#they accomplish the seemingly impossible

[queenbeekb13]

We all (understandably) fixate on the “for Parker can you do it [crack the Steranko]” to Hardison

but Elliot saying “you want me to climb a 40 story building in broad daylight?!” being met with “yes and I want you to do it now!” is the exact same energy

[bellepeppertronix]

I love that movie and that book, and both are core memory/personality pillars for me.

So, in their defense, I have some thoughts.

Sorry, OP, I have a Lot of Thoughts:

She doesn't understand time.

She doesn't even understand THE PASSAGE OF TIME. Because unicorns are immortal and exist outside of it. In the book, she RUNS FOR A YEAR STRAIGHT, and only remarks that the animals in the lands she passed through "grew long hair, and then it grew short again".

When Schmendrick temporarily changes her into a human, it is jarring and horrifying because UNICORNS HAVE NO FRAME OF REFERENCE FOR A MORTAL BODY. So she could literally feel herself growing towards death. It's heavily implied that unicorns don't even actually need to EAT.

So her transformation is the opposite of the stories where a beautiful princess is transformed into a bird or something, and it's shocking. She's a graceful, beautiful woman, but she is not HERSELF, and the change gives her insomnia, nightmares, and severe depression.

She is quiet and reserved but not rude, ever. At times she is very mildly sarcastic to Schmendrick, but is never cruel. Even to the witch who held her captive, Mommy Fortuna, she is never cruel. If anything she sounds weary and slightly annoyed, that Mommy Fortuna wants to keep her like a living trinket--but then she even warns her that she should not tamper with real immortal beings.

Also, as a woman and a Black woman, I don't know why, but this has always stuck with me: the unicorns are sapient.

King Haggard wanted ALL OF THEM for himself. For the elusive pleasure of seeing them trapped in the surf, too afraid to even step foot onto the shore.

And yet he never would have spoken to them, never would have tried to know or befriend them.

Because they were THINGS to him. He wanted them, all of them, enough to sell his soul (?) To the Red Bull to keep them all trapped there for himself.

It didn't matter to him that they were minding their own business in their forests and glades. It didn't matter that he likely caused a lot of the desolation on his own lands by imprisoning the unicorns in a narrow spit of ocean that only he had access to.

It didn't matter that the unicorns were sapient magical beings at all, because he never bothered to consider them as anything other than playthings and live anti-depressants.

The Unicorn, or Amalthea, then has to walk around in his decrepit castle, full of images of her real self--but caricatures. She has to be I the same space as a man who thinks of herself and others like her as less than animals, more like tokens, and who would happily have his demonic bull imprison her with the other unicorns. She knows that he knows--he looks at her and accuses her of not being human more than once!--but that even seeing her in a human form and theoretically being able to talk with her, he cannot contain his selfishness or meanness. He says he will allow she and the party to stay there and that he will "...look at them...for awhile..."

Even if she wanted to, she could not tell him any of her truths, because he likely would not have wanted to hear them.

Do you think a man who lived like that, would listen to someone tell him about the way their favorite plum tree dropped blossoms precisely into a moonlit pond? Do you think he would have cared at all, beyond his own bitterness and selfishness?

All of this to say that the movie and book are much deeper than "pretty anemic pony plus her wizard and cook friend go to fight an evil king and a fiery bull monster".

Following the author of The Last Unicorn on Facebook is the only thing that makes being on that site worthwhile.

(source)

[ddarker-dreams]

A Fool's Errand.

Yan Blade x F Reader.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, imbalanced power dynamics, alcohol mention/consumption, not SFW implications. Word count: 2.1k.

“Now that’s a scary look.” 

Ice cubes clink together as you stir your drink, feigning an air of indifference. The warm pinks swirl in a hypnotizing display. Golden flecks catch the room’s sparse lighting, shimmering within the miniature whirlpool. 

You return your focus to the reflection in your pocket mirror. 

The countenance that greets you is both familiar and foreign. Color is infused into your lips, brushed along your cheeks, and blended atop your eyelids. It’d been a while since you had applied makeup, but the muscle memory kicked in eventually. After some touch-ups, you found the results satisfactory. From this vantage point, you can admire your décolleté, complemented by a dainty choker with a butterfly charm. 

You can also see a pair of eyes staring back at you. 

You clasp the mirror shut, wishing the shadowy apparition would disappear.

Instead, it creeps closer, footsteps echoing throughout the empty room. 

You sip your concoction. It’s tart, with a splash of sweetness that soon fades into a bitter aftertaste. A hazy warmth swaddles your mind in a tight embrace. 

Blade materializes beside you like a phantom coming to life. His presence is heavy and impossible to ignore, but you try your best. He’s frowning, almost glaring at you, the skin beneath his eyes wrinkled in displeasure. Your continued apathy does little to soothe the brewing tension. 

This time, it’s him who breaks the silence. 

“How much have you had to drink?”

“This is my third glass,” you admit. His eyebrows scrunch together. “I thought you’d come faster.” 

“If you anticipated your failure, why bother?” 

“I dunno. Curiosity? Boredom?” Your finger traces the drink’s rim. Suppressing a wicked smile, you add, “Maybe I wanted to find a date.” 

For a fleeting instant, it’s like the room’s oxygen rushed out at once, leaving you to asphyxiate. Your eyes tell a different story — nothing’s changed, at least, not physically — aside from his pupils shrinking to a pinprick’s size. Faintly, what remains of your cognition advises against poking the beast. You’ve already done enough. In the coming days, you’re likely to regret this entire escapade. 

However, your present self finds immense satisfaction in spewing petty jabs. 

“Be mindful of your tongue, girl.” 

Blade’s timbre is dark and gravelly. Shivers envelop your body, which you chase off with another hearty drink. His eyes follow your throat as you gulp the liquid down. They remain fixated there for an unnerving few seconds. Shifting around in your seat, it’s growing harder to deny the magnitude of who you’re dealing with. His suffocating favor doesn’t grant you absolute immunity. 

You try reaching for another sip, only for him to stop you. 

“That’s enough,” he says. His grip around your wrist tightens when you try wrenching it free. “We’re heading back.” 

Heading back. To the life of a fugitive, forever on the run, wreaking chaos wherever he and his band of clairvoyant criminals set foot. It isn’t an alluring prospect. This brief stint has been the longest you’ve gone without constant surveillance. Even if it’s a fleeting illusion, destined to slip through your fingers, you want to hold on just a bit longer. 

The alcohol flowing through your system further emboldens you. “You wanna end our date so fast?” 

This little provocation seemingly accomplishes the impossible — it throws Blade off guard. 

“‘Our?’” He repeats, the upward inflection uncharacteristic of his monotonous voice. 

“I was lookin’ for a date and you happened to come along, so yeah, why not?” You say it as if it’s the most obvious thing. He blinks. “What? Am I not pretty enough?” 

Blade’s lips part and close in rapid succession. He knows what you’re doing, you know that he knows what you’re doing, yet your flirtations still have a visible effect. His body’s gone stiff and his jaw’s set, like he’s concentrating greatly. You hear his leather glove creak as he clenches and unclenches his fists. 

Leaning onto the counter, you look up at him through your eyelashes. “You must not like me after all.” 

“That—” he exhales sharply, his subsequent words coming out in a low, measured drawl, “... You have until you finish your drink.” 

While your mind slowly processes this information, he pulls out a barstool and sits beside you. You can tell he’s still disgruntled, yet you’ve established a temporary truce. For all the brutality he’s capable of, he's willingly domesticated the instant you offer a piece of yourself. A guard dog who requires no leash, for leaving your side is unthinkable. 

This is what’s doomed you and posed as your salvation. 

You break eye contact. 

Outside, you hear the whirr of traffic through the bar’s thin walls. You’d already forgotten the name of the planet you’re visiting. It’s indistinguishable from most IPC-infected civilizations — intrusive advertisements carved in the night sky and menial work for the masses, who will never climb as high as they wish. The Stellaron Hunter’s prolonged presence is an ill omen for the oblivious populace. 

If you asked, Blade would tell you what they’re doing here and what will become of the inhabitants.

These days, you find it’s best not to know. 

“Why didn’t you try dating me, anyway?” You ask. An ice cube begins melting into the drink, losing itself. “I’ve always wondered about that. Who knows? I may have fallen head over heels for you.” 

His answer comes surprisingly fast, slicing through the air like his weapon of choice. “I am not the sort of man you should be with.” 

You whip your head in his direction, utterly dumbfounded. “Huh?” 

“What you deserve… I can never give,” Blade’s eyes betray nothing of his inner thoughts. “It’s best that you never believed otherwise.” 

The universe’s momentum slows to a crawl. You sit up straight, ignoring the wave of dizziness the abrupt motion inflicts, scrutinizing his visage. Dull emotions attempt to burst the pleasant buzz you've cocooned in. Their sharp edges push and push, testing the material’s durability. The lights flicker, unwilling to cast him in permanent light. 

“If you care enough to consider all that, then why—” 

Why rob me of normalcy? 

Why take what made me into the person I am? 

Why deprive me of my life to make what’s left of yours better?

He lets you down what remains of your drink. It burns as it travels down your tightening throat, washing away any playfulness that lingered on your tongue. Your stomach turns in on itself. Still, you lap up every drop, chasing after a numbness that can’t outweigh the grief. The act of pulling the glass away proves overwhelming for your frazzled brain. You sway, temporarily stupefied. 

The cold leather of one hand and textured gauze from another steady your shoulders, keeping your body in place. 

“Careful. You’ll only hurt yourself.”

You glare at him halfheartedly. “What’s it matter? Seeing me in pain obviously means nothin’ to you.” 

He pauses, considering a response you’ll never be privy to, as he keeps his lips shut. Instead, he asks, “Can you walk?” 

This questioning of your motor functions has you scoffing. Wordlessly, you hop to the ground, where you stay still, intent on keeping yourself steady. Despite your best efforts, your surroundings spin ever so slightly. The minimalist furniture of this automaton-run establishment blurs together. Heat flushes throughout your body, warming your cheeks like an internal furnace. 

You overestimated your tolerance. It’s been a while since you’ve indulged — you should’ve considered that. 

Your weak performance confirms Blade’s suspicions. He approaches you, raising his hands, likely to keep you secure like he had before. You dodge his unwanted advances out of reflex. This proves to be a mistake, as you lack the coordination to make any sharp movements. Your ankle gives out and your eyes fly wide open, arms flailing about for purchase. 

Blade moves faster than you can process. You’re made to feel weightless as he lifts you up, holding you firm against his chest. 

“Hey, put me down! I don’t— I can walk just fine!” You exclaim, writhing around like a fish out of water. Exerting a mere fraction of his strength is enough to render your struggle useless. Realizing that all you’re doing is tiring yourself out, you go limp, your breathing coming out erratic from the exertion. Humiliation prickles throughout like hot needles waiting to erupt from your flesh.

“Are you finished?” 

You’re close enough to feel the low vibration of his voice. It rattles your bones, burrowing deep within the marrow. You express your resignation by averting your gaze. With that, he walks out, holding you in a bridal carry. Cool air nips at your exposed skin as he kicks the door open. It lets out into a back alley, where he must’ve skulked in from. 

He stops here and gingerly places you down, muttering, “Lean against the wall.” 

You do as instructed, though given your impaired state, you would’ve fumbled around for support without his prompting. He sheds his outer black jacket and drapes it along your bare shoulders. The fabric engulfs you, smelling faintly metallic. After ensuring you’re properly covered, he scoops you back up, maneuvering your body around like it’s weightless. 

He follows the labyrinth-like expanse of alleyways, leaving the sounds and sights of the densely populated area behind. Not a word is uttered or a glance shared. You wet your lips, your mind racing for ways to break the tense silence. Blade’s always been a man of a few words, but this bout is different than what you’re used to. Heavier, somehow. Your actions have gone beyond petty defiance. Typically, you can gauge what nonsense you can and can’t get away with. 

With this latest excursion, however—

—You’ve stumbled into uncharted territory. 

“What now?” You ask, your voice unusually meek. 

“You’ll be leaving this star system before long. We’re headed towards the pickup site.” 

Your ears perk up at his word choice. “You aren’t coming?” 

“No.” 

“Why not?” 

“I’ve yet to fulfill my portion of the script on this planet.” 

“... Oh.” 

You can feel the look he sends your way. 

“Does this displease you?” 

“Ah, well,” you take a deep breath, finding the act of verbalizing your thoughts in this state difficult, “I didn’t think you… liked being apart.” 

“My preferences are irrelevant. Kafka will ensure you’re cared for until I’m suited to be around you again.” 

You furrow your eyebrows together, parsing through this information bit by bit. It’s like your mental faculties have been slathered with tar, slowing the gears in the mire. You’re only ever stuck with Kafka when Blade’s regenerating from significant injuries or dangerously mara-struck. You reflect on the evening’s events. The ease at which you snuck out, how it felt like the universe itself aligned along the way… 

Ah. 

You’re the ideal variable to tamper with when increasing (or decreasing) his mara. 

It’s a gross feeling — this sensation of being used like a pawn to affect the performance of the board’s stronger pieces. Perhaps the inevitably of it all is why he isn’t upset with you, or he might be trying to delay the onslaught of mara. Whatever the case, you’ve inadvertently done your part for this script. Stirring the sediments of his shortcomings and shoving your dislike of him to the forefront. 

Is this all you are? A side character in the epic Destiny’s Slave has penned? 

You grit your teeth. 

Using what little strength’s left in your muscles, you sit up, slinking your arms around his neck for support. Blade pauses, clearly more interested in your machinations than dropping you off like a package. He turns to face you. Though you’re nearly nose to nose, the night obscures his features, save for his eyes. The two blood-red moons have an otherworldly glow to them. Their gravitational pull is dangerous, yet you approach them as a willing sacrifice regardless. 

A gentle graze of your lips against his is enough for him to stop breathing. You can do what his mountains of deceased enemies gave their lives trying to accomplish. He must know you’re up to something; his grip is nearly bruising from the restraint he’s exercising. You test his fraying resolve by allowing your lips to connect. It’s purposefully brief, ending before it truly began. Upon pulling away, he chases after you, but you deny him.

Blade sounds pained when murmuring your name. 

Whether it’s a plea or a warning, you can’t tell. 

“What?” You ask. “You’re the one trying to get rid of me.” 

“...” 

Blade leers down at you. You meet his stare, unyielding, drunk on the idea of inconveniencing the Stellaron Hunters to any extent.

"... Stay still," he eventually orders, backing you against the alley's wall. "Time is short."

You wait until he's nipping at your neck to smile.

[55szn]

lacy - mv1

max verstappen x fem!driver!reader

summary yn can't keep hiding her true feelings towards max

wc 1,6 k (i was supposed to keep it short for this one but oh well)

warnings this one angsty as fuuuck, reader kinda sucks sorry

a/n first post of this series omg i'm so excited!!!!!! i haven't written in a while so this may not be the best of my works but this is still one of my favorites <33 also english is not my first language so...yeah

YN sighed as she pulled the balaclava off and immediately ran her hand through her sweaty hair, attempting to make it look decent. Once again she was finishing behind Max. The Dutch looked back at her as he got down from the top of his car and gave her a sweet smile, she tried her best to reciprocate that smile but it probably looked as fake as it felt.

She couldn't really pinpoint when her rotten mind had started to harbor these feelings towards the man she loved.

YN's first encounter with Max occurred when they were barely teenagers, amid the noisy circuits of karting competitions. There was something captivating in that lanky and slightly awkward teenager that drew YN to him like a magnet. As time went on, their bond deepened, among endless talks of shared dreams that seemed unreachable at the time.

The first time Max kissed YN, she felt in heaven, enveloped in a kind of excitement she had never known. It didn't take long before he asked her to be his girlfriend and she accepted thinking life couldn't get better than that.

The mutual decision to keep their relationship under wraps seemed obvious, a conscious choice made as they started their parallel journeys into Formula 1, that was not the kind of attention they were seeking.

She felt true happiness for Max's overwhelming success, she truly did, at least at the beginning.

But YN found herself caught in the shadow of his success, a place she hadn't anticipated occupying. Eventually every podium celebration and victory lap, served as a bitter reminder of the expectations she was failing to meet. She couldn't acknowledge these feelings so she masked this resentment beneath a facade of congratulatory smiles and kisses. The press was no help. They endlessly compared their careers and although YN had managed to get some satisfying results, she was nowhere near Max's level. They ate it up, it gave them good headlines to pit them against the other. They were the embodiment of a tantalizing narrative – two very young drivers with great success in the lower categories, shared dreams and a seemingly unbreakable "friendship", both coming into F1 with good teams and high expectations but only one of them was reaching those expectations. It was a good story, sure. But the story was tearing YN apart.

Perhaps the tipping point arrived with a very specific headline, its words forever etched into her brain: "Max Verstappen: Vettel reincarnate." With each syllable, YN's throat constricted, her stomach twisting into knots. Max seemed to effortlessly get everything she ever yearned for, now he was getting put at the same level as her biggest idol and inspiration which proved to be too much to handle for her. And with each of his accomplishments the poisonous seed of envy took root within her heart.

It was so contradictory, when she finally admitted it to herself. She loved Max more than she loved herself and maybe that was the root of the problem, her own insecurities and bruised ego. But it was becoming impossible to fake a smile every time she saw him on that top step. She knew it wasn't true but she almost felt like Max was out to get her.

She hated Max. And she hated herself for that fact. How could one harbor so much love and hatred for someone at the same time?

She was loosing her mind, her fragile facade crumbling under the weight of her emotions. Of course the ever attentive eyes of the press and the fans noticed the way her once adoring glances towards Max were now replaced with icy stares. How she couldn't even make the effort to raise the corners of her mouth whenever Max complimented her skills or her racing. His tenders words of admiration which once felt like a warm summer breeze began to feel like bullets grazing her already wounded skin, they felt like mockery. It was only a matter of time until Max started noticing this too.

Something was clearly happening, and that's why he found himself knocking on her apartment's door late at night, the echoes of the particularly hard weekend YN had endured still reverberating through his mind. The bitter taste of failure and disappointment still lingered on her lips. YN had struggled with the car and couldn't even make it out of Q2, and Sunday's race offered little reprieve, finishing in a P11 that tasted of unfulfilled expectations. While, of course, Max had made a brilliant pole position and had won the race, once again making everyone worship the ground he walked on. He hadn't seen YN since the race finished. She flew back to Mónaco that same night without even letting him know and without even asking if he wanted to fly back with her, which was the case almost every weekend. Max wasn't stupid, he could tell something was up with her lately, the distance she was putting between them, he was loosing her. And he loved her too much to let her go without a fight.

The door creaked open, YN's figure against the dim lighting within. Her jealous eyes clouded with heavy feelings. She stepped aside wordlessly, allowing Max to enter, her silence was louder that any word could ever be.

He carefully walked in, the all too familiar environment of his girlfriend's apartment suddenly feeling cold and foreign. Max was tense before taking a seat on the armrest of her couch. His heart felt heavy, he already wanted to cry. He had trouble getting the words out, something that had never happened in the years he had known YN. What had they become?

He swallowed dry before finally finding his voice. "I think we need to have a talk." His gaze was pleading for her to meet his eyes, but she kept staring at her shoes.

She froze at his words and her fingers tightened around the edge of the table she was leaning against. She could tell this conversation was coming, yet she dreaded the flood of emotions threatening to consume her, scared of the things she could say.

"What is it, Max?" Her voice was strained, an inner battle developing inside her, trying to control her emotions.

"You know what it is about, schat." Her jaw tightened at the pet name, now it somehow sounded condescending, even though deep down she knew that wasn't true. "YN something's been bothering you lately. I know it. Please talk to me."

YN's heart clenched painfully at his words, her resolve crumbling under the weight of her own inner turmoil. How could she even begin to articulate the burning envy and resentment that coursed through her veins every time she looked at him? How could she admit out loud to hating the man she loved more than life itself?

When she finally looked up and met his stare she felt the monstrous feeling that had been gnawing at her conscience completely engulf her and she wasn't in control of her own words anymore. Her eyes burning with a contradictory mix of longing and loathing. "Are you seriously asking me that, Max?" Her voice trembled with suppressed emotion.

Max recoiled at the intensity of her stare and her tone, a sinking feeling at the pit of his stomach by the anticipatory feeling of his world crumbling down completely. "YN, I..."

"You know damn well what's going on." YN's voice cracked with emotion, her words laced with a bitterness that made it unrecognizable to both of them. "You have everything, Max. The wins, the championships, the adoration of the whole fucking world. Everything I ever wanted, you took it for yourself." She knew she wasn't making sense, the words were spilling out of her mouth before she had the time to catch them.

Max's heart constricted with an unfair amount of guilt. "YN, I... I had no idea you felt this way."

"And why would you?" She retorted, her voice rising with each word. "You're too busy basking in your own glory to notice how much it's killing me to be constantly compared to you." That wasn't his fault, and she knew it. It was the pure and evil hatred that consumed her that was speaking those words.

He felt like he had been punched in the gut. "I'm sorry." He shouldn't have to apologize for what he accomplished after years and years of hard work, yet he did, the fear of loosing her bigger than the need to acknowledge his self worth.

The hurt mirroring in his eyes was obvious, her tone softened before she spoke again. "You don't have to apologize, Max. You deserve it, you deserve it so much. I know that and you should too." She took a sharp breath in. "But knowing that doesn't change how I feel. I...I hate you."

He looked at her, stunned. His heart plummeted to his stomach. Her words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of their meaning.

"I do. I hate you Max. I hate you for being able to get everything I've only ever dared to dream of." She couldn't believe she was admitting it to Max's face, breaking the heart of the man she claimed to love.

Max felt as though the ground had been ripped out from under him, the sting of her words cutting deeper than any wound ever could. "I can't believe you're saying this," he mumbled, his voice chocked.

"I wish I didn't have to Max but I can't bear to keep lying to your face. I wish I could just pretend like everything's okay, like I'm still happy for you. But I can't, I'm sorry." YN's voice cracked with the weight of her confession, tears streaming down her cheeks as she looked at him with a strange mix of love and loathing. "I love you too much to keep lying to you."

The silence was sepulcral, years and years of shared moments full of love completely destroyed by the sick envy that had infected YN.

But the truth is, their love was doomed from the beginning.

[whore4gwen]

Can I request a Smut with Alcina and reader where reader was actually sent to eliminate Alcina but then Alcina kinda like catches and hate fucks her? Only consensual ofc but something akin to enemies to lovers?

🐰-anon

𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙮 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣 𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙙･ﾟ･｡

A/N: I LOVE this idea omg?? I’m so incredibly sorry for how long it actually took me to write this. With my classes starting up again, I’ve been so overwhelmed and busy.

This may not be exactly what you had in mind, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!!

Tags: Enemies to lovers dynamic, talks of death & torture, teasing, blood, fear play (?), praise kink, submissive/ dominant dynamics, top Alcina, bottom reader, unwanted yearning, delusions, fingering, degradation if you squint, hand riding, daddy Alcina vibes, ambiguous ending, I think that’s it lmk if I missed any!!

Word count: 2.4K

I apologize for any grammar mistakes, as of current it’s unedited, but I’m so tired so I’ll do it later tomorrow.

———————————————————————-

You had one mission. One seemingly normal, manageable mission.

All you needed to do was observe her, and gather as much information as you could about her.

Alcina Dimitrescu.

That name did wonders. It almost excited you as much as it infuriated you. The damn nerve of that woman was what drove you so impossibly close to the edge.

Her heated gaze burnt into the back of your mind. Gold ripples clouds your vision.

You didn’t have time for this. Any of it really. Chris, along with several other BSSA members would be there any day to take them out. Every monstrosity they call ‘family’.

In the four short weeks at Castle Dimitrescu, you unintentionally became Alcina’s head maiden.

How you managed to accomplish that was beyond you. It did make you wonder. You hadn’t exactly done anything in particular to acquire such a position from the mistress of the castle. Your mind buzzed with possibilities. Was she onto you? No. Of course she wasn’t, she couldn’t be, could she?

With shaky hands, you took a deep breath trying to further compose yourself. The portable tray in your hands suddenly feels like a ton of bricks.

The lady was expecting her afternoon tea and isn’t too keen on waiting. Her patience grew weary by the moment.

Slowly you brought your right hand and gently knocked on the brooding wood that distinguishes right from wrong, safe and dangerous.

A muffled “Come in,” filled the unorthodox silence. Leisurely you opened the door, making sure to keep your eyes lowered as you approached the ornate vanity, and set down the tray.

Lady Dimitrescu’s predatory gaze burned holes as she watched you intently. Seemingly lost in her trance, she doesn’t realize when you’re standing right in front of her, tea cup in hand.

“Lady Dimitrescu?” you said questioningly, curious where her mind might be.

“Yes, sorry, dear. Thank you.” She replies quickly, taking the seemingly hand painted tea cup. A faint metallic smell infiltrated the small space between you. It was no secret what the lady of the castle preferred in her afternoon tea. Regardless, a shiver ran down your spine at the mere thought of who that could be.

“Is that all my lady?” You asked as you made your way back to the vanity to retrieve the silver tray.

“Actually, there is something I wanted to discuss with you.” She said slowly. “That is, if you don’t mind.”

As if you even have a choice in the matter. Alcina Dimitrescu, always playing with her food. Utterly ridiculous.

“Something makes me think it’s not really up for debate, is it?” You ask knowingly, growing a bit bold.

“Perhaps. Perhaps not.” She responds teasingly, while smirking. Vague as ever.

Even though she’s a ruthless vile woman, whos committed several dozen atrocities, you have to admit, she’s painfully attractive

Beauty and confidence radiate off her, making her all the more alluring. The air around her is absolutely intoxicating. You know it’s wrong, but you just can’t help yourself.

Tirelessly, you try to derail your mind that convinces you, you need more, that you need her..

Each and every humaneless act she’s committed plays before your eyes, yet the image of a broken woman stuck in her own mortality alway wins.

“Well, I hope I can acquire whatever you desire to know.” You reply plainly.

She eyes you almost cautiously. Observing you shamelessly. Her heated gaze makes you all too aware of the situation you’re in. The danger, the unknown, the claws of a monster.

Red paints your vision. For a moment, you feel you might just lose consciousness. A terrible feeling churning in your gut. This could go one of two ways. Either you talk and she miraculously lets you go or you talk and she uses your blood as wall decorum. One option seeming more likely than the other.

“Oh don’t play coy with me, darling. I have a brain, you know.” She says suddenly breaking the silence. “I must admit though, you do have a good facade. Dare I even say, you almost fooled me.”

Option two then.

Your heart beated rapidly at the confrontation. A dull ringing sounded in your ears. This is as close to death as you ever want to get. If you make it out alive, Chris will never hear the end of this.

You opened your mouth to speak, but just as fast as it opened, it shut. You were genuinely at a loss of words. She’s a clever woman, sure, but how did she know? Or even better, how long has she known? And if awhile, why hasn’t she sent you to the cellar?

Your impending doom hung above your head as your mind scrambled to find any sort of excuse, or anything really to get yourself out of this situation, with all your limbs intact.

“Don’t go all shy now, pet.” Lady Dimitrescu says as she leans closer, filling the gap between the two of you.

Pet? Your brain nearly short circuited at the nickname. “I.. I..” You mumbled lamley, still trying to formulate a coherent sentence. Unfortunately, there really wasn’t anything you could say or do to protect yourself. All you could do now was draw your inevitable death out for as long as you can.

“You know, I considered killing you when I found out. Or maybe sending you to the cellar to be my daughter's newest plaything.” Lady Dimitrescu says lowly. “But..” she drags out slowly, anticipation and fear consuming you as you waited for what she would say next.

“But?..” You repeated slowly, wondering what else she could possibly say.

You subconsciously leaned forward slightly, hanging on each and every word that spilled from her crimson lips. Exactly as she wanted. Eagerness coursed through your body like electricity.

“But, I thought something better. After all, it would be a shame to dispose of such beauty.” She finally responded, once again leaving suspense in the air.

Like a pole nailed to the ground, you were so impossibly still; you even forgot to blink. What exactly did she mean by that, you thought to yourself.

Lady Dimtrescu throws her head back in laughter at the apparent confusion painted along your face.

“Come here, now.” She demanded, no longer laughing as she was momentarily.

Quickly, deciding to keep your head as long as you could, you were standing in front of Lady Dimitrescu in seconds.

“Good.” She praised with a fond smile, and by the Gods, was she a sight to see.

“Now then, I’m going to tell you exactly how this is going to go. Do you understand me?” She asked authoritatively, leaving no room for retort.

While maintaining eye contact, you haphazardly nodded your head in understanding.

“Oh no, sweetheart. You’re going to have to do much better than that. Use your words like the big girl you are.” She responded.

Nervously, you swallowed the lump residing in your throat, “Y-yes, Lady Dimitrescu.” you whispered.

“Good girl.” She praised in return.

Her affirmation made your head fuzzy and core ache with want. There was absolutely no way this was happening right now. Whatever happened to her being the enemy?

Smirking, she grabbed the side of your face and ran her pale, slender finger down the expanse of your jaw, hooking two fingers under your chin and forcing your eyes to meet.

Your skin felt hot. Feverishly so, almost like you were lit on fire. Her burning gaze keeps you trapped in a fevernet daze. There’s no going back now, not even if you really wanted to.

“How about we play a little game?” She asked slyly.

A game? What kind of game? One wear she ruthlessly tears my head off? Or maybe chases me around the castle for sport? I’m not sure I'd like to play any ‘game’ with her, you thought to yourself.

“What do you have in mind?” You asked cautiously, but curiously.

For a moment, she was silent. Her eyes tracing your figure up and down. It was hard to read her, she had an impressive poker face, but as the lady of the castle you didn’t expect anything less. Alcina was a force of nature, which was what made her so incredibly dangerous.

A beat.

The palpable silence was consuming.

Then suddenly Lady Dimitrescu raised her hand and firmly patted her curvy thigh, “Sit.” she said indifferently.

Strangely, you’re more scared of sitting on her thigh than her slicing you into millions of bits and pieces. There was absolutely no way you were about to sit on Alcina Dimitrescu’s thigh.

Wide eyed, you stared at Lady Dimitrescu astounded. You almost couldn’t believe what was happening, no, you couldn’t believe it. Surly, this is some sick and twisted dream your mind conjured to torture you. You weren’t exactly into her, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t at least morbidly curious about her.

“I don’t like repeating myself, dear.” She said mockingly, your distress clearly fueling her. She wasn’t quite sure yet, but something reeled her in. She was almost certain had you been anyone else you’d be long gone by now. But this was different, you were different.

Slowly but surely you made your way to the large pristine chair, and hoisted yourself onto the expanse of her leg. Embarrassed, you faced away from her and diverted your gaze to the floor.

Expertly, Lady Dimitrescu wrapped her arm around your waist and pulled you flush against her front. Heat burns your cheeks at the quick action.

“Much better.” She purred in your ear as she slowly licked the shell.

Heat went straight to your core as you tried to close your thighs. You couldn’t help but squirm at the feeling of her hot breath down your neck.

Her hand drew lazy patterns on your leg as she slowly bought her hand up to where you desperately wanted her.

“Do you want it?’ She asked in a hushed voice as if she didn’t already know the answer.

Yes. Of course you wanted it, even if it was against your better judgment. Figuratively and literally, you undeniably fucked. There was no way in hell you’d be able to tell Chris about this. You’d most likely lose your job and any shred of dignity you have after this.

A groan slipped past your lips, “yes.”

“Yes what? What do you want?” She replied teasingly. She wanted to poke and prod till you burst. She knew exactly what buttons to push to evoke a reaction.

Your brain fogged with indescribable want. The neurons in your brain failing to cooperate and make any logical response.

“You.” you said needily, almost like a whine. Oh how pathetic you looked. She hadn’t even done anything and you were already ever so desperate for her. She loved it, craved it even.

So submissive, so compliant.

“What do you want me to do, darling?” She asked in response. Of course she knew, but how amusing would it be to make you voice it to her?

“Anything, just do anything, please.” You begged while clenching your thighs once again. You were sure your core was absolutely dripping by now.

“Begging are we?” She asked rhetorically. You could practically hear her shit eating smile.

How she loved it when you begged. The sound was addicting to put it plainly. She could definitely get used to hearing it.

Finally, she brought her hand all the way up your thigh to your aching center. Her slender finger rubbing your folds through the fabric of your underwear.

You gasped at the sudden contact as you pushed yourself closer to her.

“Oh my, you’re absolutely drenched.” She teased. “Is this all for me?” She asked breathily in your ear, just as before,

All you could do was nod in response., your mind too taken with the way her fingers felt against you.

Seemingly tired of the foreplay, Lady Dimitrescu pushed the side of your black lacy thong to the side, exposing your glistening core. A chill ran down your spine at the sudden change in temperature.

“Absolutely beautiful, darling.” She praised as she ran her middle finger through your folds. A low moan erupted from your chest at the notion.

“More, I need more..” You begged, feeling yourself grow impatient.

A smirk plastered on her face as Lady Dimitrescu had a borderline evil idea. “As you wish.” She replied as she quickly plunged two fingers into your soaping core.

You threw your head back onto her shoulder at the rough treatment moaning loudly. Her pace was bruising, but the stretch was undeniably delicious. There was something so attractive about Lady Dimitrescu man handling you.

As she continued,your moans were near pornographic. You were sure anyone in the castle knew what the lady was up to. Not that you care all that much, but it’s still a bit embarrassing.

Your hips jerked up into her hand as she used her palm to apply more pressure on your swollen clit. You felt euphoric. There was nothing in the world you could compare to the way Lady Dimitrescu was making you feel. Even if she did kill you when she was finished, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” She asked while prepping kisses down your neck.

You moaned in response, not being able to form a coherent response.

“Good girl.” She uttered whilst kissing your cheek. “You’re doing so good for me, darling.” She encouraged.

“Come undone for me, show me how much of a needy whore you are for me.” She said as she curled her fingers into your sweet spot.

As if her plethora of praise wasn’t enough, she was so precise, so experienced with her fingers.

With one final thrust, you came all over her fingers. Your juices running down her hand, and ruining your underwear.

She finished with a few slow thrusts while you rode out your high. Once your breath evened out, she skillfully removed her fingers from your core.

“You did wonderfully.” She praised once again while placing a soft kiss on your cheek.

This Lady Dimitrescu was foreign. Incomprehensible even. And yet, for some reason, you adored her this way. Soft spoken and light, she almost seemed human, almost.

What’s to come after this is completely beyond you, all you can do is pray it’ll all come full circle.

[ghcstao3]

supervillain ghoap where soap is just so beyond unhinged, incredibly cunning, and, really—just made for the “profession”. if something is seemingly impossible, he’ll figure out a way to accomplish it if he so desires. it’s a shame such a brilliant mind lends itself to evil.

and ghost who is just as villainous if maybe more subtle about it, is always more than happy to just follow along with his husband’s schemes with an absolutely, pathetically lovesick look in his eyes. he’s an enabler, though he certainly doesn’t shy away from the dirty work himself, either.

they both hate the world, but it’s more than fine with them if it means reserving all their love for one another instead.

[arisuworld]

THE VOID STATE : AN EPIPHANY

* ˚ ✰ — WHAT IS THE VOID STATE?

The void state is the state of pure consciousness. It is commonly referred to as the 'I AM' state in Neville Goddard’s work. "I am state" is a state in which you are a formless being. Time stops, and there's nothing but blackness around you. When you're in the void state, you're in a state of pure consciousness. You aren't in your body anymore. You're shapeless. Also, it's not scary at all. Instead it's very peaceful.

* ˚ ✰ — HOW TO ENTER THE VOID STATE?

Your faith is your fortune chapter 3: To accomplish this seemingly impossible feat, you take your attention away from your problem and place it upon just being. You say silently but feelingly, “I AM”. Do not condition this awareness but continue declaring quietly, “I AM – I AM”. Simply feel that you are faceless and formless and continue doing so until you feel yourself floating. This wonderful experience of rising and floating is the signal that you are absent from the body or problem and are now present with the lord; in this expanded state you are not conscious of anything but I AM — I AM; you are only conscious of being.

STEP TO STEP :-

1. Find a comfortable position.

2. Relax by taking deep breaths. You can also do any breathing techniques you like.

3. Take you attention away from the 3D and just focus on affirming “I AM” or “I AM PURE CONSCIOUSNESS” or “I AM IN THE VOID STATE.”

4. Persist till you experience floating feeling and the 3D fades away.

* ˚ ✰ — DIFFERENT METHODS TO ENTER THE VOID STATE

1. ' THE LULLABY METHOD '

Firstly, get into a drowsy, sleepy state. Not too awake, but not too sleepy. Like, when you can open your eyes but you don't want to. Then, affirm for your desires until you completely fall asleep, with your desires being the only thing on your mind.

2. ' SLEEP PARALYSIS '

Sleep paralysis is a quick and easy way to enter the void state. Sleep paralysis means when you cannot move your body AT ALL.

Don't worry, sleep paralysis is not scary at all. You won't see anything scary, untill you start thinking about something scary. Also, it's just hallucinations, nothing can you harm you. Always, remember you are in FULL control. You chose to give yourself sleep paralysis, and you can also come out of it if you want to! To get out of the sleep paralysis, simply wiggle your toes.

• Get into a comfortable position, and wait for your body to fall asleep, while keeping your mind awake. Do this by staying completely still and thinking of random things or counting numbers or daydreaming to keep your mind awake. Eventually, you will convince your body it is asleep.

Here are some ways to induce sleep paralysis:-

• You can listen to a guided meditation to induce sleep paralysis.

• You can listen to a subliminal.

• Affirm "i have sleep paralysis" in a drowsy state, and you'll wake up with it (basically, the lullaby method)

• Simply set the intention that you'll get sleep paralysis.

3. ' COMMANDING YOUR SUBCONSCIOUS TO WAKE UP IN THE VOID STATE ’

You can command your subconscious to get in the void by simply stating “subconscious get me in the void quickly and easily” in a drowsy state. For this method to successfully work, stop knowledging the 3D. Stay committed to your subconscious, it only does what you say.

4. ' LUCID DREAMING '

Lucid dreaming is when a person becomes aware they're dreaming while dreaming. You can easily lucid dream by setting an intention. Set an intention and say to yourself that "tonight I will lucid dream". You can say it once or chant it like a mantra till you fall asleep.

Then when you realise you're dreaming, you can either create a portal with the intention of entering the void or ask someone to take you to the void.

5. ' YOGA NIDRA '

"Yoga Nidra means Yogic Sleep. It is a state of conscious Deep Sleep. In Meditation, you remain in the Waking state of consciousness, and gently focus the mind, while allowing thought patterns, emotions, sensations, and images to arise and go on. However, in Yoga Nidra, you leave the Waking state, go past the Dreaming state, and go to Deep Sleep, yet remain awake."

You can use a Guided Meditation that I linked here. After using the video, Start focusing on your Affirmations. You can say "I am void", "I am" , "I am in the void", and try to ignore all the symptoms and persist through them. Then within minutes you will be in the void state.

— HOW DO I KNOW I'M IN THE VOID?

YOU'LL KNOW YOU'RE IN THE VOID WHEN:

• You are not in your room anymore

• It's pitch black

• You get your desires the second you exit the void.

• The outer world no longer exists. You can’t hear, see, touch, feel, taste anything.

WHY YOU FAIL TO ENTER THE VOID :—

• LACK OF PERSISTENCE : Just because you failed to enter the void state twice or thrice, doesn't automatically declares that void isn't real or that you can't do it. That's silly asf. It's like you're sabotaging your dream life yourself. Also, stop counting how many times you've failed and from how many months you've been trying. Don’t measure your experience with time. You control everything so even the time you take to enter the void is based on your assumptions.

• ASSUMPTIONS : Stop thinking that void is this magical place which will grant your wishes. You're assuming it to be something out of you, when it's WITHIN YOU. Also, entering void is not hard at all. Why would it be hard to reach something which is within you? It will be hard, if you think so. Just start creating assumptions in your favour. Start thinking like you would if you were a master at void. It's just LOA 101. Use it in your favour!!

• OVERCOMPLICATE : I've seen everyone overcomplicate the void state. The void state is simple and easy. All you need to do is relax & affirm. You don’t need any subliminals, meditation or special hypnosis to get you there. The void isn’t an external state. It’s internal. It’s within you. The methods or techniques don’t get you into the void, you do!! You shouldn't be looking for new methods all the time, instead start working on your self concept. It will change everything, i promise you that.

[bohbee]

Brothers reacting to MC randomly hugging them!

Characters: Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphegor

Warnings: Charging? Scaring? Lmao thats like it

Notes: I hope you guys like this, there will be one for the Dateables though I do not know when, could be in an hour, could be in a month lmao

Masterlist

Lucifer

Lucifer had just finished with his work, so you decided to visit him. His eyes laid attentively on his DDD as he stretched his back. He stood up, clicking his DDD off only for his ruby irises to glare at the door. "Who's there?" His voice was slightly stern, yet the exhaustion was heavily visible.

You silently giggled to yourself and waited on the wall beside the door quietly, waiting for him to open the door. "I am not falling for your pranks." You inwardly snorted 'Wow the Anti-Luci league really did him some damage....' You thought to yourself. However, your thoughts were quickly interrupted by a heavy sigh and loud footsteps. The door swung open, a dark aura emitting from the room.

His left leg carefully swooshed the outside air, and he then took a step out. 'Now!', your body charged towards his, his eyes widening. Before he could react, your arms latched onto his waist. You squeezed softly, pressing your face into his chest, not daring to look up. A soft chuckle was heard, he then hoisted your body up in which he gained a yelp from your pretty little mouth.

Lucifer walked back into his room and closed the door, not letting go of you. "My my, MC. Did you really have to be so suspicious over a hug?" He finally let you down and peered into your eyes. "Of course I did!" You said with a heavy smile. His lips softly pushed up. It wasn't often that someone could give him such calm, happy emotions, you though? You did it each time.

Mammon

Mammon sat on his couch counting the Grimm he just successfully made, soft music was playing in the background as his mumbling of numbers could be heard. You snuck into his room carefully treading down his stairs trying not to alert the Greedy Demon. Finally, you made it down the steps, and you tiptoed behind the couch and observed him.

Your eyes watched him as he smiled softly, his knee bouncing happily as he counted his well-deserved cash. He was invested in his own world, even if you were to make a noise, he probably wouldn't hear it. 'Perfect time' you thought to yourself as he sat down his bag of Grimm getting ready to grab another.

You flung your arms around his shoulders, hugging him awkwardly from behind, he let out a deafening screech and thrashed around before tossing you forward to the other part of the couch. Earning a loud 'Umph' from you.

"OI STUPID HUMAN! I COULDA HURT YA" he yelled at you his hand grasping his heart, you giggled at him. "Heh, I got you pretty boy" you pounced the blushing demon into a hug yet again, "Pfft course you'd wanna hug The Great Mammon..... don't let go."

Leviathan

The two of you were gaming late in the night, trying to defeat this seemingly impossible level. No words were spoken the only noses that could be heard was the game, the controllers, and the annoyed grunts. That was until Levi killed the final boss, the screen lit up blue "Accomplished" was shown in big letters. The two of you sat there, eyes wide like a bug, and completely stunned.

"FUCK YEAH LEVI YOU'RE SO COOL" You shouted out of nowhere before yanking him into a death grip of a hug. The purple haired demon poofed into a red balloon, his body tensing up heavily. "Y-y-you really w-wanna touch an ug-" you stopped his self-deprecating words by squeezing him tighter. "Levi...... The great otaku...... THE AMAZING AVATAR OF ENVY..... if you don't stop with those words and hug me, I will steal a Ruri figurine." Almost instantaneously, his arms wrapped around you, his body shaking slightly.

The two of you sat like that for a while, his body finally relaxing. Soon enough, sleep overwhelmed your senses, and you laid off in the dream realm in your crush's arms. His tangerine eyes focused on your form. A small smile and a HEAVY blush overwhelmed his features, he then closed his eyes and joined you in the amazing world of dreaming.

Satan

You were walking alone in the Devildom (HOW DARE YOU?!) when you turned your head and spotted a familiar blonde male in the cat cafe, you smiled softly to yourself and walked in the cafe. "Hey Satan" You waved at him, his attention pulled away from the kitten and he smiled at you. "MC? What are you doing here?" his green eyes glanced around to see if someone was around, only to meet yours with a disappointed look. "Oh don't give me that look Satan, I was bored and luckily I found my favorite demon."

You sat down beside him, and started playing with the kitten in front of the two of you, "Say how about after this.... we go to the bookstore?" You say without turning your gaze away from the cute kitted that was rolling around. His eyes sparkled in love, a rare genuine smile plastered his face, "I would lov-" he was cut off by you suddenly ingulfing him.

"Suprise cat attack hug!" You exclaimed, in between the two of you was the adorable kitten. Satan hugged you back, making sure not to smush the little troublemaker. "You always know how to fluster me, my dear."

The two of you soon left the cafe and walked to the bookstore.......... did I say two of you? Ah, well. I meant three. You, Satan, and the new whisker member of your cat family trotted along the path to the store.

Asmodeus

You sat down in the front row, eyes locked on the stage. Today was the day that marked a beauty contest in the human realm, and you were not going to miss out on your favorite demon strike a pose. Music started playing and many stunning people walked out on the stage but none of them compared to the shining beauty that Asmo was.

The competition soon finished and as expected he won first place, the crown dissipated quickly, leaving you looking around for the Avatar of Lust. "Mc~!" The soft tantalizing voice you knew oh so well said. You quickly whipped your head around and ran towards him, embracing his body quickly. "You did so good! Ah, it was truly beautiful!" You exclaimed.

The strawberry-blonde male let out a beautiful laugh and hugged you back "My my mc~, you keep on squeezing me like that and I won't be able to handle myself." He flirted, his arms tightened around you, and he placed hundreds of kissed on your face.

"Now my dear~, how about you give the first-place winner a congratulatory gift?" his peachy eyes peered into yours, his pupils dilated slightly as he looked at you with so much love and admiration.

Beelzebub

It was yet another restless night for you, your eyes focus on the leaves on your ceiling until shuffling from the kitchen grabs your attention. You slowly sit up and quietly walk out of your room, and towards the noise. As expected, the orange haired male made eye contact with you, his mouth filled with food. "Mphthee warf armph youm dphin upf" (Mc? What are you doing up?)

You smiled at him and walked over to his large form, you wrapped your arms around his torso and laid your head on his chest. One of his arms wrapped around your body as the other placed food in your proximity. "Want some?" he asked softly, cocking his head to the side curiously. You took a small bite of the food and smiled at him "missed you" you mumbled. Finally, your body felt rested as you leaned into the warmth of the nicest brother.

He smiled to himself and hoisted you up, grabbing some food before walking in your room. He turned around and plopped himself on your bed, the two of you laid like that for a while. After an hour of chatting sleep finally overcame your senses, your cheek was smushed on his chest. He pulled out his phone and snapped a photo of the two of you. Before, he himself, let sleep play through his mind.

Belphegor

The brothers were called to duty in the Human Realm leaving you to stay in the Palace with Barbatos. It was fun, definitely, though you missed your sleepy demon. The days droned on and on, until finally, the day where they were coming back finally hit.

You stumbled out of the guest bedroom and ran down the marble stairs, your eyes locking on the infamous avatars of sin. A large smile carved itself on your features as you launched your body on the navy-blue haired demon. You laughed loudly "Belph!" The poor demon tried to catch you though the amount of force in the hug brought the both of you to the floor. A large 'Oopfh' could be heard from the two.

Belphegor's purple eyes widened as he looked at you with shock "Mc?!" he lazily wrapped his arms around your figure, the rest of the brothers snickered and took photos. "Mm I missed you too..... lets stay like this." He said, his face burying itself in your hair (if you lack hair, I am sorry)

The two of you laid there, in the middle of the palace for hours just talking to each other and basking in each other's presence. Though a few hours later photos of the cute interaction would be ALL over Devilgram.

♡♡♡♡♡♡

[chaotic-iguana]

Twisted Love

summary: as we know, im a bit of a gremlin. i take ur asks and fucking add my own spin. here we are. its like a “joel edges reader, reader accidentally comes�� with SUPER dark twists. let me know what you think. feel free to (gently) yell at me because honestly @breakfastatjoels is the only reason i decided to post (love you dee)

pairing: dark! joel x reader

wordcount: 2.3k

warnings: survivalism, dubcon, dark!joel, edging, dom/sub dynamics, pussy slapping, very out of my comfort zone writing this, stockholm syndrome, this joel is everything husband joel is not. hes a dick please dont acc be in these kinds of relationships, swearing (no bc me being a smartass and adding swearing as if its worse than STOCKHOLM SYNDROME), choking, slapping, passing out and keep going, somno? i think?, dacryphilia, he’s a genuine fucking asshole

A/N: please be warned that this is not a vanilla smut fic, it follows some super dark themes. unlike my other fics, no “soft” joel, or aftercare; no checking in or wiping tears. also forewarning, i do not support relationships that are in fact like this. i am not glorifying sa or abuse. dont want any anons in my inbox tearing me a new one. 

masterlist // navigation

Four hours. You’d been tied to the bed spreadeagle for four hours. Your wrists and ankles had chafed, you’d nearly lost your voice, and you couldn’t seem to stop trembling.

Joel had one hand on your stomach, pressing down, and another between your legs, bringing you to orgasm after orgasm only to pull away at the last second to watch you buck your hips into thin air, chasing friction, as your high ebbed away again. And then he would start again. And again. And again.

By now, you were gone. Your mind had long been wiped clean of coherent thought. Broken moans and whines escaped you as you tried to beg despite having seemingly forgotten the ability to articulate yourself - you could barely manage short gasps of breath in between sobs; words were proving to be near-impossible. 

A dizzying chant of Joel, Joel, Joel, took up your mind as he wrenched his fingers out of you once again, just a second too late to accomplish what he wanted. No; in your desperate, hyper-sensitive state, that split second alone was enough to send you into a  spiral: toes-curling, back-arching and your breath coming in sharp gasps as an orgasm that had your vision whiting out for a few seconds washes over you.

Joel glared down at you, the vision barely registering to you past the buzz of euphoria, eyes rolling back as reality faded away. He gripped your jaw then, snapping you out of the daze by bringing a hand down on your cunt, repeatedly striking the sensitive folds, the painful sting heightened by your orgasm. 

 At the pitiful groans of protest and the way your legs contorted against the bindings to fall into themselves; instinct taking over to protect you from his merciless assault, he rolled his eyes with a huff. 

“Y’gonna be a brat? Be a fuckin’ brat. ‘M not wastin’ my time on a girl that can’t behave.” 

Snapping his switchblade open, he leaned down to rip through your restraints before turning and walking out of the room without another word.

That had been a week ago. You had spent an hour curled in on yourself, numb in disbelief that he’d just left. You hadn’t meant to go against his wishes, your body had just taken over and practically pushed you over the edge. You knew the deal-  of course you did, it was seared into your fucking mind- it’s what kept you alive. 

It was an offer he had spat at you with a blade pressed to your neck, a decree that signed your body over to him. He’d let you live and keep you alive, and in return all you had to do was obey him; be his “good little girl”, as he put it. All you had to do in exchange for your safety was listen to him, do what he told you to. 

A paralyzing fear had gripped you since that day you had accidentally defied him, death looming over your head like a guillotine you couldn’t quite see just yet but knew was inevitably coming. 

You’d hated the arrangement at first, resisting it; resisting him. But once he had made it abundantly clear that there was no way for you to leave, nowhere you could go, you found yourself fighting back less. Life had already been so long, taken so much from you already. You’d never have to worry again. He’d keep you safe. Despite his inherent brutality, he took care of you; more care than anyone else had taken since the world went to shit. He made sure you ate enough, slept in better spots, showers. When you had nightmares, he’d set a bruising pace against you and rut until your head emptied of every thought but his. 

Your disdain for him faded over time, and you began craving him. You wanted him under your skin, you wanted to feel him and nothing else, to be reduced to a mindless mess as damp sheets clung to your skin. Wanted his bites and bruises, wanted his grip on your thighs, your waist, your neck. Slowly, you wanted him. A twisted love characterised by dizzying need for him to rip you apart and put you back together infected your mind. To be with you, hold you, praise you. And you were perfect for him as a result, wanting nothing but to keep him happy. 

He, however, hadn’t so much as looked at you all week. If he said anything, it was bit out in your general direction as an afterthought; an inconvenience. It was like he’d stopped caring where you were, how you were. Pent up and needing him, needing to feel the scrapes of his callouses against your skin, his teeth nipping your flesh, you simply endured it all fearfully. Your arrangement had gone on long enough that you genuinely did not know if he would follow through - but you’d seen enough of what he was capable of not to risk it. You may have your own infatuation with the man, but you weren’t stupid. When he stood jaw clenched, shoulders tense, and with that crazed glint in his eye, you did not speak to him; your self-preserving habit of pointing out his tells blaring at you to run. If you so much as stepped too close to him on days like these, you’d see how blown out his pupils were, how his face was set in an expression that made it difficult to identify him, before he’d pin you to the nearest wall and use his mouth, fingers, cock, blade handle, beer bottle and makeshift toys on you until you passed out, and then he’d keep going until exhaustion overtook him. Which, for a man that size, often took over a day. 

So you settled for trying your best to impress him. Wore that dress he liked, did your hair in a ponytail because you knew it made his fingers itch to tug at it, painted your lips with a shadow of red and just followed him like a lost puppy, without stopping or complaining once. Didn’t matter how many gashes you got on your hands and knees from getting your foot caught on sharp edges or rocks he didn’t warn you of anymore, didn’t matter how hungry or thirsty you were with him neglecting to pass the canteen back to you, didn’t matter how badly his biting comments hurt you or how many tears filled your eyes, you followed him without complaint.  

But it had been a week, and your resolve had started to break. If he was going to kill you, he had to do it now. The buildup, the constant fear, the desperation to impress him, the cuts and bruises now littering your body, the hungry ache in your stomach - they all reached a point where your knees just buckled, and you just couldn’t. Joel was ahead of you, still trudging on without so much as glancing in your direction, not even after the pathetic wail that sounded from you as you fell to your knees. Gasping out his name, wincing at the rasp of your voice from the disuse, you watched his steps falter as he looked at you over his shoulder, and kept walking. 

“No, no, no, please Joel, please.” Tears began streaming down your face, your body shaking with the force of the devastation sweeping through you as you began crawling after him. This made him stop and turn, brow raised and mouth set in a cruel smile as he took in your form. He took slow, deliberate strides to where you lay on the ground, elbows given out, and looked down at you. 

“Please, what?” His dark eyes were glittering as he smirked at you, watching you crumble before his very eyes. 

“No more. ‘M sorry, I’m so sorry I won’t ever go against what you say again. Didn’t mean to come - it just happened n’ I couldn’t stop it. I’ve been so good for years, Joel. I’m s-sorry, please I’m so sorry.” Cheeks burning hot with humiliation, you could barely meet his gaze as you began begging the man you’d sworn to kill when you first met him. Begged him to take care of you, to forgive you. 

He crouched low, reaching a hand out to tip your chin up and meet your eyes. 

“Need me?” A jeering, boisterous laugh. “Do ya, now?” At your nod, he snorted. “You forget who’s in control -once, just once - I fuckin’ leave you then and there. Clear?” Another nod. “Take what I give you this time.” Not a question, but you find yourself nodding feverishly anyways, making his lips twitch as he grasped you and lifted you into his arms the rest of the way. 

Joel spotted a cabin while trudging through the rough terrain, your hands around his neck and torso flush against his chest as you hung limp in his arms, half-asleep. Deciding to settle there for the night, he barely took a minute to scout the place out before he was making his way to the bedroom. He dropped you onto the bed before turning to strip his flannel and trousers off. Watching you blink in confusion as you started to wake up, he scoffed, tangling a hand in your hair, flipping you onto yoru back, and yanking your head to the edge of the bed. 

Giving you no time to brace yourself, Joel shoved the blunt head of his cock between your lips, working your jaw open as he starting using your mouth. One of hands came to rest on your exposed neck, putting enough pressure to feel himself moving in and out of your throat, while the other gripped the edge of the bed next to your head, intermittently coming up to slap your tits, your stomach, your thighs - anywhere he could reach. The sounds of your garbled choking and gasping filled the room, Joel using your mouth like a fleshlight. 

Refusing you a single second of reprieve to get your breath, he kept rocking his hips until you were lightheaded and there were spots in your vision, consciousness fading. When he glanced down and realised you were about to pass out, he pulled himself flush against your mouth and stayed there, drool and spit spluttering from your nose as you struggled to accommodate him, struggling against him until you blacked out. 

When you came to, you were lying on your stomach, hair still in Joel’s grip and head held back. Your hands were tied to the headboard in front of you with the underwear you had been wearing all day, and his fingers were bruising your waist in his grip as he pounded into you from behind. 

You could feel that you had lost some time. Come and blood streaked all over your jaw, neck and chest, and you could feel some drying on your back, thighs and stomach as well. Moreover, you were drenched. Covered from head to toe in a mixture of blood, sweat, saliva and cum. You could see skin on your chest and stomach swollen and red, broken by his teeth, which had left permanent indents into the flesh. Blinking steadily, you realised that the sun was up, the room bathed in the first few rays of dawn. 

“Welcome back, sweetheart.” His rasp from behind you had a shudder dancing down your spine, straightening up slightly. You could barely sob your response - the new angle had your eyes rolling back, and you could feel yourself being jolted up the bed by the sheer force of his thrusts into you. 

Feeling the muscles of your stomach tense, you hardly had the rationality to start babbling a half-understandable “Gonna cum, ‘m g-mmh-cum,” before feeling him shift his hand on your hip to move it between your legs, swiping over your clit with just enough pressure to bring you to your peak - before he leaned down to snarl into your ear. 

“Don’t come.” At your whimper, he laughed. “Y’wanna live? Be good f’me? Don’t you dare fucking come.” You felt your muscles lock up, a pitiful whine leaving your mouth as you staved off your orgasm, tensing so hard against it that your whole body hurt. Your legs were shaking with the force of holding off, and you felt Joel smile into your shoulder in approval before he moved his arm under your thigh, lifting it as the strength of his hips snapping into yours increased, making you scream when his fingers returned to your folds. 

He reveled in the wails that were piercing the silence of the room, at the force with which you began convulsing in the effort to obey him. Sucking a bruise into the skin behind your ear, he let you suffer for a few more plunges of his tip into your cervix until he felt his own climax fast approaching, uttering a permissive “Come,” until you were gripping him so hard his vision whited out for a few moments. Watching your hand come around to the back of his head, body trembling as you moaned low and near-pained next to him, he stayed inside you for a few seconds before pulling out and stepping into his jeans immediately, watching you collapse onto the bed from overexertion. 

He just reached across the bed to twist a particularly large bruise between his index finger and thumb, savoring your squeak of fear and the tears streaming down your face. 

“Best get cleaned up quick. We gotta lot’a ground to cover today.” And with that, he was walking out again. At least this time, you knew he’d keep you around. 

hello loves, as always - thank you for reading. comment your thoughts or find me on ao3. stay hydrated and have a great day! taglist: @imherefordeanandbones @theywhowriteandknowthings, @josephquinnswhore , @evyiione , @breakfastatjoels  , @millerscoffee dividers by @cafekitsune!! cover by the AMAZING @pedrosaidsheispunk. what a LEGEND. 

[starlingflight]

Prompt: Sirius being a massive Hinny shipper, please and thank you ♥️♥️♥️

This was supposed to be a drabble. Read below or on AO3 here:

He had first noticed it in the summer.

At first, Sirius had thought Harry to have a particularly strong affection for Crookshanks, a sentiment that Sirius only found wholly sensible and had not questioned further.

It had taken a few weeks to realise it was not the charming bandy-legged cat that Harry’s eyes were subconsciously following. Likewise, the cat wasn’t the recipient of an increasingly frequent number of silent, secretive shared smiles whenever someone was unfortunate enough to do something that garnered Harry’s amusement; no, the honour of that bestowment fell to the equally charming — and equally ginger — young lady who had devoted a great deal of her summer to entertaining Crookshanks.

Again, Sirius couldn’t find anything to disagree with in the object of Harry’s attention, indeed, his good opinion of Ginny had been formed immediately upon meeting her, when, one balmy evening, at the very beginning of summer, she had come bounding into Grimmauld Place’s dank kitchen, flashed a bright grin at Sirius across the old wooden table and declared, “It’s nice to meet you, but I don’t think much of your family’s choice in interior decoration.”

Sirius’ smile was no longer familiar to him, but it had risen easily at the sentiment. “Was it the house-elf heads that put you off?”

The girl's eyes had widened in alarm; her nose had wrinkled in distaste. “House-elf heads?”

“Ah, so you haven't taken a trip upstairs yet?”

With that scant piece of information, she'd turned on her heel and marched straight back out of the kitchen, a harried-looking Molly Weasley calling “for Heaven's sake, Ginny,” behind her, but Ginny had only continued striding her path, set on inspecting the most gruesome spectacles lining the hallways of Grimmauld Place.

Harry hadn’t arrived at the Order's gloomy headquarters until weeks later. By that time, everyone but Sirius seemed to have accepted the chafing captivity offered by his parents' old house with, if not good humour, a grudging attempt at it.

And then Sirius had found his already-conflicted emotions torn once more as he'd reckoned with exactly what the task James and Lily had charged him with really meant.

Protecting Harry, keeping him safe, giving him enough information to protect himself in the face of direct orders from Dumbledore and the teenaged ire being thrown at him across the dining room table from his beloved Godson; his guilt not eased by the scorn that was being directed at him from a perfect replica of Lily's eyes, ones that silently assured him he'd already failed, otherwise, he wouldn't be in this situation to begin with.

It wasn't a new guilt though, Sirius had been living with it for fourteen years now, and it was certainly a lighter burden than it had been all those interminable days locked up with the Dementors. Though he’d exchanged Azkaban for another prison, one he'd thought he'd escaped at age sixteen, at least there were moments of levity now.

There was the Weasley family's easy affection with one another, and their warmth which seemed to fill the frigid house despite its determination to remain unwelcoming. There were hearty dinners and good conversation, and a sense of community that, while welcome, made Sirius ache for the best friends he would never share a meal with again.

There was also Ginny's bright, unrestrained laughter and the way Harry seemed to seek it out. There was the way his Godson's eyes seemed to soften on the youngest of the Weasleys, an occurrence which accomplished the seemingly impossible task of making all traces of James disappear from his face, leaving only Lily.

If Harry was aware of Ginny’s effect on him, however, he did an excellent job of hiding it. None of Sirius’ thinly veiled attempts at suggestion yielded the desired results.

After one of Molly’s delicious — and uncomfortably filling — meals, Sirius had tried to broach the subject in as delicate a manner as possible.

“Ginny’s very funny,” he’d said quietly to Harry, leaning across the small expanse of table that separated them.

“Yeah,” Harry agreed absently, ducking to avoid the dessert bowl Fred had just summoned, and that had gone soaring wildly towards Harry’s head. “She’s a laugh.”

Without giving the matter any further consideration, Harry pushed his chair back from the table, apparently intent on following Ron, who was already heading for the door, and Sirius, who was glad to see Harry in a rare congenial mood where his friends were concerned, had no heart to try and stop him.

Yet Sirius was only deterred temporarily; house arrest did not offer many opportunities for entertainment, and he seized upon this one.

His next attempt to force the matter occurred just days later.

Molly, persisting in her crusade to wipe away years of rot and decay that Sirius privately thought was likely weaved into the very foundations of the house, had seen fit to direct Harry to clear out an ancient wardrobe in one of the guest bedrooms; Sirius immediately volunteered to join the endeavour.

“I think your mum had a hoarding problem,” Harry informed him, removing a sinister-looking, ghostly white Venetian mask from one of the shelves and tossing it unceremoniously into the rubbish bag awaiting at their feet.

Sirius hummed in agreement. “You know, Ginny made a similar observation — she wasn’t very taken with the decor.”

“I’d think there was something seriously wrong with her if she was.”

“But you don’t,” Sirius prompted with forced nonchalance.

“Don’t what?” Harry frowned down at the pair of ancient — and hideous — buckled shoes he’d just collected from the wardrobe floor.

“You don’t think there’s something seriously wrong with Ginny.”

“No,” Harry replied, brow still furrowed as he turned to look at Sirius directly. “Do you?”

“No, of course not!” Sirius waved away the accusation. “I think she’s a charming girl.”

“Right,” Harry discarded the shoes and began flicking through the dusty garments hanging from the rail.

Sirius waited a moment but no other thoughts came forth. He swallowed a sigh. “And you already agreed she’s funny.”

Harry’s only response to this reminder was a noncommittal hum and Sirius was forced to forge ahead without any assistance from his impervious Godson.

“The prank she played on Ron last night with the fake spider was very amusing.”

In truth, Sirius was being generous with this compliment. While he appreciated Ginny’s dedication to the bit, and her willingness to provoke her mother’s ire, he had some notes on how her practical application could be improved that he planned to share with her later.

“Ron didn’t think so,” Harry replied, giving away nothing of his opinion on the matter. “He made me check every inch of our room three times before he’d go to bed.”

“He needn’t be so worried,” Sirius replied. “Crookshanks is dedicated to the task of keeping the house pest-free.”

Harry shook his head, whether at Sirius’ reassurance or the ghastly acid-green lace robes he’d just removed from the wardrobe, it was impossible to say.

There was no opportunity to ask, for at that moment Molly’s voice came calling from the corridor outside the room, beckoning them down to yet another dinner where Sirius was forced to watch Harry’s eyes wander to Ginny with painful obliviousness.

This pattern continued for the rest of the summer holidays, a period that was woefully short and allowed Sirius no further chance to help Harry reach the obvious conclusion. Indeed, any attempts he did make were met with little more than teenaged grunts and abrupt changes of subject and before Sirius knew it, Harry was boarding the Hogwarts Express, Ginny was swallowed by a group of her friends on the crowded platform and even this simple self-given mission had evaded success.

After that passed interminably long, lonely months locked up in the drafty old house with nothing but the fleeting company of Order members flitting in and out; Sirius’ only constant companion was Kreacher, possibly the only being he considered worse company than a dementor.

Undoubtedly, Sirius had not considered himself overcome with festive spirit in the run-up to Christmas. Nor could he find himself cheerful at the circumstances that brought house guests to him for the holidays, but once it was ascertained that Arthur would survive the terrible attack he’d sustained at the hands — or rather, fangs — of Voldemort’s snake, Sirius could not deny himself glad of the company provided once more by Harry and the Weasley’s.

By the time New Year’s Eve rolled around, Sirius was in a rare state of high spirits.

Grimmauld Place remained stubbornly bleak but the festoons of holly and glittering ribbons he’d draped from every available surface — helped by Ginny who certainly proved she had more of an eye for decoration than most of Sirius’ relatives — went some way to brightening the place up; as did the spectacularly impressive fireworks Fred and George had set off around the house well before the clock had begun to approach midnight.

By chance, a small party had gathered in the kitchen owing to Remus and Tonks’ unexpected early return from a mission, and Kingsley’s appearance with a collection of bottles of Ogden’s, which were quickly passed around the adults.

“I’ll have mine to go,” Sirius said as Kingsley poured him a generous measure of the amber liquid. “I really should make sure Buckbeak’s settled before things get too raucous.”

“I can go,” Harry offered from beside Sirius as he leaned to collect one of the bottles of butterbeer Kingsley had brought for the kids. “I haven’t seen him much since I’ve been back.”

“We’ll come with you,” Hermione offered, popping the cap on her own bottle of butterbeer.

Before Harry could think to respond, he was cut off by a groan from Ron who had been surveying the platter of mince pies, sausage rolls and various other finger foods Molly had just set out on the table. “I was just about to eat,” he protested.

Hermione’s lips pursed in unimpressed exasperation but Sirius was already formulating a plan, prepared to seize an opportunity that had not presented itself since the kids had returned from Hogwarts.

“Ginny can go with you,” he said quickly, eyes fixed on Harry even as he raised his voice loud enough for Ginny to hear from the opposite side of the kitchen where she was presently occupied ensuring Crookshanks didn’t burn his paws as he attempted to bat at the still-whizzing fireworks. “Ginny, could you go and check on Buckbeak for me, please?”

Her response was immediate. She scooped Crookshanks up into her arms as she stood, nodding enthusiastically at the suggestion.

“I can go alone,” Harry protested sullenly. “No one is going to attack me between here and the landing.”

“Of course not,” Sirius agreed, waving away his protests with the hand still clutching his whiskey glass. “But you don’t want to be alone on New Year’s, do you?”

Harry shrugged nonchalantly. “I think I’d survive for ten minutes.”

“Yes,” Sirius continued as Ginny’s form grew closer in his peripheral vision. “But Ginny is excellent with Buckbeak — she’s very good with animals, have you noticed?”

Harry shrugged again. “I suppose.”

Ginny paused her approach to deposit Crookshanks into Hermione’s waiting arms.

“Well, that’s settled then.” Lightly, Sirius nudged Harry towards her. “The two of you will go together.”

Ginny joined them just in time to hear this conclusion; her eyebrows lifted in surprise. “I didn’t realise it was a two-person job.”

“Apparently Sirius thinks I need supervision,” Harry informed her.“

“And he chose me to supervise?” Ginny frowned in horror. “I’m disappointed in myself for giving a false impression of responsibility.”

Right on cue, Sirius watched as her eyes met Harry’s and identical smirks bloomed on both their faces.

“Come on,” Harry inclined his head towards the door. “We‘ll try not to get into too much trouble on the way upstairs.”

“Maybe you will,” Ginny countered, already following him out of the room. “I never made any such promises.”

Sirius watched them go with a self-satisfied smile of his own. His triumphant mood, however, did not last long before being quickly burst by the pointed sound of a throat clearing behind him.

He turned to find Remus and Tonks staring at him in amusement.

“What was that about?” Remus asked, his arms folded expectantly over his chest.

“What was what?” Sirius asked innocently.

Remus shook his head wearily. “Need I remind you I’ve witnessed that exact manoeuvre before, minutes prior to the Great Venomous Tentacula Debacle of 1976.”

Sirius huffed dismissively. “This is nothing like that,” he disagreed. “I’m quite confident neither Harry nor Ginny are going to attempt to feed the other to Buckbeak.”

Which was almost exactly what had happened when Sirius had schemed to have Lily and James partnered in Herbology at the beginning of their sixth year. Of course, Lily had assured Professor Evergreen that she had meant no harm to James when she’d shoved him into the awaiting jaws of the predatory plant; she had only meant for it to ‘take a few bites out of his over-inflated head’.

“That’s not what I meant,” Remus disagreed with his practised look of weak disapproval that was so easy to ignore. “As you well know.”

Sirius sighed, chancing a glance over his shoulder to confirm no one was nearby before stepping closer to Remus and Tonks and saying in a voice too low for anyone else to overhear over the revellers of the night. “They simply need a nudge in the right direction, one that I’m more than willing to provide.”

Remus’ frown deepened. “A nudge in which direction?”

“A romantic one,” Sirius responded imploringly, surely that much was obvious to anyone with eyes. “Don’t you see it? They’re perfect for one another.”

“Harry and Ginny?” Remus attempted to clarify, his voice dripping with scepticism.

Any answer Sirius might have made was abruptly drowned out by Tonks’ unbridled laughter.

“What?” Sirius demanded, immediately disliking the smug shake of her head. “What’s so amusing?”

“Oh, nothing,” Tonks replied as she brought her laughter back under control. “Only that you’re obviously completely out of the loop.”

“I am not,” he protested at once, indignance flaring at the suggestion he might be uninformed. “Out of the loop regarding what?”

“So many things,” Tonks replied, sighing with superiority. “But, in particular, Ginny’s boyfriend and Harry’s preferred choice of snogging partner.”

“Harry’s what?” Sirius demanded, feeling rather as though one of Fred and George’s fireworks had just struck him directly in the face. Surely, if Harry was seeing someone, he would at least bother to tell Sirius as much.

“Sounds like you have all the teenage gossip,” Remus said, encouraging Tonks to share the details while Sirius reeled from the revelation that he, apparently, knew nothing.

“I only know what Ginny tells me,” Tonks replied, shrugging as she took a sip of her firewhiskey. “Six brothers haven’t really left her with much in the way of female influence, and Hermione’s always off with Harry and Ron, she gets quite lonely, not that she’d ever admit as much out loud.”

“Evidently not that lonely if she’s cavorting around with this secret boyfriend you mentioned,” Sirius replied haughtily.

Remus and Tonks’ eyebrows rose in surprise at his uncharitable tone and Sirius took a sip of firewhiskey to burn away the faint pang of guilt surfacing within him.

“She’s not keeping him a secret,” Tonks disagreed. “She’s just protecting herself from meddling big brothers—“

“And interfering godfathers,” Remus added.

Tonks nodded in agreement. “At any rate, I don’t think they’re cavorting — which, by the way, isn’t a word anyone has used in the last century — by her own admission, she’s quite fed up with Michael.”

“Michael,” Sirius repeated brusquely. “Of course she is, how could anyone not be fed up with someone named Michael.”

Even with Sirius’ limited knowledge, it was entirely evident Harry was superior in every way that could possibly matter.

“Michael Corner?” Remus asked, ignoring this last pointed remark, his expression still perfectly, annoyingly genial. “I remember him from teaching — he seemed a perfectly pleasant young man.”

“More pleasant than Harry?” Sirius demanded, failing to see how that could possibly be true.

“Of course not,” Remus replied evenly. His eyes wandered to Tonks and they both shared a look of amusement not unlike the smirks Sirius was now used to witnessing pass between Ginny and Harry.

Sirius took note of the moment to question both Remus and Tonks about later. Separately.

“Anyway,” Remus said abruptly, tearing his eyes away from Tonks as a red flush worked its way across his cheeks. “It sounds like Harry has his sights set elsewhere.”

At the reminder, Sirius looked to Tonks expectantly. “What do you know?”

“Like I said, only what Ginny tells me.”

“Which is?” Sirius asked, schooling his features into a look of mild interest. Clearly, Tonks was enjoying holding the information over him, and he simply wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of having him beg for it.

“Just that Harry was kissing some Ravenclaw girl on the last night of term — she didn’t elaborate further, other than to say Cho’s whispering skills left a lot to be desired.”

“Cho?” Sirius directed the question at Remus.

“She’s in the year above him,” Remus replied at once. “She plays seeker for Ravenclaw — she was very popular from what I remember.”

Sirius shook his head in vehement denial. “Harry’s not going to marry a Ravenclaw.”

“He’s fifteen,” Tonks reminded him through a laugh. “I don’t think marriage is his main priority right now.”

Before Sirius could argue, a course he was quite set on taking, the door to the kitchen opened and a flash of bright red caught his eye.

Ginny re-entered first, closely followed by Harry; the two of them were deep in conversation, both of them smiling at one another in a way that, in Sirius’ opinion, proved his point for him.

He, Remus and Tonks, all fell silent, watching the young couple intently as they grabbed fresh bottles of butterbeer.

Ginny headed over to the table, eyes surveying the spread laid out upon it; Harry remained at her heels. She paused not at the food, but at a pile of glittering red and gold party hats Fred and George had laid out earlier, the ones which had caused quite a stir when the one resting jauntily on Kingsley’s head had started to sing loudly and woefully out of tune.

Ginny picked up one of the hats and beckoned Harry closer with a crooked finger. His weak attempts to refuse her obvious demand did little to deter; Ginny took a definitive step forward; Harry made no attempt to duck away as she rose up on her tiptoes and secured the eye-catching hat to the top of his head where it sparkled brilliantly in contrast with his dark hair. Upon seeing Ginny’s triumphant smile, an identical one bloomed upon Harry’s face.

Sirius was also grinning victoriously as he turned back to Remus and Tonks.

“I’m not telling you you’re right,” Remus said stubbornly, but the stiff manner in which he knocked back the remainder of his firewhiskey was confirmation enough for Sirius.

Tonks sighed, her eyes still glued to the pair, watching as Harry attempted to force a hat onto Ginny’s head and she stubbornly — and speedily — ducked out of his way.

“I’m sure they’ll figure it out eventually,” Tonks said, a small smile appearing on her face.

Sirius nodded, unable to stop his thoughts from wandering to James and Lily and the many occasions upon which he’d been forced to watch them refuse to see what was plainly right in front of them.

He cleared his throat against the sudden emotion that swelled within, a strange mixture of longing for what had already passed and what was still yet to come. “They always do in the end.”

[moonlightseve]

Yuuri’s anxiety is such a large part of the show and is frequently shown as an obstacle he must overcome, but I really appreciate that it is never shown as a barrier. Nothing is made impossible to Yuuri because of his anxiety, acting instead as an additional challenge he must address in order to get to where he wants to be. He is stronger because of it, in a lot of ways.

I hate when media infantilizes anxious people and diminishes their ability to accomplish things. Sure, it may be harder to reach your goals when you’re fending off a panic attack, but Yuuri managing it through seemingly sheer determination proves that he is anything but “mentally weak.” Watching Viktor learn how to deal with it is also very meaningful, especially again because he does not treat Yuuri as any lesser because of it.

[cosmicjoke]

So I wanted to just take a moment to elaborate a little more on Levi's leadership during the Battle of Heave and Earth, because I think it's so important to understand just how vital Levi was to that final battle and, ultimately, toward the alliances' victory. Everyone was vital, of course. Everyone contributed in ways indispensable. But I think Levi's role was particularly crucial, and I want to explain why.

They wouldn't have won without Levi.

Full stop. They wouldn't have won.

I spoke before about how so often we've heard criticisms of Levi and his choice to let Erwin die, accusations hurled at him of having "robbed" humanity of the only leader that could save it, and I spoke about how those accusations, in the aftermath of Levi's contribution to that final battle, fall so utterly flat, because Levi became the leader that humanity needed in the moment when it counted most.

Armin was out of commission for most of the final battle. Of course he was doing his own, important work toward ensuring victory by convincing Zeke to stop wallowing in self-pity and actually do something (Zeke gets no credit from me, he let 80% of the population die because he felt sorry for himself). But my point is, Armin, despite being the Commander, wasn't able to lead during most of the battle because he was trapped in the Paths.

Levi took the reigns, then, without even needing to be asked or told. He simply took command, and it was his decision making that lead to their victory.

But before that, he fought alongside all of them as simply another soldier, putting his body and life on the line to take down as many titans as he could in the attempt to clear a path back to Armin. Levi was literally half-dead during this battle. His body was beyond compromised. He was suffering internal bleeding, likely major trauma to his organs, half blind, his dominant hand half-mangled, and later, his leg likely broken and torn apart and open. His ability to fight, and to fight so well and with so much strength, was nothing, then, but pure will on his part. Pure determination and refusal to quit. He never gave up, not once, despite his body needing him to.

When he sees the tied of the battle not going their way, then, a path back to Armin seemingly impossible, he takes charge and calms everyone down, tells everyone to stop and think. When it becomes clear that they won't be able to simply retrieve Armin and win this thing, when it becomes clear that killing Eren is the only way to actual victory, Levi is the first to organize everyone into accepting that bleak and awful reality, and to lay out a plan of attack toward accomplishing it. He breaks their team into two units and instructs them on what to do, one to go after Armin, the other, Eren's neck. This was Levi's plan, Levi's decision, and it's largely why they were able to succeed in their goals.

And then later, when he heartbreakingly thinks of himself as a burden, as someone who will just get in the way, he disproves his own self-criticism by stepping up and once again taking command in what truly was the most critical moment of the battle.

He takes out Zeke, of course, which stops the Rumbling. But then Armin's initial plan, of using the blast from his Colossal Titan transformation to kill Eren, fails, and the worm responsible for Eren's power threatens to reach him and start the Rumbling back up. It begins to release the same gas which Zeke had used on Ragako Village to turn the Eldian's into pure titans, and in that moment, with hundreds of Eldian's on the ground, it would have proven the end of the battle for all of them if Levi hadn't acted as quickly and with as much clarity of thought as he had. They all would have died, and the entire population of the world would have been wiped out.

Nobody else realized what was about to happen to them, too dazed and complacent and stricken with hopelessness, even after Connie posited what the gas could be. Only Levi understood what was about to happen, and only Levi took action in that moment to prevent total disaster. And then, while everyone else is standing around, paralyzed by their horror at the realization of what's happening, overcome with grief and fear, in that moment, Levi didn't hesitate. Like he once told the 104th, if disaster struck right now, he would act faster than any of them, and that's exactly what he did.

He understood the situation within seconds, and understood within seconds what needed to be done to avoid total catastrophe. He understood that he and Mikasa and the titan shifters were the only ones who would be immune to the gas, and so it was up to them to take action and end Eren's life, or all would be lost. He understood in that moment that they would be forced to abandon their family and comrades on the ground, abandon them to their fate of being turned into pure titans, in order to save what remained of the rest of the people trapped down there, and he didn't hesitate. He didn't falter. He pushed aside his own grief and horror, his own driving need to save everyone, in order to save who he could, just like he's always done. He armed himself with their only remaining thunder spear and ordered with commanding force for Mikasa and Pieck to get onto Falco's back, for them to take to the air, because he understood on the ground, they would all die, and if they were to have any chance of victory, they needed to be up high. He was able to ignore their stunned and frozen grief and initial refusal to move and act, and overcome it with his own refusal to give in. He made them act in the moment when it mattered most. And when Mikasa was overcome with grief at what was happening and the prospect of killing Eren, Levi refused to let her lose herself, screaming in her face to get it together, reminding her again and again that only they could stop Eren now, only they could save what was left of humanity.

And finally, with his failing body and waning strength, he fought side by side with Mikasa, battling through what seemed literal hell on earth to give her the opening she needed in order to deliver the killing blow to Eren and end it once and for all.

Mikasa wouldn't have been able to do what she did if not for Levi. If not for Levi's quick thinking, if not for Levi's orders, if not for his command, if not for his battling side by side with her, clearing a path for her. If not for his own sacrifice, giving up everything, having to leave behind the people he loved for people he didn't even know. Levi made that final push toward victory possible.

Levi essentially took over for Erwin when no one else could. He took over for Hange when no one else could. He became the Commander of the Survey Corps in that final battle. He became the one who lead them to victory.

I think understanding that is so important. For anyone who ever tries to accuse Levi of not caring about humanity, or accuse Levi of dooming humanity because he let Erwin die, you're wrong, you're so wrong. Because Levi became every bit the commander Erwin ever was in the moment when it mattered most. He refused to let humanity fall. He lead humanity to victory.

[maladaptiveobsession]

yandere adam headcanons

contains: brief dubcon mention, manipulation, emotional/mental abuse, degradation

yandere adam

who, under all the false bravado, is insecure. cuckolded twice—and by the same man no less—how could he not be? the overwhelming anxiety of losing you haunts him. try as he might, loud vulgarities make terrible compensation for confidence.

who sabotages any meaningful relationships. what do you mean you’re lonely? this is heaven; you’re surrounded by others! the company you keep never satisfies your desire for connection, seemingly close yet just out of reach. despite your best efforts, you couldn’t seem to form any deep attachments. the mental isolation will wear you down and warp your thoughts. were you even worth keeping around? distraught and rejected, adam will pull you out of the depths of your despair. who needs those stains? they don’t appreciate you like he does; don’t care for you like he does. you can see it now, can’t you? he’s the only one for you.

who openly tears you down with stinging criticism, finding fault in all that you do. his denigrations are no more than projected insecurities. though he casts a confident image, he is doubtful and hesitant. his harassment is subtle; any concerns you bring up brushed off and met with admonishment. don’t be so sensitive! that’s just how he is! you must be misunderstanding him. adam himself hardly recognizes his arraignment, sending crude remarks your way merely out of habit. he’s never meant any of it, often leaving himself wondering why he pressures you so much. it’s not that he takes pleasure in your dejection, but rather that he subconsciously recognizes his own faults. he knows he’s no good for you and that you deserve better. so he tears you down as he does himself, hoping that if you have no confidence in yourself, you’ll settle for him. though he means none of what he says, don’t expect any apologies. he’s convinced himself he’s above apologies, above you.

who takes what he wants, always pushing your boundaries, never asking for permission. it’s only natural; you belong to him. i mean, who asks their toys for consent to play? things would be so much simpler if you just cooperated. who cares if he plays a little rough? you can take it. that being said, adam views you less as an object and more as an extension of him.

who’s never far. what do you mean you’re going out? don’t go anywhere just yet; he’s coming with. no matter the destination or occasion, he’ll be there. what if you never come back? what if you leave him?

who’s entitled. he was the first soul to enter heaven; he’s earned this! you think you’re too good for him or something? you should be happy that he chose you! he has plenty of sluts lined up to ride the original dick; he could easily replace you. empty threats, yet stinging all the same.

who craves your worship. paradoxical as it is, he is annoyingly conceited yet also self-deprecating. having been divorced twice, he often worries he’s inadequate. so he overcompensates confidence to the point of arrogance. his doubt in your faithfulness connects to his past trauma, so compliment his features, praise his accomplishments, and let him know just how much you appreciate and enjoy being around him. he may not say thank you, but you can tell just how much he values your opinions.

who demands your attention. evading him is nearly impossible. he’ll take offense, of course, but ultimately see it as a challenge. clearly you were ignoring him because you wanted his attention! why else would you avoid him? no worries, babe! he’s all yours! isn’t he so generous?

who shows you off, proudly announcing your relation to everyone you meet. all of heaven, perhaps even some of hell, will know of you. whether you’re with adam or not, crowds will whisper, point, and goggle as you wander. you’re his bitch, hot stuff! get used to it! he wants everyone to see just how out of reach you are. you’re his, only his

who derives no pleasure from hurting you. adam will never physically harm you. underneath that crude exterior, he truly does care for you. he can give you everything, anything! just don’t abandon him. to keep you by his side, nothing is above him.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Tear Down My Reason [6]

Blue Jones x nonbinary afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Kinktober 2024 Masterlist • Day 13: Shower Sex

Summary: Blue makes you jump.

Series Masterlist

A/N: Thank you so much @thexsanctuaryx for beating and saving me as always! And for good baby!

Warnings: kissing, pet names, fingering, p in v sex, shower sex, always gonna say a bit of dub con because reader is a paitent, however everything is consentual, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 1241

You were allowed to walk about in some parts of the asylum unaccompanied during free time. You didn’t need permission to go down this corridor.

But it still made you uneasy when you were on your own. 

Russell, one of the newer orderlies, was watching you from the end. Seemingly waiting for you to walk past him. You swallow. 

The sense that if you turn and go the other way would be a very bad move fills your chest at the same moment you know that walking past him will also be. 

You slow your step, thinking rapidly, maybe you were overreacting. Blue would have-

You yelp as someone grabs you from behind and pulls you into the showers, you try to yell through the hand on your mouth, about to lash out, but quickly relax when you hear his voice.

“Shh, shh, Honey, Honey, it’s me.” Blue moves to stand in front of you, his hands on your arms, stroking your skin. “Sorry I scared you.” 

You give him a weak, but playful smack on his forearm and he grins. “You’re lucky I didn’t bite you.” 

He moans and pulls a face, “Honey,” he steps closer, lightly rubbing his hips against you. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” 

You chuckle, “I didn’t promise anything.” 

He pouts playfully, “Well could you? Can’t just say something like that and expect me to be all casual about it. I wanna feel your teeth.” 

You snort and take a step back just to goad him. “Do you?” 

He nods eagerly, following. “Yes.” 

“And what exactly were your plans when dragging me into the showers?” 

“To fuck you in the shower.” He says simply, a little smirk on his lips. 

You give him a look, pretending that it doesn’t sound like a very interesting idea. “In the showers? When anyone could walk in?”

“I’ll lock the door.” He says eagerly, holding up his masterkey. “Come on,” he traces the edge of your top with the tips of his fingers. “Nice warm water and me between your legs?” 

The soft look he gives you is almost impossible to refuse, not that you’d want to anyway. “You make a compelling argument.” 

He grins, sliding his fingers under your t-shirt. “I sure do Honey.” He leans forward and kisses you messily, groaning when your tongue strokes his. He breaks the kiss for half a second to put his key in the door and lock it and then tugs your top over your head. 

Blue pauses as he traces the love bite bruises he’d left on your neck, a low groan reverberating through his chest. 

You shiver, partially because of the cold but mainly because of his touch and his eyes darken. 

“Ugh, Honey, Honey,” he mutters, kissing you senseless and walking you backwards towards the first shower stall. 

While the ones in this part of the building were separate from each other, there were no curtains, meaning whatever orderlies were usually monitoring wash time had a full unencumbered view of the patients. 

He pulls down your trousers and underwear, making you giggle when he tries to accomplish this and not break the kiss. You kick off your slippers and socks, not caring much for where they land.

The cold tile on your back makes you gasp and Blue chuckles, “Sorry, sorry,” he mutters as he turns on the shower head, shielding you with his body until he finds the correct temperature. 

“Mmm, see?” He rubs your arms affectionately, “all nice and warm.” 

“You’re getting soaked.” You laugh, pulling his t-shirt lightly. He was still in his jogging bottoms as well, but had, at least, slipped off his shoes. 

“This needed a wash anyway.” 

You snort as he pulls them off, letting them fall to the bottom of the shower and soak through completely. His cock bobs free, heavy and swollen with need.

“Now, I was promised some teeth,” he leans close, pressing you up against the warming titles. 

“I never promised anything.” 

He opens his mouth to speak, but you don’t give him the chance and sink your teeth into his neck. 

Blue groans instantly, becoming pliant in your hold. He pants in your ear as you nip and suck, muttering affirmations and sweet praises with every breath. 

“Bite me harder, Honey, please.” He slides his hand down to your thigh and hooks your left leg around his waist. “I really want to feel it.” 

You sink your teeth deeper, taking care to not break the skin and Blue shivers, weakly bucking against you. 

“Fuck, that’s it.” 

The water is a good temperature now, steam rising in the small space. 

Blue slips his hand down your chest, squeezes your right breast and flicks the nipple with his thumb until it hardens before he trails down your stomach and to your clit. 

Your hips buck instantly as he rubs it gently with his forefinger. 

“Mmmm, yeah,” he groans, his breath hot against your ear. “Keep biting, keep sucking, that’s real good Honey.” 

You do your best, saliva slipping from your lips and mixing with the water running down his chest as he rubs and rolls your clit in a tantalising rhythm. 

You moan into his skin, grabbing hold of his forearm. 

“Fuck, real good Honey.” He grinds his hips against you, rubbing his leaking cock along your inner leg. “You just keep your mouth nice and full and I’ll make you come, okay?” 

You whine, squeezing his forearm as you scrape your teeth along his jugular. 

“Oh god, yes.” Blue gasps, clenching his jaw as pleasure flows down his spine. 

Your thighs start to shake as he keeps stroking, keeps pulling you closer and closer to the edge. 

“You gonna be a good baby and come?” He mutters.

You sob out an affirmative and Blue grows. 

“Good baby.” He removes his hand from your clit quickly, but doesn't give you enough time to lament the loss before he takes hold of himself and pushes inside. 

You gasp, your mouth opening as he splits you open, filling you so perfectly. 

“So fucking good Honey.” He snaps, his voice gruff and strained as he bucks and rocks, ending each deep thrust with a roll of his hips that presses the dark curls between his legs perfectly against your clit. 

“Blue!” You bite down on your lip, holding him tightly as he moves, only able to hold on and take it with one of your legs around his hip. 

He swears, punctuating every thrust that has you seeing stars and clawing at his back. 

“I’m gonna…” You whine, your body buzzing. 

“Gonna let me fill you up Honey? Gonna be a good baby and let me fuck my cum into you?” He snarls. 

“Fuck.” You come hard, shivering in his hold as your tense and spasm, euphoria flooding your veins and leaving you weak and waitless. 

“Hon-ey,” Blue whines pitifully as he fucks you through it, bucking wildly until he follows you with a deep groan and sigh. 

He stumbles against you, pushing you back further against the wall and swearing. 

“Sorry Honey, sorry,” he moves back a fraction, stroking your cheek.

“It’s okay,” you grin, holding him close as he releases your leg from his hip. 

He gives you a completely sincere look. “Your pussy’s just so good it makes me want to pass out.” 

You snort, swatting him playfully and he giggles. “That’s terrible Blue.”

“I know Honey, I know.”

Thank you for reading!

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[chesometer]

Been replaying Dragonspyre with my friend and one thing that I’ve always found fascinating about it is the way that it handles the ghosts.

All throughout the world, you see that every human has been killed. Dragonspyre is a ruined world, and the only people still around are the servants of the dragon titan. In place of everyone who’s been killed, a ghost stands where they once stood.

What I love about the ghosts is their various levels of comprehension of the state that they’re in. Some of the ghosts acknowledge what happened, that the dragon titan completely razed their world. However, many don’t. In fact, there’s a decent number of Dragonspyre ghosts who flat-out don’t even realize they’re dead. One that struck a cord with me in particular said something to the effect of “I’m no longer tangible”, seemingly understanding his state as “still alive but not able to touch things for some mysterious reason”. Many of the ghosts make excuses for the fact that they can’t do what they once did when they were alive. This is either because they don’t realize they are dead, or my interpretation, that they don’t want to acknowledge that their lives were cut short.

I also love that so many of the ghosts are very much stuck in their ways from when they were alive. It’s basically left up to interpretation whether that’s a symptom of them being a ghost, or if that militant adherence to order and rules is a symptom of growing up in Dragonspyre’s culture that’s impossible to shake. There’s an NPC, Belia Windgazer, who is still running paperwork for the vaults, even though that paperwork is coming from and going to no one, and is not useful for a single person. It’s running through the motions of the busywork that you did when you were alive, and that’s kind of nightmarish. Even in death, they don’t get any rest.

Another NPC, Zanna Fireflower, has made it her main priority to secure a tower that has visibly been toppled a long time ago, leaving only a single floor. She sees this as a necessary military accomplishment. However, in the present day, this is basically entirely meaningless from both an objective and political viewpoint. Gaining control of this tower does nothing for nobody, the tower doesn’t even stand there anymore. Is this fixation simply something that is static beyond the grave, or is it such a point of pride for her that she can’t let go of such a pointless task all these years later?

Playing through Pirate101 and getting to the point where you meet the four ghosts of Ratbeard’s crew adds a new layer to this situation as well. In that game, those ghosts cannot move on from the mortal realm and go to the next life because they still have unsettled business in this world. Does that imply that with such a massive tragedy on Dragonspyre, the dragon titan not only killed countless people, but doomed them to never rest in peace and move to the next world due to the fact that all of their lives had been cut tragically short, leaving every one of them with unfinished business? Absolutely horrifying stuff

[fujisfuji]

I AM STATE ( VOID ) BY NEVILLE GODDARD TO CONNECT WITH YOUR AWARENESS

“ To rise to the level of any state is to automatically become that state in expression. But, in order to rise to the level that you are not now expressing, you must completely drop the consciousness with which you are now identified. Until your present consciousness is dropped you will not be able to rise to another level. Do not be dismayed. This letting go of your present identity is not as difficult as it might appear to be. The invitation of the scriptures, "To be absent from the body and be present with the Lord," is not given to a select few; it is a sweeping call to all mankind. The body from which you are invited to escape is your present conception of yourself with all of its limitations, while the Lord with whom you are to be present is your awareness of being.

To accomplish this seemingly impossible feat you take your attention away from your problem and place it upon just being. You say silently but feelingly, "I AM." Do not condition this awareness but continue declaring quietly, "I AM — I AM." Simply feel that you are faceless and formless and continue doing so until you feel yourself floating.

"Floating" is a psychological state which completely denies the physical. Through practice in relaxation and wilfully refusing to react to sensory impressions, it is possible to develop a state of consciousness of pure receptivity. It is a surprisingly easy accomplishment. In this state of complete detachment a definite singleness of purposeful thought can be indelibly engraved upon your unmodified consciousness. This state of consciousness is necessary for true meditation.

This wonderful experience of rising and floating is the signal that you are absent from the body or problem and are now present with the Lord; in this expanded state you are not conscious of being anything but I AM — I AM; you are only conscious of being.

When this expansion of consciousness is attained, within this formless deep of yourself, give form to the new conception by claiming and feeling yourself to be that which you, before you entered into this state, desired to be. You will find that within this formless deep of yourself all things appear to be divinely possible. Anything that you sincerely feel yourselfto be while in this expanded state becomes, in time, your natural expression.

And God said, "Let there be a firmament in the midst of the waters." Yes, let there be a firmness or conviction in the midst of this expanded consciousness by knowing and feeling I AM that, the thing desired.

As you claim and feel yourself to be the thing desired you arecrystallizing this formless liquid light that you are into the image and likeness of that which you are conscious of being.

Now that the law of your being has been revealed to you, begin this day to change your world by revaluing yourself. Too long has man held to the belief that he is born of sorrow and must work out his salvation by the sweat of his brow. God is impersonal and no respecter of persons. So long as man continues to walk in this belief of sorrow, so long will he walk in a world of sorrow and confusion, for the world in its every detail is man's consciousness crystallized. “ ~ Neville Goddard