#magical prisons: especially bad.

[cyborg-squid]

Pandaemonium isn’t my favorite (so far) of the raid series’ but one of the things I do really love about it, despite More Time Travel, is how it. kinda bucks the initial impressions of it? I guess everyone might have had different ideas of what it’d be about, but to me it initially seemed like an ‘inmates running the asylum’ sort of deal, we know that the most dangerous of the Ancients’ creations were locked away there (imagined Meteion locked in Pandaemonium and made myself incredibly sad), and catastrophe would be imminent if they ever were to escape...

But most of the bosses and enemies you fight aren’t the creations? Or rather, aren’t just the creations. There’s the Hippokampus, the Phoinix, and the Proto-Carbuncle, but all the rest are either a Warder or a Warder that’s partially fused/corrupted with one of the contained creatures. And while most of the Warder bosses can said to be ‘corrupted’, it seems to me less like they’re corrupted by their charges, it never seems like “oh the creature is mind controlling the Warder” or shit, it’s that they’re instead corrupted by the power Pandaemonium offers, the power they receive through melding themselves, the power that they have already had over their charges.

And this fits perfectly, in my opinion, with Hermes’ role in the Elpis arc, the Ancients’ cardinal sin, that these immortal being with their power over life and death, Hermes’ distress over having to basically un-create/euthanize these living creatures he (or his colleagues) created, these creatures that should, however monstrous, still have the same right to life.

You stick a bunch of these Warders in Pandaemonium, with power over beings that their Ancient race has created, and tell them their most important duty is to make sure these incredibly dangerous creatures don’t escape, and of course that power is going to corrupt, and that, to me, is more the true villain of Pandaemonium, rather than specifically Hephaistos, it’s the power inherent the sort of creation magics the Ancients’ wielded, the power to decide who lives and dies, who gets to exist and who doesn’t, the same power Emet-Selch and the Ascians would later abuse with the Rejoinings, the idea that, with their creation magics and utopia and “perfect” society, that their species gets to live on and not ours.

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

With Me Forever

Dark!Mommy!Agatha Harkness x fem!reader

Word count: 1.3K

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, Stockholm syndrome, Dubcon, kidnapping/confinement, psychological conditioning/manipulation, Mommy kink, emotional manipulation, pet play, loss of autonomy, magical manipulation, breeding kink, objectification, power play

Authors notes: Man Idk who took over while writing this one, but they were amazing.

The room is dim, heavy velvet curtains drawn over the windows, allowing only slivers of muted sunlight to filter through. You’ve been here for days—weeks, maybe even months. Time feels warped in this house, your new prison. Every surface is lavish, grand even, but that doesn’t dull the sharp edge of fear that grips your heart.

Agatha is watching you again. Her presence is unmistakable—she's never too far from you, whether you see her or not. You’d taken notice of a cicada in the room she kept you in. It never got too close to you, but always somewhere you could see it.

 Her deep, sultry voice curls around your senses like smoke as she enters the room, heels clicking against the hardwood floor. She’s dressed impeccably, as usual, in a pair of dark purple suit pants, a white button up and a navy blue overcoat, her sharp eyes glittering with amusement as she watches you on the bed.

"Good morning, my little bunny," she purrs, her voice sending a shiver down your spine. "Have you decided to behave today?"

You turn your head away, trying to ignore the way your body reacts to her. Every fiber of your being wants to resist her, to fight back against the constant manipulation, but it’s hard—too hard—especially when your body betrays you. You hate how she’s gotten under your skin, how her touch has become something you crave, even as your mind rebels.

Her hands are the only touch you’ve felt in a long time let alone a nice touch, something tender that doesn’t leave a mark on you. Your body wanted more of it even though you knew this was all wrong. She kidnapped you. She’s keeping you here for her own amusement and pleasure. 

Agatha chuckles darkly, sensing your internal struggle. She moves closer, her fingers trailing lightly along the curve of your neck. You flinch, but you don’t pull away. You can't.

"My sweet girl," she whispers, her lips brushing against your ear, "it’s only a matter of time before you stop fighting. You’ll see that everything I do is for you, for us. I could give you so much more than anyone else ever could including that other little witch you were so fond of. All you have to do is surrender."

Her words are a poison, dripping into your thoughts, planting seeds of doubt. She’s always been careful, never harsh and certainly never violent. Instead, she plays with your mind, with your desires, making you question everything. 

Is it really so bad to want her? 

To give in?

"You and I could be so much together," Agatha continues, her hand sliding down your arm, her nails grazing your skin just enough to make you shiver. "I know what you can do and I could teach you things that would make the world bow at your feet."

You close your eyes, trying to block her out, but it’s impossible. She’s everywhere, inside your head, inside your heart. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, you feel yourself breaking, crumbling under the weight of her words, her presence.

"You’ll never leave," she says softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Not because I won’t let you, but because you won’t want to."

And the terrifying part is that you know she’s right.

You feel her hand move over the curves of your body, goosebumps running over your whole body. Her fingers were always freezing as she somehow made your skin feel like it was on fire. The only movement you were allowed was to arch into her touch. Your body once again betraying you as it did just that, asking for more from her as you don’t dare look her in the eyes. She chuckles, dark and low, at the action. 

“Your body doesn’t lie to me bunny. Look at me. Look at Mommy.” She’d started to call herself that. Mommy, you thought it was just a jab at all the Mommy issues you have and it very well might be the case, but fuck you just wanted to make Mommy happy. Yet you still want to fight against her. You don’t want to give her the satisfaction. Not yet at least. 

Her hand starts rubbing your thigh, each stroke drawing closer to your heated core. You close your eyes, letting out a shaky breath. You feel her movement and the bed dips down between your legs. You’re moved slightly with where her weight is and you feel a hand on each thigh. 

Her strokes are gentle as she leans down, her heated mouth meaning your skin. A rush of heat to your core hits and a needy whine comes out of you.

“All you have to do is ask, bunny.” She mumbles against your skin. This was the game that was played every time. Like some even more twisted form of conditioning. She’d wait until you were all needy, begging for her cock, begging to be bred by her. It wasn’t fair. You bite your lip debating if you want to hold out this time, you’ve done it a few times, but you’d always regret it because she’d work you up and ruin your orgasm each time. 

“Please Mommy…need you…need you inside of me…” You manage out and Agatha looks down at you, slowly rubbing around your overly sensitive nub, but not actually touching it. You swallow hard before continuing. You know what she’s waiting for and you want to say it. You want her to know, need her to know. 

“I’m yours Mommy please I’ll be your good bunny! Need Mommy’s cock inside of me. Only yours makes me feel good. No one else could make me feel good like you Mommy. No one could make me cum like you do Mommy!” You feel tears prick the corners of your eyes. 

A smirk appears on Agatha’s face, a snap of her fingers and your clothes are gone. She has her purple enchanted strap out and ready. It was already pushing at your soaked entrance. Making it easy for Agatha to slip inside of you. 

“F-fuck…” You arch into her, not realizing how much you needed her. 

“You’re so tight, bunny. You feel amazing. Mommy’s going to make sure you feel amazing.” She manages out, you can tell she’s breathless just from entering you. Feeling how tight and wet you were. 

“Please Mommy I’ll be your best bunny ever!” 

She simply smirks as she grips your hips and before you can say anything else she’s pounding into you relentlessly. You can’t help but moan as she hits your spot over and over again. You don’t feel one of her hands move up to your head, it isn’t until you hear the Latin come out her mouth that you know she’s using her magic she’s making you more fuzzy, more needy for her. Another form of conditioning, her magic. 

You watch her fingers, watching her hand flex and fingers move. It isn’t her magic making you fuzzy and needy. You grab her wrists and don’t think about it as you take her fingers into your mouth, sucking on them eagerly. 

You look up at her with half lidded eyes, dark and lustful. You were ready to be completely hers. She could see it in your eyes. 

“That’s my good bunny. Just like that. You’re Mommy’s bunny aren’t you?” She asks, her voice full of lust, her heated breath you could swear you saw. You nod and mumble an ‘mhmm’ around her fingers. 

You don’t think it’s possible but she speeds up. You’re moaning around her fingers and she can tell you’re close. She keeps her pace, letting you fall over the edge as you let her fingers go, choosing to lunge forward to hold onto her as you rocked your hips into her. Her hands find their way to your back, her natural nails clawing down your back. 

“My bunny.” You feel her fill you, her hot cum hitting against your walls. You were hers completely and you had been for a while, you knew that. There’s nowhere else you’d rather be, you don’t even remember that other witch’s name.

“Your bunny Mommy forever.”

[arliedraws]

Ok so we know that Sirius had shorter hair when he was younger and I think you picture his hair perfectly! Just like I imagined it. Buuut I wanted to know how you think about Sirius with long hair in general? If I remember correctly after getting long hair during Azkaban his hair was shorter in OotP again. How short do you think he cut his hair after prison? Because.. I mean I really love Sirius with shorter hair, especially your version, but I also love him having long hair and it would make so much sense, since generally, it is believed that in fairy tales, the longer the beard, the more powerful the person is. Also like in ancient myths from different cultures, long hair is also associated with strength. In some fairy tales, cutting off hair also means losing one's strength. It is believed that hair stores magic and that cutting it is bad because it means losing some of that magic. Therefore, everyone, regardless of gender, has long hair. The longer the hair, the more powerful a witch or wizard is considered.

Bonus: Sirius looks very hot with long hair, when he wears it in a half bun or something.

Okay, this is important to me. Obviously. Canonically, we know that Sirius kept his hair short pre-Azkaban (per Moody in OotP). Now, what we can surmise from this interaction is that Sirius’s hair in OotP MUST be longer than it was pre-Azkaban. Okay. If Moody is going to bother mentioning his hair, there must be a marked difference so we must presume that Sirius probably has longish hair in OotP. In PoA, he has elbow length, ratty ass hair that hasn’t seen a brush in a decade probably. However, during the Floo chat in GoF, we see that Sirius has gained a bit of weight and has had his hair cut. I refer to this as tropical Sirius, the only time Sirius is actually happy in the series. He’s looking after himself physically. However, once we see him back in the UK, he is starving once again and his hair is back to long and matted.

In Order of the Phoenix, I believe the only reason that his hair is clean and maintained but long is that he doesn’t give a fuck what he looks like but he is bathing regularly.

Anyway, here you go. (Side note: if Sirius had lived, he would’ve cut his hair after OotP in HBP.)

Thank you for giving me a reason to talk about Sirius’s hair.

[milkytheholy1]

Fitness Regime

REQUEST: Shadow x reader who likes to flirt with him a lot? 

----

You had known Shadow for an awfully long time, not as long as Rouge had known him or even Sonic for that matter. But time had passed and with that, the birth of an unusually bizarre friendship, that you dreamed would blossom into something more, was spear-headed your way. 

It was just your average, boring day, patrolling the cosmos in a rusted ship you called home. G.U.N had shipped you off on a space assignment before you could even sign your name on the health and safety document. But it wasn't all bad, you had Shadow with you for a start. Though you assumed he wasn't completely thrilled by your presence, especially when the white-fanged bat 'persuaded' you to go flirt with him relentlessly. 

"You're doing it again," he huffed, stretching his fingers down to touch the tips of his rocket shoes. You folded your arms over your chest, a smug smile on your face, "Why, I don't know what you mean. I'm simply...inspecting your workout regime."

"Is that what they call it these days?" he mused, although the slant of his lips gave off annoyed old man vibes, the devious glint in his eyes told a much different story. You paced around his form, watching with precision as he jumped and dived into different workout positions. At some point you waltzed right up to him, plucking a singular hair from his brow, "Looks to me like you're getting sloppy."

"Pfft, looks to me like you're blind," he muttered, arrogance laced his tone. You took a step back, Shadow copying your position, "Is that a challenge I hear?"

"Are you deaf now too?" he chuckled, picking up a wooden stick. It somewhat resembled a sword, but unlike a katana crafted with care for years, this 'sword', if you can even call it that, was chipped and scuffed by the countless months in use. Shadow presented you with your own stick, quickly assuming a defensive stance, "First one to get knocked down wins."

And just like that he was off, there was no real chance of you ever going to win if this was how he played. Though you should have known this by now, this is how Shadow was, it was how he worked. He was a good fighter, but a bigger cheat. 

You fought effortlessly, twisting and turning with each swing. With each clang and subsequent pant, you dipped and weaved under each other like it was a rehearsed dance. You stumbled under one of his attacks, a bright and eager smile adorning his lips, "What's wrong? Is winning against me too hard?" 

You could almost melt with the way he said it, so obnoxious but not at all malice. It was nice to see Shadow like this, not bothered and free to be himself; it was one of the reasons why you were so desperately in love with him. He noted your lack of response, pulling his sword away only slightly, "No witty comeback?" he swung again.

You tumbled to the floor with the grace of a flailing bird that hadn't quite captured the magic of flight yet. Your sword was kicked from your hand, your heart beating from the adrenaline, your chest almost a prison. Darkness grew over you, Shadow in all his smug glory. You're certain your face turned to a shade of red that had yet to be put on the colour scale.

"Who's sloppy now?" he all but hissed.

[emsartwork]

Long post ahead!

So if a fairy's pallet changes, it most commonly happens around enchantix because of how inherently traumatic the concept of self sacrifice is.

Flora's colors would dull a little, nothing major but the pinks would look more "aged" as a mental reference to the black willow's time affiliation.

Musa's also are not a huge change, mostly a slight darkening as a symptom of the pain she went through when her wings were shattered (also might be a reflection of the darcy/stormy dynamic and how musa relates to both of them in different ways but she's not ready to unpack that teehee)

Tecna's is a more dramatic change due to the prolonged survival state she had to be in while trapped on Omega. She used her transformation to survive until she was able to scavenge parts to build a warming suit for herself which meant she drained her magic every transformation (via exploring and setting up a safe camp warmth bubble). Every transformation ended up lighter and lighter as a camouflage against the ice-snakes and the thawed prisoners. This would be a more permanent color change, probably only darkening a little as she healed, especially because tecna doesn't base her identity in being a fairy so it wouldn't cause her additional stress.

Stella's colors would mostly shift after earning Onyrix. Stella had the most negative reaction to her nemesis out of all the winx and the episode continued to effect her for several weeks after it was done. However, due to this episode, she did gain a much more balanced look at her sense of self worth, acknowledging that she has bad days and needs to treat herself with compassion instead of catastrophizing. In a way Stella's colors changed not because of trauma but because of growth.

Oh girliepop. Aisha's color change is a pure grief reaction to Nabu's death. It's not a permanent change, because Aisha would come to associate the darkened color with feeling shitty and the longer it stayed dark the more upset she would be (she had a few ups and downs color-wise along this timeline, its not strictly linear). It also wasn't a thing that happened to "her" like, Nabu dying was definitely traumatic, and similar to daphne who had grief involved in her color change, but daphne also underwent torture and other losses of autonomy that left lasting physical symptoms, which is why her color change was permanent.

Bloom has a few changes (because of course she does). Dark bloom dimmed her colors in season 2/3

Bloom's incomplete enchantix highly saturated her colors, and her complete enchantix settled into a slightly more blue tinged set which is permanent.

not so much an actual color change as an affliction, but I thought it would be fun to include. Fairies in core fatigue have scattered, shifting colors and design elements that bleed into each other.

[dailydamnation]

Well, I said that if they kept giving X-ladies solo books, that have to get around to Illyana eventually, but I didn't dare believe in it.

A solo ongoing for our girl. This is a good day.

Generally, I'm not big on solo X-titles, teams just work best. I've always thought Illyana is one of the characters who it would work with, though. Part of that is bias, obviously, but I think that to justify a solo, you need a character with personal stories that are distinctly different from core X-Men/mutant stories. They surprised me by finding a solid take for Jean in making her go cosmic.

Illyana's magic and demons really set her up for a unique run, and it looks like we might be getting it:

The mystic mutant goes demon hunting in her own series! The X-Man Illyana Rasputina strikes out on her own with new allies and dark powers arrayed against her.

New allies? Leah Helranger when?

Having Ashley Allen return after her Blood Hunt oneshot is a big win. Illyana really felt like Illyana in that story, and played to her strengths.

Germán Peralta I've always liked, and I think his style could be a great fit for stories like these, too:

Throughout the series, Magik will also be forced to come to terms with her tragic history and learn to control her demonic Darkchylde persona. After years of suppression, Illyana’s Darkchylde form returns from the depths of her tormented soul to offer her more strength and power, but at what cost?

This is perfection--the struggle with her dark side that is fed by her trauma, while in the same breath Allen describes her as a character with a heart of gold... Trying to be good while fearing that she's bad is core Illyana.

Literally the only quibble I have with this announcement is Peralta saying he especially loves the Bachalo design, and that costume is my personal pet peeve and won't keep me from loving this book. (Is it wrong that I love it already? It's nice to have faith.)

I love the idea of the Darkchylde having stages, growing more monstrous as Illyana gets taken over by dark impulses. And those wings? Fire addition to the design.

As a bonus, here is Germán Peralta drawing Illyana years ago in Age of X-Man: Prisoner of X #2:

Now just to decide how I'm going to get this, since I don't have a pull list at my local comic shop anymore. Marvel Unlimited still runs months behind on physical releases, which is okay for most things, but...

[a-romantics-guide-to-life]

⋆⟡˚ ཐི⋆♱ 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐯𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐞, 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐦 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐞 ♱⋆ཋྀ ˚⟡⋆

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: fred weasley x fem reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: halloween has always been magical time at hogwarts but your first all hallows eve with fred ends up being extra special

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: mentions of blood, costumes, mentions of pale skin (for a costume), mentions of blood and ooze comng out of some ones mouth (nothing too graphic)

𝐚/𝐧: happy flufftober!!! here is the first out of five weekly fics all centered around spooky season! i was very inspired by british traditions of halloween so i hope you enjoy! title is from 999 happy haunts (haunted mansion's ride song)!

𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟-𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Halloween at Hogwarts was a magical time of year. 

Every single year, the castle was always bright with delightful merriment and warm pumpkin candles. There was always laughter in the air as people played pranks on each other leading up to all hallows eve which also happened to be one of the mischievous nights of the entire year.

Every one would wear loud costumes, paint their faces, play pranks and cast harmless hexes at each other. The Great Hall would always be a war of pranks and debates of who had the scariest costume. 

Of course, every year you and a couple other fellow Gryffindors would create a trial of bravery in the hallway leading up to the tower. It was always so fun with magic and tricks playing. Fred and George Weasley, obviously, were usually the ones to mastermind the trials. They even created a new spell to summon ghost-like figures to haunt the hallway.

Ghouls, dragons, spiders, and even hauntingly terrifying Veela were cast as the main haunts of the hallways. Well, not real ghouls or dragons, they were all the horrifying realistic spells, spell-enhanced dolls, or sometimes even students dressed up and scare those brave enough to enter the trial.

One year it was a play on the Forbidden Forest with huge spiders and frightening trolls. Somehow, the twins even got some of the frog choir to perform horror music alongside the jumpscares. Another year it was based on Azkaban and all the dark wizards and witches trapped who had seemingly escaped. That year was by far one of your favorites since you got to dress up as some lunatic witch who got to scare cowardly Slytherins shitless (although some of them did make it up the tower and got to go to the party in the common room). 

It was amazing to say the least.

What was even more amazing though, was how Fred looked at you that night. Even with your hair all messy and poofy, your face painted snow white, lips dried using a spell to make you seem like you had actually just escaped the famous maximum security prison, he still surprised you, as he did everyday.

It wasn’t hard, loving Fred Gideon Weasley. 

You had always felt a magnetic pull to those two boys, Fred and George. It was never a gloomy day with those two around. You had been so ecstatic that you had been sorted into Gryffindor, even if it was much to your family’s disappointment.

Fred would never forget the way your enchanting eyes had lit up as you looked straight at him from where he sat at the Gryffindor table. Your joyful smile as you sat down next to him. Not George, not next to one of the other newbie Gryffindor’s, him.

He likes to think of that moment as the moment he fell in love with you.

You had surprised him by choosing and loving him. And from a household of seven children, six boys and only one girl, it was seldom that the twins, much less Fred, had the attention of anyone else besides Ron or even George.

He vowed that from then on, he would always try to surprise you.

Just like how he surprised you in second year by always trying to make you laugh, especially when the bad times rolled around.

Just like how he surprised you in third year by gifting you one of his favorite bracelets that his grandfather had gifted him.

Just like how he surprised you in fourth year by asking you out to hang out with him at Hogsmeade, just the two of you. That day had been magical and he even walked you back to your dorm where you bid him good night with a kiss on his cheek.

Just like how he surprised you this year by kissing you in the hallway after someone dared him too.

At first you thought it was nothing, the feel of his lips against yours, the way he cradled your head so gently as he kissed you. He pulled away within a second and you looked up into his swirling amber eyes and you swore you saw something in him snap into place as he kissed you again in the hallway right outside of potions.

You would be lying if you said it wasn’t a dream come true. And a war raged in your chest telling you it was nothing more than a stupid dare. But, when he pulled away again, air filling your lungs again, the look on his face said it was more than a dare.

His whiskey eyes told you that this was all he wanted, the smile playing on his lips told you that he would do it again.

So, before he could kiss you again, you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him fervently.

Fred could’ve died a happy man at that moment. He felt like he was on top of the world, all hallows eve was soon, his and your favorite time of the year, and you two were finally together.

You two felt unstoppable.

“Freddie?” His arms wind themselves around your torso tighter as his face finally leaves your hair.

“Yes, pretty lady?”

You chuckle at his horrendous pet name for you. Yet it was comforting to know that it was something just for the two of you. Even after all these years of friendship, dating Fred felt so unreal. Yet, it flowed so naturally it was akin to rivers flowing to the sea; it may have taken a while, a long winding journey, but it always made its way back home.  

That’s what Fred was to you, home.

You spin around, the blankets covering you two from the frosty air of the Gryffindor tower twisting along with you. You place your hands on the fuzzy fabric warming his chest. He wore the lovely knit sweater his dearest mother made him last year. Mrs.Weasley always did have an eye for fashion you thought as your eyes trailed down Fred’s lean but broad chest where a golden embroidered F proudly signaled which of the prankster identical twins was which. 

Of course, you never needed it. After all these years of friendship and youthful love, you could tell the two of them apart in a heartbeat. Fred had always been the more daring and adventuring one while George was slightly more grounded. Your boyfriend also had a mole on his right ear that always made you think it was an earring while George had a freckles on the side of his neck. 

Needless to say, there were a plethora more differences between the two but that only made Fred feel more loved. To know that his girl, his bestest friend, could tell the twin apart from the other. What the real kicker was that you still loved him when everyone else couldn’t help but love “the Twins”, never just Fred or just George, “the Twins”; however, you love Fred, and that meant the world to him.

“We’re dating.”

“Mhmm, finally” He leans forward kissing your forehead gently, his eyes closed as he revels in your warmth. His hands find purchase at your hips, his fingers tickling you softly eliciting a soft chuckle from you.

“This is our first Halloween together.”

He opens his amber eyes, looking at you through his long lashes.

“Mhmmm, and what does the princess want?” He smiles, pressing a tight lipped kiss to your cheek.

You swat his chest, “Not funny. I'm being serious right now git. Like, what are we going to do this year? Couple costume? You could be Frankenstein and I’ll be his Bride. I always found those muggle horror movies especially unique. I mean, I’ve never seen, much less heard, of any kind of “Frankenstein”s in Britain so however in Merlin’s magical world did the muggles make special movies on something no one has ever seen or documented?”

He laughs as you ramble on and on about plans for Halloween mentioning how you two aren’t on the trial committee this year so you two have too much free time on your hands. You two lay there bouncing off ideas for costumes and epic pranks to play on unsuspecting Hufflepuffs and uptight Ravenclaws. 

“Darling, as much as I bloody love this mischievous side of you, we really should get some sleep. We can talk about this tomorrow babe.” He sleepily groaned as he shut you up by pressing his lips into yours. You conceded, your eyes drooping as you fell prey to Fred’s warm embrace. 

Maybe tomorrow will be a more productive day.

Turns out that yesterday’s tomorrow was indeed not a productive day and instead was spent lazing around the castle, taking in the air of mischief and terror that would soon flood the halls, paint the walls, and fill the air.

Even Peeves was ecstatic. He had already begun his torment on the younger students, pulling pranks messy with paint and terror-inducing scares.

Of course, being the seniors you were, Peeves let you alone seeing as he has already served you your fair share of youthful scares (although no one would ever say it to his face but you and Fred thought his “scares” were more like intense funny pranks). 

The air of the castle was already spooky and playful as more and more pranks were played on fellow students and even faculty, although the poor young soul that tried to pour a potion on Professor Snape was now facing weeks worth of detention and a ban on participating in mischief, mizzy, night, forever. 

As the hours passed, Halloween was only getting closer and closer; that means that you only got more and more excited for that year's festivities to start as everyone finalized all their plans for mizzy night and costumes.

Oddly enough, that meant that Fred must surely have already made plans for pranks and parties. The trial was nearly in full swing as the hallway was getting decorated with eerie lights and faux cursed items. Thundering bolts of lightning would shake the floors of the hallway, the first years would piss their pants in horror as more electrifying lightning shot down upon them. 

It was bloody brilliant, Fred had to admit.

Every single student within those castle walls was so ready and excited for a wonderful night full of mischief and pranks, and an epic party in the Gryffindor common room, but Fred was most excited to surprise you. He had a naughty, but brilliant, “prank” to pull on you.

It was only a matter of time, as soon as the clock struck midnight on halloween night, then mischief would begin.

You had to admit, it was hard to trust Fred with your costume. Knowing him as well as you did, which was very very well, you knew that it could be part of another grand prank of his all just to get a kick out of you. 

Of course, he may play a few tricks on you occasionally, but it was never ever to humiliate you. More to make you laugh or make you smile. Godric, one time he played a prank so unfunny that not only did you laugh from how terrible it was, he was the one to be humiliated. 

So while you were a bit nervous, for good reason, you knew that you could trust Fred. 

Still, the nerves like butterflies flew all around your stomach, your insides all flowery as they tickled you incessantly from inside. 

Going to classes on any day is as follows, breakfast in the morning, classes then lunch where you’d eat with the twins and all complain about some bullshit divination homework from Trelawny, and then a few more classes before you and Freddie would go hangout in the Room of Requirement, then of course the day would end with supper and curfew. 

Of course, Halloween at Hogwarts made everything turn upside down. You still had your classes and the mornings would still stay the same. But, you and Fred would never dare miss the Halloween feasts (neither did Ron). Plates stacked high with savory foods with a spooky twist, roast chicken made to look like a terribly large monster’s wing, corn so sharp it looked like a rotten witches teeth, and sweets so terrifyingly delicious, you had to go for round two. 

But it was never the enticing sweets or the rich savory feast that made both you and Fred love the Halloween feast, it was the air. The air of the room was filled with excitement as everyone buzzed to be let out of the Great Hall and back into the dorms where they would transform into a tantalizing mermaid or perhaps a captivating Veela. Along with the costumes and dressing up, the pranks and scares would start.

Gryffindors would host the trial as Hufflepuffs start handing out candy to random passersby. Slytherins would pull scares that even shook you to your core and made you jump, and that took lots of effort. Ravenclaws would usually stick to just the feast, opting to go back to their dorms to study but some would still dress up and go out, usually keeping to themselves as they assess the trial and lounge about at the Gryffindor party.

It also meant that Fred would finally unveil what he had been working tirelessly on for what he likes to call his “most epic halloween plan, ever.”

“Okay, so darling, you’ll be wearing this, ta da!” Fred exclaimed. He held out a box to you that had no doubt been sitting underneath his bed for Godric knows how long.

You took the box gingerly, lifting the worn and dusty lid to reveal a pristine delicate dress. The crimson velvet felt silky and soft underneath the pads of your fingers as you ran your hands over the delicate dress. There was dainty black lace outlining the chest and hip area, an intricately gothic pattern woven into the crushed velvet. You lifted the dress up to your front in astonishment, noticing the layers that made the skirt slightly full. You shifted to look at yourself in the mirror, noting how the dress would cling to your curves, accentuating your silhouette with the dark red fabric and deep black lace.

You look at Fred through the mirror, his eyes a dark and deep swirling amber. He walked up to you, hands holding the velvet at your hips, his lips falling to your shoulder.

You turn around to look up at him, “Fred, this dress is beautiful, where did you get this? Why?”

He kisses you softly, taking the dress and laying it down on the bed, the velvet matching the dark red of the Gryffindor blankets. 

“My aunt knows somebody who knows one of the oldest dress makers in Paris. Turns out that exact dress maker was also in the market for a really good love potion so my aunt got me in touch with her and we made an exchange. I'm just glad that the parcel made it in time because Errol is not known for being speedy.” He smiles gently, as you wrap your arms tightly around his torso, crushing your face to his chest, hugging him tightly.

“Thank you so much Fred, really.”

“Baby, it was nothing. Besides, that’s not all there was in the box.”

You squeal, shooting out of his arms rushing to dig through the box. You find a pair of dainty see-through gloves and…. fake teeth?

“Love, um, thank you for the new teeth, really but mine are just fine.”

He laughs sitting down on the couch, taking the sharp teeth out of your hands putting them next to his wide smile. You giggle and sit down next to him.

“Darling, there for your costume. I was thinking that you could be a vampire and I’ll be a werewolf.” He fake howls at the moon, eliciting a hearty laugh from you.

“Freddie, you do know there are much easier glamour spells for cosmetics and such right?”

You two had finally finished getting ready. You were wearing the elegant velvet dress, a black belt also loosely hanging around your hips, necklaces hung from your neck and pearl earrings adorning your ears. You left your hair down, changing the color to a dark red, pairing the whole look with dark red lips, the red smudged around your lips like blood, and a pair of seductive heels.

Unconsciously, your eyes searched the wild crowd of zombies and demons for a certain redhead. Fred had kicked you out of the room after he had finished helping you cast glamour spell after glamour spell. Your teeth were now as sharp as could be and your skin pale like the dead.

The butterflies from earlier today flew back in, your stomach fluttering as you nervously started to walk around the common room looking and smiling at everyone. Some came up to you, admiring your dress. 

Suddenly the dim lights of the crowded common room went out leaving many, most of them younger, squealing in excitement and fear. The lights flickered as music started to play. In the middle of the room is where you saw them. 

Fred and George standing on a circular table in the middle of the room, hyping up the crowd. They both wore plaid loose flannel and tight pants that accentuated their height.  Fred’s eyes met yours and the familiar glimmer of trouble swarmed his eyes. 

The nervous butterflies that flooded your blood soon turned to spinet dragons of excitement as your blood hummed in your veins. 

“HAPPY HALLOWEEN HOGWARTS, WHAT A NIGHT!!!”

Cheers erupted as George started yelling into the crowd. 

“AND WHAT A NIGHT WE HAVE PLANNED FOR YOU, IT'LL BE A BLOODY BRILLIANT FRIGHT!!” 

Your boyfriend shouted, looking right at you as he said fright. You smirked, surprising Fred as you mouthed…

“Try me.”

Fred felt his heart face as your delicately painted and smudged lips worded a silent challenge. He smirked and announced 

“Let the games BEGIN!”

The room erupted into cheers as the twins drank some sort of potion. And within the minute, they started to choke and black ooze started to bubble out their mouths. Many gasped, backing away. Your heart leaped out of your chest as you rushed to the front. 

That’s when you heard a blood-curdling scream from one of the third years. You rushed to see that the black ooze had turned a crimson red and the twins started to wake, their eyes wild and red. Snarls came out of their mouths as they jumped up and  ripped their shirts open only to reveal a full chest of hair, much like werewolves. They started howling, jumping up on the table. 

Their feet on the wood thundered through the room as everyone started cheering them on, some squeals even. 

Fred smiled softly, reaching his hand out to you. You take his hand, stepping up onto the table. His strong arms pull you to him, cupping your cheek trapping you into a savage kiss. Hollers and whistles were heard in the room, Fred pulled away from you for a minute, admiring your pale skin and your deep red lips before pulling you to him again.

“I gave you a real fright there, didn’t I, darling?” He smiled, looking down at you as the chaos and revelry started once more with screams of joy and terror.

“Sure, a really terrifying prank there. I was more concerned about the black ooze staining the table and Professor McGonagall yelling at us.” You smiled.

“Admit it love, you were bloody terrified for me.” He smirked, you looked away to look at all the smiles and smirks around the room. Halloween truly was the best.

“Of course I was terrified for you, I love you,” you kiss him, cupping his slightly stubbled cheek; no doubt a side effect of the potion, “git.”

thank you so much for reading! hope you enjoyed! also pls pls pls let me know if i forgot to tag something triggering because i feel i always do! thank you!

[i-plague-eater]

I like them being an evil duo, just doing their evil things. Phobos comes up with stupid plans in a drama queen manner. Cedric realizes that none of them will work, but he takes them seriously and carries them out with all his bad luck.

I headcannon that cartoon Cedric stays loyal to his prince because he's been given an impressive piece of land with mines and/or factories. It's not that Cedric hates Elyon or has a strong personal attachment to Phobos. But the Prince offers everything he needs, he's mature, wise and politically experienced plus he's attached to Meridian "oddities" like Cedric himself and Miranda. It may be his own thought, or something Phobos has put in his head, but I guess Cedric doubts that a naive outlander girl has a better purpose rather than being a source of energy (the Prince NEEDS A LOT). Who knows what Elyon will do to non-humans and non-galhots (send them to prison because they're ugly), especially when she's older? Phobos, on the other hand, is a strong monarch, it is well known what to expect from him. He's led Meridian through troubled times with his head held high. He's known to be protective and fair to his champions, punishing only the weak and unworthy. So Elyon is nothing more than an egg that needs to be broken to make an omelette.

I suppose Cedric believes that Phobos is no worse and perhaps a little bit better than any other Escanor, but unlucky to lack magical power. Perhaps he's as unlucky as Cedric himself?

[powdermelonkeg]

Echoes of Wisdom Trailer Analysis: Part 1

I'll tell you what, a new Zelda game, especially one this year, was NOT what I was expecting. I was hoping for a teaser a la "the sequel to BotW is now in development," but to have a full on main-series game come out? That caught me completely off guard.

But I've got my bearings. And I like what I see. So let's break down what we DID see, shall we?

Our opening shot has Link in some ruins, looking over at what appears to be Soldiers (as in the enemy, a lesser version of Darknuts), which are a staple for Fallen Timeline games.

However, they usually aren't this color, restricted to red, blue, and green. And they usually have swords or tridents, not axes.

The axes are a new development, as are the black armor and white capes. Maybe they've taken on the red -> blue -> green -> black -> silver difficulty pattern that BotW and TotK had?

Moving on.

Link here has a dark blue cape with teal geometric patterns on the back. Tempting as it is to connect this to the Zonai with the recent game-

-I'm going to abstain for now, because Zelda games like their teal geometry.

Looking around, the ruins Link finds himself in are unique.

We have eye patterns on the walls and double helixes framing the door. We haven't seen any pattern like this before, to my knowledge.

Link rushes in, sword drawn. The floor is plain square patterns on cracked tile.

We get our first glimpse of the Hylian Shield

As well as a clear shot of his sword. Oddly enough, it's not the Master Sword, or anything like it—it looks too plain to be something final, like the Four Sword or Phantom Sword:

And yet, it still very distinctly matches Link's current aesthetic, with the teal geometry.

Honestly, it looks more akin to a beginning sword that needs to change, like the Goddess Sword of Skyward Sword:

It's basic, it's easy to look at, but it's distinct and memorable.

Immedaitely after the cinematic run, the camera snaps to an overhead view, in which Link attacks. So there's at least a little gameplay as Link.

We see Princess Zelda in her crystal prison. Nothing unusual so far, but she definitely has a new look to her, even if her dress is distinctly Toon/Oracles/AlttP style remade.

Then we pan down to Ganon. Fallen Timeline's beast Gan, as we're used to seeing him. So far, he seems to look the most like his ALBW iteration, with the spiked cuffs around his wrists.

Link enters the scene. Purple mist is there for ambiance.

The pattern on the ground feels...ornamental. It doesn't stick out much or have enough detail on it to be the usual big-bad-evil-ritual.

Link throws his cape away dramatically.

Again, we get a camera-snapped view in which Link's attacks seem very much in the player's control.

And blocking Link off from escape, we have a magical barrier, though this one is emitting particles.

It's almost like Ganon's torn the ground open for this.

Defeated, ready for phase two, Ganon dissipates into purple sparks, only to reappear and start his tennis volley.

And here's where we get our proper view of him head-on.

ALBW's Ganon is a bit easy to miss in-game, because Yuga takes him over moments after he arrives. But he looks like this:

This is not our Gan's design.

He has the bracers, yes, but his forehead gem isn't spiked, his eyes are red, not white, his armor is gold with red edges and has chest plates that look a lot like really old art of ALttP Gan:

But most interestingly, his necklace is different.

In every version of Ganon that looks like this, he's either had a skull at his neck

Or a gem

But our Gan has something new. Something that, given the eyes in the corridor, feels deliberate:

There's a menace in this branch of Hyrule's history that's known for three things: a horned eye, purple magic, and possession.

And I'm out of images. Part 2 here!

[batneko]

bowuigi love spell idea

Some wannabe Big Bad got it in their head that the reason Mario is so successful is he's got the Ultimate Sidekick in his own brother. What better way to defeat him than to kidnap Luigi and cast an elaborate unbreakable love spell on him? Romantic love will beat brotherly love, right??? (No.)

Obviously this doesn't go well, Mario rushes to Luigi's rescue and beats the snot out of the villain along the way. But it just so happens that one of the many complicated components of the spell was stolen from Bowser, and he barges in to get it back just as the spell is reaching its peak.

Nobody notices what happened at first. Luigi is so happy to be rescued that he thinks he's just feeling especially grateful to Bowser, even though his help was accidental. On their way out Bowser finally sees the magic circle on the floor and the items placed at various points and mutters "isn't this a waxing moon heart prison?"

Later, when Luigi is lying in bed wide awake thinking about Bowser of all people, he remembers that Bowser had known the name of the spell. No need to worry Mario about this. Surely if Luigi just... asks nicely? (And he really wants to see Bowser too, that's a bonus.)

Bowser thinks the situation is hilarious, but doesn't hesitate to help Luigi when he asks. Unfortunately he's lost track of the book he read the spell in (Luigi politely doesn't ask why he was reading about love spells in the first place) and can't remember all the details. They search the castle but find nothing.

Luigi comes back a week later. They do some more searching, try out a couple curse-breaking methods. Nothing. Bowser offers to let Luigi come back again, and finally Luigi asks why Bowser is being so nice about all this.

"I know what it's like to love someone who doesn't love you back. Wouldn't wish that on anybody."

So Luigi comes back the next week. And the next. And the next. At one point he accidentally refers to it as "date night" and Bowser laughs at him but starts calling it that too.

It's nice spending time with Bowser like this. It's REALLY nice. Sure, the feelings are artificial, but that doesn't stop him from feeling them. Having Bowser's attention, making him laugh... it feels good. Luigi almost forgets he's trying to STOP feeling this way.

It goes on for months, until finally one day, after one more failed curse-breaking attempt, Bowser asks, "What if it never works?" "I'll leave you alone," Luigi says. "I'll get out of your hair for good." "Would that be so bad?" Bowser asks. "Is it really so AWFUL being in love with me?" "No..." Luigi admits. "But you deserve someone who loves you for who you are." "You're the only one who thinks that and that's just because you're cursed," Bowser says. "I mean it. Not just because of the curse, I don't think there's anybody who doesn't deserve to have somebody love them." "Then stay," Bowser says. "Be that somebody." Luigi finally realizes what Bowser's saying... what he's been hinting at for weeks, actually, and Luigi refused to see it. "I could be good to you," Bowser says softly. "I could make you so happy." Luigi gets up and leaves without a word.

It's the hardest thing he's ever done, but he tells himself it's for the best. What if the spell does break one day? He'll stop loving Bowser and shatter his heart. And even if that doesn't happen, it's not good for Bowser to settle for artificial love.

So Luigi goes straight to Mario (okay, after ice cream and a cry sesh) and tells him... most of the truth. He lets Mario believe that Bowser has been annoyed with the situation this whole time. Mario knows a lot of people who know a lot of people, so one quest later they've finally found an Old Master Wizard who remembers the spell.

"Just wait it out," the guy says. "Don't make any rash decisions, and you'll be good in a month." "...what." "Yeah the waxing moon heart prison only lasts until the moon is in the same phase it was when it was cast, then you've gotta top it up." "Is... it possible to top the spell up by accident?" "Not a chance, it's nearly as complicated as casting it the first time. Don't worry! You'll be back to normal in four weeks."

It's been four MONTHS. And Luigi never noticed his feelings changing... much. They seemed to go from infatuation to something deeper but he can't remember when exactly.

Did he fall in love with Bowser for real?

Did he break Bowser's heart by leaving for nothing?

On the way back Mario keeps staring at Luigi, waiting for an explanation, but Luigi can't give him one. He shakes Mario off before they reach home and makes a beeline for Bowser's castle.

It takes a lot of apologizing before Bowser will see him, and even after explaining that the spell has been broken for a long time now Bowser still doesn't seem interested in anything Luigi has to say. So Luigi gives a big flowery speech about all the things he likes about him while Bowser glares in silence, but at last Luigi ends it with, "I love you."

It's the first time he's actually said those words. He's talked about "the love spell" and "my feelings," but he's never said "I love you" to Bowser's face.

Bowser picks him up and kisses him.

"I love you too." "Oh! Great." "It's gonna be a while before I can remember that it's not magic making you love me." "I understand." "So you'll need to tell me. A lot." "I can do that!" Luigi says.

He's got a lot of time to make up for.

[gaypiratepropaganda]

Izzy's apology in the finale seems to have taken some people by surprise. During the break between seasons, I tried a few times to politely bring up the fact that Izzy was technically abusing Ed. Not because I wanted anyone to stop liking him (you can like a character who's doing abuse! it's not real. who cares), but because I was worried about the reaction when season two came out. I love this show very much and I know how tumblr can get. Most importantly, I love fucked up fictional relationships and cannot abide people making these two boring. So here we go. (I also love lists)

First. Emotional abuse can occur in intimate relationships, family relationships like father and son, or in the workplace (Ed/Izzy triple threat!). Second, it has to be an ongoing thing. Someone doing one of these things once is not abuse. Abuse is a pattern of cruel and frightening behavior in order to control the victim.

(Don't feel bad if you didn't notice this stuff! It's relatively subtle and we're kind of trained to ignore and forgive it, especially from characters like Izzy. I wasn't 100% sure I was right about this either until season two confirmed it. I think a lot of people don't even know what emotional abuse is, at least where I live.)

Below are some pretty solid warning signs (this said "criteria" before but I changed it to be more accurate) for emotional abuse, followed by examples:

•Monitoring and controlling a person’s behavior, such as who they spend time with or how they spend money.

One of Izzy's main motivations in season one was trying to force Ed to act more like his image of Blackbeard. To achieve that, he bullied, belittled, and threatened Ed. He attempted to kill Stede because Ed was spending too much time with him and he felt that Stede was a bad influence.

• Threats to a person’s safety, property, or loved ones

He tried to kill Stede (Ed's loved one) or get him killed several times. Once trying to get Ed to do it himself with the doggy heaven situation, once directly with the duel, and once by calling in the navy.

He didn't directly threaten Ed's safety until episode ten, but he did seem to have Ed convinced that the crew would kill him if Izzy wasn't there to protect him and then when Ed did things he didn't like, Izzy threatened to leave. It's indirect, but has the same result: Ed felt he was unsafe unless he did what Izzy wanted.

• Isolating a person from family, friends, and acquaintances

Izzy seemed to keep Ed isolated from the crew, act as a go-between, and control their perceptions of each other to a certain extent. In the first few episodes, Ed was always shown alone in his goth cabin with Izzy as his only contact. When he started to make new friends Izzy tried to make him kill them.

After Izzy was banished, he secretly sent Ed's ex in to manipulate him and get him away from his new community. Then he got them all arrested, culminating in the deal he made with the English that would have made Ed his prisoner. Not sure that was on purpose, but it was so fucked up I had to mention it.

The bit that really got me, for some reason, was when Frenchie asked after Ed and Izzy told the crew he was sick.

• Demeaning, shaming, or humiliating a person

Izzy is often shown berating Ed and yelling at him. The way Ed reacts suggests to me that he may be used to this kind of treatment from people in general, or from Izzy in particular. He never leaves or asks him to stop, he just takes it.

• Extreme jealousy, accusations, and paranoia

He was so jealous of Ed's relationship with Stede that he got the literal military involved. His explanation to for why Ed enjoys spending time with Stede was that he has "done something to [Ed's] brain." Like, what magic powers do you think he has, Izzy?

• Making acceptance or care conditional on a person’s choices

Izzy made it very clear that he would only support Ed if he conformed to the Blackbeard persona. He also seemed to have Ed convinced that there was no way he could survive without Izzy's support.

I just realized that if you subscribe to the headcanon that Izzy acts as a sort of caretaker to Ed (I do not) then all of this is way more fucked up.

• Constant criticism, ridicule, or teasing.

In season one he criticized everything Ed did, all his plans, even while telling him to come up with more plans. He ridiculed Ed and called him names pretty often: "twat, namby-pamby, insane." Even in season two when he's doing better, most of their interactions consist of Izzy teasing and making fun of Ed for being mopey or in love.

• Refusing to allow a person to spend time alone

I didn't think of this until now, but Izzy is often around when Ed thinks he's alone. He knows about things that happen in scenes he isn't in. Izzy's always sort of lurking, though? And he does it to everyone. So I'm not sure if we should count this one.

• Thwarting a person’s professional or personal goals

He's ok about piracy related goals, but as soon as Ed tried to do something other than that he got so weird about it. "This crew is so talented, why are we even being pirates?" is what got Izzy to threaten Ed. Which is interesting because he was fine with the retirement idea before, when he thought he'd get to be captain.

• Instilling feelings of self-doubt and worthlessness 

"insane unpleasant shell of a man merely posing as blackbeard." "I should have let the English kill you. This... whatever it is you've become is a fate worse than death."

• Gaslighting: making a person question their competence and even their basic perceptual experiences.

He called Ed insane and implied that the crew would mutiny if he wasn't there to stop them. This is clearly untrue, as we were already shown that his method of "massaging the crew" consisted of calling Ed half insane and pulling Fang's beard even though Fang hates that. The fact that he calls Ed insane more than once while at the same time trying to get him to act more insane seems like basic gaslighting to me. Then again, Izzy's definition of "insanity" may be like, depression, crying, showing emotions, loneliness, and enjoying softness.

[can't find a gif of this so just imagine Ed in the gravy basket with Hornigold saying "you're worried you're insane."]

Something that wasn't on this specific list but is generally considered part of emotional abuse is manipulation: the use of indirect tactics to change someone's thoughts, feelings, or behaviors in an attempt to influence them for personal gain.

I think Izzy often tries to be manipulative. He's not the greatest at it, but it's the thought that counts. He manages to be surprisingly successful through persistence and repetition.

He's got Ed convinced from the first time we see them that he is useless as a captain without Izzy. That's why Ed feels like he needs him. He tells him that the only thing standing between Ed and a crew constantly on the brink of mutiny is Izzy. Then he tells him that he will leave if he can't live up to his expectations.

He has a pattern of lying to Ed or not telling him the whole truth. He threatens him directly and indirectly in an attempt to influence him and control his behavior. He wants power, whether he gets it by becoming a captain when Ed retires or by making sure Ed remains powerful by any means necessary.

this is what he was apologizing for, along with the years of being terrible to Ed before Stede came into the picture. I never expected him to admit it so clearly like that. He fed Ed's "darkness," poked at his trauma for so long because he needed Blackbeard. It was something they did together, and he enjoyed Blackbeard's dominance and cruelty.

Of course there are other things that can be part of this kind of abuse, like infantilization, silence, and harassment. There are more examples of abusive behavior from Izzy at the start of season two, especially in the scene where Ed's asking Izzy to kill him. but I am not ready to get into that right now.

Anyway, Ed and Izzy's storylines in season two only make sense to me with this in mind. Ed is recovering from not only the suicide attempts but also this fucked up situation he was in, whether he realizes it or not. Izzy learns to stop being such a shitboy and admits he was wrong. ~growth~

if you interpret their relationship differently that's obviously fine. but I think this is the most interesting interpretation, as well as what was intended. It's no fun for me when people make them both equally awful to each other. I like it better as it is in the show: Ed fighting back against Izzy's emotional abuse with physical violence, which only ends up traumatizing him further. It's such a unique and fascinating story.

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Nestled Deep

15/12: Dreams & Dirty Talk - Ettore Word Count: 2.1k~ | Warnings: dirty talk (obvi), fingering, somnophilia, masturbation (m), cumplay, dubcon, ettore is a warning himself, mentions of violence

12 Days of Smuff Masterlist

In here, sleeping pills were like fucking gold dust.

Having to cosy up to Dr Dibs was bad enough, but not as bad as not being able to sleep at night.

That bitch knew. She knew that they needed them to have a good night's rest, and now knew she held all the cards.

He wanted to cave her fucking face in.

For a moment, he'd actually considered it. Until he thought better.

There was no escape here after all. If he did something as stupid as that, there was nowhere to go and hide like back on Earth. He'd already been caught there once due to his stupidity. It would certainly not be happening again, as much as he wanted to.

Instead, Dibs seemed to be giving the men's share to the women, double drugging them without them realising, so that they'd sleep deeper and for longer at ‘nighttime’.

For what purpose? He didn't know. And frankly, when it came to their wellbeing, didn't care one bit.

He only cared about himself. Something else he'd learned on Earth, especially in their prisons.

His body ached from the mandatory exercise from the day before. Muscles decompressing the moment his back met the mattress, throwing his arms over his eyes to shield them from the harsh blue light that remained even at times of rest.

Across his cell, he heard the little, steady breathing of his cellmate. A woman he barely even knew by name, but had seen almost every day since boarding this goddamn ship.

He couldn't complain, really. She was a quiet cellmate and never bothered him, which is more than could be said for some other women on the ship, acting like they hadn't seen another man with a cock between his legs for years.

Usually he wouldn't mind when women were throwing themselves at him. But there was something about their desperation that for some reason turned him right off.

But she, well, she never spoke to anyone.

He could recall perhaps a few times he'd heard her voice. When she was talking to Dibs and when she mumbled brokenly in her sleep.

Tonight, she was out cold, the double dose of sleeping pills doing their magic. When he looked over, her lips were slightly parted, her chest rising and falling slowly, her eyelashes fluttering as her eyes moved beneath her lids. Her hair was fanned out on the pillow, and the sheets draped around her middle. And with her shirt slightly lifted, he could scarcely see the soft flesh of her stomach.

It was a bit pathetic, how he could get hard from just that alone.

He sighed and slipped a hand down his sweatpants, his eyes slipping shut once he wrapped his fist around his cock, pumping quickly to relieve the ache that had built there. He knows he should really go to the Box, but when did he ever play by the rules?

He only used the Box when he felt like it.

“Mm…”

He froze, eyes flying open to look at her.

Was that a fucking moan?

She moved, inhaling and exhaling as she moved slightly, her hips shifting in micro-movements. And under her pale shirt, he can clearly see her breasts moving, the hardened nipples beading at the top of them.

He felt himself throb in his palm.

And suddenly, he was unable to look away.

It was unmistakable. How her hips moved tiredly, languidly, searching for a friction that didn't exist.

Even beneath the covers, he could see her pressing her thighs together.

How her lips parted wider to let out breathy whines, his name following it in a near-whisper.

It was quiet and broken, but she'd said it.

Ettore's eyes lit up like he couldn't believe his luck, a wide grin splitting across his face.

She was having a fucking wet dream.

About him.

Fucking tease.

He almost hadn’t registered how he got to his feet, his length hard and needing beneath his sweatpants, and padding to the side of her bed. His breathing was quiet but steady, as if aware of not making noise to wake her.

He almost wanted to make sure she was actually asleep, worried this was some cruel trick and her eyes would fly open at any second.

But it didn't happen.

He watched the needy little thing writhe around in bed, the sleeping pills giving her a deeper, more sound sleep, her consciousness pulled so low that her nocturnal movements were confident and unabashed.

He bit his lip, thinking very carefully what he was about to do. Batting around the thought, weighing up both the repercussions and the reward.

But he was too fucking hard to think about the repercussions.

One hand pulled the sheets off her body, watching her legs prickle with chill. Eyes darkened at her figure laid before him. The little tease didn't wear any shorts, just underwear, as if she knew this would happen.

Or at least that's what he reasoned.

He slid into her bed next to her with calculated movements, making sure to not wake her even in her pill-addled sleep.

It had been so, so long since he'd felt the warmth of another woman on his skin, he nearly sighed out in contentment when he felt hers against his bare chest. Laid on his side next to her like this, he could look down her body, seeing the shadow of her cleavage, the soft curves of her hips and her shapely legs, all laid out for him.

If she were awake, she'd definitely feel his breath against her neck. His heart calmed somewhat, when he looked down and saw she was still deep in sleep.

He watched her lips part again, sighing and moving her hips, apparently feeling something warm near her body but also in her gut as well.

“Please…”, she murmured quietly.

His fingers carefully took the hem of her shirt and pulled up, just below her breasts, his hand running softly down her stomach over her underwear. His fingers brushed over her clothed core, finding her moist from whatever pleasant dream she must be having.

She made a breathy moan as his fingers began to tease her clit, a rush of warmth drifting south in waves. And at the sound she made, Ettore screwed his eyes shut, feeling himself throb even harder, daring to apply more pressure in tight little circles, her lips parting even more in more hurried breaths.

His other hand dipped into his sweatpants, wrapping around his length and stroking himself slowly, his grip tightening at the angry red tip with every leisured movement. As if he was edging himself while giving her pleasure.

He watched her fingers twitch, the sensation not quite enough to wake her with the sedatives pulling her deeper. And he felt the way his actions were having the desired effect, moisture leaking out of her against the fabric of her underwear.

“Fuck - you like that? Dirty little slut-”, he breathed against her ear, not caring in the slightest if his words were even reaching her. But judging by the way her thighs tried to shut around his hand and the noises coming from her, a smirk found its way to his lips, that they just might be.

She didn't do much, except simply writhe tiredly and let a few barely breathy moans fall from her lips, and every now and then if he was lucky, his name.

The little slut was dreaming about him.

Emboldened by her reactions, and not at all concerned with the sense that doing this while she was asleep was entirely wrong, his pace on his own length had barely picked up, trying to savour the moment as if he could do it all night.

He almost broke fully, his eyebrows arched almost in pain when he dipped his fingers beneath the waistband of her underwear and felt how soaked she was. His digits slid against her effortlessly, and he had the intrusive thought , that he could easily fuck her right now, with barely any effort, and she might not wake up.

“God, you're fucking soaked for me - all from just playing with you -” he breathed against the shell of her ear. He swears that she shivered from his words.

“Pathetic little cunt - this is nothing -”

The heel of his palm rubbed against her clit as his fingers easily breached her opening, two digits sliding inside her warmth. It was here his pace on his own length was finally too tempting, his thumb swiped over the sensitive tip, spreading precome over his palm and shaft with each languid thrust of his fist.

All the while, his fingers began in earnest fucking her, even the sheer sound of her cunt sucking him in could've finished him off.

Each time he pressed inside, her walls shrank around him, trying to pull him in further.

“You're so fucking tight - can't wait to feel you around my cock-” his words seemed to have her move slightly, her back arching slightly off the bed and into his touch. Her hips chasing the rhythm.

“You'd like that, wouldn't you, dirty bitch - for me to fuck you - you know I wouldn't be able to fucking stop-”

Every wet sound against his fingers, curling up to brush against that rough patch at the top of her walls, had his palm rubbing her clit, rubbing her slick over her thighs.

It was so erotic, it was overwhelming.

“-you'd want it rough, wouldn't you - fuck, I'd have you crying for it - until you beg me to stop-”

His voice was uneven, punctuated by shudders, fisting his cock quickly, stomach clenching and unclenching with his impending release, still infuriatingly out of reach.

“-I wouldn't fucking stop -” he whispered, a growl spilling forth, “-you'd be a good little slut, and take it-”

He felt her walls tighten around his fingers, the loudest moan she'd ever let loose tumbling from her lips, though still quiet. He saw how her thighs trembled in the low, blue light, and the rush of arousal that coated his hand.

“that's it - fucking cum for me-”

He didn't stop. Now that he'd had one, he wanted more.

The air was heavy with the heady stench of sex, only making him want to bury himself between her thighs and never leave.

Even if she woke up.

That was a dangerous thought.

His fingers were moist with her slick as he pulled out of her, hearing a breathy sigh hit his jaw. Uncaring of the consequences, he smeared it over the flesh of her stomach, watching it glisten with her juices.

There was something unapologetically erotic about that.

His fist pumped his cock in earnest, eyes screwing shut as his burning, blissful peak crept up on him, pushing the air out his lungs to make room for pleasure.

Carefully, he pushed himself up slightly, a far too loud moan stuttering past his lips as he released in hot ropes on her bare stomach, mixed with her essence.

He watched with hooded, lustful eyes as he emptied himself onto her smooth flesh, her body now sunken back into the deep lull of sleep, her orgasm having drained her completely. He saw how her eyelashes were still, the lower contours of her breasts moving slightly with breathing.

Once he'd choked himself to utter completion, he sighed and was tempted to touch her again, but something deep within forced him to reconsider.

It felt strange now, to think about touching her outside pulling pleasure from her, and by extension, him too.

With evened breathing, he tucked himself away and haphazardly tugged her shirt back over her stomach, padding back over to his bed. Body feeling significantly more tired now than it had a few moments ago.

He looked at her from where his head lay on the pillow and smirked, the perfume of her womanhood clinging to his fingers. And it was the only thing he could think about as he closed his eyes to sleep, was how he was going to do it again, take little steps to push just that little bit further.

And in the morning, he'd risen before her, watching from the doorframe with a smug smile on his face as she sat up, her eyebrows furrowing at the sticky sensation on her stomach, stuck to her shirt. He felt a sort of swelling of his ego then, shoulders pushed back, standing a little taller, watching her awake and covered in his cum was different entirely, with that dumb look on her face.

Yes. It would certainly not be the last time he'd give her sweet dreams.

Definitely not.

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @randomdragonfires @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince @thetrueblackheart @tsujifreya @urmomsgirlfriend1 @valeskafics @virtualsweetsqueen @watercolorskyy @fan-goddess

[violetmuses]

Loose Ends - M. Lowrey 🚔🖤

Title: Loose Ends - M. Lowrey 🚔🖤

Fandom: “Bad Boys” Universe 

Character: Mike Lowrey 

Pairing: Mike Lowrey + Female Reader 

Main Storyline: When Detective Mike Lowrey needs a favor, who knows what could happen next?

@nelo0wesker @sofia-da-1st

====

1995

“I'll pay right under the table. No backup involved.” Detective Mike Lowrey wanted to enter this prison with you, one of the covert specialists. 

“Who are we visiting?” You whispered behind closed doors as officers and other staff members filed out. Marcus Burnett already drove home. 

“Isabel Aretas.” Mike revealed, almost nervous regardless.

“Benito’s wife?” Files detailed the Aretas Cartel for quite some time. 

“Yes.” Mike nodded, crawling through the proverbial abyss. 

“Don't you dare.” You pulled defense, angered and scared all at once. “She could kill us.”

You've heard too many stories, especially when Isabel turned lethal with dark magic. 

“Not now. She's incarcerated with a child.” Mike explained more and still leveled his voice. 

“What the hell?” You then stepped back, flabbergasted.

Benito Aretas stood infertile and this side of the family hadn't even adopted children, not based on your notes anyhow. 

“Everything will make sense when we get there, all right?” Mike grabbed his coat and you sprint toward Miami's heated night, just bewildered. 

______

The darkened hall grounded identical cells up and down every single wall. Metal clanked alongside vocal noise as you walked right near Lowrey. 

“Hola, mami!

“Hey, girl.” 

Bring her over here, man!” 

People kept shouting, but you ignored everyone and headed in the opposite direction. At least this facility volunteered guards around you and Mike. 

Another wing organized placements for children and mothers. Sleazy remarks would no longer echo from all corners of this large-scale building. 

Instead, your heart would break every time babies started crying.  

“Isabel?” Mike stepped toward the final placement and stood with you. 

Isabel, this drained yet beautiful and dangerous woman, glanced up while holding an infant. 

“Hola. ¿Quién es?” Isabel stands to greet Lowrey from this space and continues holding her child, but faces you as well. 

“One of my partners.” Mike cleared his throat and acknowledged you. 

“Hola, Señora. Este niño es muy lindo.” You offered Spanish with Isabel due to your profession. 

“Muchas gracias, su nombre es Armando." Isabel kissed the baby's cheek and told you his name. 

Moments later, the baby cooed regarding Mike and smiled without teeth. 

“Hey, man.” Mike waved toward the child and genuinely beamed, almost laughing

Within seconds, dots finally connected in your head. 

Badass Mike Lowrey had a son. 

“He's so adorable.” Despite the realization, you pulled together and still compliment this moment. 

“Not even a year old.” Isabel traded accented English, but visitation concluded before you really talked. 

“Gotta go, bye little man.” Mike's voice would echo in the distance as you left with security

And before time dwindled further, baby Armando wailed through tears. 

=====

2024 

“Gotta visit somebody. Wanna ride?” Detective Lowrey spoke up again. Almost two decades later, you remained loyal with the Miami precinct. 

“No other choice.” You jokingly rolled both eyes and reached the passenger seat of Mike's famous Porsche. Family time still kept Marcus Burnett home. 

_____

“Armando?” Mike questioned his son while standing in front of this prison cell with you. 

“Didn't think I'd see you again.” Armando faced Mike, but realized your presence just like his now late mother. “Who's that?”

“My old partner, she was there when you were really little.” Mike nodded toward you. 

“I hoped that you wouldn't move like the family, but it's wishful thinking at this point.” You shake your head, disappointed that such an adorable child walked this horrible path in adulthood. 

“My mother's choice.” Armando said. 

“I know, but we actually have an opportunity for you. Interested?” You continued. 

“Yeah.” Armando took this moment and you veiled the genuine smile that almost reached your face. 

Second chances made a difference. 

[thetaxicabber]

Chapter 12 art for Voyagers of Time and Shadow!

This amazing art by @giselsann-opencommissions I'm so excited to continue getting art for this series! If you've read it let me know which scenes you'd like to see! :)

“Look,” Hermione jabs her finger onto the paper laid out on the table. Evie scans the headline.

Next to her Sebastian chokes, eyes widening. “Is this real?”

“Very,” Ron answers grimly and his eyes momentarily dart to Harry.

“Nobody has ever escaped Azkaban,” Sebastian whispers to Evie. “I told you about it…remember?”

Evie does remember. They were in the Undercroft after the Scriptorium, before he taught her any of the Unforgivable Curses. She’d heard about the wizarding prison from Fig in passing, but Sebastian is the one that told her more about it. He said that it was the worst place in the world, guarded by monsters and impossible to escape. He told her if anyone ever caught them using the curses they’d be sent there for life. Most people go mad or even die after arriving. It’s why Evie would rather have died then let Anne or Ominis send Sebastian there after what happened with Solomon. She never would have let him be taken, she'd have fought against all the aurors in the world to protect him and she would have won.

“Someone has,” Hermione lowers her voice till it’s barely a whisper. “Two years ago. But they were innocent. These are all convicted criminals, major supporters of…You-Know-Who.”

The photos are moving across the newspaper, showing mugshots of the escapees. Evie’s eyes lock on the bold name under the second photo. Her heart skips a beat in her chest. The man’s face is disfigured by pocks and the photo is in black and white but she recognizes the shape of his eyes and the set to his jaw. The same bored expression as he shifts back and forth in the frame.

Augustus Rookwood

“He…looks like Victor Rookwood,” Evie whispers and Sebastian glares daggers at the portraits. Evie doesn’t think anyone hates Victor Rookwood more than Sebastian. He's the one that cursed Anne, the one that terrorized the entire country at Ranrok's side, the one that almost killed Evie.

“Purebloods,” Hermione reasons and her lip curls slightly. “Many supremacists inter marry. Not that it matters in regards to magic. But biologically it’s terrible for their genes. Fools.” She shakes her head. "It's why they have such problems. At least that's what I think."

“They do at that,” Sebastian whispers, his face twisted in a grimace. “Ominis was potentially going to marry a third cousin if he couldn’t escape his family. His parents were first cousins. It’s disturbing.”

“How many escaped from the prison?”

“Ten prisoners,” Hermione folds her paper back up and tucks it into her brown leather bag. “All of them old supporters. Death Eaters. It’s bad.”

“So he’s getting his gang back together,” Evie reasons, resting her chin atop her hand. “It’s what I would do if I was an evil overlord. Especially since nobody seems to care that I’ve returned to power. Now is the time to gather power and allies without really anyone to stop him. It's a good way to get the upper hand. Then once power has been consolidated you strike hard and fast.”

“Put a lot of thought into what you’d do if you were evil?” Sebastian breaks the tension with a wry smile.

“Obviously,” Evie rolls her eyes, doing her best to ignore his teasing. “To end a dark wizard…or goblin,” she lowers her voice so only they can hear her. “One must first get ahead of them.”

[beefrobeefcal]

Dreamers part 2 feat. Frankie Morales

Summary: Old wives tales talked of soul mates being connected through dreams, but this notion no longer held weight in today’s day and age, what with apps for dating and pills to make sleep heavy and devoid of images. So you didn’t think anything of your beach dreams, even when they got stronger and the emotions you felt so intensely stayed with you for hours after you woke. They were just dreams... right?

My contribution to @burntheedges Roll-a-Trope fic challenge. I got Frankie + Soulmates.

Frankie Morales x f!reader 'Kit' | Rating: 18+ MDNI | Word Count: 3,834

Content Warnings: surreal and bad feeling dreams, talk of prison, ending of a marriage, betrayal, traveling, maladaptive day dreaming, smutty and sexy dreams

Author's Notes: Thank you to @burntheedges for this prompt. I never had the pull towards soulmate fics but this experience has changed my mind!

Thank you to @noxturnalpascal for picking up my typos and handing them back to me in gentle love, and @strang3lov3 for their magic powers and brainstorming abilities and to @bitchesuntitled for their eyes and love. Thanks to @saradika-graphics for the dividers

No more tag lists - follow @beefnotes + turn on notifications for fic updates!

You stood in front of the mirror in the guest room, looking over your outfit. You weren’t happy with Benny, but especially Mandy because she was the one who promised you that she wouldn’t try to set you up with any of their friends. You felt bad for taking over Benny’s computer room, but when you heard him whine to Mandy about how he missed her and wanted alone time, you couldn’t help but feel gutted that you were in the way and being a burden. 

Mandy knocked on your door softly and opened it, catching your eyes in the mirror. “Hey! You look nice!” She kept her voice sweet.

“Yeah…”, you muttered, looking down at yourself. You’d borrowed a dress from her since you didn’t really have any good summer wear for a date night, given you didn’t expect or want to be going on dates.

Mandy’s face fell and she walked into the room, standing behind you. She fixed the back of your hair and said quietly. “I swear, Kit, this is not a date. He’s a nice guy who just wanted to see a movie and no one else was available-”

“And Benny wants me out of the house.”, you interjected. You once again locked eyes with Mandy in the mirror, and she could see that you weren’t happy about this. 

“Kit-”

“You can just be honest and say this isn’t working out!”

“No, Kit-”

“I didn’t come down here to interrupt you and your boyfriend or make things weird enough that you have to convince some guy to get me out of the house.”

Mandy stared at you, hurt and remorse written all over her face and she backed up. She took a deep breath and looked down, pursing her lips together. 

Benny bounded in the room, not picking up on the tense atmosphere and excitedly asked, “Hey! You excited for your big date, Kit?”

Both you and Mandy faced him and stared. It took every ounce of your strength to hold back the verbal tirade you wanted to levy at them both, but instead you nodded and tried to offer a smile, keeping your mouth closed. 

Mandy shook her head subtly at Benny and widened her eyes at him, silently telling him to shut the fuck up!. Benny looked between you both and before he could ask what was going on, you interjected, “Yeah, I'll be out of your hair soon, Benny. Don’t worry.”

You pushed past them both and headed to wait for your ‘date’ outside.

Frankie drummed his fingers nervously on the steering wheel of his truck and he pulled into the parking lot of Benny’s apartment complex. 

Benny had said you’d be wearing a ‘purple sundress or something’, and when he saw the back of a woman standing under the awning in front of the complex, he assumed it was you. He got out of his truck and was greeted immediately with the sounds of Benny and Mandy fighting, coming from their open windows and sliding door.

You stood under an awning, trying to stay out of the direct sunlight that you were still trying to get used to, absolutely devastated and guilt-ridden for causing the very loud scene unfolding upstairs. You didn’t hear the truck and you didn’t hear the person siding up to you.

“Well they seem to be off to a good start for the night.”

You just about jumped out of your skin and the unexpected voice coming from beside you. Turning to look, you just about choked on your breath. 

When his eyes met yours, it seemed he almost had the same reaction. You both were finally putting faces to some unknown part of your own subconscious selves. It was like electricity being exchanged at lightning speeds between you. Those curls, that voice, that smile, that smell…

You had no idea how long you stood and stared at one another in your bubble where time seemed to be standing still. It was the loud crash followed by an elated squeal from Mandy above that brought you out of it. 

You both blinked and looked away from one another as the telltale sounds of makeup sex started to echo out of the apartment’s windows.

You and Frankie went to the movie -  it was a pretty bad, poorly made action film - and neither of you wanted to acknowledge what had happened before. You were both in need of time to process what you’d felt and neither of you were really ready for it.

After the movie, you sat silently in his truck as he drove you back to the apartment complex, and you were nervously pulling at a loose thread along the hem of your dress. Frankie saw it out of the corner of his eye, then cleared his throat.

“So-uh… thanks-thank you for seeing the movie with me.” Frankie mentally kicked himself for how stupid it sounded coming out.

“Thank you for taking me.” You felt like an idiot trying to talk to him. “It was- the movie was-”

“Bad. It was bad.”, Frankie smiled.

You let out a small but genuine laugh. “Yeah, it was pretty bad.”

A silence fell over the truck again, save for the sounds of the engine plugging along the road. 

You didn’t know what to say to keep the conversation going, and you did want to keep it going. The anger and worries that plagued your mind before this seemed to have taken a backseat to the feeling that you want this man in your life.

You also weren’t sure you were ready to show your face at Mandy’s apartment just yet, unsure of the reception you would receive. But you said nothing and sighed as Frankie turned the truck into the parking lot and parked. 

He sighed then said softly, “I don’t wanna come off as a creep and Benny said that you’re not really looking for anything… but I figure that - ummm - everyone could use a friend and-”

Turning to you, he paused and your eyes connected again. His eyes searched yours in a daze and his lips were parted like he was trying to find the words he was trying to say. Your mind swirled and you nodded dumbly back at him, the same dazed glint in your eyes. 

“We can be friends…”, you murmured, and Frankie nodded. 

You skittered getting out of the car, feeling like your body was filled with stockpiled electricity that had nowhere to go. No sooner had you shut the truck door before Frankie pulled out, tires screeching and peeled out of the parking lot. 

You had no idea what was going on and you stood staring at the stairs up to Mandy’s apartment door. There were no lights on and you breathed a shaky sigh of relief as you went up and into the dark apartment.

“Oh fuck… yes…”

Frankie’s eyes darted back and forth under his lids, his breathing short and shallow. 

You looked so good on your knees between his parted thighs, lips pulled tight around his cock. Your eyes were wide and wet, tears on your face and choked whines and gagging sounds seeped out around his girth. 

“That’s it… fuckin’ gag on it… good girl, good girl…”

The flat sheet clung to his sweat coated body as he writhed in his sleep.

“You love this, don’t you?... chokin’ on my cock?... yeah, ahogarte, hermosa… eso es todo…” [choke on it, beautiful… that’s it]

He cupped your face, brows tented as you kept your eyes on his. He breathed out harder and faster, feeling your throat constrict around the tip, sending him over the edge…

Frankie’s eyes shot open as he came. As he caught his breath, he lifted up the sheet, seeing how it stuck to his thigh and he flopped back and huffed. He hadn’t jizzed in his sleep since he was in middle school.

“What the fuck was that?”

Your toes curled as his tongue found the right spot. 

“Fra- oh baby, right there!”

You were on your side, gripping the pillow under your head. Your knee came up and you moved semi onto your front.

His lips opened and he mouthed your pussy, his tongue roughly prodding your clit. His big hands held you firmly to his face, not allowing you free reign to escape or grind down.

“Please- don’t stop! Right there! Oh fuck-yes, right there!”

Your hips rolled and you opened your mouth, panting softly. 

Two of his fingers pushed into you and you keened. He started at a steady pace, but quickly began to go harder and faster. Your eyes found his, dark and blown out, brows furrowed in lust and determination. 

“Fra-oh god! Please-I’m cl-...I’m close! I’m-oh god!”

You woke yourself up with a moan, the final ripples of your orgasm washing over you. Shakily, you pushed yourself onto your back, feeling the aching bloom of a passed climax, and you rubbed your face.

“What the fuck was that?”

Frankie couldn’t go back to sleep, not with the mess he’d made. He’d been awake since he'd stripped his bedding and loaded it into the washing machine. He ruminated over his dream as he sipped his black coffee, quietly consoling himself by affirming that it was a dream - yeah, he knew it was a dream; it was definitely a dream. It was a very realistic and mind melting dream, but that’s it… right?

He swore though, as he sat and sipped, that he could still feel the tingle in his dick that your teeth grazing his skin left behind. And the way your throat would tighten as you gagged. He didn’t even think he was into that kind of thing. Sure, he’d watched porn and seen the girls do that, and sure, he’d gotten blow jobs where that happened, but it had never been anything that caused quite that reaction before. 

A smaller part of him felt bad: Benny hadn’t gone into details about you, just telling him that you’d just gone through a divorce and your ex was a piece of work. Frankie wasn’t sure if that meant that the guy was just a dick or abusive or what, but he’d just met you and he felt inexplicably drawn to you and was dreaming that you gave him the blow job of his life.

He groaned. The sun hadn’t even risen yet and just the thought of what you did in that dream was making him hard again. He threw back the rest of his coffee and got up to pour himself another cup.

You didn’t go back to sleep after waking from your dream. You couldn’t get the way Frankie’s eyes burned as he ate your pussy out of your mind. You laid back in bed, staring at the ceiling and fidgeting your hands. 

You’d yet to hear any movement from Mandy or Benny and the sun wasn’t out yet. You wondered if Frankie would really feel that good with is mouth on you, fucking you with his tongue, and you felt a twinge of guilt. In an effort to convince you to go to the movie with him, Mandy had given you a brief overview on Frankie; how he’d been in a long term relationship that ended when he was told she was pregnant and it wasn’t his. How he’d spiraled into drugs and alcohol and lost his pilot’s license, but he’d just gotten it back after working really hard. All the information she gave you left you wondering what Frankie was told about you.

But what really got you about what Mandy said was how much she thought of him, how bad she felt for him when his relationship fell apart, how hard it was to watch him struggle but also how proud she was of him for fighting so hard to get his life back on track. The way she spoke about him was now igniting something in you, in tandem with his words, “...everyone could use a friend.”

Why was that making you horny?

You got up and went into the bathroom to have a cold shower.

The next week went by in a haze for Frankie. He went to work, flew the helicopters, came home, ate, jerked off in the shower and slept. Repeat. The only thing he had any clarity was his dreams -  with you on the sidewalk of a busy city street in the rain at night. It was the same thing every night - just as before -  but now it was your face filling the foggy, blurred void of the woman who kissed the back of his hand reassuringly. 

Frankie had pulled away from the group that week, not answering phone calls and only replying to texts with Busy. Santi had enough and showed up, unannounced, at his front door. 

“Hermano, you look like shit. What is the matter with you?”, Santi pleaded as he sat heavily on Frankie’s couch. “It’s like you’re falling back into bad habits… what happened? Carrie call you or something?”

Frankie bristled at the mention of Carrie, his ex. “No. Fuck… no nothing like that.”

“Then what?”

Frankie sighed and dropped his head into his hands, palms pressing into his eyes. “It’s the dreams.”

He didn’t see the grin take over Santi’s concerned face as relief spread out over it, and he didn’t see his friend sit back on the sofa with his hand on his chest. Frankie only looked up when he heard Santi let out a laugh.

“The dreams!”, Santi exclaimed in a breathy laugh. “Oh thank fuck! I thought you were on coke again.” He suddenly sat up and put a hand on Frankie’s knee. “You’re not on coke again, right?”

“No! And why are you laughing? How is this funny?”

Santi shook his head and waved off Frankie’s question with a smile. “Tell me about your dreams, gilipollas.”

You avoided spending much time at the apartment unless it was in your room. The dreams were back at the beach, and now for sure the man who held you from behind and whispered things in what you assumed was Spanish into your ear was Frankie. You felt awkward and in the way and you didn’t want to lose another person in your life and you had started looking for your own apartment to try and salvage what you had with Mandy. You didn’t even know if she or Benny were angry or mad at you, but you couldn't bring yourself to find out without having a back up plan. 

Your solitude was broken finally on Thursday night when there was a knock at the door and upon calling out Come In, Benny opened and poked his head into your room. 

“Hey… was wondering if we could talk.”

“Yeah, sure thing.” 

You adjusted yourself to being seated on your bed and Benny pulled out the desk chair and sat backwards on it, resting his arms on the backrest.

You watched as he cleared his throat and seemed to look anywhere but you. 

“So, I wanted to-uh… I wanted to say sorry to you.”, he said softly, picking at his cuticles. “Mandy hasn’t told me much but from what she’s said, you’ve been through the ringer and having an asshole like me shove his-”

You interjected with a sigh. “You’re not an asshole, Benny.”

“Fine, but I was acting like one. I threw a bitchfit because I had blueballs.”, he said point blank and you couldn’t help but give him a small smile and huffed chuckle. 

“See? You laughed, I was being an asshole.” 

You looked down at your hands and nodded, pursing your lips. You looked up with a resigned shrug. “I get it though. You’ve had Mandy all to yourself for what, two years? And then I come along and threw a mopey wrench into the mix and took away your computer room.”

Benny’s shoulders dropped and he shook his head. “I’m the youngest out of five kids. Three sisters and a brother. I’m used to getting my way and not having to share. So just let me be sorry, okay?”

“Fine.”, you acquiesced as you crossed your arms. “You can be sorry and I’ll be apologetic. Yes?”

Benny smiled and shot his hand out and you took it, giving him a firm handshake. 

“But you won’t have to share for long. I found an apartment.”

Benny’s face fell. “Mandy’s gonna have my balls.”

“So wait - the girl in your dreams became Mandy’s friend? Or did you finally realize it was her all along?”, Santi asked seriously, his eyes narrowed and his finger moving through the air as if drawing a connection between two points.

Frankie groaned and fell back against the back of the couch. “Does it matter?? What’s the difference?”

“There’s a massive difference, Frank!”, Santi laughed, being somewhat astounded at Frankie’s lack of comprehension. “In one way, you got the whole ‘love at first sight’ thing going, but in the other, this girl is your soulmate.”

“Fuck off with the soulmater bullshit!”

Santi shook his head with a tight smile. “Uh-uh, pendejo! You’re up shit creek without a paddle and I am your fucking life line! You’re stuck with me on this journey! Unless you want me to tell my abuela about that dream you had that was so good it made you cum like a-”

“Okay! Okay, just - fuck… not that. Never speak of that again!”

Santi nodded, pleased with himself. “Okay then. So I guess the next step is to put yourself at the mercy of fate.”

Frankie looked at Santi, completely over his superstitious bullshit. “What the fuck does that even mean. Pope?!”

The end of month came quicker than you anticipated and Mandy cried as she helped you load up Benny’s car with your bags.

“You know you don’t have to leave right? Benny promised to be better and I won’t force you on any more dates.”

You turned to her, trying to suppress a grin and nodded. “I know I don’t have to but you’ve already done so much for me. Getting me a job and giving me a place to live for the last few weeks… I can’t accept any more. Plus I’m like less than a five minute drive away. Same complex as Santi. I’m not far!”

She nodded and wiped a tear away. “I know, but-”

Benny interrupted with a deep, beleaguered sigh. “Ladies. Please. Can we get a move on?”

Within less than an hour, you had all your bags unloaded and Benny had set up the bed for you from the guest room, noting that they didn’t need the bed anymore because that room was going right back to being his gamer sanctuary. 

You’d already ordered furniture that was going to be delivered the next day. After the pizza was eaten and the internet tech had come and gone, Mandy and Benny bid you good night and you were alone. For the first time since you left the house you and Tony lived in empty, you were truly alone. 

Frankie was up early, reading the news on his phone and drinking a coffee when he got a message from Benny in the group chat.

Benny: Hey anyone around to help kit put furniture together? Busted my back putting my gamer sanctuary back in place last night. Laid up in bed

Before he could answer, another message popped up. 

Santi: im super busy. frankie is available. send catfish. 

Frankie sucked in a breath and froze. Fucking Pope. He sighed and replied.

Frankie: Sure. What time should I head over?

It was midmorning and you were contemplating murder. You had pieces of a dresser, an entertainment unit, a bookshelft and two bedside tables all over the living room floor and the instructions didn’t make sense.

Your doorbell ringing snapped you out of your rage for a moment and when you opened the door, you were met by Frankie, awkwardly smiling and holding a box of donuts and two coffees in a cardboard tray.

“Hey. Heard you need help with furniture.”

Two hours later, your couches had been delivered and Frankie had made sense of every single piece of furniture. 

“Where do you want it?”, he huffed as he backed the top half of the dresser down your hallway as you carried the bottom.

“Uh… as soon as you go in, just to the left of the doorway.”

He nodded and guided you and the dresser into your room. He puffed a few breaths out and had his hands on his hips, and he couldn’t help but let his eyes wander up and down your body. The denim shorts you were wearing clung to your ass and the way they pulled just so between your thighs made him feel light headed. The tank top hugged your tits perfectly and your neck looked so good with the slight sheen of sweat over it. 

As he watched you move about the room, figuring out what to put on and in the dresser, he heard rain. Heavy rain. And traffic. The smell of engine exhaust and wet pavement surrounded him along with the ambient sounds of a city on a rainy night… 

As you flitted back and forth from a suitcase to the dresser loading it up, you had no idea Frankie was watching. If you had turned and looked at him, you would have seen his eyes boring into you and unfocused. You smiled to yourself, feeling accomplished when you got a whiff of Frankie’s scent. Deodorant, clean laundry and a bit of sweat and you paused with your back still turned to him. 

You heard the ocean coming closer and your feet seemed to sink into the carpet like it was sand, warming between your toes. A sea breeze blew gently through your hair, and you could hear gulls in the distance…

Frankie heard you calling his name, and his head swiveled around, taking in his surroundings. A street corner in a busy city. You were on the other side, beckoning him to come closer with a smile, your motions slowed and surreal. He tried calling out to you, telling you to stay there, but no sound came out of him. You started to back into a shadow with a smile, still welcoming him, but the cars didn’t stop and no matter what he did, waving at you to stop and trying to scream for you, you disappeared into the darkness.

You stood on the beach side and time seemed to stand still. You heard your name and you looked towards where the sound came from and Frankie was calling out, a smile on his face, telling you to come to him. You tried to lift your feet to walk and they wouldn’t move; the sand was sucking you down, pulling you into it and the tide was coming in. Frankie laughed and waved you towards him and all you could do was scream as the sand pulled you right down into the abyss.

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[animentality]

Do you think Gortash would still love Durge even after their bad ending (you know when they betray Bhaal and choose to surrender themselves to prison at the end) and they’ve gone mad?

For example, let’s say in an alternate scenario where Gortash survives at the end of the game. All the other companions have abandoned Durge, do you think Gortash would step in and try to help them? Do anything?

I've wracked my brain at night thinking about it.

On the one hand, the part of me that looks exclusively at in game Gortash says that Gortash wouldn't love them without power and without reason.

Because the more canon aligned Gortash is more pragmatic than emotional and although I do think his feelings verged into the impractical, he still fundamentally needs balance.

He's a domineering kind of guy, he gets along with Durge because they refused to be cowed in any way by him, and he dared not pity them or treat them with anything less than the utmost respect.

He can't sweep them under his tidal wave of personality, he crashes upon their shore, and they chip away at each other, grain by grain, in a tumultuous but steady balance.

they had a tango, you know. two partners working together. sex and love stemmed from something other than practicality, but it was practicality that brought them together initially.

He loves the Dark Urge for their power and reason, and without those two things... maybe he wouldn't seek them out.

especially not after they betrayed him.

and I don't know. the more assholish Gortash would see their alliance as having reached its inevitable conclusion. the more... emotional but distant Gortash would say, goodbye, old friend.

I wish you could've escaped your master, as I escaped mine.

and he wouldn't see them again.

but canon aligned Gortash is underwritten anyway.

so I'll do Larian's job for them and say...

well.

it could go either way.

I can see Gortash abandoning them because he is literally unable to look upon his former love, completely without freewill, and not feel soul crushing, life ending despair.

I could see it being too painful to see them when he knows he can't help them and they can't be helped by anyone, and they're gone, and he has to accept that.

again.

but I can also see...

a determined Gortash.

who has nothing now, except perhaps a desire for revenge against Durge. but as they are, mad and alone and insatiable, why even bother, right?

Bhaal has tortured them more than Gortash ever could.

maybe he keeps them locked in a basement somewhere, and at first it's just to lord it over them. mock their failure, their inability to prevent themselves from becoming like this.

in the beginning, he's still bitter about his plan failing and he blames them. to him, maybe it's a cosmic justice...

he says you could've ruled the world with me at your side and Bhaal and Bane at our backs.

but you chose this instead.

but as time goes on, his heart softens and he starts wondering if they're in there somewhere.

the only person who could understand him.

whom he could understand truly.

and maybe they're down there somewhere, trying to be understood again.

so he shows them things he hopes they remember about the life they shared together for a brief but important time. maybe books they talked about. blueprints he showed them of his future inventions. their notebooks, left behind. their old clothing, left over after long nights spend fucking and arguing.

maybe he tries to find a cure. he has some medical expertise, right? from dissecting people. maybe he tries to find a solution, some way to bring them back. maybe he pours himself into studies of bhaalspawn and deeper magic, trying to find some way to bring back a person whose mind has been ravaged into nothing.

but worst case scenario ...

he has to give up on all that... and give them the death he knows they would've asked for, had they been conscious.

so.

yeah.

anon. I've thought of it.