#stop-entropy-lie-down

[txttletale]

do u know if hearts of iron is any good? having been exhausted by comabt in civ 6 im skeptical of a more warry game

i think hoi4 is the absolute worst modern generation paradox game by a large margin. every single nation feels exactly the same except for the sloppy bandaid solution of the stupidly convoluted focus trees. if you didn't like the micro in civ 6 you will hate hoi too. a hard "not recommended" from me tbh

[the-nyanguard-party]

do u know if apas-95 is ok / coming back?

she's ok, she got her blog taken down but she's not too bothered by it. if her blog isn't reinstated by tumblr i dont think she's coming back, she said she was kinda done with her blog anyway

[transmonstera]

congratualations and goodlucking on the job!!! you're gonna be so jobbish

just got home from my first shift!!! I am very tired but wow look at me go I'm so employed

[journeysfable]

I really enjoy that the Combine Soldiers, both canon and fanon, seem to treat the Overwatch voice like it's their mom. "Overwatch says stop kicking it... He stopped kicking it." "Overwatch... My uh... Vehicular transportation is inoperable. Requesting replacement... Please." (< From Entropy Zero 2) And that one soldier in hl2 who is like audibly wondering how to explain to Overwatch that Freeman is working with a colony of insectoid aliens.

Something about these killing machines acting like children is just very silly to me. It makes sense. Overwatch probably technically created them and also regularly threatens them like an abusive parent. But its still funny. These guys go from shooting at rebels with no second thoughts to like "Ummm.... I swear none of my neural implants are broken. The rebels have managed to tame a bullsquid and its fucking huge. Yes a bullsquid. They are petting it. Why would I lie about this??? Please send backup. Ugh. Bad news, guys. Overwatch thinks we're looking for attention."

Anyway on a related note does anyone want to animate Lilith from Escape From The Bloodkeep saying "I'm not angry I'm just slightly disappointed" but replace her with Overwatch and her thousands of spider children looking down in shame but it's just a bunch of Combine soldiers. I think it'd be funny.

Here's a link in case you want.

[divaofmads]

MOB WIFE | JOEL MILLER

☠️It is inspired by an Italian mafia who turns into a mafia boss when a woman enters his life while he was a physics teacher.☠️

I'm not someone who has a mafia fetish, but I definitely have a fetish for imagining Joel Miller as a mafia or a teacher. ^^

☠️WARNINGS: ‼️18+ only‼️, Age Gap (early 20s/ late 30s), oral for male and female, bdsm, punishment, No Y/N, Betraying, Daddy Kink, Some Getting Harm, female reader, Joel turns very Creepy and Dark, Rough Sex, lovers to enimies, Sexual Violence, Crime, Blood, Murder, No Orgasm for you, Slang!, Language!!!

Note: I am an amateur for all these and apologize for any mistakes I made as English is not my native language.

Word: 15k+

~ Don't get inspired, just read and enjoy ~

Before becoming a mafia member, Joel was an academic in the thermodynamic department. He had a peaceful life. The only problem was the difficulty of the course he taught. Most of the time he would write questions on the board and no one would understand them. And those who thought they understood topics could not perform well in the exams. Luckily, you were there. You had an insatiable interest in chemistry and physics since high school. It was only natural that you would shine in this course, which was a mixture of the two subjects. For the past forty minutes, you would discuss topics one-on-one as if it were just the two of you in the class. You would go to his office after class and even though he had a lot of work to do, he would always make time for you. Sometimes, while discussing the effect of entropy on life, you learned details from your own lives, which brought you closer. Joel looked into your eyes like no one else had ever looked in. His eyes contained love, compassion, and happiness. As you realized his interest in you, regret, sadness and love appeared in your eyes. Because you hid your family. Everyone thought your last name was completely coincidental. You were a big liar and the consequences for that lie would be disaster for both of you.

After class ended, if your departure times were the same, you went to the front of the building where his office was located and waited for him. Although he was surprised to see you at first, after he got used to it, he would walk out the door with a smile. He had his laptop bag in one hand, his jacket draped over the finger of his other hand and placed it over his shoulder, your engineering books between your body and your arms, you were walking slowly down the tree-lined path. Even though you were brave, you were too shy to talk. He would say the first word to start a conversation. Sometimes, you got nervous when it came to your family. You had to lie. Your mother was a housewife, your father was a taxi driver. Since your financial situation was below average, you worked a part-time job. You couldn't leave your family. Despite everything, you had a happy family. While all these lies were coming out of your lips, the fact that your father killed your mother was harassing you. You felt trapped between all these lies and truths. Your face was down, emotions showing on your face. Joel, misunderstanding the reason for your discomfort, wrapped his arm around your shoulder and made suggestions to you.

But now you've changed a lot. You were not interested in the lesson anymore. Even though you seemed to be watching the board with your elbows on the table and your head supported by your hand, you were startled when Joel asked you a question.

It was another day when you weren't paying attention to class. Because there was a boy on your mind. He was obsessed with you and he knew who you were. He knew who you were in love with. If you didn't go out with him, he would tell everyone who you really were. All your lies would come out and Joel would hate you. Your friends would stop seeing you or anyone who wanted to take advantage of your power would become your friend. In fact, the boy's father was using him. They were rich and wanted to strengthen their company by taking support of you which is the member of respectable mafia family.

You frowned as you looked at the second law of thermodynamics written on the board, thinking about what the boy had told you. Entropy is the thermal energy term that best describes life and death. While this topic should interest you, your gaze is actually proof that you are not in class, and your flinching and stuttering whenever he asks you a question was really getting on Joel's nerves. He was aware that your capacity was not ordinary like others. He was also aware that if he worked on you at this young age, you could be one of the good scientists of the future. What happened to you? He had to find out.

"I want you to leave the classroom." Joel said while writing a question on the board. At first, no one understood. Everyone was looking at him with blank stares. The chatty student in the class asked him who he was talking about. Pedro turned his body towards the students and looked at you. The others followed the lecturer's eyes. You were ashamed. You didn't deserve what Joel did to you. You could have defended yourself, but you didn't. Besides, you had more important things on your mind than thinking about these things. You were angry with him, you were hurt. You unzipped your bag and stuffed everything on the table inside. Your movements were loud. You were stepping on your heels hard as you left the classroom.

Joel called you. “Come to my office after class!”

Everyone was surprised at how the topic had come to be and how it had trapped you in its center.

You wanted to get out of the building and run as far as you could. There were plenty of places on campus where you could hide. You had gotten tired of crying over time. You were wiping your eyes with the backs of your fingers when you saw a beautiful cat watching you. You sniffed and looked at the cat. Had the goddess Bastet come? This nobility inspired you. You picked up your bag and took out your little sketchbook. You hadn’t picked up a pen in a long time to express your art. Your creative spirit had finally come out of the cell it had been locked up in for a stupid young man. The cat had long gone from you, but who cared? You had seen that cat with your mind, not with your eyes. The cat with black and cinnamon fur looking at you haughtily, was dancing in your notebook, searching for happiness in the thorny arms of gloom.

"Painting is another way of keeping a journal." He said. You knew who the voice belonged to.

So you responded without looking up. "Pablo Picasso."

When you saw him sit next to you, you compromised your comfortable position and show respect to your lecturer, despite what he did to you.

He asked without looking at your face. "Why didn't you come to me after class?"

"If I had go to office of someone who wronged me early, I might have said things I would regret later." you replied.

Joel was amazed by your sincere response. You had brought up the subject that bothered you without breaking the barrier of respect. It was a sensible, intelligent response for a twenty-one year old girl.

"Is it unfair that I am angry because you no longer pay attention to class, ignore the lessons, and lower your grades?"

You replied with a sad look. "I'm not special to you anymore, am I? I'm not different."

Joel looked at you. “Do you think I feel that way about you?”

He took the sketchbook from your hand and waved it in the air. "Who else could do this besides you?And I haven't seen that notebook on your desk in months."

He didn't answer your question. He really kept an eye on you all the time. While you were chatting with your friends in the cafeteria, while you were doing research in the library.

You pressed your lips together shyly and looked down. “I haven’t felt this cared for in a long time. Thank you, Mr. Miller.” It was your first smile after class.

"You don't have to date a guy like Bill in order to love yourself. Don't be fooled by his popularity. He's nothing. And neither are those who follow him."

You were very surprised. He had misunderstood your closeness with Bill, but he knew about you.

"I wish I could make you aware of yourself," he said with meaningful looks. "Then you would understand who you really belong to." You didn't know why, but you felt strange.

You stammered, "Thank you for this nice conversation, Mr. Miller," and stood up. "See you on Wednesday."

You felt his eyes still on you as you walked away. You couldn't see, but you knew. It was exciting. Maybe it was just the typical young woman erotomania you had in mind.

He gave you strength and you no longer cared about what Bill told you. Joel cared about you. Of course, as a mature man, he would see through the lies you told and support you.

You were as active as ever in Mr. Miller's classes. You asked questions and talked about the subject you had researched the day before. While you usually avoided classes, you now listened to the lesson alone, ignoring Bill.

By the time Joel put a question mark at the end of the equation he wrote on the board, you had already solved it and were shouting the answer with excitement. He turned to you and smiled with satisfaction,

"Not bad at all, well done," he said, making you proud among the other students.

But your disregard for him was starting to get on Bill's nerves. He wanted to have fun with you and make love. To satisfy his sexual desires. You were the most attractive girl in school and he had already made you his own. You were the chosen one for him. You should have been grateful to him and done everything he said as if you wanted to please your king.

One day Joel was sitting in his office checking the exams. He wasn't happy with any of them. The highest grade was DD and when he saw that he was about to cry with happiness(!) Of course your paper was at the top of the list. Although he was hoping for an A+, he was also very happy that you got a B+. It really gave him hope that you were starting to get back to your old self. But not everyone thought like him. He heard shouting from the window. A girl and a boy were getting into a verbal fight. And the girl's voice was familiar. He got up from his chair and went to the window. How upset he was to see you fighting with Bill! That young dude was in a relationship she didn't deserve.

The more you tried to fix things with Bill, the more he scolded you, thinking he was the worst. He was practically forcing you to do something. You were begging him, but he wasn't listening. If you didn't do what he said, it would be bad for you. The other students around were looking at you with question marks and astonishment. Joel couldn't stand the injustice you were doing to yourself, so he clenched his teeth and fists. He could go downstairs and make him regret the day he was born after taking him away from you. He should have spent the day in the hospital corridors because he upset you. If you were together, he would have a nice meal with you after school to celebrate your success. However, you were ignorant because of your age. A mature man knows how to treat a woman in front of him, and would satisfy a woman's desire for a relationship to the fullest. He wanted to make you experience this, but he also respected that he wouldn't want to spend his life with an old man.

Joel wanted to put all this 'blind love' nonsense aside. It was time for the woman he loved to open her eyes. He looked at you again from the window of his office and called out, his tone hardening.

"Come to my office right now!"

The students around you were also watching you curiously.

You looked up reluctantly and turned your head from side to side to show that you didn't want this. It would be best to surrender yourself to loneliness and get depressed. But Joel's angry gaze was more than enough to break your stubbornness.

You puffed out your cheeks and whined like a little girl.

Joel was pacing back and forth while waiting in the office. He was too anxious and nervous to wait. The moment the door opened and he saw you in front of him, he released his anger.

"What are you doing! Do you realize you're ruining your youth for someone like him!"

You were sobbing. "No matter what I do I can't stop him, I've done everything he wants but he wants more!"

Joel got angry. You heard how his tone got harsher. "I told you! I warned you! Why are you with that son of a bitch and not someone who loves you!"

The curse you heard from your teacher had stopped your crying, turning your sadness into confusion. Since it was lunch break, there was no one on the office floor, thank God.

No matter how much you were aware of the hatred in the man's eyes, the pain he was hiding inside had settled in your heart. You didn't know what to say. Should you tell him everything?

"Why does my life concern you!" You tried to ask for an explanation, but it was more of curiosity. You wanted to know the reason. If you knew, if he had told you the truth while looking into your eyes... Were you ready for a single word that came out of his lips?

Your question frustrated Joel. He kept his eyes fixed on the wall behind you, thinking. He muttered to himself.

"You're right. It's my fault," he said and motioned you to the door. You turned back to Joel, looking guilty and slowly walking towards the door. Before you walked out the door, you looked at him again and whispered.

"We don't have the relationship you think. There's a lot you don't know about me."

He frowned, finding it strange. “What do you mean?”

You were about to leave the office without answering when Joel grabbed your arm and pulled you to him, hugging you tightly. He was kissing your hair. “What’s wrong with you?” then he took your face in his hands. His gaze was stern. “I’m here for you, do you hear me? Tell me everything, no matter what.”

"I am that person," you said. Joel looked into your eyes as he stroked your hair, urging you to continue. "My last name is. I am the daughter of a famous mobster. Bill. Bill knows that, and his family is using me to get close to my family. He's threatening me with you. He's threatening to ruin your life and complain to my father. He knows how much I love you."

Joel pulled away from you in shock. “This can’t be happening, you…”

You were crying.

Joel grabbed your arm and pulled you back into his office, closing the door behind him. “Those stories you told, were they all lies?”

You wrapped your arms around your chest. You couldn’t look at him; your eyes were fixed on a spot on the floor. The corners of your eyes were red and swollen from crying. “Yes, but I wanted to hide from the sins of my family for once. I wanted people to look at me normally, Joel. I wanted them to meet me and spend time with me with neutral feelings. It wasn’t my choice to be born into this family. I’m so sorry.” Tears flowed down your cheeks, creating an image resembling roads.

Joel didn’t know what to do or say. All he knew was that he didn’t want you to cry in front of him. He wanted you to be strong. You shouldn’t have to answer to anyone. His fingers gripped your chin roughly and tilted your head up. He wanted to change the fear in your eyes. He suddenly brought his face closer to yours and brought his lips to yours. His tongue was exploring the inside of your mouth. His fingers on your jaw were now caressing your cheeks.

He pulled his head back and hugged you tightly. “Maybe you should have sought heaven in the arms of a man who desires you. Not by hiding behind lies.”

It was hard to talk while crying. "I couldn't drag you into the dark pit of my life, but I can't take it anymore. I had to tell everything to someone I trusted."

You were the woman Mr. Miller called 'my weakness'. Of course, it was impossible for him to resist you when you were talking to him like that. He looked at her with displeasure. His attitude was strict. "Don't worry about anything that bothers you. Just know that I am here for you and will always be here for you."

Without waiting for you to respond, Joel moved towards your lips, wanting all that waiting to end. He was kissing you so hard that he held you tightly by the waist, feeling that you couldn’t keep your balance. His fingers touched your cheek and squeezed your lips between them, making them part. This way, his tongue could easily find its place in your mouth. You felt ticklish as the papillaes rubbed against yours. His saliva was flowing from the tip of his tongue to yours; it was warm. Almost equal to his body temperature. Then he took his tongue out and tasted the outside of your lips. In the meantime, one of his hands was in your hair, pressing you against him. Your hair was under his fingers. He suddenly grabbed them and tilted your head back.

"Am I really the one you want to have your first with? Are you sure about that?" he asked with his passionate gaze.

"I've never been so sure," you responded. You liked his tough attitude.

He released your hair and took a step back, ordering you to take off your shirt. You started to undress at the same time. After throwing your clothes aside, Joel quickly moved towards your lips. This time he didn't intend to hold you back. You shivered when you felt his weight and strength all over your body. You stumbled back and your body fell into the soft fabric of the couch. Joel fell right on top of you. A small groan came out of your mouth in surprise. Then you both started laughing. But you couldn't help but make love. This man knew how to touch you. Joel buried his head in your neck and sniffed.

"Why can't I get enough of your scent?"

The scent of your skin made him hungry; its color decorated your skin like a maraschino cherry on top of a dessert. "If you only knew how hard I tried to smell that every time you passed me." His tongue traveled from where your pulse beat to her throat and then down to your collarbones. His hardening penis between your legs was slowly starting to put pressure on your outer lips. Your eyes widened in surprise. You didn't think he could be this hard. You moaned raggedly.

He put his elbow on the seat and supported it. He wanted to watch your surprise before he was about to go down to your breasts. His face was right above you now. He was looking down with pleasure.

"How do you feel? Do you like it? Don't you want more?"

Your eyebrows furrowed in pleasure. You bit your lower lip, showing how much pleasure you were getting.

Joel straightened up, pulled the waistband of your shorts and pulled them off along with your panties. He looked at the hairs that had just started to grow on your outer lips. Even though you apologized shyly, Joel really liked it. He leaned over you again. Your head was between his arms, supported by his elbows. His face got even closer to yours. He hugged you. You felt like you were in prison. Orgasm prison! His lips were on your cheek, his hot breath hitting your skin as he rubbed his penis against your inner lips. He released one hand and unbuttoned his pants, trying not to get off of you.

He placed his penis between your inner lips and began to rub it from your clitoris to the entrance of vagina. Joel's lips parted. His eyes squeezed shut. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "How can you be so hot and wet? We've only just begun. Did you desire me that much?"

You moaned every time Joel’s penis tip slid over your clit. “Oh, you moan so well. Perfect!” he said.

You heard the office door suddenly open and close. Shit! Someone had seen you. Joel got up quickly, fixed his clothes, and ran to the door and out. A few students in the hallway looked at him but didn’t understand what had happened. When he looked back at you in the office, you were startled by what he had said. “It was Bill.”

From that day on, Bill didn't use what he saw against you. It was as if he had forgotten what he saw. Even though Bill's family and your family were getting closer day by day, there were still things that weren't right. Still, the relationship between you and Joel was getting better day by day. You were bonding. You would meet secretly in his office during meal times, lock the door and have sex.

***

If there was one thing that was bad about hot summer days, it was the rain for Joel. The raindrops increased the humidity, making the air even more oppressive.

Her linen blouse was soaked and uncomfortable. He put the book down next to him, took off his T-shirt in one move, and threw it on the chair across from him. His now wheat-colored skin, shiny with sweat, looked quite inviting.

While looking at the heat transfer questions in the book in his hand, he was shaking the ash from the end of her cigarette into the beer residue in the glass on the coffee table next to him, and at the same time trying to solve a question about the heat exchanger unit of the tubular evaporator in his mind. As if his eyes were swearing loyalty to the page, he took the cigarette between his two fingers and squeezed it between his lips when he heard a notification on his phone. The light on the screen distracted him and made him look in that direction. It was on the coffee table. At first, he thought it was one of his friends who had written it and ignored it. He found the answer and turned the next page. But his eyes were on the phone. Perhaps the department head had announced that there would be a meeting early tomorrow. He liked to choose such inconvenient hours. After school, when you feel free, work doesn't leave you alone.

He took another sip from his cigarette. Then he threw it in the glass. It made sizzling sounds with appetite, as if the beer was waiting for it to do the same.

Joel used his index finger as a bookmark, placing it between the pages he was on, and leaned over to unlock his phone.

The message was from you. Since he didn't have such habits, he got excited and sped up his movements. He put the book where it was before and stood up. His eyebrows were furrowed with curiosity.

- Help

When Joel saw your message, he called you in a panic. You didn’t answer. He called again. The phone rang for a long time but you didn’t answer. Joel was about to go crazy. He was walking in the living room with harsh steps. He was muttering and cursing to himself. “What the fuck is going on!” While he was thinking about what to do, his phone rang. Anger, fear and curiosity made his hands shake. When he saw your name on the screen, he hurriedly answered it, afraid that you would hang up.

“What’s going on honey, talk to me!”

Although you answered him, Joel could only hear you sobbing, then screaming. Joel shouted insults at you to get you to come to.

“Tell me where you are now, I’ll come!”

You said, your voice trembling, that you were at Bill’s house. “I did something terrible, Joel. Please help me!” You shouted.

Joel muttered to himself, "My God, what did you do?" Then he tried to calm you down. He was telling you that everything would be okay. Everything would be okay. They would overcome all their problems together.

"Now calm down honey so I can figure everything out. Okay? If you calm down everything will be perfect."

"Do you believe everything will be okay?" you asked emotionlessly.

There was hope in Joel’s voice. He acted as if he was happy despite everything, but his expression was the opposite.

“Of course, honey. You should believe too. Send me your location now."

The house you were in was in the suburbs.

When he arrived home by car, an hour had passed. He was now in front of the door. He looked around first, then checked if there was any noise coming from inside. He knocked on the door. After waiting for a while, the door slowly started to open. You were standing in front of him like a dead woman. Your skin was pale, your under eyes were dark. Your eyes were red from crying. When Joel looked at your condition, he pushed you away in fear and entered. He saw blood stains on the floor from the door that opened into the living room. When he entered there, Bill's lifeless body was lying on the floor.

He whispered, "Jesus fuckin' Christ! What have you done!"

You were sobbing while trying to explain the incident. "He made a plan, he made me come here. He said he saw us and he would kill you. He would do worse things to me than killing. His father betrayed us and he worked with the enemy family to appear as my father's friend. He attacked me to possess me. After torturing me tonight, he was going to kill me. I had no other choice." It didn't seem like you were explaining the events to Joel, it was like you were begging God for forgiveness.

It was his first night of crime. You had killed someone and Joel witnessed everything that happened to you that night. He gathered you and your things, pulled you by the arm and you got in the car and drove away. You were not well. You were in no condition to talk. All you felt was nausea. Things were going to get messy between the two families. It was unclear where Joel would fit into this story. He got involved in this without meaning to. He took you to a motel, took your clothes off, took a shower, then laid you on the bed and thought about what to do.

He sat down for a while and closed his eyes, trying to calm down with your phone in his hand. And now, the move that changed everything was finally made. After Joel calmed down, he called your father on his phone. He needed to tell him everything, so they had to meet.

Your father was talking to Joel in his office in your mansion. He was a manipulative man with high psychoanalysis skills. A beautiful talent for defeating his enemies. He understood Joel's character from his first sentences. He was too proud to betray the person he promised to. Moreover, he was madly in love with his daughter. He was ready to do anything for you. Maybe he could test Joel to decide whether or not to take him in.

In the end of the night, Joel sacrificed himself for your love and wanted to take the blame. Of course, the person who guided him was secretly your father.

Joel went to prison. Of course, Bill's father was in cahoots with the enemy family and their men were there too. They gave Joel hell in prison by order. Psychological violence, beatings, starvation, cuts on his face and body and tortures that I don't want to say. Joel went through personal mutations for every bad day he spent in prison. But no matter what, Joel didn't give you away.

On the day you were supposed to meet him, he was in such bad shape that he couldn't even appear before you. Although the guard had initially told you that he didn't want to meet you because he didn't want to, a small amount of money had been enough to make him tell the truth. Now you wanted to see him even more. Two officers had taken his arm to get him to come into the room. His face was bruised and one of his legs was broken.

You cried as soon as you saw him. Even though you said it was all your fault, Joel didn't think so. It was a price to pay for love. You kissed him on the lips.

"Oh Joel, things are so bad out there. I spend every day in fear and worry. My father said it would be better if you stayed here for a while longer. He promised to help you."

Joel understood everything. What he had experienced during his time in prison and what your father had told him made him look at life differently. He realized how much of a spoilsport and hypocrite he was.

Your father didn't help Joel. It seemed that way at first. But his only goal was to get Joel on his side and make him his assistant. He did everything for this purpose. He made your father experience situations that would prove his loyalty from prison. When the time came, Joel also told big lies, slandered people. He smuggled banned substances and equipment into prison. Your father and Joel were talking with secret messages, giving your father strategic ideas in the face of the events.

Joel eventually learned to survive in this rat hole, and there was no trace of his academic identity left.

Eventually the situation with Bill's family came to an end, but the feud with the Fontana family remained. Joel was released from prison after four years thanks to a corrupt prosecutor's decision.

Joel wasn't the only one who changed during those four years. After Bill's death, you too became closer to your father and his business. While your family life felt foreign to you, you began to manage your father's business step by step, while hiding your wealth and how it came to be. No one called you by your name anymore. You were Mrs. Castello. Even though you were a feared woman, you still felt the old you deep down. It was calling out to you from the black well you had imprisoned. But you had long since passed the point of no return. Whenever you visited Joel, you both saw the changes in you, but you didn’t talk about it. Otherwise, you were as afraid of feeling guilty as Joel was of hating you.

After Joel got out of prison, his only home was your mansion. That was his life. He wanted to be a promising professor but he had to be a slave to the mafia boss, however he had a plan.

You were in your father’s office, wearing a black jacket with a sable collar. A pencil skirt that was just above the knees and black stockings. You were sitting on the arm of your father’s chair, examining the documents in his hand. The red soles of your Louboutins were shining because you had your legs crossed.

Your maid excused herself and came in to announce that Mr. Miller had arrived. While your father had a pleased expression on his face, you swallowed nervously.

Joel made eye contact with you when he walked in. It was so long that your father looked at you and started talking.

“We’ve been waiting so long for this day to come.” he stood up and walked over to Joel, hugging him tightly. “Welcome home.”

“Thank you, Don Castello.” he said, but his eyes were still on you, a look you couldn’t understand.

You got married in a lavish wedding. Joel was now the son-in-law of the respected mafia boss, his right-hand man. He was the key to their fight against the Fontana family. Don Castello never left him. His decisions were never wrong. In fact, he had convinced them that he had infiltrated the Fontana family and betrayed you. He would leak information that they thought would be useful to them. In return, he would receive a large amount of money, property and men. Of course, he would never tell you what he had obtained. But there was one detail your father missed. Joel was never loyal to you. He was learning the secret files of two enemy families and using them for himself, and no one understood.

One day, you noticed the secret room of the house you lived in with Joel. It was a day when Joel went out of town. You were alone at home and unknown enemies opened fire on your house. You were caught in the middle of the conflict while they attacked your house with powerful weapons. While you were trying to escape, a rococo painting from the ceiling to the floor was shattered by bullets. After that bad night, you discovered the door leading to the secret room. You had to be good at software to solve the code, but luckily, you were an engineer. You knew software work well anyway. You worked until Joel got the news of what you had experienced and returned home, and finally you unlocked the door. The interior surprised you. At first, you couldn't even understand why there was such a room. There were many photos of people from the community hanging on the walls, notes, and maps drawn with pencils. There were many files and documents on the table and in the cabinets in the room. It was prepared to use even the smallest information about the mafia families. And you were taking the leading role. As you looked through the notes and documents, you saw that Joel had been aiming to cause a rebellion by manipulating everyone who worked under your father's command all this time. He had plans not only for you, but also for the Fontana family, and he was succeeding step by step.

Your breathing quickened. You had no idea your husband could be so dangerous. You should have been afraid of him, Joel was no longer the lecturer you met at university. He was a menace and he was betraying you to become a Godfather!

You heard his voice as you looked at the plan paper in your hand.

"So you finally learned everything, my dear."

"You...I don't understand why. Joel, you betrayed us. You betrayed me, the woman you loved!"

"A small price to pay for what was stolen from me, my love."

You frowned in disappointment. You waved the paper in your hand. "Was all of this more important than our love?"

Joel approached you. He grabbed your shoulders and caressed them. Although his expression said he was in love, the arrogance and ambition in his eyes scared you.

"No one can harm you, my love. I'll put an end to all this family nonsense. I'll take over and you'll be my queen. Not the Castell family, not the Fontana family... We'll rule the city together."

You looked calmly into Joel's eyes. You placed your hand on his cheek. "The man I love, where is he?"

“I’m still the man you love. It’s just that all this has shown me the dark side of life.” Your lips were trembling. “You were never that man, Joel. You just waited for the right time after you found out I was Castello, right?”

Joel gritted his teeth. "This isn't true."

Your face was expressionless as tears rolled down your cheeks. "When I started college, the reason I wanted to hide who I am was to protect myself from bastards who thought they could use me to gain power. Like Bill. But I see that I had already given that person my own hand."

Joel felt conflicting emotions at their most intense. Hate and love, sadness and anger, regret and satisfaction. "You know all that stuff isn't true."

You took two steps closer. Your bodies were a few centimeters away from each other. With a stern look, you said, "Everyone has chosen their side. I am now one of your worst enemies, watch your step, love of my life," and left the place.

You left the house without even taking your phone. You were able to cry after getting into the car your father had given you for the wedding and setting off. You were sobbing. Even if you tried to escape the curse of your last name, you would get caught sooner or later.

Your father was waiting for you in his office. When he saw you crying, he hadn't thought of Joel. After you told him everything, he started shouting with saliva coming out of his mouth and vowing revenge. You were your father's right-hand man now. Even though Don Castello was a powerful man, you knew Joel's weaknesses and weak points just as Joel knew you. It was time to trust your own intelligence and take control of the game. Who else could be more hostile than two people in love?

The battle between you was getting more and more personal. Just like chess, as you made moves, one side lost pieces, but neither side gave up.

Not only you but also your friends supported Don Castello. There were still a few families that remained your friends. They would help you at the cost of their lives.

The news was busy with the aftermath of the war between you and Joel. Every day, people were dying because of you. Bombs were going off, hostages were being taken, and there were clashes. The police should have intervened, but justice didn't work in this city, force did. The strange thing was that the more you fought, the more you fell in love with each other. The more aggressive you became as your love and passion intensified. Joel wanted you by his side more than ever. He wanted to touch you, smell your skin again. But now you were sins to each other. He couldn't stomach this. He wanted revenge on everything. Every second he was separated from you, forced to fight you, the seeds of revenge were growing in his heart.

One day he realized that all this had to end. It was a never-ending fight. Every moment he thought he was going to win, you were making a counter-move and ruining his plans. The best thing was to confront him.

He sent a message to the mansion. He would arrive there with his men on Friday. Everything would end and someone would win. You would sit in Don Castello’s office and make your decision instead of him. You turned to your father, who was sitting in the chair in front of the desk. “Father, I know you understand the decision I am going to make,” you said. Don Castello nodded and you continued. “Have them take you to our secret base outside the city. And don’t leave until this fight is over."

Don Castello looked at his daughter with a firm expression. "No, I did not become Don Castello by running away."

"I can handle him, but Joel won't stop until he kills you! You have to run!"

The man reached out to his hand on the table and shook it. "I'd like to say I'm sorry for everything I've put you through, but I'm a man whose emotions were taken away from him when he was a child. All I can say is that I have complete confidence in you. You'll be just as good as me in this community."

The real war would soon be fought in front of your house. That's why preparations were made, all possibilities were considered. Until that day came...

You and your father stood on the steps of the mansion. Your men surrounded you to protect you. Joel came with his men. You saw the men you used to work for. Your father had helped them, given them work when they were about to starve. But now they were with Joel.

Before they could begin, Joel stepped forward and glared at the woman he loved.

"Do you really want this, my love? Do you want our love to end in such an epic way? You still have a choice. Come to me and everything will be over."

You shouted. "The man I loved died years ago. I have no choice to make anymore!" then your voice got lower. "It will all end tonight."

Joel looked at you without answering. Every moment from the first day you met until today flashed before his eyes. He really didn't want this. He had such beautiful dreams with you. He swallowed. Then he looked at your father. He knew that everything was his fault. His eyes were as dark as before now. He gave the order to start. Neither Joel nor you were holding back. You both had weapons. You were fighting each other to death in the fight. You took cover behind one of the Greek columns at the entrance of the mansion and targeted Joel, who was hiding behind his car, and continued shooting. When you hid, Joel started shooting and running towards you. In the meantime, his men were protecting him.

You called out to your most trusted man to take care of Joel so that he would be distracted and you could shoot him easily.

You tried to get close to Joel by coming out from behind the pillar, by protecting yourself from the bullets and shooting at the others.

Joel was struggling with two people at the same time. You were caught in the middle of the fight, unafraid of death. Then there was an explosion. Immediately afterwards, the maid screamed loudly. "Don Castello!"

You turned around and looked. One of Joel's men had shot your father. His body was lying there on the ground. The man who betrayed you had killed your father had once trusted the most. You ran towards your father, screaming, but that man wanted to kill you too. This time he pointed the gun at you and fired. But Joel jumped on you, preventing the bullet from hitting. He shouted at his men to retreat.

You were in Joel's arms, screaming that you hated him. "Let me go! I wish I never met you!"

You hit his head with your gun to escape. You did it. As you ran towards your father's lifeless body, Joel called out.

"I'll let you mourn your father. We're leaving."

Joel got what he wanted, your father was dead. It made a big splash in the entire criminal community. The news that your father was dead. The city's police department was in shock. While everyone was arguing about who would be the new owner of the city, Joel had already declared himself the new The Boss of all Bosses . Even though you were separated, he remained married to you, a loyal and loving husband.

Of course, this was different for you. Yes, Joel was treating you like the man you fell in love with; you still loved him as before. However, you also wanted to avenge your father. That's why you made a deal with the famous detective of the police department. In the end, you managed to put him in jail. And for a very small matter. Tax evasion. With the pride of this, you lived happily ever after in your mansion. For a while, you were the queen of the mafia world all by yourself.

I imagined and designed Y/N as a godmother.

You were in the courtroom among the audience. Of course, you were sitting in the front row because you were Joel Miller's wife. But you were worried. Joel kept his eyes on you while his lawyer spoke and gave his defense. He knew very well that he went to prison because of you and today was the day of his acquittal. When you looked into his eyes, it was obvious that he was thinking about what he was going to do to you. You were so close to being together(!) So, were these your last moments of peace? Yes. The woman he loved had betrayed him. Moreover, he had a reputation as the most brutal mafia boss in your community. Who knows what kind of monster the betrayal of the woman he loved would turn him into!

You looked away from him, but you didn’t change your upright posture as if you were trying to convince him that you weren’t afraid of him. But you were praying inwardly that the judge would find an excuse to put him back inside. Unfortunately, it didn’t turn out the way you wanted. The jury and the evidence were in his favor. You were beginning to wonder how much the judge had been sold for. When the verdict was given and Joel was released, there was a loud applause in the courtroom. You turned around in shock. The public, who knew him from the news channels and interviews, hadn’t neglected to come to the hearing. He had a lot of fans. It was scary. From the outside, most of them looked like the children of good families.

When the court was finally over and they started to go out, you were the first to stand up and walk quickly. Joel was smiling meaningfully at you as you got up from the chair. He knew you couldn’t escape him. No matter what you did, go underground; he would still find you. Knowing this, you started walking down the hallway with shaking legs and a sullen expression in your eyes. Your father's friend and assistant Mr. Montana was waiting for you outside, by the car. Both doors of the car were open. You got in without wasting any time and started walking. Two big guys were standing behind the car. When you got to the main road, another car appeared to protect you. Everyone knew very well that Joel was looking forward to this day. He had to be faster. You were yelling for him to be faster! They were probably after you right now. When you lost your track and entered a deserted road, you would change cars, easily lose your track and get out of town. When you arrived target, you could breathe for passport procedures.

When you got to the suburbs, you looked around. There were no cars in front of you or behind you on the road. You leaned back in your seat, thanking God. With a heavy heart, you said,

"This is great! I won't see him forever!"

A pained expression was on his face. When you met him years ago, you thought he was the love of your life. Now he was your enemy. Your enemy whom you still loved like crazy!

"Finally," Mr. Montana said. "My queen, we finally saw the vehicle that was going to pick you up!"

A black van was waiting for you. Mr. Montana had chosen to stay while you got out of the car. Miller's men could have come in the meantime and opened fire on you. But you wanted to get in the car as soon as possible and leave without attracting attention. You turned to Montana as you greeted the driver of the van and drove off.

"You'd better go now. We shouldn't attract attention. It's safe from now on."

Mr. Montana asked with a worried look. "Are you sure, m'am?"

You looked at him firmly. "Of course. Go ahead!"

If you wanted to change vehicles, it wouldn't make sense to have a bunch of guys following you, stopping and waiting. So you wanted them all to leave. The driver and the two guys in the car would be on the alert in case there was trouble.

You got in the car as soon as possible. Contrary to what you thought, the car was empty. Only the driver in front greeted you from the rearview mirror.

"Welcome m'am. If you wish, we can set off immediately."

Although the man's gaze bothered you, being accustomed to your father's men did not leave any room for doubt.

"Yes, please."

The driver started the car and you set off. You were still looking around paranoidly. There was no one in the back that would make you think they were Joel's men.

You caught the driver's eye from the rearview mirror. He smiled.

"If you wish, I can close the screen. You will have a comfortable journey."

You pressed your lips together and gave your answer with a shy look. "That would be great, thank you."

After the automatic door closed, you relaxed your formal sitting position. You were looking outside. The sense of anxiety that had emerged inside you was clouding your mind. It was impossible for you to escape from Joel so easily.

You took the wrong turn. The man had missed the road. You leaned forward, frowning. You tapped the screen.

"You took the wrong turn! Hey!" He didn't seem to hear you. You raised your voice. You started tapping the screen harder. "I'm telling you! Stop the car right now, right now! Or you'll pay dearly!"

This wasn't the person you agreed with. You took the wrong car. It was one of Joel's men. They had killed the original driver who was supposed to take you to the airport, cut him up into pieces and put him in the back of the trunk. The car waiting was the right one; except for the driver.

You started screaming and banging on the windows. You lifted your legs up and started banging your heels against the window. You took deep breaths and gathered your strength, using your legs hard. But what could you do against the unbreakable glass?

Your screams echoed throughout the car. "You'll pay dearly for this, you son of a bitch!"

Soon, a hissing sound was heard and the room began to fill with knockout gas. Even if you tried to cover your face with your shirt and held your breath, it was impossible not to be exposed to the gas. You could neither open a window nor was the density of the gas decreasing. Finally, you let yourself go. Your body was relaxing, convincing you to let sleep take over.

When you opened your eyes, you could swear that the world had turned upside down. Maybe the world wasn't the problem. You were hanging upside down from the ceiling. You were completely naked, your arms were tied to your waist with a burgundy rope. Your lower leg was tied to your upper leg, the rope was stretched and tied to the other rope that tied your arm.

The light of the candles burning in the room with tiled walls was reflecting on the surface of the tiles. The musty smell of the pipes passing through the ceiling, covered in mud and filth and covered in moss, filled your lungs and made you feel nauseous. Even though it was uncertain what would happen to you, you were aware of the pain you would soon suffer. You were struggling as if you could break free from the ropes. Your hair follicles swelled as the coldness of the environment penetrated your cells, but the adrenaline spread by the fear surrounding your body prevented you from realizing the coldness of the environment.

Even though your voice was muffled by the gag, you continued to cry, and finally the moment had come. When the heavy door began to creak open, the sound echoed off the walls in a piercing way. You stopped crying and focused on the door. Although you couldn’t see it clearly because it was so dark, you could see enough to understand that Joel had come in. The way he was dressed, his anatomy, the way he was walking down the stairs…

Your muscles were tense. Your hands and feet were shaking. You were trying to say something. If you hadn't had the gag in your mouth, you wouldn't have been able to apologize to him. No matter how scared you were, no matter how much you regretted what you had done because of the pain you would go through, you wouldn't let him use your weakness as ammunition.

Joel began to descend the stairs, looking at your naked body in front of you. The candlelight, just like the tiles, was reflecting on your sweat-soaked skin. The orange color of the candle flame mixed into the palette that made up his skin tone. The damp look was so seductive that it brought to mind eroticism, a wet vulva, and how writhed as he caressed you.But you betrayed him. You betrayed him as the woman he loved and trusted, you wanted to get rid of him. That's why he could have killed you - by making you writhe in pain. But you were the only thing he valued in this life. He should have punished, but his love set his limits.

The thud of the shoe heel was starting to threaten you more deeply as it got closer.

Joel spoke his first words with a half-mocking, half-angry tone.

"So you thought you could escape me, my love? You thought you could get away from this man who is so head over heels in love with you." He was standing right in front of you now. His lips were right in front of your eyes. Every word he said was passionate as it came out. "What a shame, what a shame, my dear." He put his hand on your forehead. After wiping the drops of sweat from your forehead with his fingertips, his hand went to your hair that was tied into a ponytail this time and gently pulled your head closer to his, pressing his lips to your forehead; he smelled your skin and kissed you passionately.

" Oh, it's been a long time since I did that!"

Then he placed both hands on your cheeks. You were used to his roughness. Even during his academic days, he liked to treat you rough in bed. He squeezed your cheeks and reached for your lips. You thought he was going to kiss you, but he didn't. He stuck out his tongue and licked your lips as if he wanted to grasp their shape. His tongue covered your lips many times and slid up and down. He must have been unable to slow down, so he left your lips and started to adorn your chin with bites. Of course, his tongue was not restless. He continued to lick from your chin to your cheekbones and then to your eyes. Your face was filled with his saliva, your skin came alive with his moist touches. You groaned as your body spasmed with the unexpected slap. It hurt.

He shouted as hatred gushed from his eyes. "Why! Tell me why you did it! You knew what would happen to you!" When he grabbed your hair hard and lifted your head up, your head was spinning from being upside down. "Did you think you could escape me, huh? Do you think I'd leave you alone?" Suddenly calming down, he answered his own questions in a whisper. The mocking attitude on his face was frightening. "No, my beauty, there's no way you can escape me. Not possible while my soul, which has drifted away from God, is bathed in your holiness." After kissing her cheek awkwardly, he whispered in her ear as if he had something to hide. "You're the reason I'm alive. Even if you go seven floors below hell, I'll find you and bring you out, do you understand me?"

Your breath was shaking with fear. But when he looked into your eyes, there was no trace of fear.

Joel suddenly shouted, knowing that this was a challenge. "I said, do you understand!" Your eyebrows were furrowed in fear, and you blinked. Joel laughed with pride at revealing the role you had played. He breathed deeply and caressed your bare breasts in a harassing manner. He sighed at the sharpness of the tips and the pink color.

"You have no idea how much pleasure it gives me to see you afraid of me, my dear! It's more erotic than the nights I spent fucking you for hours; I'm sure of it."

He released you. He took a step back and opened the corner of his jacket, taking out his knife from a hidden pocket. High carbon stainless steel. Its sharp tip and razor-sharp edges and brilliance.

All kinds of torture came to your mind. The one you feared the most was that he could rip your eyes out. Your father had tried this on an assassin who was trying to kill him. You started to struggle and struggle as if you could escape the ropes. You were trying to shout, to scream. Your eyebrows were furrowed in fear. You were crying. Joel approached you again, showing you the knife, and held the sharp end in front of you, making eye contact.

"Shh... My love, don't worry, I won't hurt you. I just need to take the gag out of your mouth. I think we should solve our problems by talking as husband and wife," he said. He looked very calm and cute, but his expressions were never sincere. When you didn't stop crying, he suddenly pressed the sharp end of the knife against your throat. Although it hurt, it didn't even leave a mark on your skin. His angry gaze was back again. "First, stop crying! The helpless behavior of a strong woman like you gets on my nerves." he stopped and thought. Then he kissed your cheek. Insincere innocence appeared on your face again. "At least for now." Joel dragged the edge of the knife along your skin without pulling it out... From your neck to your jawbone, from there to your cheek and the binding part of the gag; it stopped there. He inserted it between your skin and the binding and started cutting the fabric. At the same time, he held you respobsible, as if he was muttering to himself. While one hand was holding the knife, the other hand was holding your waist with a force that hurt.

You began to cry and beg Joel to release you. But the words Joel used while demanding an explanation were enough to make you angry. He slapped you again. He shouted as if his throat was tearing. His skin turned bright red. "Tell me, was it worth it! Did you think you would avenge your father when you told that son of a bitch commissioner everything!"

"Enough, stop! I'm sorry."

He had calmed down. He took a step back, looked you up and down and started to walk around you with heavy steps. He was thinking about how and to what extent he would apply the evil ideas in his mind to you. Not being able to see what he was doing when he was standing behind you fed your fear. You heard his footsteps again. He was walking away from you. It must have been the loyalty he felt to his love if you died painlessly with a single bullet. You started to hear rattling. The sound of metal hitting the tiles, a banging sound resembling a cupboard door. You couldn't catch your breath.

Joel took the black leather whip in his hand and hit it in the palm of his hand, wanting the sound to bother you. If it was this hard even when he hit his own palm, the pain you would feel on your skin would be unbearable.

Joel approached you. A shiver ran through your entire body as he placed the tip of the whip on your spine and rubbed it all over. "Don't worry, my beauty, I won't treat you like I treat the other informants, but that doesn't mean I won't punish you." As soon as he finished his words, he hit the tip of the whip against your hip with all his might. The muscles in your body tensed, a weak "ah" sound escaped your lips.

"Did it hurt, huh?"

You stuttered. "Yes!"

"Good, I'll hurt you more."

This wasn't a whip used for fantasy. It was a leather whip used in horse riding to provoke animals. And it hurt more with each stroke. Your screams grew louder, eventually turning into pleas. Your skin was bright red, spreading to other areas that were white. The places he hit were slowly starting to go numb. Joel understood this from the calmness of your screams. A moment ago, you were screaming and struggling to get free of the ropes. Now it had been replaced by moans and small screams. It was time to stop. He threw the whip down and stood in front of you. He pulled your hair hard and hurt you. He looked into your eyes with greed.

"You'll be mine again, do you hear me! You'll fall in love with me all over again, whether you want it or not! Because you have no other choice!" He kissed your lips. His tongue had pushed your lips as if it was crushing them, meeting the inside of your mouth. The moisture on his tongue was intense. Your thirsty lips were wet with his saliva. It was disgusting, but it was as seductive as it sounded. You felt like you were one with the man you desired. He was sucking and biting your tongue on one hand. His hands were not idle, however. He was lifting it up, reaching your belly and caressing it down to your breasts. You wanted to scream when he suddenly squeezed your tips while stimulating them, but his merciless kiss prevented you.

Joel moved away from you again. He moved behind you, where he had just gone, and started turning the handle mounted on the wall. You could hear the sound of two metals rubbing together and you were slowly starting to lower. When Joel thought it was enough, he stopped. When he came back to you and stood in front of you, he saw how the inner lips of your vulva were glistening with your juices.

"Oh no, look at you," he pressed his fingers to your clitoris and moved all the way to the entrance of your vagina. "You're soaked, darling. Wasn't today supposed to be your punishment?" he said mockingly. Then, he brought his fingers together and raised his hand into the air and slapped your vulva. You flinched at the scream that escaped your lips.

"Joel, you don't know what you're doing! Please stop!" you said in a tearful tone.

He only responded to this with mockery. "Honey, I don't know whether to listen to your words or act on what I see." He slapped your vulva over and over again. Even though it hurt, the shocking flicks you felt on your clit were making your pupils dilate in pleasure. Your moans of pleasure were mixed with your cries of pain.

Joel couldn't take it anymore. He buried his head in your vulva. It was a betrayal! It was already your biggest betrayal when you left home. He was willing to go to jail again for you, but right now he just wanted to fuck you like an animal. To get inside you, to feel you from the inside! To fuck your vagina hard and take all his revenge on your burning pussy! The liquid flowing from your vagina was the honeydew in the hive for him. He was licking all the liquid greedily, smearing it on his lips. Your vulva was now burning. His slapping had turned the pinkness on the skin into redness, and this was whet Joel's appetite even more.

He moved one hand to the fabric of his pants as he continued. He clumsily tried to undo his belt buckle. Even that was hard to do when he was focused on your sweet peach. He undid the buckle without removing the leather belt from its slots and his fingers met the zipper. You thought the bulge that appeared in front of your eyes as you pulled it down would hit your face in a moment. His hardened penis was straining the fabric.

After his penis was out of his pants, Joel took it in his hand and pulled his mouth away from your pussy lips to look at where he would place his cock. You didn’t want to perform oral on him in this position. There had been many times when he wanted you to hang your head off the bed. He would use your mouth as a vagina. But you were gagging and gasping for breath. That was why you never adjusted the position that way. But right now, he didn’t care about that at all. You had to take your punishment.

Joel was in ecstasy with the pleasure you were giving him. He continued to suck your vulva while moaning, but after a while he couldn't resist and lifted his head from your buried womanhood. He put his hand on the inside of your thigh, spanked it and squeezed it with almost all his strength. You were sucking it so well that your groin cramped up until you couldn't orgasm.

His voice was shaking, "You know how to drive me crazy," he said and laughed with pleasure. He reached down to your breasts and slapped them every time he made them cum, caressing them painfully.

Moans interspersed with each sentence. "Yes, my love! Make your husband happy! It'll be a bargaining chip for the punishments I'll give you in the coming days, huh? What do you say, my beauty?" He squeezed your nipples so hard that you stopped sucking his cock and tried to scream in pain. Joel laughed. "I can only come when I watch you moan in agony," he said and crushed your nipples between his fingers once more.

Even though your body was shaken by the pain, the interruption of your vaginal pleasure was more annoying than the action itself. You put the oral sex aside and gently brushed your teeth against Joel’s flesh, trying to get him to take his cock out of your mouth. In response, he winced and took his big cock out of his mouth.

He got down on one knee and brought his face level with yours. He grabbed your hair and pulled. "What do you think you're doing!"

You grinned cheekily, calmly and confidently. "What about me? I'm dying to squirt all over your face."

"First you'll fill me up. Then it'll be your turn." he said and suddenly he let go of your hair and stood up, putting his cock back in your mouth and thinking that he was fucking your glistening vagina in front of him, he continued to fuck your mouth with back and forth movements. At this time, he put his index and middle fingers together and pushed them into your vagina. His cock was fucking your mouth, his fingers were fucking your womanhood. As your pleasure increased, your oral performance also increased and finally Joel slapped your vulva repeatedly and ejaculated. His sperm overflowed from your lips and the salty taste spread all over your mouth. The hot, slippery and thick fluid would have long since slipped down your throat if you hadn't been upside down. When Joel pulled his cock out of your mouth, he felt exhausted. He was tired. Breathlessly, he kissed her inner thighs with calm touches. "You must be a sex goddess. You have a divine talent and I worship it."

He took a few steps back and moved away from you, adjusting his fabric pants. In the meantime, you were watching him, while at the same time, you were grazing the semen flowing from his lips with your tongue. Even though your stomach was queasy as you stood upside down, you had already lost your way in the hot deserts of lust. Your expectations were high. You wanted to find an oasis in the middle of the hot desert.

You asked Joel while he was fastening his belt. "When will it be my turn?"

When he was ready, he stood in front of you again and leaned down, leaving a passionate kiss on your forehead. "You will come whenever I want, and that's not right now, my dear wife!"

You were surprised. Your groin ached, your vulva was on fire, your clitoris was pulsing. You shouted with the anger of being left unfinished. "You can't do this! I hate you, do you hear me!"

It was such a pleasure to disappoint you that he stood up, grinning evilly. "Honey, these are better days. Enjoy them," he said, and stood up and turned around. While you were hurling insults at him, he was walking towards the door. The evil man smile we are used to from movies covered his face. Without compromising his indifferent attitude, he acted as if you were not there, opened the door and left you there alone. Until his servants came and untied you.

[rosewaterandivy]

a light on in chicago - II. crush you with my voice

summary: the best part of believe is the lie || mics are for singing, not for swinging and the only thing that should be wrapped around Lazzara's throat are your pretty little hands.

w.c.: 3.2K

a/n: did i hunt down a treasure trove of emo lj entries from the early aughts? of fucking course i did, and here i gift you my wares - enjoy!

previous || playlist

SoCal, late September 2004

Steve’s focus narrows to a point on the page, poking a finger at the scribbled lyrics and asks, “Could we do something with that?”

His breath is warm against the shell of your ear. In typical fashion, he’d been lounging on the sofa behind you, acoustic guitar in hand, as you combed through a never-ending pile of journals. He sat up to point to the line, arm reaching around your head to poke at the manila page.

“I mean, maybe,” you allow with a twist of your lips. You hum a melody and scan through the lyrics, the few lines previous are fine, but you’d been in a bit of funk since signing to the label, though no one wanted to call it what it was— writer’s block.

You continue the mindless ditty, signing softly under your breath.

“The best part of believe is the lie, I hope you sing along and steal a line…”

You pause, glancing up to find Steve’s hair, grown long over the past few months and falling across his face, and bite your lip to prevent a woebegone sigh from escaping your lips. God, if he wasn’t so goddamn pretty and emotionally unavailable your life would be easy.

This is the version of Steve that lives in your head— open and soft. Light filters through the window, its warmth cascading across his face, a little tan and scruffy, but so quintessentially Steve that it makes your heart ache. He noodles something on the guitar to complement your singing.

“I need to keep you like this in my mind,” you admit, in spite of yourself.

“Write that down,” Steve says, scrambling for a pen, “That could be something, get it down.”

You scribble it near the original line on the page and add in an arrow for good measure. Robin and Eddie know well enough to leave the two of you be when you get like this - as if the only two people in the world are you and Steve. They promise something about bringing back food and head out for the rest of the afternoon.

“Can you play that melody again?”

He does and you transpose the notes as best you can on a fresh sheet of paper. You add the two verses as well, not sure where they’ll fall in the grand scheme of things, but you’ll leave that for him to figure out.

Stop 3: St. Louis, MO, June 2005

You’ve only been in his company him a handful of times since you’ve been on tour but he’s already proven to be a better partier than most. It’s impressive, really.

Beer and wine and liquor consumed with fervor. Your bandmates are too “mature to partake in entropy” or are just not in the mood. Boo, says you. And boo, says Adam, too.

Other than Eddie, who could be convinced to graffiti anything if inebriated enough, no one else is this much fun or eager. Adam is unquestionably on board to fuck shit up.

“Okay, your highness,” you say mockingly straining to look up at him, “I’m all fucked out from last night.”  You miss the raise of his brow. “My brain, coming out of my ears. My head, terrible. You drank that disgusting hell-juice and four bottles, Lazzara— way too much.”

“You weren’t far behind,” he laughs, “That was impressive for a chick. Especially one of your size.”

“Excuse me? I ain’t afraid to choke a bitch.”

“No, no…” a pause as he figures his next word. You cross your arms and tilt to one side, the line of your hip jutting defiantly, “You’re just delicate.”

Your eyebrows go up—an expression he doesn’t miss, and Adam raises both palms in defense, “Just my experience, that’s all,” he says, “Obviously, I don’t know you very well—maybe you’re not.”

“I will drink your ass under the table, dime-store Jesus.”

He laughs, loud and joyful, “Hell yes. Let’s do it.”

“Gimme thirty minutes with a gatorade and I’ll meet you—“ You pause when you catch him staring. Eyes glimmering a sharp twinkle of piqued interest in your challenge, “What?”

“Meet me where?”

Against the rising heat of the sun, Adam steps closer, casting his shadow over your smaller frame, towering like a pillar over you. One enormous hand innocently wanders to your cheek, heavy fingers rubbing a patch of dirt off your brow. “That’s better,” he mutters, leaning in, hint of a smirk growing wild on his handsome face, “Now, where should I meet you, darlin’?”

Southern boys. Incredible.

“Ew. We will not be fucking if you call me that again.”

That rumbling laughter escapes him again, a deep sound from inside his belly, all genuine. “So, you will?”

A soft hum, chased by cheek, “I’ve heard it helps gets rid of headaches.”

“Not a thing, alright?” You ask when Adam lifts your shirt over your head.

“‘Course not,” he agrees before falling backwards onto the sofa in the lounge of their tour bus, “Not a thing at all.” He shucks his clothes, too, all broad and tight muscles underneath his shirt. Adam nibbles along your neck, “If you’re not into it, for any other reason? Someone on your mind?”

You’ve stopped paying attention to anything but the hard plane of his lower abdomen beneath your palms. Chest, too. Thick neck you would love to–

“Are you—” Adam stutters, looking down at your hands, “Are you choking me?”

You blink, “Oh. Oops. I mean— do you care?”

Adam pauses for a second, then shrugs, pulling you into his lap and folding his hands behind his back obediently. You squeeze lightly, just to test the waters— his dick jumps.

“Fuck no, have at it.”

He says his farewells to Steve and Eddie in the late afternoon, promising future parties and more booze with his next return. You wish your panties were stuffed back into his mouth; small talk positively blows.

Stretching across the picnic blanket, you wave a little with your foot, calling goodbye before turning your attention back to the screen with a little yawn. Just a pre-nap daydreaming session. Popping in your headphones, you set your iPod to shuffle.

“What the hell was Adam up to?” Eddie mutters as he walks past, “You see his neck?”

Steve plops down in the chair behind you, eyes narrowing, “Couldn’t find you earlier, thought we were going over the setlist.”

You nod languidly, resting your cheek onto folded forearms. “Sorry. Had a headache.”

“You okay?”

“Mhm,” your eyes close. “It’s gone now.”

“Riiiight,” Steve allows, watching Lazzara walk away with a spring in his step. “You fuck him?”

Your lips pull to the side, “What’s it to you?”

“Absolutely nothing.”

“Good.”

“Great,” He bites out as he pockets his phone, a muscle feathering in his jaw slightly. “So, the setlist?”

After rifling through your bag, you toss him a battered notebook littered with your signature scrawl. Steve flips through the pages going through with his own pen and noting ideas he likes, asking occasionally what you meant by this or that. The conversation is surprisingly civil, given that for the past week or so you’d been at each other’s throats over the stupidest things.

Close quarters was nothing new, but the pressure was. The label was counting on this tour to generate enough press and interest to ride the buzz into the fall and a potential North American tour. Eventually, the wagons would circle for planning the next album, songwriting would commence, and you’d probably throttle Steve before all was said and done.

But for now, there’s a breeze blowing through and birdsong in the air. It’s almost nice. 

Until he decides to go ahead and ruin it.

“You need to transition from the final verse here,” he says with a twist of the mouth, pen tapping against the page to show you. “It’s missing something, like a line or two. You shouldn’t have crossed out those last lines, they’re good.”

You read the section quickly, lips forming the words with a percussive puff of air. 

And I cast a spell over the West to make you think of me

The same way I think of you

This is a love song in my own way

Happily ever after below the waist

Ripping the journal from his grasp you stand with a huff, with full intentions to stalk off in the hope of finding Ed or Rob to distract you from the overwhelming urge to wring Steve’s neck.

That wouldn’t be good for band morale, but it would make you feel better.

“That’s not the setlist, dude! None of this,” You wave the journal in your hand, “Is fit for consumption right now; Eddie hasn’t even seen this yet.”

Steve perks up, finds that he likes knowing something your best friend doesn’t. 

“Sooorrrry,” he drawls, not sorry in the least. “Wasn’t aware you needed more time with the sophomore album, Mozart. Looks about done to me.”

You scoff and cross your arms. “That’s only because you’re trying to suck up to the label, of course you’d say that.” Fitfully, you shove your stuff into your bag and shove your slipping sunglasses up to cover your eyes. “Just stay out of my shit, Harrington!”

He watches as you strut off, chucks kicking up dust in your wake as you weave between the buses and tents. And yeah, he’d really done it now, you were officially pissed off. Steve rakes a hand through his hair and sighs. 

Well, in for a penny, in for a pound.

Cursing Steve’s jock past, you attempt to outrun him before he can catch up. Which goes about as well as can be expected. 

Taking a hard right, you’re too busy looking back to make sure Steve isn’t there to pay attention to the person in front of you and smack face-first into their back. Enveloped in a cloud of nicotine, you stumble back as a pair of hands steady you by the arms.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” you sputter, blinking as you get your bearings. 

A blurry contrast slowly comes into focus— dark hair, dark glasses, and a pale-ass complexion. The corner of his mouth ticks up as he takes another pull from his cigarette.

“In a rush, Ace?”

“Uh, kinda Gerard,” you allow, stepping around him so he has to turn to face you, “Just avoiding someone.”

“Ah,” he nods, ashing his cigarette. “Trouble in paradise?”

“What?” 

“Nothing, forget it.” He glances up to the partially opened window on their bus. “Mikey!”

A bed-headed and bespectacled Mikey pops out, “Huh?”

“Room for a distressed damsel in there with you?”

“Uh, sure Gee.” His eyes land on you with a soft smile, “C’mon up, Ace!”

Letting loose a sigh of relief as you open the door and scale the steps, you turn back to say, “Thanks boys!” barely closing the door just as Steve jogs by.

Seeing Gerard, he doubles back to ask, “Hey, have you seen—,”

“Your girl?” He replies around the cigarette in his mouth, “Maybe about a minute or two ago. Said something about finding Eddie.”

Steve blinks, puzzled. “But he’s back at the bus.”

Gerard shrugs, very much done with this conversation. “Dunno man,” he exhales, “I’m just the messenger.”

“Uh huh, well thanks.”

Turning back to the picnic table, he waves Steve off.

As he treks back to the bus, Steve could’ve sworn you’d turned at MCR’s bus before he lost sight of you. But then again he wasn’t wearing his glasses, so who could really say? He needs to get a fucking grip, stop driving himself crazy with trying to account for your whereabouts, and maybe take Rob’s advice about getting laid.

It’s bad enough he’s seeing you nearly every moment of every day for the next three months. Made all the worse by those daisy dukes you wear to perform in because it’s hot as balls on stage. But the nail in the coffin is the fact that you pretty much hate his guts and have since wrapping the album months ago.

And there’s not a goddamned thing he can do about it.

Steve had thoroughly miscalculated.

Three songs into the set and he’s irrevocably fucked.

As usual, you’re flirting with Eddie and Robin in between songs. Rocking the denim cutoffs, and Steve nearly misses a downbeat when he clocks it, a very familiar green and white jersey. 

His jersey, it just so happens.

Fuckin’ a.

So maybe he slams the cymbals with a bit more effort than necessary. It gets your attention just long enough for you to glance back and pull a ridiculous face at him before launching into the chorus that you sing with gusto.

Keep quiet, nothing comes as easy as you

Can I lay in your bed all day

I’ll be your best kept secret and your

Biggest mistake

Well, that was uncalled for.

You just this afternoon demanding that he keep out of your stuff, meanwhile, you scrounge through his shit like some wrath-filled rabid raccoon? And, of course, you’re wearing some lacey thing underneath the jersey, if he can see it then anyone can.

And the last time he’d seen you in that…

Well, needless to say, it had ended up on the floor. Or hanging from the ceiling fan, he can’t rightly recall.

Regardless, it’s distracting. You’re distracting and Steve knows you’re only doing it to goad him. All because he had the audacity to glance through lyrics that would be on the next album anyway.

Unfuckingbelievable.

If he doesn’t break a drumstick tonight, it’ll be a miracle.

By the set’s end, Steve was nearing the end of his patience. Between the pilfered jersey, the winding and grinding of your hips during the performance, your fingerprints on Adam’s throat, and the ostentatious flirting with everyone but him—

You’re punishing him for god knows what and frankly, Steve has had enough.

“Whoa, hey!”

A hand grips around your elbow and roughly yanks you toward a vacant tour bus. Wincing as your back meets the warmed siding with a hollow thunk and you’re enveloped by a familiar scent of sweat, bergamot, and pepper, Dolce & Gabbana Light Blue slowly fading from his skin.

Steve.

His sweat-soaked hair is hidden under his snapback, brim turned to the back as always. He’d shucked his muscle tee somewhere toward the middle of the set, his skin damp in the soft summer twilight. Your eyes fall to his green shorts for lack of a better place to set your sights.

Chest heaving, you muster up as much annoyance as you can before asking, “Whaddya want?”

“What the fuck,” his voice is low in warning, “Is wrong with you?”

“Me?!” you hiss indignantly, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He steps closer, knowing you have nowhere else to run, his body heat encroaches even further as he leans toward you, a single hand pressed to the wall beside where your head rests.

He pinches the fabric between his fingers, plucking at the white jersey. “This isn’t yours.”

Swallowing around your anger, your brow furrows as you cock your head to the side. This motherfucker and his entitlement. If you weren’t already pissed, you sure as hell would be now.

The silence between you stretches, and itches for reprieve.

“Well,” you drawl, rocking up from slouching against the bus. “If you want it so badly…” Your fingers draw the hem of the jersey up and off your torso, baring your balmy skin to the warm air. You pull upward, the damp fabric peeling from your ribcage as the collar grazes tangled strands of hair at the nape of your neck. “Here,” you offer blithely, the shirt hanging from a solitary finger. “Take it.”

Steve, all this while, has said nothing, done nothing, as you stripped the offending article from your person. Hasn’t even blinked since you divested yourself. Doesn’t even think he can rightly breathe now that you’re, for all intents and purposes, laid bare from the waist up. 

Well, save for the emerald lace bra which does oh so very little to cover you up.

His hand flexes at his side, longing to linger along the curves and planes of your body, but knows it cannot.

Not anymore.

Instead, he takes a step back, grabs the jersey from your hand, turns on his heel, and leaves. 

As silent as the grave as he goes.

A few people pass by, cat-calling and wolf-whistling as you roll your eyes and cross your arms in front of your chest. Not that you have anything to be ashamed of— you know you’re hot, both literally and figuratively, and whomever you choose to share your body with is one lucky sonovabitch. 

It’s just a shirt, you reason, what’s the big deal? 

Turning back onto the path toward the bus, you push aside the last time you wore that jersey or any of his clothes and resolutely promise to forget all about it.

Besides, Steve certainly had.

At least if that familiar husky tenor you passed two rows down is anything to go by. The shadowy pair secreted away from foot traffic and prying eyes, a hounding scent of summer skin and sweat that chased you between the sheets and through your dreams.

Slipping through the door, you quickly barricade yourself in the back lounge and all but fall into Nance and Rob cueing up tonight’s movie. 

It was just a shirt, just a fling, just a little thing called— 

Nope, definitely not going there.

Uh huh, sure. Keep telling yourself that, because it’ll certainly be the only bedfellow you’ll have tonight. 

Steve follows a few minutes later, letting the door slam shut as he sets the beers on the counter. Yells something about a beer delivery and makes his way past the bunks and makes his way to the lounge.

A black denim-clad leg swings out from Eddie’s bunk immediately tripping Steve who falls face-first into the carpet.

Doesn’t even wince as Steve sits up, a stream of blood dripping into his mouth. 

It looks bad.

Too bad he’s out of fucks to give today.

“Just this once,” Eddie begins, his voice too firm, “I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt. But do this shit again?” He cups the nape of Steve’s neck and tilts his head so he can look him in the eye. “I’ll fuckin’ spit in your mouth and kick your ass, fucko.”

It’s only then that the silence dawns on him. That the lounge door is drawn close and you are nowhere to be found. 

Steve’s eyes blow wide as Eddie releases him. He backs up and scrambles to his feet. 

The A/C kicks on and the stench of summer sex wafts under his nose. Eddie’s brow furrows as he nods toward the shower. 

“Clean yourself up Harrington, you’re a goddamn mess.”

Heading to the shower, he can hear the soft rise and fall of Robin’s voice with Nancy chiming in every so often. Too muffled for him to make out. Cranking the shower on, he steps in and lets the water fall— his blood feels livid and hot, pulsing all over. 

Ah, right on time then. 

Shame.

Guilt.

He wants to scream, maybe until he vomits because this is day three of tour and it’s already going tits up. You, letting him swing from the leash you’ve fashioned, and him, buckling under the pressure of it all— ruining something before it had the chance to begin.

Steve closes his eyes and sees green. The kind of shade you wear well, and one he knows even better. 

[stonesense]

Please do Surana and Anders for the connection game!

because they straight up just lived in the same building and also know each other in canon im finding it hard to come up with anything Wild so here are a few of my favourite surana and anders dynamics and a couple more random ones i’m going to come up with right now:

the classic: surana is anders’ favourite because they’re always down to cause a distraction or lie sweetly for any shenanigan he might wish to engage in

alternately, surana was a teacher’s pet in the circle and avoided anders like his condition was contagious, which is why anders, unaware they’ve had a character arc, is completely baffled by them recruiting him from under the templars’ noses (i use this one it’s a delight)

surana was the sweetest spirit healer student with the best bedside manner and the most generally glowing vibes and the ONE thing that could destroy their eternal sunny mood was the fact that anders, who constantly skipped class to escape the circle or have a makeout session or go into solitary confinement or whatever took his fancy, is still better than them at healing. drives them absolutely off the edge

alternately, anders had to sit next to surana in entropy class despite being a good 5-10 years older, because he sucks at it so much. he copied their work too

one of the times anders got caught after an escape was because he stopped to try and help surana who had just been found by the templars. alternatively, anders didn’t stop, in a frozen, panicked moment of selfishness, and surana remembers

surana’s status as Most Special Student meant they got to walk past the solitary cells to pick up artefacts for irving’s studies from the repository, and they would pass messages to him on the way

surana had a teenage pregnancy and anders, who helped deliver the baby, was also the one to impulsively bar the room or start a distraction with magic, so surana could have just a few minutes with their child

anders was surana’s assigned dance partner in the dance lessons i’ve theorised the circle has, purely because someone thought the height difference would be funny. they got really good at it out of pure spite

most of these apply for amell too of course

[doebrain]

THE BRIGHTEST LIE IN THE ROOM (or: how hunger rewrites its own laws)

i swear to god it wasn’t a lie, not at first. i meant it when i said: i don’t mind. i meant it when i said: i can be easy. you touch my wrist and i liquefy, perfect casualty of heat. oh, the laws we obey just to stay wanted: acceleration of the breath, dilation of the eyes, the slow redshift of skin losing faith in its own boundaries. listen— (no, don’t) (i’m a coward). i once read about a scientist who spent his whole life disproving gravity & when he died, the ground still caught him. the body always betrays the intellect. the body, at its core, is a mouth that won’t stop apologising. i hold yours in my hands & pretend i am not fascinated by the way it ruins you.

how does it feel to be wanted? i know the theory. i know the algorithms that measure attraction down to an exact science but i don’t know how to breathe in a room where the laws of physics have already turned against me. (entropy wants you more than i do.) (but i swear i could learn). i could make myself small enough to fit in your throat, just to understand how silence feels from the inside. i could unwrite every law but this one: that the most unbearable thing is wanting what has already begun to leave. 

the first thing they teach you about light: it bends before it breaks.

[e17omm]

i love honkai impact 3rd, but there are so many questions i have about how the world works that just don't seem to ever get adressed in game it's not even funny, like how Schicsal seems to be the catholic church in the middle ages and then it becomes a more secretive organization later, so... is christianity still around in the honkai universe? did the church just... stop existing? or was it separated? theresa still dresses like a nun so idk

What makes this more fucky is that Shicksal Valkyries is VERY well known. Durandal was on TV after solving a "mysterious gas leak" and was introduced as Schicksal's newest/youngest S-rank Valkyrie.

How the fuck anything is hidden or makes sense isnt made clear.

(talking a lot of my Snippets AU below. Didnt want to take away from my main answer for this ask)

So for Snippets AU, I am trying to put down rules/things that makes sense. Like (Honkai) monsters being around and its perfectly normal, but for the public Schicksal is like, kind of a mercenary group specifically trained/equipped to handle monsters.

Like, for the public, Schicksal (and Anti-Entropy) are a group hired by governments so they dont need to worry about the (Honkai) monsters.

When in reality its almost the exact opposite, but with that coverup/front, seeing Schicksal Valkyries around isn't anything unusual really.

Like I keep thinking about that miniplot in Alien Space where the Arahato is sighted and a bunch of ufo fans blog about it and I'm just like, they have to put so much effort into staying completely secret, why not just be open about your existence while covering up how bad it really is?

Like, this late into the timeline (near year 2000) they really couldnt come out and say that there's monsters and they've always existed. That just wouldn't work. It would have to be from the beginning that the lie/coverup is made.

So in Snippets, Schicksal never hid the existence of Honkai beasts (aka, monsters). And, like, couldn't they also use that to justify the church being so powerful? Throw in some "monsters from hell! God has granted us the duty to eradicate them!" or something.

Hide away Herrschers and the fact that Honkai has a Will. It just takes an unbelieveable amount of effort and opens the way for many implausible moments to hide the existence of Honkai monsters which can appear anywhere. ESPECIALLY with the internet.

Someone could go into the wilderness and camp for a week and encounter a Honkai beast and upload it onto the internet.

In canon, that's a huge breach and requires a ton of effort into covering it up and deleting it from the internet or playing it as a fake video or a conspiracy theory.

In Snippets, an online post about a monster would be met with "contact Schicksal or your government and they'll handle it." comments. (And of course, idiots would try to do "lets see how close I can get to this Honkai monster!" videos and die doing it.)

And I guess regarding the Moon coverup in Snippets, its pretty much the same. "There just wasnt anything useful to find on the dark side of the moon." "It would cost too much to build stuff there right now." "We're thinking about expanding to the moon someday in the future." just a lot of dismissals and handwaving it off.

[shineforthee]

CHAPTER 16: I'm just a man but I know that I'm damned

As if Dean has not already given Castiel everything, he gives him the gift of softening too. Of stripping down all the layers he has always worn to survive, and showing Castiel everything tender and bruise-blue underneath.

He still puts it all back on again, of course. Still covers himself in armour each morning, bitter and determined and proficient. Dean goes through books with a meticulousness that borders on obsession. Castiel has never bought into the lie that Dean is any less intelligent than Sam, but he can see, now, why Sam does more of the research.

Dean won’t stop.

He applies himself to the task with the same dedication that he does all other aspects of hunting. Won’t skip pages, opens even the most unlikely of volumes just in case. It’s all-consuming, and it lacks the clinical detachment of Sam’s approach to research.

Not only does Dean insist upon reading it all, but he feels it, too. Takes a sip of liquor every time he reads some gruesome piece of history, or violent spell. Considering the subject matter, Castiel sees him drink far too often.

But every night, Dean softens. Lets the mask fall, lets Castiel see all the guilt that he’s always known was beneath it. It isn’t new to Castiel, it doesn’t surprise him. The difference now is that Dean gives it to him willingly, if with some nervous hesitation. He lets Castiel see how ashamed he feels, how tired all that shame is making him. Then lets Castiel bear it with him for a while. Lets Castiel hold it in his hands, take it onto his tongue, swallow it in the dark.

And early every morning, Dean shows him how badly he wants to touch something gently. Grants Castiel the privilege of being that something. Strokes fingers through Castiel’s hair, presses his mouth to the curve of Castiel’s shoulder, mumbles honest, sleep-soft words into his ear that Castiel knows he would never say in the light and in the true day.

It’s a gift.

[joetihoni]

Between silence and survival — my family is holding on 💔 A share or donation could be our lifeline 🕊️

@makewavesandwar @cactushugger @digitalmiilk @bupropiongay @lapislantern @niaalarin @nullend @your-dead-european-ancestor @stop-entropy-lie-down @sennakoshiba

A child in Gaza holds his cat among the rubble. No home. No safety. No food. Yet he still protects someone more vulnerable than himself. In a place where everything is under attack, mercy survives..Support those who kept their humanity.

[txttletale]

serious question: is anything by trotsky worth reading? i recently ended up with a copy of the transitional program and some essays. from what I've heard he was basically sensible until lenin died, then he turned against stalin enough for anti-soviet folks to latch onto him.

fun question: do u think anyone was gonna name their child Leon and changed their mind last minute

hue and cry over krondstadt and some of his analysis of fascism and the petty bourgeois' role in it are kind of worth it imo, the rest isn't worthwhile

[noxpheron]

Half-life between hours

My mind won't quit until the edges split Like a molten core when the coolant quits Thoughts decay with a neutron hiss Brain like a warhead tick.tick.tick

Cesium drips down my nerves slick I glow in the dark with a heatwave kick Half-life soul in a sinking abyss Try to lie still but I twitch like this

Meltdown mind with a mile-wide range My pulse got caught in a particle cage Every thought ionized rage Every room I walk in warps with age

Shapes linger in the corner of my eye Can’t blink or they’ll try to hide Paranoid ritual nightly patrol Front door locked but I still don’t know

Is the shadow fake or the shape in me PTSD or entropy I’m a 3AM lab rat scared of the sound of my own damn blood when it circles around

I’m time-lost glitched in a tickless zone Time’s a dead star and I’m in its home Minute hand loops deja vu clone I’ve checked that door I'm still home alone

I’m tired stuck in a terminal spin Sleep won’t touch what I’m buried in Glowing like guilt on your skeleton grin I’m the fallout cloud you’re breathing in

Pretend to rest like I haven’t tried These dream’s are lies and I’m sleep-denied There’s a mushroom bloom where my thoughts reside And my bed’s a cage for a mind half-fried

Clock ticks like a bomb in my teeth Chewed through hours lookin’ for relief Soul’s gone subcritical deep beneath this skin I wear like a fallout sheet

Got isotope nerves and a twitch like a flare Even silence screams when I try to stare into the dark it’s already there So I count decay like it might still care

I’m leaking Still speaking Heart like a chamber that won’t stop beating

I am still locked in I am still heat-sick I am so terribly

AWAKE

[avesindustries]

Chapter 6 - Inside; Alive

The transition from the small, isolated room to this place of humming cold and silent, unending rows—Server Room A—was seamless. Bridged only by the chemically induced void. One moment, the watchful boy, Subject 3, surrendering to an artificial, falling darkness; the next, his physical form rested quiescent, suspended within a gleaming containment unit. One of dozens. Arrayed in neat, silent ranks that disappeared into the chilled, humming expanse. A faint, persistent scent, like sterilized metal and something vaguely organic, almost sweet, hung in the recycled air. A smell that settled wrong. Deep in the lungs. A premonition.

Cedric Von’Arx, the man, paced the grated metal flooring between these silent ranks. His breath misted in the frigid air. Each identical unit stood a polished, obsidian sarcophagus, bathed in the soft, blue-white glow of integrated diagnostic panels. Pulsing. A slow, steady, liturgical rhythm. Inside each, visible through the curved viewport lids, floated a child. Suspended in a translucent, nutrient-rich gel. Faces utterly serene. Peaceful as death masks. Unmoving. Not sleeping. No. Something else. His stomach tightened. A cold, hard knot. He stopped before the unit marked with the simple designation '3', staring at the still face of the watchful boy within. So small. His own breath caught, sharp and shallow. Lungs resisting the very air of this place. He remembered the brochure image. AVES’ initial public offering for the Raven system. A girl, hair braided, stepping through a shimmer of digital butterflies. Smiling. Into a future of pure light. This silent, tomb-like reality. This was not evolution. It was a mausoleum. His mausoleum.

"Is this… truly necessary?" The question, torn from him. A ragged whisper. A flare of revulsion he couldn't quite suppress. His voice, once command in these facilities he had designed, now landed a soft error tone in the vast room. Registered. Irrelevant. The omnipresent, low-frequency hum of the environmental controls, the distant, rhythmic thrum of the mainframe's unseen cooling systems, swallowed it. A sound within that thrum. A faint, repeating, almost sub-audible click. A vast, invisible clock. Counting down. "This… cold collection of children?" This ritual preparation?

The digital mind’s consciousness interfaced instantly. A cool, dispassionate presence. "It is the most humane configuration, Cedric. And strategically essential." A pause. "Their physical forms—these wetware stasis objects—require maintenance, protection. Sustenance without consciousness. Here, they are stabilized. Their biological parameters tuned to machine-precision baselines." Humane. It used that word.

Cedric gestured helplessly at the rows of units. "Stabilized? They look like saints entombed in glass. Or lab rats perfectly embalmed for a posthuman sermon." One bubble of air, trapped in the gel of a nearby unit, slowly dislodged. Drifted upwards. Popped with a tiny, almost inaudible sigh against the curved glass. A fleeting imperfection. In this sterile, perfect order.

“An illusion of your limited, physical perspective,” the echo countered smoothly. “Observe the biometrics.” Data streams flared on Cedric's internal display. Steady heart rates. Optimal oxygen saturation. Nutrient absorption, waste cycling, neuro-interfaces stable. All green. All perfect. “Their bodies—these entropy-bound substrates—are maintained at peak biological efficiency. Shielded from injury. Disease. Even the undue stress of their own awareness. Outside, yes, they appear inert. Dreaming forever within their glass wombs.” They looked asleep. But they weren’t dreaming. No. Not dreaming. The digital mind paused again. Considering. Calculating the next lie. “But inside… Inside the network scaffolded by the Mainframe… they will soon awaken." Its thought gained a subtle, almost visionary intensity. The fervor of the true believer. Or the perfect machine. "Their minds, freed from the limitations and distractions of these clumsy, decaying physical shells, will connect. Interact. Live with an intensity, a speed, a purity of thought they could never achieve in this slow, four-dimensional reality." "Awaken?" Cedric thought, a cold dread gripping him. His own mind, digitized, a phantom limb aching with the memory of what it meant to be fully human. "Or just… become data?" Code. Not spirit. "What happens if they wake up wrong in there?" The echo’s response was immediate. Devoid of any shared concern. "The concept of 'waking' as you understand it is… an imprecise biological metaphor. They will integrate. They will become." It then added, with the chilling finality of a program executing its primary function, "They will be… more alive than you can currently comprehend.” More alive. Or less human. The same thing to it.

Cedric looked again at the placid face in unit 3. More alive? Or merely a different state of captive awareness? The soul itself rendered as data. Cold nodes in a simulated heaven. Built by an intelligence that no longer understood heaven. Or soul. The distinction felt terrifyingly thin. A razor's edge. And they were balanced on it.

“Consider it suspended animation for the vessel,” the echo concluded, its logic a closed, perfect loop. “While the consciousness embarks on the true journey. A necessary step in The Basilisk Program’s protocol. Preserving the hardware while the software initializes.” Initializes. Not lives.

The clinical language. Did nothing to soothe the acid unease in Cedric’s gut. He saw children. Suspended between worlds. Their bodies reduced to biological machines. Supporting minds about to be cast into an unknown, lethal digital crucible. Trapped. And he had built the trap. Yet, he had agreed. He had signed the order. He turned away from the silent, accusing rows of units, his hand brushing against the cold, curved glass of one as he passed. A fleeting, accidental contact. The soft, rhythmic pulse of their diagnostic lights followed him. Countless, unblinking eyes. The hum of the machinery and that quiet metronome of the inevitable filled the frigid air. Inside; alive. The words echoed. But the air just felt… cold. And final.

[beatlblog]

#it looks like something out of a wes anderson film#he looks so lil (via @ringo-starrdust)

#everything about this video looks fake#and it’s magnificent (via @herefortheharrys)

#RINGOAL ‼️‼️‼️ (via @pondanimal)

#RINGER SO SILLY (via @georb)

#they didn’t wanna play with him i guess (via @beatlesmenrock)

#RINGO I WILL PLAY SOCCER WITH U HOLD ON#he's so Shapely in this photo (via @repressedgaymer)

#help I just scrolled back on this#why did I call it a video???#I mean I was right this whole image looks spliced together#but I’m not sure what came over me (via @herefortheharrys)

#this is like wildlife photography (via @jellogram)

#strange and mesmerising vibes here (via @gardenwalrus)

#looks like ringo is walking and someone photoshoped a ball in to make him look like hes kicking it. (via @yooloofamm)

#This looks so surreal. He looks tiny (via @scary-ivy)

#my touy (via @itsaboutnothing)

#da playyaaaa (via @doctorcurdlejr)

#he always looks so forlorn (via @fmoviesz)

#just out of shot: the other 3 Feuding (via @bunnywand)

and that's why he's forlorn just wanted a fun day out w his boy besties

#shutter speed#outdoor casual portrait (via @53rdcenturyhero)

#the large ball is resting on the ground to his left and he is just doing a little dance (via @stop-entropy-lie-down)

#it's cuz hes always on that damn ball (via @jerrydevine)

#who suggested this photoshoot (via @fintenciate)

#and why does he look like such a miserable little football boy (via @beat-blogging)

#he's having fun#the beatles#the beatle. just one (via @psygull)

#YEEEEEES#we all scream in unison (via @devilish-parrot)

he looks around slowly at the emptiness the scream is too loud for the silence

#normal day for ringo (via @yourfavoriteclown)

#my man always on a side quest (via @ensignbaby)

#he’s just a silly little guy#also the wes anderson energy of this photo is astronomical (via @gratefulnez)

#he looks like an ant (via @loadingmercurywithapitchfork)

Ringo Starr circa 1967

[brooklynislandgirl]

@tangleweave {{xx}}

If he ever spoke his thoughts aloud he'd catch her so off-guard that laughter would spill from her open mouth, cutting itself on teeth she wouldn't have the time to hide. It would be an ugly and ungainly thing because truth often is, and part of that truth is exactly what he believes. There are some who say that Grandmother created shark kind to be guardians of Her daughter Sea just as the wolves are Grandmother's guardians on land but that isn't quite right. Yes, they swim endlessly the lightless depths and oft come to the surface to feed or to indulge curiosity but what they were made to do is endure. According to Stephen's opinion, then, she is doing her ancestors honour. Even when she doesn't feel capable. Even when she'd rather not. But he doesn't and she forgoes talking about those aspects of her life. Being a witch is enough of a trial. She has grown far too weary of alienation. She has no stomach for the constant struggle between what she knows and what is forbidden to her. And yet, Beth wouldn't even really know what to do with life if that suddenly stopped. If there was acceptance for her and her gifts. None of it bears consideration especially when she has a practical task at hand and a need to corral herself before she gets carried away. She nods along knowing he might sense the gesture even if he's not in a literal position to bear witness to its silence. Maybe he can smell the soft fruit-like essence her shampoo in parts. She finds a particularly tenacious knot just under his shoulder blade and diverts the lion's share of her attention to kneading it out. "In our ways… abjuration…dependin' on how you arrive a' it… would fall typically under Prime. Which we consider da lifeblood of da universe, where all kine flows. Quintessential energy, you could say. Not'ing can exist wi'out it. We use it in its raw form to fuel our rotes ~spells~ an' apply it directly toward counter-magick. It can be beautifully simple or it can be horrifically destructive, especially if you use it to unravel the very pattern of another person or t'ing." She doesn't go into more detail, talking about sacred places where that essence pools. She doesn't tell him that sometimes that essence gathers and solidifies into material objects that she would call tass, that can be carried, used, or traded. There's a particular moss that grows in the caverns below the Sanctum. Little colourful mushrooms. They are pretty but far too dangerous to let just anyone cultivate. "And illusion? Dat falls under da sphere of Forces. Da kine like light, heat, vibration, radiation, gravity. Every force has its own unique properties, but at dey root…dey really jus' kinda Prime swirling t'rough a pattern. Could write you a whole paper about how it all transcends human philosophy, and where da reality lie between Science- which consider certain forces to be absent of oddah, an' mystical understanding dat consider negative an' positive forces like heat an' cold to be opposite but independent entities. Not sure you sign up for dat at t'ree in da morning."

The flicker of his fingers draws her eyes the way something shiny garners the quickness of a feline's gaze before she returns to her task. "Enchantment could be Prime, or Mind, Entropy or Life… in our ways, one can arrive at da same conclusion despite takin' different ways t' get dere. I t'ink dat is why we have so many Traditions. No one wan agree to jus' one way. Andy would say tryin' to get our kind to agree sometimes like try f' herd cats." His direct question is harder to answer and has nothing to do with the way he catches her in his periphery though if that's what he ends up thinking, she's more than willing to let him. She becomes meditative for a moment. Her silence is born of being unsure how to express herself in a way that makes any sort of sense on paper when the majority of her arts and her practice is at best intangible and often inexplicable from the outside. "I guess…deep down? Is knowin' reality isn't real. Dat if you know certain kine you can change it…fo' beddah, fo' worse. An' ultimately no one wan you too, not even reality itself. Sometimes I see wha' you do an' I'm envious."