#been thinking about mesmer disguises

[riessene]

how do you do, fellow humans

[sukunasteeth]

When Sukuna kisses you, it feels like your heart is being ripped out of your chest.

You started out perched on his lap, but by now he's reduced you to a boneless, panting heap in his grasp. His arms supporting you are the only things keeping you from melting against him like liquid lust. You're desperate for a moment of solid ground to catch your breath, but Sukuna is adamant on continuously taking it away from you. His calloused hands inching their way up your shirt, brushing softly against your sides, over your rib cage, skimming the underside of your breasts, all in mesmerization at how soft your skin is.

"'Kuna..." You try to capture his attention, which has been taken by his fixation on how sensitive your ears were to the scrape of his teeth.

You're surprised when he answers with a distracted hum, "Yes, my little doe?"

"I -I need a second." You stutter, your heart is thumping wildly in your chest, despite how intoxicated and incapacitated you feel at his mercy. You were starting to forget how to breathe in his close proximity and it was becoming increasingly more difficult to keep your head straight with his natural scent acting like a pheromone.

You feel his wicked grin against your neck before you hear it in his voice, "Poor thing. Am I working you too hard? I rarely see you so out of sorts..." 

Sukuna doesn't even try to disguise his amusement at your complete inebriation with his kisses. His tongue presses against the nape of your throat before he follows a line of sweat up to your ear, leaving behind a cold stripe of his saliva against your burning hot skin. He holds you fast when you violently shiver against him, "It's a good look on you."

“Please…” You beg with whatever breath you can conjure for him but it comes out as more of a desperate little whimper. That was Sukuna’s favorite tone of your voice, after all. 

And desperate you were. Sukuna had been devouring you for so long, sucking and nipping and licking at whatever part of your revealed skin interested him. You could feel your legs forgetting how to operate.

You just needed a moment. 

Without his permission, you push away from his chest and manage to get to your feet in front of him. Your legs buckle, but you're able to catch yourself before you fall face first back into him. Sukuna is looking up at you, as kiss drunk as you felt, blinking slowly with a satisfied smile. 

“Give me just one sec-” You’re about to turn away. And then you see it. 

Sukuna had you so entranced with him, had your mind so far away from your body, that you hadn’t even noticed the fact that you had cleanly soaked through your panties on his lap. And there, on that oh-so-comfortable part of his thigh, that had quickly become one of your happy places, was a dark spot on his jeans from your wetness. 

All you could do was stare down at it, mortified. 

Which only has Sukuna following your gaze in momentary curiosity. 

“I-I’M…” You try to catch his attention again with the sound of your voice before his eyes can settle on the new mark, but Sukuna sees it first.

His grin quickly fades and your heart careens into your throat. You feel embarrassment shoot through you like a shot of adrenaline, coloring your already pink face a bright and rosy red. 

The clear solution to the undoubtedly awkward situation is to run, right?

“I’ll be right back-” But you don’t even move an inch before his hand snaps forward and latches onto the front pocket of your (his) hoodie, stopping you in place. 

Your heartbeat thumps in your red-hot ears and you go against every fiber of your being to meet his eyes.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going with my dinner?" The playful lilt of his tone has completely vanished and reveals a deep, dark starvation in its place.

"I work hard for my meals, you know?” 

[zer0pm]

Imagine demanding Luis to unlock your chains. When he doesn’t, you take matters into your own hands.

A/N: DID SOMEONE SAY PART 2 OF THIS PIECE?!

You did and I’m grateful for all the love that has been thrown for my work. So here’s me giving some of that love back. Hope you enjoy 🙏

Warning: SMUT AHEAD. Look away, minors! Look away! Avert your eyes from the sexual content! Shoo! Begone!

Warning 2: It’s quite long so mentally prepare yourself.

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“I still didn’t catch your name.”

The cheek on this guy. Using the fact that he holds the key to your restraints as a bargaining chip to become familiar with you. As if he hadn’t just forced you into a partnership with him already. The absolute nerve. You had more important things to do, such as finding Leon and the president’s daughter. And this Luis Serra was effectively wasting your precious time. Well, two can play this game.

You start by offering him an inviting smile before relaxing your hands until your palms pressed flat against his chest. The man didn’t seem to fully register your subtle movement until you slid them upwards, feeling the fine leather beneath your fingertips. The motion takes him by surprise, his eyes following your touch. He then casts an inquisitive glance your way.

“¿Que haces?” Apparently he wasn’t expecting this, convinced that you didn’t much care for him and thus was taken so off guard that he slipped into his native tongue. He must have remembered himself right after as he repeated the question, making sure that it sounded more direct. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” Voice comes out in a low, sultry drawl as you grip the lapel of his jacket with one hand, gently tugging at the material. “I’m about to give you what you want. But I’m going to need you to come closer.”

Once you were certain that you had his complete attention while also making sure that you didn’t lose yourself in the mesmerizing grey of his eyes, you make your move. With your other hand, as best as the chains allowed, you reach for the key that was lodged in the lock of your chains. Disguising your intention, you run your fingers down the expanse of his chest in an explorative manner. This earned an appreciative hum from the Spaniard as he leans his head towards you expectantly.

Too easy.

Mindful not to look down between you two so as to not give yourself away, you lean in as well while also blindly searching for the key. “My name is…” you whisper. His bated breath mingles with yours, the lids of his eyes heavy, grey growing dark in anticipation. Another inch from either one of you and the gap will close. Just as your fingertips touched the end of the key, something warm firmly grips your hand. A sudden chill runs down your spine.

You can hear the reverb of something between a scoff and a chuckle come from Luis’ lips. “Nice try,” he smirks knowingly.

With a strength that catches you off guard, he pushes you away from him. Key in hand. He flaunts the tiny piece of metal before swinging his arm as if he was making a play to toss it aside. In your panic, you jump towards him, shoving him off balance with your shoulder. He breaks your fall as you two tumble down together.

The man curses in Spanish from the sudden pain and you took advantage of this by quickly searching for the key. You spot it a bit of a ways above Luis’ head and use both bound hands to reach for it once more. The chain that links your wrists together are caught by a familiar hand and suddenly pulled down until your hands were restrained between your two bodies once more. You sigh in frustration and the man beneath you clicks his tongue against his teeth.

There is an amused glimmer in his gaze as he speaks. “The stubborn-type, eh? All this trouble over a name.”

You in turn throw him an annoyed glare. “I was going to say the same about you.”

Instead of showing offense, he laughs. “Perhaps we’re more alike than you might think.”

Rather than entertain him further, you try to wrestle against his hold. Luis seemed prepared for it this time, matching your strength, only he had the advantage as he had free reign of his arms and hands. One hand kept your chained hands between your chests, the other gripped at the bicep of your arm, effectively minimizing upper body movement. Out of instinct, you rebelliously wriggle with your hips and legs with the sole focus of getting off of him. However, the man’s longer limbs kept you caged against him and the only thing you managed to do was awkwardly seat your bottom on him, knees bent by his sides.

When you grounded down in your struggle, the man tensed below you. Thinking you have finally one-up him, you repeated the action and noticed he wasn’t nearly putting up as good a fight as he did before. This allowed you to sit upright, dragging his hand with you until his arm extended slightly, and you continued your efforts to be free of him.

Luis’ breath became labored. “Stop.” he commands with gritted teeth, his voice barely above a whisper. When you didn’t listen to him, he moved his other hand from your arm to your hip, squeezing harshly in warning.

“¡Basta! Stop moving!” he growls.

You bark back defiantly, “I’ll get off when you let me get the fuckin-“

That’s when you felt it. Or rather- him. A hardness pressed beneath your nether region. Despite the layers of fabric, there was no mistaking the telling throbbing pushing up against you as if demanding your attention below.

Your throat runs dry but your brain kept sending signals to your mouth. “Ar…. Are you-“

“Sí.” the man had a pained, conflicted look about him, a picture of breathtaking self-control as he kept his body completely still. His eyes didn’t meet yours, gaze locked upon where your hips met as if to keep himself in check and not allow his body’s desires to act out untowardly.

“Surely you know how the human body works,” he tries to sound clinical, face strained in vague distress, “and will not fault me for the involuntary reactions of mine. It already doesn’t help that you’re easy on the eyes.”

You should be chastising him for getting excited when it was neither the time or place and danger was surely around the corner, but bit your lip at your own wave of pleasure upon feeling his arousal pulse. A totally different kind of heat washes over you.

What do you do now?

Neither of you spoke for a moment, a tense silence settling in until Luis breaks it with a forced cough.

“Well, this is- uh, fun.” he says without humor. “Pero, perhaps we can call it even and stop the game here. ¿Sí?”

His words went in one ear and out the other. You were frustrated beyond belief. Fueled by adrenaline and temptation. There was no one around. And you have an impossibly handsome Spanish man between your legs with a hard-on for you.

When you didn’t answer, he spoke up again. “As much as I like this position, I must regrettably ask that you- Whoa!”

As best as you could, you shoot your bound hands straight up in the air. As he still had a grip on the chain link, Luis was dragged upright into a seated position from the floor and his face stopped right in front of yours. The movement caused friction in both of your sensitive areas, mouths could do nothing to stop the groans that escaped them. His eyes open to your heated gaze, confusion and desire swirling in the grey irises.

You breathe, “You talk too much, Luis Serra.”

And it was you who closed the distance. Teeth and tongue clashed in a new battle filled with pent-up energy and lust. Your mind quickly becomes hazy as you allowed yourself to be consumed in his emanating heat and musky scent. A nip at his bottom lip earned you an enthusiastic thrust of his hips, an appreciative squeeze at your bottom rewarded him with a carnal moan from your mouth. The only time you pulled back was for air and the man before you glances between your dazed eyes and bruised lips, hypnotized by your already ruined appearance.

“Are we, uh, still playing the same game?” His question nearly disarms you. You have a feeling he was really asking if you were of sound of mind about this. Your eyes roll reflexively.

“Really going to keep running your mouth?” You then follow up with a roll of your hips, the Spaniard throws his head back with a deep, guttural groan. Dark wavy locks brush against his cheekbones, eyes shut closed. With his thick neck exposed, you steal kisses along his sensitive pulse and stubbled jaw. Another primal groan vibrates from his throat.

“Eres muy mala.” Luis grumbles without a hint of disdain. Rather, when you finally pull back to allow him to look at you, you find him wearing that familiar cocky smirk. “But I must admit, I’m kind of into it.”

A charmer through and through this man is. His next move takes you by surprise.

He shoves you off of him.

As soon as you recover from your initial shock, the dark-haired man grabs you by the chain again and drags you to the far end of the room, further away from the key and exit. Using his strength and your own momentum against you, Luis tosses you forward. Your upper body lands right on top of a wide metal table propped against the dingy concrete wall.

He takes advantage of your momentary state of confusion by forcing your arms to extend towards the wall. It wasn’t until you heard the unmistakable click of metal did you fully regain your senses and look up to see what he did. The arrogant man used one of the wall mounts to lock your chains taut in place. He literally chained your chains. You’re caught in a trap again!

Just as you were about to curse him out, you feel something hard press firmly against your bottom followed by a pair of warm hands settling at your hips and the heat you didn’t realize you were missing came back in throes. You almost wanted to point out how unfair the shift in dynamic was, but all coherent thoughts were thrown out the window when he started grinding into you.

“There,” Luis hums at your apparent silence, “much better.”

Damn him. And he had the gall to say you were bad.

His movements were slow and methodical, like he was testing the waters to see if you were actually fine with this. Your pleased sighs were the signs he needed to continue and go beyond. Next, you feel his curious hands rubbing at your sides over your shirt before he lifts it enough to slip them beneath the fabric. Feeling his skin on yours sent chills throughout your body. His touch wanders, palming at your every curve, line, and muscle and you melted into his hands, encouraging his exploration.

The temperature in the room was becoming unbearably hot. As if hearing this thought, you were pulled up by your torso as far as the chains would allow and felt your back meet his chest. Now, his hardness was at your lower back and you purposefully melded your backside against his straining cock, mentally drawing the length of him. Needless to say, without even seeing it, you were impressed by his size. The man didn’t carry himself confidently without warrant. A soft, almost adoring kiss upon the shell of your ear pulls you from your shameless thoughts.

He whispers hoarsely, “My friend, are you particularly fond of this shirt?”

“What?” you manage to choke out. “Why are you aski-”

The sound of tearing answered your question before you can finish it. Tattered fabric scatters around your feet and the air within the room suddenly felt like soft caresses on your bare torso.

“You didn’t even let me answer!” Your voice sounded more excited than annoyed.

“Lo siento. You were too slow.” Luis presses another chaste kiss to the side of your head. However, you can practically feel his wicked grin. “And frankly, are much too sexy for clothing, anyways.”

Damn, this man was making you feel things.

Despite your skin now bare against the elements, it did little to alleviate the heat building within you. It only amplified when his hands returned to your form, making a slow, sinful journey from your stomach to your upper chest. The pad of his fingers push upon the sensitive buds of your nipples, earning a wanton gasp from your lips. His hips jerk forward at the sound you made, his erection pulsing against your ass, sparking tiny, wonderful jolts of electricity within you. The sensations were making your toes curl.

One hand sneaks back down, his thumb finding it’s way under the hem of your jeans and underwear. His reach teases towards your sensitive spot and you bite your lip in anticipation, wanting so badly for him to touch you where you need him to but your mind too much of a mess to voice it into proper words.

“Mírate,” his warm breath fans against your ear in hoarse, gentle whispers. “Promixa vez… Te quiero llevar a la cama.”

You only manage to translate “Next time…” until the synapses in your brain fire all at once when his fingers began to toy your sex without warning. When his skillful hand deftly undid your jeans, you didn’t know, but at the moment, you didn’t care.

Holy hell. This guy was playing your body like a fine-tuned instrument and your voice eagerly sounded to his ministrations. Your moans and gasps music to his ears. The coil in the pit of your stomach was tightening to the point of snapping as his hand quickened the pace upon your bundle of nerves. He was stroking you graciously while also harshly grinding you into the edge of the table from behind. Your voice was reaching greater heights from the onslaught of overwhelming sensations.

“Last chance, my friend.” Luis growls, barely reigning in his instinct to simply bend you over and have his way with you. “Are we still playing the same game?”

The same question echoes. He asks one thing but really means another. This dashing, infuriating man is asking you if you want to go all the way, past the point of no return. Luis Serra is a stranger. Yet he had the sense and consideration to weigh your feelings in the matter, giving you an choice to opt out even though it would have been so easy to let it lie and let your baser instincts take over. It was almost romantic in a way. You didn’t have to think twice about this.

“Either you fuck me now,” you pant, chains clinking around your wrists, “or I’ll find my way out of these and fuck you myself.”

Luis chuckles lowly in intrigue. “¿Prometes?”

He makes quick work on the rest of your clothing, letting your pants and underwear fall at your ankles. He helps guide you completely out of them. It was probably a strange sight. You completely exposed while he was completely clothed. The only bits of him you can hear rustling is the buckle of his belt and the zipper of his pants coming undone. You were starting to shiver from anxious chills until you felt an arm wrap around you assuringly.

A patient hand gently fingers your entrance, preparing your body for something larger. You eventually move along rhythm of his fingers, goading him to take it to the next level and he acquiesces to your silent request. The heavy heat of his cock that was poking between the gap of your thighs move upwards. Your body instinctively tenses when the head of his member prods against your opening. Luis’ lips pressed against your temple in comfort and finally, finally, he slowly sinks into you. You gasp and he curses.

No amount of foreplay could have prepared you for him. Not all the way in and already you felt so full of him, his cock throbbing against every sensitive nerve inside of you. You whimper in both pain and pleasure and Luis tends to you by wrapping his arms around your middle, planting more kisses along the side of your head right behind your ear.

“Estoy aquí, ángel. Té tengo.”

Like the gentleman he portrays himself to be, he waits for you to relax around him. With great self-control, he pumps into you slowly with a tenderness that could bring tears to your eyes. The initial discomfort soon faded and was replaced by wonderful bouts of sensual ecstasy that has you gasping. Luis keeps up the pace with gusto, nearly pulling all the way out and slamming back into you. The pressure he was piling inside you with every thrust has you screaming to the point that you can feel your voice growing hoarse. Meanwhile, you can hear him moaning his praises for you in his birth tongue. This man wasn’t just talking himself a big game. He knows what he’s doing, fueling his pleasure by ensuring your own. And he was making certain that you chased yours fast.

He pulls out and you involuntarily whimper at the loss of contact. You weren’t left alone for long as he lifts you to lay on your side on the table, your hands forced to rise above your head at this new position. Luis grabs a hold of one of your legs and bends it at the knee over his shoulder, entering your heat once more. Your blood boils fiercely at this new angle, you can see him and everything he was doing to you. And he can see you’re practically rendered speechless with every powerful thrust. At this rate, you weren’t going to last. The fluttering inside your core now popping like firecrackers.

Sweat pours down his handsome face, pupils dilated black with desire for you. “¿Cómo te llamas, ángel? Tell me. And I’ll give you what you want.”

He’s asking for your name again. The catalyst behind this whole affair. “Really bent on that, aren’t you?” you manage to pant out, your lungs barely keeping up with each strong snap of his hips.

“I wasn’t at first, only wanted to tease you.” He groans, his voice finding difficulty to stay level when he’s fucking into you without abandon. “But now- ah! I really want to know. I want to call out your name. ¡Joder! Let me call out your name, mi amor.”

The way he was begging tugged at you deep. Your name was on the edge of your tongue, but your heart was gripped with fear. Fear that if you so much as uttered what he’s asking of you, the spell would be broken and you’d be left unsatisfied. This felt too damn good to risk ruin with sentimentality. So you did what you have been doing best. Prevaricate. And make him want you more.

“Uncuff me. And I’ll tell you anything. Anything you want.”

You feel the vibrations of a laugh rumble deep from his chest.

“Eres tan… ¡Mierda!”

Like a cord finally snapping, the dam breaks and everything building inside spills out with a long, final cry of ecstasy. Stars dotted your vision, for a moment you forgot to breathe as you feel yourself unraveling. Within, you feel him cumming inside as well. Liquid hot ropes painting your insides, leaving you quivering uncontrollably. His hips slow to an eventual stop, his voice coming out in soft, satisfied sighs.

Slowly letting your leg down, Luis pulls himself out and hovers over you, hands flat beside your head. The man peppers your back and shoulders with soft nips and kisses. His stubble makes slow, sensual scratches along your skin as he reaches up to the flesh of your ear, biting onto the lobe affectionately. You turn your head to meet his lips with yours, noting how wonderful his kisses feel. He pulls away slightly to study you intently, varying emotions flashing over his eyes.

“Now,” he started, “about that name.”

Back at this again. You had to admire the man for his tenacity. “Told you already,” you huff once your breath returned to you, tugging at the chains around your wrist. “Remove these cuffs and I’ll think about it.”

His voice cracks in disbelief, “That was not what you said- ¿En serio? After all of that?”

“You’re more than welcome to keep working for it.” The words left your lips before you can stop them and an amused groan escapes from Luis’ own, sending another sinful heat to flow down your core.

“Eres muy mala.” He sighs with a shake of his head. There was no hint of annoyance in his husky tone, a devilish smirk plastered on his face. “Hanging with you- not healthy.”

“Right back at ya.” The remark earned a swift smack on your ass. You almost yelp out of reflex and shifted your eyes to glare at him.

The way he looked at you, however, tells you that he wasn’t against the idea of going again. And truthfully, you were all for it. Luis leans over to capture your lips once more, sweet and filled with promise, while his hand began to wander your body mischievously. The familiar tingle of heat starts to boil inside-

The alarming sound of inhuman groans down the hall jolts you two from your intimate high. Spell broken and you fully take in your nakedness in this increasingly dire situation.

“Get these chains off, Luis!”

“¡Sí, sí! Right away!”

[valiantroeagleangel]

Varney.

Vampire! Noah Sebastian x female reader.

Varney! Noah, mention of blood, kind of dub-con but not really but a bit I think because of compulsion, oral, unprotected sex, mention of death.

I often have thoughts with Vampire! type of shit and I think I got a bit carried away gathering some of them here. Maybe I need to warn that this is inspired by the book "Varney the Vampire: The Feast of Blood." It's gothic horror I think, nothing too graphic is going on here though. But just- don't want you to be fooled, this is based on gothic gross vampires not that sparkling Edward bitch. I know nobody reads that part every time but you can't say you haven't been warned.

5.3k words if you ask.

Mama’s tag list:  @philomenie @gipsonnikki @circle-with-me @somewhere-diamond @malice-ov-mercy  @smokeynaomi @darkhallcorner  @loeytuan98  @sthnog  @cookiesupplier  @cncohshit  @lma1986  @skulliecadaver-blog @talialovesmiw @to-be-written @4rtificialfolio @arkiliastuff

"Varney enjoys all the pleasures at once and when he manages to desecrate the bed of a pretty young woman while bleeding her white in a horrible sucking sound. He is a fearsome and scary creature that usually wakes up the members of the fair sex by scratching at the window of their room."

She knew he was here. She could feel him, hear him. She could hear the same four notes he was humming, letting the melody indicate his presence to those around. She looked through the window, trying to discern the shape outside, the condensation on the glass concealing his figure. But she knew he was here, god she knew and she couldn't look away. She didn't dare to move, she didn't want him to know she knew. He did though. Of course, he did. He just didn't say anything, he couldn't scare his prey. She was so innocent in her white nightgown, creeping at the window from her bed, fearing to be harmed in the middle of the night.

So he continued to sing his chords, the notes living rent-free in her mind for years now.

D♭, G♭, E♭ₘ and A♭ₘ.

It was like an obsessive thought, it intruded her mind, and it ate her brain. All she could do was hum along every time she heard them.

She knew he was here, she always did. And even if she abhorred it to hell, all she could do was to be haunted by these notes. They were so mesmerizing, like she was compelled to appreciate them, finding comfort in them even though they seemed terrifying.

D♭, G♭, E♭ₘ and A♭ₘ.

She murmured them like a mantra, like it would save her from damnation. As if they were going to keep him away from her when he was the one living by their harmony.

D♭, G♭, E♭ₘ and A♭ₘ.

It wasn't that hard. Actually, if she tried, she was sure she could play them on the piano.

D♭, G♭, E♭ₘ and A♭ₘ.

She was just a child then, not so long ago, when she first heard these four notes. That day he left a letter. "I'll come for you, my yuri." Yuri was not her name and by then she had no fucking clue of what he meant. She still doesn't. With time, the years went by and he started to reach for her again. It was first once a month, then once every two weeks, to finally once a week. The more she grew the more he seemed to visit. He was frightening her. He looked so tall, so massive and impressive. She only saw his face once, disguised in the darkness of her room. It was the only time he approached her that close and despite the terror she felt that night all she could remember was his long nose and the way his hair framed his face.

But while he continued his visits, he never tried anything to harm her to her surprise. She knew what he was, she often heard the elder talk about these creatures that come for you at night. But she liked to think he was some kind of protector. Oh, only if she knew. His intentions were everything but caring and kind. He wanted her. From the moment he saw her as a child, he wanted her, he wanted her blood. She smelled like no other.

His first thought was to get rid of her as a child, get a good meal from her and leave her for dead in the snow in front of her house. But even for him, killing that innocent child was too much. So he waited, promising himself a good feast for the years to come. He just had to watch for her, to be sure that no one would try to harm his prey. They called him Varney, Varney the vampire, attacking only those who were pure enough to be maidens. But as the years passed he never acted. He could have assailed her a thousand times now. She was not a child anymore and she lived so carefree- that girl was completely unconscious. He needed to act and to act soon before she would do something that would ruin her forever.

But he did nothing, he watched her for years, he observed how she evolved, how she went from that sweet smiling child to the woman she was today. And god, he was happy he waited because nothing ever smelled as divine as her. She smelled like strong lilies, yuri.

Yuri was the Japanese appellation for lilies. He didn't know her name, even after all these years he didn't look into it. He didn't need to know his prey, all he needed to was watch over her. Watch how happily she danced during the spring balls, how sad she cried during the dead season at the end of the autumn, how charming she was for the Christmas time, and how fragile she looked alone in her bed at night. That poor nightgown wasn't doing her any favour, he swore that if he squinted just a bit more he could see everything. That clothing was so see-through that she might be freezing to death during those stormy nights.

One day he dropped her a cloth, some kind of duvet for her body to heat. It was the only time he actually entered her room, hoping for her to be dead asleep. Unfortunately, she was not, and she saw his face. He knew she did, he only hoped for her to not remember, to think that it was some kind of dream. Only that she wasn't dumb, she knew he was lurking for her all these years and she knew he was here that night, next to her bed. At first, she thought she was good to die, the time had come. A stranger in her room watched her sleep like a psychopath, but he only dropped that duvet, and she knew it was him. He hummed for her and her body relaxed immediately. He had tamed her, had domesticated her. She wasn't even worried about him intruding on her space like that.

He knew he did a great job then, even if she saw what she was supposed to never see, his face.

D♭, G♭, E♭ₘ and A♭ₘ.

Winter balls have never been her thing. She much preferred the ones that were held in the spring or the summer. The celebrations were different, more festive. During the winter the balls were cold, held in big mansions from the ones who were welcoming all the people. Often they were masquerade parties, and she hated that too. She didn't like wearing that mask all night, it was itching and making her face sweat like a pig. Gosh, she hated them, and that corset dress too. It was so tight she could barely breathe. Spring balls were allowing more liberties, no masks, no dresses, nothing but dancing.

Nonetheless, she still walked through that hall, finally entering that marble castle and she couldn't help but appreciate the heat that welcomed her. Greeted by some kind of butler she walked through the corridors, reaching the room of the festivities.

She stared at the impressive chandelier, overwhelmed by all the luxury that surrounded her. She didn't have any idea whose house it was this time. Winter balls were held by the nobles of the land, one by one, it's all she needed to know, at least that's what she lived by.

And just like that the night went, she danced around with some people, chatted with others, it was all pleasant until she couldn't take it anymore. Politely she escaped the small group she was with, reaching for a balcony of some kind as she hoped for some air. That corset was for sure killing her. She laughed to herself, the idea of being killed by her awful garments making her smile a little.

"Oh no the poor lady suffocated in that way too tight dress, who's idea it was? We should strip her naked to see!" She mimicked some kind of rude man by herself, laughing even more at her antics. Maybe she was drunk, maybe it was the heat obstructing her brain, but she found that pleasant enough.

D♭, G♭, E♭ₘ and A♭ₘ.

Until he called for her. She first thought her brain was playing her tricks, but he called again.

D♭, G♭, E♭ₘ and A♭ₘ.

She looked up, then down, looking for that well-known figure, only to notice him hidden among the roses of the garden below. She moved as fast as she could, hoping to actually be able to catch him tonight. She had so many things to ask, but she wasn't afraid, curiosity was gnawing at her.

D♭, G♭, E♭ₘ and A♭ₘ.

He sang the chord again and she let his voice guide her through the labyrinth of flowers and small trees she was losing herself in.

D♭, G♭, E♭ₘ and A♭ₘ.

"Come for me, my yuri."

He talked to her and for the first time, she felt like she heard his voice, like he was real, like all of this was concrete.

D♭, G♭, E♭ₘ and A♭ₘ.

She couldn't see him yet, but the more she walked the more the melody became persistent.

"Yuri."

He guided her with his voice, keeping it sultry, as soft as his sweet words. Once again transported by his melodies, all she could do was search for him, she was completely frenetic, obsessed. She needed him, she needed more. She wondered why every time she heard him sing she couldn't feel fear anymore. As if he was some kind of saviour, an angel from heaven.

And then she saw him, standing in front of the fountain, hidden by thousands of thorns and roses. She recognized that tall frame and that nose. It's all she could remember him by, the long nose, so straight, so pretty, making him look so elegant.

She was in awe, her eyes staring straight into his, her lips agape. She didn't even dare to swallow, worried he might disappear at any second as if he was supernatural. He wasn't real, he wasn't human, she swore he was not. But he was clearly not an angel either. His aura was so dark and she remembered why she feared him at first.

His eyes pierced through her skin and she suddenly felt naked, as if she was not the one only wearing nightgowns in front of him every night for the past ten years. It was so different from what he used her to, he actually looked terrifying, as she remembered him from when she was a kid. He felt the change in her mood, felt how frightened she became in an instant. And without her even realizing he was by her side, in a flash, he towered over her against that thorny bush.

"It's okay my yuri, don't be afraid." He tried to soothe her, to coax her, but it didn't work that time. As if his voice had lost all of his fascinating power.

She tried to step back, only to puncture the naked skin of her arms with another thorn, a single drop of blood forming at her wound. It cascaded through her arm until it reached her hand. She felt it rolling down but her eyes were drowning in his. She couldn't look away, it didn't matter how frightened she actually was, her gaze couldn't leave his.

He licked his lower lips, the glow in his eyes darkening, and she didn't miss any of that. He swallowed hard, his eyes alternating between hers and her lips. He licked his once again, until he couldn't bear it one more minute. Carefully, he approached his face to hers, brushing his lips on hers.

"You’re bleeding Yuri." he whispered and she swallowed hard, her voice stuck in her throat. "Be careful, we wouldn't want to hurt that delicate flower."

Was he talking about her or about the roses behind her? She had no idea but she still blushed and he stepped back, leaving her some personal space again while she realized she actually had stopped breathing for several seconds now. He held his hand to her as he went sitting on the edge of the fountain.

She followed obediently, actually taking his hand in her as he pulled her toward him, startled by how hot she was compared to him. He made her stand between his spread legs, turning her so he could face her back. His eyes fell on the blood spreading on her arm, strings of red tarnishing the purity of her skin. Hypnotized by it he let his fingers travel from her hand to her forearms and the upper arms, brushing gently her skin in his path, ever so slowly, as delicate as he saw her. The scent of it was becoming intoxicating and he wished he could smell more, touch more, feel the thickness of the blood between his fingers, he wanted to taste her so badly. She smelled like lilies but would she taste like lilies too?

"Yuri." It escaped him, a murmur that he couldn't refrain from, it's all he was thinking about. Lily, Yuri. He didn't move, he didn't even try to act like nothing happened, he just fixated on the blood imprinting her skin. He hadn't smelled it in years but it smelled as divine as the first time he saw her. It was even more sacred than that day.

"What does Yuri mean?" She asked, clueless, as she stared at the bush where she actually hurt herself. Her voice startled him, he wasn't used to hearing her. He found that sweet, so sweet. She was all her blood was, he was sure of that and he wondered, for a second, if he wasn't just infatuated with her.

"Lily." He answered calmly, but if his heart was still actually beating he swore he would be breaking.

"Lily as the flower?" He only hummed at her as a form of answer. His thumb brushed the wound and she didn't react. He wished she would have hissed or whined, but she didn't, she only stayed still, staring at the bush. "Why?"

The more his thumb caressed her the more she relaxed into his touch, as if she wasn't terrified minutes before.

"Because-" He stopped, thinking of what he was about to say actually. "Just because. You don't need to know."

When he finally took his finger away, he brought it to his lips, allowing himself to taste, just for a bit, just a tidbit as his tongue licked it more than he should have.

The taste lingered in his mouth and thinking suddenly became hard, way too hard for the simple man he used to be. Worried by the absence of sounds he was making she turned back, facing him.

He looked at her from under, curled up on himself as he revelled himself in the flavour of her blood. Eyes dark and bloodshot, canines peeking through, long nails finishing his hands. When she realized what he was actually doing her eyes widened. His lips were stained with the liquid. For an unknown reason, she found him absolutely gorgeous. He looked so needy, it actually surprised her. How could the strong figure ensuring her at night look so weak under her like that?

Caught red-handed, he tried to compose himself to not lose the imposing presence he tried so hard to give himself these past few years. But the blood still on his lips, he couldn't behave decently. He felt so stupid, like a horny teenager, all he wanted was her.

Completely incautiously, she approached her fingers, wiping his lips and her blood away. When her fingers left his mouth he chased her, chased the heat of that alive body and the taste that was coming along, the taste he was losing. She could have touched his canine in that moment, she could have injured herself badly by unleashing that part of him. She hadn't noticed them but they were menacing to pierce through her weak skin and suck the life out of her. It's all he had been dreaming of all these years, he was so close to his goal, if only he dared to catch her.

But in the silence of the night a couple came to disturb their peace, distracting her attention away from him for a couple of seconds, acknowledging the two persons stepping into the garden. And when she eventually looked back at him he had disappeared, like he vanished into the night.

She cursed, startled by how quickly he was to leave. She knew he was able to do that, she was just not expecting him to do it tonight. She was so close, terrified but yet drowned to him, and now he faded without even telling her his name. She sighed, desperate as she sat on the edge of the fountain, trying to process what just had happened.

On his side, he cussed everybody who dared to put themself between himself and her. He was so close finally, if only he got a few more minutes he could have ravished her right here right now. How stupid he was to have hesitated even one second, he was getting weak and it was something that he couldn’t allow.

Following that event, the nights passed and looked all the same, dull, cold, and annoying. He didn't come for a total of nine nights, she counted them all. Nine nights were she was, in fact for the first time since her childhood, free from his gaze. She could have left, she could have brought someone home, she could have done all the things she doesn't dare to do when she knows he's lurking at her, but she did nothing.

On that ninth night though, she knew he was here. Despite the absence of melody, she could feel him, she could tell how disguised he was in the shadow, like he was actually for once ashamed of what he was doing. Because all he was, in fact, was a creep, lurking at a woman's window every night. And when it finally hit her all she could do was clench her legs. He was here for her, he was watching her every night, in that white nightgown, that little dress, revealing her naked body underneath, and he was here, and he was watching her.

Her legs clenched once again and she rolled into her bed, trying to chase her thoughts away but she was still feeling his presence. It was burning her, every ounce of the sheets her body was touching tingled. She rolled over and over, the image of that needy man, sucking on her blood, his fingers in his mouth like he was starving. She clenched her legs. Again. She was so petite under him, against the bush, her body hitting the thorns. Again. Was it the blood? Would he come for her if she was bleeding again? Again.

She wanted him to come for her, she wanted to ask him his name and feel his cold fingers on his arms once again.

D♭, G♭, E♭ₘ and A♭ₘ.

She called for him, naturally, like he called for her but he didn't answer, he stayed in his darkness, unsure of what to do. Did she want him to devour her all? Did she know what he had planned to do?

D♭, G♭, E♭ₘ and A♭ₘ.

She called again, tempting him, playing with the little nerves he had.

D♭, G♭, E♭ₘ and A♭ₘ.

Like a plea, she called him, she called for his furtive touch, his calloused fingers, she called for him to get out of the darkness. And when he finally dared to step out of the corner, she realized that he wasn't outside like she thought he was. He was in her room. Like he did the first time he saw her wearing that ridiculous nightgown. Her eyes widened at her -expected- unexpected visitor.

He approached her bed as she straightened herself, switching positions to sit on her feet, revealing herself. His hands approached her face, his fingers caressing the top of her cheek and she shivered, the contact surprising her, his coldness contrasting with her hot body.

"Shh, it's too late to be afraid, Yuri." As always, his voice relaxed her and she leaned into his touch, her face chasing his hand until he cupped his whole cheek, his fingers reaching from behind her ears. His thumb stroked her face and she sighed, closing her eyes, like it was her missing piece. She didn't understand why but she felt herself ignite. She was burning and the more he gently caressed her face the more she was catching on fire.

In a movement, as furtive as always, he sat on the bed, the mattress not making a single sound as it was used to. When she finally opened her eyes back, she met his gaze and it all suddenly became hard to breathe. She wanted to call him, to whisper his name but she had no idea of who he was, so she only murmured a quiet "please." that looked more like a whine than anything else, it was a supplication. She didn't know what she was pleading for but she did, she needed to get freed from this, whatever it was, and she knew he was the one who was going to help her. It felt like evidence, he was the one who was going to free her from that painful agony.

"Please what? Tell me, my sweet lily." He asked, his free hand cupping her other cheek and she closed her eyes again, expecting a kiss that never came. Why would he have kissed her? She didn't know, but she knew he was about to, she saw it, she felt it, she-

"Kiss me." She asked for it, the words escaping her without her consent, like he compelled her to do so. "Please kiss me-"

She wanted to call his name again but was dismissed that right, her lack of knowledge of his person showing. It scared her once again, how ready she was to give herself to that man she barely knew, how she let him watch her all these years, it wasn't herself, she was scared of him but why did it feel so good at that very moment?

But thoughts became long forgotten when she felt his lips on her, chastely moving in rhythm, like another chord. It's all she needed to lose it, she didn't think anymore, a violent moan leaving her when he pressed himself even more on her. Their two bodies flopped on the bed, her back hitting the mattress as he quickly settled himself on top of her without ever breaking the kiss. He could have done whatever he wanted with her, she was putty in his hand at that very moment, she belonged to him the second he put his hands on her nine nights ago.

He kissed her as if his life depended on it, as if he wasn't already half-dead, he was drowning in her scent. The more he kissed her the more she whined into his arms, her scent becoming stronger and stronger. He was drunk on her, he could feel her blood rushing through her whole body, he could hear how fast her heart was beating, how hot and aroused she was just from his kisses. When he finally broke apart for real, letting her gasp for air, he analyzed her, the needy look she was giving him, as if she needed this as much as he did, as she didn't need to live, what was her life in comparison to man's touch?

She wanted to ask for his name again, and finally, as if he read her mind, he breathed out, his mouth drawn to her neck.

"Noah." His mouth attached itself, almost automatically to her skin and he dared, just so little, press his teeth against her carotid, enough to just feel the blood pump under his touch.

She tilted her head back at the contact, sighing. "Noah." She repeated and he nodded, smiling in the crook of her neck as he travelled on her body. She was smelling so good, he was going crazy, the more he approached her heart the more excited he was. His lips landed on her clavicle, her cleavage and when he finally dared reach that devil gown, who taunted him so many times, he ripped it, freeing her chest from the fabric. He almost moaned at the sight of her bare body, like it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his entire life, and it was. She was almost glowing in his eyes, like she was coming straight from heaven and he wondered how it was possible for a creature of the devil like him to be able to reach for the gods through her.

"Noah." She called again, cautiously, like these words would hurt her if she said them too fast or too loud.

He hummed against her, his head already diving into her chest, his lips attached to her left breast he sucked on it, feeling her heart pump under him, feeling the blood coming to his mouth as he sucked a bit more vividly. Until he sucked enough for his teeth to pierce through her skin, her blood escaping her without her being able to contest or fight. All she could feel was the euphoria that his touch was giving her.

The taste of her was like a relief, it was the best thing he ever put in his mouth, after centuries of existence. It was the sweetest of the nectars. When he was still human he recalled once drinking a wine called "The Wine of the Gods." The best one ever created. But he swore it was nothing compared to her. Nothing could compete with that delicate sweetness, she tasted like she smelled and he couldn't stop. He wondered if her pussy tasted the same, his intrusive thoughts battling against him and his will to feed. He couldn't get his teeth out of her breast but god- her pussy, scented as divine as her blood and he wanted to taste her so bad.

He opened his eyes back but it was too late, she was already too far away from her pleasure, drowning in all the sensations she was feeling. When he finally collected enough will he left her chest, not without regrets, to pamper her with kisses, travelling through her stomach to reach her bare pussy. She didn't bother herself with underwear at night and he couldn't be more glad for that.

He kissed her pelvis, his mouth not leaving her skin for more than a few seconds. And when he finally dared to settle between her legs, when she automatically spread them for him, all he wanted to do was thrust violently into her and bite her neck until she would cry from the pain. But he did nothing of that, he gently bit her inner thigh, delecting himself with the so little blood he took.

Finally deciding to put his hands to good use, he grabbed her by the hips, his fingers sinking in their fat as he pushed her to his face. She squirmed under him, her hands reaching for his hair by instinct. All she wanted was to push him more and more on her, begging him to speed up his pace. She was dying for his touch, completely compelled and mesmerized by her predator, just like he wanted her.

But the predator liked to play too much. He only teased her, keeping his slow motions, nice and gentle, groaning when she would moan a little bit louder or push him a little bit too hard.

He was quick to get how her body worked and how she reacted in a certain way. Soon he had his two hands grabbing her legs to put them on his shoulders, his tongue pressed against her cunt with such fervour. His nose rubbed her clit, making her moan. Her hands immediately left his hair to cover her mouth, refraining from her sounds but he was quick to move, leaving his spot between her legs to reach her face, grabbing her hands to move them away from her mouth.

"Let me hear you Yuri, let me hear the holy sounds you make." Quickly, he regained his place back, his tongue pushing itself on her folds as she moaned again.

He was cold, all of his being was freezing but it was enough to make her burn under his touch. She desired him in a way that she never desired anybody, and yet she felt so away that she wasn't sure it was her who was feeling all these emotions. Her heart was ready to explode as she pushed his head deeper against her core. She moaned and he answered back, groaning vividly between her legs.

The closer she grew to her orgasm the sweeter she tasted, it was intoxicating, it was all too much. Until she came, rocking her hips on his face, quivering between his hands and crying his name for her own sake, to remember something tangible, like all of this was real. Because she felt completely out of her body, her conscience tore apart from herself.

Nonetheless, he kept eating her, he couldn't get enough of her scent, of her taste. If he wasn't a starved man before he definitely was one now. He only pulled apart when he heard her cry his name out, completely overstimulated. And when he finally dared to look at her he understood how fucked he was. Because there was no way he was turning back now, there was no way he was letting her run free into the wild again. He just needed her body over his, he needed to be inside of her for real, to feel her alive around him. At that very moment, he didn't care about anything else, he needed to feel how warm she was, how alive she was compared to him. And when he finally achieved that feeling, when he finally thrusted into her without a care in the world he almost immediately came from the sensation. Nothing ever made him feel alive like that, even not when he was actually alive.

She cried for him but at this point, every sound she made was long forgotten, he was already gone. He heard her heart beating, like a psychotic melody. It was maddening, the more he thrusted the more he heard it.

D♭, G♭, E♭ₘ and A♭ₘ.

She kept crying of pleasure, reaching for his embrace and when he finally held her between his arms she was ready to give up on her life. It was feeling all too good to be true, it wasn't her, she knew it, he was only chasing his own pleasure yet she was reaching her climax so quickly. Something wasn't right but it was too late to notice. Her arms around his back she held him closer, tightening her grasp on him to comfort herself.

She was doomed. She knew it, it was the end. She cried out, from the pain this time as she acknowledged her situation. He held her closer, feasting on her supplications, one of his hands reaching for her face, his thumb brushing away some tears."Shhh, it's okay Yuri. It's too late now." and before she could come he bit violently into her neck, the pain awakening immediately. It was violent, brutal, nothing like before. She felt her life escape her without being able to do anything while he continued to fete on her, unable to stop drinking from her, years of starvation just for that instant. But for him, it was all worth it, nothing had ever been as worth it as it was. It was delicious, excruciating all of his senses. He never felt so great in so many years. He loved those who were pure enough to be maidens, they really were a gift from the gods, descended straight from heaven and he was bringing her back to where she belonged. Away from the monstrosities of the earth. Away from himself who belonged to hell. Varney.

The chords used are from Masquerade by Versailles.

[the-ferocious-kittyrose]

Hazbin Hotel Ep1 Rewrite

Okay, let’s get the shit I like first out of the way. Animation? Beautiful. Art style? Iconic. Music? Pops off.

Okay, now the fun part…

First let me just say, I adore biblical lore. So when I see something changed from the og lore, where I think the og was more interesting, I cannot let it go.

(I’m gonna focus on the Charlie storyline in the episode)

1. The Backstory

Let’s start with the first scene, the backstory of Lucifer and Lilith. In the show, they got some of the timeline and motivations wrong. I understand that the story is sugar coated, but hear me out.

“Once upon a time, there was a dazzling kingdom protected by golden gates, known as Heaven. Home to beings of pure light. Angels that worshiped good and lived in peace and harmony under the rule of God. The most beautiful of the Angels was Lucifer. He was a dreamer, with fantastical ideas for all creation. But he was restricted by God and the elders of Heaven, for they felt his way of thinking was dangerous to the order of their world.

Outraged by this injustice, Lucifer gathered an army of Angels, and declared war on the kingdom of Heaven. The battle raged on for centuries, but in the end, Heaven reigned victorious. As punishment for their betrayal, Lucifer and his army were cast out of Heaven. Banished to a crumbling wasteland, where the light of God could not reach. But Lucifer would not wallow in failure. From the barren landscape he rose a beautiful golden palace, crowned himself king and crafted a plan to share his freedom with God’s newest creation. Humanity.”

(I like to imagine that when Lucifer and his army fell, their wings burned up, leaving scattered feathers everywhere. In order to fly to Eden, Lucifer gathered these burned feathers and turned them into a new pair of wings for himself. They were black, messy, and trailed billowing smoke, but they could fly.)

Now for the Lilith part of the story. The more popular interpretation of her is that she is the first wife of Adam, but there is another version too, one where she is Adam’s second Wife after Eve. I personally prefer the latter because I can’t see anyone sinning or getting cast out of Edan before Eve eats the apple.

“He approached the garden of Edan in disguise, and offered the forbidden fruit of knowledge to the mother of humanity, Eve, who gladly accepted. But with the gift of knowledge and freedom, came a terrible curse. Evil bleed into the earth, and humanity was infected by darkness and sin.

For her disobedience Eve was cast out of Edan, to the dismay of her love, Adam. To appease him, the Angels crafted him a new bride, Lilith. Lilith was beautiful, with a voice so enchanting even Lucifer was mesmerized, but she was strong willed and refused to be subservient to her new husband. She fled from the garden, and rather than chase her, Adam found the tree of knowledge and bit into the forbidden fruit, so he could follow his true love, and be with her once more.

Lilith wandered, lost and alone, until she was found by Lucifer. Enamored by her beauty and iron will, he gave her his heart and made her his queen.”

Then you have the bit about Lucifer becoming depressed while Lilith thrived in Hell. I hate this! I was looking forward to a demonic Mortica and Gomez, not another Stolas and Stella. Plus, I’ve never been a fan of uwu sad misunderstood Lucifer. He is a complex character, but too often he’s over simplified by people who read Paradise Lost in high school and misinterpreted Lucifer as a tragic anti hero who was treated unfairly by the evil Angels. Lucifer can be tragic, even sympathetic. He can be fun and a caring father. But don’t forget that he is king of Hell. He is the prince of pride. He has an ego the size of east Texas and waged war against God himself.

And let’s not forget that in the show he is the head honcho over a strict cast system that encourages violence, allows the worst of the worst to take power, and leaves the hellborn races at the bottom at a severe disadvantage.

In this rewrite, Lucifer and Lilith essentially switch places, except Lilith isn’t a pathetic push over, she’s an incredibly famous rockstar, who’s always busy and not around often, but still has a bigger role in her daughter’s life than her husband, who’s been mia doing king shit.

And the last thing we hear about in the intro monologue is that the exterminations happens to prevent Hell from rising against them, which while that may be the case, don’t have Charlie say it!!! That realization for her would make the entire hotel superfluous! Charlie has to think that the problem truly is overpopulation.

2. Meeting with Adam

Let’s start with Adam himself. I hate this character. Especially as an adaptation of Adam. Yes, Adam is misogynistic. He expected Lilith to be subservient to him, but he wouldn’t be the frat boy type of misogynist, he’d be the old school chivalrous type. Grandpa style sexism. And shouldn’t the father of humanity care about his descendants? It doesn’t make any sense for him to be an executioner. He should be the leader of the guardian Angels or something.

In this rewrite, Adam is not the leader of the executioners, instead it’s the Angel Dumah. Dumah is the angel over the wicked dead, and he was appointed by God to torment sinners in Hell.

I want him to be an actual intimidating antagonist. He rarely speaks (his name means “silence”) and has many eyes (is described as having a thousand eyes)

As for the exorcists, they are Angels, but not actual dead humans wearing mask. They just look like that. Dumah is described as having tens of thousands of Angels of Destruction at his disposal. That’s what the exorcists are going to be, but instead of thousands, I’ll give him five. They don’t speak and are hardly sentient. They stand on top of the tower like gargoyles, until they “come to life” for the execution.

“But it’s a comedy! Shouldn’t they be funny?” No. It’s all about how characters react to them. The Litch in Adventure Time is a good example of this.

So obviously the meeting goes a lot differently.

Charlie gets a call, looks at the number, and excitedly tells everyone to, “shooooosh!” She takes the call nervously, saying, “yeah! Okay! Yes! Of course! I’ll be right there! Thank you SOOO much!!!” She hangs up and happily tells Vaggie that Dumah requested a meeting with her. Vaggie is nervous and says she should probably go with her, but Charlie says that she’ll be fine and tells her to stay and work on the commercial. She leaves excited that the Angels may finally be taking her seriously.

She makes it to the clock tower’s board room, where Dumah sits silently at the end of the table. Charlie nervously starts to greet him before she realizes they’re not alone. The Angels, Gabriel and Uriel have come from Heaven, for a meeting with Hell’s princess.

Uriel remains professional, politely bowing her head as she greeted Charlie. Gabriel on the other hand, threw his arms out, happily yelling, “Charlotte!!!” He wrapped her in an uncomfortably tight and awkward hug, saying how much she’s grown since he last saw her. He’s like a chill but estranged uncle meeting his now adult niece who he hasn’t seen since she was a baby and has no memory of him whatsoever.

Uriel watches the whole thing in embarrassment. She tells Charlie that Dumah had contacted them, regarding some, “interesting,” ideas about the extermination.

Charlie starts with her pitch, but Gabriel insists that they should take some time to catch up first. He claps his hands and summons plates of food for everyone. When we cut back to them, Gabriel is in the middle of telling the story about almost getting his ass kicked by Joseph when he told him his virgin wife was pregnant.

Uriel cuts him off, saying she doesn’t need to hear this story for the eighth millionth time. She turns to Charlie, exasperated, and tells her to get on with the pitch.

Charlie says that she has a potential solution for the over population problem in Hell. Uriel, Gabriel, and Dumah look at her blankly. Gabriel asks, “overpopulation?”

Charlie goes on to explain that she knows overpopulation is a big problem, but 275 sinners were executed this year alone and she just can’t stand to watch her people be slaughtered anymore.

Uriel asks if she’s suggesting an alternative, and Charlie very excitedly pitches her idea for the hotel. Uriel and Gabriel wear a matching “wtf” face and look back and forth at eachother like, “does this girl know what she’s suggesting?”

As Charlie is finishing, Uriel is visibly annoyed. She interrupts Charlie, complaining that this is ridiculous and has all been a massive waste of time as she stands up to leave. Charlie tries to stop her, saying, “please, you don’t understand.”

Uriel snaps back, “no, you don’t understand! They had their chance in life and they earned damnation.”

Charlie responds, “you're wrong. Sinners made mistakes, sure, but everyone makes mistakes.”

Uriel pinches the bridge of her nose (or where a nose would be on a person) “a mistake happens once. It’s an accident, an error in judgment due to naivety. Of course mistakes can be forgiven, but we’re not talking about mistakes, are we? These sinners had a choice, and they chose to live in sin.”

“A choice they now regret!” Charlie defends.

“It takes a lot more than regret to be forgiven.” Uriel says coldly. “It takes remorse.”

Gabriel chimes in, “she has a point, Charlie. It’s easy to make someone regret their actions, but to have them feel true selfless remorse, that is much more difficult.”

Charlie furrows her brow and starts to look defeated.

“But perhaps not impossible.”

Charlie beams with excitement. Gabriel explains that this is a big decision, too big to be made right now, but if she can successfully redeem one demon, they will allow her to come to heaven and pitch her idea to the entire Angelic court. Uriel tries to argue, but Gabriel just says they’ll discuss it later. Charlie gives him a tight hug before he and Uriel disappear.

As she turns to leave, Dumah puts his hand on her shoulder. This is the first time he’s moved in the entire scene. He stares at her coldly and says, “the only reason you’re here is your father has spared you from the executioner’s blade. If I had my way. Each and every one of you would be slaughtered.”

Charlie stares up at him. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

For context, part of the reason Gabriel and Uriel were initially confused by Charlie’s proposal is because they know that Lucifer is trying to keep Hell’s population as high as possible, in preparation for the second war with heaven. That’s why he and the other princes of hell work to manipulate humanity and temp them towards sin (i.e. succubi and incubi). That’s why he arranges marriages between powerful demons to make powerful demon children (i.e. Stolas and Stella). He needs as many demons possible for his army if he’s gonna have a chance at winning. So obviously, sending sinners to heaven, aka the opposing force, is the LAST thing Lucifer would want.

[charmercharm3r]

Masterlist

warning: smut

thinking about hyunjin walking in on you and your not-so-trusty toy…

feeling like you’d had the bullet vibrator pressed to your clit for ages, hand numb, body sweaty, and you just could not find the right angle. the previously recorded videos of you and your boyfriend playing in the background of your headphones and his moans sounding oh, so pretty. but it just wasn’t cutting it for you right now. you need him otherwise you’ll be here for god knows how much longer.

your prayers were answered, though. hyunjin bursting through your bedroom door was a blessing and a curse in disguise. little did you know your needed relief was going to turn into an all night activity when he found you naked in bed.

immediately falling to his knees in front of you and taking the toy from your hand, hyunjin turns off your phone and takes the headphones away to replace the needed sensuality with his own voice. you never realize how much you depended on him for something as simple as making yourself cum.

“my poor baby, how long have you been here? you must be so exhausted.” whether he meant to be so teasing, you didn’t care. you only mewled out for him and reached out to feel his skin on yours.

hyunjin cooed as you gripped onto his forearm and threw your legs over his shoulders. staring at your sopping, puffy cunt, he was mesmerized. such a pretty sight deserved to be treated just as equally kind.

“don’t worry anymore, bunny. i’ll take care of you. you don’t lift a finger. how many times do you wanna cum, hm? i’ll make it happen.”

his presence alone was getting you further than you’d been able to get yourself this entire time. the added comfort of his free hand massaging your thigh and his lips pressing mindless kisses to your belly felt unreal. you held his hand with the toy steady against you, writhing and moaning in his grasp with a fuzzy mind. “oh, you can’t even speak. you’re so precious. i know, i know— you need me all the time. do i make you that insatiable, bunny? just need to have me here all day, every day, never a second apart. there we go, now. let go, baby. cum for me so i can make you cum again, and again, and again.

“my sweet bunny, i’m not going anywhere, you don’t have to cry. oh, but you’re so cute when you do. look at you! i haven’t even touched you yet! haven’t gotten to take off my clothes, you’re so desperate for me.

“i know i said to relax, but i kind of want to make you work just a little bit more. is that okay with you, sweetheart? i promise, it’ll be worth it. let me play with you and you’ll have everything you want. you’re the prettiest when you let me play. you’re always beautiful, but i really do love that frustrated ruffle in your brow when i don’t let you cum. doesn’t it make it feel even better the next time you do? just a few minutes bunny, then after, i’ll make sure you lose count of how many highs i give you, you’ll never wanna come down.”

[seaslugfanclub]

~Wanting the Unwanted~

Hans x Reader

I’m yearning fr rn. This is totally OOC, but that’s because unlike the OG Frozen where Hans has NO ONE, he has you. I think reader inserts should affect the universe they’re put in, including changing possible villains.

Enjoy!

————————————————————————

The Westergaards didn’t give a shit about the youngest prince. Everyone knew that….Hans knew that.

Hans knew he was nothing more than an afterthought to his family, less than that even. He was used to the empty glances given to him by his parents and brothers, void of any familiarity and affection. Hollow. A far cry from how families are supposed to look at you, based on what Hans had read from the countless books in the royal library.

The idea of a family was nothing but a fantasy to Hans, just as imaginary as fighting dragons and saving princesses.

Hans had long since accepted his place in the castle, any bitterness long being replaced by apathy. The youngest prince would’ve been far more affected by his neglect, scrounging for any scrap of recognition like a dog, if it wasn’t for his secret saving grace. His proof of what actual love looks like.

You.

For Hans, his invisibility to his family had become a gift in disguise. Once he had completed his daily lessons, all he had to do was give one of his brothers a half-baked excuse about meeting a lord in the countryside, ask a stablehand to ready Sitron from the royal stables, and leave the palace grounds by late afternoon. And just like that, he was a free man, going to see the one person who actually mattered to him.

If it were any one of his brothers, their absence would be quickly noticed in the castle. They would need months in advance to notify Han’s father—the king, about any business trip or personal vacation they might have. But not Han’s, guess that was a perk to being unwanted and unneeded. And thank God for that, because he liked to spend a few days at your cottage.

The ride to your cottage always filled Han’s stomach with butterflies. Even if it was the hundredth time sneaking away to you, the combined giddiness of rebellion and the anticipation of seeing you made it feel like it was the first secret rendezvous all over again. Hans, giving Sitron a light squeeze to make him trot faster.

It was always dusk when Han’s finally arrived at your house. The light from your windows spreads warmth throughout him, no matter the season.

Any residual feelings of despair or vendettas for his family would wash away the moment your front door swung open, revealing your smiling face. Hans barely had the chance to unmount from Sitron before being swept into your arms.

‘This…This is what it’s like to be loved..’ Hans mused to himself as he buried his face into your hair, arms wrapped tightly around you, the both of you just basking in the shared presence of each other before parting slightly, just enough for you to press your lips against his. Days of longing now a fleeting memory.

The next few minutes were filled with sharing what eachothers days were like during his absence, with you walking close to Hans as he set Sitron away in the small stable beside your home. Once his prized horse was settled in and fed an apple that you had fished out of your pocket, you grasped Hans’s arm, pressing him close to your body as you led him inside for supper.

Most people who grew up in high society would sneer at anything less than an estate. But to Hans, your small home was more luxurious than any castle in Europe. As he sat down at the kitchen table, he took a moment to look around your home, as if to mesmerize any detail he may have forgotten over the past couple weeks. The first thing he always noticed was the smell.

It was warm, slightly musky, with floral notes from the numerous herbs you had drying in the kitchen. A welcomed change to the castle, which always smelt cold and sterile, a mix of old varnish and lanolin.

Hans always felt like a stranger in his own “home”, as if simply existing in the palace was a taboo. He wasn’t allowed to touch any of the fine china that lined the hallways, or step too heavily on the carpets, hell— he couldn’t even sit on the sofa in the parlor.

But here? Everything was handcrafted and meant to be used. Various trinkets, either made by yourself or found while browsing through the markets covered virtually every surface. The hardwood floors were chipped and warped from age (Hans personally loved walking over them, it made him feel like he was in a funhouse). The walls were nearly invisible from the amount of paintings and family photographs that were framed. You had brought up in passing that you’d love to take a couples photo with him when you both had the time, and Hans couldn’t wait to see it proudly displayed amongst the images of your family.

Your furniture was old and used, the table he was sitting at was made by your great-grandfather, but it still had many years left, probably going to be passed down to your own grandchildren.

Hans’s musings were interrupted by a plate of warm stew being set in front of him, served alongside some bread you had gotten at the market this morning. He closed his eyes, taking time to inhale the rich scent as the steam tickled his face. As always, he waited for you to sit down beside him before he began eating, not without thanking you for the meal first.

Conversation flowed easily between you two as dinner went on, the meal having to be occasionally paused so you could both laugh without fear of choking. You would talk about anything that came to mind, Hans asking silly questions just so he could listen to your tangents. Somehow between conversation dinner was eventually finished, Hans allowed to eat as much as he wanted, unlike supper at the palace, where he only got to eat the scraps left over by his brothers.

Once dinner was finished, Hans was in charge of cleaning the dishes. A chore he didn’t mind, especially after you were the one who cooked such a hearty meal. It was nice to be trusted to do a task, even if it was something so little as washing a few plates. He had just moved onto the silverware, when he felt your body behind him, your breath tickling his neck. Hans continued cleaning, using all his strength not to drop any utensils into the sink when he felt your hands find themselves on his hips, your face now pressed into the crook of his neck.

You peppered kisses along his neck, whispering praises and how much you had missed him as Hans tried his best to finish drying the dishes. His resolve shattered when he accidentally glanced down, meeting your calling eyes. They were half lidded, pupils large with anticipation, wordlessly beckoning Hans to abandon his task and follow you upstairs…

…and who was he to deny you?

————————————————————————

Hans laid awake long after you had fallen asleep, his head resting on your chest, body draped across your own. Moonlight shone through your bedroom window, reflecting off of your bare bodies tangled in the sheets. Glancing up at your sleeping face, Hans smiled at your partly opened mouth, face partially buried in the pillow, hair stuck to your face from now dried sweat. Looking up at you in the dead of the night, Hans could only wish he could always come to bed with you, always be with you. Not to sneak away from the castle as if your relationship was something to be ashamed of.

If he was anyone else, he would’ve married you years ago. He wouldn’t have to be apart from you for weeks on end. Even if he was 13th in line for the throne, his family would never allow Hans to wed anyone who wasn’t noble blood. They’d have your livelihood ruined if your relationship was ever discovered, and Hans wouldn’t put it past his brothers to do something to hurt you.

Hans would rather swing from the gallows than be the reason you were hurt.

Hugging your body a little tighter, Hans tried to think of other things. Knowing that stewing in negative thoughts would do nothing to help him sleep.

He thought of tomorrow, waking up buried in sheets after being allowed to sleep in. How he’d walk down the stairs to find you making pancakes for breakfast, proudly bringing up the freshly made maple syrup from the sugar shack down the street.

After having breakfast that couldn’t be beat, you’d then brainstorm what you wanted to do for the day. Usually when Hans visited, he wanted to go to the market. The food and items sold there were something he always looked forward to. But recently, he also just wanted to spend a day inside, curled up beside you on the couch as you read your own respective books. Occasionally speaking up to share something interesting in your readings.

As Hans silently planned what tomorrow could be like, he felt his eyes dropping, exhaustion finally settling in.

Your relationship couldn’t be hidden forever, and one day you’d both have to confront reality. But now, you two are together. Wrapped in warm blankets, surrendering to sleep, both dreaming about tomorrow's plans.

[stari-hun]

Arcanists Masking

A list of arcanists in the game sorted into categories of how much they mask as human/follow human etiquette in society.

Blatantly Inhuman

37 - If you told someone in the Foundation that she was an alien like Voyager they’d believe you

Avgust - Same situation as 37, acts like they’ve never been on earth

Baby Blue - The vibe is wandering spirit over human

Balloon Party

Dikke

Druvis iii

Eternity - Nice try ethereal entity, we can tell

Getian

Isolde - Famous arcanist and stopped masking as a human outside of shows. The world is her stage now

Kaalaa Baunaa - Nice try ethereal entity, we can tell

Jessica - Tried masking out for a while, didn’t work

La Source

Ulu

Vila

Voyager - Visibly masks but you can tell cause the vibes are off

Windsong

People Assume they’re an Arcanist

An-an Lee - If you assume she’s human and not an arcanist that’s on you kinda attitude

Centurion - Acting like she wasn’t an arcanist wouldn’t do well for her job + she’s proud of it

Diggers - He could but he’s not trying to hide it

Leilani - No effort in hiding it

Lilya - Brags about her arcanum a lot

Marcus - Actively bad at masking

Matilda - Makes conscious effort to present as an Arcanist

Medicine Pocket - Reject masking, accept ur own feral nature

Mondlict - Reject masking, accept ur own feral nature

Ms NewBabel - Makes conscious effort to present as an Arcanist

Necrologist - Not trying to mask

Nick Bottom

Oliver Fog - Not trying to mask + would tell someone he is so they go away faster

ONiON

Pavia - Brags about his arcanum to much to mask

Pickles

Poltergeist

Rabies

Regulus - Proud of being an arcanist but will rarely mask for her own benefit

Satsuki

Shamane

Sotheby - Has never in her life masked

Spathodea- Proud of being an arcanist + she’s a celebrity now

The Fool

Tooth Fairy - Nice try ethereal entity, we can tell

Twins sleep - Never in their lives have they masked

Zima

X - Makes no effort to mask

Yenisei - Makes no effort to mask

Failed at Acting Human

Charlie - She’s in a known arcanist group + an Arcanist celebrity, if she was in a disguise though she’d be fine

Click - He probably acted human to get around when he was alive

Erick - At first sight you’d think she’s human but she’s very proud that she’s an arcanist

Jiu - Successfully masked as human for a long time before failing so badly she swore off it

John Titor - Second you hear em talk

Kakania - You can kinda tell on looks and she isn’t hiding it anyways

Kanjira - Can probably mask as a human to strangers for a while but quickly slips up

TTT - If you didn’t see her you’d think she’s just a girl

Acts Human

6 - Just a guy

Bette - Acting is their whole job

Blonney - She’s accepted she’s an arcanist but it’s habit

Bkornblume - Generally wouldn't tell strangers anything + acts innocuous in public

Bunny Bunny - Customer service persona

Cristallo

Desert Flannel - She used to be a celebrity but not many people recognize her anymore + she can’t hustle as well if she was a known Arcanist

Eagle

Horropedia - Proud of being an arcanist but if it didn’t come up you wouldn’t know

Melania - Makes a conscious effort to mask as human in public

Mesmer Jr - Outside of work she actively dislikes being an arcanist

Ms Moissan - Proud of being an arcanist but if it didn’t come up you wouldn’t know

Sonetto - She’s the Foundation’s pride for her masking but one of these days she’s gonna lose it

Sweetheart - Acting is her whole job

Tennant - Regularly masks with success to her benefit

Object Class

A Knight - If it weren’t for his appearance ppl would know he’s just a jolly ghost

aliEn T - Also an appearance based loss

APPle - Same thing

Door - Visibly nonhuman with a nonhuman personality

Ms Radio - Visibly nonhuman with a nonhuman personality

Sputnik

Ezra

Ezra

[tilldeathdoesmedirty]

Another day 2

Warnings: dub-con/non-con, age gap, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, emotional abuse, physical abuse, possibly other triggering events. 

Characters: dark!Steve Rogers.

Summary: Be careful what you wish for, one day it could come true. And that might just be your savior in disguise, all it takes is a little bit of persuasion. 

Interact on your own accord. You have been warned. 

Any reblog, comment, feedback is well received and appreciated! Enjoy <3 

You fiddle with the key to your two-room apartment, harshly jamming it in the keychain. If your neighbors didn’t know how you look like, they’d suspect you of being a pick locker. Courtesy of your landlord for not trying to fix the door when you told him about it multiple times. But hey, renting a place that you can actually afford must come with a couple of its own disadvantages, you thought.

Sweet victory, you mumble, as you hear a click from the door, unlocking it. You quickly go in, leaving your coat on the hanger and your now soaked shoes by the door. The apartment is rather dull, not much to look at. Basic cheap TV placed on the wall, a small table in front and next to it a couch that looked older than your grandparents, if they were still alive.

You don’t even need to get started on the bedroom, especially the kitchen. The bathroom being the only decent one in this whole situation. 

Thank god.

You look at the small timer that’s placed on the nightstand next to your bed, 20:00 you read. Enough time to entirely soak yourself in a hot bath, hoping it will make all your worries go away, if only just for a bit.

You run the water, waiting for it to warm up and fill the bathtub. You’re grateful the apartment you’re renting has hot water, not like other ones you’ve lived in even if it was for shorter periods of time, which had to take a lot of time for the water to even be mildly warm. Thus being the only thing you’re actually excited about this whole place. You didn’t even want to imagine the pneumonia you would have had. Would have been the cherry on the cake, bills on top of bills. 

You look out the window, mesmerized by the heavy snow settling on the city tonight. Your mind wanders to your little encounter with Steve, you feel your stomach turn, anxiety washing over as you remember him calling out your name. As much as you try to pick your brain out, you can’t remember ever telling him your name. Even though you should have, it just didn’t cross your mind at the moment. Not exactly professional on your part but no matter, you wouldn’t have forgotten if you did tell him.

You snap back to reality as you feel the hot water reach your arm that you left hanging in the bathtub. You turn the faucet off, stripping out of your clothes and getting in the tub. You let out a heavy sigh as the water swallows you whole. You lean your head back, closing your eyes. 

Everything will be alright, love. It’s just how the world works.

You remember… your mom, her words, everything. You slowly slide your head against the tub, holding your breath as you let your head go underwater. Any sound coming from outside blocked completely, you lose yourself in the silent yet loud ambient noise.

❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️

You scroll through the hundred of pages with the best possible secure locks. You don’t quite understand what more he wants than just a mere lock. Any of them should do honestly, there probably is no such thing as an unpickable lock so why go through the hassle of having to search for hours and hours. You were getting restless. 

You scoff. Prick.

At the last second, just as you’re about to close your work laptop’s screen, your eyes land on a lock and you look over the descriptions. Your eyes glint with triumph. You quickly pick up your phone and dial Steve’s number. You are taken aback by his almost instant response. 

You clear your throat. 

“Hello sir, i’m calling for the lock you requested? I think I may have found what you’re looking for.” you say, trying to keep your voice as even as possible. 

“That’s perfect,” he responds slowly “I trust that you chose well so, when can I expect it?”

“It shouldn’t take long. If I order it now, in a couple of hours the technician should arrive at your place and install it.” you say as you pick up a pen, rolling it between your fingers, occasionally tapping it on the table in a rhythmic manner. 

He gives you an approving hum in return.

“I’ll come by in half an hour to make the payment,” he continues “See you then, sweetheart.” he ends the call. 

You notice a weird tone in his voice, you can’t exactly place it. You always try to ignore when he calls you sweetheart. It gives you such an unsettling feeling.

You don’t like it.

❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️

You hear the main door to the building open then close. You glance over as you see Steve, you look at the time, exactly thirty minutes passed since your last call with him. 

Your coworker was out today, something about a cold. It’s a good thing you don’t get many customers, it’s not that stressful on your own. But in this case, it means it’s just you and Steve now. Alone. 

You greet him with a fake smile, intended for customers as he makes his way to your desk.

“Right on point.” you say, trying to make a light joke. 

“Exactly how I like to be.” he says with a smirk. 

You try your best refraining from rolling your eyes. Thankfully you don’t slip up. 

“So how will it be sir, cash or card?” you continue with a small smile. You don’t know why, but his presence makes you nervous. 

Really nervous. 

“Card, if you don’t mind.” he replies as he takes out his card from his wallet. 

You introduce the price number on the keypad of the card reader. You feel your body tense as you notice his gaze on you. If looks could burn, you’d be on fire. You hold out the card reader, waiting patiently as he puts his card on top of it, a beep emitting from it, meaning the payment was successful. 

You take out the receipt from it and you nervously glance up at him, you hold out your hand with the receipt in it, waiting for him to take it. He looks down at you with a stoic expression, considering you for a couple of seconds, not saying anything. 

And neither do you, you don't dare to. 

He gives you a stern smile. You look at him, careful with your actions and what you’re going to say. 

This doesn’t feel right.

“When do you usually get off?” he suddenly asks. 

You widen your eyes just the slightest, stopping almost instantly as you try to hide your surprise. 

You consider his question, why would he even ask it in the first place?

“Er… about 5pm?” you tell him, more like a question really. 

He hums and nods his head, still smiling. 

“Right then, here’s my address,” he continues like nothing happened. Like what he just asked a couple seconds ago was the most normal thing.

Nonetheless, you write his address down.

“Looking forward to it.” he says. You see the corner of his lip turn up a little just for a second. 

You think that your mind may be playing tricks on you and this was just your imagination. The interaction between you two before he finally decides to leave is pure awkwardness. At least for you. 

You let out a breath of relief that you didn’t even know you were holding in. This should be it, right? No more interactions with him, no more anything. His lock should be installed in a couple of hours, and voila. Mission accomplished.

❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️

You close your work laptop and gather your stuff, preparing yourself to go home and enjoy your free weekend. Mostly just staying in bed, watching tv or reading. So basically doing nothing, like always. 

You exit the building and head for the bus station, it’s pretty dark outside given the fact that it’s just a little over 5pm. Those are the perks of winter, you guess. At least it isn’t snowing as bad as last night but it’s just as cold nonetheless. You try as much as possible to keep the warmth you left with from leaving your body, but obviously, there isn’t much to do about it. 

You wait patiently for the bus to arrive, occasionally looking left and right at the surprisingly empty street, only a couple of cars passing by now and then. After all, this particular bus station isn’t that popular at this type of hour. 

You notice a car that’s slowly coming your way. You don’t think much of it, really, probably just another car passing by. You squint your eyes at the car’s bright headlights as it comes to a stop. 

Right in front of you.

You watch with a blank expression, instinctively your hands clutch your purse harder. You listen to the engine’s low rumble, almost soothing in the silent area. The car window rolls down and you look with curiosity. 

“…Steve?” you say, mostly to yourself. 

In the passenger seat is none other than Steve himself, you raise both your eyebrows in confusion, still not making any movements. 

“Get in.” the silence between you two is interrupted as he suddenly yells out, making sure you hear him from the engine’s noise and the distance you share. 

You give him a puzzled look. 

“What? How did you-…” you start but he cuts you off just before you could decline his kind offer. 

“Sweetheart, i’m not asking. You’re going to freeze to death, get in.” even though he has a calm demeanour and a smile on his face that’s worth a million bucks, it still feels off. 

But against your better judgment and the fact that you were waiting almost half an hour in the insufferable cold for the bus that’s yet to come, you hesitantly get closer to the car, with a frown on your face as clear as day. 

When you’re close enough, you stop. You look at him, trying to find any expression he might give away so that you can have a proper excuse as to why you have this dreadful feeling in the pit of your stomach. All you get from him is what seems to be a reassuring smile.

Oh, what the hell you think as you decide to open the car door and get in the passenger’s seat. Putting all your insecurities at the back of your mind. 

“Thank you…” you say, giving him a small smile, as you buckle the seatbelt. 

He stirs the wheel and takes off to the main road “No problem at all.” he replies, looking straight ahead as he gives a smile of his own, his perfect teeth peaking out just the slightest at the corner of his lip, it could almost be mistaken as a smirk. 

After a couple minutes of silence, what helps you remember that you need to give him your address is the passing of the street the bus usually takes on your way home. You almost jump in your seat at your realization. You quickly turn to face him as you blurt out a little too loud the instructions to get to your apartment. You notice he’s startled by your sudden burst as he looks a couple times back and forth at the road and you, in the end settling on the road once again.

He gives out a chuckle while shaking his head “Nobody ever told you it’s not a good idea to startle someone who’s driving?” 

“S-sorry,” you stutter a reply as you turn your head to gaze down at your lap in embarrassment.

“It’s just… you missed a turn, sorry.” 

He hums in response, you even hear a little “Did I” from him. Your eyes narrow and your brows furrow, that’s a weird thing to say, isn’t it? But you choose not to dwell on it too much.

You wait the rest of the ride in silence, at one point you look out the window, focusing on the passing trees and buildings as they blend in together. Feeling more tired by every passing second, you let yourself drift away. You lazily blink a couple of times as it gets harder and harder to keep your eyes open, you rest your head against the window and eventually, you end up closing them. You don’t even spare a second thought about being alone in a car with a stranger, you don’t think of anything at all actually. 

Your place is only a ten minute ride away, after all.

[thatscarletflycatcher]

Top 10 favourite portrayals in Austen adaptations?

Hi!

10. Peter Gale as John Dashwood in Sense and Sensibility 1981

John Dashwood is most often portrayed as a weak, stupid fool designed to get on everyone's nerves, which tends to shift all the blame that belongs to his character upon Fanny. It is not so with this version of the character. It is obvious that he is rather stupid, but he's also greedy, selfish and callous himself, and an all around superficial person you can laugh at and be infuriated by.

9. Joseph Mawle as captain Harville in Persuasion 2007

Another example of a minor character done well, specially meritorious in this case because this adaptation is a tv movie. It is usually a problem that Wentworth's friends come across as a bit of a blur, but in this case, between writing and acting, Harville comes across as intelligent, loyal, amiable, etc, an all around gentleman whose friendship does credit to Wentworth's character.

8. Guy Henry as John Knightley in Emma (ITV) 1996

And another one! There's several "minor character in movie adaptation" in this list, because it is really hard to make a minor character feel "alive" or nuanced when said character is given very little screen time. Guy Henry steals the scene every time he appears in this adaptation. His delivery of the famous Christmas speech is impeccable. He also comes across as a loving father and husband too.

7. Angela Pleasence as Lady Bertram in Mansfield Park 1983

Jemma Redgrave (Lady Bertram in Mansfield Park 2007) is, in my opinion, a mesmerizing actress, one of those beings that are both beautiful and have a very strong scenic presence. I love her version of Lady Bertram, but Angela Pleasence is something else in the role, and somehow specially because her vibe is the strong opposite of JR. Always sweet, delicate, and soft spoken in her roles, her Lady Bertram is hysterical; I don't think there's a scene where she gets a speaking line where I don't laugh, and laughter is so very welcome in a story that can be as heavy and as painful as Mansfield Park. She provides a characterization that fits Austen's (pliable, lazy, dim, perpetually distracted) without making her insufferable.

6. Kate Beckinsale as Emma Woodhouse in Emma (ITV) 1996

Kate Beckinsale has always had queen bee energy, but her youth in this movie softens it enough that we can see how Emma is ultimately a young woman who means well, and means to be just. I don't read Emma as having the finishing school affectations of a Caroline Bingley (something that in my opinion happens in 2020 and to some degree in the Miramax movie); she was raised at home by an indulgent governess and rarely if ever meets other ladies of her rank. But I also do see where people are coming from when they criticize 2009 Emma for being too modern and her way of carrying herself as one that would have been considered vulgar in the regency era, and I think this Emma strikes a happy compromise. Emma has good manners and a sense of rank, but she's also decidedly provincial.

5. Hayley Atwell as Mary Crawford in Mansfield Park 2007

Love, hate or be baffled by this adaptation of Mansfield Park, most people seem to agree that this casting choice was great, and there's reason to it. Atwell is a very talented actress, and despite the script not helping, she brings out both the best and the worst of Mary out, avoiding both the femme fatale and the pure victim we don't talk about the expose my ankle scene

4. Olivia Williams as Jane Fairfax in Emma (ITV) 1996

I feel like Jane Fairfax also suffers from a problem similar to Emma in adaptations. She's made to have these very suspicious vibes and heavy-looking aspect (against the trendy more Heroin Chic look of Palthrow) in the Miramax movie, she's a mousy creature in 2009, and a sort of severe schoolmistress in disguise in 2020 (I'm exaggerating for effect, but for a character that is traced with few, delicate strokes in the novel, she surely gets a lot of rather sharp depictions). Olivia Williams gives a Jane that is very accomplished, but also elegant, understated and reserved. She's someone we can look at with Emma and see as a glaring spotlight on our shortcomings rather than an interloping rival.

3. JJ Feild as Henry Tilney in Northanger Abbey 2007

I feel a bit silly, because rivers of electronic ink have been poured over this beloved interpretation of one of the favorite Austen heroes, so what can I say about this one that hasn't been said before? Most of the choices in this list are unusual, and while I picked them because I think they are spotlight worthy and truly are favorites at the moment, I won't deny there is an element of... isn't it boring to repeat to each other ad nauseam what has been said over and over and over again and almost everyone is already familiar with? So I'll let you all fill in the blanks here.

2. Robert Swann as Colonel Brandon in Sense and Sensibility 1981

This one is very high on the list because Sense and Sensibility is very dear to me, faultless despite all its faults, I obsess over it, and colonel Brandon is a very dear favorite of mine. So I am very picky about it all, and have grown dissatisfied with the 95 adaptation (I was never particularly keen on 2008) despite acknowledging its many merits as a movie and a period piece. One of the most interesting things about this novel to me, is the treatment of strength and power in its male characters -it's not a central theme, but it is certainly there. John Dashwood and John Willoughby are men who have power, and the power society and money give them, they use to vulnerate the women under their care or influence; and they are morally speaking, extremely weak men. By contrast, both Brandon and Edward are men rendered more or less "powerless" in the circumstances presented in the novel, in appearance "emasculated"; they are soft, unimposing, they don't demand attention or space, but underneath all that lays great moral strength, and it's said moral strength to do what is right and helpful that makes them dependable and even admirable.

That's why it is very important to me for Brandon to keep these traits -that softness, melancholy, humility, unobtrusiveness- besides his moments of high dramatic emotion that showcase his affinity to Marianne, and Robert Swann is the closest to this that we have ever gotten (I cannot call it perfect, but it is so very close), where other adaptations, to different degrees, try to "butch up" his character.

Elizabeth Garvie as Elizabeth Bennet in Pride and Prejudice 1980

We have had our good Lizzys and our bad Lizzys and it gets on my nerves every time someone says "[actor] is [character]!" even and maybe specially when I say so myself, but, boy, has it happened very few times in my life that I have seen a performance and been struck by its likeness to the experience of reading the source material, and this is one of those. She's witty and she's lively but she's also young and vulnerable at times. She makes mistakes, she rationalizes, she reflects and changes and grows. She is what Caroline Bingley would call small and brown and not a beauty, but we see with Darcy the charm of her expressive eyes. I'd say if there wasn't any other reason to watch Pride and Prejudice 1980, Elizabeth Garvie's Lizzy would be reason enough and some.

Some honorable mentions:

Felicity Jones as Catherine Morland in Northanger Abbey 2007 and Hattie Morahan as Elinor Dashwood in Sense and Sensibility 2008

I struggled a lot back and forth with the first. It is a really, really good portrayal of Cathy's ingenuity and honesty and JJ Feild's Henry wouldn't have been as good without her to play off of, but I also sincerely couldn't find a spot in between the others for her anywhere either at the top or the bottom of the list. So she remains in limbo without fault of her own, and I apologize to her for this failure.

Now, the second... there's this story Emma Thompson tells in her diary of the making of the 1995 Sense and Sensibility where she talks about sitting on at casting auditions for Elinor, and, unlike other roles, there being many candidates who gave great auditions, and her commenting "this is a country of Elinors". EDIT: it's been called to my attention in replies that it was Ang Lee calling Britain a country of Fannys, as it was Fanny's casting process. I do feel the dictum also applies to Elinors, on othe opposite end of the spectrum. That's probably the main thing keeping Hattie Morahan off the list. She's my favorite Elinor, but I don't think we ever had anything closely resembling a bad Elinor. 81 wasn't directed well, and Emma Thompson was indeed too old for the part, but characterization wise, they were good. Joanna David was really good in 71. And I felt on making this list that the "standing out significantly" was a key aspect. but she was, indeed, a really great Elinor.

Dan Jeanotte as Edward Ferrars in Sense and Sensibility 2024/Bosco Hogan as Edward Ferrars in Sense and Sensibility 1981

These interpretations of Edward are dear to me, and linked by being sort of opposites that complement book!Edward. Bosco Hogan is an unfiltered portrayal of Edward's diffidence, depression, and lack of personal charm even if his manners are polite. Jeanotte's captures an undercurrent of sass and glimpses of the character's deeper feelings and active negative emotions. Each on its own is incomplete, and yet show something essential to the character that is dissimulated or erased in 95 and 08; I wish I could mush them together somehow and have an Edward portrayal I could wholeheartedly love (From Prada to Nada's Edward gets relatively close, but then that is a rather loose adaptation).

Ask me my top5/top10 anything!

[feefymo]

The Rorchach Effect - Part 1

Jimmy Darling x fem! reader - NSFW • MDNI word count: 2757 author's notes: it was like a multiple birth but here we are. This is my very first attempt of a fanfiction (and it's not written in my native language) but I worked a lot on it and I hope you enjoy it. I tried to keep It simple. After mulling it over I chose to divide the fic in two parts and yes: the smut is in the second part! It's not proofread because I'm a kamikaze, yes. Little curiosity: I was partly inspired by Saltburn and this soundtrack. What else? I'll leave you to read! Be kind, pleaseee! My hashtag is #ficfymo ! summary: Elsa threw a party for Jimmy's birthday but no one knows where he ended up. Fem! Reader POV. warnings: mention of violence, and blood. I think that's it, for now. https://open.spotify.com/intl-it/track/6Huqy9WdEE3rMazEQgajn2?si=2105621ac0044260

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome.

I'm the one they call the Rorschach Woman; my real name is not important.

Do any of you know what vitiligo is? Vitiligo is a disease but in the maternal arms of Elsa Mars, nothing is bad. None of her adopted children are sick: we all have a gift, don't we, Elsa? I had a boundless love for ballet, I was busily studying psychiatry, I was a "prodigy girl" or, at least, I thought I was. Then, the vitiligo showed up. What I thought was my downfall, according to Elsa, represented the true miracle. I gave up dancing; I gave up on my dream of becoming a researcher. I lost the support of my real parents because my appearance had changed but hey! Now I have my own number in Elsa Mars Freak Show. I'm here to enchant you. To let you read the spots on my face. I'm here to interpret your minds. This is my personal test of Rorschach, offered to you, kind audience. A few dollars and you can study me, myself every night but not every night are like this. Tonight I want to tell you a story 'cause today is my best friend's birthday. The brother I've chosen. Tonight, a big party was thrown for him but there's no trace of him. Where did you go, Jimmy Darling?

Let's take a step back.

I've never seen the camp so packed. Never. If all these people showed up for every show, each of us would be filthy rich. I don't understand how it is possible and yet, Elsa must have performed one of her magics. She says she consider Jimmy her blood, so she claimed to organize everything herself. She chose a party theme: "Normal People". She call it "satire", a mockery towards those who are truly considered normal. Some of us believed her, others adapted to avoid getting into trouble. The truth is that, by disguising ourselves according to the canons, we appear even less credible. Grotesque. Ridicolous. I couldn't resist a subtle provocation, so I made my complexion uniform but with the white of French mimes. Like a pierrot. Totally painted in white, I wander around in a champagne dress. I look like a crazy moth until I find the flame. That flame is Jimmy himself, surrounded by a myriad of strangers who urge him to blow out the candles.

- Happy birthday… uhm… -

- Happy birt… Joseph? -

- Jack? John? -

- I think it's Jimmy. -

- Jimmy? Are you sure? -

- JIMMY! -

The music does not cover the murmurs nor the embarrassment that comes down like a curtain. I try to push and elbow to reach my best friend but I can't. He's standing there, nerves to edge: he looks around, clenching his teeth. He seems lost while he's trying to put an unconvinced smile on his Peter Pan face. Once the candles have been blown out, Jimmy disappears in the general disinterest. Nobody cares, the party continues as if nothing had happened, fueling an atmosphere that has nothing normal about it. It's something like a mesmerizing nightmare in the suffused lights that Elsa had placed everywhere. A luminous design that even turns into a labyrinth in the wild meadow near the main event. It should be a modern fairy tale for the privileged who want to escape from the routine. For us, scum, it's an illusion. A utopia, a warning of what we will never achieve but I don't give a fucking damn. Sincerely. If I'm still here it's not because of Elsa nor because I truly appreciate her Cabinet Of Curiosities. I'm still here for my "acquired family" and for the boy who should be the protagonist of the evening which no one cares about.

Driven by the chaos, I search for familiar faces in the dim light until I come across Ethel; she shaved her chin. She is holding a plate with a slice of cake that she has prepared herself and she's standing in the dancing crowd, with a worried and resigned look. We both knows who the cake is for: Ethel has seen his son, maybe talked to him but she won't chase him. I prefer to not disturb her but I don't give up: retreating into a slit of darkness I collide with someone and jump perhaps exaggeratedly. Paul emerges from the darkness, rubbing his side with a grimace. He wears a hideous, gigantic suit to disguise his condition. It makes it look like a sad parallelepiped. Doctor Frankenstein's Creature.

-Paul, sorry! Did I hurt you?! -

-Nah, no biggies! What about you? You're nervous, what's happening? -

-Well, uh, I'm… have you seen Jimmy? I've been looking for him all night. -

- First I saw him with a brunette, she was dragging him towards El-'s tent… hey, that's the one over there! -

But the brunette is not in Jimmy's company: laughing rudely with her friends, she passes by me in a sweet-smelling cloud of glitters. She carries with her a kind of old oil lantern lit on a gesture that makes my blood run cold: cheeky, she twirls a battered glove on her head and, in one breath of Pink Lady, she's already too far away. Even though I would like to, I'm not going to confront her and complicate things because I prefer to follow her steps backwards. An alarm screams wildly inside me and I have to comply with it by launching myself out of the tent. The humidity of the night sticks to my skin, kneading the white paint that I thought was dry. I'm a mess inside and out but it doesn't matter at all.

- JIMMY! - I call, shout and run. I run, run, run like a fugitive. A voice whispers the worst to me and maybe I'm crazy but I can't help it. - JIMMY! - I keep repeating myself but he doesn't answer. The throat burns, the feet go by themselves, swaying dangerously on the heels. I didn't even realize I had ventured onto the lawn until I felt tickles on my ankles. Fräulain Elsa's illuminations invite me to follow their aura like drunken fireflies and I, disaffected, accept. I'm not afraid that Jimmy is dead but, worse, that he's gone. That he left me alone, leaving suddenly and without me. He promised me that if we ever succeeded, we would leave together and one suitcase would be enough to move to Europe. He always kept his promises, he…

I stop, crystallized in the heaviness of the evening. I hear noises scattered throughout the maze of light bulbs: they come from a specific point but they echo and bounce in the air. It sounds like the clumsy moan of an animal that it would be better not to get close to but I obstinately follow the source to the center of the maze. Once I reach my destination I jump somewhere between horror and relief, putting a hand to my mouth so as not to be discovered immediately. Sitting on the ground is Jimmy Darling. Hunched over, he turns his back to me and fiddles with something I don't understand. He is surrounded by objects, some of which I cannot distinguish. There are a few bottles including one of vermouth still sealed, half a lemon, a shirt reduced to a pile of wrinkles in Granada Green, the other glove specially sewn for the party. Some salt, perhaps? The worst aspect, the most dramatic touch, is a pinata hanging over his skull. A lobster-shaped pinata. As I try to figure out whether or not I'm awake, a low, deep growl forces its way into Jimmy's lungs, flaying them with increasing violence. The growl is quickly turning into the pained cry of an already wounded beast. I won't respect his privacy any longer, so I walk over to him and kneel before him.

- JIMMY! JIM, STOP IT! STOP, DAMMIT! - Jimmy was on the verge of cutting off his left hand with a rusty knife but my arrival ruined his plans. He doesn't recognize me right away and his immediate reaction is to turn against me. He is much, much stronger than me but, even if he vehemently chases me away, I attack again in what turns into a blind scuffle. The moment Jim realizes it's really me, he drops his guard groggily. He is no less upset, nor willing to suddenly change his mind but he grabs me by the elbows and pushes me away roughly so that I don't end up hurting myself. Crawling on the ground, he steps back before pulling himself up and staggering but he isn't drunk. He's been drinking but it's not the alcohol that shakes him like this: I recognize the difference, also because I've never seen him in this state. In his big good eyes there is no freshly roasted coffee but boiling petrolium. His expression, a cracked mask of hatred and at the same time authentic desperation, reduced to its core. He trembles in his sweat-soaked undershirt and makes a gesture that he has never deemed necessary in front of me. He hides his hands, trying in vain to put them in his back pockets, like a child caught red-handed. Does he feel reassured by my presence? Is he bothered by it? He's gasping.

Jimmy what… what are you doing? Why?! - I ask him in tears, advancing slowly on my knees. - NO! - he spits out a scream, trying to freeze me in place. - Please… Y/N, no. Enough. That's enough. - I shake my head, I'm confused and I rub my now soaked cheeks. Gray due to the white mixing with the black of the mascara.

- What are you talking about, pleas st-… -

- SHE SCREAMED, Y/N! SHE SCREAMED IN GENUINE TERROR, I TELL YOU!-

- BUT WHO, JAMES?! FOR GOD'S SAKE, WHO?! -

He hates it when I call him James but that seems strangely to appease him. He stares at me like a madman and, in silence, seems to wonder how it is possible that I don't know the circumstances of his delirium but, gradually, lucidity returns and, at the same time, an atrocious sadness. - That… oh, fuck. She was one of the very few people to smile at me and make me sincere wishes. Did she really want to spend time with me… did I fall for it like an idiot? I do not know. It was her! She chose it, I warned her but… - while Jimmy tries to explain, he forgets to hide from me and gesticulates, so I notice a burn on the hand that he was seriously about to cut off. The living flesh fades from red to the paleness of the bladder. Grains of not completely dissolved salt outline the surface like grotesque lace. He must have poured it in. - She took off my glove, alluding to my skills as a pilot but then a heartbreaking scream and… and… I had to let it go. Instead, I tried to calm her down but she…how the fuck is that possible? How did she not know I'm a fucking freak? It was written all over the damn thing! But she knew it. She knew it very well. My attentions were the perfect excuse to defend herself. She called me a monster, a half-man, an abomination and so on, you know, what's new? But then… she burned me with her fucking lantern. You convince yourself that you have a zest, that you are used to it and yet it's not true. And, as with Meep, the day comes when insults are no longer enough. - he doesn't have the courage to look at me but what he says is intimate. Devastating. Shareable. - The bar of wickedness is raised. Of course! That girl wasn't defending herself. She squirted oil on me once, twice, three times. She was torturing me, only stopped because I raised my arms and… the fear came back. She's gone. -

I'm annihilated. Annihilated by what I see and hear, I undergo the hypnosis of Jimmy's pain which soon becomes mine too. His irises are diluted by a sea of ​​tears; suffering makes him unfairly wonderful. In the meantime I have reached him and, from the bottom of my position, I stare at him without embarrassment. I wrap one arm around his knees while the other grabs his good hand and places it on the back of my neck. He wants to take it away, he puts up a feeble resistance but he hears me sobbing and stops immediately. - Yes, Jimmy: her wish was to hurt you. This isn't a party, it's a visit to the slaughterhouse and we are the pigs. As always. - now I hold him with both arms, rubbing my face between his knees. The fabric of his trousers becomes stained white make-up until my skin is almost clean. I raise my head. My face's a palette used between stains that can be washed away and stains that my skin retains.

- Look at me. Are you looking at me? -

- I am. - he says, with the tone of someone who absolutely has to convince you. He hasn't noticed but he's stroking my hair. His eyebrows furrowed and his mouth turned down. -The kindness with which you caress me has never belonged to anyone among the few who have touched me. Not even my mother. - I'm deadly serious. I look at him with watery eyes but it's his tear that rains down my forehead. - Not even to myself. - because I mistreated myself, inflicted physical pain and consequent signatures but he… - If those are really claws, everyone should have them. Maybe they would learn what kindness is. - if I wasn't the one talking to him, he wouldn't believe me. He would mock me, it would be bitter and biting. Instead he fights with the truth that I offer him and stares at me dazed. Almost angry, hunted. The problem is that he believes me, so he picks me up and it's as if he's looking at me for the very first time. His forehead is damp with sweat, so I free his unruly curls before rummaging through my clutch bag. I make sure he follows my gestures and I take out a box of matches: I choose one and place it under the perfect curve of his nose. He flinches but stays as I light the end and, solemnly, set the piñata on fire. While the papier-mâché lobster is devoured by the flames, little by little, melted sweets and chocolate perish in the meadow. Neither of us needs to introduce what's about to happen: just as I stand on tiptoe, he lowers his disheveled head and the tips of our noses meet. It's the last chance to retract before the soft "m" of his upper lip meets my lower lip, dehydrated from makeup. In the first friction there is the disbelief of all the years in which we have not allowed ourselves and then, surrounded by the smell of burning, the kiss intensifies in an unstoppable crescendo. Jimmy wraps his bare arms around my body with the eagerness of someone who must survive. For my part, I let out a moan and cling to his shoulder blades: I realize what I wanted and how much I needed to be satisfied. Jimmy and I share the thrill of the kiss, so much so that he murmurs something incomprehensible against my teeth before parting them with his tongue and searching for mine. He holds my head as if I were water and he was drinking and he doesn't care about the cosmetic taste I have on; his lips turn pale. He slides down my neck without any self-control and I understand that he would take me here, right now. In the midst of the fire. - Wait. - I try to stop him with a deafening smooch. We are out of breath and the air is irrespirable but he stares at me with an imploring look. - How much longer? - he plead. I feel his blood vibrate under his golden skin, between the vertebrae of his broad back. - You have to trust me: I have an idea. - The smoke screen rises towards the sky and us. We… dissolve in the middle.

taglist: @taintandviolent @silverzoomies @doll3tt33 @wh0re43van @fear-is-truth + PLEASE, If you want to be added or I forgot someone, let me know!

[gwynniethenymph]

Do you think so? Part 1.

Pairing: Azriel x Gwyneth Berdara.

Word count: 1212 words.

Notes: Sooo... here is jealous Azriel and a one shot that accidentally became a two chapter story! I'm very nervous about posting this since it's the first story I write in years, but I'm also very excited. Constructive criticism is very welcomed! Don't know if I should post this in ao3, but I'll think about it. Also, Azriel is very, very bad at feelings in this first part.

~~~

"Is it normal for the sun to be so... bright?” Cassian complained for the fifth time in an hour. Azriel only stared at him. His shadows writhed in agitation too, but there was little he could do.

The Summer Court offered oceans of the purest water and clear, hot days. Oddly enough, the Shadowsinger sometimes appreciated this kind of weather, though Illyrian leathers were unbearable in the heat. He missed his leathers.

Despite the initially pleasant atmosphere, the air around them crackled with raw power and fear. War was imminent, and so was betrayal, hence the week-long Courts Meeting. The Spymaster just couldn’t understand why war meetings were disguised as luxurious balls and quick alliances as amicable friendships.

“Courtier's shit,” Rhys had answered with a scoff. They needed to keep the common people calm while orchestrating swift relocations to the south, far from the borders between Spring and the Human Lands. The urgency of such activities was probably the only reason Tarquin tolerated Cassian's presence.

Azriel had plenty of work to do as well, trying to keep his High Lord informed of every glance and conversation. He sighed. It would be easier if that devilish, mischievous little nymph wasn’t so damn... distracting. And offensively good at her job.

With the growing popularity of the Valkyries Division and her remarkable contribution against the Illyrian Revolution, Gwyn had become a respected and well-known name across Prythian. According to Amren, she was also quick-witted, well-versed in history and politics, and "strikingly beautiful". Before understanding her line of thought, Azriel had agreed and added how good of a spy the priestess was.

As a result, Gwyn had been assigned to secure Tarquin's alliance and friendship. Considering how closely they danced at the moment, Azriel thought he might have to remind her of the "friendship" part. Or perhaps punch Tarquin and get himself banned from Summer.

It would be worth it, though.

The dark-skinned High Lord held the Valkyrie against his chest, one hand around her slim waist as they spun. The silk of Gwyn's gown resembled a cobalt ocean, the halter neckline exposing the toned muscles of her freckled arms. If she were closer, he would see her huge, mesmerizing eyes lined with gold and her pink, plump lips. She looked like a siren from the tales Azriel’s mother used to tell him—a beauty like no other, ready to enchant unsuspecting sailors and drag them to the depths of the sea.

Tarquin looked quite happy in his "sailor" position. Azriel would be happy too. He couldn't tear his eyes away from her, couldn't ignore the pang in his chest. Gwyn had become too important to him in the last few years, their time together reserved not only for training and sparring, but for the deepest conversations he’d ever had, for silly jokes and friendly flirting.

Well, he had believed the flirting was not that friendly anymore, but as Nesta and Emerie giggled and whispered about the dancing couple, the Shadowsinger concluded he must have been wrong. As that terrible, awful dance ended and Gwyn separated from the High Lord with a courtesy, Azriel found himself relaxing, his shoulders dropping for a mere moment before he realized how many heads turned towards her.

“Twenty and seven, Singer.”

“What?”

“Twenty and seven males turned their heads to look at Our Light, Singer. Would you be interested in knowing the number of females too?”

Azriel sighed. “No, thank you.”

“Twenty and three females turned their heads to look at Our Light, Singer.”

“Okay, no more counting.”

“This equals fifty heads turned. Dismissing, of course, the heads that didn’t need to be turned because they were already looking in Our Light’s direction, Singer. This includes your head, Singer.”

Azriel gritted his teeth. “Please go check on the Vanserras.”

“Of course, Singer.”

As his shadows went silent and the Spymaster sighed, Gwyn reached the group with a smile. The golden sunlight streaming through the tall, arched windows hit her eyes, making them seem like a gateway to the shallow seas of Adriata. Emerie and Nesta grabbed each of her arms and proceeded to gossip and giggle:

"Who could imagine Tarquin uses dancing as a form of foreplay?" Lady death grinned, mischievously.

Even the tips of Gwyn's ears went red, her eyes going wide "It- it was not! We just danced. Like... friends. Very good friends."

Emerie snickered wildly "I am your friend for longer and never received this type of treatment. You are hurting my feelings."

"Oh, shush. I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, but I know, Gwynnie. He looked at you the same way I do when you look too pretty."

Gwyn's mouth went slightly agape. "Wouldn't that make the look even more... friendly?"

Cassian, who had been observing the conversation, pointedly looked at his mate and nodded. "Wouldn't it, Nesta?"

Caught in the act, Nesta cleared her throat before uttering a simple, "No". Gwyn considered her friend for a moment before shaking her head.

Azriel expected her to say the relationship with Tarquin - and, well, Nesta - was nothing but friendly. That their were all going insane and seeing things that weren't there. He expected her to shrug it off. Instead, Gwyn's eyes glinted with interest.

"I'm not going to dive into your last comment, but... You think so? That he looks at me... like that?"

The two Valkyries looked at Gwyn like she had just convinced Helion to give them a pegasus. Azriel's shadows were whispering about murder and something else the Spymaster couldn't quite catch given the zooming in his ears. His fists and jaw were clenched so tightly he feared it may break. She... she truly liked Tarquin?

"SO YOU LIKE HIM!"

As if it was possible, Gwyn went even more red. "Perhaps, but-"

Azriel couldn't help himself from murmuring "That's not what you should be worried about."

Gwyn's eyes found his "Oh. I- Sorry?"

He shouldn't be saying this. It was only meant to hurt her like he was hurting. But, again, he simply couldn't help himself. "I said you shouldn't be worried about silly romantic... whatever. You have a job to do, and seducing Tarquin is not a part of it."

Their small group went deadly silent, Nesta shooting death glares at him. "I... I was not trying to... seduce him. I'm doing my job perfectly well."

Between the hurt he saw in her eyes before, there was anger emerging. One he matched quite well. "Well, then keep your- your heart and feelings out of it. And your body at least a few inches separated from his."

This time, her mouth was fully agape. Gwyn stuttered from a moment, trying to find an answer, when Tarquin suddenly surged behind her.

"Gwyn? Is this a good moment? There's something I want to show you."

She turned around to face the High Lord and, before Azriel could growl at him or stop her, one of his shadows - the only one that actually listened to the Shadowsinger sometimes - nervously darted across his face, whispering about something about Beron.

Azriel turned around, scanning the room in search of the Autumn High Lord, only to find him having a mildly heated conversation with Helion. But when he returned to excuse himself from the group, Gwyn and Tarquin were gone.

[lilac-den]

Actor Maverick x Ballerina MC

ndjksandas Fuck, why is that so damn cute 👀

I can imagine Maverick attending some ballet show his mom or dad dragged him to watch and rub elbows with possible elites and after the show, re-enters the now empty theatre to look for a jacket or stuff he accidentally left behind - and found MC, who thought was alone, just ends up doing a ballet dance. (I can feel the pain just thinking that MC's dad or mom would actually dance with them, twirling MC about and being skilled in ballet too because their parents had danced a lot with each other in the past ಥ_ಥ )

Maverick just ends up being mesmerized by MC's dance and when a security guard asked who's there, they just scattered without MC realizing Maverick saw them.

And since then, Maverick's been listening to the music that MC was humming/dancing to and found out MC's been getting recognition as a ballet dancer - which just leads to him following and not missing a single performance, always going in disguise.

I'm feeding all of you too much, I swear.

[sphnyspinspin]

Y’all… Y’ALL.

My fyp(s) have been subliminally messaging me about this cool looking Korean robot show and I think it’s working. And im scared.

The premise of it, from what I gathered from clips, reminds me of Robots in Disguise 2015—and NOT in a bad way, for all you RiD15 pessimists out there.

It looks like it could either have me on a near-death chokehold or I could drop it in like two weeks. But either way my brain is officially mesmerized with its visuals and character designs, and I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop thinking about it until I get some closure.

Wish me luck! I’m gonna need it…

Metal Cardbot… I’ve got you in my goddamn sights.

[pav-ia]

first i'd like to say THANK YOU SM YOURE LITERALLY FEEDING PAVIA FANS AFTER WEVE BEEN SEARCHING FOR SCRAPS FOR SO LONG | LOVE YOUR WRITING ♥︎♥︎♥︎

methinks he would be very very interested in the art of dancing for two. he's read about it, he's heard the music, he's seen the pictures, the movies, the fancy suits, the sweeping dresses, the roses - all in bits and pieces here and there. dancing with one's lover, holding them in your arms and watching the light of a candle or the moon grace their features as you let the music and movements convey the feelings in your heart, is something he believes to be very special. now that he's with you daily, the vivid image of you two dancing only grows stronger in his mind (the softening of his heart be damned): the way your fingers would lace together with one hand and grab onto each other with the second, the little clever lines he'd say now and again to try to fluster you and get you to mess up, the music that he'd carefully pick out just for the moment, and, of course, the look he would give you before the classic kiss that he's always seen after a dance such as this.

and so, after you tell him in passing conversation that you 'don't do dancing’, your imagined endearing clumsiness is another bit of extra charm added to his daydreams. he would just lead you gently with his voice and his hands, smiling once you finally get it. but why let the fantasies be fantasies?

this is basically me asking for pavia dancing with his bf (or partner if you’re making it gn) who has never really danced before. UGHHH I NEED HIM

ANON KISS ME ON THE LIPS RIGHT NOW

,, dancing ”

pavia x gn reader

warnings :: idk fluff

months into your relationship as you’re growing out of your lovesick phase, hes slowly growing into his — he doesnt realize just how much he thinks about you.

when he comes to term that you are the closest thing to a soulmate that any person has ever experienced ever, hes suddenly aware of the way his first thought when he wakes up is you, the way his heart picks up when you do any minor task for him(he holds back a little squeal and giggle when you leave him gifts💀), how his face grows uncontrollably red when you do that stupid thing with your face- when you smile and your eyes have that warm fondness in them thats overwhelmingly warm— he hates it. hes a liar

he was always fascinated with dancing. it started with when he first started his life in the city, at clubs hed see different people connecting from music and those mesmerizing movements of hips swaying or arms swinging.

after he had done a few jobs disguising himself as a gentleman attending a fancy ball, slow dancing became what interested him more. he was stunned by the beauty and grace that two people could make from just moving, their steps in sync even if they were strangers.

when he met you, he had forgotten all about that year of his life where he was fixated on the art of dancing. for the first few months, he was closed off in the relationship. he didnt feel bad at first — why would he? he deserves to be loved after all — but the way you were so patient with him, so loving and so gentle, so sweet and genuinely kind was too much. it took him a while to tell you about his past, and even then he kept it vague, but you just held him and reassured him that he did deserve to be loved.

you were too good for this world.

it took almost as long to accept that you really did care just as much as he hoped you did. and when he did accept it, he became acutely aware of how much of an effect you had on him.

one night, he had come home late. he expected you to be asleep, but he heard you humming from the kitchen. he walked in on you gently humming a tune to yourself, his wolves leon and maleficent sitting at your ankles. you were making a simple stew, your body swaying from side to side to the tune of your gentle voice.

leon noticed him almost immediately, sitting up and running to his feet. he jumped up and put his paws on pavia, sniffing at his clothes. when you turned around, he gave you a gentle smile.

“do you dance?” he blurted. he didnt know where it came from, but it was sudden and out of nowhere.

you blink at him in surprise — what a sudden question. you smile at him and it tickles the parts of his heart that are cold and unapproachable.

“not really.” you respond to his question.

hes still standing near the entrance of the kitchen, his expression unreadable. “can i teach you?”

thats what led you two to the present. he took the lead, your hand in his as you moved slowly in your living room. the cd player contently humming out a slow, romantic song that pavia had picked out as you let him hold you.

one hand on your waist, his eyes are gazing down at you in a suffocatingly loving way. he has the faintest smile, before he pulls you closer. your head against his chest only made the moment more intimate, and he rested his head on yours.

your legs occasionally tripped over one another, but he caught you right away. he hummed along with the slow song, his hand moving from your waist to the bottom of your spine. he slid his cold hand under your shirt, pressing his palm over your skin, rocking you from side to side.

youre slowly getting it, moving along with the smooth rhythm of the music. you angled your head upwards, and he raised his head to look into your eyes, leaning down to press a kiss against your lips.

the song came to an end, and as you pulled away, he tugged on your shirt. he kept his hand on you as he put a new cd in the player, and pulled you close to do another dance.

[mastertengen]

Satoru Gojo x Fem reader

a/n: the personality will be based off of Makima from csm

category: Fluff

Possible ooc

Gojo attempts to take you out on a date

Gojo had been trying for weeks to convince Y/n to go on a date with him, but she always found a way to turn him down. It seemed like she was determined to keep their relationship strictly professional. But Gojo was relentless and refused to give up, He even asked Itadori, Nobara, and Megumi to help him Megumi refused but he was forced to anyways

One day, as they were discussing their plans for the weekend, Gojo mustered up the courage to try once again. "Y/n, I know you've been avoiding going on a date with me, but I promise it'll be fun. How about we go out this Saturday?" He smirked

I sighed, clearly hesitant. "Gojo, I've told you before, I don't think it's a good idea. We work together, and I don't want things to get complicated, Everything is strictly professional between us."

Gojo smiled mischievously, his eyes twinkling. "I understand your concerns, but what if I told you I know the perfect place to go to~? It would definitely make you change your mind."

I raised an eyebrow, curious about his sudden change in approach. "And where would that be?"

Gojo leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low, enticing tone. "There's this amazing sushi restaurant that recently opened downtown. They serve the most delicious and unique sushi rolls you've ever tasted. It's an experience that you won't want to miss."

My eyes widened with newfound interest. I was a sushi lover, and the thought of trying new and innovative rolls was tempting. Still, I fought to maintain my resolve. "Nice try, Gojo, but sushi isn't enough to change my mind, You should knot that."

Gojo leaned back, pretending to be disappointed. "Well, if you say so. I guess I'll just have to enjoy those mouthwatering sushi rolls all by myself!"

I hesitated for a moment, my curiosity still getting the better of me. "Okay, fine. But this doesn't mean anything. It's just sushi."

Gojo smirked, victorious. "Of course, just sushi. I'll pick you up at seven on Saturday then."

As Saturday evening approached, Y/n found herself getting a a bit nervous. It wasn't a date, she reminded herself. Just two colleagues going out for sushi. But when Gojo arrived at her door, dressed in a sharp suit and holding a bouquet of her favorite flowers, Y/n couldn't help but feel a bit of excitement, A small smile planted on her lips.

They arrived at the sushi restaurant, and Y/n was immediately mesmerized by the elegant ambiance and the mouthwatering aroma of freshly prepared sushi. As they sat down, Gojo ordered an assortment of rolls, each more creative and delicious than the last. Y/n couldn't help but be swept away by the culinary experience.

As they laughed and shared stories between bites, Y/n realized that she was genuinely enjoying herself. The false facade she had built around her slowly began to crumble, and she allowed herself to relax in Gojo's company.

By the end of the night, Y/n found herself smiling and feeling a warmth in her heart that she hadn't felt in a long time. As they left the restaurant, Gojo glanced at her with a knowing grin. "I told you, Y/n. Sushi has its way of making everything better."

I smiled, my resistance finally giving way. "Maybe... just maybe, there's more to this than just sushi on the other hand, Our relationship is still strictly professional."

Gojo's grin widened and then he pouted at last thing i said, But he took my hand, intertwining our fingers. "I'm glad you finally gave me a chance, Y/n. But hey, You enjoyed it didnt you ?"

Y/n nodded, Before she can reply she hears a noise in the bush behind them, Gojo practically sweatdropping

"This is your fault, Itadori! Now they see us!" Nobara shouted her fake disguise falling off her face

"My fault!? You were the one that kept kicking me and Fushiguro!" Itadori shouted back, As he pushes her out the bush

I walk forward, Dragging Gojo along with me "I made sure to leave some sushi left back for you guys, But on the other hand, I knew you guys were here I enjoyed the show." I smile as the group of 3 tries to catch up to us.

A/n: I giggled while writing this if theres mistakes ignore it atp