#Dove symbiosis

[monards]

voice cracking, on the floor shaking with tears falling down my face “oh, okay.”

[thespianinthebackcorner]

I'm sorry but this picture is literally

>:^

>:3

[wiretism]

soc x symbiosis

[mchib]

Didn’t know what to do with the empty space so there’s a heartfelt message for my favorite spicaze game enjoyer

[ursas-arts]

Yuri Mangas....

[joshuakellin]

Some Falsettos lyrics that r extremely Dovenolia coded

[sugoi-and-spice]

perfect, just perfect...

Serial Killer!Dabi x Reader x Serial Killer!Shigaraki

Summary: In which Dabi and Tomura Shigaraki are women-targeting serial killers and do what serial killers do. That’s it. That’s the fic.

CW: Quirkless!AU, Serial Killers/Slashers!AU, Explicit Smut, Non-Con/Rape, Kidnapping, Physical Abuse, Rough Sex, Asphyxiation, Mysoginy, Dead Dove: Do Not FUCKING Eat

A/N: Hey,, remember when I was gonna do a Halloween AU series? Neither do I!! Anyway, here's my first entry in my own event - out of order!! Enjoyyyy. (or not, this one's pretty gnarly ngl lol)

Cross-Posted on AO3

“P-Please… Stop, please…”

A smack. A loud one. Sounded like it was right across the face, and Dabi wouldn’t doubt if it was. Shigaraki really liked to mess up the face.

“Oh come on, you can beg better than that.”

“N-No, I— I…”

“No no — I know you can. You just were begging— begging fucking amazing too. Come on. Do it, you worthless slut.”

Dabi rolled his eyes, taking a drag from his cigarette as he stood watch outside the reconstructed Toyota Hiace they made their base of operations. One they’d gutted the seats out of to make room for a full-size mattress and some metal grating dividing the front seats from the back. 

A killing machine.

They parked it outside the city, in an endless valley of nature only ever occupied by a few off the grid campers. Ones that wouldn’t be suspicious of a lone van and two men in the middle of nowhere. They were also ones who typically had very few connections back home.

Who nobody would miss if they saw too much.

“Oi— I’m talking to you, slut! Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

Jesus, this must’ve been the thirtieth time that Shigaraki called her a slut this session. How uncreative could one demented incel be? He’d kind of expected more from the bastard…

Truth be told, he didn’t particularly like his partner in crime. They weren’t friends, they were barely even acquaintances. But they were kindred spirits. Two particularly violent young men who’d met on a particularly violent darknet forum about women.

And the inhumane positions they’d love to put them in.

Of course, just because they both lived for the end result, didn’t mean that they agreed on the journey there. 

Shigaraki was a raging misogynist and by-the-book incel. He despised women, wanted to take revenge on them for everything he felt they did wrong to him. He wanted to make them bleed because he wanted to make them hurt. Because he was full of anger and disgust and hate. 

Dabi was the opposite. He loved women. The unique beauty of every single one, the range of emotions they showed in their darkest, most desperate moments. Emotions he himself was never allowed to show. Ugh, the euphoria of it all. He loved women so much he wanted to see every part of them.

Including their insides.

“Come on you ugly fuck!” Shigaraki snapped from inside the van, “Scream! It’s all you’re fucking good for!”

…Truth be told, Dabi wasn’t sure why exactly he’d partnered up with Shigaraki of all people. He’d been looking for a co-pilot for this sick and twisted little endeavor of his for a while, and there had been many others in the forums who probably would’ve been better fits personality-wise, who seemed more agreeable. Guys who weren’t so picky about the girls they picked, who didn’t grumble and gripe when it came time to finally cleaning up their mess, who didn’t use the “standing watch” excuse when it came to carrying the bodies to the disposal spots. 

Who didn’t put their disgusting fucking feet on his dashboard…

That being said, while they both lived almost exclusively on the other’s last nerve, they also had a strange, almost psychic symbiosis. They balanced each other out. Dabi was emotional and passionate, often getting over-excited by the next prospective victim, moved so intensely by his passion upon seeing a new girl walking down the street or sitting at the bar that he wanted to grab them right there and then. Shigaraki on the other hand was meticulous and paranoid, holding him back until he was absolutely sure that they wouldn’t get caught. 

He kept them careful at the beginning of the kill. 

Whereas Dabi, who truly believed that he held a lot of deep respect for the women they abducted, wanted to be careful with their bodies after the fact. Shigaraki grew bored easily and completely. He often wanted to just dump the bodies down a valley or in a back alley and move onto the next one. A broken toy wasn’t worth another second in his mind. But Dabi wanted better for the girls. He wanted them to have a proper burial. Deep, deep in the ground where nobody else could ever find them. 

He kept them careful at the end of the kill.

Dabi exhaled a long stream of smoke as he considered where their latest little sylph would be buried. They had passed a grove of what looked like magnificent spider lilies on the way out of town.

Maybe he was thinking too much into all this, he kind of had to whenever it was Shigaraki’s turn. The brutish way in which he handled and defiled these girls, it always made Dabi contemplate just what redeeming factor he had ever seen in the guy. 

And then he’d hear them, the screams Shigaraki managed to rip out of their victims. Screams that only came from a level of brutality Dabi would never be able to inflict himself. They were so unique, so beautiful, so perfect . And they were sounds that he’d never be able to hear if it weren’t for Shigaraki.

Truthfully, that alone was worth the endless collection of crushed Monster cans that littered the floor of his van.

It had gotten pretty quiet in there now. The screams, the pleading, even the choked little sobs of self-pity, all muted to nothing. There was only the creaking of tired mattress springs, Shigaraki’s heavy breathing and grunting, and the occasional sound of a slap followed by irritated mumbling. Yeah, she was losing all will to fight. Which meant it was just about time for—

“Oi,” Shigaraki snapped as if on cue, throwing the van door open, “She’s no fun anymore. You take her.”

Dabi took a long last drag of his cigarette, watching as Shigaraki climbed out and readjusted himself in his pants. His partner-in-crime gave him a weirded, disgusted look at the way he took his time.

“What’re you fucking staring at me for? You want me to off her or something?”

 Dabi waved him off, tossing his cigarette to the ground and stepping it out, “Nah, nah. I’m on it.”

“Hop to it then,” Shigaraki barked, crossing his arms and leaning against the passenger door of the van, “We’ve been here long enough already.”

“And who’s fault is that?” Dabi retorted as he stepped into the van.

Shigaraki whipped around, “Get bent!”

“I’m trying to,” Dabi threw right back, slamming the van door closed behind him.

He quickly pulled back his cool once he was inside. It really was amazing how quickly and effectively Shigaraki pissed him off. But he knew he needed to simmer it. He didn’t want to let his own anger and hate slip out too much in front of his newest precious angel. He’d hate to scare her off.

Dabi turned back to her with a small, but reassuring smile, “Hello.” 

Of course, she didn’t respond, didn’t even bother to look at him. 

She laid in more or less the same position he’d left her to Shigaraki in. Arms and legs pulled wide, cuffed to the rods mounted on each side of the van. Her once smooth and spotless skin was now swollen and purple, black and yellow in some places even, where Shigaraki had managed to break a rib and an ankle. Dry blood caked her nose and the corner of her mouth while fresh blood seeped onto the mattress out of recent scratches and cuts Shigaraki had inflicted in a last ditch effort to make her wail again.

None of that bothered him though, quite the opposite actually. He loved a roughed up woman, one at her most natural and vulnerable. It was the beauty that got him into this in the first place. No, what Dabi turned his nose up at was Shigaraki’s loads spilling out of her abused pussy, all onto her raw, reddened thighs and the crumpled tear-stained sheets. 

Ugh, see this is why he’d said no when Shigaraki asked if they should get an apartment together. The motherfucker never cleaned up after himself.

“P-Please…”

Dabi turned his attention back to her face, to her eyes, dull and lifeless, staring right through the back wall of the van.

“Just kill me already…”

Oh, this sweet thing, he thought, tilting his head at her sympathetically.

He climbed onto the mattress next to her then, resting a hand gently on her hip, careful not to put any pressure on the bruises littered there. She didn’t even flinch when he did it. She was that far gone.

“Kill you?” he asked, curiosity far from feigned.

“Aren’t you those serial killers that have been on the news lately? The ones that—” she couldn’t even finish. The fate that she knew of being too much to leave her throat.

“Huh. Are we now?” he said, mostly to himself as he had a real epiphany from those words. So they were serial killers, were they? 

Yeah, he could work with that…

She buried her head into the mattress, trying to muffle the dry sobs from ducts that had long gone barren.

“Please, if you’re gonna do it then just do it already! I can’t go on anymore! I can’t take it…”

He ran the back of his hand slowly, whisperingly down her cheek, “Talk to me beautiful. Tell me how I can make this better.”

This finally got something out of her. A snort of sick, stupid amusement, weak and wheezy.

“God, what fucking game are you two playing? Some sick good killer, bad killer shtick?”

Dabi smiled. She sure was spunky. Even now. What a lovely quality.

“No,” he breathed, dusting feather light kisses down her neck, her chest, that sweet, soft tummy… “No games.”

He buried his nose into the crux her thigh, reveling in the heat and tremble of her raw, abused thighs.

“W-What are you doing?!” she gasped, a whole new flavor of fear coating her voice.

“Just relax,” he purred, kissing a path all the way to her center, “I’m not gonna hurt you…”

She cried out as he licked up the length of her cunt, flicking the stud in his tongue against her clit playfully when he got there. She tried to move her hips away from him, still completely baffled and terrified by not knowing what he was going to do to her, but thanks to her restraints, the struggle only ended up pushing her hips closer to Dabi’s lips in a grind motion. A wanting motion. 

It spurred him on to pleasure her further as the delusion of her reciprocation had him falling utterly in love.

Shigarai’s spunk was still slipping out of her, heavy and salty on his tongue as he buried it deeper inside her, but that didn’t matter. Her own sweetness overpowered it, those resistant sobs overpowering all of his senses, sending him into a delirium of pleasure.

Fuck, how much he wanted to throw her legs up over his shoulders, coil his arms tight around her and devour her, but he resisted. He knew how raw and wounded she was, and all he wanted from her now was a fraction of the bliss that she was giving him.

“P-Please! I don’t— nngh! ”

Her sounds were brand new now — constant choked sobs of despair and self-hatred over the way her body reacted against her will. She was so raw and oversensitive from Shigaraki’s brutal treatment, Dabi’s own gentle, devoted ministrations had her ankles straining up painfully against her restraints as she came in mere minutes.

Dabi pulled away, a crooked, love-drunk smile on his face as he watched her trembling chest rise and fall, listened to the sweet serenade of her wheezing breaths.

He hummed happily as he pulled himself back up to her level. He cupped his hand gently along her cheek.

“You have a beautiful voice.”

She snapped back to him, anger tearing violently through her “afterglow”.

“ Fuck you .” she quite literally spat, a newfound fire within her that set his own body ablaze.

Dabi brought a thumb to his cheek, stroking the spit she’d hurled at him to the corner of his own mouth. His tongue reached to meet it, and he shuddered as both of her tastes mingled on his palate.

Fuck, he couldn’t hold back any longer. He quickly back onto his haunches, trying to not let his desperation to be inside her rush or roughen his movements. He still wanted her to enjoy this, but it was taking every bit of self-control he could muster not to blow his load over the sound of her voice alone.

“W-Wait!” she yelped out, as she felt him line himself up at her entrance, “You said you wouldn’t hurt me!”

“I won’t sweetheart,” he breathed, easing his cockhead in slowly, “I promise this won’t hurt.”

“But it does! You doing this now— you’re hurting me!”

He groaned as her heat completely engulfed him. Between the mix of her own arousal and Shigaraki’s, and the desperate pulsing of her insides, post-orgasm, he barely even had to push his hips. 

“There’s no need to lie now, your body’s completely giving you away,” he grinned, dropping his forehead to rest against hers, “Your pussy is sucking me right in.”

She choked out a sob as he rocked out of her just barely, then buried himself again, somehow deeper than before.

“ Fuck —” he groaned, “I couldn’t pull out if I tried. Your body just wants me that bad. Doesn’t it baby?”

She tried to stifle a moan as his soft yet sturdy thrusts hit that perfect angle inside of her. She managed to keep the pleasure of the sound locked in the base of her throat, allowing out only a stilted and very unladylike grunt in its place.

The horrid little sound didn’t put Dabi off in the slightest though. If anything, it endeared him. He smiled, almost giddily, as he watched that strain and struggle coarse through her. She really was perfect no matter what she did, wasn’t she?

They all were, after all.

“How does it feel, sweetheart?” he urged her again between thrusts, “Do you like it like this? Does it feel good?”

“N-No, it doesn’t…” she whimpered out hoarsely, that momentary fire from before quickly extinguishing as she felt her dignity once again slipping away “Just stop…”

Dabi’s brows pinched disappointedly, hips slowing to a near-stop. 

“You don’t like it like this? Soft and sweet?”

She looked back up at him, confusion creasing her own cute little face.

His hand on her hip started to tighten, nails digging deliberately into the meat of her hip, “Maybe then you liked Shigaraki’s way better…”

Her eyes widened.

“Well I can certainly do that too,” he breathed, hip suddenly snapping painfully into her.

“N-No!” she yelped, “No, please I—!” she squeezed her eyes closed tight, trying to hold back her tears, as a particularly rough thrust jostled her broken rib painfully, “I want it soft! It felt so good what you were doing before! Please! ”

“Are you sure?” Dabi tilted his head, pounding hips having yet to slow, “Don’t just say that because you think it’s what I want. This is supposed to be good for the both of us.”

“I-I’m not! Really, I mean it! I want it soft, please!” she cried out, “Please! Fuck me soft, g-gentle! Just—!”

His hips finally eased to a soft roll.

“...yeah?”

She opened her eyes then, and instantly her blood ran cold. His voice was soft and romantic, he’d gotten that part of his act down to a science, but clearly he hadn’t quite figured out how to keep that sadistic fervor from his face. 

His eyes were wide, pupils blown. He was clearly trying to keep his smile even and comforting, but he couldn’t fight the way those corners twitched higher and higher, teeth grinding and showing through harder and clearer. 

Just a horrible face. 

This man was clearly no more a voice of reason than his more blatantly violent partner outside. He too was clearly deranged, a powder keg. Completely unpredictable.

And that made him a thousand times scarier.

Dabi leaned in closer to her, fighting to keep the manic tremble from his voice, “You want me to make love to you?” 

She gulped hard, desperate to keep the absolute terror from her voice, “Y-Yes. Please… M-Make love to me…”

He stared down at her for a long moment, utterly reveling in those words long enough for her to start panicking that maybe she’d said the wrong thing. 

But thankfully — god, she couldn’t believe she was thinking that — they were exactly the words he wanted to hear. He dropped his head down into her chest, groaning unabashedly as he began to hump into her again, slower for sure, but also deeper. With his entire body and being.

“Fuck, yeah… Yeah baby. Anything you want. I’ll do anything you fucking want…”

She choked out a joyless laugh at that. Anything she wanted, huh? What a fucking joke.

“You’re so good, fuck— perfect . And you too— it’s good for you? Come on tell me baby. I wanna hear how good I make you feel—”

“Uh-huh, it’s good…” she said flatly as she slipped into dissociation.

She stared up at the same tear in the headliner she’d tried to focus on by the end of Shigaraki’s torture, thinking about how oddly shaped it was. Those kinds of tears were usually outright holes, maybe with a flap of fabric hanging off of it. Or maybe it’d be just a little tear, a small line practically unnoticeable in the dim light of this van. But this one was different. Long and unnatural, it almost looked like a big Frankenstein surgical stitch. Or like the dermal piercings running up her captor’s cheeks—

Fuck. Her eyes fell back on her captors flushed, blissed out face. The electric blue of his eyes, the babbling growls spilling from his lips. She was having a much harder time tuning the pleasure out with this man than she’d had tuning out the pain with the previous one, and she didn’t know why.

Maybe it was because he was kind of her type. That’s exactly what she’d thought when he leaned out of the car window to ask her for directions after all. Watching him move over her like this, leaning down to catch her lips passionately with his own more frequently as time went on she couldn’t help but picture an alternate universe. 

One where he really had been asking for directions to the beach. Where he’d been alone in his car rather than having a freak friend in the back, lying in wait. And where she’d been standing on the well-trafficked main street just a couple blocks down instead of in front of the empty alleyway she’d been smoking a blunt in when he’d stopped. 

A universe where they’d flirted and hit it off and exchanged phone numbers and eventually he’d taken her on a date rather than just taken her. Where these sweet nothings and pleasurable rolls of his hips were accompanied with champagne and room service rather than rope and broken bones.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she pictured it all, what a wonderful life this could’ve been.

“Shhh, shh, shhh,” he cooed, “It’s okay. You’re so perfect, it’s okay…”

But that only caused her to sob harder, face reddening voice straining as she wailed uncontrollably. She didn’t even notice Dabi’s hand slipping up along her body and up to the base of her neck.

His thumb settled snug into that soft, sensitive dip of her throat.

God, she was crying so hard now, she couldn’t breathe.

And then he started to squeeze.

Wait, no, really. She couldn’t fucking breathe —!

She gasped out suddenly, arms instinctually shooting forward to try and force his hand off, but she was once again denied by her restraints. She quickly shifted gears, thrashing her body up and down wildly. And for a moment, she did loosen his grip.

But then he brought his second hand to her throat, pushing her deeper into the mattress.

“Perfect,” he growled through the steady snapping of his hips, “So fucking perfect…”

Her throat bobbed and begged as he constricted his hands tighter, getting lost in the song of her voice getting steadily higher, weaker, until she couldn’t form a word at all, could only gurgle and croak desperately. 

“Oh yeah, just like that. Be good for me baby,” he groaned, “Be good…”

He couldn’t say that this was the best part of these excursions, he savored every moment of it after all. 

…But there was something particularly special about these last few moments. 

It was so rare that anybody actually got to witness them, let alone experience them with their own hands — this perfect feeling of her body both tightening and going pliant around him, stiff and spasming, not to mention the view of it all that sent him barrelling frantically towards his release.

Fuck, she was so pretty! The way her drool spilled out her mouth, all gurgled and frothy. That lovely shade of blue she was starting to turn. The rabid fear that filled those eyes before they started to roll back — fuck even the pink undersides of her eyes were cute. He wondered what the backs of them, the optic nerves, looked like. He was sure they’d be adorable. 

He couldn’t wait to see.

[longlivethewildernessyet]

It is very interesting to me that Even in Arcadia's (the title track and the album, I think) flower seems to be Blackthorn.

Blackthorn has a long, long history in folklore, often associated with witchcraft and magic. It's known as "Mother of the Woods," or "Dark Crone of the Woods," apparently, and was said to have been used for wands and staffs. In the tale of Sleeping Beauty, it's Blackthorn that the prince must fight through. It's also one of those flowers that poets describe their loves like; eyes as dark as a sloe, skin as pale as the flower.

I can see the immediate connection to Sleep Token with magic. Sleep Token's stringent lore seems to often imply a level of magical interference. It would make sense, also, with the teasers put out featuring knights and fantastical creatures, that there would also be witches. It's all looking very Arthurian. I wonder if Morgan le Fay will make an appearance. The love poetry and romantic fairy tales also make sense. Vessel's lyrics are often romantic in nature, even if that romance is tainted by toxicity and pain. He often draws on similar metaphors to old love poetry, too. Dark eyes, red lips, promises of bodily devotion and dedication. Also; "Mother of the Woods," God Mother? Stringent connection, but it's there.

Blackthorn often flowers during cold weather, a phenomenon that occurs after a "false spring," i.e., when winter seems to end but restarts a short time later. This period of cold weather has been called "Black Thorn Winter" by locals.

So whilst it's not unheard of for flowers to bud in cold weather, it's certainly not usual until spring really gets going. Blackthorn, to me, represents survival; it represents enduring winter, literal and proverbial. Vessel's moving from one season to another with Even In Arcadia. Winter to Spring. Blackthorn, with its false springs and Black Thorn Winters and stalwart endurance, is a flower that takes us from winter to spring. Even In Arcadia is following this very same transition.

Its wood is hardy and tough, and grows fast. Its a survivor of a plant and is often used for hedgerows— you cannot drive anywhere in England without seeing it somewhere on the motorway or in a country lane. Its fruit, the sloe, is said to be good for cleansing the blood. The pulp of the fruit's flesh can apparently stick your tongue to the roof of your mouth and your lips together (according to William Cobbett of 150 years ago)! It can also be used to make tonics for digestion and rheumatism.

Again, themes of survival and endurance. It's a very versatile wood, with plenty of uses besides looking absolutely gorgeous (no bias here). With EIA, we're seeing a Vessel who wants to survive, to endure, to emerge, to push past the Winters and False Springs to finally grow into Spring itself. The stark contrast between the hardy, tough purple-black bark and the delicate, snowy white flowers, especially in early spring when there's no leaves budding, also seems to feed into Sleep Token's themes of contrasting pairings. White roses, black doves, anyone? But, I think with EIA and the whole divide between HV and FH, we're actually being steered in the direction of not seeing these contrasted pairs as in competition but in symbiosis. Without the wood, there would be no flower, without the flower, there would be no wood, despite their apparent differences. Sloes being used to cleanse the blood is an interesting one. Sleep Token often references blood as a holy force, as food, as a sexual symbol, as a symbol of pain and torment and trauma. So, cleansing the blood could represent cleaning away (Infinite Baths) the past, the hurt, in order to start again (fruit giving way to rot to make way for new flowers again the following year). Its properties as a healing plant also point to concepts regarding new growth and healing from past illnesses and wounds.

My flower language book provides the following meanings for blackthorn: crone, stabilises emotions, stimulating, hope, joy, dark arts.

Hope and joy!!! Hope and joy everyone!!! I really think (and this is only a theory, a big big "if," so to speak) that EIA is going to be about enduring hardship and finding hope and joy despite the pain, despite past hurt. The final song is Infinite Baths, mysterious as the title is, it's blatantly also about cleansing, starting anew. Blackthorn is a spring flower— it heralds the season of growth and newness.

Bonus:

The hawthorn, which flowers after its leaves have budded (opposite to a blackthorn, which flowers then buds leaves) has a scent that is the exact same chemical as the one released first when animal tissue decays— trimethylamine. I found that out on a guided tree walk, and my first thought was "Vessel would so use that in a song."

The use of natural imagery in EIA's artwork really emphasises the idea of cycles that we're seeing over and over. Nature is inherently cyclical, and we see it in flowering plants the most. Flower, leaf, fruit, rot. Flower, leaf, fruit, rot. Over and over until the plant dies. And it's not negative, it's sustainable. Regenerative. It's growth.

Even in Arcadia may be an album of growth. Of regeneration after the rot.

[psycheetamore]

Punish me (part 1 of 3) – learning how to succumb to Feyd-Rautha’s process of redemption

Summary: you, a young Fremen woman, have not adhered to tradition. As punishment, your tribe sends you off to seek penance with Arrakis governor Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen. Since his rulership started, he has been all too happy to take the role to help redeem Fremen, as it has allowed him to create a symbiosis with the local population (and also sooth his own urges). Not really knowing what to expect, but having heard some stories relayed, you decide to follow through, in the hope of being accepted by your tribe again. But the process of redemption does not go as anticipated, not being kept as a mere slave for manual work. The na-Baron has taken interest in you, and decides to see how far he can push you, break you and rebuild you to his own corrupted liking through manipulation and deprivation. Split in 3 chapters as it got too long.

Notes: I was listening to my favourite song Bestrafe Mich from Rammstein on repeat, and thought to myself ‘I need to write this story’. The content was inspired by the ‘transformative process’ of Winston Smith of 1984, the will to live from Jigsaw and the lyrics of Kerosine (please treat this as a tag/trigger warning).

Tags for this chapter – additional tags in chapters 2 and 3: MDNI, Feyd-Rautha is his own trigger warning, manipulative Feyd, talkative Feyd, dominant Feyd, physically imposing Feyd, humiliating Feyd, oral demanding Feyd (as a tool of near-daily conditioning), nutritious black cum giving/weaponizing cum Feyd, food depriving Feyd, attention depriving Feyd, drugging Feyd, dubcon/noncon Feyd, no beta we die like duke leto. The author may actually start to have regrets looking at the tags (and the tags will get worse in the 2nd chapter)– I trust I do not need to add ‘dead dove don’t eat’ with all these tags. Tbh, this is absolute fey foul filth no-one should read

Word count: 5.3k

+++

You were disposed off at the steps to the palace of Carthag, used by Harkonnen rulership. You had two options: go back to the desert, where you would need to fend for yourself for the rest of your short life, or redeem yourself by entering this building where he ruled.

Your stubbornness had brought you here. Consequences not unknown, and willingly accepted, you had decided not to slay your fellow Fremen warrior after an altercation. Tradition dictated you should have. It was a way to plenish the subterrain water storages to make Arrakis green one day. By not fulfilling your task, you robbed your people from their future. You opened the door to unnecessary fights taunting hierarchy and tradition. You forced a fellow fighter to a life in shame rather than to die in honour. Still, at this moment you did not feel regret. Not yet.

Confident you made the right decision, you needed to follow through on the aftermath and went in. How bad could it be, what the imposed governor of this planet had to offer you? Already familiar and comfortable with hardship, the worst he could do was put you at work as a slave. Work in the spice refinement factories. You have heard stories of other Fremen having undergone his treatment, coming back salvaged and redeemed. They were not taken care of that badly, with regular food, shelter and even good access to water for Fremen standards. You knew not everybody returned, some choosing to stay in the employ of the na-Baron.

Your life would never be the same again.

Stepping into the fort, you were immediately surrounded by guards. It was still not an event that occurred every day: a Fremen partisan walking into the lion’s den.

After you were frisked and deprived from your weapons, you followed their path into the belly of the building: the throne room.

In this spacious room, filled with stone materials and beige colours, sitting at the top of imposing stairs leading to a throne, the na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen governed over Arrakis.

As you were pushed down with a sudden blow against the back of your knees, falling on all fours, he purred: “what brings you here, young woman?”

A deep, smoky voice. You hardly had a chance to look at him, as your head was pushed down by a guard shouting at you to avert your eyes. A voice, resonating from deep within what sounded like a powerful body, that was your first impression of him.

You gulped, followed by a blow against your shoulder from the guard for not answering quickly enough.

“Sir, I am here to repent” you answered.

Another blow on your ribs followed. “You will address the na-Baron with his correct title” the guard screamed at you.

“You are here to repent? Why?” he asked.

“I failed to follow traditions. I did not kill when required.” You reach for breath, long enough to justify a kick against your ribs. “Lord na-Baron” was what hastily left your voice.

“Hmm. Ancient, outdated traditions. But girl, if you need to kill, you need to kill” he said smoothly. He clearly enjoyed himself. “Do you want to be here?”

“Yes sir. Lord na-Baron” your answer replied, being somewhat startled by the question.

“I will offer you one chance to leave before your repentance commences. I will allow you to leave, now, with the clothes on your back and one day worth of water. You will receive your weapons and I will not hunt you down. Not before the day ends in any case. But you only get this offer now. Now, and, after your penance ends, if you survive.”

You briefly looked up, to see a pale smiling man with a tilted head. He was observing you. Looking at your reactions. Trying to read you. Trying to understand you.

“You see. You are not the first, nor the last being sent here to atone. You would not be the first to leave, nor the last, within minutes after having set foot in my house. However, you can only achieve forgiveness from your tribe through me. I am willing to offer this, which is reserved for the strongest.”

Perhaps ten seconds past. Ten long seconds. Ten long seconds during which you were gazing into his eyes, as he was gazing into yours. Mesmerised. Something in the whole situation, in addition to your choice to seek forgiveness, triggered a masochistic interest in you.

The smile slowly left his face, as sternness entered. “I did not allow you to look up. Guard.” This invited the guard to place his knee on your back, put all his weight on your frame, causing you to fall on your belly, barely allowing you to prevent your face from hitting the stone floor.

“I see you have made your decision. Guards” he instructed, as he waived his hand to have you taken away.

Another guard joined. With both of them clamping an arm under your armpit you were dragged away.

You did not know it yet, but this was the last time in a period of three standard-months that you would see any other living person than Feyd-Rautha.

+++

As if going through a light-barren maze, you finally reached your destination. Being carried through several adjacent rooms which were fitted out opulently, with carvings of the sacred worms on the walls, you were thrown into one of the few rooms that neighboured what appeared to be a place for night rest. The click of the lock was your cue to stand up and start exploring. Even if you had submitted yourself to servitude, you would not end up a reactive victim.

Getting up on your feet, you explored your new home. It was decorated scarcely, with a small bed, a table and a chair, and an adjacent small bathroom holding only a pit to the ground covered by a box with an opening, a pipe through which sand could be taken for cleaning purposes and a pile of rags. In total perhaps 15 or 20 square meters. There was one small window, looking out on training grounds.

The table held a few bits of food, in the form of dried meats and fruits, and a small container of water. As if your presence was expected.

Hours passed.

The night fell.

You could not catch sleep, the uncertainty being unnerving.

While the moons were at their highest peak, you decided to look outside. Think about you comrades and how they were doing. Whether they were gazing at the same stars as you.

Movement caught your eye. Several stories below you, you heard fighting. It appeared to be the na-Baron in close combat with another person, but you could only ever so often catch a glimpse of your host. After the young lord was worked to the ground, it appeared the other person extended their hand to help him up. A training, not a fight. They continued till dawn.

+++

As the star had hit its highest point, you were still to encounter any other person. You had succumbed to hunger and eaten half of what was provided.

+++

Before dusk you had submitted to sleep. Still unclear on what was to come, but no longer able to fight your fatigue.

+++

In the middle of the night, you woke up. Strange sounds were coming through the door. Panting. Gasping. Growling. Flesh hitting flesh. Signs of copulation. Screeches of pain. The sounds of hands and whips forcefully hitting bodily mass.

Suddenly you heard someone plead. A woman. Begging for mercy. Naming the person for whom the supplication was attended, the na-Baron.  A simple answer followed: “no”, spoken by him, “you have lost the right for redemption”. Succeeded by a blunt sound, as if a body hit the ground.

A few minutes later a door opened, and something entered the room next to yours. He spoke: “fresh meat my darlings.”

For what seemed an eternity sloppy sounds and animalistic growls creeped through the door to hit your ears. However, you tried to block the sounds of what appeared to be feasting, you failed.

It had you frozen in your bed, not making any sound or any movement, until hours had gone by in silence and you felt safe enough to get up.

That night you decided you would do everything to live. The gruelling end that you had heard taking place would not befall you.

+++

Another day passed, food and water depleted, physical drain setting in.

The evening started to set in, as the lock turned. Your visitor would find you in the comfort of your bed, where you had laid your tired body, not being quick enough to get up on your feet.

It was the owner of this very building that came in, carrying a basket and a second chair. Solemnly he walked to the table, where he placed the basket, as you sat hurdled up, protecting your legs with your arms, making yourself small. The chair was put near the other chair, at an angle of 90 degrees.

“Come here” he said, as he started to remove the items from the basket. He did not make any attempts to close the door.

Recalling how tardiness was treated just a few days earlier, bruises on your body being proof of that, you stood up immediately and approached with cautious steps. On the table food was displayed, plates, cups to hold drinks, cutlery. He drew one of the chairs out, to invite you to take a seat.

As he pushed you seated towards the table, he settled himself as well, and started to divide the food over the two plates between both of you.

“Do you know why you are sent here?” he asked.

You looked at him, as he pushed one of the plates towards you. “Eat”. Your eyes scanned him quickly, followed by your hand moving to gather some much-needed replenishment. “After you answer my question” he said with a smirk.

Itching with hunger, you quickly explained what had happened. Your answer ended with: “it could never be as bad as living with knowing I robbed children from their parent over an irrelevant discussion that got out of hand.”

He chuckled and nodded towards the plate, allowing you to dig in.

“I will explain why I am here, now, in this very room, Fremen women. It is all about symbiosis.”

You looked up at him, questioningly, while continuing to chew.

“Symbiosis. A cooperative relationship between me and the Fremen. I do not know whether it existed when my brother was still here. If I were Fremen, I would in any case not trust him enough for it” he grinned. “I also don’t know whether it existed before him, or when the Richese were in charge. When I was holding court, on an ordinary day, the first Fremen was sent to me. I first thought it was a trap. But as I continued to torture him, I started to be convinced it was true. It makes sense, for the superstitious people you are. I had thought about it, and decided to honour the request. It is an easy task for me, and ever since, the raids on my spice production have gone down. We have reached an equilibrium.”

“Sir…”

His face started to display his menacing side.

“Lord Harkonnen…”

“Better.”

“My lord Harkonnen, if I may ask? What happened to the man?”

“Aah. Muriz. I will never forget his name” he said, his pupils dilating as he stared in the distance.

With energy starting to fuel your blood and limbs, you started to have room to be more observant. The man in front of you was wearing clothing made of a thin, flowy and black fabric, covering his entire body. A wide shirt that was tucked into high wasted trousers, that seemed to be tied together by a broad belt of the same material also holding two daggers. The broadness of his shoulders and the narrowness of his waist were accentuated. Through the tailoring of the shirt, that was tied together at the waist with hidden buttons, it gave the impression that he was even broader than he was. He had left his shirt partially unbuttoned, showing the harsh curves from his sculpted body. You had heard the stories before. What a brute his brother was, how sophisticated the man in front of you was. In intellect, in political acumen, and also in his physical state. The legs of the pants were wide, while consisting of overlaying parts - they could be mistaken for a skirt. His feet were adorned with simple indoor-shoes.

This was an outfit to relax in, despite the weapons, while still presenting himself in a thought-through manner. Quite an attractive manner, showcasing him in all his manliness, you thought. As your eyes glanced over his body, you could not help but think what he was hiding under his robes. How he looked when not covered. Whether his entire body was so pale. Whether his body was as stern and deliberate as he was in words. What you would find. Thoughts quite foreign to you. Perhaps the result on the sudden influx of fuel.

“Muriz. He was a strong man. I subjected him to quite something. I thought about what to do with him. Destroy him for pleasure, keep him for entertainment – he turned out to be a funny guy, or send him back. I decided to do the latter. I felt he had redeemed himself for the crimes he had committed. Well, in my eyes again not crimes, but silly altercations. You people know no fun. You are way too sacred about life. I allowed him to strengthen in our sickbay before sending him off. Clearly did the right thing, because ever since I have had a steady flow of guests.”

He chuckled as he thought about Muriz. Fear wrapped your mind as you started to understand the gravity of the situation. You tried to shift your focus from the thoughts that were crossing through your head: “I have never heard of Muriz. He must have been of another sietch.” His eyes flared up, easily triggered to be filled with anger. “My lord Harkonnen.”

“That is right. You will address me always with my title.” He chuckled again. “Unless I am fucking you. In such case you may also address me by my given name.”

These words got you startled. The abruptness of this comment, understated it was, yet if felt like he was inside your brain. You were still swallowing food when that happened, causing you to breath some into your lunges. A simple cough was not enough to get it out of you, but you did not want to let yourself go in front of this man. With airflow being restricted, you quickly stood up while glancing up to him with a guilty look on your eyes, and retreated to the bathroom. There you started to cough violently. But it didn’t come out. You fell to your hands and knees, as your back arched more relentlessly.

Steady arms grabbed around your midriff, easily picking you up from the floor and drawing your back against his chest while digging their way into your belly with repeated force. A few tugs were needed to have your body expel the food that would have allowed you a fairly pain-free way out of the ordeal that was to come. You would not be given such exit. You needed to deserve redemption.

Gasping for breath, he did not leave you to fall back on the ground. He supported you. Continued to hold you against him. You felt the hardness of his chest, the hardness of his abdomen, the hardness of his groin. Once that awareness hit you, you turned around and tried to get away from him. Pushing against his front, trying to find enough room to push your knee in between the both of you, but he was not having that. As if he did not register your efforts, he spoke: “such a greedy little girl. Hmm, what else would you be greedy for? What else would you be able to choke on?” he said, as he pushed hairs that covered your face to be fitted behind your ears.

A menacing look was on his face. He tilted his face and uncovered the true blackness of his teeth through a wide smile. You wanted to get away, but every time you pushed, you somehow managed to touch his warm skin, with his manhood being pushed against you harder and harder. Your breathing increased, as you wanted to avert his gaze. It was mesmerizing. One of his hands found its way towards your neck, forcing you to present it for him feast on.

For a moment the thought of compliance fell over you.

But you could not. Not with him, not here.

He must have felt your internal battle, as he picked you up with one arm and placed you on the counter in this little bathroom. His hips forcing their way in between your legs, he did what he was set to do; feast on your neck. As he lapsed his tongue, he growled: “I can taste your fear.” A moan followed. “It is precious.” He licked all across your neck, forcing you to succumb to hidden desires that had found their way up and throw your head back, exposing yourself in all your vulnerability. “You are reacting well. Better than I had anticipated. Better than the others. I had planned to take more time with these first steps. But you are adopting so good, we might as well speed up.”

“No, please” you pleaded, “don’t”, as his words had snapped you out of your debilitation.

His hand found your neck, pressing with intense strength. “What… did… I… tell… you?” he spoke, extremely slow.

Gasping for air you spit out: “lord, lord Harkonnen.”

“How much punishment and threats do you need to learn such a simple thing?” he huffed in your ear. “It seems your body responds better to what I require than your brain. Let’s see whether your mouth is more part of your body or your brain” as he let you go and took a step back.

“On your knees” his smoky voice said.

It was an order. Not a request, not a proposal. Knowing you should not keep him waiting, you anxiously got of the counter and took the position required. You did not dare to look up.

“Do I need to explain every step to you? I thought you were smarter than this” he said, with discontent in his voice. As if he meant it. As if he was genuinely disappointed. 

Before you had looked up high enough to see his eyes, yours were caught staring straight at his length. Within seconds he had uncovered himself, allowing it to spring free in all its awe. You would not have much time to gasp at its unprecedented size, its terrifying girth or its pearl colour, as he had used the opening you had involuntarily created between your lips to be able to gasp to push himself in.

You tried to temper his speed and depth by pushing against his groin, which only enticed him to go deeper.

“I will show you how you can find hidden treasures of liquid inside yourself” he moaned, as he thrashed himself repeatedly in your mouth, finding the depths of your throat. “A valuable lesson for a Fremen.”

Saliva came rising up from your throat. You wanted to swallow it, but were prevented by his cock. The same cock that was preventing you from breathing.

Just in time to save you from passing out, he removed himself sufficiently for you to recuperate.

Never did he leave you entirely though. Through the entire ordeal he filled your mouth.

“You see how much your body wants me? Wet, your mouth is so wet. I will show you another place that is wet”, as he removed himself for the first time. He kneeled in front of you, pushed his hand into your pants, into your underwear and digged straight into you. A pang of pain shot through you, causing you to release a scream.

His fingers did not leave you though, as they started to twirl around: “so wet, yet so tight. I believe I am the first to explore you. But you see, your body adapts so quickly, it is such a good student” as he finally removed his fingers with a curl. He knew what he was doing. He knew the placed he would touch inside your walls with that small little motion. He knew he was alternating pain with pleasure.

He played with the viscous liquid between his fingers in front of your eyes. “Do you see this? Your pussy is filled with it. It is preparing to have me. It wants to have me. It wants to have my cock, my sperm, my offspring. Isn’t it beautiful?”

You closed your eyes, but he was not having that. Feyd-Rautha slapped you in the face as he ordered: “answer me when I am talking to you.”

With big terrified eyes you responded: “yes, lord Harkonnen.”

“Good” as he stood up and presented himself again. “Where were we?”

Fearful of his response, you opened your mouth again to welcome this powerful man. He grabbed the back of your head and started to thrust again.

Before long he had found depths in your throat so deep that you could not even choke.

But he would not give you the grace of coming in the back of your throat. No, this man withdrew, keeping just the tip of his cock in your mouth, as he came. Every drop spilled on your tongue, filling you with his precious black liquid.

You looked up and just knew spitting it out would be a death sentence. It would have already be reason for significant backlash in your sietch, spilling liquids, but this man would be insulted to his deepest core.

So you swallowed this gift. Together with all the saliva you had produced. Liquid, even some calories and vitamins. Nothing went to waste. He did not require you to share, he benevolently gave you everything.

As he held your head in his hands, he looked down on you and seemed pleased: “I will reward your progress with lessons. Should you ever leave the warmth of my embrace, you will go back a more mature and studied person.”

He helped you to your feet and guided you back to your room.

After you joined him at the table, you wanted to take a sip from the cup in front of you. “No” he said with a dark voice. “You will taste me for the hours to come. You will learn to love it, if you don’t already do. To crave it. One of the lessons I will teach that will aid your survival.”

You could not help but wonder what the benefit was of learning something like that. How this would make you into a more mature person. How this would make you fit into your Fremen society better. But you knew better than to waste precious liquids.

“Now, eat. Replenish. You do not know when the next meal will come” he chuckled.

As you continued eating, scared for any sudden eruptions, you listened to what he had to say.

“It is all about symbiosis as I said. It helps to create stability on this planet. You wanted to salvage the parent, the children. How do you believe they now feel?”

Having switched to tiny bits of food, it was easy to swallow what was left and answer: “my lord, I would believe they feel relief. Relief that they are still together. That the children can be taken care of.”

“Hmm. How do you think your fellow warriors look upon them?”

“Lord Harkonnen, I would believe they would have otherwise pitied them. In absence of which they would feel they have gotten out with a lot of luck.”

“Considering that argumentation, why are you not hailed in by the Fremen as a benevolent saviour, but rather thrown at my mercy?”

“My lord…” you now understood what you had done, your heart dropping to your feet, all pangs of hunger suddenly disappearing. You dropped your face onto your hands and could not help but start to shiver. Crying had been something you had learned not to show, as it caused a loss of precious water. This had been your alternative.

“It is interesting how all Fremen show this emotion in a different way. None of you seem to cry. Not initially. And this is what you do. How quaint” he commented.

You did not know what to do with that comment. You decided to just keep to the position you had chosen, and silently weep in your hands.

“We as rulers need to be strict on our people. It is the only way to prevent anarchy. I rule with an iron hand on Giedi Prime, and I rule with equal sternness on this planet. Strong people require strong leadership” he explained. “Look at me” while removing one of your hands and forcing your face up. “I am disappointed you failed to see this. You failed to see the reasons behind your own traditions” he said in a humiliating way with a tilted head.

He must have seen your shame grow, your feelings of guilt, as his look started to soften. This evening had been very successful for him, starting to break you down. He stood up with a smile exposing some of his black teeth again and walked to the door, leaving the chair, the food and the drinks he had brought.

But he did not leave without a last word.

Looking at you, at the table and at you again, he said: “I know you will not abuse my trust by drinking anything before dawn.” You nodded, and he left.

Upon his departure you felt you had said a lot and your feelings had been soaring through your body. Perhaps too much. You had never been so loosed-lipped, nor full of spirit.

It was only after his departure that you noticed he had not eaten anything on his own plate. The thought rushed through your head whether you should try to throw up. On second thought you decided against it. You were already at his will. Either you would die through whatever he had contemplated for you, or you would die from hunger. But if he had not intended for you to die, throwing up could entice him to show his wrath. You came to the conclusion, for the sanity of your own mind, that he had left that food for you to eat at a later moment.

Deep inside of you, you knew that the food had been laced with something to bring you to open yourself up to him, mentally and physically. And you would continue to do so, if you wanted to survive, needing the food in front of you for that very purpose.

+++

Another day past. At the end of the day, you had consumed everything he had brought, somehow trusting he would bring you more despite the hunger that had started to set in.

And he did.

As night started to fall, the door was opened again, and the young lord stepped in. You flew up from your chair to greet him. “Good evening lord na-Baron.”

“Very good. You are learning” he complimented. “But you are not there yet entirely. The next time I enter that door, I expect you to already be kneeling.” A rush of blood flew through your body, unasked for filling your nether regions with energy. “I apologise, lord Harkonnen” as you dropped yourself to the ground.

“Very good” he repeated. “You are not a quick learner, but you may get there. I can work with that for the time being.”

He walked to the table, placed his basket on the table and went to stand in front of you. “I have decided that from now on, every time that you want to eat, you first need to drink” as he fiddled with his trousers and presented his cock, already fully erect and menacing.

You knew what to do, as you opened your mouth and drew him in.

Famished as you were, you started sucking him as hard as your mouth would allow you to.

“Hungry girl, aren’t you? Hungry for my cock, for my black nutritious semen. I have started to condition you just fine. You should be grateful for my teachings. This is what will keep you alive.” He moaned as he grabbed your head and said: “let me help you, little Fremen student.”

Continuing to moan he released himself in your throat this time. After a couple of seconds, he moved himself to the beginning of your mouth. “Suck me dry, you should not let any drop go to waste” he suggested. A suggestion you followed. If you knew drops were left, he would not even need to ask you to collect these; you would have done so out of sheer will and need. For the first time, you touched him, held him, to pull his folds back and salvage any last bit of what he had to offer to you.

Before long he started to get hard again. You thought he wanted you to repeat, causing you to guide him deeper in. It happened automatically, you did not even think about it. But, that was not what he had planned as he removed himself from you: “you have earned your right for food. Eat. It is still warm.”

Again, the basket contained to sets of plates and cutlery. Now you were tasked to split the food. Again, he did not eat or drink anything. Again, you were not allowed to drink. Again, a conversation ensued. A conversation about your history, your upbringing.

A conversation that turned into discussing your fears, trauma’s. No-one, apart from your mother, had ever learned about your fear of water. A near-death experience when you fell in one of the wells as a toddler, had been kept buried deep inside. but here you were spilling it in great detail to your host, who seemed pleased to learn of it. Within Fremen society you had managed to avoid large bodies of water since, by referring to tradition and the fear of wasting any drop.

As he left for the night, he stood still in the door again, looking at the drinks on the table and at you again. Wanting to receive his praise again, you stated: “I will salvage your taste until dawn, my lord Harkonnen.” With a confirming nod he left and locked the door.

+++

During the day, you saw Feyd-Rautha train on the grounds again. And it felt as if it was a present given to you, for your compliance and increased understanding. For hours you looked at him, mesmerized.

+++

That night he did not visit you.

You could not catch sleep as your mind started to go in overdrive on what you should have done differently.

+++

Another day past. Another day without food, water or attention. A day laced with guilt, and fear.

+++

This night, he called on you again. Upon hearing the lock being turned, your heart jumped. You knew what you needed to do, not wanting to risk anything to be left alone for more than a day again. Hurling out of bed, on your knees, ready to receive him.

+++

[Link to chapter 2 / 3 and 3 /3 to follow - Punish Me (part 2 of 3): Feyd-Rautha’s lessons for virgins & Punish me (part 3 of 3): the story on how you became one of Feyd-Rautha’s concubines]

@kasagia - a tag as requested

[lilacxquartz]

lilac’s bite sized jjk yandere nightmares masterlist

about: exploring darker yandere with short stories/8 chapters max fics—updated every monday with sometimes a break if a chapter/story needs more time.

tw: some of these works will be very intense, the generalised tag is dead dove, but the specific warnings will be listed in the work or chapter as it gets updated. links lead to ao3 as well as tumblr.

ao3 • main masterlist

blessed with blue • tumblr link

angel satoru gojo x mortal reader

to save a broken soul • tumblr link

suguru geto x cursed spirit reader

pretty little trinket • tumblr link

harpy shoko x human reader

beyond hellfire • tumblr link

true form sukuna x reader

the life you lived

kenjaku x vessel reader

limited edition doll

mahito x reader

symbiosis

(turning) zombie choso kamo x reader

entombed

yuki tsukumo x reader

damsel in distress

king kento nanami x peasant reader

in my web

monster utahime x adventurer reader

passenger princess

shiu kong x reader

the lies we tell

higuruma hiromi x reader

never let you go

ghoul naoya x widowed reader

too pretty to die

takuma ino x reader

[demonscantgothere]

Helholden's Masterlist of Haladriel Fics:

I have written dozens of fics for The Rings of Power, featuring Haladriel, under the pen name Helholden, so here is a nice, neat masterlist of all of them in one place.

Epic Multi-chapters:

❀ Litost. Canon-divergence fic set decades after the events of S1 & S2. Sauron thrives in Númenor as the High Priest when Galadriel is taken prisoner, and they are reunited on the eve of disaster. Together, they re-establish themselves in Pelargir, creating Gondor with the help of Elendil and his Men, but deceit and lies run deep and the truth will out. 276k. Ongoing.

❀ Beasts of the Hill and Serpents of the Den. Alternate Universe set in the First Age. The War of Wrath changes course. Instead of sending his wolves out to kill Finrod after capturing Felagund in his dungeons, Sauron demands an exchange for his life. Galadriel offers herself. 214k. Ongoing.

❀ Though the Gods and the Years Relent, Shall Be. After the final Breaking of the World when existence is remade by its creator Eru Ilúvatar, second chances are possible. Artanis meets Mairon and keeps coming by to visit him throughout the years. They develop a fast friendship, but it is hard to remain just friends. 25k. Complete.

❀ The Greatest Slavery. Dead Dove. Celeborn is Sauron's prisoner. If Galadriel wants her husband returned to her alive, there are terms. Many years later, Sauron comes back for his daughter, Celebrían. 48k. Complete.

❀ Symbiosis. Modern AU. Galadriel goes out drinking after a bad breakup, and Halbrand shows up to put all the pieces back together. 77k. Complete.

Completed One-shots and Short Stories:

❀ In the Golden Vein of All Your Broken Promises. It's a threesome fic with Galadriel, Annatar, and Celeborn. Pure smut. 15k.

❀ Jewel Spoilt. A tale inspired by The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty with Galadriel as Beauty and Sauron as the one to break the curse Morgoth has lain upon her. 15k.

❀ Crown, and Caress Thee, and Chain. Galadriel says yes, becoming his Dark Queen. Sauron transmutes her into a god in the fires of Mount Doom instead of creating the One Ring. 11k.

❀ Maybe You Were the Ocean, When I Was Just a Stone. A series of one-shots written for RoP Week 2023 featuring various relationships. 11k.

❀ À Côté de la Plaque. Another threesome fic, only this time it's Galadriel, Halbrand, and Bronwyn with a surprise entrance from Arondir. 10k.

❀ Light Weight. A story of Mairon and Artanis told in seven parts, spanning over thousands of years from their very first meeting in Valinor to the Sundering Seas — a tale of touch, obsession, and addiction. 9k.

❀ Heart of Gold. They bang on Celebrimbor's large anvil table, Your Honor. 6k.

❀ An Inexorable Fate. My very first Haladriel fic ever written that started all of this. Halbrand struggles to tell Galadriel how he feels after the eruption of Mount Doom. 5k.

❀ Abundance. Written for an anonymous tumblr prompt that wanted a take on Halbrand’s reaction to seeing Galadriel in the green dress in Eregion for the first time. 5k.

❀ Bite Hard, Lest Remembrance Come After. Galadriel and Halbrand take what moments of reprieve they can behind Celeborn’s back. Always wanting, but never quite together in whole. 4k.

❀ Mortal Laws. Galadriel says yes during Episode 8, "Alloyed." 3k.

❀ Just Deserts. After Sauron's successful assault on Eregion, Celeborn and Galadriel are both his prisoners along with the rest of the city. It's another threesome fic. Enjoy. 3k.

❀ Daughter of Death. ASOIAF crossover. Dany seeks out a sorcerer to help her preserve the life of her baby. The only sorcerer here, the red priestesses whisper, who could cheat death. 3k.

❀ With Music That Scares the Profane. Halbrand wakes up in Eregion for the first time. 3k.

❀ Twain Halves of a Perfect Heart, Made Fast. A child Artanis meets a child Mairon, only he is not an Elf like her. He is a Maia, and he hasn't been on this plane of existence for very long, nor had a body for very long. Artanis teaches him a few things—like friendship. 2k.

❀ Queen of Love and Beauty. A child Artanis reunites with a child Mairon at a festival for Vána the Ever-young and Queen of Flowers in Valmar. 2k.

❀ And I'll Ask for the Sea. The infamous bath!fic. 2k.

❀ It’s the Last Thing I Wanted (It’s the First Thing I Do). Mairon and Artanis during the Years of the Trees. 1k.

❀ Green-Eyed Fallacy. On the eve of the Sack of Eregion, Halbrand tries to reason with Galadriel once more before the war. Only now, it’s too late. 1k.

Completed Dead Dove:

❀ Eyes Closed. Morgoth Bauglir returns from beyond The Void, and draws his wayward servant, Sauron, back under his thumb with the one temptation he can't deny—his Lady of Light, Galadriel. 10k.

❀ Into the Light of the Dark Black Night. Modern AU. He winds their fingers together, holds her hand like a lover that has never caused her harm. Their rings are cold side by side. Metal against metal. A binding link holding them together against her will. 8k.

❀ Dark, Dark My Light, and Darker My Desire. In which Artanis thinks Mairon is her rescuer, but it couldn't be further from the truth. 18k.

❀ Vestige. He wants her for her power. He never wanted her for her love. 3k.

[monards]

finding out there was a symbiosis & silver thread presence on tumblr after 6 months of scouring almost every other social media I have is doing things to my brain

[thespianinthebackcorner]

Very conspicuously adds Marina to the list of lesbian women w a white haired partner and autism

First Rhinedottir and Alice, then Magnolia and Dove, then Alicia and White Lily, now Pearl and Marina. Let's hope the latter doesn't become doomed Yuri

[snail-day]

ミ★ 𝘞𝘦𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨! ★彡

My name is Snail (she/her), happy that you found my blog. Feel free to lurk for a while, I do write fluffy and dark content so be warned. Minors do not interact, you will be blocked! Please be mindful of what you can read, I often times lean towards yandere content that may contain non-con/dubcon, kidnapping, toxic relationships, stalking, and other behaviors that can be triggering or uncomfortable.

Previously: Delulustateofmind

My asks are always open, so feel free to chat, request, or just be a silly little goober 💖

Anons I currently smooch consensually with:

💖, ❄️, 🦋, 🪻, 🧜‍♀️, 🌱

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Hush Now, Sweet Lamb - yandere!Geto x Reader Dead Dove

Roll for Initative - You Got This, Nerdjo

Inked - Yan!Suguru x Reader

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Masterlists

Masterlist Jujutsu Kaisen

Inked - Tattoo Artist! Suguru x Reader Rolls for Imitative - Nerdjo x Reader

Upcoming Fics:

Kiss the Fish (not official title)

Upload Date: 5/3 (mermay hah. get it.)

Maneater - Yan!Sukuna x Reader

Upload Date: 4/18 TBD

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Parasite -> Symbiosis

Upload Date: Brief Hiatus (tech issues)

A Hypothesis on You -> The Study of You

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Inked -> Imagination

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Your Turn to Roll -> Second Male Lead Syndrome

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snail and frog dividers @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

[aamy2100982]

Something I don't like so much about the latest Venom comics is the sudden victimization of the symbiote regarding their decisions in life.

This thing about Symby never wanting to do anything bad and almost putting all the blame on Eddie for the events in which they were Spiderman's villains

This whole "If we didn't do it, Eddie was going to die, It was my responsibility" thing. When we know that in the early comics the symbiote didn't give a shit about Eddie.

I believe you that at first Symby didn't necessarily want to kill Peter. But after that, any chance Spider-Man gave the symbiote to come back to him, Symby was willing to abandon Eddie in the middle of the street, naked and likely to die or try to kill himself again.

Until, of course, they realized that Spiderman didn't give a shit about them and decided that they wouldn't fall for his traps anymore and would stay with Eddie "permanently".

We understand it now, and we think it's beautiful that the symbiote felt a responsibility to help Eddie. But that's the current writers changing the story to make the symbiote look like a white dove and not what it is. An effectively bad and toxic person.

That many times is willing to kill and/or manipulate others in order to obtain a perfect symbiosis. Like when they manipulated Eddie into believing that he had cancer or when they tried to kill the priest of that church because he told Eddie that no one can force you to do things you don't want to do.

And this is not just an attitude they had with Spiderman. But also with Eddie himself.

I understand the whole point of the symbiote's redemption. Realizing that they past actions are wrong and wanting to do better in the future. My problem is how the writers are handling it.

It's not like Eddie's redemption, where he realizes that he as a person is wrong for everything he did. It's more taken from the perspective where Symby almost blames Eddie for his destructive attitudes against Spiderman. When it's evident that the symbiote tends to seriously hurt those who don't follow things the way they wants them to go.

I feel like the way things are put is right... but wrong. I read it and feel like something is off, like it doesn't feel the way it should feel.

Because we get a “I never really wanted to do any of this,” and then we get a “I don’t like fighting Eddie... am I?” Which tells me that the symbiote isn’t really giving up on itself, because it’s doing the same thing it always does. Trying to kill a host and then attaching to it when it gets the chance to come back. What changed then?

What was the point of this whole emo phase where the symbiote sought to end its own life? Did something change, or is Symby just wallowing in self-pity like Eddie did when he was Anti Venom and Venom and any other phase of his life xd

Maybe they are made for each other. I love Symby, but they've been trying to excuse it's past actions for a while now, and I can only watch the symbiote lying in the dirt while waiting for others to tell them "it's not true, you're not bad, you can still change."

And the symbiote pretends to believe it as it goes and repeats its past actions to the letter.

[monards]

OHNYMHODO RHINNE AND ALBEDO... MAGNOLIA AND MINT.... AUGHHHHAHDSJHJJHHJ IM NEVER GONNA BE NORMAL OVER THIS

downloaded a pixel brush just for you @monards