#tbh just as good as I thought it would be

[mywritersmind]

THE FAT MAN IN THE RED - LN4

summary : Lando Norris promised two hours of his night to wave to little ballerinas and have them whisper their wishes to him in a Santa costume. His night starts looking up when a woman his age lands on his lap.

listen up : no warnings tbh! suggestive jokes SORRY ITS SO SHORT I WAS GONNA WRITE A LOT BUT ITS ALREADY CHRISTMAS TO HAVE THIS

words : 692

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“Oh please! Come meet Santa!” My little sister Mari tugs on my hand. She’s in a little pink tutu and a slick back bun, her ballet shoes have been changed into her usual converse.

We’re at an after party/fundraiser for her ballet show, the kids were all surprised by a man dressed as santa. She was adorable, a tiny Clara!

Mari skips off with her friends as I turn to mine. Kat downs her drink, “I need another one. Too many kids around.” I laugh and clink her already empty champagne glass.

We walk off to the bar, looking up at the giant chandelier and sprawling stairways. This theater is beautiful, kids in costumes and glitter run around while the society of Monaco gossips and laughs in their presence.

We grab more champagne, smoothing out my dark plum dress and almost twisting an ankle with these silver heels my sister begged me to wear.

“Y/n!” Mari yells, hopping up and down, in line to meet the big man himself. Or… a knock off.

“Oh my.” Kat elbows me, “I’d let him slip down my chimney-” I scoff loudly and laugh, hitting her arm.

“What about that french boy you met?” I raise a brow, my eyes lingering on the man whose face is partially covered by a white wig and beard.

“Oh I see him.” She winks as I giggle, “Come on then, you must meet this cute santa!” I groan as she drags me to the back of the line, “I’ve heard whispers… he’s twenty six.” She whispers as I watch two F1 drivers walk past us.

“I am not sitting on his lap!” I laugh, shaking my head and sipping my drink, Kat grips my arm and pulls me to the front next to Mari.

“What are you asking for?” Mari asks me, clapping her little hands together and tapping her feet.

Her friends touches my dress, “This is so pretty!”

“I heard he’s famous.” One of the ballerinas behind us says just as I get pushed onto the little stand and an elf guides me.

He looks at me, all dressed up and in a whole fat suit. I can’t help but laugh as I get helped onto his lap. I honestly feel horribly awkward, “Sorry… my friend made me.”

His eyes are green, the kind of striking color that stops your thoughts. He tugs down his fake beard, exposing his face and smile.

A very attractive face and smile. “Don’t worry. Are you gonna make me do the voice?” He's got freckles and an accent.

I smile softly, “There’s a voice?”

“What are you asking for this christmas?” He says it in a deep santa like voice.

I laugh, “That’s good.”

“Why thank you…” I raise a brow at his trailing off, “I need a name to match the pretty face, and for the address of your gifts, I suppose.”

Oh he’s a flirt. “Y/n.” I nod, “You gonna make me call you santa?” His fingers brush the side of my hip.

“I’m not that into role playing…” He shakes his head and I spot a tiny dark curl by his ear, “Okay the elf’s are about to get mad. What would you like for Christmas, Y/n?”

He says my name, looking me dead in the eye. Shit I think I might be attracted to Santa.

I bite my lip, “How about, what time Santa gets off?”

His smile shifts into a smirk, “Christmas came early, I guess. Ten.”

He meets me in an empty hallway, Its almost hard to tell if it’s him because of his change in clothes.

He's in a black suit, bowtie and everything. He’s far more agreeable without the white hair.

In fact, the white is replaced with real curls. Dark curls cut into a nice mullet that suits his face. It was in fact a fat suit that I can now clearly see was horribly fake.

I have a sneaking suspicion that tonight is going to be extra interesting now. His hands go to his pockets, that smile on display again for me. “I’m Lando.”

[tori-artemis]

Oh this is a great question to think about! Tbh I had a lot of hopes back when the series was premiering (and before when it was just announced), so to go off of those... well first off, I really really wanted an exploration of Loki's trauma, his past and even his psyche. Like I know a psychological thriller/horror probably wouldn't have been in the cards for a Disney+ show, but tbf I feel like the creators of Wandavision touched on aspects found in those types of genres (if in a PG 13 kind of way) so I don't think I was too off base for hoping to see something like that for Loki. (Not to mention the ridiculous comparisons to films like Se7en and The Silence of the Lambs that Mike Waldron kept making... but I'm not gonna get into that rant again.)

I think I would've put a lot of focus on what the hell actually happened to Loki when he fell into the Void and disappeared for an entire year or so, and how he ended up encountering Thanos and the Black Order, how that all went down, etc. Either through flashbacks, or (possibly altered) memories, or Loki recounting those events interview/interrogation-style (and being an extremely unreliable narrator in doing so, like for instance saying something like "I made a deal with Thanos and worked with him willingly" and then at some point you see into his head through flashbacks/night terrors and realize that clearly wasn't the case, just stuff like that). The possibilities were endless tbh, like there's just so many creative opportunities to explore that one aspect of Loki's backstory. And since that's such a burning question to me (and many other fans tbh) still to this day, I feel like that'd be the first thing I'd want to tackle.

Another important thing I'd want to include would be Loki's gender fluidity and his bi identity. Like I don't think it necessarily has to go with Loki referring to himself as bi, like I don't think he has to say the actual word "bi" in order to give any meaningful kind of rep?? Especially now that Agatha All Along has come out, I feel like I'd want to approach Loki's identity in a similar type of way, just unapologetic, and as authentic as possible to his comic book counter part. Like hell, he can have hang ups with those parts of his identity (which would actually make sense, being from Asgard and since he already has a lot of self-loathing issues in general due to being Jotun).

I wouldn't mind that, especially if it was done in a non-typical way, like maybe it's not being sexually intimate with men/males that's looked down upon on Asgard, but - similar to the Norse apparently - it's on what role they play, or basically who's the "bottom" - that gets shamed, or maybe same sex relationships aren't looked down upon at all on Asgard, but giving birth/getting pregnant while being/presenting as male is, bc it's seen as unnatural, and then let Loki go through an experience where he develops deep rooted insecurities about those aspects of his identity due to Asgard's cultural prejudices. And like this doesn't even have to be explicit (tho after the birth scenes in both Wandavision and especially Agatha All Along I can't help but roll my eyes at ppl having a hang up with Loki going thru something like this, especially if they were totally okay with Wanda and Agatha having birthing scenes, but anyways). It can be something as simple and as subtle as Loki finding out he's pregnant (maybe he can magically feel the fetus growing inside him, or he can hear the heartbeat/etc, or maybe it's as simple as having morning sickness and/or a change of diet). And it just ends up with him drinking tea/potion (due to pressure from Odin/Frigga/society, or maybe he's not ready and seeks it out himself) which gets rid of the baby, but again it's done in a very non graphic way. Of course the whole mpreg thing is just an example, and doesn't have to be in a series about Loki (that's what fanfic is for!) but basically: let Loki be queer, he can have hang ups about being queer, and tbh I'd want the hang ups to be kind of different from the usual discussions/portrayals of queerness in media mainly bc Asgard's an alien/fantasy society so I'd want their cultural norms to be pretty different from ours (human society in general), but overall just let Loki be queer, goddamnit!

Furthermore, I'd want to explore Loki's self loathing in particular, and see his view of himself change as he develops and grows throughout the series. If he encounters other versions of himself then I'd want to see what that would look like... and preferably done differently from how the show approached it (regarding Sylvie). Like I don't want him to just, I don't know, praise his other self up the way he ends up doing in the series (I know he also fought with Sylvie at the beginning but tbh I couldn't really take their rivalry seriously, it felt very sibling-like - which I actually enjoyed at the time, mind you, but a reflection of one's internal self-hatred it certainly is NOT, and like overall the whole dynamic just didn't work for me bc I find those two characters so undeniably different from each other and therefore it doesn't really work as a metaphor for self hatred/self love, but that's neither here nor there).

Like - let it be messy! Let it actually be vitriolic and hateful if that's what the series is trying to convey. Let Loki be angry, let him rage, let him lash out - at versions of himself and at other characters, like c'mon! This is a character that has a lot of inner darkness and has suffered through a lot of trauma and has difficulty trusting others due to said trauma (especially if we're going with Avengers era Loki) so how about we Show That.

Tbh I wouldn't have minded for Loki's main villain (both in the series overall and wrt the lead character) to be a version of himself. (As long as it was portrayed in a thoughtful way, like don't just make him evil please, in fact he doesn't even have to be evil at all - he doesn't have to destroy or conquer other worlds, he could literally just be out there destroying all versions of Loki, which would force our protagonist to fight/confront this person hunting him down). Like I think there would be so many possibilities for all of the ways a protagonist could deal with a "villain" - or rather, an antagonist like that. Some far more darker than others, depending on how you want your story to go. Like it could end similarly to the Agent of Asgard comics (where I believe Loki ends up forgiving and embracing his "evil" self... tho I've not read the comics so please feel free to correct me if I've gotten something wrong). Or if I were writing this series, I would've just had Loki forced into a position where, after being worn down to reaching his emotional breaking point, and in a fit of sheer rage, he'd end up brutally murdering the antagonistic version of himself, in the ultimate form of self destruction, and then I'd have him reeling from the internal consequences of such an extreme form of violence done against himself - but that's just my ridiculously morbid psychological-horror-loving ass for you. I'd just want to completely unravel him ngl, before having him overcome the impossible by rebuilding himself once more (w/ a little help from his newfound friends)...

If the TVA had to be involved in some way, I'd want to approach them as an ominous totalitarian organization, and if Loki were to be tortured by said organization, it most certainly would NOT be portrayed as some throw-away-attempt-at-comedy-type-of-scene (AHEM). I'd go for a darker tone overall, and Loki's torture at the TVA would be portrayed with all of the horror demanded by those types of scenes dealing with that kind of subject matter.

Tbh I have so many ideas for a Loki-centric show, some that involve the TVA and some that don't, but there's just so many threads and I don't want to make this any more convoluted than it already is, so to put it simply: I'd want the focus to be on Loki first and foremost. If it's called Loki, then it should be about the main lead, similar to how Agatha All Along was about Agatha, and Wandavision was about Wanda. (Which means, if the TVA has to be involved, then they would be secondary to the series' main focus - which would be on Loki and his relationship with himself.) Secondly, I'd want to see his trauma not only brought up, but fully explored. Which includes his traumatic upbringing (Odin's A++ Parenting, Frigga's enabling, family dysfunction, Asgard's toxic social/cultural norms) as well as the horror he experienced in the Void and on Sanctuary, maybe even some events in the first Avengers film, but seen through Loki's eyes this time. And I'd just want Loki to be queer, so if he's bi then let him have previous (or current!) relationships (or flirtations) with men (or attraction towards men) as well as women, if he's gender fluid then Show. That. Whether he physically transforms into a woman at times, or through his inner monologue where he refers to himself with different pronouns even if his gender presentation hasn't changed, or even his ambivalence towards being trapped/labeled in a one-gender-ticked-box, but Show. It. That part of his identity deserves to be shown, especially in a series where Loki's the central character.

If you yourself could’ve directed/wrote the Loki series, what would you have done differently? What would you have wanted to see in a series about Loki? What would you have focused on? Would the series take place somewhere other than the TVA? Which characters would you include? What would be the end goal? What aspects of his character would be explored?

[kashedelic]

A HAT OF HEARTH - trafalgar d. law x f!reader

SUMMARY: Sometimes if you look closer (to a certain hat), you’ll find that Law loves in ways you didn’t expect.

NOTES: law x reader, second pov, established relationship, fluff, tooth-rotting fluff, some possessiveness if you squint, law being lovey dovey, i just need law fluff tbh.

wc: 900

a/n: this is the first fic im uploading and I can’t say that i’m disappointed. currently working on some more fics and i’m hoping to get those out soon, but I cant exactly say when because i NEED those ones to be a little bit more detailed than a silly little drabble like this. and yes, those include the reqs! anyways, I need a law in my life frl.

Be sure to like, reblog, or even follow! Your support means everything to me and helps more people to find this story! Thank you for reading!

The hat was an emblem that Trafalgar D. Law, the Surgeon of Death, was capable of loving. Sure, the man was never too forward with how he showed love, but who said love had to be overt? Could it not manifest in quieter forms? What was wrong with loving in silence? Was it such a sin to care, to praise, to cherish quietly before daring to be bold? “We’re headed into a colder climate, wear this.” The clipped, brusque command might make anyone else think he was chastising a petulant child or begrudgingly tending to a nuisance. Yet, with the way his eyes flickered over your face for a moment longer than necessary, and the subtle brush of his fingers against the side of your head, the truth was far from that assumption.

Law was a doctor, after all - one fully capable of nursing you back to good health, but just the mere thought of seeing you feverish, voice weak and body frail, made his chest tighten with unease.

Even if your falling ill meant more one-on-one time together, he’d never risk it. He would rather see you well than selfishly enjoy your dependance on him. However, in the scenario that sickness did strike, Law would be readily beside you, caring for you every step of the way.

Law cared.

“Take care of it for me, will ya?” He hastily flopped the hat on your head, slightly askew, its brim tilted awkwardly. Your fingers instinctively reached up to adjust it, bewilderment etched into your features. Law, who rarely ever parted with his signature hat, had entrusted it to you. There was a small pause, a moment of lingerment, before he adjusted his grip on Kikoku and dashed back into the fray.

You watched as the blade caught and reflected light, clashing against a formidable enemy. The hat sat heavy on your head, a reminder of its significance. You didn’t know too much about the hat’s origin, but you know one thing: Law didn’t part with it lightly. 

The thought of joining the battle crossed your mind - you were perfectly capable to - but something about the weight of the hat felt grounding, as though it was urging you to stay. Something in your gut told you that it wasn’t just a token of trust; it was a silent request to hold down the Polar Tang, to handle any threats to the ship. In that moment, you weren’t merely entrusted with just the hat, but you were entrusted with Law’s entire livelihood. That alone made it more symbolic. It was a quiet testament to how Law trusts.

“Need to cover yourself more,” he muttered, tugging the brim down until it shaded your face. It was definitely larger on your head than on his and if his expression hadn’t been so grumpy, you would have joked about his supposedly “mega-sized head.” The hat swallowed you whole, but he would rather it that way. In fact, if it were really up to him, it would come with a veil to shield you from every prying eye. 

Law didn’t care - he wanted to protect. Law often thought the world didn’t deserve you. Hell, he wasn’t even sure he deserved you. In his eyes, your smile put the sun to shame, and all your curves and edges made him think that there’s another place that he wants - no, needs - to explore. Though again, he won’t admit that to you and he reluctantly agreed with himself to put those thoughts aside and instead focused on the desire to shield you.

He knew you were pretty, too pretty for his liking - at least when it came to the crooked world around him. The thought of anyone else noticing, of anyone else having thoughts about you, grated on his nerves. He hated the way men stared when you dressed up, hated the way his chest tightened and his breath caught when you twirled in new clothes, showing them off to Bepo. “They've got beady little bird-brain eyes,” he’d grumble under his breath, his hand tightening around Kikoku’s hilt whenever anyone started a second too long. Still, even as he kept his guard up, the hat stayed on your head. A silent declaration, a mark of who you belonged to. 

Law protected.

“Didn’t know I got us a clown on the Tang,” he chuckled, placing the hat on your head once again - this time even more lopsided and deliberately so. He turned away, and leaned his back against the ship’s railing, one leg crossed over the other. Taut muscles flexed as his elbows lazily rested against the bar, his chest tattoos peaking through the wifebeater he donned. Law lets you humor him as he humors you back by sloppily placing the hat on your face. You scowled at his teasing, but Law snickered at your ruffled appearance, finding you endereaning despite the exaggerated frown on your lips. 

Law humored.

The hat rests carefully in your hands, the fluffy material caressed between your digits. You hadn’t meant to look into the hat so much, but now, as he silently slipped the hat onto your lap  before heading off to shower instead of placing it on a shelf like usual, you couldn’t help but reminisce on all the fond memories associated with the hat.

You noted that this hat would not only bring heat to your head, but to your heart too, because Law loved.

Please don’t repost, translate, or redistribute my work without permission. Likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated. All rights to One Piece and its characters belong to Eiichiro Oda and respective copyright holders. © kashedelic 2024

[frogaroundandfindout]

I used to give the 'lazarus pit madness' trope for jason so much shit unless it was a REALLY good fic that did something interesting with the idea. But the more I read of pre52 red hood the more I'm just like "yeah no I have absolutely no idea how I'd reconcile all this heinous shit he's done without finding a way to make it not his fault actually"

I hate the 'jason was always a monster and bruce couldn't save him' nonsense so much, he was literally just a homeless little boy. MY BUDDY LITERALLY WILLINGLY WENT BACK TO BEING HOMELESS BECAUSE HE DIDN'T WANT TO HURT PEOPLE FOR MA GUNN EVEN THOUGH IT MEANT GIVING UP FOOD AND SHELTER AND DECENT TREATMENT

jason sweetheart I'm so sorry dc butchered you like this my god

When the characterization is so inconsistent the fandom has to resort to literal magic to explain it.

But seriously, I haven’t read a whole lot of Jason as Robin but from what I did read he was so tiny and just wanted to do good. It’s a disservice to every character involved for Bruce to adopt him because he thought he’d be a criminal otherwise. It implies Bruce thinks of every kid living in poverty as a shoe in for crime and not as some of the most vulnerable individuals in low SE areas. Which is just…so bad considering he’s 1) a rich white man stereotyping a large group of people and 2) someone that fights crime because of an act of violence commited in front of him as a little boy. A Batman that doesn’t believe in the goodness of a child (especially one like Jason who, like you said, gave up basic necessities for the sake of his morals) and protecting it in a way he wasn’t protected is a very very weird Batman to me. So it turns Bruce into a white knight and redhood into confirmation of Bruce’s stereotyping and paranoia.

If it was just Jason thinking that’s why Bruce took him in it would be a completely different animal. I might have even enjoyed reading about how Jason rationalized their changed relationship after he came back swinging (literally) and thinking that it’s some innate characteristic about him that drove the wedge between him and Bruce before he even realized it was there. But it’s very much not just Jason. EVERYONE. FUCKING. SAYS. IT. And tbh that kinda ruins everyone just a bit in my eyes. If not agreement and support for Bruce’s bs, they’re at least silently complicit in perpetuating it.

But beyond that, it also makes me think of Devin Grayson’s run where she kept talking about how dick was “meant for crime” or would have obviously been a criminal if it wasn’t for Bruce. This was built on frankly awful stereotypes regarding Romani people. I bring this one up because the combination of the two does not make Bruce look as good as the writers seemed to think.

But if we ignore the bs involved and take the reason for Jason’s adoption at face value, I think it offers an interesting comparison between him and Damian. Jason is presented a child destined for a life of crime who eventually became one of The Villains despite Batman’s efforts. Damian was an heir destined for crime who eventually became one of The Heroes because of Batman’s efforts. Idk it’s just interesting to me.

[aster-draws]

Divergent from my typical content here is a comic I drew based on a random book I found in a used book store and quickly became enraptured by

[penbuddies64]

Tbh ive thought of somthing that i thought would be very funny, what if sqh had like a good relationship with his (transmigrated) parents, like they sent him letters regularly and he replies and he visits them yearly for the holidays or smth cause like ive realized that other than sqq no one in the main cast like has any friendly relationships and im pretty sure that no one in the main cast has any non toxic familal relationships (tlj doesn't count he like the dead beatest of all dead beats) anyway as i was saying i think it would be good for fun factor if sqh had just like a normal family like bc i could just imagine him like transmigrating as a baby and like being kinda bewildered that like his parents were like really good compared to his last ones and even if he was like a 25-30 year old in a toddlers body he still has a toddler brain and the inner desire to be loved by his parents and also being shocked that he didnt have the classic sad backstory like most of the other villians he wrote, so like for the first few years that he regained his memories he always thought that his parents would switch up or smth but after like a few months he began to trust them, and like i could like imagine sqq an offhanded comment saying somthing to sqh ab having no parents or loving parents and sqh being like

"Um actually i do have parents and they love me alot!"

And sqq saying

"Wait what?"

And then sqh showing him like a letter that his parents sended him and then sqq being like

"Wait so you actually have nice and loving parents?"

And sqh being like

"Yep"

Or like sqh having mbj meeting the parents and mbj actually being very nervous for it like hes getting stressed ab what to wear or smth and sqh trying to calm him down

Like i just really like this idea

[4milly]

girl u are FREKAYYYYY. what's life like with bd!zilla? 🙄🙄🙄🙄

i really do imagine he's the type to be so nonchalant about shit tbh. like when you two decided to co-parent your 3 year old son, from that day forth zilla's always put on this act that he never cared about shit you did. you both were single.

nothing new. he did the in the relationship. act like nothing ever mattered. you'd do things to spite him to atleast see if he cared. like doing your hair a different way when you'd drop your son off, wearing a dress too short and posting it to the gram, even sending him thirst traps on "accident".

only to get a dry ass response. barely even that, sometimes he’d just heart the message and move on.

but nothing ever seemed to phase him. you'd catch glimpses sometimes - a fleeting look in his eyes when he thought you weren't paying attention, the way his jaw would tighten ever so slightly when another man's name came up. but he'd always brush it off, act like it was nothing.

one day, you decided to really push it. you showed up to drop off your son wearing that slinky red dress he always loved, the one that hugged every curve. you made sure your makeup was flawless, your hair perfectly curled. as you handed over your giggling toddler, you casually mentioned the date you had lined up for that night.

little did he know, you didn't even have one. you purposely did all this shit so his blood pressure would raise.

for a split second, you saw it - that flash of jealousy, that hint of possessiveness in his dark eyes. but just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by his usual cool indifference. "have fun, babygirl," he said with a wink before focusing on your son

"mama, look pretty?" your son said gleaming towards you

"she does, buddy. so very pretty." he simply stated giving you a once over, stopping at your cleavage.

you felt a shiver run down your spine at his words, at the way his eyes lingered on your body. for a moment, you forgot to breathe. then you caught yourself, plastering on a coy smile. "thanks," you said breezily, "i'm sure my date will think so too."

as you turned to head back to your car , you could feel zilla's eyes on you, burning into your back. you put an extra sway in your hips, knowing exactly how that dress moved when you walked. you heard your son's laughter fade as the door closed behind you.

later that night, after your mediocre date with some guy whose name you could barely remember, you found yourself scrolling through your phone in the bathroom. your thumb hovered over zilla's contact. before you could stop yourself, you fired off a text: "date was a bust. heading home early."

you stared at your phone, waiting for his reply. the minutes that went by were agonizing. just as you were about to toss your phone in your purse, it buzzed.

u wanna come over, mama?

you knew this was a bad idea. you only wanted to spite him — show him you still had it and what he lost. but...damn, you'd be lying if you said you didn't crave to feel that long, girth, samoan dick working inside you, and those hands using your hips bouncing you like a bitch in heat, just like an addict craves their next fix. nonetheless, you responded anyways: be there in 15.

the ride to his place felt endless. second-guessing your decision with every passing streetlight. but when you knocked on the door and saw him standing in the doorway, all doubts vanished. He looked good - too good. his white tank top clung to his muscular frame, and his sweatpants hung low on his hips.

"hey, mama," he said, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. "come in."

you stepped inside, the familiar scent of his cologne washing over you. the living room was dimly lit. as you stepped inside, the familiar scent of his cologne washing over you, you felt a surge of electricity in the air. the living room was dimly lit, casting long shadows across the walls. soft music played in the background - was that the playlist you used to make love to? baby making music as they say.

zilla closed the door behind you, his presence looming large. you could feel the heat radiating off his body as he moved closer, his scent suffocating you. "you want sum' to drink?" he asked, his voice husky.

you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. as he walked to the kitchen, your eyes followed the broad expanse of his back, remembering how it felt to dig your nails into those muscles.

He returned with two glasses of red wine - your favorite. As he handed you yours, his fingers brushed against yours, lingering just a moment too long. you took a sip, the rich flavor exploding on your tongue.

you closed your eyes for a brief moment as you glanced over the room, "so where is our little guy?" desperate to break the silence.

zilla almost didn't hear the question, to occupied in looking at your ass in the dress.

"zilla?" you said more firmly to bring his attention back towards you

"my bad, mama. we watched that paw patrol shit he like and he crashed out not too long ago," he responded before taking a sip of his wine "you look good as fuck, y'know that?"

you felt a flush creep up your neck at his words. "thanks," you murmured, taking another sip of wine to steady your nerves.

zilla moved closer, his eyes roaming over you hungrily. "you r'member first time you wore it?" his voice was low, tinged with desire. "that night at the club, when I couldn't keep my hands off you. had to take yo ass home right then."

you nodded, memories flooding back. the way he'd pressed you against the wall as soon as you got through the door, his hands sliding up your thighs, pushing the dress higher, pushing his hand into your panties.

before you could respond, zilla closed the distance between you, his large hand cupping your face. "lemme r'mind you," he growled, before crashing his lips against yours. the kiss was hungry, desperate, filled with years of pent-up longing.

in one fluid motion, he lifted you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. he carried you to the wall, pressing you against it as his lips trailed hot kisses down your neck. your head fell back, a soft moans escaping your lips.

"god, you so fuckin' pretty," he murmured against your skin, his hands roaming your body, reacquainting themselves with every curve. he hitched your dress up higher, his fingers tracing the edge of your lace panties. "these in the way, mama."

with a swift movement, he pushed your panties to the side exposing your wet core, "shit, i missed this pussy. she missed daddy, baby?"

zilla's fingers were replaced by his hard length, rubbing against you. you didn't remember when he got the time to take his dick out his pants, but thank the stars above. you finally were about to get what you've nearly been wishing for and more, "fuck me, zilla. i missed you so much."

he slid into you, filling you up in one long stroke. your eyes rolled back as your body stretched to accommodate him. it had been too long since you'd felt him this way, inside you, claiming you as his own. the way his dick filled you perfectly made your mind go numb. you wrapped an arm around his neck bringing his lips to your owns. you let out a strangled whine as began to stroke, your pussy still getting used to the filling of being so full again.

he started moving slowly, dragging his hips back until you were nearly empty before filling you back up letting you adjust, and repeating the process until the coarse hair at the base of his cock tickled your clit.

"zilla!" you yelped as a particular thrust made him swipe over that special spot inside of you

"shh, shh don't wake him up, mama." he replied throwing a hand over your mouth to keep you moans at bay — careful not to wake your sleeping boy down the hall. "so fuckin' pretty just taking all this dick. I should nut all up in yo pretty ass.”

your moans and screams were muffled into zilla's hand. your eyes rolling towards the back of your head. you were in complete bliss right now. zilla's hips moved with a primal rhythm, each thrust driving you higher up the wall. your dress bunched around your waist, the silky fabric sliding against your skin with every movement. your panties, pushed hastily to the side, were soaked with your arousal — same as the floor beneath you. zilla's thickness stretched and filled you completely, your walls clenching around him, trying to draw him even deeper.

"that's it, mama," he panted, his hips pounding you against the wall. "take this dick. show me how much you missed it."

you arched your back, pressing your chest against his as you sought more friction. zilla's free hand slid down to grip your ass, kneading the flesh as he lifted you slightly, changing the angle. the new position had him hitting your g-spot with every stroke, and you saw stars behind your closed eyelids. you wrapped your legs tighter around his waist, your heels digging into his lower back, urging him on. your nails raked down his muscular back, leaving small rips in his tank top. zilla dipped his head, trailing hot kisses along your collarbone and down to the swell of your breasts.

your breath hitched as your belly started to tighten around his dick. zilla let out a quiet menacing chuckle into your ear, "wassup baby? you wanna cum? keep wettin' this dick up. make that shit spit fa me."

tears pricked your eyes as you shut them tightly. the pressure built up in your stomach and cum dripped down your legs — unable to store all of it in your pussy with his dick pummeling inside of you. zilla groaned, feeling your walls clench around him. "that's it, baby," he praised, his movements becoming erratic as he chased his own release. "fuck, I'm gonna cum. want me to fill you up, mama?"

your eyes were crossed and your head was spent, only focusing on the feeling of cumming all over him and the pleasure radiating through your body.

he let out a groan as he released every drop of his cum into you without thinking twice. his hips stuttering as he followed you over the edge. he gripped your ass, his hips bucking upwards, emptying ropes of his cum deep inside of you—filling you to the brim with his seed. some of it running down his dick, to his legs, and onto the floor. It felt too good to pull out and he wasn’t going to.

as you both came down from your high, zilla slowly removed his hand from your mouth, replacing it with a tender kiss on your bottom lip as you continued to shake and twitch in his arms. the feeling of his warm cum so deep inside you, triggering another mini orgasm. your body continued to convulse as every nerve ending in your body exploded, "yo ass happy you finally got some dick?"

❦:

@caramelcleopatraa @harmshake @msbigredmachine @luvrsluxe @uceyliyahh @angiedawn02 @amandairene88 @cyberdejos2 @queeny23 @empressdede @trentybenty @heauxvibez @whatdoeseverybodywant @shes2real @romansthrone @acknowledge-reigns @southerngirl41 @prettyfilmz @jaza23

don’t forget to like and reblog! <3 drop a comment also! i love reading those. xoxo, cleo.

(think i might make this a series tbh.)

[cakepoppresent]

24 Screenshots of '24 <3

Heyo,

I was tagged by @enniewritesathing and @euphiesims to share my favourite screenshots from 2024. I will try to make this nice and neat! and in no particular order (I'm going to put most of it under the cut so I don't spam up people's dashboards!)

I also tag @jayveesim @jayplaysims @weirdosalike @citylighten @matchalovertrait @pamsimmer and anyone else who wants to do it!!

Blair and Brayden Date Night. - I took them out on a date after everything with Grayson and Gideon died down. Blair was worried that it was a mistake having her kids all live in San My without their parents and Brayden was trying to calm her down

Xavier and his little crew - I love these little munchkins so much.

Brayden Visiting his son - Grayson spent Sulani alone trying to center himself and get his head on straight again. There isn't anything really special BUT I just liked how it looked. I liked that Grayson's father made sure he was doing okay. He even suggested therapy, Grayson refused but Blair and Brayden still have that therapist on speed dial just in case lol

Grayson walking home alone - I liked this shot a lot because I don't think I made it clear how Grayson has never been alone. Gideon has ALWAYS been by his side (or his siblings) so I thought it would be nice to get this shot of him being alone

Apollo - I just think Apollo is sexy af and you should all think the same thing

Bunny Sam - was playing around with Gshade and I just think she's sexy af. Y'all should think she's sexy too. Thx

Dancing Grayson - Grayson dancing to Nasty by Tinashe 😂 he just looked so cute

Miss. Luna V - my sis doesn't yearn but gets yearned for and she likes the feeling. That's a look thats giving "yeah I know you love me why wouldn't you"

Yearning Loser - Benji is so in love with Malcolm. It's embarrassing for him but he just loved being around him. That's his family

Malcolm and Veronica - Nothing really, I just thought they look good and Malcolm works out a lot autonomously so I wanted to show it off

Veronica and Brayden - Future father and daughter business duo in the making. Veronica just looks so good as a business woman. I can't see her as anything else and her dad in the background supporting like he should

Su and Grayson - What could have been! In another timeline where Gideon doesn't exist they would have had a chance. Unfortunately this is all in Su's mind. Poor baby

The Reeves!!! - the family I've been playing for over a year. They are my everything and I'm so happy I made them! They are so beautiful

Xavier's stank face - I like his stank face because it supports my head cannon that Xavier and Veronica are much more similar in personality. Xavier just knows how to hide it better 😂

Unfriendly Black hotties - Luna up until this point as always been smiling and amicable but I love seeing her mad and looking upset. She looks so good

Hopelessly Devoted To You - They are currently on a break but that doesn't stop Gideon from staring at Grayson like nothing has changed. TBH Gideon thinking about how to get Grayson pregnant

Nothing to say - It's Luna looking regal and gorgeous as always. Daiksue so lucky I'm not giving him a love rival (I fucking should)

The Villareal Twins - I just like them and I don't have enough pics of them together

Rainy Nights - this is probably my favorite animation and I love the ambience and the lighting of this screenie so much. I just love them so much

Can you tell who my favorite couple is? Lol. I dunno this was after Malcom and Luna got into a fight. Malcolm went straight home and flew right into Benji's arms. He won't admit it but he loves being in Benji's arms

Taking a break - I wanna redo this scene because I felt like I didn't actually convey what I needed to convey. But I just love how dependent they are on each other even when going through their relationship woes

Taking care of his lady - Luna tried it and Daisuke wasn't having it. He wasn't gonna leave without setting the record straight with his future wife

My Munchkins - please. They are so cute and I had so much fun playing them! Also Xavier's face is so funny here

There was a challenge for simstwt a supernatural theme. I used Sam and Apollo and played around with lighting. I really liked how it turned out

[iridiss]

Aaron’s such an underrated character on Aphblr tbh. He’s become one of my favorite characters in the cast as I rewatch more and more of Mystreet. Aaron will tease you, but he’s also one of the best characters in the cast to go to for emotional support. He’ll tell you as it is, smack you upside the head when you’re being crazy and shake you back to rational normalcy, but then he’ll sigh and tell you you’re gonna be just fine and everything’s gonna be okay. He is the number one (and on occasion only) holder of brain cells in the whole neighborhood. He’s the most sensible, and often the word of wisdom/rationale, much more so than Katelyn or Lucinda or Zane or Laurance are. This can often make him come off as a serious character, but he’s still down to clown! He just does it in a different way!

He’s supposed to contrast Aphmau’s louder, more extroverted, playful, ditzy, eccentric personality, by being quieter, more rational, more responsible, more cautious and careful, more reserved, a word of wisdom to contrast her crazier, chaotic energy and pranking and punning and ponies and general whimsical tomfoolery. But that does not, by any means, mean that he is not participating in the antics. Just because he’s the only one who thought to bring a first aid kit and a safety harness doesn’t mean he’s not jumping off that cliff with everyone else in this crazy cast. You tell him to dig, he’ll bring shovels. He may sigh or say “oh god not again” when shit goes awry or the gang decides they are Dead Set on doing something insane for the 10,000th time, but by god he will commit. Aphmau kidnaps a baby and goes on a mad chase for a comedic bit, and he never complains about how “stupid” and “reckless” and “obnoxious” his girlfriend is, he just says in a completely calm tone, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go save my girlfriend.” And he chases after her immediately lmao.

Aaron enables the antics and participates in them, and if you rile him up or challenge him damn well enough, he will throw himself into the group antics with an unbeatable, fiery fervor. If the boys decide they’re all gonna pretend to be Santa and his elves in order to cause prankster-variety chaos one day, Aaron would join in and go right alongside them. He’s here to make sure it all goes to plan. He’s here to make sure you don’t break any bones when you jump off that roof like a madman. He’s here to help you run away from the cops, help you break into the building. He may chide you for doing it in the first place (“do you even know what you’re doing?!”), and if needed he may drag you back home if you’re barking up the wrong tree and it’s nothing but detrimental to you, but if it’s viable for the bit, he absolutely will show you how to break a window correctly.

And he can be a little shit if he wants to, too!! He can snicker at you and tease you and make quips, and I bet if Aaron himself dedicated his energy to it, he would make the best of pranks. He’s not an asshole that’s full of himself and too serious and stoic and cool for being silly, he’s not a whiny bitch, he’s actually very incredibly supportive. At times, much more so than Garroth, Laurance, Zane, Katelyn, etc. He’s reliable, he trusts Aphmau a lot, he knows how shittily Aphmau cooks and still does his damndest to support her, and he will force himself to eat her biohazardous cooking just to make her happy. He is the chef of the household. He’s good with animals, animals love him. He’s a kind guy!!! He’s just got his own unique energy and vibe to him, that no one else in the cast really has, and I really appreciate that core trait of him. He’s a grounding character. He’s probably got his own ways that he’s weird and eccentric that are a lot more hidden than Aphmau’s. If we didn’t have Aaron, the entire neighborhood would have burned down ages ago, ten times over.

I genuinely do believe he’d make a fantastic dad, being a combination of a soft and gentle and tenderly loving man, and responsible enough to always bring safety helmets and bandaids and snacks, very supportive of his kids development, emotionally available as a great source of genuine advice and wisdom while still getting plenty of encouragement. He would probably want to make an effort to be a very different parent than his father was, and since he was emotionally neglected as a child, he would refuse to do anything similar to his own kids. He’d be a good influence (and Aphmau would be the bad influence LOL)

He’s kind of a teddy bear of a man <3 If he weren’t so heavily wolf-themed, I’d say a bear would be the best animal that’d fit his personality and energy. He’d protect you like a bear, he can be really fucking terrifying if he wants to, but he’d only use that power to make sure Aphmau gets what she wants and needs to make her happy. He’d never use that terrifying intimidation factor of his on his friends and loved ones, never as anything more than a single look that has a derailing Garroth/Laurance/Travis/Dante/Gene/etc. get right the fuck back on track and start backpedaling, like if they started saying or doing something careless or stupid that made Aphmau feel worse. He’s quiet and reserved with that tired, grounded, solid energy of a bear. He’s a big guy. But he can also be really soft and supportive and sweet. He takes more time to come out of his shell and let down his walls, but when he does, he really dedicates his life to the few people he manages to trust. And it’s that thick outer shell that makes Aphmau a good match for him, because she’s kinda the only character in the cast who’s able to bring him out of his shell so easily.

She’s kind and extremely friendly, unstoppably and unendingly so. She’s sweet and naive and selfless in the way that proves to Aaron that she’s not trying to get anything out of him, she’s not lying to him, and she would never neglect him or just…abandon him like a discarded toy once she’s through with him. She’s not scared of him. She sees the best in everybody, and sees that there’s something more underneath that scary, prickly outer shell of defenses that’s managed to push everyone else away and keep the likes of Laurance and Garroth and Katelyn on their toes. She sees what no one else does, she sees the true beauty and the kind heart he has underneath. Even in MCD, when he’s literally held a sword to her throat and threatened her life multiple times, she can still sense that he’s full of shit and there’s a kind heart underneath, and if she does a little cultivating, extends a hand of gentle kindness and genuine affection, a kind of love and affection he’s never really seen before and been starved of all his life… it works wonders, and he steps out to meet her. He changes, drastically, because she sees the best in him, and that makes him want to become the best version of himself that he can be, for her. Where he might hate himself and grapple with feeling unloveable, Aphmau is there to remind him none of its true. And so he tries to keep her nightmares away in return, sticking by her side, taking care of her, cooking for her, encouraging her to keep doing everything she does best, defends her against the bullies that make her feel like she’s not good enough, and takes her by the shoulders to remind her that she is good enough, and all the voices out there and in her head that tell her she’s not are full of shit. Because he knows first-hand, better than most, the good things she brings to those around her and the wonderful presence she is in others lives, and how wonderful she is as a person. He trusts her. He’s here to guide her along in her path to becoming her fullest self, to give her that last big nudge to boost her along the way. Likely on a cosmic level, mainly, with her becoming Irene.

He’s very sweet, he’s sweet to Aphmau, Aphmau’s even sweeter to him, and genuinely I’ve learned to love the big, fluffy guy and I really appreciate him and his impact on the other characters the more and more I see of him. I don’t really know how I would enjoy Mystreet or MCD or the Aphverse without him. If he were real, I would love to give him one big hug, I bet his hugs would be amazing (topped only by Garroth’s rib-crushing bear hugs)

[thesummerstorms]

Tbh, Arsinoë de Riva is probably broke as hell at the start of the game. Technically, she's on a contract for Varric, but it took six months for Viago of all people to even call it such. Payment for said contract on Varric's end is mostly "not letting Arsinoë die at the hands of one of the other Talons".

She's been away from Antiva (and all her savings and contacts and networks along with whatever House de Riva might be expected to provide for its Crows) for a solid year. She fled in the middle of the night with what she could carry on her person, so it's not like she had time to dip into her emergency caches around Treviso.

In that time, she's been on the road with Varric and, sure, maybe she could take some "off the books" contracts on the side to make ends meet, but I feel like she was probably incredibly paranoid about doing that when

a) technically Varric holds her contract and it is very much against Crow rules to "double book" as it were

b) Varric and Harding seem a bit "upright" and she has no idea how they would react to her taking secondary jobs

and

c) she has had it beaten into her that you do not take contracts outside the House, in part due to loyalty, at least partially because the House will take its cut, but mostly because that means she doesn't have Viago or anyone else to vet the Contract for her.

She was probably selling off trinkets in the beginning, enchanted rings and such from other jobs, and looting off the Venatori, which she's continued doing since.

But her contract with Varric doesn't have a timeline or a price, so eventually she might have had to break and take outside work had Varric not figured out what she was doing and informed her that the Merchant's Guild and royalties from his novels were paying their way through this job, and yes, he did intend to pay for her meals and lodging even if he couldn't actually afford an Antivan Crow.

With Varric unable to continue paying her way after the prologue, the Lighthouse seems like a blessing. Food is still an expense, but lodging that is both secure and free is a blessing. She still wears that god-awful worn out armor for way too long with an eye to the expense book.

Viago is displeased when she wears it home to Treviso for the first time, but it isn't like she knew they would be meeting the First Talon and she was under the impression she shouldn't knew better than to raid House de Riva's stores and show up in the Colors without her Talon's explicit forgiveness and permission. And then the turn around to the Ossuary is so quick that she's still wearing it when she rescues Lucanis.

Viago does eventually tell Arsinoë to "start dressing properly before she shames House de Riva" (aka to dip into the House Stores to replace her failing equipment and to start wearing the Colors again) a little upset somewhere very deep down that she thought she couldn't, mainly because she is who she is to him, not just a random Crow.

But Lucanis still brings it up casually one day over laundry day in the Lighthouse, asking if she was supposed to be in some sort of disguise or if Viago has completely lost his mind, accepting a contract that didn't pay enough for Arsinoë to maintain her own gear.

Only for her to laughingly reply "I haven't been paid in at least a year, actually. Actually, technically, if anything I still owe the House and Varric, so... Well, hopefully the next contract is a good one."

[mikodrawnnarratives]

Arcane s2 heavily critical: more discussing suicide in arcane

Something about Jinx's ending being discussed as tragic really rubs me the wrong way. I've seen one analysis try to spin it as beautiful and it really fucking irks me

And I haven't been quiet about her ending pissing me off, both if she survived and if she didn't.

If she didn't survive the arcane writers really did just say "If you identify with this character, have troubles, feel like you are a jinx, killing yourself is totally a good solution!" Which is a message that has already hurt suicidal people! Even if they didn't intend it, they did send that message. They didn't do nearly enough to make it any different

If she DID for 1) Where is she getting this sudden willingness to live? If Ekkos visit changed her mind that much then it definitely should have had more screentime 2) WHY ARE THEY LEAVING THIS SO FUCKING OPEN ENDED?? So many people are going to miss the clues, this should have been a priority so "it's not too late to build something new" hits hard

Another thing I thought of is that one tumblr post about the key things that make up a tragedy and some being that This didn't have to happen, things could have been different if the characters made different decisions, but since they are these these characters that would Never Happen.

But Jinx killing herself wasn't inevitable. Jinx isn't destined to ruin everything. She isn't destined to be miserable. We SAW her be happy with Isha, we SAW that she could do good. Then Isha sacrifices herself and it regresses Jinx back to the beginning of the season, even more depressed and ready to kill herself.

This is not a fucking tragedy. This is an insulting ending, an insulting season tbh, for such a great character who deserved better. A tragedy would be better than this. This is sad for sad sake

I wonder if anyone has made any videos on this season relying too much on parallels. That is what EVERYONE praising the season goes on and ON about and it doesn't make up for the shitty writing imo

[eudaimonia111]

Is it Love or Hate? | Penelope Garcia x Gn!Reader

Summary: Reader thinks Penelope hates them. Will a Christmas party change their mind?

Warnings: 3rd POV, not proof read, kissing, Penelope doubting herself, probably ooc everyone tbh, Penelope and Spencer being the besties they are

Words: 3074

Masterlist

Please do not copy or translate any of my work. Thank you!

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

You started working at the BAU just a few months ago and had felt a kind, welcoming connection with everyone (even if Hotch is a bit scary). 

But Penelope always seems not to want to talk to you. Always looks the other way and finds excuses to leave the room when you enter, leaving a cold and awkward air behind her. 

At first, you thought maybe she was just stressed or nervous about a new face on the team but the more time you spent at work, the more it seemed like that wasn't the case.

It made you feel so defeated and upset because the instant you laid eyes on her, you thought she was amazing. Her hair was swooshing around her shoulders, a brightly colored plastic accessory pinned to her bangs. A cute, soft cardigan warmed her arms as an adorable dress adorned her body below it.

Gorgeous, funny, goofy, nerdy, smart, her whole personality was just warm and wholeheartedly kind. 

Except for how she acted around you. 

But for some reason, she can barely stand the sight of you. At least that's what it felt like. So harboring a crush on someone who basically hates you doesn't feel too good, believe it or not.

“I don’t know what I’ve done wrong, JJ,” You say, groaning exasperatedly, tilting your head back to look up at the ceiling in defeat and frustration. “You’ve done nothing wrong!” Her high-pitched voice fills the air of the meeting room, a warm hand being placed on your shoulder. 

You sit up and spin in your chair once she withdraws her hand. “I must’ve done something! She's so nice to everyone but avoids me like the plague.” 

“You’re misreading the situation. She doesn't hate you.” JJ sighs as if she’s talking to a child that she just put in timeout, shaking her head, her straight honey-blonde hair swaying in the air.

“What could I possibly be misreading? Her body language is always closed off when I’m around, crossed arms, turning away, tensed muscles. Not to mention increased heart rate, strained voice if she even decides to speak, dilated pupils, shall I go on?”

JJ sighs, her head tilting to the side as she crosses her arms. You see Reid's crisp button-up as he passes by the door, his soft brown hair bouncing as he walks. “Whoever you’re talking about, it sounds like they have a crush”

His voice is highly analytical and precise as if he were solving a complex case. “Wait, what?” You call out, sitting up straight in the office chair, pointing your body towards the door, eyebrows furrowed together as your brain races with possibilities and answers to unanswered questions.

Reid pivots on his feet, coming back into the frame to accentuate his point. “Well, increased heart rate, strained voice, and dilated pupils are all signs of attraction. Actually, The National Library of Medicine did a study on it. Physical features, such as pupil size, gaze directionality, eye color, facial symmetry, and nonverbal displays, are encoded by human minds.. Um yes, it- it sounds like they have a crush.”

Reid stops himself short of a tangent of some study about behavioral science that he surely has memorized all the words of. You blink, shaking your head. “Ya know, usually Reid, I would thank you for being a human Google Search but there's no way Penelope is attracted to me.” You awkwardly chuckle, mind racing a mile a minute. 

Spencer goes stiff at the information that they're talking about Penelope. He tightens his fingers around his coffee mug a little tighter, his skin taking on a whiter yellow-y color. His posture a little straighter, his eyes a little wider as he gulps down the saliva in his mouth nervously. 

“Spencer? What is it?” You ask, picking up on the difference in his demeanor. 

“W-What? Oh, It’s nothing. I just didn't know w- we- we were talking about her. So it’s probably not attraction. Not- not that she hates you or anything of course! An-anyways, I have some paperwork to get to so..” He tails off, slowly but briskly leaving the doorway. 

Me and JJ stay silent for a second, staring at the doorway where Spencer once stood before slowly turning to each other.

“That was weird.” JJ's eyebrows are furrowed, her mouth open so her lips have a little gap between them, a blank and confused expression on her face.

You both get up to go to our desks, the warm lights of the stringed bulbs that are hanging in the main area shining in our eyes. The whole BAU was decorated to the nines for Christmas, with lights and tinsel every which way.

You plop down at your desk and start on a stack of paperwork. You take a pen out of your cup full of them, hearing the tink of it hitting the surface. You press the small button at the top of it to make the pen tip come out with a mechanical click as your eyes see Spencer walk out of Penelope's bat cave with an anxious and regretful look on his face.

Deciding to overthink that tad bit of information later, you get started on the migraine-inducing stack of paper.

After hours of coffee, computers, paperwork, and thinking, Hotch walks into the main area. “Go home early, everyone. The parties tomorrow.” He announces, referring to the Christmas party at Rossi's house tomorrow night and not bothering to mention the few days of work you guys have off. Without further thought, he walks back into his office and begins to clean up his desk.

Finishing up on writing the last paragraph down, JJ passes by, being seen in the peripheral of your vision. “Hey, do you wanna get some dinner?” You decide to call out, barely glancing up from the last sentence.

“I can’t, I'm too tired. I’m probably going to go home, put something in the microwave, and pass out.” She shrugs, her eyes tired and almost defeated.

“No worries, I’ll see you tomorrow.” “Bye!”

You finish your work and grab your bag, making your way to the elevator. You see the doors closing, only a foot away from each other, inching closed. “Wait, hold it please!” You shout, jogging towards the big metal doors.

A manicured hand stretches out, wedging itself between the shiny doors. They retreat from their path, sliding into the open position.

You huff, sliding into the elevator, the doors shutting seconds after you do. Penelope stands, wide-eyed, realizing who she is holding the door for.

“Oh, hi.” You swallow, trying to make the space a little less awkward with a little bit of small talk. Instead of replying, she just nods, redirecting her head to look straight forward, inwardly praying for the elevator to move as fast as possible.

You take a breath, letting the silence sit for a moment before you look over at her. Her hair is curled, pretty waves cascading over her shoulders as red and green hair accessories pin her hair back on either side.

“I love your dress.” You decide complimenting her is probably the best course of action. It might make her a bit more relaxed, more at ease. 

Instead, it only seems to make her more nervous. She bites her lip, her posture stiffening as if she is the most uncomfortable she’s ever been in her life. “Thanks” The words almost sound choked as they leave her mouth.

The second the elevator doors open, she's hurrying out of the building, speed walking as fast as she can to get out of the clear doors to the street outside.

You sigh. No matter how hard you try to be friendly and make her feel more welcome, she always seems like you're contagious or something. A ball forms at the back of your throat and you clear it as you make your way out of the building, saying goodbye to the receptionist and wishing him a happy holiday. 

The next day you take it slow, sleeping in and making easy food before starting to get ready way before the actual event, not wanting to rush anything. You know it's probably fruitful but you decide to dress your best, doing everything you can to look as good as possible.

In the back of your head, you think of scenarios where Penelope compliments you, saying you look cute. How you’d all of a sudden hit it off and you’d ask her out on a date and she’d be overjoyed at the idea, a blush highlighting her cheeks.

But at the end of the day, you also know that theres no way that would ever happen. She would never compliment you, much less talk to you on her own free volition. 

She’d most likely ignore you all night if nothing else. 

And you tried not to think about that too hard. You didn’t want to be depressed today of all days. You didn't want to feel bad about yourself. And so, you put on your very best clothes in hopes that it will make you feel better and that the party will go better than planned. You lied to yourself.

That night you made your way to Rossis, and when he opened the door for you, you were quickly welcomed into his lavish home. High ceilings, expensive furnishings and appliances, and when you followed him into his living room, one of the largest Christmas trees you’ve ever seen in your life was on display.

The team seemed happy, carefree, and relaxed. You wander over and join the lively conversation. You talk adamantly about random topics, funny stories, jokes, and past jobs. 

“Jesus, you look amazing!” JJ brings you into a tight hug, a big beautiful grin gracing her face. She squeezes you, her hand rubbing your back for a few seconds before she pulls back, looking at you, her eyes scanning your face like she was trying to see all the detail and hard work you put in tonight.

Looking to your left for a split second, you spot Penelope, looking as gorgeous as always. Her face is pulled up into a smile as she hits Morgan's arm, responding to some retort he just called out. 

She still has her coat on over the dress she's wearing but it all ties in perfectly. The way her hair is done expertly and the way her glasses frame her eyes, almost showcasing the beautiful color. 

Her cheeks lift again to laugh, adorable little creases forming around her mouth, her eyes almost closing at how hard the joy takes over her face. Her hair swooshes with the movement of the vibration of the laugh, her shoulders rocking.

“You did this for her, huh?” You snap your head back at JJ, her voice knocking you out of you staring.

Her facial expression is knowing, almost scolding as she squints her eyes at you. 

“No.” It sounds unconvincing, even to your ears. You cross your arms as JJ tilts her head with an eyebrow raised, a silent question on if you’re really trying to lie to the both of you.

“..Maybe.”

JJ shakes her head knowingly but says nothing, a quiet conversation being noted between the two of you. 

The night goes on as everyone has fun. But miraculously, every time you and Penelope are in the same conversation, she manages to slip away. Deciding to give up, you decide to head to the restroom, only to find a small queue has formed. 

Someone is in it, the door shut and locked as no one other than Penelope is waiting for it to open. You awkwardly clear your throat, deciding to lean on the wall across from her silently to wait for the bathroom.

The silence is palpable, the stench of it filling the air, making the oxygen almost thick. The blank sound lingers, a contrast to the lively music and talking faintly heard from the main part of the house.

You heave a sigh, not knowing what to do, your mind grasping at ways to ease the tension. “You look great.” You decide to give her a compliment to which she gives a halfhearted smile.

“Thanks.”

She looks away, obviously trying to not engage in conversation. The pit at the back of your throat starts forming again and maybe you’ve drank too much champagne so your next words are completely unfiltered.

“Why do you hate me?” The words come off as exasperated and almost meek, like you're grasping at straws but you couldn't care less right now. The words have always been at the back of your head but the nerve to ask such a thing has never presented itself. And if it has, you chicken out immediately.

Her head whips back to you. “What?” Her eyebrows are furrowed, and her eyes wide, surprise evident in her features.

“What have I done wrong? Is there something I can do? Is there something I need to apologize for?” 

“What? Of course not.” Her answer is immediate. Like the answer to your question was a no-brainer. You step a little closer.

“Then why do you never talk to me? Or leave the room when I enter? Or act as if I don’t even exist? Or when you do, act as if I’m contagious?” The words fly out of your mouth like word vomit. But It’s not as if you’re not telling the truth about how you feel. On how her actions affect you.

“I just-” She cuts herself off, being caught in a corner by your words.

“Just what? Why do you have such disdain for me?”

“I don’t I just-” 

“Then why?”

You pester her, wanting the answers to your questions, the conversation became slightly heated, the back and forth becoming faster.

“I don't, I just have a crush on you!” The words spill over. Her eyes go wide as she hears them slip past her lips.

There's a beat of silence, the words soaking into each of your brains.

“What?” The words are soft as they come out, confusion evident in their tone.

“Just forget I said anything. Ya know what? I’m sure Derek-” Before she can figure out a way to escape the situation, you step closer, slightly crowding her space. Her eyes frantically search down the hallway, hoping for someone to walk by or for an out to this.

“Wait no, you like me?” 

At the confrontation, she turns mousy. Her head ducks down and her voice cuts off. Both of your hearts are beating in your ears, afraid the other can hear it.

Your mouth involuntarily breaks into a small smile. There's no way she feels the same about you. Every situation from the past few months flashes in your mind. She has such a big crush that she has had to leave rooms and try to mask her flushed cheeks and flustered expression. She's been forced to look away and not talk to you, afraid you’ll pick up on her feelings.

“Jesus Christ, you really had me scared that you hated my guts. Fuck, I think you’re amazing, Penelope.” You step a little closer, both underneath the closed doorway to the bathroom. 

Her glassy eyes look up at you from their place transfixed on the floor. In those Irises hold amazement. Doubt. Shock.

“What?” Her mind's going a mile a minute. There's no way that you could like her like that. She goes through all her flaws and all her quirks. 

The fact that she plays MMORPGs, her love for fashion, the small trinkets she puts at her desk, and her personality is less than conventional. I mean, no one likes her. Right?

(for people who don’t know or don’t understand what that means: Massively Multiplayer Online Role Playing Games. Think of things like World Of Warcraft, Runescape, Final Fantasy 14, things like that)

“Penelope, I think you're perfect. I mean, how could I not? You're smart, funny, charming, quirky, bubbly, beautiful. I’m just surprised you like me.”

It’s her turn to be bewildered. “Of course I like you” She breathes a deep breath, realizing that you don’t see her “faults”. Well you do, but you see them as good things. You see them as cute little puzzle pieces that fit together to get her.

Her eyes glance up, a tiny plant being held up by a ribbon hanging in the frame of the tall door. Your eyes follow hers, seeing a little mistletoe above your heads.

Building up the courage, your eyes travel down to her. Swallowing, you say tentatively, “Can I kiss you, Penelope.” 

Her eyes are big like a puppy, looking at you as if you're just a dream. Her head jostles as she nods a silent yes.

Your lips meet gently, the soft skin pressing to each other. The simple touch feels like it puts air into your lungs, like it’s your first time truly breathing. And when you go to pull away, your eyes open a sliver and colors seem brighter than before and sounds feel clearer.

Her head tilts towards yours and she quickly reconnects your lips, your eyelids slipping closed once more. And this time, everything fades out but her. Her soft hands reach to your jawline, her soft lips caressing yours.

Her dress is soft in your hands and you bring them up to her sides. Her perfume was in the air, wafting delightfully around her. The way she moves her lips against yours; anxious but yearning and loving. Warm.

Your brain swims with thoughts of her. As if you two were the only things that existed, before a throat clearing pulls your lips away from each other, eyes opening and looking over to the cause of the sound. 

Only to find Spencer scratching the back of his neck. “I’ll just uh, sorry.” He tensely slips between you two, speed-walking down the hallway. As you hear his footsteps recede, he pops his head back into view from the corner he turned. “Congrats.” Before he ducks his head, escaping the scene.

Penelope giggles, a hand coming up to go in front of her mouth to contain them. You turn your head her way, a laugh escaping your own lips.

With the warm feeling still in your stomach, you smile as you ask, “Penelope, would you like to go on a date with me?”

Your question is answered immediately with a bashful expression. “Yes”

[sansaorgana]

Now, that's what I call a Christmas gift! 🎁😂

“Some of the things I said were…unkind-”

“Cruel.” He interjects with a smirk; you purse your lips playfully and continue.

“But so were your deeds, and I have forgiven you. Mostly. So perhaps you should do me the same courtesy,” you twirl a strand of his hair around your finger as you prop yourself up to search his gaze, “since we are… what are we again? Oh yes…”

Honestly who is he to call someone or something cruel lmaooo

“Do they really need to know?” He had asked you one night, holding you close as the rest of the world slept.

“What do you mean, love? Oh, that you’re mine? Yes, absolutely, they must. If I don’t stake my claim now, all of Eregion’s eligible maidens will be vying for your hand, and I cannot possibly entertain a rival for your affections.” Your tone is light, your words spoken in jest, but he sees in you the same dark possessive streak that runs so deeply within him, and his heart can’t help but reach out for yours, dark tendrils of his power wrapping around you.

Why does he want to keep their relationship secret? 🤨

“My love, if the sun were too bright or the moon offensive to your eyes or the stars were to outshine your radiance, I would tear it all down for you. Everything I do is for the love of you.” He means it, in his own way, and you know it, a thrill shooting through you, ending in butterflies in the pit of your stomach.

Oh... 🥺

When he first saw you, Sauron never thought he would end up here, with you so willingly his. His to hold close and torment with his loving words, torture with his lingering touch, to soothe with the lies that drip so easily from his tongue.

TO SOOTHE WITH THE LIES?! EXCUSE ME?!!

“So good for me, opening under my touch, I know what you need, darling, I have you, just let go.” He murmurs in your ear, aching for your release as much as his own; after all, they are the same thing.

Oh... 🥴

“So beautiful, my darling wife, wrung out and ruined for me. Is there a single thought in that pretty mind?” He can’t help but gaze at you fondly, slicked with sweat and writhing under his fingers.

No, absolutely not. Zero thoughts. 🙃

Hand in hand with your husband, you cannot help but feel at peace as you stroll through the streets of Eregion.

Musicians fill the air with song, lively market stalls line the streets, and children run and play amongst the revellers.

Your fellow Elves are still a little in awe of him, the crowds parting as you make your way through the city.

This is so sad because he will be their very demise...

“How can I call myself the Lord of Gifts if I cannot even gift my wife a small trinket for her devotion?” He teases you fondly, his broad smile reaching his eyes, making them crinkle at the corners in the way that makes you want to kiss every crease and wrinkle from his face just to make them multiply a hundredfold.

I love the wrinkles around his eyes more than anything, I swear! 🩷

A slim golden band graces your finger, radiating your husband’s power. There is something about it, something that makes you never want to take it off.

🤨🤨🤨 girl, don't wear that...

AND THE SMUT DURING THE FALL OF EREGION WAS SO HOT OMG I MEAN THEY ALL WERE BUT THIS ONE AHHH I'D LOVE TO SEE MORE OF THIS SIDE OF SAURON 🥴🔥

“You make it sound so inelegant, ‘rule the world’, is it my fault that the peoples of Middle Earth need uniting under a strong leader, one who will bring them the order and balance they so desire?” He is still using that calm, condescending tone that drives you mad, that once soothed you but now feels like fingernails under your skin.

that calm, condescending tone is what makes my knees melt tbh

“You want to be worshipped as a god.” You whisper, unable to believe this is the man you married, that you loved. Love. Love, still, as you rail against the feeling, hopeless to break it.

“And you, my goddess. It is as it should be, the right way of things, the people need order, and we can give it to them. You and I.” He traces your face softly, making you shiver. “Only us.”

girl what do you mean you don't want this, this is all I've ever dreamt of!!!

"You want to heal Middle Earth? How can one so broken know anything of healing?"

ouuuuuuch 😭

“You don’t know my heart.” It tastes a lie as it leaves your lips, but it’s the only retort you have.

With a soft smile, knowing and terrible, he replies, “Darling, I am your heart.”

A SOFT SMILE – KNOWING AND TERRIBLE. I love that creepy smile. 🔥 And the line is fire, too!

And In The Darkness Bind Them (Sauron/F!Reader)

A series of vignettes (smutty and angsty) chronicling S2 Rings of Power

Sequel to Homecoming // AO3 Link incoming

Soundtrack: Beautiful Things by Benson Boone, Replay by Lady Gaga, Hands of Gold by Peter Hollens (kudos to @missjadesfics for this one)

Warnings: 18+ only!! Little bit of fluff, mostly smut and angst! Sometimes together!! P in V sex, oral (female receiving), fingering, possessiveness/toxic relationship, overstimulation, public sex/exhibitionism, dom!Sauron (I know smh, what am I doing??), carry-fucking (y'all I am cooking here, like he is basically a god so no matter how light or heavy you are, he can definitely pick you up and fuck you stupid okay), cumplay (idk how to describe it any other way), praise/condescending/degradation (it's a wild ride lmao), so much angst, very (!!) dubious consent towards the end (sorry, Sauron really leaning into his villain era now)

A/N: Reader is mad in love with our boy in this one but uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh well good luck guys idk

rather than a bunch of actual chapters, I've written a few vignettes for S2 Rings of Power (maybe I'll go back and expand on them later), starting near the start where Sauron is more Annatar, finishing at the end where he is ... very much himself. Some of the smut gets very dark, please take note of the tags!!

The morning after Annatar climbs into your bed, you are momentarily confused to see long golden hair on the pillow next to you. Then you remember that Halbrand is no more.

“Good morning, love.” He props himself up on one arm, disentangling himself from your embrace.

You cannot help but stare at him a moment; this ethereal creature in front of you cannot be yours.

“Is it really you?” You ask him, eyes sparkling and fingers trailing over his high cheekbones, his broad firm chest, his sculpted lips.

“Always, darling.” He pulls you close, kissing your forehead.

He always smells the same, like salt and iron, smoke and musk. If your souls were to no longer recognise each other, you swear you could follow your nose to find him.

“You left so suddenly, I didn’t get to say goodbye.” You murmur into his chest, fingers entwined in his golden hair.

“I’m sorry, love, circumstances arose, I had matters to take care of, but I’m here now.”

He had set his plans in motion in Mordor, and waited for Galadriel to leave Eregion. He had a feeling that she would have told no-one there who he really was, her ego bruised and pride bleeding. He only had to wait for you to let him in. And with a little pleading, you had managed to convince Celebrimbor to open his gates.

“We should talk, properly, about what happened, the last time we saw each other. At Forodwaith.” You stutter and trip over your words, nervous to bring up the subject, but it has weighed heavily on your mind.

He sighs, running his fingers up and down your arm, unhurried and unphased.

Of course you had been angry with him when you’d found out about his plans to become Morgoth’s successor, and you stood by that anger. But knowing you had left him to die, to mourn the loss of your husband for centuries, your mind screamed at you to make it right, whatever you had to say.

“Some of the things I said were…unkind-”

“Cruel.” He interjects with a smirk; you purse your lips playfully and continue.

“But so were your deeds, and I have forgiven you. Mostly. So perhaps you should do me the same courtesy,” you twirl a strand of his hair around your finger as you prop yourself up to search his gaze, “since we are… what are we again? Oh yes…”

You lean in and whisper in his ear, “Bound in flesh and soul.”

His smile this time is dangerous, threatening, promising.

“And to think, if I were not so ravenous in my lust for you-” he grasps your wrists, pins them to the headboard with one hand and wraps his other arm around you, nose in your hair as he breathes in deeply.

“-I might have spared myself this torment.” He grins into your neck as you try to catch his lips with yours. “Not that I would have it any other way.”

He bends his neck and kisses you softly, releasing you just enough to throw your arms around his neck, through his silky golden hair, pulling him closer.

The dread that had dogged you for centuries is gone. There is no such thing as chance, and he is sure that you were supposed to leave him, whatever the reason, to save you from the same evil fate he suffered. After a millennium as primordial ooze, he can’t bring himself to care, only grateful to have you in his arms again.

~

Celebrimbor had been rather taken aback when Annatar had walked into his forge with you on his arm. You had been a close friend for many years, having visited his city many times, even reinforced the defences with the ancient magic you’d learned from your lost kin. He knew you were married but had never met your lord husband; no one could have guessed he was an emissary of the Valar.

Indeed you were surprised by his cover story too, but dismissed it as your husband wanting to make the best impression as you introduced him to the world.

“Do they really need to know?” He had asked you one night, holding you close as the rest of the world slept.

“What do you mean, love? Oh, that you’re mine? Yes, absolutely, they must. If I don’t stake my claim now, all of Eregion’s eligible maidens will be vying for your hand, and I cannot possibly entertain a rival for your affections.” Your tone is light, your words spoken in jest, but he sees in you the same dark possessive streak that runs so deeply within him, and his heart can’t help but reach out for yours, dark tendrils of his power wrapping around you.

“How could I look at another soul the way I look at you? You are the other half of me, the reason my heart still beats. No one compares to my wife, and I would reduce anyone who argued otherwise to dust.”

You laugh a little, burying your face in his side, but he needs you to know just how serious he is, cupping and lifting your chin to hold your gaze.

“My love, if the sun were too bright or the moon offensive to your eyes or the stars were to outshine your radiance, I would tear it all down for you. Everything I do is for the love of you.” He means it, in his own way, and you know it, a thrill shooting through you, ending in butterflies in the pit of your stomach.

It amazes you that even after the eons you’ve loved each other, you still feel the same flutters of excitement you did when you first set eyes on him in that golden glade, millenia ago.

The trials you have endured only sweeten the moments of contentment, making you all the more grateful to hold each other.

~

He has a job to do, a forge to supervise, and rings to create. But with you in his arms and a gentle breeze cooling you both in the burgeoning warmth of spring, he could be persuaded to stay abed a little longer.

“Stay with me today.” You murmur into his chest, unwilling to let him go.

It’s as if you could hear his thoughts as he could hear yours.

He chuckles fondly, stroking your hair, considering the vaguest possibility of letting Celebrimbor work unattended for today. Surely one day couldn’t hurt?

“I have to oversee the rings, my love, their progress is precious in every sense of the word,” he says as he traces your arm, rubbing slow circles into your skin with his thumb.

You grumble with indignation, nestling closer to his side as if to keep him there with the sheer magnetism of your presence. He squeezes your arm softly before resting his chin on the top of your head.

“One day with my husband. Is that too much to ask?” Your tone is still a little petulant, but he can’t help but smile fondly at your yearning for him; after all, it is returned a hundredfold.

“Your husband is an emissary of the Valar, he has… important duties, what are you doing?”

You give him a mischievous smile, running your foot up and down his leg, hand reaching between his thighs.

“I am simply showing my husband what he is missing when he attends to these important duties, more important than keeping his wife satisfied, apparently.” Your smile grows wider as his eyes grow dark, pupils blowing wide as your hand finds its prize, his cock already half hard simply from lying next to you all morning, breathing you in.

“Are you implying I do not keep you satisfied, my lady? Oh, that simply will not do…” he growls, rolling you over and caging you beneath his iron frame.

You look up at him through your lashes, your breath hitching as arousal pools in your core and drips down your thighs.

The dark glint in his eye only intensifies as he catches the scent of you, needy for his touch, as he dips his fingers between your thighs, delicately tracing your entrance as you shiver beneath him.

His hard length juts against your hip as he greedily swallows your moans, not sated until he has wrung every note of pleasure from you. His tongue doesn’t need to fight for dominance in your mouth; he already has it, and you let him take whatever he needs from you.

His thrusts are lazy, languid, now that his plans for the day no longer involve leaving your bed, meaning to take his sweet time with you.

His index and middle fingers circle your entrance, dipping in and out, thrusting deeper each time until he is knuckle-deep inside you. He hooks his fingers in a come hither motion, watching your face soften through hooded eyes as he strokes the sweetest spot inside you. Your body shakes under his ministrations as you clench around his fingers, seemingly unwilling to let him part from you in any way, shape, or form.

He kisses the tip of your nose before drawing back to take you in, spread out underneath him, hair across the pillow, lips parted and panting, eyes glassy with pleasure. He’d never tire of this sight.

When he first saw you, Sauron never thought he would end up here, with you so willingly his. His to hold close and torment with his loving words, torture with his lingering touch, to soothe with the lies that drip so easily from his tongue.

He covets you even when he has you pressed to him skin to skin, craves you even when he can’t breathe for his tongue inside you, wants to wrap himself around you when he can feel your soul entwined with his.

You are his, and today of all days, it is overwhelming him completely.

“So good for me, opening under my touch, I know what you need, darling, I have you, just let go.” He murmurs in your ear, aching for your release as much as his own; after all, they are the same thing.

He lowers himself to press his body against yours, needing to feel every inch of you against him, cunt clenching around his fingers as you give him your pleasure. You whine and pant against his neck as he refuses to give you a moment’s respite, stroking your inner walls, grinding his palm against your clit.

You shake through your orgasm, riding out your high on his fingers which relentlessly wring out every drop of pleasure from your body, until you’re breathless, pleasantly warm and tingly all over, and totally exhausted.

“So beautiful, my darling wife, wrung out and ruined for me. Is there a single thought in that pretty mind?” He can’t help but gaze at you fondly, slicked with sweat and writhing under his fingers.

Until this moment, he has had no thought of his own pleasure. Now he feels his cock ache to be inside you, and he rolls his hips against yours, sliding his cock between your thighs and rutting against your soft skin, his precum and your wetness soaking your thighs, easing his way. With every roll of his hips his cock grinds against your clit, rubbing against your lips, making you want him inside you where he belongs.

He throws his head back with a gasp, his golden hair falling over his shoulder, as the morning sun illuminates him from behind. You wonder, how could this ethereal being be yours? Giving into his carnal desires and binding himself to a mortal form for the love of you. It is too much to ponder, and you pull him down to your lips, desperate to taste him once more.

As you pull him down, he adjusts himself, teasing you with the promise of filling you up. He chuckles in your ear when you moan at the feeling of him thrusting deep inside you, his bare skin sliding against yours, as he makes himself at home between your thighs.

He slides his hand between you, his index and middle fingers parted to frame your clit as he rubs your cunt, occasionally tracing the swollen nub that begs for his attention. The whimpers that escape your lips only urge him to tease you further, forcing you to arch into his touch, chasing any semblance of release.

Your hips ache as you thrust to meet his hand, fighting the rolling of his hips as he takes what he wants from you. His cock driving into your wet heat, his hand between you teasing and caressing your clit, his forehead against yours as he holds himself over you with his free hand.

Before long, he feels his orgasm approach, too soon, but perhaps not for you, as you beg him to let you come, and how could he deny you when you plead so sweetly?

Not that he could ever deny any request made from your lips.

He pulls you close, torso to torso, and kisses you hard, a hungry clash of lips and tongues and teeth that leaves you both breathless, greedily swallowing your moans as if they were all he needed to survive.

It feels like a revelation every time, and this occasion is no different. When you both finally come down from the pleasurable peak he'd dragged you to, you still feel like you're floating, clinging to him just to stay grounded.

As you both lie there in your cozy bed, panting and nestling close, his large frame fitting around you so completely, he smoothes back flyaway tendrils of your hair from your face and regards you with a strange look, something akin to fondness but more hungry, more desperate, more obsessive.

As your breathing slows and you return to the mortal plain, you look up at him and smile.

“So. About today. I could show you the city? You haven’t seen beyond the forge, my love, and while it is no Gondolin, it has its charms, we’ve built something beautiful here. I want you to see it.” Your eyes sparkle at the idea of showing Sauron around your city, and he cannot help but give in, even as he wants to stay here with you as long as possible.

“Then I must let our friend know he shall have to do the work of the Valar himself today.” He chuckles, brushing his nose against yours.

~

Hand in hand with your husband, you cannot help but feel at peace as you stroll through the streets of Eregion.

Musicians fill the air with song, lively market stalls line the streets, and children run and play amongst the revellers.

Your fellow Elves are still a little in awe of him, the crowds parting as you make your way through the city.

“Do you never tire of this?” You ask, a blush creeping up your neck, gesturing at the people nodding and bowing and staring as he walks past with you.

His derisive snort should tell you everything you need to know as he smirks, casting a glance at you, squeezing your hand to soothe your discomfort. You were so used to serving the people of Eregion, that this sudden change in treatment was unsettling. You appreciated thanks for your work, but anything beyond that was too much; this nigh-worship was almost unbearable.

Sauron, however, was flourishing.

“It is what we deserve, my love, to be revered. We are more than them, after all.” He has always enjoyed your attentions, your worship, but he cannot deny that this satisfies his need to rule in a way that your love alone cannot touch.

“You might be, love, but I am merely one of them. So it feels strange…” You trail off as you regard him closely, noticing just how at ease he seems to be.

“Let’s go back.” You fight the growing dread in the pit of your stomach, wishing that you had just stayed in bed with him instead.

“Are you quite alright, love?” He turns to you, searching your gaze, only now noticing your concern.

“Yes, fine, darling, I just,” you search for an excuse, any excuse, “I’m just tired. Perhaps a lie down will do the trick, if you would join me?”

A flicker of irritation crosses his face; he might as well have gone to the forge today, if you were going to cut short your trip into the city.

“I might see how Lord Celebrimbor is coming along with the rings, and let you rest.” He gives you a smile but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and your stomach flips.

“Of course, love, I’ll see you later then.”

He presses a kiss to your knuckles before disappearing into the crowd, a strange sense of trepidation filling you as he leaves.

You know him well enough, unfortunately, that you can immediately sense when he is up to something; an itching in the back of your mind and a dull ache in your heart. Nefarious or not, you have to know what it is.

~

You peer through the door, ajar enough to see your husband in his leather apron sitting at Celebrimbor’s work bench, the forge otherwise empty. He is hard at work, his back to the door, and you can't tell what is consuming all of his attention. Most of his attention.

"Love, why do you linger at the door?" He asks, raising his head and smirking, before turning and leaning with an arm over the back of the chair, beckoning you to him.

You smile hesitantly, fingers fidgeting with the sleeve of your dress as you open the door and cross the room.

He pats his thigh, taking your hand and guiding you to sit in his lap as you wrap your arms around his neck. Leaning forward to nuzzle his nose in your neck, he soaks you up, breathing in your scent and relishing the feeling of you so close. Your anxiety melts, the knots in your stomach untying themselves.

"Are you feeling better, love?" He murmurs, breaking the comfortable silence.

"Yes, much." It is not a lie; simply being with him in his natural habitat soothes your nerves.

He hums in acknowledgement, nose still at your throat, the deep vibration rippling through you.

"I hate to worry about you, darling," he remarks as he brushes his fingers through your hair.

"You'll never have to." You reply softly, drawing back to meet his gaze, so intense, so focused on taking you in.

He smiles wide, his eyes creasing just how you love, a genuine expression that has become more and more rare as his stay in Eregion has gone on. It warms your heart and makes you reach for him once more, planting your lips on his, Sauron making an undignified "hmph" in surprised response.

He could stay there forever in your arms, kissing you softly and languidly, letting himself melt into you. But the reason for his visit to the forge today sits on the bench behind you both, and he cannot forget it.

"I have a gift for you." He pulls away to reach for something on the bench behind you.

“A gift, my love? You are gift enough, I need nothing from you.” You laugh, heat flushing your cheeks as your husband takes your hand.

“How can I call myself the Lord of Gifts if I cannot even gift my wife a small trinket for her devotion?” He teases you fondly, his broad smile reaching his eyes, making them crinkle at the corners in the way that makes you want to kiss every crease and wrinkle from his face just to make them multiply a hundredfold.

“Close your eyes, love,” he tells you, still holding your hand with his other hand behind his back.

You do so with a dramatic sigh, grinning and rolling your eyes.

You feel him slip something cool and smooth onto your finger, and you feel a rush of his power through you that you have not felt in such a long time. You can feel it course through your veins, the towering inferno that is your husband’s will, his might and determination in one tiny object.

“Open.” He commands you, his excitement unmistakable.

A slim golden band graces your finger, radiating your husband’s power. There is something about it, something that makes you never want to take it off.

“Do you like it? Say something,” he laughs nervously, eager to hear your thoughts.

“It is… quite something, my love. Beautiful.” You can’t stop staring at it, the plain golden ring catching the light and throwing off an inner radiance that captivates you.

His face lights up, a wide smile brightening his handsome features as he takes your hand in his once more.

“I wanted to forge us something worthy of our bond. Something to strengthen us, to fortify what we have. To bind us together.” He looks into your eyes hopefully, yearning for the eternal life together that you’ve been denied thus far.

“It is… precious, my love. And if it works, you shall never be rid of me.” You clasp his hand in yours, resting your forehead on his, breathing him in.

“I shall forge one of my own, but yours was more pressing. They shall be a pair when I am done.”

You cannot help but smile fondly at him; thinking of you before himself.

“Thank you, love, I shall never take it off.”

You raise your hand to admire his handiwork, always in such awe of his talents, and notice him eyeing you hungrily.

"Are you quite alright, darling?" You tease him, as he leans over you, a large hand tracing your neck, pushing your hair back over your shoulder.

“I need you,” he murmurs, kissing your neck as he presses you against Celebrimbor’s workbench.

“Not here, love, let’s go home,” you try to push him off, laughing but the thought of being discovered like this in the forge, where anyone could find you, sends a shiver down your spine and your stomach unexpectedly flutters.

“No. Right here.” He runs his hands over your curves, ravenous for what only you can provide him. “Right now. I have to have you.”

He rucks up your skirts, lifting you by your hips onto the bench behind you, baring you to his lustful gaze, and to anyone else who could walk in.

“Is the door locked at least?” You ask him, your stomach still tying itself in knots.

“Of course, love, do you think I want anyone bearing witness to the mere sight of you like this? You are mine, and mine alone.” He growls, deep in his chest, as he grips your thighs, digging into the soft flesh with his fingernails, leaving red crescent marks to mark you as his.

He can’t resist the sight of your wet cunt, has to taste you, flexing his tongue to delve into your entrance as he plays with your swollen clit. He pulls you closer, throwing your legs over his shoulders, gripping your ass to keep your cunt against his face.

You can’t help but roll your hips, begging him for more, riding his face, taking full advantage of the fact that with his regained strength, Sauron doesn’t actually need to breathe.

His iron grip keeps you pinned against him as you arch your back and moan breathily for anyone who might be passing to hear.

He senses your orgasm approaching, and thrusts two long deft fingers inside your cunt, stroking your walls as he laps at your clit. Your body quakes as you give yourself to him, your peak crashing over you with no respite, Sauron drawing every ounce of pleasure he can from your aching cunt with a delicious gleam in his eye.

Finally he gives you some kind of reprieve, drawing back to admire his handiwork.

He wipes his chin with the back of his hand, smirking as he pulls himself up to meet your lips. You can taste yourself on him as he kisses you hard, teeth dragging on your bottom lip, hands kneading greedily at your thighs.

"Are you ready for me, love? Always ready for me, aren't you, always so good..." he gasps in your ear as he slams his cock inside you in one solid thrust, rolling his hips and relishing in the feeling of you, tight and hot around him.

He thinks he hears footsteps on the stairs. He slows his pace just a fraction to listen, not that you seem to notice.

The door swings open a little, but whoever it is does not immediately enter, startled by the noises coming from inside the forge.

Thankfully your back is to the door, and one glare from Sauron sends the smith at the door running back down the stairs, leaving the door ajar. He rolls his eyes and smirks against your lips, crashing his lips into yours with renewed vigour, bucking his hips and slamming his cock deep inside you.

The thought of the world having borne witness to the love you share, it sends him wild and obliterates any sane thought from his mind, the only notion in his head to ravage you senseless.

"So good for me, such a good girl," he murmurs as he takes you in your exhausted glory, your limbs shaking and your cunt quivering.

He leans down to take your nipple in his mouth, mouthing at your tender flesh before nipping with his sharp teeth, a loud moan escaping your throat.

Working his way up to your neck, he lavishes your bare skin with his tongue, sucking hard on the sensitive skin of your throat, making sure to leave a bruise no one will miss.

You whimper as he slips his cock from inside you, marvelling at the state of you, dripping with his cum.

"Always so appreciative, aren't you darling? Always so giving, so grateful to receive whatever I give you. And you've given me everything-"

He picks you up, your arms clinging to his neck as you instinctively wrap your legs around his hips.

"-but you can give me so much more."

He slams his cock inside you again, letting gravity do its work as you're stretched to your limit, moaning as he angles his hips just right so you see stars on every thrust.

"Oh, darling, is that too much?" He mocks you fondly before swallowing your whines, stealing the breath from your lungs in his need, no, greed for you.

With you balanced in his large hands, his muscles flexing with every thrust, he bounces you on his cock like you weigh nothing, as if you were merely a plaything for him to use and spoil and defile. His, and his alone.

He can't get enough of you, of the sight of you ruined and writhing at his touch, desperate for more even as he wrings another orgasm from your overstimulated cunt.

His own peak crashes into him like a wave on the shore, pulsing inside you as your walls clench around him.

"I love you, I love you, love you, love you..." he gasps over and over into your neck, shuddering against you as he leans you back against Celebrimbor’s work bench.

You can do nothing but kiss him, words beyond you, your tongue capable of nothing but kissing your husband.

"So good for me, beautiful girl, so good..." he murmurs softly into your neck as his cock twitches inside you, his seed dripping down your inner thighs.

When your legs stop shaking, he lets you stand, still leaning on him. He combs through your hair with his fingers, tucking it behind your ears. Then he glances down at the mess he's left between your legs and smirks.

"Leave it."

You raise an eyebrow at him, already reaching to clean yourself up before you leave the forge.

"I'll be home soon. I'll do it myself."

You finally realise what he's saying and squirm at the idea of trying to walk home in the state you're in. Defiled in all the ways that count. But the glint in his eye warns you not to argue.

True to his word, he arrives home not long after you, so you don't wait too long for his tongue to clean up the mess he made.

~

There are warning signs. You missed most, if not all of them. Or wilfully ignored them.

But when the siege horns blare, in your heart of hearts, you know it is Sauron’s doing.

The first place you think to find him is the forge, but instead you find Celebrimbor hunched over his bench, painstakingly at work.

"My lord? Do you not hear the horns? We need to leave!" You try to take his arm to hoist him to his feet, but he shudders and throws you off.

He catches you off balance and you stumble, throwing an arm out to steady yourself.

To your surprise, a large warm hand takes yours and keeps you upright.

"I told you not to come here, love." Sauron remarks, his tone eerily neutral, as if you haven't just stumbled into a nightmare.

"I was... I was looking for you." You mutter, still watching Celebrimbor, concerned for his state of mind as he rambles about mice and candles.

"I told you to stay at home where you'd be safe. Was that simple instruction so beyond you?"

Your head snaps toward him as the sharp knife of his words pierces you between the ribs.

A flurry of questions and indignant remarks fills your head but you merely stare at him, mouth agape, as he disregards you, stepping to the bench to inspect his precious rings.

"How much longer?" His impatience has always been dangerous, but it is in this moment you realise just how so.

"Soon... just the final touches, they are nearly complete." Celebrimbor flinches as Sauron places the ring back on the bench and takes his shoulder in hand.

"Do you hear that? I kept the storm at bay but you chose to peel back the curtain. Your city is falling, but the sooner you deliver the rings, the more of your city you save. Do not fail them."

He takes your hand and leads you out of sight, pushing you up against a wall. His large hand wraps around your neck with such ease, it startles you, and you can do nothing but whimper against him.

"I told you not to come here." He whispers in your ear, hot breath tickling your neck.

"I'm sorry-" you gasp as his thumb constricts a little around your throat, "Needed to know you were safe."

He loosens his grip and smiles fondly at you, though not quite letting it reach his eyes, as your hearts pound in unison.

"Oh darling. Aren't you just perfect?" Then he kisses you hard, before turning you around, pressing your face against the cold hard stone.

Your stomach drops as you realise what he's planning. Surely not, not as the city crumbles around you and the Lord of Eregion sits mere feet away?

"Love, no, not now-"

He enters you with a practised touch, knowing exactly how he has to please you to ease his way in. Your body betrays you as he fucks you without mercy, taking his pleasure from your needy moans and wanton gasps as you succumb to the feeling of him drilling into you from behind.

This is new, as usually he delights in studying your face for every microexpression, taking you in as he ravages you. Now it is solely about what he can take from you, the only thought in his head to come as quickly as inhumanly possible.

It leaves you breathless and panting, and when he peaks, you find yourself grinding into him to try and find some kind of release too.

He chuckles in your ear, thrusting his hand between your thighs.

"What's that, love? Weren't you saying no? Do you want me to let you come? Oh you do? You're lucky that your pleasure is mine, or I might not be so giving..."

His words fade to nothing as your ears ring with siege horns and explosions and the mind-bending sensation of orgasming around Sauron’s cock, even as you know what his plans have wrought.

~

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” you murmur over and over, holding the Lord of Eregion in your lap, trying to heal his wounds well enough that he can finish his work.

The wounds inflicted by the man you call husband in a moment of cruel impatience.

“Amarië, I need him to work, the rings-”

“-will be finished when he can stand. A moment’s peace, for pity’s sake.” You interrupt your husband, turning to look at him to find no pity in his eyes, only jealous rage.

“Let me work, so he can work. This is your doing after all, you should know it will take time.”

Your tone wounds him, the acid in your words corroding his black heart, but he cannot let himself pause in the pursuit of his goal, not when the rings for Men are within such tantalisingly close reach.

The melody you sing over Celebrimbor to knit his flesh eventually soothes his pain and stems the bleeding enough that soon he is sat at his workbench, still wincing, but for your sake, presses on with finishing the rings.

“Watch him, I’ll be back shortly.” Never has Sauron spoken so abruptly with you, and after everything you’ve witnessed today, you’re loath to let him leave with no rebuke.

“After everything He did to you, you would inflict the same torture on someone who has only shown you kindness?”

He glares down at you, only the tiniest furrow of his brow giving anything away about his current train of thought.

"It is… necessary. If he had done what I’d asked, I wouldn’t have been forced to-"

"Absolutely not. Do not do this. Do not blame him for what you have done. That is exactly what Morgoth did to you, what I nursed you through, so don’t try that with me." You’ve never been stern with him before so you’re not sure how he will take it, and frankly neither is he.

“This is not you!”

“But it is me.” He leans in to whisper in your ear. “You just haven’t been paying attention.”

Your stomach drops as he smirks, stalking down the stairs. He looks back up at you a moment.

“Do not let him leave.” His tone cuts you like a knife, and when the door swings closed, you crumble to the floor, head in your arms.

~

"How long have you known?" Galadriel can barely look at you as your tears blind you.

It takes you a long time to answer.

"Too long. I thought he had changed! At first I thought him dead, then he came back so different, I wanted-"

"You wanted your husband." She looks you in the eye, and once again, you feel a wave of nausea overwhelm you.

“It is a twisted, evil fate, that I would take back in a heartbeat, but there is no earthly force that can break us apart. Believe me, I’ve tried.” Your voice breaks and Galadriel cannot help but embrace you; she knows how heavy the bond between couples is, and knows that to try to undo it is a fool’s errand.

“I just want to come home.” You sob into her shoulder, heart breaking for her that she must be the one to comfort you, after all your husband has done to hurt her and her family, and what he has done to your city.

"Are you with me?" She asks, hands on your shoulders as you pull away.

You don't even have to think. Your broken heart speaks for you.

"Whatever it takes."

~

You find him on a cliff's edge, surrounded by orcs that bow and simper as you pass.

"I knew you'd come." He greets you, though he doesn't turn from looking down over the cliff, as if his eye is trained on something no mortal being could see.

"Predictable as always." You quip, but your anger bleeds through and the edge in your voice finally makes him face you.

"You're upset-"

"Oh, really?" You interrupt him with a snort.

"I tried to save Eregion, but Adar-"

"Oh no, don't do that, we both know that was your plan all along. You have always played the long game, don't doubt your abilities now, dear husband."

He smirks, stepping closer, taking your hands in his.

“Tell me the truth, please, just for once.” Your anger and your grief battle for dominance, and even now he feels a tiny pang of guilt.

“You have always known my purpose, my love-”

You interrupt him with your fists, so angry with him now that words fail you. He holds your wrists calmly, impassively, speaking over your outburst as if it had not happened, as if you were merely taking tea on your balcony.

“You have always known that Middle Earth is sick, that it needs healing, and who better than I to do so? I alone have the power and the will to remake this land, and you, my Queen, you will help me fix this broken world.” He is so sincere, smiling down at you as if it is already decided.

You try to pull away, shaking your head and fighting his every movement to keep you in his arms.

“I will not. I cannot, Mairon, I won’t.” You catch yourself and gasp. “Even now, even now I call you by the name you do not deserve.”

The tic in his jaw is back, and he inclines his head slightly, daring you to continue, warning you not to.

“Do you want to hear me say it? The name my kin gave you eons ago? The name you swore was dead and buried, along with your designs to rule the world?”

“You make it sound so inelegant, ‘rule the world’, is it my fault that the peoples of Middle Earth need uniting under a strong leader, one who will bring them the order and balance they so desire?” He is still using that calm, condescending tone that drives you mad, that once soothed you but now feels like fingernails under your skin.

“Is it balance if it is by force? You cannot trick them into acceptance, Mairon.” You know that to reason with him is folly, but you have to try, against all odds, to make him see reason in his madness.

“You want to be worshipped as a god.” You whisper, unable to believe this is the man you married, that you loved. Love. Love, still, as you rail against the feeling, hopeless to break it.

“And you, my goddess. It is as it should be, the right way of things, the people need order, and we can give it to them. You and I.” He traces your face softly, making you shiver. “Only us.”

You fight to break free of his embrace, hands on his chest, but you’re damned if he will let you go, his grip like the iron crown he wishes to place on your head.

"There is no 'us’. Not anymore. There can be no "us", for as long as you are unrepentant, I cannot bear to look upon you." The words taste acrid in your mouth, betraying every feeling still plaguing you deep in your soul.

His face twists, biting back every poisonous word he wishes to fling at you.

"You want to heal Middle Earth? How can one so broken know anything of healing?"

Despite your venom, and the wrenching in your souls, he tenderly holds your chin, upturning your face to him; even now you know exactly who he is, his radiance blinds you. Every heartbeat, every slow exhale, it all seems to stop, as you study his face for what you hope is the last time.

“What makes it worse, what really hurts,” your voice is unsteady, betraying the maelstrom in your heart, “is that in another life, another time, we could have been really happy.” The dam breaks and you cannot help but let a hot tear fall, willing the rest to remain unshed until you are alone.

“Weren’t we?” He seems genuinely confused, crushed even, voice thick with all the things he wants to say, all the things he knows would break you.

The hard expression you’ve worked so hard to maintain cracks; yes, you were, you were so blissfully happy, in those golden days where it was just the two of you, no war, no suffering, just two lovers meeting.

“Do not make me say it,” you choke out, tears now falling freely; gods, you had been so happy, and you wish with all your might to be taken back to those days in your lover’s arms, all tender kisses and warm embraces.

Even in your absolute sorrow, he cannot help but claim you one last time, pressing his lips to yours like you are his last meal on this mortal plain. Unwilling in spirit, but your body melts into him, desperate to forget for just a second before you turn your back on him forever. You can feel the ebb and flow of your souls crackling and churning around you, becoming palpable in the very air you breathe.

You break away first, hesitant to allow this moment to end. But it must.

“Do not go where I cannot follow.” He murmurs into the hollow of your throat, as he grips your hair and pulls your head back. With a heavy sigh you press your lips to his forehead, and back away, his fingers trailing yours as you part.

“You can follow, any time you wish.” Your voice breaks, as does your heart, clean in two, as you turn your back and leave him on that accursed precipice.

The golden ring on your finger seems almost to pulsate with heat; indeed you had quite forgotten it was there. You raise your hand to inspect it, tiny engraved letters filling the band that you had never seen before.

You could feel Sauron’s power in the ring, its binding magic pulling your heart back to the comfort of his embrace.

“Read it.” His voice behind you is hard but pleading, wrenching your heart.

The script on the ring burns red like coals on the fire as you hold it up, trying to make out what he engraved there.

Two Rings to bind what Evil tried to rend,

Two Rings for a King and Queen, their bond none can transcend,

Two Rings to rule them all, a power with no end

A tiny part of you is touched that he poured so much of himself into a ring meant to soften Morgoth’s curse upon the pair of you. The rest of you is incensed that he would use your love to satisfy his craving for power.

“You simply cannot resist, can you?” Your voice shakes with anger as you turn back to face him, his face falling as he realises that perhaps you would not be so easily won.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he shakes his head as if he hasn’t an inkling what might have upset you.

“You know very well. A ring to bind me to you? Very well, you told me what it was when you gave it to me. But a ring to bring you the power you crave? To bind all the other rings of power to you, to dominate the free peoples of Middle Earth with a trinket? I cannot be a part of it!”

You stop for a moment, pausing in the realisation that your husband has not yet, to your knowledge, forged his own ring. Perhaps there is hope.

“I cannot be a part of it. But I will take it with me.” You say, holding up your hand. “For safekeeping.”

He does not argue. Instead he smirks and tells you, “I’d have it no other way.”

Perhaps you should be concerned, but surely it would do more harm in his hands than yours.

“You don’t want this.” For the first time in millennia, his voice shakes as he calls after you.

You turn on your heel and search his face for any sign at all that he might still come with you.

“You don’t know my heart.” It tastes a lie as it leaves your lips, but it’s the only retort you have.

With a soft smile, knowing and terrible, he replies, “Darling, I am your heart.”

The space where your heart used to be twists and shatters, leaving you breathless.

“Then you know how much this hurts. Please, don’t make it worse.” With that, you take your leave, refusing to turn around without him at your back, abandoning him to his chosen fate.

“Amarië,” you hear him softly behind you, as you refuse to look back.

“Amarië, do not foresake me!” It is an interesting choice of words, considering Morgoth’s curse that dooms you both to the other’s absence, and the irony is not lost on you.

“Do not let Him take you from me again!”

You stop in your tracks, turning on your heel.

“This is not His doing, my love.” You hold fast as he stalks towards you, trembling slightly as you take in your husband in all his fury.

He towers above you, taking your face in his hands.

“It is yours.” You whisper, your strength waning as he lowers himself to claim you in a crushing kiss, hands wrapping tightly around your neck and waist.

You can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything but kiss him back with abandon, feel his hands digging into your sides, the pain in your heart-

“Give up this madness. Come with me. Please, you said once you’d do anything for the love of me. So come with me.” You plead with him, grasping his hands tightly as if it were possible to change his mind simply by imbuing his flesh with your will.

After what feels like the longest pause of your life, Sauron gazing into your eyes with an inscrutable expression, he rests his forehead to yours.

“I must heal Middle Earth. And I will do it with or without you.” His voice breaks, like your heart.

You pull away and nod, refusing to look at him.

“Then know this is not your master’s doing, it is entirely your own.”

You turn and start walking, in desperate hope your people will forgive you, will take you in now you have nowhere else to turn.

He screams your name until he is hoarse, but he does not follow. He can always find you; time and space are no obstacles to the likes of your bond.

But that does not fill the hole in his arms where the world used to be, the space meant for you.

[spyglassrealms]

had a fucking hilarious dream that tumblr replaced the "block" function with the far funnier "glock" function, which did the exact same thing except whenever anyone blocked you a random bullet hole, like a png of a bullet hole, would appear on your blog. discourse blogs were unreadable bc you'd go to the page and the sheer amount of bullet hole pngs stacked over the blogs obscured everything. I woke myself up laughing

[datcravat]

It seems there's a new lawyer in town!!!

[boycaca]

I think the reason people believe chuuya would be the more open and affectionate in soukoku (as like. A romantic relationship) is because they believe him to be the mentally stable one and i think the reason people seem to believe he’s one of the few “mentally stable” characters in bsd is because he does not let himself be seen as vulnerable, and the few times we do see him go through something genuinely horrible and having a moment of vulnerability he does not really have the time to truly process it and ends up “moving on” pretty quickly (for example when he was at the flags’ funeral and adam interrupted him, or how when the sheep betrayed him dazai was immediately at his side trying to convince him to join the pm). And even if he does process it and thinks “man that was pretty fucked up wasnt it” it is never shown on screen so i feel like a lot of viewers end up seeing it as him not being bothered by these events and just a pretty chill dude that doesnt wallow in grief or self pity. But i think him never wallowing in grief or self pity is kind of a problem because in the end all he is doing is suppressing all that trauma and not really trying to acknowledge it, but at the same time when he does he ends up pinning the blame on himself (how the sheeps betrayal was his fault, the flags dying because of him). I feel like this impacts how affectionate he is too because he has built up so many walls that at the point when the flags make a party to celebrate the one year anniversary of him joining the pm he gets suspicious, then surprised and then flustered and tries acting like he doesnt care about it. All this is to say that i think him believing he cant show weakness and has to maintain the facade of being “the strongest” makes him seem like some regular degular guy (if he’s not fighting dragons) ends up him getting viewed as some mentally stable, communicative guy with maaaybe just a bit of anger issues when in reality he got so embarrassed by dazai’s corny speech in mersault that he shot him in the head with a gun