#the idiocy is beyond believe

[youdontloveme-yet]

Honest question. What does Israel think will happen after this? For real, what do they think will happen?? All will be forgotten?

From a psychological point of view you have currently subjected 3 generations of young people to death and destruction. There isn't but a single person who has not lost family in Gaza. They have the intention of ruling Gaza after this. And think that after eradicating terrorists it'll be all good or what? They'll teach children in school what? "Yeah, we killed your nation, but it was for the greater good and now you need to remember that you have to love us for it." Or whatever else.

Generational trauma does not stop because someone has said so. All the orphaned children will remember how they had to watch their parent's lifeless bodies being dug from under the rubble. The teenagers will grow more and more angry. And if those who are above 25 decide to be peaceful and forgive what has been done, their grief will not die out.

So, Israel's only viable options are to either expelling or kill them all. And I don't see how that will work in their favour. And honestly, same goes for the West Bank. They've been failing miserably to kill this nation for 75 years. What do they think has changed now? Especially having in mind that the world I revolting against Israel.

It's all fun and games until your improvised plan comes to a halt. They have no actual idea what they'll do after. Build their canal? Drill for gas? Sure, go ahead. I would love to see how that will go undisrupted.

I will not even mention the economic and social fall of that place.

But go ahead and build your shit on a graveyard, let's see how it'll work out.

[sister-lucifer]

Love After Life

Claude Theroux (Ghost OC) x Male Reader

Genre: Smut 

Summary: When the ghostly groom mistakes you for his lost bride on a dark Halloween night, you can’t stop yourself from giving into him. 

Content/Warnings: AMAB Reader, unprotected anal sex, cumming inside, Reader crossdressing as a bride for Halloween, a little dubcon but not really only at first, mentions of death + fire, pet names (my love, my darling, various French pet names, etc), Claude refers to Reader with feminine terms because he has weird ghost brain stuff going on and doesn’t realize he’s not his wife, pregnancy/breeding, does this count as force fem?

A/N: Happy (slightly late) Halloween, everyone! ʚ♡ɞ

THIS IS NOT FULLY PROOFREAD! PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU SEE ANY TYPOS!

Believing in ghost stories is a feat that has always hovered just outside your field of reality, what you know to be true. Sure, you can suspend your disbelief to humor a friend now and again, but nothing beyond that. Of course, curiosity has a nasty habit of overpowering basic logic; when your phone pinged with a video from a friend about the supposedly haunted manor on White Oak Hill, you couldn’t resist giving it a watch. 

You rolled your eyes at the cheesy music that immediately started up upon hitting play, snuggling into bed with your free hand in a bag of snacks. You didn’t expect much at all, really. From the look of the video, it seemed like just another ploy for views from a subpar channel profiting off of kids who are still scared of monsters under the bed. You were far too intelligent for that. 

“The haunted house on White Oak Hill has been circulating once again, now that Halloween is coming around,” the narrator spoke, putting on an obviously forced voice while stock b-roll of a graveyard panned across the screen, “but what really happened to make it so haunted? Stay tuned to find out, but first, we want to tell you about our new merch drop—“

You groaned aloud, immediately skipping ahead. You could not be less interested in whatever they were peddling.  

“…and it was then, in July of 1945, that tragedy struck.” 

Ah. That’s more like it.

“Newlywed French aristocrats, Suzanne and Claude Theroux, had just arrived at White Oak Manor, where they intended to spend their honeymoon…”

Ugh, how cliché. You skipped forward a few more seconds, running out of patience fast. 

“…The couple moved downstairs, still dressed in their reception clothes, and completely oblivious to the fire blooming up in the master bedroom. Somehow, a recently lit candelabra had knocked over, causing the charred wick to burn one of the curtains, and the flames were growing rapidly. In their panic, Suzanne managed to escape, but Claude was not so lucky…” 

The music faded out, as did the visuals. As much as you’d hate to admit it, they had reeled you in. You didn’t even realize how close you’d gotten to the screen throughout that monologue, at least not until—

“…but first, a word from our sponsors.” 

Oh, fuck this! 

The shrill text tone jolts you out of an embarrassingly deep sleep. You wipe the drool from your chin as you scramble to sit up, phone sliding off of your chest. Looks like you fell asleep watching that video. So much for scary—you slept like a baby. 

You pick up your phone and look at the notification. You can’t help but roll your eyes as you type out your reply. 

Unfortunately, you actually had to consider that. 

You’re not exactly strapped for cash or struggling to scrape by, but it sure as hell would make you a lot more secure and comfortable to know you at least have that extra hundred put away in case of an emergency.

…Ugh. 

“Oh my god,” you mutter, stumbling through the doorway of the old house, “this is stupid. This is so stupid…” 

Somehow, you’ve gotten this far without putting all of this to a stop.  Maybe it was the hundred dollars floating just out of reach like a carrot on a stick, maybe it was morbid curiosity, or maybe it was just plain idiocy, but you really let this happen. Wow. 

Each step makes the wooden floors creak underfoot, the boards hissing in protest to your weight. You struggle to keep your balance in the tacky heels you were forced into, which are as uncomfortable as they are humiliating. To add insult to…well, another insult, you aren’t even wearing regular clothes under the dress as promised; they made it nearly impossible to get the damn thing on, and it was just too uncomfortable. You were allowed to keep your briefs, at least. Not that that makes you feel any better. Your dignity is strained, to put it lightly. 

You scratch at your arm rather aggressively, the itchy fabric of the tulle sleeves irritating the skin there. The entire dress is painfully cheap, and promises an unforgiving rash tomorrow morning. You instinctively reach to where your pocket would normally be to grab your phone, only to be utterly disappointed as the words of your friend echo in your head: 

“No modern technology! If he sees you tapping at your weird light box, he’ll freak out! All you have to do is go in, sweep the house, and report back to me.” 

Of course, your immediate response was to question why the ghost hunter wasn’t going in; surely the ‘expert’ isn’t scared? 

The only answer you got was a rather unceremonious shove towards the house. 

You’re in this alone. Great. 

You just hope the house doesn’t decide to collapse in on itself tonight. You don’t believe in ghosts, but the decrepit 20th century architecture and the harsh wind whistling through the broken windows are very real. It seems like the entire manor is trying to chase you out, like it’s angry that you’re here, loudly creaking and moaning with every shift or shake to talk you out of taking another step. No wonder this place has sparked so many ghost stories, it’s scary as shit! 

You stop in the middle of the foyer, taking a moment to drink in the scenery. 

The effects of the fire are obvious, even after all the years of atrophy; the core of the charred blackness lies upstairs, but its countless arms sprawl outwards, clawing at the walls in a desperate attempt to get free. From what you can see, it did not succeed, as the front most part of the house seems to be relatively untouched. 

Most of the house was gutted in an estate sale—what could be salvaged, anyways— but a couple of throne chairs and a matching ottoman still remain, now thoroughly gnawed through by all manner of creepy-crawlies. The entire downstairs is covered in a sticky blanket of spiderwebs, as if you needed more evidence of an infestation. Most of the curtains have been left untouched, except by time, though they do little to keep the house warm without any in tact windows. All of glass has been nearly completely shattered by either nature or vandals. You noticed a few graffiti tags and discarded beer cans outside, but the inside looks like it hasn’t had many people in it since the fire. The legends must keep them out. 

You look around as you try to discern where to go next. Directly in front of you is a large staircase leading to the upper level of the house, and behind it are a few doors that probably lead to a kitchen, a guest room and the like. On either side are long hallways that curl around, preventing you from seeing where they lead. The living area on your left, with the only remaining pieces of furniture, is enclosed on either side by grand bookcases that once held countless manuscripts and novels. The floor is still discolored from where the rug once laid. The grand chandelier of Damocles above your head sways a bit in the wind, and that makes you swallow nervously; you make the smart decision to move a few steps to the side just in case the diamond daggers come down. 

The question is: where do you start?

You could quite easily get turned around in here, especially in the endless hallways of the ground floor. You were given a brief glance at the floor plans, and there was no basement, only the two levels above and below the stairs. The best place to start would be upstairs, you decide— that way you can work your way back to the front door. 

Upon closer inspection, though, you realize that physically going up the stairs might be easier said than done, especially in these tacky pumps. Your eyes follow the steps from the bottom up, and each stair is only more burnt and broken than the last. You’ll have to navigate this with utmost caution. 

Your first step is shaky, but the wood doesn’t feel too unsteady. You’re careful not to stumble or let the heels of your shoes slip off the back of the stairs as you ascend, holding tightly to the rail. You only lift your hand at about halfway up, when you feel the gradually blackening wood starting to flake off and stick to your palm. The higher you climb, the darker it gets, all of the color of the upstairs completely consumed and overtaken by the fire. It’s like walking into Hell, the last vestiges of light fleeing from the sight as you finally reach the last step. 

You linger there for a moment, mouth hanging open just slightly as the reality of the tragedy sets in. Sure, you’d seen pictures, unable to push down the curiosity in the time before your little adventure, but this was…haunting. 

Someone actually died here. Holy shit. You’re staring into someone’s grave. 

You shudder as another breeze passes through, feeling much colder than before. You can only stare into the pitch black hallway for a moment before an irritated creak from the stairs urges you to quickly move off of them. 

Black dust swarms around your ankles as you step onto the upper floor. It seems even more untouched than the lower part of the house. The wind doesn’t come through as loudly here, and suddenly you realize how deathly quiet it got as you came up the stairs. You listen for a moment to see if you can pick up any sound from the outside, but there’s nothing. Not a sound, not a rustle, not a honk from the highway. You don’t even think the rats come up here. Spooky. 

You look to your left, down the hallway. Darkness. Complete darkness. The frail gleam of the moon is practically swallowed by the suffocating black. 

You look to your right, and see the same thing. You catch a brief glimpse of the dim light reflecting on something. 

You look back to the— 

Wait. 

You double take.  The fuck was that? 

You turn back to the right, now much more on guard. You squint into the shadows, sure that you saw something against the wall that barely hovered where you could see it. 

Nothing moves. 

Nothing is there. 

You sigh, rolling your eyes at your own stupidity. You’re letting those dumb stories get to you. You just need to get out of here before you catch a disease or fall through the floor and break an ankle. 

You decide to keep true, headed straight for the center hall and the master bedroom where it all began. You walk slowly, keeping an arm in front of you to feel for spiderwebs in the windowless hallway, but you encounter none. Come to think of it, you hadn’t seen any signs of pests since the stairs. Nothing worth eating up here, you guess. 

You can barely see the slight glint of the bedroom doorknob. It shifts and wavers just a bit as you bob with each step, eventually coming close enough to reach out and grab it. You prepare for the spikes of cold metal against your skin, but the sensation you feel is much different. 

The doorknob is warm. 

Not unbearably hot, no, but warm. Warmer than it has any right to be, enough to make you pull your hand back for a moment. 

You swallow hard. 

It must be because the wind doesn’t come through here, you rationalize; this hall has no windows, there’s rooms on both sides—it’s not as drafty as the rest of the house. That must be it. 

You grasp the knob again, turning it slowly…so as to not break it, of course. 

The door creaks open loud enough to make you wince, like you’re worried someone will hear and come bustling in to scold you for being up past your bedtime. The room looks rather well preserved, and it doesn’t start to sink in how odd  that is until you’ve already stepped inside, and then the door shuts behind you on its own. That startles you enough to crash your train of thought. 

You quickly spin around to look at the door, staring for a few moments to see if it’ll move. It stays still, the ornate wooden carvings looking back at you like sharp eyes, waiting to see if you, too, will make a move. 

The room is, for lack of a better term, dead. Any sound that tries to make its way in dies outside the walls, and even the particles floating in the air seem frozen, cursed to forever hover in the beams of moonlight. A ghostly glow is cast over everything, an ethereal blanket that makes the air feel heavy. You take a step further into the room, and it feels like walking on the ocean floor. You’re numb, yet you can feel your skin clinging to your bones. 

You really shouldn’t be here. 

Then, a flickering light in the corner of your eye catches your attention. It startles you, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, enough to make you jump as you turn to it. The glimmering brilliance blinds you for a moment, and you don’t realize what you’re looking at until your eyes focus again. 

On the bedside table, its illuminating aura casting quivering shadows on the walls, is a sterling silver candelabra holding tightly to three lit candlesticks. The engraved vines snake their way up its arms and around its base, almost as if trying to hold it still. It looks like a priceless antique, but it shines like it’s brand new. A moment ago the room was completely dark, and now it’s aglow with the white-blue candlelight. The flames swirl in your pupils, hypnotizing you with their unnatural hue as they dance like skilled ballerinas, flicking up into a perfect arabesque before relaxing into a soft adagio, beckoning you closer without you even realizing. 

You don’t see how close you’ve gotten until you’re nearly upon it. Your fingers twitch, nearly aching to reach out and hover over the fire. Without a conscious decision, your hand starts to lift, like moving through water. It floats just above the candles, and you feel no heat, nor do you see any smoke. It’s like a projection onto the air itself. 

You barely stop yourself from dipping a finger into the flames. You know logically that you’ll be burned—or at least, you should be—but the fire calls to you nonetheless. For just a moment, everything is different; you aren’t yourself. There’s a dark cloud forming in your mind, and then suddenly it dissipates at the startling sound of a voice behind you. 

You whip your head around so fast your neck nearly snaps. You squint into the darkness, still as a statue, expecting to see your friend standing there or perhaps even a fellow explorer whose curiosity got the better of them. You’re not even sure what the voice said, but it was certainly human…or, at least, something that’s quite good at sounding human. 

You see no one.

You’re just as alone as you were. 

You turn to face the room fully, but you move too fast. Your hand bumps the bedside table, knocking the candelabra off of it. You panic as you scramble to catch the candleholder, not even thinking about the possibility of burning your hands. You manage to reach out at the last second and get your palm beneath it, and you expect to feel the weight of the cool silver against your skin, but you never do. 

You watch with your own eyes as the candelabra phases right through your flesh. 

You think for a split second that perhaps you just missed, but there’s no clatter against the wood floor either. The candelabra disappears with as much ceremony as it first materialized, leaving only a few sapphire embers that jump from the wicks before fading away as well. The moon’s beams on your back is the only surviving light. 

You can feel the freezing of your blood as it crystallizes into solid ice, the unbearable sensation blooming in your stomach before snaking its way down your limbs. You want to scream, but you can only muster a gasp as you stumble backwards in shock. You trip over your own feet, falling back onto the bed. 

Your vision starts to fill with black spots as your mind struggles to wrap around what it just witnessed. You keep seeing that split second in time when you watched it go through you, that single moment where it was halfway through your solid form before it was gone. Unsure what else to do, you squeeze your eyes shut, trying desperately to calm yourself. 

You lay there for a few moments, unable to make yourself get up or move at all. All at once your mind is racing, yet you’re unable to think at all. You try to force yourself to calm down, to will your heart to quiet, but you can’t push the thought of the candelabra out of your mind. 

You’re not sure why, but you cover your face. Your entire body tenses for a brief moment before you finally break your barrier of panic. Slowly, but surely, you relax again. Your chest is still heaving, but you can finally form a semi-coherent thought. 

…What the hell just happened? 

You don’t have an answer for that. At least, not right now. 

That’s okay, you sure yourself. You’re fine. You need to just get out of here. You can lie and say you saw a shadowy figure or something. 

You pull your hands away from your face, blinking a few times as your eyes focus and adjust to the bright light. 

Hold on. 

The what? 

No, you’re really seeing that…?! 

Just above you is a hovering form, glowing in the darkness of the bedroom. For a second it only looks like a luminous cloud, but then the finer features become clear, coming into form like a time lapse of a painting. 

You notice the eyes first. They’re a brilliant blue, even more so than the rest of the body, like heavy gems being cradled by translucent clouds. You notice the hair next, long, silky and wavy, looking like it may have once been blond despite the blue tint, and floating as though in zero gravity. The nose is slender and straight, and the lips are devoid of warmth and slightly parted as if pleasantly surprised. The rest of the body is wrapped in a dark suit, accented with a light blue tie and a matching lily boutonnière with drooping petals. 

You put it together in an instant; the attire, the house, the fire… 

…The groom. 

Your throat goes dry as sandpaper. 

He’s smiling down at you a terrifying amount of genuine affection. He tilts his head just slightly, observing you as your mouth gapes and eyes widen in shock. You struggle for words, but only manage to choke out one thing: 

“Claude...?!”

His grin only widens when he hears his name from your lips. 

“Ohh, my love,” he sighs, his thickly accented voice echoing in the back of your head as if speaking directly into your mind, “I was wondering where you went…”

He reaches out to stroke your cheek, and it feels like cold fog on your skin. He’s trembling as much as you are. 

“You’ve returned, you’ve returned…” he mumbles like a chant. He leans in with both hands on the sides of your face, gently bumping his forehead against yours. The contact makes your entire body shiver, and you have to stop your teeth from chattering. You know you should say something, stop him, move away…but what can be done? 

You’re frozen. 

His hands on your face are starting to make your skin tingle, like pins and needles in your cheek. The sensation lingers when he finally pulls away, and you can’t stop yourself from rubbing the feeling away on your shoulder. 

There’s a beat of silence between you for a moment. He looks down at you, gentle smile never wavering despite the terror that’s surely on your face. He doesn’t seem to realize at all that you’re not happy to see him. Something in his eyes makes you feel like he’s looking through you, or perhaps not truly seeing you at all. 

You bristle when he moves lower, hollow hands grasping at your ankles before sliding upward, lifting the cheap layered skirt of the bride costume. The cold feeling creeping up your leg makes you yelp, and you instinctively kick at him. Your tacky heel slips off and falls to the floor with your foot still floating inside his abdomen. Oh god, it feels like stepping in refrigerated jello. 

Claude pauses. For a moment you’re worried you’ve angered him, that now you’ve invoked

the wrath of a restless spirit, but then he laughs. He laughs as though you’d simply told him something funny, and then his hands continue working their way up your legs. 

“Always so spirited,” Claude chuckles, hands now firmly on your thighs, “I always did love that about you, ma femme…” 

He leans over you, and you want to sink into the mattress as far as possible. Your legs tremble uselessly as they dangle over the edge of the bed, unable to make you run. 

“W-Wait, hold on—“ you stammer, but you choke on your words when he dips down to kiss your neck. Each little press of his lips is like a shock to your system. Normally, you wouldn’t be so sensitive, but the feeling is so foreign and overwhelming you can’t help but arch your back. His hands slide up and down your waist, skirt now bunched around your hips, and you can barely feel the cold through the costume. 

He either doesn’t hear you or doesn’t acknowledge your words. He keeps working his way down your neck, hands moving around to your back and fumbling with the zipper down the bodice of your dress. You don’t realize what’s happening before suddenly the costume is being pulled off your shoulders. 

“Wait, wait—!” you say again, with a bit more volume this time. This makes him stop, pulling away and looking at you with confusion, and maybe even a bit of hurt. 

“Darling, what’s the matter?” he asks, stroking your hair, “Are you nervous? Don’t be…” 

“N-No, you don’t understand…!” you insist, but the longer you look in his eyes, the less you want to fight him. 

“Can’t you tell? I-I’m not…you know…” 

You trail off, gesturing vaguely to yourself. Surely he can tell you’re not his Suzanne…? 

His eyebrows furrow. He’s clearly not understanding what you’re getting at, but then his eyes light up with a realization. 

“…Oh…I see…” he mumbles, looking away from you in thought. You finally relax, breathing a sigh of relief. Looks like you managed to get through to—

“Oh, darling, I don’t care if you’re not a virgin!” 

…What? 

You open your mouth to correct him, but no sound comes out. He kisses you, you think, but it’s so fast you only feel the slight coolness on your lips. 

“It doesn’t matter to me,” he continues, “you’re still my beautiful wife. No more delay, let me show you how much I love you.”

Before you can blink the costume has been pulled off of you. You’re left in only your boxers and one shoe, head spinning as you struggle to make any sense of the situation. 

How does he not see? You think, you don’t look anything like Suzanne, gender disparity aside…! 

No, wait…what was it they said in that old ghost movie? 

“Ghosts see what they want to see.” 

The sudden understanding barely breaks through as Claude dives into your neck again, the other side this time, mumbling and sighing against your skin in slurred French. 

There’s no reasoning with him, you realize, he wants you to be his wife. He needs you to be her. He’s been waiting here so long for her to return, he doesn’t even know he’s dead. 

Oh, god… 

His hands run up and down your bare chest, and the freezing touch makes your nipples harden. They trail lower, like cold water running down your body, pausing at the waistband of your boxers. He floats downward to nuzzle into your thigh, and the sight of him looking up at you with those big, blue eyes makes your stomach flip. 

“Oh, mon amour, won’t you let me…?” he asks, tugging at your boxers, “I simply can’t rest until I’ve had you…”

Can’t rest, he says…

Is that what he’s been waiting for all these years? 

They say ghosts only stick around if they have unfinished business, right? Is this…is this what he needs? 

You suck in a deep breath, unable to look away from his eyes. 

Well…if it might work, it’s worth a shot, right? You’re doing this for him, after all. 

At least that’s what you’ll tell yourself tomorrow morning. 

Fuck it. 

“Yes.”

The way his expression quite literally lights up makes your face go hot. 

He wastes no time, pulling off your boxers with utmost enthusiasm. The fall to the floor, immediately forgotten once he’s dropped them. You resist the urge to suck in a harsh breath as your half hard cock is exposed to the air. You’re already bracing yourself for the inevitable feeling of his cold touch. 

For the first time, you really see him pause. He’s staring down at your length, gears turning in his head but not working quite right, like he’s on the verge of snapping out of a trance. You gulp. If he’s found you out, you might be screwed. 

The silence stretches on for an almost awkward amount of time. 

Then, without warning, the love returns to his eyes, and a split second later his tongue comes out to lick a long stripe up your shaft. You nearly scream, barely managing to cover your mouth in time. Fuck, that’s cold! 

It’s clear that he’s not all that knowledgeable about what to do with a dick, but he’s giving it a hell of a try. He makes sure his tongue doesn’t neglect a single spot on your length, and he doesn’t miss the little squeal he gets when he flicks gently at the tip. He tries to take it in his mouth, but forcing your cock down his throat is clearly uncomfortable for him, even if he can’t choke on it. Nonetheless, he tries, rubbing at whatever he can’t fit in his mouth with his hand. He’s not afraid of moaning, either, and the vibrations it sends through you can never be replicated by any toy. 

You do your best to lay back and enjoy it despite the bizarre situation. You manage to clear your mind for only a moment before you feel two of his fingers brushing against your hole. You gasp, tensing on instinct. You can feel him smirk around your cock before he pulls off of it for a moment. 

“Ahh, there it is…” he says lowly before promptly busying his mouth once more. 

You bite down hard on your bottom lip as two of his fingers slip in, the cold instantly penetrating your core. This seems to be a skill he’s much more adept at; he’s far less hesitant, and far more graceful. He stretches you in just the right ways, exploring your waiting hole with a confidence that easily surpasses any of your past partners. His fingers slip in and move around so easily, without any struggle or pain. You’re almost upset you’ll never feel this again. 

Try as you might to be quiet, you can’t bite back the moan that crawls out of your throat when the pads of his fingers press against your prostate. He chuckles as best he can with your dick down his throat. He presses again, gentler this time, clearly enjoying the drawn out while it gets from you. 

It’s getting harder and harder to keep quiet as he hits all the right spots over and over again. He’s evidently a quick learner, too, as he’s already picked up on the best ways to use his tongue around your length. You can feel yourself twitching in his mouth. 

He slips in a third finger, and as it pushes in you nearly see stars. Tingly static crawls up your body like dye soaking into fabric, invading the deepest crevices of your nervous system. God, that’s good. 

You’re not sure how long it’s been when he finally pulls away, leaving you suddenly empty and far too warm for comfort. You’re too dizzy to question what’s going on when he flips you onto your stomach, but you don’t have to ask questions. You shudder as he leans over you, his chest against your back, engulfing your body with an icy sensation. 

“Oh, ma belle femme, how lucky I am to have you,” he whispers in your ear, voice choked and shaky, “I can feel you trembling underneath me. Just sit still, my darling…” 

You can hear him rustling with his clothes behind you, but don’t bother to look back. Your cock is practically begging for more of his touch. 

After a moment he leans over you again, this time laying his hands over yours. He feels nearly weightless, like a cloud resting on top of you. 

“Je peux enfin t’emmener…”

You don’t have a second to process his words before suddenly he’s pushing into you. You don’t bother trying to hide your voice, and neither does he, droning on and whispering sweet nothings you can barely understand as your mind is completely melted by the feeling of the penetration. 

You nearly collapse against the mattress, but he manages to catch your hips just in time. You claw at the sheets as he fills you to the base, and the blankets do little to muffle your cries. For a brief moment you wonder if anyone outside could hear you, but that worry is quickly pushed aside when you feel him pulling back. You dig your nails into your palm so hard you’re sure it’ll leave marks as you prepare for what’s about to come. 

The first thrust feels like it might break your mind. The head of his pale cock butts hard against your prostate, making you shriek like you never thought you could. You nearly tear a hole in the bedsheets with your desperate attempt

to find some sort of relief, and yet you don’t want any at all. Your body might be shaking like a leaf in a hurricane, but against all logic, your mind is screaming more, more, more!

“C-Claude—!” you yelp as he slams into you once more. 

“Suzanne!” he echoes in turn, ecstasy dripping from his voice, “Suzanne, my love, how I’ve waited for this…!”

He returns to kissing your neck, though much messier than before. He just needs to taste you, sucking and nipping and licking any spare bit of skin he can get to. If he feels so cold, you must feel so warm. 

He’s trying to be gentle, to go easy on you, but he’s struggling. You can feel him forcing himself to go slower. You need to encourage him. 

“Oh, Claude,” you moan, putting on the girliest voice you can muster, “faster! Faster, my love, please, give me more!” 

He’s more than happy to comply, and after a brief adjustment of his hold on you his pace increases tenfold. He’s grunting and huffing like an animal—and you’re underneath him, moaning and whimpering like a girl. 

“Suzanne, my darling, we’re going to do it,” he says suddenly, and you have no idea what he means. He pulls you in closer, pressing you against his chest more firmly. 

“We’re going to do it,” he repeats, “we’re going to have our family…I want to— no, I need to give you my child.” 

The sound that comes out of you is humiliating. 

You’ve never wanted anything more than for him to cum inside of you in this moment. 

“Yes,” you reply without thinking, “yes, yes!” 

He only thrusts into you faster, fueled completely by your mutual desire. Both of his hands are on your hips now, holding tightly and pulling you back against him as he pushes in. The bed is rocking so hard it feels like it might collapse underneath you. Even if it did, neither of you would even consider stopping, not for a second. 

He’s starting to lose his rhythm, you realize. He’s just as sensitive as you are. He wants this just as much, if not more. You can’t even string together a coherent sentence to beg for it, all you can do is let the string of pleasured noises fall from your lips, only occasionally managing to say his name. He chants back ‘Suzanne’ like it’s the only word he knows; it’s the only one that matters to him, at least. 

You jump when he wraps a hand around your cock, pumping it quickly with little to no consistent pattern. He’s practically milking it, rubbing fast and hard and doing everything in his power to push you to your peak. 

“Cum for me, my love,” he huffs, “let me feel you cum around my cock…won��t you give me the privilege?” 

“Of course, my darling,” you reply. How could you say no? 

Your orgasm starts to build faster than you’re ready for. You can barely choke out an understandable warning before your cock twitches and spills its load, spurting into his hand and certainly dirtying the bedding underneath you. He buries his face in your neck as your hole squeezes him deliciously, making him cry out at the feeling. 

“Yes, my love— Oh god, yes!” he almost sobs. He’s completely lost his rhythm now, just rutting into you like a feral dog in heat as he chases his own high. 

He gives one last cry of his bride’s name before suddenly he stills, and his cock spills into you. You’re not sure what it feels like—you don’t think any human experience could ever compare—but it’s certainly not unpleasant. It’s not the warm, sticky feeling dripping down your thighs, at least. 

You nearly black out for a moment, your head spinning like a top with no relief in sight. Darkness is quickly clouding your vision as you come down from your intense high, and you barely register the gentle kiss Claude presses to your cheek before the cold feeling against your back is gone. You close your eyes then, unable to keep them open any longer. 

You’re not sure how long it’s been when you awake again. Logically, it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes, but you feel like you’ve been asleep for years. You slowly move to sit up, and instantly you’re made painfully aware of the soreness in your legs and lower back. You groan, forcing yourself to move to sit on the edge of the bed. 

You’re still very naked, that’s for sure. You look down between your legs, and grimace at the sight of the luminescent ectoplasm glowing in the dim light as it drips from your thighs and ass. 

The thing that really stands out, though, is the state of the room. Whatever you saw before must’ve been some sort of ghostly illusion; now you’re surrounded by nothing but charred black, sticking to your legs and palms and floating about in the air in flaky little bits. 

Yuck. 

You sigh as you will yourself to get up, not enjoying the feeling of your one bare foot on the dusty wood floor. You can barely walk far enough to retrieve the costume dress, let alone bend down and pick it up, but by some divine intelligence you manage. 

After redressing to the best of your ability, you limp back downstairs—talk about a walk of shame. Although, despite your embarrassment, you do note that the house feels…emptier. Lighter. It’s nice. 

You don’t have an excuse for why you’re so disheveled, or why you’re walking so weirdly, or why you’re so sweaty. You don’t care. You’re going to walk out that door, get your last half of the payment, and go home and get a good night’s sleep knowing that, in some impossibly strange way, you did a good thing. 

The one thing you will never admit, though, is that you were very wrong: 

Ghosts are real. 

And you have the wet dream to prove it. 

If you liked this fic, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and really helps me out. 

Feedback is encouraged and appreciated.

[demonvibez]

Clueless

A/N: These requests were just too good, and I had quite a bit of fun with it. Karen Smith is such an icon, I had to take this idea and run with it, lol. Mostly fun, a few serious parts. Hope you guys like it - may expand on this later (perhaps with an nsfw version). Anyways, enjoy! ♡ Characters: Demon Brothers x GN Reader Word Count: 3.7k+ Rating: Teen [Suggestive Themes] Tags: gn reader, dumb reader, implied violence, suggestive themes/implied sex

☆ LUCIFER:

-> He believed it all to be an act at first - surely he and Lord Diavolo had the sense to acquire a human for the exchange program that would actually be up to the task to complete it. Surely you were just pulling a prank on him, much like his younger brothers would. You aren't actually this dense...right? 

-> Feels even more responsible for you than normal, so he feels the need to keep a tight leash on you. You bring a lot of chaos to the Devildom, and he can't have you ruining any reputations (yours, his or Lord Diavolo's), so he practically becomes your shadow in order to minimize any mayhem you may cause - especially since you're so prone to injury.

-> Has a hard time punishing you - your obliviousness causes you to have a hard time taking any of it seriously. He'll never forget the first time you started giggling during one of his lectures, after he caught you and two of his brothers destroying the kitchen. After many headaches, he's had to come up with whole new ways to deal with you - most of which are torture via boredom.

♡ He's not sure when, but somehow, he began to find you rather endearing - and next thing he knew, he had actually fallen for you. No one is more shocked than he is - maybe it's the innocence in your eyes when you look up at him, or the way your smile brings a blush to his cheeks. But now he can't help but to feel affection for all of those dumb little things you do. You have turned the Lucifer Morningstar into a full-blown morosexual for you, and there's no turning back for him now - he is beyond smitten with you, although he does often question himself. "How can a human such as you stir such emotions within me?" So innocent, so earnest, so loyal. Many aspects of Lucifer's life is difficult, but loving you is so easy.

♡ As the Avatar of Pride, he has no issues being very blunt with his feelings for you. The night before, he stays up late in his study, writing several drafts of the confession he plans to recite to you over dinner at Ristorante Six. He knows you, after all, and wants to make himself very clear.

♡ He loves that you depend on him, he practically lives for it. You constantly need his help and protection, and his already ineffable Pride gets inflated every time you turn to him with those innocent eyes and pouty face of yours. It gets to a point where he is used to always being with you - you fall into a synchronicity, a routine. It gets to the point where Lucifer even asks you to move into his room; he would love to share the space with you, and it would just be much simpler for you both - he knows what's best for you, after all.

-> If anyone ever questions his relationship with you, he shuts it down instantly with a singular murderous glare. Pride is unshakable, but Lucifer is still prone to annoyance. He'll string them up in the middle of the RAD courtyard without even breaking a sweat. Nothing like a little public shaming to show the naysayers who the true imbeciles are.

☆ MAMMON:

-> Idiocy loves company, and he's beyond glad to have you in his company! Two peas in a pod, no wonder Lucifer stuck the two of you together!

-> He loves how easy it is to rope you along into pulling schemes with him - he's never had a better partner in crime! And when the two of you inevitably get caught by Lucifer, your cluelessness tends to come in handy.

-> He also loves how your grades are equally bad! It means he won't have to suffer the wrath of Satan's study sessions alone anymore.

-> Pretty much becomes your shadow when he notices how clumsy you are - any human would be in danger in the Devildom, but your stupidity leads you into more peril than normal. After a couple of minor injuries (and a scrape with a lower demon), Mammon decides it's best if he doesn't let you out of his sight. Lucifer put him in charge of you after all, he's just doin' what he's told!

♡ But in all honesty, it's another way you two connect. He loves all the crazy times you two have together, the impulsive adventures you get yourselves into. He feels like you both understand each other better than anyone! The only problem is, between his tsundere act and your extreme obliviousness, your relationship is stuck in limbo. All of his brothers' teasing goes right over your head, and a flustered Mammon usually denies it while trying to hide what a blushing mess he really is. Until, one day, he can't take it anymore - "I'm in love with ya, ya big dummy," he blurts out as the two of you ride in his Demonio 666. 

♡ And ever since that random Tuesday afternoon, you and Mammon have been inseparable. You two are truly like twin flames - consequences don't even matter as long as you're by his side. He'd take a million lectures, be strung up a million times, hell he'd even cut up his credit cards into a million pieces if it means he gets to keep you forever. That dumb smile of yours is worth more than all the Grimm in the Devildom, and he'd do anything for you to flash it at him, even if just for a moment. He wasn't sure he believed in soul mates before, but now that he has you, he's damn sure you're his.

-> No one really gives Mammon grief about his relationship with you, seeing as you're a perfect match made in Hell (affectionate). But you can imagine if they did, they'd suddenly find themselves in more debt than the Avatar himself. And if that doesn't work, he'll fight for ya! Mammon is no stranger to winning a scrap ;)

☆ LEVIATHAN:

-> He makes a lot of assumptions about you at first - you're just another basic normie, aren't you?!

-> Sometimes believes you are mocking him with your questions - especially when it comes to his special interests. How can you possibly be so clueless?! He's explained this game to you literally ten times?!?! You must be inting or something!! You have to be doing this on purpose!!!

-> Also believes your forgetfulness is on purpose, thinking you secretly hate him - or at the very least, don't really care for him. He figures when you agree to hang out with him that you're either just being nice, or are too dumb to figure out how to get out of it, so you must just go along with it. So when you forget him, he thinks you're purposely ghosting him for someone better.

-> He eventually confronts you about all of this, only for him to be met with a confused look on your face. The two of you awkwardly chat it out, and afterward he starts to think that he may be the bigger idiot for making so many assumptions.

-> But once he understands you, you start to grow on him - you remind him of that one MC from 'Oops! That Normie Who Dropped in from Another Realm is Now My Bestie and I May Be Developing a Crush!' and how they may say and do stupid things, but it's actually kind of endearingly cute! And they're so soo loyal! Wait, you actually kinda look like them, too. Prepare yourself - new cosplay incoming, courtesy of Leviathan. He does second guess himself over it a bit - Is it weird if he makes the matching cosplay to go along with yours? It's totally weird, isn't it?! No it isn't, because you're too dumb to think too deeply into it! But he will overthink it all the same.

♡ Not the best at openly talking about his emotions, and he doesn't want to ruin your current relationship with him, so it may be more difficult for him to get across his feelings to you. He keeps dropping subtle little hints in the hopes that you'll eventually pick up on it. And if you never do, one day he just blurts it out (after numerous pep talks from his brothers). He tries writing a confession in the notes app of his DDD to read off for you, but he gets so nervous he drops his phone and ends up just shouting, "I'M IN LOVE WITH YOU!!!" - after which is followed with a flurry of apologies from the otaku demon. 

♡ And after that, you find yourself practically living in his room - and he finds himself purposely losing at games so that you can get a few wins, all to see that excited look on your face that he adores so much. He truly has found his player two! ^.^

-> It would be unusual to find the hikikomori demon in a social situation where someone is questioning your relationship to his face - he does spend a lot of time defending you online, however, and has been successful in getting a few of your haters' accounts nuked. RIP.

☆ SATAN:

-> Honestly annoyed by you at first. You just ask so damn many questions, and it seems like you don't even retain the answers. 

-> Then one day he overhears Lucifer lecturing you about your failing grades - Challenge accepted. You are now his new project. How hard could it possibly be? It would be quite the accomplishment for him, and he's sure it will annoy Lucifer in the mean time! Seeing him put so much effort into the stupid human is sure to throw Lucifer off of his game! The Old Man will think he is plotting something nefarious, but-

-> Ahem. Anyways, expect your bookshelves to rapidly fill up with gifts from him - with everything from textbooks, to picture books, to entire series of epic novels. Expect him to be over after dinner every night, to sit with you an indulge in one of these books. He'll let you pick something most of the time, but he occasionally becomes insistent of one of his own picks - the erotica he reads to you tends to go over your head, anyways.

-> Quickly finds he has to adjust his teaching style, having to go over rudimentary concepts with you multiple times. He's much more patient with you than he is with Mammon his brothers, his temper non-existent as he slowly repeats the lesson to you again. He knows you are trying your best, and is willing to put in the same effort you put forth. Occasionally you do aggravate him in this regard - he usually just takes it out on the first one of his brothers he sees, instead of you. Thankfully.

-> He's unsure what it is about you, but something about you really calms the wrath raging within him. Maybe it's your carefree, peaceful nature that soothes the storm within him. Maybe it's that adorable smile that can light up the darkest of Devildom nights. Maybe it's the way you never fail to make him laugh when you make Lucifer lose his temper. Either way he hasn't failed to notice that his days are better with you in them.

-> Sometimes his patience for you does wear thin though - especially when your stupidity gets you hurt! 'You're not going to survive in this realm if you keep acting so thoughtlessly,' he says through gritted teeth, as he patches up the lacerations on your arm - caused by you touching a killer plant adorned with a very large warning sign. He does his best to keep his anger within, but he's yelled at you a few times, almost desperate to finally get his point across to you.

♡ It is quite obvious to him why he has fallen for you, so he wastes no time in planning his confession. He knows his romantic gesture will have to be overt, the goal being that you truly comprehend understand his feelings for you. A thoughtful gift along with a handwritten letter, simply stating how he is deeply in love with you - and if any confusion remains, he'd be happy to explain. 

♡ And after that, he spends each day with you in bliss. As the moonlight illuminates the pages of his book, he softly reads the words to you; and as you fall asleep in his arms, he knows that this is what true happiness is. He may never be allowed in the Celestial Realm, but being with you makes him feel like he's already there.

-> If people question his relationship with you, they only do so in hushed tones - no one wants to be on the receiving end of his Wrath, especially after that one demon went missing after gawking at the two of you on a date.

☆ ASMODEUS:

-> Excited to adopt you into his inner circle - he knows someone like you would be the perfect little doll for him! He already thinks you're just oh so adorable, and it will be incredibly easy for him to turn you into his little Mini Asmo.

-> New style, new hair, new everything! Be prepared to truly become his twin, for he wants you to become his shadow. Doesn't even take him much effort to convince you to change your schedule to match his! 

-> Asmo is definitely the Queen Bee of RAD, but you're basically the Queen's Hand - he regards your thoughts and opinions highly, as if they are the royal decree. He may also lightly tease you at times, wanting nothing more than to see the many cute faces you make, but he would never stab you in the back. HBIC's have to look out for each other, after all! 

-> Your grades actually go up, shockingly enough, thanks to Asmo having his fan club do all of your schoolwork. You don't have time for that nonsense! 'Pamper and Pre-Game' with Asmo is way more important than writing some silly Devildom Law essay - you don't wanna be late to the Fall, after all!

-> The two of you pretty much run the school, constantly making waves and setting trends. You get your own fan club, but you also have a fair amount of haters! Either way, all eyes are on you, and every dumb little thing you do ends up going viral online. Some days you're being praised for your fashion, others you're being meme'd for your clumsiness. And of course, Asmo always helps you take advantage of these moments, good or bad. Never a dull day on the Devilnet!

-> He especially loves that your air-headedness leaves a lot of room for you to be open minded to experimentation (or maybe you're just easy to convince, hehe). It's lead to a lot of wild nights in his bedroom, with the two of you experiencing unfathomable euphoria - those nights will forever live rent free in his mind. Perhaps he can convince you to let Sol join the two of you next time...

-> On the other hand, he notices he has to keep an extra sharp eye on you when the two of you are out partying together - your obliviousness has almost led you to a few dangerous situations, one that ended up leaving Asmo's strawberry-blonde hair stained crimson. He is now hyper-vigilant over you, always guarding your drinks and cutting in on the dancefloor.

♡ How could the Avatar of Lust not fall you for? His best friend, his partner in crime, his darling human~♡! He comes to the realization that he loves you even more than himself, and that he must start making a plan! The date of all dates to sweep you off of your feet and right into his arms~♡ He knows he'll have to be clear and concise when he makes his confession - not only are you a bit dense, but his usual Avatar of Lust brand of affection may make it... confusing for you, to figure out that he truly loves you romantically. Whatever, who cares! He'll tell you a million times over if you need him to ♡!

♡ After that, not too much will change, for you were already inseparable before his confession! He may become a bit more possessive, but that comes with the territory of being Lust's Chosen One. The two of you are RAD's Power Couple, and he will make damn sure the entire Devildom knows it!

-> When it comes to your relationship, Asmodeus is ride or die. If anyone ever questions it, he brushes it off with his signature smile and a cold remark - at first. Like a scorpion, he strikes from the shadows. Pink may be his color, but he is also well aware how amazing he looks in red~♡ ;)

☆ BEELZEBUB:

-> Doesn't think too much about it at first - you're just that nice human with the pretty smile and the fun stash of human world snacks. 

-> The least judgmental of his brothers, while also being the first to get to know you deeply. He feels like you're really easy to understand, and he finds that it's really easy to open up to you. He becomes a lot more talkative when you're around, and soon the two of you have you own dumb little inside jokes that his brothers are jealous they aren't in on. You don't even get each other's jokes half the time (which is mostly your fault, no offense) but laughter truly is contagious, and you have so much fun in each other's company.

-> Once he really gets to know you, he worries about you endlessly! He feels the need to become even more protective over you than he already is. Not only does your clumsiness worry him, but your forgetfulness too. He knows for a fact that humans need to eat to survive! What do you mean you forgot to eat lunch?! How can you forget something like that...and before you know it, he's adding some of his Acidic Hell Fries to your plate.

-> So he starts inviting you to eat with him every single day, and he loves how easily you say yes! No matter the menu, no matter the restaurant, you're always down to go out with him and share a bite to eat - you don't even ask questions! And he really admires how adventurous you are - always ordering new dishes, never turning down a bite of some strange food when he offers it, the smile on your face when you actually do enjoy it. Sharing a simple meal with you quickly becomes the part of his day he looks forward to the most.

-> The two of you do get into your own share of trouble every now and then though. While Beel has been banned from the Devildom's various eating contests, you haven't been - and you never seem to learn how sick these contests make you, no matter how badly you wanna give the prize to Beel. And let's not forget all the times you've had to wash dishes at Hell's Kitchen because you both ran outta the House without making sure you had a single Grimm on you. Either way, the two of you have so much fun together, that you never regret it - or learn from it.

♡ He wears his heart on his sleeve, and while Beelzebub isn't dumb like you are, he does have a certain innocent honesty about him - so he has no problem telling you his true feelings about you. He may get the slightest bit frustrated after having to explain it so many times, but hand him a snack and he'll have all the patience in the world to sit with you and help you understand how much he truly loves you.

♡ And after that, you continue to spend your days with your sweet cinnamon roll of a boyfriend. Whether you're hanging with him at the gym or sneaking out for a late night snack, being with you always makes his heart feel so full - a feeling he would never trade, even for a thousand Shadow Goose Burgers. 

-> Doesn't even remotely pay attention to what others are saying about his relationship with you - why even bother worrying about that? Although there was that one time some random demon at RAD did question him about it, but Beel couldn't hear them over the rumble of his own stomach - which they hilariously mistook as a threat, causing them to run off in terror. 

☆ BELPHEGOR:

-> Your stupidity made his scheme in the attic all too easy! Truly like the wolf leading the lamb. He could have never dreamed that such a perfect target would just fall right into his lap, would stumble into the attic and right into his trap - it was almost comical. He could have also never dreamed that, once the veil of hate was lifted from his eyes, the amount of overwhelming guilt he would feel. Naïve, innocent little lamb. He'd do anything to make up for it - he's failed to protect you twice already, and he won't be making that mistake again.

-> Suddenly overprotective, as well as a bit possessive. He knows how easily you can be fooled into mortal danger, so you can expect him to lurk in the shadows. The circle of people he trusts (his brothers) is small, and he even occasionally has doubts about a few of them. 

-> Other than that, he is beyond amused by you, and he knows he's going to have a lot of mischievous fun with you by his side! The House of Lamentation was already chaotic with just the seven of them, but your arrival truly added a wild card to the mix. Your absentminded hijinks are usually funny enough for him to warrant losing a bit of sleep.

-> He pretty much makes you the mascot for the Anti-Lucifer League - any schemes he and the Fourth Born can think up, they rope you into. Typically used as bait, watching Lucifer freak out as you stand there looking clueless truly never gets old. No matter how many times they explain the pranks to you, you never really understand what's going on - which makes for a great defense when all three of you inevitably get lectured by the Eldest afterwards.

-> Loves how easy it is to convince you to skip class and nap with him - you're the only one he's shown all of his favorite hiding spots to. Partially because he knows you'll never remember where they are without his help, but also because he loves cuddling up with you. 

♡ He's actually tried several times to convey his feelings to you, with everything from romantic dreams to starlit dates. He's even kissed you, how much more obvious can he get?! If it were anyone but you, he probably would have given up and gone back to sleep. But you're you and you're worth it, so he stays up late conjuring up exactly what to say to you, hoping this time his bluntness makes it clear.

♡ And after that, the two of you spend the majority of your free time cuddled up in each other's loving embrace. It's nothing but sweet dreams and starry skies, so long as you have Belphie by your side.

-> Questioning his relationship with you (or badmouthing you in general) is probably one of the most egregious mistakes one could make. If the endless night terrors aren't enough to evoke instant regret, the Avatar of Sloth doesn't mind resorting to violence for you.

· demonvibez ♡ 2024 · do not copy, repost or modify · · likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated! ♡ ·

[slitheringghost]

Voldemort Fic Recs

I meant to post this for hprecfest over four months ago, but uh... I didn't. More fic recs in Part 2 here and Part 3 here.

The Limits Of Perception by deslea (800 words, G)

Rec: A truly fantastic character study in few words.

He meets a different kind of falsehood at school. The Pure prize the collective. They put aside their individual interests and feelings, follow codes of honour designed to protect family and name. It is still lying, but at least it is lying for something better than one's own ends. This is a kind of hypocrisy that he can tolerate, he decides.

of all my demon spirits by slashmarks (Tom & Ginny, 1.7k, T)

Rec: Ginny writes to Tom after the events of CoS. Paints a detailed picture of Tom and Ginny's relationship, and it's a great character study of Tom in addition to Ginny.

But I think maybe you were lying when you said that I was boring and stupid after all. Do you remember when we talked about the last war and I didn’t understand how anybody could think muggles were animals, because even if I don’t really know any muggles we go into the village to get groceries and stuff all the time and Mrs. Hoof keeps sweets by the counter just to give them to kids like me? You teased me about being bought with candy, but then you said the Death Eaters had to decide muggles weren’t people in order to kill them, and that really most people do that all of the time, like with house elves and stuff. You said that it was because most people are hypocrites and can’t face their real choices, but I think maybe it’s something you do, too, Tom. Maybe I had to be a boring and stupid little girl because you were about to kill me.

a shade amidst the shadowy dead by slashmarks (Tom & Cassiopeia Black, 2.4k, T)

Rec: THE Voldemort backstory of all time - Bellatrix's great-aunt Cassiopeia Black, a lesbian Dark Lord with a Muggle lover, and Tom Riddle and Bellatrix's mutual teacher and Mother Figure (TM) who they're both grieving when they meet. AKA Bellamort's very own Bathilda Bagshot.

Circling around to the potions shelving, she stopped halfway, a small twitch of a half-smile disturbing her serene face. Tom had fallen asleep with his face in a book in the armchair between bookshelves. In a moment he would wake, hearing her move. He would politely pretend he had lost track of time, and she would politely pretend to believe him. Of course, she knew perfectly well he was sleeping in the lab all the time for the summer, and she knew why. The school-leaving age in muggle Britain was fourteen, and Tom had therefore been expected to leave the orphanage two years ago.

The Shack at the End of the Lane by Asenora (Tom & Merope, 4k, G)

Rec: Voldemort’s victims meet Merope in the afterlife. A wonderful concept.

One day, a second bedroom materialised in the shack. It had white-washed walls and a black-and-white tiled floor, and contained no furniture other than a rickety iron bedstead, a wardrobe, and a hard wooden chair. She opened the wardrobe, and found nothing in it except an empty shoebox. 'This place needs some cheer,' she thought, and was unsurprised when a set of paint pots appeared in front of her.

the serpent's tale has come undone by slashmarks (Bellatrix/Voldemort, 6.2k, E)

Rec: Fantastic Voldemort POV in a Bellamort getting together fic. Slashmarks' ability to write both Voldemort's hunger for connection and intimacy and his cruelty is so impressive.

Orion Black's idiocy would be his prize, in this case. He understood what he was seeing when he looked into Bellatrix Black's cool gray eyes and the mind beyond them. He would gratefully use what Orion Black had discarded or overlooked as essentially worthless; or at least, not worthy of his attention and maintenance. He knew that pureblood men were often idiots about women, but sometimes the boundless capacity for it in otherwise intelligent ones surprised him. - Moreover... He had wanted family as a student, he remembered that; something to replace the loss that had occurred at and before his birth, someone to claim him, someone who would defend his interests and give him something to defend. He had the Death Eaters as the closest possible thing now. The demands marriage would have made on him would not be... tenable.

endless nights took on my whole life by slashmarks (Bellatrix/Voldemort, Voldemort & Rodolphus, Bellatrix & Rodolphus, Sirius & Bellatrix, 12.4k, M)

Rec: My absolute favorite Tom Riddle POV. A HILARIOUS Voldemort and Rodolphus dynamic in addition to a wonderful Bellamort.

Bellatrix was a new experience for Tom, as something of a kindred spirit. Abraxas might be the closest thing Tom would admit to a brother, but he had no real patience for magical theory or interest in it beyond utilitarian concerns, and Reinhard was simply too nice a person, deep down, a condition even the Lestranges had never cured him of. Bellatrix, though, was capable of sharing everything for the first time: she could keep up with him intellectually, she was as fascinated by magic as him, and any squeamish bone had long ago been extracted. Best of all, she shared Tom Riddle's fervent loathing for every aspect of magical Britain's society and his desire to personally torture to death most of the Wizengamot, which Tom had always known better than to fully express even to Abraxas.

The Edge of Reality by deslea (Bellatrix/Voldemort, 4k, E)

Rec: Fascinating exploration of the Death Eater cult and initiation.

To ensure their continued loyalty, they must be given a new family and future, better than the one they have agreed to cast away. When this is achieved, in his experience, they will do virtually anything in his service. Their loyalty to old laws and values and connections is either severed, or so conditional as to be irrelevant. It is a delicate exercise, carried out with an intricate blend of Legilimency and plain old-fashioned manipulation. It is magic at its finest.

'The son and heir of nothing in particular by @artemisia-black (2.6k, M)

Rec: Beautifully written, and I love Tom's musings on London in this fic.

But unlike the damp which pervaded the orphanage in the depths of winter, this scent did not evoke desperation and destitution. It did not remind him of scratchy government-issued pinafores and the flavourless soups that the matron insisted warded off the flu.  No, this damp smelled different. It smelled of ancient, untapped magic. But most importantly, it smelled like home.

The Velveteen Rabbit by Asenora (Tom & Mrs. Cole, Tom & Merope, 3k, G)

Rec: A unique take on Mrs. Cole and Tom's relationship, and a heartbreaking young Tom.

It’s just about pride - when he’s hurt, when one of the bigger lads punches him in the face, he won’t give anyone the satisfaction of knowing. He just watches, his face completely unmoving, staring whoever's attacked him down until they're the one that's frightened, and then whirling off triumphantly, with his chin in the air. But, if you know where to look, you can find him a wee while later curled up in a corner of the orphanage where nobody usually goes, running his fingers over his black eye or bruised jaw like he could cure the injury by magic, muttering words of comfort to himself, telling himself he’s all he needs, and he’ll be alright, and he will always, always manage to survive.

My True Family: Voldemort and Family Connections by slashmarks (Meta, 3k)

Rec: Cheating ‘cause this isn’t a fic, but a must-read essay that challenges the idea of an inhuman Voldemort who can’t love.

Voldemort immediately knows how to lure Harry to the Department of Mysteries when curiosity isn't enough: a threat to Sirius Black will be enough, and it is. Sirius is not only Harry's only remaining magical family, but he represents a hope Tom Riddle once shared, and once was equally disappointed in: a magical guardian who would take either boy away from the muggle world and status as a friendless orphan.

In Place And Blood. by Lanna Michaels (Tom & Merope, 2.3k, G)

Rec: Tom raised by Merope still becomes Voldemort and this time his motivation is solely revenge on purebloods for his mother.

That night, for the first time, he shares a room with six other boys, five of them purebloods, and he wants to murder them where they sleep. He doesn't know how to do it, but he has ideas. They all deserve it. They deserve it for what they did to his mother. Purebloods had left his mother friendless, a disgrace, had thrown her out and left her to die and her son with her. Tom is going to make sure they live to regret it. Tom is going to make every one of them regret it.

if the sea were sand alone by Anonymous (Tom & Dumbledore, 12.8k, G)

Rec: A gorgeous and heartbreaking what-could-have-been for the Dumbledore and Tom relationship, the starting point being Slughorn comes to the orphanage to introduce the magical world to Tom instead of Dumbledore.

"I wanted to kill them," he said. "They left me there. All those years, and my father, and my grandparents, they left me there. The last thing my mother said to him was, 'What about the baby?' and the last thing he said to her--" He cut himself off. There was so much pain etched into his face that Albus shuffled off the bed, and, standing over him, pulled his head to his chest like he was still a small child. He had felt abandoned, once. It was a wound that had never truly healed, and it had taken him years to realize the extent of the damage.

More fic recs are in Part 2 of rec list here and Part 3 here.

[lau219]

Enemies with Benefits

Part 21: (1 of 2)

Previous part here

I know I said that this chapter would be where we see some real vulnerability from Tommy, but I decided to split this chapter up. So here’s part 1 of 2. Part 2 coming very soon!

…………………………………………………………………………….

“Look, what’s done is done, Tommy,” Polly said as she stood near the window in Tommy’s office, resting against the sill as she looked at him from across the room. “He’s already here, Arthur’s already given him the money. So the question now is, how do we move forward?”

Still looking at Tommy, Polly raised her cigarette to her lips as she waited for him to respond.

Sitting in his desk chair, Tommy was faced in Polly’s general direction, but rather than looking at her, he was focusing on the wall just beyond her shoulder, trying to force himself to calm down. Everything that was happening causing the blood in his veins to boil and rush, and he wasn’t sure he was able to speak yet without yelling.

Arthur. Fucking Arthur. The fucking moron was absolutely brainless.

After all these years, after all the false claims and repeated broken promises, he still yearned for their father’s attention and affection, and fell for it every time when Arthur Sr. would weasel his way back into their lives temporarily. Arthur always hoped and believed that their father actually cared for his children and that a reconciliation was in the cards, and every time, those hopes were quickly dashed when their father would yet again disappear as soon as he got whatever it was he really needed, once again dropping any and all contact for God knew how long, until the next time he’d inevitably present himself again.

The last time it happened, it had left a larger than ever dent in the family’s bank account and had thrown Arthur into an incredibly deep depression, not to mention causing the reactivation of Tommy’s involvement in multiple less-than-legal deals and connections that he’d spent the previous two years slowly trying to remove himself from. Arthur had yet again helped their father use their name and money to cover his ass for debts he owed and promises he’d broken to others.

Tommy had sworn that as soon as the latest bout was resolved, he’d make it so that all this could never happen again. Once he’d found out Ada was pregnant, Tommy had immediately begun the process of moving them all to the States. No way was he going to let all this keep happening and for his nephew to be subjected to the same toxic shit they all had been subjected to. He was ready to finally operate cleanly and never have to deal with their father again. It was time for a new chapter, which is what he’d promised himself the very first day he’d made the final return home from service. And then he’d finally accomplished it, cutting the old ties and creating a new home base for them all here, making his mark in more legal ways and managing to keep his father away for the last four years.

But apparently, four years was the longest Arthur was able to remember what a piece of shit their father was before forgetting again, and when he had evidently reached out to Arthur two months ago, Arthur had all too eagerly responded.

Just as he’d told Tommy, Arthur Sr. originally claimed the reason for his visit was that he wanted to meet his grandson and also congratulate his sons on their success and see for himself all that they’d accomplished. But, unable to hide his own idiocy, Arthur had admitted to the family the other day that he’d given their father over ten thousand dollars to pay off multiple gambling debts he’d been unable to talk himself out of back in Birmingham. And these apparently were debts that had formidable payees, some of whom Tommy was all too familiar with from his own previous interactions with them. They all knew the success Tommy had made himself, and therefore had granted his father the permission to head to the U.S. to get them the money he owed.

Upon learning what Arthur had done, Tommy had immediately frozen his ability to access or use any of the family accounts, and he'd warned John that if a single additional cent went unaccounted for, he'd cut him off, too. Over the last few days, Arthur and Tommy hadn't spoken or seen each other, as Arthur had made himself scarce since the reaming Tommy had given him. And although he'd gotten what he needed, their father was still hanging around, having joined Arthur wherever the hell it was he'd slunk off to.

As he'd told Y/N, Tommy had planned on giving him a very harsh piece of his mind and then sending him packing the couple days after he'd arrived. However, they ended up having not seen each other again yet, and it made Tommy all the more angry and tense that he was still around and undoubtedly filling Arthur's head with more bullshit.

"Stop stewing over this and just let it go," Polly spoke again then, cutting into Tommy's thoughts. "It's only ten grand."

Now moving his eyes to Polly, Tommy finally spoke.

"You think I give a fuck about the money?" he asked rhetorically, his voice filled with anger. "It's the fucking fact that he's here, that he's just stirring the pot and filling Arthur's head with bullshit, and that he fucks with everyone every Goddamn time and none of you ever seem to fucking comprehend that he's a waste of fucking life!"

Tommy's voice had risen the longer he'd spoke, and he felt his blood boiling again. For fuck's sake, why did Polly never get angry about the right stuff?

"Besides you, Thomas, no one knows better than me what a piece of shit your father is," Polly said then, keeping her cool as she took another drag from her cigarette and looked back at him. "But you can't undo what Arthur's done, and despite your best efforts to control him, you'll have to put a tracking device on that idiot if you want to keep him from ever engaging with your father again. I accepted a long time ago that it's pointless — he's never gonna give up the perfect picture of Daddy being who he wants him to be."

Tommy gave a bitter scoff, turning back to his desk and lighting a cigarette before he then replied to Polly.

"Well, he's gonna give it up. Because when they finally get back here, that perfect picture is gonna be lit on fucking fire."

Part 21: (2 of 2)

@nyxxie-pooh @xsweetcatastrophe @allie131313 @betty21rose @febris-amatoria

@hannibellector @fairytale07 @meister95 @alltoowellbeneaththemangotree @beastofburdenxo

@runnning-outof-time @aphroditeslover11 @galactict3a @natalie--rushman @wild-rose-35

@judig92 @pkmonka @ladyvenera @karah-bear @k1ng-l3on

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@darklydeliciousdesires @an-eclectic-of-mass-destruction @vervainandspritz @wonderlanddreamer @novashelby

@honeymoon8 @cardan-official @meadows5

[grimbanes]

My Soulmate is Capitalism. (Kaz Brekker x GN!Reader)

Summary: "Of course I believe in soulmates - I have met mine. Capitalism is my mistress and I lay with her every night, I hold her close and she sings me promises of riches beyond any man's dreams." OR after a successful heist, everybody celebrates but kaz chooses to sit with the reader and they have a funny conversation.

WC: 2k

Genre: crack fic. pre-relationship, coming to terms with feelings, the rest of the crows being funny. you/your pov. kaz might be a lil ooc. reader and kaz are besties with a lot of tension.

A/N: i wanted to write something light hearted because my notifs are blown up rn, but this is gonna be a first part or prologue leading to confessions within a day or two. so stay tuned, i hope you enjoy this because there's more to come for this one. i wanted to try something more dialogue heavy for once. i forgot how funny kaz could be but i was reading chapter 2 of SOC again and my god hes so funny.

TW: violence, usual six of crow warnings, kaz laughing.

“So you admit that you’re the thief?”

The young man in chains wanted to laugh, he really did. It wasn’t in his nature to laugh at idiocy - if he made a habit of it, he’d be laughing permanently and that seemed rather tiring. 

“I’m a vigilante, of sorts,” He replied smoothly, adjusting the shackles on his hands from where he let them rest between his legs, being sure not to touch his bad leg even when both were chained to the rickety, barely held together chair he was perched upon.

“You gonna give it to the poor?” 

“I am the poor,” Kaz said. He had to egg him on. His entire plan was resting on the fact that the Stadwatch were full of the most kruge hungry, lazy, arrogant fools to ever be shoved from the womb of Ketterdam’s damp streets.

It earned him a fist to the face, cracking down against his scarred cheekbone and he felt dizzy - recoiling from the rising tides that filled his tight lungs, daring to attempt to drag him under the murky, corpse riddled depths. It was only a moment of touch, but a moment enough that it numbed the pain that should be blossoming through the nerves in his face. 

“Filthy street rat,” The guard scoffed at him, shaking his hand to evidently ease the pain from hitting him. Soft bastards. 

“Street rat, urchin, pickpocket, they’re all the same. You can think of something better now, can’t you? Let me give you a hand: I prefer the term businessman, opportunist or even idealist, on a good day, ” The young man in chains taunted, leaning back into his seat and making himself comfortable, only the weight of rusting metal clamped around his bare skin giving him any discomfort.

He needed the officer closer. Just that little bit closer.

He didn’t miss the slight hobble in the guard’s right foot, or the consistent shaking in both of his hands. Perhaps he had skipped a meal or was otherwise unwell, either way, it posed an opportunity for him that had the young man scheming. Like any skilled thief, he could take himself out of his chains in mere seconds with the gentle caress of cool metal, a flick of the wrist and a soft praise, the lock would bend to his will and snap open, but not yet. With guard in his space, he could set the rest of the plan into motion and trust in his schemes to carry the others to do their part too. 

The Stadwatch officer reached to fist his hair and Kaz braced himself, tongue in cheek and eyes locked on the hand reeling back and preparing to be delivered swiftly into his nose. A single second window was all he had. So he counted. He waited three seconds, inhale, exhale, inhale, and with a loud clink, his wrists were free. Kaz lowered himself down, arms shooting out to wrap around the officer’s hips and he hoisted himself up to his full height, the chains on his feet clattering away and he was dropping the officer onto his back with a heavy thud, dust filling the air in the dark room. 

He didn’t hesitate to grab his cane from where it was left propped against the wall and raised it with a confident grip, the weighted head connecting with a sickening crack to the side of the man’s head. Exhale.

“Can’t have this tarnishing my perfect record,” Kaz mumbled, taking an uneven step back and leaning heavily onto his cane, stoney eyes scanning the surrounding room. It was dark out, possibly. Around four hours he’d been sitting with his eyes closed, counting every second and minute that passed, as he’d been stripped of his hat, coat, gloves and cane. He pushed his bare hand through his hair, away from his face. Right about now they should be-

The door threw open, and expecting Jesper, Kaz opened his mouth the mutter a threat about almost being late but instead, he was met with the one person who managed to make him hold his tongue. The one person who had him on his toes, who encouraged his behaviour, the only other person who knew what it was like to be raised by Ketterdam. You. With your mischievous smile, dirt smudged against your cheek and eyes sparkling at him with so much mirth that it had him wanting to return the pure joy you always seemed to radiate. You were always at your best when your pockets were full of trinkets that didn’t belong to you.

“Where’s Jesper?” Kaz inquired instead, stepping past you and out of the door and he didn’t even want to think on why the soft scent of morning dew flowers even managed to stay clung to you in dangerous jobs like this. He hobbled down the narrow corridor, leaning majority of his weight into his cane as his leg began to ache, the cold chill of the room set deep into the broken bone - he’d definitely been sat still for too long, it was nearly unbearable. 

“Covering Wylan’s escape,” Your voice chimed from behind him, quiet steps masked in time with his own uneven gait. He eyed you from the corner of his alert eyes and he thought you were possibly the most addicting thing he had ever laid his eyes upon, even in dim light, in the face of danger, the possibility of death still thick in the suffocatingly stagnant air. 

Kaz couldn’t find it within himself to be mad that Jesper had gone against his explicit orders to stick to the plan, no detours, no changes. That only meant that you had done your best to adapt to the change, to do your part and still come for him, and you had done it well - he figured he owed you a drink. Or a necklace. Or a bullet between your enemy’s eyes. Whatever he could do, he would do it for you, just to show he valued your set of skills in his arsenal. The entire plan rested on Jesper breaking Kaz out of interrogation before the Stadwatch completed the paperwork and locked him in a cell for Ghezen knew how long.

┕━━━━━━━♔━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┙

You collapsed into your seat with a sigh, head tipped back and the sound of the bottle of whiskey was already being passed around, glasses clinking and the unshakable adrenaline remained buzzing under everybody’s skin. Another successful heist meant another fifteen thousand kruge in your coffers. You heard the seat beside you be dragged out and the smell of dark coffee flooding your senses, warming your sinuses. Your eyes flickered open in the warm lighting, falling upon the familiar figure that seemed to always be in your shadow as of late.

Kaz slid a cup and saucer your way, bitter dark coffee swirling in the fine china and you felt yourself ease a little more. He had a way about him that always left you feeling a little recharged - maybe it was the fact he always brought you a cup of coffee when he made himself one, always waking you up and giving you the illusion that it was him doing it. Clever, really, the sly bastard. You held onto the little plate with a smile, fingers hooking into the handle as Kaz sat himself beside you, cane rested against the table and his usual coat and hat abandoned somewhere in the club.

“Boss will have our heads for being in the club after hours, you know,” You teased.

“I am the boss,” Kaz muttered in retort, his usual eyebrow quirk present as he stared.

“Oh yes, of course, my apologies, Master Brekker,” You pressed, giving him a little nudge with your elbow and not missing the slight quirk of his own lips, barely present other than the way only one side of his mouth raised. 

The young man rolled his blued hyacinth eyes in his usual manner, his entire being just screaming familiarity and you felt comfortable. At ease. Brekker could handle himself in a gunfight, a fist fight and any game of wit. His tongue was sharper than most knives, his words the coldest bullet to explode your brains against your own floorboards and that was a comforting thing in the Barrel. 

“Do you believe in soulmates?” You found yourself asking, swirling the dark coffee in its cup between your hands, holding it close to your face and studying the young man beside you. 

"Of course I believe in soulmates - I have met mine. Capitalism is my mistress and I lay with her every night, I hold her close and she sings me promises of riches beyond any man's dreams,” Kaz spoke with utter sincerity, sipping his own coffee and studying down at the manifest in front of him, pen in his other hand. 

“Geels was right, you do only talk in metaphors,” You mumbled with clear disappointment, eyes cast upon your friends across the room as they drank their alcohol and made merry, celebrating the night’s events. 

Beside you, Kaz stopped writing. In fact, he set his pen down altogether and a sigh left through his nose. You didn’t want to turn to look at him, didn’t want to show your disappointment - it was very rare you ever got a real answer from him, one that wasn’t a deflection or some mirror of the reputation he spent so long building. Sometimes, you just wanted a conversation but you knew choosing Kaz for that was foolish to begin with. 

“As I said to Geels, that wasn’t a metaphor,” Kaz offered the truce, rather than submitting to his usual silence whenever he had upset someone. 

“Is this your way of telling me that you quite literally sleep with money in your bed?” You asked, perplexed and turning your head to fully look at the Barrel Boss’ side profile. 

“Yes.” Kaz sipped his coffee, leaned back in his seat and tapped a gloved finger against the surface of the table between you, “Thousands of kruge make my pillow and keep me warm in the night.” 

And you laughed. You laughed louder than you ever had, hand slamming against the table and full body tipping forward, coffee set aside as you nearly choked on it. Kaz Brekker had told a joke and it was devastatingly funny, the deadpan delivery more than enough for you to be sent into a room filled with giggles. It had the others across the room staring at you with perplexity, glancing between both you and Kaz and you didn’t miss the way his body shook just that little bit, a hint of a laugh in his body language and smile hidden beneath the cup of coffee he was sipping on. 

“You are so lucky that I adore you so much else I would be sticking a bullet through your brain right about now,” You giggled, miming firing a gun at him with your fingers and you snorted again, gripping onto the edge of the table. 

“Careful voicing your affections so loud, one might think you’re being sincere,” Kaz’s smile seemed to shine in his eyes, leaning a little closer to your space and it set you off again, your hand slamming against your hand in an effort to stop your little outburst. 

***

“They flirt with violence?” Nina dared question, whiskey in hand and staring at the exchange with confusion fused with joy, knowing damn well she could use this against the both of them in future. I mean really, who could adore anyone with a haircut that bad? She shook her head, utterly flummoxed. 

“I don’t know what’s more unsettling, seeing Kaz smile or seeing Kaz make someone just as bad as him laugh like that,” Wylan shuddered, yet unable to look away.

“I think it's sweet. It really shows that there is somebody out there for everyone,” Inej smiled, eyes softening as she studied the exchange and holding her hand above her heart.

“Demjin made somebody laugh, I think we should take them both to a medik,” Matthias grumbled, earning himself a shove from Nina. 

“Well I think-” Jesper dropped into his seat, leaning into where they had huddled inwards and grinned. “It’s creepy. I mean c'mon, imagine if anything happened between them. He’d go absolutely feral. It's so human.. I don’t like it.”

[collinrobinsonsglasses]

Hello there!!

Really adore your "Too Soft to be a Pirate" work!! It's beyond incredible! I can't thank you for such a lovely piece!

Saw your requests are open, so here's my silly little thought:

Izzy Hands x Reader. Mutual pining. Fluff.

Besides being a certified badass, Reader is also a skilled artist. Stede, ever the enjoyer of art, buys the necessary supplies. Here come the portraits, landscapes and so on.

During some moment of quiet on the ship, Izzy is looking for the Reader and finds them in one of the somewhat secluded rooms of the Revenge, making a portrait of Mr. Hands himself.

They talk their pining through as a crew. Maybe even kiss about it lol.

Thank you for you works once again <3

Thank you for all the kind words @imchloefuckingprice-blog <3 I wrote the first part of this in Lucius's point of view, because he's the best when two people don't know how to express their feelings. I hope this was what you were looking for.

Izzy Hands x Reader (GN)

Masterlist

A Brush of Fate

Lucius prided himself on his keen observational skills. After all, he had recognized Stede and Ed’s feelings for each other long before they did. Now, his perceptive gaze focused on the unmistakable connection between you and Izzy. One night, while Lucius sketched and you painted, you opened up to him about your feelings for Izzy. Despite Lucius reassurances, you remained unsure about Izzy reciprocating your emotions. You insisted to Lucius that Izzy was still caught up in his feelings for Blackbeard. However, Lucius saw Izzy’s lingering gaze directed toward you from across the deck, noting his subtle attentiveness as he went out of his way to help you with tasks around the ship.

The more Lucius thought about the relationship between you and Izzy, the more it seemed to fall into place. Your undeniable skill with a sword and adept sailing skills meant you never pissed Izzy off like the other members of Bonnet’s crew. You were a certified badass and your artistic talents formed a quick bond between you and Lucius. You were Lucius’s favorite person on board, second only to Black Pete. Lucius believed Izzy would have to be an idiot not to have feelings for you. However, in Lucius’s opinion, Izzy frequently displayed behaviors that bordered on idiocy. 

“What are you working on today, babes?” Lucius inquired with a smirk as he entered the former ballroom, closing the door behind him. Lucius already knew the answer, observing a subtle shade of red flash across your face. 

In response, you turned the easel to face him and the doorway. Lucius gazed upon the beautiful portrait of Izzy hands before him, experiencing a pang of pity for its painter. 

As a thought crossed Lucius’s mind, he burst into laughter. “I can’t imagine what Stede would say if he knew you were using the paint supplies he bought you to create that. I feel like he would have a conniption.” 

After laying eyes on one of your small paintings, Stede had purchased supplies for you, hoping you would help replace the artworks lost on The Revenge during the era of the kraken. He confided in both you and Lucius, expressing his desire to make the ship feel like home once again. He wanted things to get back to normal and to help Edward feel comfortable. 

“I made those for Stede,” you remarked, and Lucius followed your finger to two paintings leaning against the ship wall to dry. One depicted The Revenge, and Lucius couldn’t help but marvel at the delicate details of the ship, rolling his eyes at your undeniable talent. The other showcased Ed, dressing in his exquisite purple attire from the night of the fancy party. You even included the tiny purple bows adorning his beard. 

“He’ll actually love those,” Lucius huffed, surprised to find no sarcastic comment to direct at the paintings. Playfully, he rested his chin on your shoulder from behind as you both admired the portrait of Izzy. “Now, who will this portrait go to?” Lucius teased. 

“No one. I’ll probably paint over it once I’m done.” 

“Why are you painting it then?” Lucius asked, disappointment evident in his tone. The portrait was beautiful, and he hoped you would give it to Izzy, finally admitting your true feelings. 

“I thought that if I painted Izzy, his face would get out of my head,” you replied quietly, and Lucius couldn’t help but hear the vulnerability in your voice. 

Lucius empathized with that line of thinking, but in a slightly different way. He recalled how he had sketched Blackbeard’s face for weeks, only to be snapped out of it by Black Pete. “I get that,” Lucius replied, pursing his lips and scrunching his face, before lifting his sketchbook to reveal one of the many drawings of Blackbeard. 

He observed the relief that washed over your face at being understood, forming a smile at the drawings. “Flower Blackbeard was my favorite,” you chuckled.

“Maybe…” Lucius lingered, playfully bumping his hip into yours. “You should give Izzy the painting, and that’ll get him out of your head” he suggested with a mischievous glint in his eye. 

You responded with a sarcastic laugh, accompanied by a roll of your eyes. Lucius dropped his playful expression, reciprocating with a roll of his eyes. Deep down, he just wanted you to be happy. Over the past few weeks, Izzy had grown on him, and while he may not have thought Izzy deserved you, it was clear that he was always occupying your thoughts. 

“I’ll leave you to moping and painting then,” Lucius said, patting your shoulder before heading out of the ballroom with a clear objective in mind. 

He found Izzy in the hallway leading to the captain’s quarters, gazing at one of your new paintings Stede had just hung up. This sight caused Lucius to smirk; he knew he was right about how Izzy felt about you. Determined to push you two together, he decided he would do everything he could to make it happen. Lucius was tired of seeing you unhappy when all that seemed necessary was to talk it through. 

“Pretty good, right?” Lucius slid into the spot next to Izzy, crossing his arms and directing his gaze at the painting. The painting depicted a simple sunset over the water, yet it radiated a quiet beauty. 

Izzy only replied with a grunt, clearly annoyed that Lucius had caught him staring at your painting. 

“I didn’t know you were such a lover of art, Iggy,” Lucius continued, attempting to poke at him further. “You and Stede must have so much to discuss.” 

“What the fuck do you want, twatty?” Izzy snapped in response. 

“There’s a leak in the ballroom,” Despite his usual quick-witted nature, he knew this lie lacked conviction. 

“Why the fuck is that my problem?” Izzy grumbled. 

“Blackbeard told me to tell you, so you could fix it.” Lucius’s arms involuntarily squeezed more tightly across his chest as he lied, but he tried to relax once he noticed. 

“Well… you told me, so fuck off.” 

“Oh, absolutely,” Lucius quickly retreated from the conversation, hoping his lie was convincing enough to get Izzy to go where he needed him. Lucius perched himself on one of the mast tops, carefully watching the direction Izzy departed. When he noticed Izzy heading toward the ballroom, Lucius bit his lip with anticipation. 

⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓

Izzy slowly wandered down the hallway, heading towards the ballroom, frustrated at being the one who always had to fix the ship’s problems. He was even more annoyed by Lucius teasing him about you. He couldn’t help but stare at your painting. It was beautiful, just like you. If it was so obvious to Lucius how Izzy felt about you, then you must be aware of it too. Perhaps it was some inside joke between the two of you. Izzy had held feelings for you for quite some time now, witnessing how you found beauty in the small details that most people would overlook. Your ability to turn the mundane into lovely paintings had captivated him, and with each stroke of your brush, his admiration for you grew. 

Feeling discouraged, Izzy had almost decided to give up on his feelings for you when he opened the door to the ballroom and found you immersed in painting. He was taken aback for a moment, not realizing that this was where you created your art, and then confused about why Lucius had sent him here. There were no visible leaks in sight. That’s when he saw a portrait of himself staring back at him. His jaw dropped as he tried to understand the meaning behind the painting. 

“Fuck off, Lucius,” he heard you say as you continued to paint, not turning towards the sound of the door opening. Izzy contemplated whether he should leave, feeling like he had interrupted a private moment. However, in his moment of indecision, you turned around to face him. Izzy observed your eyes widen in surprise, followed by your cheeks blushing a deep shade of scarlet. “You’re not Lucius,” you whispered quietly, regaining your composure. 

Izzy tried to rack his brain, attempting to find a reason why you would be painting him, but he couldn’t come up with a single explanation. A moment of silence stretched between you both as you stared at each other, waiting for the other to speak. Izzy glanced over at the two other paintings in the room. “Are these for Bonnet?” he questioned, gesturing towards all the paintings. 

“Those two are. This one is just something I’m doing for fun,” you replied, and Izzy sensed the nervousness in your demeanor as you spoke. 

“Why?” Izzy inquired. 

“I feel like you have a face that’s worth being painted,” you whispered. 

Izzy didn’t know how to respond to your words; they seemed sincere, but this whole scenario didn’t make sense to him. Why did Lucius send him here? Taking a moment to examine you, he noticed you were in an old, oversized shirt covered in paint. As he gazed at your face, he observed a bit of paint smeared across your nose. He wasn’t sure what information he was trying to glean, but he also enjoyed just looking at you. 

Realizing he had been staring at you for too long without a response, Izzy quickly found his words. “Lucius told me there was a leak in this room.” 

Izzy watched your face contort from one of nervousness to annoyance. 

“Of course he did,” you snapped. Izzy observed as you dropped the paintbrush onto a nearby stoll where your paint sat, glancing towards the door as if you were going to find Lucius yourself to teach him a lesson. “There’s no leak, Izzy.” 

Finally, the pieces snapped together in Izzy’s mind. Lucius’s teasing remark and him sending Izzy to find you painting a picture of him–it was all part of a big joke, and he realized he was the butt of it. Izzy felt anger rising within him. He never expected you to treat him like this, and the revelation left him feeling both hurt and surprised. 

“Oh, I see. You and Mr. Spriggs are joking around and wasting my time,” Izzy spat as he began to turn towards the door to leave. 

“Wait, Iz.” Izzy felt your light grip on his arm, pausing at your touch. “Lucius knows how I feel about you, so I think this was his way of forcing me to tell you. I’m not trying to waste your time or play a joke on you.” 

“How do you feel about me?” Izzy whispered quickly. He felt his demeanor instantly soften and turned back towards you. 

“I like you, Israel Hands,” you said steadily, your big eyes gazing into his, seeming to search for any sort of reaction. 

When he gave none, you grabbed Izzy’s hand, leading him towards the painting, gesturing to your work as you spoke. “On the outside, ruggedly handsome, worn by the sea, tough but your eyes… There’s a gentleness you can see in your eyes. The way they soften when you talk about something you love, the subtle warmth they hold when you smile. I like you because I see a complexity in you, Izzy– a blend of strength and tenderness that intrigues me.” 

Izzy turned towards you, prompting you to face him. His fingers reached up to gently trace the paint on your nose. You closed your eyes at his touch, opening them to meet his gaze once his hand fell from your face. “Paint?” you asked in a soft whisper. 

“I like how you look… even with paint on your face. Especially with paint on your face.” Izzy confessed, his tone tender. “I like you.” 

Izzy gazed down, captivated, as a sweet smile stretched across your face. His eyes lingered on your lips, attempting to memorize their shape and color. A silent anticipation filled the space between you, Izzy pondering the sensation of your lips against his, the curiosity and desire swirling within him. You closed the gap between you, your lips meeting his in a tender kiss. The connection was soft and sweet. Time seemed to stand still as your lips gently explored the contours of Izzy’s. 

“I fucking knew it,” Lucius’s voice rang out from the hallway in delight. 

Izzy immediately let go of you, worried about your reaction to Lucius seeing you with him. You only replied with a giggle, shutting the door quickly. “Fuck off, Lucius,” you sang playfully. 

As your arms warped around Izzy, pulling him in for another kiss, he heard Lucius’s annoyed voice through the door. “I feel like I deserve a thank you, at least.” 

For the first time, Izzy was thankful to Mr. Spriggs for sticking his nose into everyone’s business. Thanks to him, he was getting to hold you in his arms, instead of just having to admire you from afar. You had told Izzy he had a face worth painting, but in Izzy’s mind, you yourself were a work of art.

[exstasyplague]

UnPopular Jujutsu Kaisen Opinions (with arguments)

manga spoilers

☆ Yuji is the perfect MC

i've seen a lot of people trashing on him. some say gege writes him poorly and doesn't give him enough scenes, some say he's boring because he doesn't have any fancy cursed techniques. first of all, yuji has been aware of the jujutsu world for 6 months in manga; even less in anime. he doesn't have any OP cliche to him (looking at you Ichigo) and that makes him so much more enjoyable! when he loses he loses for good reasons and when he wins you can feel genuinely happy for him because you know he deserves it. he is a teenager and the shift in his mentalities embodies that perfectly; along with him we discover the cruelty and unfairness of the jujutsu world. at first, especially if you're a shonen watcher, you'd tend to believe he will shift to a high white knight borderline annoying mentality yet he doesn't, the jjk verse doesn't work like that. yuji is able to adapt. he has traits that you'd see in your real life friends: silliness, kindness, idiocy, love for jennifer lawrence etc but also traits that make him a perfect mc: empathy, resiliance, convinction, raw anger. + gege have him some of the HARDEST panels.

ㅡif it's just pain... Yuji Itadori won't ever stop

also. his last battle with mahito. hands down. best. panels.

mahito (another well structured villain) RUNNING for his life while yuji walks slowly behind him. if that doesn't show major improvement from the kid he was at the beginning idk what does. that's some MC shit right there man.

☆ Sukuna is not a fraud

the fraudkuna memes are funny. i admit. i'm sure mahoraga kisses him goodnight and tucks his blankey, however, sukuna is a fucking piece of shit, LOL (i mean it in the best way), my man literally became curse. people expect him to not use the weapons he has to his advantage as if he didn't want megumi from the beginning specifically for using his abilities. a good gun doesn't make you a military tier shooter. it's about the resources, it's about the experience, it's about the aim. "why doesn't he use his curse technique wah wah" — because he knows gojo is strong. unless he isn't absolutely sure he will strip him away from all his gimmicks, he has no reason to flaunt his true powers. sukuna wants to win. he wanted to kill gojo since the beginning of the series. i think the fight is balanced well, sukuna uses his resources and takes the consequences for being a tad too cautious. in the heian era when cursed energy had a purer, rawer output even domain expansions were simple in principles: you're in, i kill you. (line from the manga, btw) his CT is probably straightforward as well with a simple principle so having gojo use his infinity against it and figure out how to strip him naked would make him lose faster than todo called yuji his bestie.

☆ Gege doesn't hate women

because the unfortunate thing with nobara and yuki getting xd-d by kenjaku, a popular belief seems to be that gege is fond of trashing the women in his series. argument people have for that? "the only one in the spotlight is maki and she's female toji". first of all, if gege hated women he wouldn't write them as he does— each one of his lady characters is incredibly well structured and way beyond the love interest/ gotta be protected trope. mei mei, shoko, utahime, miwa and many others became non-existent, or what? even tengen is a woman. masashi kishimoto (the creator of naruto) is an author i'd say has 0 regards for women since the way most of his girl characters are built is literal dog shit. sakura is naruto's one sided love and a sasuke dickrider, hinata is a stalker that sharts when she sees naruto, karin is a sasuke dickrider, kurenai is asuma's chick and the only two women somewhat ok as a structure are tsunde and temari. (i am a big fan of the naruto series but i am spitting facts, also an avid sakura lover) plus there is a rumour that gege is a woman too and from the way sato sugu is written i'd agree anw

☆ Kenjaku is the best villain of the series

homie got railed by itadori's papi just for his plan, that's not even aizen level of plotting bro. he got drizzled in jizz and gave birth to yuji 💀

how good that d had to be for him to get impregnated....

ANYWAY jokes aside, he is very calculated and chill. he is not the strongest but his literal essence is to be a technique stealing leech and well, he's just that. with suguru, even in his villain arc you can empathize. sukuna is cool and straightforward: he wants to massacre people, kill gojo and then enjoy his life slashing random ass people who don't kneel is total submission.

kenjaku? bro, kenjaku has plans over plans and he executes all of them. even in geto's sexy body he still gets hated because there is genuinely nothing likeable about him. not because he's a poorly written character, he's written to be a piece of shit that makes you wanna break the screen when he gets a W and idk about y'all but even when he exorcised mahito i was like "aw hell nah bruh, get your hands off asap". may come as a shock, i know but we're like supposed to hate villains (not me being the biggest sukuna simp even in his crusty dusty OG form🤭) and well, nobody fucking roots for kenjaku. so gojo, go take your boyfriend's body or something fr.

☆ Yuta is.... mid

hear me out.

i don't hate him— not in the slightest. i hope he will actually have something going on with maki since apparently nobara is afk. i liked his entire rika situation but... bro.

yes, i will be going into the power system 😭I'M SORRY BUT like all he does is copy shit. wow. sure, he's a good copycat. i am not complaining about him being called so powerful and wtv but i don't find anything exciting about his battles and his personality is dead ass boring. do i get happy when he wins? yes. do i hope he'll come and save goatjo? yes. yes. yes. but people call him the real MC and all that shit... not even that— i... nothing in me likes him. my opinions are not absolute. his story is cool. i liked jjk 0 but the only thing that ruins his story is literally his lack of perosnality. and don't come at me for not grasping his depths or whatever. yuta is best fanfic y/n material because he can be turned into bashful stereotype really easily. "omg, best friend power, precious friends made me wanna live ❤️" very sweet HOWEVER very untouching for me. i only liked him when he made maki go all blushy because my girl deserves happiness.

☆ Toji actually cares about Megumi

is he the good father that would spoil his kid as a ray of sunshine?

no.

but he chose this. to forget about everything, to abandon his pride, to part himself away from the clan that rejected him and live his life on his own. megumi's mom made shit better for him and she died so his life became shit again. he thought that by entrusting megumi to the zenin clan he would actually be able to make something of himself since he had cursed energy.

also, people tend to forget just how conservative and judgemental the 3 big clans are, maki and mai have been shat on their whole life by the zenins, especially maki. toji went through the same shit if not worse. he wasn't always buff max version of himself, he wasn't born with anything. exactly because he gave up on all the things in his life he was able to reach that type of power and live with some purpose since he failed in everything else.

in the manga he has the option of coming back to life as long as he keeps killing sorcerers, which is his speciality, but he meets megumi, recognises him and kills himself in order to not hurt him. be fr. anciet sorcerers sold their booty holes to kenjaku to get a second chance at life.

ANYWAY. SADLY i can't post Toji memes since i reached my pic limits.

let me know what you think:) i may make a part 2. feel free to also ask for my opinions about anything in the verse, lol. if you wanna see my fics check my ao3, i promise i don't write in the same braindead way i type. <33

[kellyvela]

Do u think there is qitn foreshadowing for arya? I do think there is some forshadowing but theres queen forshadowing sansa too so i never know what to make of it. I never know what the plan for sansa would be if arya became queen anyway, people act like she would just be cool with that lol or be fine ruling the vale? That doesn’t make sense. Plus why would the show make sansa queen when they easily could have made arya queen if thats whats planned for the books.

About the most popular Queen A argument:

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For more context about Nymeria not being a Warrior and/or a Queen:

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Bonus:

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About the most popular anti Queen S argument:

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About Queen S:

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Bonus:

[he-is-lightning-in-a-bottle]

Top 5 Beloathed Tropes, in No Particular Order

Hi beloveds. Because of a recent certain episode of what had previously been a favorite drama, I feel compelled to share some hate. Hate for these godawful tropes!

Noble Idiocy - This is when one character sacrifices something dear to them (usually their relationship with another character) out of the mistaken idea that it's somehow better for everyone this way. LISTEN UP PEEPS! It's a lie. It's so disrespectful of others, especially if it's a breakup. It's assuming that you know what is best for them, that you know what they're thinking and feeling better than they do, that you know what they'll want. All without ASKING THEM or letting them make their own decisions. You know what this signals to me as a viewer? That your relationship is doomed to failure even if you eventually work through this stupidity. Why? Because if you're willing to do this once, what's to stop you from doing it again? Your worldview is inherently flawed in a deeply selfish way, particularly because you're passing off your selfishness as sacrificial "love" and "respect" when it is the opposite! I no longer trust you! In summary: don't sacrifice your relationship/work/happiness because of stupid reasons that you could easily work through with some decent communication!

Time skips for the ending. - Time skips can be a valuable narrative tool. They can give a character who just endured something dramatic or traumatic time to become stable again. They can provide a fluffy epilogue to a fluffy ending, demonstrating to the audience that a year later everyone is still happy. But time skips are evil if they come in the penultimate or final episode just to add drama, and they're particularly evil if they relegate character growth offscreen. THIS IS WEAK WRITING. This is wanting to correct a character flaw without doing the work to show me HOW it gets corrected. It's especially egregious if it's a character flaw called out by the narrative in prior episodes because then I have an emotional investment in seeing it resolved, and THE WRITERS JUST STOLE THAT FROM ME.

Intentional Miscommunication - Let's just call this what it is. Lying. It can be well done (and even humorous) if the main character is trapped in a lie by circumstances beyond their control and they must perpetuate that lie for Reasons. Think Unintentional Love Story and Business Proposal. These often begin as low-stakes lies of omission because a character doesn't know yet how involved they'll become in the other's life. But it gets dumb as fuck when it either drags on beyond a couple of episodes (think Twins) or involves an intentional outright lie (I'm looking at you, Last Twilight). Dear TV writers, as a good rule of thumb, please resolve all misunderstandings within the length of an episode. And if the entire plot happens to be built on a lie, at least make it accidental rather than intentional. Why? Because someone who intentionally lies to others, particularly someone they claim to love, is no longer trustworthy. If you throw this trope in at the end of the drama, I'm no longer going to believe these characters can have a Happily Ever After no matter how happy you show me they are on screen.

Mean/abusive tsunderes. - Everybody loves watching a cold or reserved or grumpy character come out of their shell and bloom. But stop making tsunderes who are downright mean or abusive! Particularly ones who miraculously fix fundamental character flaws as soon as they're loved by the right person. Do tsunderes right, please! They're supposed to begin the story coming off as harsh or severe, but it's supposed to be for a good reason that engenders sympathy once we (and the other main characters) understand them. They're not supposed to actually be abusers! And it's the worst kind of storytelling to show their abusive nature magically changing because they feel in love. All this tells me is that as soon as their fluffy in love feelings dissappear, their abusive nature will reappear. I actually fear for their romantic partner.

Amnesia. - I hate it when all the character growth gets undone by this magic trope. Not only is the amnesia portrayed on screen usually totally medically inaccurate, but it's just lazy and dumb to use this for drama instead of something more realistic or believable. I can only think of three stories that did this well -- Jack O'Frost, Naughty Babe, and Crazy Love. In those stories, the amnesia (if real) was momentary, but then they pretend it is still there for valid sympathetic Plot Reasons. I also don't mind if it's the literal setup of the plot, ie the whole story is about a character with some form of amnesia adapting to their new life (think: Momento, 50 First Dates, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind). But please stop throwing it into the middle of stories just to be Dramatique™

@lurkingshan This is for you! Thanks for your Last Twilight rant spurring this on.

[shmaptainwrites]

*knocks politely*

Hello hi!

Requesting Bobby with the “kiss me” prompt. Hehe okay byeeeeee

bestie i’ve got youuuu this prompt is so perfect for shenanigans so shenanigans is what you get

Pairings: Bobby Nash x GN!Reader

Warnings: they are two halves of one braincells i stg, breaking and entering, general idiocy, they’re just…so stupid

Amateur Sleuth

“I swear there’s something illegal going on there but no one believes me! Doesn’t help that I don’t have any proof to prove them wrong,” you sighed, sitting back in your chair at the dining table in the fire hall, your arms crossed over your chest.

“You are absolutely insane for spying on your neighbours, you know that, right?” Eddie asked and you rolled your eyes.

“Come on Eddie, if you saw what I saw, you’d be snooping.”

“Which was what exactly?” Buck asked as he joined you.

“She says she has an Etsy store, but people only ever come and buy stuff from her in the dead of night.”

“So like 10:30 for you?” Hen teased and you lightly shoved her.

“No like 3 am, I’m not joking,” you said. “And I found her instagram and that girl is living well beyond her means for a retail worker who has an Etsy shop on the side. I’m talking about vacations every other month, she bought a Mercedes recently, something is up for sure.”

“I agree,” Bobby jumped into the conversation.

“Thank you! Finally someone with some common sense,” you exclaimed. “Now if only I could figure out what the hell she’s up to.”

“You need to stake her place out,” Bobby said simply.

“You say that as if you’ve done it before, Cap,” Chimney chuckled.

“Maybe once or twice off the record, but with good reason and my hunches were right.”

“What do I have to pay you to come over tonight and help me figure this out?” you laughed, but the whole team knew you were being dead serious.

“Just a cup of coffee, I’ll come over at 11,” he smiled and you clapped your hands together victoriously.

“5 bucks says this is gonna blow up in your faces,” Eddie took out his wallet and put the cash on the table.

“I’ll take that action,” Hen nodded. “I’ve seen Bobby do his thing, there’s a slight chance this could go right.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence Hen,” you said sarcastically. “Jokes on all of you, this is gonna go great.”

After your shift was over you headed home and ate something for dinner before napping for a few hours so you could manage to stay up late that night.

Your alarm went off just ten minutes before Bobby arrived and you had a pot of coffee hot and ready when he came inside.

“So where does this neighbour of yours live?” he asked.

“She’s the apartment directly across the hall,” you pointed. “If you look through the peephole you can see, that’s how I’ve been doing most of my spying.”

“Alright, we can use that and since you’re on the first floor if the opportunity presents itself, maybe we can see if there’s any clues from the window.”

“Man, I didn’t even think of that,” you chuckled. “Oh this is gonna be so fun.”

You poured Bobby a cup of coffee and you waited eagerly for one of your neighbour’s customers to show up. After a while, no one had come and your neighbour had left the house a while ago so Bobby suggested to get a look through the window.

“We’ve gotta be quiet though, I’m not the only snoopy neighbour, if someone sees me they’ll call the cops for sure,” you noted, grabbing Bobby’s hand and leading him out of the building and to the rear where you could peek in through the windows.

Some of the blinds were drawn and others were open so you got looks where you could, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

“This can’t be it,” you shook your head.

“I know, somethings not sitting right with me,” Bobby agreed, there had to be something you weren’t seeing.

You leaned against one of the windows in defeat and looked over at Bobby in shock when it shifted. You exchanged knowing glances, no one would find out about this part.

Since you knew the neighbours better, you stayed on lookout to make sure you didn’t get caught while Bobby carefully climbed inside and searched for clues.

He took a few photos here and there so they could go over them later, but what he was really looking for was what she could possibly be selling that was making her so much money.

On the table he found a date book and quickly flipped through it, finding some potentially useful information on the sales, but before he could do anything about it, he heard your voice quietly, but urgently exclaim,

“Shit! She’s back! Bobby you’ve gotta get the hell outta there, but just as he was going to climb out the window you saw something that told you he should wait a moment. So you hid behind a bush and waited for another neighbour to go inside before practically grabbing Bobby and pulling him out of her apartment and closing the open window.

You both ran inside and you fumbled for your keys as your heard footsteps coming closer. Honestly, you thought it looked pretty incriminating, but it was possible the adrenaline was getting in the way of your better judgment.

The footsteps became even louder and for some reason your keys were not in your pocket, so in a desperate attempt to save face you looked Bobby dead in the eye and said,

“Kiss me.”

“What?” he quietly exclaimed like he hadn’t heard you correctly the first time.

“Just trust me Bobby! Kiss me!”

Just as he took your face in his hands and he pulled you towards him you wrapped your arms around his neck and his lips came crashing down on yours. You kissed feverishly as your neighbour came past you and to her door, only breaking apart to nervously chuckle as you made eye contact with her.

“Tinder am I right?” you shrugged and she smiled knowingly before nodding and giving you a thumbs up of approval before going inside her place.

“Tinder? Really?” Bobby asked.

“It was the only thing I could think of!” you slapped a hand to your forehead and shook your head.

“Just like kissing me was the only thing you could come up with?” he asked with a raised brow.

You finally found your keys, unlocking the door and letting Bobby go inside before you.

“Okay, maybe the adrenaline got my wires crossed,” you admitted. “But I could say the same for you Captain Nash, you really committed to the bit for that kiss.”

“Well,” he coughed nervously and rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe my wires were crossed too.”

“Maybe we should cross them again,” you suggested, coming a little closer, “And never tell anyone about what happened tonight, like ever.”

“I can live with that,” he agreed, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing another kiss to your lips.

At the end of the day, both of you knew there was no one else you’d rather commit a felony with, and really, what more could you want in life than a partner in crime.

[stromuprisahat]

Siege and Storm- Chapter 13 (Leigh Bardugo)

I can interpret show!Zoya's change of alliance easily. She was present on the skiff, she saw Aleksander move the Fold, she was jealous he's no longer interested in her, so she switched sides for the one that served ~her~. Fuck the army and the guy, who doesn't favour me anymore,- let's save MY aunt (and thwart a strategic move I don't care about even though I'm familiar with its purpose) and get rid of the dick, who humiliated me by replacing me by another.

Selfish? Yes.

Short-sighted? Absolutely.

Yet it DOES make sense.

But book!Zoya?!

There are rumours Novokribirsk is Darkling's fault, but no survivors. All Grisha are blamed (and hunted) also, hell, even the capital wasn't safe for them! Her aunt's dead (due to her own idiocy)- sad. How does any of that translate into "Let's kiss the ass of the girl I've hated since the day one (and who stole Daddy's attention and made him take my amplifier)"?!

Is it because she got let down by the Darkling- "her" spot on the sun (Pun intended.) given to another, who never did anything for it, her amplifier (She TOOK from others.) confiscated, and even if Darkles weren't to blame for the Fold and pogroms after, he FAILED TO PREVENT IT?!

Is it because Alina's in the Crown's favour now, so she's the safe option?!

Is it the math of The Fold made by a Darkling expands = another Darkling's fault => join the opposite force?!

All I can come up with is either selfish, childish or both.

Her distaste towards Alina's caused by Darkles too, isn't it? If HE didn't want Zoya to adore him, she wouldn't mind the undeserving girl, who got everything with zero effort... even this aspect of her enmity is discredited by her actions. While I can understand hating you're working hard for less appreciation, than someone, who has everything falling into their lap, abandoning the blind leadership FOR the undeserving rival's beyond me.

Why doesn't Zoya aim for leading position herself, if she believes herself to be SO good?

Why doesn't she cooperate with Sergei (Oh yeah, he's Corporalnik and she haven't left the world of high school cliques yet.)?

Why does she switch someone she doesn't idolize anymore for someone she despises, instead of looking for a secret third thing?!

How does her tragic loss translate into "I'll back up the incompetent girl I hate"?!

Sure, Alina's THE Sun Summoner, but Zoya's not a religious person, and Sergei's points about Alina being unfit to lead the Second Army are justified.

[paintingwhiteceilings]

❃EXO's chances of surviving a zombie apocalypse❃

A/N: because why have your first post be romantic or suggestive when it can be unserious and downright weird.

Xiumin/Minseok: 9/10

✾ Let’s be honest, this man is way too good at sports not to survive far into a zombie apocalypse. Pretty sure those skills will translate and be useful in some way. He can outrun them so easily that he never truly finds himself in any danger.

✾ Xiumin actually possesses functional brain cells and a good dose of common sense which means he makes good, well thought out, decisions. Unlike the beagle line, he won’t get himself stupidly killed.

✾ Despite all the chaos, he is incredibly organized, keeping precise track of what he has and needs.

✾ He can properly take care of himself and could run this thing solo. He is not dependent on others to do things for him and he strikes me as someone who is perfectly content to be on his own. The only reason he would team up with the others is for the company and because he finds their idiocy amusing.

✾ He has the added bonus that the zombies think he is adorable, like a pet, so they will keep him alive even when he does get caught.

Suho/Junmyeon: 5/10

✾ Remember that time when Suho fell asleep during carting? Yeah, he is beyond exhausted before the apocalypse even starts and will probably die by accidentally falling asleep. Suho will try to ‘rest his eyes’ and before he knows it a zombie is gnawing on his arm.

✾ Honestly trying his hardest to keep the rest of the members from dying, but instead of appreciating his efforts, they keep making fun of him for it. They are really testing his patience but he feels too responsible for their safety to leave them to fend for themselves.

✾ Not that anything he says matters, they never truly listen to him so instead he has to be the one to get them out of the dangerous situations they get themselves in.

✾ If he doesn’t get eaten due to his permanent exhaustion, he would be the type to accept his fate. The members will drive him insane to the point where he will simply give up and walk into a hoard of zombies with open arms.

✾ If you pair him up with his babies Kai and Sehun his survival rate somehow increases. Nobody touches his babies.

Baekhyun: ?/10

✾ Okay, so he either survives until the end or does something stupid and gets himself killed.  His survival rate is either 10/10 or 0/10, there is no in-between.

✾ Like Baekhyun is an ace in most games so he has the ability to outsmart the apocalypse if he puts in the effort. He is competitive enough to take it seriously, too.

✾ His survival truly depends on whether he gives in to his intrusive thoughts and let’s be fair, he has many and zero impulse control.

✾ He would, for instance, believe that he can successfully pretend to be a zombie to blend in with them. He has a lot of dumb ideas and will either act on it himself or get someone else to try it out.

✾ Obviously, his plans wouldn’t work and he, or his chosen guinea pig, would get eaten. Then again, it is Baekhyun and somehow he always manages to come out on top, so who knows, he might survive.

Chen/Jongdae: 6.5/10

✾ Okay, this man is a father so he gets to enjoy the father buff. If his family is with him, he is near unstoppable. Chen can be competitive and has a lot of energy, so technically his chances aren’t too bad.

✾ His main issue is that, well, every zombie and their mother can hear him from the other side of the planet. He is absolutely oblivious as to why the zombies keep finding him.

✾ Like Chen, please use your inner voice, zombies are not deaf and you are giving them your location whenever you talk.

✾ Will ‘accidentally’ push Chanyeol into a zombie when he jokes about being the C in CBX and finally find peace. At this point, he kind of deserves it.

Chanyeol: -10/10

✾ Hear me out, this man is a mess.

✾ Technically, he could survive but he is another one that for sure will listen to his intrusive thoughts. Like let’s be fair, Chanyeol has mastered an array of weird skills just because he can’t stand being bad at something; he will be just as determined to figure out how to survive during an apocalypse.

✾ The type to “I saw this in a film” and try it. He will quickly discover that most of it won’t work because those are movies and not real life. Still, he will have the biggest motivation to figure things out, even if most of his sources are fiction.

✾ The problem is that he is way too much into this whole apocalypse scenario. He will try to out-apocalypse the others or will make up some sort of stupid competition to kill time because sitting still for five minutes is for losers.

✾ He comes up with the “Who can get closest to the zombie without getting killed” game. Baekhyun might have helped.

✾ To be honest, it doesn’t quite matter how good his cards are in the context of a zombie apocalypse, he will probably die within a day because he has two left feet and a very intimate relationship with the floor.

D.O./Kyungsoo: 7/10

✾ Pair him up with another member, and suddenly their chances increase.

✾ His cooking skills make him so incredibly valuable. He will make sure no one starves, and can make a decent meal out of pretty much anything you give him.

✾ The others try their hardest to keep him alive because being in an apocalypse does not mean one has to eat grass.

✾ Then again, he would not hesitate to sacrifice the others to the zombies if they annoy him.

✾ The only one able to keep the beagle line from doing stupid shit with his threats.

✾ You can’t really count on him outrunning the zombies, though. We have all seen this man attempt to play soccer, he is not made for physical activity. He will not survive with his physical skills and will absolutely accept his fate rather than try.

Kai/Jongin: -100000000/10

✾ Listen, this man will die within the first five seconds of the apocalypse.

✾ It is not a question of whether he dies, more so than how. There are so many ways that he can get himself killed, even without the apocalypse playing a major factor.

✾ He could give himself food poisoning when he tries to cook or trip over his own feet when he tries to run away from the zombies. He does not really have a great sense of self-preservation.

✾ 10000% the type to think that they could befriend the zombies because “zombies are people too.” Luckily for him, the zombies do think he is adorable and won’t immediately eat him when he gets too close.

✾ But yeah, if it isn’t for the others constantly monitoring him, he is dead.

Sehun: 1000/10

✾ Last to die because his members will do everything they can to keep him alive. Maknae privileges and whatnot.

✾ He is very much dependent on his members to do basically anything, but the thing is, they would do it without question.

✾ He will complain the entire time and whine constantly.

✾ If Suho dies, you might as well kill him too. How is he supposed to sleep without his emotional-support-hyung??? So yeah, the only way to really decrease his survival rate is to eliminate his members.

✾ Honestly, we all are simply living in his world, what Sehun wants, Sehun gets. It might even extend to the zombies. He would just ask them to stop trying to eat him and they would oblige because, well, Sehun asked.

✾ He is 1000% responsible for the cure being found. It has nothing to do with Sehun finding it himself. Instead, when/if he gets bitten, the members will stop at nothing to find a way to rid him of the disease. Sleep? Who needs sleep when Oh Sehun is dying!?

masterlist

[centrally-unplanned]

House of the Dragon "peace arc" was generally cringe though with a bright spot at the core. Rhaenys came off the worst for it; sitting in a council meeting getting news that the enemy has marched an army, taken two of their castles, and sacked a city and calling those wanting to respond to that warmongering idiots is an amateur hour moment. It isn't like Rhaenyra was heading to King's Landing to surrender or anything, she wanted a negotiated peace. To get that, you need a position of strength - otherwise your enemy is less likely to make peace with you, as the cost of killing you is so low. "War begets war" is an aphorism, not an iron law; this cowardice in the name of conflict avoidance serves neither peace nor their war. Smack their advancing army with a squad of dragons and show them "hey, this is what More War is gonna bring - let's give peace a chance hm?" You only make peace with your enemies, after all, reminding them of that fact is not the barrier to peace naive instinct thinks it is. And then you also aren't telling your own vassals you are going to ditch them in the face of fire, bonus!

The way she seems haughtily superior to the "squabblings of men" while making a fool or herself is a real directorial fail, it is almost accidentally sexist - poor wimmins can't understand Clausewitz. Though I gotta give the actress Eve Best some unintentional credit:

I guess she fucking nailed it.

While I am bashing Rhaenys, the framing of the Vhagar/Meraxes fight is very strange - Rhaenys has clearly won the battle, because Sunfyre is pretty much dead, and you would likely bet Aegon with him, and the way it is shot strongly suggests Rhaenys successfully retreated while Aemond is not at all in pursuit. The whole battle was clearly a trap that she had just dodged. Then she doubles back anyway against a much stronger foe and loses while dealing no apparent damage. Why do that dumb thing? It's both way too risky and also strategically foolish - Meleys as the Black's strongest dragon is highly needed as a deterrent force. It would be more reasonable if Rhaenys was a proud warrior type, proud warriors do that kind of thing ("I can't abandon Rook's Rest!"), but she was defined by her caution up until she chose suicide-by-dracarys.

In the books she is ambushed by a cooperative Aegon/Aemond and dies fighting, easy peasy. The logic is sound, it is a weird change to make.

Speaking of bad tactics, why only send one dragon? If the other dragons were busy that would be one thing, but they mainly aren't, they are doing nothing of note at the time, you have like 4 of them. In the book Rhaenyra is being a bad leader, too grief-stricken or cowardly to go herself, and too possessive of her sons to let them fight; it is shown as a mistake. In this show it is shown as a moment of Rhaenys's courage; she is like "I will go your grace" and everyone is like "oooh" and the question of why this is a solo mission just gets swept aside. Again, you know Vhagar is stronger than you, teamwork is the only real chance you have, while having more dragons is your primary advantage. The Blacks can and should make mistakes, but it has to be framed as mistakes by the show.

This is of course downstream of the "make Rhaenyra the Good Guy" decision; but beyond the Rhaenys idiocy I think this worked great for her here. She didn't hesitate to help her allies; the moment she returned from her failed peace mission, she got right to work. Trying to make peace was idealistic but people are sometimes. And meanwhile I continue to support the Aegon's Dream choice - it really does give her this solid motivation beyond power for her commitment to her inheritance. It is framed really well - like she herself only half believes the prophecy. She is choosing to believe it because she is stuck now and needs moral certainty for the choices she is going to make. That is a very human thing to do, and insightful to essentially admit her own biases out the gate. It makes her likeable without giving her a moral pass for anything.

I do think the show has tipped a bit too far into the "greens = bad guys" camp in comparison though. I would have fixed that by making Rhaenyra more directly complicit in past crimes like killing those who called her children bastards, show she is too committed to this whole "law & prophecy above all" bit, and that the Greens have some legitimate grievances against her. But we may see her get corrupted by the war yet; hopefully they have the courage when it matters most.

[danaduchy]

As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, Garrett Hawke felt the strength drain from his body. He was a tangle of aches and bruises, his muscles screaming in protest with every movement. Blood caked his skin—some of it his own, much of it not—mixed with sweat and the grime of battle. Anders had done what he could with his healing magic, but that only dulled the pain temporarily. By morning, the full toll would crash down on him like a mountain.

Hawke leaned against the door, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. His mind raced, replaying the brutal duel with the Arishok, every swing of his blade, every dodge and parry, the dull thud of metal meeting flesh. He still couldn't quite believe he had survived. He actually killed the Arishok.

"Madness," he muttered to himself, a hint of his usual sarcasm bleeding into his voice. "I must have taken one too many of Varric's stories to heart."

He winced as he lifted a hand to undo the straps of his battered armor, the leather sticking to his skin. It had served him well in that final fight, but now it was beyond repair—sliced open, punctured, and slashed by the enormous blade of a furious qunari. It was a shame, too, since he’d grown fond of it. Finding gear that was both functional and allowed him to move freely had been no small feat.

With a grunt, he shrugged off the last of it, letting the pieces clatter to the floor. The sound felt deafening in the small room, but it was a relief to be rid of it. Hawke sat on the edge of the bed with a groan, his limbs as heavy as lead. The sheets looked so inviting, but he was still covered in filth, and the thought of sinking into them like this was… well, disgusting. He desperately needed a bath. The thought crossed his mind for a fleeting moment, but he doubted he had the strength to even stand back up, let alone trek to the washroom and draw a bath.

Tomorrow, he promised himself. Maybe tomorrow he would have the energy to deal with basic hygiene. Right now, sleep was the only thing calling to him, more enticing than any bath.

For a moment, he just sat there, staring at his own hands. They were trembling, still buzzing with the adrenaline from the fight. What had he been thinking, agreeing to a duel to the death with the leader of the Qunari? If anyone had asked him, he'd have called it sheer idiocy.

"Who do I think I am, some kind of hero?" he said aloud, half-laughing at himself. He could practically hear Varric's voice in his head, narrating the grand, over-the-top tale of Hawke's bravery: And with a single blow, Hawke bested the fearsome Arishok!

Except, it hadn’t been grand or heroic. It had been raw, brutal, and terrifying. Hawke had fought for his life, and somehow, by sheer stubbornness, he'd won. There were no great speeches, no epic music swelling in the background—just him and the Arishok, locked in a battle neither could afford to lose.

He rolled his shoulders, wincing as a sharp pain flared in his back where the qunari’s sword had struck his armor. It hadn’t broken through, but it had left a bruise that felt like fire every time he moved. That last strike had almost done him in, and if he’d been just a second slower… He shook his head, trying to dislodge the image of his own death. Thinking about it wouldn’t change the outcome. He was still here, still breathing.

Barely.

Hawke leaned back, letting himself sink into the lumpy mattress. This was what victory felt like, he supposed—bone-deep exhaustion, a gnawing worry in his gut, and the lingering bitterness of decisions made under pressure. It was supposed to feel different, wasn’t it? More triumphant, more like the tales he’d grown up on. But in those stories, the heroes never went home with splintered ribs and blood in their boots. They didn’t lie awake, wondering if they’d just painted a target on their own back.

The memory came back, unbidden: the wave of telekinetic force that sent the Arishok staggering a few steps back during a desperate moment when his blade was a hair’s breadth away from Hawke's throat. It had been instinct, but everyone had seen it, and now the truth was out. He could almost hear Meredith, her voice cold and cutting, declaring him a threat to the city, to all of Kirkwall. The Champion’s mask wouldn’t protect him forever. Even the title “Champion of Kirkwall,” hard-won in the chaos that had gripped the city, would have its limits when faced with the wrath of the Templars. And if they came for him, they’d come for Anders too.

Hawke glanced towards the window, where the night stretched dark and quiet. Beyond it, he could almost sense the uneasy stirrings of the city, the way Kirkwall seemed to breathe and tremble after the storm. Tomorrow, the news of the duel would spread like wildfire through the streets, and the people would speak of it—some with awe, others with fear. He’d be their hero, but to others, he’d be something much more dangerous. A hero they couldn’t control.

And yet… perhaps he could use that. A small part of him, the part that had survived Lowtown’s grime and the Deep Roads’ shadows, knew that Kirkwall’s people weren’t the same as the Templars. Many had seen the good he’d tried to do, even if his methods were… unconventional. They needed a symbol, and Hawke had been forced into that role. If he played it right, maybe he could keep Meredith and her zealots at bay a little longer. Maybe he could carve out a future that didn’t end in chains, or worse.

Or maybe, he thought with a weary sigh, I’m fooling myself.

And why now, of all times? When everything had finally started to settle back into some semblance of normal? As if it hadn’t been enough to lose Leandra, now he had this weighing on him, too.

The thought of his mother sent a pang of grief through him, sharper than any sword. She should have been here to see this, to tell him what a fool he was for taking on such a reckless challenge. She would’ve fretted over him, fussing about his injuries and insisting he rest.

But Leandra wasn’t here anymore. That ache—the one of her absence—was always there, just beneath the surface. And no matter what victories he earned, no matter how many people cheered his name, it wouldn’t bring her back.

He hadn’t heard from Carver in months, not since he’d sent that last letter to tell him about their mother’s death. It had been a brief note, little more than a formality, but Garrett had poured every ounce of sorrow, anger, and guilt he’d been carrying into those few lines, hoping his brother would at least acknowledge it.

But there had been nothing. No reply. Silence hung between them, vast and cold, and for all that Garrett had done to keep their family together, it felt like Carver was drifting further away with each passing day. He remembered Carver as a child, always trailing after him like a pup, wide-eyed and eager for attention. Back then, it had been endearing—his little brother, tagging along wherever he went, desperate to be included in every adventure. He had idolized Garrett then, even if he wouldn’t have admitted it.

But time had changed all that. Somewhere along the way, that eagerness had turned into bitterness, that admiration into resentment. Now, Garrett couldn’t even think of Carver without feeling the sharp sting of regret. Hawke had tried to be the older brother Carver needed, but he knew he had failed.

Maybe if Bethany were still alive… Bethany, his gentle, kind-hearted sister, had always been the one to smooth things over between him and Carver. She had a way of understanding both of them, seeing past the pride and the arguments to the bond that still existed beneath. If she had been there, Garrett was certain she could have bridged the growing rift between him and Carver. But Bethany was gone. He had failed her, too.

He thought of his father, Malcolm Hawke, and how disappointed he would be. Malcolm had always been the protector of their family, the one who held them all together. He had been a quiet man, but his presence had always filled the room, giving them all a sense of safety and security. Garrett had admired his father more than anyone, and when Malcolm died, it felt like a piece of their family’s foundation had crumbled away.

Before he died, Malcolm had looked at Garrett and told him to watch over them—to take care of the family. It was his final wish, a passing of the torch. But Garrett couldn’t shake the feeling that he had failed in that task. He hadn’t been able to keep Bethany safe, couldn’t protect his mother from the terror that had claimed her in Kirkwall, and now he had driven Carver away. His father had been so good at keeping them all together, at making them feel like a family no matter what hardships they faced. Malcolm had known how to balance strength and compassion, how to be both a protector and a comfort.

"Champion of Kirkwall, huh?" he muttered, smirking to himself. "Right now, I just feel like a fool who’s too tired to get up and take a bath."

And with that, exhaustion finally claimed him, pulling him into a dreamless, heavy sleep, the weight of the world slipping away for a little while.

[theminecraftbox]

If you're still accepting hot takes for discourse:

I wholeheartedly believe that c!Sam knew what he was doing when he let c!Tommy enter the cell. In fact, he was counting on the outcome to determine how to treat c!Dream later. And the prison visit going as we all expected it would, it was the perfect excuse to double down on the torture.

This whole time we called him an idiot, but what if he wasn't?

strongly agree / agree / ambivalent / disagree / strongly disagree / don’t care whatsoever

this is a pretty interesting take. spicy! nice!

I agree that c!Sam thought knew what he was doing when he let c!Tommy in, but I disagree that he was planning on or really anticipating a significantly bad outcome. Eg I think it's factual that he didn't want Tommy dead. However, I do think Sam was thinking of the visit as a test for Dream and as as a demonstration of his power to Tommy: Sam says, "I thought I had broken the will out of him," which is a line that doesn't read as idiocy to me so much as it reads as chilling overconfidence. I think Sam was both showing off and anticipating cracking down further on Dream if it proved to be necessary (which would reinforce his justifications, too). Then events spiraled beyond his predictions.

So I think that it's possible to make the argument that he was anticipating some level of ~bad behavior~ from Dream, and that he was planning to use this as an excuse to punish Dream/ramp up his control. We know that Sam almost certainly made Warden's Torment prior to Tommy's visit. But I don't think Sam actually wanted anything bad to happen or thought anything bad would happen: at worst I think he was anticipating arguments or a slap fight or something.