#but also I’m not trying to say I think you’re wrong for that or anything!!

[artist-owl]

Maedhros’s eyes flicked up as the door to his study cracked open. A beat later, Elrond pushed it the rest of the way open with his back, both of his hands occupied with holding a tray.

Maedhros watched him impassively as Elrond walked up to his desk, carefully balancing a goblet of wine on the tray. “What is this, then?” he asked.

Elrond looked up at him. “I know you like to have wine after supper, and I thought I would bring you some.

Possibly, this was merely an attempt at a kind gesture from the young child, possibly even an attempt at placation. More likely, however…

Maedhros accepted the goblet, looking down at Elrond all the while. Elrond looked back guilelessly. Almost unnoticeably, his eyes flickered between Maedhros and the cup.

Maedhros brought the cup to his face and sniffed it. He paused again, considered it, then sighed, set the cup down on his desk, and looked back to Elrond. “Belladonna?”

The innocent look faltered. Elrond winced.

Maedhros sighed again, and propped his elbows on the table, folding his hand over his stump and peering over them at Elrond. “Do you know where you went wrong?”

Elrond clearly didn’t, but he thought about it, small face screwed up in thought. “I…don’t give you drinks usually, so that was weird?”

“Very good. Anything else?”

Elrond looked up at him blankly.

“May I explain?”

“Please,” Elrond mumbled.

Maedhros leaned back in his chair. “You are correct. The first thing that tipped me off was the unusual action – you have never served me anything before, so that was odd. It would have worked better had you done so and really just served me wine, and then made a habit of it. Eventually I would cease my suspicions, at least to the point that I would sometimes lower my guard and allow my mind to be otherwise occupied when you served it. It would not do to be over-hasty in this; you would need to wait and watch my reactions for a long time to discern when this point was reached, and then also when I did allow myself to pay you less mind. Are you following?”

“Yes.”

“Good. The second thing that tipped me off was your expression. You appeared over-eager, and were plainly waiting on my reaction. Even if I did not know to suspect an assassination attempt from you, I would have been cautious at that look – I had six younger brothers, I am familiar with pranks. The third thing,” he said, picking up the cup once more, “is that I am familiar with the scent of belladonna.”

Elrond made a face. “Drat,” he muttered.

The corner of Maedhros’s mouth twitched. “Quite. Now, there are two more things: a suggestion, and a reminder. The suggestion is thus: poison is the weapon of the cowardly and weak. It is the weapon of those who skulk about in the shadows rather than engage in honourable combat. There is a reason that orc weapons are poisoned, while Elven ones are not.”

Elrond’s face remained screwed up, but shifted to something more thoughtful. “But you’re five times my size, and a way better fighter. I can’t fight you like that and win. Isn’t utilizing cleverness and tactics a vital part of strategy? And knowing both your and your enemy’s strengths and weaknesses, to play up your strengths and downplay their weaknesses? It’s just strategy, and knowing to not try to fight a losing battle.”

“‘Knowingly fighting a losing battle is an excellent summation of the last four or so yéni of war.”

Elrond seemed to consider that. “I’m going to say something that you’re probably going to get mad at.”

“I appreciate the warning. I think.”

“The Noldor tried to assault Angband multiple times, and always failed, but Lúthien and Beren snuck in and got a Silmaril.”

Maedhros closed his eyes and carefully measured his breaths. “You were correct in your assessment,” he finally said.

“Sorry. What was the reminder?”

Maedhros sighed and took a sip from his cup. He lowered it to see Elrond staring at him, eyes wide and mouth agape. Maedhros met his eyes and held his gaze for several beats. “I am an Elf. That which Men find poisonous most often has no effect on us.”

Elrond’s open-mouthed expression went from disbelief to rage in an instant, and he said something in Taliska that Maedhros did not understand and was going to assume was a swear. “I can’t believe I forgot that you…”

“I actually have been prescribed a tincture that included belladonna by my healers before. Regardless, I won’t be finishing this cup, because I need my wits about me tonight, and I have no clue what dosage you came up with.”

“Twice the lethal dose.”

“I have no idea how much nightshade it takes to kill a Man. Either way, it was a good try. I think it could have worked against many people. Remember what I told you. I look forward to your next attempt.”

“So that you can tell me how I failed at that one too?” Elrond asked glumly.

“I have full faith that you will be able to succeed in the future,” Maedhros comforted him.

headcanon that in the early days of their captivity Elrond and Elros tried to kill maedhros and maglor multiple times (even if half-heartedly. They are still good kids) and like, expected to be either punished, killed or thrown out and instead they got constructive criticism back

[1111wishesxx]

“Belive you deserve it and the universe will serve it”

Hi angels. If you’re reading this right now then you’re probably feeling lost or stuck somewhere in your manifesting/shifting process. That’s okay!! That’s why I’m here. To set you straight and help you get your dream reality you deserve. If you have seen my posts I’m sure you’ve read on my blog before that believing in yourself is crucial to shifting- but what do you do when you don’t feel confident? Before I write anything else I want to say that it’s totally okay and normal to not believe in yourself. It’s okay, you’re human. It happens. (Also, don’t forget that you can still manifest anything even without full self confidence.)

Okay now it’s time for a refresh on the facts of loa: your subconscious/inner world creates your reality/outer world. So if your thoughts are majorly negative and based on doubts (about manifestations, your abilities, the fear that you’re doing something wrong, etc.) your subconscious will make it a reality. Basically this means if you tell yourself it’s super hard to shift then it will be. Instead tell yourself it’s easy to get what you want and manifesting/shifting is effortless. Another example of this is if you continually affirm that you are a billionaire, your subconscious will hear it and eventually it has to conform into your physical reality. Remember that your subconscious is always listening. Whatever you tell yourself/think consciously forms your subconscious.

So what do you do when it feels impossible? My advice is to remind yourself who is the creator of your reality. It’s YOU! Remember manifesting is supposed to be fun. Don’t be hard on yourself. If you catch yourself slipping into doubt just remind yourself that you’re on the right track. Try to affirm when you feel doubt. I say “everything is falling into place perfectly.” and keep in mind that your manifestations are always “working” even if you don’t see it yet. If you belive you have it in your inner world. Another thing you can do is script that you have the confidence and the abilities.

The bottom line is don’t be so hard on yourself. Instead be kind to yourself and patiently trust that everything you want will materialize

Another tip is to change your mindset on your desires. You don’t want your desires; your desires want you. Take everything you want off that pedestal and put yourself on there. YOU are the prize and you deserve all of your desires. You can get whatever you want. Belive you deserve it and the universe will serve it.

Glossary:

4d/inner world/dr: these are all terms for your subconscious mind, your thoughts and desires. Your true reality where you have everything you’ve scripted.

3d/outer world: your physical reality

*this isn’t a term but I want to say that shifting and manifesting are the same thing they are inner changeable*

[matchalovertrait]

An intimate talk under the stars.

Start from the beginning (Gen 2)

Previous | Next

[Once they arrived at the park, Dulce and Antonio changed into a fresh pair of clothes. Running around in skintight costumes all night was NOT comfortable! They wouldn’t recommend it.]

[They also took this time to catch their breath. The crisp air felt rejuvenating while they embraced the comfortable silence, taking in the crazy night they had. What an insane idea. But they did it. Together.]

[After a few minutes, Dulce cleared her throat.]

DULCE: ..Antonio. I want to say I appreciate you for doing this with me. I know it was ridiculous. You’ve already helped me a lot, and I can’t thank you enough for it.

[Antonio shifted with discomfort.]

ANTONIO: Don’t thank me just yet. We haven’t won the case.

DULCE: Many things could’ve gone wrong, though.

ANTONIO: Technically they did... but we got through them, right? And we got the notebook.

DULCE: We did!!

[Dulce took out her notebook and flipped through the pages in awe.]

DULCE: I wish I could see the look on Caruso’s face once he realizes the notebook is gone.

[The “security”, Caruso, and Isabela should be able to put two and two together. Dulce and Antonio knew that. However, Caruso and Isabela had no proof. The Operation Fox team covered their tracks, and Matthew was able to erase any surveillance camera footage once the power came back on.]

[She looked up at Antonio with a soft smile.]

ANTONIO: I’ll guard that notebook with my life when I take it for the ink dating in the morning.

DULCE: I almost didn’t take it when I was in his room because I felt bad... We’re kind of the same.

ANTONIO: What do you mean?

DULCE: Maybe his video about me was some weird karmic stuff for the Alto exposé video I made. Maybe Caruso is just me as a man and I deserve what I got.

ANTONIO: You’re mistaken. You’re a lot smarter than Caruso. In your video, you didn’t give any names and you were very vague. Quite impressive if you ask me. How old were you? About 16? 17?

DULCE: Around there.

ANTONIO: Second of all, you have more love in your heart. It’s that simple.

ANTONIO: Alright. Picture this: Alfonso Alto watches your video. He laughs but is secretly freaking out. What if people start suspecting his shady business? He contacts his legal team to try to stop you.

ANTONIO: They rewatch your video repeatedly in an attempt to find something to sue you for—which, by the way, only adds onto your view count—but, they have nothing. Absolutely nothing. He’s furious to have been outsmarted by a teen girl. Things lead to another and he’s in prison all because of one video.

[Dulce nodded. Antonio would know from experience.]

DULCE: Hm, yeah.

ANTONIO: Think about all the lives you probably saved too. Caruso can’t live up to that. That’s probably why he’s so vengeful.

DULCE: ..Speaking of which, what about you and Isabela? Is she a vengeful ex-girlfriend of yours?

[Antonio waved his hand in dismissal.]

ANTONIO: Absolutely not.

ANTONIO: Actually, she hates me because I turned her down.

DULCE: What??

ANTONIO: We used work closely as interns at the same firm. We had to. Along the way, she somehow developed feelings for me. When she asked me out, I declined. I explained to her that I’m dedicated to my work. I don’t have time or energy for love.

[Dulce’s heart dropped.]

ANTONIO: I thought she took it well. Then, she started screwing me over in subtle ways. She would provide me with incorrect deadlines or “forget” to tell me about important calls.

ANTONIO: I couldn’t say anything. Isabela was untouchable because her uncle was a senior attorney at the firm. When my internship ended and I looked for jobs, many places rejected me because I received a bad reputation.

DULCE: I’m sorry that happened to you. Isabela’s a witch for doing that.

ANTONIO: It all worked out. I’m fortunate that the firm I work at now took a chance on me. I get to do what I love. And that place has allowed me to meet some incredible people.

DULCE: ..Sometimes I think about possible alternate timelines. “What if I didn’t do that?” or “What if I had done this instead?” ..Maybe I would be in a more fortunate situation.. but maybe I wouldn’t have experienced the good things in this timeline.

ANTONIO: Like what?

[The two looked up at the starry night.]

DULCE: Like adopting Cosi! Caruso was the one who insisted we get a dog on that day, actually. Maybe someone else would’ve taken her.

DULCE: Okay, your turn to name something.

ANTONIO: Hm..... One time I broke my leg. If I didn’t have all that spare time to watch movies, maybe I wouldn’t have found out I like Star Wars. Your turn.

DULCE: I got lost in the city once. If I didn’t make a wrong turn, I wouldn’t have run into the person selling the refurbished iMac G3. I love it! Your turn.

[Suddenly, the two of them turned to face each other at the same time. They hadn’t realize the closing distance between them.]

ANTONIO: I..

DULCE: I think we should leave. Isabela and Caruso could be out looking for us right now.

ANTONIO: Yeah, and it’s getting late.

DULCE: Mhm.

ANTONIO: C’mon. Let’s get you home.

[rauspberries]

purple lace bra. [ hear what you like and none of the rest! ] ׂ╰┈➤ a lawyer!aaron hotchner x paralegal!reader fic. ׂ╰┈➤ so close to what series masterlist. paralegal!reader masterlist. ׂ╰┈➤ next chapter.

summary: tired of being underestimated and pushed aside because of your gender, you rant to your boss about it. needless to say, he won't let it happen again. tags/warnings: afab reader, no use of y/n and no physical description of reader, protective aaron hotchner, mentions of gross men and misogyny in the workplace word count: 2k notes: first fic of the 'so close to what' series!!! i'm so excited to write all of this. its going to get sooooo mouth-watering. hey @reidswrld

“Hey, sweetheart, did you get those files on the Watson case? I’m trying to get the case done before lunch so I can head out.” As the prosecutor talks, he hangs the entire upper half of his body into your office, a shit-eating grin on his face as he lets his eyes study you in a way that has you squirming in your seat.

You were used to the pet names. It had been a common habit among the majority of the prosecutors in the district attorney’s office to refer to you as anything but your actual name, laying it on thick with nicknames such as sweetheart, honey, and doll, no matter how much you gently reminded them that they could just call you by your name. Unfortunately for you, their words could be brushed off as simple kindness, making it not officially an HR problem.

Also, as a woman in a male-dominated workplace, it was to be expected. Every other female student in your law classes had to work twice as hard as their male counterparts to get noticed by male professors or to prove that their opinions are worth hearing. And god forbid they wore a skirt that was just a little bit shorter than right above the knee. You couldn’t count on your two hands the amount of times you had seen one of your peers staring at the singular undone button at the top of your blouse while you were attempting to argue your side of a mock trial.

Pasting on a smile, you raise your head to glance at the prosecutor, grabbing a file off of the corner of your desk and holding it out. “Right here. Although, I did have a note, if you’d like to hear it.” You bite the inside of your cheek after speaking, already knowing the reaction you’d get. Men didn’t like to be proven wrong.

A scoff comes from the man as he steps a bit more into your office, crossing his arms over his chest. “Sure, why not? Always willing to try new things.” No, he’s not. He’s had the same thing for lunch the past week. Your smile wavers for just a moment, however you manage to keep going strong. “I dug a little deeper into the finances of the defendant’s family. He was taking out the same large sum of money from his bank account every month, usually around the same day. It might be worth following.”

He pretends to contemplate it before laughing, arms unfolding to grab the file out of your hand. “Well, sweetheart, I’m a lawyer, not an accountant. If I wanted to dig into money, I would’ve become a banker. But thanks for the file.” He raises the folder in his hand as a goodbye, still chuckling beneath his breath as he turns and walks out of your office.

As soon as he’s gone, your friendly smile drops, replaced with a scowl. Irritation prickled at your skin like fire ants, causing you to take a deep inhale through your nose and a slow exhale through your lips. Yeah. You were over it.

In a flash, you’re out of your seat, grabbing a stack of papers off of your desk and exiting your office. It takes you not even two minutes to get down the hall, turning into Aaron’s office with a knock on the doorframe.

“All of the evidence, witness statements and backgrounds you’ve asked from me. Also, Hallbrook stared my boobs for a record of forty-seven seconds this morning and Lawson thinks I am an idiot that grew on the dumbest tree in the forest.” The words are spilling out of your mouth so fast that you have to take a breath afterwards, flopping down in the chair across from his desk ungracefully right after you’ve laid everything right in front of him.

Aaron doesn’t respond for a moment, glancing up at you through his eyelashes as the crease in his brow slowly grows deeper. Slowly, he rises to sit up straight, grabbing the stack you had left and setting it to the side. “Good morning. Can you say that again, but slower this time, so I can understand you?” The corner of his lip twitches in amusement, hands folding together in front of him.

His amusement just causes you to roll your eyes, crossing your leg over your knee to show some decorum as you huff like a petulant child. “Do you think I’m good at my job, sir?” You question, realizing that spilling out every act of sexual harrassment towards you probably wasn’t the best approach.

“You know I do.” The mirth fades from his face, replaced with genuine concern. “Did someone make you feel like you aren’t good at your job?” There’s a tenseness to his voice, a tautness to his shoulders, that immediately makes you want to crawl into your skin and hide there. You feel like you’ve tattled to the principal.

Aware of your rigid posture, you let your shoulders relax. “It’s not that big of a deal, I’m used to it by now,” you mumble, feeling oddly sheepish underneath his stern gaze.

Aaron stands up from his chair, dropping the pen in his hand onto the desk as he makes his way around it. Once he’s standing next to you, he leans his back against it, looking down at you. “Used to what? Explain.” It’s an instruction, not an ask. You’ve opened this can of worms and now it’s time to lie in it.

“The comments that brush me off. The staring at any piece of skin I leave uncovered. The using me as a personal assistant rather than a paralegal.” Despite the uncomfortableness of being so close to him, his gaze picking apart everything about you, you find yourself explaining everything to him. You blamed it on the effect his dark eyes have on you. The way he looked at you had always been different than how everyone else looked at you. It dug into your skin, peeled you apart layer by layer, revealed your deepest secrets before they even came out of your mouth.

After recounting what had happened that morning with Lawson, he is silent for a moment. You can practically hear your heartbeat as you look at him, wondering if he’d tell you to just suck it up and move on or storm out of his office to start a riot. Then, he speaks, his tone still calm. “Let me know the next time any of it happens. I want to know about any inappropriate glances, any brush-off comments. I’ll handle it.” Then, he’s sitting up, moving back around to his chair. “Go have yourself some lunch and then come see me. I have a few things for you to handle.”

His dismissive tone has you standing up, nodding. “Yes, sir.” Without another word, you scurry out of his office, ready to cool your head over some trashy food from a fast-food joint.

By the time your stomach is full and you’ve inhaled some only-metaphorically-fresh Virginia air, you’re feeling a ton better. You chalk up your former irritation to just being hangry, your posture straightened and your clothes not as ruffled as before. Nothing could get in your way, could stop you from kicking ass at any task thrown at you for the rest of your too-long shift. 

Until one of the interns stops you with a hand on your bicep, immediately flashing you a bright smile. From what you remember, his name is Theo. That’s the only thing you know about him, other than the fact that he was an intern from one of the law schools nearby. You only knew that because you were extremely well-versed in everything happening in the office, in each level of the hierarchy. Aaron was constantly amazed at all of the gossip you provided him without him asking. 

“Hey! You’re a paralegal, right?” He asks, the smile on his face blinding. He looks nice enough, mussy curled hair falling onto his forehead, soft and gentle eyes. If you hadn’t realized your affinity for older men, you’d think of him as handsome.

You nod, tucking the files in your hand to your chest as you subtly push off the hand on your bicep with a shrug of your shoulders. “Yeah. Can I help you with something?” You keep your tone light and polite, even when Theo ruins his good vibes by his gaze averting temporarily to your chest. The pretty ones are always the grossest.

His charming smile doesn’t falter as his eyes move back to glance at yours. “You can, actually, if it’s not too much of a bother.” You don’t have the heart to tell him that you’re too busy, enough things stacked on your plate, so you urge him to continue with a raise of your brow. “Wooledge, you know him?” Of course you do. You know everything. “He asked me to dredge up some old case files for precedent of a case of ours. I heard you’re good at finding everything quicker than anyone and he also asked me for what feels like eight million things.” 

Theo finishes his statement with laying his hand on your shoulder again, thumb brushing against your collarbone. If his hand were someone else’s, it’d be a reassuring touch. But right now, it’s just uncomfortable, extremely infuriating.

Your own smile twitches, threatening to fall. You don’t have time to do someone else’s work, much less something they applied to do. A district attorney intern’s job was solely this. Look into law stuff, gather law stuff, assist prosecutors. It was to prepare them to become a lawyer. You’d kill to be here as an intern, not a paralegal, one step closer to being an actual lawyer.

Luckily, you don’t have to answer him, because a deep voice behind you does it for you. “She will not be doing your work. If your workload is too much, you aren’t fit to become a lawyer and you should quit your internship now.” You can feel him over your shoulder, leering at Theo from behind you, even without glancing up at him. Instead, you let your gaze avert to the ground, cheeks rushing with heat at both embarrassment and the closeness of him.

“And if I catch your eyes looking down one more time, I will personally walk you to HR and ensure you aren’t allowed to any law firm or district attorney’s office in this country.” Aaron’s voice turns more hostile the more he speaks, his nice shoes scuffing the ground as his shoulder presses up against yours. “Now, get your hand off of her and go find those cases. I’ll let Wooledge know he can expect them within the hour.”

Bless his heart, Theo looks frightened, staring up at Aaron with wide eyes. He then glances down at his hand, like he had forgotten it was on your shoulder, pulling it back like it had been set on fire and shoving it in his pocket. Clearing his throat, he dips his head. “Sir.” Then, he turns around, walking away as quick as he can while trying his hardest not to look like he had just been told off.

After he’s gone and around the corner, a hand gently encloses over your hip, a ghost of a touch but very much there, very much turning your brain to static. “You okay?” He keeps his volume low, a murmur in your ear as his focus burns into the side of your head.

Slowly, you turn to face him, his fingers falling off of you at the movement. “Yeah, fine. Could’ve handled that myself.”

Smug bastard he is, his lips quirk up in a smirk, dark eyes glimmering in amusement. “No, you couldn’t. You were gonna tell him yes.” Then, he reaches up, his finger twirling to trap a strand of hair around it before giving it a soft tug. “Plus, you shouldn’t have to. You don’t have to prove your strength. I already know how strong you are.” 

Letting go of your hair, he doesn’t give you time to recover from your slight shock, his hand patting at your hip for a brief second. The touch is so quick that you barely have time to realize it happened before he’s walking away, calling over his shoulder. “Come on. Your lunch break’s over. Cases won’t close themselves.”

[artstennisracket]

I was listening to "Be Mean" by DNCE and it immediately made me think of Art being submissive and needy having a degradation kink.

Please write Artrick Stanford Era where Patrick comes to visit Art from tour! Patrick is relentlessly teasing Art and it's driving Art crazy but Art is so pathetic and turned on by it that he begs Patrick to be mean to him and fuck his brains out.

this song is actually so good thank you for introducing it to my lifeeeeee. i took a few liberties but I hope you love it anon :)

bonus points if you saw my aave post and can figure out where I wanted to write Art be fucking

cw: nsfw(18+), dom/sub, bdsm overtones, spitting, slapping, all the things

Patrick had visited Art a handful of times during his time at Stanford. Not as much as Art would have liked (considering Patrick split his time between Art and Tashi every visit). The last time Patrick visited he was telling Art his latest sexescapde with Tashi.

“yeah man she wanted me to tie her up and everything. so fucking hot, didn’t know she’d be into bdsm,” Patrick grins, the memory replaying in his head.

Art is always flustered when Patrick talks about sex. Not because Art is a virgin or anything, quite the opposite actually. Maybe it’s because he’s imagining Tashi and Patrick doing those things in his head.

The thought of Patrick tying Tashi up and doing whatever he wanted to her? More realistically, whatever she instructed he could do to her? That was really fucking hot, Art could feel his lower region peak interest. He started thinking about if Patrick could tie him up and actually do whatever he wanted to Art…

Art clears his throat coming back to reality. Patrick is staring at him amused, like he can read Art’s thoughts. “wait what’s bdsm?” Art asks.

“it’s like— you know the rihanna song? S&M? ‘chains and whips excite me’?”

Art nods, he’d heard that song the radio a few times and may have downloaded it on his mp3 player. “yeah i’ve heard it before, so what’s the bd part then?”

“that part means bondage and dominance? bondage and discipline? im not a 100% sure. you seem very curious maybe you should look into it,” Patrick smirks.

Art’s cheeks are red and he opens his mouth to say something but decides not to. Patrick leans in closer so he can whisper in Art’s ear, “I dunno you seem pretty easy to dominate, maybe you’d be into it.”

So Art had been thinking about it ever since. He did look into it and there are parts he’d think he’d be into. Being dominated wasn’t something he got to experience often with girls and Patrick was the only guy he’s ever slept with.

Being tied up to be used at someone’s else’s disposal? Yeah that made his cock very hard. But he’s only slept with Patrick once and they never talked about it again, he wasn’t sure if he should bring it up when Patrick comes to visit him again today.

Later that day once Patrick arrives, they headed to the dining hall to grab some food. They sit at the bar type area with high top chairs. Patrick pulls Art’s chair closer to his right before Art sits down.

“so are you gonna tell me what’s up or are you gonna keep looking at me like that?” Patrick asks turning his head to the side to look directly at Art.

Art furrows his eye brows looking up from his plate of food, “what are you talking about?”

“since I got here you’ve been like on edge, what’s up?” Patrick crosses his arms in front of his chest.

Art rolls his eyes trying his best to not think about Patrick dominating him in the bedroom because it’s all he’s been thinking about all day. But Patrick has always been able to read him, so he has to put on his best acting performance.

He scoffs, “nothing is wrong man, I’m just happy you’re here that’s all.” Art is searching Patrick’s face to see if he believes him.

Patrick studies Art face for a second, his eyes scan across the blond’s face. He notices the super faint pink tint on Art’s cheeks and the way Art is avoiding making eye contact. He also notices the few blond curls poking out of his snapback, which Patrick didn’t realize this before but Art in a snapback is definitely doing it for him.

Suddenly he throws one arm around Art’s neck pulling him to be face to face with Patrick, “you fucking slut, honestly im proud of you. you should be opening up your horizons your in college, id be doing the same thing if I was you.”

Art is so confused right now, mainly by how his cock stirred when Patrick called him a slut. “im not doing anything, what’re you talking about?”

“you slept with someone right? did all your bdsm fantasies? that’s great why didn’t you tell me?” Patrick smiles.

Art is about to deny it but he knows that if he does Patrick might figure out what he’s actually thinking. He nods, “no yeah you’re right. I was nervous to tell you about it.”

Patrick blinks for a second. He realizes that he got it wrong, Art is lying. He’s not sure why though but he’s going to play along until he finds out. He retracts his arm and sits back down in his stool fully. “so what’d you guys do then?”

Fuck Art should’ve been coming up with a story in his head as soon as he said it, now Patrick is going to ask questions he doesn’t know the answer to because they never happened.

“um y-yeah she just like tied me up and—“

Art gets cut off by Patrick saying, “i knew you’d be the one getting tied up, you’re just so submissive man.”

Art scoffs, “okay well why are we even talking about this here in public let’s just go back to my room and watch a movie or something.”

Patrick continues asking question when they get back to Art’s room. “what was her name?” “what did she look like?” “more tits or more ass?” “how’d you meet her?” Art couldn’t fucking keep up, he couldn’t keep his story straight and that when Patrick knew he got him.

“you fucking liar.” Patrick says backing Art against a wall.

“what? im not lying about anything. she was real and she was here and—“

Art is cut off by Patrick again, “bullshit you know what I think?” He asks standing very close to Art their noses almost touching.

“i’m sure you’re gonna tell me,” Art says trying to keep his breathing and his cock under control. He’s not doing a great job at either.

Patrick smirks leaning in to whisper right by Art’s ear, “i think you want me to fuck you…again.” He moves his hand down to groping Art’s erection. His grasp is firm when he says, “and i think this time you don’t want me to hold back.”

Art’s eyes slipped closed and he bit his lip trying to stifle the moan on the top of his tongue. He doesn’t do a good job at that either.

“is that what you want?” Patrick asks as he slips his hand inside Art’s shorts and boxers. He cups Art’s tip where all the pre-cum had built up, using it to make his hand glide easily up and down Art’s shaft. “fuck, you’re so wet for me already. but I wanna hear you say it. is that what you want?”

Art nods, “ah fuck,” but the pleasure of Patrick stroking him is on the forefront of his mind. He lets his forehead rest on Patrick’s shoulder.

“can you use your words for me baby? wanna hear you say it. tell me what you want me to do to you.”

Art’s eyes are rolling is the back of head as he whines against Patrick’s shoulder. He has a feeling that not answering the question may result in consequences or even worse, Patrick might stop touching him. He nods before opening his mouth to say, “i— i want you to fuck me, don’t want you hold back, want you to be mean to me.”

Patrick smirks stilling his movements, “guess you’re not as dumb of a slut as I thought. didn’t think you were gonna answer me. and I don’t think you’re gonna need it but we should have a safe word anyway just in case.”

Art had read about this when he was doing his bdsm research, “um I think, maybe pineapple?”

Patrick lets out a laugh, “okay,” he takes his hand out of Art’s shorts before going to his bag. He had packed a few things he wanted to try with Tashi but he’s never been one to waste an opportunity. “I want you to take off all your clothes, lie down on your bed, and I’m gonna use these,” he pulls out two pairs of black fuzzy handcuffs.

Art strips so fast he might’ve gotten whiplash. It was crazy that his dreams were coming true. He’s wanted this for some time now and he was itching with anticipation.

Art lays down on his bed. He’s laying on some pillows so his back is slightly elevated. He’s so hard all he wants to do is touch himself—

“no touching,” Patrick tsks washing over to the bed. He takes each of Art’s wrists, handcuffing one to each side of the headboard.

Art was a vision. He was already so hard, his tip was leaking precum against his tummy. His face was flushed and his eyes were a little glossed over, “wow you look, really fucking pretty like this. all laid out for me. desperate, just waiting for me to use you however I please.” Patrick said as he traced slowly down Art’s torso with his finger.

He moved his gaze back up to Art’s nipples. He pinched one and took the other into his mouth.

“ah—“ Art gasps. No one’s ever touched him there, he didn’t think it’d feel that good.

Patrick does a small little lick to each nipple before kissing his way down Art’s torso. He purposefully skips over Art’s cock.

Patrick takes a step back to pull his shirt and his jeans off, “hm should I suck you off baby?” He questions as he steps out of his boxers and stroked himself a few times.

Art nods. Patrick tsks as he pinches Art’s nipple, “what did I say about using your words?”

“oh fuck oh fuck okay okay i- i- want you to suck me off, please please” Art whines, his body keening towards where Patrick is pinching him.

Patrick lets go, satisfied with Art’s answer, “good boy, but if you don’t answer me when I speak to you again, i won’t be so nice.”

He lays down on his stomach in between Art’s legs. He acts as if he’s going to lick up the side of Art’s shaft but inside bring his tongue to lick a fat stripe up Art’s tightness.

This takes Art by surprise and he moans out, “jesus fuck, Patrick.”

He teases the outside with his tongue before pushing inside. Art is taken aback by how good it feel, attempting to fuck himself back against Patrick’s tongue.

Patrick allows it. He needs Art to loosen up a bit before he can add any fingers. Patrick sits up holding two fingers in front of Art’s mouth, “suck, and this is all the lube you’re getting so make it good.”

Art opens his mouth sucking on Patrick’s fingers like there’s no tomorrow. Licking and sucking, sucking and licking, until he feels like he’s covered Patrick’s fingers in a good amount of spit.

Patrick pulls his fingers out and presses one finger inside Art’s hole. He grabs Art’s curls to pull him in for a kiss, it’s a mess of teeth and tongue. Patrick has now worked Art up to three fingers before he pulls his fingers out.

He wipes his hand on the bed, “now I’m gonna fuck your mouth for a little bit okay? remember there’s no lube so you better make my cock nice and wet so i can fuck you properly okay?”

Art nods biting his lip. He’s never had his mouth fucked, sure he’s sucked Patrick’s dick before but this would be different. He just doesn’t want to die of suffocation, Patrick’s dick is pretty big.

But he nods nonetheless, “oh— okay yeah i will, make it wet.”

“and hey you can just pinch me if you need me to stop at anytime.”

Art nods.

Patrick stands on the bed, Art’s chest is between his legs. He kneels down, moving one leg to be next to Art’s head. He grabs Art’s hair once again as he starts feeding his dick inside Art’s mouth slowly. Inch by inch. Once he hits the back of Art’s throat he lets out a low groan, “fuck baby, you were made to take my cock fuck.

He steadied himself before he starts fucking into Art’s throat, “taking me so fucking well, you’d let me use any of your holes to get off huh? fucking cockslut.”

The gurgling and choking sounds coming from Art are really turning Patrick on. He can hear all the spit building up in Art’s mouth so he pulls out. His dick is nice and wet, “did such a good job baby,” Patrick smiles, “now I can fuck you nice and good.”

Patrick stands up on the bed to move back to his original spot between Art’s legs. This time he lines himself up with Art’s hole before he pushes in.

Now it’s Art’s turn to let out a low groan as Patrick bottoms out, “ah oh fuck—“

“you are so fucking tight jesus, gripping the fuck out of my cock,” Patrick grunts as he grabs Art’s hips and starts picking up the pace.

“this is what you wanted right baby? wanted me to fuck you? and what else?”

Art whines, “yes Patrick fuck, wanted you to fuck me.”

Patrick grabs Art’s face forcing them to make eye contact, “and what the fuck else did you ask me to do you huh? or are you just such a dumb fucking cockslut you can’t remember. as soon as you get some dick in you you can’t think straight anymore?”

Art is so fucking hard, he wants to cum so fucking bad. And Patrick is saying all the right things it’s hard to focus. Fuck. What did he say? Why can’t he remember? Oh. He remembers, “be mean to me,” he chokes out between Patrick’s bruising thrusts.

“there you go, maybe not a dumb slut, but you’re definitely still a slut for my cock,” He smirks, “open your fucking mouth.” Art opens his mouth with no questions asked and Patrick spits in it.

Now alot of people would find that disgusting and Patrick was going out on a limb he had no idea if Art would like it. But judging by Art reacted, Patrick thinks his guess was right.

Art feels very disrespected and degraded and he’s never been more turned on his life. Maybe that’s why the next words that come out of his mouth are, “hit me, fuck, slap me, need it.”

Patrick slows down his thrusts for a second, unsure if he should, but he doesn’t want to ask and ruin what they have going on right now so he does it.

It’s light and short and not hard enough. “harder Patrick please,” Art begs, tears threatening to escape from his eyes.

Patrick didn’t have to be told twice, so he slaps Art again. Keeping his hand firm and following through on his swing. Fuck. Art’s going to cum. He hasn’t even touched himself but between Patrick fucking him, slapping him, and overall degrading him he can’t help it.

“‘m gonna cum, Patrick please, gonna cum, can I cum please?” He finishes all over his tummy.

Patrick already knew Art was close so he wasn’t holding back anymore and he let go, “yes fuck baby, you can cum. gonna cum inside you fuck, gonna fill you up.”

Patrick cleans them both up and uncuffs both of Art’s wrists.

“how do your wrists feel? or better yet how does your face feel?,” Patrick smirks and he’s pretty proud of himself. Making someone cum untouched was always on his bucket list.

Art is half asleep on his bed when he mumbles out, “‘m good, feel good.”

Patrick smiles before he takes Art’s blanket and uses it to tuck Art in. He feels pretty proud of himself for putting Art to sleep as well. He gets dressed to head out and get them some food. He already knows Art will be hungry when he wakes up.

[ak-fantasies]

A Fool

Yunho Imagine (Sequel to

Pairing: Yunho x Reader

Genre: Angst

Summary: Yunho didn’t understand … where did it go wrong? 

(Inspired by fool - winner )

Tag list: @gigikubolong29 @fixonateez8 

sorry it took a bit yall... lol i got busy and had to write this one from the old scrap bucket called my brain. lol 

also I've tried posting this 5 times ;-; why does this hate me

Yunho called the number again, over and over, but no answer. His brows furrowed as he stood in the middle of the airport. 'Why wasn’t she answering?’ He thought before he felt arms around his waist. “Yunho!” Yuri said with a smile. Yunho looks at Yuri and smiles. He puts the phone away in his pockets and holds Yuri’s shoulder. “Yuri.. What’s wrong?” Yunho asked and Yuri shook her head. “Nothing… I’m just going to miss you..” She said, nuzzling her face into his chest. “I’ll miss you too..” Yunho said and Yuri smiled. “Say… Yunho…. If I never left, would we be together?” Yuri asked and Yunho froze. “I…” He paused, thinking about it. Yuri his first love and the one who he dropped almost everything for. “Would you give us the chance to be together?” Yuri asked and Yunho sighed. “You know that I’m already with (y/n)” He reminded her. Yuri pouts. “But every time I called you, you come running, even when you’re with her. Don’t you love me more Yunho? If you love me, why don’t you leave her for me?” Yuri asked and Yunho sighed. “Because that’s in the past. You left remember and you’re leaving again. I can’t handle that every time. (Y/n) stays for me.” Yunho said, and Yuri pushed him away. Tears falling down her face, but Yunho wipes them away. “I’ll return in a couple of years, so will you choose me then?” Yuri asked and Yunho shook his head. “I wouldn’t choose you then. I plan to marry (y/n) when we finish our research. That will be long before you return.” “But…” “Maybe if this was another lifetime,” Yunho said, kissing her on the top of her head. “I’ll win you back when I come back… Count on it..” Yuri said before grabbing her suitcase and walking to her gate.

Yunho called again, but when the line immediately disconnected, he felt his stomach dropped. He quickly called his driver and made his way toward (y/n)’s apartment. When he opened the door, it was empty. The entire apartment was empty, only a few items that he had given you were left. “(Y/n)?” He called out, hoping to hear your voice. Maybe he was selfish, as he didn’t know what he had done wrong to have you leave him so suddenly. Or maybe he did know. He really didn’t care about his pride right now, just for a moment, he just wanted to see you. Even if it is just for a moment, he wishes he had held onto you longer. He quickly pulled out his phone and made a phone call. “Hello?” The voice on the other hand, reluctantly answered. “Seonghwa… Where did (y/n) go?” Yunho asked, his voice barely pulling together. “(Y/n) didn’t tell you?” Seonghwa asked. “You think if (y/n) told me, would I call you like this?” Yunho answered out of frustration. “Woah, chill okay… (y/n) left abroad to pursue their studies. I think something about taking over the company soon.” Seonghwa said, not spilling too much as he knew that (y/n) would murder him if he said anything else. “Why didn’t they tell me?” Yunho asked, desperate for answers. “Yunho… (y/n) wanted me to give you something too.. You can meet me at the coffee shop that (y/n) always goes to.” Seonghwa said and Yunho agreed, quickly going to the coffee shop. An hour goes by, then two, three before Seonghwa finally shows up. Yunho was sitting in the corner, his leg continuously tapping as he was trying to calm down his nerves.

“You must’ve waited very long huh?” Seonghwa said, setting his bag down before sitting down across from Yunho. “What is it that (y/n) wanted you to give me?” Yunho asked, looking at Seonghwa with eyes that had been holding back tears for hours. “Yunho…. What have you been doing the past few months?” Seonghwa asked, as he calmly dug through his bag. “I’ve been busy with work, trying to get an engagement ring for (y/n), and spending time with Yuri,” Yunho said, trying to recount anything he did wrong. Seonghwa sighed and pulled out the letter. He hands it to Yunho, something inside the envelope with the letter. “I think, instead of worrying about Yuri, you should’ve worried more about (y/n).” Seonghwa said. Yunho quietly looked at the envelope, tears threatening to spill. He thought of what Yuri said before she left, and what Seonghwa said, made him realize that he put Yuri first before (y/n). How could he be so stupid to not reassure (y/n), who felt neglected and a second option. He was the fool and even if he’s sorry now…. Nothing will change. He just wants to hear (y/n)’s voice one more time. “Are you going to open it?” Seonghwa asked, and Yunho nodded, tears streaming down his face. He takes a deep breath before looking up at Seonghwa. “Can I ask for one favor from you?” Yunho asked and Seonghwa sighed. “If it’s something I could do, I’ll allow it just once,” Seonghwa said, out of sympathy. “Can I talk to (y/n) one more time? Even if (y/n) doesn’t want me anymore? I just want to ….” Yunho couldn’t finish his sentence as he quietly cried. Seonghwa sighed before getting his phone. He dialed a number and placed the phone to his ear as Yunho covered his face, trying to calm down. “This is Seonghwa. Yes… Yes.. I understand… He’s here with me right now… He wants a chance to talk with the heiress… I understand.” Seonghwa spoke, before extending the phone over. Yunho quickly took the phone. “(Y/n)…” He said, ever so softly, afraid that (y/n) would disappear if he spoke any louder. “Yunho…” (y/n) said, taking a deep breath. “I’m… I’m sorry. I was a fool.. I was selfish and didn’t realize that I was the one who pushed you away.. I know that nothing will change even if I regret it right now. I just wanted to hear from you one last time.. I know you won’t return, but if there was ever a chance… that I could see you again…” “Yunho… I hope you find happiness wherever you go.. I loved you.. I truly did. Be happy and don’t skip your meals. Find someone to love, and who loves you. You’ll be a great dad and whoever that person is for you, they’ll be super lucky. Goodbye.” (Y/n) said, before hanging up. Yunho’s tears continue to run down his face. The love story that once burned so bright, only to never have the happy ending they both wanted. Maybe the true fool was the one who let it go before the end.

[fluemsiie]

our family [ j. ackles ]

synopsis. you need jensen to come back home. notes. 1.3k words, breastfeeding, depression, mentions of ppd, not proof read, happy birthday jensen <3 — comments & rbs appreciated.

jensen’s been filming for a while, and by a while, you mean for freakin’ months. he can’t catch a break and so you did what any sane person does— you moved to vancouver all the way from texas just to be close to him. it took a lot of planning, and way too much money, but you weren’t letting your husband stay at a different country alone anymore, it was taking a toll on both your mental health and your relationship.

not to mention your daughter always asking for daddy, where he is, can she go out with him; it’s breaking your heart as much as it is his and so you decided to settle for a smaller apartment near where they were filming.

you’d say it helped your mental health but that would be a lie. ever since you had your daughter you knew something had been seriously wrong. you’re unmotivated to move out of bed, you try to do everything you need to in your room, hardly go out to see anyone but her. anything you need to go do, you have delivered. if the whole ‘not moving’ thing wasn’t hurting you, then the fact that you let your body go a little is fucking breaking you.

you don’t think anything has ever been so wrong in your life, nothing goes the way it should and it seems like you can’t fix it no matter what you do which is disappointing considering you’re a mother now. a mother. you’re supposed to know everything and have all the answers.

and despite moving to be closer to him, leaving behind your own family, something not a lot of people would do, he still spends some nights at jared’s (because gen is still in texas, like you should be).

except there’s also another thing jensen has no idea about; you got diagnosed with depression shortly before you made the move, it’s a big reason why you did the move in the first place. you thought it was past partum but you made sure to actually get diagnosed before telling jen and since you won’t be harming yourself or your baby girl, you decided he didn’t need to know.

he’s been so busy since he decided to start directing too and you’re insanely proud of him, even if you’re having a hard time. but you don’t wanna risk it so here you are, alone in a city you’ve visited only a handful of times with your two year old daughter.

but today’s by far one of your worst days. you tried taking some pills, just pain killers, you aren’t comfortable taking pills for whatever’s wrong with you, you can’t risk hurting any future babies. it isn’t like you don’t believe in them— you’re a nurse, of course you do, but you also know they could hurt you long term, it’s not worth it.

some days it seems like it’s just not worth it. you pick up your phone to call jensen. it takes a few rings but then he responds and you sigh in relief. you honestly thought he wouldn’t pick up, “hey.”

“what’s wrong? are you okay?” it catches you by surprise but when you recover you tell him you and rhyme are great. “i mean you, sweetheart. you sound off.”

you don’t sound that off. definitely not enough for him to pick it up the second you greet him. not that you’re complaining, maybe if he knows what’s wrong he’ll get home faster. jensen’s always helped you in ways he wouldn’t even believe— he’s your life force at times and you’re not sure what you’d do without him, especially now when you need him.

and he’s not neglectful, he took your first four months off from filming and had his sister stay with you for the other two. he’s always put your needs in front of filming but you don’t want to be overbearing.

“when are you getting home? i’m making your favorite.”

“yeah? ‘m not too sure. twelve-thirty, give or take.” which is code for ‘don’t wait up’ so you wake up and find out he never made it home, just crashed on set or at jay’s

“okay.” you can’t bring yourself to ask him to come home even if you don’t doubt he will. jen’s working because he loves his job, sure, but it’s also to provide for you, he wouldn’t want to hurt you over something he’s doing for you in the first place. and you know all that, you just wish you’d always be logical enough to remember it. 

“is that it?” god, this is conflicting. you know you need him right now, you just can’t get the words out. “sweetheart?”

“yeah.” 

It’s a beat before he responds. “i’m coming home at twelve with dinner. don’t cook anything.” he ends the call and you’re smiling. it’s no surprise he figured you needed him, but you couldn’t be happier to have someone that cares enough to come when you call, despite your call being ominous and downright needy.

+

it’s the third time you’ve started frozen because rhyme doesn’t understand that when a movie ends you start a new one, all while breastfeeding her. it’s gotten significantly easier as she nears two years old, she just sits next to you instead of you having to kill your back, and she honestly does it for ten minutes maximum before she gets bored.

and at this point she’s tried everything from lamb to mashed fruit, milk is hardly a full meal to her. but your doctor said it’s best to try and breastfeed her until she hits the 22 month mark. she’s nearing 20 months now.

when she’s done, and else is singing ‘let it go’ with rhyme as her background vocalist, you get up to get started on dinner. jensen said to not make anything which means he’s ordering take out himself but you should probably make sure the counter is clean and that there’s a salad to go with the food.

just as you’re done cleaning the table, the front door opens and your shoulder fall in relief. you didn’t even know you were raising them. you hear his footsteps all the way to the living room, where rhyme runs into her dads arms and lifts her up effortlessly. 

he turns to you, sees you standing in your open kitchen and walks over to kiss your hair softly. “hey, baby girl.” 

rhyme laughs and hugs him tighter. well, the endearment is yours as much as it is hers, you’re both his girls. 

“thanks for coming home, jen.”

“don’t do that, don’t thank me for that. i should’ve known it bothered you— and you should’ve told me earlier.”

“it doesn’t always! just when i need you and then i wake up and i just don’t find you.” days where the depression is just, god, it’s horrible. days when you can’t take rhyme crying because you can’t find the toy she lost or when she’s hungry and you’ve only slept two hours, waiting for his text to confirm he’s safe and at home. 

“baby, i can’t always read your mind, sometimes you gotta help me out.” you nod quickly and he kisses his daughter before putting her down. 

“foor?” food. he nods, placing the bag onto the table. you’ve been teaching her german so she confuses d’s for r’s. you’re not too sure how that came to be but you don’t question it because she’s been saying words in german.

the smell hits you all at once, and your heart practically squeezes itself. jensen drove to your favourite restaurant thirty minutes away. it makes your home country’s food the most authentically and you’ve always loved feeling at home. 

“jensen, seriously?” he smiles and you’re the one who throws yourself into his arms this time, his little girl, not quite understanding, joins in. and you’re not sure how you would’ve gotten through today without him coming back home to his girls.

[maxdibert]

From the way you talk, it sounds like you’re defending murderers, like they’re not even bad people 😅😅. And I’m not even talking about cases like self-defense or anything like that.

Legally, Snape didn’t kill the Potters or torture the Longbottoms, sure. But let’s be real—if it weren’t for him, they might still be alive. And he was a Death Eater for three years—do you really think he never killed anyone in that time? And why would he care? He didn’t give a damn about what they were doing until it affected him personally. Hе begged them to spare Lily… Like, who cares what she actually wanted? He wanted to save her after bringing this whole mess on them himself—even if it was by accident. If it had been any other family, he would’ve stayed a Death Eater and kept being a piece of shit till the end.

And how many times did he actually save Harry? Once? Twice? Maybe three times? (And no, I’m not counting that scene in the movie where he supposedly protected the Golden Trio from the werewolf—that wasn’t in the books.) He became a spy shortly before Voldemort’s death, and then again when Harry was in his fourth/fifth year. And the rest of the time, he just sat around doing nothing, like everyone else. So yeah, reading about his “20 years of nonstop dedication to the forces of good!!” just feels ridiculous to me.

He did the bare minimum for someone trying to redeem himself after all the shit he’d done—he literally had no other choice.)

Ah, the classic “Snape did the bare minimum and didn’t even care” argument. Let’s break it down.

"Without Snape, the Potters and Longbottoms might still be alive"

This is, at best, an absurd oversimplification and, at worst, an outright lie. Snape didn’t point Voldemort toward the Potters or the Longbottoms. He passed along information about a prophecy to his boss (which was literally his job as a spy at the time). He had no idea Voldemort would choose to target the Potters specifically, and when he found out, he did what no one else did: he tried to stop it.

Was his initial motive Lily? Yes. And? Snape was caught up in a supremacist organization from a young age, but unlike many others, Snape completely switched sides and became the double agent who ultimately led to Voldemort’s downfall.

Neither Dumbledore nor the Order could prevent Voldemort from going after the Potters. Snape tried. He failed, but at least he did something.

By the way, where was the rest of the Order in all of this? Why didn’t anyone else foresee what would happen to the Potters? Oh right, because Peter Pettigrew betrayed them. But sure, let’s blame Snape for everything. And let's blame him for begging for Lily and not Jame who was literally his long term abuser lol

"Did he kill anyone as a Death Eater?"

We literally don't know and in fact there is a huge insinuation during canon that him ceirtainly didn't.

But let's think he killed people. So what? History is full of people who have committed crimes and later changed sides. Snape isn’t a pure hero—he’s an antihero. If we demand that Snape must have a spotless record in order for his redemption to be valid, then shouldn’t we also discard characters like Regulus Black or Draco Malfoy?

What matters is that he changed sides and actively worked against Voldemort. He didn’t just say, “Oh, I don’t want to be a Death Eater anymore.” No. He became the key spy who kept Voldemort in the dark about Harry, the Order, Dumbledore’s strategy, etc.

“If it had been any other family, he would’ve stayed a Death Eater”

This is pure baseless speculation. Snape had prejudices, sure, but even before switching sides, he was never a fanatic like Bellatrix or the Carrows. He was an outcast who found power in the wrong group—until he realized what being a Death Eater truly meant.

Yes, at first, he only cared about Lily. But if she was the only reason for his change, then why did he keep fighting for years after she died?

If he only cared about Lily, he would’ve stopped after her death. But he didn’t. He stayed, kept spying for Dumbledore, risked his life daily, and in the end, he died for the cause.

“He only saved Harry three times”

First, that’s not true. Second, saving Harry wasn’t his only job. His role as a spy was far more important. Here are some things he did besides saving Harry:

Maintained his cover as a loyal Death Eater, earning Voldemort’s trust.

Protected the students at Hogwarts (yes, even the ones he disliked).

Drew suspicion away from Quirrell in Philosopher’s Stone.

Stopped Umbridge from torturing students in Order of the Phoenix.

Tried to protect Draco Malfoy from becoming a murderer and saved him from Voldemort’s wrath.

Provided the Order with critical intel on Voldemort’s plans.

Successfully deceived Voldemort until the very end, allowing Harry to win.

Saying “he only saved Harry three times” is like saying a resistance soldier only contributed because he shot three enemies—completely ignoring all his strategic and intelligence work.

“He did the bare minimum because he had no other choice”

Really? Who else in his position did the same? How many Death Eaters switched sides and risked their lives daily for 17 years? Why didn’t Lucius Malfoy become a spy? Why didn’t Regulus Black act sooner? Why did Karkaroff just run away?

Snape had plenty of other choices. He could’ve fled like Karkaroff. He could’ve pretended to switch sides and just stayed out of the fight. He could’ve let Harry die from the start and washed his hands of the whole mess. But he didn’t.

He even admitted to Dumbledore that he would never forgive Harry for surviving while Lily died. But he protected him anyway. Because it wasn’t about what he wanted—it was about what was right.

Snape wasn’t a perfect hero, but he wasn’t a one-dimensional villain either. He was a deeply flawed, complex character who, in the end, was instrumental in Voldemort’s downfall. He didn’t just do “the bare minimum”—he sacrificed his entire life, reputation, and future to ensure the Order had a chance.

If you think that’s not enough, the problem isn’t Snape. It’s that you refuse to acknowledge what he did.

PS: Do you even know what it means to be a criminal lawyer? I mean, I get the feeling that you don’t know how to read. Yes, I defend criminals. Yes, I have defended people who have killed others or hurt them very, very badly. So, I’ll insist again: you can try all the mental gymnastics you want to change my opinion, but if I have firmly believed that a person who left someone else in a coma deserved to be defended—a real person, with real consequences in the real world—you are not going to change my opinion about a fictional character whose story is literally based on a redemption arc that lasts seven books and whose only crime was criminal association when he was a teenager. I mean, I get the feeling that you’ve never actually left your house, you don’t know many people, and you’ve never interacted with anyone outside of your church in your little town.

[tennessoui]

FULLY agree with the daddy/clown thing. Every time I see an author put Anakin in the Top Only box because of "Vader energy" and BoTtoM aNaKIn is BoRInG I want to scream. The man is DESPERATE for a gentle Dom and yet people keep forcing him to fuck nasty when all he wants is a cuddle

(Fully on board with top anakin BTW but I believe in switch supremacy with a 60/40 in favor of bottom anakin)

i think my takeaway opinion of that post is really just what I put in the last tag I made aka something like “maybe neither of them is daddy dom maybe they’re just clowns helping put each other’s make up on”

i definitely go through phases of interest and preferences when it comes to this ship and I think if I didn’t I genuinely wouldn’t still be here after almost three years because of how my brain works with things I’m interested in and right now I’m just in a phase where I’m just. so tired. of the focus on d/s as a core and universal element of obikin. I think obi-wan in canon would be a shit gentle dom. dom in general. I think anakin would be too, and they’d both be shit subs. It’s gotten to the point where something with my brain right now is just going ❌❌ whenever I even see those words.

they can just fuck. they can fuck nasty and fuck up their relationship and even fuck up the galaxy and not have anyone be a gentle dom. or anyone be experiencing subdrop or be a needy sub or whatever. he can cuddle without it being a part of aftercare. people who are not in relationships that have a d/s dynamic cuddle too and i know that’s something we do understand but it’s not something I’ve seen a lot of lately and I genuinely miss it

[puppppppppy]

footnotes arent enough I need you to talk to me like im fucking Amelia Bedelia

[help-help-i-need-an-adult]

You’re right. I’m very much sucking at the pronoun game this evening and that’s not ok. I genuinely apologize for that. She deserves to have the correct pronouns used for her even when something as wild as this controversy is happening. Even when my brain is soup. I’m very sorry to your girlfriend for those fuck ups.

Now,

I’m still going to sit here and continue to tell you, you’re the only ones who are mad on this post at this point. I’m not.

You didn’t have to respond to my “shitty” behavior or my vague post but continue to choose to respond to me. That is your choice.

You both are responsible for your own tumblr experiences.

I am also a trans person. If you think my refusing to apologize when I don’t believe I did anything wrong is trans misogynistic, then that’s your call. If you think not being willing to delete a reblog when the OP has that power herself is trans misogynistic, that’s your call. I believe she has the power and free will to take charge of her own blog and posts and doesn’t need to ask anyone else to do those things for her.

And now I’m going to say this again.

You and your girlfriend are responsible for your own tumblr experiences. You can ask someone not to reblog your stuff in a certain way, but they can also just choose not to do that. That is how this site works.

You’re allowed to think that makes me a dick head. You are very entitled to that opinion. I’m also allowed to not care what you think of me.

I highly recommend working on not caring what other people do on here. It will just bring you angst. And when you do care? If it’s annoying, uncomfortable, enraging, rude, crude, socially unacceptable, or literally anything else, that says more about them than it does you up until you give it more fuel. Don’t interact. Don’t respond. Just block. You’ll be SO much happier and you deserve to be happier with your tumblr blog.

I pointed out that she and you both have the power to never see me or my paper dolls ever again, and for some reason, are choosing this instead.

I tell most people who tell me “fuck you” to fuck me themselves. It’s got nothing to do with her gender. Assuming it does is assuming a lot about me in general.

I hope she finds peace in the knowledge she will never have to see another help help I need an adult reblog on her posts again. I’m proud of her for taking that power back.

If you are still upset and think I’m a dick, I do encourage you to do the same. I enjoyed reblogging your posts as they were excellent doll material, but I genuinely believe you deserve the peace of a blog and tumblr that makes you happy.

This is very repetitive but trying to drive home the point here.

I can keep doing so.

And have no intention of not continuing to do so until either choosing not to care or choosing to take the advice happens.

Either way.

I’m having a bad day and would fist fight the gods right now if they’d let me.

So I just wanna play with my paper dolls. That’s it.

And some turnip thinks she can police what people do when they reblog her post. And she can. But not by being a turnip about it.

Block people who interact with your posts and you don’t like it. Don’t try and tell them what they can and can’t do.

Or turn off reblogs.

Don’t be a turnip.

THEY FINALLY LEARNED HOW TO BLOCK GUYS! Growth.

[floral-hex]

fuck, I hate telehealth, but ya know, I think I’d actually like it if it was in minecraft instead of a video call. Let’s do therapy in roblox or something.

[the-abyssal-system]

Singlets stop talking about systems as if you’re an expert because you follow some on tumblr challenge (also warning the tags here are a huge rant so feel free to ignore that)

[circusclownproductions]

UR GINGER???

im sorry ophelia, but idk if we can be friends anymore </3 im gingerphobic

/J /J

Oh boy /lh/nm

[sttoru]

ahh i just cant stop thinking of sukuna's fav concubine getting injured from the other concubines but she hides it because shes scared of being weak (in sukuna's eyes) and/or a burden ☹️☹️

 𝝑𝑒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. true form!sukuna x concubine!female reader. fluff, sprinkle of angst n comfort. size difference. reader gets called ‘brat, woman, little one’ — ig this is a bit early in their relationship

“i’ve arrived, my lord,” you announce your presence once you step into sukuna’s quarters. the dimly lit room removed all the stress you currently had in your system—the knowledge that you’re safe in his space causes your shoulders to drop.

sukuna turns his head to look at you while he’s laid back on his bed, topless. all four of his eyes roam over your body, which isn’t anything unusual for you. he always does that.

“tch. took ya long enough,” the king of curses scoffs before gesturing for you to come closer, making that familiar motion with his fingers, “when i order y’ to come, you’re supposed to drop everything and rush to be at my service, woman.”

you hurry over to his side of the bed with a nod. “my apologies,” you mutter. you can’t tell him why you’re late, because hell would break loose within these walls. and also because you’re scared of what his reaction would be.

before being called over, you were in the kitchen, peacefully trying to get a snack, when two other concubines entered the room. you tried ignoring them, but that didn’t seem to be the smartest move. it wasn’t long before they threw derogatory remarks at you.

of course, you stood up for yourself and yelled some back. that’s when one of them pushed you backwards, causing the skin near your hand to get slightly burned by the fire on the stove.

if it weren’t for the maids around that went to report the ruckus to uraume, god knows what more would have went down in that kitchen.

“oi,” sukuna grabs your jaw and lifts your head up. he can immediately notice the vacant look in your eyes, which is unusual for you. you snap out of your trance and set the nasty memories aside—ignoring the impulse to scratch the injury on your wrist.

“i’m sorry, my lord,” you say again before slowly undoing your obi. you figure that is why sukuna had called you over, to do your job as his concubine. you halt your movements when you realise that undressing meant that he’s going to see the wound on your skin.

you hesitate. that same instant of hesitation doesn’t go unnoticed by the king of curses. a large hand of his moves to stop both of your wrists from pulling off your robes.

“. . .i’m giving y’ three seconds of my time,” sukuna narrows his eyes after allowing you to speak up and tell him what’s on your mind. he hears you whimper in pain when he holds onto your wrist, your facial expression clearly uncomfortable. “spit it out,” he impatiently huffs. he wants to hear you say what’s wrong.

you desperately shake your head, biting your bottom lip. you don’t want to tell him—even though you know you’re obligated to.

denying an answer to sukuna was your next big mistake.

“fuckin’ brat,” the pink-haired man grunts. he yanks your arms up to his face, harshly pulling down the sleeves of your kimono. all four of his red eyes immediately fall onto the wound on your wrist. you obviously hadn’t treat it yet, even though you should have done so long ago.

there’s tension hanging in the air almost instantly after your little secret gets revealed. sukuna’s grip on your hands tightens which causes you to flinch. you close your eyes and expect the worst. you can already hear the insults he’ll throw at you—how he’ll call you useless, weak, stupid and all that.

“look up at me,” his voice rings out in a firm tone. you don’t want to anger him more than he already is, so you obey. you open your eyes and glance upwards, your worried gaze meeting his.

sukuna takes a deep breath to contain the bubbling rage inside of him; a rare sight indeed. he doesn’t want to unnecessarily lash out at you when it isn’t needed. however, he can’t deny that itching urge in his chest, to get mad at whoever caused your skin to get tainted like that.

sukuna stares at you with an intimidating glare. when you expect him to yell profanities at you, the unexpected happens.

“who did this to you?” he asks, voice strained like he’s trying to hold himself back.

you blink a few times. the king of curses sounds pissed off, and when he’s in that kind of mood, you know he’s not to be played with. you look the other way and try to think of a proper answer.

will you snitch and cause unnecessary bloodbath, or will you spare the lives of the concubines who hurt you and lie?

you’re scared of being seen as useless by sukuna if you tell him the truth. if you lie, he’ll probably call you weak and stupid as well. it’s a lose-lose situation, you conclude.

you swallow the spit that has gathered in your mouth before parting your lips.

“m-miko,” her name echoes in his ears. you decide to be honest, because you know that there’s no fooling the ryomen sukuna. a second of silence follows and when you look up at him, he stares back at you with furrowed brows.

“ah,” you then realise that he doesn’t know his concubines by name. he has way too many women at his disposal and doesn’t find them worthy enough to remember.

however you have heard from uraume and the others that he does know your name—only yours. it makes you feel special.

you try to describe the concubine you’ve tussled with, “s-short blonde hair, uhm, mole under her right eye.. brown colored eyes—“

sukuna thinks for a moment before clicking his tongue once he faintly remembers who that’s supposed to be. without a word, he stands up and wraps one muscular arm around your waist, sweeping you off your feet and carrying you under his armpit like some package.

“uraume!”

his voice is loud enough to make the walls shake and it carries a clear hint of pure rage. everyone in the estate should have heard him by now, which means that they know what is going down in a couple seconds.

sukuna sounding this angry only means one thing; someone is going to die today.

the servants hurriedly scurry around, deeply bowing as he walks past them in the hallway with you still tucked underneath his arms. you let yourself be carried while your heart beats uncontrollably fast in your chest.

you feel your hands shake a bit. seeing someone like sukuna be this mad for your sake—to the point that he’s ready to turn the entire area upside down—is somehow thrilling. though, you can’t help but feel sick because of your own thoughts.

someone is going to die and there you are, cheesing about the king of curses.

you see the white-haired chef appear from a corner, their steps hurried. they glance at you and then back at their master. it’s like they immediately connect the dots.

“treat her in my quarters. don’t let her leave until i come back,” sukuna commands without even looking at uraume. he’s staring ahead, with an ominous aura emitting from his body, one that somebody can sense from miles away.

he puts you down next to uraume before glancing your way one last time. he lets out a deep sigh as he sees the worried expression you’re making. he lowers his head to your level so you’d be face to face.

“and you,” his warm breath hits your cheeks and sends a shiver down your spine. you gulp as sukuna’s hand reaches up to firmly tug at your earlobe, “i’ll deal with your ass later, yeah? i’ll make you feel what it means to hide stuff from me, little one.”

that sentence makes you even more nervous. you know you won’t be able to avoid the punishment sukuna has in mind, so you simply nod. “understood,” you reply in a squeaky voice. you don’t have the guts to disobey him—he’s already out to kill someone and you don’t want to be the next victim.

sukuna straightens his back again and continues his journey towards the concubines’ quarters. every heavy step makes the floors and walls shake, a sign of his unstoppable rage that’s about to be unleashed.

you feel slightly puzzled. you didn’t expect this outcome when you revealed your injury to the ruthless man. you expected to be belittled and mocked for not being able to prevent a wound from being inflicted on your body.

instead, there he goes, off to get revenge in your stead. you feel a twisted sense of satisfaction after seeing sukuna be this protective over you. actions like these demonstrate more than his dull words can do, even if it may seem like he doesn’t care about what could happen to a human like you.

[what-even-is-thiss]

My dad needed help about this recently so here’s a guide on what to do if you can’t tell what someone’s pronouns are. You can also use a version of this to educate people in your life who might be confused about the same thing.

1. Think to yourself, do you ask everyone’s pronouns? If you do then just ask them like you do with everyone else. If you don’t generally ask everyone their pronouns, continue to step 2.

2. If you ask when you don’t usually, especially in front of others, that person might feel singled out and embarrassed. Start by asking mutual friends, classmates, and coworkers if they know their pronouns. Usually somebody around knows what their pronouns are. If nobody in your circle knows, continue to step 3.

3. Make your best guess and start using he, she, or they for them. Going by the usual gender of their name is usually a safe bet. If they have a neutral name and you honestly can’t guess then try using they or take a stab in the dark. Let them correct you if you’re wrong. Then just apologize and move on. Now you know. However, if you believe the person is too shy to correct you or you’re not in an environment where it’s safe for them to correct you, continue to step 4.

4. If you believe they wouldn’t correct you for whatever reason, then ask them when it’s just the two of you alone and not in front of a group of other people. Say something like hey do you mind if I asked your pronouns or hi this is embarrassing/awkward but what are your pronouns or I didn’t wanna single you out in front of the others or anything but just so I’m clear what pronouns do I use for you

And now you know pronoun etiquette! Go forth and be normal about it.