#now this lament is a threat

[incorrect-hs-quotes]

Terezi: TH1S WOULDN'T H4PP3N TO M3 1F 1 W3R3 4 HUG3 DR4GON >:]

[citriarchive]

this is DEATHBODY all over again why is it always the songs vane lily has at least a fucking hand in that just grab me by the throat like "congratulations im your entire brain now". and why is it Meat Girl™. oh my god.

[goldensunset]

re: the music rant I tagged you in I am so sorry for tagging you in my double-dose caffeine fueled haterism explosion post. truly was off the shits and did not realize how much random garbage talking points I was ready to spill on the first person to ask

but i love haterism…..

[y010isaghost]

.

[mariacallous]

The first thing to say about the hate and scorn currently directed at the mainstream US media is that they worked hard to earn it. They’ve done so by failing, repeatedly, determinedly, spectacularly to do their job, which is to maintain their independence, inform the electorate, and speak truth to power. While the left has long had reasons to dismiss centrist media, and the right has loathed it most when it did do its job well, the moderates who are furious at it now seem to be something new – and a host of former editors, media experts and independent journalists have been going after them hard this summer.

Longtime journalist James Fallows declares that three institutions – the Republican party, the supreme court, and the mainstream political press – “have catastrophically failed to ‘meet the moment’ under pressure of [the] Trump era”. Centrist political reformer and columnist Norm Ornstein states that these news institutions “have had no reflection, no willingness to think through how irresponsible and reckless so much of our mainstream press and so many of our journalists have been and continue to be”.

Most voters, he says, “have no clue what a second Trump term would actually be like. Instead, we get the same insipid focus on the horse race and the polls, while normalizing abnormal behavior and treating this like a typical presidential election, not one that is an existential threat to democracy.”

Lamenting the state of the media recently on X, Jeff Jarvis, another former editor and newspaper columnist, said: “What ‘press’? The broken and vindictive Times? The newly Murdochian Post? Hedge-fund newspaper husks? Rudderless CNN or NPR? Murdoch’s fascist media?”

These critics are responding to how the behemoths of the industry seem intent on bending the facts to fit their frameworks and agendas. In pursuit of clickbait content centered on conflicts and personalities, they follow each other into informational stampedes and confirmation bubbles.

They pursue the appearance of fairness and balance by treating the true and the false, the normal and the outrageous, as equally valid and by normalizing Republicans, especially Donald Trump, whose gibberish gets translated into English and whose past crimes and present-day lies and threats get glossed over. They neglect, again and again, important stories with real consequences. This is not entirely new – in a scathing analysis of 2016 election coverage, the Columbia Journalism Review noted that “in just six days, The New York Times ran as many cover stories about Hillary Clinton’s emails as they did about all policy issues combined in the 69 days leading up to the election” – but it’s gotten worse, and a lot of insiders have gotten sick of it.

In July, ordinary people on social media decided to share information about the rightwing Project 2025 and did a superb job of raising public awareness about it, while the press obsessed about Joe Biden’s age and health. NBC did report on this grassroots education effort, but did so using the “both sides are equally valid” framework often deployed by mainstream media, saying the agenda is “championed by some creators as a guide to less government oversight and slammed by others as a road map to an authoritarian takeover of America”. There is no valid case it brings less government oversight.

In an even more outrageous case, the New York Times ran a story comparing the Democratic and Republican plans to increase the housing supply – which treated Trump’s plans for mass deportation of undocumented immigrants as just another housing-supply strategy that might work or might not. (That it would create massive human rights violations and likely lead to huge civil disturbances was one overlooked factor, though the fact that some of these immigrants are key to the building trades was mentioned.)

Other stories of pressing concern are either picked up and dropped or just neglected overall, as with Trump’s threats to dismantle a huge portion of the climate legislation that is both the Biden administration’s signal achievement and crucial for the fate of the planet. The Washington Post editorial board did offer this risibly feeble critique on 17 August: “It would no doubt be better for the climate if the US president acknowledged the reality of global warming – rather than calling it a scam, as Mr Trump has.”

While the press blamed Biden for failing to communicate his achievements, which is part of his job, it’s their whole job to do so. The Climate Jobs National Resource Center reports that the Inflation Reduction Act has created “a combined potential of over $2tn in investment, 1,091,966 megawatts of clean power, and approximately 3,947,670 jobs”, but few Americans have any sense of what the bill has achieved or even that the economy is by many measures strong.

Last winter, the New York Times columnist Paul Krugman, who has a Nobel prize in economics, told Greg Sargent on the latter’s Daily Blast podcast that when he writes positive pieces about the Biden economy, his editor asks “don’t you want to qualify” it; “aren’t people upset by X, Y and Z and shouldn’t you be acknowledging that?”

Meanwhile in an accusatory piece about Kamala Harris headlined When your opponent calls you ‘communist,’ maybe don’t propose price controls?, a Washington Post columnist declares in another case of bothsiderism: “Voters want to blame someone for high grocery bills, and the presidential candidates have apparently decided the choices are either the Biden administration or corporate greed. Harris has chosen the latter.” The evidence that corporations have jacked up prices and are reaping huge profits is easy to find, but facts don’t matter much in this kind of opining.

It’s hard to gloat over the decline of these dinosaurs of American media, when a free press and a well-informed electorate are both crucial to democracy. The alternatives to the major news outlets simply don’t reach enough readers and listeners, though the non-profit investigative outfit ProPublica and progressive magazines such as the New Republic and Mother Jones, are doing a lot of the best reporting and commentary.

Earlier this year, when Alabama senator Katie Britt gave her loopy rebuttal to Biden’s State of the Union address, it was an independent journalist, Jonathan Katz, who broke the story on TikTok that her claims about a victim of sex trafficking contained significant falsehoods. The big news outlets picked up the scoop from him, making me wonder what their staffs of hundreds were doing that night.

A host of brilliant journalists young and old, have started independent newsletters, covering tech, the state of the media, politics, climate, reproductive rights and virtually everything else, but their reach is too modest to make them a replacement for the big newspapers and networks. The great exception might be historian Heather Cox Richardson, whose newsletter and Facebook followers give her a readership not much smaller than that of the Washington Post. The tremendous success of her sober, historically grounded (and footnoted!) news summaries and reflections bespeaks a hunger for real news.

[sunshine-and-kookies]

UNHINGED (m)

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷Summary-> The corporate recession has your company grovelling for funds.

As the relegated chief operating officer, you have to bear the brunt of seeking out an enterprising and successful shareholder who can revive your company for posterity.

As a sorry state of affairs, you're compelled to enlist the CEO of Jeon Enterprise for his help. However, The question remains.

Just how much convincing are you willing to do?

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷Part: 1 of 2

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷Pairing: Yandere Jeongguk x Female Reader

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff, Yandere

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷Warnings for both parts: Power Imbalance, Blackmailing, Manipulation, inebriation, smut, fingering, groping, penetration, some nasty stuff, light choking, a few corporate jargons, jk is a dick who is smitten with oc, jk is selfish asf, threats of violence (not against OC).

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷Word count: 2.1k

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷Disclaimer: This is a two-shot which delves into themes that may be triggering or dark in nature. It is important to note that the behaviors portrayed by Jungkook are purely fictional and do not reflect his real-life character. Reader discretion is advised. Minors are discouraged from engaging with this content. Remember, plagiarism is a serious offense.

“©© All rights reserved to @sunshine-and-kookies. No translations permitted without explicit authorization.”

°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°

"This is unbelievable", you lament, hunched over your desk.

"How did the stocks plummet so much?"

"Miss. L/N, The stock market is a gamble." Mr. Kwon offers.

"I am aware of that Mr. Kwon. But the risks we took were calculated." You massage your temples, grumbling defensively under your breath.

The predicament at hand induced mixed emotions in you. On one hand, you were anxious. Anxious for the employees who have a family to fend for, the news headlines they'll be witnessing and the confrontation you'll need to have with the stakeholders.

On the other, less dominant hand, you felt uncannily relieved.

Ever since your company, Jubilee and Co, invested in the share market with you at the helm, you've been waiting for something to go awry.

Simply, because you couldn't fathom anything remotely auspicious happening under your leadership. Not because you didn't have faith in your capabilities. No.

It was because you've gotten the short end of the stick from life so often that you've grown accustomed to it.

And now that your trepidations have borne fruit, you feel the weight being lifted off your shoulders.

Gingerly clutching the cup of coffee perched on your table, you take a sip. This was not the time to wallow in self pity.

"Mr. Kwon, prepare an excel sheet that has all the consolidated data of the company's capital. We can't afford any delays. I have to begin looking for plausible shareholders."

You could feel the soreness kicking in, as you knead the knots in your shoulder.

It was gonna be a long day.

..............................................................................................................................

You peer at your phone's self camera for the umpteenth time.

Huffing, as you rake your fingers through your hair. Everything about your outfit seemed off but scrounging for a better one would take an eternity. You were living on borrowed time as it is.

"Miss. Y/N L/N, Mr. Jeon is ready for you."

You stand upright, hands clenching the portfolio in your hand futilely, your heels scuffing across the floor of the hallway.

Navigating through the huge corridor, you spot the door of the room where the incumbent CEO sits.

Knocking lightly, you speak "Mr Jeon?"

"Come in."

His husky voice beckons.

Drawing in a shaky breath, you step into the room.

And as soon as you do, you're rendered awestruck by the cabin.

It has expansive floor-to-ceiling windows that offer a panoramic view of the bustling city below.

The golden hour sunlight streaming in through the blinds.

The walls, adorned with exquisite golden motifs, which no doubt must have cost a fortune.

Fitting for a billionaire like him, you suppose.

Right in the center of the room is a rich mahogany desk, cluttered with documents.

Perched behind the desk is Jeon Jeongguk, the formidable CEO of Jeon Enterprises. It is renowned globally as the only firm which deals with technological ergonomics. Their unparalleled success transcended borders, setting the standard worldwide.

Needless to say, Jubilee and Co was a far cry from Jeon Enterprises.

You've read enough tabloids about the cold, formidable CEO to know what might transpire.

On behalf of your company's stakeholder, you'll ask him for help. He'll eye you incredulously, disdain marring his face before he politely calls the security guard to escort this deranged woman out.

You're taking a leap of faith coming here and hoping a tech tycoon like him even spares you a glance.

You hear him take a sharp intake of breath, prompting you to look at him.

His mouth was slightly agape, eyes widened, as he stared at you from across the room.

His gaze trailed your dainty form from top to bottom, eyes darkening the more they consume you.

You shudder.

You should have taken time to look for a more flattering outfit. Or maybe your hair was dishevelled?

Clearing your throat, you politely ask him, "May I take a seat, Mr Jeon?"

Caught off guard, Mr. Jeon suddenly stands up before motioning for you to sit.

"Please do, Miss...?"

"Y/N L/N." , you supply.

"Y/N..." His dulcet voice repeats your name, as though in a trance.

There was an eerie tension in the room but you would be damned if you let it get to you and lose this golden opportunity.

"As the chief operating officer, I'm here to represent Jubilee and Co."

This was it.

This was the part where you'll be catapulted out of the building by big and buff security men--

"How may I be of assistance to Jubilee and Co. today?"

You blanch.

Out of all outcomes you were expecting would ensue your introduction, this was the most unexpected one.

You were not prepared for this, how do you broach the proposal of an alliance now?

Quickly gathering yourself, you resume.

"We are honoured you have decided to give us the time of the day, Mr Jeon."

"Don't mention." His tone, though professional, betrayed a hint of eagerness.

"From what I presume, you're here to ask for an affiliation." He continues.

"Your stakeholders want Jubilee and Co to become a subsidiary under Jeon Enterprises."

You were tongue tied.

Mr. Jeon was an astute man. You'll give him that.

"Yes, sir. That is correct."

"And why, exactly, should I invest in a company that is, for a lack of better word, in shambles? Inundated with abysmal employees", He rejoinders.

You wince. No matter how true his word were, they were acerbic.

Jubilee was like a baby to you.

You've gone through hell to make it transition from a tier 3 brand name to a decently esteemed firm. You've spent countless sleepless nights looking after it, skipped meals to tend to it's wounds.

Chagrined, you speak before your brain can process your words.

"I understand your concerns, Mr. Jeon. But Jubilee is more than just its current state. It's a testament to resilience, to the countless hours of dedication and hard work put in by its employees, including myself."

Your gaze meets his, vulnerability shining in your eyes.

"Yes, we may have faced setbacks, but we've also overcome them. I believe that adversity often presents the greatest opportunities for growth. I understand your reservations, Mr. Jeon, but I urge you to consider the untapped potential within Jubilee. With the right investments and guidance, I firmly believe that it has the potential to rise from its current situation and flourish once again."

A hush falls over the room.

Jeongguk's gaze remained unwavering, fixed on your face throughout your entire tirade.

"Consider me convinced, Miss. Y/N."

"S-Sir?"

"I guarantee. Jubilee's stock will be restored, funds will be augmented, and brand reputation will be unrivalled. The employees that will henceforth be inducted will be recruited by my personal hiring team."

You can barely hear the rest of his sentence, already thrumming with excitement. Your mind plotting all the ways you can get back at the naysayers.

The resurgence of Jubilee is inevitable, now that you have Jeongguk on board.

"But, you must understand Y/N, there are no free lunches in this world."

And just like that all your dreams come crashing down.

"Pardon, sir?"

Mr. Jeon gracefully rises from his chair, closing the proximity between the both of you as he leans on the front of the desk, positioned directly in front of you.

"I'll accede to all your demands, but I want a fair trade."

Mr. Jeon's words hang in the air. You had hoped for a smooth negotiation, where was this coming from?

"What kind of fair trade are you suggesting, Mr. Jeon?"

A knowing smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he meets your gaze.

"I'll provide my expertise, my resources, to ensure Jubilee's revival," he begins.

"But in return, I ask for something beyond the confines of business."

There is a tacit silence enveloping the room.

The implication of his suggestion is glaringly blatant.

Situations like these were rife in the corporate world. Pleasure in exchange for business gains was not unheard of.

What was however, unheard of, was an employee of Jubilee engaging in such lewd dalliances.

While they were definitely slacking and inept when it comes to work and strategies, Jubilee has maintained a pristine image of possessing the most morally sound employees.

You are caught in a mire.

On one hand, you are disgruntled that he thought you were so shallow that you'll take him up on an offer as promiscuous as that.

But on the other hand, you are convinced this is your only shot at reviving Jubilee. Jungkook's assets and team marshalled together will undoubtedly take Jubilee to unprecedented heights.

"We have a deal, Mr. Jeon."

..............................................................................................................................

"Jeongguk, stop please! Not now, I have to get ready for a meeting."

"I don't renege on my promises, baby girl." He hums, biting your lower lip as his hands fondle your clothed chest.

"And I expect the same from you, yeah?"

The past few months have been very conducive for Jubilee.

As expected, with Jeongguk's acumen & assistance, the company is practically thriving, now in a league comparable to the unicorns.

And it had to be. You've traded yourself for its prosperity after all.

"Fuck", the expletive rolls off your tongue as a strangled moan.

His palms knead the flesh as he grinds his hips on your clothed pussy.

"You're so pretty, my baby. Got me wrapped around your little finger like a hormonal fucking teenager."

He grunts in your ear as one of his hands find purchase on your hip, the other smoothly lifting your pencil skirt to stroke your thigh.

"Kook, I c-can't"

He is terse as he pants, "Yes, you can. You will do everything I ask you to, am I clear?"

"Y-Yeah"

"Good girl" He dotes.

Unbuttoning your top and latching his tongue onto your now bare nipple.

"Stop teasing Kook, touch me already. I'm so fuckin' wet"

He grins as he resumes his ministrations on your inner thigh, cheekily peering up at you from where he is stationed, between your breasts.

"Someone's needy."

You huff exasperated, placing a hand on his as you halt him.

"Fine, I'll just ask Taehyung for help. He won't deny me anyways."

All air escapes you as you're suddenly jerked, your bare back meeting the wall with a thud.

You open your eyes at the sudden movement.

Jeongguk's laborious breath is laden with ire.

Eyes closed. Jaw clenched.

His previous playful beam, nowhere to be found.

He takes in a deep breath before opening his eyes.

They're the darkest you've ever seen them. Pupils enlarged to an extent that his eyes appear pitch black.

You fucked up.

His hand comes up as he lightly chokes you, not enough to hurt you but enough to cause a pool of wetness dripping down your thighs in its wake.

"Say shit like that one more time and see me burn that fucker alive."

"You have the fucking audacity to even think of another man, when yours is right in front of you? Don't you fucking forget who you belong to Y/N. You're fucking mine. Body, Heart and Soul. You've sworn your loyalty to me. You've surrendered yourself to me completely the day I agreed to buy that shitty company of yours."

Your panties are completely drenched at this point and you're unsure if its because you're turned on or petrified of how vexed he has become by the mere thought of you with another man, even though you had said it in jest.

Without any preamble, his fingers prod at your entrance as he sinks them in. Your walls embracing him like second skin.

"Even your tight little pussy isn't yours anymore. It belongs to Jeon Jungkook.”

He slaps your pussy immediately after, as though proving his point.

“And I don't fucking share, so you better pray to any deity you worship that I don't fucking catch you masturbating or so help me god."

He fingers you passionately. Not stopping even after you plead him to.

"T-Too sensitive, K-Kook."

Unbuckling his belt, He pulls out his penis. It stands tall, proud and red with pre cum oozing out of the tip.

You grab him for stability as he pushes the tip in, letting your walls adjust and clamp before he brutally picks up his pace.

"Tell me who you belong to." He bellows.

Too out of it, you fail to form a coherent response.

THWACK.

He slaps your ass hard.

Once. Twice. Too many times to count.

"I-I'm yours Koo, only yours." you manage to say, eager to cajole him.

"Damn right you are." He hums, seemingly placated with your answer. Picking up his pace, he spits in your mouth, meshing his tongue with yours, while his fingers play with your clit.

You feel the familiar warmth below your cervix, as you groan,

"C-Cumming"

He gently pats your hair, kissing your earlobe.

"Let go, baby."

As you ride off your high, too blissful to pay attention to your surroundings, you don't notice the way Jeongguk's gaze darkens.

............................................................................................................................

Part: 1 of 2

“©© All rights reserved to @sunshine-and-kookies. No translations permitted without explicit authorization.”

[hyperlexichypatia]

The thing about "lack of third spaces in the U.S." that doesn't get mentioned enough is that it's not just "Capitalists and corporations bought up the commons, privatized public resources, and made people pay to access them."

That's a big part of it. But it's not the only part.

The other part is that middle-class people -- particularly middle-class white, abled people -- willingly forked over money to set up private spaces rather than share public spaces with people of color, disabled people, neurodivergent people, poor people, religious minorities, and other "undesirable" people.

When you look at any article or picture from some point in the 20th century about third spaces that are less common now, consider that depending on exactly where and when in the 20th century U.S. this was, people of color might have been banned from that space by either law or threat of violence or both (or, at minimum, made to feel unwelcome). Physically disabled people probably could not access those spaces (or were institutionalized or kept at home). Visibly non-passing neurodivergent people probably could not access those spaces, because they were institutionalized or kept at home. Two women kissing, a man in a dress, any type of visibly queer or gender nonconforming person would not have been tolerated in that space.

And my point is, these things are not unrelated. The decline of third spaces is not unrelated to civil rights gains.

I'm not saying "Stop talking about the good things of the mid-20th century, don't you know that era also had racism and sexism and ableism and queerphobia?"

I'm saying they're not unrelated -- it's not "This time period was better in some ways, like more third spaces, but worse in some ways, like more racism and ableism." It's "Those good things, those third spaces, those labor unions, those safe neighborhoods, that sense of community, relied upon the systemic exclusion of a dehumanized underclass, and as soon as any civil rights pressure was put on that systemic exclusion, the sense of community crumbled."

The pattern is clear and recurring: Privileged people build a public space for "the community", marginalized people start using it (sometimes after a court case or two), the public place gets a reputation for being "full of" marginalized people, privileged people build a private space they can exclude people from, privileged people abandon the public space, the public space gets neglected and deprioritized because "nobody (who matters) uses it anymore," the public place goes to shit from neglect and possibly closes, the private space gets expensive, privileged people lament the loss of the public space.

Privileged people killed public pools rather than share them with Black people. Mortally wounded public schools rather than share them with people of color and religious minorities. Are trying to kill public libraries rather than share them with queer people and unhoused people and neurodivergent people. Can't revive public transportation for fear of sitting next to poor people. It's white flight all the way down.

The whole "Social democracy is the left wing of fascism" claim is tankie ridiculousness, but like most tankie ridiculousness, there's an underlying grain of truth. In this case, the underlying grain of truth is that widespread support for public services is a much easier sell when people don't think they'll have to share resources or public space with people they consider inferior. It's not a coincidence that some of the countries that provide the highest quality of life for their abled citizens are some of the worst to noncitizens and disabled people.

And it's not like Weird Queer Left-Leaning Types have a great track record of sharing public space with people different from yourselves, either. Y'all can't be normal about someone wearing a yarmulke at Pride. Y'all can't be normal about adults playing board games with kids. There's no way you'd be okay with unsupervised, uncontrolled, unmedicated-by-choice schizophrenic people hanging out and talking to themselves. You cannot handle public third spaces.

Yes, blame corporations and advertisers for privatizing public spaces, but also blame the social prejudice that willingly forks over money to avoid sharing public space with Those People.

[jinjeriffic]

DPxDC and OOC

I've had a couple of posts cross my dash recently where people lament that a lot of the dpxdc fandom writes characters very OOC and how we're proliferating these characterizations among each other. I figured I'd add my own two cents.

I think the fundamental discrepancy comes from trying to reconcile two canons with vastly different tones.

Danny Phantom is a comedy superhero show operating on cartoon logic. Why do ghost experts Jack and Maddie never realize their own kid is a ghost? Why is the status quo restored at the end of every episode? Why does Danny shoot an ectoblast out of his butt that one time? Because it's funny. It's cartoony action fun where the plot is resolved in 22 minutes, there's never any lasting consequences and it's aimed at kids.

DC meanwhile wants to be taken Seriously. Heroes get beaten within an inch of their life, traumatized, killed and even the good guys do messed up things (often to each other). Yes there's action and puns, but also horrific violence, actions have consequences and it's (mostly) aimed at adults. When a main character dies the comics show their family and friends mourning and things are very dramatic. Even though at this point we, the audience can pretty much expect every death to be undone within 2-5 years of publishing, but I digress.

So how do we, the fanfic/fanart creators reconcile these differences when we make our crossovers? We either make DP more serious and somber, or we make DC more comedic.

Suddenly we have a DP verse where the Fentons' bumbling obliviousness is elevated to serious neglect or outright abuse. The GiW are no longer a minor annoyance, they are a serious threat with genocidal plans and a desire to vivisect the protagonist. When actions have consequences, we imagine Danny as dealing with serious PTSD from having to be a solo superhero and witnessing his family's death that one time (and maybe also getting vivisected). Danny is not just a teen superhero, he's now the Ghost King with serious responsibility on his shoulders.

On the flipside, if we make DC more comedic we tend to exaggerate character traits for comedic effect, focus more on the interpersonal dynamics (especially the Batfam) and have the characters act more casual and silly. Suddenly the Batfam goes from a group of seriously messed up individuals who have trouble communicating with each other and fight all the time to Batdad "Kids if you don't stop killing criminals you won't get dessert ffs" Bruce. Violence is played for laughs instead of taken seriously. Yeah they fight, but they still Love Each Other.

And THIS IS PERFECTLY FINE. It's transformative work! And trying to reconcile these disparate fandoms is hard! Fandom is a labor of love. We do it for free. We do it for our own entertainment. And no one is forcing you to read fics you don't like. DLDR and all that.

[baronessvonglitter]

Like a Good Girl Should

mom's sleazy bf!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: 2.7K

Summary: Your mom's sleazy new boyfriend Joel Miller is the last person you'd ever want to be alone with.. so how did you end up on his lap getting punished?

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, sleazy!Joel, dominant!Joel, using panties for masturbation, mention of dad in prison & brief prison r@pe joke, slut shaming reader's mom, mild violence, dubious consent (at first), spanking, thigh spanking, pussy spanking, rough fingering, threat of fisting, squirting, masturbation, ejaculation on body, no use of y/n, pet names ('daddy' and 'sir' for Joel; little girl, baby girl, darlin', sweetheart for reader), no specific age for Joel mentioned but there's still an age gap as reader is in college. (If I've forgotten any, please let me know!)

Author's Note: AKA I've got a hankerin' for some spankerin'!

I've had this fic on my mind for a week and now it's finally out. I tried to make Joel as sleazy as I could without being a total nightmare. Thanks to everyone who showed interest when it was a seedling of an idea. I'm honestly looking forward to writing whatever my next kink hyperfixation will be!

JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

divider by @saradika-graphics👑

You fucking hate Joel Miller.

He's the asshole who moved in a few months ago.

With your dad in prison, your mom lamented the loss of a man around the house, until one night she brought Joel home with her after meeting him at a sleazy beer joint. And he never left.

He's offensive in every way: he doesn't pick up after himself, doesn't help out with the chores, drinks milk straight from the carton, and walks around in the morning in nothing but his briefs, proudly showing off his god damn morning wood.

Not that you've looked..

And every night it's the same hectic squeaking of your mom's bedsprings, the same quick, loud shrieks followed by moans that crescendo in pitch until it all falls silent, only to start up again fifteen minutes later.

Not that you listen.

He makes no secret about ogling you, making suggestive comments on your clothing (or lack thereof). You count the days until you have enough saved up to move out while you're still attending junior college.

When your mom's working the late shift at the diner down the road, you do some cleaning up while Joel sits on his ass watching some stupid 80s action movie. You gather your clothes and put them in the washer, one by one, making sure the right things are inside out, and that pant legs aren't twisted up.

You find your favorite pair of panties, hot pink silk, the first nice pair of panties you purchased yourself at a fancy lingerie store. Horror makes your stomach sink when you look closer at the crotch of the panties, seeing a glob of what you're one hundred percent sure is cum.

Joel.

You confront him about it and he doesn't even bother to deny it. He simply kicks back on the sofa (fully clothed for once) and tells you you should take it as a compliment.

You should take him jacking off into your favorite pair of panties.. as a compliment.

Seeing red, you tell him to fuck off, to get out, that you'll tell your mom what he's been doing, but he gets up and towers over you, backing you to the wall.

"You ain't gonna do shit, little girl."

"Try me," you dare him.

The look on his face makes you wonder if he'd rather kill you or devour you on the spot.

"Get the fuck out," you whisper, eyes blazing with fury.

"Listen, little girl, and listen good: I'm here whether you like it or not, so get used to it. As long as your mama wants a piece of this," he cups his crotch as you look away in disgust. "Then I'm stayin'. And as long as I'm stayin', it's my rules that run this place, you hear?"

"You can't tell me what to do!" You shout back indignantly.

He scoffs as you say that, irritation flaring at your defiant tone. He shakes his head, continuing to glare at you. "Oh, yes I can, darlin'. As long as you're livin' under my damn roof, I can tell you to do whatever I want you to do, whenever I damn well please."

"This isn't your fucking house!"

"I'm the only man here, ain't I?"

"Then I'm moving out!"

"No you're not! Don'tcha even think about it!"

"You gonna stop me?"

He lets out a dangerous rumble as you challenge him, his eyes narrowing, practically daring you to push him. "Try it and see what happens."

In your room you grab a duffel bag and cram some clothes and necessary items in there. Already Joel is storming into the hall, his boots loud against the wooden floor.

"You gotta be kiddin' me," he shakes his head.

"Told you I'm leaving. Don't know why you won't believe me."

"Where ya goin'? To that lil' drug dealer boyfriend of yours?" he sneers.

"So what if I am?"

"The hell you will. If you let him anywhere near you, I'm breakin' his damn legs."

His eyes go wide as you storm past him and head for the front door. His hand shoots out and grabs your arm before you can get too far. "Oh, no, ya don't," he growls, grabbing and jerking you back toward him. He grips your upper arm tightly as he spins you around to face him.

"Let me go!"

He scowls, keeping you in place in front of him. "No, I'm not lettin' you go, darlin'. Not until you quit bein' a brat and calm the hell down."

"Don't call me a brat!"

He grins at this. "Then stop actin' like one. You've been runnin' your mouth ever since I came here, and now you're makin' threats ya can't follow through on and bein' an uptight little bitch."

"Go to hell!" You spit at him, a glob of your saliva lands on his cheek and he wipes it off with his fingers, putting them them in his mouth to suck it off. You watch with mild disgust even as you're a little turned on.

"Oh, I should put you over my damn knee and tan that sassy little ass of yours until you behave yourself, darlin'."

You cross your arms. "You don't have the balls!"

A smirk crosses his face. "You can see for yourself, darlin'." He cups his crotch, drawing your eyes to him even though you don't want to.

"You really think I'm not gonna put ya over my knee and paddle that cute little ass 'til it's raw?"

"You wouldn't!"

A smirk creeps over his face at the uncertainty in your voice, his hand moves down to your hip, fingers digging in the flesh. Your breath catches in your throat as you feel your panties dampen.

"Nah, you're pussy's speakin' for ya. I can see it already, you soakin' up those lil' shorts of yours."

You're too turned on to risk speaking, struggling against him because it's the only way you can fight back, prove him wrong.

"There's no escape from daddy, darlin', You're stuck. And you're gonna be punished until ya behave yourself."

You growl, "You're not my fuckin' daddy!"

He grins at you, grabs a handful of your hair, yanking it brutally to force you to look up at him. "That's right. Your daddy's in prison, probably gettin' passed around like the little bitch he is. I'm your daddy, darlin', and don'tcha forget it. I'm the one protectin' you, takin' care of you, and now daddy's gonna put you in your place."

He jerks you towards the sofa, pulling you over his lap so your ass is squarely on his thighs, your top half pressed into the sofa cushions at an awkward angle, holding yourself up on your forearms so you can breathe, watching helplessly as he pulls down your shorts and panties in one go, leaving your ass bare to him. He drops your clothes to the floor. The way your positioned he can also see your pussy lips, swollen with excitement.

One arm on your back holds you down, the other trails its fingertips across your smooth, supple skin, giving you goosebumps, causing your cunt to clench, much to your horror.

"You've been very naughty today, darlin', haven't you?" he prefaces your punishment, giving your ass a light swat to punctuate his words.

You're too stunned to move or speak.

He runs his large, rough hand over your ass, squeezing one of your cheeks as he looks down at you, his voice low and stern: "Answer me, baby girl. You know you're supposed to answer your daddy when he asks a question." He gives your ass a sharper smack, the sound of his hand on your flesh reverberating in the room, shameful to your ears.

You give a sharp gasp. "Yes! I was being naughty!"

"That's right. You were bein' a bad girl, a sassy little brat who keeps gettin' smart with daddy." He rubs his hand over your ass, then gives it a few little swats, each one harder than the last, building up a stinging heat on your flesh.

You squirm under each spanking, seeking friction for your aching clit.

"Stay. Still," he orders in a growl.

"Daddy, it aches," you whine, not talking about the spankings. There's a wetness growing between your thighs, glistening, catching Joel's attention like a raven sighting something shiny in the grass. He growls, his touch hovering over your folds, not yet ready to give in to your needs.

"I know it aches, baby girl. But it's supposed to. It's your punishment for being a naughty little brat." He doesn't allow himself to focus on it, his hand grabbing your thigh instead. "Open your legs wider," he commands when you try to squeeze them together to get some relief.

Your scent rouses him when you open your legs just a little. He forces them apart and slaps the insides of your thighs, his dick getting harder when you cry out from sensitivity.

"Does that hurt, baby girl?" his voice is mockingly gentle as he runs his calloused fingers over your inflamed skin. When you nod instead of giving a vocal answer he slaps another palm against your already-stinging skin. "Answer me," he warns.

"Y-yes.." you reply, trying like hell to close your legs, but he keeps you down, keeps them forced apart just enough. "Fuck.." you mutter, eyes closed as more of your desire drips out of you, running down your thighs to his jean-covered lap.

He feels your excitement, the warmth you give off, feels your slick dripping out of you like sap from a tree. He knows if he slides inside you right now you'd be hot, wet, accommodating his fingers, his tongue, his cock, whatever else he wants to put in your little fuckhole. But he has control. He waits you out.

"What was that?" he snaps, giving you another spank, slightly harder than before. "Did you just curse at me, baby girl? I don't think I'm gonna go easy on you if you're gonna keep usin' that filthy mouth for that kinda language."

The dark, damp spot you created on his jeans grows, as does his enjoyment. He's hard as a rock, wishing you were placed just so so that you can feel it. He imagines you rubbing your needy unclothed cunt across the crotch of his jeans, satisfying yourself on just his clothed cock.

"Are you enjoyin' your punishment?" He mocks you once again, lightly brushing his knuckles across your puffy, drooling pussy lips, smirking when you whimper and shiver, trying to lift your hips to his touch. "Shh.. you don't get to be greedy right now, sweetheart. This is daddy's time to teach you a lesson. You're gonna be a good girl and let me teach you that lesson, aren't you?"

"Yes, daddy," you whine. Your entire body is aflame with need, brimming over with desperation. You'll do anything he wants, suck his cock, take his dick in whichever hole he pleases, so long as your frustration is released, so long as you get to come.

"That's more like it," he praises, his hand moving across your sore buttocks, softly touching before landing another stinging slap. "Good girls listen to daddy, and good girls take their punishments without complainin' and cryin'. They just take it, like a good girl should."

The need for friction, your pussy left wanting and vulnerable, brings you to tears, despite his warning not to cry, "Wanna.. be good for daddy."

"I don't know if you can be good.. don't know if it's in your nature. Got a felon for a father and a whore for a mother. I think you're just plain bad.. might need to stay on my lap for a long time." He lands a slap, watching your ass jiggle with the force of it.

"Please," you whine.

"Aw, what's wrong, darlin'? You seem like somethin's botherin' you." Two more slaps, one on each ass cheek before he grabs one at a time, squeezing hard on the flesh, relishing the heat radiating from your skin, and spanking them again. "How's your ass feel, sweetheart? All warm and tender and sore?" He soothes you with his hand.

"Yes.. yes, sir."

He chuckles lowly. "Daddy likes it when you call him 'sir'. You get points for that, baby girl. Now answer my question."

Question..question.. Every time he speaks, his actions override it, but he did ask how you were feeling, if you were sore. "Yes. But I still ache.. inside."

His cock twitches in his jeans and he adjusts himself beneath you. "Still achin' inside, huh? Need some relief? Need daddy to help you out?"

"Yes, daddy." Your fingers grip the couch cushion.

He gives your hair another tug, yanking your head back, forcing you to look up at him. "What did I tell you just now about callin' me 'sir'?"

Your eyes meet his and you swallow, but your mouth refills with saliva. Your mouth is as wet as your cunt, hoping he'll fill one or the other. Preferably both. "Yes, sir, daddy.. please.. help me."

"You're so sweet when you ask so nicely, beggin' me to take care of you." He lets go of your hair, his hand caressing your lower back and ass in a gentle, soothing way.

"But I ain't gonna fuck ya. You're not my type."

What you get instead is another spanking, then another, and another, until your ass feels raw, until it's nearly numb, then Joel presses two fingers deep inside, cramming you with his thick digits. Gasping a shuddering breath, you push back on him, only for him to take them away, spreading your wetness on your backside.

"You're just like your mom.. needy as a feral cat. Can't ever get enough," he grumbles, giving you another smack before inserting his fingers again, spreading your thighs wide as he shoves them in and out, smiling when he hears your cries of pleasure, the way you squeeze around him as if to keep him there. If it was his dick in there he'd have cum already, you're so snug and wet around him.

He removes his fingers again when he feels you close to the edge and your frustrated groan brings a smile to his face.

"Please, daddy.. sir.. Joel.." Whatever he wants you to call him. "Please don't stop!"

"You're gonna have to be quiet or I'm gonna stick my whole hand in this lil' pussy, stretch it out so nothin' else will ever fit."

You're shivering, your body on edge for his touch, and the fucker knows it. And you know he'll make good on his threat. You force yourself to be quiet, only the smallest whimpers escaping your lips once his fingers slide into you again, this time adding a third finger, unable to help it when you moan, "Oh, god, daddy!"

This time he doesn't pull away, keeping his fingers in a steady thrust inside you, using his free hand to slap your ass, mixing the pleasure with the pain. He parts your thighs further, lifting your hips to smack your pussy, grinning when you jolt forward, crying out, not allowing you to close your legs when you get overstimulated, continuing to land slaps upon your sensitive flesh until you whimper another please, daddy.

He mutters something unintelligible, bringing his fingers back to your soaked cunt, your juices creating an even bigger stain on his jeans. Pumping his fingers in and out, he scratches that itch, finds that spongy tissue inside that drives every woman crazy, and he rubs against it, watching you writhe, listening to your ragged gasps and desperate pleas until you squirt, your fluid dousing his hand and his lap until you beg him to stop when you become oversensitive.

He could continue, he could give you more, go all night, but he doesn't have as much patience as he used to. Positioning himself behind your sprawled out figure on the sofa, he takes himself from his jeans and strokes his length urgently, spilling his cum on your still-quivering ass and your drenched cunt.

Satisfied, he smears his cum all over you with his dick while it's still half-hard.

"Ain't that pretty," he comments. "Now, you ain't tellin' your mama nothin', and we can come to some kind of agreement that benefits us both.. right, my good girl?"

Exhausted, empty, you nod. "Yes, daddy."

tag list 💕: @survivingandenduring @evolnoomym @mountainsandmayhem @pedroswife69 @wannab-urs @lunamothgoth @inept-the-magnificent @karaslqve

[ms-demeanor]

So I've been seeing some discourse around the No Fly List leak that looks a bit like "hey everybody, we can't make jokes about this, the list is racist and there are children on the list" or "if you're talking about identity categories instead of the list you're missing the point" and I think that we CAN make jokes about a trans bi lesbian catgirl owning the US government while also appreciating the gravity of the No Fly List but what I think is troubling to me is the way that these discourse posts are treating the blatant racism and inherently fascist nature of the No Fly List as news.

It is news that Maia Arson Crimew was able to download a copy of the No Fly List from an unsecured public server.

It is not news that there are 1.5 million people on that list, many of whom do not belong on it for any number of reasons, and it is not news that there are children on that list, and it is not news that the list is a tool used to deprive people of their civil liberties. That's why the list exists.

I'm aware that I'm getting older. I'm aware that there are entire adults of legal drinking age who were born after 9/11. I'm aware that it's not super common to follow up on foreign policy or national security debacles from when you were in kindergarten, but there are people who have been mad about this shit for twenty years and if you're just now hearing about how bad the list is for the first time, hell, maybe that's on us and we haven't been yelling enough (though when I'm yelling about how the TSA is security theater meant to make us accept encroachments on our rights, this is at least a part of what I'm yelling about).

The No Fly List is a list of individuals maintained by the TSA who are deemed a threat to security for some reason or another.

The TSA maintains the list, though they are given information for the list from the FBI, Terrorism Screening Center, and other entities. If you'd like to click this document, you can find 250 pages of FOIA'd documents about the No Fly List pre 2006. Much of this document is members of the FBI trying to justify why they need a copy of the list and lamenting that airlines have a copy of the list and they don't. This is very funny.

There have been issues with mis-identifications and false positives for the list for as long as the list has existed. You can click here to read through an infuriating 200 pages about a Pfizer employee who was stopped at least a dozen times at airports and who retained a law firm to hound the TSA/CBP/ICE clusterfuck of interagency buck-passing for nine months to try to get the problem resolved. One of the three documents at this link includes a complaint from the president of the Terrorist Screening Center lamenting the way that the TSA would refer obvious non-matches to be detained, including infants and the elderly.

At this point, the FBI/TSA/TSC/ICE/CBP claimed list was still relatively small, in the low thousands at most.

However a 2009 cost-benefit report by the Defense Technical Information Center found that in 2004-2005 30,000 people contacted the TSA to have their names removed from the list; 30k false positives suggests a list somewhat longer than a thousand names.

As long as the No Fly List has existed, criteria for being placed on the list has been subjective and selectively enforced.

As the Crimew leak shows, there isn't a tremendous amount of biographical data, but there are hundreds of thousands of names and it is enforced at the discretion of the TSA in each individual airport in the US, which is how you end up with duplicates and toddlers and 100-year-old men on what is functionally a filter to keep Muslim people out of the US.

The list has expanded every year that it has existed, and has been defended by republicans and democrats alike since it became one of the tools in our arsenal to fight "the war on terror"

And for just about that long, people have been talking about how it is unconstitutional, denies civil liberties, and also just doesn't really work.

It has never been transparent, it has always been a tool of surveillance, exclusion, and control:

And people have been documenting, protesting, and suing over the islamophobic nature of the list - and the security state's weaponization of the list as a threat - for two decades at this point because in the earliest days of the No Fly List it was OPENLY ACKNOWLEDGED that it was based on racial profiling and people made (shitty, cruel) legal arguments for why it should be:

THIS isn't funny. These are not the things that people are joking about when they choose to stay silly :3 in this conversation.

But these things also aren't news. Nearly everything I screencapped here was listed as a source on Wikipedia, and what wasn't was available as simple searches on Archive.Org or easily looked up on news websites.

All you have to do is just *look* at the sources on Wikipedia to see that people actually have been talking about it for quite a long time, very publicly, and that there has been a lot of public outcry about the list as it balloons and punishes innocent people with false positives:

And when you've been looking at stories like these for twenty fucking years it feels wonderful to say "holy fucking bingle" and celebrate that for once someone did something VERY COOL in order to shine a light on this massive (and apparently underappreciated problem).

[ninibeingdelulu]

Crawling back to you

synopsis-> His new concubine start to slowly become an obsession for him

The dimly lit chamber is thick with the heady aroma of sandalwood and smoldering embers casting their flickering amber glows across ornately gilded walls.

You kneel demurely before the towering entity that is the indominable King of Curses with a tray of succulent fruits balanced precariously in your lap.

Despite the dozens of lithe, scantily-clad courtesans draped across plush cushions surrounding Sukuna's imposing throne, not a single one possesses the capability to enrapture his full, unadulterated interest like you.

He attempts schooling his expression into one of practiced aloofness yet finds his scrutiny involuntarily drinking you in from the corner of his periphery.

The modest way loose tendrils of obsidian tresses fall around your delicately sculpted features...How those full lips part just enough to reveal a glimpse of glistening teeth worrying your lower pout while plucking a ripe persimmon free...

Even the flutter of those thick, sooty lashes framing those eyes as you peek up through them with an achingly sweet naivete.

Something viscerally primal stirs low in Sukuna's abdomen each instance your gazes accidentally lock - simultaneously thrilling yet inexplicably vexing him to the core.

He shouldn't find any fascination or particular novelty in your obvious purity and fragility, should he? After all, you pose no formidable threat to one who has mercilessly throttled nations with nary a conscious thought.

Yet he cannot prevent those four obsidian-tipped limbs from imperceptibly tightening with the overwhelming compulsion to simply...take you right there.

To lash out and possess every scant inch until the searing brand of his essence remains molten and permanently etched into your very marrow.

Maybe then you'd no longer exude such blinding radiance capable of rooting him in place like some pathetic, feeble-willed human wretch.

Every sinew instinctively coils rigid when your delicate fingertips drift upwards to present that glistening persimmon temptingly close.

Except your feather-light caress doesn't retreat once his lips part to accept your offering.

Instead, the pad of your thumb ghosts across his bottom lip with a tenderness and reverence he finds utterly transfixing.

And just like that, the last thread of rigid control over his carnal urges combusts instantaneously.

Sukuna's vision fractures into a million shards of ruby as your hopelessly innocent proximity suddenly consumes his restraint whole.

"Get out..." The abdominal maw snarls in a guttural rasp now utterly stripped of his usual controlled veneer.

Every talon-like fingernail hollows razor-deep grooves into the armrests flanking his throne when you instinctively flinch back with those dewy irises rounded in terror.

"Now."

The massive chamber remains utterly frozen until you scramble backwards on hands and knees finally fleeing his presence.

Only then does Sukuna finally permit himself to surrender - lifting a single beckoning digit to numbly brush across the very spot your captive touch seared straight through his exterior not a moment prior.

What sacrilegious witchcraft have you entangled him within?

This unfathomable compulsion to simultaneously profane and protect?

He's the almighty King of Curses - feared and reviled across every realm. Yet a solitary brush of your chaste fingertips against his mouth threatens to dismantle every staunch defense he's meticulously crafted over centuries of brutality and indiscriminate annihilation...

Head bowing forward until his pallid death mask cracks in a bitter sneer, Sukuna releases a blustering huff of mirthless derision directed solely at his own lamentable weakness.

Loathing how you've wormed your way beneath his armor so effortlessly with scarcely any intent whatsoever.

He vows to purge this infuriatingly inexplicable yearning to possess your radiance before it blossoms into something...darker. Something treacherous...

For both your sakes...

[fandoms-x-reader]

Dancing with Devils

Requested By: @midnightskyeneko

Word Count: 3,856

Summary: While everyone is gone, you put on some music to clean the House of Lamentation and the characters catch you dancing/singing. The Demon Brothers + The Dateables (Diavolo, Barbatos, Simeon, and Solomon)

You rarely had the opportunity to have the House of Lamentation to yourself. Usually, at least one or more of the brothers were there, desperately trying to gain your attention. 

Today, though, everyone had plans. Lucifer had something to take care of at RAD and was the first to leave this morning.

Mammon had a photo shoot and you vaguely recalled him sprinting out of the house this morning, shouting something about oversleeping.

Levi was going to a fan convention today and left the house stocked up with anything and everything he could think of to bring.

Satan had been asked to speak at a highly esteemed book club. He even practiced what he was going to say there on you to make sure it sounded educated.

Asmo had planned a long day at the spa. Massage, facial, mani/pedi. He was planning on doing it all and you were sure you wouldn’t see him until tomorrow.

There was a big Fangol game coming up so Beel wanted to hit the gym and get some extra training in to make sure he was in perfect shape for it.

Unfortunately for Belphie, Beel had begged him to go with him to the gym. He needed a spotter and as much as Belphie wanted to sleep, he couldn’t say no when his twin asked him so desperately.

So it was a quiet day in the House of Lamentation for you. And as much as you wanted to take the day and do whatever you wanted, you had some chores to get done first.

The more you looked around the house though, the more you saw how neglected it was. Dust coating bookshelves, crumbs on the table from meals, the brothers’ clothes strewn about. Barbatos would be livid.

You remembered one time when Barbatos came over and found a rat in the House of Lamentation. He was so furious that day and the threats he made sent a shiver down your spine. He swore if he ever found one again he would burn down the house.

You quickly moved to your room and grabbed the speaker that Levi had gifted you. You turned on some music and decided that you would spend the day cleaning. The house gravely needed it. 

At first, the music was mere background noise to keep you motivated to continue the task at hand. But, the more cleaning you got done, the more you had fun with the music.

Eventually, you started singing and dancing to the music. You were shameless in your performance as you cleaned because you knew the house was empty.

Lucifer had come home from RAD with his arms full of paperwork. He had a lot to do and intended to start on it as soon as he got back to the House of Lamentation.

But, the second he stepped inside the house, he was distracted by your figure bounding around the living room while you sang and danced to the music that was playing.

Lucifer was taken aback at first, but soon a smile was breaking out across his lips as he watched you. You looked so happy.

At some point, Lucifer had set down his paperwork in favor of paying you all of his attention. He could catch up later.

You finished dusting off the last bookshelf in the living room just as the song had ended and you let out a gasp as you heard someone clapping behind you.

A deep blush coated your cheeks as you came face to face with Lucifer who was smirking at you.

“That was quite the performance,” Lucifer stated, taking a few steps closer to you. A slow song had started playing on the speaker now, but your music was long forgotten - replaced by your embarrassment.

Lucifer stopped in front of you and held his hand out toward you. You looked up at him in surprise before placing your hand in his.

Lucifer pulled you close to him, his hand resting on your back as you placed your hand on his shoulder.

He smiled down at you as the two of you began waltzing around the room and you let out a small chuckle as he spun you around before bringing you back into his arms.

You laid your head on his chest as the song began to come to a close and Lucifer’s arms only tightened around you.

“My brothers can finish cleaning,” Lucifer stated, not ready to let you go. He wanted to spend the rest of the night with you and you knew how Lucifer was when it came to something he wanted. He was hardly ever defied. 

By the time Mammon had gotten back to the House of Lamentation, he was tired and wanted nothing more than to see his human.

It didn’t matter if he had been dragged through the nine circles of Hell, you always found a way to make him feel better and more energized.

But he was not expecting to find you in the way he did when he entered the dorm. 

You had no idea he was there, singing and dancing to your heart’s content. And Mammon was biting his lip to keep from laughing.

The music covered up any noises that he did make, allowing him to remain a secret bystander.

You were doing the most ridiculous dance moves and Mammon was loving every second of it.

You turned around to face a new direction when you and Mammon suddenly made eye contact. You immediately froze in your spot, your eyes wide and blushing furiously as Mammon finally let out the laughter he had been containing.

Well - there was no going back from this now. He had already seen your dance moves and he was going to tease you no matter what you did. So, you might as well finish enjoying the moment.

You motioned for Mammon to join you and now he was the one blushing. He refused at first until you gently grabbed his hands, pulling him into the middle of the room.

Mammon avoided your gaze as he scratched the back of his neck nervously. He took another moment to contemplate his decision before breaking out into his own set of dance moves.

They were equally as ridiculous as yours were and it instantly made you forget about your embarrassment as you both broke into loud laughter, continuing to dance with each other.

Lucifer came home during your and Mammon’s concert performance and was torn between laughing at the scene and questioning why that was his brother.

Levi had spent a lot of time at the convention, so he was expecting everyone to be home when he got back.

Imagine his surprise when instead of being met with his brothers, he was met with the sound of music playing loudly somewhere in the House of Lamentation.

Normally, the first thing Levi wanted to do when he got home was go straight to his room. But unfortunately for him, his curiosity was too strong and he found himself wandering towards the noise.

That’s when he found you singing and twirling as you cleaned the house. Levi let out a small gasp as he was torn between covering his eyes and watching you.

He felt like this was something that wasn’t meant for his eyes but he also couldn’t look away.

When you finally noticed his presence, you weren’t sure if you were more embarrassed or if he was as you both began blushing.

You were stuck in a stalemate trying to figure out who would be the first to move when suddenly a song from one of Levi’s favorite animes came on.

You could see the excitement in his eyes when the music came on and you encouraged him to dance with you.

He couldn’t - it would be way too embarrassing. But, then again, there was no one else home and he had already seen you dance. If you decided to say something to one of his brothers, he could turn it around on you.

You had somehow managed to convince him to dance with you and Levi had stolen the show. 

Never doubt an otaku’s dancing skills.

Satan came home in a good mood. His speech at the book club had gone very well and the first thing he wanted to do when he came home was to come find you and thank you for your help.

If it wasn’t for you, he wouldn’t have been as confident going into that meeting.

He heard music coming from the library and immediately went to the room to find you prancing around as you picked up miscellaneous books and placed them in their rightful place on the shelf. 

You held a duster in your hand so you could dust off the shelves as well and you sometimes used it as a microphone, to which Satan couldn’t help but chuckle.

Normally, a library was meant to be a quiet place, but Satan was grateful that today was an exception.

You climbed a small ladder to reach the top of one of the shelves, your hips swaying to the music and Satan couldn’t help but stare at you with admiration.

As the song came to an end, you felt a presence to your left and slowly turned to look. 

Seeing Satan standing there made you jump and lose your grip on the ladder. You braced for impact but you were only met with Satan’s arms as he caught you.

He gently set you down on the ground and you avoided his gaze as your cheeks were bright red. Not only had Satan caught you singing and dancing, but you also just fell in front of him. Your embarrassment was at its peak right now.

Noticing your discomfort, Satan gently grabbed your hand before spinning you around. You bit back a smile as you came back around to face Satan who was watching you with excited eyes.

The two of you fell into an easy dance and you soon forgot about your embarrassment from being caught dancing. 

After the dance, Satan led you to the couch in the library and pulled you into his lap, pulling out a book. 

As much as he loved watching you move around, now he just wants to hold you in his arms. 

He hoped you couldn’t hear how loud his heart was beating while you were sitting on his lap.

Asmodeus had come home feeling very relaxed after his trip to the spa. He only wished that you had been there with him.

When he got home and saw you dancing and singing, Asmo immediately started smiling.

He would be the quickest out of everyone to join you in your performance. 

He came up behind you and gently wrapped his arms around you, making you tense up slightly until you realized who it was.

“Oh - I didn’t realize you were home,” you admitted a bit sheepishly, slightly embarrassed as Asmo pulled out of the hug.

Asmo smiled as he took your hand and began dancing with you around the room. He tried to show you some dance moves from the Devildom while you showed him some from the human world.

You were both enjoying the closeness of the encounter and Asmo never made you feel embarrassed for dancing in front of him.

He also noticed how spotless the House of Lamentation looked and as the two of you began to wind down, he immediately suggested giving you your own personal spa day for all your hard work.

He spent the rest of the night pampering you and making sure to pay extra attention to your hands and feet since you had been cleaning for so long. 

Asmo can’t help the smile that rests on his face as he thinks about the two of you dancing together in perfect rhythm. Like the two of you were made for each other!

Next time though, he’ll suggest the two of you try a dance you didn’t get to do  - the horizontal tango.

Beel had just finished his long training session and he was starving. 

There was only one thing on his mind when he got home - food.

He immediately went to the kitchen to most likely eat everything inside of it. But he stopped when he saw you there.

He watched as you moved around as if you didn’t have a care in the world, and he couldn’t help but enjoy seeing this side of you. 

The thought of food had temporarily escaped Beel’s mind as he felt entranced by you.

But even though his mind wasn’t focused on his current problem, his body didn’t forget the pain it was in. 

A loud growl suddenly erupted from his stomach and you let out a small, startled shout as you turned to face the source of the noise.

You had a hand on your heart as you and Beel made eye contact and he looked down at the floor abashedly knowing he had been caught staring.

“You don’t have to stop,” Beel told you, silently hoping that you would continue. He was enjoying watching you dance around like you were having the time of your life.

You gave Beel a small smile, knowing that he would never judge you or make fun of you. 

You pulled a snack out of the fridge and handed it to Beel before continuing what you were doing.

Beel happily ate his food as he enjoyed the performance, occasionally offering you his hand to twirl you around before returning to his snack.

Once he was done eating, he offered to help you clean the kitchen and you noticed him moving the slightest bit to the music as he did so.

As soon as the kitchen was clean, Beel wanted to spend more time with you doing other things.

Belphie had gone to the gym with Beel out of twin obligation. But, it didn’t take long for Belphie to get tired and want to go home. 

He really did his best to try and help Beel with his workout. But - surely at this point his brother wouldn’t notice if he slipped out of the gym and went home right?

Belphie decided it would be worth the risk and managed to complete his plan. He immediately went home, hoping you would be there so that he could take you to the attic for a nap.

To his surprise, you were already in the attic when he got home, but you were far from ready for a nap. You were bustling with energy as you moved around the room singing and dancing.

You didn’t notice that Belphie had entered the room and you didn’t notice that he had made his way to the bed in the attic, his eyes glued to you the entire time.

Belphie didn’t want to ruin the show, so he simply laid down, thinking this would be a good view to fall asleep to. It would definitely give him good dreams.

Except he couldn’t bring himself to actually fall asleep. He was too enticed by you to close his eyes. He didn’t want to miss a single moment of your dancing and singing.

You let out a small shout when you turned around and saw Belphie lying on the bed, lazily smiling at you.

You immediately paused the music as your cheeks began to turn red.

“Belphie…I didn’t know you were back,” you told him, shuffling awkwardly next to the bed.

“You’re a good dancer,” Belphie replied with a small smirk, only adding to your embarrassment.

He pulled you into the bed with him and immediately laid on top of you before asking, “Do you have any other moves you want to show me?”

You had decided Belphie was determined to try and kill you…again.

Diavolo had come to the House of Lamentation in search of Lucifer. He had knocked politely on the front door, but when no one came to answer it, he got a bit worried.

He heard music playing from inside the house and decided to enter. Lucifer wouldn’t mind if he entered the house if no one had greeted him.

And, if something had happened then it was his responsibility as the future demon king to try and help.

His worries were immediately dispelled though when he saw you dancing around the house as you joyfully cleaned.

A large smile spread across Diavolo’s lips as he watched you, completely entertained by you.

He wondered how a human managed to gain such a strong hold over his heart.

When you noticed Diavolo standing there, you were immediately blushing. You had just embarrassed yourself in front of royalty.

“Diavolo - sorry, I didn’t see you there,” you stated, turning the music down just a bit.

“Apologies - I didn’t mean to intrude. No one answered the door and I was worried,” Diavolo replied.

“Oh, I must not have heard it. Everyone else is gone right now,” you responded and an idea lit up Diavolo’s eyes.

He graciously took your hand in his and pulled you to him. “If no one else is here, then we’ll just have to have some fun of our own,” he told you with a charming smile before moving around the room with you.

Once the initial shock had passed, you found it easy to dance with Diavolo and the moment had turned into an intimate one as you locked eyes with each other.

But then Lucifer came home and interrupted, confused as to what was happening. Did he have a meeting with Lord Diavolo that he somehow missed?

Diavolo was disappointed that the moment was ruined, but he was determined to dance with you again.

Don’t ask questions when he throws an impromptu ball a few days later.

Barbatos had been sent to the House of Lamentation on Diavolo’s orders. 

To be honest, since that incident with the rat, Barbatos dreaded coming to the house. But he would never refuse his Lord’s request. 

He could tell something was different immediately upon entry to the house. He couldn’t see any dirt or anything that had been misplaced. And it smelled strangely good. Not like food but something else.

Barbatos followed the sound of the music that he heard and all of his questions had been answered when he saw you doing a mix of cleaning and dancing.

Part of him was a bit angry that you were doing all of the cleaning yourself. Couldn’t the brothers at least be bothered to help? Most of it was their mess after all.

You let out a small gasp as Barbatos made his presence known. His intention wasn’t to embarrass you but rather to help you clean. He is the best at it and he couldn’t stand the idea of you doing everything on your own. 

You were grateful for the help and the fact that he hadn’t mentioned the dancing. 

Even though he didn’t bring it up, Barbatos was replaying your moves in his head. He couldn’t help but cherish the memory as he was the only one there to witness it.

He does attempt to get you to dance and sing some more while he’s there. So he takes the first step by gently moving to the music while he cleans.

You didn’t understand how he could look so perfect doing both tasks at once.

When the two of you made eye contact, you understood the want behind Barbatos’ eyes and soon you joined in with him.

This would be your guys’ little secret.   

Simeon was graceful in everything he did. Maybe it was a perk of being an angel - or maybe it was because Simeon was just that perfect.

Either way, one of those things he was graceful at was dancing. Though he didn’t do it too often. Mostly because he rarely had the opportunity to do so.

Simeon had come by the House of Lamentation to ask you a question, and he was so glad that he chose this exact moment to come by.

He watched you with pure love and admiration as you danced around the house. He wondered if you knew how graceful you looked.

Simeon wasn’t afraid to join you and gently grabbed your hand, catching your attention.

You didn’t have time to feel embarrassed as Simeon carefully took you into his arms and started dancing around the room with you.

He noted the way you moved with him and hoped that he would never have to find a different dance partner.

You had a small blush on your cheeks but allowed Simeon to lead you in the dance.

Your chores were long forgotten about as Simeon looked into your eyes, pink dusting his cheeks as well at your closeness.

If he could have you in his arms forever, he would never want anything else.

Simeon had a small frown on his lips as you both heard the front door open signifying at least one of the brothers had come home.

He let out a small gasp as you took his hand and led him to your room. You needed to spend at least a little more time with the angel before you said your goodbyes for the night.

Solomon was a very good dancer.

He had been alive long enough to know almost every kind of dance that had been created - save for the new dances that you showed him on TikTok.

Solomon is one who actually enjoys dancing so when he came to the House of Lamentation and saw you dancing about, he was very pleased.

He wanted to join in, but he also wanted to stand back and watch. It was a mix of wanting to simply admire you and wanting to dance with you.

He didn’t have much of a choice though, because you almost immediately noticed Solomon’s presence and you stopped dancing as soon as you did.

Solomon found the flustered look on your face completely adorable and he instantly moved to your side.

“Was that one of your ‘TikTok’ dances?” Solomon asked and you nodded slightly, your blush deepening. 

“Let me show you one of my dances,” Solomon offered with a smile as he suddenly pulled you into a dance.

You let out a small gasp as you flew into his arms and he seamlessly guided you around the room. You had no idea what dance you were doing, but somehow you were doing it. 

You saw the grin that Solomon was wearing while he danced with you and you couldn’t help but smile back at him.

When you finished dancing, Solomon asked if he could take you out. And as much as you wanted to go, you had to finish cleaning before the brothers got back.

Solomon doesn’t find that to be a problem though because with a snap of his fingers, everything was magically clean. Now you could go!

As you left with Solomon you made a mental note to ask him to do that trick again for you next time, instead of you spending your entire day cleaning.

[astrophileous]

What about bau!reader who gets shot on a case and Morgan gets angry? like really angry. i leave the rest up to you but i’m kicking my feet and giggling to the thought of morgan getting all angry and mad🤭

if any of you saw this post I made abt agent anderson, it was about this blurb lmao. ty for the request sweetie! I hope this is to your liking 💞

Warning(s): gn!reader, injured reader, talks of gunshot, derek is angry 😠, profanities

This blurb was written as a part of the "Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K" celebration.

Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

Heavy footsteps thundered along the white stark hallway. People scampered like hunted rabbits when they saw him, but Derek didn't care. Nothing else mattered to him right at that moment except for reaching the destination in his mind.

Emily Prentiss was the first person Derek saw in the pristine waiting room. The black-haired woman stood to her feet the second her eyes landed on him. Emily had never seen such fury in the man's eyes. She didn't think she would even recognize him in this state if it weren't for the familiar face drilling holes straight through her skull.

"Anything?" Derek bellowed, his voice echoing against every available surface in the room.

Emily shook her head.

"How bad is it? Tell me."

"I don't know," the brunette lamented. "They already ushered (Y/N) inside when I arrived. I don't know anything."

"Well, somebody has to fucking know something." Derek started to pace, his posture domineering in the middle of the room. "Where is—"

Before he could formulate the name in his mind, the person in question appeared from the hallway with Spencer hot on his heels. Agent Anderson faltered in his tracks when he spotted Derek in the waiting room, his countenance getting paler as the latter stalked towards him.

"You," Derek seethed. "You tell me what the fuck happened out there, right now."

Anderson couldn't even look at Derek's face without trembling. Spencer stepped in between the two, trying to push Derek away by his shoulder but the older man wouldn't even budge.

"Morgan, this is not the time nor the place," Spencer warned.

"I'm not doing anything. I'm just asking a question," Derek sneered. "Am I right, Anderson? We're just having a conversation, right?"

"R-Right."

"Good. Now tell me what fucking happened."

The atmosphere thickened in the room. Anderson's eyes darted everywhere as if looking for a reprieve. It was a futile attempt, really. There was nowhere that the man could run where Derek couldn't follow.

"It was supposed to be routine questioning. We didn't—we didn't know that the guy had a warrant against him. I only heard the gunshot before I found (Y/L/N) in the backyard."

"Where were you? Why weren't you two together?"

"We... we, uh, we split up."

"You what?"

"(Y/L/N) said—" Anderson stopped himself when Derek proceeded to glower, forcing the younger agent to backtrack and choose his words more carefully, "—like I said, we didn't think the guy was any threat when we arrived. He shot (Y/L/N) and ran while I was calling for help."

The muscles on Derek's face twitched. "So, not only did you put (Y/N)'s life on the line, but you also let the shooter go free?"

"What? I didn't—we weren't—the injury isn't even that fatal!"

Anderson regretted it as soon as the words left his mouth. Spencer physically winced after hearing the sentence, and from across the room, Emily was frowning, shaking her head in disapproval as if she was reprimanding her young child.

"I see. It's not even that fatal, is it?"

"T-That's not what I—" gulping down, Anderson tried to scour for his voice, "—I just meant that the, um, the bullet? It didn't even go through. It only grazed (Y/L/N)'s side."

Spencer let out a tired sigh from between them.

"Yeah? You're lucky it didn't go through, Anderson." Derek stepped forward, his index finger blunt but piercing as it fell on Anderson's chest. "Because if the bullet did go through, I would've made sure that you'd fucking pay—"

"Excuse me? Anyone here for (Y/N) (Y/L/N)?"

Derek's threats were cut short by the doctor's appearance in the room. Anderson breathed out his relief as Derek approached the physician.

"I'm the fiancé, Doctor," Derek informed. "Can you tell us anything?"

"Well, I've cleaned and patched up the wound. The bullet only grazed the side so there aren't any shrapnels in it. Just needed a few stitches, really. It could've been worse," the doctor disclosed.

Derek nodded along during her entire explanation. "Can, uh, can I...?"

"Oh! Yes, of course. Just head down this hall. It's the second room to the right."

Derek barely managed to rush out a quick thank you before sprinting down the hallway shown by the doctor. He knocked on the second room to the right, hearing you yell a come in! before he went to open the door.

"Hey, you," Derek said once he was inside the threshold.

You were sitting on a stretcher, your shirt buttoned only at the top as your fingers deftly did the rest. Derek caught a glimpse of the bandage on your side and his heart was in a peril of jumping straight out of his chest. The harrowing feeling was eventually chased away by the sight of your blinding smile.

"Hi, handsome," you greeted.

Your voice was still the same exultant lull that he knew and loved all too well. In fact, if he didn't know any better, there was no visible indication to reveal the horrific encounter that you just went through a couple of hours prior. You looked the same. Normal. Derek allowed the relief to flood as this knowledge dawned on him.

"Why do you look like you just suffered through a massive heart attack?" you asked, bemused as you reached out a palm to his direction.

"Because it feels like I did just have a massive heart attack." Derek accepted your palm and kissed the knuckles before securing your joint hands inside the pocket of his jacket. "You scared the living shit out of me, sweetheart."

"I'm sorry, love. We were blindsided. Didn't mean to worry you."

"You're okay, though?"

"Uh-huh. Just a little sore. And it kinda hurts when I do this." You extended your arm, flinching when a surge of pain instantly ran down your side.

"Stop it. Don't do that. Why would you do that if it hurts?"

"To demonstrate," you replied nonchalantly. "By the way, you shouldn't have been so harsh on Anderson."

"What? How did you know?"

"I didn't. But I know how you are, and your answer just confirmed everything to me." Derek didn't know whether to feel deceived or impressed by what you just said. "You should ease up on him. It's not his fault, you know?"

"I don't know, sweetheart. When two people are paired together and one of them ends up in the hospital with a gunshot wound, I think it's fair to blame the other half of the pair for it, don't you think?"

"But it's the shooter's fault, Derek, not Anderson."

"The shooter may have pulled the trigger, but Anderson didn't have your back." Derek used his free hand to brush a knuckle against your cheekbone. "You wouldn't be here right now if he did."

You huffed an aggravated breath, detangling your fingers from his own in a rebellious act of frustration. "If the situation were flipped, and it was Anderson who lay here instead of me, you would've gone well out of your way to convince me that what happened to him wasn't my fault."

"If the situation were flipped, Anderson wouldn't even be lying on this hospital bed in the first place."

"You don't know that!"

"Maybe. But you don't know what could've happened, either." Derek's hand slipped along your elbow, tugging it gently as he shuffled closer to you. "C'mon, baby. We need to get you home."

"No." You shook his hand away from your arm, getting off the bed as Derek blanched in surprise. "I can do it myself."

Derek watched dumbfoundedly as you staggered towards the table where your jacket, gun, and credentials were stowed. He kept an eagle eye on you as you tried putting on the jacket by yourself, cringing internally when he heard the wretched hiss escaping your lips.

"Okay, baby, stop. That's enough. (Y/N)." Derek snatched the jacket off your back, rearranging its position before helping you slide each arm into the sleeves. "Just let me help you, dammit. Why are you so stubborn?"

"I don't need help from someone who berates other people for fun," you grumbled.

"That's what you think? That I'm doing it because it's fun?"

You paid Derek no regard as you teetered towards the lone chair in the room, sitting yourself down slowly before bending to fix your shoes that had become untied. It turned out to be an arduous feat to do with your injury, and for the next minute, you found yourself shifting into various positions to find one that wouldn't feel like a dozen knives being plunged straight through your flesh.

Across the room, Derek stared at every one of your movements in agony.

"C'mon, baby. Let me do that for you."

"No."

"You're literally in pain as we speak."

"I can take it."

"Why the hell are you doing this?"

"You know why."

Derek sighed.

"Fine," he relented. "I'll apologize to Anderson. Happy now?"

You stopped fiddling with the end of your shoelaces. Your entire face lit up like a kid in a candy store when you found his eyes from the distance. "Really?"

"Yes, really." Derek strode forward, kneeling in front of you so he could help you tie your shoelaces. "Just let me help you when you need me to, okay?"

"Okay!" you exclaimed, leaning down to leave a kiss on Derek's forehead.

Your fiancé had to contain his smile from your adorable but unexpected gesture. "You're lucky I love you, sweetheart."

Even as he said it, Derek knew that deep down, he was actually the lucky one.

[onyourowndaisymae]

don't mind me... just thinking about the demon brothers slowly dropping the rest of their roster for you as they fall head over heels...

lucifer (you are here) // mammon // levi // satan // asmo // beel // belphie -- NSFW warning below, gn!reader

lucifer, who would never say no to lord diavolo. he wasn't exactly fond of the whole "exchange program" idea, knowing the power imbalance between the three realms, but lord diavolo had his heart set on bringing humans and angels into the devildom. lucifer could only do his best to make sure things would go smoothly. the weakest member-- some human devoid of magical skills or means to defend themselves, unlike the other applicants-- would be living in the house of lamentation, where him and his brothers could make sure you at least survived the whole program. he's not exactly pleased by the whole thing (and hiding belphegor away for the whole year will certainly be taxing, both mentally and emotionally) but, whatever the prince wants...

lucifer, who doesn't trust you as far as he can throw you. he doesn't like how you're cozying up to his brothers, wrapping them around your fingers with pacts, avoiding his eyes as he watches your interactions. make no mistake. you're here on the whims of lord diavolo, but that doesn't mean he has to be nice to you. just keep your head down and you'll survive. oh-- and don't make meddling in his family's affairs a habit. he will not hesitate even a moment to get rid of you if he perceives you as a threat.

lucifer, who is quite popular. even though he makes only a minimal effort to socialize with others (he's far too busy with student council work to cultivate a large group of friends), nobles and common folk alike flock to him. this, in turn, brings forward a lot of romantic attention. it's not uncommon for at least one demon a week to confess their undying love to him-- something he politely yet firmly declines. but it's foolish to assume that a man such as him doesn't have needs or desires. lucifer oozes sex appeal with just a heated glance, and most of the time he doesn't even need to speak before the demon in his sights is crossing the room at lord diavolo's party to meet with him. he politely excuses himself from the prince's side to escort the lucky demon somewhere private. there's no romance in his touches, but there is passion, all lust and want, as he uses his teeth to yank his glove off and roughly caresses the demon's quivering sex. he's not above using spit as lubrication, it falling from his lips with husky taunts as he lines himself up with their hole, now thoroughly slick with with their juices and his saliva, pushing in carefully as to not cause any pain. his gloved hand clamps over their mouth while the exposed one reaches forward to toy with their sex. he groans when they clench around him, then buries his face in their neck as he begins to fuck them from behind into a wall, or bookshelf, or whatever's closest. he murmurs filth in their ear as he fucks them ruthlessly, their muffled cries of pleasure meeting and dying against his palm. they continue until he's satisfied, until cum dribbles out of their tight hole and forms creamy rings around the base of his cock. he pulls their underwear up with a swat against their ass and tells them not to make a mess that barbatos will have to clean later. he stalks off to find a bathroom to freshen up in-- if they're lucky, they'll hear from him again in the future.

lucifer, who can set his pride aside for you. you've wormed your way into his heart, somehow, charming him during the exchange program with a combination of persistence and genuine care. he won't admit he's smitten, for he is far too proud to bicker with his brothers for your attention. you'll have to see it yourself. notice the way he looks at you from across the room and acknowledges you with a nod, or the brush of his hand against your arm as he passes you in the hallway, or the way he'll decline a call just to hear you speak a little longer. his ballroom rendezvous cease almost instantaneously, without his notice-- the demons may try to catch his eye again, but his ruby gaze never strays from you, from watching you sway in his arms on the dancefloor. he's head over heels. fuck, he's so in love with you it hurts. nights like these peel back the layers of the avatar of pride and let the rest of the world get a glimpse at the sides of him reserved just for you. all for you.

lucifer, who loves nights like these. the two of you are intertwined in his office, you sat on his lap as he sips lazily at a mixture of demonus and gold hellfire newt syrup. his blood pumps loudly in his ears but all he can see is you. you don't give him a command to cancel the syrup's effects, but he doesn't mind-- you command him with your hands, with your eyes as you run your fingers along his body. his crawl up your side before cradling the back of your head, pulling you into a heated kiss. your body melts into his like wax under a flame, conforming to the curves and planes of his body like they were made for you, fuck, Father must have made him for you. why else would you feel so perfect in his arms? why else would he have been damned, fallen from the celestial realm for defending love between human and a supernatural being, fated to experience it himself? there's an invisible string tying the two of you together. he wears it like a badge of honor. he'd let you tie him up with it if you kept grinding your hips against his like that, tongue lapping at the skin of his throat as you mark him. he can't bring himself to care about the taunts he'll endure tomorrow. lord diavolo's curious looks and pointed questions mean nothing when he has you on top of him. he's drunk on your love, surely, demonus and syrup blended in his veins paling in comparison to the love he has for you. he'd do it all again, fall to hell, lose his life if it meant you'd moan like that as he scissors his fingers in your hole, wet with your intertwined saliva, his precum, and your slick, the juices glinting in the firelight as he pushes them in and out of you. he won't stop until you're cumming around his fingers. he'd normally toy with you longer, but he's honestly so overwhelmed by the heat of your love that he feels he might fully go insane if he's not inside you within the next minute. you align yourself over his weeping cock and ease yourself down. he moans, loudly, enough for someone nearby to hear. lucifer doesn't give a shit. your hands find his and your fingers intertwine, stabilizing you enough to begin lovingly, carefully bouncing yourself on his cock. he's been thoroughly damned, that he's sure of, but this is truly the closest thing to heaven he'll ever see again-- your love is worth a thousand angels, a million glimpses into the celestial realm. and it's all his, just as he's all yours.

taglist for this series: @the-demonus-aunt // @scienceisfornerds // @hostilemakeover // @snow-fall1 // @kachan890 // @rphantom1 // @respitable

[bwat5-blog]

Spoilers For All of Arcane

Pivotal Moments For Vi

I am continuing to cope with the end of the show by doing some lists of what I feel are the most pivotal moments for some of the main characters, in terms of showing us who they are/just leaving a huge impression. Starting off with out favorite pink haired bad-ass.

Vi-

The Bridge of Progress:

This one is fairly self-explanatory, but the haunted look on Vi's face seeing her dead mother in the middle of this fiery hellscape, tells us what we need to know. The writers tell us Vi is 14-16 years old from beginning to end of season 1, act 1. So at 14 years old she is here, holding her little sisters hand seeing their entire world come undone surrounded by violence.. and still holding on to her sister.

2. Vander's lessons:

"When people look up to you, you don't get to be selfish". I know that's not the exact conversation at this moment but its essentially what Vander's lessons boil down to, and they become such a fundamental part of Vi's personality it is bordering on a character flaw. All that matters is doing right by those she feels responsible for. Damn the consequences to her body/mind/soul.

3. Trying to turn herself in:

*disclaimer I know this gif isn't that moment, couldn't find it*

As I said above. Vi is at most 16 years old here and that is per the writers. I have EXPOUNDED AT LENGTH on how the events of this story, especially in these early days are not Vi's fault. But at only sixteen, after speaking with Vander about responsibility Vi tries to turn herself in to the enforcers for the sake of her friends, her family, and her fellow Zaunites. Brave and selfless even then.

4. Loss of Family:

After already losing her birth parents when she was even younger, Vi and Powder are given a second chance in Vander, Milo and Clagger. That is until Vi is forced to watch her brothers die violently, and kneel in the street over her fathers body, all seemingly seconds from them succeeding in Vander's rescue. This coupled with the effect of her separation from Powder has such a powerful effect on Vi's life the effects cannot be overstated. That guilt and loss forming the guarded and guilt stricken young woman we meet in Act 2.

5. Meeting Caitlyn:

Vi meeting Caitlyn is the catalyst for Vi moving forward in her life. Obviously her story is much more involved than that. But when they meet, Vi has been in prison for years. Her whole life stolen from her and stalled by Marcus. Her sister is a different person, her family is gone, and she has had to survive seven years on her own without love, or kindness, or joy. Now along comes this nervous, kind of dorky naïve woman in the uniform embodying the oppression of Vi's childhood, and she breaks her out and shows her a way to live again.

Reuniting with Powder/Jinx:

By the time Vi finally achieves her dream and finds Powder, she is plenty aware her home has changed. But the entire time, she has held on to the hope and dream that her sister is still there. That they can go back to a semblance of who they were.. and In true-to-form heartbreaking fashion, we see Vi forced to confront the reality that while life has beaten her down and changed her, it did not spare her sister either. The thing of note for who Vi is though, is that even as Jinx is lamenting how she has changed, and the things she has done, Vi supports and loves her. She does not turn away from her at this point. She is taken from her.

Saving Caitlyn:

The time comes that Caitlyn and Echo are going into Piltover, in the hope of proving to the council that Silco and Jinx are responsible for what has occurred. It is quite clear by now Vi and Caitlyn have feelings for each other, but even still Vi is going to stay behind and keep looking for her sister. It is only when Caitlyn and Echo's lives are threatened that Vi runs back into the fray, even risking her life for Caitlyn when its clear that Jinx is the threat. This is one small step of Vi's evolution but an important one.

The Dinner Party:

This event is the breaking point of Vi's belief that she can save "Powder". Now we as the audience know that the sisters find peace with each-other by the end, with Vi seemingly accepting Jinx for who she has become, and Jinx finding her way out of her inner darkness. But this incident forces Vi to come face-to-face with the darkness that has consumed Powder, marking a notable shift in the sisters relationship and tearing away more of Vi's hope to restore her family. This whole incident is heartbreaking for many reasons but in terms of Vi, its like we are watching her hang from a cliffside and someone is slowly prying her fingers away from the ledge

Putting On The Uniform:

I and many others have discussed Vi putting on the uniform in great detail across various sources. I have seen many accuse Vi of betraying her people, betraying her parents. I believe that is far too simplistic. This is an act of desperation. Its important to remember the following:

At this point Vi is afraid her sister is too far gone

Caitlyn (the woman Vi loves) has confided in Vi that she is afraid if she hunts Jinx without Vi, that Cait or Jinx will kill the other.

Piltover retaliation against the undercity is happening with or without Vi's help.

By going, she has a chance to keep Caitlyn safe, and even though she is conflicted about how to handle her sister, she will at least be there for whatever happens.

Ultimately what does this all boil down to? "When people look up to you, you don't get to be selfish". Vi is literally putting on the symbol of her parents murder to be there for the people that count on her

The Doomed Promise:

Here we get one of the rare but much appreciated glimpses behind the curtain of Stoicism and determination Vi always keeps up. She tearfully admits to Caitlyn she thinks her sister is beyond help, and begs the woman she loves not to be lost to the darkness in her because Vi has literally lost everyone else. We all cheered when they kissed for the first time. But I think we all knew what was coming as well.

The Breakup (AKA THE GIANT MIDDLE FINGER TO OUR SOULS):

Just following this post alone I have detailed how Vi has every ounce of happiness taken from her a piece at a time, until Caitlyn. Caitlyn even as an enforcer is the bright spot in Vi's life. She brings love, and hope, and a tenderness Vi has never known. She is certainly the only enforcer to ever treat her with kindness. But this is a harsh and complicated world. Vi has fought and bled trying to save her sister and at this point, has failed. Her birth parents, her adoptive father and brothers are all dead and gone. So when Caitlyn, who only earlier the same day had kissed her for the first time, and promised her she wouldn't lose herself to her grief risks the life of a child, tells Vi she is no different than the woman WHO KILLED CAITLYN"S MOTHER, and hits Vi, its the straw that breaks the camel's back

Pitfighter:

Okay, putting aside how insanely attractive she is, this is actually HEARTBREAKING. Vi has lost everything, and everyone. We are seeing her leached of color and life. I re-blogged a post explaining in-depth how this is far more than "because of a woman" that i recommend reading as they did a great job covering it. So what I'll say here is that Caitlyn betraying Vi in that way broke her to such a degree that she has finally stopped fighting to live.. She is clearly on the path to self-destruct, and does not care anymore

Trusting Jinx/Finding Vander:

Needless to say Vi is not in a good place when Jinx comes knocking, asking her to believe that their long dead father has actually returned in the form of a wolf like monstrosity. Vi is aggressive, drinking heavily, fighting to the point she is losing (risking her own safety), and self-destructing. So it is not a shock that she responds badly when Jinx comes. But this whole episode (although like everything else this season it was rushed) shows us the Vi we know and love is still in there. She doesn't hesitate to throw herself in between Vander and Isha. and even though it would mean her certain death if Jinx is wrong, when Jinx begs her sister to believe her Vi lowers her gauntlets and the image you see above is the result. Even with all the anger, and guilt, and blame between them Vi immediately calls her sister into the hug. Even at her lowest point, Vi still believes in their family.

Reunited with Caitlyn:

First of all, #JusticeforVi! No way Cait takes her down when Vi is at her best haha. But this matters for obvious reasons. Vi is not who she was when Caitlyn broke her heart, neither is Caitlyn. But as I said previously, the Vi we know is still in there. That hope, that love, that unquenchable flame. There are OBVIOUSLY still issues to work out between them. But Vi trust Caitlyn with the truth.. and calls her cupcake.

Loss of Vander/Protecting Jinx:

My god this episode.. Only a short time after getting him back, Vi has to watch Vander lose himself to the beast inside. And in spectacularly horrifying fashion, watching him erupt in lava?blood? while being speared and attacked by Noxian soldiers. The look of horror on Vi's face is heartbreaking when we were treated to one of her rare smiles only seconds before. This just adds to the long list of trauma/pain she has gone through and is important to remember for the conclusion of the story. But the other part of this, is that even in the midst of that crushing pain. Vi still sacrifices herself to protect her little sister. Thankfully, she lives. But she had no way to know she would when she throws herself over Jinx on the ground.

Never Give up:

Vi wakes up. She has barely recovered from a bad injury saving her sister and finds out Jinx has been imprisoned. Recognizing all the changes Jinx has been through, Vi defends her. Insisting she has changed. And even says "Who decides who gets a second chance" to Caitlyn in defense of her sister. Vi then goes and tries to break jinx out. She still believes in her. Still fights for her. Still loves her. Now there are a few more nuanced important things to keep in mind here-

Jinx says "your really never gonna give up on me". I mentioned earlier Vi's willingness to sacrifice herself for her loved ones, to put herself in bad situations and disregard her own happiness can go beyond selfless and into a disregard for herself completely. Jinx leaving Vi in the cell is a huge moment. its the moment Vi realizes that no matter how badly she wants to help her sister, YOU CANT SAVE EVERYONE. I had a lovely discussion with another user recently about this. For anyone who has ever had an addict in your life. You can't force them to get better. No matter how much you love them, how much you beg and plead and fight and scream, sometimes you just aren't the one to get it done. And that's a really hard thing to accept.

Accepting Love:

So obviously this was a HUGE moment for all kinds of reasons but sticking with Vi's character, I'm focusing on two specific ones:

"I choose wrong every time and because of it, I have lost everyone"- First of all, Caitlyn's want of Vi and love and and affection is on a very basic level proof she hasn't lost everyone. But it's more than that. Caitlyn is validating V,i and Vi's choices. She knew Vi was going to come for Jinx and is not only okay with it, she cleared the way. Vi feels seen, and loved, and accepted by the woman she loves. The importance of that cannot be overstated for a character who feels like she has no one left in her corner

2. Vi chooses happiness: I have seen commentary to the tune of "Jinx was clearly in crisis Vi should have gone after her" or "Really in the cell her sister was rotting in?!" To that, I would say this. Say Vi chased after her, why? To what purpose? As i said earlier, one of the hardest things to learn is that you can't save everyone no matter how much you love them. There is every likelihood Vi and Caitlyn will die tomorrow. So she could spend what could be her last night alive hunting Jinx in the undercity ,and if she finds her trying to coax her back. But we are shown clearly that that is not what Jinx or Vi need. Jinx tells Vi to be happy, to be with Caitlyn and stop feeling guilty.

This show maintains strong thematic continuity through parallels, with Its closest characters often learning similar lessons. Both Vi and Jinx have to learn to stop "Running in Circles". So that being said, what are we left with when Jinx is gone?:

Vi is face to face with the woman she loves. The woman who despite hurting her, immediately signed on to save Vander even knowing what betraying Ambessa would mean. Who was angry but didn't move to hurt Jinx at the commune, who saved Vi when she was hurt, who didn't arrest Jinx, and who cleared the way for jinx to go free since that's what Vi really wanted. So Vi lets herself have this. She lets herself be happy with the woman she loves. its beautiful and intimate and a culmination of these two characters relationship long in the making, no matter where they are

Loss of Vander/Jinx:

To those who continue to suggest Vi is guilty for Jinx's death (not dead), I encourage you to search your humanity. I have discussed it in this post as well as several others now, but lets run down the barebones trauma checklist one more time:

Vi is in her early twenties

Watches her birth parents die

Watches her brothers die

Watches Vander die the first time, during an incident Vi barely survived herself

Thrown in a cold and dark prison for seven years to be abused and terrorized and assaulted

Stabbed, beaten and hunted in the mission to save her little sister who has become dangerous and unstable

Little sister almost kills her

Little sisters kills her girlfriend's (i know they weren't really dating yet just keeps things simpler) mother

Willingly dons enforcer uniform to protect Caitlyn only to be assaulted and abandoned

Lives at least a few months in a self-destructive spiral being beaten and drinking heavily

Gets her dad and sister back even if dad is in a monstrous wolf body

Has to say goodbye to Dad as he seemingly dies in a horrifying manner

Survives the horror of that last battle

Watches Dad die again

Simply put. She had enough. The best I ever heard trauma described was that your mind is a cup, and eventually your cup runs over. Its cliché and used in movies and tv shows all the time but that's because its simple and its clear. Vi just cannot take any more.. and we see it.. she is seeing vander die all over again that very first time, crying and cradling his head. And when he attacks her Vi, who hasn't backed down from a fight since the first time we see her is left crawling back pleading with him to stop. She just shuts down. So yes, if you go out of your way to aggressively ignore nuance/context/story telling you can simply say its Vi's fault.. I hope you do not. You are cheating yourself out of the full weight of this heartbreaking and inspiring story.

The Dirt Under Your Nails:

This is quite possibly the last time we will see Vi outside of the game if Riot is to be believed. I hope not, but I would understand it. Vi is the warrior who has found peace. She is not untouched. She has lost so much, been wounded many times over in ways that will likely never fully heal. She has the love of her life but even she is permanently altered from all they have been through. And at the end of it all, even though Jinx's sacrifice for Vi was beautiful, and heroic, and a stunning moment for Jinx's character, it hurts to know that is more guilt Vi doesn't deserve but will likely carry forever, if she never learns Jinx is alive. For the people saying Vi seems too happy or she doesn't care, she is sitting alone drinking when we find her singing Powder's song. I have said it in several posts and stand by it. This is not happily ever after for Vi, not quite yet. But because of her unending strength, loyalty and love. And because of the people who have loved and respected her and helped her become the woman she is today, I think Vi has found the path to Happily ever after.

To those who read this I appreciate you. I know I have gone on-and-on about Vi. I want to do this with Jinx and Caitlyn as well. As i have said, interacting with this fan-base and sharing our love for this incredible work has been a real positive force for me as a person and I appreciate each of you.

[of-solitude-past-and-present]

Warnings: branding (of reader), as well as typical yandere themes like abduction, mentioned murder, mentioned violence, and threats.

There are also slight spoilers for the main quest (Idk how the quests are organized yet HAKDHD I didn't pay attention. But I'm at the point where I have to get to union lvl 21 to continue the main quest, so no spoilers for those quests).

ALSO HI LADIES here's your yearly fanfic. The drabbles are in chronological order. Its nearly 2.9k words total. Goodbye now.

Scar is a busy man who, by the nature of his work, can't settle down in any one place for too long.

It's what is keeping you sane, honestly. You only have a certain dramatic, scarred, card-wielding bastard on your couch (or, as is becoming more frequent, next to you when you wake up) for a few days every once in a while. His visits are irregular and unpredictable, just like he is. 

That doesn't make it much better, though. He seems to take pride in being a pest. Scar loves attention, and unfortunately, he's not above being annoying to get it. From monologues about the great Lament to asking you about tragedies that seem random, until he openly admits to being the culprit so he can tell the story, there's little he won't do to keep your eyes on him. None of it is anything that would be helpful to the authorities, of course, but there's not much to avoid talking about there. The Fractsidus has always made their ideals quite clear, after all.

One of the first things you do when you find him, relaxing in your living room like he owns it, is threaten to tell the higher-ups about him.

"Alright, then. Go right ahead!" With a seemingly carefree smile, he crosses his legs on your couch, feet on the table and all, and gestures towards the front door.

You narrow your eyes at him and back away, not tearing them away for a second. He snorts and gives you a small, sarcastic little wave and an ingenuine closed-eye smile.

Your back hits the door behind you, so you're forced to turn around to undo the deadbolt. Right as you do, though, a strange, bright red blanket of cards spreads up from beneath your feet, encasing you in a dome. You blink, and you're under a red sky on a desolate, floatibg island. Whirling all around you is a maelstrom of decimated buildings and pillars.

You whirl on your feet, and your eyes land on him, standing only a few feet away from you with one hand on his hip. A muted sense of anxiety thrums uneasily in the back of your mind. Your eyes meet his, one red and the other a dull gray, and you think you finally understand how a deer in headlights feels.

"Are you going to kill me?" Your voice is eerily steady and calm, belying the anxiety and adrenaline rushing through your veins. It sounds alien to your ears.

He outright laughs in your face and leans in close. "What reason would I have to lie?" he asked. "If I did want to kill you, I'd just tell you. There's nothing you could do to stop me." He places a hand on your head and ruffles your hair, undeterred by your instinctual flinch.

"Remember this. With the new Lament growing ever closer, nobody has the resources or time to spare to keep a simple civilian, like you, safe from someone like me." Scar's tone lowers towards the end with a dark promise, and his smile sharpens into a smirk.

He turns on one heel and walks away. With a snap of his fingers, the chaotic scenery melts away to reveal your simple living room once again. "Consider that a warning. Even if you did tell anyone, do you think they could do anything that would help you?" He looks over his shoulder at you, his dim, empty eyes flashing dangerously.

"Think about the price they would have to pay for your own desperation."

Night has long since fallen, but you're still out and about. It's not that you have anything left to do, it's just... when you go home, you're going to have to see Scar again. If you have to listen to another of his monologues, you might actually try to kill him. It's not because you're a little scared of him. Of course not.

(Your eyes still dart around nervously, jumping at any flash of red you see.)

You check your phone for the time, only to find it's just past midnight. Everything is closed, and you're really not sure what to do now. Maybe you should just suck it up and go home. The thought has you slumping your shoulders with a defeated sigh.

A hand clamps down on your mouth, and another strong arm wraps around your waist, pulling you against a firm chest. In a panic, you kick and flail and try your best to scream, but it's all futile. They drag you into the alleyway behind you anyway.

"Relax! It's just me," Scar purred, the hints of a laugh tinging his voice. His breath fans against your ear. "I've just noticed... You've been spending so much time out and about, it's like you’ve forgotten about me. Consider my feelings hurt."

Scar pulls the both of you into one of his all-too-familiar crimson portals. You try to pipe up with some snide comments or annoyed curses, but his hand only presses more firmly against your mouth.

"Ah-ah-ah." He moves his hand into your sight from your waist just to wag a claw-tipped finger at you before he places it back, securing you against him again.

It's only a few seconds before a wall in your bedroom comes into view and the red light of the portal behind you disappears. All of a sudden Scar falls backwards, pulling you helplessly along with him. You make an embarrassing, surprised little squeak on the way down, reflexively clinging to him until you both land on the bed behind you.

He lets out an amused little chuckle and rolls over, putting you both on your sides with his chest pressed against your back. He buries his face in your throat with a sigh and finally frees your mouth so he can hold you close like a plushie.

"I know what you were trying to do," he murmurs into your ear, a threatening undertone to his voice.

Your breath catches in your throat before you can stop it. "I don't know what you're talking about. I was just busy."

His lips dance across your skin, and you can feel his smile against your throat. "You don't think I'm gullible, do you?"

Well, dammit. So much for that. You try to look at him to gauge his reaction, but his arms only tighten around you. His face is hidden in your neck anyway, so it's a lost cause.

"I'm... sorry?"

"As long as you don't try it again, dollface."

For a few months, maybe a year (depending on the timing and your temperament) Scar doesn't think he'll need to kidnap you. You're somewhere safe, in a place where he can come find you whenever he pleases. Why bother? Besides, it's nice watching you go about your day.

Unfortunately, he slowly comes around more and more over time, making this outcome inevitable. There are two primary factors. The prophecy is the first; his free time dwindles more and more as it nears its fulfillment, and the idea of having you available at any given moment becomes a more alluring prospect day by day. Alternatively, you're too desperate to get rid of him, and he decides it would be easier to isolate you, away from any "pesky helpers," as he would put it.

Scar tosses the idea around in his mind for a few days before he makes his final decision. He won't even keep it a secret from you, either; he tells you this casually in the spur of the moment, in a bid for your attention. Maybe you seem disinterested, too busy paying attention to something else. Maybe you've realized his "weakness," as you might call it, and tried to give him the silent treatment. Either way, what you do can push him towards a decision a little early. He usually takes great care to reign in his impulses, but with you, he doesn't have to. An ordinary citizen like yourself would have quite a bit of difficulty getting away from him, after all. He finds your helplessness freeing, to a degree.

"I've been thinking lately," Scar trails off, clearly fishing for your response.

"You can do that?" It's out of your mouth before you can think to stop it. You almost regret giving him what he wants, but the opportunity was too good to pass up. At the very least, you can focus on the dishes you're washing instead of sparing him a glance.

He snorts, but otherwise doesn't acknowledge your comment. "I think it's about time we take our relationship to the next level. Don't you?"

Your head snaps in his direction. "The hell does that mean?" you demand. Your face twists in a mixture of confusion and slowly dawning horror, an expression the bastard revels in. His toothy grin widens, and with a flick of his wrist, he produces a card out of thin air to idly spin and flip between his fingers.

"It's been really nice spending time with you here, you know? But unfortunately, duty calls, and I can't always spare the time to come visit." Scar sighs dramatically with an exaggerated frown, resting both arms on the back of your couch. "It's such a shame. I'm sure you miss me, don't you?"

You uneasily turn back to the dishes, putting another on the drying rack and picking up a new one. "Not really. Don't you have any friends to talk to?"

"And there's the other point!" You refuse to look at him, but you can hear his footsteps as he leisurely saunters to the kitchen. You try to focus on scrubbing off a particularly stubborn patch of grease on your pan. "You can be so hard to deal with sometimes! It makes me wonder if all the effort I go through to keep you happy is worth it."

You furrow your brows, a frown tugging at your lips. The moment you move to speak, a red-tipped finger comes from behind to press against your lips in a shushing motion. "Now, now, dear. No need to tell me it isn't true." His face leans into view from over your shoulder with a smile. "Besides, I'm sure you'll be just as excited for this as I am."

"Excited for wh-"

Scar cuts you off without words, making the world spin as he turns you around to face him. Your pan falls with a clatter, and suddenly you're faced away from the window above the sink and looking up into his face, split by an ear-to-ear grin. His pupils are blown wide with excitement, lit up by a manic glint in his usually dull irises.

"You're coming with me. You have three days to write out your will and say goodbye to the people you care about," he spoke, his voice rough at the edges and trembling with suppressed amusement. His hands rest on the edge of the counter on each side of you, caging you in. "Try to run away or tell anyone, and I'll kill them all. Obey, and they can live."

Scar leans in so close that his nose brushes yours, with a stare so intense you would have thought his eyes were glowing. "We have a lot of things we can do with their bodies. Would you like to see what a Tacet Discord born of human flesh looks like?"

You can't tear your eyes away from his intense, bright stare for even a second. With slow, trembling movements, you shake your head.

"Now that's what I wanted to see." Scar leans in, pressing a kiss to your lips, only pulling away after a long moment. "Not so hard, was it? I'm sure you'll be alright, there's no need to be scared!" He brightens up in a flash, any trace of his previous threats gone. He licks his lips as he turns away from you.

"All that being said, I'm sure something similar will happen to your family in the true Lament, so it doesn't matter. But if it makes you happy, I don't mind leaving them be in the meantime." Scar looks up at nothing in particular, summoning another card to toy with idly. His spare hand rests behind his back.

"Isn't it boring how the world is stagnating?" Scar starts up again. "Chaos, as orchestrated by the great Threnodians, can create a form of equality impossible to achieve with our current status quo..." His voice turns fuzzy in your mind as you tune his droning out. Three days? Where is he taking you? What about your life?

You take a shaky breath, bringing a hand up to tug at your hair. Wasn't there anything you could do? All his talk of controlling one's own destiny flashes in your mind, mocking you. Would you ever see your family again?

You only realize that Scar has noticed your breakdown when he places a hand on your shoulder and pulls you close. "Aww, don't cry," he murmurs, wiping away tears you didn't even realize were falling with a thumb. "It's not so bad, I promise." His lips stretch into a facsimile of a comforting smile, and he strokes your hair in an attempt at comfort. He pulls your face into his shoulder, periodically shushing you.

You stay like that for a few minutes, and when he deems you suitably stable, he moves to lean on you with one arm on your shoulder, the other outstretched before the both of you in a grand gesture. "Don't worry, just imagine it. Wouldn't it be lovely, being safe and sound by my side in my new world?"

"Not at all. Are you sure you don't hate me?" You mumble, your voice rough and tired.

He rolls his eyes. "Darling, I could never. Oh well, I'm sure you'll come around." Scar shrugs it off. Suddenly, he snaps his fingers, and his eyes flash, as though he had remembered something important. "Oh, by the way, the rest of today is the first of the three days. Would you like to get a head start?"

Fuck.

One day, Scar returns from one of his excursions with a plan in mind. Without a word, he sits you down in the makeshift infirmary of his Fractsidus hideout of choice for the week. For once, he refuses to answer any of your questions, instead opting to gather a few medical supplies from around the room. When he's satisfied with the collection—bandages, ointment, and a bottle of painkillers—he sets them down on the table next to you.

"Did you get hurt out there or something?" You cross your arms and lean back in the uncomfortable metal chair. "Don't expect me to bandage you up." If that growing smile is anything to go by, he knows you're just trying to cover up your sense of unease, but he doesn't call you out on it.

"You wound me. But to answer your question, not quite."

The hair on the back of your neck stands on end. What could he have planned?

Scar isn't going to let you theorize for too long, it seems. He kneels in front of you, one of his signature ram skull cards held flat against the palm of his hand. He ignores you as you flinch away, tensing up, eyes darting between him and his hand.

"What are you doing?" you hiss. Scar chuckles in lieu of a response. His hand drifts up to the side of your throat, pressing his palm—and the smooth side of the card within it—firmly to the skin of your throat. As if reading your mind, his opposite hand lands on your opposite shoulder, keeping you in place before you can try anything.

With a wink, a sharp-toothed grin, and a faint flash of red from beneath his hand, he sears the card's image into your skin with a flash of white-hot pain. The rest is a blur. All you can remember are your cries as he presses your face into his shoulder, stroking your hair as he shushes you.

Now you sit on the couch, with a cup of (instant, but still) hot chocolate in hand and soft bandages around your throat. Scar crosses one leg over the other and slings an arm around your shoulder, pulling you in close.

"Why?" you ask simply, with not even enough energy left to look at him.

He hums in mock thought, making a show out of considering his words. "Well, there's really not much to it," he shrugs with one of his characteristic smiles. "I was just thinking of something more... permanent, today."