#i think this was a thing my brain conjured up subconsciously

[pandorem]

Ok fiiiine I don’t even really go here but my brain conjured up the idea of Steve Harrington, pre season 4, like after school picking up the kiddos after Hellfire, defending Lucas’s sports playing to his friends and Eddie. Like “wait I thought you liked nonconformity, or does it only count if it’s about the stuff you like? Let the kid do the things he likes, man”. Which is something they all need to hear I think but then it turns into Steve COMPLETELY obliviously and accidentally turning it into “it’s ok to be Bi” subtext.

Like “you can be more than one thing, you know? It’s ok to like both. They don’t have to cancel each other out.”

And the kids maybe aren’t picking up on anything but maybe one or two of them are subconsciously like “you can??? This is good to know and keep in my mind for future crises” meanwhile Eddie is like “Holy fucking shit is STEVE HARRINGTON bisexual?” and being launched head first into a crisis of his own.

It is so, so important to me that Steve has no idea that he’s doing this, and may not even be aware that he himself is, in fact, bi.

[y13evie]

lust for life

professor john price x student reader

tags: teacher x student, very obvious age gap, i’m in love with older men like genuinely i have an issue, yearning a little bit, smut ofc

you knew it was wrong. your friends scolded you for feeling that way towards your, much older professor. but the heart wants what it wants, right? he’d praise your work, calling you “such a smart girl”, it drove you crazy. but of course he wouldn’t feel the same way back. it’s unprofessional and downright wrong. but the way he was grabbing your hips and forcing you back down onto his cock, praises falling from his lips as he reaches his high. it was too much, the way he called your name out like a chant.

“any questions before i let you all go?”

you snapped out of your very lucid daydream. looking around to see your classmates slowly exiting the lecture. you looked down at your notes to see that the only thing you’ve written down is a few lousy notes. sighing, you scold yourself for not paying attention. you’re gonna have to stay after class again, but you weren’t complaining. you made your way over to your professors desk as the last student shut the door.

“i’m really sorry mr. price. h-honestly i wasn’t really paying attention today. you might have to go over a few topics with me again. i apologize.” this wasn’t usually like you. you had the highest grade in your class and was always doing superb in all of your assignments.

“hey, it’s alright. you’re a very good girl. i know you didn’t have any bad intentions today”. he stood up from his chair, allowing him to slightly tower over you. he walks to where your back is nearly touching his chest, “here. give me this, let’s see what you have down”. you became self aware of every breath you took, praying to anyone out there that he couldn’t see you almost trembling.

to break the tension, you step forward and turn towards him. the way you looked up at him, batting your eyelashes. god, it made him melt. the way you yearn for his praise. he knows how you feel about him. he’d be lying if he said he didn’t notice the way your gaze lingered just a little longer than everyone else’s, biting the tip of your pen to try and get rid of all those disgusting thoughts.

price walks back over to his desk and takes a seat back on his chair, letting a gruff groan as he sits back fully.

“so, what’s been on your brain that’s got you all distracted?”. he tilted his head, waiting to see what lie you’ll conjure up.

“i mean- it’s really nothing. just school being busy. got plenty of work to get done, the usual.”. you failed to make eye contact. noted.

“you only have two classes. i know you don’t have that much work.” his voice is stern now. and your stomach is turning at the fact he’s caught you in your lie. “so look at me, and tell me what’s on your mind”.

you swallow hard. cringing at the fact that he may know exactly where your mind wonders each class. you decide to give in, kind of.

“it’s silly. i have a boy on my mind.” hoping that he’ll believe your lie. he scoffs and beckons you to come closer, patting his lap once you’re close enough. you look at him, confused. spending too much time thinking about the secret meaning of his actions, you’re caught off guard by the fact he snatched your hips and sits you onto his lap. you weakly try to wiggle your way out of his strong grasp, but it’s no use.

“maybe you aren’t such a smart girl. lying to your professor like that as if i don’t know.” his grip on your hips is suffocating. your body starts to subconsciously grind on his body due to the overwhelming heat forming between your legs. you know it’s wrong but god it feels so right.

price grabs your chin and begins kissing you. what was soft, gentle kisses grew to become an intense make out session. the sounds of your sloppy kisses to the feeling of your clit rubbing against his bulge every time you rock forward again, it was all becoming too much. you were babbling nonsense and pleading for more.

“becoming all fucked out just by grinding on me a little? that’s pathetic, honey.”. although his words are harsh, he picks you up and flips you onto his desk. your face is pushed into a bunch of useless paperwork as he slides down your pants, using a thumb to tease your puffy clit as he takes off your panties next. he uses the pad of the same thumb to collect the slick from your pussy, using it to wet his throbbing cock.

you cry out as he pushes his full length in without a warning. your hand flies to your mouth to prevent any more sounds from spilling out.

“thaaattts it baby, shut your pretty mouth up. y’know how much trouble we’d get in. if they saw me fuckin a pretty little girl like you.”. you clenched around him at the thought of it. getting caught face down ass up with your professor who’s slightly older than your father.

his hips smacked against yours faster now, bruising your walls so bad you don’t know if you’ll be able to walk out of the room. you feel yourself slipping away into ecstasy, barely able to keep your head up. you know price is getting close by the way he’s growling so deeply into your ear. his thrusts become animalistic as he urges you to reach your high with him. both of your cum getting mixed together as he sloppily grinds against you a few more times to ride out his orgasm.

you pant heavily as he pulls out. leaving a soft kiss on your shoulder before redressing himself. you do the same, pulling up your underwear and pants. your mind is racing, wondering what the hell just happened. his scent floods your senses as he helps you steady yourself back onto your feet.

but for some odd reason, you’re still incredibly worried about missing out on notes. hesitantly, you ask “do you think i could stay afterwards tomorrow too, sir? i really need those notes”. he smiles softly at the fact that you’re still academically driven even after your daydreams just came true.

“of course. you know where to find me, sweetheart.”

[harmonysanreads]

If you're still taking writing requests or suggestions, may I suggest the 5wirl boys comforting reader after the reader has a nightmare about losing them?

The timing of this ask lol I've been having weird (or interesting depending on the view) nightmares recently as well so some comfort after the disturbing experience would be very appreciated indeed. That aside, my personal headcannon is that all of the anemo boys have nightmares quite regularly, too. So, they'd probably understand better than anyone :)

──⚝ venti

If Venti's not passed out from drinking, it takes little hue and cry for him to notice. At first, he'd freak out a little, checking you over for injuries or anything of that sort. Then, he sighs in relief realizing it was just a nightmare that'd gotten you upset. Immediately, his whole countenance changes and he's guiding you to his hold, rocking you back and forth and vanishing your worries with the bestest melodies. His songs aren't just mere tunes, they're full on declaration of his eternal sentiment — you honestly become a little flustered in your sleepy haze. Venti has no shame admitting what he feels for you though, that cheeky smile you've come to adore never leaving his lips. And even if Venti was passed out from drinking, his tight embrace alone would reassure you that he'd never leave you or let you leave him.

──⚝ aether

One word : panic. He's immediately frantically trying to calm you down, holding you, wiping your tears, making funny faces to bring a smile to your face — the whole shebang. It's almost like you're a child he'd accidentally upsetted instead and when nothing works, starts crying with you, too. You're confused, he's confused and this abnormal reaction calms you down enough to croak out the reason of this predicament. Aether stops dead in the middle of wiping the tears off his face, deadpans and pulls your cheeks. Silly, silly, silly — take a good look at the state he's in, he'd rather drown in his own tears than ever leaving you.

──⚝ kaedehara kazuha

The calmest of the boys, he handles the situation so well that he deserves an award. When he's woken from his sleep with a perturbed you by his side, he's already cradling you in the safest embrace, whispering sweet nothings. He doesn't directly coax you to share your mind, but all his lulling actions offer such a sense of security you cannot help but bare your heart out to him. He's not deterred from his ministrations, either. Ever so intuitive, he guesses something else must've happened for your brain to conjure up something like that. Perhaps it was a person? That could be likely considering his idol disposition. Kazuha frowns, turning you to face him eye-to-eye, his hands hold yours firmly in an oath and he confesses that he belongs, and will forever belong to you and solely you ; this would be changed by no one, not even your subconscious.

──⚝ xiao

I think we all can agree he'd have the most nightmares out of all the anemo boys. Therefore, it's usually you comforting him and making him feel the most blessed man in existence. Xiao is nowhere near ungrateful either, so he harbours great appreciation for your kindness, taking mental notes in case the positions were to be switched. He engraves in his mind how nice it feels when you hold him and run your hand through his hair, humming gentle tunes but never probing him to recount what he'd seen, showing through your actions instead how much you treasure him. He may be extremely inexperienced in all of this but he's quick and determined to learn for you. When the predicted shift did happen though, he was a little panicked as well but not as intense as Aether. If anything, seeing him try so hard to comfort you makes you the happiest anyway. Ends up composing songs to confess the things he couldn't say to you in the moment <3

──⚝ shikanoin heizou

Detective Heizou had sensed something amiss the moment he found the other side of the bed vacant. He at first tried to give you the benefit of the doubt but when a considerable amount of time had passed with no signs of you returning, he decided to follow the clues. A mystery indeed, sounds of sniffing, weary figure— he deducted you were bothered by another nightmare again. Sneakily, he snaked his arms around your form from behind and began spinning you around til you couldn't keep the giggles in and now both of you were laughing like teenagers over silly jokes. Much more relaxed, he asked you what the nightmare was about. With some reluctance, you shared the contents. You felt the earlier horror returning to you but Heizou was having none of it ; scooping you up in a princess carry (you wonder where he gets such strength, honestly), sweet whisperings lost in the moonlight. Sshh, do not worry, just let him show you how much he loves you so that such fickle dreams won't ever bother you again.

[thearcherprentiss]

Criminal Minds as things my friends have said pt. 2

Emily: "At my funeral I'm going to raise up out of the coffin and say 'you didn't think you'd get rid of me that easily, did you?'."

Hotch: "No you will not. I will double kill you if you do that."

(This one is way funnier in the context of Lauren)

Reid: "Why are there no freaking tortillas in this entire goshdarn kitchen?!"

Rossi: "Woah, watch your language there."

*Henry jabbering on about something*

Emily: "Sorry, I can't focus on what you're saying with all of that Cheeto powder on your face."

JJ: "EMILY!"

Emily: "WHAT? You try listening to someone talk when they're Donald Trump orange!"

JJ: "I'm not going to fight Derek, it's beneath me."

Morgan: "The only thing beneath you is some children. Not all of them though... get it? You're short."

JJ: "Derek, I'm literally 5'7"."

Morgan: "I don't like tomatoes."

Emily: "Do you like salsa?"

Morgan: "Yeah of course, who doesn't?"

Emily: "So what I'm hearing is you're a fucking liar?"

JJ: "What did everyone do this weekend?"

Reid: "I wrote a paper on the orbitofrontal cortex of the brain!"

Morgan: "I don't know how much longer I can defend you when you act like this."

Reid: "I wish we had food here like they do in Greece. It's so much better."

Morgan: "At least we still exist. Greece isn't even a country anymore."

Reid: "Yes it is? Do you actively say these things to make me worry about you, or are you just oblivious?"

JJ, eating a microwaveable macaroni cup: "Something is off about this..."

Hotch: "Did you check the expiration date?"

JJ, emotionlessly: "*checks* It expired last year. That would explain it. *takes another bite*"

Hotch: "???"

Tara: "I think I'm telepathic."

Matt: "Why do you say that?"

Tara: "Someone was tailgating me on my way here today, and I was like 'sir I will fuck you up' in my mind, and he stopped immediately."

Luke: "Woah, maybe you are telepathic."

Tara: " That or he saw me flip him off."

Matt, facepalming: "I- nope. Never mind."

Morgan: "Well?"

Rossi: "The dog was cute, but the video was weird."

Morgan: "Your face is weird!"

JJ: "Wow, did my son teach you that burn?"

*Emily glaring at JJ*

JJ: "Why are you looking at me like that? You've been doing it all day."

Emily: "I had a dream that you had sex with Morgan last night!"

JJ: "And you're mad at ME? I should be mad at YOU for conjuring that in your subconscious!"

Morgan, playing with the kids: "Touch your nose! Now touch your ears! Now touch your hair!"

Jack: "You don't have any hair."

Morgan: "Hotch... come get your son right now."

Emily: "I don't like that guy."

Luke: "What'd he do?"

Emily: "He gave himself the nickname 'possum', and while that's not outrightly bad, it's highly questionable."

*Reid comes in with a broken bone*

Morgan: "This wouldn't have happened if you'd had more milk as a kid."

Reid: "Morgan, I was allergic."

Morgan: "Dairy allergies are fake. Just produce lactase. It's not that hard."

Reid: "I am both impressed that you know what lactase is and offended that you think I would choose to not eat cheese."

[larsisfrommars]

The Night of The Murderous Spring Is So JUICY!

I think I need to talk about how insanely gay this episode of Wild Wild West is or I might EXPLODE. I know a lot of us who already watch the show knew this episode was ridiculous in the gay subtext department but I feel compelled to go in-depth about putting it into words.

Let’s not even dig into the fact that before drugging Jim Dr. Loveless proudly proclaims that he will make James West “kill the thing he loves” and was referring to Artemus when he said that! That’s already wild enough as it is.

For me like, through a shipping/gay subtext lense, I could already tell Artie was into Jim. There is a mountain of evidence to interpret their relationship that way at least on Gordon’s end. For West it was a little more sparse until and especially THIS episode. Which confirmed for me as relatively new to this show and fandom “ohhhh!! He really DOES reciprocate whatever ambiguously gay mess is happening here!”

The version of Artemus that Jim subconsciously conjures up for himself is so interesting. And of course, it appears to him when he’s in desperate need of comfort, of a rock to cling to, but can find none. So his hallucinating brain projects what he NEEDS most, not some lovely young lady (familiar or otherwise) to tell him everything is alright, but Artemus to take care of him. He WANTS to be taken care of and comforted by Artemus and no one else. I’m not crying YOU are crying!

His version of Artemus is pretty close to the real deal but there’s something… softer about this projected version. He’s not completely different, I wouldn’t even say out-of-character. But he is gentler, more patient and forgiving, and very much there to play guardian angel for Jim. All of his positive traits are exaggerated in Jim’s eyes, like hes always seeing the guy through rose colored glasses.

I say this because part of why I got a bit suspicious of this version of Artie was him being way too calm and forgiving when Jim starts being aggressive towards him due to the drug. Yeah Artie loves Jim but like, he’s got his own sense of self-preservation, intelligence, and a bit of a temper. I was expecting a joke or some sternness or something, hell maybe taking Jim’s gun from him. But of course he doesn’t and he can’t, because he’s not real and he’s there to comfort. Jim can’t be thrown off the course that’ll lead him to killing Artie by his hallucination’s own intervention. He’s himself but oh so slightly off.

Another thing was something that “Artie” said that didn’t actually make a lot of sense compared to the rest of established canon when Jim first starts getting temperamental. “Hey it’s me remember? Artemus Gordon? Mrs. Gordon’s son.” Now I know there’s probably some throwaway Doylist explanation for this, but the Watsonian in me prevails.

Artie never brings up either of his parents before this or ever again to my knowledge. Jim only mentions family once in a previous Dr. Loveless episode. It’s the kind of thing you’d say to someone where you’d known each other your whole lives, implying Jim would somehow know his mother. Now unless I’m mistaken they met each other in the military as adults. Which means Jim’s subconscious emotions have made him feel as though Artie’s known him his whole life. Which is some soulmate sounding mess if I ever heard it.

Then there is the crescendo of this madness where Jim shoots the illusionary Artemus in cold blood. Which is easily some of the most heartbreaking acting in the series. I have watched it a normal amount of times (lying)!! Dying “Artie” looks confused and betrayed but he STILL reaches out to Jim like he like wants Jim to know that it’s okay?! OUCH. Then of course there’s the little “why?” before he dies that pushes Jim over the edge.

Jim completely flies off the handle after Artemus’s apparent death. Careening through the street, threatening the hotel staff, trying to get himself arrested for murdering Artie. I don’t know whether it was a side effect of how much hallucinogen he ingested or what. He straight up faints like some tragic Victorian protagonist after returning to his room, overwhelmed by the evil that he has seemingly done.

When he comes back around he is not at all acting like the Jim we know and love. It’s almost like he wants Loveless to kill him with the way he goads the guy. He’s despondent and jaded and being reckless with his own life. He only snaps back to normal when he discovers Artie is in fact alive and well. Which is such a beautifully loaded reunion. He responds to Jim’s unusual tenderness with a sassy joke (which is of course how we know this one is real). It feels very akin to the Kirk and Spock reunion at the end of Amok Time.

I also think it’s worth noting that I think the first time I ever heard James West utter the words “Artie! Help me!” when he’s trying to prevent the ducks carrying the murder-LSD from being released (this episode is NUTS). Which you know in light of the events of this episode is a big step in Jim being a bit more vulnerable as a character. So there is THAT too.

Hey, and maybe it’s just me, but whether it was deliberate or not, something changed about the whole tone of the show after this particular episode. It felt like the showrunners were slowly having it dawn on them the show is at its strongest when it plays off of the bond shared by these two characters. This episode along a few other gems from season one seem to have clinched it. I noticed in season two so far they’re using Artie and Jim’s relationship as a support beam where it was more of a flexible suggestion before. Which has ✨implications✨ whether you interpret the relationship as gay or not. The events of this episode cracked Jim West’s very hard shell, and made these two characters closer than before.

[thevoiceinyourheadx]

Birthday Wishes

SURPRISE!

Happy birthday @wheresarizona !

I’m incredibly pleased I managed to finish this in time given my history of never finishing any fic I start, but this was based on a valentine-related comment you made (if I could remember the post I’d link it), so it only felt right to post it for your birthday.

rating: EXPLICIT (18+ only) (also probably terribly written smut, you’ve been warned 😅), unbeta’d mess, possibly inconsistent characterisation, I tried to not use many descriptors for reader but there is a mention of hair, I literally have no idea what I’m doing, please be gentle on me 😖

The first thing you noticed when you walked through the door were the candles. The lights were off, so the only source in the apartment came from the soft glow of what must be dozens of candles, scattered around on almost every surface. You didn’t even know you owned this many candles, and the image it conjured of your boyfriend going candle shopping brought a smile to your face.

As if he could sense your thoughts, the man in question appeared from the kitchen, wearing your favourite shirt of his. Javier watched you with a fond smile as you hung up your jacket and bag and moved to join him, meeting you halfway. As soon as you were in reach, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you in for a deep kiss that left you breathless.

“Welcome home, cariño.”

“Hmm, what a welcome.” It took you several seconds before your brain caught up and you opened your eyes, but when you did you found Javier looking at you with total adoration. “What’s all this for?”

“I know you said you didn’t want to do anything special for your birthday,” his face turned serious “but you do so much for me, I just thought – I wanted to do something nice for you. You deserve it.”

“You’re such a softie.” You teased, though inside you were positively glowing at his words.

“Yeah, well, don’t tell anyone.” He grumbled, though his grin gave him away. He kissed you quickly before taking your hand in his. “Dinner’s almost ready – I made your favourite.”

“You’re feeding me too? What did I do to deserve this?” You teased, and Javier just chuckled.

You followed him into the kitchen, and were met with a mouth-watering smell, as well as the sight of dozens more candles, some in the kitchen, more in the dining room and the lounge – they were everywhere.

“Javi - how many candles did you light?”

“You don’t like them?” He frowned, visibly upset that he might’ve gotten something wrong, and your heart melted for your sweet, thoughtful boyfriend.

“No! I mean- I love them, I love everything you’ve done, I just- one of us is going to have to be the responsible one and make sure they’re all out before we get anymore…distracted.”

A smirk made its way onto his lips as he stepped closer to you, his hands finding their way to your hips and pulling you against him. “Distracted, huh?” He leaned in until your noses were touching, lips just millimetres from yours. “Why, are you planning on…distracting me?”

“Me? A distraction?” You said softly, as Javier leaned towards you always subconsciously. Before your lips could touch, you pulled away. “What’s burning?”

It took a second for his brain to catch up, before his eyes widened and he dashed over to the stove.

“Fuck!” He cursed, quickly checking everything over as you giggled. When he realised that nothing was, in fact, burning, he turned back to you with a pout.

“That wasn’t very nice, cariño.”

“I’m sorry.” You said, wrapping your arms around his waist, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “Forgive me?”

“Hmm, I don’t know…” he teased, pretending to think about it, though his grin gave him away. You leaned up to press your lips to his, and he quickly reciprocated, deepening the kiss as his tongue sought entrance to your mouth, his hand cupping your cheek and tilting your head to give him better access. You only broke apart when you started to get lightheaded, both of you slightly breathless, pupils blown wide.

“That’s better.” He teased, nipping at your lip playfully. “Now, stop distracting me before I actually burn something.” He gave your ass a quick tap before turning back to the stove.

“You really didn’t have to do all this, Javi.” You said, still slightly dizzy as you leaned up against the counter. You surveyed the scrawled, handwritten recipe and the various ingredients scattered across the benchtop. “Honestly, I’m happy just to spend time with you.”

“I wanted to.” He said simply.

“Can I at least help with something? Do you want me to-” you picked up the empty chopping board and moved towards the sink, wanting to get started on the dishes so there was one less thing for him to think about. Javier quickly caught you by the waist, spinning you back around to face him.

“I have everything under control.” He took the board from your hand, gently placing it aside. “Tonight is about you. You don’t have to do anything.”

“Are you sure? I could-” he cut you off with a kiss, gently pushing you towards the dining table, which was already set with a vase of your favourite flowers and a glass of your favourite wine.

“The only thing you need to do,” he said, helping you into your chair before handing you your glass. “Is sit there and relax.” He gave you one last kiss before returning to the kitchen.

A dreamy smile made its way onto your face as you reached out and gently touched one of the blooms, before your attention turned back to the man in the kitchen. Though you couldn’t see his face from your position, you could picture his expression as he flitted about – brows pinched, lips turned down in the slightest of frowns as he concentrated on each step of the recipe. Javier always gave his all to any task he undertook, and cooking was no different. You felt incredibly privileged to be the one to receive all his care and attention.

Dinner passed quickly as Javier asked about your day and grumbled about how many stores he had to go through to find your favourite candles, and you gushed over how amazing the food was. When you’d first met, you never would’ve thought Javier was much of a cook, but he managed to surprise you. Everything was cooked to perfection, and he even had your favourite dessert – though he sheepishly admitted to having bought that, not willing to risk messing it up. Your heart melted at the lengths he Javier went to for you.

When dinner was finished, Javier was quick to gather up the dishes, refusing to let you even touch them. You followed him into the kitchen, glass in hand, as he stacked them neatly by the sink before turning back to you.

“I know you’re probably tired, but I was thinking I could draw you a bath?”

You took a sip of your wine, looking at him conspiratorially. “That depends…will you be joining me?”

He chuckled, his eyes darkening. “Of course, baby. I said I was taking care of you, didn’t I?”

Several minutes later, you were sinking into the warm, sweet-scented water with a sinful moan, letting Javier wrap his arms around you and pull you into his chest. You relaxed against him, head tipping back onto his shoulder, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Feel good, cariño?” He chuckled.

“It’s perfect.” You moaned, sinking into his embrace. “You’re too good to me.”

He placed a kiss on your shoulder, arms tightening around your waist to pull you impossibly closer.

“You deserve it.” He murmured against your skin. “You’re amazing – you’re gorgeous, you’re smart, you’re funny, you manage to put up with all my shit - you are so fucking incredible, baby. You deserve everything.” He said the last part softly, so softly you weren’t sure you were meant to hear it.

Lifting his arms from your waist, you turned around, legs moving to frame his hips as your hands came up to cup his cheeks.

“I have everything I need right here.” You said, before leaning in to kiss him gently. “You are an incredibly thoughtful, caring, hot, and kind man. I’m so lucky to have you in my life.”

Instead of replying, he surged up to press his lips to yours, his arms tightening around you to pull you flush against him. You moaned when one of his hands slid up to your breast, squeezing it, and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.

It didn’t take long for you to feel his cock hardening against you, and rolled your hips against it, both of you breaking from the kiss to moan at the sensation. His mouth immediately began to trail down your neck, before wrapping around your nipple, his hand coming up to gently flick the other one. The action went straight to your core, and it took all your willpower to not just give in to the sensation – but you had other plans. Javier was so distracted by your breast that he didn’t notice when your attention shifted. But between his thick length pressed against your core and how incredibly sweet and thoughtful he’d been all evening, you were desperate to have his cock in your mouth, to worship him and show him just how much you appreciated him.  

Javier hissed when your hand wrapped around his cock, mouth popping off your nipple and eyes rolling shut as you pumped it a couple times. You leaned forward to kiss his jaw, right at the spot that drove him crazy.

“I want to suck your cock, baby.” You said, your mouth moving down his neck, much like he’d done to yours earlier. “Let me take care of you, Javi.” You purred, giving his cock a few languid strokes. You could see Javier visibly struggle to control himself, and you smirked.

As much as he wanted to let you continue using your hands – fuck, or your mouth – he wanted to take care of you first. Reluctantly, he pulled your hand from his cock, inwardly grinning at your resulting pout. He took a moment to compose himself before he opened his eyes, his eyes nearly black with lust.

“As much as I love your mouth, baby,” he said, nipping at your lips to punctuate his point, “I’m taking care of you tonight. And I think I’m going to start by eating that gorgeous pussy.” You hadn’t even noticed his hand had moved until he was cupping your mound, causing you to moan. “That’s it.” He smirked. “Go dry off and get on the bed. You’re coming at least three times before I fuck you.”

You both scrambled out of the tub none too gracefully, far too eager to have his mouth on you – Javier was an incredibly thorough lover, and he seemed to genuinely love eating you out. He wrapped you in a towel, drying you off between kisses – and taking the opportunity to keep his hands on you, cupping your breast and squeezing your ass. With a final smack to your ass – he couldn’t help himself – he pushed you towards the bedroom, drying himself as he followed you, admiring the view as he went.

You smiled softly when you entered the bedroom, finding it lit with your favourite candles, crimson rose petals scattered on the bed. Who knew your boyfriend was such a romantic?

In your distraction you didn’t notice when Javier came up behind you, wrapping his arms around you and kissing your neck.

“I believe I told you to get on the bed.” He murmured against your skin.

“I was admiring your handiwork.” You said, hand reaching back to tangling in his hair. “You are so ridiculously sweet.”

“I’m about to fuck your brains out, how is that sweet?” He groused, and you grinned, turning to kiss him. His hands quickly went to your ass, kneading at them as he walked you back towards the bed. As soon as your knees hit the mattress, you sank down on it, hands immediately going to his cock where it bobbed against his stomach, long and thick and already dripping precum. You leaned forward to lick a stripe up his length, his hand fisting in your hair as you swirled your tongue around the head, licking up the pearly droplets. Before you could take it into your mouth fully, Javi was pulling your head away, leaning over you to pull you into a sloppy, open mouthed kiss. He hooked his hands under your thighs, and you squealed when he hauled you up the bed and climbed over you, before leaning back to admire his work.

Your hair was splayed around you like a halo, the movement of the mattress causing the petals to dot your tresses like stars. Your eyes were dark and wide with arousal and your lips swollen from kisses. Your legs were slightly parted, and his hands immediately moved to pull them apart further, and you let him eagerly. He stared at your drenched core, licking his lips in anticipation. As much as he said that tonight was for you, he was just as eager – if not more – to taste you.

“Fuck, look at you, baby.” He whispered reverently, swiping two fingers through your drenched folds. “You’re dripping already.”

“You did promise to fuck me.” You challenged, propping yourself up on your elbows. “ ‘Fuck my brains out’, I believe you said.” You raised your eyebrow in a challenge.

“If I recall correctly,” he said lowly, “You need to come for me three times before you get my cock.” He said, his fingers moving up to circle your clit. You bucked your hips, head falling back to the mattress. “You can do that for me, right baby?” You groaned at his teasing.

“Fuck, Javi – I need you.” You whined, hips rolling into his hand, desperate for something, anything. You felt like he’d been teasing you for hours.

He took mercy on you, fingers gathering more of your slick before rubbing over your clit. His other hand pinned your hips to the bed, forcing you to stay still as he watched your face twist in pleasure. It didn’t take long for him to work you into a frenzy – you were gasping his name, fists clenched in the sheets, brows pinched – and suddenly his mouth was on you, latching on to your clit, and you came with a breathless cry, your hips desperately bucking against his mouth as he licked you through it, not stopping to let you catch your breath. He dove straight back in, hands gripping your hips and holding you to his mouth, licking through your folds and flicking your clit with his tongue, building you to another orgasm without pausing for breath. When you came into his mouth he groaned, his hand reaching down to squeeze his cock, trying to hold off his own orgasm. He continued to lap at your folds, drinking up every last drop, until your hand tangled through his hair and weakly pushed him away.

“Fuck, Javi, please.” You begged. “I need you inside me.” He shook his head.

“You can give me another one, can’t you baby?” He said, and flicking your clit once more, you weren’t sure whether the moan you let out was from disappointment or anticipation.

Javier didn’t wait for you to answer, he simply dove back in again, working you through the aftershocks until you could feel the tell-tale signs of another orgasm building. This time, he pushed a thick finger into you, then a second, groaning when he felt your walls clench around them. He pumped his fingers in and out as he continued to suck at your clit, before suddenly curling them, finding a spot inside you that had you instantly reaching your peak, vision turning white and back arching off the bed as you came around his fingers. It took you several long minutes to come down from your high, your chest heaving and breaths coming out in little pants as Javier finally pulled his mouth from you, placing a gentle kiss to the inside of your thigh before lifting his head to look at you.

You couldn’t help the breathless giggle that came out when his head emerged from between your thighs.

“That’s not the reaction I was hoping for.”

“You- you have a petal-” you giggled, gesturing to your own lips. He frowned, swiping his thumb over his lips, and your giggles turned into full blown laughter as he tried to shake the errant petal from his thumb – but it refused to budge, a thin layer of your slick making it stick.

Javier grumbled, resorting to wiping it off on the sheet, making a mental note to never try rose petals again, ‘romantic’ advice be damned. But any hint of annoyance melted away the second his gaze returned to you; you have a soft smile on your lips and are looking up at him with such adoration. Stray petals forgotten, he leant down to capture your lips, hand cradling your cheek as if you were the most precious thing in the world – and to him, you were. He poured every ounce of emotion into the kiss, telling you with his actions what he couldn’t put into words. He had no idea what he did to deserve someone like you, to deserve your love. But as he drew away to look at your blissed out face beneath him, he vowed to spend the rest of his life making sure he was worthy of you.

[overdicebro]

Slay the Princess is a masterpiece, we already experienced the full game and walked endless playthroughs just to see how many changed and how many did not. Stp as the complete game is beautiful enough but I think we need to talk about the demo too, in the demo not much was revealed except the complete chapter 1s and a glimpse of the chapter 2 so we only get to just conjure some thoughts about the game's plot with what the game has, idk but I've been watching the game's demo since on Manlybadasshero's channel so yeah it was my introduction to the game.

So I've been rewatching the demo videos and I think there's something interesting about our assumptions before and how they differ in the full game, but even with our assumptions it still can be true since that's the games nature. Before I remember that many people believed that the narrator was the one who pulled all the strings and the narrator is bigger than both TLQ & TSM, some already caught on the main plot of the game but there were many comments discussing theories about the game is essentially just a "what if?" alternate version of Knights & Princess games, and how it's an edgy and more darker version of Stanley Parable etc. with the narrator gaslighting you and stuff. But the main thing is that the narrator was a BIG direction of the game and it's mystique led as to believe as such.

And I'm always emphasizing that one Nightmare Scene where she took off her mask is what made ME to believe that there could be a backstory to this. But there isn't, there wasn't people that could back up the background of the Princess, there aren't animals found in the world(construct), there were no birds but trees, there wasn't a story of the Princess that could back her up that she's HUMAN or even a real princess at that. Because she isn't a princess or THE princess, she's the Shifting Mound titled as a princess. (Quick Tangent here: I think the Narrator could have made TSM into something else rather than a princess, he could have made her a seamstress as he likes; maybe the Narrator just doesn't like royalty)

Especially TLQ, it's already given that he isn't human but his voices and his choices morale make him seem human a little. Many people in the comments actually thought TLQ was made to be a bird-like creature to be diverse to its players. There aren't exactly hints at the demo that we are a god and the half of TSM because the focus was centered on the Princess, even he has no backstory, no background, no nothing.

It was obvious that the 2 didn't really have a life except the plot device of TLQ slaying the Princess. So that should've been a big sign to ME atleast that I shouldn't expect a backstory or something to make things less vague. I thought in the complete game we will be given more hints about the 2(+narrator) and expand more on the personal things.

But no, in the full game we were given answers to our previous questions but were also given more. The “world” was just a construct representing many more worlds to be devoid of change. That's why there weren't many living beings surrounding the Construct, just Shifty & Gary (+ the trees). Because the Narrator wanted a scripted situation to happen in order to release his tension regarding death.

So basically the Narrator is actually the only one with an ACTUAL backstory, yet his story and where he come from isn't expanded more because, again, the game is centered around the two TLQ & TSM. 2 Gods and concepts reuniting again after being separated by a desperate man with a fear of death.

So again BASICALLY what my assumptions of how the Narrator was BIGGER than the two. He is actually smaller than the CONCEPTS of Permanence and Change. He tried to desperately remove death from the universe which is actually badass af by splitting the pair and making the other kill the other.

It just hurts my brain to think that the plot I subconsciously made was so drastically different compared to the final game. Yet it's satisfying at the same time, cause tbh I was expecting for there to be boss fight with the Narrator and finally breaking out of the artificial plot, instead we got an argument with Shifty and finally breaking out the artificial plot. Which is essentially the same thing just a WHOLE different execution of what I thought.

Thank you for listening to my ted talk

THIS SHI LONG ASFF bro I should go to sleep goodnight peeps

[bish-plz-haha]

I haven't seen any posts about this so I wanna make it; bare with me as I'm not sure my thoughts will be entirely coherent and understandable (this Pennsylvania summer heat got my brain melting, no joke).

So I rewatched the Lightning strike ep and the coma ep, and I found something quite interesting on my watch-through (as well as watching some edits of buddie on tiktok). So I've been thinking: why was everyone else in Buck's coma dream but Eddie. Eddie is one of the closest people to Buck. So why wasn't he there?

I'm not sure if this will make any sense, but the coma ep is basically Buck living out a dream where everything was fine and he grew up with his brother and parents and sister.

Now almost everyone except Eddie and Athena were in his dream. All completely different people: Bobby was an alcoholic and drug addict (at least that seemed my take from the ep), Maddie was still playing happy wife to dickbag, Chim and Hen were friends and firefighters but they had NO CLUE who he was, his parents were actually kinda nice and supportive of him (kill me now. That's nice and all but I hate them so much). And even Chris was there at the end of the ep, though he didn't particularly recognise Buck. He sounded lost, and like he was asking a stranger for help, not his best friend.

Now when 'Daniel' tells Buck when he wakes up, "Next time you go up a ladder, have someone there to spot you." And, as we know, Buck replied with, "I did," we get kinda a quick flashback to the ep previously to kinda remind the audience what happened. We kinda see a quick flash of Eddie hooking him up and hear his voice saying "go get em cowboy" (the implication of that is another thing in and of itself if we're being honest).

Now, why would Eddie not be in Buck's coma dream?

Honestly, with Buck being able to 'remember' he went up the ladder with a spot (AKA Eddie), I don't think he really had a reason to hold on to him. He already remembered him as he was- in uniform, doing his job, and having Buck's back ("You can have my back any day").

He has all these people in his dream because he's trying to hold on to them. To remember who they are, not necessarily how they are, just who. His central nervous system had a jolt and he was clinically dead for 3 minutes (and 17 seconds, courtesy of Eddie counting the time it took for them to get him down and start compressions: you cannot convince me that that man didn't mentally count each passing second from the moment he realised Buck had been struck and was dangling from his safety line to the time he got Buck down and placed onto the stretcher). That's a lot for someone's system to take. His brain lost a lot of oxygen in that time: and, speaking generally, when the heart stops for a good amount of time (being about 2 and a half minutes or more since the brain can take only about 5 minutes without oxygen before permanent brain damage without CPR), the chemical makeup starts to change because your brain is basically sending signals to the body that it may be dying and it might be time to shut down the body too. To go into a permanent slumber (hence the "superpowers," which is a real thing. Though a lot of people, including myself (it's my fun fact about myself: surprise! I've died), develop a "sixth sense" if you will).

So back to my main point; why Eddie wasn't in the coma dream.

Buck's subconscious already remembered Eddie. He may not have remembered his face or anything, but he most definitely remembers him. He remembers key things about him. There's no need for Buck's brain to conjure up a version of Eddie because he's already significant enough. He is the only one we hear and see that Buck actually remembers being there for him. The shot they replayed as his memory was solely of Eddie and himself. Yes, Chim was in the background but he wasn't the focus of the shot. He was barely visible. And, again, we only hear Eddie's voice.

Idk maybe I'm crazy thinking about this but I'm at work, I'm bored. And it's been on my mind for a few days now.

[daisyvisions]

I just gotta hop back in here bc

did someone say p r i m a l hak?? no i need to hear more on this bc oh my lord that's such a ughh yes pls

hak is so underrated hot like he's fr such a giver but combined with a primal kink? pls give us more beloved

🐈

A/N: idk how I managed to conjure this shit up with 5 hours of sleep. tbh I wasn't planning on making it this long but damn okay sexy brain 😮‍💨

so I feel like hak's thing for primal play would be incredibly secret. Like you wouldn't even think he'd be into that especially from his happy and soft personality

but you end up finding out about it while you were trying to run away from him after "accidentally" smearing frosting on his face, he was determined to get you back for it with a wad of whip cream in his hand

eventually he catches up to you and tackles you on the bed, locking you in place while straddling your hips down to the bed. by some miracle he's able to get both your wrists with one hand and he smears the whip cream on your cheek all the way down to your collarbone

you both laugh and tell him to clean you off, but what you didn't realize this whole time while he's got you locked under his grasp was he was already going into primal mode subconsciously and LICKS the whip cream off

of course your instinct reaction was to moan from the sensation of his wet tongue over your skin but you immediately blush and say sorry but instead he intently looks into your eyes, gets closer to your face and just licks your lips, making you moan like a touched-starved loser (but he's fucking basking in your helplessness right now tbh)

something in him snaps, he immediately grabs your very thin shirt and rips it apart with his bare hands and attacks your chest, marking you up as much as he can while he swiftly removes your bottoms along with your underwear and changes position to have your legs wrapped around his torso as he rubs his clothed cock against your wet aching cunt.

the thought of your arousal soaking the front of his sweatpants as he continues to ravage your chest, sucking on your tits like it was his last source of sustenance

he continues to dry hump you until you're cumming all over his pants, and right after he immediately flips you over on your stomach, pulls down his sweatpants enough to free his incredibly hard cock and slips it in your wet entrance with no second thought about preparation because you're incredibly soaking, making the initial stretch of his cock inside you more manageable

now he's roughly thrusting into you, the weight of his body laid on top of you so you have no chance of squirming, hands grabbing your tits for dear life as he grunts like an animal in heat against your ear

needless to say, this goes on for hours on end and you both forget about cake in the kitchen you were suppose to decorate for Jacob's birthday

(well... you're gonna have to make another one because Hakyneon plans on smearing all that cake frosting and whip cream on your naked body later on and cleaning you up again as dessert 🥴)

[hiddendruid]

IWTVTober Day 1: Church

Challenge Credit goes to @TAZAT0UILLE on Twitter.

Although many vampiric myths, especially those about how to deter a vampire, are patently untrue, the striking image of a cross is certainly one that drives into the heart of many a creature of the night. Though not because the great image of Jesus’ suffering stands a chance of cleansing the darkness from a vampire’s soul, not at all. Perhaps it is something as close to empathy as a creature of no human-like heart could feel.

Armand is not a Christian, never was. He had played at Muslim for a few weeks when he was Rashid. The sprawling urbanity of Delhi had been muddled with persons of many faiths: Hindu, Muslim, Sikh, Christian. All walks of life. He does not remember what his family worshipped, when he had been Arun. But it was certainly not God, or Jesus, or whoever. No sight of a man strung up on two pieces of crossed wood had ever conjured in his mind a reason to be sorry for the sins he had committed, in both body and mind.

In Europe, the cathedrals loomed above the cities, stone giants with thousands of watching, carved eyes. Armand had never stepped foot in one, let alone went to bow his head to rattle off a prayer or two. Though his French coven had dwelled deep in the catacombs, nestled in the bowels of some church perhaps, he had refused to take any of the routes that exited into those echoey, marble halls. One evening, in the late spring of 1949, when the last of the freezing mists clinging to the streets of Paris were infused with the amber haloes of the streetlamps, Armand had listened to Louis muse about the oddity of churches here in Europe, how they were less grand in America, less tall. Louis had said that, in many ways, cathedrals were like vampires: cold and ancient, with the feeling as though every crack in the stone facade held secrets.

Deep in the black, twisted thing lodged between his ribs, Armand had felt as though that statement was aimed at him somehow.

Now, almost 80 years later, Armand sits in the Cathedral of Saint John the Divine one evening, eyes boring a hole into the back of a dark wooden pew as the others around him have theirs bowed in prayer. Why he decided it was here that he needed to sit, he can not answer. Truly, that evening, it was as if his feet had driven him to walk to this particular spot, wavering as he watched the parishioners make their way into the building for a midnight mass. Thoughts and whispers diffused the air, filling Armand’s head like a heady perfume. Inside the cathedral, packed in with the cattle, his head swims with the latent notions tickling his subconscious, sinking into his synapses like a balm that infuses into the skin.

Throughout time, he had found that human thoughts were at once both base and alight with something that even he, in his five hundred years of unlife, had failed to grasp. But then again, he also knew humans to be subtly manipulative with their thinking, as if they were aware that he - and supposedly an Almighty - was listening. He categorized and memorized the various shades and aspects of postulations that trickled from the cloud of human subconscious around him at all times. When the parishioners had their heads bowed in prayer, for instance, Armand felt himself awash with all kinds of soft, wishful desires, flowing through his veins and numbing his senses.

‘Please, Lord, help my wife to see that I love her.’

‘Lord, I don’t know if I have the strength, give me a sign.’

‘Please let him be okay.’

Notions of things that were surely not so out of their control, less the weakness of cattle had been underestimated. They always left a bitter sugary taste in Armand’s throat - at least how he’d remembered sugar to taste anyway. 

As the priest at the front of the cathedral begins his sermon, and the parishioners raise their heads, Armand can sense the thoughts becoming less fanciful. Brutish and honest, they bubble in and out of Armand’s ears and bounce through his brain like a spring, wound tight to be released at a moment’s notice.

‘I wanna get out of here so bad. I’m exhausted!’

‘Can this man hurry up so I can take a piss?’

Armand’s eyes remain forward, the buzz of human need around him boring into his head and nestling into the nooks and crannies of his skull. If it had not been for the unlucky loud man that had been stumbling around at 2 a.m. that he had drunk the other night, Armand would be - what was the lovely term he’d learned from Daniel? - ‘jonesing’ for the pumping, raucous blood of someone from this congregation. Maybe somebody in the back, who is thinking something along the lines of ‘where’s the nearest McDonalds?’ as they itch to type it into their phone.

Then, among the rabble, a singular wish, familiar from before, still held in that hopeful glow that lingers from the silence of prayer.

‘Let him be fine. Dammit, he better be, or I’ll. . .oh I don’t know.’

Armand’s head whips to the middle aged woman sitting just in front of him, brown curly hair tied back away from her face. In the unmistakable slump to her shoulders, the severe angle of her nose, and the streak of anger that laced her words, even as she speaks them in her head, he senses a familiar territory that he once hoped to claim, but let slip away. Of a young man twitching on the floor of a dingy apartment fifty years ago. Armand watches her intently, head tilted as he pushes into her mind, looking for more. His power digs into the woman’s brain like claws, dredging through the fluff of whatever latent thoughts she was holding before -

A flash. Studio lights on a book, sitting on a table between two large mugs of coffee and two men. One of whom rants and raves, familiar acerbic syllables decorating each explicit insult.

Daniel. 

Silver halo of curls surrounding his lined face, perpetual smirk lining his mouth, sat between the deep, carved lines of age adorning his cheeks and chin. Sunglasses perched on his severe nose, hiding his eyes.

Daniel.

As he spits words of contempt at the interviewer sitting across from him, the unmistakable shape of the words ‘Blow me’ plastering his lips as a loud bleep censors him. The smug confidence of someone who relied on the silver tongue and quick fingers on a notepad or laptop to survive, who would probably give a better sermon than the guy giving the sermon here, now.

If he were here. . .now.

‘Daniel.’

And, suddenly, like being thrown into the concrete wall back in Dubai, Armand is shunted back into himself, suddenly realizing that the woman who bore Daniel’s face is glaring at him, eyes laced with familiar ire and annoyance. She doesn’t speak, instead, she hisses softly under her breath, pushing the sound out between her teeth quiet enough so that it does not interrupt the priest, but sends the message nonetheless. She must think, perhaps, that Armand spoke the word aloud, and did not project it into her head like a volatile spear. With a look of what he hopes is remorse, Armand lowers his eyes, thinking that - in another lifetime - the tops of his cheeks would be warm with an embarrassed flush. 

When the service finally ends, Armand makes his way along with the stream of late-night parishioners out of the cathedral’s double doors. He eventually divests himself from the crowd and lays his back against the cool stone, head tilted up towards the sky. As he wallows in the aftermath of having his mind surrounded and infiltrated and filled with Daniel once more, he catches the woman from before exiting the building and striding towards a nearby side street, hands fumbling for a pack of cigarettes from her pocket and a lighter.

Armand peels himself from the stone wall and strides after her, his feet as silent on the stone as a cat’s paws, despite the low heel of his boots. The shadows of the night swallow him, swathing him in a cradle of darkness that allows him to track the woman as she continues smoking her cigarette and shivering in the night air.

Objectively, Armand knows he is not hungry and that if any passersby were to see him - not that they would, unless he chose to let them see him - they would think he was stalking this poor woman like a creeper. But her face, the slope of her neck meeting the collar of her jacket, the way the muscles in her jaw jumps as she exhales a cloud of smoke into the air, conjures psychosomatic memories in the all powerful mind of the ancient vampire. Rational thought has left his head. He is drawn like a poor, unsuspecting moth by the light of a jumping, roiling ball of fire trapped behind lantern glass. 

Then, the woman stops. Armand’s trajectory shifts as he ducks behind the corner of a nearby building. He watches her take one last drag and throw the cigarette to the ground, stomping it out with her shoe. Then, she swaps out the cigarette pack in her hand for a cellphone she pulls from her pocket, on which she types out a number quickly and with fumbling fingers. She puts the phone to her ear, turning in small circles like she’s expecting someone to leap out at her at any moment. Armand watches. He hears the phone ring and ring and ring, until a voice he would know and pick out from a crowd of thousands, even if he was blind, emitted from the speaker in a tinny, garbled tone.

Daniel Malloy’s inbox. Call me again, I fucking dare you. 

Beep. A soft sigh from the woman’s lips.

“Hey Dan- Dad. I mean, Dad. Hi. It’s me, you know your kid. The first one. Um. Yeah, just, thinking about you. Wanted to speak to you, I guess. You never answer, so I don’t know why I bother. Call me, please. Thanks. Bye.”

She hangs up the phone and keeps walking. Armand stays right where he is, watching her figure disappear into the night. He then turns his head to the towering silhouette of the Cathedral of St. John the Divine against the haze-coloured midnight sky, towers piercing the air like teeth. He feels a clump weight down his heart, like he’s listening to Louis ramble about churches again.

Louis. Daniel. . .

With a flick of his black coat - dramatic but necessary - he strides down and away, directions lost to him in his state. He just hopes his feet take him somewhere he needs to be. Away from what he’s thinking.

[elisboredomcorner]

Reading this fic that touches quite often on the theme of "getting what you deserve" and how Dean has never believed himself worthy of any positive thing (being saved, being loved). Dean thinking his ending was always going to be bloody and that an apple pie life was never meant for him. He doesn't deserve it. Or so he says. But then season 2 episode 20, with the alternate reality dream that the djinn shows him and realized that, is not just low self-worth that he has, but also thinks he is paying penance for being selfish. For wanting too much. Because how dare Dean wish for a happy life not only for him but everyone else? He can't have both right, that's the point? He is asking too much of the universe. Either those people are saved or he is. That's why he doesn't deserve to be saved. His salvation is the world's doom. "You don't think you deserve to be saved," and why would he? Last time, he saw a world where he didn't suffer a lot of people were dead by the things he hunted in the dark. To maintain the world order, Dean must suffer so that people can live. Every day, he wakes up and offers himself as a sacrifice for other's salvation. Which makes it even more fucked up when he has those suicide attempts because it means he thinks he really has nothing else to give. Idk, maybe I'm just projecting but like that episode really fucked me over. Cause what do you mean I can never truly get what I want? That this being who traps people in their perfect dreams could only conjure up a reality that met 5% of my wants? Am I really asking for too much? When I say I want a family alive and well, am I asking for too much? You saw my subconscious and couldn't foster up an image of someone I once loved to make them my partner? Is that what you saw in my brain or what I see of me?

[bipolar-boygirl]

Not to be a Salty American (though as the great Hannah Gatsby once said, making fun of Americans is still technically punching up,but that window is closing), but I've been thinking a lot about a specific video from a Nigerian creator I follow whose platform is about showing that africa as a whole isn't poor and a lot of the things the west sees as signifiers of poverty are culturally preferred methods and items. Her videos are very lighthearted and funny normally, but I saw one recently about how Africans (her words) don't pay for things with credit, and that we (Americans and I'm assuming the west in general) can't live without credit, our whole system is based on credit. And she's right, but it was treated as some sort of Gotcha moment, and not the horrifying mechanic of capitalism that it is

I was lying in bed this morning after having a nightmare that I lost a part of my arm and couldn't afford the surgery, the whole dream was me trying to find ways to make the surgery cheaper, to find loopholes in my insurance, stressing about missing work, and it ended with me sobbing because I finally had enough money for the surgery but it would wipe out every cent I had, and I would be left with nothing while recovering and unable to work. This was something my subconscious mind conjured because I'm dealing with a much less life threatening equivalent of needing to get my wisdom teeth removed and not being able to afford it (though the longer I go without it the more likely I am to get an infection and if that gets into my blood or my brain I'm fucked, I'm catastrophizing here, but it's a very real fear I'm dealing with).

My options for getting my wisdom teeth removed are: to continue to try to save up the money regularly, which is a very slow going process and at my current rate of saving I could break even on the surgery in about 4 months, but much like my dream it would take every dollar I have, so that's not actually true, is it? It would take me much longer to save up enough to not go broke, so realistically at my current rate I'm still probably over a year away.

Or: sign up for something like care credit, which is basically a loan specifically for medical costs. It's even interest free! Unless of course you're unable to pay back the full loan in the agreed upon time frame and then you owe a predatory interest rate on the entire amount they loaned you, regardless of how much you have left to pay off. If I had a better credit score, I might be able to put it at least partially on a credit card which would have an interest rate from the start but a lower one. But I don't have a credit card because I was forced into a position where I HAD to get a car with a car note and due to my non-existent credit score at the time I had to settle with a 20-something % interest rate and now have a $450 car note a month for like 6 years. Most starter credit cards require a cash deposit and between all my bills (aside from rent, my car note is the most expensive which is why I brought it up) and trying to save up the old fashioned way I just really don't have the money to spare to get a credit card. I could probably get one without a cash deposit, but then we run into the issue of the predatory interest rates again

Or: I could set up a gofundme, which is a whole other can of worms and with everything else happening in the world, with all of the fleeing families, and the abuse victims, and people with actual life threatening medical needs on there, my silly little wisdom teeth don't seem all that important.

So yeah, Americans can't live without credit, but it's not something we chose. It's just another tool capitalism uses to drain every last penny they can from people after inventing credit scores (didn't exist til the 80's) and making everything so fucking expensive you can't even afford it with insurance (yeah that amount I'm saving towards? That's my cost WITH insurance), so you have no choice BUT to pay for things on credit

I know it's fun to make fun of Americans guys, I used to do it all the time myself. But, just, we aren't doing so hot.

[auroragehenna]

No matter how much you squirm you won‘t get out ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TW: Electrocution, knife whump, intimte/creepy-whumper, angel/demon whump, pet whump, petnames, non-con touch (non-sexual

Word count: 2‘043

Harmonia was once again questioning her life choices. But this time she fucked up big time. And that even though everything was going so well. Even if she was still new to the people that had hired her, she was sure she could pull this off if she put her all into it. Now she was lying next to her target, partially restraining one of the princess’s arms and one of her own arms stretched out over the princess’s throat. Her right arm was restrained by the other girl whose free hand was around her own throat. When she finally managed to pry the hand away from her throat, the partially restrained arm managed a touch in return.

“I don’t necessarily need to choke you Angel and you know it. Do you know that at a certain voltage lightning becomes really hot?”, the princess taunts.

Harmonia subconsciously tried to wiggle away from the touches on her throat, but it was no use. A dulled-out part of her brain wondered weakly about the lightning. Didn’t the princess have different magic?

“So, what are you going to do, huh? Torture me? Interrogate me simultaneously? Kill me?”

“So impatient.” The princess laughed.” It’s like you’re begging me to hurt you.”

Harmonia scoffs: “You wish.”

“Oh, sweetheart if I wanted to get you begging I could. But that’s no fun yet.”

“I. would. rather. die.” Harmonia shoots back. “Alright, sure.” The princess conjures a ball of lightning. After a few moments, she begins to speak again. “Okay, that voltage should be deadly even for angels.”

In the next second, she directs the lightning onto Harmonia.

And the last thing Harmonia knows is every fibre of her being on fire, every muscle contracted. Then blackness.

Electra got up on her feet and swooped the unconscious angel into her arms. Then she went to the door, laid a hand on it, and watched as the rectangle turned into a portal looking into a room with a stone floor, no windows and a cheminee. The demoness walked through the portal and entered the other room.

There already waiting were two other creatures.

“You, clean this!”, she ordered a boy that appeared to be a fey. “And you, go fetch me some clothes, I think the same size as yours should suffice.”, she ordered an older-looking centaur.

The two creatures hurried to do as told and shortly after both tasks were completed. The two returned to their places in front of their owner, kneeling with lowered heads.

Electra approached them and halted a few paces before them. “Rise.”, she ordered, more gently this time. The creatures instantly obeyed, standing in front of her and shyly holding eye contact. Then Electra gently stroked their hair. “Well done, my dolls.” She could feel how eagerly her dolls leaned into her touch. Then she heard Harmonia move a bit behind her. She let go of her dolls and tried not to visibly enjoy the despair in their eyes at that. “Leave us.”, she ordered and they left the room.

-----

Slowly but surely Harmonia came out of the thick black. Regaining each sense after the other. She felt groggy as if she got run over by a herd of pegasi. Next, she registered that she was laying on her stomach and tried to stretch her wings but nothing happened. Trying to move a finger or her legs did her no good either. That sped up her coming back to consciousness drastically because now adrenaline pumped through her veins. Harmonia tried to move her head; that was the only thing that worked. However, she froze right back up as she heard steps echo through the room behind her. It couldn’t be a big room if it reverberated like that she thought dully. The steps come to a halt next to Harmonia’s head and, even with her instincts screaming at her not to, she turned her head towards them.

“So, finally awake huh angel? You nearly had me worried if I took too much voltage and if you’re so much more fragile than the other angels I met.”

Harmonia recognized the voice and finally through clouded consciousness and adrenaline her memories set in.

“Demon-bitch.”, she pressed out in response.

The other just laughed. Ma’am will do just fine.”

„Go home!“

The demon‘s smile dropped off her face and the playful spark left her eyes. She stepped closer, crouched down, and grabbed Harmonia by the throat, nails digging into the skin ever so slightly. „Watch your mouth, dear. You won‘t like what happens otherwise.“

“Oh, really?”, Harmonia choked out before the demon cut off her air completely. Slowly Harmonia runs out of air but not without glaring daggers at her capturer.

Moments before the angel could pass out, the other let go and got up again. She moved her finger a tiny bit and watched the young woman start to cough and curl in on herself ever so slightly. Her eyes widen in surprise before white, marble-like fingers reach up to her throat to gently touch the sensitive red. She squeezes her eyes shut for a second before the moment’s gone and she straightens up again.

With a kick, the demon turns Harmonia on her back, where she puts a foot on her stomach, pressing down. “I technically just wanted to get you settled in right now, but if it’s your wish to misbehave then I can reschedule and we’ll hold your first lesson instead. What will it be?”

Harmonia narrowed her eyes in pure hatred but then retreated to a neutral expression and body language.

„Very good. Sit up.“

Harmonia pushes herself up, into a sitting position and stretches her wings.

„Now kneel.“

Harmonia’s eyes snap up and find hers. She straightens up and barely noticeably holds her head up higher. Her whole face is now closed off again.

The demon sighs. “Listen here doll. We both know how you got here. It was your own fault really. You and your pile of puny little feathered choir kids tried to assassinate a princess of Gehenna. You greatly underestimated the difficulty of doing that and ran into our trap. My trap. That goes to show that you obviously weren’t made for complexity. So, I took you in and now all you have to do is look pretty, entertain me, and obey. And we can do this the hard way or the easy way, both works well for me, just know that eventually, the ending will always be the same.”

Harmonia stayed stoic but the demon could see a flicker in her eyes that wasn’t there before.

“Alright then, the hard way. I’m just going to make some things clear before we begin. My name is Electra but you won’t address me like that. You will address me as Ma’am. Always. You will do whatever I say and remember the rules I give you. Break a rule you will get punished depending on the severity of your disobedience. Behave nicely and you get rewards. Understood, so far doll?”

“I heard you.”, the angel bit out.

“Excuse me?” Electra’s voice got a threatening nuance.

“I heard you…Ma’am.”, she forced out eventually.

It was painfully forced but it was something. Progress is progress Electra thought to herself.

“Now then. Let’s start with your training, shall we.”

And before Harmonia could react her body lit up in pain and the air filled with the crackling of electricity and Harmonia’s half-suppressed groans.

After what feels like a whole eternity Electra draws back her electricity. She inspects the angel laying before her on the ground. Still twitching from the electricity left in her body. “Kneel.”, Electra orders.

“Fu-Fuck-you.”, Harmonia bites out. She glares up at her in rage.

“Hmm, seems like this isn’t going with you, is it? Pure physical pain isn’t your thing, huh, doll? Let’s try something else as well. She pushed her hand forward towards Harmonia, who was thrown against a wall of the room. There she kept her, not being able to move a finger. Her angel’s eyes went wide as she watched Electra slowly advance towards her. “I believe you got something wrong here, my dear doll. You believe you’re your own person. You believe this isn’t your life. That I am…unjust.” Electra came to a halt in front of Harmonia. “That faux life of yours ended the second you took on that job. This is your life now. I am your life now! You will comply, and if you keep up your defiant façade I will put you through worse than you could even fathom. But that’s messy. So, I will give you a gift, a warning, not to defy me.” Electra burned away Harmonia’s shirt and lit up her finger with lightning. “Don’t worry, this won’t shock you.” She pressed her finger on the skin above Harmonia’s heart and let the lightning sink into her skin.

“You demon-bitch, what did you do to me?!-Argh!”

Pleased with herself Electra sees tiny lines spread out from the angel’s heart, carving themselves into her skin. There was no blood flowing out but Electra made had made sure it hurt.

Harmonia follows her gaze and sees the lines as well. They reminded her of cracks, or rather…lightning and she knew she would shudder if she could. “Wtf did you do?!”

This time her angel only sucked in air sharply in response to more pain flaring up.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, my dear doll, you really need to get brighter.”

This earned her a sarcastic look from her angel which resulted in the carved lines spreading out more.

Electra grabbed her angel by the jaw and leaned in close as she said: “Understand that you are mine to own and mine to do whatever I please with. This is your only purpose.” She shifted her hand to caress the side of her face, claws ever so slightly touching the skin. With a flick of her hand, she released her angel and swiftly caught her in what seemed like a hug. Gently she then started to pet her doll’s wings and murmured in her ear: “Do you understand that now, doll?”

Harmonia was sure her tormentor could feel how she was shaking against her. She had the urge to twitch her wings away from the touch but was too scared that the demon might hurt them.

“I’m waiting, Harmonia-doll.”

Harmonia choked on air before she managed a shaky. “Yes, Ma’am. I understand.”

“You understand what? Say it, doll.”

“I understand that this is my purpose. That I am yours to own, yours to do whatever you please to do with me. Ma’am.”

“Very good, doll.”

Harmonia avoided her tormentor’s cold eyes when she finally let go of her after a last pet over her wings. Electra observed her angel for a few moments. She was not perfectly happy with her progress yet but could see that her angel was too emotional to work efficiently.

“I will send a maid to bring you food and water to wash yourself. You are to not interact with them, they won’t react to you anyway. Do that and then go to sleep. I expect you well rested and ready for tomorrow’s training. Do you understand, doll?”

“I understand, Ma’am.”, Harmonia answered, now more exhausted than scared.

“Good.” And with that Electra left the room, magically locking the door again behind her.

Harmonia just stood there, still shaking. How did she get here?? How??? Eventually, she zoned back enough to shake her head and walk to the fireplace. There she sat down, her wings around her and tried to get warm despite the cold of the stone floor and the shock. When the maid came she gladly ate the dinner and washed herself with a warm cloth. After she changed into the new clothing she rolled herself in front of the fireplace, wings covering whatever bit of her they could. She wasn’t given a blanket and the stone was hard but she was used to harsher conditions and terribly exhausted from the torture and the adrenaline. So, she fell asleep quickly. Drifting off in an uneasy rest.

[nalyra-dreaming]

Hi, I hope this is not a weird question but, could share some fic writing tips. I want to start writing iwtv fics and I have a few drafts started but I'm having such a hard time figuring out how to make a cohesive story that is compelling. Every time I read back my writing I just hate it and it doesn't flow nicely and it's discouraging.

Hey dear!

Ohhh, congratulations on wanting to start down that road! No, I'm serious, writing has enriched my life so much, but it can be... quite daunting as well. 🤗

Also, I feel terribly flattered and... a bit scared... I'm not quite sure whether I'm the right person to ask, I sometimes feel I'm a bit weird in this regard, but... here goes. 😅

Start with a sentence. I know this may sound weird, but I usually reach for the scene and try to imagine it as in a movie or show, how would you start that scene. What would you see, what would someone say. Is there an introduction necessary? Do your readers know immediately what you're showing them, or do you have to explain? Try to put that down. And then...

Follow your story logically, one sentence after the other (it doesn't matter here if you jump around writing, just that the sentence before has to fit the one after.) Logically may seem weird again (we are in a creative spot after all^^), but characters are bound into their universe and behaviors, right? Those aspects follow rules - use them. For example, for IWTV, we have Lestat's backstory that informs a lot of his actions - and that Louis and Claudia do not know about. That is a rule for him, a restriction. It informs his actions. Same goes for the show racial context, Claudia's age (of course) etc, etc.

It helps me to "hear" the characters. Like, when I write dialogue, I literally hear them talk in my head. I conjure them. The cadence, the accent. And again, there's rules to that, what would they say, what wouldn't they. And why.

Leave a lot to the imagination. Especially while writing fanfiction gives you the freedom to just... skip details. (I do like to do it in original fiction, too, I think it frees the story up, and when we read we fill out the gaps with what we know...) Your readers already know the story, the show, the characters... let them come with their own mental image for them and just build on that.

Your characters will tell the story. And they will sometimes do what they want. (Brains are weird^^). If you want them to go where you want to, you will have to have a strong grip on them. Or... alternately, you can just follow where they go^^. Like, I have that one Naruto fic, right, "A change of color". When I started that monster (it's 560k, finished), I had a vision of the starting scene... and the end scene. I knew where I wanted to go. I never knew that it would take me 1,5 years of continuous writing to do so. But, I knew it would take a while, so I commissioned art for it, to fix those scenes in my mind. And let my brain do the rest. Use your subconscious for that. I usually put notes down so I don't forget where I want to go and let them reach those "on their own".

Use emotions. We are emotional beings, so are "they". Figure out what makes them behave as they do. Try to bring that across without spelling it out. This ties in into the "logical" of earlier, but can be more painful to conjure^^.

That's... my two cents. 😅

A few things to you especially *hugs*

You say you have a few drafts started - that means you have ideas. That is so exciting?! You could run them by someone if you're feeling unsure, but your mind obviously wants to tell a story. Wohoo?! Don't try to go in with the pressure of making it compelling or cohesive, or whatever... just write that idea down. Get it out. Often, beta readers are a very good idea though *laughs* (though I usually only have one in events 😬) - maybe find a discord server to join and discuss your ideas, and ask if someone feels like looking over your story? If you don't like to discuss your ideas beforehand, that may not be ideal for you though.

Flow is something that comes through practice I think. And I'm often not happy with mine either. But, again, try to write logically. If Louis does one thing... what would then happen. How would he feel, what would he do, how would Lestat (assuming you write Loustat here, but just replace the names otherwise^^) react. Usually it clicks into place for me like that.

And, last but not least. I was terrified, when I posted my first fic on Ao3. "Baptism". It's full of spelling errors, too, lol. I haven't fixed those in the online version (I did a book version a while back with the whole series that came from that, and I fixed that, but not the posted one.) Being shit-scared before posting is normal. (It does get better though, eventually imho) You know why? Because writing is a journey. It may not seem like it right now, but writing will be a companion, it will develop, it will change. You will hate it, you will love it, and sometimes you have to force yourself to go through it. But it's worth it^^, no matter whether you write a smut PWP, or a coffee shop slow burn.

So... just write. Write that most intense idea down, the one that's been bugging you to get out, and post the f***er. Get it out :)). This is your story. No-one else can tell it like you do.

[kingcrxwn]

i'm having Emotions about horror media as pure expression

specifically, this started because of minecraft's pre-1.13 oceans.

because:

the vast, dead depths. empty, truly empty wastes. the light drops off so fast (it feels like after four blocks the darkness closes in completely, but that can't be right, can it?), and you know nothing is down there (do you?) -- there are no mobs (squid don't count, but that's not what you're thinking of anyway, is it?), no enemies.

there's nothing there.

and that. is exactly, precisely why the ocean was so horrifying. you knew -- you knew -- there was absolutely nothing out there but everything was screaming what if what if what if What. If.

the old oceans are a perfect case study of that old horror adage -- never show your monster. the moment you know there's something out there for sure... and it's a zombie with a stick...

well, that's not anywhere near as terrifying as whatever half-baked monstrous shadowy presence your subconscious cooked up.

.... but i kind of left something out, didn't i? the Thing that made pre-1.13 oceans actually, properly terrifying.

because there was a threat. there was a structure out there. just one. one structure, that housed the only jumpscare in the entire game.

and keep in mind: we're talking about that visceral, irrational fear that only the threatening unknown can conjure. the kind that kicks in when the lines between reality and game are blurred and your brain is utterly convinced, on some animal level, that this is real.

imagine. you're sinking straight down, into the fathoms of inky blackness that may or may not have an actual bottom (you've kind of convinced yourself this isn't going to end -- and even if you did hit the bottom you'd have no way of knowing. it's all the same anyway). nothing's changing.

and then you hear that horrible noise and a ghastly, pale thing obscures your entire screen

like. yeah. ultimately, guardians aren't really that scary and this scenario is so unlikely. but god damn, i've literally thrown my laptop because i got cursed while on land, on a rail, in a call with friends.

if that shit happened to me in the dark of their home turf?

dude, i'd die.

and the faintest presence of a threat is usually enough for your brain to fill in the blanks.

that's why, i think, the ocean was so utterly terrifying for me.

so yes. minecraft is a horror game. i will die on this hill.

[tardistimelord03]

The Dream - A Short Story by Kara W

Once again I went to sleep, but this was different. She was there again, except it wasn't a manifestation of my anger, my guilt or sadness. It was a manifestation of somber, and comfort. Stealing my former friends face as it did once before to talk to me.

"Ever since she decided to be civil, you haven't wanted to talk to her."

I replied

"I'm just respecting her decision."

She responded

"What do you mean?"

I conquered

"She wants to be civil, but the only way I can see any form of civility is not talking to her."

She responded, looking through the deep subconscious of my broken, underdeveloped mind, knowing she was ahead of me and could read me like a book

"Why, wasn't she like a sister to you?"

I replied, knowing this entity using her face had the power over me

"Yes, she was. But that version of her is gone."

She replied

"If she came back, wanted to be your friend again. Would you take her back?"

I replied

"I don't know."

She replied

"Why? Don't you care about her anymore?"

I quickly responded

"Of course I do, I care about the girl I met. The one with whom I spent the most fantastic times with, the one who motivated me and encouraged me every time I saw her, the one who was proud to call me her friend and lifted me up."

She replied

"Then why wouldn't you want that back if you're thinking like this?"

I admitted

"Because that girl is gone, all I have now is a negative manifestation of her in my dreams, to remind me of failing her."

She responded

'So, is she the only image you have of her?"

I admitted

"No, I still have the memories in my head, but the real her has no feelings for me anymore. At least not that I know of, she doesn't care about what I accomplish. The idea of me hugging her or calling her a friend means nothing to her anymore."

She responded

"So it wouldn't work if she came back and replaced the negative manifestation in your dreams? To replace me talking to you and have the real her talk to you?"

I responded, a tear running down my cheek. A anger building up inside myself

"No, because the girl I dream of and only talk to now is the only form of communication I have with anything that looks like her. Even if it's a negative manifestation in my brain. The real girl no longer exists the way I want it too, if she came back it wouldn't fix anything."

She replied, stealing the face of curiosity of a friend long ago

"Then what is she still doing in your dreams?"

I responded, feeling like the anger made me want to hit myself over the head

"The dreams regardless of the impact they make on me emotionally help me respect her decision and the promise we both made to keep things civil. I want to become better."

She replied

"Better for her?"

I conjured up the only words I thought I could

"No, for myself. And the friends who remain."

She responded

"She will never forget you, you know. Even after what you did. Even after everything."

I responded

"To be honest, part of me wished she did. It'd be easier that way, but... Neither will I, but I can't force someone to become a friend again. The best I can do is give myself the means to be what she expected of me to be when we were friends, when we were real friends, good friends."

She responded

"The girl you knew would be proud of you, for admitting fault, for admitting wrong, for realising you're able to make mistakes and learn from them."

I responded, before I awoke

"I can only hope so."