#amara writes

[amara-eilish]

can you write a fic based on billie wanting to film r and her having sex (but like with sub!top!billie pleassee) i love ur work and i'm sooo happy ur backkkk

kind of not proofread sorry!

"but baby what am i gonna do so far away from you!" billie says in front of you. the both of you were both lying in bed while billie brushed her fingers through your hair. billie had just brought up the fact that the two of you were going to go without sex for 2 months on her first leg of tour.

you laughed at how much she needed you but brushed off the topic. the topic changed, and the two of you talked about random things before it got quiet. you could hear billie's breathing getting heavier.

"what's wrong pretty? what's got your head thinking so hard?" you ask

billie smiled softly, "i want to record us, make a video. something to keep me company when i'm missing you." her eyes sparkled with joy and you could see how much she wanted it. " a video, hm?" 

your voice was quiet as you whispered in her ear softly running your fingers down her back. "what kind of video do you want to film sweet girl?"

billie whined burying her head in your neck, "you know what i mean baby" she mumbled.

"do i? can you remind me baby?" you tease.

"wanna film us having sex," billie whispers clawing at your clothes.

you laugh quietly and nod at her to go set up the camera. she shot up quickly running to set it up.

she propped the phone up on the bedside table, angling it to capture the entire bed, ensuring everything would be captured. the camera lens stared back at them, a silent witness to the scene about to unfold.

"gonna show you what a good girl i am for you" billie says excitedly. "yeah? gonna be good for me?" you breathe out in anticipation.

your breath caught as billie's lips brushed against your core. the feeling of billie's tongue sending shivers through your body. your back arched, pushing your hips upwards, as she ate you out. billie's mouth was relentless, her tongue flicking and probing, driving you to the brink of ecstasy.

"fuck baby" you gasped, your hands gripping the sheets tightly. "doing so good f'me, making me feel so good, pretty."

billie's moaned at the praise, the vibrations adding to the pleasure. she could get drunk off the taste of you and bathed your continuous praise.

as your moans grew louder, billie slipped two fingers inside curling them to find that sweet spot that would send you over the edge. your body tensed, muscles clenching around billie's fingers as you cried out in release.

"yesss baby. so good for me always. always been my good girl" your voice echoed through the room, pushing billie to continue, savoring the taste of your orgasm.

billie crawled up your body, leaving a trail of kisses along your chest. before kissing your lips passionately.

you laughed, a playful glint in your eyes. "can't wait to watch it back. maybe we should make a few more, just to be sure."

tags: updating my tag list let me know if you want to be added!

[boxdstars]

⋆·˚-༘ Meet Marie!

Name: Marie Jane Chatman

Birthday: May 22nd 1875

Zodiac Sign: Gemini

House: Ravenclaw

Patronus: Otter

Animagus: Stag

Wand: Laurel wood, 10", rigid, phoenix feather

Blood Status: Muggleborn

Orientation: Unlabeled

Quidditch: Seeker

Marie is gentle, curious about the world around her, and exhibits the Ravenclaw typical thirst for knowledge, as well as a knack for problem solving. She is a very literal thinker, and can often respond to situations with less empathy than desired, leading to lots of misunderstandings. Though a bit naïve about the wizarding world due to her muggleborn status, she is eager to pursue all ventures of knowledge. She does her best to fit in by dressing the part of a well kempt witch, but her strange vibe and big doe eyes make it a little hard to be taken seriously as her peers.

Of Merlin's direct bloodline, Marie sports an immense aptitude for magic, particularly her ability to wield ancient magic. Though in of itself, this ancient artform hardly listens. It sports a more parasitic nature, and she has little control over it when her emotional state is tampered with.

Despite the happenings of Hogwarts and the looming threats occurring during her fifth year, arguably one of Marie's biggest challenges is overcoming one Amara Ambrose, who's hellbent for whatever reason on making her life a living hell. These two rivals become obsessed with one another, for better or for worse.

[beautysurvives]

On Woman Coding in Supernatural

supernatural is a show where male characters want to become the new God and seek to create a new world that is better than His, by returning to an idealized past, creating an idealized future, or maintaining an idealized present. But in their pursuit of his power, they find that they cannot create anything new, they can only destroy. The first time this happens, it is in the death of Mary Winchester and the goal to create Lucifer’s perfect vessel for the sake of ushering in the apocalypse. Azazel is searching for a woman who will give birth to Lucifer’s perfect vessel. Both Heaven and Hell play a part in engineering things so that both Sam and Dean (Michael’s perfect vessel) are born, but no one can create them out of thin air.

The last time this happens, it is in Chuck (God) attempting to reunite with Amara in order to not only destroy his world (the canon spn universe) but to also leave it behind and create a new one. He tells her that he needs their combined power to achieve the one thing he can’t do on his own — a “reboot” or “reset.” Joining with Amara looks a lot like absorbing her into himself. We can’t see her, but he assures us that she’s “with him.”

Actually, the last time this happens, it’s when we see Sam with his son Dean II, and his blurry wife in the background. Sam has created a Dean who can have a better life than either of them. A reboot. A woman’s worth in this world is not herself or her identity, but the function of her sex organs. Her ability to house and then expel new life.

In season 4, Sam believes that he must kill Lilith to prevent Lucifer from rising / the apocalypse. However, her death is actually the last step in unsealing his cage. In this scene, a blonde Lilith wears a white dress, similar to both Mary and Jess in their deaths. She is the whore to their mother and maiden.

In mythology, Lilith is Adam’s flawed first wife, and the mother of monsters. In spn, she is Lucifer’s first “creation” — an already existent human soul that he himself corrupted. The first demon. Hence, Lilith is, symbolically, both mother and child. And her death at Sam’s hand signifies his role as the unwitting killer of his own mother, and the symbolic killer of the feminine. Similarly, Ruby’s presence at his side, feeding her her own blood (as Azazel did) and encouraging him to drink the blood of others, makes her (like Azazel) a sort of wet nurse or midwife, helping Lilith to birth the apocalypse with Sam as both the symbolic father and son. The man who brings Lucifer into being through violent action, and simultaneously the son who must continue to nurse on demon blood in order to grow into Lucifer.

Though there are many different ways to describe possession in Supernatural, it is clear that Lucifer’s possession of Sam is intended not as an act of violent penetration (in contrast to the language used to describe Michael’s theoretical possession of Dean), but as a literal embodiment. Sam is not just going to be “worn” or “wielded.” He is going to become, and as a matter of fact he always has been. This is illustrated to Sam through the revelation that many of Sam’s closest friends, advisors, and allies throughout his life were, in fact, planted there by Lucifer. And, just as Lucifer plans to take his vengeance and set things right, Sam undoubtedly wishes to do the same. Sam’s ability to cage Lucifer is the one instance in which victory does not require violence from him, but the opposite. Restraint. When he is reminded of his relationship with Dean, when he realizes how badly Lucifer has hurt him and allows himself to feel that pain as if it is his own — when he goes from embodying Lucifer to caging him within himself — from being to being a vessel — he sacrifices himself, discarding any hope of a future in order to protect his brother from any further harm. The same thing that Dean tried to do for him when they were children (informed by his own mother), and the same thing that Mary in her death.

In season 5, Cas takes Claire Novak as a vessel, and tells us that she, like Jimmy, is chosen. Jimmy pleads for Cas to release Claire and take him instead, and Cas, seemingly moved despite having just been forcibly reprogrammed as punishment for his empathy, repossess Jimmy.

In season 6 Cas takes Eve’s (the mother of monsters) children — the souls in purgatory — into himself. In this same season, Dean lives with Lisa and attempts to be a parent to her son Ben. He admits that he has started to feel like Ben is really his son, even though he isn’t. In episode one of s6, Exile on Main St, anticipating ridicule about his new domestic lifestyle by his family, Dean refers to himself as a soccer mom. Samuel Campbell, their resurrected grandfather, sincerely (not tauntingly) tells Dean that he reminds him of Mary. Dean, who, as we learned in s4, is named after Mary’s mother and Samuel’s wife, Deanna. In this world, settling down is always associated with becoming feminine. A man who quits hunting to live with a woman has been symbolically castrated, losing the aspect of his masculinity that is violent and heroic — a version of masculinity that Dean simultaneously rejects and feels compelled (by duty) to return to.

In season 11 we meet Amara, who was (symbolically) caged inside Dean, and who first manifests as a baby that he saves against Sam’s recommendation — as Sam very pragmatically wishes to focus on saving as many people as possible. In doing so, Sam finds himself afflicted with the same monstrous condition that plagues the people in this town. He can only save them and himself by expelling the sickness. In this same season, Crowley, still trying to get over his previous connection with Dean, raises Amara and guides her through her childhood, feeding her demons — which are corrupted human souls. As she matures and breaks free, she seems to prefer human souls, but she is seen eating angel souls/essences/grace as well. One human who had her soul taken describes it as “being with Amara” and seems to feel mainly release and relaxation. This is the same offer she makes to Dean. Though the language and implications are of sexual and romantic union, there is a clear womb-like connotation in her proposition. To be with her is to have ones soul kept safe inside her. The apocalypse she promises to bring is not only destruction, but a return to the state of being inside the womb. The state the universe was in before she and Chuck “split apart.” A state unruined by existence, everything preserved in a state of potential being, reduced to ideas, concepts, feelings, urges. Everything unconscious and unformed — the archetypical feminine. The darkness as ignorance.

Throughout the series, a primary question is whether or not any of the hunters (or Cas or Jack) can retire from hunting and live a normal human life. This is an essential part of Sam’s character journey — can he ever “settle down” and have a family of his own? Answering this is always contingent on the presence or absence of a woman at his side. We are asked, how can he achieve this if every woman who enters his life will inevitably be killed? He does not show the same consistent desire that Dean does to raise a child until s13 when he meets Jack. And then, in the final season, Eileen is reintroduced into his life, and the question comes up again about Sam “settling down.” Resurrecting Eileen is presented as a heroic act for Sam alone to achieve. Dean’s plan was to house her in a crystal — Rowena’s soul bomb — a metaphorical womb that can be repurposed as a weapon (only if enough souls are inside, just as Amara gained strength from consuming souls, as Cas gained power by consuming souls, and Dean was made into a bomb by absorbing the souls into himself). But Sam wants her to live again, and finds an opportunity through the spell that Jack forced Rowena to make in order to bring their mother back to life. The spell that failed, because Mary’s resurrected vessel was not capable of holding a soul within it. Like Mary herself, it fails at being what Amara was, a symbolic womb for the infant soul. It is empty, and incapable of being filled. Infertile.

But Sam is able to achieve it with Eileen, through a scene that mirrors both birth and baptism. Eileen emerges naked from a tub, her soul itself transformed into flesh. Where Dean, Cas, and Amara have all been related to the soul, gaining their power from it, ingesting souls and becoming, themselves, wombs — Sam is only concerned with the physical world. He is a character of action, who constantly leaves and returns to his heroic starting point. His blood drinking arc — in contrast to Cas’s soul eating, or the soul-bomb climax of Dean’s moc arc with Amara — is the physical alternative to the soul. Demon blood is also human blood — it is like the symbolic blood of Christ, the son of God — where Dean and Cas habitually ingest the spirit. This is further symbolized by Dean’s becoming a demon in s10, fulfilling his demonic duty by carrying out soul contracts for Crowley.

But in season 15, a season all about undoing the past and returning to an idealized one — to the beginning of the show itself, when it was just about two brothers hunting monsters, without angels and without God — Sam’s ability to leave hunting and finally accept a “normal life” is put in the spotlight, directly mirroring Chuck’s desire to leave this world behind and start a better one. Concepts like normal, human, Heaven and Paradise in spn, have always been related to the feminine — impossible to achieve for characters who view themselves as soldiers, only accessible through the consensual use and death of a woman and/or sacrifice (Mary, Kelly Kline). Those who seek to create a better world — a world safe from monsters — are not allowed to enjoy that world, because they can only seek it through violence.

For Chuck, a better world can only be achieved by abandoning any attachment he has to these characters and this world — and he can only join forces with Amara on his own terms, otherwise they will be locked in a constant power struggle. He only gets what he wants when Amara loses her own remaining attachment to the world (as before, she was content to passively enjoy it even while it was destroyed before her eyes) — her trust in Dean. She loses her tie to him an episode before he loses Cas, his own reason for existing.

Amara’s willing fusion with Chuck is neither her death, nor a fusion of their identities, but a reabsorption — or, consumption. It is the loss of her identity in favor of his. The final victory of the masculine aspect of God, the final act of submission from the feminine. Not equality or balance, but the continued structural placement of the masculine as higher/holier than the feminine despite her having power he cannot access. It is her becoming an organ, a womb — internal and unseen, but giving him the power to be able to leave this world behind. It’s the strength to be able to release. A paternal strength, both of them lacking emotional attachment to what they once loved. Chuck no longer desires to put himself in this story, just as he wants to end the show, he wants the death of this character — Chuck is the weaker version of God, the one that he wants to escape. He wants to transcend this earthly state, leaving this identity behind to create a new and improved one.

So every death in this final season, including Dean’s, Cas’s, Jack’s, and Eileen’s (as well as her erasure from the narrative), like Mary’s death and Amara’s absorption, are presented as necessary sacrifices. Like Jess. The symbolic death of the motherly/feminine aspect of God, which can nurture but attaches to the point of self destruction. Dean’s death was, I think, a suicide framed as an accident — his sacrifice, in order to force Sam to leave the hunting life behind, but also to ensure that, if one was truly destined to kill the other, he would never have to be the one to do it. Dean’s death is presented to us as the only possible end to the series which can not only scrub clean the sins of the past and return Sam to an idealized state (one of potential that can be fulfilled), but also allow him, like God!Jack (the better, more powerful version of Chuck, still containing the symbolic womb Amara, like the symbolic womb of the blurry wife), to set in motion a better future. A “reboot.” This is only possible in union with the feminine — but this union cannot look like becoming or attempting to replace, embody, be contained within, or contain the feminine, as it has been implied in both Dean and Cas’s past parental / Godlike roles — it must be done through consumption or use of the female as an organ. The womb (and vagina) as tools — a means to an end, but one which does not alter or lose the male identity.

[scaly-freaks]

Tom in the Jetty is giving me all the Helaena's nasty big brother who shouldn't be going anywhere near her best friend vibes (but he will anyway)

[shellibisshe]

I’ve stared at this for like an hour trying to come up with a caption that is not just me yelling but I can’t so. enjoy me yelling. ANYWAYS since January I decided I wanted to get a commission of one of my ships as a graduation present to myself, so I thought it was only natural to get my favorite blorbos ever ms Amara and Delsin. I knew I wanted to commission Emma @red-nightskies again and I’m so happy I did. Emma you genuinely did such an amazing job bring these two to life and I could not be more thankful!!! if you ever thought about commissioning Emma before this is your sign to go for it, I’m so happy with how this turned out and I will be staring at this for the next business week

tag list! (opt in/out) @carrionsflower @simplegenius042 @thedeadthree @loriane-elmuerto @socially-awkward-skeleton @imogenkol @malefiquinn @risingsh0t @kyber-infinitygems @a-treides @captastra @gothimp @statichvm @xtinafrye @calenhads @poetikat @nonfunctioning-queer @ghostfvcker @dickytwister @inafieldofdaisies

[morelikesin]

BOY, SHUT UP AND

DRIVE

DRIVE.

-

I got too deep in the paint. Because of that you have a Bimbo Sam for your viewing pleasure 🩷

[hawthorne-swift-enthusiasttt]

Cozy Little December Nights (Nevermoor Fanfic)

Hi besties!!! 🫶 How are u guys doing?? I decided to be productive for once and write a Nevermor fic!! I currently have like, 12 unfinished nevermoor fanfics in my drafts that have been sitting like that for weeks but I managed to finish this one in a day lmao. No real plot, just a cozy little thing for winter <3 This fic is brought to you by my endless gawking at r/TheNightFeeling, the snow outside my window, and my deep appreciation for christmas vibes and cozy besties 👍

One thing you may notice: It's from Lam's perspective and I'm totally going off of headcanons here so she uses She/They pronouns throughout. <33

She stood silent, in the middle of the road. It was night. The dim luminescence from the street lights above pierced the snow-coated sidewalk with an amber yellow that shone solemnly. The air was cold enough to make you put your hands in your pockets, but it wasn't unbearable. It might have been because the wind was quiet. Small flakes of snow started to build up and melt on her soft boots, and her rich, charcoal black hair had bits of white scattered throughout.

They heard the faint hum of a car driving by in the distance. Speeding up, they jogged towards a lone wooden bench outside a small, cozy, cottage-looking home with a big window and warm fireplace light seeping out through cracks in the curtains. The light from the house reflected onto the bench and seemed to engulf it in a sheltering warmth.

She sat carefully on the bench, trying not to slip on the ice underneath it. Her hands rested in her lap as she absentmindedly fiddled with them, picking the indigo purple polish off her nails and sending tiny chips flying. She blinked twice. Her hair tickled her hand slightly as she moved a strand behind her ear.

Looking up, they could see the moon's ghostish beam shining directly on their face. They squinted instinctively at it's brightness, and focused their eyes on the dark night in front of them instead. It was stunning. The stark contrast between the light-as-air glistening snowfall and the black night backdrop would probably be seared in her mind for years to come. This moment. It was peace.

She looked back at the warm house with the warm fireplace and the warm reflecting light. It was kind of beautiful. Sure, there were spots where the cream paint had chipped away on the windowsill, and the front porch swing was old and rusty and looked like it had seen some rough days but...that warm glow. The coarse stone bricks and weathered wood on the outside held something so tender, so home-feeling, on the inside, and that made her soul smile.

As they were about to stand up and continue the silent, frigid walk home, they were stopped by a noise. It sounded like something between a "squeak" and a "creak". Being a short-range oracle, they already knew what was coming. They turned their head towards the house and saw a familiar face. A blonde boy with light blue eyes and fluffy hair stood there, hanging half-in and half-out the house, with a beckoning grin on his face.

"Lam? Is that you?", he asked softly.

"Yes", she responded

"Are you heading home? I didn't see you on hometrain this afternoon."

"I was just about to, yeah. Sorry I wasn't there..I fell asleep in a Relaxation Pod and only woke up 30 minutes ago. I hadn't realized this was your house, though. It's very pretty."

He gave a small chuckle and said, "Well actually, this is my Gran's house. I like to visit her around the holidays. She makes the BEST hot chocolate. Hey, if it's not a bother, do you wanna come in and try some with me?"

She glanced at the time on the big clock tower a few miles away: 8:00pm. They didn't need to be home until 9, so surely a sip of hot chocolate wouldn't hurt.

"Okay."

Arch smiled, leaning into the house.

"Hey Gran!", he called, "could you please make one more cup of hot chocolate? I've got a friend who wants to join us!"

"Will do, Archan", she called back contently.

The pair headed inside, and Lam hung her coat and yellow-striped scarf up on a hook. She gazed around the house. Lovely acrylic paintings of charming little countrysides were hung on the back wall of the dining room. The room's walls were a canary yellow that had an easing nature about them. Looking further, into the living room, they could see a soft, cream-colored wool carpet, with plush, squishy seating to match. The fireplace she had noticed from the window seemed to crackle comfortably. A giant lamp was turned on beside it, making the whole place glow invitingly.

"Your hot chocolate's ready! Careful, it's quite hot", Arch's Gran's voice sounded, taking Lam out of her cozy little reverie

She sat at the dining table, and watched as Arch dropped tiny, colorful marshmallows into his drink. He handed some over to her, nodding towards them.

"You want any?"

"Okay", she said, taking a few.

She dunked the marshmallows in the hot chocolate, sinking them in the liquid with the spoon, and smiling when they popped back up.

It was nice, she thought, spending time with someone who cared so deeply about them. Growing up with the pressures of being a princess, they were always so worried as to what other people thought about them. The comfort of having a good friend who saw her as equal meant everything to her.

She gazed out through the window, her deep brown eyes catching the gleam of one of the streetlights outside. The snow was still falling gently, and the sky had managed to become an even darker shade than it was when she saw it last.

I love cozy little December nights like these, she thought happily.

[alynnl]

Presenting: the document for my Spirit of Justice idea that went from a little headcanon to a massive plot bunny. It's probably a little too long for Tumblr. But I hope you'll enjoy reading it!

Summary: Nahyuta Sahdmadhi learns the hard way that he shouldn't try to hide it when he gets sick. Luckily, he's surrounded by people who care about him.

Tagging @loregoddess and @ritzcuit since you both listened to me ramble excessively about SoJ and I probably couldn't have done this without you! 💖

[the-mpreg-guy]

not a mary winchester lover, not a mary winchester hater, but a secret third thing

[amara-eilish]

wet

smut wow 2 fics in 2 days (crazy!) billie is looking at you cruelly, your lips puffy from the remains of her lipgloss earlier, and stained from the emptied wine bottle between the two of you. you’re sitting on the patios outside your house, overlooking los angeles’ nighttime sky. the slight bustle of the city can be heard along with the soft breathing of shark from inside the house.

billie is on top of you, her head resting on your chest after just making out. your head slightly dizzy from the alcohol in your system slightly turned on. you can feel that billie is turned on too with the way she is touching you, running her fingers down your chest and hips. she looks up at you and kisses you, becoming more sloppy with the seconds. your little hums of satisfaction making billie push her lips against you harder. the feeling of billie’s cold fingers shoved up your shirt makes you shiver. her cold fingers against your bare skin instantly make your nipples harden. billie looks at you with a subtle smirk before wrapping the waistband of your underwear around her fingers and pulling them down. you whine at the cool feeling against your core. you were the complete opposite of billie now. her fully clothed, and you fully naked. billie places her palm on your stomach, biting her lip as she takes in the sight of you fully naked and so flushed out in front of her. your hips start to grind against the air between your legs making you close them shut. billie looks at you with an eyebrow raised, “what’s wrong pretty hm?” rubbing against your thighs softly. you shake your head no at her question, letting her know that nothing is wrong, slightly biting your lip. “so there’s no reason you want to keep your legs shut baby?” you’re slightly panting, the pain beneath your legs goes unnoticed by the look on your face, but nevertheless you try to cover it up, wanting to play along. billie giggles at your embarrassment, “are you sure, sweet girl? nothing’s wrong?” she asks again her hand gliding down your chest, her finger circling your nipple. “i have a theory, you wanna know what it is baby?” she asks. you nod quietly lip tucked between your teeth. “i think it’s because secretly you’re dripping. am i right? are you making a pretty little mess there?” you’re so close, billie’s torture makes you want to whine and moan but you know you have to be quiet. your cheeks have turned a different color with embarrassment. “do you mind if i check baby? can’t have you being all naughty and making a mess on our patio right?” billie teases. you let out a faint whimper, continuing to play along, you’re grinding against whatever you can on the couch. 

“show me how wet you are angel,” billie coaxes, though you just shake your head, tears threatening to fall. “s’ too hard baby? can my pretty girl not think? are you worried you’re going to make a mess?” you nod quickly billie faux pouts at your concern. “my poor sweet girl, so worried, it’s okay baby let me help you.” 

the way billie was talking to you was making you throb profusely, your head was dizzy not a single thought in there. billie softly spreads your legs biting her lip, “oh pretty, look at the mess you’ve made, my dirty girl so so wet,” your mouth was agape, and no words could come out. “my baby's too worried about how wet she was to realize that she made a mess, s’ okay i’ll help you, baby.” 

billie runs a finger down your slit causing you to whine and buck your hips up. “please” you whisper faintly. 

“what was that mama? gotta speak up for me,” 

“need you so bad please, billie” you whine out gripping onto billies hand. 

billie loved this, she loved teasing you and loved when you got dumb over her. “need daddy to make you feel good baby? hm? what do you want my love?” she asks.

you grab her wrist thats cupping your pussy. “need you to touch me please daddy,” 

with that billie plunges two fingers into you leaving them still, and watches as you slowly begin to grind on her palm. you start quickly chasing the release you’ve been after all evening. you’re a whimpering mess head thrown back eyes shut as you grind against her palm. 

you open your eyes to watch billie as she stares at you so lovingly, mouth agape and moans falling out. “my sweet girl, just needed her daddy to touch her huh?” she kisses you so sweetly her tongue swiping over your lips. billie’s words and trying to focus on grinding against her hand was impossible at this point, you couldn’t focus on anything, just wanted to chase the high you were longing for.

“oh baby? do you need daddy to help? sweet girl can’t even rub her pretty pussy on my hand, always needs me to help,” you movements were becoming more erratic unable to focus as billie takes her fingers out of your pussy and slowly rubs your clit, “need you to help me, please,” you beg for billie’s touch longing for her to make you cum.

“don’t worry angel, i’ll help you just lie back, don’t need to think about anything in that pretty little head of yours,” billie says, as you lie back on the couch. she smirks before plunging back 2 fingers into your pussy quickly fucking them into you “juuust like that baby, goood girll, just needed my help hm?” you nod quickly, moaning louder and louder. billie feels you getting close the wet sounds of her fingers going in you and your moans are all that’s heard, as urges for you to come, “it’s okay my love, come for me, i know you’re my good girl, my perfect girl,” her words just edge you on, and suddenly your back arches and you feel like you’re seeing stars as billie continues to fuck you through your orgasm. 

“that’s it baby, there you go,” billie says softly, 

“think you’re still wet?” 

tags: updating my tag list let me know if you want to be added!

[ananke-xiii]

The “body without organs” of Mary Winchester (and… Jimmy Novak).

When I started to pull the resurrection thread in the narrative of Supernatural I identified Castiel’s team-work resurrection in S13 and Mary’s impossible resurrection in S14 as my two main reference points from where I could develop this whole fantasy of mine. My initial idea in a nutshell was the following: Chuck, at certain point, decided that he didn’t want Cas back. He also decided that he didn’t want Mary back. So I asked myself why, of course. There are two characters behind Cas and Mary’s resurrections and these are Jack and Amara. So I thought it was cool to assume that Jack and Amara were what really went wrong in Chuck’s story. Since the show ends with a dethroned Chuck and with the union of Jack and Amara as the new “top dog” in town, it seems like it isn’t just a cool assumption but it’s possibly also correct (correct, again, in my fantasy, because we never saw Amara in the finale so this is just my mind grasping for meaning that makes sense to me).

What I didn’t expect to find while I was resurrecting the narrative threads of this dead show is that, ultimately, Mary Winchester is basically a Jimmy Novak minus Castiel. I’ll explain what I mean by this in a minute but I first want to say that I didn’t expect such a triangulation was going to come up. I already was aware of the connection between the theme of birth/motherhood/death and Castiel but I was surprised to find Jimmy Novak there, too.

Before going on I have to declare a little bit of defeat (for now). I believe that my mind can do any kind of cerebral somersaults but I’m a bit at loss (for now) about the reason why Jimmy Novak was resurrected after Raphael killed Castiel. Jimmy-as-soul doesn’t come back when Lucifer kills Castiel and I can’t come up with, let’s say, “diegetic” reasons to explain it. Is it because Raphael was less powerful than Lucifer? Mmmh. Is it just God’s will? Double mmmh. These reasons don’t satisfy me and I can’t help but see the cogs of the wheel turning behind the scenes, aka the same thing that happened to Final Ruby:

RUBY: Proof. This body is one-hundred percent socially conscious. I recycle. Al Gore would be proud. […] You didn’t want me to take a body with someone in it, and I made sure that the spirit was gone. Apartment was empty. You happy?

Just like Ruby, who allegedly seems on Sam’s side in S4 and therefore “good”, couldn’t be a demon possessing an innocent (since they wanted Sam and Ruby to make out hard… the implications would've been… unpleasant), Castiel, too, couldn't keep sharing his vessel with his rightful owner (Off-topic: further proof that Ruby and Castiel are two different sides of the same character). This is all to say that the show was very aware of the implications of their favourite metaphors and had to come up with creative ways to get around the “law” that they themselves had created.

In other words, Jimmy Novak’s “empty apartment” was a necessary sacrifice to keep Castiel-as-character around (well, apparently, much like Chuck, some showrunners didn’t exactly want Castiel-as-character around but let’s stash this as further proof for the “Chuck is the writers” theory).

Jimmy’s body goes Through.A.Lot. from S4 to S13 where it ends up on a pyre with Kelly Kline’s corpse (!!! The things I have to say about this!!!). From S5 onwards, however, Jimmy’s not “in there” anymore so we can all breathe out because at least this poor man/character wasn’t actually “in there” to suffer and be testimony to all the sufferings. But his body and his new tenant did.

As I’ve said before, after Cas’ resurrection in S13 I don’t know how but I do know that Cas gets back complete with Jimmy’s body and I personally like to think that Cas’ physical appearance from S13 is his own. It’s his “body”. He stole Jimmy’s looks but it’s not Jimmy’s body anymore. Cas’ body is… a replica (of Jimmy’s)… capable of holding… grace. In an unexpected turn of events, then, Jimmy’s body goes from awesome vessel coveted by all angels to a copy of itself. And this process actually frees poor Jimmy’s body from angelic tyranny (as if moving from vessel to copy can even be described as... freedom but anyway). How could this even be possible? Nothing comes from nothing, right?

Well, well, well! How lucky for me that Supernatural had established itself as a universe were “formless matter” was “just there, waiting to be born” and for God to pick and do what he pleases! So I finally come full-circle with my “Jack-as-hidden-threat” thesis: by waking Cas up in the Empty, Jack is creating his father who had gone back to being “formless matter”. In other words, Jack was already God in that he had the capacity to do the same things that God did. This is, by the way, the reason why the angels correctly identified him as the entity who could’ve been able to create more angels. Because, I think, he could have, just not in the same way as the angels imagined (in my fantasy Nick's storyline doesn't happen so please remove all of your memories about Nick waking Lucifer up in the Empty, that never happened on this blog).

In this way Jack, even with all the complex issues he has with power, actually grew up a bit from S13 to S14: in S13 he only started the re-creation of his father by waking him up in the Empty (Cas had to do a lot of work, too) while in S14 he actually managed to bring Mary back. It’s just that what he brought back was “a shell. A body, you know. That it was empty. Just a a replica. "Incapable of holding life."

Jack could have brought Mary back. As a matter of fact, in this fantasy of mine, I think Chuck had to intervene because he realized that Jack’s next step in his progress would’ve been the final one that would’ve allowed him the complete mastery over resurrection (and over souls...). Jack could’ve brought souls back without deals just like Amara could.

Now, I don’t know if Chuck can actually bring back souls or not. He apparently brought Jimmy back once. I thereofre don’t believe the “it’s complicated”  travesty he came up with in “Moriah” because it’s a fact that even basic demons, provided that there was a deal, could bring souls back so why not Chuck? It’s true, however, that, if it was Chuck who brought specifically Cas back before S13, then it would seem like he can manipulate grace rather than souls. It’s also true that when he got angry in “Moriah” he wasn’t able to resurrect the people in the cemetery who all came out zombie- and ghost-like. Following my fantasy I would say that Chuck can’t resurrect souls but I’ll have to think about this, for now I can’t really decide.

What’s important here, to me anyway, is that, at a certain point in the story (according to this fantasy of mine), both Mary and Jimmy are “just” bodies that aren’t even real bodies: they are empty copies, replicas unable to hold life (but able to hold grace). What’s even more “hilarious” is that Mary, who’s THE mother of the story, is first “absolved” of her “sin” of giving birth to Sam and Dean via the construction of a world where she never was a mother and then, the following season, she’s reduced to a copy of a body incapable of holding life (!!!) the creation of which was the reason why her whole family was damned. Jimmy, on the other hand, had to "do penance" because he had abondoned his family first, his angel second and accepted a life of torture to spare his own daughter the same life of pain. And he wasn't even successful! He's eventually reduced to a replica of a body that will never be capable of holding life again, only grace, the acceptance of which was his first "original sin".

What I'm trying to say is that Mary and Jimmy are repeatedly punished because they brought DEATH and destruction upon their respective families IN PERPETUITY. The more they try to protect their children, the more they seem to damn them. The punishment goes to the point where they can only be "free" once their souls are locked in heaven with their fictional spouses, their actual bodies are completely erased from earth and the threat of their reproduction is forever erased. We only get reproductions of them, copies to burn on pyres so that they would never, ever be able to hold and give LIFE again. The body is ABSENT.

Mary and Jimmy are reproductions (as in replicas) so that they could never again reproduce (as in procreate).

Supernatural is THE show about saturnine sterility if I’ve ever seen one. There can’t be life in this show. Everything must stay recycled, characters can resurrect but never give new birth and, if they do (Hello Kelly Kline Forever), they must die.die.die. Love is okay only if it's lived in the after-life in a prison/suburbia-like Heaven with little boxes on the hillside, little boxes made of ticky-tacky ("And your mom and dad… they got a place over yonder"). Love in the physical realm, on the other hand, well... you can't get that, AND you can't have physical sex. Touch is forbidden.

And this is the reason, I think, why Castiel must also, eventually, die. He’s too closely associated with the desire of creation. He wants to be god, he wants to feel human, he is woman, he is man, he wants to be mother, he wants to be father, he wants to hold grace, he wants to hold life, he wants to give, give, give, he wants to touch too much. Now I’m talking symbolically here (although I believe that, my fantasy or not, this holds true textually too) but there’s too much fertility, too much sex around Cas in a show that’s ultimately about sterility. So he must die.

This is why I’ve chosen the “body without organs” for Mary and Jimmy: it’s both an image of freedom (well, more or less since Heaven is a scam but okay) and an image of pain, of the cost, of the madness behind that freedom. They’re finally “free”, even COMPLETE (!!!) from the narrative once their bodies are utterly destroyed and what lives on is copy of what they used to be and never will be again.

The phrase “Body without organs” comes from “To Have Done With the Judgement of God” by Antonin Artaud:

[…]

They have found a new way to bring out god and to capture him in his microbic noxiousness. This is to nail him though the heart, in the place where men love him best, under the guise of unhealthy sexuality, in that sinister appearance of morbid cruelty that he adopts whenever he is pleased to tetanize and madden humanity as he is doing now. He utilizes the spirit of purity and of a consciousness that has remained candid like mine to asphyxiate it with all the false appearances that he spreads universally through space and this is why Artaud le Mômo can be taken for a person suffering from hallucinations. - What do you mean, Mr. Artaud? - I mean that I have found the way to put an end to this ape once and for all and that although nobody believes in god any more everybody believes more and more in man. So it is man whom we must now make up our minds to emasculate. - How's that? How's that? No matter how one takes you you are mad, ready for the straitjacket. - By placing him again, for the last time, on the autopsy table to remake his anatomy. I say, to remake his anatomy. Man is sick because he is badly constructed. We must make up our minds to strip him bare in order to scrape off that animalcule that itches him mortally, god, and with god his organs.   For you can tie me up if you wish, but there is nothing more useless than an organ. When you will have made him a body without organs, then you will have delivered him from all his automatic reactions and restored him to his true freedom. They you will teach him again to dance wrong side out as in the frenzy of dance halls and this wrong side out will be his real place.

[xviruserrorx]

I still think it would have been funny is they pulled that Amara -> Michael, Chuck -> Lucifer parallel a bit farther and when Lucifer comes back in 15x19 he goes to Michael and pulls the whole speech to join his side and all while Michael's sitting back on a beach somewhere and pulls an Amara like "Adam wants to go to Paris next. You know what I like about Paris? It's so not you."

[dragonfelling]

Snippet Sunday

This ones a tad old but has to do with what im working on right now. I've gotta move it into the Amara Doc :D

Just something cute -

Jeremias was having trouble trying to work up the courage to ask.

The Gala was so busy, and every time Jeremias felt it in his gut that he should approach Amara the moment was stolen away by another person talking to her or offering her a dance.

He stood by the wall as he usually did, brooding and stuck in his own mind over such a simple thing. Amara and him had been sleeping together for heaven's sake. They kissed in the halls when nobody was looking. But… they hadn't gone public yet. 

The only one who really knew was Felix. The old man was very aware actually and kept coming in during comically bad times. 

He asked Felix to teach him Midonian Waltz. He never learned from his father after all. 

He thought about learning Anemoian dance but he wasn't sure who to ask. Mavros was clumsy. Iasis was scary. Jan was scarier. An external tutor would be difficult to get his hands on on short notice.

Not to mention it would take more than a few lessons and memorization. Midonian Waltz was simply easier to learn than the footwork of Anemoian gala dance. (Think merengue)

Jeremias wore gorgeous apparel. He didn't risk another scare by Josef by wearing particularly Anemoian clothes again, but he did let Rrynn do some basic  makeup on him in a style typically worn by Anemoians, a basic red line with the white wing. 

The tailor dressed him in Seanes' old gala clothes. It was Jeremias’ request actually. It was what Seane wore to the last Gala he attended before his death: the one celebrating the victory against Midonia. The tailor had gone back to the beautiful vest under the requests of Jeremias. He lightened the blue and added touches of silver filigree to a new white undershirt's cuffs. He modified the mourning flower motif present on the chest of the vest to include both Midonian flowers and changed the buttons for decorated silver instead of fabric. It was quite a bit of modification but he could tell this meant something important to Jeremias. This was a way of taking back something.

Looking in the mirror when the tailor was done, Jeremias looked quite pleased. He tipped the tailor very well for his work, paying way more than the commission price. Jere had inherited his father's vast wealth and he didn't hesitate to spend it on a petty slight against him.

When Jeremias broke from the wall to come to Amaras side, he was given some strange looks by the magistrate and her adult son chatting with the princess. 

“Deeply sorry. Do you mind if I steal Miss Amara away?” 

The Magistrate gave a harder look, and  frowned up at the doctor, before giving a dismissive wave. 

“Don't be long, we were discussing something.”

“Of course Lady… Very sorry I’m not sure I know your name.”

“Lady Ianthe Hoxha. Magistrate of Anatoli.” 

“Ah yes, Lady Hoxha.” 

Jere gives his head a momentary bow before Amara turns to walk Jeremias off to the side.

She gave a puff of air and shook her head, “Thank you… She's very insistent on speaking with me about her son. This is the third time she's approached me.” 

Amara reached to push some bangs back out of her face, the hair slipping from its braid some time earlier that night. She then sipped from her glass of wine. It seemed trade with Midonia had resumed as normal now. 

Jeremias takes a sip of his own Anemoian whisky. He looked to the ground, kicking the toe of his boot against the ground lightly as he leaned his bicep against the wall. 

He peeked over his shoulder to see if anyone was staring before taking the loose hair to tuck behind her braid for her. 

“Sorry I didn't pull you away sooner.”

“Don't worry much about it. I think she's trying to convince me to spend time with her son. Ugh.” 

Jeremias raises his head to gaze over her shoulder in order to take a look at the young man. He looked confident, and spoke with his head up high and back straight. 

He looks back to Amara, suddenly very aware of his slight hunch. He sat up more, cheeks rosy. His voice stays a flat tone as he mutters, “Ah. I see. He looks like a tool.”

She tries not to laugh, looking over her shoulder for a moment then finally letting it out.

“Yeah. Oh gods, he's such a dick head.”

“Amara-” he clears his throat, forcing himself to look up into her eyes.

“W-would you dance with me?”

Amara made another little chuckle into her next sip, smiling up at him behind the glass. 

The second of no response felt like forever, Jeremias could feel his heart shudder. 

“I don't see why not. I didn't even know you could dance.”

Jere made a sigh of relief, feeling the tension in his shoulders relax some… at least until he thought about people watching them. 

“Well… Felix taught me. He showed me Midonian waltz last week.”

“He took time off to show you?... Huh.”

“He had a couple hours free. I’ll warn you, I'm still not very good. I read a book about it again before the Gala started” 

Amara snorted and grinned up at him, “Seriously? A book?”

Jere took another sip of his drink, looking away. He couldn't help but to also smile though at how ridiculous that must seem.

“Alright, big guy,” she reaches to take his glass, putting his and her own down on a table. Both were nearly finished.

Jere reaches for her hands, letting her lead him to an open area between the crowd. 

Jeremias put his hand behind his back and gave her a bow as Felix instructed. Her smile brightened, and she gave a curtsy.

She lead as they began to dance. Her right hand on his left shoulder blade and left hand in his right. Jere put his left hand on her shoulder and squeezed her hand.

She kept the footwork slow so Jeremias could ease into their dance.

It took for a moment for Jere to figure out where to start, getting confused as Felix had taught him how to lead the dance, not how to follow. He got tense again, eyebrows furrowing and frowning at his boots in concern she thought that he may be stupid.

“Relax. I step forward, you step back.”

Jere nodded, taking a deep breath and slowly mirroring her.

Jere counted in his head as they followed the box step. He gave her a wide berth of room between their bodies, and looked down between them to watch his feet.

1. Right foot back.  2. Left to the side. 3. Right to left foot. 4. Left forward. 5. Right to left. 6. Left to right foot. 

And repeat. And repeat. And repeat.

When Amara felt he was starting to get into the swing of things, she lead him to waltz in a slow turn. Their steps followed the sound of the mandolin and hurdy gurdy, accompanied by a woodwind and drum.

She took an extra step back to spread the distance between them, before stepping forward to come closer. She raised his hands, and spun him back close. He did the same for her, and they ended up standing closer now as they waltzed. Jeremias had his forehead almost touching hers. 

He could feel eyes burn into the back of his skull. Eyes of the woman and her son that he pulled Amara from.

He figured it wasn't only them. He imagined the squint of Xavier. The judgment of Iasis. The dismay on Saria’s face. 

Why is she leading?

This is not Anemoian.

Who do you think you are?

“Smile, McCullough. You have that look on your face again.”

“Sorry.” He blinks, smiling for her, “I just think I'm being looked at.”

“You are, sure, but just keep looking at me. I'm the only important thing right now.”

He took a puff of air and tried to ignore the thoughts digging at him. He looked into the green of her eyes and focused on them instead. If they were to harass him later, he’d deal with it then. He could always deal with the consequences of reckless fun in the past, this was no different. 

His forced smile became genuine, and his body relaxed. 

She spun him again, and he spun her back. 

As the song came to an end, it took a lot for both of them to part from each other's arms. 

Jeremias gripped her shoulder, daring to bring his lips closer… before letting go, frowning and making huff. Not yet. He wouldn't cause a scene.

He drops his voice to a whisper, “Come by tonight?...”

Amara nods, her tone just as hushed, “of course,” Before parting ways with him to return to the crowd. 

Jere turned his head to look at the crowd where he last saw the Magistrate staring. It didn't look like they were there anymore.

He could feel his whole body flushed warm, sweat beading on the back of his neck and forehead. His stomach tingled, hot with flustered nerves. He ran his fingers through his hair,  before deciding to head out for some fresh air and some smoke in his lungs. 

[flordivina]

—Some of Emilia's Faux Identities ( *May extend on them individually with time )

The Faceless ; Principle of Guile at the Trifarix

Lord Evan LeBlanc ; Aristocrat family of the Matron ( w / @heredis-sanguinis )

Lady Selene Du Laurier; Owner of "La Porte du Paradis" & Piltovian Socialite.

Lady Amara , from Piltover's Merchant Guild

Elora ; assistant of Councilor Medarda ( w / @valiantthearts )

Monique; Maid of House Kiramman ( w/ @piltover-sharpshooter - Arcane tl )

Erato: the Muse of Love Poetry , Entertainer & Socialite.

Komorebi Hana ; Ionian Shrine Maiden

[redo-rewind-if]

I'm a sucker for time loop nonsense, and I can say for sure I already love this. MC seems like a fun character, love how we can just figure out right off the bat that yeah it must be time travel.

Looking forward to ignoring my death and hopefully enjoying the music festival date with Amara <3

I'm so happy to hear you're already enjoying it!! I was so nervous when I posted the demo I legitimately had to close Tumblr and go play Stardew Valley for a while lol.

Oooh, yes! I hope you have fun with the music festival route once I get it out! I've already written some of it and for some unexplained reason there may or may not be ring toss. At a music festival. Because why not?

Thanks so much for the ask!! <3

[artemx746]

anyways I wrote a short little Cadence and Lam fic