied. “Good girl.”

The jingle of his belt buckle fills your ears with its gentle ring. Your pussy flutters when you feel the tip of him press against your folds. “Please,” you whisper again.

You let out a long breath when he buries himself to the hilt inside of your hot cunt. A rough groan falls from his lips, the tip of his cock pressing deep inside of you as you lose your breath.

You grip the table, allowing the pleasure to fill you as he holds your hips tight. You moan at the stretch of him inside you.

The Corinthian lets out a deep breath, steadying himself as he pulls out just barely to the tip before roughly thrusting back into. You moan loudly, your head dizzy with the feeling blossoming inside of you.

He doesn't allow you a slow build. He doesn't give you the privilege of easing you into the monstrous nature of his love. Instead, he holds you steady as he fucks into your tight pussy, snapping his hips in and out of you without sparing a second for you to adjust to him.

He grunts and groans behind you as he uses you to his need. He feeds off your moans, their song-like nature filling the air and seeming to hypnotize him into wanting even more of you, into needing even more of you.

The sound of his hips smacking against your ass fills the room. It joins your moans and his dark grunts, blending together perfectly.

“Listen to you,” he grunts. “You're my little song now.”

You can no longer think straight, your head spinning with pleasure, with the sound of Graham's singing in your head, with the sound of flapping wings.

You watch Graham as if through rose-colored glasses, the pleasure mixing with the sight of him creating something you've never felt before as you continue to moan meekly.

And, for a moment, you think of Dream.

As a melody plays in the back of your brain, a new melody you've never heard before, you think about how much you want to show Dream.

But he abandoned you. And, before that, he'd created you as a sweet dream that could never know anything other than harmony. And you hated him for that.

So, as you watch the blood drip from his sealed lips, you smile and give into the Corinthian completely. His fingers press to your clit, and you shudder as you feel yourself getting so close, so close to falling apart and forever becoming the Corinthian’s song…ready to leave Sweet Dream behind forever.

The pressure builds as his speed on your clit does as well. You clench around his cock, your head light and your moans scratching your throat. “Corinthian,” you whine. “I'm so close.”

His hips snap into yours a little harder. “I bet you are,” he huffs. “Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll make you nice and full.”

The pleasure rises within you until you can’t hold it in anymore. With a thrust of his hips and a circle of his finger, you fall apart. Your whole body shudders as you let out a loud, breathy moan as it all comes crashing down. You give in to the Corinthian’s symphony of death.

A rough groan, bordering on a growl, erupts from his throat as he shoves his cock as deep inside you. He gives in to the squeeze of your cunt and cums, grinding his hips so deep as he fills you to the brim.

And with one last thrust, with his cum buried in your fluttering pussy, he claims you as his. He lets go of your hair, pulling out of you with a heavy sigh.

You whimper at the loss of him, laying on the table as your legs shake.

The Corinthian’s arms wrap around you, picking you up and pulling you to stand as he embraces you in another kiss. You lean into him, letting his lips meld against yours.

He looks over your face, the new clarity in your eyes. He smiles.

“Sing me a song, sweetheart.”

And you do. You sing a song of a dying promise, the sounds of the symphony you'd just created allowing you to sing a melody of broken hope and shattered dreams.

You sing for a long time as the Corinthian listens to you, enchanted by your song, by your new dream.

Now, you belonged to him.

The Sandman taglist: @poetic-fiasco @the-nerdy-goddess @life-on-needs @fanreader @jamiethenerdymonster @sarahbullet235 @majestyjade @melinoe-the-rat @katsukis1wife @sugakookieswithacupoftae16 @hatterripper31 @kplatzman @kmc1989 The Corinthian taglist: @waitingformysandman @honey-im-hotdog @saltysasque @anotherblackreader Tag yourself here...

[beauty-in-negative-spaces]

Dewey Riley NSFW alphabet

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

You can expect to be absolutely pampered by Dewey after you're both done. He'll go the full nine yards: cleaning you up with a damp washcloth, getting you a glass of water, putting on TV or music as background noise, and holding onto you until one of you passes out.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

If you asked Dewey he'd say he's into personality but he does have a weak spot for a nice pair of thighs to put his head between. As for himself he's fond of his hands, or more so the way you react to them.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He has a small thing for cumming on you, whether it be your chest or your face, it always gets him going for round 2.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Although it'd take some time before he admits it, he loves when you take the reins and wouldn't mind getting dominated. He'll never say it outside of the bedroom for fear that word would get back to the guys at the station,

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He's probably had a small handful of flings and past relationships that didn't work out. He's well versed in the vanilla but wouldn't mind someone to teach him new tricks.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Dewey is a little bit of a sap, he likes missionary mostly because he likes to look into your eyes and hold you as you both come undone. Other than that he'd be up for you riding him every now and then.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He'll goof around with you all throughout foreplay but as soon as the pants come off he's dead serious with you, man switches into the most hopeless romantic and turns into putty in your hands.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Much like his face Dewey does carry some hair down there as well. While it's a little wild he at least has the decency to trim the bush every now and then.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

As stated above Dewey is a complete and total hopeless romantic. Everything he does is to please you, both in bed and out of. Because of this it's no surprise how many times he'll tell you he loves you during and afterwards.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Dewey is about average in the masturbation department. Whenever he's away from you and needs you he'll take care of himself as discreetly as possible. It's hard when you're his main outlet of blowing off some stress from work.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

This man for sure has a praise kink on both sides. Tell him how good he is and he'll simply melt. On the flip side he'll be praising you on anything and everything in the seconds up to him cumming.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Dewey is a very private person when it comes to his sex life. He'll be hesitant to do anything outside the bedroom. However once you guys get a place together he'll be more open to activities in other places.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Seeing his partner in any sort of domestic situation sends his heart into a frenzy. After all this time and things he's been through, nothing gets him going more than seeing his partner safe and happy. Put on an old shirt of his and make some breakfast in the morning and you'll be pushed against the kitchen counter in no time. That and a little sexy lingerie never hurt.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything that hurts his partner. Dewey would be hesitant to try anything bdsm related outside of maybe some handcuffs and some (light) spanking.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He doesn't mind receiving, especially after a long day at the station, but his favorite has to be giving. He's a little lacking in the skill department at first but once he get the hang of things he'll be getting your hips bucking.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Depending on the situation and how hard work's been on him Dewey could do either. While be prefers it slow and sensual, sometimes sitting at the station thinking of coming home to you can roughen things up a bit.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Dewey isn't too fond of quickies. When you guys do have sex he wants to take you slowly and make sure you're both satisfied. However, when he's working a more serious case and isn't home for very long, quickies become a must to keep him sane.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Dewey is often nervous about trying new things. If it's something that he knows you'll enjoy or have been fantasizing about for a while he'll always give it a shot.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He can last a good 30-45 minutes per round when he's getting sensual with it. When given breaks between he can go for around 3 rounds.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Dewey doesn't have any toys for himself but he wouldn't be opposed to cuffing him or you to the bed for a round if you brought it up.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He can defiantly be a little bit of a tease during foreplay or when giving oral but once he gets down to business he can't stand the thought of making you wait.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

The SOUNDS this man makes are absolutely divine. You probably won't hear much the first couple of times you guys do it, but after he grows more comfortable and secure with you he'll grunt and whine, especially between praises when you're riding him.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Dewey has a small (giant) thing for marking you up. Once he gets more confidant he'll be leaving hickeys all over your neck and thighs.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He's around 5.9" when fully erect, uncut.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He's pretty average but when work gets stressful he'll definitely need you a little more.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He's out as soon as he knows you're satisfied and safe.

[carmyberzattosjournal]

CB Journals Season 1 Masterlist

The following journal entries were posted in October 2024 for the CB Journal Alpha AU.

Warnings key:

Comfort (C)

The Devil (Chef David mentioned) (D)

Fluff (F)

Hurt (H)

Panic attacks happen (PA)

Smut (S)

These build on the previous one, so I recommend starting at one for the full experience. (Also, there's way more than meets the eye. Enjoy.)

List below the cut:

Praying to a Forgotten God (H, PA)—Carmy talks about the nature of his panic attacks.

Souvenirs (D, H)—Carmy reflects on the damage inflicted to him by Chef David.

Choices (D, H)—Carmy writes some mediocre poetry.

Apple Leaf Adagio (C, F)—Carmy and his girlfriend (Darling) go to an apple orchard.

Ice Cubes (C, F)—Carmy learns he likes temperature play.

Scarlet Chef’s Coat (H)—Carmy recounts a nightmare he keeps having.

Idle Hands (C, D, F, H)—Carmy struggle to keep his hands still, even when he has Darling in his lap.

FM Static (C, H, F, PA)—Carmy has a panic attack at the park, and his Darling comforts him.

I’d Love to Drown in This Spell (C, F)—Carmy and Darling enjoy intimate kisses and cuddles in bed.

Crunched Prawn (C, H)—Carmy has to walk home in the rain.

Fistful of Tacks (C, D, F, H)—Natalie arranges for the staff to go to the pumpkin patch and corn maze; Darling comforts Carmy.

Flower Petals (F)—Darling encourages Carmy to try a blindfold for the first time.

Grand Canyons of Scars (C, D, F, H, PA)—Carmy has the worst panic attack of his life; Darling comforts him. (Part 1/2)

A Portrait of Exhaustion (C, F, H)—Carmy struggles to sleep after the worst panic attack of his life; Darling gets too cold when he leaves the bed. (Part 2/2)

You Good, Chef? (D, F, H)—Carmy can't stop thinking of Darling while at work, and it causes so many problems.

Well-Versed Pas De Deux (C, D, F, H, S)—Darling takes Carmy to a bonfire; she does something cute that makes him go feral.

A Man Possessed (C, F, S)—Carmy has to leave work to go rail Darling because he can't get her out of his head.

With Love, CB (H)—Carmy writes a letter to Mikey.

Normal Straight Jacket (H)—Carmy and Syd have a hotel booking mixup and end up in one room. He suffers for it.

Hers (F)—Darling clings to Carmy in the morning.

A Crowbar Called Love (C, F, H)—Darling drunkenly confesses that she wants to have kids with Carmy. He has a tizzy over it.

Lipstick Prints (C, D, F, H)—Carmy's getting ready for a costume party, and he learns that he likes Darling's lipstick prints on him.

You Needed The Bear (C, H, S)—Carmy has learned he likes wrecking Darling to tears.

Property of: Darling (C, D, F, H)—Darling's schedule shifts temporarily; to spend time with him, she joins him at the restaurant in the morning and finds how he takes care of his sister very sweet.

Some for the Chef (C, F)—Carmy finally figures out the duck-with-apple dish pairing for the menu change, and Darling has some complements to offer him.

She Knew Something I Didn't (C, F)—Carmy reflects on how he met Darling (in a coffee shop).

8 Word Chorus (C, F, H)—Darling has a brutal nightmare, and Carmy comforts her.

Blatant Thuggery (C, F)—Darling gets sick, and Carmy takes care of her.

Crossed Wires (H, S)—Darling introduces Carmy to impact play, and he's hopeless. [Part 2 is Wretched Chimera, written in November]

Pink Lace (C, S)—Darling sends Carmy a photo when he's late coming home from the restaurant and awakens the Bear.

Shared Moderato (C, F)—Carmy helps his girlfriend (who he calls Darling) prepare Halloween baskets for trick-or-treaters, and he gets lost in the poetry of their love.

[halliescomut]

I defended Lom, but now I shall talk about Nuea

So...a lot of this is going to be a bit rant-y, because honestly there's some reactions that have been going on that really aggravate me. But I wanted to talk more about Nuea as a character in the show, and how I think he's being presented. You hear (for reasons unknown) a lot of discussion over how Lom is almost tricking Nuea by withholding the fact that his arrangement and marriage to Yiwa is in name only. I have so many problems with this read on the situation. While it is VERY common for BLs to use naivety as a trope, it's actually surprisingly rare to see from Mame. It's not one of her go-to's and so I was actually really surprised at how many people saw Nuea as 'innocent' (read virginal) or naive. We saw a similar reaction with Sky, this idea that he's an innocent little lamb, and I kind of figured that was because that's what Rain was. Rain was clearly modeled to be this sort of ingénue-style character, young, wide-eyed, innocent to an extent, but also experimental, not constrained by societal boundaries. But what the first encounter with Prapai showed was that he was not only not innocent, but experienced. Now granted many of his experiences were likely awful and traumatic, but Gun likely didn't got straight from 1 to 100, abusers rarely do, but there's also no clarity at all on whether Sky had any other intimate partners of his own choosing, whether a relationship or just another one-night stand. But circling back to my actual point, I think there are many viewers for which LITA was their first experience with Mame, and they believe Rain to be the blueprint for her 'bottoms' when in reality he's an outlier.

How this affects the perception of Nuea, is that since he is shown to be a fairly quiet, sensitive, kind person, some viewers began making assumptions. They assume that he's not physically experienced, that he's submissive, or even shy, and that's not really the case. We don't see much to indicate that at all in the show. He's very vocal for a lot of the show. He expresses his concerns to his boss freely, without concern for reprisal, and this certainly due at least in part to the type of boss she is, but even if she were some angry, obstinate crone, I doubt that would have stopped him. He's very vocal and honest in his conversations with Lom all through the series. He doesn't put up with any of Lom's rich/privileged BS. His kindness and empathy throughout is more a show of strength than anything. He's able to pretty easily get the results he wants without being rude, or mean. Even in his frustration with Lom, he's not vicious, but exasperated, reacting to Lom's childishness more like an exhausted nanny than anything else.

Nuea is confident, like really confident. He's confident in his abilities and skill at work. He's a confident gay man, he doesn't shy away from sex. His hesitation in regards to sleeping with Lom initially is based only on his knowledge of the likely fall-out (especially emotionally). Once we get to this most recent episode it's very clear that he has no hesitation in being an active and passionate partner.

I'm willing to bet after the absolute boss way that he shut down that shitty orchard customer, that we may see his confidence make an appearance next week in regards to Lom and Yiwa's mothers acting like petulant toddlers.

I think it's also important to remember that while he is younger than Lom (his actor is actually younger than ALL of the LITA boys), he's not actually all that young. While ages and timelines are pretty vague in the Mame-verse, Prapai should be about 30 in the Wedding Plan, and Lom is meant to have been his junior while they were getting their Masters, so he's probably 27-ish. Nuea, having attended university and worked as an event planner for several years is probably 25. He's not a child, and their age difference is practically negligible. Again, I feel this is an assumption based on the idea that LITA is the norm, when it's very much not. All of Mame's other main couples (in shows) have either been the same age, or with in a year or two of each other.

So while Lom may have some power/privilege over Nuea, it's very much situational and based on him being 'employed' by him, which is something that we as the audience know he could change if he really wanted to. We see that P'Im is more than willing to go to bat for her employees, Lom wouldn't be able to pull a Karen and get him fired, or forced to work with him. And while Lom is rich, Nuea's family has a generational business and owns a large amount of property. It's not the same level of rich by any means, Lom essentially has fuck you money, but it's still not like Nuea would be without resources and support if he chose to quit his job or leave Bangkok.

Also, the fact that he gets upset or cries over Lom, doesn't make him 'weak.' I've not heard anyone say that directly, but it's been implied. It's not weak for a man to be able to recognize and express his emotions. That's toxic masculinity bullshit, and we certainly don't want to be putting that pressure on characters that are actively defying it.

I guess in conclusion, my point is that Nuea is a bad-ass, the best kind of bad-ass even, one with a kind heart, and that he's more than capable of standing up for himself both in general and with Lom.

As a final note, what I realized watching episode 3 is that Lom 10000% has a competency kink, and further watching of the show only confirms that. He first encounters Nuea while he works at Pai's wedding and immediately begins lusting. The wedding suit try-ons where he looks at Nuea after learning he took pictures of each choice so that you don't have to try something on over and over again. He gets riled up watching him do the event where Payu proposes. He falls even harder watching Nuea put the creep in his place. Like...he just loves watching his man get shit done, and I respect (and understand) that.

[xstarkillerx]

just read ur post about a smaller person tryna dom ani… and while I agree with how you describe him, I feel like ppl forget how whipped this man becomes when in love 😭 he kisses the floor you’d walk on. If you asked him to let you dom (or he’d want you to anyways cuz he has major mommy issues and wants to be cared for) he would say yes! Plus, his need for approval, love, attention, and belonging are literally causing this too. If you were unsatisfied or angry with him he would quite literally die inside a bit and probably beg for another chance “ok fine please I’ll let you pls please please don’t- don’t leave me”. Even with padme this man was insecure and thinking she would leave him/cheat on him, now imagine his reaction if reader was like “fine” he would overthink and get paranoid as hell. Or if you were unsatisfied with his performance he would take out his anger during sex tryna prove that he is good and then prob cry afterwards 💀💀💀. Anyways I fully believe that anakin would let his lover dom him no matter how short LMAOOO. I could do a whole character analysis on this subject but you already are very well versed with his characterization/psyche. Pls feel free to add on or anything, I eat up anything idc what it is 😭

Source: How to Dom Anakin when you're shorter than him

I mean this kindly anon, I think you might have a bit of a misguided understanding of both the original post and Anakin's character.

The original ask sent wasn't asking wehether or not Anakin would take a submissive role, because he would it's pretty well agreed upon that he switches, it was actually expressing a desire for a specific kind of dominance over him that OP felt they wouln't be able to achieve becaue of their height. As stated in the original answer, there are many many different types of dominant styles, OP specifically wanted physical dominance, as stated "i just wanna pounce and wrestle him into submission before fucking his brains out." So the point of the post wasn't if you want to dominate Anakin you have to do it physically because otherwise he won't let you, the point was if you want to dominate him physically when you're short it becomes a mental game because you will lose the physical game. You said "I fully believe that anakin would let his lover dom him no matter how short," and I agree because that's exactly what happened in the original post. Do you think for a second Anakin couldn't get out of that position if he wanted to? He's a 6 foot something martial artist, everything that happened in that scenario is something he let happen willingly, the ask to dominate was just said gradually through body language rather than verbally. There was so "Anakin can I dom you tonight?" because that's lazy writing, instead the question was asked when she led him away from his work, and then it was asked again when she got on top of him, and then it was asked again when she teased him to the point of wanton-ness, and then it was asked again when she pinned his arms down. Anakin let himself be dominated and of course he did, it's in his nature, just because it's a playful dom/sub exhange with a very gradual lending of power rather than something swift and explicit as a verbal agreement does't mean he was tricked. Sexually I think Anakin is receptive to most things on all points of the Dom Sub spectrum because he is such a person of intensity, he could take masochism, he could take could take soft dominance, casual dominance, strict dominance, tbh I just think he wouldn't do good with neglect or human furniture stuff because that's a little too vulnrable.

Anakin is an interesting character because there are a lot of things he tells himself and if the audience doesn't think critically about them, they will just believe blindly. Anakin is not a man who would do anything for love, although it might seem that way with all he's risked in the name of his marriage, it's actually more complex than that. the thing he would actually do anything for is power and he uses love as his scapegoat. He killed children in the name of saving his marriage but he wouldn't leave the jedi in the name of saving his marriage, why? Because power was more important to him than love, he liked being a soldier, he loved being a general he liked being a jedi because he liked the ower it gave him, he's a sith after all. Killing padme was a decision he regretted for the rest of his life but it's still a decision he made. The dark side doesn't control your mind, it makes you give up on your moral code so you release you inhibitions and humanity. Anakin choked his pregnant wife, what does that tell you about about the way he kissed the ground she walked on. He wanted to believe he was a man who would do anything for love, that is the narrative he sold himself over and over and over and over, but he chose palpatine over his marriage.

"If you were unsatisfied or angry with him he would quite literally die inside a bit and probably beg for another chance 'ok fine please I’ll let you pls please please don’t- don’t leave me,"

Maybe when he was a bit younger, but I believe Anakin would sooner threaten you than beg you to stay. Actually he would say he doesn't understand why you feel this way, and then he would tell you all the reasons you're wrong for feeling this way, and then he would lash out at you. Anakin doesn't really ever apologize and mean it because he never really believes he's wrong. He's been set apart his entire life, told he's special, been naturally very gifted and this bred extreme entitlement in him, that's why he's always going against protocol, he thinks his way is better than the establshed infrastructure. He definitely is insecure I'll give you that, but his response to insecurity is posession and rage, not apology and attonement and certainly not begging. In the ROTS novelization, there ae times where Anakin makes Padme feel like a bug in her own home because of the way he expresses his beliefs. He doesn't really have any submissive tendencies in his every day life despite his ability to switch in the bedroom, until it comes to palpatine who validates him and waves power in his face like a carrot on a stick. I don't necessarily think he's approval seeking either because he thinks he's above the sytem, his pettiness about wanting the rank of master wasn't because he wanted the council's approval it's because he wanted power and influence, the council already approved of him, he was on the council.

Anyway, a lot has changed about the way I write Anakin since writing that post, but I still think it holds water as a fun domestic physical domination scenario with Anakin.

[quitealotofsodapop]

So will Jade faced princess ever be mentioned in your au? Since LMK kinda goes "Don't trust history" I like to imagine she was just Red's babysitter and people assumed she was a mistress

Oh man I went down a fox-hole with this. I find her potiential as a character so good for the LMK verse. She could be a villain, an ally, a general, or in my personal fave idea: Ultimate Auntie. (One of my fave interpetations is by @harveylikestoart).

So my idea for Princess Jade Face / Jade Faced Princess / Yu Mian Gongzhu is this:

Birth name is Ruan Yu (soft jade/nephirite), but goes by Jade to her friends, and Auntie to anyone she deems younger than her.

Appearance wise: she's a humanoid fox spirit/Huli-Jing with dark green hair, pale skin, and big green eyes. Loves wearing really old fashioned long-sleeved hanfu that trail behind her (mostly to shield her tails without glamour), and is hyper-feminine. Wears obnoxiously patterned cheongsams while out and about.

Has a "feral" form of an eight-tailed dark green fox. She mostly shifts into this form for comfort. Think of the shapeshifter equivalent of taking off your bra after work.

She's a minor royal of a big family of fox demons. Same family as Jin & Yin's (+ Lin the accountant's) mom actually! She likes visiting them whenever she's in the city.

Knew DBK long before the Brotherhood days. They were childhood best friends in the Underworld who got mistaken for a couple a lot (cus "a guy and a girl can't just be friends" obvs /sarcasm). When PIF came along, Jade was one of DBK's biggest hypemen.

Her dynamic with DBK and PIF is essentially an older Traffic Light Trio, with her as the Mei. Green coded, high energy, and adored mutually by the others.

Because of her chill nature and hyper-fem style, people assume she's dumber than she actually is. She plays up her more "Barbie" qualities when she's tricking people/gaining information.

She's ridiculously good at handling babies and toddlers since she grew up with so many little nieces/nephews/niblings. When baby Red got fussy, a little visit from Auntie Jade immediately perked him up.

Wasn't an "active" member of the Brotherhood back in the day, but was a big supporter and intelligence gatherer. She almost got charged with treason after Sun Wukong's imprisonment, but PIF covered for her - despite their first impressions not being so great. She offically left the Brotherhood after Princess Iron Fan and Demon Bull King's engagement.

Was really sad alongside PIF and DBK when Red Son/Boy got taken to the Southern Seas by Guanyin to rein in his emotions. The "affair" mentioned in JttW wasn't an affair at all, but a human misinterpetation of how DBK was helping out his homie emotionally. Jade never forgave the writer for branding her as DBK's mistress.

Is extremely doting and embarassing to Red Son even when he's an adult. She's practically his second mother. Cheek pinching, calling him "kit", saying that he needs to eat more food, sharing baby photos with his friends etc...

The "Jade" in her name is not only a reference to her dark green hair/fur. Her family are Rock/Earth-type demons. She was so good at handling Red as a baby since fire doesn't bother her as much. She also owns a fox mask made of literal jade that she wore back in the Brotherhood days to hide her identity she thought looked mysterious and dramatic.

Doesn't have an actual spouse or biological kids of her own. She's happy being the best unmarried Auntie she can to all the kids.

Will def appear later in the "Monkey King and the Infant"-verse as Red's fave Auntie. Once PIF has "picked up" (read: kidnapped) Red back from the Southern Seas, Jade is immediately called in for babysitting backup.

She and Macaque became friends again on accident while working at the theatre together. She's part of the costume and makeup department, and it took them a few crossed paths to finally recognise one another. She is def partially to blame for Red's flair for dramatics.

Has a particular grudge against Zhu Bajie for whacking her with the rake. Has a nasty scar that starts on the back of her head down to her shoulder blades from the fight. Was extremely cold towards Pigsy before she realised (very embarassed) that he was just Bajie's decendant.

Initially disliked Sun Wukong when they reunited, but quickly it became clear that the the two's more loud, reckless natures bounced off one another. Are rivals for the title of "Best Babysitter".

Spoils baby MK and the other kids rotten. Doesn't matter if the baby is a mystic monkey, dragon, cat demon, human, or demon bull calf; baby is baby.

Takes an obscene amount of luggage with her no matter where she goes. Is "hairdryer in her purse" kind of prepared.

Yips when she's excited/happy. Also chirps in response to Baby MK's monkey chirping. The language crossover of fox and monkey sounds is surprising.

Voice claim: Diane Morgan/Philomena Cunk. She has a softer British accent compared to her related demon niblings. Red Son may or may not have developed his accent from her.

Gosh I love weird women characters.

[seabysiren]

141 Task Force Streamer AU!!!

the ghost force channel began with just you and Simon in the beginning. simon came to you with a proposal after hearing some of his coworkers chatting idly on their break.

simon works his ass off since graduation. he had to. to get him mom out of that hell hole. to help his drug addict of a brother.

normally he would’ve rolled his eyes at the slackers, but the conversation caught his interest. that someone could make a living off of playing video games and whatever else. (he had to search up markiplier and pewdiepie to fully understand)

simon had to ask you about the idea. he wasn’t the best versed in technology, nor did he have good, working computer. (each time he booted up the old hand me down laptop it sounded like it was about to blast off into space.)

you had jumped at the idea. you nodded happily as he slowly explained what he had overheard. then shyly asked if he could borrow your pc.

it was kinda funny though. simon would whip out his glasses and squint at the screen as you taught him the basics of how to video record and download games.

when you first opened the editing software he just slowly looked at you. blinking slowly like a cat. there was no way he was gonna be able to understand all this.

so you promised you would learn just for him.

it took a few recordings of you and him messing around to finally get him comfortable talking into a microphone. because this man doesn’t talk. he just sits in silence and observes most of the time.

you jokingly call him grandpa. in return he just gives you this dead stare.

it took a lot of time to think about the channel name. simon didn’t want it to sound dumb, nor too try hard. (you teased him about the new lingo)

he settled with ghost. because if this didn’t work out, he would just disappear. and because this was a side gig, something bound to fail.

you tacked on force at the end because you knew. you knew that whoever was going to watch his first video is gonna be a simp. I mean, have you heard his voice??

the first video recording was around thirty minutes of good old minecraft. seemed popular enough. and paired with simon’s deep voice and his dry humor, it was all set to go.

you reassuringly rubbed his back when he posted the first video. you could see in his eyes and from the way he wrung his hands he was a bit nervous.

that same day you ushered him home to rest.

that same night was when it began.

the simping.

you had to filter the majority of the comments in the beginning because you just didn’t have the heart to show him all the thirsty comments about his raspy, deep voice.

he was just happy to have a bit of extra cash. that he didn’t have to work himself to the bone if this channel grew.

and grew it did.

not only was everyone really liking his voice, but also his dry ass humor and dark jokes. coupled with the fact that for some reason he was really good at learning game mechanics, you were able to easily record and edit.

him angrily clicking on the red bed and being told there’s monsters nearby.

“good night moon. good night tree. good night zombie that i cant see but i fucking know you’re there.”

fucking hates dating sims. but his audience thinks it’s funny for him to dryly play the protagonist.

“goddamn it i dont wanna fuckin’ talk to you ya bloody muppet.”

he’s not allowed to play dream daddy anymore from the pure frustration that radiates off him. that and because you don’t want his blood pressure to rocket.

loves lying and tricking his viewers. makes up the most absurd background information about himself because he just thinks it’s funny.

“i wasn’t born for this fuckin romance. i was born for politics. been told i have great hair and i love lying.”

you chime in every once in a while and have funny little text chat comments. especially when you have a counter about the amount of times he insults something with the word muppet.

he’s british. his accent is too powerful for the simps. there are too many videos making fun of his british-ness. next video title is called damn Americans reviewing all their stupidity in return.

you call his fan base little poltergeists because damn do they make a tonna noise. their so vocal about his voice and dry humor. that and because they love clowning on him.

he gets bullied for playing valorant instead of apex. in return he mops the floor with anyone who stream snipes his games.

loves mystery games. and action games. anything in general he can shoot and lie and absolutely destroy other players

he’s a little too good at among us to be healthy.

overall 10/10 recommend coparenting a channel together with simon.

ps he’s known for this one quote that went viral.

“im going to defeat you with the power of friendship… and this knife I just found.”

part II