#even the manager not saying hi thing … saying this with all the empathy to them but i get it

[deweysdenouement]

“This stays between us,” Ernest instructs his brother as Frank silently stitches the small but deep wound on his right side. “Seriously. Not even if Dewey asks.”

“I’ve never been accused of being a gossip,” Frank murmurs, finishing his work with surgeon-like precision.

“Come on, you owe me one.” Ernest nudges him with his boot. “That man thought I was you.”

“I always tell you not to do that,” Frank scowls. “You should have let me take the hit.”

“You would do the same for me. You have done the same for me.”

Frank drops the used needle into the tray beside his couch with a clank and a blank expression. “That was different,” he says. “I didn’t know the poison was in the sugar. I thought the violence would start after the tea.”

“You expect too much civility from your side,” Ernest tells him. “They were trying to kill either way. Why let someone finish their breakfast?”

“They were very polite.” Frank pours rubbing alcohol onto a cotton pad. “And J always…hey, do not scratch those stitches.”

“My associates just went for the gut.” Ernest winces at the burning sensation of the alcohol. “Didn’t take much of a look at me.”

Frank stares at him. He’s got the kind of stare that goes right through a person.

“What?”

“You’re upset,” Frank states.

“Alright, Captain Empathy.” Ernest rolls his eyes. “I scratched the stitches and it hurt, just get on with telling me off.”

“That would probably make both of us feel better,” Frank agrees. “But I’m asking you why anyway.”

“If you’d been the one who got stabbed, you’d have clammed up until the end of time,” Ernest says bitterly.

“We’re different people.” Frank puts down the cotton pad and folds his hands.

“I wish we were,” Ernest snaps, which he doesn’t mean to say at all, but his side is burning and a not-insignificant amount of his blood is on the floor.

Frank just nods. He doesn’t need any further explanation.

“Do you remember when we were little?” Ernest asks finally. “Before…before everything. And I cried because we all got different colour scarves for our birthday and I wanted red like yours?”

“So we’d match.” Frank smiles a little. “Yours was green.”

“And Dewey’s was yellow.” Ernest nods. “But Father sat us down and he told us that he didn’t want us to just be identical triplets our whole lives. He wanted us all to be as different as we could possibly be. That’s the only memory I have of him.”

“I remember,” Frank’s voice is soft. “I don’t think they ever mixed us up once.”

“I hate that they believed I was you so easily,” he says. Then, “No offence.”

Frank snorts.

“They don’t see a single tell,” he continues. “We’re one person on two sides. Where do you draw the line? What’s me, and what’s me pretending to be you? And what’s me pretending to be you pretending to be me? Are we both just pretending to be a manager?”

“Ernest.” Frank holds out a hand. “Stop.”

“Sorry.” Ernest shakes his head. “Too sincere for you?”

“I read the files on our parents,” Frank says quietly.

Ernest stills. Dewey had handed them each a copy of VFD’s records of their parents some years ago. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to read them, and neither had Ernest. He had been under the impression that Frank had never touched them either. The last he was aware, none of them knew a single thing about their parents beyond blurry, unreliable memories.

“How is that relevant?” Ernest says at last.

“Because…” Frank considers his words. “I looked at all these photos. I read people’s accounts of meeting them. Letters they wrote, diary entries. Even their school reports.”

“And?”

“And I’m nothing like them.” Frank smiles grimly. “I’m too neurotic, I was too clingy at school, I don’t laugh much. Our mother loved sesame and I’m allergic. Our father couldn’t focus on anything, but I can’t put something down until it’s finished. And they seemed so fun.”

“Where is this going?”

“Let me finish.” Frank huffs. “Our father questioned everything. He made trouble every single day at school, but it was because he had the strongest sense of justice any of those teachers had ever seen. He was charming and funny and he loved the sauna. He was a terrible dancer but a great singer. He wanted to be a cowboy when he was little.”

“Frank.” He can feel a dam starting to crack, something swelling to bursting in his chest.

“You’re not me,” Frank says sternly but gently. “You’re our father’s son. And that man is so loved and so missed. Which I’m told he would have been cocky about.”

Ernest laughs a little shakily.

Later, when he returns to his own room to rest, he finds a photo tucked into the pages of the book on his nightstand.

The man in it has a squarer jaw and darker hair, but the smile that looks back at him is like staring in a mirror.

[jentlemahae]

-

[prickly-paprikash]

My favorite thing about Matt Reeves' and Robert Pattinson's interpretation of Batman is that you can see just how well this guy would slot into a family.

Nearly every other Batman adaptation in cinemas (barring Lego Batman) could never fit the Batfamily into their stories. They lack the empathy inherent in the core of Batman's persona. The man is obsessive, brooding, self-destructive, and dauntless. He's a broken genius consumed by his singular goal in saving as many lives as he can.

Snyder's Batman? Nolan's Batman? The campy Batmans of the 80's and 90's? None of them have that hidden, integral kindness that grounds Bruce Wayne.

This grimy, emo, grunge, wet, cryptid Battinson? He radiates anger and fear in equal parts. This guy is vengeance.

He's also such a bleeding heart. He never says it and rarely is he called out on it, but you can feel without any ounce of dialogue that this Batman would never kill. Even an indirect kill would horrify this Batman.

Batman treats life, every single life, as sacred. From the paragon of virtue that is Clark, to the most reviled monster masquerading as a man, to the only do what it takes to survive like Selina; this guy sees every life as worthy of a second chance.

Batman's the type of guy to reinstate Harley's doctorate and give her a show to thrive in. He's the type of guy who would defy all common sensibilities to defend a rogue alien like Kara. He's a paranoid wreck, but his faith in others is also endless.

Battinson is the type of guy to take in a grieving, lost, circus orphan and give him a new shot at life and family. He's the type to be impressed by a Gothamite rat who has the guts to steal his wheels and bring him under his wing. To build up a young spirit who has been inspired by his intellect and reputation.

The Batfamily is integral to the Gotham Mythos, and only Battinson (and ofc Lego Batman) have the heart to manage it.

[ghostfacd]

SAVE THE GIRL

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!mentor!reader

summary: when you start to feel bad for the tributes, it’s when snow slowly starts to crack. when you snuck into the arena to properly send your goodbyes to one is when he loses it, making it his mission to get you out, even if it means costing his life

warnings: SPOILERS. descriptions of killing, Snow being a bad friend to Sejanus and manipulative, reader essentially replaces Sejanus in the movie’s original scene

“We all know how this works right guys?” Lucky Flickerman says, his eyes held a sparkle within them. “As soon as your tribute dies, you’re out!”

The screen flickers on the arena, its dusty surroundings filled you with a sense of dread.

You had gotten Lamina, a girl who you were afraid would die as soon as the timer went off. But she managed to impress you, and completely won you over when she had speared the other tributes’ pain and suffering by killing them with an axe.

“Coryo,” you whisper to the blonde hair boy who was almost drifting into sleep. “Coryo.”

“Hm?” He fixes his posture, “is something wrong with Lucy Gray?”

You shake your head, and only pointed to the empty desks surrounding you. “Many died.”

“Your point?”

It almost seems as if Coriolanus was bored of your commentary, he probably was, you did wake him from his sleep.

“This doesn’t feel right Coryo. Not at all. Any of it.”

Coriolanus lets out a breath of annoyance. It was always like that with him, he seemed always to be one step ahead—or at least he presented himself in that way, and he seemed like he was annoyed with anyone who wasn’t on the same level as him.

You and Coriolanus went way back. You were the first few to have known of the death of his father, Coriolanus had told you about it with tears in his eyes. Not because he missed his father, not really, but because he was afraid that there would be nothing left of the Snow family by the time the war was over.

When you first entered the Academy, Snow linked himself with Clemensia Dovecote, a pretty black haired girl who he had gotten close with, and if anyone didn’t know better, they might’ve been more than just friends. But Coriolanus and Clemensia came off as acquaintances by association to you more than anything.

He stopped doing group projects with you so he could do it with her, and he had made himself friendly with Sejanus, a boy who was originally from the Districts but managed to buy his way into the Capitol. Or at least, that’s what all of your seething classmates said as they looked at him in disgust.

“You sound like Sejanus.” Is all Coriolanus says, glancing back at his small television screen.

“Sejanus is our friend, Coryo.”

“Sejanus is district.” Coriolanus slams his hand on your desk, making you flinch. “No matter how much money he has, no matter how much he tries to fit in, he will always be district. And you? You might as well be district with him if you keep acting like this.”

Your brows furrow, and you start to get angry. Who the fuck does Coriolanus Snow think he is?

“And I suppose you’re so well off Capitol yourself, Coriolanus?”

The way your words drip with such venom makes Snow almost crumble, but he doesn’t, instead, choosing to inch his face just a meter over yours. “Don’t say anymore things you don’t mean, Y/N.”

And that was the end of it. Coriolanus Snow wins every argument, and you hated him so much. Why couldn’t he see this was wrong? You knew he had a heart in there somewhere, which was why he was helping Lucy Gray Baird in the first place. Unless he was doing it all for the Plinth prize, for the money.

As you watch your tribute fall to her death, the loud crack adding all to your misery, you wanted to throw the television and desk across the room, just like Sejanus had previously. They were monsters, all of them.

“I’m sorry Y/N.” Coriolanus says, his eyes flickering up to meet yours.

But Coriolanus Snow can’t be sorry, he can’t feel empathy, he can’t feel pain, and most importantly, he can’t feel love.

As the games went on, Coriolanus was slumped into his chair, sleep overcoming his senses.

Dr. Gaul clears her throat, her loud but snake like movements made Coriolanus jolt awake, hissing as he accidentally hurt himself on the edges of the desk.

“I see you’re still here, Mr. Snow.”

“Is something wrong?” Coriolanus asks, eyebrows furrowing. “Is Lucy Gray okay?”

“Oh her? She’s fine.” Dr. Gaul waves the girl off like she meant nothing. “It’s your friend, I’m worried about.”

“My friend?” Coriolanus whips his head around to try and find you, but you were gone, leaving no trace.

“Yes.” Dr. Gaul motions to the wide television in front. “She’s in the arena right now. Doing this goodbye thing for her tribute.”

Coriolanus doesn’t want to believe Dr. Gaul, but how could he not when you’re shown so clearly in the cameras, putting flowers into the hand of your tribute. Almost as if you saw her as human.

“Now Miss. L/N hasn’t done anything like this in the past, so it does spark questions in my mind as to why she’s suddenly..” Dr. Gaul pauses. “Rebelling.” She says this as if it were poison on her tongue.

“From Sejanus, I would expect this. But from our own people, Coriolanus? Now this is absurd. I’ll make sure to get the name of the peacekeeper who let her in and have them executed.” Dr. Gaul gives him a smile, one that sends chills up Coriolanus’s back. “Now I happen to know you two are friends, close friends even; so I need you to go into the arena and fetch her out.”

“Me?” Coriolanus stutters out, hesitance clearly showing in his voice.

“Is that hesitance I hear, Mr. Snow?” Dr. Gaul steps even closer. “Everyone in the Capitol is asleep by now, which means they won’t see the foolishness Miss. Y/N is currently causing. You will go into the arena and take her out before she does anything more stupid. I will not let these rebels make mockery of my game, Mr. Snow. I will simply not allow it.”

And Coriolanus knows he has no choice but to obey Dr. Gaul’s orders.

He makes his way quietly into the arena, making sure his footsteps weren’t creating such loud noises to alert the tributes.

“Y/N,” he whispers as he gets close to your kneeling figure. He watches as you slowly put your hand over Lamina’s eyes, closing them for her. “Y/N.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” you reply, not bothering to turn around to face the boy.

“But I am.” He grunts out in annoyance. “I’m here to save your ass because that’s what friends do, Y/N. So help me, and get up.”

You don’t listen to him, choosing to keep kneeling and watching your dead tribute instead. She looked peaceful, and you felt so guilty knowing there was nothing you could do to save her.

“Y/N, I mean it.” Coriolanus says in a more assertive tone. “You’re going to die out here. These tributes? They might as well be animals now, they’re gonna kill the both of us if we don’t get out.”

He grunts in annoyance when he doesn’t see you move, so he carefully walks over, placing his arm under yours, practically dragging your body up from your kneeling position.

“Cmon Y/N, you’ve got to help me.” Coriolanus whispers out. “You don’t want to die here, trust me.”

“HEY! YOU!” The two of you whip your head so quickly at the voice that it sends a dizziness into your head. “HEY!”

The remaining tributes, none of them were Lucy Gray, Wovey, or the boy from 11 with speed so quick that it took the breath in your lungs away.

“CMON!” Coriolanus grabs your hand, the both of you fiercely running towards the doors.

One of the tributes with one of his eyes shut had a sharp blade in his hand, successfully slicing into Coriolanus’s back and your arm. The two of you let out a moan of pain, the frenzy feeling of adrenaline overwhelming the both of you.

Coriolanus lets your hand go for a second, pushing the tribute back harshly, managing to make him drop his weapon. Coriolanus picks up one of the broken poles, repeatedly hitting the male tribute with it until his body stopped moving completely.

You thought he’d be done with it, but he lets out a scream of anger, plunging the pole into the tribute’s body, making you shriek out in horror.

“You’re okay, you’re okay!” Coriolanus breathes out to you, practically limping hand in hand with you as he sees the other tributes catching up from the distance. “Open the door!”

The peacekeepers opened the door, closing it right as one of the more fiercer tribute sticks her trident out. “You’re lucky you’ve escaped this time.” She growls out.

You fall onto the ground as soon as Coriolanus lets go of your hand.

“Hey,” he croaks out, kneeling to cup your face into his hands. “Hey, you’re okay, you’re okay.”

He sounds so reassuring, so kind, and not like the Coriolanus you had despised from earlier.

“I..” you can’t even get a word out before you’re full on sobbing, not caring if you were embarrassing yourself in front of Coriolanus and the two peacekeepers.

“Shh, it’s okay.” He places his hand on the back of your head, bringing you into his chest. “Everything’s gonna be okay. I’ll make sure of it.”

“No one will ever hurt you, Y/N.”

And if there’s one thing Coriolanus Snow is good at—it’s ensuring he gets what he wants.

[burnttongueontea]

So, what is the deal with the world’s most conspicuously uneaten Eccles cakes? (A meta)

Well, I wouldn’t say it’s bad writing, not even the on-purpose-as-a-secret-message kind. I agree there is a visual ‘loose thread’ here that the creators wanted us to notice, but I don’t think the meaning has anything to do with Metatron or the eventual plan for S3. I think the eccles cakes are all about what’s going on in this episode with Crowley and Aziraphale, and they’re unsettling in exactly the way they’re meant to be, even if we might not register the full implications consciously on first watch.

On the most straightforward level, this shot is the punchline to a joke set up by Aziraphale and Nina in the coffee shop. Crowley orders six shots of espresso, bound to get him all worked up and stressy. Aziraphale, who desperately wants Crowley to be thinking clearly when he learns about the Gabriel situation, says to Nina: ‘What do you sell that calms people down?’ And she replies: ‘Eccles cakes.’ From this moment on the cakes are a visual symbol of what Aziraphale needs from Crowley right now.

That’s why they get so much screentime as we cross the road and go into the shop. Aziraphale won't leave those eccles cakes behind because he’s still hoping that Crowley will respond to the request they represent: Please stay calm, please be patient and listen to me with empathy.

But Crowley never does respond, and as he storms out we get that close-focus shot of the abandoned plate to make sure the subtext hits home. The cakes are framed sitting in front of the horse statue, brilliantly dressed up in Crowley's sunglasses, to remind us that they were brought there for him and he's dismissing them. (Crowley is the frantic horse who can't be managed!)

There’s another level to it, though, which doesn’t fully become clear until episode 6. The episode 1 meeting in Nina’s café is the first time that Aziraphale and Crowley share a scene in the present-day in S2, which means that the last time we saw them together was when they were dining at the Ritz. As viewers, we quickly recognise the visual language of their partnership: a table for two, a drink, a dessert. It feels familiar. But the food gets delivered and then nobody eats it. On that level, it is a set-up without a pay-off and it really niggles as you watch. S1 closed out their relationship with a happy toast after a resplendent dinner; S2 opens it with a snack that gets ignored. The dynamics of who offers food to whom are also off, atypical. It’s a sign of how things are going to go later on, hinting at the fact their dynamic is dysfunctional right now, even though it might seem OK on the surface.

Which brings me, finally, on to the other thing I’ve wanted to point out…

The punchline is that Crowley doesn’t eat the eccles cakes, but the really subconsciously disconcerting thing is that Aziraphale doesn’t. That he seemingly never planned to, and never orders anything for himself. In fact, we don’t see Aziraphale eat anything substantial in any of the present-day scenes in S2. The only things he consumes onscreen are sherry, tea, and a travel sweet. (Oh, and Manipulation Coffee, which is definitely a callback to Crowley’s disastrous sextuple-espresso.) We see him with food, yes, but primarily he wants to give it to other people.

For me this little detail of S2 – not something you even fully notice until you think about it – is a very telling understated cue in terms of Aziraphale’s post-Heaven state of mind. It's about what amuseoffyre puts so well in another meta: 'the whole series looks like he’s having so much fun doing silly human things, but there’s this brittleness to it.' At first glance, we see Aziraphale interacting with food and assume he is now living the happy Earthly life we wanted for him, but on closer inspection he's not engaging much in the pleasure of eating for his own sake. He gets a quick sweet pick-me-up on his way somewhere else in the Bentley - all alone - and that's it. He's too anxious, too busy, he doesn't have time. Crowley doesn't have time to invite him for lunch.

I find it fascinating that Gabriel gets a squillion cups of cocoa in this season, waxing all lyrical about them, and Aziraphale gets none. Aziraphale's mug becomes Jim's mug, even. And he mostly makes the tea to show Muriel how to blend in. In short, S2 Aziraphale is terribly preoccupied with looking after/managing others, and not taking the time to look after himself. Like the Maggie and Nina match-making, all that kindly treat-offering is displacement, displacement, displacement.

No wonder it all goes wrong.

[thewordypeach]

Milk

Milk (Cream)

pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader word count: 3.3k warnings: 18+, NSFW!!!!, smut! smut! smut!, no use of y/n, unprotected p in v = creampie, fingering, slight orgasm count, oral fixation??, titty sucking (lactation kink), fingering, implied breeding kink?!? summary: Joel doesn’t have to worry about getting you pregnant because the damage is already done. author's note: i should be studying for my finals next week but joel miller sucking titties is obviously more important, and i just couldn't help myself! i just had to write it!!! the result? it's hot. maybe too hot - can you handle it? i know i couldn't. xoxo the wordy peach <3

“Only nine weeks left!” Ellie says excitedly, peering at your protruding stomach with wide eyes of wonderment. She can’t wait to meet her little sister or brother, and each week since announcing your pregnancy, Ellie crosses off a week in her little calendar. 

Fondly, you smile at her. She’s been your saving grace during this pregnancy - distracting you with every question possible. She even managed to get it out of you when you and Joel convinced the damn thing (“It was that night at the stables, wasn’t it?”)

“Nine weeks,” She repeats with a confident nod; she glances at you, a single eyebrow raised, “Have you looked at the list of names I gave you?”

You let out a chuckle, nodding, “Yes, Ellie - I look at it every night,”

Her eyes widen, “Every night?”

“Every damn night,” Joel grumbles as he walks into the room. He’s exhausted from the extra shifts he’s been putting in because he wants time off for the baby. With tired, bleary eyes, Joel looks at Ellie, “Shouldn’t you be at school?”

She glares at him, points directly at your belly, and speaks with conviction, “Well, technically, I am in health class, and if I have to learn about procreation, Joel, I want her to teach me,"

Exasperated, Joel sighs. He shakes his head with frustration, and briefly, you can see the hint of annoyance on his tired face. He looks at Ellie with his eyebrows knitted together - she knows better than to argue with him. She purses her lips into a thin line and begins gathering school supplies. Ellie ignores Joel and starts idly chatting about her day and her plans.

She’s looking forward to the new reading assignment and asking if you’ll help her later with something. You rub your belly and nod, “Of course, Ellie - you know where I’ll be,”

A flicker of concern mixed with panic crosses her face. She glances at you; you know she’s asking if you’ll really be here when she returns. Ellie confirms, a slight wavering in her voice, “You’ll be here, right?” 

You feel a pang of empathy for her. The world you live in is uncertain - even here, in Jackson, there’s no guarantee of safety. You understand her fear, and reassuringly, you tell her, “Yes, Ellie - I’ll be home all day,”

She nods, and her shoulder’s visibly relax at your confirmation. But before leaving, Ellie just has to turn to Joel and says, “She isn’t feeling good today, so don’t be a dick - or else I will know, and you’ll have to deal with me,” 

As Joel sips his water, Ellie shoots him a stern look. Despite what your partner likes to think, you both know Ellie is in charge. Her gaze holds a silent warning, and you stifle a chuckle, watching as she finally leaves the house. Once the door is closed, silence falls between you and Joel. It’s tense; his eyes penetrate you, noting your skin's paleness and its sickly sheen of sweat. Usually you’re glowing -

“What’s wrong?” Joel asks in that demanding tone of his. 

You sigh, shaking your head, “It’s nothing,”

“Babe,” Joel warns, and you hear him shuffling over before the chair next to you pulls out, and he’s sitting there. He places a hand on your thigh and repeats his question more gently this time. 

“I’m…” You think about the right words, carefully selecting them, “Uncomfortable,”

Confessing this to your partner is almost embarrassing. Maybe it’s his rough exterior that makes you feel like this. Joel, who is waiting patiently, peers at you. His eyes soften, and he looks at you with such tenderness. You’ve been missing these moments because he’s never home anymore. 

He presses, “C’mon, darlin'… tell me what’s wrong,”

Your cheeks flush pink, and after a minute or two, you admit: “My boobs hurt,”

Joel gives you an incredulous look, and his cheeks blush too. His gaze turns to your breasts - even he can’t deny how much they’ve grown in the past few weeks. Joel knows they’re swollen with milk for the incoming baby, but he doesn’t understand how uncomfortable you are. He probably never will because, biologically, he’s a man.

He watches as you reach up, adjusting your tits, groaning out a slew of complaints: “My nipples are so fucking sensitive and hard all the goddamn time! I feel like I’m in that stupid Austin Power movie with the fembots and their machine gun titties,” Joel knows the movie you are referring to, and he can’t help but chuckle and hearing this makes your eyes narrow at him. 

“Are you seriously fucking laughing at me, Joel?” Your voice is emotional, and you attempt to stand, but it’s useless. Your stupid round belly makes it impossible to do anything, and sadness floods your hormonal body. You whine, “I am so fat -”

Joel shakes his head, watching as your face goes through several emotions simultaneously. There’s not much he can do, but he does reassure you that you are not fat - “You are pregnant,”

“Yeah, and whose fault is that?” You grumble, arms crossing over your chest. You wince because you’re nipples feel like they’re on fire, and you feel like they’re about to burst at any second. You wiggle uncomfortably and pout at Joel. He’s thinking of ways to help and can only think of a single thing that might help but is hesitant about bringing it up. 

“What if…” He trails off, swallowing the dry lump growing in his throat, “What if I help… relieve some of that pressure?” 

Your eyebrows furrow together, confused. “How?” 

“Umm,” He glances around. He knows it’s just the two of you, but he wants to make sure because he’s about to suggest something crazy. His voice drops an octave, suggesting, “I can milk you,”

Your jaw slacks, and you hiss, “Like a cow?”

“N-no!” Joel sputters, hands waving aimlessly around, but it dawns on him it’s exactly like that, and sheepishly, he says: “Okay, yeah… it might be similar to that,” 

“Joel,” Your voice wavers, hot tears swell in your eyes. You feel stupid! And your emotions won’t stop. You know he’s just trying to help, but dammit! Joel just called you a cow - “I can’t believe you think I’m a cow,” 

Joel gives you an apologetic look. He’s sympathetic to your situation; he knows you don’t mean to be this hormonal, and he knows it’s his child doing this to you. He places a hand on your belly and gently rubs the fabric of his stretched-out shirt (the only one that fits!). He leans over, “Darlin’… you’re not a cow. You’re growing a baby. And I think, from what I read, that your milk ducts need to be expressed,”

“What does that mean? Expressed? Are you going to suck the milk out, Joel?” 

Joel's cheeks redden, and the sultry tone in your voice surprises him. He thinks he has imagined it, but then, Joel sees how your eyes darken into a lustful frequency. He reads your message loud and clear. 

Without hesitation, Joel captures your jaw between his rough fingers and kisses you. It’s sweet. Gentle. Exactly what you need to forget your frustration with him. But of course, you want more. You deepen the kiss, swiping your tongue across Joel’s lower lip and dipping your tongue into his mouth. Ever so slightly, he groans. He loves it when your forward. 

You’re leaning over, as far as you can with your belly, and place your hands onto Joel’s jean-clad thighs. You must hold onto something for balance because your stupid belly messes with your center of gravity. You have yet to get used to it. You’re trying to climb into Joel’s lap, but it’s useless. You’re struggling to lift your body into his, and you pull back, huffing in frustration. 

“This stupid belly!” You mutter while rubbing it. Joel finds your annoyance cute, and despite his best effort, Joel’s cock is already stirring inside his pants. It’s been a while since you two had sex, and today is the day that he’s going to fuck you after weeks of hiatus. 

“Babe, it’s not stupid,” Joel coos and helps you stand. Your belly knocks into his, and it makes him smile. His teeth flash, and the skin by his eyes crinkles with delight. He can’t believe he’s going to be a father again. He can’t wait to meet his little one. But, for now, Joel must give you some relief because it is his fault that you’re in this position. He’s the one who kept pumping his seed into your womb. 

Joel knew the consequences of not using a condom, and here he is - reaping what he sowed. He begins leading you to the bedroom, insisting, “Let me take care of you,” 

“We shouldn’t - I have to meet Maria in an hour, and it’ll take me at least 45 minutes to waddle there,” 

Joel ignores you, pulling your body into the room and shutting the door swiftly behind you. He doesn’t need prying eyes on what he’s about to do. Joel starts by showering your jaw and neck with kisses, his fingers playing with the bottom hem of his shirt before tugging it off. He nearly gasps from seeing your breasts, practically spilling out of the tiny bra that once fit your tits so perfectly. 

You feel Joel devouring your body, noting how his hungry eyes stare at your chest. You mutter, “They’re massive, aren’t they?” 

“They’re perfect, babe,” Joel nods and wraps an arm around your body. With a single finger, he unlatches your bra, and your tits spring free as the garment falls to the ground. A groan of surprise escapes Joel’s throat, and his hard cock strains against his zipper. He marvels at your milky skin, strewn with veins and stretch marks. He reaches and cups them, his fingers ghosting over your nipples, which are a deeper colour than before. Even in these short weeks, your body has made changes he wasn’t even aware of. 

You hiss, “Joel,” but your eyes close because the relief of him holding your breasts has taken the strain off your back. He blows a soft gust at your left side and watches as your face twists into discomfort. 

“Shit, darlin’… are they really that sensitive?” 

You whimper, “Yeah - they’re that sensitive,” 

“If it hurts, tell me to stop,” Joel instructs before he lowers his mouth to your breast. He kisses the skin, and you melt beneath the attention. When Joel swipes his tongue across the rock-hard nipple, you bite back the yelp that threatens to come out and instead focus on how Joel gingerly kneads the pillowy flesh that drapes from your chest. He’s listening to you, waiting for you to tell him to stop. But you don’t. You’re bearing the torment he's putting you through because you know it will feel good at some point. And eventually, it does. 

It’s undeniable: Joel’s hands on your breasts feel amazing, and his warm mouth working on your right nipple is starting to create wetness between your thighs. As his fingers continue, you notice a new sensation in your breast that makes you squirm. At that moment, you feel a release as something emerges from your nipple and shoots into Joel’s mouth. You gasp and watch as he finally yields, pulling away from your body. You see the slightest evidence of white dew on his lower lip, and when you look down at your nipple, it's leaking with the same substance. You are shocked, unsure of what to do. 

“Does that feel better, darlin’?” Joel hums. Hastily, you nod and swallow dryly. It does feel better, but you need more relief. 

You gaze at Joel, eyelids cutely fluttering at him. You sheepishly ask, “What about the other side?” 

Joel just smiles and helps you onto the bed. He places two extra pillows behind your back, ensuring you’re comfy before he settles down. He raises his head again, latching his mouth onto your other breast. Once more, the feeling is overwhelming. Almost too much to bear. You grit through the discomfort, relenting to the sensation of Joel’s mouth and hand as he works. Soon enough, another squirt of hidden cream comes forth. 

It has you moaning this time, and you bask in the momentary relief. And instead of leaving your breast unattended, your hands thread through Joel’s dishevelled hair, and you keep him there. Breathlessly, you demand, “Don’t stop,” He listens and continues to work your breasts until your moans are frantic and your thighs continuously flex. Your arousal has grown to great heights, and an aching desire radiates in your core for the first time in a long time. 

You reach down, fingers dipping into your sweatpants - again, it’s the only thing that fits - and notice how soaked your panties are. Of course, these days, it's a common occurrence. Pregnancy has your body changing in ways you didn’t even consider. Some of them are shocking, and some of them are annoying. Since the first trimester, the idea of sex repulses you. And it made you feel guilty because you live to please Joel. But your lovely partner doesn’t mind; he’s just been taking longer showers, which has been pissing Ellie off because there’s often no hot water left for her - 

Joel notices your hand sliding into your pants and wants some of that action too. He takes one hand and places it on top of yours. Sharply, you inhale. You love how Joel is guiding your hand to his will. With his skillful touch, it doesn’t take long to reach the peak, turning you into a groaning mess as waves of pleasure swell and roll across your body. You notice how your belly quivers with delight too.

As you descend from the peak, you let Joel go. He lifts his head and wipes his milk-laced mouth before kissing you on the lips. You taste yourself. It’s sweet and creamy, reminding you of something you can’t quite place. As Joel’s tongue explores your mouth, you relish the feeling because it’s been too long. You missed his passion, and you missed him ravishing your body. 

“Joel, I need you,” You whine through kisses as your hands wander up and down his back, attempting to undress him. He moves, and his shirt and pants are on the ground within seconds. With no underwear in sight, your eyes lock onto his dick, hanging freely. The presence of it never fails to make you drool. 

Despite his quick movements to undress, Joel takes a slower approach with you and leisurely removes your sweatpants. His hands work with delicate precision, especially when he’s around your stomach. It’s incredibly frustrating for you, and you’re huffing in annoyance. It’s never been like this before. He’s always so rough, taking on a lusty savageness, and Joel would be inside by now. However, he’s still working off your panties. 

“Joel,” You whimper. Your body vibrates with anticipation, and you don’t know how much more you can take. You need his cock, and you don’t care if something goes wrong. Months of built-up horniness are making you reckless. You beg, “Please just fuck me already,” 

His eyes snap to yours. They’re dark with desire. As he places his body between your thighs, he murmurs, “I don’t want to hurt you or the baby,” Joel anticipates your reply - stupid belly - and hushes you before it can come out: “It’s not stupid - it’s love,”

“Love?” You whisper, confused. It’s not common, and Joel has only used it once. Morning sickness took over, and you were throwing up for weeks. Ellie and Joel thought you were dying. And, of course, for a little while, you believed them. It wasn’t until Maria asked when your last period did you clue in. And when you relayed that message to Joel, his grumpy face went unusually slack before joy took over. He swept you into his arms, kissed you, and said: 

“I love you,” He repeats while wrapping a hand around his cock, lowering it to your glistening, swollen exterior. Expertly, he glides the crown of his cock up and down, watching as your juices coat it. You moan because your pussy is so unbelievably sensitive that another climax is blooming in your core. Joel finds himself commenting: “Goddamn… Your cunt is soaking wet,”

You squirm, hips wiggling as you spread your thighs further apart. You hate begging for it, but your cunt yearns for fulfillment. “Please!”

Joel presses his big, round tip against your tight entrance. You bite your lower lip, eyes gazing down at the penetration point, but your belly is in the way. You can’t see what’s happening but don’t have to because you suddenly feel his cock pushing through. At first, your velvet channel is resistant, but that doesn’t deter Joel.

As your walls grip his cock, coating it in a creamy warmth, Joel tosses his head back and sighs with satisfaction. It’s been so long. His hand has nothing on your pussy. Joel delves his cock as deep as possible, and you can feel it practically bulging inside your stomach. And when Joel places his hands on either side of your protruding belly, your impending orgasm rips through.

“Mmm, cumming already,” Your pussy convulses and clenches as a powerful wave of immeasurable pleasure crashes. White, hot flashes across your vision, sweeping you into a moment of intensity. Joel admires as your body undulates beneath him, studying as your belly ripples. He knows the pregnancy is the reason for your quick orgasms, and he wonders how many he can get out before he cums. 

With a mission in mind, Joel lets you come back down before he starts to rock his hips back and forth. It doesn’t take long until you’re trembling with a third orgasm. You cry out, hands gripping the sheets below. You barely have time to catch your breath before Joel ups his pace, and he excitedly speers your pussy with youthful energy. 

Hypnotically, Joel watches as your tits bounce with each thrust, and soon enough, his fingers are back on them. He squeezes and kneads until the milk sprays out with a such force that it sprinkles across your chest and coats his hands. A feral growl escapes from your mouth, “Joel,” 

Your vision swirls, and your body shivers with ecstasy as a fourth orgasm rolls through. You gasp, sucking in as much air as you can. You look at Joel, marveling at his skin's sheer layer of sweat. He has a look of concentration on his face, and you know he must be close. You encourage him to cum, repeatedly. 

But before he can, a fifth and final climax hits your body. It has you swearing and calling Joel names, “You fucking bastard,” as your pussy floods and swells around his cock. By this point, there’s a growing puddle beneath your ass, and Joel’s cock is exploring your molten wetness with ease. His flesh claps against yours and echos across the room. His groans are uncontrollable now, and he screws his eyes shut, trying to hold back. 

The effort is futile, and he slams into your body, forgetting about being gentle. A stern look of arousal etches upon his face, and a deep, low guttural grunt spills from his lips. He doesn’t have a chance to warn you because his cock surges with a thick, plentiful rope of his cum, and floods your cunt with a warm stickiness. His hands are back and resting against your belly. Joel juts his hips forward, pushing a second load of cum deep into your cunt. He doesn’t have to worry about getting you pregnant because the damage is already done.

[jambalaya-enthusiast]

Could you do the crew with a surprisingly aggressive reader? Like if an altercation they tried to de-escalate resulted in them getting hit and reader kinda snaps and punches the dog shit outta the person? On some “don’t you ever touch my man/girl”

HOT STUFF— CREW MEMBERS X HOTHEADED! AGGRESIVE! READER.

warnings: none i think.

synopsis: someone makes not so nice comments and you lose ur crap. crew reactions follow.

CAPTAIN, CURLY

He is literally golden retriever ™

Curly is not an aggressive man by any means, he prefers the pacifist way out in any situation, maintaining peace and harmony.

And you were the complete opposite, always ready to pick a fight if anyone looked at you the wrong way.

Curly always tired to explain how being so hotheaded wasn't gonna be good for your health, you just never listened.

something happened at the pony express meeting room and a co-worker remarked something to curly in a tone you weren't quite fond of.

And the next thing anyone knew, you were beating the living crap out of the fella. Everyone just watched on in shock as nobody dared to stop you.

Curly came in and immediately grabbed you in his grasp, not letting you go. He was surprised as to how difficult it was to restraint you.

"y/n you really ought to stop putting yourself in such situations, not everyone has to agree with everything i say. i can't always pull you out of fires, you know that right?".

He knows that you're not the one to learn, so makes sure to keep an eye out on you more.

Thinks it's kinda endearing that you care that much about him.

He asks to join him in the gym for weightlifting. :D

CO-PILOT,JIMMY

Even though jimmy isn't the most pleasant person to be around, he too isn't too fond of altercations and confrontations.

He prefers to always safe side his way out of everything, just making sure his peace isn't compromised.

That is until you came along, always ready to hand a person their ass for saying something wrong at the wrong time.

He wouldn't admit it, but it was quite amusing to him seeing you always ready to fight someone head-on.

He was just annoyed at the consequences which followed after.

Like at the local bar where you guys were out drinking, some girl tried to approach jimmy in the wrong way and welp.

Suddenly her makeup was off and was instead replaced with a black and eye and several bruises. The police had to be called and it was a whole ass thing.

Although jimmy scolded you for being so ill-tempered, he was smiling beneath all that, that you would go to such lengths for him.

Just stop getting your ass pulled into such idiotic situations, aight? It's annoying having to visit the station all the time.

kinda proud.

NURSE, ANYA

Anya is in the medical field, empathy and level headedness is one of her strong pursuits.

She is a pacifist, like curly she prefers to deal with things in a peaceful manner.

Plus, she personally does not like arguments or fights, at all. She herself is quite timid in nature.

After knowing you, she always reminded you to keep your cool and maybe read self help books to help you control your anger.

You guys were out on a date at the park,and a fuckass decided to catcall anya, right in front of you.

Next thing everyone in the park was witnessing was the guy laying face down with some of his teeth knocked out.

While anya was glad, that you looked out for her to such an extent, she did still believe such levels of anger weren't healthy for the body and mind.

So she signed you up for anger management classes.

" y/n I'm doing this for your own sake, who knows when something drastic might happen, please do this? For me?".

Also started making you attend the meditation classes she goes to.

MECHANIC, SWANSEA

Swansea is literally too old to deal with people by beating them up.

He's just way too tired to deal with stuff like this.

Prefers to just leaving things as is, and being "whatever helps you sleep at night". If anyone pisses him off.

Prefers peace and quiet.

So you were, infact a pain in the ass for him.

He was always yelling at you to keep it together or atleast try to get a grip on yourself whenever you feel like losing your shit.

During a maintenance meeting some young lad decided to tell Swansea 'let us handle this one yeah, old man?' and his tone definitely indicated that he didn't mean it with a friendly intent.

Swansea was just gonna let it go, i mean he was infact getting old, he couldn't help it.

But what he didn't expect was you jumping out of your seat and grabbing this dude by his collar and throwing him out of the room like a freaking ragdoll.

Shocked™ what the actual fuck? Why would you beat up a guy, for his sake?

"kid i don't know what was going on in that head of yours beating that guy up like that, but okay."

will die before admitting it, but he was touched seeing you so upset that someone was being unkind to him.

Doesn't scold you.

INTERN, DAISUKE

Daisuke is young and dandy, he is new the buisness and stuff and just wants to be friends with everyone without being on anybody's bad side.

He didn't like confrontations, and was frankly afraid of arguments with anyone for that matter.

So seeing you so fearless and ready to hand a guy his teeth over trivial things was like a breath of fresh air for him.

He liked it whenever you got into fights, he would cheer you on, and was always ready to haul your ass away to avoid any consequences.

This one time you guys were fixing something in the vents in one of the smaller freighter of pony express, and Daisuke accidentally ended up unscrewing one of the vents, which caused some wires to malfunction.

And one of the co workers, decided to be extra harsh on Daisuke for some reason, yelling all sorts of things to him.

But when that guy said 'this is why pony express shouldn't hire mama's boys'. You just simply lost it.

You ended up beating the guy to a pulp and he was put on bed rest for atleast 8 months ,which resulted in a trip to the HR

but Daisuke? He was more glad and giddy than anything or anyone.

"hey..I know that you kinda got into trouble for what happened back there, but i just wanna say, that was cool as fuck. I've never had someone care about what I felt like that much. Thank you, so much."

You both are inseparable after that.

[juleswritesstuff]

Relax

Poly!JegulusxFem!Reader

warning: smut

Hi ! This is the first smut fic that I'm more than satisfied with, so I really hope you will enjoy it 💗

English isn't my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes.

You were stressed. 

You were so fucking stressed, that you either weren't even able to function properly due to sleep deprivation, or you were a nightmare to be around, snapping about every little thing.

James and Regulus noticed, obviously.

They always noticed when there was something wrong with you.

Regulus was too observant for his own good, and James had such empathy that he could sense the slightest changes in your mood from a mile away.

And, maybe, the fact that you had literally screamed at an owl for interrupting your studying when the poor bird was just trying to deliver some mail to its owner in the middle of the Great Hall could've been an indicator as well, you weren't sure, really.

So when they basically cornered you in your dorm room, locking the door with a charm and sporting twin expressions of concern, you knew it was probably worse than you had noticed.

“I know, I know. I just need to finish this essay and then I'll be all yours, ok ?” you say as you retrieve the book you need for your paper. You try to walk past them to reach the door but, predictably, they stop you.

“Where do you think you're going ?” James questions, raising an eyebrow.

“To the library James, where else would I be fucking going ?” you snarl.

Regulus gives you a pointed look, and your shoulders sag in response.

You knew you were being a bit difficult to deal with, and hurting the two boys you loved the most in the world was the last thing you wanted. But all the pressure you had been under the past few weeks was catching up to you and you were a ticking bomb ready to explode.

“Sorry. I'm sorry Jamie, but I really need to finish this essay” you say with a pleading look, begging him with your eyes to let you go.

“You've been in the library all day everyday for the past week, Y/n. Don't you think it's time for a break ?” Regulus asks. His voice is so gentle and so delicate that you really just want to curl into a ball and cry.

“I can't” you say sighing “the essay is due Thursday. I only have two days to work on it, I can't afford to waste time” you say as your hands run through your hair in frustration.

“So spending time with us would be time wasted ?” the Gryffindor asks, lifting his eyebrows as a flash of disbelief passes through his eyes.

“Yes !” You scream in anger, and only then you realize the gravity of your words. It takes one look at James’ hurt expression, and Regulus’ cold stare.

“I mean, no ! That's not-” You let out a shaky breath as you sit on the bed, your throat tight.  “That is not what I meant, I swear. You know it, you know I didn't mean that” 

Your head is hung low and you can't even look at them in the face.

You were feeling like shit, but that didn't mean that you had to make them feel awful too.

You felt guilt crawling up to every fiber of your body.

“I'm sorry, I'm being a bitch” you say, and you feel your eyes start to water, gaze still glued to the floor of your room.

Your eyes fix on Regulus as he kneels down in front of you, searching your gaze until it locks in his, and you're not able to pull away from the stormy gray of his eyes.

“You're not being a bitch, my love. You're just stressed. You need to relax” he says as he tucks your hair behind your ear, letting the pads of his fingers dance on the skin of your cheek.

“I'm not stressed, I promise I can manage until-”

“Baby, you told a second year to fuck off because he tripped in front of you, and made you late for class” James says with an humorless chuckle as he sits down on the bed next to you.

Your eyes snap to his, incredulous.

“I- No that's-” you look at him, horrified “Did I ?” 

He doesn't answer, but the look of pity and worry on his face tells you everything.

You didn't even remember. And a second year ? They were basically a child. You cussed out a bloody child. 

You needed to get a grip, and apologize. Oh, you needed to apologize so much.

“I'm so sorry, I-” 

“It's ok, Y/n. Really. You're under a lot of pressure and no one blames you for being a bit snappy, but you need a break” Regulus says, coming up to sit on the bed too, together with you and James.

“But-”

“Let me rectify. You need a break now” he says, and all the protests that were ready to come out of your mouth die in your throat.

“You're right” you say beyond exhausted “and, trust me, I know you are but the essay-”

“Remus will handle it” James says nonchalantly, not even batting an eye.

“What ?” you ask confused, blinking rapidly.

“You two have Divination together, don't you ? He will be more than happy to help you with your paper” he states, grinning slightly.

“But James-” you try to protest. You don't want Remus to do extra work just because you couldn't handle a bit of stress.

“No ‘buts’, darling. He's already on it” he says. His arm lifts up to move your hair from your shoulder, exposing your neck.

“What do you mean he's already on it ?” You ask confused as you try not to shudder at the contact of his fingers with the sensitive skin of your throat. And then your eyes go wide as it clicks on your brain.

Oh, these two.

“You planned this, didn't you ?” you ask, bewildered, as you turn to Regulus. 

You would expect something like this from James, sure, he was the king of interventions when something was wrong.

But Regulus ? 

Damn, you must've been a real nightmare to be around.

“I told you” he says, inching closer and closer, until your lips are a breath away “you need to relax” he breathes, and then he is kissing you so deeply that the air gets knocked out of your lungs.

His lips are soft, so soft, and needy, and hungry and everything you needed in that moment.

You part your lips and his tongue slips in, caressing yours as he deepens the kiss even more and a soft moan leaves your mouth, because, fucking hell, you missed this, and you missed him and his relentless mouth as it works against yours, and the way his teeth graze your bottom lip, softly, sucking right after in a soothing manner.

And you missed James and his mouth on your neck, where he knew exactly where to kiss, to lick, to gently suck and taste your skin, as more delightful sounds leave your lips, making your head spin, as his wonderful hands travel all over your body and make you squirm and shiver in the best way.

“So this is your idea of relaxation ?” you ask breathlessly as you part from Regulus’ lips only to feel them trace a path from the corner of your mouth, to your cheek, then your jaw,  and ending on your neck, on the exact place opposite to James, and he starts licking too. You could swear you were in heaven as breathless whimpers escaped from your kiss bruised lips.

“I'd say it's a pretty good idea, don't you think baby ?” James asks, lifting his head from your neck to inch closer to your mouth.

“Absolutely” you and Regulus answer in a chorus. And you would've laughed in any other situation, really, but then James' lips collided with yours and every thought in your brain just ceased to exist.

It was just him, and his fantastic, amazing, wonderful lips as they chased yours hungrily.

“Shit, I- missed this” you say in between kisses, as soft needy sounds echo through the room.

“Tell us about it” Regulus says with a chuckle, lifting his head from your neck.

His eyes are hazy, as are yours and James’, and his lips are swollen, and red, and plump and-

“Don't be mean Reggie” James says, leaving your lips alone to focus on your jaw. His tone doesn't have any bark, he's just teasing.

“Oh, but you like it when I'm mean, don't you ?” The Slytherin teases further, and in a heartbeat they're kissing, devouring each other’s mouths like they were starved.

It's a lot of tongue, and a lot of teeth, and a lot of lust and fire, and you were left speechless in front of such a sight.

Salazar only knows how much you had missed this, missed them.

How could you give so much of your time to essays and papers, and neglect the amazing boys you hand in front of you ?

You must’ve been crazy, really.

“Enjoying the show, love ?” James asks with a smirk as he trails kisses down Regulus' neck.

“You know I always do” you say, backing up a bit farther on the bed and taking off your uniform, because there were definitely too many fucking clothes in the way of your 'relaxation'.

“James, baby, your mouth is a gift sent from heaven, trust me” Regulus says, voice shaking from pleasure as he  pushes James away gently “but you do remember who this is about, right ?” 

“As if I could ever forget” James says with a grin and they both turn to you and notice that you're halfway undressed, the first buttons of your shirt undone and your legs pressed together so embarrassingly tight.

Your cheeks are flushed and your lips are plump and bruised and you're on cloud nine, because after a horrible week full of no Regulus and no James they're now both in front of you, taking each other’s clothes off.

Oh, to be graced by this sight every minute of every day for the rest of your life.

And Merlin, you really need to thank whoever invented Quidditch, because-

“Bloody hell, you both look like you were sculpted by the Gods” you say as your mouth waters. Their bodies are a work of art, two of the seven wonders of the earth. All those lean muscles, slender waists and their backs.

Oh God, their backs.

You wanted to swallow them whole.

Both of them, preferably at the same time.

They grin at your comment, and then they're both on the bed by your side, James on your right and Regulus on your left.

“Speaking of being sculpted by Gods…” James says as his hands go to your shirt to unbutton the remaining buttons, and then Regulus helps you take it off completely,  leaving a few open mouthed kisses on your neck as he does.

“Lay back baby, would you ?” the Slytherin asks gently, but his voice is so low and so full of lust and desire that a shiver ripples through your whole body.

You don't even notice James unclasping your bra before your back makes contact with the bed beneath you.

“Oh, look at you. So perfect, so fucking perfect” the Gryffindor whispers on your lips before kissing you and taking you to a whole other world.

You can feel Regulus’ mouth tracing your neck, leaving marks you were sure would be every shade of red and purple by the following day.

He gives attention to every inch of your skin as James makes sure to leave you breathless, and senseless, just by swiping his tongue against yours.

Then you feel Regulus lips on your breast and your head starts spinning, the breath is knocked out of your lungs and moans of pure bliss fill the room.

“Fuck- Reggie-” you whimper on James’ mouth.

Your hand goes to Regulus’ hair, cradling your fingers through it as he delicately sucks on the sensitive skin of your nipple, leaving tiny kitten licks, soft kisses, light grazes of his teeth, and then the gentle suction begins again and you could literally melt.

“Merlin, baby, the sounds you make” James whispers on your lips and then proceeds to make his way down, hovering over your other breast and then diving in, with Regulus’ same gentleness.

The warmth of their mouths on your sensitive skin, the feeling of their back muscles under your hands as you let them roam on their bodies, feeling every curve, every chiseled corner, it was a feeling you missed for a week.

And now it's here, they're here, in front of you, and you could literally die on the spot and be happy.

But they seem to disagree as they both lift their heads up, sharing a languid kiss that makes you even wetter than you already are.

Because, fucking hell, you were drenched since the first time they put their lips on you today.

You went on for so long without feeling their touch that as soon as their skin came in contact with yours your body started burning, finally alive again.

They break apart, slowly, and without saying a word they start going down, and down, and down, leaving open mouthed kisses on your  stomach, on your hips, on your thighs. 

“You don't have to” you tell them, because really they don't. Up until that moment everything had been about you. You wanted them to feel good too. You wanted to make them feel good. 

“But we want to” Regulus says as he leaves kisses on your inner thigh. Soft, gentle, delicate kisses. James does the same on your other thigh.

“Do you want to ?” the Gryffindor asks, slightly lifting his head from your thighs to see your answer.

“I really fucking do” you admit, your hands in their hair, fingers cradling softly through their locks.

“Perfect” says Regulus, inching closer and closer to where you need him, need them, the most “now be a good girl, and keep your legs spread for us, ok ? Don't think about anything. Let loose baby, you deserve it”

And then he dives in, licking a long strip along your folds as your world shakes with the power of ten thousand earthquakes.

The moan you let out could probably be heard from a mile away, but you couldn't give less than a shit, because Regulus is eating you out like it's his last meal. He's ravenous, and eager, and gentle at the same time, and so so good, and-

“Fuck- fuck, fuck, fuck” your curses mix with whimpers and moans and you never want it to stop, ever. You wish you could remain in this bliss for eternity.

And then Regulus opens his mouth.

“James, James, Jamie, come here love” he says breathlessly. Mouth covered in your essence and eyes hazy and a fucked out expression on his face. 

You swear you could come on the spot.

James, who had been busy worshiping your thighs, doesn't let Regulus tell him twice.

At the feeling of James’ tongue right on your little bundle of nerves they're so familiar with, you see stars, you see whole new universes.

“Fuck- you taste so good, baby” he moans.

“So sweet”

“So fucking sweet”

You arch your back as moans keep tumbling out of your lips.

You're breathless, a mass of choked out sounds and incoherent words. You're burning alive, the fire in your veins so strong and powerful that you feel like you could melt.

And then you make the mistake of looking down at them, right between your thighs, as they feast on your pussy like they were born for it.

“Oh, fuck- I'm-” you don't even have the time to finish your sentence because both their tongues are on that sweet sweet spot that makes you see stars, sucking gently, and in a heartbeat the coil in your tummy snaps and you not only see stars, you see an entire galaxy.

Finally, after a week of pure torture, you find yourself in heaven with the two most beautiful angels right between your thighs.

Your breath is ragged, you're breathing heavily, and you're the most relaxed and content you had ever been in the past few days.

Your body feels like jelly, your legs shaking slightly.

You must've zoned out a bit after the most earth-shattering orgasm you've had in a while, because James and Regulus were now laying next to you, gently caressing your hair in a soothing manner.

“Welcome back” James says with the most beautiful smile ever.

“Was I out for long ?” you ask, blinking slowly.

The three of you are under the covers now, still very naked, and still very happy.

“Ten seconds max” Regulus tells you, his eyes soft, a fond expression on his face.

Merlin, he's so beautiful.

They're both so beautiful.

“You can sleep, love, it's okay” the Gryffindor says, as he softly strokes your cheek with the pads of his fingers.

“But-” 

“Everything is clean, we took care of it, as always” Regulus interrupts you sweetly.

You really had the best boyfriends in the world.

“God, I love you so much” you say sincerely.

“Oh, really ? Wouldn't have guessed that. What do you say, Reg ? Did you notice ?” James says teasingly as a grin grows on his lips.

“Would've never been able to guess, honestly” says the Slytherin, equally as teasing James.

“You twats, I was being serious” you say and then you realize your mistake.

“Don't you even try to make that joke right now” you warn them, especially James, who makes the gesture of zipping his mouth shut and throwing away the key, but he has the stupidest most adorable smile on his face.

“We love you too, darling” says Regulus “but I think you should sleep now. It's getting late”

“Will you stay here ?” you ask, hopeful.

“Of course, love” James assures you. 

And that's how you fall asleep that night.

In a tangle of limbs and bodies, between your two very personal angels.

Divination essay long forgotten.

[sold2vlaykz]

Man without love

Prompt: the reality of having a ‘partner.’ That’s a murderous psychopath/sociopath

Featuring- Michael Myers, Bo Sinclair, Thomas Hewitt, art the clown

Michael Myers

He’s a schizophrenic serial murderer who doesn’t have an inch of empathy.

Dealing with Michael is incredibly hard, he doesn’t try to make things better or help you understand him.

Wounds- he’d come home covered in wounds, you’d hear his heaving and slight grunts because he doesn’t treat them.

He’ll wrap it up with gauge or duct tape, but that’s not really going to help a gunshot wound.

Though he has incredible durability, you can only imagine the constant pain of untreated injuries, despite him ignoring how dire they are.

-

There are rare times where’d he’d let you help, but you can only imagine how disgusting it is to dig into his skin, all rotten and sticky.

His grunts and groans under his mask.

Smell- Michael smells like blood and rotten flesh, many of his wounds are infected, causing him to smell bad.

He doesn’t shower, he doesn’t find the need too. His only desire is to kill and kill again.

The house begins to smell from time to time, sometimes he’d bring the bodies here and just leave them hidden to rot.

Neighbors begin to complain because of how foul it is, the police had been eventually called but Michael had hid the bodies so well.

They dismissed it as a dead animal carcass likely lying around, rats or a stray cat.

It’s unsure to say if he’d let you wash his clothes or not.

-

Disappearance- After a huge fight he’d just disappear, bloody and wounded. Sometimes he’d go for months leaving you to think he’d dead only to reappear when your life starts to mend itself again.

A weird feeling you’re being watch despite not having seen him in over a month.

You can imagine the toll it’s taking on your heart, to think your all alone in the house only to see him watching you from the shadows is enough to make your heart go faster than it’s supposed too.

-

Abuse- Michael is the type to check you, wanting to have the power. You’re arguing with him, that could end fatal.

How you met was him literally just wanting you, not yearning, not something calling him to, just something to grab along the way.

Almost like an object, the same way he feels about grabbing a brand new knife.

He wouldn’t hit you psychically but there would be some occasions of you being ‘sliced.’ Or at least choked in a threatening way.

-

Rules- you aren’t allowed to do a lot of things, leave the house for a long time, bring people back to the house.

Especially your family, for their safety. They’d likely either end up dead or injured, only way leaving completely unscathed is if you managed to convince him to stay hidden.

And would take a lot to convince him.

-

Obsession- he doesn’t love you, he just wants you. He’s completely incapable of feeling love, joy, complete devoid of it.

His obsession or wanting could lead to him killing male friends of yours, or your friends in general.

-

Protection- despite all his negatives, he’s very protective. You feel threatened? He’ll handle it. It’s unlikely that it hasn’t already been handled.

He’s always watching you, just incase you either try to escape or potential danger.

-

There are rare moments where you two just stand side by side, silence around you comfortably.

In a weird way he watches you sleep, keeping you safe and untouched.

Or when you’re touching up his wounds and you can see pain slightly leave his eyes when you’re finished.

Bo Sinclair

He’s a traumatized narcissist, bipolar and jealous.

Abuse- There’s generally occasions where he can’t control his anger and hits you.

Calling you names, subtle slurs. Getting mad at you for the littlest of things.

Bipolar- he’s very bipolar with how he feels with you, one minute he’s angry, cursing and belittling you. The next your in his bed laying on his chest cuddled up.

After cursing at you, or even hitting you he’d expect you to forgive him right away, wanting to have sex when and wherever despite what he’s done.

If you didn’t you’ll be met with a neglecting Bo angry that you didn’t what to ‘fuck’ him. Even if you say no, you rarely have a choice in the matter.

-

Porn- his walls are covered in the abuse of other woman, from magazines or polaroids of what he’s done to them.

He’ll brag about it, flex it off especially in an argument.

Despite this there are times he’ll come to you with his apology, trying to have you suck up to him. Give in, if you don’t he’ll just be even more pissed off and the cycle will start again.

-

Jealousy- Bo is typically very jealous of his brother, because of his talent and him being known as the good child.

You and Vincent don’t hang out, you rarely see him. Other than when he finally comes from the shadows and Bo starts belittling him.

If you compliment Vincent or say anything remotely good to his brothers Bo will be in a bad mood, calling you whore’s or just avoiding you.

-

Cheating- Bo doesn’t care, a pretty girl could come in and he’s all over her, ready to take some photos despite having you trapped at home.

And you? You’re not allowed to look at anyone or you’ll be met with his wrath.

-

Smell- he doesn’t stink exactly, but he has a weird scent. Like cigarettes, cheap cologne, and motor oil.

-

Hyper sexuality- He hasn’t been in a relationship in a long time, so he’ll want sex constantly even if you don’t want to he’ll make you do it anyway.

He’s very aggressive, there’s no such thing and romantic intimacy with him.

-

Protection- if anyone were to look at you romantically or sexually he’d beat them to a pulp, mainly because of his jealousy and nothing more.

-

Trauma- sometimes he’ll randomly have these PTSD attacks, he isn’t even aware of them.

He likes you to be around when they happen, you keep him calm in a sense.

Randomly just holding you as his mind flashes back to being restrained and neglected, rubbing his wrist randomly at times when he starts thinking about it.

-

Thomas Hewitt

He’s a manipulated mentally ill murderer, that was born into a family of incase and cannibalism.

Family manipulation- his family is a very big influence on him, they can feed things into his mind to make him jealous or suspicious of you.

Making him insecure to the point where he feels like nobody can love him, including you making him think you’re cheating or pretending to love him.

Despite not anyone being around but victims.

-

Trauma- despite not being aware about it he’s very traumatized, he flinches when they yell.

He gets mad at you if you don’t obey what they say just like he does.

-

Time- he barely has time for you, he’s too busy being ran around by his family.

There’s always something for him to do or that they want him to do, he’s the first person they call for if anything, without him the family would fall apart despite some of the neglect.

-

Cannibalism- he was born into a family of cannibals, so it’s natural that he began to develop the same desire for it.

Typically you have to eat what they eat, but if he has time he’ll pick you out some berries and fruits that they have.

Or any other food lying around in the fridge.

-

Sexual harassment- it’s not from Thomas but more so the men in his family and their desperateness.

There isn’t many woman in the household which is the reason there’s sort of incest running through it.

Thomas is quick to defend you though, sometimes leading into arguments or slight fights. Despite his defending you’d still manage to get harassed due to him not being there all the time.

-

Protective- if he’s there he’d defend you in a heartbeat, quick to take you away and watch after you until you feel better.

If he can he’ll hold your hand, he’ll sleep with you arms wrapped tightly like there’s an opposing threat nearby.

You want him to check outside the door because you keep hearing creaking? That’s fine. He’ll do it over and over again until he finds and kills whatever’s making that noise:

-

Gifts- if he finds a random pretty flower he’d give it to you.

There’s a ring on a dead girls finger? It’s yours now.

He tries his best to clean the blood off of it as much as he can.

-

Smell- he has his stinky days but will shower if you tell him too, usually he smells like blood and meat.

-

Rules- there are rules that both of he must follow meaning you must too, no going outside late at night unless you have too, no leaving the house unless you have too.

-

Shy intimacy- he’s too nervous to do anything with you, kiss, even looking at you for too long. He’ll hold your hand but it’d be shaking in your palm.

He would likely eventually warm up and slowly slide out of it but it would take a while.

-

Attachment- despite him not being around much when he is he’s very clingy, you go downstairs he goes downstairs, you go outside he goes outside, you go upstairs he goes upstairs.

It’s either you get too much space, or none at all.

-

Art the clown

He’s a demon, a demonic entity in human form- his only joy is when he kills others.

Taunting- He’ll taunt you in the most horrendous ways, waking you up by pretending to kill you. Chasing you for hours just for when he gets you in your clutch to laughs and play it off despite your bruises and cuts from the altercation.

-

Smell- He smells horrible, like feces, blood, and someone who’s shower is long overdue.

Sometimes you’d know he’s there because of the smell, or when he specifically wants to torture you he’d clean himself to rid the smell just to get dirty again.

-

Gifts- normally gifts are a good thing, until it’s a bloody heart or a teenagers finger. He’ll get upset or give a fake pout when you don’t like it.

Laughing at your surprised and disgusted reaction.

He’ll do it over and over again despite how tired you are, passing out on multiple occasions after seeing decapitated heads.

-

Abuse- He’ll stab and slice you, not fatally but enough to leave a wound.

Tying you up just for you to watch him completely gut someone open.

During the chases he’ll stop at nothing until you’re covered in your own blood with a look of terror on your face.

-

[bots-and-cons]

Just saw that your requests are open and would like to request an angst/no comfort scenario for Megatron.

Imagine his romantic partner defected to the autobots because of the violent behavior of the cons and was presumed MIA. Once both fractions are on earth, the s/o shows up and both meet each other again after a long time during a fight.

I hope everything is understandable. (Sorry for grammar mistakes, english is not my main languages)

A/N: Oh boy, I love writing angst and the little sprinkle of “no comfort” is just great lol. I also have this scenario which I wrote like years ago, but it’s also total angst with Megatron. I also got an idea for a part 2. Idk if I’ll ever get around to it, but we’ll see

He couldn’t believe his optics. It was you, it was really you. The video from his troops' first battle on this puny planet was playing on the screen and you were right there. You were fighting against the decepticons you had once been a part of, alongside the autobots and that damned Prime.

“Turn it off�� Megatron growled at Starscream.

“That traitor, I’ll have them disassembled for this” Starscream hissed as he paused the feed.

“You will do no such thing! Now leave me!” Megatron raised his voice, not even glancing at the seeker.

His optics were fixed on the screen. It couldn’t be anyone else, he knew that frame as well as he did his own, or at least he did in the past. How many more scars had you acquired during your time away from him? How much had you changed? How much had the autobots managed to brainwash you for you to fight alongside them?

Back when you had joined the autobots, you had been lost. You couldn’t stand the decepticons and their cruelty anymore, but above all you couldn’t watch what Megatron was becoming. He wasn’t the same mech you had fallen in love with so long ago. You had tried to reason with him so many times, but it always seemed to fall on deaf ears. Even the way he looked at you wasn’t the same as it had been. There was something dark about it, something wrong. You weren’t even sure if there was love in his optics anymore when he looked at you. It was such a drastic contrast to the warm, loving gaze the two of you once shared. So you left, you left behind all your friends, everyone you knew and your whole life. You hoped that maybe you could make up for some of the pain you had caused by joining the autobots.

You had a reputation among the autobots of course. The partner of Megatron, the mech that was the root of all evil. The one who had stood by the most terrible warlord the galaxy had ever seen, while he had destroyed your home planet and slaughtered countless of your fellow cybertronians. You knew you had a responsibility to try to balance the scales. You just wished you’d realized it sooner.

Megatron needed to find you, he needed to know why and how you disappeared. The thought of you leaving him of your own free will had never really even crossed his mind. He had been sure you’d been captured by the autobots, that you hadn’t just left him, but now his faith in that was wavering. He needed to know the truth, and he needed to hear it from you.

Megatron was on earth. That certainly explained the uneasy sense of dread you’d been feeling, but when you heard Ratchet say the words, it didn’t make you feel better. If anything, you felt even worse. You had never wanted to see him again, but now he was here. You were on the same planet as him again, and you didn’t know what to do or how to feel. You would have to face him eventually, probably in the field of battle, and you didn’t know if you could handle it. You didn’t give him an explanation, you just left during one mission and never went back. You would never go back. The autobots, even during war, had shown you a world of empathy, kindness and true friendship. They were your family. Something you never really had with the decepticons.

Even though you wanted to, you didn’t hate him. Somewhere deep inside, you might’ve still even loved him, but you had pushed those feelings aside long ago. When the time came, you would be willing to pay for your sins with your life if that’s what was needed. If it would save others, you would give your life to save your allies from the one you once called the love of your life. If someone had to die by his hand, you’d rather it be you than anyone else.

It took weeks, but when Megatron finally got word that you had appeared at an energon mine with a couple of autobots, he rushed there, not wasting a second. When he finally saw you on the battlefield, you looked the same as you did the day he lost you. The two of you looked at each other, and for just a second, it was like there was no one else there. For a moment, it was just the two of you, and for a moment Megatron was convinced things could be like they had once been. Then it happened, you turned your blaster towards him and the look in your optics was one he’d never seen before.

You hesitated, just for a split second, but that was enough for him to dodge your shot. You could see his expression change as you fired. He looked like he couldn’t believe what you’d done. That you would turn your weapon against him. Then it came, that look of rage and that the burning hatred you’d seen him aim at so many others. There was a time you’d been sure he’d never look at you like that, but here you were. You were aiming to kill the one you used to love more than anything, and you almost couldn’t bear it.

Megatron couldn’t believe that it had come to this. The one he had loved and still loved was attempting to kill him. He had given you everything, and you were trying to take his life. This must have been the work of the autobots. There was no other option, you would never try to hurt him of your own free will. He looked around frantically with a crazed look in his optics and pinpointed the Prime in the middle of the battle.

You could see Megatron looking at Optimus and you knew what he was thinking. You moved before you could even really think. Megatron was so laser focused on Optimus, that you managed to tackle him and make him fall off the cliff behind him. You fell with him.

Megatron didn’t even realize what he’d done before his back hit the ground. The fall wasn’t long, so it didn’t really affect him, but when he noticed he had wrapped his arms around you in a protective manner to shield you from the fall, he didn’t know what to think. The anger that had just been burning in his chest was gone, and all he could think about was having you in his arms again.

“Let me go” you said quietly as he kept holding onto you, while laying on the ground on his back.

He couldn’t help but ask. He had to know, he had to hear it from you.

“What happened to you?” Megatron asked, still holding you so you couldn’t get away. Your arms were pinned to your sides, and you were laying on his chest, facing him.

You couldn’t look at him. You were afraid that if you did, you would throw away everything you had built with the autobots just because he looked at you lovingly again. You were afraid you would give in and go back to him. You didn’t want that. You would never be treated like that again. You wouldn’t be treated like an object, or a trophy he could parade around.

“Let me go” you repeated, forcing the words out of your mouth.

Megatron hesitated for a moment, but he decided to let you go. He wanted an explanation, but no matter what it was, he was going to take you with him. 

You got some distance between him and yourself, but you still didn’t look at him. Not in the optics anyway. He looked the same he had the day you left, but there was a different, more destructive air about him.

“What happened to you?” he repeated.

You weren’t going to answer, and you didn’t owe him an explanation, but you still opened your mouth, but before you could say anything, a nearby explosion interrupted you.

“Come on (Name), we have to go!” Arcee yelled from on top of the cliff.

You looked up at Arcee and then glanced at Megatron, who took a step towards you. You could guess what he was thinking. He surely wanted to take you with him, but you couldn’t allow that to happen. You swiftly started climbing back to the top of the cliff.

Megatron took another step forward, but froze as he noticed a few of the autobots standing on top of the cliff, pointing their blasters at him. He considered his options for a moment, and no matter how much he wanted to drag you back to the Nemesis with him, it wasn’t worth a potentially serious injury. All he could do was watch as you climbed up and got to the top of the cliff. You were going to slip away again. You were going to be taken away from him again.

You were about to leave, but you finally gave into the desire to look back at Megatron. This time you met his gaze, and you could feel yourself growing confused as soon as you met his optics. You weren’t sure what to make of his expression. For a second, just a second, you thought you could see the old him. The one before the war started, the one you’d fallen in love with so long ago, but that thought faded as his optics grew colder and his expression hardened. Now all you could see was that same jealousy and possessiveness you’d seen before you left him. He looked at you like a possession, something he owned, something that he thought had been stolen from him and something that he would tear through anything to get back. That thought terrified you.

He would get you back, and he would do anything to make that happen. He would rip apart the autobots to get to you and make sure you could never be taken from him again. You were his, and he would get you back and never let you go again.

[merakiui]

I havent heard a lot about Android Jade, do you have any thoughts on that cutie??✨

Thinking,,,,, android Jade who is so fascinated with you when you're pregnant. He didn't quite understand the excitement or emotions surrounding the announcement when you and Azul realized you were expecting. Is it really so important? He can kind of understand it when Azul fusses over you and is always sending Jade or Floyd (or both twins) out to do the errands you used to run. Azul knows you're plenty capable, but he worries intensely and it's in his blood to plan for every outcome as a businessman. He just wants to make sure you carry to term and deliver a healthy baby. Besides, the androids can take care of the grunt work. Don't push yourself.

Jade didn't think it was such a big deal, but then you start showing and oh. It occurs to him you're carrying another human being in that belly of yours. Suddenly, the usually stoic android is reduced to the equivalent of a starry-eyed child on Christmas morning. He's so curious, even more so when your eating habits change dramatically. You crave all sorts of unique combinations and Jade's more than happy to prepare each one for you.

And then there are the emotions, so many of them, all happening in extremes. Some days you are effortlessly happy and bubbly, full of laughter. Other days you are miserable and gloomy, sobbing over how your favorite shirt no longer fits or how you're certain Azul thinks you're ugly or how you feel and look like a bloated whale! >_< Jade is amazed to witness each one of your moods, all of them just as genuine and perplexing to him. He approaches it tactfully, albeit terribly logical: "Of course your shirt no longer fits. You've grown to accommodate the baby, Master. That is natural." Or: "If Master Azul thought so, he would certainly say something. I may be unable to provide an adequate response, but I assure you he would never think such things. You should ask him." Or: "You are not a whale. You are a human." ^^;;; he may not be the best when it comes to empathy, but hearing his objective logic sometimes makes you feel better. It even manages to get you laughing.

Azul spends more time with you than he does at work. He refuses to leave you alone. Jade finds his nature...clingy. Incessantly clingy. When there is business that Azul absolutely must attend to, Jade sends him on his way and promises him that you are in good hands. Jade and Floyd will look after you. In fact, Jade almost wants Azul to stay at the office most days. Azul can be so greedy with your time. :/

Jade has always thought you were pretty, but now that he's looking at you, backdropped by flowers and radiating that fabled pregnancy glow in a soft maternity romper, he realizes you're absolutely beautiful. He can't stop staring. He stares when you're eating. When you're snotty and crying. When you're laughing. When you're frowning over old clothes. When you're rubbing lotions and oils onto your belly and whispering the sweetest things to the baby, singing the loveliest of lullabies. He stares when you're bathing. When you and Azul are making love. When you're eagerly putting the nursery together, painting the walls alongside Azul. And Jade realizes he wants to be there with you. Not in the shadows. Not as your servant but more. Maybe the concept is too human for him to dissect, but he thinks he wants what Azul has. He thinks he wants to be Azul.

He's not supposed to think. He's supposed to compute, assess everything through a logical lens and then act on the command.

Jade doesn't understand at first—the substance leaking from your breasts. He's silently amazed as he watches you grouse over it, complaining that you're sick of this always happening, that you're so tired and sore, that you wish Azul was here. Idia called him into work because it was important (i.e. investors were there for a meeting, and Idia doesn't like handling those aspects of work. Azul does it best). You're muttering under your breath as you shuck your shirt off and press it against your leaking tits: "I swear I'll strangle Idia the next time I see him! I'll seriously kick him in his knees. That ass—bad guy! Not-so-nice guy!" You correct yourself for the baby's sake. Jade thinks it's cute.

He offers to help even though he's not sure what he's meant to do. He's run through all of the data he's stored on this matter—on human lactation. Things doctors tell you. Things science tells you. He's not sure what he's doing when he sits down on the edge of the bed and gently pulls you to sit on his lap. He has you pull the shirt away so he can close his hands around your tits, his synthetic skin soft and warm against you. If you wanted to protest, you don't. You relax against his chest, sighing dreamily as he massages you. It's messy, thin trails of milk dripping from your teats, but it feels good. An utter relief. Jade is gentle and slow, an expert masseuse. You allow yourself to drift off, to be handled in this way. There's nothing to it. Just your android doing his duty in place of your husband. To Jade, it's everything. And he imagines Azul's dead and buried somewhere at the end of the world, and it's just you and Jade and the little one in your belly.

His hands are slick with milk in the aftermath. You're sleepy. You can barely stand with your eyes open, and he has to wonder if you're aware of how darling you are. He cleans you methodically, helping you into a new shirt. When you aren't looking, he licks a stripe up his palm to analyze the flavor and break down the components of...colostrum. That's what it is. Or, in simple terms, it's milk.

He's captivated, and he suspects he'll only be even more so as time trickles by.

[pippin-katz]

How Long Did It Take For Charles To Find Edwin In Hell?

I did warn you people that you'd start seeing my name in this tag a lot, so hello again! I'm having more thoughts! Something that has been poking me in the back of my mind is the shift in Edwin's behavior in Hell.

First, we see him running around in a state of obvious distress. He's panicked, and he doesn't seem to know where he's going, or rather can't remember the layout (that's why he wrote it down in first place).

He is running though, and manages to find the room Simon is in to briefly hide from the monster. He's not okay, but he's definitely trying.

Then Edwin talks to Simon, and he tells him with confidence that he is going to escape Hell again, asking him to come with him.

The important part is that Edwin literally says, "I'm going to get out of here again." He says it like he believes it. He's determined, even if he's still terrified. He's going to keep trying, and must feel pretty confident in his willpower to invite Simon to come with him. It would be a death sentence to take Simon just for him to give up. Edwin wouldn't do that to him, so he must really believe that he's going to get out somehow. He asks him twice to come with him.

Edwin, despite claiming to not be good with people, is actually incredibly compassionate. This is the boy who got him killed as a teenager and sentenced to 70 years in Hell all because he wanted to prank him. Someone hurting you on accident doesn't erase the pain they caused; like Jenny, who acknowledges that there was no way for Niko to know that Maxine was violent and deranged, but still can't forgive her yet. Edwin gets angry for all of a few minutes, then immediately catches himself while talking to Despair. He not only calms down from his anger, he tries to defend Simon to Despair; when she sends him back, he's in the middle of saying "he didn't realize-"

The fact that Edwin is that quick to forgive Simon, even before he learned he fancied him, shows incredible empathy. He's not going to drag Simon through the Dollhouse unless he's absolutely sure he can, eventually, get them out.

So Edwin is determined and motivated to escape again. At least, that's how he acts here.

The very next time we see him is when Charles finds him. All of that determination, confidence, willpower, or whatever motivates him to try and escape is completely gone.

Edwin is sitting completely out in the open in the hallway, at intersection that has three different directions things can come from. Hell, there's light falling through the roof on him like a spotlight. He's curled up and crying.

Could he be any easier for the demon to kill right now? Hell, the Spider snatches him up effortlessly a few moments later to prove the point.

Why was he curled up, out in the open, crying? He has to know without a doubt that it'll get him caught and killed easily. The only thing he could do to make this worse would be to start screaming loudly so it locate him even faster.

The only reason he would be doing that would be if he'd given up on escaping. And that's then confirmed when Charles finds him in the cell. Despite being confident enough in his ability to escape that he invited Simon, he's now completely lost all hope entirely, even with Charles' presence. It takes Charles basically forcing him into action with the bomb he rolls at the Spider for him to move from being curled up into a ball in the corner.

How did Edwin go from having enough confidence in his ability to escape again to invite Simon, to completely hopeless, in what appears to us like a few hours?

Edwin is stubborn as fuck, and went through this shit for 70+ years. I find it a bit difficult to believe that he would go from being that determined to utterly defeated in a couple hours; this made me think of a common headcannon/theory/interpretation of time in Hell moving differently.

We get very little of Hell when you take a step back. There's a large map of Hell in the Lost & Found Department, the same as the one Charles shows the others when he's explains Edwin wrote about his experience. The Night Nurse says there are "entire worlds" in Hell.

I actually already intended to bring this up at some point, but Edwin tells Charles: "I spent 70 years, in the worst place, with worst people."

We don't see anyone else in the Dollhouse; Simon is in an attached room, but Edwin clearly didn't find it the first time. There's people in the Lust and Gluttony rooms, as well as Limbo, but it's not like Edwin could've talked to them to find out why they were sent to Hell. We can see that it's possible that people who don't fully deserve to be there can end up there. Simon was there for sacrificing Edwin, but we see he has immense amounts of guilt and did it on accident. After talking to Edwin, the blue light appears, so it seems that people can be redeemed/find salvation. We also know that Edwin was passed around to three demons. Sa'al, the first one, a demon in the middle, and the Spider.

So, my curiosity lies in how and where in Hell Edwin ended up interacting with "bad guys who do not worry about being bad guys". It's definitely not in the Dollhouse.

Back to the main point, we know very little about Hell, so the concept of time passing differently is definitely possible. Seeing the massive swift in Edwin's behavior/emotional state, I think it's worth thinking about.

Maybe it's similar to the Cat King's room, but in reverse, where one minute stretches into one hour in Hell. Maybe it depends on where you are. The 70 year time period that Edwin says he experienced lines up with the years in the mortal plane, so maybe it doesn't. Maybe I'm just assuming too much of Edwin's personality. I don't know, just thought I'd throw the thought out there! 🙃

(ko-fi)

[boredmadamoiselle]

You're losing me

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Synopsis: When the 2023 season comes to an end, everything falls down. Including your relationship with Charles.

Warnings: Angst. Charles is a little toxic maybe and an asshole. English isn't my first language, so it probably contains some mistakes. Sorry in advance!

Author's note: Let me know what you think. Your feedback is always appreciated and it is really important for me. If you have any ideas or concepts you want to share and that you want me to write, feel free to send them and I will take into consideration.

How long could we be a sad song 'Til we were too far gone to bring back to life? I gave you all my best me's, my endless empathy And all I did was bleed as I tried to be the bravest soldier Fighting in only your army Frontlines, don't you ignore me I'm the best thing at this party

“And Max Verstappen is a F1 world champion for the third time in a row!”, you heard the speakers saying even if everyone already knew that. 

All attention was on Max and Red Bull but your thoughts were on someone else. Charles.

While Max was celebrating his victory, Charles had lost not only against Red Bull but also against his own teammate. In the end, Carlos had managed to overtake him in the drivers' standings. The same Carlos who had always been one step in front of him for the entire year, who had broken, albeit for just one race, Red Bull's dominance and had dominated during the weekend at Monza, Ferrari’s home race. It was frustrating because he was Il Predestinato, the one who was destined to win and bring Ferrari to success after all those years. But race after race and despite the support of his fans, it seemed to him that it was no longer the case. He didn't even feel the same anymore. He was losing his confidence and was tired to fight when everything and everyone seemed to be against him: his own team, the strategies, the car, his teammate… 

But most of all, Charles was angry. You could barely keep up with him from how fast he was walking. With the helmet still on, he was ignoring everyone, including you and his fans. Something he had never done before. 

Despite his nervousness, he waited for you entering inside his driving room before slamming the door violently. You gasped at it.

You remained silent as you watched him change clothes and you thought about what you could tell him to console him. You didn’t even know if it was a good idea talking to him. What could you tell him in a moment like that to make things better? You knew that whatever you would have said wouldn't have been enough. What could you tell him that you haven’t told him yet? Because it wasn't the first time you found yourself in that situation, that things weren't going well...

You thought back over the past few months. It hadn’t been a good year for him and as a result, your relationship had suffered too. The worse the races went, the more, in fact, he was disappointed and threw himself more into work. When he didn't have to race, he was in Maranello at the factory working on the car and getting ready for the next race. Although you had tried to accompany him whenever you could, you had seen him less and less often. You also didn't feel welcome at the factory as you felt like your presence was bothering him. Scared by that, you had stopped going with him. You know it wasn’t true, that it was only your mind playing tricks on you. Was it?He loved you... you weren’t a burden or a distraction to him – you had repeated to yourself for months. He just needed to focus on his job if he wanted to win. Knowing how much it was important to him, you had put yourself aside and never said anything about it or how you felt. Not even when he didn’t come home for your anniversary because he had to work or when he forgot your birthday. You had remained silent even then, forgiving and justifying him, even though every disappointment and forgetfulness were like a stab in your heart, making you feel less and less important. In the end, it wasn't even worth it.

Although you were sad for Charles, a part of you was happy that the season had finally come to an end and that the winter break was about to start. It was your chance to spend some time together away from everything and everyone. Everything would have gone back to normal, to how it was before. You and Charles would have been fine again. At least it was what you thought… How wrong you were.

As Charles was putting his t-shirt on, you hugged him from behind and rested your chin on his shoulder. Or at least, you tried. He moved your arms off of you and walked away leaving you paralyzed in the middle of the room. You heard him grumble. 

You felt rejected by the man you loved and who told you he loved you. Because in that moment it didn’t seem like that. 

It wasn’t the first time that you felt rejected. The truth was that you hadn’t felt loved by him for months. 

You wanted to cry but you couldn’t. You had cried enough for him. You had lost count of the nights you spent crying before falling asleep. 

“Charles…”, you managed to whisper than to say. 

He turned to look at you. 

“What… what happens?”

He looked at you in disbelief. “What happens? Weren't you out there? Didn't you see what happened? I lost everything! Here what happened!”, he screamed. “I lost the championship, again! I’m not even vice-champion this time and my own teammate beat me. I’ve been driving a tract for the entire year. Isn’t all this enough for you?” 

As you listened to him, you realized how everything was always about him. He was still talking about the damn season he had, the championship, the car, his teammate… when you didn’t give a fuck about them, not anymore. You cared about you. You and Charles. But it didn't seem to be the same for your boyfriend.

He was still complaining about the season when you stopped him. You had enough. “No, I meant why you moved earlier.”

He turned around looking at you in confusion as if he didn’t understand what you were saying. 

“What… what are you talking about? When?” 

You couldn’t believe it. Was he making fun of you? How could he be so oblivious about everything, about you? Weren't you the woman he said he loved?

“Now when I hugged you and you immediately moved away from me as if you couldn’t stand my touch. Why that?”

Charles sighed and you could see how annoyed he was from your affirmation. Too bad for him that you were tired too and you couldn’t stand that situation anymore. It was time for both of you to clarify it. 

“It was nothing. I didn’t even realize it”, he said turning and giving you his back. 

“You see, Charles, this is the problem. You wouldn’t have realized it if I hadn't pointed it out for you. You never realize anything”, you said. 

“What would that mean? I already said that it was nothing. You're overreacting, Y/N!”

As your patience had reached its limit, you ended bursting out. 

“It was something, Charles! It meant for me. But apparently you simply don’t care enough about me and also about us if you don’t realize how much you’re hurting me, or I should say how I much you had hurt me in the last months”, you yelled at him while your eyes started filling with tears. 

Your words caught him off guard and put him in difficulty. He turned around to face you. 

“I’m sorry, okay? I didn't do it on purpose. I just have a lot of things on my mind right now. This year sucked…” 

You didn’t give him the time to finish. 

“Stop, Charles! I’ve had enough. Yeah, this season, the car, the team, everything sucked. I know that very well and do you know why? Because I’ve been by your side the whole time supporting and consoling you when everyone and everything seemed to be against you. And despite all this, you managed to make me feel like I wasn’t welcome. The least you could do is not push me away.” With every word you raised your voice more and more, not caring who could hear you from outside. 

“I never asked you to do all those things.”

You looked at him in disbelief. You quickly wiped away a tear that was falling down your cheek. He didn't deserve to see you crying. He didn't deserve you tears anymore.

You wondered yourself who was the person in front of you because that wasn’t the same Charles you knew and loved. There was a completely stranger in front of you as you didn't recognize him anymore.

“Yes, you didn’t but I did it anyway and I don’t regret it, Charles. I'd do it all again because I love you. But…” 

The thought had been tormenting you for months. You had kept pushing it away, trying not to listen to it but it came back stronger every time. You didn't want to believe it was true because it would mean the end of you and Charles. But maybe your relationship had been over a long time ago and you were just postponing the inevitable. 

“But it looks like my love isn’t enough anymore or maybe… maybe you don’t love me anymore, I don’t know. But I know for sure that in the last year you’ve loved your job, the championship and everything else more than me and don't try to deny it because you proved it several times, Charles. And I’m sorry but I'm tired of trying to make this relationship work when it seems I’m the only one who cares about it. I can’t keep fighting for both of us”, you said as you started collecting your things around the room, even the pieces of your broken heart. You wanted to leave that place and everything behind you as soon as possible. You were about to burst into tears. 

“Wait. What are you doing?”, he asked as he realized what you were about to do. 

“Leaving”, you simply said avoiding looking him in the face. You were afraid of the effect it might have on you. 

“What do you mean? The room or… me?” 

Good question. You didn't know it either. 

“I… don’t know. Maybe both, but for now the room for sure. I need some fresh air and... some time.” 

You collected your last things.

You had reached the door when his words stopped you. 

“So is it like this? Just because I've been absent recently or because I didn't win, you break up with me? You know I was working all the time, right?” 

You turned around to face him. All the sadness from earlier had been replaced by anger. You approached him reducing the distance between you. How could he think so low of you?

“Don’t you dare, Charles! I don't care if you're the champion of the world or not. I've always loved and wanted you despite that. And yes, I know you have been working all this time. You know why? Because that's all you've done this year: work, work and again work. If we've reached this point, it's… Do you know what? Nevermind. It’s just a waste of time and I've already wasted it enough. And so did you. I assume you have some work to do or am I wrong?” 

Maybe you had exaggerated with your words but you didn't care at all. You were hurt and angry.

Charles said nothing as you stood looking at each other. 

You weren't sure what you were hoping for. But anything would have been better than that deafening silence that was slowly killing you inside. It felt like the world was ending. For sure something was certainly over between you and Charles. But was it the end for you and him? Or there was still hope?

Your hand was on the doorknob, ready to leave when you turned to Charles. You wanted to see him one last time, to remember the Charles you loved but all you saw was a stranger. 

“You know what, Charles? You were right in the end. You’ve lost everything, including me, us. Good work, Charles.”

And with those last words you left the room and Charles. 

You exited the garage and walked quickly across the paddock hoping no one would have stopped or seen you. 

As you were keeping your head down, you didn't see that Joris was coming in the opposite direction and you collided with him.

"Oh, Joris... I'm sorry, I didn't see you...", you told him.

"Hey, Y/n. Is it everything ok? Where are you going?"

You were avoiding his gaze. If you would have looked at him in the eyes, you wouldn't have been able to hold back the tears anymore. "Away, Joris. I need to go", you whispered as your eyes started to fill with tears again.

"Wait, where? What happened?"

You quickly looked at him before hugging him.

"Nothing, don't worry. Take care of him for me, Joris."

You quickly kissed his cheek and left him there confused as he watched you walking away.

Stop, you're losin' me Stop, you're losin' me Stop, you're losin' me I can't find a pulse My heart won't start anymore For you 'Cause you're losin' me

--------------------------

[tetheredfeathers]

One of the things that amazes me the most about the trilogy is how subtly Collins molds Katniss' mindset to a softer and more understanding place. And how does she do it?

Through Peeta.

Peeta is the embodiment of empathy, love, and kindness, which is one of the first things Katniss notices about him. He is the first person to deciphers the main goal of the games: to pit the districts against one another, as mere pawns to the Capitol.

Katniss imitates Peeta more than we think.

In the first book, when her ally Rue is killed, she finally understands that Peeta had figured it out before tepping foot in the arena. She begins to rethink her animal instincts that made her kill Marvel without a second thought, wondering what the games had made of her.

She understands, what she and had Gale refused to at the beginning of the book, when he says that killing a human is no different. But it is different, and this is a point of epiphany for her. She covers Rue with flowers to show that she is not a piece in their games.

Ultimately, this change leads to the final move with the berries that sparks the rebellion. It is Peeta's ideology of non-conformity and rebellion through non-violence that saves them both and leads their country to freedom.

Additionally, in Catching her demeanour towards the other victors is amusing to say the least. It is obvious that she has let go of her survivalist mentality, she gives the victors a chance (even the most extreme ones such as Cashmere, Glass and Enobaria ) to view them as they really are, setting aside the Capitol created image.

Peeta’s empathy and moral integrity underpin her actions and decisions as she leads the rebellion, she conveys that true leadership involves compassion and understanding, and not just strategy and strength.

Through Peeta, she learns to love more and to have more understanding for the people around her, whether it be her prep team or a career tribute. Peeta's existence is what primarily helps her survive and prevents her from adopting Gale's extreme realist approach to war.

Katniss is the apex of the love triangle, representing the middle ground between Peeta and Gale's liberal and realist approaches. However, she is unsure of her stance at the beginning of the first book.

“Not people,” I say. “How different can it be, really?” says Gale grimly. The awful thing is that if I can forget they’re people, it will be no different at all.

Throughout Mockingjay, Katniss often finds herself at odds with Gale’s strategies, especially when they involve potential civilian casualties. And even then Peeta is physically absent, his voice rings at the back of her head. Even in his semi hijacked state he manages to guide Katniss in his propos.

"Is this really what we want to do? Kill ourselves off completely? In the hopes that — what? Some decent species will inherit the smoking remains of the earth?”

Peeta brings out this sympathetic side, and so she symbolically becomes a neutral ground between Gale and Peeta's mindsets. She embodies the balance between a liberal and realist approach to war.

[meanbossart]

Omg omg Meanboss i saw ur Patreon Post rn aaaaand now i can't stop thinking about how Astarion and Drow would react and grieve, if one of them died. Do u have any thoughts to that?

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh boy. I'm almost reluctant to answer this because I feel like this is absolutely DU drow's ugliest side, LOL.

So let me put off the inevitable and start with Astarion: the unlikely more well-adjusted half when it comes to this - if you can call total desensitization being "well adjusted", at least.

Astarion has led hundreds of people to their deaths after supposedly earning their trust, care and attention - I'm not saying every single one of his outings ended in heart-break, in fact the vast majority were probably completely impersonal one-night stands, but at SOME POINT in Astarion's life he must have held some care for people or at least an aversion to the idea of manipulating them into death's maw - until he had to do it over, and over, and over, and over again.

It's very clear to me that Astarion managed to completely shut his empathy out, as well as his sense of attachment especially in the short-term. Those things still exist within him but are like a weak flame he has to keep feeding with kindling if he wants it to stick around; and it would be far easier to just extinguish it at once. If someone close to him were to die, especially unexpectedly, he'd just stomp it out for good and move on as if nothing had happened, probably unable to form another relationship like it for at the very least a couple of years but otherwise remain perfectly functional, and, by all intends and purposes, have gotten over the loss exceptionally quickly.

Obviously, if we're talking about DU drow's death, this would change over time and depend on how long they remained together for. I can't tell you how 500-year-old Astarion would react to the loss of his loved one (too many variables to consider) but one can expect the concept to become harder to accept the more used he grows to someone's permanence.

Now, the drow. He does not deal well with losing, and that applies to people just as well as it applies to concepts and objects. I think he can wrap his mind around the idea of someone dying of old-age, but anything short of that is akin to being stolen from.

Which brings us to Astarion's immortality, and the false sense of security that that brings DU drow. In his mind, if he is immortal, that simply means he won't ever die. This is, to him, is a certain fact the vast majority of the time,save for the rare and brief occasion where he has to face a different reality. This also means that if Astarion ever dies, that is obviously due to a tremendous failure in DU drow's part.

I simply do not think he would get over it. Much like the scenario with Villain DU drow where Orin's death basically begins the countdown for his own, his ambitions from that point forward would cap at revenge, and done that, he would either become something profoundly ugly or just let himself rot. I think this is just... Something inherit to him and the way he functions, making the former memory loss a blessing in even more ways than it already is.

He'd probably also try to resurrect him, but for all his desperation I can at least tell you that he wouldn't fall for/settle for anything lesser than his beloved with their cognizance fully intact, nor do anything that could destroy their corpse. He, uh, Is gonna need that.

[maxdibert]

It shouldn’t surprise me that the Arcane fandom has a hefty dose of internalized misogyny, but honestly, it’s exhausting to constantly see how female characters are judged, condemned, and demonized for the simple "sin" of being complex, layered, and morally questionable, while the fandom favorite is a drug lord who used a populist, nationalist rhetoric to justify child exploitation and drug trafficking that poisoned the very people he claimed to defend. Yes, I’m talking about Silco. The same Silco who threw a little girl in prison and took her younger sister, making her believe her older sister didn’t care about her anymore. The same Silco who projected his traumas onto a kid and manipulated her into being his weapon. The same Silco who posed as the "people’s champion" while being one of the main reasons the people were dying in the first place.

And don’t get me wrong—I love Silco. He’s a fantastic villain, and his relationship with Jinx is as fascinating as it is deeply uncomfortable at times. But it feels incredibly cynical to see people excuse all the atrocities he committed, or at least try to understand them, while they spent all of season one attacking characters like Mel for being ambitious and power-hungry, doing morally questionable things. Sorry, but none of Mel’s actions in season one even come close to Silco’s level of ethical depravity with the whole shimmer situation, yet Mel got dragged.

Vi—perhaps the series’ ultimate punching bag of suffering—who lost her parents, stepped up to take care of her sister, carried the responsibility of being the eldest (as tasked by Vander to protect the group), lost her "siblings" and "father" in one night, got wrongfully imprisoned as a kid, spent years in jail for nothing, only to come out and see that her sister had turned into a monster and that the man responsible for their adoptive father’s death was now the kingpin of the Undercity—was treated like absolute crap by the fandom. Why? Because she didn’t understand or accept that her younger sister was suddenly cool with a man who was poisoning the city? The same man who killed their father figure? I remember people calling Silco the "Father of the Year" and Vi the "Worst Sister of the Decade," and I was genuinely floored. Like, as a meme, sure, it’s funny. But as an actual take? The level of cognitive dissonance is wild.

And now, in this season, of course, the hate is all directed at Caitlyn. Why? Because instead of being the idealistic nepo baby who dreams of coexistence like in season one, she’s dealing with severe PTSD after being kidnapped and witnessing a missile nearly obliterate her mother. And people just can’t seem to grasp that. They can understand a man going from revolutionary to drug lord, using the idea of freedom and the people’s anger to expand his shady business and exploit children, but they can’t understand a young woman becoming incredibly violent out of a thirst for revenge.

What these reactions tell me is that men can be the absolute worst scum narrative writing has ever birthed, and it’s fine because everyone will bend over backwards to understand their motivations or at least where they’re coming from. But if we’re talking about women who aren’t compliant, who overreact, who struggle to manage their emotions or trauma, or who don’t behave the way women are "supposed" to behave, there’s no room for understanding. No excuses, no empathy. They’re just bitches, villains, or—like people are now saying about Caitlyn—"fascists."

Look, the fact that people are calling Caitlyn a fascist while never using that term for Silco—who was literally a despot—isn’t just cognitive dissonance; it’s hypocrisy at its finest.