#My depravity cannot get worse

[zappedbyzabka]

Johnny puts on any sort of watch or bracelet, and he’s getting those wrists grabbed and marked in a second.

[sleyu]

thinking about how mean!bf sirius would have a hugeee corruption kink, he just wants to ruin your mind yk

idk maybe its just me

i think mean or not, it is definite that sirius black has a corruption kink and it unquestionably couples with his possessive nature.

just imagine mean bf ! sirius meeting you for the first time. you’re a timid, but undoubtedly kind individual who is meek next to him—fully aware of sirius’ notoriety in his personality and habits. he becomes so awestruck, he has nothing to respond to your unassuming questions aside from the occasional nod or gentle murmur.

he displays a calm, relatively friendly aura until the pair of you begin to become acquainted with each other and ultimately, begin dating. it is only then, that the mean teasing and snickers begin, and his heart bursts with joy at the sound of your bashful whines and protests every time he playfully slaps your ass or tugs your skirt, laughing and pulling you close to him, muttering how his actions are all in good fun and that he’d never let anything actually hurt you.

‘so bloody sensitive. y’know i’d rather die than let someone lay a hand on you, dummy.’

and of course, sirius isn’t stupid. he’s been having lewd, perverted thoughts about you since the day he met you. in fact, it was only the same night that sirius cast a silencing charm around his bed to hide the sinful sounds of him grunting as he fisted his cock, thoughts about bending you over the classroom desk polluting his already depraved mind.

since you’ve started dating, he reckons it’s time to manifest these fantasies into life, especially after noticing how your meek gaze has begun to linger on his broad chest and widen at the sight of his bulging crotch. his inner self beams with joy and crude anticipation every time he feels you pawing at his thighs, looking up at him in despair as if you’re unsure of what you really want or why the throbbing ache in between your thighs is only getting worse.

i think mean bf ! sirius would definitely become dizzy at the sight of you on your knees, hands gripping his muscular thighs, begging him to let you suck his cock or to fill your cunt up. usually he was the one doing the begging, but here you were, pliant, obedient, and desperate for his every touch. he genuinely has to sit down and stare at you while also controlling the immoral urge of forcing his cock down your throat, watching how your eyes widen and become teary as your throat contracts and chokes around his pulsating cock.

he genuinely cannot control himself once he sees you fully submit to him, begging him to give you the exact things you were too shy about even insinuating merely a month ago. it makes him feel so accomplished knowing that he was the one that made your brain all cloudy and fuzzy—that he was the one who got your cunt hooked on the feeling of his relentless, unforgiving cock.

‘sirius—my fingers—they’re not good enough—need your cock in me—jus’ want you to ruin ‘n abuse me—please da—’ as soon as you become close to uttering the last word, he’s already lifted up your skirt and forced his cock inside your aching pussy anyways, groaning into your mouth and fucking you ten times harder than he would have any other day.

‘slut—you’ve become a little slut—oh, fuck—‘n who’s are you, huh?’

it becomes the first time that sirius loses all sense of reason and caution as it has become evident to him that he’s irreversibly corrupted you into becoming just as disgusting and perverted as him.

‘nah, not sirius’, honey, you're daddy’s, yeah?’

‘gross fuckin’ bitch loves that, huh, puppy? you like it when daddy forces himself inside you like that, hm?’

‘hogwarts newest slut, yeah? but only mine, isn’t that right? only i get to ruin—fuck—this whorish cunt—mmm,’

sirius is so mean, he doesn’t even tell you when he’s about to cum :( he makes you cum and afterward, you’re a fucked out mess because he just doesn’t stop. your eyebrows begin to furrow and you can only manage to mumble a quiet ‘sirius?’ before he groans into your neck, breath all hot and heavy, and pumps you full of his hot, sticky cum. all you can do is whine and writhe beneath him as he pushes your knees to your chest and uses your cunt to drain his massive cock.

all the while, he’s reveling in the realization that he has just cummed inside you and that if spells and birth control were forgotten, it would be no surprise if you fell pregnant with the copious amounts of cum pumped inside your spent hole.

‘my dirty girl likes when daddy breeds her, doesn’t she? oh, don’t shake your head, pup, i know you like it—can feel you clench—god—around me right now.’

sirius gets so turned on when you confess that you can’t make yourself cum without him ever since the two of you started having sex. the image of you crying out in frustration at the feeling of your own neediness and the dull throbbing in between your sore thighs—incapable of doing anything without his guidance—makes his cock harden far quicker than it should have.

‘poor thing. my dumb girl can’t do anything without me, can she? your small fingers just aren’t as daddy, hm?’ paired with a faux, mocking frown because sirius black is an asshole that is very visibly ecstatic that you’ll always have to come to him to find a release.

and nothing fuels his ego more than having you beg him to stuff you full of his cum before class begins. he loses his mind seeing the effects of ruining your perfect, angelic interior. his once smart, goody-two-shoes, good-girl has become a conniving slut, her own cunt betraying any logic or rational thinking within her mind :( seeing his shy, perfect-attendance girlfriend begging him to skip class with her to fuck in a dingy broom closet is all it takes for him to bust right then and there.

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

……cersei corrupting little sister reader mayhaps 🤭

Here you go, Babybel. I hope my lesbian offering pleases you.

Warnings: DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT. Incest, corruption kink, dubcon, fingering. Word count: ~1k

Cersei is in her cups again. You can tell by the faintest tint of rouge that stains her lips and the gleam she gets in her green eyes when she’s overindulged in Arbor red. It’s gotten worse since Jaime went away to the Riverlands and there is little you can do to stop it.

Truthfully, you are glad he’s gone. Growing up you’d always envied the closeness he shared with your older sister, the gap in age between you and your siblings made childhood lonely for you. Tyrion didn’t take an interest in you, but you’d always adored Cersei. You idolised the grace with which she carried herself, her effortless beauty and sharp tongue. She never really paid you any mind though, too preoccupied with her twin to notice you.

It was only when Jaime wasn’t around that she deigned to give you any attention, but you basked in being her plaything, even though it was only temporary. You had heard the rumours regarding your siblings’ incestuous relationship, but your father had scoffed derisively when you dared to ask, telling you that was a scandalous practice that had died with the Targaryens. The Lannisters would never debase themselves with such depravity. You’d believed him, you had no reason not to.

That was until you grew older, Cersei married King Robert, and Jaime’s absences became more frequent. Something shifted in the affection that your sister lavished upon you. It evolved into something darker, more intimate and filled you with feelings of burning shame, amidst a deep seated warmth in your lower belly that you could never quite find the words to articulate.

Lingering kisses to the lips, insistence that you share her bed while she kept you cuddled close to her replaced games of make believe and hide and seek. You supposed it was part of her becoming Queen. People change. She had to grow up and so would you.

This feels too grown up though; as she stands, wine goblet in hand, eyeing you closely as you run your hands over the rich, crimson brocade fabric of the gown draped over the folding screen.

“I cannot wear this,” You tell her, shaking your head and snatching your hands back as though you may sully the material with your very touch. “It is too much.”

She smirks at you, taking a slow sip of her wine and letting her eyes travel the length of you. “You are a Lannister. Nothing is too much.” She says with a slight tilt of her head.

“You have worn this gown to hold Court before!” You protest. “I cannot wear the Queen’s clothes.”

She steps closer, taking your jaw between thumb and forefinger. You can smell cloves and berried fruits upon her breath as it fans across your face, her eyes boring into yours. “Do you remember how much fun we had playing dress up when you were a girl?” She whispers.

You swallow thickly, hating the way your lower belly flutters under her attention. “Y-yes.” You peep meekly.

“Will you dress up once more, sweet sister, just for me?” She purrs.

You want to tell her no, you long to wrench from her grasp and flee back to your own chambers, if only to put a stop to the uncomfortable stickiness that gathers between your legs. You hate this, and yet you will not deny her anything. She is your sister, your Queen. 

You nod your head and she releases you with a demure smile. “Good girl.” She praises stepping back.

Your hands move to lift your thin cotton shift over your head, then pause, uncertainty paralysing you. “Aren’t you going to leave while I dress?”

She scoffs, a grin briefly flashes across her pretty features before it’s gone again. “Nothing I haven’t seen before.” She says with a soft shrug.

You hesitate a moment, before pulling off your nightgown, leaving you bare before your sister. It may be nothing she hasn’t seen before, but she has certainly never looked at you like that before.

There is a predatory hunger, dark and urgent, in the way she stares at you. It makes you want to shrink into yourself, cover whatever parts of you she can see with your hands. The silent threat to rob you of your innocence looms heavy and oppressive. It frightens you, but not as much as the urge you have to simply give in to her.

“Here, allow me.” She says, setting her goblet down and stepping forward to take the dress from the screen.

Your breath hitches as her fingertips drag across your skin as she helps you into it, leaving gooseflesh in their wake. You have to bite back a whimper as she grazes your pebbled nipples lightly as she pulls the bodice over your breasts. You are sure it is deliberate.

The room feels too hot, your skin blazes and you grow wetter between your thighs, guilt eating away at you for it.

Lannisters would never debase themselves with such depravity.

What if you are depraved? What if she knows? She’d tell your father and it would bring shame upon your entire house.

You are broken from your thoughts as Cersei’s hand cups your mound beneath your skirts, her lips parting slightly as she feels the arousal gathered there.

You gasp, attempting to pull back, but she follows, keeping her hand exactly where it is. You bump into the wall, backed up against it as she spreads her fingers through your sodden folds, exploring.

“S-stop.” You stammer, unable to comprehend that your own sister would touch you in such a way.

She tuts, but makes no move to halt her ministrations. “Don’t you wish to play, little lion?”

Your eyes widen, your breathing becoming more laboured as the urge to resist her grows weaker. Realisation dawns, horrifying and intriguing all at once. “Is…is this how you and Jaime play?”

She laughs softly, plunging a finger inside of you, the sudden stretch of it making you yelp. “Oh, how Jaime and I play is much more intimate. Would you like me to show you?”

No is precisely what you should say, if you were to listen to the way your mind screams at you to run. However, driven by the fluttering in your cunt and the excitement that flurries in your belly, you answer in the affirmative. “Show me.”

[odditycircus-2002]

Mortal Kombat 1 Intros with Medusa!Reader

Spoilers for Story mode: Proceed with caution

Yourself (Mirror Match)

Y/N: How could you possibly willingly marry that snake?!?

Y/N 2: My dear snake gave me the fruits of knowledge you could never imagine. /

Y/N 1: Ugh, let me guess, you’re also married to Shang Tsung? Y/N 2: No, I am happily married to Syzoth. /

Y/N 2: Such a disappointment looking at my carbon copy. Y/N 1: It isss more disappointing that you are as insanely depraved as you are!

/

Y/N 2: Have you considered the benefits of Kytinn royal jelly for your cure?

Y/N 1: Ha! As I- Mmmhhh, You may be on to something. /

Y/N 1: I thought Lord Lui Kang turned you to dust! Y/N 2: Do you really think my husband and I would not have any contingencies? /

Y/N 1: You made Empress Sindel do WHAT? Y/N 2 gives a malicious chuckle: Pulling her strings was some of the most fun I had in a long time.

/

Y/N 1: You have some rather questionable taste in bedfellows.

Y/N 2: At least I can hold mine without fear of being stabbed instantly.

/ Shang Tsung

Shang Tsung: Across all timelines, we were meant to be.

Y/N: Never in this one or the next will I ever belong to you!

/

Shang Tsung: You have to understand what you saw in my lab is what true progress looks like.

Y/N: To think, I ever marveled at watching you work with your magic.

/

Shang Tsung: I know you would love the rare flora that can be found on my island-

Y/N: I rather see a carnivorous plant digest you slowly.

/

Y/N: I regret not ending you when I had the chance.

Shang Tsung: Don’t blame yourself too much, my sweet. I know you still hold a torch for me.

/

Y/N: You will NOT lay a hand on Baraka!

Shang Tsung: I will not let a filthy beast get in between us!

/

Y/N angrily: Every day, I wake up to find a stranger in the mirror.

Shang Tsung softly: And yet, you're the same clever woman as always.

/

Shang Tsung angrily: It wasn't enough to steal my birthright, but you also had to take away my soul mate?

Lui Kang: I did nothing of the sort, YOU drove her away.

Baraka

Y/N coquettishly: Do not go easy on me, Baraka.

Baraka: I know how you like it rough.

/

Y/N: So we are in agreement?

Baraka: Only IF you win, I'll stomach any greens you want me to eat for the next 3 moons.

/

Y/N: Sometimes, I wish we could-

Baraka: So do I, Y/N

/

Y/N: I heard from Ashrah that you asked her to end your life if you were to lose your mind.

Baraka: I did not want to burden your soul by having you take my life.

/

Baraka: How close are you to finding a cure?

Y/N: As much as I loathed to admit it, Shang Tsung's research has put me even closer to finding a permanent one.

/

Baraka: If you want to enter the Kytinn Hive, you’ll need to fight harder than ever before.

Y/N: I know I can trust you to watch my back, my friend.

/

Baraka: Stay away from Y/N, Sorcerer!

Shang Tsung: You cannot stop destiny, savage!

Syzoth

Y/N: I have so much to thank you for, Syzoth.

Syzoth: It's the least I can do for all I've been complicit in.

/

Syzoth: Does your skin still burn, Y/N?

Y/N: Not really, but my skin has been itching and flaking like mad.

/

Y/N: If I had known what Shang was doing to you, Syzoth-

Syzoth: Then you probably would been given a worse fate.

/

Syzoth: Zikandar barely survived the Kytinn's attack, and you want to follow them to their hive???

Y/N: If my theory about Kytinn royal jelly is correct, I could finally cure Tarkat!

/

Y/N gives a smug grin: Think you can slip out of my constricting hold?

Syzoth grins in return: If I can slip past Shao's forces, I'll have no trouble doing the same with you.

/

Syzoth teasingly: I believe you and Baraka would make a tremendous mated pair.

Y/N: Th-th-that'sss very kind of you to say, Syzoth.

/

Syzoth: I know what you did to her wasn't an accident.

Shang Tsung: I am not as heartless as to do that to my precious flower.

Mileena

Mileena: Why did you not tell me or Mother sooner about what happened?

Y/N: By then, your mother would not hear anything I had to say.

/

Mileena: Don't you regret being unable to save Mother?!

Y/N: My regret haunts me no matter the hour.

/

Mileena with desperate hope: Are you really close to a cure???

Y/N: I'm close to a breakthrough, but I will need a legion of soldiers to collect the most important ingredient.

/

Y/N: You did not happen to skip your required meditative exercises to sparr with Tanya again, did you?

Mileena: And what if I did? Skipping one session won't kill me.

/

Y/N: If I had found a way to treat your symptoms sooner, your mother would never have welcomed Shang Tsung into her court.

Mileena: One way or another, that Snake would have found some way to slither into the court.

/

Y/N: For what you did for the Tarkatans, you are already proving to be a fine Empress.

Mileena: It warms my heart to hear such praise from you.

/

Y/N: We are both trapped in bodies not our own.

Mileena: I pray to the gods that we may one day find a cure for you as well.

Shao

Shao: I almost regret not inviting you to join my cause.

Y/N: Your father should have let you die as a child!

/

Y/N: Your so-called "Patriotism" is nothing but a ruse to hide your lust for power.

Shao: And here I thought you were clever as your reputation says.

/

Y/N: I was tempted to leave you to die of your wounds, countless times.

Shao: Hah! For a Healer you are rather callous.

/

Y/N: I have to say, Reiko makes a far better statue than he ever did as a soldier.

Shao: Reverse your curse, witch!

/

Y/N: In hindsight, it is not so ssssurprising that your pride would have you betray the Empire.

Shao: I fight against the Royal Family for the sake of Outworld!

/

Shao: What in the Netherrealm did you do to my troops?!?

Y/N: I simply had the wildlife you hunt around your camp eat some special shrooms.

/

Shao: What do you truly know of War, Little Healer?

Y/N: Enough to know every possible way the mightiest can break.

Sindel

Y/N: I cannot fathom you as some vile harpy.

Sindel: Nor I with you as a heartless mad woman.

/

Y/N: I have deeply missed your hanging gardens.

Sindel: Perhaps later we may visit them together for old times sake.

/

Y/N: I am happy to report that Mileena is improving in mind and spirit

Sindel: I hope the same could be said for her body.

/

Sindel hurt: Why did you not come to me after what Shang Tsung did to you?

Y/N: I feared you would turn me away like you did with Lei Mei once you saw my visage.

/

Sindel: Care to explain the statue that strongly resembles Reiko in the middle of my garden?

Y/N: He had it coming to him.

/

Sindel: I am sorry, Y/N, the answer is still no. As Empress, I can not risk catching Tarkat.

Y/N hissing: If you only ssssaw what disgraceful conditions you forced the afflicted to live with!

/

Sindel: I am happy you found joy as I did with Jerrod, even with his disease.

Y/N surprised: What has Mileena been telling you now?

Johnny Cage

Johnny: Seriously, what did you see in Shang Tsung?!?

Y/N, with an exasperated sigh: Only what he wanted me to see.

/

Johnny: You will NOT believe how much my fans ship you and Baraka.

Y/N: Ship? Do they plan on building a boat for us?

/

Johnny: I totally have a chance with Katana... Don't I?

Y/N: *Hisses in amusement before responding* Ahhh, you are amusing Earthrealmer but no.

/

Y/N: Dammit Earthrealmer! I'm a healer, not an actress!

Johnny: But you already have the part down to a T!

/

Y/N: I too am something of a jokester.

Johnny: Ehhh no offense beautiful, but I'm not one for your brand of dark comedy.

/

Y/N: Why would you show me such a film???

Johnny: I swear, I forgot that's what happened to Medusa in that scene!

/

Baraka: Care to explain why Y/N seemed so frightened when she returned from your abode?

Johnny: Wait, wait, wait! I can explain!

/

Ashrah

Y/N almost smugly: So I resemble a demon?

Ashrah: That’s not exactly a good thing, Y/N.

/

Y/N: Baraka asked you to do what now?!

Ashrah: I pray you can find a cure for his condition before it comes down to that.

/

Y/N bashfully: Wh-what has Syzoth been telling you?

Ashrah: So are you and Baraka not a couple?

/

Y/N: I will gladly help you put down Quan-chi, as long as you do the same with Shang Tsung.

Ashrah: Together, we will put a permanent stop to both our tormentors.

/

Ashrah: My kris appears rather split with you.

Y/N: Considering some of things I’ve done, that doesn’t surprise me.

/

Ashrah: I am grateful you support Syzoth and I.

Y/N in a happy tone: Just be aware that if you hurt him any way, you’ll be begging for death. /

Ashrah: For a healer, you’re rather…

Y/N: Violent? That's always just been me.

A/N: Don't forget to like, reblog, and comment as I love hearing from y'all! Stay weird, my fellow humans.

[kybercrystals94]

Come Back (ch. 1)

Read here on Ao3!

Whumptober 2024 - Day 12 - Prompts: Underground Caverns // "Just a little more"

Rated: T | Words: 573 | CW: non-graphic mentions of blood and injury.

Next Chapter>>

A/N: This fic is for @fionas-frenzy, because she mentioned a Tech-Lives fic yesterday, and I just had to make it happen. Also, yes, another Tech-Lives fic, because denial isn't just a river in Egypt, ya know??

It won’t be the fall that kills him. 

Although, that certainly did not help matters. 

Tech holds the shattered remains of his comm, cupped in trembling hands. Entirely irreparable without proper replacement parts. His pack is gone too. If he rests long enough, perhaps he can garner enough strength to find it. Or what’s left of it. Find something. 

He is not optimistic.

Strangely, the first loss that seems to trigger an emotional response is his goggles. It is less their importance to him, and more that they are the final straw placed on an already precarious situation. He is frustrated to find himself brought to tears as he pulls them from his bloodied face. 

Because he is bloody. There is blood everywhere. Head wounds have the unfortunate tendency to appear far worse than is necessarily accurate. He tries to find comfort in that, but it is threadbare and flimsy. Hardly worth considering. 

The goggles slip from his hand, falling amongst the wreckage of the railcar. He is not sure how he survived. It all seems surreal. The pain, the circumstances, the depravity of the whole situation. They’d lost their chance to find Crosshair. He sacrificed himself to give the remainder of his siblings a chance, fragile as it might be. He hopes they do not squander it. He hopes they get away. 

He hopes they are not foolish, and try to come back for him. 

He hopes they do.  

Sucking in a shaky breath, Tech knows he has to move. He cannot remain here. The Empire will come to scour the wreckage, find salvageable parts. Maybe even try to find him, or what is left of him. 

He moves to get up, tries to push himself to his feet, but his strength has abandoned him, pain excruciating. He only manages to draw himself up enough to crawl. And so he does. He is his only chance of survival, he only needs to put himself out of reach. 

His brothers will not come back for him. 

His brothers will think he is dead. 

Afterall, no one could survive such a fall. 

It is only logical. 

Please, come back. 

He finds an opening in the ground. An underground cavern. Cavern might be a generous description. He debates the likelihood that it is a dwelling for some sort of ferocious creature. He cannot remember what sort of animals are native to this planet. He knows he looked it up. He and Omega had discussed the likelihood of running into such things. The odds were low. What was it? 

Another defeated sound escapes him. He arranges himself, every movement agonizing, to descend boots first. It is a slight descent, easily manageable, even in his broken state. It is dark, but he is not afraid of the dark. He is alone, but he is not afraid of being alone. That is not entirely true. He does not have a memory of ever being truly alone. Not like this. Never like this. 

I don’t want to die like this. 

He knows he is hidden now. He just needs to rest. Close his eyes. Sleep for a moment. Maybe his mind will be clearer when he wakes. Maybe he can find a way home. Home to his brothers and his sisters. He never thought of them as home before, but it makes sense now. 

He isn’t ready to leave them yet. He just needs a little more time, yet.

END

A/N:

I might do something more with this story. Maybe. Possibly.

But if I don't, here's a spoiler: Tech does survive and he does find his family again. I promise! This fic might end hopelessly, but the greater picture is hope 🥲

Let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list!

Tag List: @followthepurrgil @amorfista @mooncommlink @arctrooper69 @proteatook @ezras-left-thumb @maeashryver @baddest-batchers @laughhardrunfastbekindsblog @omegafett99 @heidnspeak @fionas-frenzy @royallykt

[matan4il]

Can't stop thinking about that poor French girl. Most of my friends didn't even have their periods at 12. We have been screaming ourselves HOARSE for months that "globalize the intifada" is going to come back to bite us...and now it's beginning to. They didn't listen to us then and they won't now. Instead, they let a child pay the price for the crime of being Jewish.

I remember back in early April I walked by a protest and I told a cop there what the phrase meant. She didn't even deign to look at me, instead she told me where I could counter-protest. That is not what I was asking about. No one is protecting us, yet they wonder why we feel safer and have an attachment to our home.

I haven't been able to visit home since the war started, I'll be there Sunday finally. And I can guarantee that I will be moving comfortable there, despite my half baked plan and no official place to stay.

I just don't know what we are supposed to be doing anymore. עד מתי??????

I can't stop thinking about that girl either.

I can't stop thinking about what it means that she knew she wasn't safe telling her boyfriend at the time that she's Jewish. I can't stop thinking about the fact that she was right, as he proved. I can't stop thinking about the kind of environment she grew up in, where she had grown so accustomed to antisemitic attitudes being the rule, that she didn't see that guy's antisemitism for the red flag that it is, and didn't stay away from him.

And I wanna make it clear, it is ABHORRENT that Jews should have to stop and consider just how much they're going to lose out on socially because of antisemitism. But it IS hard to constantly lose and miss out and be depraved of social rewards that others get just because you're Jewish, especially when you're 12 years old. So this responsibility lies on the hellish environments that push Jews to have to decide between being included and being safe.

That the specific way that this girl's abusers were violent with her for her Jewishness was sexual, committed by at least one person she intimately trusted, done as a group, and (from what I've gathered) in public, just makes the whole thing even worse, and I cannot stop grieving what was taken away from her, and what she will have to deal with for the rest of her life.

And I've heard from multiple sources that the perpetrators' phones had anti-Israel material on them. It was easy to guess, but it's still chilling to have that confirmed.

I am SO sorry that you had that experience of a cop not giving a damn about our safety as Jews. But yes, we absolutely cannot rely on anyone else for our protection, it's a part of why we need Israel. And there's only one place in the world where we can be safely and effortlessly ourselves as Jews. I'm so glad for you that you're coming home, and I also hope that if fellow Israelis see this, that maybe they can reach out and help, too.

אם יש כאן במקרה ישראלים, השמיעו קול!

As for what we can do, we can continue to live even when they don't want us to, we can go on supporting each other, we can thrive even when they think they've taken that option from us, we absolutely should educate ourselves continuously when our haters are relying on people's ignorance, and we must speak up where and how we can. Even if our reach is small, it's better than being silent. Not to mention, sometimes one person listening to you, if they're the right one, can make a much bigger difference than we could imagine.

I'm sending you lots of hugs and love! xoxox

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[radiaurapple]

Lucid Dreams of New Orleans: Chapter 11

CHAPTER SUMMARY: IN WHICH one deal is broken and another is fulfilled.

FIC SUMMARY: Lucifer has always kept his distance from sinners. It’s what keeps him (relatively) sane — if he gets too close, he is haunted by visions of the tragic mortal lives that landed them in Hell. But in his new life at the Hotel, it is more difficult than ever to stay away — and when it comes to light that his daughter’s insufferable facilities manager is gravely wounded, it falls to Lucifer to deliver his soul from Death. In so doing, he falls headfirst into the sins, past lives, and heartbreaks of the one human whose contradictions he is powerless to resist.

[AO3 LINK]

New chapter time!! I didn't make art for this one, but I included a link to the crack version of this chapter I came up with while ideating for it, so hopefully that's a good enough consolation prize. Next chapter is next Saturday as always! 📻🍎

Chapter preview below!

Alastor opens his eyes in the hotel. It is the early hours of morning — dim violet light filters through the windows of Lucifer’s room. And Lucifer —

Lucifer sits across from Alastor, taking desperate, ragged breaths. His unfurled wings spill over the back of his chair. He runs a hand over the one he lost in the memory and shudders. 

“Alastor?” Lucifer says in a hoarse voice.

“Yes,” Alastor says.

Lucifer exhales once, twice. Finally he seems to catch his breath. He looks up, his red eyes flickering in the dark. “I’m sorry,” he says faintly.

This is perhaps the last thing Alastor expected to hear immediately after his magic strangled Lucifer into unconsciousness and forced him to relive what was almost certainly the worst memory of his millennia-long existence. “Pardon?”

“I’m sorry you had to see that. I — ah — I couldn’t think of another way to fulfill both my deal with you and the binding from you-know-who.” 

Alastor can find no retort to this, no response. No existing script will be of any use. 

“How are you,” Alastor says at last, his voice barely above a whisper.

As the words leave his mouth, Alastor realizes he wishes to ask every possible angle of that question. How is Lucifer? How does he cope with the paradox he embodies? The creature of stardust, holy thumbprint of God — and the progenitor of sin, the pariah made to bear the weight of mankind’s depravity. Shackled sovereign of the universe’s negative space. It is easy to forget that Lucifer is inarguably another kind of God — a God of entropy, of emptiness, of endings. How is he?

Lucifer chuckles darkly. “Eh — been worse.” He snaps his fingers and a bottle of some kind of hard cider appears in his hand. He pries off the cap with shaking fingers, takes a swig, coughs. “Fuck — I always forget how bad that shit tasted.” He exhales a pathetic wheeze of a laugh and meets Alastor’s eyes. He seems to be seeking some kind of commiseration, but Alastor, having never personally tasted the Bitter Cup of Man’s Iniquity and Sin, cannot relate, and blankly returns the stare. 

“Oh — sorry, do you want some?” Lucifer snaps his fingers and a second bottle appears in front of Alastor.

“Why are you doing that?”

Lucifer looks at the bottle in confusion. “I dunno, it just felt rude to not offer —” 

“No. Why did you apologize? I —” Alastor cuts himself off. He is completely out of his depth; he cannot recall the last time he felt this sick over another person’s suffering. Perhaps not since he was alive. He nearly laughs aloud as he finds himself sifting through Charlie’s redemption exercises for guidance. What would she say in this situation?

“I regret my words,” Alastor finally manages — the acknowledgement burns on the way out. 

Lucifer shakes his head. “Not your fault. I didn’t think about the deal contradiction either. Probably should have.”

“No.” Alastor squeezes his eyes shut in frustration. He realizes belatedly that his smile has fallen, and he’s been speaking without his radio filter — details which would ordinarily alarm him but that now feel utterly unimportant. “I was referring to what was said prior.” 

When Alastor had snapped at Lucifer for considering Hollis — the easiest person in the world to love — a friend. He thinks of Lucifer and Hollis in the pool, or teaming up at bridge, or sitting next to each other in a streetcar, both of them smiling up at him. Alastor has no issue with any attachment Lucifer might feel toward Hollis — quite the opposite. That truth is obvious to him now. 

“Oh,” Lucifer says softly. “Well, I mean — I get it.”

[AO3 LINK]

[britishassistant]

I have literally just spent the last few days going through all of the twst supervillain au posts. ALL OF THEM.

It’s not 3 am here for like the third night in a row what are you talking about

I have so many thoughts and could ask so many questions but I am limiting myself for now because spamming is bad! No spamming, me! 😂

SO we got the event of Azul and the twins finding out that Yuu is the child of Crowley. And we got that little snippet saying Yuu wanted Azul to help them tell the other villains so they could just get it out of the way because they were tired of having it hang over their head.

BUT WE NEVER ACTUALLY GOT THOSE SCENES/THAT SCENE!

I wanna know how that wentttttt!!!! What happened?!?! How did it go??? Did Yuu tell them one on one? Or did they sit them all down together? How did each of them react to the news? I feel like it would have to be one on one because telling them altogether would be a recipe for a LOT of emotions all mixed together to create a volatile bomb.

Pleaseeeeee I wanna knowwwwwww!!! Please gift me us with your words of wonder oh supervillain AU writing deity!!!!!!

(Also I just wanted to say back when you were giving out names to everyone my first thought for a name for Kalim was just ‘Minion’ because you compared Jamil and Kalim to Megamind and Minion and I was like “that would be a total Jamil thing to do - just call Kalim ‘Minion’ because he was tired of Kalim getting all the attention in their civilian lives and this was supposed to be about JAMIL DANGIT so even though Kalim invited himself along he doesn’t get a cool name he just gets ‘Minion’ and Kalim would unironically love it. But then you named him Water Boy and that has the same energy lmao 😂)

Thank you so much for enjoying the supervillain AU so far!!

(Make sure you get some sleep though!! It’s important to try and maintain a regular sleep schedule!!)

And basically the answer to your question is that Yuu called a quasi-truce of sorts to sit down all the supervillains to deliver the news. Both because it was the easiest way to avoid the accusations of favoritism that would arise if the reporter went around one at a time, and ensured they’d only need to go through the whole thing once.

Of course, the other six supervillains are only willing to humor this because it’s Yuu that called it. They may have all brought their most trusted aides along with certain, ah, “safety measures” just in case anyone else tries anything, but even these are pretty tame compared to their usual fare. It’s a silent agreement that everyone is on their best behavior in front of their host.

Even if they’re a bit disgruntled by the fact that this meeting is being held in the second Monstro Lounge location, and Leviathan and the Leech twins are flitting around Yuu like a particularly jealous school of fish.

Worse, the reporter isn’t even telling them to stop.

And then Yuu finally comes out with what they want to say and—

Oh.

Oh, now the other supervillains can understand Azul’s protective impulses.

Vil and Idia are having the hardest time processing it and have the most questions, all told. Their mental image of Crowley and their mental image of Yuu are so different after all, it’s a struggle not to ask, “but has there actually been a paternity test and are we sure this isn’t just one of the world’s most depraved lies?”

In fairness, Crowley has done nothing to disabuse them of the notion that this isn’t the exact kind of behavior he would sink to if mildly inconvenienced.

Of all of them, Malleus and Riddle are probably taking it the best. After all, they both know what it’s like being the prized heirs of people who cannot afford to let them shirk their duties. Either because the well being of others’ depends on them taking up that mantle, or their parent’s pride.

Either way, they’ll support Yuu’s search for freedom from their villainous father’s legacy, by taking up the mantle of head of Night Raven themselves if need be.

Please give Leona and Jamil two to five minutes to reboot. Both have partially blue-screened at the motifs of being cast aside and the inesacabilty of family bloodline inherent in Yuu’s backstory. Once they’re back to normal, they’ll be some of Yuu’s staunchest defenders, but give them forty eight hours to process first.

Maybe eighty two.

After Yuu’s answered almost all the questions, Ace butts in, “So, you kept sticking your nose in ‘cause you wanted to get kidnapped?”

Yuu shrugs, “Not, not wanted? But it was a bit less nerve wracking if I knew I’d done something to merit being there, so to speak. Made it less likely that it was because you’d worked out my heritage.”

The other villains and minions nod, satisfied.

But Deuce pipes up with a worried frown curving his brow.

“So, does this mean you won’t be investigating our schemes anymore?”

A hush spreads through the room. All eyes are fixed on the reporter, waiting for their response with bated breath.

Yuu grins, a gloriously competitive spark in their eyes. “Oh, you wish.”

[wackyscreamswithraisin]

Indefinite Hiatus and Clearing the air BIG TW ON //PERSONAL

Before I say anything this is the fanfic summary: It’s/ it was revolving around Raisin and Malcom (and Hamilton) from the Smart Talk With Raisin short, somehow stealing a meta cartoon remote from the, inaccessible to them; Cartoon Network ‘toonworld’ (like when you see the characters crossover in CN bumpers). They’d watch Courage the Cowardly Dog on their tv in their room like a comfort, but with the remote they start meddling with the character’s awareness of meta for entertainment - and when Barbara accidentally fuses with a glitched artefact, she is unable to be reverted to normal and she breaks the constructs of her own minor characterdom to try and track them down. The fic idea has changed a lot over the years but that’s what it (currently) has changed to. It’s rather Pibby adjacent and would focus on a lot of what’s changed about cartoons between every half decade - yeah it’s very complicated and over the top lol.

I know y’all are sick of me making these long ass walls of texts instead of proper content and I’m really sorry I keep pulling this 💀. I was going to make a nicer pinned posts] of explanation but since this blog is in a confusing place at the moment I just decided to do it quick instead so I don’t put it off.

For those who don’t want to read the full thing: TLDR,

1. I have personal attachment to Fred that has probably affected my judgement

2. My thoughts on Fred as schizophrenic rep is certainly not universal and the partial embarrassment about writing content revolving around him continues to catch up with me

3. The related problems below are reason why I have been so adverse to seeing Fred as being a r-pist m—-ster or SA’er

And 4. I’m starting to accept that it’s not that deep if my fanfic never gets told. Even if it would make me happy, it’s not the end of my work or me if I don’t. Nevertheless I hope you all understand and I’m sorry for any disappointment.

On the personal issue: First, bc some might not know, I am mentally ill and have had a vague diagnosis of psychosis for years that was never fully decided and that I understand now and abridge as ‘schizopsec’, but follows all the traits of OSDD 1B, enough that I tend to use both terms. ‘Fred’ is one of my alters - he’s my main ISH (internal self helper), caretaker, and fictive (fictional introject), and he has been for around 10 years. This is not a joke. This is as cringe as it sounds, even worse in real life when he fronts of course, and is embarrassing for me to admit even when I attach this post to my main blog where I share schizospec upliftment posts. It’s a complicated and excruciating subject matter for many many reasons, and it’s important that I clarify this, even though it’s uncomfortable for me, since this naturally affects my ability of separating Fred the alter from Freaky Fred in my writing and art. This is part of why I have to keep scrutinising my writing drafts. I believe I can keep them separate, but this is part of the reason why I guess my attachment for him and making content to do with him is there at all.

My thoughts on Freaky Fred in episode : As a schizospec, putting the alter aside, schizophrenic representation means the world and the moon and the stars to me, even when it’s bad. I can’t tell if this is an agreeable opinion amongst other schizospec/ psychotic people, but even damaging and dangerous rep involving homicidality like the axe crazy maniacs have something of catharsis in their rises and falls that I can appreciate, depending. Sexually depraved and violent rep however, crosses a line; obviously schizo killers in fiction are heavily drenched in misinformed stigma and is mostly bullshit and can be dangerous- we are dramatically far more likely to hurt ourselves or be hurt - but I think most people would agree that sexual violence is a different evil altogether, and I cannot stand to see the marginalised mentally ill conflated with such horrendous shit.

There’s the problem. I think Fred is a schizophrenic; other than him getting the equivalent to straightjacketed at the end and taken to presumably some asylum or how he narrates/ talks/rhymes in his own head and otherwise barely talks just disjointedly - he’s got that classic 90s-00s cartoon crazy grin and is instilling fear in the viewer through said unbalancedness,his whole deal is very ‘of its time’ on displaying scary madness. And, all that being said, even though he’s clearly not good rep by any stretch of the imagination, he doesn’t harm anyone - he’s even ‘nice’ - or at least doesn’t seem to be blatantly malicious. The bar is on the floor, but that’s already better than idk William Afton or something.

Fred as a predator: The point of view of Fred as a metaphorical molester is pretty obvious and is a popular opinion, and it would be dishonest to say I don’t completely see it, especially with how he says naughty - the implication steers more into the sexual predator area. Hair shaving isn’t violent as much as taking something away - subtracting, and this can be interpreted in a murderous or SA fashion, but the murderous interpretation I stick with, one akin to Sweeney Todd, is a very flattering view of it and I know it. It’s easy to see how it comes off fetishistic which favours an SA view and is naturally the reason why a lot of people see it as rapey.

The episode as a metaphor for SA or CSA enabled in a household that turns the other way is popular, and at first I didn’t like this theory because it felt like a dark theory made almost to tarnish child content with a deeper or darker meaning, which I had seen a lot elsewhere. But this wasn’t really honest; ‘The Mask’ works well as an episode with no subtext but is respected moreso as an episode clearly about domestic abuse and misandry born from trauma. ‘Freaky Fred’ can also be this.

I think the well and honest truth for me is, even when I do everything I can to touch grass, and remove my personal connection to the character/ the idea of him through the alter, away from the conversation; I really don’t want Fred to be a schizophrenic and a sexual predator character at the same time, and I cannot remove my view of him as the first one, but I have to admit that, in some ways, both was intended for him and this episode in some variation. It’s pretty upsetting to think about; I know a majority audience isn’t going to be that invested in the representation of mad people, especially not in cartoon antagonists, but it matters a lot to me. Obviously it would still be bad if he wasn’t a crazy character and it would still be scary and awful if he acted more ‘normal’, but that craziness is there and the combination feels particularly wretched because, once again, schizophrenics are far more likely to be victimised.

What I’m trying to say with all this; Fred is a mad character who despite being the most offputting and scary character I’ve ever seen in my life, managed to become irremovable from my psyche for almost my whole life, for better and for worse, and in some small way, seeing him as so scary and uncomfortable, but equally ‘good-willed’ and harmless by technicality in that episode, made me feel a little less alone. But people who have been yucked out by this blog and this fixation as I said before are fully in their right, and I am taking a step back to consider if I want to continue with making stuff to do with Fred or not.

The fanfic?: I still think about the story a lot but as you can probably tell I’ve made it very convoluted by involving a meta narrative, and as I’m just about to head into university by the time I’m writing this, it’s difficult to tell what will come of this. I will let you all know, but it’s in a continuous grey area and I don’t want anyone to get their hopes up. I’m sorry.

Will I still post art?: Maybe haha, I never know how to feel when I post it. Sometimes I worry it gives off the impression that I ship post-shaving incident Barbred (I don’t) or that I endorse Fred’s ‘freakiness’ at all. And sometimes I think it just looks bad, as in not a good recreation of the ctcd art style, or too sad - like idk why I think the audience is just going to understand these alarmingly emotional pieces when I’ve been pretty scarce on context, I apologise for everyone’s who’s gotten tonal whiplash scrolling. Fred art may come up elsewhere on my other blog which I will reblog here if I think it’s appropriate.

If you read all the way thank you so much💚, I hope you get what I’m saying, and if you don’t I understand. Consider following my main zebedeezing if you want somewhere I post more often though non ctcd related.

[ultfan]

HYPER-SEXUALITY AND THE TRAGEDY.

it's sinday and that means i finally can talk about one of my favorite headcanons about komaeda in the tragedy. strap in folks — and hold your judgement because i know it sounds really fucking funny at first (and it is) but i promise i have deep thoughts about this.

as i've mentioned before, i do believe that komaeda would be hyper-sexual. and i do mean hyper-sexual — not that he has a high sex drive — but rather the fact it is an issue that plagues him and inconveniences him. this, rather than being a proper addiction or even a trauma response, is instead due to his ftd. meaning that this isn't really something he can work on/fix with therapy or most typical ways of treatment. however, hyper-sexuality is one of the handful of ftd symptoms that can be dealt with via medication. and i do believe that komaeda is medicated for his health issues.

however... once the tragedy hits i do not believe that he would be able to keep getting his prescriptions. and even if he could, i don't know if he would. be it the ultimate despair mindset or simply because he has bigger fish to fry. and so, it becomes something at the forefront of his mind again.

now, i have often seen the fandom depict komaeda in the tragedy as a sexual deviant. depravity is welcome in the tragedy and thus he is able to fuck freely. thanks to the existence of the servant persona, some people even go the extra mile with that... (personally, i don't think that "servant" existed prior to udg — but that's another thing for another time). however, despite everything i've said: i think komaeda was the least sexually active member of ultimate despair during their time of operation.

lerf — i hear you cry — how can this be?! well, let's talk about how ultimate despair is:

often it is easy to forget that ultimate despair isn't extremely hedonistic in their actions. they too despair — they may revel in it, but they do cause pain to themselves as they cause pain onto others. they'll kill and torture, but they'll also destroy their own families and bodies. ultimate despair is not indiscriminate in spreading despair. there is suffering on the part of everyone involved. be it via mutilating themselves, starving themselves, or something else.

and so i bring you the thing i have been alluding to for fucking weeks (maybe months???) on this blog at this point: the cage(tm).

aka: the komaeda chastity cage era.

okay, okay, get the giggles out because this is serious business (yes it's also really funny conceptually but stick with me). komaeda's hyper-sexuality is something that is gonna unfortunately plague his mind with constant sexual thoughts and desires. he literally cannot help it. and to prevent him fro alleviating these desires someone (likely junko <3 thanks queen) could lock him up in a chastity cage. which would not only make it fucking worse, but also completely stop him from getting any real satisfaction/gratification even if he did have a sexual encounter. in essence: he is fucking suffering ladies, gentleman, and everything in between.

it is a special brand of torment just for him. it's not a kink thing or anything like that — it's not fun for him at all. it's distracting, it's annoying, it's stressful, and it is a constant source of frustration. and before you comment, yeah this is logistically sound — he can pee, and depending on the type he can probably clean it pretty well if need be. i did my fucking research (i'm committed you guys).

anyway if junko doesn't keep the key i do think the idea of ultimate despair fucking trading it around is super fucking funny. taunt him, bully him, whatever. this is me fighting against overly sexualized version of tragedy komaeda. what if he was sopping wet and pathetic guys? have we considered this? well, now you have.

[writingsofwesteros]

https://www.tumblr.com/writingsofwesteros/763803029680078848/httpswwwtumblrcomwritingsofwesteros763801569?source=share

Stev angling her neck up to look at Tywin's darkened gaze. Whimpers leaving her as he makes it oh so difficult to rub her own sweet spot on his fingers "tywin!" She whines frustrated

When her breasts bounce free, Ned thinks he might just pass out. The beautiful nipples, brownish pink nipples against her pale beautiful skin having become completely taut. The round soft bosom freely moving around as Tywin handles the sweet doe.

"tut-tut, My doe. Stop being a brat or I'll have you aching till morrow" tywin growls pulling her harder against himself.

"no, My lord" she whines. "I-sweet maiden" she gasps as he curls his digits. Depraved sound filling the corridor as she gets wetter and wetter. "Let me feel your cock" she says trying not to be whiny as she reaches back for him. "Please, can't take all of you If you ain't wet all over too" she whimpers

Tywin pulls on her hair making her gasp, breasts bouncing entrancingly again. "You take what I give you, woman" he growls menacingly. But both of them knew he sounded worse than he was. He would never hurt his sweet Stev.

And so he bent her over. Guiding her hand to take his cock out behind her back, and once he is freed he shoves his cock between her folds to rub it against her clit. "My love!" She gasps rising to her toes.

"not so brave now are you? Hiding that little pearl from the bad old Lion. No objections, no glares from those doe eyes...no smart comments from that sweet mouth, no charity in that brain of yours. Only thing in that little head is my voice and my cock, isn't it?"

"please, please, please, I need you, need only you. I promise I can take all of you this time, you're just so long" Stev pleads quietly.

Ned can't move his eyes away. No matter he tries. His hand is already in his pants. Fisting his cock, willing the blood to stop pumping. For the precum to not leak, but he cannot. Almost coughing audibly when tywin turns Stev just right for him to see her beautiful ass bent over too. Pussy lips slick and ready. His manhood taking another bout of jealousy of Stev confirming the old Lions cock being big.

ALL OF THIS!

Poor Stev always says she can take his fat cock and ends up sobbing that its too much - she's adorable !!

[ynmnrmt]

You & Me & Rhea Makes Three: Chapter 9 (Finale)

rhea ripley x m!reader x m!reader's girlfriend

word count: 3,949

warnings: 18+, explicit sexual content, themes of domination/submission, infidelity, rape fantasy, didacticism

a/n: Those who enjoyed the shameless metatextuality of the previous chapter will be happy to hear this chapter opens on an extended Socratic-style apology for RPF as a genre. Those who are just here for the sauce can safely skip to the first asterisk.

(The story so far: chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five, chapter six, chapter seven, chapter eight)

“No. I won’t condemn them for that. I can’t.”

You look around that sea of horrified faces, you feel how thin the ice is under you. You clear your throat.

“Obviously I sympathise with the impulse, I understand where anyone who wants to prosecute them is coming from. But it’s a situation where any possible cure is markedly worse than the disease. Not too long ago the laws against obscenity led us into absurd situations where – well, take Lady Chatterley’s Lover, for years that was only available as a heavily censored version, except if you went over to Europe, where you could get hold of an unexpurgated version quite easily. And then you had the farcical situation where people were smuggling books back and forth, which is the kind of thing you associate with a much older history, the great religious schisms, dangerous new kinds of Bible, etcetera.”

You breathe more steadily, it seems like the crowd do too, you’ve manoeuvred yourself back onto more abstracted ground.

“Crucially, even those kinds of barriers, which people did defeat quite easily, mean less than nothing in this information age. The big stumbling block in the Lady Chatterley days was, what, buying a ticket for the boat? Now getting hold of censored books is within the grasp of anyone with wi-fi. This, interestingly, was part of the Lady Chatterley trial in England, the prosecutors took the patronising tone that they weren’t so much looking to ban the book for their own benefit as they were for fear their wives or servants might get hold of it – that was their actual argument, and-”

You’re sweating. It’s a fun fact, it’s fun, it’s a fact, but you’re getting away from the point.

“A lot of people know that Lady Chatterley trial, less know that Japan also had a landmark obscenity hearing over the book. It’s from that legal precedent that we have Japan’s modern censorship laws, where pornography has to blur out the genitals. It’s a compromise, fine, but one that’s absurd on the face of it. So as we see, this kind of censorship both can’t be enforced, and manifests itself in profoundly stupid ways.”

You feel a bit steadier. Let’s bite the big one.

“If the members of the pop group Girls Aloud did encounter the fictional story in which they are raped, butchered, and eaten alive, naturally they’d be worried and upset, I certainly would be. Come to that, I didn’t wake up this morning wanting to defend such a thing. And if someone were to send such a work to them, then it’d be straight-out sexual harassment at the very least. But the mere existence of that story, depraved and poorly edited as it might be, cannot be a crime in and of itself. It can’t.”

It doesn’t clang into place the way you’d hoped, like a government of the people, by the people, and for the people. But when you see two of the figures in the crowd – one mousy, one Amazonian – rise from their table and start to clap, you feel the immaculate sense of what you can do for your country.

“Two minutes to rebut,” floats up from below.

“My worthy opponent,” says the guy on the opposite podium, “is perhaps not aware that the author of the vulgar story Girls Scream Aloud was tried on obscenity charges on the basis that children could easily access their work…” But you are aware. You know all too well that this was comprehensively disproved in court, and what’s more, you can already feel the head of steam you’ll build up over it, that children have always sought out works full of sex and violence, that this can’t be laid at the feet of the author, that you yourself read Nabokov’s Lolita at around twelve and while you found it fairly unsettling that would be a pretty poor reason to disinter the late Russian and drag him into court.

*

Rhea gets you under your arms and whirls you three times around through the air, so you’re dizzy when she kisses you. When she sets you down you nearly fall over and it makes her giggle. “Well done,” she tells you with bedroom eyes.

“Yeah, I – we’re both really proud of you,” says Jen, God, she hardly even meets your gaze, so you’re the one to give her a kiss.

“I’m just glad they didn’t want me to defend Holocaust deniers,” you say, slightly breathless, though that’s mainly from what Rhea’s just done to you. “I mean, I could have done it, I could have argued that censoring them just gives them an allure, but-”

“Hmm, you’re right, maybe they have a point,” Rhea bobs her head about, then rests it on yours and holds you. You don’t want to, but you laugh, quite a lot.

“Don’t you, sort of, have feelings about this stuff?” Jen asks tentatively. “You told me about how you sometimes get fanfiction of, well, you.” It makes you freeze, knowing you have unthinkingly committed a grotesque faux pas against the woman who has her solid arms wrapped around you and could snap you like a twig.

“That’s why you put in that caveat, wasn’t it?” Rhea asks you. “That when people actually send me that stuff it’s basically sexual harassment, but if it exists somewhere out there and I never know about it, then what’s the harm...God, I bet if you wrote some of that, it’d be really sexy.”

“I couldn’t do it if I knew you’d be reading it,” you say, as you relax into her grasp. Then, with your trophy for Dominance in Rhetoric in hand, you take your two girlfriends out to eat, still desperately guilty at having publicly defended a snuff fiction about a forgotten bubblegum-pop outfit, unable to shake the feeling another shoe’s about to drop.

But you get through a large expensive meal and it’s all fine. Rhea picks loose bits of rare steak out of her teeth with a fragment of bone. Jen had shovelled down her couscous bowl like a final meal, but now she’s sitting back in her chair, relaxed and almost happy.

“Back in a sec’,” says Rhea, her shadow rolls up over you and then she is gone.

“That was really,” Jen waves her hand about as she tries to pluck the right word out of the air, “I really thought, it was one of those where it said essentially what I’d thought but never really put together. If you know what I mean.”

“I mean, I’m glad you agree,” you laugh, it’s not funny but you do want her to agree.

“And,” thank God, she laughs a bit too, “a guy going to court over writing some dark fan fiction of a girly pop band just seems so, so insane. But I get what you mean, if it was writing that I was seriously offended by, yeah, maybe I’d feel differently. I probably would want to, to, for it to be against the law or something.”

“What’s wrong, Jen?” you say, because she’s turned completely, she can’t meet your eyes again.

“I’ve been having an affair,” she says, she looks at you with tears welling over her cheeks.

“I understand,” you say, probably too quickly, since it’s in the context of everything you and Rhea have done, and, yeah, made her watch too. Next to that you can’t really blame her.

“I want you to know,” she says, as she grabs desperately for a hold on your hand, “that it’s nothing you did wrong, that this is my fault, it’s something I’ve done wrong,” she’s collapsed across the table now, her forehead against your knuckles, you look around nervously and she lifts her head again, “and I still love you.”

“Look, I mean, I don’t know what it-” No, do you really want to know? “I realise it’s all been a bit, you know, sudden change lately, and,” you have no idea how to follow this up, but it’s then that Rhea’s silhouette crosses over you again.

“Hey, guys,” says Rhea with a regretful little sigh, not her usual cheerful tone at all. “So, did you tell him?”

Jen nods, her eyes screwed shut, a tear drops from her chin. Oh! Well, that’s alright then.

“Yeah,” Rhea nods at you. “I’m sorry. And I know she’s sorry.” She has a hand on both your backs, she draws you in, all one huddle across the table.

“I love you so much,” Jen sobs, her clutches work their way up your arm.

“Tell him how it happened.”

“That time when, when Rhea walked in on me masturbating in the shower, I begged her to get in with me. I begged her. And I knew it was wrong, I knew it was a betrayal, but you were away, and, she’s so fucking hot.”

“Don’t gloat,” you chide Rhea, who still looks quite apologetic.

“Don’t be a dick,” she fires back, her fingers brush up the back of your head, her bicep and her shoulder squeeze against you. “I told her I would get in the shower with her, if I could get at you as well. I’m no home-wrecker.”

“She made me come so much,” Jen weeps. Now Rhea does smile a bit, it’s not quite a gloat, but you catch her with a look.

“Alright, alright. We’re apologising, aren’t we?”

“Jen’s apologised,” you say. “I haven’t heard anything like that out of you.”

“I’m very very sorry,” Rhea’s words warm your face, “that I made your girlfriend come hard in the shower.”

“Good. Alright then,” you’ve hardly even closed your mouth by the time that you kiss Rhea, and you feel Jen paw at your face. When you break apart you turn to her, “Jen, honestly, this is a relief. This whole time I’ve been killing myself worrying you hate this.”

“I really think you’re still dealing with a lot of very sexist attitudes,” Rhea muses calmly. “Like, your insistence on thinking that your pretty girlfriend just wants, I don’t know, a wedding and a suburban house and two point five kids, rather than rough sex with both her boyfriend and her girlfriend.”

After a moment, you say, “Yes, perhaps you’re right. Jen, I’m sorry if you ever felt I was anything less than supportive of this.”

Jen sniffs out the last few tears. “I’m sorry too,” she says, she still sounds wretched. You pull her closer in and kiss her forehead, as tenderly as you can.

“That’s why we thought we should get you caged,” Rhea continues, “to teach you a lesson. And I think we should keep you that way. Ah, don’t look like that.” Her grin turns manic and her voice lowers when she confides in you “I promise it won’t stay on too much.”

“You’re sure you’re okay with this?” you ask Jen, still holding her, not quite protectively but not unguardedly either.

“I was going to ask you that,” Jen laughs through her tears. “I mean, sometimes, I acted like I wasn’t, I was worried you’d suspect something. That’s, um, that’s why I did the thing with the knife.”

It’d be an alarming sentence at the best of times, but still, it makes you breathe a sigh of relief you hadn’t been holding. “So, that was, you were sort of acting out a little play for me to follow? Like the kayfabe?”

“Exactly,” Rhea credits you. “To be honest, the knife was a bit of ad-lib, but God, it got my blood pumping. This girl…” You feel her pull you closer, too, as she gives Jen a squeeze.

“I had, I thought you got that,” Jen confesses to you, “with all my but Rhea, what are you doing.” Her words turn sultry and suggestive then, you feel yourself grin like an idiot as the relief she really is alright, and enjoying this even, continues to buoy you up inside.

“I wish I’d thought of that,” you confess right back, “I mean, doing that too.”

“And see, you hadn’t wanted to that time because of what Jen might think,” Rhea explains, “but now you know it was okay all along.”

“Rhea,” you bring yourself to say, while you feel yourself melt into her body, “next time I ask you to stop, you’d better.”

“Of course I will,” she says, with the same gentle, sunny smile.

“That’s the other thing,” Jen comes in with her tiniest voice yet. “I also hoped you’d both help me fulfil my rape fantasy.”

*

“No, stop,” Jen purrs up at you, and just about holds in the laugh. You don’t, and on your next stroke you lean down and kiss her, and she puts her whole head into it. If she didn’t, if she wasn’t so obviously loving every second of it, you couldn’t bear it. You’ve got hold of her by her wrists, but that doesn’t really matter, because Rhea’s underneath her and has her in an implacable full-nelson. “I want you,” she lusts, “to take it out and then to stick it in again, because, that way it’ll be like, mmfh,” the little wriggle she does then is hardly even a physical movement, it’s more spiritual, but you feel it all the same.

You do as she asks, for a moment you just hold your cock and look down at them, at the very faint way Jen wrestles in Rhea’s grasp, these women you would do anything for.

“Squeeze me tighter,” she insists.

“I don’t want to break you,” Rhea teases, or pleads.

“You won’t,” Jen promises. So Rhea draws her up further, and as you put it in and make her wail you can feel the tension in her body, but somehow it’s not the kind of tension that resists you, instead it welcomes you in and threatens not to let you go. Her little body, those thick arms around it, you must be in a dream. But in that dream you would fuck them both, you would please them both, to make sure they both liked you too.

Jen wails like she’s been twisted around, for one awful moment it hits a note of distress. But then, as Rhea nuzzles into her neck, you hear it for the sigh of pleasure it is. Suddenly it’s not a cruel, sadistic stab motion you inflict upon her, you can feel yourself becoming one with her, and here you let go of her left wrist and clutch at Rhea’s iron shoulder, because you want so desperately for her to be part of this too.

You don’t quite all move as one, so as you fumble about, your hand ends up trapped between the two women you love. You’re in no hurry to move it, but you do, to touch Rhea’s face, at first just with your fingertips, but then your palm, you caress her properly, and she nuzzles into that, too. It makes you lose your rhythm, you flop down on top of Jen’s little body, feeling yourself press down on her, and her press up into you – but seconds before she looks at you and starts to complain you get going again, and her eyes flash with delight.

“Take it,” you tell her, “fucking take it,” it’s little more than something to say, ridiculous porn-star dialogue you’d never have thought of outside the heat of the moment. It works though, her eyes turn liquid and again she wails somewhere between pain and pleasure, she tries to break free of the way Rhea holds her but you all know she never, ever will.

The muscles in your neck tense, the blood thumps in your head, and with Rhea’s help and Rhea’s love you come directly inside your girlfriend. Your climax coincides with the last gasp of hers – so when you return to full consciousness, she is there for you in the afterglow. Her eyes flash at you, she smiles as if you had been gentle as velvet with her, and she whispers “I love you.”

Rhea shoves you both aside, as is her wont, and takes the big gulp of air you denied her. “God, you two are actually quite heavy,” she complains – before she props herself up a bit, arms folded back behind her head. “And I’d like to get off too, you know.”

The golden afterglow makes you sluggish for a moment. So by the time you dive in, Jen is already there with her face between Rhea’s legs, hungrily looking for any spot that will make her feel good. You settle for kissing around Rhea’s thigh, before she grabs you by the hair and pulls you up to look you in the eye.

“When do you think you’ll be ready to go again?” she asks, so sweetly, but by now you know, that light in her eyes, that belies the hunger.

“Oh! I, I’ll do my best,” you say limply, able to think only that she’d be ready right away. It’s an unfair comparison, but it’s the same results you get every time you compare yourself with her. Against her gorgeous sculpted torso, feeling the heat of her body, your cock flops, not even fully gone down yet, nowhere near going up again. You waver in her grasp, ready to collapse if she wasn’t there, “I can, I can help you get off in other ways,” you mean it, too, even if Jen’s face has still got Rhea’s vagina firmly occupied.

“I want to get fucked,” says Rhea, quite flatly, and you squirm in embarrassment that you cannot give her what she wants immediately. But then she smiles again, and with a little sing-song cadence adds “I know how to get you ready.”

The chill of desire you get when she says that is nothing compared to the chill of the metal on your balls as she pops them one after another through the chastity ring. Then there is the intense pleasure of her bending your still-half-erect cock about, to work that under the ring too, all of a sudden you think maybe you could go again. You collapse onto the bed, but immediately nuzzle up as close to her as you can, you thrust her hips to help her ease the cage over your cock. And then, when she looks at you with untrammelled delight and clicks the lock shut, then you get the first twinge of another erection.

“When it starts to hurt,” Rhea emphasises hurt like a French kiss, “we’ll know you’re ready again – ooh, Jen.” You feel her muscles move under you as she wriggles about with enjoyment.

“Uh huh,” comes your choked reply, your mouth pressed up against her shoulder, the cage somehow throttling your voice.

“But not a bad hurt, I wouldn’t want to do that to you, that wouldn’t be fun,” she specifies quite carefully. “I mean a kinky hurt.”

Jen pops her head up. “You said I was a shit girlfriend for doing th-” But without the slightest change of expression, Rhea rams Jen’s head back down between her legs. Jen produces a few satisfied “Hmm hmm hmm” sounds, you know these by now, the sound of smutty laughter muffled by Rhea’s thighs.

Rhea sits you up, lays her arms gently around your shoulders, and then with no force but immense power pulls you back in. First a little peck right on the lips, then a longer, deeper one, she nips your tongue with her teeth, you yelp – that’s muffled too – as you feel yourself swelling in the cage and the metal close in around you.

Her teeth release you, you do have the power in your limbs not to slither down her body and end up with your mouth on her breasts, but somehow that’s what happens. With all the talk of kinky hurt, that’s probably all the grounds you need to give her a little nip. But that’s not even what you want to do. With one of her arms around you, and the other keeping Jen in place, you kiss and suck on her tits as if you’re getting married to them and a priest’s told you to.

You can feel yourself filling up the cage completely now, feel the tip of it around you. But in spite of that bodily demand, you work your way back up Rhea’s chest, you smear your lips across the bottom of her neck, and she giggles to feel you land under her arm. There it is, the light sheen, the flavour and tang of the very slight exertion she’s suffered holding Jen in place for you. You scrub her remorselessly with your tongue, not wanting to miss one little bit.

While you love and mouth at that softer, more private skin, you feel her shift and go “Oh,” a low sexy intonation from the core of her being. Her chest heaves, she trembles which shakes you about too, and then comes the eruption, a long rattling cry of ecstasy. Part of you is tempted to pull away, to enjoy the look on her face, but you have latched on too firmly, and when she sweats out her climax you know you have made the right decision.

You straighten up, you finally take a breath – and so does Jen, a huge gasp for air when Rhea finally opens her legs and sets Jen free. For a moment she is slumped on the dampened sheets, and you go to her and check on her, help her up, genuinely worried she might have been squeezed too hard between Rhea’s thighs. But she leaps up to meet you, laughing merrily, then kisses you and lets you taste Rhea’s pleasure, all over her face.

“Mmh,” sighs Rhea, she settles down on the bed, gazing up at you both. “Look at you…” and the warmth of it fills your heart, before she blinks her eyes properly, focuses on you, and all business again asks “Are you ready yet?”

Jen grabs the cage, you feel her fingers through the bars and you yelp, she declares “It feels like it!” She cradles your balls, gives them a little squeeze, and asks them “Are these refilled for her?”, yes, there’s that heat of the moment filthy-talk again. You just manage one passionate kiss before Rhea’s got hold of your balls instead and pulls you over toward her.

“Well well,” Rhea muses, playing with the cage and your cock inside it, bouncing it on her hand. You’re hard enough by this point it doesn’t flop down but stays pointing painfully towards her – like she said, a kinky hurt. And she relishes it, she smirks, devours whatever expression’s on your face as she undoes the lock, she hadn’t even needed to take the key out after shutting it. She grips the cage, and pops it right off, you produce half a groan and half a gasp.

“I hope you fuck her real good,” Jen whispers, snuggled up to you from behind, she takes hold of your cock and points it directly at Rhea’s vagina, poking at her on your behalf. For a second you are nervous, you’re hard again but your erection doesn’t quite feel fully recovered. And hunched over Rhea’s big, lovely body you feel as inadequate as you ever have. But then Jen shoves you forward, with a trill of delight that Rhea echoes – and when you pump eagerly away, you can tell, she really does feel good too.

Rhea squeezes you with her legs, the way she did Jen’s face – the same face sticking to yours now – to hold you in place, inside of her, and you’re happy, and she’s happy too, and you’re all happy, more than you could ever even have wanted.

[elliespuns]

A very popular concept I've seen a lot in those "joelxreader" fanfics is the daddykink, and... i'm the only one who finds this kind of weird for Joel's character? I mean, I do can imagine joel refering to the love of his life as something with this energy (like "honey", "darling" and stuff), but one thing I can't imagine is him loving the idea of being called daddy and neither calling his significant other as babygirl. I mean, he was a dad of two girls like... Do I have to remind one of them is dead? Calling him something he hasn't been called in 20+ years in the middle of sex would soo kill his mood. And is so unnacurate for him to call his gf a "babygirl" too like in those fics, the nickname is already a reference to his two little girls, I cannot imagine a joel saying babygirl and thinking of someone else who isn't ellie or sarah.

I KNOW for sure that in real life, Joel would never have a daddy kink.

Although we have to keep in mind that these stories are just fiction that are either requested by others or written with the aim of satisfying the needs of horny people. Which means, of course, that Joel in these fics wants his women to call him daddy. Of course he calls his romantic interest a baby girl. Because 99% of Joel in these stories is still the writer themselves or the people who request Joel this way. Even though they write or portray him exactly as he is in the show/game—It's not Joel as we know him. I guess we have to take it with a grain of salt because these kinds of stories are not real—they are literally out there for horny people so they could masturbate, really. Of course the writers are adding something dirty or even taboo for them fics to get popular.

I'm not saying that every writer is like this (please, I don't mean no harm to anyone with this), but I think that once you are the kind of a writer who likes to write what people like or request, you are definitely going to write the daddy kink if asked. Maybe they don't even realize that Joel being already dad in the past might be a problem for Joel to be like this in their fic, OR, maybe they are aware of the fact and it is actually the thing that does it for them? It's hard to tell.

But I always say, 'to each his own'. We live in the world where people post their ideas for others to entertain themselves—for free, and no matter what they write (no matter how fucked up it might get), I think we don't really have the right to judge, because that's what the tags are for. If they tag it right and we read it and we dislike it, it's on us.

I think this daddy kink thing is the least to get weirded out by. There are a lot of fics out there that are way worse (like Joel hurting women or even killing them to have sex with them), and no matter what I might think about them, I never really give them much thought anyway. At the end of the day, I know these are just fiction. Yes, it doesn't justify the depravities of some individuals and what fucked up shit they're in liking, but as one of my good friends says, 'I don't want to yuck on anyone's yum'. I avoid fics that give me creeps. That helps.

But yeah, I don't think Joel would think this way in real life. Real life Joel wouldn't have daddy kink. That would seem too insensitive to him towards Sarah.

[bloghrexach]

🏫 … I vaguely remember during my teens, the Vietnam war and the students protests! Being away in PR, it wasn’t as prominent.

Posted by: LaillaB, founder ofReclaim the Narrative’, from LinkedIn …

“All the frenzied shrieking about pro-Palestine protests at universities these last few weeks makes it clear that our civilization is so “twisted and insane” that it sees protesting a genocide as far worse than committing one.

Which is about as backwards as any society could possibly be.

A civilization where the dogs own the people and the children go to work while the parents go to school? That would be less crazy.

It’s as wrong as you can possibly get anything in this world.

If you’ve accepted daily massacres of innocent civilians as the baseline normal and appropriate thing, and regard any opposition to this as a freakish and evil abomination, then you’re as confused about reality as any other stark lunatic in town.

Maybe worse.

To view nonstop mass military slaughter as moral and opposition thereto as immoral is to live in a mental moral universe that has been flipped on its head.

It’s to inhabit a reality tunnel that has become completely divorced from reality. But that’s the kind of mainstream worldview that the political-media class in this society are working to indoctrinate.

A tweet from the commentator Briahna Joy Gray saying that in order to find any mention in The New York Times of the hundreds of Palestinians in mass graves that are being discovered in Gaza, she had to scroll past no fewer than four stories about pro-Palestine protests on college campuses — including two op-eds which criticized the protesters.

What kind of warped dystopia is it where that’s the kind of mainstream news outlet people are getting their information and ideas from?

Our entire civilization is saturated with reality-distorting propaganda like this, and it’s making people intellectually paralysed … 🐑

It’s got our moral compasses flipped 180 degrees from our true north, and our inner sensemaker tuning in to frequencies of nothing but garbled static.

That’s how numb they need us to be to keep us supporting a globe-spanning empire that literally cannot exist without nonstop violence and tyranny.

They need us not just unable to tell the difference between right and wrong.

So they pound our collective consciousness day in and day out with extremely aggressive psyops in the form of mass media propaganda to ensure that our insides are scrambled around enough to consent to the amount of depravity necessary for leaders to continue dominating the narrative.

This is what our ruling class has decided will be normal, as Aaron Bushnell said moments before lighting himself on fire in protest of the genocide in Gaza.

A society where mass graves get less media attention than university protesters.

A society where more political firepower is going into stopping pro-Palestine demonstrations on college campuses than ending Israel’s murderous assault on an enclosed enclave packed full of children

A society where trying to stop a genocide is considered evil, and committing one is considered good.” … 🏫

#reclaimthenarrative — 🕊🍉 — #FreePalestine

Caitlin Johnston : Substack

@hrexach …

[joseopher]

It's my tenth time reading the chapter today, y'know the chapter

[Image ID: As a child Callum never sympathized much with storybook villains, who were always clinging to some sort of broad, unspecific drive. It wasn’t the depravity that unnerved him, but the desperation of it all; the need, the compulsion, which always destroyed them in the end /.End ID]

[Image ID: “Act like everything is some sort of performance. Like you’re a machine replicating normal behaviors. ‘Call it bonding,’ honestly.” Tristan glanced moodily at his glass. “Sometimes I wonder if you even understand what it means to care about someone else, or if you’re just imitating the motions of whatever being human is meant to look like.” “You wonder that constantly,” Callum said. “What?” “You said you sometimes wonder. You don’t. It’s constant.” “So?” “So nothing. I’m just telling you, since you seem to like it when I do that.” /.End ID]

[Image ID: “Yes, I am,” Callum said, setting aside his glass as he rose to his feet, coming closer. “This is what you would feel if I were manipulating you. I’m doing it now. Do you feel this?” he asked, closing a hand around the back of Tristan’s neck and turning the dials up on Tristan’s sorrow, his emptiness. “Nothing hurts like shame,” Callum murmured, finding the ridges of Tristan’s love, riddled with holes and brittle with corrosion. His many pockets of envy, desire; his madness equating to want. “You want his approval, Tristan, but he will never give it to you. And you can’t let him die—not the real him, not even the idea of him—because without him, you still have nothing. You are seeing everything as it truly is and still, do you know what you see?” /.End ID]

[Image ID: Tristan’s cheeks were moist, probably with torment. Callum did not enjoy this, the destruction of a human psyche for which he had actually allowed himself to care. It was ashy, like rubble. There was always a sense of cusp; not salty, not sweet, but not neither. It was the peril of tilting one way or another, of falling too heavily—irreversibly and irreparably—to one unsurvivable side. /.End ID]

[Image ID: “I am the father you didn’t get to have,” Callum observed aloud. “I love you. That’s why you can’t turn your back on me, even if you want to. You know my flaws but crave them; you lust for them. The worse I am, the more desperate you are to forgive me.” /.End ID]

[Image ID: “I understand that, but I cannot let you keep your distance. You need to know what my magic tastes like, how it feels, so that you will recognize the absence of it. You need to know pain from my hands, Tristan. You need me to hurt you so that you can finally learn the difference between torture and love.” /.End ID]

[Image ID: Tristan sank against his chest, and Callum pulled him closer, letting him rest his head there, feverishly returning to the stasis of his own soul. /.End ID]

[Image ID: “As it turns out,” he said quietly, and glanced up, meeting Tristan’s eye. “I kill you.” Within moments, the silence was punctured by a scream. /.End ID]

[finsterhund]

Jesus fucking christ the creepy neighbor situation somehow gets worse.

So I've been too scared to leave the house on my own, this fucker has set back over five years of work on my progress with agoraphobia. Swear to fuck. But turns out she has been biding her time watching my roommate take Scott out for several days. She's obviously aware of how the schedule was Scott's evening walks at 9PM. She waited until today before doing anything, which is a smart move if she assumed I'd feel comfortable going back to doing it after several days, and then come 9PM she had her door wide open and was HIDING, STANDING THERE JUST INSIDE HER FUCKING ENTRYWAY SILENTLY WAITING as if to fucking pounce on me if I was alone. We were going to the grocery store and thus changing up the routine and when she saw I wasn't alone walking Scott she immediately went and shut her door when we got in the car. Fucking christ. I am so legitimately distressed by this. I cannot stress this enough she had her door wide open and was HIDING in such a blind spot that I didn't see her except from behind and out of the corner of my eye when I quickly walked past.

So yeah. My roommate is now going to walk Scott for the foreseeable future. This fucker is 100% trying to catch me alone and vulnerable for confrontations. This is a worse version of what she did when she harassed me a few days ago.

I know I shouldn't be scared. I could easily win in a life or death altercation. But my PTSD brain and such doesn't work that way.

I am scared to be in my own fucking home outside my own front door going to walk my dog or do laundry. Roommate suggests I go to the laundry building at 4AM. I don't even think that will work.

This is causing me so much psychological harm I am just beside myself.

We are going on a camping trip in September and afterwards I will be visiting my friend in Alberta and I am so fucking looking forward to being away from this deranged fucker for even just a little while. Want to move so fucking bad. I hate it here. Everything is either a painful memory of my beloved Cazza or a source of impending doom and danger. Want to fucking die. What kind of depraved cunt does this!?

I am fully anticipating mail tampering and laundry tampering may become an issue also. Would not put it past this fucker.