#Fic: The Darkness Within

[mulletmitsuya]

guys does anyone have any fanfic recs 😔?

[ecoterrorist-katara]

spent a month reading Dra/mione fanfiction because so many people say it’s basically Zutara in a different font and I just??? Disagree??? Like I loved many Dra/mione fics I’ve read but it’s just…not like Zutara?

The enemies-to-lovers dynamics are super different because ATLA already handed us enemies-to-friends on a silver platter. The backstory and motivations of Zuko are extremely well-established whereas every fic has a somewhat different Draco. Katara and Hermione are quite different people too, though I think they’re more similar to each other than Zuko and Draco (and ofc the “under appreciated girl who bails out her friends” role is a big enough part of their arcs that it can override other dissimilarities). And no offence to my beloved ZK, but they’re not the most cerebral couple and they don’t have the “finally my intellectual equal” dynamic that I really like about fanon Dra/mione.

Dra/mione has way more of the romance novel dark fantasy dynamic that Zutara antis like to accuse Zutara of. And to be clear, good for Dramione shippers bc I support the female gaze. I’d actually say that Dra/mione is way more straight female gaze than ZK. With some Dra/mione fics, I get the feeling that I’d enjoy them more if I were more attracted to men. That’s a thought I’ve only rarely had about Zutara fics.

Anyway there are wonderfully talented authors who write for both ships, but I just think the comparison is a bit overblown. Enemies-to-lovers between morally incorrect boy x morally correct girl is a tried and true combination (notice I didn’t say bad boy x good girl, because ironically the biggest commonalities between Draco and Zuko is that they’re squares who want to maintain the status quo and please their dads, while Hermione and Katara are rabblerousers who would do unhinged things to get what they want) but there are many nuances beyond that. And if you’re a Zutara shipper getting into Dra/mione, it’s very possible that you’ll love half of the fics you read and be disproportionately squicked out by the other half (like me!).

I think Dra/mione fics can feature what a lot of antis accuse Zutara of being (oppressor x oppressed, dark and intriguing and toxic and passionate, self-insert wish fulfillment). What I appreciate about Dra/mione shippers, though, is how much they just don’t give a fuck. They like what they like, they don’t feel the need to apologize for liking a fantasy dynamic even if it’s sometimes toxic, and they will use Dra/mione fics to thirst after Draco Malfoy. I can’t really relate to these motivations, but I respect them, you know? Women should do what they want!

[crimeronan]

Hmm. Belos being Weird and Bad towards Hunter so in his need to control the children he continues to be possessive over Hunter and uses this against Luz like 'he is only yours because I gave him to you, I can take him away'... and Luz knows this is a real threat because Belos continually Takes Hunter Away to do Bad Things so her fear that he won't come back is SO real but she also hates objectifying him like that and wants to respect hunters autonomy...

you know, if you WANT to interpret it this way.... you COULD probably make an argument that it's AU canon-compliant if something like this did happen. bc i reread the luz POV fic recently and i was like "good GOD. how many Deeply Upsetting Implications could i cram into one novella. girl what were you processing here" (i know what i was processing here)

like. it's true that luz doesn't realize hunter is being physically abused and that she thinks she's had a pretty well-adjusted upbringing, BUT.

1) even before the grimwalker horror, she acknowledges that she and hunter are both considered "eccentric" because they have no other peers;

2) she keeps insisting that belos is doing all of his worst, creepiest, most manipulative bullshit "because he's a good father and he loves her" (LEAVE HER ALONE);

3) she somehow intuitively KNOWS that acting possessive and imperious about hunter will get her what she wants. "he's mine" indeed!

and there's some separation already baked into their day-to-day lives -- luz has private lessons with belos that hunter isn't present for, hunter CLEARLY has had time alone with belos that luz isn't present for. luz doesn't know hunter is being physically hurt but she Does textually know that being around belos makes him stressed/upset. and that belos hates him. for no fucking reason. she and hunter both acknowledge that she's the favorite without any bitterness or jealousy between them, because it's just.... how things are. a fact of life.

like. belos probably never told her explicitly "i gave him to you and i can take him away," that Would be a slight AU of the AU -- it would make her a lot quieter and more fearful of punishment than she is in the text. but being told that hunter Belongs to her and she can do whatever she wants to him and if he fusses about it, she can come to belos to set him straight....?

that is like. Very Much a conversation they could have had.

[shadeysprings]

Within the Shadows

—Curtis Everett x F!Reader

Summary — Secrets are revealed amidst the celebration of your brother’s ascent to underboss. 

Warnings — unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), established relationship, graphic violence, character death, betrayal, hurt no comfort, implied kidnapping, entrapment, Mean!Curtis is in the building.

A/N — This is written for @the-slumberparty's April Monthly Challenge: Mob AU and the prompt I chose was "I don't love you. I own you." I do ask you to be gentle with me as it's my first time writing for Curtis and I'm still trying to get a hang of him.

As always, your feedback is highly appreciated and your reblogs would be amazing. And of course, I hope y'all enjoy! ❤️

Standing at the side with the walls and champagne being your only companion, you observe the events playing out in front of you.

Your father’s friends, several of his trusted associates, and family members have gathered in your home to celebrate your brother’s success. He not only passed the challenges that were thrown to him by the leaders, but he also impressed them, giving more than what was being asked of him and utterly exceeding their expectations. It not only convinced them to bestow upon him the title of underboss but deemed him worthy of being your father’s successor in the syndicate. 

You’re happy for him—truly you are for you’ve supported him every step of the way and did nothing but encourage him to make your father proud. It even came to the point of helping him in one of the jobs when he caught himself in a tight situation. Giving him a plan of action on how to face the problem which eventually worked in his favor and allowed him to slip through it easily. 

Though such a feat, when presented by your brother to your father, was simply brushed off.

“Her words are nothing but a meaningless babble of a jealous child.” Your father sneered in your direction. “You, my son, are still the one that did all the work.” And praised your brother.

“Don’t listen to him, sis,” Gabriel said after your father dismissed you both from his study. “He knows I wouldn’t have succeeded without your help. Besides, I’m underboss now and you can be my consigliere.” 

Despite his encouraging words, you still felt defeated, knowing well that no matter what you do to help the family, the way he sees you will never change—a burden, someone with no caliber to the family, and the worst of all, the reason for your mother’s death. 

“He’s the child any parent would be proud to have!” 

The cheers that echo throughout the main room pull you away from your thoughts and you watch as the guests gather around your brother, clapping him on the back and giving him another round of congratulations. While you, the other child, remain unseen in the background. 

Not wanting to endure further any more of the festivities, you finish the remaining contents of your champagne flute in one gulp and set it down on one of the tables before making your way up to your room. You know no one will be looking for you or asking of your whereabouts. Hell, you doubt your father would even care if you left home right there and then.

Staring at your reflection in the full-length mirror, you begin taking off your jewelry and make to reach for the zip of your dress. But the sound of your door opening and closing draws your attention, a small smile grazing your lips upon seeing Curtis’ reflection when he stands behind you.

His usual black long-sleeved shirt is hidden underneath a black coat jacket. You also notice his beard is freshly trimmed, making you adore the way he looks—still gruff but with a splash of class.

You stare at his sapphire eyes as they grow serious with intent when he starts unzipping your dress. Rough hands move delicately over your skin and he pushes the straps from your shoulders, the fabric cascading down your body and pooling around your feet, leaving you only in your shoes and panties.

“You left the party.” He drones, arms slowly circling your middle before he leans down to press a kiss on the crook of your neck. 

“No one would look for me.” You sigh and turn to face him, leaning against his touch when his large hand cups the side of your face and his thumb rubs small circles on the apple of your cheek.

“I would.” he breathes, “I did.”

You close your eyes when he leans down and you lean up to meet him halfway, pressing your lips against his. He kisses you softly at first, exploring, gentle, and giving then you feel him pull you close, your hands pressing against his solid chest, and a soft moan leaves your lips when he deepens the kiss.

It wasn’t easy getting to where you and Curtis are now—remembering the day he joined your father’s men; a newbie to the syndicate and assigned to watch over the boss’ daughter.

His silence and grouchy exterior caused you unease, making you unable to trust him and simply go along with your father’s wishes just so as not to upset him. But as the months turned into a year, you grew to know him despite his lack of enthusiasm to talk and you slowly found a friend in the lonesome world of the syndicate.

He’d accompany you to errands your father would give you, an act of pity or a means to give in to your brother’s requests, and you felt nothing but safe in his company. Always standing guard even with no threats visible but you knew better than to question his judgment. He’d even lent a listening ear each time you would ramble on your frustrations about the lack of trust the family gives you and would give small words of comfort, telling you that you’re better than the leaders that run the business.

Eventually, your relationship blossomed, although in secret—Curtis sneaking into your room when you would call upon him or spending days with you at the family’s vacation home when your father would have you nowhere near the mansion when he had his capos over for meetings.

Aside from your brother, he’s the only one you trusted. A confidant you’ve always wanted and a lover you never knew you needed.

Your arms circle his neck, pulling him closer as you reciprocate the intensity of his kiss, tongues, and teeth clashing against each other. A giggle slips from your throat when he carefully, blindly walks you toward the expanse of your bed.

As your back hits the mattress, Curtis kneels on the ground, lifting your leg as his lips trail butterfly kisses down its length before wrapping his fingers around your ankles, one by one, taking off your heels and dropping them to the floor. 

Instinctively, you hook your leg over his shoulder and welcome him into your heat. His name leaves your lips in a series of soft moans, fingers skimming over his shoulders and then through his buzzed hair when his lips press against the front of your panties, tongue soaking through the fabric as he rolls it around your clothed clit. 

You feel him push your panties to the side, the cool air of your room kissing your heated skin, and your pelvis bucks against his mouth when he laves his tongue slowly against your slit and connects with your clit once more, flicking on the bud before wrapping his lips around it to suck on it hard.

“Curtis—!” you gasp his name, uncaring as your voice bounces against the walls of your bedroom, pulling him closer and slowly grinding your pussy against the warmth of his eager mouth. 

He doesn’t hold back and you don’t want him to, loving the way he takes and takes but at the same time gives you the pleasure that has been an addicting sensation each time he’d bury his face between your thighs. 

His beard only adds to the lust-filled sensation running through your veins, rubbing your sensitive skin raw and sending a wave of pleasure down to your toes. Your back arches and your breath hitches when he slips his tongue past your pussy folds, licking, tasting, and lapping up the nectar that pools at your core, a gift you willingly give and desire for him to take.

You feel the stirring at the pit of your stomach and you urge to pull away, to stop him from his worship. But he doesn’t relent, hooking his arms around your thighs, growling against your cunt that makes your skin shiver and you do no more but succumb to his control, whining as you feel yourself reaching your limit. 

“Curtis—please,” you beg and try to lift yourself by your elbows but the way he looks at you, piercing blue eyes meeting yours, have you convulsing, the intensity of the orgasm taking you by surprise that you tip your head back and call out his name, fingers digging into the duvet as your essence rushes out of you.

“Sweet as ever, princess,” he rumbles into your cunt and gives your clit one last kiss before licking you clean and pushing himself from the ground. 

You’re panting heavily, a smile of satisfaction etched on your face. It’s what you’ve needed to release the stress from the evening’s event and forget about the humiliation and dejection from your father. 

As you lay on the bed, limbs weak from the pleasure, you smile once more when you feel Curtis join you. He’s naked and warm and you immediately wrap your arms around him when he hovers over you, parting your legs wide to enfold them around him as he positions himself between them.

“Curtis—I need you.” you whimper, feeling the tip of his rub against your folds. “Please—”

“I know, princess,” he whispers, lips ghosting against your cheek before he presses his forehead against yours. “I know.”

-

With Curtis kneeling on the bed, his arms wrapped around you possessively, you gasp for air with your fingers scratching his skin raw while he sucks on your breast, his cock impaling you repeatedly and making you bounce against his thighs. 

He’s made you come twice now and it’s the third time he’s having his way with you, giving you no respite to have you breathe and only switching the position to take you once again. He’s eager and full of passion, a feat you’ve never seen before and you bask in it, allowing yourself to fall into his demands. 

He thrusts into you with pure hunger, teeth grazing against the nipple that makes you whine and meet him with each thrust, feeling his cock slide deeper and deeper into you as your cunt slickens further from the lust that cocoons you both.

You look down at him when he pulls away from your tit, sapphire eyes dark, blown wide, and laced with carnal desire. You lean down to kiss him and he meets your lips with a fiery intensity, laying his back on the bed and effortlessly pulling you on top of him. 

He swallows your moans when his pace quickens, fucking into you hard and fast, the sound of your skins slapping against each other filling your ears with the unrelenting tempo of his hips. You try to move your hips but he doesn’t let you, keeping you still as his arms tighten further around you.

He’s movements are frantic and reckless and you pull away from the kiss to take in air. But it only makes him latch his lips onto your neck, sucking on the skin and bruising it with his teeth, the sensation making you moan loudly when you feel yourself, once more, reaching your peak. 

“You’re mine, princess," he groans when he pulls away from your neck, his eyes boring into yours as he circles his hand on your nape. “You understand? You’re mine.”

“Yes,” you choke, pressing your forehead against his. “I’m yours.”

You feel his cock throbbing against your walls and your breath hitches, hands gripping him tight when the dam within you finally breaks, and your pussy walls flutter around him, your body spasming as you come hard and coat his cock with your essence. He doesn’t take long to follow after, the air in your lungs leaving you all at once when he gives a hard thrust, your name spilling from his lips in a form of a growl when he spills his seed deep within.

Exhaustion finally takes over and you lay limp over his solid chest, soft whimpers escaping your lips as he keeps grinding his pelvis against yours, fucking more of his come into you. You keep your eyes closed, too tired to even move a muscle or appreciate the post-sex haze. But a smile makes its way to your lips when he presses a kiss over your cheek, moaning softly when he wiggles his hips, keeping his cock snug inside your swollen cunt.

“Sleep, princess,” he mumbles against your hair, hands gently caressing your skin. “I’ll be here when you wake up.” His words act as a soothing balm, a comfort you desperately need and you snuggle in his hold, basking in his muscular scent and the warmth he gives you before your consciousness dwindles and you fall into a sated slumber.

But he’s nowhere to be found when you stir from your sleep, a vast bed and a muted darkness greeting you instead of the face of your lover. Though it doesn’t take away the peaceful smile that forms on your face and the delicious ache that sings deep in your bones. 

You try to hear if the party in the main room is still up and swinging but the time displayed on the clock says it’s way beyond midnight. You only hope that the festivities have been long over and that everyone has gone home and called it night but still, you don’t put it past your father to hold one of his private meetings with his capos now that your brother has joined the fold. 

Walking toward your closet, you put on a pair of pajama shorts and a night shirt before leaving your room, wanting to look for Curtis and grab a glass of water before heading back to bed. But as soon as you climb down the stairs, an odd feeling drenches you with the halls being eerily quiet and your father’s men that usually walk around the house nowhere to be found.

You make it to the kitchen, still set on your intent when a peal of chilling laughter sounds from the main room. The voice is somewhat familiar, one you’ve heard in your father’s meetings with his boss. But that can’t be—despite your lack of involvement in the syndicate, you know the rules that had been laid out for the others to follow. 

“Let’s see if these moves fuck!” The voice says with amusement.

An angry shout follows after followed by a pained grunt and you can tell it's your brother. Immediately, you run to the dining table and snatch the gun tied under it before stalking over to the main room, keeping to the walls to check on the unwanted visitors. But what you witness makes the bile crawl up your throat, a massacre of your father’s associates, the strong scent of metal wafting through the air as lifeless bodies are scattered across the floor. 

The walls of the room are painted crimson and men you don’t recognize stand still at the sides, armed and stoic while they watch the scene playing out before them; your father tied to a chair, gagged and beaten while your brother stands in front of him, protecting him. Blood trickles from his head and his left eye swollen, he holds up a knife, grip tight on the handle while he faces the enemy that taunts him. 

Lloyd Hansen is never supposed to set foot on your family’s territory. It’s the rules the elders have given when your father was gifted the city. But there he stands, looking pristine in his black turtle neck and blood-spattered white jeans with only the cut on his cheek and his disheveled hair giving away that he’s been fighting. But still, he holds himself in that cocky demeanor, the hair on his lip twitching when he smirks and taunts your brother. 

Before he could get close to your brother, you stand away from where you’re hiding and pull the trigger, a loud bang resounding through the walls as the bullet meets the marble floor by Lloyd’s feet, making both men flinch and Hansen’s men stand on alert, all guns pointed at you. 

“What the fuck?!” Lloyd shouts, his head turning and anger etched on his face when he faces you. “You almost shot me!”

“Stand down.” A voice calls in the room and you stand in shock when Curtis comes out from the shadows, a hand resting on Lloyd’s shoulder before walking over in your direction. “You’re not supposed to be here, princess.”

“Curtis—” you say in a rush, panic surging through your veins when he nears you. “What’s going on—”

“Stay away from him, sis!” Gabriel shouts, grunting in pain soon after when one of the men clad in black hits him in the back with a gun, making him drop to his knees. “He—” he wheezes, “he’s a traitor.”

“What—” you flinch when the gun is snatched from your hand, the firearm sliding across the floor. Curtis stands so close, his sapphire eyes laced with darkness as he rests his hands on your shoulders. “Curtis?” your lips quiver upon saying his name, the easiness slipping from your lips and replaced with fear. “What’s going on?”

“What’s going on is that we’re taking over this worthless city, sunshine.” Lloyd answers from behind him, a smirk playing on his lips as he runs a hand through his hair. “Why don’t you tell her, boss?”

“Boss?” You blink in surprise and step back from Curtis, disbelief running through your head as you try to piece everything together. Your brother’s warning, Lloyd’s words and Curtis looking unscathed despite facing the enemy. “You’re—” anger surges through your veins and you ball your hands into fists, lunging at Curtis and beating at his chest. “You liar! You fucking used me!”

But you’re fighting a losing battle as he easily grabs your wrists and you yelp loudly in pain when he turns you around, twisting your arm and bending it behind you, your shoulder straining from his strength. 

“You let her go!” Your brother shouts in rage but Lloyd kicks him in the stomach, making him bowl over and drop himself on the floor. 

Curtis walks you into the vast room, having you stand over your brother and you cry when you see his condition, battered and bruised as he struggles to push his feet under him. But you only shout in agony as Lloyd kneels over him and continues to beat him, fists raining down on your little brother’s face, blood spilling from his mouth. 

“Watch carefully, princess.” Curtis drones, his other hand framing your chin as he forces you to face forward. “This is all thanks to you.”

“Why are you doing this?!” You shout as you continue to struggle against his hold. “Please—let him go! If you love me, Curtis, you’ll let him go.”

You feel him tense behind you and you’re washed with relief when he commands Lloyd to stop. 

Lloyd’s fist stops mid-air, a huff of annoyance leaving his lips before he stands and Curtis’ grip on you slackens, allowing you to stagger forward and kneel before your brother. You cradle his head as you try to wipe away the blood from his face. your tears flowing continuously as you stare down at him, watching him cling to life as you grab his hand and press it against your cheek.

“I’m here, baby brother.” you whisper, lacing your fingers through his. “I’m here.”

You see a faint smile form on his face but a loud bang echoes in your ear, making you recoil in fear. But as soon as the chaos dissipates, you face your brother to check on him but stay stock still when he stares up at you with lifeless eyes, blood trickling from his head and staining your hands, seeing a bullet lodge in his head.

You scream in shock but more in agony as you shake him, and beg for him to be alive. But nothing comes out of it, not a sound or even a movement, making you cry out harder as you hold him to you, your baby brother—gone.

Another shot sounds and you snap your head to the side only to see your father slumped forward, his restraints holding him from falling off his seat. But he, too, met the same fate as your brother. You turn to see Curtis standing over you, the gun you previously had in your hand now in his and you pounce at him, rage taking over you as you try to attack him. 

But he easily fends you off by smacking the back of his hand against your cheek, making you drop down where your brother lays. You then wince when you’re pulled by your hair, making you look up to face Curtis who crouches in front of you, the hand holding the gun reaching over to caress your cheek that swells from his assault. 

“Why are you doing this?” You cry, defeat drenching you cold. “I thought you love me—”

“Love you?” The low drawl of his voice sends a chill up your spine, pulling away when he leans closer and presses his forehead against your own. “I don’t love you. I own you.” he spits and you feel your heart break at his words, all the comfort you felt with him shattering into dust. 

He did this—fooled you and your family, disguising himself as a bodyguard only to get information on the ins and outs of your father’s business. And the worst part? You showed him the way. With all your complaining and mindless ramblings, you were feeding him information that no one should have known. 

So, his words bear some truth, that this was all your doing.

“And along with that, everything your family has.” He smirks and your stomach rolls in disgust when he presses a kiss on your forehead.

underboss - 2nd in command to the boss

consigliere - trusted advisor of the boss

I no longer keep a tag list but if you want to be kept updated on my fics, follow my side blog @springlibrary and turn on notifications.

[lunaelume-n]

has anyone here read herringbone?

[hecketernal]

Everyone Thinks Jak Is Dying AU (Aka everyone miscommunicates to some pretty ridiculous and angsty levels but Jak's totally fine) ((pls read I swear I still have some comfort with this hurt some funny with the tragedy pls hear me out))

Explanation: I had had this weird impression that Jak was flat out dying from dark eco poisoning, when I was a kid. It seems kid me had made some assumptions from listening to Baron Praxis' propaganda stations where he flat out says, "The dark eco inside you will eventually kill you, Jak," and the way Jak first reacted to getting light eco.

Everyone else seemed to die in the Dark Warrior Project. Hell, they flat out acknowledge Jak should be dead himself from the amount of dark eco pumped into him. Even if a slow death via eco poisoning isn't what the games were going for, it would still make sense lorewise. The game will insta kill you for falling into the stuff.

Buuuuut for a moment just consider...applying that misconception to Damas and Jak's growing paternal bond.

Jak, in his freshly betrayed wariness, decides to hide his dark eco abilities. He's tired. He can't trust anyone except for Daxter, but Daxter is The Exception in capital letters and everything. Jak has found a force he can't or isn't equipped to beat within the long, hot stretch of the desert with no Keira to build a contraption to get them out. He doesn't even know... if Keira cares enough to build some zoomer with a heat shield or whatever would come to her mechanical mind for them anymore. None of his "allies" spoke up very loudly to defend Jak, so Jak stashes his otherness away. Well, he hides it to the best of his abilities. He'll never be a spy, but he can manage a few marauders in some Arena of Death with just a gun and some effort. Transforming had always been last resort anyways. With fear from his betrayal instead of anger leading him, he never transforms in front of all of Spargus to see. He's doesn't want to be Baron Praxis' renegade weapon, the man made monster that slipped its leash. He wants a moment without that. He can't go back to the kid from Sandover. He doesn't want to, but the idea of being just another exile like everyone else is...heady.

Jak doesn't know that he can't hide what's already been seen. Dark eco scars are distinctive, and Jak's were very visible during his stint with unconsciousness and heatstroke. The monks had attended to the two boys, but they had not done so silently. Precursor monks did not care to censor their muttering about dark eco corruption. Their prayers for salvation or less pain for the boy were easily overheard by the alert King of Spargus. It's likewise impossible to hide the way dark eco skitters towards Jak. The way it sinks into his skin. The way his pallor goes white. His face pained. The way the newest recruit sometimes clutches an arm, angling it away from view. Jak does manage to hide the growing claws with this action, so good for him. Bad for Damas.

Damas is under the impression that Jak is dying. Dark eco poisoning is an unpleasant but often inescapable death sentence for even the strongest warriors. He's known good Wastelanders that had to be buried after just a brush with the energy. It might be slow with this new recruit, but it will come all the same. Won't it? Damas tries his best to remain distant. His heart has already been shattered from the loss of one child, but it seems those broken shards are destined to break a little more. Jak is so damningly earnest for someone who tries to act jaded and tough. Damas can't remain distant. Every wall Damas builds is blasted away by the young warrior's newest actions. Damas is doing his best to hold himself together, but inside he is a mess. He doesn't want to lose another son. When Jak spoke of not knowing his father, Damas realized there was one thought more agonizing than losing another son, a lonely son dying fatherless. It catalyzes the father for he cannot stop thinking of himself as anything but a father. Isn't this what he always told himself he would do anything for? Another moment with his child? Damas will not squander the time they have left. Besides, the desert is rough and fickle, and violent death has come for all of Spargus' other kings. He might worry for naught. His death might come for him sooner than Jak's.

[trappedinafantasy37]

Aight, final chapter for To Be Free From the Gods → Chapter 52: One Year Later

It has been one year since the situation involving the Absolute has been resolved and the elves have decided to host a bit of a reunion.

...

This is the final chapter as well as my last update for this fic. I am literally crying as I'm typing out this post.

Thank you for reading my story!

[animasola86]

The Darkness Within: A Fateful Meeting (Part 1/2)

Notes: The lovely @amberlide gave me an amazing idea: to recreate a scene from my Seb+MC fanfic The Darkness Within, and here we are: Auror Sebastian meeting Death Eater Genevieve after seven long years of looking for her, somewhere in Knockturn Alley. (After the screenshots you'll find the accompanying excerpt of Chapter 5.)

She had noticed him the moment she had left the shop. A black shadow in the darkness around. He was very good at concealing himself, but she had still spotted him, even more so when he started moving. She continued through the narrow streets, yet the more she walked, the tighter she clutched the wand in her pocket.

“You are here,” he said, ignoring her question. “You are really here... you are back... you are –” He stopped his muttering and tilted his head with a small sigh, the smile faltering a little. She saw him swallow hard. “I can't believe it... I can't believe I finally found you!”

“Genevieve! Wait!” she heard him call after her, but she turned another corner and kept running.

[ (SEBASTIAN +) MC MASTERLIST ] [ Part 2/2 ] [ THE DARKNESS WITHIN MASTERLIST ]

End notes: Knockturn Alley is actually the “basement” of the Quidditch Pitch and some corners of Hogsmeade (where there are surprisingly few dark alleys).

I dressed Auror Sebastian like this because the scene plays in 1960 and this looks the closest to what I imagined him to look like (just pretend he's wearing a hood). Genevieve is of course very obviously a Dark witch.

If you'd like to read the scene that inspired these shots, keep reading!

Excerpt of Chapter 5 (2k words):

She had noticed him the moment she had left [Borgin and Burkes]. A black shadow in the darkness around. He was very good at concealing himself, but she had still spotted him, even more so when he started moving. She continued through the narrow streets, yet the more she walked, the tighter she clutched the wand in her pocket. She wasn't afraid of being attacked, she knew quite well that she was able to defend herself. Tom had taught her enough. What she was a little wary about was being captured by an Auror.

(…)

From the corner of her eye she could see her follower halt, yet he didn't blend into the shadows completely. She turned around and slowly bent down to pick up what she dropped, and her eyes wandered up the stranger's dark form. His face was no longer covered by shadows, and she could see him pretty clearly.

He was young, younger than Tom at least, maybe her age even? His messy brown hair was only half-hidden by the hood of his black cloak. And he was tall, very tall. Lean, but muscular from what she could see. His cloak was not revealing much, but it sat quite snug against his form. His face was hard, a very defined jawline, lean cheeks and high cheekbones, no beard, the slightest hint of freckles on his skin. When she moved her eyes to his, she saw him staring at her out of deep, brown eyes that felt warm in the cold of this late autumn night.

Something inside her soul stirred.

(…)

He didn't move, he just stared. And she was beginning to find this encounter rather creepy. She narrowed her eyes at him and waited another second for any sort of reaction, but he wouldn't move. So she inhaled deeply and turned around again, starting to walk away. He followed her almost immediately.

Slowing her pace slightly, she turned a corner and the moment she noticed him following, she pounced on him. Her wand was out, and she grabbed the front of his cloak and pushed him against the nearest wall, staring up at his tall form, only a little bit intimidated by his height. Pressing the tip of her wand against his throat, she rose to her tiptoes and made herself a little taller.

“What do you want?” she hissed through her teeth and watched him closely, bringing her face closer to his as she leaned against his chest, trying to keep him in place. She knew she didn't have the physical strength to do anything to this man, but she had learned that even the smallest person could be intimidating when she was carrying a wand and was very eager to use it.

He just stared at her, and his eyes moved over her face as if he was looking for something – and then he smiled. His lips curved upwards and his eyes started glowing almost, he seemed really happy all of a sudden. She frowned at that and quickly leaned back, letting go of his cloak and only pressing her wand harder against his skin, her arm outstretched.

“What are smiling about?” she asked quietly, genuinely confused by this reaction.

(…)

Instead of replying, he only smiled wider and suddenly he moved, completely ignoring the wand pointed at his throat, and he was so swift that she was too surprised to react. He grabbed her shoulders and pushed her all the way to the other side of the narrow street and suddenly it was her back pressed against the wall and the strange man leaning over her. She gasped in slight shock and quickly raised her wand again.

“I'm not afraid to use this, I have you know,” she said through gritted teeth and breathed a little heavier. His tall form loomed over her, and she had to admit, she felt a little anxious.

“I'm not going to hurt you,” he then said and the soft tone in his voice made her frown. “I just want to... make sure...”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “What?” she asked, really confused by now.

When he raised his left hand and moved it towards her face, she leaned back against the wall, realizing just how trapped she was. Her heart started accelerating, and she was ready to use any hex on him, but then his fingertips gently touched her cheek, and she not only dropped her wand hand but also her jaw.

His touch was soft and his long fingers slowly pushed aside her long, red hair and revealed the right side of her face. She swallowed hard. His hand cupped her face, his fingers sinking deeper into her hair, while his thumb caressed her cheekbone – and the scars running alongside it.

“What are you doing?” she whispered breathlessly.

He raised his other hand and slowly pushed off the hood of her cloak before he stroked her hair almost affectionately. His smile was even wider now, and he looked happy and sad at the same time. She stared up at him in complete bewilderment.

“I knew it...” he then said quietly, his voice shaking a little. “I knew it worked...”

She saw him pressing his lips together for a moment, and there was turmoil within his eyes. He kept caressing her face, and when his gaze met hers, she felt a shiver run down her spine.

“What are you talking about?” she hissed, growing a little irritated by now.

“You are here,” he said, ignoring her question. “You are really here... you are back... you are –” He stopped his muttering and tilted his head with a small sigh, the smile faltering a little. She saw him swallow hard. “I can't believe it... I can't believe I finally found you!”

He seemed really ecstatic by now, smiling and looking her over, his fingers running up and down her face and her hair, while she just stood there, positively dumbfounded.

“What in Merlin's bloody name are you talking about?” she eventually broke her stupor and raised her wand again, pressing it against his jaw forcefully.

He stopped his touching for a moment and looked at her, as if he only now realized she was a real person and not some kind of weird sex doll the way he was fondling her face. His dark eyes bored into hers, and the smile on his lips caved a little, until it was completely gone.

“Can't you remember?” he then asked, quietly, almost timidly.

“Remember what?” she hissed.

“Remember me? Us?” Concern washed over his handsome face (yes, even in this moment of what the hell is going on, she could recognize that he was rather handsome, despite everything).

“Us? What –” She stared at him. “I have never seen you before in my life!” she replied harshly and narrowed her eyes. She would surely remember if she had.

He leaned back a little and lowered his hands to rest on her shoulders, still keeping her from running away. His eyes grew a little darker, some sort of sadness settling within them. “Really? Have you really forgotten me? Have you forgotten our love?”

Her mouth opened when he mentioned the word love. She blinked slowly. “Love?” she repeated dumbly. “Are you mental?” She was starting to lose her nerve with this man.

He looked a little offended at that and leaned back even more.

“Look what you are doing here!” she snarled darkly. “Following an innocent girl through the streets at night, cornering her, pressing her against a wall, touching her, talking to her about bloody love? Where did you escape from, huh?”

He tilted his head slightly at her words. “I'm sorry,” he then said and caught her quite off guard at that. “You're right. This was not the proper way to do this. I apologize.”

She gaped up at him.

He sighed deeply and then retrieved his hands, letting them hang loosely by his sides. “I... had hoped you would remember me.” He soundly genuinely disappointed now, no more smile, only a sad look on his features, his eyelids lowered as he looked down. He reminded her of a puppy, and she couldn't help but feel the tiniest bit of sympathy.

“Who are you?” she then asked and blinked at the fact that she was still somehow intrigued, or at least curious to find out what this was all about.

He looked up at her question, and an eager look pooled from his eyes. “I'm Sebastian,” he said and watched her closely, hoping against all odds that the mention of his name would make her remember. She looked at him and frowned, then shook her head, and the hopeful expression on his face faltered.

“Who do you think I am?” she asked quietly, her eyes wandering over his face.

He smiled at that, a bit of warmth returning to his cheeks. “You're Genevieve. My beautiful Genevieve...”

(…)

Something dark crossed her eyes. “Who sent you?” she then spat under her breath and remembered that her wand was still pressed against his jaw, and she poked him a little harder.

Confusion washed over him. “Sent me? Nobody sent me!”

(…)

He was an Auror, a member of the Magical Law Enforcement – and this badge was proof enough that he was indeed sent here by the Ministry. They were closing in on them, she realized, and something cold rushed through her veins. And he knew her name, did he also know about what she had been doing as of late? She looked up at him and squeezed her fingers violently around the Auror badge, her jaw clenched.

“Why are you here?” she asked coldly. “You really shouldn't be here, you know? All by your lonesome...” She halted at that and quickly looked left and right, listening intently to her surroundings. He was alone, right? Her heart beat faster.

He watched her closely. “No need to threaten me,” he said quietly. “I thought you were just an innocent girl. What are you so afraid of?”

She stared up at him. “You are still a man cornering me in a dark alleyway, I am just being cautious,” she replied a little sultry. “And I heard you people like to abuse the little power you have...” She pressed his badge against his chest and let go, hearing it clattering to the ground below. He didn't move.

“You have a very bad image of us,” he said softly. “There is really no need to be afraid.”

“Afraid?” she scoffed and took a step back, her wand leaving his jaw, but still pointed at him. “I'm not afraid of people like you!”

“Are you sure? You look a little pale right now,” he teased. “Why should an innocent girl like you be afraid of us anyway?” He watched her very closely. “We are the good guys, believe me.”

“Are you now?” she breathed and took another step back. Her heart was pounding inside her chest by now.

“Believe me, I am. And I don't mean you any harm,” he said and raised his hands in a surrendering fashion.

“Why were you following me then?” Her voice was cold.

“I just wanted to make sure...” he started, then tilted his head. “I wanted to make sure a girl like you would get through this alley unharmed.”

She raised her eyebrows at that. “Are you serious?”

“Yes, I am.”

“And you want me to believe that?” She let her eyes wander over his body for a moment, then looked at the Auror badge lying on the ground. When she looked back up at him, she felt another wave of adrenaline rush through her veins. The Mark on her forearm started itching a little. She took a little step towards him, her shoe stepping on the badge in the process. “I don't believe you,” she then whispered and kicked the badge along the street.

The small clattering noise caught his attention for a second or two, and she used his distraction to move away, quickly falling into a fast run as she tried to bring as much space between them as possible.

“Genevieve! Wait!” she heard him call after her, but she turned another corner and kept running.

[Read the full chapter here]

[chelleztjs18]

The Monsters Within (N.R) Pt. 4

Dark!FemReader x Natasha Romanoff (Modern AU)

Summary: You like Natasha and you are keeping her to yourself. Natasha's true self slowly shows up.

Warning: This is Dark Fic, 18+. A lot of swearing words. Graphic and gore descriptions, kidnapping, mind manipulations / brainwashing, death, violence, bone crushing and stockholm syndrome, blood kink (if you squint). Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: Hello hello! I'm back with the last part of this series then next is the epilogue! Thank you Lou @honey-sweet-hiraeth for helping me n for the brilliant ideas for the ending. Also thank you for encourage me to step out of my comfort zone on writing it. Happy reading! and forgive me..

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

After you let Natasha go, the house feels empty. She left a hole in your heart. Just like her, you miss her immediately but you love her and you want her to be happy. You were sure that she would come back but you start to doubt it. It has been a month she hasn’t shown up to your door. You are mad and disappointed, not to her, but to yourself.

Missing her is already hard to deal with and all these other feelings are just making it harder for you. You have nobody else. This is just another “Wanda” all over again. You killed for her but just like Wanda, Natasha left you. All the special moments both of you had, did it mean something to her? What about the kiss? You asked the same question about it.

A similar internal fight happens to you. Part of you doubts her that she will come back and make your hope disintegrated. Another part of you still believes that she loves you and will come back.

All this leads you to your old coping mechanism even though you doubt that it will fully do its job but you still do it anyway. You are on a killing spree. Like the angel of death, you take souls more often than usual. Like a judge, you give death sentences to any random people you pick to feed the unending blood thirst monster in you.

Without any question, James helps you and he tries to keep up with you on getting rid of the soulless bodies. The loyal man stands by you every night you are dismembering your victim and passes him limb by limb so he can squeeze them into the bathtub before soaking them in the pool of acid.

You usually drown the whole body in the bath of acid but tearing them apart to pieces before that, helps you a little to let out your dismay and keeps your mind busy from thinking about Natasha.

The feeling when the big sharp steel knife forces its way through the skin, cutting through the muscle until it reaches the joints drags out your anger of you slowly but so relieving for you. It makes you feel that you gain back the control over your emotion.

The rusty blood scent spreads strongly when it flows out, shakes your senses and triggers the hemoglobin flow rapidly in yourself like it’s a shot of steroid that keeps your adrenaline rush going crazier. The slicing sounds of the cut tendon and that weird yet satisfying noise right when the joints are separated forcefully playing around through your ear releasing something indescribable in you.

Victims after victims and no matter how many limbs you cut, you still feel empty. None of them can tame the insatiable urge of killing nor the feeling of having Natasha around you.

_____

Natasha’s eyes are watching the T.V but not her mind. Her body is there sitting with Maria, watching the news but her thoughts are busy thinking about something else, or you, to be precise.

Her mind ponders the questions of how are you and what are you doing right now. She can’t lie to herself, she has the wanting feeling to know if you are okay after she left you for over a month. Her heart is barking orders at her to go back to you.

She is far lost in her thoughts. The sounds of the TV flew past over her head right away. Her eyes look empty, staring at one spot of the screen without even following what’s on it.

Maria’s voice that’s calling her name and a nudge on her arm drag her attention suddenly. Her gaze shifted to her friend next to her. “Huh? What is it? Sorry I didn’t hear what you said.”

“Are you okay? I was talking about the news. Look, they are talking about the number of missing people has been increasing in a little over a month.” said Maria in concern.

Her stomach turns into a knot and lungs are emptying on their own without her permission as soon as she hears Maria’s words. “Oh yeah, that’s horrible.” Natasha lets out her sympathy as her response.

“Do you remember our regular customer, Ms. Harkness?” Maria asks.

“Oh yeah. She is a cop, right? What about her?” the redhead returned a question back.

“Yeah, her. This is supposed to be classified but she told me that they might be all dead and the suspect might be a very smart serial killer because there’s no trace found until now.” more details flow out of Maria’s lips.

Natasha starts to feel unease from everything she hears as she swallows her nervousness down. Her brain connects all the lines of information straight to you. She knows that it was all your doing.

“Did–did they find any clue who it was?” The Russian stuttered in her question.

“Unfortunately they didn’t. Not yet. Why Nat? Do you want to tell me something? You haven’t told me about everything that happened to you while you were gone. Are you ready to tell me more?” Maria asks back to back, pushing Natasha to an edgy point.

“I–I–need more time to talk about it, Maria.”

“I know, Nat but the earlier we tell the police that you are back the sooner you get the help you need. I don’t want to get in trouble for letting you stay with me without reporting the cops that you have been back for over a month now. Did you see the face of your captor or what they did?” The more Maria asks, the more anxious Natasha gets.

“No, I didn’t. It was all dark, no window. All walls. I couldn’t see the face and the person didn’t say anything at all whenever she came to give me food or clean clothes.” she rambles whatever false answer she can give to her curious friend so she would stop asking immediately. Her heart wants to protect you. She internally doesn’t want you got caught.

“Wait..wait.. She? So it’s a woman? She gave you clean clothes? I thought you said that an old lady found you on the side of the road, gave you a lift and helped you clean up? So the suitcase you brought wasn’t hers? You also told me that the clothes are some of her daughter's. I’m confused now, Nat. Which one is the right story?” Confusion and suspicion gradually grows in Maria’s thoughts when she recalls some part of the story that Natasha told her doesn’t match at all.

Maria tries to look at her eyes but she avoids them and her face slowly turns white pale. Natasha knows that she is on thin ice right now. She realized that she told Maria false details. Small unmatch details with the previous one and that definitely digs her own graveyard. All she can do right now is to cover the lies with another lie. “I don’t know, Mar. Okay? I don’t know! Please don’t push me. I need more time, damn it!” her voice was raised against Maria.

"Okay.. okay.. Nat. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

Without answering her bewildered friend, Natasha rushes to her room, locking her door and hoping that Maria won't demand the truth.

As silence dominates the whole bedroom, you easily come into her memories. Shortly, you are all she thinks about. She misses you, a lot. Internally, she is longing for you. As she is sitting on her bed while trying to calm herself from the pressure that Maria’s question gave her, her suitcase got caught in the corner of her eyes.

She remembers that you mentioned the burgundy envelope then opens it as soon as she finds it. There are some numbers that are indicated as the front gate and front door lock code of your house right after your address.

She proceeds to the lines of words you wrote.

“You can always come home to me whenever you want.”

Her heart wrenches yet warmth soothes inside her. She can’t deny her feelings any longer. She misses you and wants to be with you. Without any assurance whether Yelena is still alive or not, now you are all she has. To Natasha, you are her home now. Living with Maria won’t make her life easier if she wants to keep your secret safe. Sooner or later, Natasha will be trapped in the corner of truth.

Without a doubt, Natasha decides to run away from everything and come back home to you. She packs her only belongings in the suitcase you gave her and waits until the right time for her to leave.

She sneaks out in the middle of the night and takes a taxi ride to you. The closer she is to your residence, the more sure she is that she made the right decision. Her doubt and denial evaporate. She is leaving her past life behind to be with you willingly. Filled with thrills, Natasha can’t wait to be in your arms again.

As soon as she gets off her ride home, she quickens her steps towards your gates. The beeping sound as the gate automatically unlocked right after she pressed the numbers sending a dash of feelings that made her walk even faster to the front door.

She presses the other lock codes and she opens the door right away. She scurries to the living room but you are not there.

With a smile, she naturally led herself to your shared bedroom by passing the kitchen. Her heart wrenches yet warmth and joy bubbling inside. She can’t wait to see you, give you the hug that she actually craves.

As soon as Natasha's feet led her to the kitchen, her smile quickly dropped and turned into a frown. Her excitement and the joy in her shredded into pieces in a second and they are quickly replaced by anger. The warmth that bubbled in her is now turned into a hot boiling jealousy mess.

Her heart pounds and her face feels warm from how she is feeling right now. The redhead is furious right after her green eyes catch another woman in your house with you. A brunette who is slightly shorter than you is standing in front of you with her hands touching all over you and her lips catching yours in a kiss.

Her body feels like she just got hit by a huge wave that weakens her knees but her anger supports her to stand strong.

Both of you and the woman don't see that Natasha is in the kitchen and she takes advantage of it.

Natasha doesn’t make any sound no matter how much she wants to scream. As the silence shut her mouth, her mind and eyes were moving fast in a few seconds. Her brain is thinking what she is going to do as her eyes are spotting the kitchen knife that she knows where it is.

Natasha goes ballistic and marches furiously towards the brunette right after her right hand grabs the sharp huge kitchen knife. The redhead is livid and she quickly grabs the stranger that pisses her off so badly by the hair, dragging her away from you. The startled woman screams from the pain from the pull of her hair.

With all the energy she has, Natasha pins her to the wall then her left hand quickly chokes the woman in front of her as hard as she can.. She looks at her with so much jealousy and hatred while the woman gasps for air and speaks at the same time. “Let..me..go. Who are you?” as she tries to pull Natasha's grip of death.

Everything happens too fast. By the time you try to grab Natasha, she tilts her head and watches her gasp louder as she stabs her and pulls out the knife right away out of her abdomen. Blood flows out of her wound and drips off the sharp weapon that sliced through her. From where she stabbed her, you know it’s fatal and too late to save her.

Natasha watches the crimson fluid out of her mouth and overflow her hand as she loosen up her grip then throw her to the ground.

Natasha turns her head to you but she hears the dying voice call your name. “Y/n. h–help”. SHe hates her calling your name and it drives Natasha crazy into a whole nother level. She quickly turns and straddles on her bloody and wounded lower body while the woman tries to fight weakly.. With both of her hands Natasha raises the knife and stabs her once more and that's when she took the first life out of someone.

You watch Natasha stab her again..and again..and again. Burying the knife in any part of her body she can. She doesn't even care if it thrusts into the same wound.

The sound of every lunge mixed with her grunts sound so clear in your ear delivers an indescribable feeling in you.

Blood pools around the now lifeless body and splats around the cabinet doors. Natasha's hands are now drenched in deep red colors.

You are appalled yet proud of her that she finally releases and accepts the monster in her. You just didn't expect who would be the first person she killed.

After the 16th stabs, Natasha finally stopped. She is trying to catch her breath as she stands up and turns around to you. She tossed the bloody knife away and wiped the splattered blood off her face with her forearm only ended up leaving some more smudges on it.

"Fuck, that feels so good." She said it casually and in a relieved tone as her forest green eyes looked at you.

You always knew she would look a lot more attractive with someone’s blood on her skin. Your brain is stunned with not just how she looks and what she did but it is also thinking what to do next to the dead body on the floor. You can’t deny it, no matter how proud you are of her, you are still a little shocked.

You look at her and finally break your silence. “That was Wanda.”

As soon as she hears the name out of your lips, Natasha quickly looks at the dead body with wide eyes as she bites the inside of her cheeks shortly before she asks “Are you mad?”

“I probably should be.” you answered as you glanced at the body as well then looked back at Natasha.

Silence covers the atmosphere in the kitchen along with the rusty blood scents that slowly spread. None of you say anything. Natasha is waiting for what you will say next while you are thinking.

After a good few minutes of silence, you start laughing a little. Her lips slightly open in a pinch of surprise from your reaction. She sees you walk closer to her. “Let’s clean this up.” you suggest slightly before you kiss her lips and you can taste a little bit of Wanda’s blood off her lips then you walk to do what you have to do next.

Natasha smiles from the giddy feelings your kiss gives her.

_____

You could’ve dragged Wanda’s body to the basement by yourself but Natasha insisted on helping. “This bitch..She touched and KISSED you and now even when she’s dead, she’s still a pain in the ass to get rid of.” she complains in between grunts as she helps you on putting Wanda into the tub.

“Watch it, Natty. She’s Wanda. No matter what, she’s part of my life.” you look at her in a teasing smile but there’s still a pinch of seriousness in your words.

“What? It's true. She is a pain in the ass. She’s so tall and it’s hard for me to put her in this freaking bathtub.” another complains out of her pouty lips, complete with a frown on her face.

“How did she get here anyway?” she asks in a more irritated tone yet curious as she shoves Wanda’s hand into the bathtub.

“I saved her from her ex-boyfriend and she didn’t want to be alone.” you shrug your shoulders at the same time you give her your answer. “Vision? What did he do?” Natasha pitches back another question.

“Turns out he is abusive just like her father.” you explain as you gather a bunch of big jugs of acid next to the claw footed tub.

Natasha lets out a sarcastic chuckle. “Funny world. Anyway, did you kill him?”

“Unfortunately, no. We were in public.” you let out a disappointed sigh with your answer while you open each cap of the prepared jugs. Natasha can see and knows just from your sigh how much you wanted to kill him. A question popped up in her mind.

“Will you love me more if I kill him for you?” she questions as her eyes search for yours, waiting for your answer like a little puppy.

You can’t help yourself letting out a little laugh. “Cute.” It was the only word that you said.

“I’m serious. I will kill him for you, Y/n.”

“Oh believe me, darling. I know you will.” You give another quick kiss on her lips then you grab the acid.

A second before you pour it, Natasha stops you. “Wait! Allow me to pour it on my first victim.” Natasha expresses her bone chilling request in a disturbing playful proud tone along with a small giggle then takes it from your hands.

You smile and let go of your grips. She takes it as a yes from you. In silence and with gentle eyes, you look at her pouring the dangerous liquid. Amazement screamed so loud on her facial expression as her eyes rounded with thrills while watching the effect that the chemical substance gave on Wanda’s skin, slowly..inch.. by..inch.

Natasha even makes sure that she doesn’t miss any spot. A soft satisfied gasp crack the silence and flew straight to your ears as soon as she watches it burn the skin and forcefully rip its pores.

As soon as she thinks she is done with it, Natasha takes a delighted deep breath and exhales. She turns her head to you with a smile. “So, any other ex’s I need to take out?”

You laugh. “You are horrible.” and shake your head while you fill up the bathtub with more acid.

“I’m no worse than you.” she replied with a smile. And just like that, both of you casually talking and teasing each other as if nothing happened in front of Wanda's slowly dissolving dead body.

You smile at her with such adoration.

"Then we are just a couple of monsters aren't we, Natty?"

"Yes, we are." Natasha finally accepts the monsters within.

Epilogue

A/n: Welp, that's it for today! Let me know what you think. Feel free to come to my ask or message. Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! Follow me for more and see you in the epilogue or my other works.

Cheerio!

Taglist: @madamevirgo @musicinourlips @unstable-sapphic-hoe @fanboy7794 @chloe7076 @b0mbdotc0m @trikruismybitch @ichala @californianwhiterabbit @honey-sweet-hiraeth @imfuckinggenius @sxfwap @chaekhan @daenerys713 @luvmcgrath @stupidsapphicsstuff @pattypavo @frvny @franfineashell @heyyoweveryone @ygtft-chen @yaaskasey @sweeet-likeeee-cinnamonn @paumxmff @dopeyouth @beaniejennie @ineedafinghug @idkwhatimwriting @lucydiibi @mainly-rebloging-fics-i-like @gloriousfoxruins @grxvitye @mcubreakdown101 @aos22 @wandanatstan @paulawand @yeeterthekeeper @femalehomosexual666 @snowdrop1026 @modernmonalisa @nothingisrealanyway @idamaemann @sweeterlust @royalityofmultifandom @playboysaleen @peabrain112 @gwhaley127 @harleyswanda @bodhi-j @darth-rainbow @cristin-rjd

[aimfor-theheart]

i can litcherally connect every issue people complain about within fandom in recent years to late stage capitalism

[transingthoseformers]

I just love the idea of Megan first hiding his pregnancy, then hiding his sparkling in his pouch. I can imagine being so large helped to hide any physical signs, and he's probably used to hiding any discomfort. And he's more than likely armoured enough for the baby to be safe in his pouch while he fights.

And then I guess he gets captured or something? The sparkling is revealed, and that probably has some major consequences.

(Ofc it's Oppy as the sire, but just for fun imagine it's Ratchet)

Okay but that'd be so fucking funny if he was sparked up before his space jaunt by Ratchet, and then he came back and is just. Absolutely hiding all of it lol.

Oh I'm rolling around the idea of megaratch here because it's a fairly neat rarepair. Plus, I've always had fun considering these two working together aaaaand wait a minute. Consider: Megaopiratch. I've read a few spectacular fics with both of them, it'd be an interesting dynamic, and my brain is instantly giving the ultimate scenario of both of them being the sire. Am i trying to figure out a scenario where this even happened? Yes. I feel like it was during one of those temporary "We're only going to work together to get this done, and afterwards we're going back to fighting" situations like the unicron thing. I got derailed lol

Plus, you can completely justify this as Megatron avoiding Knockout like the plague, which? I mean, you can consider the idea of checkups having a pretty long amount of time in between, and i think it was mentioned that yes Knockout and Breakdown were on their own adventure off world as a vacay. For such long lived beings i can see there easily being decades to even vorns between each one, i mean these guys live at entirely different time scales than us. So, that'd be a reason.

[spiritsong]

Ill at Ease

But Aune tried not to think about these things. Thinking meant dwelling and dwelling meant fascination meant fixation meant obsession. She could not afford to turn him over and over in her hand like a well-worn worry stone, because that meant thinking about how he would feel beneath her hand, how it might feel to place it over his twisting mouth, how he might fight back, would he try to bite, yes, she would hope so, she would hope he would chew her up and she would return the favor, just—

click here to read on ao3

Summary: Anxiety and unease weighs heavy in the air as the party settles down for their second night together. Astarion's habit of antagonizing tests Aune's patience and self-control.

Explicit (for descriptions of gore and violence; canon typical). 3.2k. Angsty conversations. Slow burn.

[stellawolfearts]

i did it-

[bitchkay]

Something's to look forward to☆

[muntadhir]

I really appreciate the supportive comments I get on my Lies of P fic, not that I get a lot but that those I do receive are very gracious. I appreciate that people so far have been able to engage in good faith or otherwise look away. Although I know from past experience that if you keep writing/posting, the numbers are just against you and someone's going to get weird about you as a creator eventually (I just need to prepare myself for this... again).

I don't often publicly talk about the harassment I've had to deal with in fandom, but it sucks and if you've had to deal with it too, I'm sorry. 75%+ of the time for me it's over the fluffiest stuff with like zero conflict, which goes to show that you should write/draw whatever you want, because someone somewhere is always going to be mad about it.

[fyrewalks]

RP TIERLIST !

tagged by: @heartsbreaking tagging: @nursc @parameddie @amreality @bledsoul @tricords and you, the cutie on the dash!!