#but it certainly is a good bit more than I had

[beenbaanbuun]

blood w/ poly!ateez

so i feel so sane about this… definitely no evil thoughts filling up my brain right now. none whatsoever :)

i want to write so much more about this universe and i’m literally sending the biggest kiss ever to @ateez-main-yapper to requesting this because i will be thinking about this for the rest of my life!

words - idk

genre - smut, horror (there’s a bit of gore i guess)

warnings - vampire!ateez, mafia!ateez, human!reader, smuggler!reader, blood, scarification, collars, ownership, blood, surgery mentions, nicknames (little mouse, princess, sweetheart), dancer!yeosang, security guard!mingi, ripper!doctor!yunho, mommy!seonghwa (don’t look at me like that, i had to), hand kink (mentioned), no actual sex but it’s talked about a lot, hair pulling, i think that’s all??

——————————————————————————

the scent of stale blood haunts the hallway you find yourself walking down, clinging to the back of your throat until yourself gagging on it. no matter how many times you find yourself down here, it never gets any easier to cope with; even a slaughterhouse would be more pleasant than this.

it begs the question why you’re back. by now, you’ve bled them of enough money to never have to work again, so it’s certainly not the pay. the job itself is harder than most, and not at all rewarding when you have to lie and cheat your way into success. there’s no doubt that the stress of hiding a smuggling operation behind the guise of a blood donation clinic has taken a good 20 years of your life from you. you can guarantee that job satisfaction isn’t what’s keeping you here either.

it’s only when you turn a corner and your eyes land upon them that you remember exactly why you’re still so willing to walk these halls. it isn’t something keeping you here but rather someone; multiple someones, in fact.

“mingi!” your footsteps quicken as you get closer the security guard that stands waiting outside of a heavy metal door. despite the fact that you’ve been on the other side of it multiple times, it still sends a shiver of curiosity down your spine. it’s not an anxious curiosity as it was when you first landed yourself in this position, but more of a morbid one. you know the horrors that lie behind it, you’ve experienced a few of them too, yet you still yearn to see more. “long time no see,” you offer a polite smile once you’re close enough to lower your volume from a shout, “san told me hongjoong had assigned you to pest control. is it not going well?”

mingi gives you a slow blink, his jaw set in stone and his eyes steely as he stares you down. he’s always looked far more intimidating than he actually is, although you suppose it serves to his benefit when his main job it scaring away anyone who might wish to disturb the peace. you’re only grateful to have had the chance to see behind the mask he wears; to watch his eyes melt and his lips part in the wonky grin he gets so little time to wear.

“you’ve not seen me in months and the first thing you ask me is about my demotion back to security?” he quirks a brow at you and you have to bite back your grin. in truth, you’d heard all about it from seonghwa over the past few weeks, your main contact within the clan more than happy to share life details with you as though you’re a lifelong friend rather than a mere employee. their favourite employee, sure, but still at the bottom of the pecking order.

“i just wanted to know more,” you lift your arms in defence, not missing the way his eyes flicker to the bandage on your left forearm, “like you said, it’s been a while.”

mingi hums in agreement as he examines the clean cloth. a long finger reaches out to trace the spot where the fabric meets your skin, the touch lingering and soft. it’s more the real mingi than it is the security guard mingi; it warms your heart to see.

“when did this happen?” he whispers, voice barely above a whisper.

“about two weeks ago,” you i pull your wrist back, letting mingi’s hand drop back down to his side, “hongjoong wanted to approach me about it, but i didn’t take much convincing,” actually, it was you who approached him but for some reason that’s much harder to admit, “you guys are much… kinder to me than the other clans i supply, well, supplied to. it was a no brainer to ditch them when given the chance.”

“so you’re ours?” he asks, voice dipping a little too low for the question to be purely innocent.

“i’m mine,” you confirm, “what i supply, however, is all yours.”

there’s a smirk on his lips, not as easily defeated by your sense of self worth as you’d like him to be. he knows as well as the rest of them what the mark on your arm means, after all. he knows as well as you do that there’s no getting away from them now. the moment yunho took his sweet, sadistic time carving their mark into your body it wasn’t just your business that belonged to them.

“sure you are, little mouse,” he whispers as he leans in close, his icy breath fluttering against your face. your stomach drops but you choose to ignore it. this was your decision, after all, “now, scurry along; you wouldn’t want to keep anyone waiting, would you?”

with the flip of a switch, the metal door clicks open and your immediately met with a blast of cool air and a wall of sound. you’ll never understand the clan’s need for these constant frivolities, especially when you’re on the other side of this getting your hands dirty, but you suppose it is a good way to hide their more secretive operations. no one is going to notice the door in the corner when there’s so much going on out here, right? it’s an extra layer of security, and a darn good one at that.

when you step inside, the door clicks shut behind you and you immediately get to scanning the crowd of partygoers for a familiar face. amongst the hoard of vampires, they’re harder to spot, their ashy skin and red eyes sticking out a lot less than they would next to a human. instead you look for a familiar hair colour, recalling the angry text you got from seonghwa about the den’s main bathroom turning pink with hongjoong’s hairdye. nothing sticks out at you, though, and so you’re back at square one.

your arms stretch out before you as you go to push through the crowd. it’s moments like this that you’re glad for the metal, almost collar-like band around your neck. yeosang had created it as a way to keep your pulse hidden from any less-well-meaning vampires. he’d insisted that the tag dangling from it with the clan’s emblem engraved was all hongjoong’s idea, but you recognise the same possessive glint in all of their eyes. it’s the same one yunho had given you when engraving that very emblem into your body, and the same one san had given to you when wrapping your bleeding arm up in a fluffy white bandage. yeosang is just like the rest of them, even behind his sweet exterior.

but right now he isn’t crafting some marvel of engineering out of metal scraps and a dream, but instead on the stage at the front of the room. it’s not often he’s up there instead of one of the others, but as you watch him elegantly dangle from a hoop that hangs from the ceiling, you find it hard to see why. he’s utterly ethereal, like a butterfly about to emerge from a chrysalis; one of those blue ones with the wings that seemed designed to capture your attention with their beauty. you’re entranced, much more so than the rest of the party-goers who seem to have grown blind to the creature moving elegantly before them.

his body moves not at all like a butterfly though, instead flowing smoothly like a viper along the branch of a tree. he extends his arms in such a way you’ve never seen before, silken and smooth as he reaches out to his audience. it pulls you in further, your feet shuffling as you push through the final layer of people to get to the stage. you stumble forwards, catching yourself on the edge of the raised platform. if he notices you there, he doesn’t show it; the stoic expression he wears remains steady as he gracefully shifts his body into yet another position.

you watch him like that until the end of his performance, unblinking with your lips parted in awe. even the way he tumbles to the floor and bows to an uninterested audience holds so much more grace than you think you will ever possess. to think that this is the man that spends half of his time smeared in motor oil with a puppy-like grin on his lips is strange, yet it feels so right.

“hello, little mouse,” he echoes the familiar nickname as he makes his way to the front of the stage, crouching down in front of you and running an all-too-confident finger along your jawline to your chin. he snaps your mouth shut in a way that is so far from the yeosang you know that part of you believes this must be his much cockier twin. “hongjoong is out tonight; some trouble on south side caught his attention so he wanted to clean up the mess before the police got there.”

“i’m meeting with seonghwa then?” you murmur, too starstruck for your mouth the form words properly.

yeosang shakes his head.

“seonghwa and san went with him,” the finger from your chin shifts down to the piece of jewellery that fits snug around your neck. his touch catches against the tag, the jingling sound reminding you of a bell on a cats collar. you try to ignore the smirk that rises to his face as sees you make the connection, instead shifting your gaze to the pendant around his neck that shares the same symbol. “yunho is busy with whatever sick shit gets him off, me and mingi are working which means…”

fuck.

“jongho and wooyoung.”

“clever mouse,” yeosang’s tone is venomous, despite his words being soft. clearly performing does something to his ego; inflates it until every sign of the sweet mechanic is hidden behind a thick shroud of confidence. it’s deliciously cruel, mirroring the sick sadism of yunho or the vast overconfidence of mingi, and holy fuck do you want a taste. perhaps later, once business is over.

if business is over.

“i wouldn’t worry too much about those two, though,” he continues, tugging on the tag of your collar—because despite your pride, even you have to admit that there’s no other way to describe it—until you’re face is merely inches from his own, “hongjoong promised yunho their balls if they can’t learn to control them. maybe you’ll finally be able to have a meeting with them before getting your pussy stuffed, hm?”

you feel yourself getting warmer, your face flushing as yeosang so blatantly talks about your track record with the pair of resident trouble makers. it’s not like you’ve let slip about all the times jongho’s had you sitting on his cock with your mouth wrapped around wooyoung’s the second you step into their office which means that they must have instead. it makes you wonder what they talk about whenever you’re not here, and how much each of them know about your less than professional escapades with each of them. it’s a troubling thought, and yet it’s still manages to light a fire deep in your belly.

“see you later, yeosang,” is the only thing you can mumble in response as you pull away from his touch, the tag of the collar bumping gently against your neck as it slips free of his fingers.

——————-

“you told the others about fucking me?” you scoff as you barge your way into the office where the two youngest vampires await your arrival. it’s nice to see them here already, since they usually arrive far later than the agreed upon time. although, you suppose with the delays of mingi and yeosang, you’re also late on this occasion. you let the passive-aggressive comment about time keeping slide, knowing it won’t help you right now.

“hello to you too, mousy,” wooyoung hums from where he lays on the green sofa in the corner of the room, “it’s nice to see you again! we’re doing wonderfully, by the way; thanks for a—”

you let the door slam behind you as you storm your way towards him, completely ignoring the curious gaze of jongho.

“cut the shit, wooyoung,” you grab hold of his shirt collar and lean in close. it’s supposed to be intimidating but the wide grin on his lips lets you know otherwise. “you’ve all been talking about me when i’m not here? what the fuck, man!”

wooyoung chuckles in your face, his dangerous fangs glinting beneath the overhead lights. you know he’d never bite without your permission—people have been killed by hongjoong for much less—but it still sends a shiver through you whenever you see them.

“you’re not exactly discrete yourself, princess,” the office chair creaks as jongho stands, making his way around his desk and towards you. although you keep your gaze firmly on the little rat who still sits giggling to himself, you can’t help but be hyper aware of the presence behind you. a large hand traces its way up your spine, not stopping until you feel his fingers lace themselves with your locks and tug. your grip fall limply from wooyoung’s shirt as you’re hauled back into the soft muscle of jongho’s chest, your neck craned awkwardly over his shoulder to keep you in place. “what do you want us to say when san is asking about who’s cum he’s eaten from your pussy? do you want us to lie to them?”

you squirm, wincing when his grip on your hair doesn’t loosen despite your attempts to break free. they call you little mouse and right now, you really do feel the part—you walked right into a trap of which there’s no way out.

“maybe i should let you fuck me again just so i can watch when yunho rips your fucking balls off your body!” you grunt through gritted teeth.

jongho hums in amusement, “it was hyperbole, sweetheart,” a pair of cold lips meet the hot skin of your cheek for just a second before pulling away, the softness a stark contrast to the harsh grip he still has you in, “he doesn’t care how much we fuck you as long as we get the job done. after all, he’d be a hypocrite to complain about us fucking you when his dick is inside of you twice as often, hm?”

you watch with cautious eyes as wooyoung stands from his place on the sofa, grinning as wide as the cheshire cat. it reeks of danger, yet you’ve never been the type to give into that sort of thing. you’re a human working for a bunch of vampires; danger is just a regular part of your life at this point.

“besides, mousy,” the cheshire cat purrs, “you think we’re the only ones who talk? you don’t think we know just how much you love calling seonghwa mommy when you ride him? or how much you love it when yeosang spits in your mouth whenever he’s fucking you dumb?” wooyoung brings a hand to your cheek, dusting over your bottom lip with his thumb, “you’re ours, little mouse; we can talk if we want.”

[paingoes]

Rubies

Check In

this is the most living weapon its gotten in a while

(Content: living weapon whumpee, recovery, conditioning, past abuse, guilt, emotional whump, death mention)

Delta rolled over in the bed. He didn’t startle so much when he woke up anymore; the room had become familiar. Even weeks later, he still slept much more there than he ever had on the Thorn. He was still so tired all the time. They’d said it was okay for him to rest. He was grateful for that.

The only issue was how disoriented it made him. He didn’t know what time it was when he awoke, but the sky outside was bright and airy. He slowly rose up, about to brush his hair out of his face when he remembered it wasn’t there anymore. So weird.

He cracked open the bedroom door, doing his best to keep quiet. It was a force of habit. He slipped out into the hallway.

Levon was standing in the kitchen.

Delta dropped as soon as his eyes fell on him. Before Levon could even get a word out, he’d already gotten onto the floor, bowed down about as low as he could get.

He didn’t hear Kitty approach, but she was at his side soon enough, gently urging him off of the ground. He almost fought her. He didn’t want to. He reluctantly stood up, but he could not bring himself to look up. In his periphery, Levon leaned back against the kitchen counter. 

“Good morning, Delta.” He was unperturbed by the display, not upset with him for standing, as deeply wrong as it felt to do it.

It was the first time he’d said his name. Delta paid careful attention to the way he’d handled it. No contempt. No anger. 

Apollo stood back against the stove, staring daggers at Levon. He dropped the expression just as soon as he was caught doing it, but the discontent was still written across his face. A few bags were laid out on the counter.

Kitty’s hand still hung loosely in his own from where she’d picked him up off the ground. He found himself gripping it a little tighter. She bumped into him, nuzzling a bit like she was trying to mark her scent on him. He was already wearing her jacket.

“Thought I’d drop in to see how things are going. I brought you some clothes and some groceries. I’d have stopped by early, but I’ve been a bit preoccupied lately.” 

Something changed in Levon’s voice on those last few syllables. Nobody else would have noticed, but Delta had become adept at measuring people’s emotions. Finding their tipping points. It’d been a matter of survival.

He resisted the urge to drop to the floor again. He wouldn’t beg for forgiveness. He didn’t deserve it. But he was sorry. He knew what preoccupied meant.

“Things are going fine.” Apollo’s tone didn’t betray any of his enmity. “Maybe you’d like to give him a minute to get his bearings? He just woke up.”

“I’m okay,” Delta said weakly, surprising himself. Surprising them, clearly. 

He clamped his hand over his mouth just as quickly. He hadn’t been given permission to speak, not in front of Levon. He wouldn’t have normally. He didn’t like to object, but he had an override: Levon didn’t need to give him anything.

“It won’t be long.” Levon rested his elbows against the counter. “You’ll have the rest of the day to yourself, I promise. Just a talk.”

“Yes, sir,” Delta confirmed cautiously, since he hadn’t been punished for speaking the first time. 

Kitty leaned closer against him. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught her wink.

~

They went outside. Levon had obviously wanted to talk alone, but was not so audacious as to kick Apollo out of his own house. Delta pulled on a pair of blue and white tennis shoes he’d recovered from the den before stepping out into the morning light. He hadn’t come out to this side of the house yet, certainly hadn’t ventured as far as the dirt road that led up to it. 

Levon’s ship was parked in the yard, nearly the same size as the house. It was a bright, electric purple, reflecting the sunlight out at harsh angles. His leather boots paced unbothered through the grass of the yard, getting dust on their edges as he walked out into the road. Delta followed after him. It was a bit hard to keep pace when Levon was so much taller. Levon slowed down to accommodate the difference.

It was warm out. Delta studied the trees of the forest around him — mostly Arecaceae. They were further South then he’d realized. Bright birds moved upwards in the canopy.

The wildlife was much easier to focus on than the figure beside him. He couldn’t help himself from tensing as Levon spoke.

“How’s your arm?” He cast a glance at the cast. Delta held it up for him, the way he would’ve under examination. If nothing else, Paris had at least made a clean break. It didn’t hurt much anymore. 

“It’s better. Thank you.” Delta blushed for some reason. It was hard to accept concern from Kitty or Apollo. It felt stranger coming from Levon. More taboo. He didn’t know why.

“You cut your hair,” Levon observed.

Delta flinched. 

“They…said I could,” he defended weakly. He shouldn’t have. He should’ve just left it alone, he didn’t know why he had even said anything in the first place. He started to apologize.

“No, it looks nice,” Levon said, “Lot less heavy, I’m sure.”

It was.

~

The road eventually led up to a tributary, which led up to a large lake. It was cooler by the edge of it; the wind carried off of the water.

“I wanted to check in to see if you were adjusting okay. I wanted to make sure that you were ready to come back,” Levon admitted, toeing at a stone with his boot. He cast Delta a sidelong glance. “Are you ready to come back?”

Delta stared at him blankly. Levon nodded; of course he didn’t know. Nobody had bothered to explain it to him. 

He passed him a smooth shaped stone. He didn’t know why. Gesture of moral support? Delta took it anyway.

“There’s going to be a trial. Nothing big. We just need to catch some of the council up to speed on your situation and establish a plan going forward.” He paused.

Delta had returned to staring at the ground. The thumb of his good hand turned anxiously over on the stone; he gave no other indication he was upset. Everything else remained perfectly neutral.

“This is only in the interest of security,” Levon tried to reassure him, “It won’t be punitive — though that may come up in conversation, nobody will go for it. I’d veto it before they could. I gave you my word that you wouldn’t be harmed and I mean that. Still…it may be a difficult experience for you. And your friends are concerned it may be too early.”

~

Delta blinked. They’d said that?

They’d been concerned about him. That strange, dull ache started up in his chest again. They’d defended him.

Not punitive, he’d said. Why not? He’d have deserved it. Amnesty was a promise they had made to him; it was never anything he had asked for. All he had wanted was to get out. Whatever they decided to do with him afterwards was beyond him. He’d have accepted it gladly. It was the least he deserved.

What plan, then?

The answer came to mind nearly before the question did. How best to utilize him. What targets to hit. How he’d need to be disciplined — not punished, disciplined — and how he’d need to be re-trained.

He’d do it. If Levon asked him to, he’d do it.

He thought of Lemuria. He thought, funnily enough, of the seagulls he’d once vaporized midair when they’d been in proximity of the target ship. What had the gull ever done wrong?

“I’ll go, sir,” he said, though he didn’t feel ready. By the end of the month, he’d be closer to it. He didn’t want to delay it. He didn’t want to be difficult.

“We’re still preparing,” Levon nodded, “You should be, too. It’d be nice to have a clearer view of what your desires are for the future. It’d give us something to work around. I don’t know if you’ve given it any thought, but I’d be remiss not to ask.”

A large waterfowl descended from the sky, landing noisily just at the edge of the water. His attention was drawn away for a second. He was still looking at it when he answered.

“I’m not sure I understand, sir.” He found himself gripping the rock tighter.

He could only read the question as a probe, something to get caught on. But he didn’t get the sense of Levon trying to trick him. He couldn’t untangle it.

“Would you want to stay onboard Galatea after all this? Or do you want to be done with it? I can’t make any promises, but we’d take it into consideration during the ruling.”

Oh. Oh.

They don’t need you.

The realization hit with both relief and devastation. The devastation won out. He couldn’t stop himself.

“I can still operate,” he said. He had never once had to fear obsolescence. It was a brand new terror. “I’m not at full capacity anymore, but it’s still viable. If you wanted me to. Sir.”

His hands traced the collar unconsciously. 

Levon had been standing with his hand on his hip, his head cocked to the side in a post that made him look younger than he was. Rebel heartthrob — he’d never forgotten how to act like it. As the offer, his posture dropped, his expression turning much more serious. 

Delta flinched from the way his face fell, the minute shift of his shoulder. But the hit didn’t come, again. 

“Delta,” he spoke calmly, but there was a sternness beneath it, “Do me a favor.”

“Yes, sir.” His fingers twitched. Anything.

“Don’t ever suggest that again.”

He shut down.

They didn’t want it. All his life he’d been indispensable and now they didn’t even want it. In that instant, the thousand discreet instances of indiscriminate killing came secondary to his desire to be needed.

Levon’s expression softened, his lips parting slightly as his eyes searched.

“Is that what you want?” he asked quietly. “To keep being a weapon?”

There was no good answer, no right one. To his horror, he realized his eyes had started watering again. What the fuck was wrong with him?

“Oh, oh, no,” Levon’s eyes widened in surprise, all his harshness leaving. “Okay. Easy.”

“Sorry.” He wiped at his eyes frantically. “I didn’t…mean to.”

Fuck.

“You’re alright. So, more time then?” 

He hated to ask for it. He didn’t answer.

“Okay. More time,” Levon confirmed.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“You don’t have to apologize.”

It was his thousandth time hearing that. It never sank in. He’d never be sorry enough.

~

It was a somewhat awkward walk back to the house. Kitty hopped off the porch as they approached, making grabby hands. Delta took the one of them, letting her slide into place beside him. He appreciated the proximity. She glanced at his eyes, still a bit inflamed from crying, and leveraged herself in between him and Levon.

“Whaddya talk about?” she purred.

“The future,” Levon answered.

“Oh no.”

Delta pressed his forehead against her shoulder. He’d just woken up, but he was tired again. It was the kind of exhaustion sleep wouldn’t fix.

“I can extend the grace period if you really need it. Not by much, I’m afraid.” he cast a cautious look at Delta, “But you’d have more time to think it over.”

She moved up onto the porch. Delta hovered between her and the front door, unsure if he was being dismissed. Levon leaned against the railing at the bottom of the stairs, his hand returning to his hip.

“Really?” Her voice was bright, pleasantly surprised. “You’re gonna be able to hold up without me?”

“I know you’re still working,” he leveled. 

She giggled in response, the edge of her tail flicking back and forth, “I thought you needed the help.”

“There is no overstating how much help we need.”

Delta still hovered by the door, overcome with the strangest feeling of loss. He felt like he was witnessing something alien, the way people spoke when they did not have daggers drawn.

Levon pulled off of the lawn. The engine’s cacophony broke up the quiet morning, then was gone just as quickly as it appeared.

“It was nice of him to drop off clothes,” Apollo managed, the picture of civility. Delta slid into the chair by the pass-through, leaning his arms against the counter. He flinched as Kitty passed behind him, interpreting any movement he could not see as a threat. She just hopped up on the counter, swinging her legs a little.

“What’d he say to you?” She asked, a bit of the levity gone but none of the gentleness.

Delta bit his nails; it was a worse habit than the hair-twirling, but his hair was too short to do that now. He shrugged.

“…Asked what I wanted to do.”

“Oh,” she paused, “What do you want?”

He shrugged again. It was disrespectful. He should’ve stopped. It was just hard to speak.

“Hadn’t thought about it,” he mumbled. 

Because he hadn’t. He didn’t think it would matter, that anyone would even bother to ask.

He wanted to be useful, if he had to pick one. And he didn’t really want to kill again. Those two seemed at odds with one another. 

~~~

…………

tags:

@catnykit @snakebites-and-ink @vivulapom @scoundrelwithboba @whatwhump

@pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @fuckass1000 @fuckcapitalismasshole @defire

@micechomper @writereleaserepeat @aloafofbreadwithanxiety @flowery-whump @littlebookworm69

@lordcatwich @human-123-person @paperprinxe @whomeidontknowthem

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

Hiya! It's me! I've been sending you so many asks that I wouldn't be surprised if you gave me a restraining order!

I made an account so I can actually participate in some of your rp things- if that's okay with you of course.

I sent you the ideas for the succubus, deadpool x wolverine and bimbo!au's, I sent others but I'd need to go through my memory, which would take all night.

Anyway- I have a new au idea for you! I think you'll like this. It's basically a gothic vampire!au.

I'm going to attach screen shots because I've already written it out and for some reason Tumblr doesn't let you copy and paste (it's already 1am where I am and I don't want to have to write this out all again, so I'm really sorry if this'll be annoying for you 😭).

Continuation--

Adam: it's rude to stare, you know. How did a kid get in here?

Lucifer jumped at his voice: I-I'm not a kid!- I'm 30 years old!

Adam: really dude? What are you? 5"3?... you didn't get the long straw when it came to genes, huh? See what I did there?

Lucifer sighs as the man chuckles to himself.

Lucifer: uh... that's... not important- a-are you the owner?

Adam stares at Lucifer for a few seconds before taking a sip from his glass. Lucifer watches his every move, he feels like prey- are those fangs??

Adam: I guess you can say that.. my names Adam. Even though I think the asshole who broke into my house should introduce themselves first- but I'm in a good mood today!

Adam stands and pulls a chair infront of him.

Adam: Here man, have a seat, might as well make yourself comfortable.

The way Adam smiled and watched his every move made Luicfer shiver. He walked as calmy as he could to the chair infront of Adam. He sits, eyes never leaving Adams deep red ones.

Lucifer: I'm Lucifer- and I apologize for the breaking and entering. It's uh, not the best first impression.

Adam: wait- Lucifer? Like the Devil? That's sick. And I'm not one for first impressions, but you've certainly made an entrance, buddy.

Lucifer: Yeah, like the Devil, blame my father for that one-

Adam: I ain't judging man! I think it's cool, everyone has such boring names these days, it's nice to be surprised, nothing surprises me much anymore.

Adam runs his clawed hand through his hair, eyes never leaving Lucifers face. He notices as his eyes travel down to his chest, where his shirt has opened a bit more. Adam smirks, leaning forward, giving Lucifer a better view.

Adam: I would offer you a drink, but I think you want something else~

----

That's all I have! I hope this seems interesting to you 😭

Feel free to continue it, I'll try and participate to! It would be my first time doing these rp type things, so I'm sorry if I'm a bit all over the place lol

Okay- bye!

Ahhh!! Thank you for all your amazing ideas friendo! This too is amazing 🤩

And yes of course you can participate in the rp blogs! What account is it?

-

Lucifer felt a little called out, this man was so good looking he felt like he was trapped in a trance.

Lucifer: I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-

Adam: Pfft it's fine, I get it. I know I'm hot shit and I don't mind you looking. In fact.

Adam leaned in closer until his hot breath ghosted over Lucifer's face.

Adam: I wouldn't mind you doing more than just looking.

He grinned at the way the blonde man's face turned bright red at the implication. Humans were always so easy to work up. And man this one was easy on the eyes as well.

It's been a while since Adam had a visitor. Even longer since he had a rendezvous.

[cynthiav06]

With Percy, we know that he hates going to school and his goals don’t really line up with Annabeth’s, but Annabeth is kind of forcing him to do it with her because he can’t say no to her. Say Rick didn’t make Annabeth Percy’s entire personality, what do you think he would’ve done in the mortal world rather than go to university?

I was checking my drafts cause I am trying to catch up on all the asks in my inbox ( as I said in one of my earlier posts I was in middle of a medical situation so I have at least a month of backlog) and found this draft.

The funny thing is I had already written most of the post in the draft version, and this ask wasn't even being displayed in my inbox, so I was very confused as to when it was from.

But it's such a good prompt and a sort of controversial question in the fandom, so I wanted to post it asap.

Percy doesn't like studies, but he knows the importance of it, so I am sure he will finish his initial college, probably either in the science or arts section. We know at one point he got better grades than Annabeth at one point so he certainly isn't quitting studies and doing way better than what people expect. He also wouldn't like just staying at home and doing nothing (I am looking at certain Percabeth stans here), so he definitely would be doing one job or another.

1.

I don't think he would study marine biology like most believe. After a conversation I had with someone who had taken the course, I am convinced Percy wouldn't like it. It's heavily based on chemistry, and we know how much Percy is affected by sea creatures being mistreated or caged, so having to study marine biology wouldn't really be something he would choose.

2.

An interesting twist would be if he chose to be a writer like his mother.

We all know that Percy writes or at least dictates and narrates the first five books, which are written and narrated entirely from his perspective. Moreover, there are books on Percy just narrating his own sarcastic takes on Greek gods and Greek heroes. What if he did actually catalogue his own adventures in those books as a sort of manual for other demigods on how to deal with certain monsters and gods and such.

Through Percy's thoughts, even as 12 years old, we can certainly say he has advanced vocabulary despite being dyslexic and given how much he admires Sally, why wouldn't he be interested in following her footsteps. Sure, he has trouble reading, but that's not to say he wouldn't love expressing his thoughts through humorous retelling of his own adventures which he can pass as fiction to normal readers but actual experiences in demigod world. Who doesn't want to know the exploits of Percy Jackson?

Plus, it's a good money hack. And don't for a second tell me he wouldn't. Sally petrified Gabe, and then they sold his statute to a museum as a sculpture and earned money off of that. So Sally would definitely encourage it, and Percy would even follow through on it just for shits and giggles and the added benefit of helping demigods and earning money.

[I literally want this to happen just for the Godly reactions. I am all for god slander, especially Zeus slander. Poseidon would be half laughing at the book and half worried cause of the sheer catastrophes his son seems to fall into almost on a daily basis.

Apollo would be having a grand time, and Hermes will be half depressed and half impressed throughout. Overall, it would be hilarious all around, and it might finally make the gods feel a bit more accountable . It's literally the Reading Percy Jackson Series trope, and that's always fun.]

3.

One other option is that Percy will get into environmental preservation, specifically the protection of Rivers and Seas from pollution by actively involving himself and others in its cleanliness and purification. He would also run Beach cleanliness programs.

I think he and Grover would become environmental activists and would definitely get into preserving forest areas and other places where nature spirits dwell frequently. I can see them doing it a lot, long-term wise, too.

4.

I think he would kind of like marine explorations, but that might cause his powers to be somewhat exposed, so he might not do that, but it's a possibility.

That's all I can think of. I would like to hear everyone else's opinions on this.

[tennessoui]

44. and 54. for the ship asks?

I hope you're having a good time ✨

ah thank you i am having a very good time (but also very busy) (but also very fun) (but also very stressful) (but also very - )

thank you for sending these in <3

[from this ask game]

44. Who would dance in the kitchen making dinner? Would the other join in or watch from the doorway?

i think neither of them are predisposed to dancing in the kitchen making dinner (because i just can't see either of them expressing joy through dance) but the image is cute and if i had to pick, i'd say anakin would be more likely to dance in a very silly fashion as he cooks dinner (most probably because he thinks he's alone in their quarters)

only for obi-wan to spy him and lean up against the doorway to watch and anakin is a bit embarrassed but covers it with a "what, old man, don't want to join in?"/"haven't you ever danced before?" to which obi-wan obviously replies that of course he's danced before but that sort of dancing is certainly not the kind of dancing he's done in the past. does anakin want a demonstration?

and anakin thinks he's about to get pulled into a formal dance like the sort that obi-wan does at fancy balls on fancy missions so of course he says a very eager yes - only for obi-wan to pull him in for more like dirty club dancing from his padawan days

54. Who’s more likely to carry the other to bed?

once a master, always a master:

Obi-Wan lets out a full-bodied sigh the moment the doors to his quarters close behind him. It'd been a long day, stacked on top of another, longer day, which in turn was stacked upon a longer week. A longer month. A long war.

He leans against the wall to slip off his boots, though he finds that he's too tired to line them up at the door where he likes to keep them. Instead, he leaves them as they've fallen.

The Council meeting had ended with the decision to send Obi-Wan and the 212th out to the Mid-Rim to rendezvous with Mace Windu's troops. It was an understandable command, and one Obi-Wan himself had volunteered for. But now, in the privacy of his own quarters, he allows the weight of the new orders to rest heavily on his shoulders as guilty dread pools up in his stomach. He'd told Anakin that they'd be able to share a week of leave together, once the other returned to the Temple tomorrow. Now, it turns out that they'd have only a few hours at most.

On his way from the door to his room, the Force gives him a kind, gentle nudge, just stubborn enough that it makes Obi-Wan turn his head to see--oh.

He hadn't even realized he wasn't alone in his quarters. Perhaps because the boy sleeping on his sofa with one shoe still loosely clinging to his foot feels as if he belongs there.

Obi-Wan's feet move him forward automatically to look over the couch's back at Anakin's sleeping form. His Force signature wraps around Anakin's gently, an instinctual hello. For a moment, he's regretful at it--thinking that perhaps it would be enough to wake Anakin from his sleep.

But Anakin's Force signature only nuzzles back at his in return, leaving the boy asleep, as if it is the most natural thing in the galaxy for them to be twined together.

"Alright," Obi-Wan mutters, letting his fingers trail over Anakin's curls before stepping around the couch to kneel at its edge. "Foolish boy," he chides though Anakin cannot hear him. Though he doesn't even mean the words, not truly. Not in the face of Anakin's presence. He must have pushed his ship to the edges of its capabilities to arrive earlier than planned. He must have wanted as much time with Obi-Wan as he could get. "My foolish boy," Obi-Wan says.

Anakin sleeps on, undisturbed.

Obi-Wan's hands find their way to his hair once more, stroking down a piece of it before lightly touching his cheek, the edges of the scar over his eye. The war has aged him. The war has taken so much from him. Of course he is tired. Hopefully, despite Obi-Wan's own absence, he will be able to get the rest he so desperately needs in the coming week. It would be good for him, for Ahsoka as well.

Against his will, his eyelids droop even as his knees protest the position on the ground. He could fall asleep as he is, he thinks. A worshipper at Anakin's altar.

But his padawan would be upset to find him like this in the morning. As much as he thinks that Anakin needs rest, Anakin returns the opinion tenfold. He will not be pleased at the upcoming mission. He would not be pleased to find Obi-Wan asleep on the ground beside him.

But their week together has been shortened only to a night, and Obi-Wan will be damned if he leaves him alone on the couch.

So, carefully, he stands and slides his arms beneath Anakin's back and legs, lifting him up with some hidden well of strength only exhausted masters who must care for their padawans possess.

"This was easier when you were younger," he mutters to Anakin's sleeping form, adjusting his arms around the other man so that his head doesn't loll uncomfortably to the side. "And about a hundred and fifty pounds lighter."

Anakin snores in response, Force signature radiating such a sense of safe contentment that even Obi-Wan's grumblings die down into nothing. They can, of course, wait for an appreciative, awake audience.

[tomriddlehyperfixataion]

The Diary of Tom Riddle- Diary! Tom Riddle x Reader - P3

pairing: Tom riddle x Fem reader

warnings: Horcruxes, Manipulation, Tom being Tom, side effects of being possessed.

summary: 16-year-old (y/n) finds a mysterious black book on the floor of after it slips out of Ginny Weasleys caldron, curious, she picks it up and keeps it-which leads to one thing after another and discovers the book is far more than it seems.

-Part 1- -Part 2-

=

Thankfully, as she woke up, (y/n) hadn't moved from her bed throughout the night. She sighed and slowly sat up, rubbing her face, drawing back the curtains of her bed, seeing her roommates all up and getting dressed for the day. It was a Sunday, so it was Hogsmeade day for years 3 and up.

Hogsmeade sounded fun.

(y/n) looked at the diary and grabbed it, popping open her ink well and grabbing her quill, flipping open a book to the now blank page she’d been writing in the night before.

“Morning Tom.”

Tom took a moment to respond, her ink disappearing into the page as his elegant scrawl appeared in its place.

‘Good morning (y/n), did you sleep well?’

“yes I did, thankfully. Woke up where I should be too, in my bed.”

‘Very good. Are you feeling better?’

“yeah, much better, thank you. Im going to go to Hogsmeade today, would you like to come with?”

‘Well, I wouldn’t be able to do much, would I?’

(y/n) hummed in thought, Tom had a point, as he could only see what she wrote/illustrated in the book.

“good point, but I could maybe bring you to the bookstore there and get some ink you’d like?”

‘I don’t eat the ink (y/n)’

“not what I meant but that’s a very funny visual thank you.”

(y/n) giggled to herself, imagining the book eating the ink instead of just absorbing it to write back to her.

“I meant like, would you like some fancy ink? I saved up some money from my allowance and can get some good ink from the store if you would prefer it?”

‘How…generous of you, (y/n)’

“thank you :)”

Tom took a very long moment to respond, as if he was thinking long and hard about her offer. Finally, after a few minutes, he wrote back-though he did so while (y/n) was getting dressed for her outing to Hogsmeade, putting on an oversized sweater for maximum comfort.

‘I suppose it couldn’t hurt if you brought the diary along, I certainly don’t mind good inks to write with, I myself was never able to afford more than the most basic brands.’

(y/n) tilted her head a bit, a smile growing on her face. Tom was opening up to her a bit! Okay-play it cool-don’t overreact.

“aww really?”

‘I don’t need your pity (y/n)’

Oops.

“not pity! Im sorry! Just…idk”

‘What in the merlin does ‘idk’ mean?’

“Oh-I don’t know-its an abbreviation.”

‘Why don’t you just write ‘I don’t know’, it’s not hard?’

“idk, just easier.”

She felt like she could hear him sigh, which made her giggle and she finished getting dressed before writing to him again.

“okay okay, im going to go eat, ill be back to grab you before everyone heads out to Hogsmeade.”

Tom didn’t respond so (y/n) closed the diary and put it back on her bedside table, capping her ink well and cleaning her quill before leaving her room, heading out to the great hall for breakfast.

-

Hogsmeade, thankfully, took the rest of the events from the night before off (y/n)’s mind as she went from store to store, starting at the book store and writing down ink brands and types to Tom, who eventually picked out a non-expensive India ink, but it was definitely more costly than the usual ink she got.

She closed the diary and put it back in her bag, taking the new ink to the front and buying it, the shopkeep wrapping it in paper and then giving it to her in a paper bag.

She counted how much money she had left as she walked down the main path of the village, nodding to herself as she pocketed the coins. She had enough to do someday after Halloween candy shopping.

She hopped straight into Honeydukes, where loads of other students were buying their own discounted candy, and quickly got some candies that were under the discount.

Including a bag of candy corn, and it was the type made in shop-which was even better.

“What is it with you and candy corn (n/n)?” one of her friends that had accompanied her to Hogsmeade asked teasingly, attempting to steal one of the candies (y/n) had bought.

“It’s good!” (y/n) defended the candy, holding the box to her chest. She knew candy corn wasn’t a worldly liked candy-but it was hers and her dad's favorite, so it not only tasted good to her, but it also was nostalgic.

(y/n)’s friend snickered, taking a caramel apple lollipop from (y/n)’s bag full of discounted Halloween candy. (y/n) rolled her eyes, the two catching up with the rest of their friends, hanging out at the three broomsticks for a while before heading back to the castle.

Upon getting back to her dorm room, (y/n) poured out the candy onto her bed and spread it out, sorting it and eating a few pieces here and there as she separated the chocolates from the hard candies, and the lollipops from the taffy.

She took out the diary and the new well of ink, opening the wax around it and setting it aside, testing the ink on her actual notebook before writing to Tom.

“back from Hogsmeade! Using the new ink as well :)”

‘I can tell, it’s far smoother than the ink you were using before.’

“I’m glad you like it! I also got a lot of candy from honeydukes, they were having a day after Halloween sale, I got nearly 5 pounds of candy for one galleon.”

‘Sweet tooth?’

“big one.”

(y/n) smiled brightly as she continued her conversation with Tom, which turned to her asking Tom what his favorite candy was…is.

‘I haven't tried much candy if I must be honest, though I do like treacle tarts.’

“yum, those are pretty good”

“great now Im craving treacle tart thanks Tom.”

‘You’re welcome, (y/n)’

­-

(y/n) happily painted on some Slytherin green and silver face paint onto her cheeks, today was the first quidditch game of the year, and the Slytherin team had gotten a new seeker-the spoiled as fuck Draco Malfoy, who everyone knew bribed his way in but he still wasn’t a terrible flyer-and brand new brooms.

The whole Slytherin house was excited, ready to win the first match of the season against Gryffindor, since they hadn’t won a game against Gryffindor since Harry Potter joined the team the year before.

“You almost ready (y/n)?!” her friend called from the bathroom as she herself finished her makeup.

“Yeah!” (y/n) said, hopping to her feet after pulling away from her desk mirror. “I’m all done!” she wrapped a scarf around her neck and hooked her arm with her friends and they all went down to the quidditch pitch together, the roar of excitement already humming through the stands.

The game started quickly after that and it was exciting! The Slytherins were walloping the Gryffindors easily-quickly overtaking them 90-30. (y/n) whistled and cheered for her team, throwing her fists into the air with each score. “Woah what the fuck?!” she heard her friend suddenly exclaim and (y/n) turned to see where she was looking, her brows furrowing as a bludger began to deliberately chase Harry Potter.

“Is that a rouge bludger??” (y/n) said, her lip curling in confusion. “What the hell they’re like-impossible to tamper??” (y/n) and her friend stopped paying attention to the game as a whole, watching in near horror as Harry was chased around by a bludger.

The Weasley twins tried to bat it away from him but it kept coming back.

“that’s not good-we should tell a teacher-“ (y/n) stuttered, turning to head off the stands, maybe catch Madam Hooch’s attention and stop the game before someone got hurt. (y/n)’s friend nodded and followed her through the crowd of Slytherins and down the stands.

Just as they reached Madam Hooch, the bludger had slammed into Harry’s arm as he reached for the snitch and he hit the dirt soon after; though he had the snitch in hand, Gryffindor had won the game. “Oh shit,” (y/n) muttered under her breath, looking at Harrys very broken arm, as Madam Hooch blew the whistle, ending the game.

The Weasley twins somehow caught the tampered bludger, getting it back into the box and locking it down. Madam Hooch instantly saw to it, and while that all happened-the idiot Lockhart…erm…mended Harry’s arm.

“Ew,” (y/n) muttered as her friend gagged at the rubber look Harry’s arm had taken. Lockhart hadn’t mended shit; he’d removed Harry’s bones!

“That is so nasty,” (y/n)’s friend muttered, and (y/n) nodded in agreement, heading back to the castle after Headmaster Dumbledore told everyone the match was over and to head back to the castle while Harry, and any other injured players, went to Madam Pomfrey.

“Gotta be honest, Gryffindor deserved that win, I mean-odds stacked against them, with those new brooms and that bloody bludger, they won. Shame Potter’s arm got broken for it though.” (y/n)’s friend ranted as they walked back to the common room, (y/n) nodding in agreement. “I have to wonder who tampered the bludger? I mean Madam Hooch checks them right before the game, and if it wasn’t tampered then, how could’ve someone hexed it within the minutes before the game began?”

(y/n) shrugged as her friend continued to rant. “Maybe someone tampered with it mid-game? Because it wasn’t doing it at first, if it was tampered with before the game-it would’ve gone after Harry straight away? Wouldn’t it?” (y/n) suggested, walking into the common room after several other students and her friend nodded, tapping her chin.

“That does sound logical, though I’m not sure how or why anyone would do that, I mean-he’s just a 12-year-old kid? Who’d want to charm a bloody iron magic ball to hurt him?” (y/n) shrugged in response to her friend's rhetorical question.

“Someone fucked up,” (y/n) answered anyway and her friend sighed, the two entering their dorm room. Her friend went to wipe the Slytherin-themed makeup off her face while (y/n) went to her bed and grabbed the diary.

“Potter almost got killed by a bludger at the quidditch match today.”

(y/n) could almost feel the sense of ‘!!?!?!’ from Tom as he hurriedly wrote back to her.

‘Who starts a conversation like that? also what? how? I never liked Quidditch but I’m sure those Quidditch gear chests are impossible to get into?’

“that’s what I said, I think someone jinxed it mid game because it wasn’t going after him at first.”

‘How odd. And it was going after Potter specifically?’

“yeah! Only him, the Weasley twins kept batting it away from him but it would go right back after Potter. Its really weird.”

‘I cannot tell you it isn’t, because it is very odd.’

“yeah”

(y/n) perked up as her friend came back out of the bathroom. “I’m going to go get lunch, you coming?” her friend asked and (y/n) nodded.

“Yeah, lemme just wash my face,” (y/n) said, looking back down at the diary and telling Tom she had to go, setting the book down on the bedside table and going into the bathroom to wash her face.

-

(y/n) woke up very late that night, a ringing in her ears as she opened her eyes, feeling kinda nauseous. She groaned lightly, realizing she’d fallen off her bed, her head pounding as she attempted to get up, pressing her palms to her eyes as they ached.

“What the fuck,” she muttered, rubbing her face. She’d never fallen off her bed before, but considering the odd dream she had-she wasn’t surprised. She eventually got to her feet after the nausea had passed and climbed back into bed, yawning.

She laid back down, but couldn’t get back to sleep. Her mind kept going back to that odd dream. She had been walking through the halls of Hogwarts, at what seemed to be a late hour, and went into one of the bathrooms and…spoke a strange language-a hissing language, and the…sink had come apart??? After that she woke up, having fallen off her bed mid weird dream.

She huffed and drew the curtains around her bed, grabbing her wand, the diary, and her quill. “Lumos,” (y/n) murmured and the tip of her wand began to glow and she opened the diary, flipping through pages and pages of notes, and doodles.

She dipped her quill and began to write to Tom.

“I fell out of my bed,”

‘And why is that so important to tell me? It’s late I’m sure, you should be asleep.’

“you’re right but I cant get back to sleep, I had a weird dream and woke up after falling out of my bed, which ive never done”

“or at least I havent done since I was a kid?”

‘Interesting. What was your dream about if I may ask?’

(y/n) wrote down what she remembered from the dream, and then added a small detail she hadn’t realized till now.

“it felt like I was having an out of body experience, or like I was watching through someone elses eyes? You get what I mean?”

‘I suppose I do, though im sure there’s nothing to worry about, everyone has odd dreams sometimes.’

“have you ever had an odd dream?”

‘Yes, I’m not divulging that information though, you’ll tease me relentlessly about it.’

“no I wont!”

(y/n) huffed as Tom didn’t respond, and she could imagine the expression of ‘sure you wont’ on his face. She wished she knew wha the looked like…wait maybe she could find him in the gallery! He did say he was a prefect in his time, maybe there was a picture somewhere of the 1942-1943 prefects.

“you’re no fun.”

‘Go to sleep (y/n),’

“fiiiine, goodnight Tom.”

‘Goodnight, (y/n)’

-

“A first year got petrified?!” (y/n) asked in a hushed tone, her eyes wide as she gripped her friend's hand tightly as they walked to breakfast Monday morning.

“Yeah, apparently it happened Saturday night, or well, early Sunday morning if you think about it that way-but Professor Dumbledore found him in the middle of the night-just-stone still, petrified.” (y/n)’s friend rambled and (y/n) frowned, squeezing her friend’s hand tighter.

Early Sunday morning…she’d had that weird dream and fell out of her bed Sunday morning.

“What time did the first year get petrified?” (y/n) asked and her friend shrugged.

“Dunno, I’m only telling you what I heard from the grapevine, all I know is Sunday morning, a first year got petrified.” (y/n) huffed nervously in response, swallowing harshly, that weird feeling of paranoia returning to her gut.

Just a coincidence, just a coincidence. It had to be; besides, she’d just fallen out of her bed this time, she hadn’t sleepwalked, she hadn’t even left her dorm room.

…right?

-

“I’m leaving.” (y/n) huffed as dumbass Lockhart came onto the long dueling stage that was set up lengthwise in the great hall, replacing the house tables. Her friend grabbed her arm as she attempted to escape, tugging her towards the edge of the stage-making them be front and center.

“Oh, come on (y/n)~ it’ll be fun!” her friend said cheerfully, she’d didn’t understand why (y/n)…disliked ‘Professor’ Lockhart, even thinking he was hot.

It was one of the few things (y/n) vehemently disagreed with her on.

“it’ll be cringe as fuck that’s what it’ll be.” (y/n) grumbled, crossing her arms as she pouted. She expected maybe Professor Flitwick to be the head of the dueling club, but noooo it had to be the obvious fake Lockhart.

Though-Professor Snape had agreed to…help Lockhart in a demonstration, and that, was going to be fun.

(y/n) couldn’t help the peal of laughter that came from her as Snape sent Lockhart across the dueling stage, her friend gasping as Lockhart landed with a thump. “Is he okay?” her friend asked and (y/n) just snickered with the rest of the Slytherin members of the club.

“Who cares? That was funny.” (y/n) chuckled, smirking as her friend gave her a glare. After that everyone got paired into groups, Lockhart nearly putting the little 1st and 2nd years with the 5th and 6th years attending, Snape correcting that mistake and putting (y/n) against a fellow 6th-year Slytherin, though (y/n) hardly knew his name.

“Remember, disarm only!” Lockhart said and (y/n) rolled her eyes, bowing her to dueling partner with her wand at her side and then holding it out in front of her, her other arm over her head for balance.

The dueling began moments later, and spells shot out of their wands every other moment. (y/n) began with the disarming charm, expelliarmus, but her opponent blocked it and returned with a Stupefy. (y/n) went to block but it felt like she wasn’t in control of herself anymore, she stepped to the side-avoiding the spell-and held out her wand in a grip that wasn’t her own.

“Relashio!” With a wave of her wand her dueling opponent was forced to drop their wand and then (y/n) twirled her wand again. “Depulso!” A blast of white magic flew towards her dueling opponent and they flew back, hitting the ground with a loud thud.

There was an intense satisfaction that ran deep in her bones for a split moment, and an odd feeling to finish her opponent off-but that quickly went away and (y/n) pocketed her wand, rushing over to her dueling partner. “Are you okay?” (y/n) asked, offering her hand and her dueling partner chuckled painfully, rubbing their lower back as she helped them stand.

“I’m okay-that was wicked casting though,” (y/n) only nodded in response, licking her teeth as the dueling groups were stopped, a green haze in the air from the dueling 2nd years. She began to leave the great hall as Potter and Malfoy began to duel, only stopping when she heard a strange hissing coming from the stage.

She turned, the hissing sounding too familiar, coming from Potter as he…hissed at a black snake? Her ears began to ring, her vision going a bit blurry as she stared at Potter, the boy hissing at the snake before Snape destroyed it.

What the fuck?

That was the same hissing she’d heard in her dream on Sunday.

-end of p3-

im very happy with this part and i hope you guys are too-taglist!!!

@dracosslxt4eva @dream-your-own-way @slaggylemon

@slytherinbackintomyroom @starryhiraeth @larallott

[kokabeeeel]

tw: forced feminisation, slight underage, need for power imbalance.

———

as sam got older, they’d question dean if they were truly a girl - coming out of sex-ed for the first time, asking dean why she had a penis if she was really a girl, made dean want to bash his head into the steering wheel and pull sam out of school.

pulling sammy from school though, dean knows that john would suspect something, so he took it upon himself to teach sammy sex-ed: “some mommy’s, and some little girls, have an extra little bit. it doesn’t mean anything, baby girl- you’re still my special girl, just like i’m still your mommy.”

teaching little sammy the wonders of her body, was liquid crack to dean; full permission to have his hands roam every inch of his baby girls skin…

it left him panting.

he didn’t allow himself to go any further than touching. he’d hold sammy’s member in his hand, but he’d never stroke, only ever hold.

it made everything so much sweeter and dean wanted it to last forever: sammy, his baby girl and dean, sammy’s mommy.

but winchesters aren’t known for their good luck.

dean knew that kids outgrew their parents, but not once did he think sammy would out grow him - dean was more than just sammy’s mommy after all - he was certain it was a prank when sammy had shown him the acceptance letter.

there was no prank; dean’s baby girl was leaving: “i need this, mommy. if you loved me, you’d let me have this.”

when sam left for stanford, dean was frightened that sammy would forget all of what dean had told her; forget all of dean’s training.

picking sammy up, he was glad that wasn’t the case: seeing sammy’s long hair and satin sleep dress, dean couldn’t stop himself from calling sammy ‘his good girl’.

the way sam had flushed with that made dean’s world tilt on its side.

the way sammy had asked: “where are we going, mommy?” in a breathy voice most certainly didn’t help. it took all of dean’s willpower not to pull his baby girl into his lap and leave her whimpering.

on the drive back to stanford though - "please, mommy, i have an interview first thing in the morning; it means a lot for me and my future, mommy." - and about 50 miles from their destination, dean no longer had any strength to hold back.

pulling onto the side of the road, dean jumped out of the car and made his way over to the passenger side door; dragging sammy out only to push them into the back seat.

the look sammy gave him was the exact same one from all those years ago; sweet puppy dressed in pretty pink.

"what are you doing, mommy?"

cupping sammy's cheek, dean asked: "are you my good girl, sammy?"

———

part 1

[roachfun]

This is probably a wild thing to get but your “Gojo should stay dead” post has got my unmedicated ass vibrating.

(I’ve only read jjk0, besides that literally all of my exposure has been via 3 video essays and fanfic… I basically got into the series backwards and tbh it’s an interesting experience…)

And tbh I agree with you more than not. Even though the view I have of the character is so fucking warped because jjk fanfic is too the gills filled with smut.

Because what I’ve gathered from the video essays and the few bits of fanfics that actually tried getting into his mind… is that the man is gd tired.

A god complex the size of the sun, that’s only ever been challenged once by one of the few people he ever formed a genuine connection with, and it was challenged as that person was leaving him. That incident may have motivated him to change, but that change was predominantly if not exclusively external, he didn’t really do much self reflection.

After Geto left, Gojo did better (became a teacher, warding Megumi, not letting Yuta be executed) but he didn’t work on being better (god complex, recklessness, belief that his way is the only way with no real consideration for the effects those decisions have on others)

He’s selfish, arrogant, and reckless, he doesn’t seem to take much of anything seriously and that may be a persona (again, I haven’t actually read jjk yet… the ending of mha did the characters, narrative, and audience so gd dirty I need to know how jjk ends so I set my expectations accordingly) but I can very much see this man never really developing his sense of empathy because he never really had any stakes… like he has some understanding, but the god complex and the fact people around him constantly reinforce it… he can’t put himself in other people’s shoes, there’s a detachment from reality that would read as delusional for anybody else, but he has spent his entire life being told he is the strongest with nothing ever being able to prove him wrong.

Than on the flip side of that god complex, honestly for a good while, and still sorta kinda… to me he reads as passively suicidal. (I know “Word of God” can be controversial regarding character analysis because of its absence in the base text) but the fact Gege’s rough rundown of Gojo’s daily schedule was basically “he sleeps for about 3 hours and spends the rest of his time working, his sweet tooth is actually somewhat practical as he uses sugar as a stimulant.” That’s not good for your noggin. Add the isolation caused by his status and his god complex, I see him coming to the conclusion that the only way he should die, is in battle.

And he did! Even if wasn’t in the “final sacrifice that ensures he becomes a legend” sort of way I think he would’ve hoped for.

But that also felt… right? (Certainly not fair, Gege openly admitting he kills off fan favorites for the shock value does dampen the possible emotional impact that could’ve been achieved… but I digress)

Every time Gojo fights, and I mean properly fights, he’s smiling, it’s a game to him, a chance to show off, to assert his dominance and reaffirm his status… so him dying so suddenly that his legs are still standing as his upper half falls to the floor, he’s lying there choking on his own blood as he bleeds out and Sukuna saying it “cleared his skies” (weird phrasing, but I think that’s a cultural/translation thing) it could’ve been a gut punch of a tragedy that amped up the stakes of the final conflict! The protagonists’ trump card is gone in a handful of panels and a flick of the wrist! He’s bleeding out on the ground as the big bad seems to reach a moment of genuine inner peace! But the backtracking and Gege’s history lessened that significantly

tbh I wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out that Shonen Jump had something to do with it… the motivations for Gege’s writing choices are questionable to me (it feels spiteful and cheap) but they’ve been consistent until now, what changed?

Anyway it is… 5:45 am… I should be asleep, but I’m here vomiting character analysis based on partial information in your inbox… I hope you have a good day/night/whatever is appropriate for when you receive this

I hate that you had me read all that, but I couldn't agree more with most that you said (except maybe where you call him selfish and I lowk think geges killing system is fair and I like it a lot but🤷).

Anyways, I don't know how to really respond to this since you basically did all the talking lol (plus I'm tired from reading all that and just got out of school).

I do have a question tho. how did you start with jjk0??? Like how does something like that happen. Also you haven't watched the anime or anything😭???

Anyways, thanks for dropping this essay on me have a good day/night or life in case we never speak🩵

[valentine-cafe]

Hi there! I normally walk just past this place, but something smelled particularly good. The croissant, maybe? Chocolate? (Dark content, smut)

Yeah so like this is a bit of a weird ask and I know that... but the aesthetics of your page just made me think of an enigma whose body was like that of taffy? Squishy, soft, sticky, and most importantly, stretchy. I was thinking reader would be a man, who was working for the Resistance but ended up in the clutches of some very nefarious people.

Maybe they can start out with just invasive physicals, but it slowly worsens and... yeah. Do as much as you feel comfortable with, please!

Yours truly, Hush~

. ˚◞♡ 𝒚𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒅 𝒅𝒐𝒄𝒕𝒐𝒓 𝒙 𝒃𝒕𝒕𝒎 𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 ꒰ 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒅 𝒅𝒐𝒄𝒕𝒐𝒓 𝒔𝒏𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓 ꒱◞ ₊˚

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ᥫ᭡ 209 jingyi / bttm male reader ꒱ you caught the mad doctor's eye. he hated the idea of feeling attracted to an experiment. and no matter how much he tried to sate it, he needed to get his hands on you

𖹭. content warnings◞  dark content . experimentation on reader . implied torture . dub con . mind control . explicit content . rough sex . penetrative sex . 0.7k

𖹭. receipts◞  glad that you decided to stop by dear customer<3 one croissant coming up! this honestly was so much fun to write and quickly became my favourite request because I have been itching to write some dark stuff with the herrera husbands<3

. ˚◞ ꒰ 🍰 𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒔 ꒱ m.list . guidelines . characters . lorebook ⊹ ۪ ࣪ 

𖹭. the mad doctor of valence has certainly seen many peculiar enigma around, but you by far were quite the special case. he is well aware of the classification of “body morphers” under the enigma hat, but you caught his eye in quite the special way.

𖹭. jìngyí had seen you around his brother a few times. he was uncertain why the depths of his soul burned with bitterness. he assumes it was the idea of an enigma type being out there that he had not quite explored. in reality it was you. the fact that a lowly enigma had sparked his interest in a way he never thought it would.

𖹭. he was disgusted, yet thrilled. like a snake eager to sink its fangs into new prey. one can imagine his excitement when his husband admitted to the same dark desires.

𖹭. lucky them. you’d found yourself caught in the last hunt and now found yourself along an examination table. jìngyí did well in exploring your limits. how far your body could go. viscosity? durability? compressibility, torsion, extensibility and temperature? oh he was salivating like a kid in the candy store.

𖹭. he especially loved the way that you would scream. how your voice would change depending on the shape and condition your elastic body was in. he found himself especially fascinated with how you’d cry when his hand would bury into your squishy side or around your sticky neck. even your tears tasted sweet.

𖹭. no matter all his experiments, he couldn’t rid himself of those dark desires that plagued his very being. so what better than to offer you a place in his circus? to perform, to live - while he induced you with a mind control mechanic?

𖹭. oh how you begged for him. how he adored the way your body would wrap around him and cling like a lovesick fool while he pounded your tight, gummy walls. one strong arm wrapped around whatever amalgamation your figure took while the other palmed at your squishy ass.

𖹭. you felt amazing. his mind would swim with pleasure every time his thick cock buried and throbbed into your warmth. he’d cream you so many times an over. it mattered how much or how long he fucked you over whatever surface he could find — he’d always end up cum drunk.

𖹭. jìngyí would be in a state when you started wrapping around him more intensely. extending your hands to provide him more pleasure as well. he’d bite down on whatever soft, messy flesh he could and buck his hips into yours like a feral animal.

“god you are so tight,”

a pant. a ragged groan. snake pupils constrict and his lips part. displaying fangs extended and blood on his tongue. soon to be more when he buried his cold face into your chest and bit again.

“h-hngh fuck -” your hand reaches to cling onto his hip. feel the way that he’s pounding your poor ass raw. filling it to the brim and fucking out his cum onto your thighs from the sheer intensity of his thrusts.

“d-don’t stop - dontstopdontstopdont -”

you choke out when strong fingers squeeze around your dick. a calloused thumb rubbing messy circles around your tip.

“you are disgusting.” the deep hiss finds your ear. followed by a hiccupping moan. his brows crease and he messily thumps his hips against yours as he tenses and squirts your walls white once more.

“d-disgusting little creature. but ah, d-damn. . . do you feel so good.”

he’d hoist you up. twisting your limps into whatever way he wishes as he presses you up against the examination table and goes for a third round. a fourth. a fifth. anything to ease this insatiable sweet tooth.

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. ˚◞ ꒰ 🍰 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒖𝒔 ꒱ tip jar . masterist ⊹ ۪ ࣪

[yanderes-galore]

Dutch vs colm rivalry nyhehehe

-🧨

Well, The two certainly already have a feud... You're just caught in the middle.

Yandere! Dutch Van Der Linde vs Colm O'Driscoll

Pairing: Romantic - Rivalry

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Violence, Murder, Possessive behavior, Kidnapping, Blood, Manipulation, Marking, Biting, Branding, Dubious relationship(s).

I have a feeling if you're involved with one of them, you'll eventually have to deal with the other.

While the two originally had a truce, Dutch killed Colm's brother and Colm killed Dutch's lover.

Ever since then, the two gangs have been in a blood feud.

You're most likely in Dutch's gang as his new lover (that he happens to be obsessed with).

Although... Another alternative would be that you and Colm are together, one way or another, only for Dutch to feel kidnapping you is a good way to get back at Colm.

Either way, you're going to get unwanted attention from one of the leaders... if not both.

For example, maybe the reason you're with one of them in the first place is because they took you from your more stable home.

Both seem rather capable of that.

Oof... It actually seems worse if you were already taken by one gang... only to be taken by the other and passed around between the two....

You would just want those two leaders dead so you can go home.

The two claim they're so different from one another.

But as Kieran says in Chapter 2, the two gangs are quite similar.

They both have ruthless and manipulative leaders.

While Colm prefers to fear monger his men, Dutch is just as bad with his silver tongue.

Both men know how to get what they want.

If that means you, a shared obsession, blood will spill as it did once before.

Maybe Colm captured you in a raid and Dutch rescued you...

Or maybe Dutch took you into his gang, only for Colm to capture you due to how close you were to Dutch.

Regardless of how it happens, one thing is clear.

You're going to see your fair share of Dutch and Colm.

While the two are similar, Dutch can be quite caring to the one closest to him.

He's obsessed with you and is no doubt aware of Colm's infatuation.

Such info makes Dutch a bit more stressed than he usually is.

He's getting flashbacks to Annabelle.

He really doesn't want you caught in the crossfire.

He doesn't think Colm will kill you as he's also "in love" with you...

But he doubts Colm is just going to allow Dutch to have you.

Even more so if Dutch was the one to steal you from Colm.

Dutch ends up still being possessive, but takes a protective role towards you in fear of Colm stealing someone else from him.

Colm is primarily possessive.

He views you as a cute trophy, a lover he pillaged.

Be that from a raid or Dutch himself... Colm views what he takes as his.

It felt euphoric to take Dutch's previous lover away from him...

Now Colm can do it again!

Dutch is more willing to give you freedom around his camps no matter where they be... as long as you stay in the camp.

Colm is more likely to keep you restrained, wanting obedience from his obsession.

Even if it means threatening you.

The two tackle their obsessions differently... but one trait is common between them...

They both like control.

Both leaders want to be in control when it comes to their darling.

While Dutch does it by friendly smiles and soft words, Colm forces it.

Yet both don't care if they have to force their obsession to love them.

Dutch is more willing to let you talk to his other men as long as you pledge yourself to him.

Meanwhile Colm would probably kill his men if they talked to you.

However, the little freedom both men give you is an illusion.

They can easily take it away and you're not allowed out of either camp.

You have no real independence outside of them.

No, both men clip your wings like a pet bird.

Just because one cage is bigger... doesn't mean it's not a cage.

Both men like to mark you, nibble their claim of you onto your neck.

Colm may take it further, however, branding you with a hot iron or blade to show both you and Dutch you're his.

You're often traded between one camp to another.

Eventually, after months or even years of this torment, you may just consider running.

You're tired of feeling their possessive hands on you.

You're tired of being lied to.

Every second with either man is hell, a life full of manipulation and some sort of pain.

You've learned from the outlaws how to steal a horse.

You've learned how to survive.

You can hunt, you can steal, you can hide...

At some point you'll take off and remain out of sight.

Yet neither man plans to give you up.

Dutch is worried sick, often snapping at some poor fool as he blames Colm for hiding you.

Meanwhile Colm is frustrated, blaming Dutch for hiding you and threatening him with killing another man of his.

If you're lucky and out of the way for long enough... maybe they'll destroy one another.

Maybe your disappearance will allow you to get rid of at least one of them.

Then, when you get your hands on a proper gun, maybe you can finish the other off.

Unfortunately, this is all very wishful thinking.

In reality you'll probably be found eventually.

Hide in the swamps... hide in the mountains... someone will find you.

Hell, even if you turn yourself in, someone will find you.

Enjoy the freedom you have while you can...

It's only a matter of time before the lost bird is hunted and caged once again.

[blue-mood-blue]

Danmei Faves Meet Chopped: The Thought Experiment

(with the caveat that I have not read All The Danmei so actually this is “a limited selection of danmei faves” meet chopped) (also as of their official translations, no spoilers pls)

The Contestants:

1) Xie Lian

Pros: There is not one single thing that you could put into a basket that this man would be intimidated by. Not a single thing. He will cook anything that you hand to him, and be delighted to do so. You cannot phase him with unlikely ingredients or conflicting flavor profiles, he has risen above these concerns. He is smiling at everything he pulls out of the basket and probably scaring the other contestants in the process.

Cons: He might kill someone. Not on purpose. He will be out after round one, guaranteed, once the medics standing by in case of cuts intervene for a severe case of “all the judges are now poisoned.” Filming will probably have to stop so ambulances can be called. The crew generously allows him to take his leftovers with him.

2) Wei Wuxian

Pros: He is going to pack so much flavor in every bite! Every single bite! This man knows and embraces spice, and no one will be able to tell him that his meal is bland or underseasoned! Chili oil all over the damn plate!

Cons: The flavor is pain, he’s used every pepper the pantry has, and if he makes it to round two it’s only because of Xie Lian accidentally unleashing the horrors in round one.

3) Mo Ran

Pros: He’s a good cook! He makes a variety of dishes, and he’s gotten used to adjusting recipes for specific preferences. He’s well-traveled so it’s likely he’s encountered many ingredients and had practice in a variety of conditions, which is good experience to have in this competition. He’s been doing his best to be on his best behavior, but heaven help anyone who monopolizes the fryer.

Cons: Again - he’s been on his best behavior, but that’s really for one person who is not currently in the kitchen. He also only really cooks for one person, who has particular tastes.

4) Luo Binghe

Pros: Also a good cook! He, too, has a range of dishes he knows how to prepare, with years of practice going back (probably) as far as his adoption in his early childhood. He is well-traveled as well, with such exciting and… unique locales such as Hell Dimension (aka Endless Abyss) where he probably had to make… questionable culinary choices, so he probably won’t be thrown by whatever’s in the basket.

Cons: There’s a non-zero chance that there’s blood in the food.

(Of this particular line-up, I think it would come down to Mo Ran vs. Binghe for the dessert round, which will be a close call - they both have experience with desserts, I imagine, but I think Mo Ran might have a slight advantage considering Chu Wanning’s sweet tooth. He’s made a lot of sweets and more often. Also, can Binghe lean on a “protagonist halo” when Mo Ran is the protagonist of his own story?)

(Assuming the final round doesn’t devolve into chaos and sabotage, which… is very, very possible.)

The Non-Contestants:

Hua Cheng: Could he do well on chopped? Almost certainly. But why would he? He is here to cheer on gege.

Lan Wangji: Would probably actually do better than Wei Wuxian, if he cooks the meal to Wei Wuxian’s taste - I feel like he would be a little more sparing with the spice. Otherwise, his food is probably too bland for the judges.

Chu Wanning: He has one good dish, and it’s [redacted]. He could last a round but after that he’s probably out. He will do his best. He will not look like he is panicking (he is panicking).

Shen Qingqiu: A millennial who choked to death on bad food and rage. He probably has limited kitchen skills, but beyond the powers of having a microwave? Who knows.

Bonus Round:

Li Yu: He would try so hard. He would put every bit of skill he had on the table. He does not have any skill to put on the table. Do not put a fish in his basket, do not do this to him.

Mu Tianchi: Probably wouldn’t even compete. He’s going to steal Li Yu’s food from the judges. How dare they.

Chang Geng: He could probably do well in the competition, if he could be convinced to compete, but he probably couldn’t. He is smiling very politely at the producer, who is feeling a chill down their spine and backing away slowly.

Gu Yun: Do not let this man in the kitchen, he will cause problems on purpose.

[strixcattus]

The upcoming arc in my D&D campaign involves the PCs meeting the ENTIRE NOBILITY OF THEIR COUNTRY including not only every royal family in full but also an entourage of knights and one priest from each region and even though most will no doubt be background characters I have no real guarantee who will or will not be spoken to so they all need at least a name, race, class (for the knights), appearance, age, and rudimentary personality just in case I need to involve them in a conversation

And given I'm still only at the point of having names, ages, and basic descriptions for the noble families themselves—which is to say I'm pretty much where I was when I started except they're all written in the "characters" section of my planning document instead of just the "miscellaneous—Nokobia—leadership" section—I frankly have to admit this:

I have a significant amount more respect for the author of Bleach right now. Twenty-six-plus characters being introduced in a single arc didn't seem particularly impressive until I found myself on the other side of it all.

[harmonicabisexuals]

the price for experiencing the absolute masterpiece of house md 6.01-6.02 feat. andre braugher, franka potente, and hugh laurie’s soulful blue eyed microexpression acting is having to watch lin manuel miranda rap

[sugar-grigri]

GOOD! I'll now explain a little more about my absence on Tumblr, not that I think it was dramatic, but I did get a few reactions to it (why no analysis of the last chapter? Asks still unanswered).

I wanted to test on Twitter, in fact I was already expecting the conclusions I was going to draw from this experiment, but it all started with a discussion with my twin sister who told me that I had to test to see how my analyses in particular (there's no difference in the way fanarts are received) would be received.

Honestly, my posts went down well and I think it shows that on any platform many people are interested in digging into a manga, but unlike here where people will want to look for opinions on a chapter, posts on Twitter drift towards people who aren't interested (and they have the right).

But the insulting, even misogynistic part, the repeated meme, the often private RT quoted, it's anxiety-provoking.

And even when I wasn't posting, the arguments, the drama, the anxiety-provoking news loops, the nonsense all contributed to my bad mood.

Anyway !!!! I'm going into exam period, so I won't be as productive as usual right away, but I'm going to stay on Tumblr.

Not that I wanted to leave, but I didn't know if I'd be posting on Tumblr AND Twitter

Already time-wise, it's impossible, especially for someone who's trying to limit her addiction to networks.

And one last clarification: all my threads on Twitter were reflections I'd already written here, so you haven't lost any "content".

See you soon <3

Addendum: if I haven't made myself clear I'll probably quit Twitter and only stay on Tumblr!!!!

Another addition: CSM doesn't have the audience the work deserves, not because people don't like the work enough (I don't care about that) but because people refuse to believe that Fujimoto thinks his work, coherently and deeply

[antirepurp]

ultimately it's probably for the best that jojo doesn't really explore the effect something like the internet would have on stand user communities and people's knowledge and understanding of stands because that's an entire can of worms in its own right. however i am a little freak and the social aspects of stand users never ceases to intrigue me. like prior to the internet being as universal as it is now i can see stands being something that the average person isn't aware of and that information being kept to small and typically more local communities that all have slightly varying understandings of what stands are and different terminology for them as well. but that would inevitably change/evolve after worldwide communication becomes more available and easier, and i would just. love to see what an online community of stands users would be like. how they would discuss things and on what sort of platforms they would keep those conversations to. would an average person brush them off as just another group of oddball internet users along the lines of conspiracy theorists or the like? would a brand-new stand user be able to find information about their new permanent condition easily or would they have to know specific keywords to even find the communities they're seeking? imagine the batshit insane discourse that stirs up after some average people misunderstand the stand thing as something equivalent to wizard roleplaying and start pretending to be stand users. or would that even happen. certainly there are terminally online stand users too who would let that shit get to their heads bad

thank god i have an original the project im invested in that has similar concepts that i can explore as much as i want because i don't think jojo is geared up to tackle this stuff at all without compromising its identity

[carcarrot]

do i really want to make individual drinks again