#ORB Morph

[thejoyofviolentmovement]

New Video: ORB Shares Trippy Motorik Groove-Driven "You Do"

New Video: ORB Shares Trippy Motorik Groove-Driven "You Do" @FuzzClub @forcefieldpr

The members of Geelong, Australia-based outfit ORB — Zak Olsen (vocals, guitar, bass), David Gravolin (guitar, bass) and Jamie Harner (drums) — have had a lengthy career, starting in earnest with a lengthy stint in their first band as teenagers, The Frowning Clouds. Since starting ORB, the Aussie trio have released two albums, 2017’s Neutrality and 2018’s The Space Between, which they supported…

[ryukandmorty]

still think it’s bonkers how i clearly saw ufo’s with two of the most instrumental people in my life on different occasions

[acescats]

How my cats rest

Vinny:

SnugPaw:

[neonicclover]

Rewatching jujutsu kaisen (or more like continuing to rewatch because I forgot I was doing that) and one of the reasons I mention mahito more is because I know why I like him but couldn't remember why I liked Gojo. I had my suspicions but wasn't sure and. Yeah he is a pretty boy in a weird way and is silly. Seems to be a common part of the traits a character needs for me to like them.

[perlelune]

no body, no crime | Coriolanus Snow | v.

Your childhood friend returns from his exile in district 12, but he's not the sweet, quiet boy you once knew anymore.

Warnings: NON-CON, Plinth!Reader, Gaslighting, Drugging, Murder, Forced Marriage, Forced Pregnancy, Loss of Virginity, Somnophilia

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

Grandma’am’s dissonant notes fill your room as you lie on the bed. The old woman’s wobbly soprano has been the background noise to your awakening this early morning.

At least it diverted you from your dire thoughts.

You rose with low spirits, defeated. You didn’t dare leave the cover of the warm blankets.

You’ve stared at the ceiling for so long, the flower patterns have morphed into smudges of pale color swirling in your vision. It’s all you did the entire morning. Stare at the ceiling while awful thoughts collide in your head. Perhaps for hours. You’re not sure. Time has been a foggy concept as of late.

You can’t even remember when everything started spinning out of control. The beginning of your unraveling.

The day before Coryo held you as you wept in his arms. For a while, in the warmth of his embrace, the uproar in your head fell silent.

Now it’s all noise again. Chaos. You have no desire to climb out of bed, face the day. Perhaps it makes you a bad guest. But hiding is easier. So it’s exactly what you elect to do.

Hiding until it becomes an impossibility.

Or until the door knocks in that case. 

The sound startles you. 

You don’t answer. Instead, you burrow yourself further beneath the sheets. 

The knock starts again. Stubbornly, you ignore it.

“I’m coming in,” a familiar, airy voice announces.

The creaking of the door reaches you and your brows crumple. A slight weight plops on the mattress, making it dip under you. You freeze, willing yourself to remain still. 

A delicate perfume hangs in the air. Guilt seeps through you. It’s not like she’s done anything to you. If anything, she’s been kind. It’s about the hot layer of shame that has grown thick roots into your being.

Her gentle lilt flutters above you.

“I won’t move until you talk to me; I’m worried.”

You gnaw on your lip. The seconds stretch to minutes, arduously long, seemingly endless as she remains on your bed. It dawns on you how deadly serious the older of the Snow cousins is. She will not go away until you speak to her.

Besides, your mother’s voice echoes somewhere in your head. Your behavior is ill-fitted for a lady. Here you are, a guest in someone else’s house, acting like a petulant child.

Though you balk at the prospect, it’s time to face the world.

You huff out a quiet sigh under your breath before peeking above the blanket. 

“Tigris,” you mumble. 

Her thin blonde brows are pinched. 

“You missed breakfast,” she notes. She tilts her head, scrutinizing you as her frown deepens. “First dinner, now breakfast. It’s becoming a habit.”

Concern glimmers in her honey orbs. Your chest squeezes. The last thing you want is for someone else to feel terrible. You push the blanket further away from you, sitting up as a contrite smile tugs your lips. 

“Sorry.”

Tigris’ slender fingers latch onto your forearm. 

“Don’t apologize. Just keep me company today.”

You attempt to deflect, “What about Coryo?”

The blonde releases a deep exhale, crossing her arms in frustration. You’ve gazed upon a similar crease on Coriolanus’ face before.

“He barely has time for me these days. Between his work with Dr Gaul, the University and…” A small smile plays on her lips as her voice trails off. “You of course.” Your cheeks heat at her implication. Of course, you’re aware of Coriolanus’ dedication to showing up for you as of late. But it never occurred to you that it could impede on Tigris’ time with him. It saddens you.

From what you recall of the glimpses of them you caught growing up, there was a time the two Snow cousins were inseparable. After all, ever since they were young, Tigris has been everything to him. A mother, a sister, a best friend. It was clear on Coriolanus’ face too. Fondness was etched on his face whenever he looked at his cousin. 

She leans over you, her tone pleading.

“Come on, I really need a friend, and something tells me you do too.”

Shoulders sagging in surrender, you concede, “I’ll get dressed.”

She leaps to her feet, a victorious smile breaking onto her face.

“I’ll have the maid bring you some food before we go,” she sings. “When’s the last time you ate anyways?”

You purse your lips, shocked at the realization of how long it’s been since your last meal, eating having toppled to the bottom of your list of priorities the last two days.

You give an honest reply.

“I…can’t remember.”

Concern scrunches Tigris’ angular features once more. She then takes her leave and you glumly get ready for the day.

Food is brought up to your room. You nibble down every bite of cheese, bread and eggs until you’re full.

You find the massive trunk Coriolanus had the staff carry up to your room. You marvel as you peer inside, rummaging in search of an outfit for the day. His thoughtfulness astounds you. You don’t deserve a friend like Coryo.

Once you’ve removed your night robe, it pools at your feet. Your stomach sinks at the sight of your bare form. Bruises still speckle your skin. They are starting to fade but the ones on your hips and thighs are still quite prominent. The thought of Coryo touching you this way crosses your mind and you shudder. 

You know you shouldn’t feel this way.

It’s like your friend said. It’s better that it was him than some stranger with nefarious intentions. After all, you were both drunk. You both didn’t mean for it to happen. It’s obvious Coriolanus is as inconvenienced by this as you are. 

You should move on, let the incident scatter amidst the unfortunate mistakes of youth. It’s what common sense dictates. Otherwise guilt will chew you to the bone.

But you can’t. 

Every time you think of that night, you’re unsettled, an inkling of wrong humming through you.

It haunts you. Though you wished it didn’t.

The remainder of the morning is spent with Tigris. The two of you scour the city in search of various fabrics and items her boss, Fabricia Whatnot, asks her to collect. 

It’s a nice change of scenery and you welcome it.

You even get to see Tigris work on a dress, a magnificent wedding gown whose sight stirs a bittersweet feeling within you. It reminds you that your own dress was ruined, a matter you’ve yet to solve. 

…If there’ll even still be a wedding. 

As the afternoon sun crests to a scorching peak in the bright blue sky, she offers to stop by a café which you readily accept. You both sit beneath a wide umbrella on the outdoor terrace. 

You take small bites of your petit fours, the sugar melting on your tongue providing much needed comfort.

“Does your grandmother do this every morning?” 

Tigris’ lips pause above the rim of her porcelain cup, her honey gaze widening at your question. Realization then lights up her face.

“Oh, the singing? Yes, almost.” A fond smile spreads onto her thin lips. “Grandma’am likes to reminisce about the glory days of our family, you know…before the war.”

Your brows furrow.

The glory days...

Could the days before the war truly be referred to as that? The people of the Districts were forced to serve the ever-growing needs of the Capitol citizens, reaping no benefits from their hard work and being kept docile by the perpetual threat of execution.

Exactly like now.

You hardly see the glory in that. Maybe for the victors, the ones who get to stand atop the mountain while others try to claw their way up from the bottom until their hands bleed.

But, as usual, you don’t voice your treasonous thoughts, simply nodding in response.

Tigris and you both relish the comfortable silence for a while. She doesn’t urge you to talk and you’re grateful for that. Idle talk is an arduous task when constant worries gnaw at your mind.

While she may not know the depth of your predicament, you appreciate that Tigris picks up enough not to prod.

“It’s nice here, isn’t it?” she says. “Quiet. I like to come here when I need a moment to myself.”

Your gaze roams across the luxurious garden near the café. You get lost in admiring the pretty flowers and the swan fountain. It reminds you of your own garden, your beloved roses, probably withering from neglect. You’ll need to tend to them soon.

“It’s beautiful,” you admit. You nibble on your bottom lip before your eyes find hers. “I’m sorry for being…difficult this morning.”

Tigris’ shoulders heave as she replies nonchalantly, “It’s quite alright.” Mirth sparkles in her amber orbs. “I’m sorry for dragging you all over Panem to run those errands.”

You give a small smile. “It’s fine. I enjoyed the distraction.”

You look down and fiddle with your napkin, arranging it in different positions several times in your lap.

“Is something the matter?”

Tigris’ abrupt inquiry makes your head snap up.

You hesitate beneath her compassionate stare. After a long, quiet minute, your shoulders slump.

“I just loathe that I am such a burden to you and Coryo,” you mumble.

Tigris tilts her head, genuine confusion scrunching her features. “A burden? Don’t be ridiculous. You could never be that to me...” Her slender hand reaches across the table to drape over yours. “And even less to Coryo.”

A wry chuckle leaves your lips. “Well, he’s got better things to do than taking care of me.”

She shakes her head.

“Taking care of you is a pleasure to my cousin.”

You wince. “I very much doubt that.”

Tigris’ head lowers, her hand rising to her mouth to dampen her chortle.

“What’s so funny?” you ask, frowning.

“It’s just…you really don’t see how much you’re changing him?” She studies you momentarily before heaving out a long exhale. “Can you keep a secret?”

“Of course,” you reply immediately. She smiles.

“I haven’t seen him focus on something other than his ambitions in so long…not the way he focuses on you.”

Your jaw hangs slack at her admission.

She pauses, seeming to mull over her next words. “Coryo…when he returned from his service in District 12, he was so different. I thought all the warmth in him was gone, that he was becoming like my uncle.” A distant, sad look dims her eyes. “A cold, calculated man. But when he’s around you…" Fondness illuminates her face while she gauges you. "I don’t know, it's almost like he’s back to his old self. The little boy I knew, sweet and caring. My little Coryo.”

Her fingers tighten around yours as she beams. “You’re good for him, so don’t worry about being a burden. It couldn’t be further from the truth.”

Tears of relief almost spill from your eyes at that but you swallow them.

Instead, you return her smile. It may have been at the behest of your dead brother but you couldn’t deny how comforting Coriolanus’ presence has been, his friendship the silver lining above somber clouds. Coryo is the only one who gladly listens when you talk about Sejanus and how much it aches that he’s not there anymore, his passing having left a void that can never be filled. It’s too painful for your mother and your dad’s in plain denial. If it weren’t for Coryo, grief would have eaten you alive, you’re certain of it. 

It’s hard to picture your life without him in it now, in some form or another. In fact, you don’t think you even want to. You may have lost a brother but the gods were merciful and granted you another.

After you leave the café, you and Tigris take a leisurely stroll through the Capitol’s streets. The talk you had with her rejuvenated you. For the first time since that awful night at Clemensia’s, you feel a bit more like yourself. 

All is well until someone strides out of a bakery, someone you know too well. The sight of the familiar face freezes you in your spot. 

Your eyes then lock from across the street. You watch the recognition dawn on his face. 

He starts making his way towards you. 

A surge of panic bleeds inside you. You briskly grab Tigris’ hand.

“Let’s go,” you urge, already pulling her in the other direction. 

“Wait…what?” Befuddled, Tigris lets you drag her along as you start racing through the streets.

You don’t dare look behind you, your heart thundering inside your chest. 

You dive into a busy street. The crowd cloaks you as you zigzag between bodies. Strangers give you dirty looks but you don’t care, focused on running as far away from who you saw as you can. 

You and Tigris end up in a narrow alleyway, catching your breaths behind a dumpster. 

You shoot worried glances at the other end of the alleyway. You lost him, you realize. A strange blend of emotions fills you, every single one carving a larger hole inside your chest.

“Who was that?” Tigris asks between uneven breaths.

Shame swells within you as your gaze lands on the cobblestoned floor.

“My fiancé,” you reply.

“Hey.” Your head lifts from your knees, your eyes traveling to the blond head peeking through the slight opening of the door.

Concerned cobalt orbs study you. You avoid his scrutiny by focusing on a random spot on the bed sheets. He enters the room. As he sits at the edge of the bed, you bring your legs closer to your chest.

His soft tone breaks through your hazy train of thoughts. “Tigris told me what happened.”

You unleash a shaky breath before finally meeting his gaze.

“I’m a coward,” you say.

His hand rises to cradle your jaw, his thumb collecting an errant tear you didn’t even realize had spilled over. “You’re not a coward,” he assures.

Your lip wobbles. Of course you are. You saw William, your own fiancé, and ran away from him. Who does that? An idiot and a coward. But you didn’t know what else to do. You panicked. When his beautiful green eyes locked with yours, all you could think about was those same eyes filled with hate and betrayal if he ever learnt what you did.

“I am,” you affirm.

Coriolanus strokes the side of your face, his tone growing firmer, “It’s a tough situation…”

His sentence is halted by a loud banging downstairs. 

Your eyes go wide.

“What’s that?”

The faint echo of your name being yelled from outside reaches you. Your heart leaps as Coryo’s features go taut, his jaw clenching.

His lips stretch in a tense smile.

“I'll go check. Stay here.”

“I’ll come.”

You jump from bed and make a beeline for the door. He tries to placate you by holding your shoulders, blocking the exit with his towering frame.

“Princess, I don’t think-”

You glower at him. You can’t run forever.

“You can’t stop me, Coryo.”

Tension hangs in the air for some minutes, thick and electric, before he relents with a deep sigh, “Alright.”

Heart in your throat, you take slow steps down the stairs. Coryo trails behind you in silence.

Your name’s uttered again, the door rattling as he bangs against it. You flinch.

Trembling feet drag to the front door. Your hand spreads over the wooden carving. You take a deep breath before hesitant words stumble out of you.

“William, you can’t be here.”

“I love you. Of course I should be here.” 

Unwavering determination vibrates in his tone. Guilt flares within you. You swallow the impending rush of tears. You don’t deserve him. He’s good, kind, honest…and you’re a liar.

“I saw you with that girl, Snow’s cousin. Talk to me, baby, please.”

“I just need a little time...alone.”

“What? Is this about the wedding preparations? Is it your parents?” He sounds confused and hurt. Your heart wrenches. You’re hurting him. It’s exactly what you meant to avoid. “Whatever it is, we can fix it. We can face anything as long as we’re together.”

The desperation thickens in his voice.

“Come out. I just want to see your face, please.”

“I…”

Your fingers hover above the gold door knob. But your hand is snatched by long, stern digits before it can fully wrap around the handle. Coryo tugs you away from the door. You gasp as his deep voice resonates in the lobby. 

“You need to leave her be. She told you she needs space, William,” he says.

“Snow!” A mirthless chuckle ripples from the other side. “I knew it had to be you somehow.” You leap as the hinges of the door shake as William’s fists slam against it once more. “What did you do to her?”

Tears well up in your eyes. 

“Right now, it’s you that’s hurting her,” Coriolanus says, his fingers curling around yours. “What kind of husband-to-be doesn’t respect his future wife’s wishes?”

Your brows collide. You wish he didn’t speak like that. After all, you’re the one at fault. But fear keeps the words chained to your throat.

“I just need to see her, please,” William insists.

Your stomach lurches. This is insane. Your fiancé is on the other side of the door and you won’t let him see you.

Maybe William’s right. Maybe talking to him will fix everything.

You sniffle and wipe your tears. You take a solid stride towards the door again, fingers ready to open it. 

“I think I should, just for a few minutes.”

Your decision is made but Coryo’s hand cinches around your wrist. This time his hold is much firmer, on the cusp of painful in fact. 

You grimace as he draws you away from the door, near the stairs.

He bends over you to whisper hotly, “To tell him what, princess?” Angling your chin upward, he sighs. “That you gave me something you denied him all this time? After just a few drinks?” Heat nestles in your cheeks. It is true. Both you and him got near that point so often, but you were adamant about waiting for your wedding night. It was your excuse every time. You doubt he’d take it well if you told him what occurred. While you want to believe your relationship will survive it, Coriolanus’ words are tossing fuel on every insecurity within you. Your confidence wavers, your hand sagging in his hold.

Coriolanus’ intense blue gaze is hard on you as he continues, his raspy tone low and foreboding, “Or perhaps, you’ll make up a lie? You really think he won't see it on your face?” A contrite expression settles on his handsome features. “You wear your emotions on your sleeves. He’ll know right away.” His thumb sweeps over your cheek to wipe a lone, stray tear. “William seems like a good man, but such a betrayal…it’d break the two of you before you even began.” He leans closer, his lips ghosting over your earshell. “He will never forgive you.”

All hope shrivels inside you, the last remnants you still held onto crumbling to dust.

You almost made a mistake. Of course Coryo’s right. 

“Do you trust me?” 

You give a frantic nod, releasing a shuddering sob.

He smiles at your response.

“Then go upstairs,” he instructs. “I’ll talk to him, fix everything.”

Seeing you linger at the bottom of the stairs, longing gaze darting to the door, Coriolanus squeezes your hand in reassurance.

“Don’t worry, princess. I’m going to make sure you still get to have a wedding at the end of this.” His smile grows wide. “I promise you.”

You search his face. Confidence radiates from his expression, planting the belief that he’s right deep within you. You shouldn’t have doubted him. Coriolanus has gone to great lengths to help you. Even now, he’s protecting your future. It’s more than one should ask of a friend, yet he’s doing it for your sake.

“Thank you,” you say. His hand slackens around yours, a satisfied glint dancing in his cobalt gaze. You rush up the stairs, not daring to look back in fear you falter once more.

[whoskimii]

I'M HERE !

★ comfort after a nightmare ft. geto, megumi, yuuji ! ★ (2)

˗ˏˋ geto suguru ´ˎ˗

“you know, i—” suguru cut himself off as he froze, watching the serene surroundings begin to twist. “mhm ?” you smiled, tilting your head. “what were you about to say, sugu' ?” your voice slowly became distorted.

he watched in horror as you morphed into a curse, the creature closing in on you. a terrific, grotesque smile appeared on your usually pretty face. suddenly, your expression was replaced by an exaggerated sad one. “what ? you don't find me... pretty anymore ?” you tilted your head.

he tried to reach out to you but his feet were heavy, glued to the ground, almost like he was wading through thick mud. no matter how hard he struggled, he didn't make it in time. the monster took a toll on your body.

he felt weak. useless.

you have always been sweet, but as the curse surrounded you, its malevolent energy suffocated you. “why didn't you save me, suguru ?” the vulgar curse played with his mind, his ears no longer filled by your gentle voice but by the curse's. “you were no better than them, after all.” he whispered, rage filling his being as he thought about all the non-sorcerers he despised. maybe it was a sign. he could never love a non-sorcerer.

why would you ever be different ?

suguru gasped as he jolted awake. his sweaty chest heaved up and down rapidly, his brain still replaying the nightmare over and over again. even after waking up, it haunted him.

he glanced over his shoulder, searching for your peaceful form. you were sleeping, snuggly wrapped in a warm, comfy blanket. he ran a hand over his face, attempting to calm down his breathing by taking deep, slow breaths. “a nightmare...” he sighed. “it was just a nightmare.” he tried to reassure himself.

he slowly laid back down, rolling on his side to face you. he observed your relaxed features before tracing your lips with his purple orbs. he lifted his right hand and caressed your cheek.

at his touch, you instinctively stirred awake. your pretty eyes fluttered open, still hazy with sleep. “sugu' ?” you managed to mumble. “yeah, it's me...” you snuggled into his side, which prompted him to wrap his arms around you.

even after long minutes, he struggled to find solace.

“i had a nightmare. about you.” he blurted, hoping to find peace after he admitted it. you lifted your head, searching for his eyes but he kept his chin on top of your hair. “you were... a curse. i didn't save you. i'm sorry.”

it was silly to apologize for a simple nightmare but he still felt the need to. “it was just a nightmare... 'm still here. i love you, suguru.” your words brought him the peace he had been craving since he woke up. “i love you too. more than you'll ever know.”

you were different.

˗ˏˋ fushiguro megumi ´ˎ˗

he couldn't even remember how he ended up here. or why. but megumi didn't care. he knew you were also here, he knew how dangerous it was for you, a non-sorcerer.

he ran through the endless forest, desperately searching for you. the trees loomed tall and menacing, making his search more complicated than he wanted. the only sounds filling his ears were his own ragged breathing and your distant pleas for help as you called out for him.

the more he ran towards the direction of your cries, the more he felt like he was getting further and further away from you. no matter how fast he ran, he could never quite catch up. the forest seemed to shift and change, the path twisting in on itself, leading him in continual, maddening circles.

suddenly, he burst into a clearing, only to find his darling surrounded by a group of curses. “megumi...” you whispered, desperate to be saved.

you were terrified.

just the sight made his throat tighten.

he attempted to run towards you as he looked into your eyes filled with despair. his mind was overwhelmed by the fact that he couldn't move. he couldn't do anything except watch as the curses taunted him for being too weak to protect you. his hands trembled as he tried to summon his shikigami but they didn't respond.

finally, you called out his name one last time before being entirely consumed by the creatures. everything faded to black and—

he jumped awake. he looked around, panicked, before realizing that he was in his room. he instinctively looked to his side and saw you, pretty lips slightly parted as soft breaths left you.

he sighed heavily and let himself fall on the mattress. as his back hit the bed, you woke up groggily. “mhm... 'gumi ?” you rubbed your eyes. he cringed internally, cursing at himself for waking you up. “yeah... yeah. sorry.” he breathed. you propped your head on your hand, staring at him with heavy eyelids. megumi could feel your gaze on him. you could easily sense that something was wrong.

“i had a nightmare.” he said before you could even question him. “these curses were around you and... you...” he sighed and rubbed his face. “shit...” he cursed, unable to say more. “hey...” you whispered and straddled him. his hands flew to your waist. “i'm here, 'gumi. forget about that stupid nightmare, okay ?” he hummed. “easier said than done.”

you leaned down and planted a kiss on his lips. “and now ?” he closed his eyes. “i think... i'll be able to forget about it if you keep going.”

˗ˏˋ itadori yuuji ´ˎ˗

“how does it taste ?” he smiled as he watched you sip on the milkshake he just paid for you. “good !” you beamed.

you two were walking through a quiet park. the world seemed safe and warm. for a moment, yuuji felt at peace. but the lovely moment was quickly ended by a cold presence.

as if on cue, the sky darkened and the warmth of the sunny day faded. you could also sense the sudden change in atmosphere as you looked around with growing fear. yuuji felt a sharp pain in his chest, almost as if something was trying to break free from within him.

sukuna.

the teen's eyes widened at the painful realization.

just a second after, he was no longer in control of his own body. he felt himself being overtaken by the king of curses.

of course he attempted to fight back. of course he wished to keep you safe and sound. but of course it was no use as his vision began getting blurred.

and when it cleared again, his worst nightmare laid before him.

there you were, on the ground. you were injured and you looked up at him, your eyes filled with pure fear. he couldn't believe it. it was the first time you looked at him like that.

blood stained the ground around you. your blood. he glanced down at his hands.

his hands were covered in your blood.

he wanted to speak, to reassure you that everything would be okay and that it wasn't him but the only thing that came out was sukuna's voice as he mocked him for his weakness.

suddenly, he woke up in a cold sweat. the nightmare left him with an undeniable sense of guilt.

the darkness within him could potentially hurt his loved ones. it could harm you.

as he looked to his side, he noticed that you were already awake. “baby...? what... go back to sleep—” he didn't have time to finish his sentence. “are you okay ? you had a nightmare, didn't you...? i woke up because you were calling my name.”

he couldn't lie to you.

“i did... i don't wanna talk about it.” he leaned down and kissed your forehead before wrapping his arms around you. his priority was to keep you safe, at all costs. no matter what. “you sure you don't want to...?” you cupped his cheeks. he placed his hand above yours and smiled faintly. “i'm sure.” he whispered. “you don't need to know about it.” you only hummed, not wanting to push it further. “okay...”

he caressed your neck with the tip of his nose, enjoying how soft and warm you were. “i love you, angel. always.” your pinkie met his. “always...”

[trashygremlinsinyourarea]

Time for a Soulbaby

Casper and you end up… making the Soulbaby you always wanted.

So, we all know the ending where we end up on our bed with him. All ready to finally make that little Soulbaby.

Now, some of you might think that the little Soulbaby is a metaphor for him impregnating you. BUT what if it isn't?

You have your fun with him, teaching him how to make sweet love with you, how to enjoy pleasure, and how to become 'one' with his beloved.

As you do this, something happens. A piece of your soul leaves your body, as does his. They merge together and… BAM. The two of you wake up with a small, glowing soul orb between you.

You gently poke the orb, only for it to morph into the shape of a toddler.

Congratulations! It's a Soulbaby! A tiny white-haired sweetie with a face similar to Casper's and your beautiful [Colour] eyes.

Little Casper/You baby seems to be what I would call the 'death and life' baby. Like the goddess Hel.

I suppose the next step is a proper soul wedding between the two parents.

[jenscx]

[05] tumblr girls — house of memories

it was cliché; being in love with danielle marsh, the straightest girl on earth. you thought your feelings were hopeless, until you discover her tumblr blog.

danielle’s dakgangjeong was delicious. you don’t regret proposing to her on the spot. if embarrassing yourself meant that you could eat her food on a daily basis, it was well worth it. the mere thought of her food made you salivate. you slap your cheeks lightly, willing yourself to focus on the lesson. the sound emitted from your slap catches the attention of haerin, who stares at you.

her stare reads, ‘i know what you’re thinking about.’ you arch an eyebrow at her. haerin definitely knows about danielle liking you, danielle’s tumblr post mentioned it. you wonder what danielle has said to haerin.

has she talked about your smile? your hair? your looks? or maybe your personality? well, you weren’t sure what danielle could say about that. even basing it off a couple interactions, you probably came off as weird and awkward.

the seeds of doubt seemed to have grown recently. how could danielle like someone like you? maybe she’s crazy. no, you take that back. she’s perfect. almost too perfect. oh, maybe that was what was wrong with her. no one could be that amazing and gorgeous and perfect. only danielle marsh. only mo jihye.

“are you insane?” you hear haerin ask quietly when you slam your head against the desk. a red, quickly forming, mark appears on your forehead, a reminder of the pain. you wince, both at her harsh tone and the lingering seethe.

massaging the sore spot, you turn behind, facing haerin who’s staring at you with a bored expression.

“do you know what flowers danielle likes?”

the header of her blog was a bouquet of tulips, but you could never be too sure. what if she likes dandelions or sunflowers? she was basically the sun reincarnated. to be honest, if she was the sun, you’d understand why sunflowers all face the sun. who wouldn’t want to look at danielle all day?

“gardenias,” she replies, her face morphing into one of curiosity, “why are you asking?”

well, if danielle didn’t mind you telling her best friend…

“i asked her to go visit this dog cafe with me tomorrow,” you explain, “i mean, like, kind of a date, i guess? just thought it would be nice to get some flowers for her.”

haerin lights up, a smirk plastered on her face, “does she know it’s a date?”

“uh, no?” her smile drops immediately.

“what.”

you instantly cower, fearing the intense, narrowing gaze that haerin adorned.

“we’re just hanging out. i didn’t really say that it was a date,” your voice comes out strained and quiet. haerin sighs loudly, her disappointment evident. guilt seeps into your every vein, did danielle tell her it was a date? you didn’t know what to say, only staring back at the orbs of exasperation.

a hand slams onto the whiteboard, a look of anger portraying your teacher’s face. you instantly jolt back to look at the front.

“anything to share with the class?” he prods.

haerin speaks out, noting your frozen state, “no sir.” she sends you a glare.

you deflate in your chair, mind only focusing on the blurry image of brown, wavy curls and a blinding smile.

the day had gone by in a blur. with your constant dozing off, you barely noticed the school bell ringing, signifying the end of the day. minji and hanni stand before your desk, a look of concern evident on their faces.

“is she alive?” minji asks, waving a hand in front of your face. you finally regain some of your senses, swatting her waving hand away. hanni rolls her eyes and shoves your belongings into your bag.

“girl hurry up,” she whines, “i wanna go get ice cream.” you groan, heeding to hanni’s words as you hurry out of the classroom with your friends.

maybe you could worry about your fatigue later, you had two whiny best friends to take care of first.

in the midst of licking your vanilla ice cream, (hanni had called you basic but you think she’s just jealous minji ate some of yours instead of hers), your phone beeps. and it beeps continuously until minji huffs, “turn that thing off.”

you roll your eyes and do as told, turning your phone to silent mode while minji fans herself and dabs away the droplets of sweat falling down her neck.

“do y’all remember when sungchan from the other block punched some jock in the face?” hanni suddenly brings up.

“oh yeah!” minji’s eyes widen, the heat long forgotten as you reminisce about the past years.

“what was it again? that guy was making fun of shotaro or something?” you ask.

hanni nods fervently, “yeah. i think sungchan got away with it too since someone had caught the jock pushing taro around.”

“wonder what it’s like to have someone defend my honour like sungchan did,” minji laughs, her uniform drenched with sweat. you watch hanni’s eyes follow her hands, pulling her damp hair into a makeshift ponytail. scoffing at the girl, you continue eating your ice cream.

maybe it would be nice to have someone defend your honour.

your teeth reach the cone.

“where are you bringing danielle tomorrow?”

“dog cafe,” you answer, “i might tell her soon.”

it’s the underlying fact that danielle has unintentionally exposed herself (or you had snooped around) on her tumblr blog that makes you so at ease. the mere statement that she likes her project partner could only be linked back to you. unless she had another project partner…

“oh serious?” minji asks.

you nod.

“congrats bro!”

it’s a little awkward with the way minji’s patting your back like you’re a kid. hanni just stares incredulously at how she’s treating you. sometimes it feels like they’re your parents, even though they fight and bicker incessantly.

“i can’t believe you managed to hide the fact that you liked her for so long from us though,” hanni sighs, “I literally told you about my crush and you didn’t tell me about yours. i’m feeling a little betrayed.”

while hanni’s moaning about your so called betrayal, you notice how minji stiffens up at the mention of hanni having a crush. her eyes slowly shift to the girl.

“you like someone?”

wow. you didn’t realise how easy it was for them to turn into a bunch of awkward losers.

hanni rolls her eyes.

“shut up, anyway, since when did you even like danielle? i mean, you didn’t even know her korean name.”

“the minor details don’t matter!”

“so when did you start liking her? you never told us,” minji asks curiously.

you remember the first time your eyes landed on the girl. sixteen and naive, dreaming of things that were beyond your control. the kid from the other block, you were called. it was strange, adapting to an environment where everyone else knew each other but you. yet, it was good. you met hanni and minji and eventually bumped into danielle in the hallway. you don’t think she remembers, but you do. the strangest thing was, that the moment you locked your sight onto her, everything else fell into place magically.

your extracurriculars, classes, friend groups, everything suddenly made sense and became easygoing. something about danielle made your life brighter, even though you barely knew the girl. it was like the universe knew that she had arrived. and maybe in another life, if everyone were sunflowers, you’d face danielle instead of the sun.

despite knowing close to nothing about the cheerleader, she made life happier. your day would be made even with a glance from her. you would giggle and smile at the memory even though it may be fleeting. and knowing that she shares the same sentiments? well, it just propelled you out of earth. you felt like you were constantly on cloud nine.

“when i moved over from the other block,” your teeth sank into the cone.

minji guffaws.

“dude! you’ve liked her for so long?”

“i guess so,” you’ve never truly realised how fast time passed. maybe liking danielle was such a constant in your life that you didn’t even notice how slowly you grew up.

frowning at the thought, you sigh, “she’s just really easy to like.”

hanni nods, “i get it.”

she doesn’t notice how swiftly minji turns her head.

“she’s just… perfect.”

there’s no other word to describe danielle marsh. she’s just amazingly perfect. it’s a little unnerving. how could someone be so perfect? it was unreal. you feel like you’ve mentioned this before.

“alright romeo,” hanni giggles, “calm down.”

you stare at her blankly before chuckling at your own feelings.

while minji and hanni finish up their ice cream, you check your phone. instantly, a wave of shock and exhilaration runs through your body. your phone lights up with a series of unread messages from danielle.

danielle [4.29pm]:

hii y/n!!

do u think this looks nice?

[image attached]

was thinking of wearing this tmrw

what do u think? :))

no wonder your phone was ringing just now! you sigh softly at your own stupidity. danielle must have been waiting for your reply. what if she was waiting for a long time? your heart constricts at the thought of danielle pouting, eagerly but patiently waiting. your hands fly to respond.

jeon y/n [5.16pm]:

you look gorgeous

please wear that ㅜㅜ

omg

sorry for replying late…

i was with minji and hanni

maybe she would be able to feel your sincerity through your messages.

danielle [5.17pm]:

hello!!

aw really? :D

thanks y/n!!

ure too sweet <3

that heart again. ugh. you could feel your own heart clenching at her cuteness.

meanwhile, your friends eye you with disgust.

whatever. not like they understand.

your hair sways in the wind, matching the flutters of your heart. in your hair, a crushed bouquet of gardenias rests. the crinkles in the wrapping weren’t your fault! you were just too nervous waiting for danielle. despite your protests, danielle had forced you to not pick her up, and insisted you to just meet her at a nearby cafe instead.

“y/n!”

oh my goodness.

“hi dani,” you greet shyly.

if liking girls, or more specifically danielle, was a sin, you’d gladly go to hell and while there, you would brag about how you’ve captured a glance of heaven.

“for me?”

you were definitely in love. the curl of her lips only caused your heart rate to increase.

handing the bouquet to her, and stealthily wiping your sweaty palms against your jeans, you try to muster a similar smile.

danielle grins widely as she accepts the bouquet before placing it into her ginormous bag that reminds you of doraemon’s pocket.

“how’d you know i like gardenias?”

“i…” you feel like lying, but maybe hiding the fact that you know of danielle’s crush caused enough guilt, “i asked haerin.”

shock appears evidently on danielle’s face.

“you talk to haerin?”

scratching the back of your neck, you shrug, “sometimes? she’s in some of my classes.”

danielle pouts.

the urge to take a photo of her is too strong, but you manage to resist it with sheer willpower and determination.

(you’re lying. you almost fainted.)

“ugh, she better not have told you any embarrassing stories about me!”

you reassure danielle with an awkward pat, “nope, we don’t talk very often. and she doesn’t really bring up anything you’ve said to her, danielle.”

the girl suddenly halts and stiffens up. you raise an eyebrow at her sudden frozen state. maybe you’ve offended her— should you apologise?

“can you call me jihye? it’s not that danielle isn’t okay— you can still call me dani! but y’know, jihye just sounds more…”

intimate is the word.

you send a comforting smile to her, “okay jihye.”

it must sound nice coming from you, if the way danie—no, jihye, blinks and then beams is any indication. it feels good saying her name too. it’s a little hilarious that a few weeks back, you didn’t even know her korean name.

“uh— okay! let’s go!” jihye shrieks. you like the fact that you’re aware of the effect you have on her now. it doesn’t feel like mere delusion anymore.

as you sit down in the cafe, jihye doesn’t say much. after ordering, you decide to take the initiative in starting a conversation. maybe you should start with something common; like your project!

“when are you free to finish our project?” you ask.

jihye turns to you, frowning, “have you asked minji and hanni for their help yet?”

you unintentionally wince at the mention of your friends.

“i don’t think they’ll be willing to do it,” you mutter, just thinking about hanni’s feelings and minji’s obliviousness.

“oh, then that’s okay! we can just do it ourselves, right?”

it’s pretty obvious what her intention is. but for the sake of humouring her (and because you fold everytime she speaks), you nod.

“maybe we can do it?”

the hint of hopefulness in her voice makes you want to nod your head repeatedly until it falls off.

god, maybe you are a little obsessed with her, if your palpitating heart was any indication.

“sure!” your voice comes out a little high-pitched and whinier than expected.

jihye only laughs it off. your cheeks flush red with embarrassment, but if jihye’s laughter was the result of your stupidity, you would gladly do it again to hear her.

“let’s just enjoy today first, we can always do it sometime later,” she says. you agree wholeheartedly (not because you’re whipped!) but today was your so-called date with her.

you smile back at her, with all the sincerity and adoration in the world. whilst jihye drinks her caramel macchiato with an ungodly amount of sugar, you take the opportunity to admire her features. her skin, basking in the sunlight, glimmering like edward cullen from twilight. you internally cringe at your own thoughts.

“is it good?” you ask after she lets out a satisfied sigh.

“mhm! want some?” her hand offers you her drink, the tip of the straw poking out stained with her lipstick. you gulp, thinking about how it would technically be an indirect kiss.

nodding, you take a sip.

“that’s really sweet,” you comment. jihye only laughs.

“i guess i just like sweet things,” she winks playfully and wiggles her eyebrows. it’s so ridiculous that it makes you erupt into laughter. the innuendo doesn’t go over your head either, it just makes you feel hazy, as if everything was a dream.

you quickly finish up your own pastry and offer jihye bites in between conversations. you learn that haerin was her first friend when she transferred from australia to korea, and that she tried out for the cheerleading team because the school mascot was cute. it’s an endearing reason that you can’t fault her with.

“let’s go now?” jihye asks. nodding, you quickly pay for your drinks and food, despite jihye’s protests. once outside, your hand itches to pull hers into a grasp. your fingers flex and adjust uncomfortably as you resist the urge to interlock your fingers. jihye only exclaims gleefully as you approach the dog cafe. a quaint little storefront with a cute wooden sign displaying a paw print.

your hand flies out to open the door for her chivalrously and jihye mumbles a bashful ‘thank you’. the moment you stepped foot inside, a chorus of barks resounded, only heightening jihye’s excitement. you watch as her eyes dart around the room, eagerly searching for the cute puppies. you’re whisked away by the staff, who’s wearing an adorable apron with a dog printed at the front.

“aww! y/n,” jihye tugs at your arm, pointing at the apron, “the uniform’s so cute! i would love to work here!”

your brain immediately imagines jihye, all sunshine and rainbows with the apron adorned on her body. yeah, you would visit the dog cafe every day if she worked here.

“we can come work here during our break,” you suggest.

“oh my gosh— yes!” she squeals. you’re dragged past the gate separating the dogs, and instantly, a tiny pomeranian jumps onto you. jihye just stares in awe at the various tiny dogs running around. and as the staff introduces the puppies, you cuddle up to the cream pomeranian called cookie.

“y/n…!” jihye shrieks, her eyes gleaming with adoration and you kind of notice the tears about to fall, “they’re all so adorable!”

cookie crawls into your lap and paws at your hands for you to rub his stomach. you do so as a maltese waddles up to jihye, its curious eyes staring at her.

jihye immediately falls to her knees and welcomes the maltese with open arms.

“this is the best day of my life,” she proclaims tearfully as another shih tzu pads towards her, sniffling her hand. you laugh at how easily jihye cries.

“you look really cute right now,” you say, using your free hand to take a couple of photos. jihye pouts, “i’m trying my best not to cry! but these puppies are just so cute!”

jihye takes out her own phone and continuously snaps pictures of the puppies pawing at her hand.

“thank you for bringing me here,” she suddenly sighs delightfully, “i’ve always wanted to come to a dog cafe.”

guilt gnaws at you as you’re reminded of why you even brought her out.

“you know me so well!” she exclaims.

oh fuck, you think. the only reason why you knew about her affinity for dogs and animals was because you stalked her tumblr page. it’s a heart wrenching devastation that tugs your heart to the bottom of your stomach. the guilt and shame clenches around your heart in a vice grip.

it doesn’t disappear for the rest of the day when jihye plays with the dogs. everytime your eyes landed on her, you felt mortified at your own actions. you shouldn’t have ever violated her privacy like that. just knowing that she liked you now, only drove the regret further in.

it’s a blaring realisation that jihye won’t want anything to do with you after you tell her.

but you can’t bear to keep it a secret anymore.

you keep your mouth shut for the remainder of the day. just to let jihye enjoy her time before you ultimately ruin it. she’s the happiest you’ve ever seen and it sucks, because you won’t get to see her like this ever again.

“are you walking me home?” jihye asks. you nod, not daring to even glance at her. it’s dark, and the streetlights don’t offer much protection for jihye.

(and it also gives you more time to spend with her.)

maybe she knows that you're nervous and upset, because she doesn’t start any conversation at all, choosing to instead hum various songs, filling in the blank silence. meanwhile, you mull the consequences of your actions. only when jihye reaches her front door, you decide to say something.

“hey…,” your mouth turns dry. the girl whips her head to you, “yeah?”

“i— i’m sorry,” you whisper. jihye tilts her head curiously, “what for? are you okay?”

the way she’s staring at you so concerned, you don’t deserve it at all. you don’t get to indulge in her care and affection after betraying her trust like that.

“i know about your tumblr page.”

jihye’s eyes widen considerably and a gasp escaped her lips.

“what…?”

your own eyes squeeze shut, afraid of her reaction, “and i know that you like me.”

there’s a few seconds of silence. you think she’s just taking it all in.

you use the opportunity of her shock to continue explaining, “i found out the day i stayed back to watch you practise. the tab opened by itself and i… i’m sorry… i just couldn’t help myself.”

jihye— did you even have the right to call her that anymore? one look at the girl had you crumbling into pieces internally, despite it being you who broke her trust.

“it was really shitty of me to do, and i don’t know why i did it,” you whisper, “but i like you. i really really like you, ever since i moved blocks. i know i’ve ruined things between us, and you might not forgive me, but i just couldn’t continue being your friend knowing i violated your privacy like that.”

danielle gapes at you, before her eyebrows furrow.

“tell me you’re joking.”

“i’m not, i’m sorry.”

“jeon y/n, are you serious?” it’s heartbreaking to hear danielle like this, so raw and vulnerable.

“jihye—”

her voice comes out, shooting like venom, “don’t call me that.”

you feel the onslaught of tears ready to fall.

“i’m sorry.”

you can’t even form a single coherent thought with danielle glaring at you like you’re worth nothing to her. you think of all the sweet messages she’s sent to you, cheerful encouragement she says throughout the day, the snacks she’s prepared for you. it’s all ruined. because of you.

all you do is ruin things.

masterlist | next

[thejoyofviolentmovement]

The members of Geelong, Australia-based outfit ORB — Zak Olsen (vocals, guitar, bass), David Gravolin (guitar, bass) and Jamie Harner (drums) — have had a lengthy career, starting in earnest with a lengthy stint in their first band as teenagers, The Frowning Clouds. Since starting ORB, the Aussie trio have released two albums, 2017’s Neutrality and 2018’s The Space Between, which they supposed with a European and North American tour opening for King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard back in 2019. The band’s long-awaited and highly-anticipated album, the Tim Dunn-produced Tailem Bend is slated for a July 12, 2024 release through Fuzz Club globally and through Flightless Records in Australia. The band didn’t intend for six years to pass without an album, but there’s little in life that happens as expected — or as desired. Much like all of us, the COVID-19 pandemic threw a monkey wrench into their plans. And then add side pursuits and the other vagaries of daily life that we all know too well. Tailem Bend derives its name from a quiet South Australian town, whose name caught the band’s collective eye while on tour. For the band, the name conjured images of some long lost prog rock act; however, the town’s name reportedly is derived from the Ngarrindjeri word “thelim,” referring to a sharp bend in the nearby Murray River. Written over the course of 2021 and 2022 and finished in the studio early last year, Tailem Bend‘s material is saturated in vintage warmth and depth while showcasing a bold leap forward in their sound and approach that’s not a complete departure: Continuing to be anchored around their unerring knack for being tunefully hypnotic, the album’s material sees the trio infusing heavy doom-leaning jams with a lighter psych pop sensibility and funky rhythmic grooves. There still fuzzy power chord-driven riffs, but the material also features some mellower passages and a renewed focus on rhythm and space. A deep sense of shared history also informs the album’s material. The Aussie trio reunite with Tim Dunn, who produced several Frowning Cloud albums. The album also features guest spots from former Frowning Cloud bandmate and current frontman of Banana Gun, Nick van Bankel (conga); The Murlocs‘ Callum Shortal, who often plays live shows with ORB (guitar); Leah Senior’s Girlatones‘ and Baby Blue’s Jesse Williams (piano) and Emma Bailey (backing vocals) and Ashely Goodall (backing vocals). To celebrate the album’s announcement and build some buzz on the album, the members of ORB recently shared “Can’t Do That”/”Morph.” The A-side “Can’t Do That” is an expansive jam anchored around fuzzy blues-tinged power chords, a funky and mind-bending, motorik-like groove paired punchy hook that channels a synthesis of Thin Lizzy, Ram Jam‘s “Black Betty,” Black Sabbath and jazz fusion. “‘Can’t Do That’ started out from a demo of mine,” the band’s David Gravolin says. “Tried to sound like W.I.T.C.H., ended up sounding like Thin Lizzy.” The band’s Zak Olsen adds that “Lyrically it’s about having self-respect in low times.” The B-side “Morph” features some heavy yet melodic, Black Sabbath-like riffage paired with Olsen’s reverb-soaked Ozzy Osbourne-inspired delivery singing some trippy lyrics. Play loud, smoke some ganja and then vibe out!

[corruptedcaps]

Beach Find

Lizzie and her husband Sam strolled hand in hand along the sandy shore, the gentle waves lapping at their feet. The sun was warm and comforting. Having a child allowed them rare opportunities to vacation away just the two of them but their daughter Vicky was 18 now and was far from the partying type. They knew she would be cooped up for the week in her bedroom at home with a good book.

"I almost had forgotten what sand had felt like." Sam chuckled.

"Yeah I agree- ahhh what was that?" Lizzie replied after stepping in something sharp. Lizzie’s gaze was drawn to something twinkling in the sand beneath her. Letting go of Sam’s hand she knelt down to investigate.

With a few scoops of her hand, she unearthed a jewel tiara, its pink gems shimmering in the sunlight. "Sam, look at this!" she exclaimed, holding it up for him to see.

"Wow, that’s beautiful." Sam said, leaning in for a closer look. "Where do you think it came from?"

His words were lost on her. All sound seemed to disappear as she held the tiara. She was entranced by it and felt a growing need to put it on. She lifted it over her head and placed it softly onto her hair.

All at once the sound around her rushed back and she felt a pulsating pleasure coarse through her body. Her bones started to creak and crack as the became stronger. Years of bad posture were erased in seconds. Her bad hip suddenly brand new again.

"Lizzie, what’s happening?" Sam gasped, stepping back in astonishment.

"I... I don't know, but I feel... amazing." Lizzie replied, her voice now softer and more melodic.

Her slightly saggy skin started to tighten around her improved frame, years of wrinkles disappearing. More than that it became smoother, softer. Even in her youth it had never felt so good.

Sam stared at Lizzie, his mouth agape. "Maybe you should take it off, this doesn't feel right, Lizzie." He suggested, a sense of unease creeping into his voice.

"Shut up, Sam!" Lizzie snapped, her eyes flashing with anger. The harshness of her words cut through the air like a knife.

Sam recoiled, stunned by her sudden outburst. "Lizzie, what's gotten into you?" He asked, his concern deepening.

Realizing what she had said, Lizzie's expression softened. "I'm so sorry, Sam. I don't know what came over me. I just feel soooo goooood." she said as the changes continued.

Her short mom hair grew long, cascading down her back to just above her butt, her brown hair becoming lighter and lighter until it shimmer blonde.

Her sensible nails transformed into long, fake pink nails, perfectly manicured. Her lips plumped up, now coated in bold red lipstick, and her eyes became piercing blue, sparkling with a newfound intensity.

Lizzie felt her body become strong and powerful, the sensation overwhelming. A shift began to occur within her mind. Subtle at first, her thoughts started to change, becoming increasingly materialistic. The simplicity of her previous life seemed dull and unsatisfying now. She began to crave luxury, riches, and all things glamorous.

"It's okay. Let's just take it off, alright?" Sam said gently, stepping closer.

But as Sam reached for the tiara, Lizzie pulled back, a sneer forming on her lips. "How fucking dare you try and take this away from me Sam. You've always been such a boring bastard!" she hissed, this time without an ounce of regret.

As if to reward her cruelness to her husband, her tits swelled up, growing into gravity defying orbs that made her moan in pleasure. Her regular mom-style clothing morphed into a tight pink dress, hugging her curves and featuring a long slit along the side that showed off her legs. She arched her back to push her boobs out to make them look even more impressive.

"Lizzie, this isn't you." Sam pleaded, trying to reason with her but the transformation was done.

"You're right, it isn't. I'm Eliza now and I'm so much better than I was. Who wants to be a fucking boring housewife when they could be a goddess like me? I'm going to be so fucking bad and love every minute of it!" She declared with a cackle that sent a shiver down Sam's spine.

-

Vicky had started to worry about her parents. She hadn't heard from them in days. She had initially put it down to them just having a good time on their vacation but it was so unlike them not to check in.

Their flight was due to land that day and Vicky breathed a sigh of relief when at last she heard the front door open. Expecting her mom and dad to appear with their usual warm smiles and travel stories, Vicky was stunned to see a strikingly beautiful woman step into the house, her presence commanding and intimidating.

The woman wore a loose fitting pink dress with a sparkling tiara sitting atop her perfect blonde hair which flowed in perfect waves. Her piercing blue eyes scanned the room with a cold, calculating gaze. Sam followed in tow behind her, his posture subservient and his eyes downcast.

"Mom?" Vicky asked, her voice trembling with confusion.

The woman laughed, a chilling, heartless sound. "Don't you dare call me that again you vermin. I wouldn't want anyone to think I produced such an inferior offspring. Although I doubt anyone will even think a beauty like could be related to you. You'll call me Eliza now." She snarled.

"What happened to you?" Vicky demanded, tears welling up in her eyes.

Eliza sauntered over, her long fake nails glinting in the light as she reached out to stroke Vicky's cheek but quickly grabbed her face in her hand roughly. "I’ve finally become who I was always meant to be. Look at you, so plain and pathetic. You're the worst mistake I ever made. You should be grateful I even acknowledge you now. Fetch me a drink, and make yourself useful for once."

With tears in her eyes, Vicky dutifully set out to do as she was told. Every fiber of her being wanted to yell and scream at her mother but she found herself unable, as though she were under some sort of spell.

-

Over the next few weeks, Vicky could only watch helplessly as Eliza became notorious in their town. She stayed out late partying, shamelessly flirting and sleeping with other women's men. Their life savings quickly dwindled as Eliza spent lavishly on designer clothes, jewelry, and extravagant nights out, all for herself.

At home, Eliza treated Sam and Vicky as slaves. They were made to do all the cooking, cleaning, laundry, and anything else she demanded.

“Don’t fucking mess up the laundry like you did last time!” Eliza snapped at Vicky one afternoon as she lounged around basking in her beauty and cruel power.

Vicky picked up Eliza’s tight dresses, all which stunk of sex and obediently piled them into her laundry basket.

“Here take this as well.” Eliza said standing up and stripping all the clothes she was wearing off of herself. Vicky lifted her eyes to the sky but for a moment caught a glimpse of Eliza’s perfect form. A weird pang of jealously hit Vicky for just a moment. That’s when she heard the voice.

“Wear me.” The voice purred. It seemed to be coming from the top of Eliza’s head and only Vicky could hear it. Her eyes settled onto the tiara, its glomming jewels captivating her.

“What the fuck are doing just standing there? Get out and do the laundry!” Eliza said with a snap of her fingers breaking Vicky from her trance. Vicky quickly scampered away but the damage had been done.

Finding her father alone in the kitchen doing the dishes she sidled up to him and whispered in hushed tones.

"Dad, what is it with that tiara? It's the source of all this evil isn't it?" She asked as quiet as she could.

Sam looked around nervously before nodding. "I saw it happen, Vicky. When she put it on, it transformed her. She's not the woman I married anymore."

Vicky's heart sank further, realizing the depth of their predicament. "We have to do something, Dad. We can't live like this. We have to destroy it!"

"It's too dangerous sweetheart. We don't even know if destroying it will work. It might just enrage her even more." Sam said with a sigh and went back to his dishes. Vicky knew it fell on her to save her family.

-

Vicky returned home from school the next day, her heart pounding with determination. She had researched all about the tiara and was convinced it was from an infamous wreck. The King and Queen of Bratavia went down with their ship during a nasty storm right near where Vicky’s parents had been vacationing. The King and Queen were known as evil tyrants who kept their subjects obedient through fear.

Vicky feared that her mother was somehow being corrupted by the tiara in the same way the queen likely had been all those years ago. She was ready to destroy the tiara by any means necessary. However, as she entered the house, she found a smug Eliza waiting for her, with Sam standing beside her, his head hung low.

"Hi, Mom—I mean, Eliza. What's going on?" Vicky asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

Eliza's lips curled into a malicious smile. "What's going on is I know all about your plan to try and destroy my gorgeous tiara. Sam here squealed like the little piggy that he is."

"Dad how could you?" Vicky said in shock.

"Oh don't be disappointed him dear he's been under my thumb since my transformation. He's been reporting to me for awhile now about your rising rebellion against me. I must say I am impressed you've been able to resist my power." Eliza said with a smirk.

"We need to destroy it! It's turned you into a monster!" Vicky said pleading with her mother.

Eliza laughed, a chilling sound that echoed through the room. "Is that the real reason? Or is it that you want the power for yourself?"

Vicky shook her head vehemently. "No! No of course not! I just want my mom back. This… this isn't who you are!"

Eliza stepped closer, her piercing blue eyes glinting with cruelty. "I know it's true, I can see the desire in your eyes. You want this power I have. You want to be as big of a bad bitch as I am. You have heard it call out to you, I know you have."

"How could you know that? Whatever the case I don't want it, I don't want any of it!" Vicky insisted, her voice faltering slightly.

Eliza's sneer deepened. "Oh, but it is. You can deny it all you want, but I see the the way you look at me, with envy and longing. You crave the power, the control. You want to be just like me."

Vicky felt a pang of conflict within her. Despite her revulsion at what her mother had become, there was a small, undeniable part of her that was drawn to the promise of the tiara's power. The thought of wielding such influence, of being able to control and command, was tempting. To be a beautiful bitch. She couldn't help herself from getting wet.

"No, I won't let you manipulate me, you're wrong!" Vicky said, trying to push the thoughts away.

"We'll see about that, darling. You'll soon be a daughter worthy of me!" Eliza laughed again, her tone mocking as she snapped her fingers. Sam grabbed Vicky and pushed her down to her knees while holding her from moving.

Eliza stepped triumphantly over to Vicky, taking off the tiara. "You see, dear, the tiara's power is already in me. You could have destroyed it, but I would have remained. The only thing you would have stopped was your own ascension, but mommy is here to help with that." She said with an evil smile as she placed the tiara onto Vicky's head.

Vicky's hair began to change first. Her once plain brown locks grew longer and glossier, transforming into cascading waves of rich, golden blonde. "No, I don't want this!" Vicky cried, trying to pull the tiara off, but her hands were still held fast by Sam. Her resolve weakened as she felt the luxurious weight of her new hair.

Next, her eyes changed from their ordinary brown to a piercing blue, the color intensifying until they sparkled like sapphires, like her mothers. "Stop it! Mmmmm don't stop!" Vicky whimpered unable to stop letting out a soft moan.

Her lips plumped up, becoming fuller and more luscious, painted with a seductive shade of deep red. "I can't… I won't…" Vicky tried to protest, but the feel of her newly enhanced lips was intoxicating. She could feel her resistance slipping, the desire to embrace her transformation growing stronger.

By now Sam had let go of her hands and had stepped back. Vicky was free to remove the tiara from her head but as her hands rose higher they stopped at her chest which was expanding by the second. She ran her hands over her impressive new tits, squeezing them with perverse joy.

"Oh fuck these feel so god damn good! I could make so many weak boys into my puppets. Noooo I can't let this happen! I need... to... fight... it!" She fought in weak protest as her nails, once short and practical, lengthened into perfectly manicured talons, a vibrant pink color matching her mother's.

"Oh fuck yes these are perfect for a bitch like me! They would look so hawt running down the back of a hawt guys back! No Vicky, don't give in!" She whispered, but the sight of her elegant nails made her heart race with excitement. The transformation was nearly complete, and Vicky couldn't fight how good she was feeling.

"I can't fight it, I don't want to fight it! Yes! Make me hot, make me cruel, make me evil! Vicky is dead! Tori is hear to stay!" She moaned loudly, her body shivering with delight.

She stood up, her posture now confident and commanding, a cruel smile playing on her lips. Eliza clapped her hands in delight. "How do you feel?"

"Mmmm I feel so naughty. Thanks for the upgrade Mommy... Sorry I mean Eliza." Tori purred as she primped herself in the mirror.

"No need to apologize dear, you are worthy of being my daughter now. I couldn't be prouder of the wicked hottie you are." Eliza said beaming at Tori with pride.

"Thanks Mommy, I can't wait to show this patheic town who I am. Mmmm it's getting me so wet thinking about all those bitchy bullies who tormented me every day and how I'll have them under my heel. Of course I'll need a new wardrobe." Tori said remembering her closet was full of drab clothes designed to blend in. She needed to stand out now.

"Absolutely sweetheart, we'll take your simp of a father's credit card to the mall and spoil you rotten. Nothing but the best for my princess." Eliza said kissing the air around her daughter's cheeks.

"Speaking of which, can't we kick him out and bring in a real sugar daddy?" Tori said looking at her grovelling father with disdain.

"Well we have two options dear. First is that we use the kings crown on him. I found it soon after the tiara. It is designed to turn even the most weakest of men into strong confident bastards." Eliza said already dismissive of the idea.

"And the second option?" Tori asked curious.

"Well as gorgeous as the tiara is on your head darling, it has done it's purpose. You are forever an evil beauty just like me. But that is not to say it's power is done corrupting." Eliza said with an evil smile that was soon mimicked on Tori's face as her mother's plan crystallized in her mind.

The two women turned with their cruel smirks towards Sam, devilish intent in their eyes.

"Two wicked Mommies? I'll be the most spoilt girl in the world!" Tori said closing in on Sam who backed himself into a corner.

"Welcome to the family... Samatha." Eliza laughed as she watched Tori take the tiara from her head and shove it onto Sam's.

[eyebagshawty]

Did you get a request? It's Headcanons + Blurbs for Being Taken Care of/Washed by Tav for Dammon, Rolan, and Zevlor. Thanks!

Headcanons + Blurbs for Being Taken Care of/Washed by Tav (Part 2)

A/N: Every picture is from Pinterest (y’all are artists I swear!), as well as the ones in part one. If you recognize one that is yours, please let me know and I will credit you.

Characters: Dammon, Rolan, Zevlor

Part 1

Dammon

• You and Dammon had been flirty ever since meeting in the grove

• At Last Light, you finally get the courage to offer washing up with him in hopes you might become something more than good friends

• When you ask, he genuinely thinks you’re pranking him

• Like genuinely

• “Very funny, Tav. Now did you need something??”

• “Dammon, I’m serious. You’re telling me a little massage wouldn’t be a great gift for repairing Karlach’s heart?” You motion your fingers in the shape of a heart with a cheeky grin plastered on your face

• When he realizes you aren’t kidding, the wine he’s been sipping spews onto the ground

• His blush is furious, his eyes are like saucers, and his mouth is clamped shut

• “That would…. That would be nice,” he mumbles shyly, “Just tell me when and where and I’ll meet you.” His fingers brush against yours and he’s SO SHY as he walks back to the bar

You draw a bath in the massive tub in the private room Jaheira let you stay in. You hear a curt knock at the door, and tighten your robe. “Astarion I swear if you want food after so clearly declining earlier I swea-“. As you open the door ready to give the vampire spawn a piece of your mind, you’re met face to face with Dammon, who is sporting a very bewildered expression. Your face goes beet red and your mouth promptly closes.

He gives a light chuckle at the embarrassment on your face. “Just finished up work for the day, who knew so many harpers break their weapons so often?” You step to the side and to let him in, and he looks at your surroundings; your laid out armor and evening clothes, your journal that sits on the bedside table, and the long sword he’d gifted you (he really was down bad, he thought to himself) after you’d defeated the goblin camp.

When he looks back over to you, you’re already submerged in the hot water, looking shyly his way. Without a word passing through both of your lips, but an entire conversation being passed through eyes, he slowly undresses as you watch. The tension could be cut with a knife. He slides into the tub, and you take his hand in yours. “I’ve had feelings for you for a long time, Dammon… ever since this tadpole debacle started.”

His tail involuntarily flicks to wrap around your waist, his eyes widening as he tightens his grip on your hand. “I feel the same, I never thought my time in Avernus would lead me to you,” he whispers as he leans closer to you, his lips hovering over yours. Just when they’re about to meet, you smile teasingly and move away, grabbing the provided soap and tenderly scrubbing around his horns. He moans softly as he brings you closer to him, his hands wrapping around your waist. “Darling… is this okay? With you?” His voice is breathy as you continue to wash and work out soap in his hair.

“Of course it is,” you whisper back, and you press a soft peck to his lips. He instantly melts as you continue to scrub soap into his shoulders and back, kissing your arms, your chest, anywhere he can reach.

Rolan

• You and Rolan had already been together at the tiefling party, so his face morphs into a smug smirk when you offer to wash up with him at Last Light

• “Well, future hero of Baldur’s Gate, back for more?” His tail wraps around your calf and you shoot him a playful glare as your cheeks burn and your heart flutters

• Karlach and Shadowheart are just grinning smugly from across the room, and you try to ignore it but his tail yanks your leg a bit, and you stumble into his arms

• “Trip over something, hero?”

• You swat at his chest, “Wouldn’t you like to know wizard boy, go find an orb to ponder,” you huff out

• He squeezes your cheeks together and chuckles, “Give me ten minutes, darling. I’ll be there.” And with that you promptly run away to Shadowheart and Karlach who bombard you with questions

As you wait in your room, the bath filled with hot water and the scent of rose oil lingering in the air, you think about the time you’d spent with Rolan over the course of your journey. Complimenting him on his apprenticeship after convincing him to stay in the grove, having sex at the celebration after defeating the goblins, and how he’d insulted you when Cal and Lia went missing. You’d say your relationship with him was complicated — you didn’t even know if he liked you really.

With a sharp knock on your door you bolted up and answered. “Hello princess, the most talented wizard of this generation is hence at your service.” You chuckled at his cockiness.

“Hello to you too Rolan, come in, please.” As you stepped aside to let him in, he placed his hand on your hip to move by, his lips surprisingly close to yours as his tail swished back and forth. He looked down to your lips, back to your eyes, and kept walking. He immediately stripped down his robes, only to laugh at your beet red face.

“What’s the matter hero? You’ve seen me before,” he laughed. However, you could see an inkling of softness in his eyes and a small blush darkening his cheeks. You roll your eyes and begin to remove your medium armor. Rolan sees you struggling a bit and comes up behind you, pressing your back against him as he undoes the clasps. The room is quiet, but boy oh boy if your heart isn’t SINGING. You both sink into the tub, and you begin to lather soap into his horns. He moans softly as you continue scrubbing into the base of his horns, gathering water into a pitcher and washing soap away. “I’m sorry about everything I said when you first got here, darling.”

Your motions pause but a moment in surprise, but you continue with the performance of nonchalance, rubbing soap across his shoulders and chest. “Oh yeah?” As you reach to scrub at his back, his hand grabs your wrist and he kisses it.

“Yes. I was out of line out of fear and you didn’t deserve it. I… care about you.” You give him a beaming smile and throw your arms around him, the water sloshing around and onto the floor. He kisses the crown of your head, rubbing his hands across your back. “That’s a mess I am not cleaning up, by the way.”

Zevlor

• You offer to wash up with him at the celebration after defeating the goblin camp, and like Dammon, he also thinks you’re messing with him

• “You’re drunk, little one. You did wonderfully and I’m so proud, but you definitely need your rest.” He places his hand on your lower back to steady you, looking anywhere but into your eyes

• You put your hand on his chest and giggle, “Sorry I just… wanted to get to know you better,” you keep drunkenly laughing and like,,, the man thinks he might combust when he realizes you’re dead serious

• Your eyes widen when his tail unconsciously wraps around your thigh, squeezing lightly in eager affection

• IT HAS BEEN SO LONG SINCE THIS MAN HAS FELT WANTED PLEAAASSEEE

• He leans down and whispers softly into your ear, “Meet me at the river once the party has died down, my dear.” And with one last squeeze his tail pulls away and he walks back into the crowd flustered as all hells

When the campfire is snuffed out and most people are off in their own bedrolls or having huddled conversations, you make your way to the shore. You dig your feet into the soft sand and remove your evening clothes, letting your hair fall free from its practical braid. You make your way into the water, submerging your head and sighing with relief. When you look back to the shore you see Zevlor, his eyes wide and his jaw hanging in awe.

You give him a warm smile and beckon him towards you. He grins shyly in return, his tail flicking wildly behind him in excitement that he tries to suppress. He removes his armor and strides into the water towards you. He gathers you so that you’re floating in his lap, and ohmygod he’s nervous. You kiss his cheeks and get to work on his horns and his hair, his tail involuntarily wrapping affectionately and protectively around your waist.

“I can’t tell you how thankful I am darling… not many people are willing to help us infernal creatures,” he whispers, but he spits out the word infernal bitterly. You stroke his cheek tenderly with your thumb.

“Don’t say stuff like that. You deserved our help through and through, and I wanted to help you. Whatever my companions thought be damned,” you whisper back, “How hard is it for you to see that I care for you?” You kiss his temple and hover so that your lips are ghosting over his. He lets out a quiet sob, tears streaming down his face at your kindness. He eagerly presses his lips to yours, his hands grabbing anywhere they can touch. You kneed your fingers into his hair and moan softly. When you pull away he whines, his tail squeezing around your waist.

“Thank you.” You kiss his cheeks once more and continue rubbing soap into his warm skin, brushing away each of his tears as you work.

[knavves]

˖ ࣪ ꒷ ONLY YOU, MY GIRL ꒦

꒰੭ featuring — michael kaiser.

synopsis : kaiser thinks you look so cute resting beside him, he can't help but stuff you full of his fingers.

wc: 1.2k ノ cw + tw: nsfw (18+). fem reader. somnophilia. groping. fingering. use of pet names. nipple play. unprotected sex. creampies. multiple orgasms.

his knuckle glides across your cheekbone, hand morphing to cup your cheek. the rays of sunlight that escape from the curtains perfectly illuminate the features he traces over with his thumb.

you're still sleeping, chest rising with even breaths and the occasional soft snores sounding from you. waking up to you sprawled out so prettily beside him every morning was a blessing in his eyes. everything about you is so captivating to him, you had such control over him even while you were in a deep slumber. his hand barely grazes your skin, drawing over the remnants from last night that were scattered all over your neck and collarbone.

he explores your body further, following the curve of your body and squeezing at the plush of your ass, parts of you he's roamed with his rough hands time and time again. touches that were seemingly pure quickly formed into something much more sinful as he moved lower.

slender fingers hook on either side of your panties, making quick work as he slipped off the fabric and carelessly tossed them to some corner of the room. they only served to hinder him anyway. he doesn't waste a second before the pad of his thumb is reaching over to press into your clit, rubbing soft circles onto the bud. his eyes scanned you for any reactions, a smirk tugging at the end of his lips seeing your body twitch at his ministrations.

the slick pooling in between your legs was increasing by the minute, your arousal coating him as he ran a finger over your folds. one of his fingers eases into your hole causing your sleeping body to jerk slightly at the intrusion, he gently shushes you and strokes the back of your head until your breathing relaxes again. he didn't want to rouse you just yet.

his teeth catch his bottom lip to bite back the groan that's bubbling in his chest watching your cunt greedily suck in a second one of his fingers. his cock is swelling in his pants at your soft whimpers as he pistons his fingers in and out of your cunt, uncaring of your juices cascading down the rose thorns etched into his pale skin. you grind your hips to meet each movement of his fingers, so desperate even though you were asleep.

"so needy.." he mutters but mostly to himself as you can't hear him anyway. loud squelching noises echo in his ears as he picks up the pace, fingers reaching places you could never yourself. you gasp as you near your high and your thighs tremble, threatening to trap his hand where its nestled between them. he doesn't let up, though, only pressing his palm into your sensitive bud, curling his fingers deep inside your sopping pussy.

your eyes flutter open when you gush all over his hand, the lingering effects of your slumber still weary on you as you focus your gaze on your lover. "michael?" you say almost breathlessly, tone drowsy which he lightly chuckles at.

"good morning, angel. look so beautiful." he whispers, deep blue orbs boring into you. you teasingly pout at him, "don't i always?" you quire as your arms slither around his neck, pulling him into a needy kiss. his hands find their way to your waist as smiles against your lips, muttering a quick 'of course'.

"gonna let me fuck this pussy, right? m gonna make you feel so good." he babbles, voice cracking slightly as he ruts his aching bulge against your thigh which he had been neglecting up until now. your head bobs up and down as you quickly nod, whimpering small 'yes's and 'please's. he's clumsy with the way he's fumbling with the waistband of his boxers, letting his cock spring out from it's constraints. he's almost painfully hard, tip flushed a dark red and oozing precum, begging to be buried inside you. he slings one of your legs to dangle around his waist, lining himself up with your eager hole, your simultaneous groans ringing through the room as he pushes his girth into you. he can't wait a moment longer before he's needily rocking his hips against yours. tears glaze over your eyes at the sharp sting through your lower half as he stretches you out, spasming and clenching around him as you struggle to adjust. "s too big.." you whimper but he only wipes away your tears. "you've taken me before, love, be my good girl, yeah?"

these moments with him were so rare. he hates spending time away from you. he's always so busy, only quick sessions before he was off, barely being able to bask in each other's presence in the morning. his teasing and playful persona is less prominent, he's unusually sweet and his words don't have that condescending undertone. he's soaking it all in, dreading when the time comes where he'll have to leave you again.

he grips the end of your shirt and hikes it up, allowing your breasts to spill out. big hands reaching up to knead the soft flesh, rolling your hardened bud in between his fingers. he can't help but to pinch your nipple, adoring the cute squeals that escaped your lips.

his pace is much different from his usual near animalistic thrusts accompanied with a bruising grip. he pulls out, leaving just the tip in before swiftly pushing all of his length back into you, stuffing you to the hilt. your mouth hangs open in a silent moan, the drag of his cock against your walls intoxicating. he's reaching so deep inside you. his cock repeatedly kissing your g-spot with each lazy thrust of his hips.

"feels good, yeah? squeezing me so tight." he grunts, slightly picking up his pace and rubbing figures onto your messy clit in efforts to push you over the edge before he did. it was embarrassing how quickly he could feel his high approaching, you just felt so good. squeezing his cock so tightly fuck he wish he could pound load after load into you but he knew his time was running thin.

"m close! fuck i'm gonna cum!" you're writhing, shaking with the intense sensation building up in your lower region. "go ahead, sweetheart, cum with me." he groans, grabbing hold of your chin to clash your lips together, tongues tangling and dancing with one another's. you clamp down on him, arching into his chest as you release all over his cock that's unrelenting inside you. "that's it, my sweet girl. i got you." the white ring forming around his length and your high pitched moans is enough to send him barreling over the edge, snapping his hips against yours once more before coating your walls with his cum.

the bed dips beside him as he pulls out from your spent cunt, flopping onto his back with his chest still heaving. strong arms pull you into his muscular chest, heart swelling when you giggle at the chaste kisses being littered all over your face. he shivers slightly when your nails rake and trace over the rose chiseled into his neck, "why don't you stay home today, michael?" you purr from where you're cuddled up into him.

"i guess i can make an exception. missed me so much, huh?" he teases, flashing you a chesire grin making you roll your eyes, but you know he's right. "yeah, yeah. i love you, michael." you whisper, barely audible from where your cheek is smooshed against the heated skin of his chest. the arm around your waist tightens as he swoops down to place a kiss to the crown of your head, muttering "i love you too."

it couldn't hurt to miss one day of practice, especially if it was for you.

© knavves : reposting, plagiarizing, modifying, and translating is NOT allowed.

[yandere-wishes]

𝕆𝕦𝕣 ℙ𝕣𝕖𝕥𝕥𝕪 𝕃𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕝𝕖 𝔾𝕚𝕣𝕝

Summary: You try to escape from two fearsome Sith Lords. Surprisingly they take it rather well.

Author's note: This is totally getting a part 2. Or maybe a series we'll see. 

Warnings: dark, absolutely no regard for the rule of two, sorta a vent fic (venting that these two are so fine and I can't get them out of my mind), slightly fluffy.

The empire's warships have a tendency to blur reality. The interiors of their large hulking exoskeletons house endless corridors and makeshift chambers. Vast, endless arrays of space. They've been optimized for housing droids, clones, and artillery. Not for escape, not for an endless search of a freedom that has long since eroded. 

Calling yourself anything but desperate would be a lie. Your feet run to the chorus of your broken heartbeat. The need for freedom, the need to escape spreads through your body like a poison. You know it'll end up killing you, either from exhaustion or by their sabars. But you have to try, you have to run. Even if you've left fragments of yourself in the warm bed the three of you sleep on. Even if you forgot your heart under Anakin's pillow and your soul still lingers in Maul's warm embrace. Maybe freedom is worth cutting off pieces of yourself, if only in the hope that someday they might grow back. 

There's something wrong with the corridors you're sure of it. You've never been one for directions, instead relying on the holo screens and navigation systems to lead the way. Mirror images as far as the eye can see. Identical, plain. Nothing substantial to store in your memory. There's something ironic about this situation, a punchline that doesn't quite land. You half haphazardly tug on the skirt of your nightgown, desperate for anything familiar. You're not sure why.

You remember how Anakin called you pretty this morning, still hazy, still clinging to the sensation of slumber. Perfect blue eyes too dazed to look at you. Really look at you. The chosen one gazes at your ghost, your ethos. the perfect doll he and Maul had morphed you into. Behind you

 Maul pulls you to his chest. Hand running up and down her side, trying to resurrect you into his dreams. It's only when Anakin's eyes close, seeling the shimmering blue orbs, that you crawl out of bed and into the unknown. 

You're lost, abandoned in absolute desolation. The marble tiles bleed frost into the soles of your feet. Somewhere in the distance, you feel a disturbance in the force. Too far away to matter, yet leaking with a potent rage that burns. It's hope you think, albeit pathetically, maybe it's better to capitulate this pointless crusade and wait for the Sith lords to find you. The crash comes just as you're about to stop. You bump into him, falling in the process. All armor and steel. The Stormtrooper's mask is off giving you a clear view of his scarred face. His eyes flash, some dreary emotion too obscure to read, he offers you a gloved hand, something human something casual. 

You stare frozen. 

When exactly did you stop comprehending human idiosyncrasies? 

When exactly did you start reading every interaction as a threat? 

He's a monster, you think, just like the ones you've been warned about. Lectured time and time again by both Anakine and Maul. Monsters pry on little girls, especially ones who wander off on their own. Monsters lurk behind unsuspecting walls, ready to pounce when their prey approaches. You wonder if, the definitive definition of "monster" could be passed on to the two Siths who call themselves your lovers. 

There's blood, too crimson to be real. Metallic aromas wafted through the air. You've only now noticed how close the disturbance in the force really is. Close enough to distinguish itself. To reveal that, in actuality, it's not a disturbance at all.

 It's two...

Something cold yanks at your forearm. Pulling you to your feet. for a split second, your nerves calm. The familiarity of the cybernetic arm grants you a heavy ease. Anakin pushes you over to where Maul is standing. Golden eyes burning holes through the stormtrooper's armor. 'He didn't do anything' you long to say. But the words wisely die on your tongue as Maul grips your shoulders. Anakine's saber is lit, stabbing through the soldier's armor as if it were flesh. As if killing him where as easy as killing a rogue thought. "You're quite a foolish soldier for daring to touch that which belongs to your commanders. Even more imbecilic for so much as looking at emperor Palpatine's disciple." 

Maul's grip on your shoulders tightens, eyes never once leaving the bloodshed. One of his hands instinctively roams to your belly, then slides down to your thigh. Rubbing it ever so gently as his claws pierce your soft skin. You close your eyes trying to make yourself smaller. You hate how his touch grounds you. How the familiarity plucks at your heartstrings. When he touches you like this you wish you would forever rot in his arms.

"'I'm sorry" You don't know why the words come so easily. As if they've been itching to spill from your tongue. Maybe it's easier to say 'I'm sorry' rather than 'You've broken my perception of love, of reality and now I can only find comfort in your darkness.' "Hush" Maul's anger spills with every syllable. His claws dig deeper, earning him a pained hiss from his doll. 

"You're not sorry, in fact, you rather enjoyed this didn't you? Running away making us chase you down, I never thought your species would enjoy being the prey so much, little one." Anakin walks over, saber seethed at his side. His every step promised pain, retribution. He's angry, furious. They both are, you wonder if maybe, just maybe, they'll end it all today. 

Maul's chambers have always been a testament to Dathomir, bathed in deep scarlets and endless ebony. You wonder if he's homesick for a place he's only visited in his worst ephialtes. After the incident in the corridors, they drag you back to the Zabrak's room. Neither bothering to say a word. Merely permitting their rage to engulf you, subduing you into submission. It's an unwelcome surprise when they begin to prep for the day. Throwing on their black cloaks, prior to choosing your outfit. An abnormal affinity settles across the room. Too unnerving to go unchecked. 

They dress you each morning, a ritual you think, some attestation of love that's never been quite right. Maul drapes you in velvet dresses. Each one harbors a sui generis softness that sits erroneously across your skin. Their opulent sensation only brings forth feelings of aversion and despair. Their softness an ode to your imprisonment. 

the dresses come in shades of crimson, detailed sometimes in black, sometimes in gold, and sometimes in a frigid blue that sends shivers running up your spine. 

Anakin fusses over your accessories, why they feel the need to dress you so extravagantly daily is beyond you -as you've come to realize many things are- On days when Anakin's hubris reaches its apex, he bathes you in gold. Astonishing glittering collars across your neck and Kuat bangles hanging from your wrists. When he's sober from his pride he chooses black diamonds. Simple and exotic. scintillate and opaque.

Allusions to the dark side.

A hidden reference that crawls inside you. 

Once, back when you'd been sure defiance was still an option. Back when callow hope still dared to flow through your veins. Back when you'd been a jejune, stubborn thing. You had refused to wear one of the dresses they'd bought. Adimant in your refusal until Maul had stuck out his hand. Summoning the Force to remind you just who held the supreme authority here. 

The Force had strangled you, clawing hungrily at your neck. You felt your bones caving in on themselves, watched with exacerbating hysteria as your feet abandoned the floor. He'd only released you when he was sure you were near death's adorned door. Permitting you to molder on the floor akin to a ragdoll. 

Anakin had chastised you after you'd conjured enough strength to sit up, gasping greedily for air. He'd broken two fingers that day. One still harbors a small scar.

A Promise ring. 

An augury.

There are days, few and far between. When they've deemed you've been behaving adequately for long enough. That they permit you the choice of which dress you'd fancy wearing for the day. It's a rare event, reserved as a special treat. You think it's their way of proposing variety, giving you the illusion of choice. Making you feel a little less smothered. 

Today is not one of those days. Today, you feel them pick you apart, only to reassemble you in their image. Drowning you in extravagance. A reminder, one whose deprecating nature weaves itself within your muscles. You, little girl, are nothing more than a doll. And dolls should know their place.

No sooner do you feel the final lace fasten across your back, that Anakin is tugging you outside the door. Metal arm clasped around your forearm. 

Maul follows behind molten gaze locked on your face. The hallways bend to their will as if the walls themselves quiver with their presence. You recognize this corridor, recognize the frigid forlorn. 

There's something wrong with Emperor Palpatine's throne room. It's surreal, makeshift. His real throne lays somewhere cold, somewhere even his apprentices don't dare wander off to. The ironclad throne has never felt right. Never felt like it held any real power. Just terror, just dread, just hatred. But here it is in all its glory. Left to two apprentices who'd rather treat it as a toy than a sacred place.

 Anakin dramatically throws himself onto the throne. One leg thrown over the armrest as he leans against the other. His other leg planted firmly on the ground. He keeps you steady on his thigh. Torturing you with his distant, disappointed look. Maul stands in front of you. His eyes liquid gold melting into you. You see the galaxy in them. Hear it whispearing secrets meant to be forgotten. It's Anakin's voice that rattles you from your disjointed thoughts. 

"You caused us so much worry angel" he's being nice. You don't trust that. There's something sinister plaguing his words.  

"You know Ani, she may cease escaping if you'd cease to spoil her." Maul leans down, gripping your chin and squeezing. " The brat forgets her place, merely cause you'd rather coddle her than discipline her." 

Anakin glares, a shift in his eyes, blue bleeding into gold. "Hmm, Maul, you're starting to sound an awful lot like Kenobi right now."

"Why's that? Did the old fool tend to also point out your shortcomings?" 

You wonder who this Kenobi is, as you watch the Siths' exchange crude childish vitriols. Maybe he'd make a better lover than the two men you have the misfortune of being adhered to. 

They never could truly see just how similar they were.

Two sides of the same coin. 

One born of copper, the other, black rose petals.

Subconsciously you reach out. Grasping Anakin's robotic hand, fiddling with the panel, peeling it away to gain access to the wires and circuits. You have a bad habit of ripping things open. Anakin learned this the first time he kissed you and you tried to gnaw at his chest with your nails. Not in malice, but rather to satisfy a ravenous curiosity. A raging need to open him and see just how he ticked. You'd wished to perform an autopsy on his soul. Rip him open and devour all his secrets. Back then you'd wondered if you could kiss sunrises into Anakin's eternal night. Strip him of bleak blackened skies and introduce him to stars and a moon that shines. He'd only vaguely permitted it. Opting to pluck the stars lying within you. Swiping them for steel and lava and other mundane things that fueled his incessant rage. 

Anakin's head dips, lips pressing on your jugular vein. "You're ethereal" Anakin mubbles against your skin, like the dying prayer of a collapsing star. He's so pretty when he kisses your neck. Biting away pieces of you. Stealing your light for himself. 

"Princess" Maul seethes venom pelting from his words. You realize you'd been ignoring him. Something he's not too fond of. "What in the stars was going through your pretty little head?" 

 he looks like he'd love nothing more than to wring your pretty little neck right now. "I just..." your words feel heavy. Tiny bullets polluting your tongue. It feels so cruel to say when you know just how much they love you. "I just wanted some freedom. Just a bit of space." 

"Dumb little angel" Anakin chastes. You lower your head in embarrassment watching Maul kneel in front of you. He cups your cheeks, placing a soft kiss on your head. "You can never escape us beloved".

 "I love you," says Anakin. All you hear is, I'll haunt you, I'll break your ribs one by one so that I may possess your heart. Maybe they mean the same thing. 

"And I'm pretty sure if Maul could feel normal emotions like everyone else, then he'd love you too." You can't help but let out a giggle as Anakin throws his head back laughing. A rare melodious sound, that causes your heart to skip a beat. Maul merely rolls his eyes before pecking you on the lips.

You trace your fingers across Maul's chest, feeling the pummelling of two hearts. A double heartbeat. Two melodies entwined, You wonder who he harbors in those hearts. One for love and one for family. You nip at his bottom lip. Ushering the blood into your mouth. He tastes of Ichor and smoke. Of sadness and rage. From behind you feel Akanin bite into the hollow of your flesh. Leaving traces of himself upon your skin. 

"Our pretty little problem" Anakin mumbles. 

You're a problem, a vexation draped in velvet, an unsolvable equation. Trapped between a love that seethes through your body like a toxin. Engulfing you until your mind relents. Maybe it's easier this way. Easier to say 'I love you' without the double entendre. 

You do love them.

A rather arduous conclusion to reach.

Maul and Anakin.

Palpatine's apprentices. 

Your lovers

Yeah, that sounds about right...

💜💜: @athanasia-day @hotpinkboots @jenn-patterson-69 @nickiiiixoxo-blog @the-chains-are-the-easy-part

[doodle-pops]

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆You Have Heterochromia Eyes

Headcanons: Curufin, Argon, Finarfin, Egalmoth, Thingol and Beleg

A/N: First of the event to go up. Been thinking of doing one with reader having starry eyes, but that’s an idea for another time. Enjoy!

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Curufin

Known for his keen senses, the moment you entered the room, he was able to distinguish the difference in your aura from everyone else, and it was all because of your eyes.

“Your eyes are quite captivating,” he remarks as he stares into your orbs, wondering which to focus on. His inquisitiveness causes him to slightly lean into your space to gain a closer look.

Of course, you respond informing him that your eyes were more unusual than captivating. To which he shuts down politely, informing you that ‘unique’ and ‘majestic’ were the proper words to describe your eyes.

Curufin usually finds it impossible to leave your side, wanting to learn all that he can from you while gazing off into your eyes and getting lost as the conversation continues. He finds it difficult to remain focused, especially when you meet his eyes with an equal stare. “Which eyes should I stare into today?”

As a way of appreciating your eyes, he doesn’t waste a moment launching himself into the forge to whip up a piece of jewellery that matches the shades of your eyes and your personality.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Argon

The youngest Prince of the House of Fingolfin becomes a stuttering, blushing mess as he morphs into a poet while lying about his poetic skills being terrible. He can’t take his eyes off yours to the point that he gets scolded for staring too hard.

He always finds excuses whenever he’s around you to look into your eyes, so he doesn’t come off as creepy. Mostly making jokes or performing some stunts so your eyes can always be on him.

Compliments roll off his tongue ten times every ten minutes because you deserve to know that he adores your eyes and how much they suit everything about you. Loves to make comments about Eru not knowing which colour to give you, so he gifted you the two/three most beautiful.

“It’s almost as if your eyes match your mood as well,” he’ll mumble while pushing his face closer to get a better look as if he wasn’t already an inch away from your face.

As a way of showing his appreciation, he could commission a piece of jewellery for him to wear with the respective gemstones that match your eyes. That way, whenever you’re apart and he looks at it, he’ll remember your eyes (because they’re also sparkly and bright).

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Finarfin

He has seen his fair share of heterochromatic eyes before (his eldest brother), so it wasn’t a big thing when he heard people speaking about yours. That was until he stumbled upon you for the first time and blurted out that your eyes were the prettiest to ever exist, better than his brother.

Finarfin makes it his business to ensure that you don’t ever forget that your eyes are filled with the essence of the Light of the Two Trees, and if anyone disagrees, he’s having none of that.

Poems and songs written by yours truly and recited on the cliffsides or beaches during sunsets and sunrises because your eyes sparkle and light up even more. Gets lost in your eyes, literally, because they’re the windows to your soul.

Loves to observe you as you speak due to your expressiveness which becomes enhanced by your eyes. Every micro-expression, he picks up and fawns over because how can someone look as beautiful as you do when blinking.

Can never be upset with you because all you have to do is pout and flash him those puppy and BAM, the argument is over. It’s worse if you cry because you look beautiful when you do, and he forgets that you’re sad, caught up in your gorgeousness.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Egalmoth

He tells you immediately, right off the bat, that your eyes were the blueprint for the reason behind the name of his House (lies obviously) because he’s starstruck by the magnificence behind them.

Egalmoth deeply appreciates your eyes and the significance they hold (in his opinion). As a Lord of exquisite taste in art and all beautiful things, he makes it his business to turn your eyes into a passionate subject of admiration.

“Your eyes are as captivating as a starlit night,” he would whisper one night while stargazing. “I have never seen anything like them, for I do not know if you should share them with the world or be selfish and share them with only me.”

He can’t figure out which eye he should focus on as you speak because both are equally captivating, it’s impossible to pick one, so you’re stuck with his tropical bird dance. At least he has impressed you, so it worked in some ways.

Like the others, he easily finds himself under hypnosis the minute to flash him a sweet expression whilst using your eyes to do most of the work. Whatever you want, just say the word and Egalmoth will get it for you.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Thingol

“You must be a Maia or Vala, for no ordinary person can possess such beauty all at the same time.” Smooth words to greet you with upon your first meeting, and it did work. Thingol feels as though you have cast a spell and placed him under it upon first sight.

It’s impossible to deny you whatever you want when you bat those pretty lashes and flash him puppy eyes to have your way. You’ve found his weakness, and he isn’t ashamed to say that he enjoys it.

Praises unlike any other and worships the ground you walk on, ensuring that you don’t ever feel ostracised. He wants you to understand that your uniqueness should be cherished and understood.

Like the others, he believes that there must be something extraordinary about you, hence the reason you possess those eyes. It’s as if they enhance a special ability of yours (yeah, getting spoilt).

To him, beyond all the weakness they make him feel, they also bring about a sense of tranquillity, similar to the forest of Doriath. He seldom finds himself strolling throughout the forest, deep in thoughts about you.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Beleg

The moment he met you, he almost fell to his knees, believing that you were some deity come to bless or speak with him. Turned out even better, you were sent to be with him, and he is thankful each and every day.

He claims that whenever he looks into your eye, he sees the forest and suddenly calmness washes over him. It’s as though you bring to forest with you, wherever you go, and Beleg is eternally grateful your gift.

Doesn’t like to disagree with you, so even if you were to agree, those eyes were enough to end the dispute. He crumbles so easily while clinging to you and pouting about not liking the look your beautiful eyes are giving him.

You’ll be speaking to him, and his eyes are just like ←↑→↓ because he doesn’t know which one to focus on. He finds it difficult to focus on one eye when both deserves equal attention at the same time, yet with all the hunter skills he has, he can barely focus on both.

He believes that with eyes like yours, you probably see the world differently, hence why he enjoys listening to your stories of adventures. There is a level of privilege he feels when he is told off the world through your eyes.

Masterlist

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[ratedfleur]

i'm obsessed with scream rn and i'm thinking abt ghostface!wonyoung.. that woman is so—[gunshots]

I JUST NEED TO SCREAM RNNNNN!!!!! also i feel like this is messy so! and i added this post i saw on x which pretty much gave me an idea for this request soooo 😁

🔞 under the cut: bloody themes, ghostface, knives, blood.

okay so ghostface!wonyoung right? i just thought of her being a part of the photography club and she’d be the president because of her experience and portfolios. one thing about wonyoung and her works is that they were either gore themed or bloody.

her co-members praised her for her creative eye, always capturing her art in such a captivating way. the backdrop would be so simple and yet it would send a shiver up your spine once you saw her model. her models would be women and only women, her model would be unclothed as she lied on the floor, eyes all drained out with no signs of life with her body covered up in blood.

“oh no, it’s just that my models are just good at what they do.” wonyoung smiles when one of the members compliment her work, pointing out parts and bits that they liked meanwhile wonyoung simply listened and agreed.

“you need to send me at least one of their numbers, i need to shoot with them too.” sunghoon commented as he nudged wonyoung’s arm. the woman laughs as she shook her head, “they only work for me, oppa.” she chuckles.

you knew something was up, it was eerie how the ghostface reports would be put up in the newspapers right at the same time that wonyoung would send her portfolios in for approval.

nobody batted an eye, everyone had their own suspicions on who the ghostface was and their fingers would never point wonyoung.

deciding to follow wonyoung after she left the building, you trailed behind her merely a few steps away, close and yet far enough for wonyoung not to notice you. your strides become bigger as wonyoung picks up the pace as she crossed the street, head high as people looked her way.

feeling your phone buzz in your pocket, you take it out as you answered your phone, “hello? no, i’m home. i’m just busy with the club, i don’t have a portfolio for the month so i’ll call—“ you say before someone pulls your arm, pushing you into a dark alleyway. a hand quickly snatches your phone and slams it on the floor, making you gasp as you looked up and saw wonyoung standing in front of you, eyes staring right into your soul as she looked down on you.

"why the fuck are you following me around, ____?" wonyoung spat at you as she stared you down, eyes piercing and terrifying as you looked up at her with your own shaky ones. you blinked profusely as you tried to look for a way out, "i-i.." "you what, you little rat?" wonyoung spat once more.

seeing that you were unable to speak, wonyoung scoffs as she corners you into the wall, head still held up high as she looked down on you, “it’s because you’re jealous of me, huh? you want to be president of the club that’s why you’re trying to look for holes in my career.” wonyoung smiles sinisterly, orbs of brown shining with something else.

“it’s not like that—“ you say before she interrupts you once more, “then what the fuck is it, ____?” wonyoung replies as her face falls into a stoic expression.

“what? are you curious about how i work? is that how desperate you’ve become to try and beat me?” wonyoung exclaims, throwing her hands in the air like a maniac as she cackled— then her face falls flat, eyes no longer full of any life.

unable to respond, you watched as wonyoung silently turned around before she faced you. to your horror, thee ghostface was standing in front of you, “what if i tell you that all of those models were my victims?” the voice says— real voice hidden and morphed through the voice box in the mask.

“do you want to be next since you’re that curious?” ghostface says to you as she takes a knife out of her black coat, the knife shines under the white light in the alleyway, tip sharp enough to cut after one soft touch.

gulping a ball of saliva, you start to panic once wonyoung ghostface starts to walk over to you, knife facing you as she came close. you gasp when you feel it poking your shirt, close enough for you to feel it’s presence.

“stay silent about your little discovery and i’ll step down from president, take it for all i fucking care." ghostface says as she fiddles with the knife’s handle, making the tip nip a small cut on your shirt when she pushes it slightly. ghostface reaches up to push her mask up, revealing wonyoung’s face once more, “got it?” wonyoung says firmly as you nodded, eyes brimming with tears as her knifes digs past your shirt and into your skin, leaving a cut on your stomach.

“good.” wonyoung says as she stashes her knife back into her coat and her mask back into her bag, she steps away from you with her eyes full of fury and warning as she leaves you in the alley, knees all shaky before you fell to the ground, still in disbelief about what occurred.

[nina-ya]

Late Nights With Luffy

Pairing: Luffy x Reader CW: None, pure fluff WC: ~600 A/N: Hiiii im gonna write a bunch more now that im back <3 fun little fact- this used to be a drabble for Law but I've been in my Luffy era lately so this spawned instead

When restlessness gnaws at you, the idea of sleep feeling like nothing but a mere myth, you can always count on Luffy to be awake to keep you company. With a sigh, you slip out of your bunk, your feet softly thumping against the ground as you attempt to find Luffy in his usual spots. You check his own bunk first, and seeing he isn't there, you make your way to the kitchen.

There, you see Luffy’s figure illuminated by the refrigerator light, his silhouette outlined against the faint glow. He is rummaging through the contents, his brow scrunched in concentration and his tongue poking out with determination as he searches for a late-night snack. You pause in the doorway, watching for just a moment, before stepping into the kitchen.

The floorboards creak softly under your feet, and Luffy’s head snaps in your direction, the corner of his eyes crinkling as a wide grin spreads across his face. “Hey!” is all he exclaims, his louder voice ripping through the quiet atmosphere of the ship.  You smile at his constant enthusiasm, muttering something about not being able to sleep, and he nods back in understanding, not surprised since this is a usual occurrence for you. You walk up to him from behind and peek over him to get a better look at what he is scavenging from the fridge. It’s a mishmash of leftovers and snacks, typical of Luffy’s late night feasts. 

You eye the skewer he’s holding, resisting the urge to snatch it straight from his hand. Instead, you reach across from him and grab a snack that catches your eye. “You can’t just hoard all of this, Luffy.” you say teasingly with a giggle as you start munching on the treat. As if by instinct, his hand reaches out to steal your snack, and you playfully swat him away, pulling a pout from him.

He knows how to get you to give into any of his requests. His bottom lip juts out ever so slightly. Those big brown eyes widen, feigning innocence, gleaming with that mischief that is always an underlying presence. The fridge light bouncing off the caramel orbs, making them twinkle ever so subtly. You can’t help but admire the way his features scrunch up in that expression, his brows furrowing ever so slightly to convey his disappointment, or the way his messy black hair frames his face, mirroring his playfully charming personality.

You decide to tease him, holding the snack just out of his reach, waiting for him to reach out, right before popping it right into your mouth, taking another bite. His expression shifts to a determined one, his pout morphing into a grin as he leans closer, staring at you with a look that is daring you to deny him again. It’s a sort of game that the two of you often play when you encounter each other on nights on these. You finally relent, offering a piece of your snack, and his face lights up with unabashed joy, a radiant smile stretching across his lips. His gratitude is evident in the way he eagerly accepts the offering, absolutely inhaling the snack, and staring at you once again with an anticipatory grin as he awaits another bite.

Late night encounters with Luffy always seem to be a highlight. You often wonder if your body is subconsciously keeping you awake so you could have these private moments with him. Such thoughts get pushed away once you meet Luffy’s gaze, and you can’t help but yearn for more moments like this with him.