#need them lying together in a pool of their mixed blood

[basilstitt]

the punisher and moon knight being antithetical sister stories is sooooo interesting(funny). like frank castle story of a child who thinks he is born into violence grows up to be a marine who experiences adult trauma and familial loss that sends him on a mental spiral that leads to violence and punishing the evil motivated by revenge and righteousness wherein he is proud of his actions and he is so good at his job. marc spector story of a child who thinks he is born into violence grows up to be a marine whos experienced childhood trauma and familial loss that results in deep rooted mental illness that leads to violence and punishing the evil brought on by manipulation and subjugation yet he feels so guilty for his actions and also hes not that good at any of his jobs.

[aealzx]

The heavy drum of rain cascading down the windows several rooms over was a hard lullaby to ignore for most people. But with it barely even being the hour creeping on midnight Leon found it easy to keep his eyes open. A myriad of stolen items were the newest objects in the abandoned room. A mat spread out on a recently mopped area of the floor, a battery powered space heater closeby. A pile of common medical supplies, disinfectant, bandaging, antibiotic spray, painkillers, anti inflammatories, anything that Leon could find that might be useful. A proper tourniquet had replaced his headband on Raph’s leg, the blue fabric back across his own eyes, surprisingly not bloodied. April’s jacket hadn’t been as lucky, but it was currently scrubbed with hydrogen peroxide and propped up on the other side of the heater from where they were huddled together. Thick blankets over their forms, Raph’s head once more in April’s lap while they both dozed on each other, exhausted. It had been an ordeal to change out the makeshift covers on Raph’s leg for clean gauze and bandaging, but it still wasn’t completely fixed. Leon needed more than painkillers and antibiotics to fix that injury. A scalpel for one thing. And a very detailed series of videos for another. Plus a sterile site. Which, while they were currently in a hospital the amount of dust and dirt was enough to make them all sneeze repeatedly over the hours they had been there. It had been enough to motivate Leon into making another trip to mostly empty stores to grab cleaning supplies as well shortly after they had arrived.

One day.

They had discussed their options, and come to the agreement that they wouldn’t try anything risky with Raph for one day. Leon had mixed feelings about it. He knew it was a horrible idea to leave a wound like that unattended for that long. His brain was screaming at him that it was a bad decision. But he would be lying if he said he wasn’t terrified of trying to surgically straighten the bone without Donnie there to help him. Sure, Donnie hated blood and squishy things. But when it mattered he was the best assistant Leon had ever had. And the only assistant really. Without Donnie and Mikey there with them Leon was feeling horribly alone. It was enough to motivate him to keep his swords materialized and held against his chest while he leaned against April, the blades consciously dulled to prevent injury. He wasn’t planning on sleeping, but the slow rise and fall of their forms brought him comfort. One side of his brain justified his defiance by telling him someone needed to keep watch. Or that he shouldn’t sleep because he had a head injury. But really it had been long enough that it wasn’t serious. Sleep should be fine.

He was just scared.

He hadn’t mentioned it to April, but just two hours earlier he’d felt something different from Donnie. Before it had been a quiet pool of eerie silence, like what Leon usually felt when Donnie was in a dreamless sleep, but stretched into a faint uncertainty like he was behind an ocean of water. But while he had been away from the others he’d had to take a moment to recollect himself as other things had bled through. Fear, anger, distress, protectiveness, rage, then a jumbled pool of scrambled thoughts and feelings that Leon knew usually led Donnie to screaming in a desperate attempt to get rid of some of it. Even just a little. Leon had had to force himself to keep moving to help Raph and April at the time, but it had been hard to hide the fact he knew Donnie was in trouble. At least, he had been. There was something odd almost an hour and a half ago. A hesitant release, followed by a stretch of tense stillness. Then one moment of semi uncertain comfort before the dreamless sleep returned. Leon was clinging to the hope that that last sensation meant that Donnie, and Lil Mikey were okay now. But doubts plagued his mind and kept him easily, stubbornly awake.

And for once he was grateful they did.

The dim light on his arm displayed a screen that had only part of it changing regularly. Three sections of vitals making it easy for Leon to keep track of his own physical state as well as that of Raph’s and April’s physical well being. The rest had no feed. At first Leon had thought there was none to give, but now he was clinging to the hope that it was a technical malfunction. And it seemed they had been right about that. It took him a moment to notice the change, the device screen only within his peripheral sight. But after a confused blink he looked down at it, only to gasp and sit up.

Donnie and Lil Mikey’s vitals had flickered back to being displayed.

“April!” Leon hissed, turning to start patting his big sister’s shoulder rapidly. “April, wake up. They’re okay! April they’re okay!”

April returned to the land of consciousness with a startled snort, but was quick to chase the sleep haze from her mind. “What? Who’s okay? What?” she asked rapidly, finding her glasses to put back on so she could see what Leon was looking at after he squished into her, a hand grabbing his own arm and showing it to her. She immediately noticed the difference. “Heartbeats… They’re okay,” she breathed, relief flooding into her form. It was one thing to hope, but another thing to have that hope confirmed into truth.

“It was out of range. That had to be it. They were just out of range,” Leon rambled, starting to tap at the device to switch to a different screen. The map Donnie had installed didn’t completely match what was actually there, but it still managed to pull up everyone’s general locations. Just like how they’d wanted. “Donnie used the satellite to increase the range of this thing back home. But if our phones aren’t working then the satellite that he piggybacks off of doesn’t exist. Of course! I’m so stupid to have not realized that.”

“Leo, it’s okay. We haven’t had to rely on that for tracking for months now,” April assured, but it was hard to get Leon’s full attention. Donnie and Lil Mikey’s signal was coming towards them from the southeast, and completely out of state.

“Wow, that’s fast. They must be in a vehicle of some sort,” Leon detoured, reaching out with his other hand to grab his swords. “I’m going to go get them.”

“What? Leo, not on your own,” April tensed, leaning forward and curling her hands around Raph a little more. Her poor brother was so tired that he was still asleep, but he was starting to stir.

“It’ll be fine, April. I’m just going to wait for them to stop, pop in, grab them, and pop out,” Leon assured, getting to his feet and backing up.

“Leo…,” April protested, not able to put her wants into words. There was just so much that could go wrong, and then she had no way to find any of them. “What if you can’t come back?”

That was enough to get him to pause, and he thought for a moment before coming back to her. “Give me your phone,” he directed, tapping the screen on Donnie’s arm computer again. With a few taps he triggered a prompt for an additional device, then grabbed April’s phone and hand to pull it gently against the computer. After a moment an icon flashed steady, and a mirror of the screen appeared on April’s phone.

“Give me until noon tomorrow, then come get me,” Leon directed, changing the screen back to the tracking map and swinging in to give April a quick, but tight hug. “I promise I’ll see you before then. Make sure you and Raph stay hydrated.” He didn’t give her much of a chance to protest after that. A familiar blue portal appeared behind him for him to drop backwards into, a smile and a wink being the last April saw of his face.

Pursing her lips, April looked down to Raph and started soothingly rubbing the back of his head. “Sorry Raphie. I just got startled by the rain. Go back to sleep,” she lied. She didn’t want to cause him more stress, and he was inevitably too worn out to resist.

___________________

Previous Next

___________________

How about a little check in with the other group.

[bullet-clubs-bitch]

Maybe a Jay white x reader where they are married and she is apart of the bullet club gold and they are so affectionate towards one another and Jay is always cheering her on and she does the same for him. Maybe she is a Gunn sibling and always wins her matches but prince Nana keeps harrasing her because of the bang bang scissors gang and they all come out there to protect the reader. And maybe swerve trys to get involved.

Bang Bang Gang

This one's a bit short but I hope you enjoy it! (This has not been proofread!)

@saramusazzi99 asked to be tagged in this :)

Mentions: Of Prince Nana being a perv

Main Masterlist Jay White Masterlist

One of the main reasons I signed with All Elite Wrestling was so that I could be with my wife Y/n. It had been so long since we were in a promotion together. Instantly the two of us were put in a faction together, the fans loved seeing us together and I coudn’t deny getting paid to spend time with my wife. Both of us were hesitant at first to create Bullet Club Gold since I just left Bullet Club in Japan but Tony Khan assured us everything would work out just fine. I trusted him up until this very moment. Currently, I sat in the Bang Bang Lounge trying to calm down my clearly upset wife. For some odd reason, Prince Nana of all people had been coming out and causing Y/n matches. I didn’t have anything against Swerve and The Gunns and Juice had nothing against the Moguel Embassy. So why was Y/n getting harassed by them?

“So tell us what happened one more time,” Austin asked “Well, I was just having my match with Willow Nightingale when all of a sudden Prince Nana appeared. He asked me if I wanted to see his ‘royal jewels’. When I told him to fuck off he reminded me that he was always watching” My blood was boiling once I heard Y/n explain what occurred moments ago once again. 

I know it didn’t sound like much but this Prince Nana thing had been happening for weeks. Normally I would be ringside for all of Y/n’s matches but every now and then we needed a break from the other. Not to mention our matches happened to be booked back to back. “Do you want me to do something? I can talk to him?” I asked  “No, can you just be ringside for my next match? If I’m trying to become AEW Women’s world champion I need to be focused on my matches. How can I focus if I’m constantly thinking of Prince Nana” Y/n had a point. She needed to be completely focused on capturing gold. “I promise, next week Prince Nana will regret even breathing in the same room as you” 

Just like I said I would keep my promise. Next week Y/n would get her shot for the number one contender for the AEW women’s championship and I would do anything to ensure she would be victorious. As Y/n made her entrance Juice, Austin, Colten and I followed close behind. We watched the ring like hawks, one of us stood on each side of the ring. Just if on command Prince Nana appeared out of nowhere. “How much do you want boss?” He asked me “What? “ “How much?” “How much for what?” “How much for Y/n?” did this psycho just ask me how much I would sell my wife for? I was sick to my stomach at his comments. “Excuse me?” “I think she would make a great addition to the Moguel embassy” I was distracted from my conversation with Prince Nana when Y/n asked “Is everything okay out here?” to which I responded cheerily “Everything is fine my dear” 

I waited until Y/n won her match before I started to beat the bloody hell out of Prince Nana. Soon the Moguel embassy and Swerve joined the mix and we were now at war. This was a bloody brawl. 

Security tried to pry us off each other but it was no use. This was personal, I was going to make them regret everything. I knew I had taken it too far when they sent the entire locker room out to separate us. Reality set in when Y/n looked at me like I was a madman. I looked down to see the Moguel Embassy lying in a pool of their blood. 

I didn’t care about the consequences, I didn’t care that the Gunns and I could get our ROH trios titles taken away. All I cared about was making sure Y/n was okay. I wanted to send a message to the locker room. If you mess with my girl you’ll breathe with the switchblade. 

[cloudlessly-light]

The darkest parts of me (2/5)

Title: The darkest parts of me (2/5) Summary: They find each other in a dark world where they do twisted things. The only way things could have become more dangerous, is if they were together. Funny how life turns out.

Unsub!Hotchniss AU.   Word count: 2,9k Rating: Explicit Warnings (for most or all chapters): smut, descriptions of violence, descriptions of murder, gore (nothing too explicit), mentions of weapons

It was supposed to be one night of pleasure, but it didn’t turn out that way.

One night turns into more and he knows that they should stop. Because the craving was increasing, getting worse as his need to kill grows. He should leave Washington, but for some reason he doesn’t, and he tries to ignore the thought that maybe Joan was the reason. Then one night the need becomes too much, and he finds a man, a scum of a human to take back to his apartment with a promise of drugs.

When he punches him hard enough for bones to break he feels the release he’s been needing, and he takes his time, savors every scream, enjoys every whimper. Maybe that’s why he loses track of how much time actually passes, maybe that’s why he doesn’t hear the knock on his front door or the soft hello from the hallway. He’s in the middle of cleaning up the blood and when he looks up, she’s there.

“Joan-” He starts but stops at the way she doesn’t look afraid.

“What happened?” Emily looks at the pools of red, smells bleach and lye and she should walk away. She had left this life behind. But she feels the familiar pull in her stomach, feels adrenaline and the rush she had missed terribly since she left Ireland, so she stays.

“He broke in.” He says it slowly, the lie sliding off his tongue easily as he stands up. His eyes stay on hers, there’s something about the way her cheeks flush and how she looks more relaxed than he’s ever seen her that immediately makes him feel at ease.

“You’re lying.” She whispers as he walks towards her, a shudder running through her when he comes close enough to touch. His eyes are hard, the darkness of his orbs reflecting something close to vehemence and she feels her thighs clench in response to his violence. “Tell me what happened.” He smells of blood, the sweet and metallic smell mixing with the intense smell of bleach and she breaths in through her nose, inhaling the familiar scent greedily.

“You’re not afraid?” He takes off his gloves and grabs her jaw, his fingers gripping tightly. His knuckles are bruised and swollen and she doesn’t as much as flinch as she keeps her eyes on his.

“No.” She smirks and her eyes flicker with want, making them even darker than usual. When he smiles back she knows that whatever it was that had attracted her to him in the first place, was even more dangerous than anything she’d ever had before.

That night she finds out about his past and as she tells him about hers, he listens intently. She tells him her name, her real name that she hadn’t used for years and as she helps him clean up the mess in his home, she realizes that the connection between them was something more hazardous than either of them had expected. 

Before Aaron, Emily never had to deal with the clean-up, one of Ian’s men always taking care of it for them. But Aaron teaches her, and together they find themselves finding a new kind of release. He was addicted to the kill, the chase, Emily was addicted to the power of it.

“You get off on it.” He stated after their first kill together. They had travelled to New York, and after he had watched Emily end another man’s life she had pressed him against a wall. The way she clawed at him, tugged his clothes and fucked him right then and there was more than enough for him to know.

“I do.” She smiles, cheeks still flushed and hair wild. “But I don’t get off on the torture like you do.”

“I only kill those who deserve it.” He rolls on top of her and traps her between his body and the bed. His hand hovers over her throat and when she nods he squeezes tight. “I torture men who are rotten, men that this world is better without.”

When Emily licks her bottom lip he groans and let’s go of his hold.

“I want to watch next time.” She spreads her legs wide and she feels his hard cock against her naked thigh, already ready for another round. “But I want to finish him off.”

“Deal.” He thrusts inside of her roughly and enjoys the way she gasps at the stretch. “I’ll teach you how to use the knife.”

“But I like my gun.” She squirms when he stays still, hips pressed against hers and almost uncomfortably big. She buckles her hips, needing him to move.

“Ah-ah, that’s how you get caught.” He bites her neck and she hisses, her nails digging into his skin in warning and he starts to thrust. They could talk more about this later, right now all he wanted was to hear the way she moaned his name.

*

Money was never an issue for either of them, Aaron had saved his whole life and always took a little from each of his victims, Emily still had her funds and money from her years with Ian. It had been surprisingly easy as she got him a whole new identity to use and as they traveled to South Carolina together, Aaron realized just how much easier it was being a pair than a single man traveling alone.

“What about him?” Emily asked as they sat in a bar in Georgetown, having a drink as they watched people walking by. They hadn’t killed in almost a month and she couldn’t help missed the raw danger that she now associated with the rush of arousal and Aaron.

“You can’t choose someone at random, I told you, we need to know if he deserves it.” His warped sense of justice causes her to smile. She had never really given much thought to who deserved to die and who didn’t, she had always just thought about the way it made her feel. She wasn’t patient enough for the chase, maybe that’s why she had met him, she thought. Aaron grounded her in a way no one ever had.

“What?” He mutters and she realizes that he had caught her staring.

“I just, never thought I’d meet someone like you. Someone so similar and yet so different.” It wasn’t logical, it wasn’t the kind of love she’d grown up reading about. It was more, the way he made her feel addictive. It had only been a few months, but she couldn’t imagine life without him anymore. Their destructiveness was something that she knew was dangerous, but couldn’t see herself without.  

He smiles at her words, they were rarely soft with each other, both getting off on the cruelty of it all, but he knew he’d never felt the way he did for someone else, not even Haley. He takes her hand and rubs his thumb over the top of hers, feeling her soft skin.

“Come on, I know where to go.”

He takes her to a part of the city that he knows has a high crime rate and as they sit in their rental car he keeps his hand on her thigh. It’s warm outside, so she was wearing a dress and when his fingers skim over her smooth skin he notices the way she shivers, always just a touch away from needing more.

“Pay attention.” He says lowly with a knowing smirk and then watches her as she watches the street. It doesn’t take long before two men walk past their car and into an alley. He takes notice of the way they speak to each other, how the quick flash of a gun gleams under the streetlight before they disappear from sight and he notices that Emily has seen it too.

“Let’s go.” She says and gets out of the car, Aaron right behind her.

They walk in silence, just barely catches the drug deal before one of the men turns to walk the other way. Emily knew that wouldn’t be enough of a reason for Aaron to want either of them dead. But then the second man walks straight up to a woman who couldn’t be more than 18, a life on the street already forcing her to use her body to survive. The conversation between the man and the woman is quiet, until it’s not. They watch as he grabs her and she fights but he’s stronger and bigger and when he reaches for his gun she stops struggling.

“You’re coming with me one way or the other, are you going to make it hard?” The man says, gun still pointed towards the woman who looks at him with teary eyes.

“Please, don’t kill me.” She whispers, taking a slow step backwards.

They’re still hidden away in the dark and Aaron takes advantage of the fact. He hits him in the back of the head, then punches him again and knocking him out.

“Leave.” Emily tells the woman who’s looking at them, stuck somewhere between fear and surprise. “Get out of here.” When the woman still doesn’t move Emily sighs and pulls out her gun. “Now.”

She runs away, barely sparing them another glance as Aaron starts to drag the man back further into the alley.

“Go get the car so I don’t have to carry him the entire way.” He tells her and she catches the car key he throws her way.

“Do you think she’ll talk?” She asks, eyes still on the retrieving form of the woman.

“No, she won’t deal with cops unless she’s arrested herself.” He knew women like her, they never talked to the police, even when they should.

Emily takes his word for it with a nod and then walks back through the alley to get the car. She drives around the building, makes sure that she stays hidden out of streets lights and cameras and when Aaron puts the body of the man in the trunk, she feels excitement run through her.

They’ve rented a small house on the outskirts of town, far away from other residents. It comes in handy, Emily realizes as she hears the loud screams coming from the man each time Aaron cuts him with his knife. She had never found blood or the mess thrilling, but as she watched Aaron, effortlessly powerful, twisted in all the ways she was, she found a steady pulse of arousal beating between her legs.

Aaron takes a break and looks up at her as she watches him from a stool, a glass of red wine in hand. He’s sweaty, his heart beating wildly in his chest. He never thought he’d enjoy being watched this way, but as Emily’s breathing hitches and cheeks flush pink he realizes that he does.

“How many women have you hurt?” He uses his foot to roll the man onto his back and looks down at his bloody face. There’s no answer, only grunts of pain and fear. “You don’t even know, do you? Filth.” His foot connects to his stomach and when the gurgling wheeze of a mouth filled with blood is the only sound heard Aaron feels the euphoria he’s always chasing. “Come on sweetheart, finish him off.”

Emily reaches for her gun on the countertop but he stops her with a shake of his head.

“You think you feel powerful with the gun? Just wait until you use the knife.” He smirks and she carefully drops the gun back on the counter. So far she had stuck to her gun but Aaron had encouraged her to stop ever since they started killing together.

She knew that a gun was easier to trace, that he was right when he said that she should change things up. When her fingers grasp the knife her hand shakes from nerves and adrenaline, but he only nods reassuringly at her.

“Please-” The man on the floor pleads and the rush of power is immediate as she kneels down next to him.

“Begging will get you nowhere.” She holds his stare as she raises the knife. The feeling of steel slicing through flesh is foreign, the heat of blood on her hand new and she stares, wide-eyed at the way the floor is colored red.

“Going for the neck, smart choice.” Aaron says behind her, voice thick with barely restrained want.

She doesn’t stand back up until she’s sure the man is dead and when she does Aaron grabs her tightly, his hands shaking against her hips.

“You’re so pretty like this baby.” He tells her and she lets go of the knife and grabs his shirt instead, not caring that she’s ruining the material as she does.

She pulls him into a rough kiss, her tongue immediately seeking out his as they leave the mess they’ve made on the floor for the time being. He tastes like danger and adrenaline, metallic and Aaron and she moans softly as his hands starts to tug her dress up her hips.

He hears the fabric of her dress tearing as he forces it off her body and swiftly picks her up and her legs wrap around him. Even through his shirt and her underwear, he feels the heat of her between her legs and he growls against her lips. He needs her, needs to feel her and with that thought in mind he places her on the counter. She seems just as desperate for him, her fingers working on each button of his shirt with an impatient huff until she gives up and rips the shirt open, sending buttons flying.

The marble is cold against her heated skin but she barely registers it, her sole focus on him. She watches as he pushes his jeans and boxers down just enough for his cock to spring free, then helps him with her panties by lifting her hips as he drags them down her legs. His teeth are bruising her as he bites down on the soft flesh of her breast and when she moans at the pain he looks at her with something close to madness.

“Fuck me.” She tells him, her fingers tight in his hair as she pulls him up to kiss him. “Make me come.”

Aaron nods into another messy kiss, mostly tongue and heavy breaths but he doesn’t care. Emily drunk off the power of a fresh kill was his favorite kind of Emily. The heat of her as he rubs the tip of his cock through her makes him suck in a breath, her slick shiny on her thighs.

“Your wish, my command.” He whispers and the way her lips tug into a satisfied smirk goes straight to his cock. His grip on her is bruising when he pushes inside of her. He takes his time, lets her feel every inch of him until he’s pressed flush against her.

Her eyes drift closed as he starts to pull out, keeping the same slow pace. Normally they’re frantic, desperate to be pleased and to please, but the way he’s teasing them both is driving her insane in the best way possible. She can’t move, his hold is too tight and she can tell that he knows just how much he’s teasing her from the way he’s smirking at her.

“Harder, fuck me like you mean it.” She grunts, voice tight with frustration and she’s once again impressed by his self-control. But it seems like he’s done teasing only a few strokes later and instead he fucks into her faster, hard enough for her body to jolt and she bites down a loud moan.

“You can scream, no one’s going to hear you.” He lets go of her hip and moves his hand between her legs, his thumb starting to rub her clit. She leans back against the counter, resting her weight on her elbows as she watches him with hooded eyes. He’s sweaty, his body shining with it, his hands red and stained with dried blood, small specks of it on his neck and face. The visual mixed with how he’s touching her causes her to cry out as her head falls back.

“It’s so good.” She gasps, eyes hooded and mouth slack.

It’s not long until she feels the coiling in her belly and she can tell that he’s close as well. He’s rubbing her clit in fast circles, his muscles tense. Then he pulls her up so she’s sitting again, his lips claiming hers in a bruising kiss.

“Come with me.” He grunts and she nods. Her arms wrap around his neck and when he bites down on her shoulder she moans at the painful pleasure. She comes with a scream, her body shuddering as her muffles more sounds against his neck. The feeling of his release only prolongs her pleasure, the heat of him inside of her making her gasp as his hips stutter against hers.

Aaron doesn’t move away until his breathing has slowed and his heart rate has returned to normal. When he looks down at her, he sees the same relaxation on her face that he feels himself.

“We’re too good at this.” She smiles and he chuckles before kissing her forehead.

“Sex or murder?” He asks, half teasingly.

“Both.”

[macdennisofficial]

any big predictions for s16

Whole season analysis incoming!!! Big wrinkly brain predictions that WILL happen mark my fucking words below!

First episode: The Gang Does Edibles for the first time. "wait a minute macdennisofficial," you say, "they smoked weed before and also crack and sniff glue??" Exactly. They ain't done edibles before.

So you know Frank is like I did Columbian bam bam with Vietnamese sweatshop kids and Dee and Dennis are like "we were legit crackheads before" and Charlie is like "haha I do inhalants so much I built up a tolerance to mustard gas" and Mac is like I am a drug dealer hello ??? They are all like "we are not pussies when it comes to weed we have taken fat ass bong rips so many times" so they just. Dump. Like a whole gallon of weed in the brownie mix. And then between the five of them eat the whole fucking pan to prove how not pussy they are.

Anyway so two hours later Dee "these edibles ain't shit" Reynolds is screaming hysterically and shitting her pants while clinging to the rooftop and staring at the sky, Frank is furiously fucking a rotisserie chicken while listening to sixties war protest rock and seeing colours and having Rambo First Blood flashbacks, Charlie sees everything like a cartoon and is a Disney prince(ss?) who can control rats and pigeons with his singing voice and also hallucinates a musical with the Gang, Mac literally sees God and speaks to him and fucks him. He just fucks God. Full penetration. And God is gay btw and played by Ryan Reynolds. In real life Mac is actually just like lying on the pool table staring at the ceiling light. With this huge stoner boner. Dennis is like weeping in the bathroom because Rick Astley is playing on the jukebox and it's so fucking beautiful and decides he wants to become an artist because the yuck puddle is so beautiful and he wants to commemorate it and it is talking to him

They all manage to meet at some point and talk to each other and hallucinate Charlie and the Chocolate Factory-esque shit together. Oompa Loompas look like Frank's sweatshop children and they sing "oompa loompa doopity doo what the fuck is wrong with all of you"

Episode two: They are discussing Kanye and how they need to separate the art from the artist because they voted for him but they can't support him now that he says all this anti Semitic stuff lately because they might get cancelled for liking him so they just cut all the pictures of Kanye out of the albums and posters and stuff they own and replace it with pictures of Pepperjack. This is especially important they vocally distance themselves from Kanye because Wolf Cola has used him for promotional ads. So they also have to cut ties with him professionally. It's all very selfish because they're concerned about their image.

Episode three: They make fun of Dee for calling herself a feminist even though she never passes the Bechdel test and they argue about how to pronounce it properly. She says she will pass it by the end of the day and she fails constantly but at the end of the episode she finds the Waitress and they talk about something other than men. She is excited and then Charlie is like; "What's her name? It only counts if you know her name." She doesn't know her name. It is titled Dee Fails the Bechdel Test. It is a Chardee themed episode, but they don't kiss or anything.

Episode four: We see the Gang's exploits from someone else's perspective. It is their fucking stalker. They have a stalker and they dont even know it. I mean this is like Joe from You styled narration and everything. The stalker has like Pepe Sylvia style pics on their wall connecting them to various crimes and shit in Philly and it's all true btw but the stalker gets arrested for stalking and attempting assassination (yeah, like an actual attempt at murder) and the Gang is like; "Who the fuck even are you?" despite this stalker being in their bar every day for like years. It is a fun episode because we see them in many mid-scheme situations with like no context.

Episode five: They try to reboot The Nightman Cometh because the find out they have fans because Artemis posted it online and there is fanfic and meta. The reboot is complete and utter SHIT so the fans hate them now lmfao

Episode six: Someone approaches them to say "hey this bar should be a reality series" and they accept but they all agree they should be less problematic because they don't wanna piss off the producers and then the producers are like "actually Mac you're not gay you're bi because it's Not In to be monosexual anymore also uhm you can joke about being into men but you can only ever on screen be with a woman mmkay but lets queerbair you with Dennis." They like insist he hooks up with Dee lmfao and Mac and Dee are FURIOUS. This is like a total commentary on the way television and movies are produced now where the actual writers have little control and the company micromanages their entire lives all for ad revenue and product placement and tiktok soundbites. Anyway they try to go along with it and film thr Pilot just for the studio to say that it was all meant to be a tax write off so their show gets pulled before even being and blacklisted from Streaming Services despite all the work they did and there are jokes about shitty graphics and crap pay.

Episode seven is kind of a part two of the previous episode because Frank buys out the streaming service and calls it like Wolf Soda Streams. They can post all their shitty movies on it and their reality series and also The Nightman Cometh (the original and reboot). Frank accidentally uploads several sex tapes of him and Artemis instead so it crashes and burns and ends up being more lucrative as a tax write off. The employees of the company he bought out all lost their jobs and end up homeless in the alley with Cricket. They all say; "Those fuckers ruined my life!" and he just stares at them and goes; "First time?"

Episode eight: Dennis starts dating a woman who looks and acts exactly like Mac. And literally everybody sees it EXCEPT Mac and Dennis. She's even Mac's cousin. But Mac and Dennis are idiots. And just don't see it. And everybody is like wtf come on. In the end this woman leaves Dennis because she realizes she's a lesbian.

Episode nine: Finally Mac dates a man and Dennis is motherfucking livid. He assumes it's the envy of being single and being dumped a week prior but we all know the truth. Everyone knows the truth. Except Mac. This boyfriend is also played by Ryan Reynolds and as a callback to the season premiere someone says he has the body of God. Anyway the jealousy and envy is eating Dennis up inside until the episode ends with Dennis screaming like a psychopathic madman in the rain while staring at Mac and Ryan Reynolds through a window holding an axe.

Episode ten: This is shot like a horror movie a la The Maureen Ponderosa Wedding Massacre. It's like a typical slasher movie with Dennis as the bad guy and everyone hiding from him and he's going after Ryan Reynolds. It's terrifying and all that. Scary shit like wtf this might be too dark for an Always Sunny episode except they pull it off super well and there is humor and stuff. There are lots of Dennis screaming hilarious shit like I HAVE THE RAGE OF A THOUSAND SPURNED LOVERS SPILLING SEED OVER CIGARETTE BURNED PICTURES OF THEIR EXES! Just when he corners Ryan Reynolds and screams at him "MAC IS MINE" with the ax raised the scene cuts to them all still in the bar fucked up on edibles in the very first episode. They've finally sobered up and make a comment about how the past few hours seemed like weeks or whatever and how they hallucinated some crazy shit and then Dennis walks over to Mac and just fucking kisses him on the mouth, and Mac reciprocates and the rest of the gang make gagging noises and call them slurs. The end

[hera-the-shoggoth]

Red Rain Falls on Us

Your hand falls so gently on my breasts.

Your fine pearlescent fingers sink in the moonlit skin upon me. Accomodating them, its surface tension gives. You know what is about to happen. So do I. We planned for this a very long time. Here we are, as the Red Night falls around us.

Your fingers sink too deeply for the God we left behind. I said, "don't worry, he'll catch up and I know he can- that he is brave enough to find us, but we have something better." You've been knowing what I'm on about these years without no words; no light save that which only we can see.

The two, the three, and the seven- The five, the six, and the nine- Earth and heaven heaving over broken firmament, and from their quarrel bleeds a red, red light.

You know how this goes. It repeats in your head until the words feel like water in your mouth, not needing now the walls they used to have. Skin became a pooling liquid, and our waxen bones arc through the gaps in others melting underneath the ruby moon. Marrows mix 'till only Us is there beneath the fearful stars. Alone and undistracted.

I push back into you and catch your hand in me. Sinking in my ribcage, your breath is cold and clammy but you know you will not die today- or any other day. Even fear of that which lies beyond enthroned in malice, crowned with the power to hold your breath. It didn't survive this tide of fiery blood, and left a happy ruin underneath the ruby stars.

Pulsing in a breast, two hearts merge and pound together knowing they won't falter anymore. One last fear zaps over you of pain, of panic, of things going wrong, while as our chests begin to touch, the surface tension breaks. You almost pull away, but you remember.

The walls of self collapse, but I reach out. Encircling your body with my arms, a cold feeling races down our spines. It's at this moment that you realise our impressions mixed together. Awestruck nerves perceive the air across my back, the metal in the basin of my hips, the love in my heart at this beautiful moment. You perceive that I perceive the same thing over you. Somehow, apprehension yields to comfort. Radios connect and lives raise up a million times in a million years over crackling waves. Two mirrors held together, our thoughts, impressions, terrors, rules, and joys cascade into an undifferentiated universe of being.

We made sure in all our planning that no pain could follow us up here. We built this room so that the windows spill their contents on the both of us from all directions, and the outside world that was within them may escape and cover both our inner worlds with bloody starlight when the time arrives at last. Lying side by side, we feel each other freely. Then the world will follow soon to join us in our final ecstacy- our heaven brought to Earth, recast in infinite delight.

So that at least we'll have each other when the graves are poured above us and the rain will sink to both of our hapless skeletons; if it should ever come to that, and now it won't. Red moonlight spilling over us, it melts our fear of life and death as well as our fluid flesh. Somehow everything is fine. The plants all growing together outside pool into a writhing green liquid that joins us first, and little flowers bloom across its surface.

Last resistence broken, ruby water rushes freely. The parts of You still dry are wet with me, and I am wet with You. We are one. You know as well as I. Our brains, after all, are mixing. The skulls split, then shattered, then grew together. Our mouths lead into a single chamber, closing down, whence pulmonary tubes shoot upwards to the surface for a breath of cold air. Ephemeral, but numerous, they form an organ tuned to stranger keys than ever was heard inside of the church- at least before this moment.

Our voices sing our joy and pleasure.

Pseudopods lurch over, and we lay there for a long, long time. Then a third one enters through the door and builds a diving board across the bed. With feet melting down beneath the radiance of night, bending bones are cast into a final leap of faith. They execute a perfect swan dive right into the middle of us. All three of us splash across the carpet, but each bloody pearl slithers back into the mother in the center, and together we lay like that for a long, long time again.

[hpimaginesandblurbs]

hi, i need to make and urgent request hahah, i came up with this insane idea and if you are not comfortable writing it don’t worry, i totally get it

okay soo... y/n had sex with george and he has a breeding kink and came inside y/n, so after that they stay together and after a while she gets up to get a shower and clean herself but she didn’t notice that fred walked into the shower and wanted to do the deed hahah but he notices the cum inside of her and grabs the shower head and tells her that he’s going to clean her really well and she comes and fred is just overstimulating her until she’s whimpering (all consensual ofc) and after that he fucks her in the shower (: thank youu

pairing(s): george weasley x reader, fred weasley x reader 

warning(s): 18+, breeding kink, overstimulation, slight praise, slight degradation, creative use of a showerhead 

word count: 1.9k 

a/n: completely insane idea but i loved it and it’s now my fantasy of the week. also, reader is in a relationship with both of them so everyone is cool with what’s going on here haha. enjoy!

“Tell me, Y/N. Tell me where my baby girl wants me to cum,” George said lowly in your ear, not even breaking a sweat as he thrust deep inside of you. 

You could barely form words between his strokes, unable to wrap your head around anything other than how good he was making you feel. But you knew exactly what he wanted to hear. 

“Inside me, please. Cum inside me,” you whined out, your back arching further as you spoke. 

You could feel the familiar feeling of arousal pool up inside of you, making you clutch to George’s back just so you didn’t drown in the pleasure. 

“I know you’re close, babygirl. Cum for me so I can fill you up,” George said before attaching his lips to the spot where your jaw met your neck, making you keen at the sensation. 

It didn’t take much longer to do exactly as he asked, wave after wave of pleasure coursing through you as your body tensed and relaxed. George easily fucked you through your orgasm, words of praise falling from his lips as he did so, before chasing his own. 

He fucked you brutally, his cock pushing into your sensitive walls over and over again before he finally came with a groan. At the feeling of his warmth filling you up, you felt a new rush of arousal go through you, but were quickly settled as he brought you into his arms without pulling out yet. 

“You’re going to be the death of me one day, little witch,” George mused fondly, stroking a hand down your back as you both caught your breath. 

“Thought you said the way you wanted to go was between my thighs, so this can only be second best,” you replied cheekily, pressing a kiss to his chest. 

He only chuckled, out of witty comebacks for you at the moment, and gently rearranged your bodies. He finally slipped out of you, along with a trail of his cum that left you squirming. It’s not that you didn’t like it when he, or his twin brother, came inside of you, it just wasn’t the most pleasant feeling afterwards. 

“I think I’ll go take a quick shower,” you told him with a sigh, not wanting to get up but you knew you’d be uncomfortable otherwise. 

“I’ll be here when you get back,” George said with a small smile, placing a kiss on your temple before you got up. 

You wandered into the hallway still naked, knowing it was only you and George home at the moment. And even if Fred finally found his way upstairs from the shop, it wasn’t like he had never seen you naked. 

You got ready for your shower in silence, just enjoying the soreness of your muscles that never quite seemed to go away when you had two more than eager twins willing to go at a moment's notice. You had already managed to shampoo and rinse your hair when you heard the bathroom door open. 

“Come for round two?” You asked cheekily, not even bothering to look at who was on the other side of the curtain, assuming it was George. 

“That would imply there was a round one,” you heard call back, making you pause. 

“Oh, so you finally found your way up the stairs,” you commented, poking your head out of the shower to watch Fred as he stripped off the last of his clothing. 

“Didn’t think you two would start without me,” he said back, but held no real malice in his tone. He climbed into the shower and immediately wrapped you in his arms, not even bothering to rinse himself off first.

“Well you know how Georgie gets when he’s ready to go,” you argued lightly, letting yourself relax into Fred’s muscular form. 

He pulled away with a dark chuckle, just enough away that he could wrap one hand under your chin and force you to look up at him. 

“Correct me if I’m wrong darling, but I don’t think it was George this time. I saw you all day, giving us those innocent eyes as if you were trying to hide how fucking desperate you were for it,” he said lowly, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’m sure you begged him to fuck you in that pretty little voice that gets him every time.”

You felt the blood rush to your cheeks, knowing Fred had seen right through you all day. And that was exactly what you had done. You knew getting George alone was a tried and true way to get exactly what you wanted if you begged prettily enough, something that didn’t always work with Fred. And now you felt as if you were about to atone for your sins in this small shower with Fred wielding your punishment. 

“That’s what I thought,” Fred said with a smirk, noting your silence. “Now let’s get you cleaned up, hm?” He asked innocently enough, but there was something mischievous and calculating behind his eyes that you couldn’t place. 

In one swift move, Fred had your back pressed against his chest and the shower head down from the wall. He backed you both up until he was leaning against the opposite wall and your body was resting against his, his erection pressing into your lower back. 

“Fred, wha-,” you wanted to ask at the abrupt change, but he quickly cut you off. 

“I know how much Georgie loves to cum inside of you. Open those pretty legs for me so I can get you all clean,” he explained gently, but you knew it was a command. One that you couldn’t get out of. One that renewed your arousal from earlier. One that, if it weren’t for the water dripping down your body, he’d know exactly how wet it made you when he spoke to you like that. 

You let out a shaky breath but slowly opened your legs to expose yourself. Almost immediately, he held the shower head so close to your clit that a shiver went down your body and a small gasp escaped your mouth. Without even thinking, your hands came up to clutch his forearms. Without that small reprieve, you were sure your legs would collapse from underneath you. 

“Look at you,” Fred mused, and you could feel the rumble of his words through his chest. “Still so fucking desperate for it that a shower head is gonna get you off.” 

“Fred, please,” you gasped through your moan as he repositioned the stream of water to aim directly at your clit. 

“Please, what?” He asked teasingly, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. 

“Please fuck me,” You begged shamelessly, not even bothering to control the volume of your voice even if George could hear you. Not that he would mind listening. Better yet, he’d probably come to watch if you were loud enough. 

“I’ll fuck you when I think you’re clean enough,” he told you, masterfully leaving over what he determined as ‘clean enough’. 

Turns out, ‘clean enough’ was about three orgasms later. 

Fred held you against him with ease, working you through three orgasms with just the shower head and his voice. Praises of ‘good girl’ and ‘you’re gonna feel so good around my cock once you’re all cleaned out’ that left you preening under the attention mixed with heated teases of ‘if you had just waited for me I wouldn’t have to clean my dirty girl out’ and ‘you have such a messy little cunt’ that made you blush. No matter what filth fell from his mouth, you were forced that much closer to the edge every time. 

Once the third orgasm rolled through your body, your nails dug into his arm with aimless pleas on your lips for it all to stop. Keeping you close to his body, Fred removed the shower head from your body and put it back in its rightful spot before spinning you around to hold you close. 

“You did so good for me, darling. So fucking pretty falling apart for me like that,” he said quietly, his hands traveling up and down your sides, doing everything in his power to calm your body down from its shaking. 

When you caught your breath, you couldn’t help but notice his erection still pressed against your body. Slowly, you brought your hand up to wrap it around him, a groan easily ripping through him. 

“Think you still have one more for me, darling? I’d love to fuck you stupid,” he asked carefully, unwilling to push your limits at the moment. 

You didn’t even give him a proper answer, just connected your lips with his and adjusted your bodies so your back was now against the wall. He seemed to take it as a ‘yes’, easily hoisting you up without breaking the heated kiss. 

He pulled away from the kiss to rake his eyes up and down your body, fully exposed to him in the position he held you in. “Fuck, look at you, darling. I’m not going to be gentle. Still think you can take it?” He asked teasingly, referring to your swollen sex that his eyes couldn’t seem to leave. 

“Fred, just fuck me,” you half begged, half demanded as you caught him in another kiss, and to your delight he complied. 

The sounds of your bodies colliding together and the groans and moans spilling from both of your lips were echoing around the bathroom, both of you having no problem being loud despite knowing that George was mere feet away in the bedroom waiting for the both of you.

He hadn’t been lying either - he had no intention to be gentle with you. He fucked you furiously, his large cock splitting you open over and over again as he thrust deeply inside of you. His mouth never left yours, even when the kiss was mostly teeth and tongue. You were so sensitive that you felt your body almost immediately meet the edge of your fifth orgasm of the night, and based on the sounds he was making, he was right behind you. 

“So fucking tight. Cum for me, Y/N,” Fred got out in between his own moans, always the vocal one in the bedroom, or rather the bathroom in this instance.  

Your final orgasm ripped through you, your walls fluttering around his cock and milking the orgasm right out of him. His head remained in the crook of your neck as he worked you both through it, his breath ghosting over your neck as the final shock waves went through your body. 

Without many words shared between the pair of you, you both finished your actual shower - Fred washing your body dutifully and dotingly, being as gentle as he could be. He dried you off with the softest towel you owned and brushed and braided your hair for you before scoping your naked form back up in his arms to return you to the bedroom. 

“Finally,” you heard George’s sleepy voice utter, making you giggle into Fred’s neck.

“I’d say sorry for holding your cuddle buddy hostage, but I’m really not,” Fred quipped back, depositing you gently in the middle of the bed before crawling in after you. 

“Doubt she’s sorry either,” George said, his eyes trailing up and down your naked and spent body. “Heard all her pretty little noises from here.” 

Despite your assumption that he heard you, you still blushed at the knowledge that he in fact did. Blushed as if he hadn’t physically seen his twin fuck you countless times before. 

That was the perfect part of dating both of them. Well, one of many.

[aareyna]

b o m b s

With all the Divine Beasts back under their control and their powers weakening the Calamity, only one thing was left to be done: travel to the castle and defeat Ganon.

Vah Ruta was the last Titan Link had reclaimed; his previous travels had led him all across the country, meeting people of all kinds and making friends along the way. Some people who claimed had known ‘someone like him’ before and many who had become new acquaintances.

Link had met many people ever since he had woken up from his 100-year sleep; and yet, the intense feeling of loneliness had accompanied him everywhere.

With only one exception… the Zora Domain.

The Zora didn’t just claim to had known someone like him, but truly remembered the life Link had led before. While the elders’ animosity thrown his way had been an uncomfortable experience, many others had met him with open friendship and delight.

For the first time ever since he had woken up, Link truly had felt like he belonged.

And part of the reason was now standing with him atop the Great Zora Bridge, holding Link’s hands.

“I cannot thank you enough for what you have done, my dearest friend! I can’t leave the Domain behind for too long, especially now that we need to rebuild some structures and trading routes that had been destroyed by Vah Ruta’s rampage. But please let me accompany you at least to the Indigo Bridge!”

Link smiled in response, touched by this gesture.

Together, they walked down the bridge and onto the path Link had passed weeks prior. Link was not overly worried about meeting monsters down the road; ever since arriving in Lanayru he had made sure to secure the paths around the rivers and lakes frequented by Zora.

Clouds were hanging low in the sky; Link could feel a storm brewing.

Sidon was talking animatedly next to him. Whenever it was the Hylian’s turn to respond, the prince made sure to turn towards the blond and watch the hand gestures. Link had been deeply touched by Sidon’s sympathy shown his way; while Link was theoretically able to talk, he preferred not to. Around the Zora, he never had been forced to explain, they simply had accepted it without questioning his actions.

While a gesture much appreciated, it was in hindsight probably what had led to the following situation.

They were already close to the Indigo Bridge, passing through the Tabahl Woods, when the world around them exploded.

At first, Link couldn’t make sense of what happened. Heat and bright lights surrounded them, knocked them off their feet, while pain travelled down Link’s right side. Shaking his head, forcing himself not to lose his grasp of reality, Link jumped back up his feet and unsheathed his sword.

He was surrounded by Lizalfos, enemies he had thought defeated prior this day.

Not hesitating any further, Link raised his blade and lunged for the first strike.

The battle was short; the Lizalfos around him dropped like sickened trees felled by a storm.

With heaving breath Link straightened himself, readying himself for another ambush that never came.

The air seemed static with the silence surrounding them; countless bodies of Lizalfos scattered around the clearing with no detectable movement. The only thing audible were the sound of cicadas and the homogenous sound of the flowing river close by.

Once the battle rush settled down, Link looked around himself, checking the situation and looking out for Sidon.

When his gaze landed on the familiar shade of red mixed with another, much darker shade. His heart stopped for a moment, before continuing in a rapid beat.

Not caring about his surroundings or looking out for further danger, Link ran towards the injured man lying on the ground.

Blood was pouring out of a head wound, pooling around the unconscious Zora. Sidon’s right side was covered in burnt scales and all of a sudden, Link knew what they had run into. An ambush, a trap… even if Link had rarely run into a planned ambush by monsters, it had happened before.

The distant roar of a thunderstorm was audible; the sky became darker and heavier by the second. Electric buzzing filled the air; it was only a matter of minutes until the lightning would reach them.

Link knew of the Zora’s weakness towards electricity… if Sidon had to take electrical damage on top of his already present wounds, he surely wouldn’t survive.

He had to find a hideout, and quick. Link checked the area, growing more desperate with every passing moment, until he laid eyes on a small cavity, not big enough to be a cave, but definitely spacey enough to find shelter during the impending thunderstorm.

Gathering all his strength, Link stepped in front of his friend and grabbed his arms, throwing them over his own shoulders. The positioning was less than perfect; he would have to drag the prince towards the cavity in a very un-royalty like manner.

Link huffed in exertion while he heaved the prince’s body mass underneath the sheltered area - and not a second too early. Lightning struck at the clearing they had been at only moments before. A few moments longer, and they might have died upon the impact.

Now, with at least some shelter protecting them from the elements, Link was able to focus his full attention on Sidon’s wounds. Ever since travelling through the lands, knowing his destiny and fighting evil on a daily basis, he had made it a habit to carry wound care with himself. Usually, it was only used to treat his own injuries, but whenever he stumbled upon a person in need, he would reach out a helping hand and take care of their wounds as well. (Way too many times had he been forced to help other Hylians during battles against Bokoblins; tending to their wounds seemed just like the next logical step.)

Sidon was sprawled out in front of the Hylian warrior, unconscious, but breathing steadily.

Link tended the wounds of his friend; stitching the head injury, spreading ointment over the burns. And while the wounds seemed painful, Link knew that they were not fatal. A wave of relief washed over him, painted by the sounds of thunder.

Link lifted Sidon’s head and pillowed it on top of his own lap.

Now, all he had to do was wait and keep dangers away from his beloved friend.

"You are going to be alright," the hero rasped with a voice rarely used.

*

Link waited hours with only the sounds of thunder and heavy rainfall keeping him company. The monotony of the sounds made his eyelids grow heavy and his mind sluggish.

Link was mere moments away from falling asleep, when-

"Link? Dear Hylia, your side!"

Startled out of his doze, Link flinched underneath the Zora prince.

When Sidon sat up and reached anxiously towards Link's wounded side, all Link could do was laugh.

Oh what irony, indeed.

[monodipita]

PET (Yandere!Douma x Reader)

Hello again! I am once again quietly pushing my commissions out and encouraging people to check them out to help me out with vet bills. Please take a look if you can, it’s greatly appreciated!! 🙇🏽‍♀️

Word count: 2,083 Warnings: Yandere content, gore, death (not of reader!), master x pet dynamic (loose) His hands touched your face so lovingly.  Each gentle caress came with a new wave of love that washed over you and pushed you deeper into the delirium.  His sharp nails dug themselves into your cheek, but it was merely by accident. Every time it happened, it was.  His rainbow eyes stared into your own as a smile creeped onto his lips.  "How beautiful you are, [Y/N].  My pet."

Your eyes closed and you absorbed his words.  Compliments from him never became tiring, that was Douma's charm.  How could you have been so afraid before? "You have done so much for me, Douma," your words poured effortlessly from your lips. "Oh?"  Douma pressed a bit harder into your cheek before releasing you from his grip.  He pulled away and allowed you to rest in his butterfly-folded lap without pestering you for much longer. "Tell me of what I have done for you, dear pet." "You've provided for me in ways I have never seen anyone provide for me before, not even my own family," you told him.  You took his hands that rested idly off of his knees and squeezed them tightly while you gazed into his eyes. "You've saved me from a life of running away from demons.  I will forever and always be grateful to you, Douma." His smile remained plastered on his lips as he ate up your words.  "You are so utterly divine, [Y/N]."  He purred and leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours.  His hands moved from yours and wrapped themselves around your body, pressing against your back and threading themselves together at the base of it. "The only one I need in my life..." his eyes hooded. "No one else will ever compare to you, my love."  His words were so gushy.  You can tell by the way he looked at you that he truly meant every word that came out of his mouth.  "Do you love me. [Y/N]?" "I love you, Douma." "Kiss me." You obliged.  Your lips pressed with his, and you instantly melted into his tightening embrace.  The tighter it became, the more passionate his kiss became, until you could taste iron in your mouth.  You were only given the right to breathe once he felt like it was right to give way.  Lightheaded, you pulled away from him.  "Was that good?"  You ask meekly.  "Only the best, as always."  Douma responded, his blood-tinted lips showing themselves off.  "Now... I believe lunch time is soon." Sometimes it was easy to forget that this was a community home, ran by none other than Douma himself.  The people that lived and worked here were all indebted to him in some way, and you were included in that mix.  He took you away from your family and gave you a better life.  You were his consort, his significant other.  Wasn't that such an honor?  So many people were envious of you and what you had.  Expensive clothing, people to cater to your every whim and need.  It was the life of royalty, all given to you by Douma.  "Right," you beamed to him with a shy smile before you stood. "I'll make my way to the dining room, then.  Will you be joining us this time?" "I have important matters to attend to, dearest pet."  He tilted his head and frowned when he noticed your disappointed look. "Must you always seem so saddened by my answers?" "...it's just... I'd like you to join me, this time."  You pouted, slightly. What a spoiled brat. "Please?" "..." Douma flicked his fan open, revealing the pristine, sharp, golden blades within it.  He hummed aloud for just a moment before standing and making his way close to you.  He stopped before you and folded his fan closed, before pressing the golden fan into his cheek dimple. "I'll think about it."  He stated. "Is that enough of a sufficient answer for you?" Well enough.  The answer didn't vibe well with you, but persisting only put Douma in a strange mood. You nodded your head instead, and the two of you shared another kiss before departing.  You stepped out of the room and gently closed the shoji behind you, letting out a soft, dreamy sigh.  Yes, dinner was indeed soon, you could smell it in the air.  Your stomach growled, making your cheeks flush with embarrassment.  At least he wasn't going to hear that. "Are you [Y/N]?" "This must be Lord Douma's room." You turned your attention to whoever spoke, your eyes spotting two timid individuals.  You quirked your brow in bewilderment. "What is it?"  You asked. Neither of them responded with coherent answers.  Instead they rambled, which made your eyes narrow with suspicion.  Even moreso when Douma opened the shoji up to greet the two young

women.  "Oh, my love, you're still here."  Douma seemed surprised by that fact.  "These are our newest guests, Aoi and Chieko." "N-nice to meet you," the one identified as Aoi bowed, and the other identified as Chieko followed suit.  You said nothing and looked down on them with jealousy, before swiftly turning on your heel and disappearing around the corner.  You were undeniably jealous of whatever they were doing.  You liked to be the center of his attention.  Like many who worshiped him, any attention at all was enough to make your heart pound until it was all you could hear. You needed to know what they were doing.  You needed the confirmation that he wasn't doing anything with them... you wanted the comfort in feeling safe. You stopped at the corner, just when you were out of sight.  You waited for some time to pass before you would try to figure out what was happening.  You could hear people beginning to migrate toward the dining hall for dinner, and you needed to go too, but you held off.  It was more important to you to find out what he was doing with those girls. After waiting long enough and hearing the halls go silent, you decided to make your move.  You quietly headed toward his room and stopped outside of it to listen in on their conversation, if there was any.  At first it was eerily quiet, but there was noise soon following your arrival.  They seemed to be conversing about something. "I would appreciate this chance, lord Douma," Aoi's voice sounded... at least you thought that was her name, you couldn't quite remember.  "Please use me as your heart...desires..." Silence.  You felt your stomach tighten with nausea.  What did she mean by that? Was he... performing sexual favors on her!?  You felt hurt! You ripped your head away from the door and squirmed in place.  You wanted to leave, but you wanted to know what was going to happen.  You let out an inaudible sigh and pressed your ear to the shoji again to listen to what was going on.  You ripped your ear away as a loud scream sounded from the room, followed by Douma's charming laughter.  It became rapidly unsettling, making you swallow thickly with worry as your nose began to flood with the same, familiar smell of iron.  What was happening?  Did you want to know? No... you needed to know.  What was he doing? You slowly pushed the shoji open, slowly enough to not be heard under the loud screams of the girl.  You slowly edged into the room to see the horrible sight that you dreaded.  Now that the sound wasn’t muffled by the walls, you could hear the disturbing sound of something ripping.  Not clothes, not hair, but something else... The smell of iron became too much to bear, it was nauseating, even.  You tried your best to beat the smell, just so you could get a good glimpse at what was happening.  You... weren’t quite sure why you were pursuing the truth, but something just told you that what was happening wasn’t real.  Could it have been true? “Silly, silly humans.”  Douma chuckled to himself while his fingers plunged into Aoi’s eye socket to retrieve her eye.  Her screams were deafeningly loud, much to his glee, and your dismay.  “You almost ruined my day... oh, how I would’ve lost it if you interfered with my pet’s happiness.  [Y/N]’s happiness is important to me!  But I digress, you’ve fulfilled your purpose.  You’re making me a happy, happy boy with your pathetic carcasses!” He purred. ”D-douma—!”  You blurted in the form of a scream.  You didn’t mean for it to come out like that, but it did. Blood caked his clothing, his face, his fingernails.  The more disturbing sight lies within the scene on the ground... the girl’s bodies.  The Chieko girl was dead.  Blood surrounded her body in a large pool, kept intact, except for the decapitated head sat on her back and was positioned to stare at him while he tortured Aoi.  Aoi’s eyes were removed, and her body weakly fought against his while she screamed bloody murder, but it didn’t matter. His thumbs were pressed so disturbingly into her empty eye sockets... “...[Y/N]!  My dear pet. You weren’t

supposed to see this...” he tilted his head, a frown appearing across his lips. ”HELP ME!  HELP ME, PLEASE!”  Her wails were deafening, even when you were so far away. ”Oh, that is so annoying now,” Douma’s frown soured.  He looked down at Aoi and shook his head at her.  “Pathetic girl, don’t you see that you’re in the presence of my love?  Be respectful.” His blue-painted fingers forced themselves into Aoi’s throat, causing blood to splatter on his face while he jerked his hand out of her throat in one quick motion.  He undoubtedly just killed someone in front of you.  “Oh!  She’s dead.  I tend to forget how fragile they can be!  I lose myself when I play with their intestines... that’s usually how they stay alive the longest.  Oops!  I forget to control my tendencies...”  Douma pouted.  “Forgive me, my love.  You were never supposed to see me like... this.”  He started to walk toward you. You lost it.  You doubled over and lost the contents of your stomach on the floor.  You placed your hand against the wall for support to keep yourself steady, to prepare yourself to get out of here.  You couldn’t even gather your bearings when Douma’s arms pulled you into a constricting embrace.  He squeezed you taut against his body. ”You... you’ve been lying to us all,” you croaked through your sobs. ”I’ve only been lying partially to you, my pet.  To everyone else, yes.”  Douma tilted your head up and forced you to look at him with a firm grip on your chin.  You couldn’t even bring yourself to look at him. ”Look at me with your eyes, [Y/N].” Douma purred sweetly. "Don't make me hurt you." You reluctantly looked up at him.  He noticed just how upset you appeared to be and frowned.  “Oh, my love!  Don’t be upset for what’s happened to those girls. That will never happen to you.”  He cupped your cheeks and pulled you closer to him, only causing you to sob more as the stench of iron and flesh wafted off of him in droves.  “They’re in a better place now, don’t you think?” ”Why... why don’t you do that to me?  Right now?”  You asked weakly. “I can’t do this... I can’t do this...” ”Because you’re my pet, of course.  Even if I want to eat you, I could never bring myself to.” He reached up to kiss your forehead.  “Killing you would be like losing part of myself. I love toying with you, I love your cute little reactions...” he trailed off, before hooding his eyes. “Killing these humans mean nothing to me.  But for a pet like you... you mean everything to me.” ”M-my parents,” you sputtered, “w-what did you do to them?” ”They didn’t care about you.”  Douma said soberly.  “That’s why you’re here, with me.  They dumped you here.  They gave you to me.  We were destined to be together as a man and his adoring pet, isn’t that so romantic?”  He smiled at you. You felt yourself beginning to sob harder.  You squirmed and thrashed in his arms, but it didn’t matter.  He was so much stronger than you.  “My poor baby,” Douma frowned and pulled you closer into his arms, reaching up and stroking your hair as if it could calm you down.  “Don’t worry, my dear pet.  You’ll always be kept alive...”

[amphxtrite]

sirius black x fem!reader

warnings: fingering, teasing, mentions of one night stand, alcohol.

do not read if you are uncomfortable.

summary: a movie night after hooking up with your crush.

word count: 1.9k

a/n: wrote this one for the lovely @le-weasley-simp sorry it’s late love, had work today :)

hope you enjoy!

———————————————————————————

Today was shaping up to be the worst day ever.

It all started when you woke up in Sirius Black’s bed, completely naked with him lying beside you, also wearing nothing but an elastic in his thick hair.

“Oh Godric…” You murmur, sitting up in the bed and holding your head as you try to recall what happened.

Memories of gryffindor winning the quidditch match, a party, shots of firewhiskey and a game of seven minutes in heaven begin trickling into your head. Your hands in someone's long hair, your tongue dancing with another, the feeling of being filled up over and over again and pleasure coursing all over you as you moaned out one name. ‘Sirius.’

“Fuck.” You sigh, holding your head in your hands. You managed to hook up with your best friend, and the worst part was, you liked it.

You knew you had a crush on Sirius for years, but you always thought of him as the one you could never have, now with him laying clad in nothing beside you, your emotions were all over the place, in your head, heart and the deepest part of your core.

“Y/n? Merlin, what time is it?” A low voice rasps from beside you.

“It’s only six am Sirius, you might as well go back to bed.” You mutter, trying your best not to focus on the gryffindor’s morning voice.

“What, no pet names today darling? You seemed to use them quite a bit last night.” Sirius teases, running his long digits up your arm.

“Haha, very funny Pads.” You breathe, spotting Sirius’s jumper below you and picking it up.

“No it’s true, I mean there was Padfoot, Sir, Daddy…” He drawls on, watching you playfully as you slip on his sweater.

Your face burns as the words leave his mouth and you couldn’t help but pray Sirius didn’t notice.

“Oh there’s nothing to be shy about, love.” Sirius chuckles, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you back down towards him.

“Siri!” You squeak, feeling the gryffindor’s chest nuzzle into your now clothed back.

“What?” He laughs back, trying to imitate you as you turn around and roll your eyes.

A silence falls over you and while you try to break it, Sirius decides to have a little fun. Using his hand, he pulls yours over to his abdomen and holds it there as he leans in closer.

He can’t help but smile as your eyes widen to the size of saucers and your breathing quickens along with your heartbeat, only for Sirius to whisper.

“I’m getting hungry, let’s go find everyone.”

Your breathing hitches and Sirius gleefully rolls off the bed to throw on the first shirt and pants he sees.

“Yeah- sounds good.” You mumble, staggering behind him as he rummages through his closet and throws you a pair of his boxers and shorts.

“Oh Sirius, it’s okay, I can just-” Sirius cuts you off as you catch them.

“Nonsense pup, you have to let me take care of you sometimes.” He chuckles, throwing a wink in your direction as he laces up his trainers.

You can feel your entire body heat up in a mix of embarrassment and shame, embarrassed Sirius had this effect on you, and shamed because you liked it, no, you loved it.

You do your best to distract yourself from the growing feeling of need pooling between your legs as you slip on his boxer and shorts and gently push your hair back to compose yourself.

The entire day, the little shit known as Sirius Black teased you, whispering his dirty thoughts into your ear if you sat too close to him, throwing his arm around your shoulder when you walked down the halls and purposefully going to his room to change into his loose white t-shirt that cut just enough to see the top of his chest. He knew exactly what he was doing as he pulled you from behind into him and rested his chin on your shoulder. He memorized that nervous look in your eyes that told him to sod off and continue at the same time, and by nightfall you were a mess of need, but you were far too conflicted to say anything.

As per tradition on weekends, you decide to head to the Marauder’s room that night to hang out with the guys and Lily, despite the fact you were having second thoughts on your decision.

You arrive just after the sunset to see James, Lily and Sirius. The couple were setting up Lily’s projector for a movie as Sirius lay on his bed. 

Hearing the door open, his ears prick up and a sneaky grin creeps up on his face.

“Y/n, sit by me tonight?” Sirius asks with a small pout, causing the red-head to roll her eyes.

“She sits with you every movie night Padfoot, there’s no need for that.”

“I guess you’re right Evans, but you know I like to have my fun.” He winks, pulling an exasperated sigh from Lily.

You smile at the exchange and make your way to Sirius who has now sat up and opened his arms for you.

“You look marvelous tonight, pup.” He teases as you nervously sit beside him on the bed.

“It's just a t-shirt and shorts Siri-”

“But you look absolutely ravishing in them.” He mumbles, leaning in close to your ear so the others wouldn’t hear him.

You gulp nervously and squeeze your legs together, partly because of nerves, but also because the heat between your legs was becoming too much to bear. 

Remus and Peter return with snacks and drinks as the movie begins to start, a classic action movie that the group had yet to see.

Halfway into the opening credits Sirius shifts his body so he is right against his headboards, before spreading his legs and pulling you into him by your waist.

You did your best not to yelp as you hit his back, but you couldn’t help but sigh in content as his lips trailed down your neck. On movie nights the boys moved their beds so there would be an empty wall for the projector to hit, Sirius almost always took the spot closest to the corner of the room, you never thought much of it, but when his hand moved to the drawstring of the curtain beside his bed, the two of you were hidden and now he could do whatever he pleased. 

Your breathing begins to pick up a bit and unconsciously you begin to squirm against his body.

Sirius grabs you by your hips to stop you.

“You better stop that, pup, or else I’m, gonna have to punish you for everyone to hear.” He murmurs, letting one of his hands trail up and down your body then further to caress your neck.

“Understood?” He smirks, bringing his lips back down to your shoulder.

You nod your head ‘yes.”

“Perfect.” He sighs, pulling the blanket over your legs and letting his fingers wander to the waistband of your shorts.

You nibble on your lip as Sirius bites the sensitive skin at the base of your neck before kissing it and teasing his tongue up your throat.

At the same time his fingers slip into your shorts and fidget with the cloth underneath.

“You’re still wearing my boxers, pup?” Sirius mumbles, letting his fingers move over your clothed folds.

“And so wet for me already? Such a good girl.” He continues, massaging his fingers in a circular movement around the damp fabric.

“Fuck-” You moan out silently as Sirius hits your clit perfectly.

“Feel good darling?” He chuckles, kissing your jaw.

“Y-Yeah… So good.” You whimper, moving your hand to your mouth to muffle your moans.

Sirius smirks and retrieves his fingers, you start to squirm in protest only for him to push his long digits into your folds.

“Mh-” You squeak.

Sirius doesn’t hesitate to move his fingers up and down your folds, teasing your clit with his fingers and swirling it around in soft circles.

Your legs spread further, begging him to keep going as you throw your head back onto his shoulder, choking back moans of ecstacy that begged to be let out.

His thick fingers slip in deeper and you arch your back needily. His fingers trace your slit teasingly for a couple seconds before he plunges two fingers in without hesitation.

A soft gasp escapes your lips, luckily masked by the sound from the film and Sirius begins pushing his fingers in and out of you.

Your vision clouds as his fingers curl and hit your g-spot over and over again, your toes curl as his other hand moves down you play with your clit as the feeling of a third finger being added to the mix has your heartbeat moving to your pussy and a coil tightening in your stomach.

“Siri-faster, p-please.” You beg, grinding your hips into his fingers as he obliges, pumping quicker and shifting between curling his fingers and thrusting deeper.

“O-Oh.” You murmur, clutching the bed sheets beside you tightly as Sirius’s hands work magic on your pussy, roughly playing with your sensitive clit and pumping his long fingers in and out of your slit.

“That’s it, pup.” Sirius chuckles, feeling you begin to squirm again. 

“I-I’m so close.” You pant, biting hard on your bottom lip as the tight feeling of your climax prods at your stomach.

“It’s alright, pup.” Sirius murmurs, pressing a kiss to your neck and picking up the pace one last time as the feeling of pure ecstasy floods your entire body, making your body go weak. You rush to cover your mouth as a moan of relief threatens to reveal you to your friends.

Sirius smirks as a small squeak of a whimper pushes past your fingers and he slows his digits into a slow massage to help you ride down your high.

“You did so well darling, absolutely perfect.” Sirius mutters, finally pulling his fingers out of your core and bringing them to his lips.

You watch in amazement with bated breath as Sirius drags his tongue along his fingers to clean up every drop.

Noticing your stare, the gryffindor smirks and leans in closer against your ear.

“Be good, pup, and next time, you’ll get my tongue.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks as you pull the blanket covering you over your face, ignoring the feeling of your release all over your shorts and you tuck your legs in and snuggle into Sirius’s chest.

“Here.” Sirius smiles, lifting his wand and muttering a short incantation.

In seconds, the feeling was gone, and you were left feeling cozy and warm cuddled up against his chest.

You were absolutely ecstatic to finally have your wish fulfilled, but there was still one question that had left to be answered.

“Something on your mind?” Sirius asks, feeling the silence grow.

“Yeah, it’s just…” You pause, shifting so now you are sitting, facing Sirius. “What- What are we Sirius? I mean you are my best friend and after last night, today and for years, I’ve known I’ve fancied you but-”

Sirius sighs playfully as you speak, but cuts you off mid sentence with a soft peck to your lips.

“Y/n, I’ve known I fancy you for the longest time, but it wasn’t until last night that I really got to show you. So… If you’d have me-” 

This time it was your time to cut Sirius off.

Your arms fly around the gryffindor’s neck and your lips crash happily into his.

Sirius’s hands move around your hips and pull you closer to him as you deepen the kiss and rest your forehead on his.

“So does this mean?” Sirius begins.

“Yes! Yes Pads, of course I’ll have you.” You murmur, locking your lips once more.

Maybe, today wasn’t so bad after all.

[lazyliars]

The Quackity Meta: a Tale of Two Absolutes

More than anything else, Quackity wants control, and to never, ever lose his own autonomy. And that is why he despises Technoblade.

But wait, how is Technoblade a threat to Quackity's autonomy? Techno is all for individual freedom! He wants to eradicate the government so that no one can be controlled!

There's the question though... How do people exercise control within the framework of a video game like m/inec/raft?

“a person exercising power or control in a cruel, unreasonable, or arbitrary way.”

Power on the Dream SMP cannot be translated one-to-one with real  life power. In real life, yes, a government had infinitely more power than an individual, for numerous reasons. But on the Dream SMP, the government's power is always directly tied to the power of the individuals who are willing to defend that power.

Technoblade is powerful. This is not debatable. How he uses this power, historically, has been a mix of generosity and self-interest*, although primarily the latter.

Generously, He gains resources and then distributes them to his allies during the Pogtopia Rebellion, gearing everyone up and giving them a fighting chance against Dream. However, in the aftermath of Tubbo's being appointed president, Techno turns on them, swiftly and mercilessly. The moment that it becomes clear** that Pogtopia's interests don't align with his own, he crushes them with the aim to prevent them from ever recovering.

( *I use self-interest as a neutral term here. Everyone on the SMP is selfish to some extent – it doesn't make them evil, and in fact has been treated as a positive at times, as well as a negative.

**I want to note that whether or not Technoblade knew of Pogtopia's goal of reinstating the government is unclear. It would seem that from Techno's POV that he didn't know, or assumed that it was a minority who wanted another government. But on the other hand, no one was actively lying to him about their intent, and people like Tommy and Quackity made their goals very clear.  Further doubt is cast on the idea that Techno had no idea when you take into account that he enchanted the Netherite armor in the vault with worthless enchants like Fire Res.

Ultimately, there's no way to know until it is confirmed by cc!Techno himself, and it doesn't pertain that much to this analysis, but I'm aware that it's a hotly debated topic so I wanted to address it.)

It can be argued that Techno's destruction of L'manberg, both the first and especially the second time, was necessary. It can also be argued that it was cruel and a disproportionate retribution against both culpable and innocent parties. Extant of these arguments however, how does it feature into control?

Well, we can’t talk about control without mentioning the most controlling force on the server and the other person on Quackity's hitlist, Dream.

Dream is a tyrant. I don't think anyone can really make an argument against that in good faith at this point. He ticks off every box, no matter how vague or esoteric. This makes the interactions that Quackity and Techno have with him very interesting.

Quackity despises Dream. He's one of the earliest adopters of the hating-Dream-train, to the point that some people have compared him to Cassandra, a priestess who was cursed with the vision of prophecies that would always be true, but never believed. And indeed, Quackity's apprehension of Dream comes in as early as Pogtopia, and grows at a steady pace after the fact.

But despite his rightfully calling out Dream's hypocrisies and his controlling tendencies, Quackity was largely ignored on this front, especially when the time came to exile Tommy and Quackity basically predicted the next arc – If they gave Dream this concession, they would never be able to get out from under his thumb. Flash forwards to the Green Festival, and the moment Tubbo hands over the discs, any illusion of nicety drops and Dream proceeds to destroy them, side by side with...

Technoblade has always had an amiable relationship with Dream. From their first proper interaction on the server being Dream giving Techno some hefty resources, to their snap team-up on Doomsday, they've had a smooth time, with some notable bumps.

Techno fought against Dream during the Pogtopia rebellion, but when it became clear that Dream was more invested in chaos than his other allies, Techno temporarily allied with him to summon the Withers and drive the nail deeper into Manberg’s coffin.

The only time Techno has really bothered to challenge Dream directly is when he came for Tommy in exile. Techno went to great lengths to protect Tommy, hiding him and distracting Dream.

He did give Dream the option to call in his favor and take Tommy, but there are arguments to be made that he did this more as a challenge – that Tommy is worth the favor. Again, we probably wont ever know.

The difference in their relationships with Dream is polarizing. It also reflects the difference in personality – Quackity is an aggressive, ambitious person, whereas Techno leans more towards passivity and caution. Quackity is looking for enemies to challenge, where Techno is avoiding them, people who actually stand a chance against him most of all.

Technoblade is an individual with extraordinary amounts of power. Others have pointed out that he is rarely challenged by other characters or the narrative, and regardless of the merits or flaws in that, it paints him as nearly untouchable. His being in the good graces of Dream only adds to this.

And like with Dream, the only way that people have been able to threaten Techno is when they work together. The Butcher Army, for all it's flaws, managed to capture Techno through numbers – with Tubbo and Fundy (barely) holding off Techno's blood rage while Quackity snuck off to take Carl hostage. And they would have gotten away with it too, if the other most powerful person on the server hadn't stepped in – both by pointing Techno to a totem of undying in the days before the attack, and by getting Punz to cause a distraction and directing Techno to the final control room, where he could escape with Carl.

So, if the most powerful person in the world can only be threatened by people working together, and the most common form of organization is by government, then what does it say about Technoblade, who wants the government destroyed?

People like Tubbo, Fundy and yes, Quackity, all benefit from organizing and working together. They all tend to be less armed, less ready to defend themselves, and completely unable to stand up to titans like Techno and Dream on their own. It's safety in numbers, but it's also control, and control is power.

Ranboo's insistence that Snowchester is a Government is interesting when viewed through this lens. Ranboo is another person who is insanely rich, and able to defend himself and his belongings consistently. Ranboo doesn't need other people to defend him – he's living with Techno and Phil not out of necessity for his survival, but out of need for connection with others.

This seems to be the main difference he finds with Snowchester, which has a more structured environment, geared to defend itself and it's people, if harm should come their way.

Which makes sense, considering it's founder, Tubbo, holds no earthly belongings, and Jack, another prominent member, has made a character trait out of losing his things every other day. The two of them have no conceivable way to defend themselves against people who are stronger than they are. But together, holding the keys to nuclear armaments, they can suddenly play on the field of gods.

The anarchist commune, despite having all members working together and being on good terms, aren't really an organization, they're individuals with common goals and interests. They don't need to live together to be strong, they're all already strong, they choose to be near each other because they want to.

Snowchester is not a government and has no ruler, but together, it's members hold power. They have sway in the world when they work as a collective, and most members have a vested interest in keeping themselves and each other defended because of this. Consequently, the “identity” of Snowchester becomes more prominent, resulting in the flag, the uniforms and the, well, identity.

(Now, the more perceptive among you might have noticed that I basically just compared Techno Phil and Ranboo to the ultra rich 1%, which. Um. Is a pretty serious comparison to make about in a block game rp?

And I wanna say that I don’t think this was necessarily intentional on the parts of either the CCs or the characters, and beyond that, it’s just one way of examining the text. This analysis is by no means the “Right” way to view the story, just a different one.

Regardless...)

Techno uses his considerable power to further his own goals, first and foremost. This is not inherently good or evil, it just is.

Contrast with New L'manberg's cabinet; Four people, pooling their limited power to further their shared goals. Not good or evil, just a way of exercising power.

But power is not static. Power is fluid and changing, moreso now on the SMP than ever before, and Quackity and Technoblade are fighting to define what Power means going forwards.

Techno is fighting for the status quo, knowingly or not. Individuals with power should lead the world, and those without should strive to emulate their betters. He destroys all forms of government, which strip away the rights of the individual in exchange for hierarchy and consolidated power within that hierarchy.

At it's best, this is a very freeing ideology, where nothing and no one can hold back the individual. The world is your oyster if you are willing to work for it.

But at it's worst? “Violence is the only universal language,” is the key phrase. Where does this ideology leave people who aren't strong? Where does it leave those who cannot fend for themselves? If Violence is the only universal language, then the weak have no means to speak.

Quackity is fighting to get a foothold for a contrary ideology – One that prioritizes words over violence and offers alternative methods of gaining and exercising control, such as through currency and conversation. Quackity has tried to varying degrees of success to implement this on the level of his own individual power, such as during the elections, but his attempts at employing this on a grand scale have all been short-lived.

At it's best, this ideology can uplift anyone, regardless of their strength. It encourages more communication, more commerce, and thrives under, you guessed it, strong government.

At it's worst however, it creates a brutally controlling environment. Where a few people gain absurd amounts of power through the complex machinations of a fiat currency, and are then able to use their sway and influence with governing forces to exercise power that they would never be able to hold on their own.

Again, neither of these ideologies are inherently good or evil. They both have flaws and benefits, and benefit no one more than perhaps Techno and Quackity respectively, while hindering the other.

Techno is benefited by anarchy because he holds incredible amounts of individual power. He is the strongest person on the server, he is rich beyond anyone's wildest dreams, and on a meta level, he's straight up good at the game. The current status quo puts him firmly at the top of the food chain, and this is most obvious on Doomsday, when he and the other two most powerful individuals (Dream and Philza) come together and crush the combined forces of New L'manberg. They are not meaningfully challenged in any way, whatsoever.

Meanwhile, Quackity is deeply hindered by the current status quo. He's not strong, he's poor, and he's vulnerable to anyone who wants to bully him with brute force. On a meta level, cc!Quackity just straight up does not play m/inecraf/t as much as some of the other people that on the server. (To be clear, I do not mention that as a criticism, just to contrast Techno. Neither of their levels of play are better or worse for content, they just add to the experience differently.)

On the other hand, in a government? Quackity “Law Student” HQ is suddenly on top. He's charismatic enough to debate with Wilbur “Can Talk His Way out of Anything” Soot during the elections, and come out of that arena smelling like roses. Back during the days of El Rapids, Quackity held his men back from conflict with Dream, and talked him into a corner of technical truths where Dream had to concede that he viewed El Rapids as an independent nation if he wanted to get involved with their conflicts.

And Techno, while he is brilliant and an English Major, suddenly loses a lot of his intimidation factor if he has to respect laws preventing brutal murder. Techno can certainly debate, but his go to conflict resolution is usually violence, and if you take that away, you take away the threat of challenging him. Because make no mistake, challenging Technoblade right now? Is suicide.

And this duality, this grey morality and clash of ideals, is why Quackity is my favorite character on the SMP. He isn't strong. The power he holds is tenuous and balanced on a knife's edge. It would make more sense for him to stay quiet, keep his head down, and if anything, try to change things from the shadows, where he'll be in the least danger.

But he isn't quiet. He doesn't just challenge authority, he challenges the authority; Dream, Wilbur, and of course, Technoblade.

And in all but one of those matches, he's come out with a concession from his enemy gripped between his teeth. He schooled Wilbur in the debates. He forced Dream to grant El Rapids Independence at a time when he hadn't done so for New L'manberg.

But he failed miserably when he challenged Technoblade. Quackity lost that fight in the final control room before it began. He lost the moment he formed the Butcher Army. He would have lost if he managed to kill Technoblade, and he lost still when he died.

He lost because he conceded that the only way to achieve his goal was through violence. He decided that the only way to establish himself and New L'manberg as powerful? Was to kill Technoblade. And he lost that fight and he always will. There was never a way that he walked out of that fight with the victory; Quackity lost the ideological battle long ago.

But not the war.

As of writing this, Quackity is in the process of introducing an economy to the Dream SMP, on Sam's initiative. There is no action I can think of that is wiser for him to take right now. Now, when Dream has been deposed and there's a vacuum in power; Now, when people are getting tired of endless violence and the loss it brings; Now, when people are looking for something new.

An economy is a direct challenge to Might Makes Right. Trading, supply and demand, politics. It offers a new way for people to obtain resources and a direct alternative to brute force; other methods to pay for slights and breaches of honor and etiquette. No more will pet wars be fought with iron swords and shields, but with money! A healthy sum of cash for the murder of Fungi!

If Quackity can get this system off the ground (and with Sam's help, he definitely can,) the stage would suddenly be tilted in the favor of not just Quackity, but the people who he has associated himself with most closely – Tommy, Fundy, even Schlatt. They're all business men, all scammers. This could be Quackity's world, and he's damn well intending for everyone to live in it.

We’ll have to see what Techno thinks of this - Quackity hasn’t made any moves to start another government, and an economy doesn’t inherently contradict anarchy. But it does hold a potential threat to Techno’s current power.

And as for Quackity? What will he do once he’s at the top? Will he finally become a true tyrant? Will he usher in a new age of equality and justice? Or will he eschew all of that in favor of personal riches. For once, the cards are in Quackity's favor, and we might get the chance to see what he does when he holds real power.

[wreckofawriter]

Thorns and Roses

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x reader also Blaise Zabini x reader if you squint.

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Blood, swears twice? Angsty (fluff ending)

Summary: Hanahaki Disease AU! You are despareatly in love with your bestfriend. His unrequainted love causes flowers to grow in your lungs which you are forced to cough up until death overcomes you. The only removal of this sickness is a spell which also takes every memory of the loved one with it.

A/n: look at my dumb ass post late for my own event... this fic is for the first week of Cliche Month. My cliche was Hanahaki Disease. Check out the other writers work. They are amazing!!

    Roses used to be your favorite flower. Their delicate petals stained with glaring crimson intrigued you since you reached for one in your mother’s garden and pulled away with a bloodied hand. They could be found around you constantly; arranged in sparkling vases and patterned on your dresses. Bouquets were gifted to you by friends and family during holidays and birthdays, they surrounded you. 

    Now as you coughed into the toilet of the girl’s lavatory you wished to never see a rose again. You could feel the thorns tearing you apart, your throat sliced to ribbons as you clutched the stark white porcelain. You heaved a final time, petals falling into the clear water, the blood upon them staining it pink. You felt dizzy, copper thick in your mouth. You choked out a sob, tears spilling down your cheeks and dripping off your chin. You brought your hand to your face, whipping your mouth with its back and blinking back a fresh wave of cries. You pushed yourself to your feet, knees sore from resting on cold tile too long. You flushed, watching as the red and white petals spiraled from view. 

    You stepped from the stall going to the mirror and dabbing away melting makeup, a few practice smiles at your reflection flashed before you exited the secluded room. 

    Hanahaki disease had been glorified around you for years. The aesthetic and purity of its cause and symptoms making it seem like some dream or fairytale. You had learned quite quickly it was anything but. While everyone talked of the beauty of growing flowers within you they never talked about the pain of thorns piercing you with every breath or the blood which lingered on your taste blood because of never-ending cuts and tears of skin. They never talked about the stab you felt each time the person you loved looked your way or the times you had to swallow petals to keep your quickening death a secret. 

    Blood and roses painted a pretty picture but they stopped being so charming as you choked them out every few hours. 

    You walked quickly to class, each step you took emitting pain in your chest, pain which you had gotten phenomenal at ignoring. Snape didn’t bat an eyelash, despite the fact that you were six minutes late. The stabs grew searing as you took a seat next to the scowling blonde who had unintentionally bloomed flowers in your chest.  

    “Where the hell were you?” Draco scoffed his tone cold.

    “Bathroom.” You replied plainly, eyes tracing the slope of his nose as he turned away from you. Your eyes continued to follow his profile, creating trails on his jawline and under his light grey eyes. 

    Draco turned back to you, “Is there something on my face?” 

    You shook your head, feeling petals flutter in your stomach, thorns following. 

    He said nothing, eyes flicking around your profile, looking for clues of your strange behavior. “Are you sick?” He asked, “You look pale.” 

    You shook your head yet again, “I feel fine.” Lies came so easily recently.

    Draco didn’t give in easily, his gaze searching your own as if he could read through your words to your failing heart. “You’ve seemed off recently,” he stated turning back to the lesson.

    “I don’t know what you mean.” You replied. Lying really had become effortless.

    Draco didn’t like your sudden disappearances and untrustworthy excuses. You had been distant and unfamiliar in recent days. Your schedule seemed skewed, jokes, and laughter seeming to die as you rushed to unexplained meetings with no one before reappearing thirty minutes later with blood on your sleeves. You always smelled of the liquid, copper had replaced your floral shampoo and tropical perfumes. Everything about you simply felt wrong, like an invisible switch had been flipped leaving you as an imposter. 

    You forced a thin smile at the girl across from you as she said her greetings. Pansy dug into her plate of eggs, glaring up at you suspiciously. Your relationship with the girl had always rested on the edge of a knife. She despised your relationship with Draco, her eyes going green whenever you were seen together. You wish you could tell her there was really nothing to worry about. 

    “You’re hiding something.” She satiated plainly.

    You scrunched your nose in mock confusion, “What?”

    A scoff rose from her lips, “I’m not stupid y/l/n. Something is up with you, everyone can see it.” 

    “I have no clue what you’re talking about.” You huffed rolling your eyes, hoping she didn’t notice the goosebumps that rose on your arms, fear of being discovered chilling you to the bone. 

    Blaise sat down next to you sensing the tense atmosphere and glancing between you both, “This about Draco?” He asked cautiously.

    You shook your head quickly, a stab of agony shooting through you at his mention. 

    The boy shrugged, snatching a bagel and beginning to dress it with jam, “Anyway, you guys are coming to Hogsmeade right?”

    Pansy answered excitedly her high pitch making you wish you’d stayed in bed. The conversation droned for a moment and you focused on your breathing. You knew the time which you would be able to do such a necessary act was limited. It was only a matter of time before thorns punctured a lung or pushed through your heart. 

    “You’re going right y/n?” Blaise asked, drawing you into the words spoken between them. 

    You bit your cheek, “I don’t think so.” 

    Blaise groaned, “Come on, we always go! It’s like a tradition.”

    You frowned, “You didn’t go last week.”

    The trap he had fallen into struck quickly, “Well doesn’t matter, you need to go.” he recovered.

    “And why’s that?” You hummed nursing an orange juice that tasted of copper. 

    “Draco gets pissy when you don’t come.” He explained. The words would have made your heart soar if vines weren’t threaded through your veins. “Especially after quidditch practices.” 

    You sighed, “Draco isn’t my responsibi-” you were cut off by a spear thrust into your chest. The glass you held fell from your grip and shattered on the table. Eyes darted towards you in confusion as you bent over in agony. 

    A muffled voice broke through your momentary disconnection from the conscious world.

“Y/n are you okay?” 

Your eyes fluttered open as you gasped for air, tears pooling in your eyes, “I’m fine.” you rasped standing quickly from your seat as you felt petals push up your throat. You sprint from the room without another word, hand clasping over your lips as you desperately tried to swallow the floral arrangement crawling up towards your lips. You managed to make it three corridors before collapsing to the ground, heads turned, eyes locking with you as let out a rattling set of coughs. 

You didn’t hear the words of concern or cries for help as your mouth filled with blood. You felt something push from your mouth landing on your hands lightly. A rose blossom stared back at you as you opened your eyes. Its white petals unfurled stunningly, deep crimson puddles pooled between them. Red dripped lazily down your hands and you began to cough again. Thorns tore through your flesh escaping into the light of the world drenched in red, petals floated in the small puddle of blood around you like tiny boats in a lake of fire. 

You hiccuped twice, the pain the action caused forcing tears down your cheeks. Your ears rang with shouts and gasps, your hands tightening around the flowers you held, only then noticing the cuts which littered your palms. 

Blaise thundered around the corner, shoving people out of the way to see what they had gathered around. His eyes widened when he saw you, blood drenching the front of your uniform, tears mixing with crimson as they dripped off your chin. But the most alarming thing which sat in that hallway where the roses. Four of them, in full bloom, were littered around you, their meaning sinking terror into Blaise’s head. He dropped to his knees in front of you, hands coming to your shoulders.

“Shit y/n,” he mumbled feeling his eyes prick.

You were sobbing, wincing with every shake your body gave, “I can’t forget.” You whimpered, “Please, I don’t wanna die but I can’t forget him.” Your begs were cut off as you began to cough again.

You felt numb. The potions you had been given driving away not only pain but every other feeling your body had manifested. Moving felt like wading through thick mud, the weight of the blankets adding to the confusion of your nerves. 

The ceiling of the hospital wing had become boring hours before, the dark of the night staining the white a deep blue. Your brain ran through memory after memory, thinking that if they replayed through your consciousness enough they would be stuck there, even after they were cut from your body with the flowers within you. You could hear his voice, smell his cologne, and feel his hair. The pain of your body had left but that of your mind had been so deeply engraved it was hard to distinguish from the former. 

The ache you felt from the image of his angry tears and hoarse screams were far worse than the occasional stab of a thorn. Maybe it would be better to forget. Forget the pain, the love, all of it. To forget him. Yet every time you thought of the idea your eyes welled with tears and that unsettling ache of your chest worsened. 

Memories became more and more recent as the melody of the platinum blonde continued to play. Those of a few hours ago were the freshest, still crisp around the edges, full of brilliant colors. 

You didn't want him to find out, let alone find out from someone who wasn't you. Yet Blasie had told him the second after he had dropped you where you now lay, betraying everything within you. 

He had come into the wing still dressed in his quidditch robes, broom in his left hand as he stormed through the previously quiet area. 

"How dare you." He had seethed, broom hitting the ground with a clatter. 

Your eyes had become focused solely on him the second his voice had graced you.

"How fucking DARE you!" His eyes were glossy with fury.

"Mr. Malfoy!"  Pompfery shouted behind him

You were in a confused daze, dull pain shooting through you as Draco neared. "What?" 

He was in front of you now tears sliding down his flushed cheeks as he gripped the metal of the bed frame.

"You can't just fall in love with me!" He shouted, "You can't just, j-just," his voice faltered and fell and he slumped forward. 

You sat up wanting to move towards him, "I'm sorry." You whimpered a hand coming to rest on his own.

He snatched himself away from you, "You were just going to let yourself die?" 

You paused another stab of pain dulled by medication sending white to your vision. Were you going to let yourself die? Die for the memories of this boy? It seemed a bit pitiful as you thought about it. "I don’t know." 

Draco was appalled, his mind reeling as you stared up at him, eyes wide and glistening, "Don't put your blood on my hands." He hissed turning and storming from the room.

You called after him, voice straining, throat burning. He didn't spare a single glance back and you were left staring at his disregard broom as blossoms bubbled in your throat.

Draco had always had an easy way out when he was younger. His mother loved to spoil him and his father would keep him out of trouble with little effort. He had easy choices that were made for him. But recently things have been different. The expectations of his parents raised as he wanted to do nothing but flee from the life they had given him.

You had been safety for him. Your lack of questions and secret intent made you a safe haven. He didn't have to worry about your thoughts of him because he knew they were positive. He didn't have to be concerned with his reputation or his future or his family. He could just exist with you. Exist freely. The bonds which held him to the earth disappeared in your presence and he could float amongst the pink clouds which you lived. 

You were his best friend. And now you were going to be ripped away from him. And there was no one to blame but himself. His unreturned feelings were killing you, this was all his fault. And now your memories would be pulled from you and you would become nothing more than a stranger. 

It hurt to know you may have died for him. Died to keep him in your mind. It hurt to know all the blood you had spilled stained his palms. 

The dorm rooms were darkened, the murky waters of the lake filtering soft moonlight through their depths. Sleep seemed like a faraway friend to Draco as he stared out at nothing. His thoughts were washed together like paint doused in water. A strange dream-like haze had rested over his life since he saw you on that bed. His thumb ran over the bumps of his knuckles, where your hand had rested hours before.

"You shouldn't have blamed her." 

Draco didn't look up, his eyes locked into the dark waters, "I know." 

Blaise sat down next to him, legs crossed, "You should apologize." 

"I know." 

There was a long pause. Neither boy knew what they were supposed to say.

Draco felt his eyes sting, resent bubbling in his stomach, and having nowhere to go, "I don't want to lose her." 

Blaise sighed, "You are either going to have to lose her or love her. It's up to you." 

But it wasn't up to him. He couldn't choose to love you. 

The next day was unsure like a scene that was cut from a movie. Draco spent his time lingering in his hazy consciousness. The thoughts of losing you slowly driving him insane. His vision swam with your image in hallways, eyes falling through him. He would be a stranger to you. And he would have to keep it that way for your own safety. He would be forced to watch his best friend live her life without the memories they shared. The sting of realization grew with each moment.

Your pain had begun to fade. You weren't sure if it was because of the medication or if your body was simply shutting down. The latest you could get McGonagall to cast the spell was tomorrow night. Then every moment you and Draco had shared would be flushed away. 

At least the coughing fits had stopped, thorns no longer tearing your throat to pieces. No more roses covered in blood. You felt a sense of peace.

Your far away mind was drawn back by Madam Pompfery's shrill voice. 

"You may absolutely not visit her!" 

"I just want to apologize!" Another tone retorted.

You sat up quickly, blankets shoved to the side as your bare feet made contact with the ground. 

The argument grew louder as you neared, words turning harsh. 

"Draco?" You called, peeking around the corner to see Madame Pomfrey standing with her back to you blocking the doorway, the blonde just in front of her.

"You should be in bed." The nurse scolded me, turning to look at you.

"I want to see him." You stated firmly.

She had now turned to face you fully, "Go back to bed y/l/n." 

You glared back at the woman, "Let him in." 

There was silence, you're gaze unwavering as the older woman slowly caved. 

"Make it quick Malfoy."

You wanted to choke on the awkward silence that followed after the woman departed. Dracos eyes were glued to you as your own darted between your feet and the nearby wall. 

“She’s right. You should be in bed.” he spoke.

You shrugged, “I was feeling better. The medication helps.”

“You shouldn’t be standing regardless.” He huffed walking past you towards the bed you had been in a few minutes before. 

    You rolled your eyes but followed him, knowing he was right didn’t make you feel any better. 

    “I'm sorry about before,” Draco mumbled as you set yourself against the headboard. You tilted your head in a silent question, “I shouldn't have yelled at you yesterday. It's not your fault.”

    You cracked a small smile, head tilting back until it hit the wall. “Of course it's my fault.” 

    Draco was silent and you gazed at him from the corner of your eye. His eyes were cast at his feet, the melancholy look on his face making you sour. 

    “Please don’t be sad.” You muttered, “I can't have my last memory of you be sad.”

    Despite your plea, his eyes grew misty, the weight on his chest so heavy he thought it might crush him. 

    Your feet felt light and for a moment you thought you might be dying. Your head felt so clear, you wouldn't have been surprised if Draco started saying you were floating off your bed. Your chest felt warm and fuzzy, like hot chocolate after hours in the snow. 

    “I can’t lose you.” Draco sobbed, tears finally spilling from his eyes. “I can’t lose you, y/n. Please don’t leave me.”

    Part of you wanted to slap him, “It's not a choice.” You swallowed thickly, “I didn’t choose to fall in love with you.” It was the truth. You didn’t choose to plunge into the deep waters of absolute devotion. You were pushed. Pushed by each smile and laugh. By each joke and eye roll. He had pushed you into the whirlpool of love and you had been sucked deep under. And now you couldn’t breathe.

    “I can’t watch you forget me.” He croaked his head held in his hands, “I love you y/n, you can't become a stranger to me. I couldn’t watch you live without me. I couldn't live with these memories knowing you don't have them.” 

    Suddenly the lack of pain made sense. The light, fuzzy feeling overwhelming your body was comprehensible, “Say it again.”

    Draco met your eyes, “What?”

    “Say you love me again.”

    His eyes widened, momentary surprise taking him before it was pushed aside by a rush of relief, “I love you.”

    It was like a drug drawn from his lips, it burnt like whiskey down your throat, warmth filling you. You sat forward quickly, hands coming to cup his cheeks, damp and sticky with tears. Droplets of your own gathered, rivers of relief dripping off your chin.

    Your lips met hastily. The taste of salt mixed with the bitterness of blood was unsavory but neither of you seemed to care as you pulled him closer. Kiss deepening as his hands fell to your waist. You found yourself sinking deeper into the water you had fallen into, oxygen suddenly filling your thirsting lungs.

    You were unaware of the thorns that filled Blaise’s. Yellow petals spilled from his lips, his throat filled with blood. As you tucked your head into Draco's chest, his was buried into his hands, tears filling his eyes. He was hopeless, the thorns would tear him apart and you would put roses on his grave

Taglist:

@accio-rogers @roslea @k3nz-doodl3 @theseuscmander @sleepingalaska @chloe-geoghegan1

Masterlist

[acourtofsnakes]

Gaa’tayl - Rogue Chapter 4| The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader

Summary: After making your decision, the race is on to try and save Mando’s life. But when things start to go south, a part of you breaks open that you hadn’t let yourself feel for a long time. How will it change you? And how will it shape whats to come?

Warnings: Injury detail/blood, first aid, little bit of swearing, hint of angst? some very faint fluff, pining thoughts because who wouldn’t, it’s Mando

Trigger warnings: beginnings of a panic attack, vicious thoughts, flashback to attempted suicide, personification of depression/negative thoughts using triggering - please be careful, my inbox is always open if you need to talk♥︎

Word count: 5394

AN: This chapters easter egg hint: Can you find the quote originally said by a purple grape with an affinity for shiny stones?👀

Also, gif isn’t necessarily relevant to the main plot of this chapter but... you’ll see why we have hands as a gif. 

As always, credit to whoever owns the gif. I usually find them on Google or Pinterest, so message me if it’s yours ♥︎

Rogue Taglist: @snipskixandbeskar   @weirdowithnobeardo 

Rogue Masterlist | Introduction| 1: Solus| 2: Arir | 3: Tor | 4: Gaa'tayl 

Mando’a Translation: Gaa'tayl  - Help

Blood.

There was blood everywhere. 

In your hair, over your clothes.

It was coating your neck and your face. You could taste it. Coppery, hot. 

~Screaming was still echoing around the street, heart-wrenching cries of those who had just seen their loved ones forced into the air and torn apart by the explosion. The smell of metal and smoke mixed with the stench of blood and burning flesh. 

Blood. 

You could taste it. 

Your parent’s blood, maybe your own. The taste of it was in your mouth.~

Your heart thundered in your chest as you stared down at the Mandalorian.

You’d been watching him, knowing you needed to decide and then he’d gasped. And just… went still. You felt his blood pulse out under your hands and then he was just quiet. 

You couldn’t hear his ragged breathing anymore. 

Was he…

~You pushed your hands against your mothers neck, desperate to feel for the pulse that you’d felt for the last 12 years of your life.

Nothing. There was nothing there. She was dead. Your mother. Your sweet, strong mother who sung you lullabies and taught you how to dance… was dead.~

He couldn’t be. 

You dared to risk lifting a hand from the jagged hole in his side and pressed your fingertips against his neck. You knew there was a small slither of skin here, you’d seen it yesterday as he leant forward to look at something. You pushed your fingers deeper into the rapidly cooling skin of his neck, waiting. Hoping. 

There was nothing. 

No, no, there had to be. There had to be something. 

You swallowed, calming yourself enough to concentrate. You ducked your head down, like it could help you focus on the skin beneath your fingers. 

There. 

Some kind of choked noise escaped your lips as you felt his pulse, weak and fluttering, but there. Undiluted fear ran through your veins. This was on you now. 

And so, the clock was reset.

You wasted no time, ripping off your cloak and using the length of it wrap around his waist. It was nowhere enough, not enough pressure for a tourniquet or anything even remotely close because of the armour lining his body. However, it would serve to try and soak up some of the blood. 

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling the Mandalorian to sit up. Then rose into a crouch and hauled him up so you were both standing. 

Only to immediately collapse as your knees buckled with the lightning bolts of agony that speared across your ribs. Fuck. Right. Broken ribs. Stars exploded across your vision but you sucked in a deep, painful breath. We’ve dealt with worse. This isn’t about you know. Get up.

You dragged your feet back under you, pulling the Mandalorian up again, holding his weight against your good side. 

Prey helping hunter. 

In, out. A shallow, slow breath that didn’t hurt quite so much, and then you began to walk, half dragging the Mandalorian along with you. You couldn’t manage any more than a slow walk, your own injuries and pull of his amour and dead weight threatening to drag you down again. 

No, no. Not dead. Unconscious. He’s unconscious. Get him to the ship, clean it, spray it with bacta-spray, cauterise it, bind it. That’s all you need to do. 

You repeated this like a mantra as you walked back through the street, through those puddles of light. 

Get him to the ship, clean it, spray it with bacta-spray, cauterise it, bind it.

You repeated it again and again, even when the skies opened and rain lashed down, loosening your grip on the shiny metal and dragging you both down. 

Get him to the ship. 

There it was, such a welcome sight you might have cried. You fumbled on the arm that you’d slung around your shoulder, pressing buttons on his vambrace until the ramp opened and soft light and warmth called you inside. 

Hunter and prey stumbled up the ramp, and you just got him inside, managed to lay him down in front of a big heavy crate. 

You took a moment, darkness threatening to overcome you and a ringing in your ears. You shook your head sharply, pushing it off and then dropped to your knees, looking over his body. The wound was on his side, in between where the front and back plates of his armour were attached. 

Thank the Maker. You didn’t know what you would have done if it was closer to his armour. You unsheathed your knife, frantically cleaning it on your damp tunic and then quickly cut away a patch of fabric that was over and around the wound, gritting your teeth when you had to coax the torn threads from the hole. 

Which had been acting like a dam. Scarlet blood immediately began to flood from the jagged flesh, soaking the floor below him, your hands. 

You blinked, unable to stop staring for a second. How did so much blood come out of someone?

Memories hounded at your shoulders, threatening to drag you under, toward a market square, a dusty floor. 

Clean it. 

You nodded to yourself, the order in your mind and then scrambled to your feet. A quick search revealed some clean rags and a half full canteen of water. You grabbed the cauteriser and the med-kit on your way back to him, resting it beside you like it was sacred and then you turned to the wound. You wiped your hands on your knees, then dipped the cloth in water, beginning to gently, but quickly dab away the blood. 

Bloody water pooled beneath the Mandalorian, so you hurriedly shoved your cloak under him to soak it up so he wouldn’t be lying in water. 

Spray it. 

Your hands shook as you turned to the little metal box beside you, so much so that it took you 3 attempts to open the latch. Despite the situation, you couldn’t help the exasperated sigh at the rubbish of scraps of bandage that were mere threads, empty wrappers, all littering the top. Really, Mando?

You pawed though the med-kit, turning out empty wrappers and.. nothing else. 

What? 

There was no bacta-spray. No bandages. Hell, there wasn’t even a needle and thread for you to stitch the damn skin together. All you had was a bunch of wadded up fabric from a rag and some water. Why didn’t this man have any medical supplies? He was a Mandalorian for Maker’s sake. He probably had an injury list to rival yours, yet he didn’t even have so much as a needle?

You groaned, lifting a shaking hand to your face for a moment, breathing shallowly through your nose as another wave of agony seared through your ribs and the old injury in your shoulder. 

Your shoulder.

The one that was clean. Bound. 

That’s where the last of the medical supplies had gone, used on your own injury when he brought you away from Sorgan. 

You looked up at his unconscious form, horror in your expression, in your heart. The wound was weeping still, deep, surely missing vital organs because he would have been dead instantly in that alleyway. 

You didn’t know what to do. You couldn’t risk getting a medic from the town, one because he didn’t have the time, and two because… well, they’d sell you out. Know who you were, the bounty. 

Your heart began to beat faster, it usual rhythmic thumps turning frantic, uneven. 

It was your fault that there was nothing to save him. 

You couldn’t breathe. 

Just like it was your fault he had been hurt in the first place. 

You couldn’t save him. 

Darkness swirled inside you, recognising what was happening to your body. 

He was going to die… because of you. 

Just like your parents. And everyone else after. 

With no warning, you chest constricted, steel bands wrapping around your lungs, crushing them from the inside out with a pain deeper than your cracked ribs. A roaring surged through your ears and suddenly the ship was spinning in circles. 

The beast, that poisonous beast that slumbered within you lifted its head, scenting your anxiety and fear and it purred with sick delight. Your spiralling was like a siren call and it crawled up, up, up and that seductive velvety voice that hounded you, began to whisper to you inside your head, “Hello, darling. It’s been a while.”

No. No not again. Not another dead body, not another tally against your name. 

“Murderer. Murderer. You killed your parents. You killed your friends. You killed everything even remotely good that’s ever been in your life.”

A sob began to build in your throat, an extra pressure that had you gasping for air, hunching over the floor-

“Look at you, crying. So weak. So pitiful. You deserve every single person that’s ever come after you, deserve every ounce of pain that you’ve been dealt. You call yourself a wolf, but you are a monster.”

It was right. That chasm of fear and darkness that always stayed with you was right. Of course it was. It had been right all those years ago, and the words it was whispering into you like silken poison were true. 

“Exactly, my darling. I am born of that savage beast in you, remember? You created me, you formed me from the truth and knowledge that everyone you touch dies. You have tried to deny this part of yourself for so long, darling, so, so long. But you will never escape it. This is your destiny. To kill those that come near you. ” 

You shook your head, tears flooding down your cheeks now as you wrapped your arms around your middle. The movement jolted your ribs, but it’s lick of fiery pain barely made it through the agony in your chest. I can run from it. I can escape it, you’re wrong, you’re wrong!! That’s not my destiny. I can make up for it, I can be good, I AM good-

A silken laugh and then a soft sigh, like it almost felt sorry for you, “Dread it. Run from it. Destiny arrives all the same. And now it's here. You have let the Mandalorian get hurt for you, and now he will die.”

No… no. No, not him. He can’t. He saved me, he’s good, I can see it. He has a son. I deserve the death sentence, but not him. Please, someone, anyone. Save him, please save him-

“No one is coming to help you, darling. You have finally done it. You have killed a father whilst his son sleeps just down the hallway.” It purred, caressing the inside of your head with claws, “Give in, darling. It’s time to give in. You eluded my call once before, but that won’t happen this time. Your pretty power won’t save you now, not now you pushed it away. Come to me.. escape the pain, finish what you should have gone through with years ago…”

An irresistible darkness reached out a hand, dropping the memory down onto you before you could stop it.

~~A glass vial, a shimmering poison you stole from the market. 

Rain, pounding down around you as you looked up at the moon. 

Water, crashing below the rocky outcrop you stood on.

Burning, a feeling like liquid fire inside you as that sweet, shimmering poison slipped down your throat.

I’m sorry. 

A final look at the moon, so big and beautiful as you turned around, your heels hanging off the end.

Goodbye.

Wind, rushing past your ears.

The icy crush of water as it devoured your body, pulling you into it’s shadowy depths. 

The fire turning molten, slipping through your blood, devouring you as the water has, coaxing you to close your eyes as your body melts from the inside out.

Quiet, a heady quiet as you succumbed to the beast in your chest that was purring with glee.

Nothing.”~~

And then… something echoed within you. Caught the attention of the beast. 

“No. Not again.” It’s snarl was predatory, dangerous. 

The flashback came easier this time, 

~~A hum began to fill the cottony silence in your head, waking you. 

This wasn’t right You weren’t supposed to wake up, you were supposed to be free from the pain and the destruction you caused. 

Easy, it seemed to whisper, relax. It is not your time yet, you still have much to experience. 

Protest flooded your body as you started to feel your limbs again. You didn’t want this, you didn’t want to come back. You didn’t deserve to. 

“Yes, you do.”, it whispered. “It will be tough, there will be more pain and running, I’m afraid, but it will start a fire within you, that will only grow to serve you. You will triumph over this fear, you will become the warrior that you have always been. There will come a time, when things will change. You will do something you wouldn’t normally do, you will save one that deserves to be saved. Rules will be broken, and something new will be forged. Two lives will be forever entwined. Awaken now, and begin again.”~~

Heat began to envelop you, coaxing your stiff limbs to relax, drawing focus in your mind and making you come back to yourself. The rain beating against the outside of the ship, the smell of blood, two pairs of floppy ears at your side as they looked up at you. 

You turned your head, blinking through your tears at the Mandalorian, who’s life was hanging by a single thread. 

Your body shuddered as you leant over his unconscious form. A tight feeling curled in your chest, whispering to you. 

Let me out. I can save him.

You shook your head, you couldn’t. You’d hidden it away for so long, such a long time. You didn’t even know what to do  

Let me out. Let me save him.

You sobbed, a soft noise of defeat, a noise of relief, and you moved your hands to on his side. You whispered out loud, “Save him.” and then… let go

A deep, primal surge took over your body, shaking it, making goosebumps rise to your skin, a feeling lance through your spine. It wasn’t a pain… more a like a release of tension as ever cell in your body thrummed.  

You shuddered from head to toe, feeling the cage that you had spent 20 years building shatter like nothing. Just like that. Not forcing its way out, no clawing to be let loose. 

It was gentle. It overrode the malignant beast of darkness and despair, smothering it in light. 

Powerful, of course, for being shut away for so long but… gentle. It was the energy that roamed through the galaxy, flowed in every single living thing, connected them all together. 

It slipped from the cage you had bound it in, humming in delight as it was allowed to join with you again. 

Free. 

It rolled out of you in waves, rattling the walls, the boxes on the floor. 

It made the lights flicker on and off as it bumped up against the walls and the floor. 

That power healed your ribs as it poured out of you, and then honed itself, as if knowing you didn’t possess the control that was needed. 

It swept down your arms, caressing you like a comforting sweep of a hand, soothing you. You felt it glide over your knuckles, slip along and over the Mandalorian’s body like silk and then…

His wound healed. The ragged flesh knitted back together and the blood seeped back into the Mandalorian’s body where it belonged. It replenished him, saved him, leaving only a red line behind, a scar. 

That power, now having done its job, slipped from your body and left you spent. Shattered. With its final act, it whispered a sweet song of sleep and safety to you. 

With a soft noise, your eyes fluttered shut and you collapsed forward over the Mandalorian’s now relaxed form.

~

A caress of your hair began to coax you from your slumber. 

Long fingers, pushing into your hair at the crown of your head, and trailing through slowly all the way over to the back of your neck. 

You hummed softly, shifting your head because the pillow beneath you was hard and cold. 

The hand stopped and the next drag of fingers through your hair was slower, hesitant in a way. When the fingers brushed over your neck, you melted, a sigh drawing from your lips. 

You didn’t want this to end, especially when those same fingers caressed your face, brushing the strands away and you felt them tug slightly, as if lifting a piece of your hair, memorising the colour and the softness of it. 

It was safe here. You could relax. It was warm and cosy, even if the pillow beneath you was hard. And smelt faintly of metal. Weird. Oh well. You nuzzled against the coolness, humming again. 

Somewhere above you, there was what sounded like a soft chuckle. A caress of your forehead that trailed down the bridge of your nose. It traced over the swoop of your lips and then along your jaw, like they were mapping your features. The touch was so tender, so sweet that it almost bought tears to your eyes. You had been alone for so long, so very long and almost every encounter you had was violent. 

People didn’t touch you to be kind. They touched you to kill you. 

A thudding impact of knuckles instead of a warm arm around your shoulders. 

The sting of a knife edge at your throat instead of soft lips trailing over your skin. 

Ropes and cuffs digging into your wrists instead of familiar fingers linking through your own. 

It wasn’t even a sexual or heated touch that you missed, it was anything. You craved it, the tender familiarity of someone using touch to tell you how much you meant to them, that they cared about you. 

And this… this phantom tracing of your features spoke of a touch that was almost a little unsure. A touch that was mapping something for the first time, drawing attention to the tiny little features you didn’t even know you had, but someone was admiring and drinking in. It was a little hesitant, a little shy but… achingly sweet.

Outside of this haze, something started to call to you, coaxing you to open your eyes. Your eyelids fluttered, your head clearing as you moved and the hand was then gone. 

No, you wanted to whisper. Don’t stop.

~

It might have been hours later, but you became aware of the noises of the Razor Crest. The familiar hum of engines and instruments.  You could distantly hear Grogu’s happy cooing as he played with Duru. Right beneath your head, you could hear steady breathing, muffled slightly by a helmet. 

By a helmet.

Your head snapped up, eyes widening as you stared down at the floor. 

Mando was breathing. Deep, even and steady intakes of air that lifted his chest, filtering through his lungs. 

You made a soft noise, looking down at his side. You picked up the blanket and peered at the ragged tear in his underclothes. 

Nothing. 

The stab wound in his side was gone. Healed. 

You’d done it… You saved him. 

You slumped back, rubbing your hands over your face with a soft sigh of relief. You were shaking all over though and you felt… unhinged in some way. Almost painfully exposed. You had broken something, something inside you that had taken years to build. 

The only way you were able to survive was by shutting away that part of you, that pure, natural power that you could still feel echoing in your bones. 

And the constant pain that you had was gone, no more tightly wound tension now that it had been freed. 

It had to go back in, had to be built into a cage that was stronger, more impenetrable. You didn’t know why it had taken a man who you don’t really know, bleeding out in front of you to rise from the ashes. 

A man who you killed for without second thought. You always through yourself into a fight with no hesitation, but last night, or earlier or whenever it was, you had fought differently.

That wasn’t a frantic dance of survival, where your life was the crescendo and Death was the orchestra. No, that had been precision. Cunning. 

You had shed the claws and snarl, grown fangs and poison. Wolf to Viper. 

The bounty had been your prey. You struck, and you killed. 

For a man you didn’t even really know. 

You swallowed, scratching at the itchiness of your face. Stop. Do not even go there. Don’t. At least not yet. 

Red flakes fell from your face, reminding you of the layer of grime and blood that was dried onto your skin. 

Right. You needed a shower. 

You checked back on Mando, satisfied that he was okay and then you went off for a shower and to potentially drown yourself. 

-

You returned a short while later, carrying a bowl of warm water, a small towel over your arm and a canteen of water tucked into the crook of your elbow. The dark creature in you was silent, oddly silent and you wondered if it would remain that way. 

Best not dwell on it and encourage it to wake back up. 

You picked your way across the floor around storage boxes and tubs of things to where you’d left Mando.

To find him sitting up, grunting a little at the apparent stiffness in his lips. His head snapped up when he heard you, his body relaxing, “You weren’t there when I woke up, I didn’t know if something had happened to you.” 

You couldn’t help the slight chuckle as you reached his side, sitting down next to him against the crate and setting out all the things you’d brought with you. “Easy… I had to have a shower, I couldn’t even recognise my own face with all the blood and dirt on it.” 

He leant back against the crate behind you, watching you, “I know.. I stirred a couple hours ago and nearly had a heart attack. I thought… You were passed out next to me and I couldn’t reach you to see if you were breathing, I was too stiff. I thought..” He seemed to swallow back his next words, his hands tightening into fists on the blanket now on his lap. 

Your heart stuttered in your chest, that raw honesty in his rasp. He’d thought you had died. 

Just like you thought he had. 

A certain atmosphere settled around you, getting tighter and feeling… different. You could feel the heat rolling off of him through your chilled bones, even with the layer of beskar over his body. 

You cleared your throat and held out the canteen. “Here. I bought you some water.”

Mando reached out to take the water from you, gloved fingers brushing yours and you noticed the blood that had soaked into them was dry now. “I never pegged you for the healing type.”

Honey, you have no idea. 

You laughed, shrugging, “You live a life like mine, you end up getting battered more times than you can remember. I’ve had to fix myself up so many times, you were a walk in the park.” You grinned, teasing him but your expression was strained. You could still taste his blood. 

You cleared your throat again and reached beside you for the bowl of water before placing it between you “I found some gloves upstairs when I was looking for a towel… I didn’t know if you’d want to change them.” You bit your lip, eyes flicking over the helmet, that tension still there, lingering. Then you remembered. “Oh, shit. Sorry.” You turned around, facing your back to him to give him privacy. 

There was nothing for a few moments, and then you heard the bowl drag closer to him. There was a soft tug of friction, leather sliding over skin and dropping to the floor. 

Your spine tightened slightly, knowing that his bare skin wasn’t far off. You could never turn around though, you wouldn’t do that to him. It didn’t stop your breathing from turning shallow, and you just prayed he couldn’t hear it. 

Water splashed, and suddenly, an unbidden image burst in your head. Mando’s bare hands, dipping into the warm water, rubbing the washcloth over his palms and knuckles. Beads of water sliding down his fingers and the bare, smooth skin of his wrist. Was his skin tan? Smooth or scarred? You wondered if he had any freckles on his hands. Perhaps not, if they were in gloves all the time. Did he take them off when he was truly aloe? Let the golden light of the sun kiss over his knuckles…

What. 

The fuck. 

Was that.

Your eyes widened as you looked into the corner of the room, heat flushing your neck and chest. Why, in all the stars had that popped into your head? This man had been on death’s door, you had saved him, turned yourself inside out and now you were mooning over the sound of him cleaning his hands? Get a grip, girl.

“Done. You can turn around..” His voice floated over to you, soft and you waited a few moments before you turned back to face him, praying the dimness of the cargo hold was enough to hide your flush. “Thank you.” 

You shook your head, taking the dirty gloves now that the other clean ones were on his hands. “Oh, no, you don’t need to thank me. They were just gloves.” You couldn’t look at him, instead laying the gloves down, resting them both on top of each other so that the fingers and thumbs matched up. 

Mando shook his head, “No… not for the gloves. I mean – yes, for the gloves too but… For saving me. You didn’t need to, but you did. You could have walked right past, but you fought that asshole, you killed him, for me. And then you saved me..” His voice was still rough, and that atmosphere flickered again, encouraging you to raise your eyes to him. 

He titled his head, a hand drifting to his side, “Speaking of which… How?”

You blinked, fought to keep your expression even, “How what?”

Mando’s head remained tilted, “How did you save me? I looked earlier when I woke up but… there was only a scar there. Like it was weeks old, not hours.”

You’d already thought this moment in the refresher, “Oh, that. Uh, I had some bacta-spray left over in my bag. I kept it for emergencies…” You kept your voice casual, pausing now and then as if thinking it over. Expect this part, you didn’t need to feign the quieter tone, “My mother taught me which leaves and flowers could be used for healing, to speed up healing times. My… father worked a rough job and sometimes he would come home with deep cuts and bruises and mumma would always fix them…” You cleared your throat, “I had some left over too.” Your skin felt hot, uncomfortable. You hadn’t intended to share past the point of, “to speed up healing times,” but something about his silence had felt encouraging. 

He was still watching you, and you had no idea if he believed you or not. However, his voice was softer as he simply said, “Thank you. I didn’t deserve it, for what I’ve done. I’m forever.”

“Ooh.. You would have done the same for me, I’m sure...” You laughed a little but it was uneasy, unsure where this was going, that tone in his voice and the intensity of his words. You remained focused on your task of playing with the gloves, that courage that sung through your blood everyday had vanished, leaving you unable to look at him, even if you could feel the visor of the helmet boring into you. 

He leant forward and seconds later, freshly gloved fingers tilted your chin up so you had to look at him, “Exactly. I would have. I did, that’s why he hurt me… so...” He reached behind him, for one of those many pockets and pouches on his body, fumbling for something. 

You frowned, tilting your head, “What are you doing? You’ll pull at your wound-“

Mando pulled something out from his back, holding them out to you and presenting them like a fucking prize. 

Your bounty puck. And the tracking fob. 

What the fuck was he doing?

You jerked back out of his touch, the wolf snarling in you as your eyes flicked up to him, “Seriously? You’re bringing that up? We just went through all of that, and you’re coming back to a fucking bounty puck? I knew I was just a bounty, but you could have waited until you could walk at least.” Your voice was a snarl, but benath that… a hurt. 

He made a soft noise, shaking his head as he once again read what you were thinking, that you had misunderstood. “No, no, I don’t mean that…” He took a breath, and then he gently pulled your hand so it was palm up. And placed the tracking fob and the puck in them. He closed your fingers over them, his voice so soft that the modulator almost didn’t filter it through “Destroy them.”

You jerked in surprise, your breathing catching in shock, anger fizzling out of your body as quick as it had crashed into you, “What? Mando, this… the money it would get you... I can’t.” You tried to push it back to him, to get him to take it. It meant a lot to you, of course it did but he was being ridiculous. “I’m just your bounty.” You hadn’t meant to repeat it, it just slipped out. It wasn’t like it was a lie though. You were. Even though you doubted he had ever had his bounty save his life before. 

You were surprised to hear a soft growl rumble in his throat, “Stop it.” He kept his gloved hand wrapped around yours, heat leeching through the leather and into your skin. “You were, in the beginning. But as soon as I heard that asshole talking like that about you…” He shook his head, swallowing his words yet again though they reminded honest, “You saved my life. That means something to me, especially in my culture. A lot of people would have left me there to die. But you didn’t… And I apologise for everything I’ve done. If you’ll forgive me and let me, I’d like to help you.”

Well. Fuck. That was the last thing you expected. He… wanted to help you? What did that mean? What could he do for you? You bit your lip, toying with the idea, staring down at the devices in your hand. 

You’d been alone for so long. Maybe… maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe you could… let him. But the way everyone seemed to die around you… you only had to look at tonight as proof enough. 

He shouldn’t do this, it was a mistake.

You looked up, lips parting to form the words that would push him away, make him realise you were saving him from making a mistake.

Only for him to read you like a damn book again. He plucked the bounty puck and tracking fob from your hand, grasping them in his fist and then with a soft grunt, slammed them into the solid floor beneath you both. They instantly cracked, sputtering a little almost like shock and then completely shattered when he slammed his fist down on them again. 

Mando made sure they were destroyed, then looked back at you and you could have sworn you could almost see the cocky eyebrow raise under the bucket on his head. 

You surveyed him, looked down at the remains on the floor. 

The symbol of hunter and prey destroyed. 

You took in a deep breath, lifting your chin and meeting the beskar gaze of the man ahead of you, your threads of your lives somehow more entwined. “Okay. I accept your apology… and your help.”

Would he be the first person that didn’t succumb to your curse? 

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[warrioreowynofrohan]

Aredhel, Reborn

This is a fragment that I started putting together a long time ago, and it stops in the middle, but my writing isn’t cooperating right now so I’m posting it as-is for @tolkiengenweek . It’s a sequel to my two previous Aredhel pieces (but not my Aredhel and Eöl one, which isn’t in continuity with it). Hopefully I’ll manage to follow up on it.

********************

Aredhel leaves the Halls, permitted to return to life for no reason that she can comprehend. She has not sought mercy for herself, though she has asked it a thousand times for her son and been met with a deafening silence. She chooses to return because Fingon is doing so, and he might not be able to bring himself to go if he left behind both of his siblings as well as his dearest friend. Turgon should have returned - would have been permitted to return, yeni ago, not tainted by kinslaying as his siblings are - but he is being stubborn, out of some mix of reluctance to face the survivors of Gondolin and reluctance to face the Lord of the Waters.

They reenter life to be almost immediately caught in their father’s embrace. Through all that follows - returning to Tirion, reunion with their mother and cousins, an apology to the Lady Eärwen that clearly terrifies Fingon more than any battle he’s ever fought in - the world seems faded and distant to Aredhel, as though some part of her fëa had never left the Halls. She cannot stay in Tirion, she cannot seem to hold the thread of a conversation with anyone, even her parents and brother. She knows, distantly, that she loves them, but it all seems so far away.

Her aimless feet take her to Valmar, and she find herself at the one place in the Blessed Realm that is shunned by Eldar and Ainur alike, climbing from the foot of Ezellohar to the two broken skeletons that were once the purest light in the universe, and as she collapses to the grass she feels, for the first time, a connection with the world. How did you do it? she whispers. How do you continue when what you hold dearest has been turned to darkness and ruin and ash? And something connects within her mind, something that never did through all the years in the Halls, never did during her return to Tirion, though all the reunions and necessary, distant apologies. Her feet carry her south and east, to the seashore and the white city, the city of pearls.

She does not go to the throne room of the king and queen, but to the docks, cloaked and hooded and unnoticed, seeking for faces she remembers. She finds one, working, holding a small curved knife in her hand that she uses to shell oysters.

Aredhel raises her hood, sees the Telerin woman start at the sight of her, and falls to her knees. The knife stops its work, poised in midair.

“What are you doing here?”

“I…I wished to apologize. To say that I was wrong.”

“So? What does that mean? What will that mend?” The woman lays down the shelling-knife, goes to a ship, and picks up another meant for carving wood. She lays the blade to a piece of wood lying nearby and the hands, their movements so smooth and deft when shelling oysters, begin to shake, leaving jagged, uneven cuts, leaving it useless. “I built the ships your people so wantonly destroyed, shaped them as you Noldor shape steel, and now I live again, but that which gave me life has left me. We did not hoard them and hide them in vaults, we sailed them and lived aboard them until they were more our home than the shore, and all you left to us were blood and ash and tainted memories.” The tremors through her body come in waves now, and her voice is choked. “My life was the least of what you stole from me. And now you seek what? Absolution? Resolution? This does not end for me. Why should it end for you?”

Aredhel hunches in on herself. “I surrender. What would you have of me?”

“Why come here, and not to the king?”

Olwë wouldn’t do anything to me - for Uncle Finarfin’s sake, if not for my own. He wasn’t who I attacked. He wasn’t who I killed.

“I thought you had more right. I…I know what it is to be betrayed by one whom you trusted. I know what it it is to see what you love dearest cast into ruin. And if I had - him - apologizing to me, truly and sincerely, as I am to you” - her voice breaks - “I would bury a knife in his guts.” She is shaking. “I came here because I didn’t know what else to do. Only that I needed to do something. I surrender. Say what you want from me, and you will have it.”

The Telerin woman just looks tired. “I don’t want your blood. What use would that be? I don’t want you locked up. What good would that do anyone? You cannot give back what you have taken. You cannot restore what is destroyed.

“Leave us in peace. Go.”

Aredhel goes.

....

She flees to the wild lands she once loved, which no longer feel so narrow as they did in the years of her youth, before Gondolin and Nan Elmoth and the Halls, before she knew that duty was a chain and love was a chain. Fear, too, is a chain, as she find when she wanders into the woods of Oromë where she once hunted with her cousins and stops, trembling, as the treetops cut off the sky, frozen, her thought a thousand miles away in drowned lands where the forest went from wonder to horror to prison. She works her way stumbling back to the light, her arms clutching at branches and tree-trunks to pull her onwards, until she emerges again into the free air.

She goes, instead, to the open plains, where she can run and ride and hunt, and take joy in feeling alive again, with a heart that beats and mouth that tastes and limbs that ache. In time she returns to the forest, first to edges and sun-dappled clearings, later to the denser woods in autumn when the leaves turn yellow and brown and fall to create openings where light and warmth enters, and nuts and fruits and berries surround her at every turn. Regaining the woods in summertime takes longer, where leaves create deep pools of shadow, and it is longer still before she wishes to be in the woods after nightfall, looking up at the stars.

(She no longer wears white. She dresses in greys and browns and tans, and in plain or woodland she might be mistaken for part of the landscape.)

She cannot say, for certain, how much of her escape is driven by avoiding walls, and how much by avoiding people, avoiding the need to hear or speak of (or hear people deliberately and delicately not speak of) a son she cannot defend and will not condemn. Did she shun the woods because they felt a cage, or because it felt that at any moment a pale-skinned, black-haired boy might step out of them with a present for his mother of hazlenuts or newly-caught game or skillfully-carved wood? A boy who is gone, who is become something she cannot and will not name.

Fingon finds her, from time to time, with uncanny ability, though he was never her equal as a woodsman. They share meals, wanderings, conversations light or serious. He does not tell her to return, though he speaks often of their parents and at times ventures to say how much they miss her. She does not know how to explain. Fingon can feel that their positions, failing and pardoned and returned and grieving for the lost, are the same, but it does not feel so to her. He fell in battle, and with a host of heroic deeds to his name. Her father fell in combat, the greatest one in the history of Arda. She died because she trusted the wrong person, loved the wrong person, ran off, was irresponsible and impetuous as always, led an enemy back to the one safe home she still had; her place in the First Age’s history is the dislodged rock or careless shout that starts an avalanche. Turgon has never blamed her for Gondolin’s fall, but that is because she never spoke to him while they were in the Halls, never knowing what to say. I am sorry that my son existed? She isn’t. She isn’t. She isn’t. She is only sorry that his father orphaned him, left him alone among strangers in a strange city with no parent to guide him.

One morning she awakes at her campsite to find her father there, tending the embers of her fire. She does not know how he has found her; he is gifted in scholarship, in diplomacy, in governance, in craftwork, in all the arts of war, but not in woodcraft or tracking or the arts of the wildnerness (save, by necessity, of keeping thousands of people alive in bone-chilling, soul-numbing temperatures).

They speak a little of other things, of her life in the woods and his in Tirion, but he cannot long restrain the question he has come to ask. “Aredhel, can you not come home?”

She offers the easier explanation first, the other being too painful to place in words. “I don’t want to go back to be pitied as a failure.”

“We all failed, dearest. Every one of us.”

“You did not. Not like me. You died fighting Morgoth and every Elda and I expect every Vala respects you for that. Fingon died fighting a balrog. My younger cousins died in battle. Even the philosopher did better than me! I was one of the most eager to go, I killed people in order to go, atta, and I have nothing to show for it, no achievements, nothing to boast of, and I will not go back to be petted and pitied and patronized, I won’t -” and she knows she still sounds like a spoiled child even now, when the others have grown wise and thoughtful and penitent.

Her father simply looks at her, long and quiet, as if trying to perceive all the words she has left unspoken, and they finally struggle to her lips.

“I don’t want to know what they all think of him. I do know what they think of him. I don’t want to be consoled for what my son did or became by people who didn’t know him and can’t understand him, and to know they are thinking of it every time they look at me, I’ll hate them for it and it will break out and I’ll cause trouble for everyone again - ” she’s stopped looking at her father, not wanting to see in his eyes his opinion of such a grandson, not wanting to feel the wrath against him that would come from it. “Why does everything I love fall to evil? My son, Tyelko, Curvo, my - ” she cannot bring herself to say husband, “- him? Do I have no judgement, no discernment? Am I being punished? I loved him when he killed me, I love my son and my cousins yet, and I don’t want to explain or to justify or to live among people that hate them -”

She is weeping now, and her father pulls her into an embrace. “You did not deserve this, Aredhel. Not what happened to you, or what happened to your son.”

“I don’t know.” Her voice is quiet now. “I think, sometimes, it is all of a piece. If you do evil to gain something, whether it be ill in itself or not, it will burn you when you find it. As with my cousins and the gemstones. I killed to gain freedom from limitations or constraint, and when I took it it burned me.”

[juminly]

The Death of Me (Nobunaga x Reader)

Fandom: Ikémen Sengoku.  Pairing: Nobunaga Oda x F!Reader.  Summary: After being away from you for a while, Nobunaga finally comes back... and he misses you so.

Rating: Explicit. (Minors, DNI)

Warnings: Fingering, Teasing, Nipple Play, Dom/Sub Undertones, Slight Exhibitionism, Very Very Light Choking, Dirty Talk, Marking, Implied Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Doggy-Style.  –♥– ”Why is my queen looking up at the midnight sky when she should be waiting and watching the woods, seeking my arrival?”

His low husky voice swept into your ears without warning, it was unclear whether it was the sudden gust of wind that sent your skin shivering or if it was the sensation of having your Devil King pressed against your back, hovering behind you as he settled his chin on your shoulder and his hands found home on the top of your thighs. You knew better than that, feeling the minuscule movement of his hands as they began to travel up your body. He murmured against the column of your throat but all you wanted to know was if your Nobu was safe and sound and if his mission was successful. When you parted your lips to speak, the way his name fell from your lips in an inquisitive tone, your lover knew exactly what you were going to say and what was going through your mind and reassuring you was absolutely his top priority before anything else. He was still human after all and you would fear for his life, even from a mere cold and he has seen it with his own two bloody eyes.

“Tsk, when all my victories are sure and certain, my Queen, you worry about such trivial matter when it seems that my apparent claims of territoires that are exclusively mine and occupied by myself have been fading?” His hands meandering over your supple curves squeezed your small waist, right over the obi that had the kimono you were wearing tied together, tearing your mind away, wondering what your Devil King was talking about and what he was planning to do to you.

"I suppose my fireball is due for a reminder since she's been fiery enough to be wearing my clothes upon my unexpected return." The heat of his breath increased as you felt his lips part against your skin, his teeth grazing ever so gently before sinking into your flesh as he soon sucked on you as gently as he could. Not.

This was only a preamble to what he had planned for you and having spent over a week away from you already had him reeling and aching for a taste of you. The thought finally clicking in you brain, the blemishes that clearly marked you as Nobu's were no longer there. And the thought did not please him in the slightest. However, there was a silver lining. Now he could claim you over again, as he had many times before. As he will continue to do so as long as he is able to breathe.

Sucking in your breath with an audible hiss, you could feel the blood rushing through your veins as Nobu began so diligently marking very visible spots, tactically choosing the lands in which he wanted his claim to be the most apparent. His breathing seemed to be controlled yet you could feel his heart beating fast, hard and strong against your back, his hands were now cupping your breasts, over the fabric of the kimono of his that you had so brazenly worn, the same kimono that you had worn from the desire of wanting to be surrounded by them, the feeling of having him on you, his scent... anything of his.

It was all you needed, especially when he was away. You looked beyond delectable to him...The fact that you were dressed in a piece of apparel of his taunted him in inexplicable ways, especially since you did so when he had been away. What were the thoughts that you had of him when he was away? Were you thinking of him as much as he had been thinking of you? There had been so many thoughts whirling through his mind even as he had been so immersed in his role as King during his mission, yet deep down, nothing could change the fact that he was your lover and he would yearn for you, in any time, any place. He was irrevocably yours and the way you had occupied not only his heart and soul but his mind as well spoke volumes. Someone had to pay and it had be both of you.

His lips were ruthless on your skin, visible dusky spots appearing in his wake as his tongue teased your earlobe as he sucked on it ever so gently and whispered in your ear. "Is my queen glad that I have returned or maybe we shall allow your body to speak for you, hm?" Tracing a wet trail over the seams of your earlobe before speaking once again, every word from him blowing on it and eliciting the slightest of trembles while his calculated motions only caused the sleeves of the kimono to slowly fall off your shoulders, slowly but surely exposing more of your chest, the fabric barely even covering your breasts.

He could feel your pebbled nipples as he gently brushed his fingers over your breasts, the hardened beads noticeable even through the barrier that had dared to separate you from your lover and almost, excruciatingly so, he finally allowed the fabric to fall and unveil what you both sought.You wanted nothing more than his hands on you and he wouldn't even fathom the thought of depriving you of that wish.

Finally, his calloused fingers flicked over the sensitive pebbles while he palmed at the tenderness of your mounds, every part of you hanging on every word he spoke as you were aching to turn around and be utterly consumed by crimson, a pool of darkened blood that had every ounce of your being screaming in yearning. You knew the moment you looked upon it, you would then be rendered completely helpless, not that you already were. You were lying to yourself. As you tried to wriggle in his grasp, wanting to act upon your thoughts, Nobu pinched you, hard enough to elicit a small gasp from you and gentle enough not to hurt you.

"Nobu, please. Let me hold you. I've missed you and I want to just.."  Pushing you against him as he pressed you against the railing of the balcony, you couldn't help but squeal, a surge of adrenaline mixing with the desire rushing through you. "You better not let me go, Nobu. I've waited long for you. Let me have you first and then you can let me go."

Nobu chuckled, the resounding sound making your heart fluttering with happiness as if it were a bell that chimed in reaction to the blissful echo coming from the depth of his throat. ”My fireball has enough energy to tease me even in a compromising situation such as this.”

Finally turning you around, you were finally able to lay your eyes upon your lover. Finally taking him in, knowing that he was safe, knowing that he was back where he belonged, in your arms. You were expecting to see that devilish smirk of his, that expression that made your skin tingle and a deep knot being tied so tightly in your stomach. Yet, you were welcomed by a serene smile and eyes shining with emotions that you could only identify as affection and adoration. Bringing your hands to cradle his face, he leaned down and greeted you with an enrapturing kiss, his tongue stripping you from any thought that wasn't of him in your mind while one of his, hastily slid over your midsection and over the obi that was the only piece that kept the kimono on you, traveling down to smooth his hand over the apex of your thigh.

A deep chuckle resounded from his chest. You, out of everyone in Japan, being able to read his mind on specific occasions and especially in intimate ones, knew what he was thinking and aiming for. As he pressed himself harder against you, pinning you against the railing so you couldn't even move, even if you wanted to, the imprint of his hardness becoming imminent as you felt it probing your waist but you were far more distracted by what he planned to do with those fingers that had been teasing the softness of your inner thigh.

Right when you broke the kiss to catch your breath, Nobu pushed two fingers inside you and curled them immediately, caressing your inner walls and watching you with a fierce gaze, with bated breath that matched yours. “I know how the fire of impatience burns within you, love, I can tell by feeling how wet you are for me. But patience..." His smile grew wider as he watched your back arch and your mouth fall open as he easily slid in a third finger inside you.

"You shall find what you seek. See, I have all the intention to ravish you after I watch you fuck yourself with my fingers and tell me how much you have longed for me in my absence. Move, my love. I want to see your hips thrusting down on my fingers, bringing yourself over the edge, using me just for your own pleasure." One of your hands gripped his hair tightly when the other scratched at the skin of his nape, not even eliciting a wince from him as he watched you with a pleased smiled while you hump his hand, his thumb finally joining to drive you even closer to your climax.

"May the past lie in the past yet I can’t help but find myself curious and jealous of the thought of you not thinking about me the way I’ve been thinking about you. I’ve rode miles before my men as I left them to rest just so I can be here with you, my warrior Queen." Noticing how you had bitten your lips, the influx of sensations coursing through you, your legs quivering and barely managing to keep you standing, your grip around his shoulders even loosening as your strength is slowly drained out of you with the sheer intensity of your desire. His lips crashed down on yours, biting your lower lip and prying your mouth open, taking in the delicious sweet and soft moans that you were making in your kiss.Taking your breath away, his lips still hovered against yours, his eyes now even closer to yours, an unmistakable yearning in them.

"This nonsense of you being my future Queen than actually being my Queen is nothing I want to hear from you. Especially when you know the power you hold over me. People know you as The Queen that reins over the Devil King himself and that is not something that I'm saying.” What he told you were not just mere words, coming from him, they meant more, they weighed so heavily on your heart as you continue to get more acquainted with how deep his love truly runs for you. Brushing his lips gently across your cheeks, he whispered in your ear.

"It is what the people say. And I can tell you... It's true." And that's when you snapped. Your vision blurred as the waves of pleasure came crashing down on you, your core clamping down on his fingers which he was now pumping in you, helping you ride out the aftershock of what was just the prelude of the night. And he wasn't going to stop there.

"You're going to turn around for me, Queen of mine and let me fuck right under the midnight sky, so that the Heavens can look upon us and watch me as I claim you as mine and no one has a single say in it but me... and you." He spoke as he licked your slickness that dripped from his fingers, his attitude as haughty as it had always been but there was so much more in it than that. The vulnerability dripped from every word he said, the way the crimson of his eyes shined for comfort, for solace that he could find within and with you.

Removing your hands from around his shoulders, he brought of your hands to his lips, kissing your hands and your palms before turning you around and placing them on the rails of the balcony. "Since you had so eagerly took it upon yourself to decorate your body with a kimono of mine, you will not be taking it off until I am through with you." Pushing the fabric of the kimono to the side and exposing the lower half of your body to the cold wind, shivers ran over your skin but soon, you would have enough to warm you up.

"Nobu, I don't think I can stan... Ahh..." With a swift thrust, your King had completely sheathed himself inside you and began rocking his hips against yours, the slap of his skin against your behind joining the chiming of the cicadas that accompanied you in your intimate reunion. Your slick from your previous release only aided him in thrusting in and out of you at an intense pace, each time he plunged deep inside of you, the head of his cock would brush that sweet spot of yours and your body rocking forward with the sheer force of your warrior.

One of his hands were wrapped around your neck when the other had been placed on your lower stomach, his middle finger running incoherent and cruel circles over your sensitive nub. By the end of that night, you knew that you would be shaking from overstimulation and it was clearly bound to happen. Squeezing his hand around your throat briefly, Nobunaga growled against your neck. "Right after I'm done fucking you on the balcony, I'm going to carry you to my room and you're going to show me exactly what you were thinking of doing to me while I was gone." He chuckled lightly and kissed your cheek, the gesture almost a little too sweet for what he was doing to you. Completely and utterly wrecking your body.

"I'm going to watch you 'bounce on my dick' as you always say in the middle of your sleep, your naughty thoughts always revealing themselves to me. Shamelessly. And I wouldn't accept otherwise. Just like how your body tells me how much you want me. Your cunt is milking my cock so good... Gods... What are you doing to me?"

Gripping you a tad bit tighter, he turned your head so he could kiss you senseless, his hold on you the only thing keeping you both seemingly grounded. "You'll suck both your cum and mine off me, looking at me with those fiery eyes as you devour me whole and show me how determined you are to make me weak for you. Hah... Before I... take you all over again... Until you are completely spent. Don't you know how weak for you I am, my love? You... If I'll allow anything or anyone to be the death of me, it would be you..."

Only you... –♥– Tagging: @delicateikemenmemes, @sweetlittlemouse come get your man... again hehe.  Please feel free to leave some love in the comments or some feedback!💜 You can also check out my Masterlist ! 

[lisinfleur]

Insecure

The Request:

Author’s Notes | I’m sorry for taking so long, babe! But I hope you enjoy it! Universe | Vikings Pairing | Ivar x Reader Info | Modern Age AU, requested by @lol-haha-joke​ for 5CW Ivar II, posted for HTGI Event. Words | 1173 ⁑ Warnings: Erotic content, some explicit scenes. Mentions to wounds and blood.

It was like being smitten by one of Thor's bolts right in the middle of his head. Although it was the sexiest scene Ivar had ever laid his eyes on, it froze his body entirely.

Instead of going into the obvious arousal seeing his wife touching herself and hearing her moans were supposed to throw him in, his thoughts started swirling into his mind like a furious storm, spreading stones of insecurity and fear everywhere inside his head.

For a long moment, Ivar stood still and silent at the door of his room, watching that scene simply because his brain couldn't process the electrical impulses and decide if he should enter and stop that or leave her alone.

And leave the hallway.

The house.

Maybe her life.

His body essayed the steps in and out of the room dozens of times, indecisive, scared. Until her body shuddered over the bed, and she threatened to open her eyes.

Worse than the idea of not being able to please his own wife was the thought of being caught discovering her personal games.

Her relief.

At first, Ivar's body swirled over his braced legs, and his back touched the wall beside the bedroom's door, listening when she moaned louder, faster...

She was coming! But it was so strong...

He couldn't remember any time in which she panted for him like that.

As she started moaning lower, his body was finally able to move away from the door. His steps taking his defeated self to his living room, straight to his bar.

Ivar's hands were trembling when he placed a cup, pouring himself some pure whiskey.

His mind was moving fast through the memories of their moments. The many times she said he was amazing or ended up laughing over his chest after a long night together. All the praises...

His feelings mixed insecurity, fear, anxiety... Anger.

As always, everything in Ivar's mind would slowly turn into boiling anger, and it wasn't different this time. His hand started trembling in anxiety, but now, it was fury.

The cup, emptied in a single sip, wasn't placed but slammed against the bar. Ivar slammed his fist against the bar one, two times, trying to put that anger out against the wood.

At the third slam, however, his hand missed the place and slammed the cup, turning it into sharp shards of glass that opened a large cut in his palm, causing Ivar's voice to echo in a growl between the wrath and the raw pain.

Of course, she heard his sounds from the room and came as fast as she could. Her eyes were large when she saw his blood flowing so freely like that.

"Oh, my gods! Ivar, what happened?" she said, fully concerned.

Picking up a towel from his bar to roll his hand and hold the bleeding.

But he didn't answer.

His eyes were destroyed on her figure.

How could she lie to him for so long and yet sound so truly worried about his well-being?

How could she hide that secret for so long from his sharp eyes and blessed mind?

"Ivar? Love... Answer me..." She insisted, touching his face.

How could she be lying and still sound so real? So full of love?

With his anger lowered by the pain, all that lasted was Ivar's blues, hurt and sad into her eyes.

"Why did you lie to me for so long?"

His words and the pools of sadness in his eyes confused her completely.

"What?" she asked, dizzy.

Her steps took him back to the couch where they could sit as her fingers were quickly calling the emergency service of his health insurance.

"I saw you," he affirmed, causing his wife to cringe for a moment. "I saw you touching yourself with that toy... Why didn't you ever tell me I wasn't enough? Why did you lie to me and said it was good to be with me, Y/N?" Ivar inquired.

His voice was as full of pain as his eyes were, teary.

But his wife looked at him completely shocked.

"Wait... You... Oh, mighty Odin, Ivar! You got everything wrong, for the gods' sake!" she burst, rolling her eyes.

Igniting the anger into his as Ivar tried to keep his wounded heart protected.

"What did I get wrong, Y/N? My wife moans louder for a damn plastic piece of shit than she does to me, and yet, she lies every time we fuck, so she doesn't have to tell me I'm not good enough for her! That's what I get!"

But once again, she just sighed, looking at him.

"And here is what you got wrong, my love," she said.

Her voice sounded strangely meek into Ivar's ears, crumbling his defenses once again.

"I never lied to you, and I do not need that toy. I like to play when you're not around to make me crazy, but I could throw it away at any time, and I wouldn't miss it. I moaned louder cause that shit was on high speed, and I didn't notice when I started. When I'm with you, there is no such thing. You build my pleasure, you make me feel warm, you love me, Ivar, you don't just make me cum with raw pleasure, and nothing more."

Her words were making sense, causing Ivar to slowly start feeling himself an idiot.

"It's my fertile day, Ivar. I was warm, and I didn't know how late would you come from the company. My intentions were to start warming myself to wait for you to come home. I never wanted to exchange you for a toy or needed a toy because you're not enough. I like to have toys to prepare myself for you. And even when I'm using them, my eyes are closed because I'm remembering your touch, your hands on me, your body into me, your sounds..." she explained.

Causing Ivar's anger to become nothing and give place to a huge shame of his own stupidity.

"Shit..." he growled. "I... I'm sorry."

"No, love. I am sorry," she answered. "I should've told you I liked these games. I should've explained everything, so you wouldn't feel like this. My poor Ivar... I love you, my dear, it would never be different. You're better than any shitty plastic toy I could ever buy, uh?"

Her warm fingers slid through his jawline, tracing it in a way he always loved to feel.

"Now we'll take you to the hospital, treat this thing in your hand, and come back home, so I can replace that toy with what I really wanted in me tonight... Does it sound good, my love?"

Ivar couldn't repress a smile on the corner of his mouth.

"I hope the hospital doesn't keep me for too long," he mumbled.

The smile became bigger on both of their faces.

He would have to wait to have his treat, but at least, his heart was relieved. His precious wife was his, and no toy was better than him.

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