#this was supposed to be way more serious because ''I'm fucking dangerous// I get what I want''

[fudgecake-charlie]

[Mulholland's Dinner and Wine]

definitely one of the weirder things i've drawn but it was fun so i'm still posting it

[moondirti]

animalic (1)

series masterlist

pairing: Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader rating: mature word count: 1.9k summary: he won't stop until he gets you warnings: enemies to lovers, injuries, kissing, minor ATSV spoilers, size kink (?), mentions of gore and death, not spell checked nor edited, honestly not my best work but the horny is all that matters notes: stayed up all night for this because i had to get it out of my system before finals. there'll be a few more parts, i promise i'm not this cruel haha

“I thought grace was a prerequisite for your little spider-club.” 

Your quip sounds disjointed – even to your own ears – entwined with wheezes that rattle your splintered rib cage. In all honesty, the circumstances don’t seem to be favouring you; he’s got you confined upon the wreckage of your own fight, hanging off the remnants of a crane that dangerously tips over a quarry. And though this isn’t the worst you’ve faced, Miguel’s presence always seems to make things more complicated than they need to be.

You’d had a stable hold on the beam, ready to pull yourself up and dematerialise to wherever he wasn’t. Until, of course, the asshole kicked your elbows off. Now, your fingers remain as your only attachment to the structure, shaking violently with their diminishing strength. Your torso isn’t faring any better, either – the bleeding both internal and trickling from the gashes in your hoodie. 

(You wonder if he’s toying with you, like a panther with its food. Of the rare times he’s assigned another spiderman to pursue you, they didn’t tend to drag it out for this long. 

But, you suppose, Miguel’s different.) 

He takes a small step forward, lifting his foot over your digits. He could crush them like this, turn the bone to powder and keep pressing until it macerates in the gore. You can’t put it past him, really, not if you utter one more self-sabotaging word. You’ve seen him rip through steel and silk alike, fueled on the resentment that simmers deep within his very essence. Yours is merely the same fate that’s befallen every other obstacle that’s dared to come his way. 

But the tension buzzes between you two, thickening until it’s palpable enough to taste. Miguel is quiet as ever, completely still save for the flickering light of his dimensional travel watch. You envy his position – that resolute stature, brimful of power as his shoulders square, his calf rippling with subdued strength, still stretched over your hand. You blame that, or the mask, slick with sweat and humid as it sticks to your nose. Or the glasses that slowly slip to reveal your squinting eyes. You blame anything apart from what it is; that fear that steadily begins to flood your senses, numbing it all into one, cohesive panic. 

You’ve never been good at life or death scenarios. 

“Or, maybe, the big boss thinks he can break his own rules?” 

The air snaps. With an infuriated roar, he lunges at you, razor-sharp talons swiping at your face. In your frenzied dunk to avoid them, your fingers drop. 

You plunge to the bottomless chasm below.

Okay. Let’s try to get this right, one last time. 

Your name doesn’t matter. It hasn’t, not for a while now. 

For the past year, you’ve been on the run from the Spider Society. You don’t exactly blame them for it, either. Every world you’ve crashed has gone to shit, despite serious lack of trying. Food-barren wastelands, borderless warzones. Truthfully, after the mantle of Earth 7BB-1 convected in on itself, you were inclined to turn yourself in. 

Independant of the fact that Nueva York seems to be the only place you can’t fuck up. Regardless of the relatability you have with the residents of its lobby. You were bitten by a radioactive spider just the same, and for all the good you’ve tried to do, you’ve never been a spider-hero. If it meant that no one else got hurt, you really would have been able to cope with lifetime confinement.

(Greater good and all that.)

Would’ve. Could’ve. If it weren’t for Miguel O’Hara’s interjection, and his goddamn alternative solution, things just might have turned out that way. 

You’re not dead. 

The realisation whips your consciousness into high alert, eyes snapping open to survey your surroundings. You process the light first, its brilliance piercing through the bromine-doused cotton that stuffs your skull. Then, it’s the pain that, up until this point, had been thrumming in the background. It crackles, marrow-deep, tearing down the tendons in your shoulders to the throbbing area around your ribs. They’re in doubtlessly worse shape than they had been at the quarry, the ache searing across to engulf your spine too. 

He had let you fall on your back, that dickhead. 

But– 

You’re not dead. 

It doesn’t take you long to figure out why that is. 

A red forcefield entraps you, droning its monotonous hum, partially obscuring everything beyond your own reflection. You can see the faint impression of a silhouette – no, multiple – stalking you on the other end, a great shadow court. They warp and grow with every passing second, gorging on your offered vulnerability, awaiting some wordless signal from the harbinger of death, to execute justice upon the one who’s been causing them so much trouble. Jess Drew. Hobie Brown. Ben Reilly. 

(They’d been more forgiving, once. Willing to negotiate peace, to treat you more than the screw up you’ve proven to be. 

His voice overrode theirs. Always.)

It’s easier to make out the devil himself – more so than the others. You’ve come to memorise the slope of those shoulders, how his fists clench at his sides as he circles you. You imagine the smug set of his jaw and those eyes, just as luminous as the cage you curl within. The puck at the base is recognisable, akin to the capture weapons he’s thrown at you previously. He’d saved your life, then.

On a technicality. You’ll bury that thought to rage over later. 

“How–”

The question hardly forms before you’re ripped in two, the atoms of all but your spirit splicing into one another in a defect of blue and orange. The glitch exacerbates the fractures that threaten to knock you out, racking through your system as it rearranges your matter into amorphous forms. It’s only when something is thrown into the enclosure do you snap back to. A bracelet clatters to the floor. 

“Didn’t know whether you’d be used to the glitching yet.” A disembodied voice remarks. It’s at a particularly whiny pitch – you assign it to Ben. 

“We… tried to get it on you, kid. But you–” A feminine inflection crops up. Jess sounds the same since the last you spoke. 

You glower at them from the corner of your eye – unsure if they can actually see you – and snap the day pass on. Your spectral abilities were handy at the best of times; to shift from the corporeal, coming into immateriality, makes the most complicated situations evadeable. You credit it for your continued survival, if nothing else. Yet to speak like you could control it, especially while unconscious, was pushing it. You clearly weren’t able to activate it when you needed it the most.

And now you’re here. 

“I’m not going to ask what you want, so let’s keep this short– y-yeah? Either you let me go, or this Earth’ll be the next to unravel.” Despite your intentions, the demand escapes you in a long-winded croak. You hear Hobie snicker, the laugh teetering the edge of approval. Anyone can tell the promise has no foundation.

“That won’t be happ–” 

“Leave us.” 

The room clips into white noise. You fail to focus on anything but that echoing order. 

His voice comes across clearer than all else, too, cadence resonating past any natural boundary, tugging your heart right where it’s tender. There’s that fear again, that singular dread, only ever triggered by his indifference. Perhaps more potent than fury, his patience gives away an all-assured determination. Deadly. 

You bite your cheek, steeling your expression into one of similar apathy. It feels like a child’s attempt at dress up, grubby hands clutched around mother’s lipstick, painting on a clown’s complexion. Crackling apprehension brushes across your most vulnerable parts; layer by layer, you’re skinned as the group files out. Bare nerves are all that’s left for your faceoff with the hulking man.

He throws another puck to the floor. His own forcefield conjoins to yours. 

His cheeks have gotten hollower, you notice, emphasising the cheekbones that are just as keen as everything else about him. He offers no smile, no grand boast of victory. Instead, he breathes – calmly, fixedly, and lets you absorb the overwhelming magnitude of his size once more. He’s aware of what it strikes in you, can see it in the way you falter upon every reintroduction. Miguel is colossal, a reality that has never been more apparent than in this cramped enclosure. 

You know that if you stop to ponder it, it’ll ruin you. 

Rearing on your heels, you bounce from your place on the ground, making a grab for his watch. He anticipates it, having caught the decision blaze in your pupils, and side steps, pivoting to gain the upper hand while your back is still turned. You rebound off the field wall, stumbling back when he yanks you by your hoodie. Your shoulder presses into his chest, and he moves to wrap himself around your form.

Your skin prickles. His body passes right through you. 

His recovery time is nearly nonexistent relative to your last fight – quick learner – but you’re still swift on your feet, bolting to his watch again. It’s a millisecond too slow, for his talons sink into your forearm when you start to pull away. 

Your pained yelp loses momentum as he slams your back against the wall, using a knee to pin your other arm in place, his free hand wrapping around your neck. 

He’s close. Too close. Your stomach flips, pushing up on your oesophagus until you choke with the bile that sears its lining. Your breaths are as deep enough as his clutch will allow, index and thumb cutting off the circulation on both sides of your neck.

Ichor blooms from the puncture points at your wrist, the warmth puddling at your palm, not yet heavy enough to drip down onto the floor. You don’t think he realises how deep his claws are, how near he is to scratching bone. You don’t think you do, either. It doesn’t hurt as much as it should, and while you’re sure you’ll regret not prioritising it sooner, you don’t think– Don’t think–

“I-I’m not goi…going home,” You gasp. 

“It’s not up to you, Wraith.” Miguel growls, chokehold loosening.

It hits you, then. Animalic. He smells addictingly animalic. Like musk, a blend of brine and hot air and hints of a patchouli aftershave that still clings to his jaw. Your eyes flutter, seeking all you can get of the latter. Unwittingly, you move in closer. 

You haven’t been this close to anyone in a long time. 

His expression oscillates between a sneer and a grimace, nose pulling up to reveal the very pointed ends of his two canines. Set side by side with plush lips, you zero in on the thought of experiencing the contrast with your own. 

He’s huge. 

Closer. 

Completely overwhelms you, in size and presence and–

Closer. 

Your ribs ache. Your back groans. You’re quickly losing feeling in your fingers, and movement – soon – if you don’t do something. 

Your breath weaves with his. He doesn’t reciprocate when your lips brush, but he doesn’t pull away, either. 

You kiss him for longer than you should. Longer than you need to. It’s firm, and not unlike what you expected. 

(World-shattering, all the same.) 

Your skin prickles. It takes all of your rationale to pull away – dematerializing out of his grasp, and into the portal you’d activated from his wrist.

chapter 2 →

follow @moondirti-archive and turn on post notifs to be notified of future updates!

[ponderingmoonlight]

Sukuna coming for Megumi's little sister at Shibuya pt. lll

Part l here Part ll here

Pairing: Sukuna x fem!reader

Word Count: 2k

Synopsis: After promising Sukuna to do everything he wants in exchange for him sparing your friends, you find yourself in a bitter fight with Jogo. While you feel like dying, Sukuna enjoys teasing the hell out of you...

Warnings: this is basically Sukuna flirting with (y/n) through the newest episode so it has no real plot, not proofread bc I'm having a nasty headache, forgive me

Tags: @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @dazaisdick @sanicsmut @arehzhera @mynahx3 @wifenanami @ploylulla

You know how reckless it was, making a deal with the devil himself. But you just had to do it. For your friends, for Megumi, for Yuji. Maybe he will be able to regain the control over his own body before Sukuna is even able to harm another soul, maybe everything will turn out alright.

God, how much you beg for your mantra to be true.

“First things first. You.”

His finger darts towards the volcano curse whose forehead is soaking wet in sweat.

“If you land a hit on her or me once, I will fight on your side.”

You can’t believe your ears, whole body screaming at you to run away. Even though Gojo-sensei made it look so easy, you are very aware of the fact that this cursed spirit standing in front of your very own eyes is not to be messed with. How on earth are you supposed to keep up with him on your own, how are you supposed to survive all of this?

“A human?”, he cursed spirit questions, eyes darting towards you in disbelief.

“I hate waiting. Make your decision or die”, Sukuna replies dryly, rolling his eyes while all you can do is stare at him in pure horror.

He can’t be serious about that, right?

“Are you out of your fucking mind?”, you hiss at him, his eyes darting towards you in nothing but amusement.

“Nothing easier than that”, the cursed spirit replies.

You aren’t even able to comprehend that the cursed spirit lifted its arm when you get yanked into the air, followed by a wave of scorching fire.

Fuck fuck fuck. You know you are good, you know you are well-trained. But this? The whole ground underneath catches fire, gets eaten up by countless flames.

What the hell are you supposed to do?

“If you want to survive, you will have to stand close to me”, Sukuna purrs, his arms wrapped tightly around your ribcage from behind while jerking through the air with you.

How disgusting. The thought of feeling your boyfriend’s tight muscles against your back but knowing fully well that the man pressing his frame against yours is nothing but a psychopath makes your guts turn. Your hands fight desperately for your escape, to get out of his iron grip around your body. But instead of letting go, he chuckles into your ear, his body rubbing against yours.

“Pathetic. You might have a strong will, but your body is still as weak as that of any other human.”

“Why not letting me go then? Why did you safe me when I am a weakling in your eyes?”, you scream on top of your lungs.

“Because you’re fun to mess with.”

You stare at him through wet lashes, mind going completely blank. He can’t be serious about his senseless words, why on earth is he doing all of this? Is it because he knows that Yuji loves you? Is it because you are a decent hostage?

“Oh, there he comes again. Duck your head.”

Your usual cool composure is gone in the wind when another ball of fire is yanked towards you, reflecting in your wide-open eyes. A toe-curling scream escapes your lips, hands instinctively holding onto Sukuna for dear life-

Hot tears start to sting in your eyes. The bitter truth is that you don’t want to die. Not through the hands of a cursed spirit, not because of Sukuna, not even through your own force. You want a happy and long life, you want to grow old with Yuji and your brother by your side.

But the way this cursed spirits yanks towards you, eye narrowed when your gazes meet tells you more than urgently that your life is in serious danger.

You close your eyes, breathe in and out. Is there anything you can do to escape this situation? No, your faith lies in the cruel hands of Sukuna – the hands of the king of curses, the hands that are responsible of countless deaths. When he’s done playing with you…

You’ll be next.

“Balling your eyes out? How unusual, (y/n). Do you need a shoulder to cry on?”

This is the time. You have to choose between staying alive for a little longer or risking it all and telling yourself fall into the scorching hell underneath. Your eyes scan the area around you, mind pondering about a way to escape him. If you’re fast enough, you might be able to make it…

“Don’t get stupid ideas. Remember our deal, (y/n). If you break it, I’ll kill everyone you love without even blinking.”

The oh so sweet tone in his voice is replaced by so much taciturnity than your blood freezes in your veins. Your orbs stare at him boldly with your head up high. No, you have to keep on fighting. You have to stand up to him. For your friends, for your brother.

For Yuji.

“I won’t break it”, you assure him, earning a maniac grin instantly.

Oh, what a beautiful sight you are with tears streaming down your face and your eyes of determination.

“So, what now? You said you wanted me to let you go, right? Nothing easier than that.”

His grip around your body loosens. Before you are able to get a hold of him, your body flies towards the ground, cutting through the hot air.

“Sukuna!” you cry out desperately, arms flying around without an aim.

What are you supposed to do? Is there a way your technique might help you? If Megumi’s shikigami were here to catch you…

But it isn’t. And you’ll crash into the ground with full force within the next seconds if you don’t come up with a plan.

“I want you to beg for it, (y/n).”

You let out your breath, eyes piercing through the man flying above you. That fucking asshole. Nothing is further from you than to worship a creature like Sukuna.

“Go to hell!” you shout over the noise of the rapid air around both of you.

Do you really have a choice, though? If you want to live, if you want to survive Shibuya, you have no other choice than to do what that man wants.

“Fuck”, you curse under your breath, closing your eyes.

You have to do this.

“Please safe me, Sukuna”, you press out.

“Not enough.”

The heat of the ground becomes almost unbearable, with every breath your lungs feel like bursting from the hot air. Time runs out.

“I beg you with all that I have, please safe me Sukuna!”

His hands grab your body tightly before he catapults both of you into the air again.

“See? Wasn’t hard, was it sweetheart?”

Your fast and shaky breaths ring in your ears. That was close, way too close for your liking. What is all of this about?

He comes to a stand on a nearby building, still holding onto you while his eyes roam around the area in amusement. You really are a handful, the mix of emotions reflecting in your eyes making it so enjoyable for him to toy with you. And that oh so sweet scent of yours. You feel just like he imagined it, your heartbeat hammering against his very own chest.

“Out of breath, sweetheart?”

That fucker. He seems so unbothered by all of this, the whole city underneath your feet going up in flames. What about the people? Please, hopefully Maki was able to escort all of them out.

“Shut up and get moving, aren’t you able to see that he attacked us again?” you bark at him.

The dark night sky is discoloured in crimson, deafening noise keeps moving towards you. Without saying another word, Sukuna grabs you firmly by your waist and pushes your body up in the air along with himself.

“Let’s play a little.”

Your eyes aren’t even able to comprehend the movement around you. Fire blasts around your frame, just inches away from burning your skin. Without saying a single word Sukuna lifts you off the ground and holds onto your back and knees. You want to scream at him to let you go, you want nothing more than to free yourself out of his grasp.

But you are powerless. This fight that lays itself out in front of your very own eyes would have killed you in the matter of seconds if it wasn’t for Sukuna. These targeted attacks, the sheer force of his cursed power. All you can do is stare at the scenery with your glossy eyes wide open and your hands holding onto Yuji’s uniform for dear life.

The untouched part of Shibuya comes nearer and nearer. You squint your eyes, observing what looks like people on the ground. Wait…Your heart sinks immediately, the feeling of throwing up becomes almost unbearable. That there is Panda. Panda from Jujutsu High, panda your comrade.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Your hysteric voice doesn’t seem to interest him the slightest, bodies still aiming for the humans to your feet. No, you can’t let that happen, you can’t allow him to hurt your friends. Even though he swore he won’t hurt them if you do what he wishes…Sukuna is no one to trust.

“Panda, hurry up and run!” you scream on top of your lungs.

His soul almost leaves his body when realizing that it is Sukuna who holds you in his arms, thick fear clouding your sight. How did you end up here? He wants to turn around, to free you out of his grasp. But instead his feet are about to start moving, on their way to get him out of this mess-

“You won’t”

Everyone around you stops in their tracks, completely crushed by the sheer presence of Sukuna. Gently he lets go of you, letting you stand on your own wobbly legs.

“I hereby forbid every person in a 100-meter radius from here to move until I say ‘now’. And of course, I will kill anyone who violates that rule.”

“Sukuna…”, you mumble, eyes wide open by the sheer sensation of a fucking fireball shooting your way.

He chuckles to himself.

“Not yet.”

“Sukuna!” you bark at him, the sky completely on fire by now.

“Still not yet.”

“Sukuna, you promised!”

You fist the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer to you while staring at him intensely. If he won’t let them go immediately, all of them will burn to death. When his eyes meet yours, they are filled with nothing but amusement, lifting his arms painfully slow.

“Now”, he announces along with clapping his hands.

But he himself has no intention to leave this place, let alone letting you flee along with your friends. No, instead he holds onto your body tightly when a wave of fire, magma, rumble and death washes over you. Fuck, this will definitely burn you to the ground. Out of instinct you hide your face against his chest, squinting your eyes shut.

Is this how you die? Because you’ve got hit by a random fireball at Shibuya? What would Megumi say if he knew about all of this, would he be proud?

Your heart skips a beat. Definitely not. You acted like a coward, pressing yourself against the king of curses in order not do die. What about Yuji? What about your plan to free him?

“Now you’re in the mood to cuddle, huh?”

He moves fast. In the blink of an eye your body gets pressed against the ruin of a nearby building, his hands wrapped around your nape and wrist while all you can do is stare at the man in front of you in silence.

“What do you want from me?”, you breathe out.

“Oh, sweet little (y/n). You are my favourite toy since we’ve first met. Let’s just have a good time together, shall we?”, he hums in satisfaction.

[roses-for-rosalyn]

Hey sweetheart, I have this idea about cop!Ellie and cop!reader I've never shared bc I'm so shy to ask, but if you are open to write about it here it is.(sorry if something doesn't make sense inglish is not my first lenguage)

Well Ellie and reader are work partners and they don't really like each other because Ellie is kinda mean?(she is the director btw) but there's a tension between them anyways. So they have a night shift together and on the way in the car the reader begins to flirt, like touching ellie's thigh, and she stops in a field and fucks the reader brains out<33

-💌

This took forever but I hope I did your idea justice!

a/n: sorry I haven’t written anything in so long, life is crazy

Ellie x reader

Wc: 3k (roughly)

Minors dni 🔞 (I will jump through your screen and poke you in the eyes I stg)

CWs: police officer! Ellie and reader, play girl Ellie, fem reader, cop stuff idk, enemies to lovers (ish?), thigh riding, overstim, oral (r! receiving), fingering (r! receiving), multiple orgasms

—

As a small town cop things rarely became dangerous, so on the rare occasion things did go awry no one was really prepared. You got a call about a car speeding through town at about 90 miles an hour. It quickly becomes a chase with Williams at the wheel. Before she even starts catching up to the car you both begin bickering on what roads to take to catch up and who can read the license plate better. The world becomes a blur as the car picks up speed, the roaring of the engine and the sound of the sirens make it hard to hear anything.

You attempt to shout over the noise, “Williams we might be able to catch them if we take-”

“Shutthefuckup I know what I’m doing!” She yells back even louder, more irritated because you dared tell her what to do. She didn’t even let you finish and she missed the turn that would have taken you ahead of the car to block their path.

“Williams we’re gonna lose ‘em.” You couldn’t convince her, you’re not sure anyone could have. The car takes a sudden turn and she misses it, she quickly reverses and turns down the dirt road only for the car to disappear from sight. She tries to make a few turns but it’s useless, these roads went in every direction with thick woods surrounding them. Even townies got lost in there.

She slows the car down eventually coming to a stop in the middle of the road and quietly mutters “Fuck.” under her breath.

“Maybe you should have listened to the directional advice from someone who was fucking born here instead of trying to do everything yourself.” You can’t help but notice you scolded her like a primary school teacher, but she makes it so hard when she acts like this.

“Please I don’t need a fucking ‘I told you so’ talk right now.” She huffs.

“I hope you know this is completely your fault, I can’t fucking believe-”

“I swear to god if you keep talking I’m going to kick you out of this goddamn car.” She turns and looks at you straight in the eye, challenging you. Her tone is eerily calm. You narrow your gaze but say nothing, turning to look straight ahead. And with that she drives you both back to the station, defeated with only half of the criminal's license plate.

- -

Patrol partners are supposed to be friends- Or at least friend-ly. That’s what anyone would assume, you have to spend every day together, not getting along would just result in various inconvenient miscommunications and misunderstandings.

Yeah, well you weren’t that lucky. Your patrol partner is Ellie Williams aka “Williams” according to her various male coworkers. Her female coworkers tended to lean more towards nicknames like “whore” or “slut” considering she hooked up with a couple of them and then acted like she barely knew them at work the next day and did it all over again. She had to start finding hookups outside the station last month because all her go-tos had refused her unless she wanted something serious. On top of that the few that she got with turned the rest of the girls against her, all she had left was you and all the guys at the station- and you didn’t really count since you were forced to be with her. This meant recently she was particularly irritable considering she couldn’t find a lot- if any- women to relieve any of her tension, so patrolling with her for the past 30 days has been hell.

On a more positive note it made gossiping with your coworkers over coffee the best part of your day. They would talk about their hookups which would inevitably lead back to shit talking Williams- which you would enthusiastically participate in considering how she treated you on the job. However they all agreed that they tolerated it for as long as they did because the sex was good. And you believed them because they had to put up with some crazy bullshit from her. A tiny part of you yearned for them to explain just how good it was, but you’d never ever give in to that curiosity.

Williams- on the rare occasion she would say anything- was mean, she would make snide comments all the time no matter what task you were taking on. She had some sort of superiority complex because she was- admittedly- very good at her job. She had transferred from some big city to your small town station and she had much more experience. She was incredibly skilled at taking people down when she needed to. However, compared to her old job, barely anything happens here. When something did happen she would insist on taking over the task almost every single time, the only thing she couldn’t trump you in was de-escalation. She was terrible at communication and that was most of the job. Calls would mostly be noise complaints or welfare checks, so you took the lead for those and it drove her crazy. She couldn’t stand being inferior to anyone, especially on the job. So you were squabbling constantly.

And for some reason tonight she was in a particularly bad mood. You’re stationed on the side of the road, keeping watch for anyone disobeying any road safety laws and Williams is silent. Not particularly unusual, but her body language was odd, she was weirdly tense. She sat fidgeting with her hands, picking at her cuticles, occasionally glancing up if she heard a car. Nothing in you wanted to show you cared at all for her, because you didn’t, but at this point you were so bored you didn’t care if you started one of your usual squabbles.

“Something wrong Williams?” You tentatively ask.

“ ‘m fine, just tired.” she says, still not glancing up.

“You seem offly tense for a tired person.” You try to push her a bit.

She finally looks up at you, her expression remaining neutral “Considering your observations, you really think now’s a good time to test me sweetheart?” God you hated when she called you that, she refused to refer to you by your last name, always resorting to some condescending nickname.

You roll your eyes, just as you were about to respond a staticky voice interrupts, asking for anyone available for a call about a noise complaint about two minutes away. Ellie picks up the walkie and calls in saying she could take it and starts the car.

You drive there in silence and to no one’s surprise it’s Mrs. Taylor. She frequently calls at night whenever she hears her teenage neighbors so much as talk loud enough for her to hear. And every time she would make you both walk over to them and ask them to quiet down.

This time though when you got out of the car you could hear muffled music coming from the neighbor’s all the way from Mrs. Taylor’s lawn. You walk up to her door, Williams following silently, and knock gently a couple of times. You hear soft shuffling, a lock clicking and then the door opens revealing the grumpy old woman’s tired face. She’s wearing a long dusty pink robe, striped pajama pants and ratty slippers, clearly she had been recently woken up by the noise.

“Hello Mrs. Taylor.” You smile politely.

“Hello dear.” She smiles back at you, but falters for a moment when she spots your partner, refusing to acknowledge her presence. She used to babysit all the kids in the neighborhood, you were always her favorite. She treated everyone else like they were some sort of pest, especially outsiders.

“Neighbors bothering you again?” You already knew the answer, but you felt the need to be polite.

“I can’t sleep with all that ruckus, rotten children they are. Too bad too, they used to be the sweetest when they were little.” She shook her head.

“Alright we’ll get it all sorted out, you can go back to bed.” You nod your head.

The old woman smiles before reaching forward and pinching your cheek while saying “You’re so good to me dear. Come over for dinner some time so I can make it up to you.”

“Just doing my job ma'am.” You reassure her.

“Well, goodnight. Call me tomorrow morning and we’ll sort something out.” She begins shuffling backwards, and grabs the door handle.

“Good night Mrs. Taylor.” You wave at her and she closes the door.

“God you’re unbelievable.” Ellie scoffs from behind you.

“What?” you turn around to face her.

“Would it kill you to be nice to me like that once in a while?” For the life of you you could not figure out where this was coming from.

“You have to earn it.” You retort, while beginning to walk to the neighbors house. Ellie just huffs and jogs a bit to catch up to you, god forbid you get ahead of her in any way.

You make your way to the house, the bass rattling your teeth by the time you're on the front stoop. Ellie takes her usual spot behind you and you knock loudly, bashing your fist against the door. Hopefully someone hears so you don’t have to make a scene, they weren’t bad kids. Sure enough the music turns off and the door opens slowly revealing a set of scared, round eyes.

“Hey Kelly.” You knew her well from the past complaints, she was pretty polite especially for a teenager. The poor girl was practically shaking. “You probably know why we’re here.” She nods slowly. “Ok, so just do us a favor and turn your music down so we don’t get another call from Mrs. Taylor alright?” you say gently, knowing when you’re in uniform everything about you was intimidating enough without you having to yell.

“Th-that’s it?” She asks, her whole body shaking with adrenaline at this point.

“Yup, just make sure this doesn’t happen again. Shouldn’t have the volume that high anyway, it’s bad for your hearing.” You smile, “Probably don’t want to go deaf by the time you’re 20.”

Kelly just nods again “O-ok thank you. We’ll keep it down, promise.”

“Alright have a good night, stay out of trouble.” You turn away and Ellie does the same.

The walk back to the car is silent except for the steady hum of cicadas. You’re about to put your seatbelt on when Ellie says “So what do I have to do?”

You pause your movements, “What?”

“What do I have to do to earn it?” When you still look confused she elaborates “You being nice to me. What do I have to do to earn that?”

“I don’t know. With the way you treat me it’s almost like you enjoy me being mean to you.” You let out a dry laugh.

She slowly leans towards you, “Oh, I do.” She says, her tone changing completely, her voice becomes raspy and deep, almost like a whisper and a smirk tugs at her lips. “I love making you mad, but something tells me you’re even more delightful when you’re all sweet like that.”

“Williams what-” She leans even closer, inches away from your face and suddenly you forgot everything that wasn’t Ellie. You couldn’t utter a word if you tried.

“Tell me.” Her eyes flicker from yours to your lips. “What.” Her lips are so close you can almost feel her words. “To do.” You let out a sigh and give in, abandoning all logic you press your lips against hers. She stiffens but then her hands automatically move to cup your jaw so she can deepen the kiss. Her tongue swipes across your lips, inviting them to open. You can’t really move, unable to completely process what’s happening. She’s so warm and soft and everything you didn’t expect.

She starts making her way down to your neck, exploring your reactions as she kisses and sucks at the sensitive skin. A small whimper escapes from your lips, and Ellie is sure she’s never heard something more intoxicating.

“Williams-” She finds a particular spot behind your ear that causes you to let out a quiet moan, making you forget how to speak for a moment.

“W-we can’t do this here, you know that.” She stops and moves her head to meet your gaze.

“You’re right, we should probably find someplace where we don’t run the risk of teenagers or Mrs. Taylor finding us.” That wasn’t what you meant but it was probably the first time she had ever agreed with you the entire time you’ve been partners.

--

She pulls off the road into a field and as soon as she parks she immediately starts where she left off. Somehow she knew exactly how to reduce you to a whimpering mess in mere moments. In between kisses she whispers “Take off your belt.” Her tone was so sure and dominant it sent a wave of arousal straight to your center. You do as she says, you forgot you had put on your utility belt for the call, but she clearly took note. You try not to move too much as she continues marking up your skin. She stops again, “Now get in the back.” She doesn’t wait for your response before taking her own utility belt off, leaving it in the front seat and opening her door. It was a little more work in a patrol car considering there were bars separating the front and backseat, but at this point neither of you cared much.

Ellie is first to sit down in the back and shut the door behind her, you do the same and crawl over to straddle her lap. “You feelin a little eager, sweetheart?” She looks at you with that obnoxious smirk on her face, but this time it didn’t annoy you as much as it usually did. You kiss the grin off her face before moving to her neck, listening to her little sighs and moans as you press your lips to her soft skin. The noises she’s making send arousal straight to your aching center and you begin to grind down on her lap, desperate for some kind of relief. She starts taking off your belt with trembling, eager fingers and throws it off to the side. You reach for hers as she untucks your shirt and begins unbuttoning it as quickly as she could, leaving you in your tank top. Your lips meet hers and the kisses grow hungrier by the second, each of you becoming more and more eager to undress the other.

As you begin to unfasten Ellie’s shirt she sighs in frustration, “Jesus christ all these fucking layers are driving me crazy.”

You laugh and say in between kisses, “Gotta make you work for it Williams.” With that she rips off your tank top, and immediately begins groping your breasts over your bra. You moan into her mouth and begin to grind down onto her even harder. Ellie notices and spreads her legs a bit, moving your leg in between hers so you were straddling her thigh. Relief rushes through you as you lower down onto her muscular thigh and begin moving your hips back and forth. She reaches behind you to unclasp your bra leaving your top half bare for her. She can’t resist breaking the kiss to move her focus to your chest, taking your nipple in her mouth with a satisfied hum. A soft whine escapes your lips as her warm tongue circles your sensitive nipples. Her hands have a steady hold on your hips, encouraging you to move against her thigh, harder and faster. Yours have found a home in her hair, tugging harder and harder as your pleasure builds on itself causing Ellie to groan as arousal begins to pool in her boxers.

“Get up.” Ellie commands in a hoarse whisper that sends butterflies straight to your cunt. You climb off her and lean against the car door. The sight of you in the dim moonlight, topless with spread legs and unzipped pants, a fucked out expression on your face almost has Ellie coming right then and there. She unties your shoes and gently removes them, before grabbing the hem of your pants and tugging them down in one swift motion. She crawls between your legs and wraps her arms around each of your thighs, gently kissing a path to your dripping cunt. A wet spot had formed on your panties causing your face to become hot from embarrassment, but Ellie seemed to have a different reaction “God you’re so beautiful, it’s driving me crazy.” She begins teasing you over the fabric of your underwear, running her fingers up and down your slit. A whimper escapes your lips as a silent plea for more, but she continues teasing. She finally pulls the fabric of your underwear to the side and takes a moment before gently blowing on your soaked folds.

“Please-” you manage to whimper as the cool air from Ellie’s lips hits your warm center sending a pleasurable shock through you. You would expect for her to make you beg for it, but she immediately obliged, licking a line from your dripping entrance to your clit. You gasp and grip on to her hair, searching for anything to hold on to as pleasure overwhelms every one of your senses. Ellie groans at the feeling as she begins gently licking at your clit, teasing you. The sound sends vibrations through your lower body and you moan at the feeling, now losing any control you had over the volume of your voice. She begins moving her tongue in circles over your sensitive bud as she teases your entrance with a slender finger. You let out the loudest moan yet, encouraging Ellie to plunge her finger further inside you. It slides in easily, arousal practically coating your thighs at this point. Suddenly she hits the spot causing a desperate whiny “Oh fuck,” To escape from your swollen lips as you clench lightly around her finger. She adds a second, the feeling of her two fingers causes a satisfying amount of pressure to fill your cunt. She hits a spot that you swear sends white light through your closed eyes and keeps hitting it with every rough, slow thrust of her fingers. Your hips begin to move, trying to get her to fuck you harder but she only pins your down by your waist with her free hand forcing you to endure her painful pace. “Ellie,” you whine, “please- I-“ you cut yourself off with a moan.

“What do you need sweetheart?” She pauses briefly to look at your fucked out expression and your arousal has dropped all the down her chin. The very sight almost does you in.

“Please,” you beg her in hopes she’ll spare you the humiliation of asking her.

“Mm mm,” she lightly shakes her head “words baby.” That was a much better nickname, the way she said baby made your cunt flutter around her fingers

“P-please-” you sigh before finishing “-fuck me harder pleasee.” You think that’s probably the most pathetic you’ll ever sound but Ellie obeys. She sucks your puffy clit into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the hypersensitive nub before moving her fingers faster. She picks up speed until you can’t think about anything but Ellie’s mouth and fingers. The pace was practically inhuman, you tilt your head back as a silent scream rips it’s way through you before you moan “fffuuckk,” in a high pitched tone. She continues moving her hands rapidly in and out of you curling them at just the right angle. You begin to flutter around her fingers and she knew you were close.

“Almost there baby?” All you can do in response in moan, she has you practically incapacitated. She giggled a little “Good, come for me.” As her words reached your ears your pleasure finally hit it’s peak. You begin writing against Ellie’s fingers as you roughly clench down on them. Your pleasure rips through you in overwhelming waves, moans uncontrollably leaving your lips as Ellie’s fingers continue their brutal pace. She doesn’t let up though, she keeps going as your clit grows more and more sensitive. You tug at her hair but she doesn’t move, she continues as your hips begin bucking against her arm that was pinning you down.

“Ellie it’s too much I can’t-”

“You can take one more can’t you sweetheart?” She asks sweetly as she fucks your sensitive hole with no mercy. You just nod and she continues sucking and licking at your clit, occasionally moaning which only enhanced the overwhelming pleasure. This time you were more tightly wound up and faster. It didn’t take long before you approached the edge again, the feeling twice as intense. You almost worry as it begins to build and build, just as you thought you had reached your peak it kept going. You finally topple over the edge as Ellie’s teeth lightly graze your clit, the feeling sending you into overdrive. You tugs Ellie’s hair harder than you ever had before as you make a mess all over the seats and Ellie’s mouth and fingers. She laps it all up contently, actually backing down when you pushed her away this time. She leans back into her knees and tries to catch her breath.

A smirk grows on your face as you begin leaning towards her, “it’s your turn.”

—

Idrk how I feel about this but at least I finished it 😀👍

Reblogs and notes are always appreciated and encouraged 💕‼️

Hopefully I will start updating more but I can’t really promise anything lmao

[exercise-of-trust]

everyone clap and cheer for my beautiful daughter who has every disease 🥰 her name is þerindë because her wheel is made out of an embroidery hoop; she is entirely handmade and boy howdy does it show

a whole bunch of things have stopped working since i took that video last night and i'm not sure how much more wherewithal i have to keep messing with her, but i did manage to spin about two feet of something before then! so i'm showing her off a bit now, and if i can figure out what-all i fucked up maybe you'll see more of her in the future. some process and progress photos under the cut (not a tutorial. do not do this. i cannot sufficiently stress how bad of an idea this was and is*)

(*if you are going to do this and have questions not answered here i am always happy to answer them, inbox and dms are open etc, but like. i would strongly advise against it)

here's the hoop! it's about a foot across, with a groove carved out with a speedball. this ended up being way too shallow (who'd'a'thunk) so the final version is a lot deeper than what you're seeing here. the paint stirrers are held in with straight pins because i was worried regular nails would just crack the hoop lmao. my girl is so deeply and profoundly scuffed <3

the flyer is made from three cedar shingles glued together because i didn't have a solid piece of wood large enough. astonishingly nothing broke while i was sawing out the rough shape and it whittled down pretty nicely! the hooks are scrap 2mm copper wire, the orfice is a couple inches of plastic drinking straw, and the pulley wheel is also hand-carved, which is why it looks like a fucked-up oreo and has the weird hitch at the top of the spin that you probably saw in the video 🙃 frankly i am astonished it works as well as it does

the wheel frame is. man. the axle supports haven't broken yet but frankly it's a miracle they're still in place with how much strain they're under every time. the original base was that weird little bit of paint stirrer, which (shocker) did not work out in the long run; it's been replaced by an offcut from the frame and is significantly more sturdy now. it's surprisingly level, though, and turns pretty smoothly all things considered!

the frame was a nightmare start to finish; i've never done any serious woodworking before in my life and the whole thing was just kind of slapped together without a plan or any sort of concrete measurement. it wobbles so fucking bad and every few hours i have to push a couple of the parts back together where the nails are sort of drifting out of the wood. you may observe a weird post sticking out the left side of the mother-of-all; that is supposed to be for scotch tensioning. does it actually do that? sort of! the belt is a length of cotton crochet thread that is, after much fiddling, just the right size to not slip out more than once every three minutes.

treadling was another pain to figure out and i think i probably made it way more complicated than it needed to be. it still doesn't work very well and i can't tell if that's something i can fix hardware-wise or if i just have to suck it up and practice a lot more. turns out feet are not as coordinated as hands! i would say "now i know for next time!" but frankly i am never doing this again. you couldn't pay me. speaking of which, i did the math and at my current pre-tax hourly salary i could've bought two brand-new ashford travelers with the number of hours i spent building my awful rickety daughter. at the end of the day, do i love her? immensely. is she "good"? by no stretch of the imagination.

anyway. this was a terrible use of my time <3 but i do finally feel confident enough in all the parts of a spinning wheel and what they're for that i can brave the dangers of facebook marketplace's "spinning wheel" category without getting too badly scammed! which is pretty valuable in its own right, i guess.

[anna-the-undertaker]

Im playing with an incorrect quote generator and I'm sharing them here. They are cracking me tf up.

Belphie: So I can either do something dumb that could very well get me injured or I can listen to MC and not do the thing, Belphie: Well there’s a clear right answer here. Belphie: *proceeds to throw five packs of mentos into a barrel full of diet coke*

Satan: I woke up and chose VIOLENCE. I WILL COMMIT ARSON AND BURN EVERYTHING TO THE GROUND!!! I AM ANGRY- MC: Awwww, you’re so adorable! Give me a hug~ Satan: Wh-What? nO, yOURE SUPPOSED TO BE SCARED OF ME! TREMBLE BEFORE MY WRATH- Lucifer, recording: This is so cute.

Beel: sSSSHIT- I BURNT MY LIP- Belphie: …Why the fuck would you even drink coffee with a METAL STRAW in the FIRST PLACE?? Beel: BECAUSE WE WERE OUT OF THE PLASTIC ONES!

Barbatos: Look, Satan, if you can fit your head down the gun’s barrel, you can assume it doesn’t have a non-lethal setting.

MC: Yes, I'm adopting Satan and you cowards can't tell me no!

Lucifer: *running towards Beel with open arms* Beel: *moves out of the way* Lucifer: Hey, why'd you move?! Beel: I thought you were going to attack me. Lucifer: I was going to hug you! Beel: Why would you hug me? Lucifer: WHY WOULD I ATTACK YOU!?

Levi: The best way to gain someone's undying loyalty is by saving them from a perilous situation. Barbatos: So you're just gonna wait until MC is in danger and save them? Levi: Of course not, I'm going to create a situation that puts them in danger and then save them. Barbatos: … Barbatos: You're insane.

MC: We’re going to defeat you with the power of friendship. Belphie: We’re not friends. MC, holding an axe: We’re going to defeat you with the power of incredible violence.

Lucifer: You’re starting to look like me more and more every day— Satan: *Bursts into tears* Lucifer: Why are you crying? Satan: You’re ugly! I don’t want to look like you! *sobs*

*Satan and Mammon are texting* Satan: Who are you? Someone changed the names in my phone. Mammon: What did they change my name to? Satan: Chosen One. Mammon: Don’t change it back. Satan: BUT WHO ARE YOU?!?! Mammon: I’m the chosen one.

Mammon: "What are you into?" is such a broad question, like do I reply with a TV series or choking?

Belphie: Sorry I can’t be emotionally vulnerable with you it’d ruin the mystery.

Asmo: I don’t think the therapist is supposed to say ‘wow’ that many times during their first session with a client, but here we are.

Mammon: What happened to your nose? Satan: I used it to break some guy's fist.

Mammon: Would it be discrimination to only hire employees at my doughnut shop who have the same name? MC: Legally, I don't believe that breaches any discrimination laws. Morally though… I don't know. Mammon: I believe god is on my side when it comes to Duncans' Doughnuts.

Mammon: Would anyone know any good vendors for professional-quality brass knuckles? Asmo: I know you’re serious, but you say the scariest shit sometimes.

Mammon: look Levi, I'm not slut shaming you but… Mammon: Actually yeah, I'm TOTALLY slut shaming you.

Lucifer: I am the left brain, I am the left brain. "I work really hard until my inevitable death" brain. You've got a job to do, you better do it right and the right way is with the left brain's might. Mammon: I LIKE OREOS AND PUSSY-

Satan: My expectations were low but holy fuck.

MC: *Texts a selfie to the group chat* Hey besties!! Mammon: *Texts a selfie clearly parodying MC's* hey besties !!1! MC: I literally hate you so much.

Satan: What's this? MC, hugging Satan: Affection! Satan: Disgusting. Satan: …Do it again.

Lucifer: I am going to need you to swear- Diavolo: Fuck. Lucifer: Lucifer: …swear as in promise.

Mammon: Pardon me, but it sounds like you’re questioning my authority! Lucifer: Not at all, Mammon. Merely your primitive methods.

MC: *cocks gun* Go to Bed. This is no longer a request, This is now a Threat.

Levi: Wait a minute, how did this happen? We're smarter than this! Beel: Apparently, we're not.

Mammon: *Reading a letter* Satan: Well, what does it say? Mammon: It’s a confession letter. It turns out MC killed my pet rock.

Diavolo: Not to be nsfw but I want someone to hold me while I sleep.

MC: Who else is hiding in the laundry room trying to listen to Diavolo and Lucifer's convo? Asmo: Me. I'm in the laundry basket. Belphie: I'm in the washing machine. Barbatos: I'm in the closet. Asmo: We accept you Barbatos. <3 Barbatos: No I'm literally in the closet. Asmo: Love is love. <3

Belphie (brainstorming ideas for pranking Lucifer): How much would a serial killer mask possibly cost? MC: Well it’s hard to find a high-quality one made out of leather or silicone, but if you did find a good one like that it’d be a couple thousands of dollars. I can try to hook you up with one but I don’t know if I’d be very successful. Belphie: Huh, that’s pretty interesting actually- Wait, how the hell do you know that? MC: …I am very passionate about Halloween, Belphie.

Diavolo: I don't know, it's not my cup of tea. Satan: Well then whose is it? Diavolo, staring at a cup of tea: I don't know!

MC: What’s something you guys are better than Lucifer at? Mammon: Mario Kart. Satan: Yeah, video games. Levi: Emotional vulnerability.

Mammon: Can we talk about that mass email you sent? MC: Why? It was important. Mammon: All it says is, "I'm back on my shit". Diavolo, shrugging: The people need to know.

Mammon: Can you pass the salt? Asmo: Can you pass away? Mammon: Too much salt.

*talking on the phone* Mammon: Remember how I said that MC and I were gonna have a calm night out for once? Lucifer: Yeah… Mammon: Well, we’re in jail. Lucifer: *hangs up*

MC: Go to hell! Lucifer: Where do you think I come from?

MC: I see the red flags, I acknowledge that they're there, and then I completely ignore them.

Satan: We need a distraction. Lucifer: Is anyone here good at jumping up and down and making weird noises? Diavolo, whispering: My time has come.

Mammon: I don’t know, this plan seems complicated. Lucifer: You once said that about an orange. Mammon: They don’t make sense. Apples, you eat their clothes but oranges you don’t.

Diavolo: Mammon and I were crossing the street, and this man drove by and honked at us. Asmo: What did you do? Diavolo: They chased him to the next red light, and reached into his window, and- Mammon: *walking in* Who wants a steering wheel?

[skyeslittlecorner]

Thoughts on Orias' event

I try to pretend that I have already cooled down and stopped howling with delight at the sight of the boys from Hades. Okay, I'm not very good at lying. They. are. gorgeous. So, ekhm. Some loose thoughts about what we know. No serious analysis this time, just my happy rambling.

Spoilers under cut!

Devils can lie

Earlier it was hinted between the lines, now we have official confirmation. Orias and Leviathan sure know how to lie.

Here is a suggestion that Foras can do it too.

On the one hand, my and my biased heart are happy that he is special, on the other hand, I think I would rather not know what he went through to learn how to lie. On an unbiased note, it would be interesting if all the nobles of Hades could lie.

Nobles stick together

It's a little thing I noticed. In Avisos we are often mentioned that seeing more than one noble at a time is an unusual thing. Meanwhile in Hades…

A large part of the event is from Foras' perspective, and how was I supposed to be calm?

We see that the boys often spend time together on patrols. Their relationship is also delightful. Foras doesn't like Glasyalabolas, and it's not mutual. Look.

Glasyal you bully, I love you lmao

Barbatos is gorgeous (even more so without clothes, but please, not on patrol).

Either way, it looks like they spend a lot of time together. They give so much siblings' energy.

AND THIS

I died. I didn't know I needed Barbatos saying fuck, but now I need him for my life. So hot of him.

Orias age

We have information that Orias is older than Leviathan…

…but this is information from biased, unconfirmed sources. Nobles only know rumors. I believe that Lucifer is the oldest. He's an angel, he makes sense. But when it comes to Orias, I would trust Leviathan more here.

I want to draw attention to this one quote in particular:

We know that devils get old. The stronger, the slower. But this suggests that Orias has been artificially aged.

Especially since the angels also refer to him as a kid.

+ it is interesting that they were taken for the same experiment.

Don't know what to call it, just some sexy guys ahead

Enough with serious topics, time to get back to silly things!

We've seen Satan's anger spreads to his subordinates, we've also seen it with Mammon's greed, so it's no wonder Leviathan's jealousy has the same strength. However, Levi's second main thing, his punishment, doesn't seem to be going as well as he dreamed.

They are terrible, I love them. No wonder the cavalry from Tartaros comes for us in Ch5, the guys from Gehenna would still shake hands with Hades. By the way, Hades and Genenna really seem to have the most similarities.

Hot.

Also, their devotion is insanely sweet. Leviathan isn't even truly in danger and they've already summoned their coffins to protect him.

But let's get to the cherry on the cake. You know what else is hot? We are in hell, it should be warm in here, but oh lord- I expected boiling lava, not a walking embodiment of perfection.

I totally agree with Glasyalabolas and his fourth wall breaking. JUST LOOK.

The smirk of this proud asshole. The fact that he is little known in heaven simply because he leaves no survivors to tell about him. And how much he smiles during this event. And how gently he treats Orias.

This event shows his soft heart and that's why I'm here. I'm glad that we don't see this side of him right away, in the chapter, and he only shows true himself with someone he really knows and cares about. Even if he does it his own way. This event, his attacker comic and his selfie comic, how he behaves towards heaven farm survivor and his childhood friends.

Final thoughts

Let's end this here before I start fawning over him even more. Of course, there was much more here. Even out of chronicler's duty, I would like to mention:

While escaping, Leviathan made a pact with his monster

There are beads in the hearts of angels that, when eaten, keep Orias young

Orias himself, if he didn't eat angel hearts, would age into a mummy in a week

Barbatos is secretly Sailor Moon or Winx or other magical girlie

This is how he dressed himself with his vines, prove me wrong.

Leviathan calls Glasyalabolas cute. Agree.

Orias calls Foras a child. It just sounds like a much older person addressing a younger colleague. And you know how much I agree

Astaroth mentioned (another point to the relationship between Hades and Gehenna)

Cherubs with their New Heaven are mentioned

That's all I remember for now. If you're curious about more things, @/thrones-of-buer collected here a lot of points from the event. I agree with a lot of them, and they're definitely interesting to check out. And here a whole report from the event from @/jazeswhbhaven so if you're hungry for more, head over there!

[jelzorz]

167.

It's an argument Callum never thought he would have. He and Soren get along better these days, which isn't a high bar to set considering what their relationship was like when they were younger, and while they're certainly part of each other's family, so to speak, they're not what they'd call best friends. Soren is too much like an older brother, but not like the way Callum is an older brother—Callum cares about safety and plans, and Soren likes being fun (reckless) and ridiculous (stupid).

It's unsurprising, then, that Callum has never really needed advice from Soren, nor has he ever heeded it when it's given. And most times it's fine. When Rayla was away, it was always about going out or getting drinks or meeting other girls (or guys), none of which Callum really cared for at the time, and Soren took no offence when Callum turned him down or went home early. They're just different people like that, with different interests and different coping mechanisms—and then there's this.

They're in his office, gathered around Aaravos' prison. It's the second time they've had this meeting, only this time Callum has the Nova Blade on his desk next to the pearl, and now that they've got it, now that it's tangible, now that the concept of victory is real, the discussion is that much more serious.

There is no secret knock this time, no grumpy blindfolded Opeli, no pretense about what to do. It's break the prison and kill Aaravos, or wait around and risk Aaravos killing them. To Callum, the answer is pretty simple, but Ez and Soren and Opeli stare him down from the other side of his desk like he's just broken a law. Rayla, alone, stands with him on his side of the desk looking just as defiant as he.

"I don't understand what's not to get," bristles Callum. "We have the Nova Blade We can kill him and end this once and for all. Why are you all hesitating?"

"Because we don't know if it'll work?" says Ez dourly. "Because we have no idea how powerful Aaravos might be? Because you and Rayla went off to get the stupid Nova Blade without telling us?"

"So this isn't even about killing him, it's because we didn't get permission."

"It's about how we're supposed to be a team!" snaps Ez. "It's about how we're a council, how we're supposed to talk about this and decide things together, and you guys thought you'd just do what you want even though we decided together that we weren't going to do anything stupid!"

"This isn't stupid!" says Callum, scowling. "This is our chance to beat him! You're telling me that we have an opportunity to kill the most dangerous elf the world has ever seen and you just want to wait and see?"

"We're saying that we have no idea whether or not this will work, and that it's not worth doing anything reckless!"

"Your Highness," Opeli cuts in, massaging the bridge of her nose. "This wasn't the plan. None of us agreed to this, and barreling in without evidence is foolish at best."

"It will work though!" insists Callum. "The Celestial elves said so!"

"That's not evidence, that's hearsay."

"Look, Callum." That's Soren, and Callum almost blinks because it's rare that he's the one breaking up arguments. "I get it. You really think that this'll work. Just—what happens if it doesn't? What happens if you start a fight you can't finish? What if you're wrong?"

Callum scoffs. "I'm not wrong," he says loftily. "I did the research. I know this will work."

"Yeah, but what if?" says Soren, patient but somehow condescending, which was only ever something Callum had seen in swordfighting lessons when they were younger and Soren was a bully. "No offense, but going in like this is stupid."

Callum makes a face. "Really?" he drawls. "You're lecturing me about being stupid."

"You fucking bet I am," says Soren coolly. "Take it from someone who's been there. Starting this fight when you don't need to is the dumbest thing you could possibly do right now."

"I didn't start anything!" snaps Callum. "This fight was already going! I'm here to end it! What the hell are you three doing about it?"

"We're on the same side, Callum," says Ezran, hands raised like he's trying to placate his brother. "We just want to be careful!"

"Careful?" Callum barks out a laugh. "Doing nothing isn't careful! The elf in there is the most powerful being in the world! He'll destroy us all if we don't do something about it now!"

Soren scowls at him then, his arms crossed judgementally across his chest. "You sound like my dad," he mutters.

There's a pause. The silence in Callum's study beats, because they all know what Viren was like, they all know the things that Viren did, and Soren has the nerve—

"I'm nothing like him," snarls Callum.

"Really?" challenges Soren. "You're one step out from destroying an egg because it's a threat—"

"This isn't an egg, it's an elf who could conquer the world—"

"Who's imprisoned in a magical prison designed to keep him in," snaps Soren, "and you want to let him out on the idea that you might be able to kill him?" He snorts. "You're just like him. You're so convinced you can save the world that you don't care who you put in harm's way to do it."

Another pause. Callum's lungs fill with protests and counterarguments and words that definitely can't be said in polite conversation, but the only thing that leaves him in the end is, "Get out."

They do. Opeli leads the way. Soren takes the the pearl. Ezran shoots him a dirty glare. The door shuts behind them and then there is silence again except for Callum's breathing, heavy and furious that they would accuse him of being anything like Viren.

"You haven't said anything," he mutters to Rayla.

Rayla takes a breath. "I don't know what there is to say," she says quietly. "They might be right."

"Are you seriously siding with them right now?"

"No," says Rayla coolly. "I'm always on your side. But it's something to consider. If we're wrong..." She swallows. "I really don't want you to be wrong."

She touches his hand gently, and Callum flinches away like her fingers burn against his skin. The accusation stings because it was Viren who imprisoned her family, Viren who stole Zym's egg, Viren who started all this in the first place and the idea that he could be like him in any capacity is—

He breathes in. "Do you think I'm like him?"

Rayla shrugs. "Maybe you are," she says. "But ultimately, it doesn't really matter. Not to me. To me, you're Callum. I trust you, no matter what." She offers him a smile, a promise, and Callum hopes, with all his heart, that she isn't wrong to place that trust in him.

[tyrantisterror]

I'm still thinking about that fucking poor excuse of a villain song from Wish, and, like... ok so I'm thinking of two similar villain songs that feel like they're essentially doing the same thing but land a lot better with me and trying to reason out why that is, but it's almost midnight after an exhausting day at work and I don't know how well I can do that, but what the hell let's try anyway.

Ok, so, looking at The Cursed Object first, I think what it's trying to do is a humorous juxtaposition of an upbeat pop song with dark lyrics, to show the villain thinks of himself as a lovable hero while he's actually a piece of shit. We're supposed to see how the villain is a vain, self-centered monster who's willing to sacrifice anyone and everyone necessary to keep and/or increase his power, all while painting himself as a hero for doing so. I don't think it succeeds in this aim, but that's what it's trying to do, right?

When trying to think of songs that were similar, my first thought was "No One But You" from Galavant, where Magdalena, a damsel-in-distress who slowly turns into an evil queen over the course of the first season, has a bunch of conversations with her own ego via reflections of herself in mirrors, just like King Chris Pine up there. Magdalena also posits herself as the hero of her story, a woman who's faced a great deal of stress and discomfort and ultimately can't rely on anyone to save her except herself - No One But Her can solve the problems she faces. She genuinely views herself as the hero, as much as she can view anyone as a hero anyway, and the world as an enemy to be defeated, suppressed, and destroyed if necessary. And I think it works because, despite the jokes the scene is filled with, it's very clear Magdalena is a genuine threat. She's taken seriously by the scene in a way that King Chris Pine isn't - there's genuine menace here.

But perhaps I'm getting this wrong - I haven't seen Wish, and maybe King Chris Pine isn't meant to be a serious villain, but rather a comic one. His number definitely seems to rely on comedy way more, so maybe I need another angle.

Let's look at a different Galavant villain and a different villain song to go with him - "She'll Be Mine" by King Richard. King Richard is explicitly a humorous villain, a bumbling oaf who's only deadly because the feudal system decided to give him a ludicrous amount of power over people's lives by dint of his birth. He's an incompetent idiot with so much vaguely medieval fantasy land firepower at his disposal that he's actually more dangerous for it, because ultimately far more people pay for his incompetence than he ever does (in the first season, anyway). He's goofy and silly and not threatening on his own, but rather as a result of how his petulant whims will be carried out immediately and with excessive force, no matter how stupid they are.

All of that could apply to King Chris Pine from what I've gleaned from his villain song... but again, I feel it's done much more effectively with Richard's song here. It's a happy, upbeat song with wicked lyrics, just like "This Is the Thanks I Get," but the lyrics benefit from being, well... firstly, just better in general (the rhyme of "Job" and "Prob" in the Wish number causes me intense abdominal pain), but specifically by heightening the contrast of the evilness of the villain with the joyfulness of the song to a much more potent degree. The hilarious tonal disconnect between the words "I want to skewer him with swords and slowly twist them!" and the peppy way in which they're song is just delicious.

But I also think that, like with Magdalena's song, the real difference is that this song takes Richard's feelings and motivations seriously. Richard feels genuinely hurt by Galavant's very existence and how Magdalena holds Galavant in much higher esteem than him, and the song is focused on that thread. When Richard does describe his evil wishes, there's almost an innocence to it - "I'll get back to all my hobbies, like raising taxes and tormenting the poor!" - and then he switfly refocuses to his grievance with Galavant, as if he doesn't actually want to think about how his petty whims are cruel (because, as the story shows, once Richard actually thinks about his actions, he realizes they're awful and feels shame for them). He's always running away from self reflection to dwell in his grudge, and that's how he's able to stick to his villainous course while still viewing himself as in the right.

Meanwhile King Chris Pine's lyrics, in addition to just being bad ("I let you live here for free and don't even charge you rent" cool beans dude you just said the same thing twice), is so damn focused on his obvious character faults in a way that makes it clear the writers know he's a bad guy and want to relate that to the audience, but don't know how to do it without just having him say, "Yeah I'm an evil hypocrite." I don't feel I get a sense of his nuance, of how he justifies this to himself, from this song, not the way I do with Magdalena and Richard.

Though maybe I'm wrong! Maybe the difference is that I've watched Galavant several times, and can see how its songs relate to the inner workings of its characters because I have the rest of the series to point me in the right direction when analyzing them, whereas I'm just watching King Chris Pine's song in isolation without the context of the rest of the movie. Maybe to give it a truly fair shake I need to watch the whole movie.

I mean, I won't. It looks boring. But if I cared about making a good analysis, I probably would.

I don't though.

These are the posts you make when it's midnight and you're very sleep deprived.

[thotsforvillainrights]

HALLOOOO(⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)!

This is my first question on this app! I'm new and i don't really know how to use it◉⁠‿⁠◉

Also English isn't my mother language so I'm sorry if i spelled any words wrong

Anyways!

Can i ask for a Muscular, Chizome and Tomura reacting to their S/O calling them handsome during intimacy? :D

You can add any other characters if you want, i love all villians so i don't mind >_<

(Hi, welcome to this hellsite! I'm honored to have the first question and I hope this comes out good for you. Thank you for the ask!)

~Muscular/Stain/Shigaraki's S/O Calling them Handsome During~

headcanon|scenario|imagine|match-up|drabble

-Usually this man hardly pays attention during the act. Well at least that's the way it used to be when you first started going at it. He's admittedly selfish and honestly chased his own nut before even considering what you'd want for yourself. Honestly there are times where you would have to wonder why you chose to be with him.

-Over time he's changed so much, so I suppose you stuck it out for the better. Now he's more focused on the noises you're making for him. His ego is the second best thing you could stroke for him~ Therefore, knowing you're making those noises because of him really tends to get him going more these days. He doesn't consider himself to have a praise kink but pumping his head up tremendously plays a part in whether or not he cums quickly.

-When you tell him he's handsome in the middle of intimacy then he's going to smirk at you first. "Yeah I know." He says with a cocky tone before continuing what he was doing. He won't admit that deep down inside it had an effect on him. He's definitely checking himself out in the mirror more often these days after you pull that trick on him.

-He's mostly quiet during this time with more grunting or groaning when he's close. The main reason is so that he can hear you to know whether or not he's doing his job properly. He takes sex with you seriously and there's no way he'll be caught dead half-assing anything when it comes to pleasing you.

-He's never been one to base a lot off of his looks. He's already surprised you'd take him as he is given his prickly personality. Falling in love with you was more along the lines of a gift from God rather than something he could attribute to his nonexistent charm or looks. However, you never let how he feels about himself stop you from blaring your opinions at him in full honesty.

-You don't stop when you're in the bedroom either. You pause to tell him he's handsome during the act and he scoffs at you, rolling his eyes and chuckling lightly. "Is that so? You still spouting nonsense or have I fucked you silly already then?" You laugh and shake your head at him. "I'm serious..." You try to convince him but he's already back to what he was doing and suddenly your words get lost so easily on your tongue.

-His confidence gone and he'll tell you often how he feels about the two of you being together. After all, why would anyone want to be with a monster like him? He's confused you picked him in the first place. He's awkward, mean, way too focused on other things at the moment. his quirk is dangerous. He can't even let himself get comfortable enough to hold you half the time because he's worried about the effect his quirk would have if he messed up. He could lose you and for that very reason alone he's still doubting the relationship.

-Still, despite this you manage to keep him there because he'd rather be with you than without. He loves you even if he doesn't say it that often. Little by little you found yourself chipping away at the walls around his heart until he finally began to grown slightly comfortable with you. He now holds your hand ever so carefully and you two have cuddling sessions. It was inevitable that it finally led up to the two of messing around. Once he got his hands on you, he knew it was too late to consider even taking them off.

-You'd rendered him frozen when you uttered the phrase 'you're so handsome' during sex one night. What's worse is that you looked him deep in his eyes and smiled so softly when you said it. He hated the way you had so much control over him. He could only feel himself burning away as he his his face in the crook of your neck and kept going this time more tenderly. To say the finish was explosive would be an understatement. Aftercare was out of this world as well.

[lemonhemlock]

I want to discuss why Criston having sex with Alicent is different.

Sex with Rhaenyra was about her sexual pleasure. It was about scratching that itch, which Criston is not for. He has a different view of sex. The act with Alicent has passion behind it. It's about two lost souls uniting and finding comfort in each other. So no he's not a hypocrite for not wanting to have sex with Rhaenyra. There's a deep emotional bond of devotion between the two.

He's allowed to feel used by Rhaenyra but be all Take Me to Church with Alicent and her WAP.

I won't touch on other points of why they aren't hypocrites for doing the devil's tango, as there are a variety of posts that articulate that but I have yet to see someone bring this up.(if they have good for them, great minds and all). Targaryen dick riders have a fucked up way of discussing SA and consent. That's all I'm saying that. (disclaimer this is not aimed at those who enjoy the Targs for being a fucked up dynasty and find them fascinating but those who think they are gods cause there's a difference.).

Welcome back, coffee queen! ☕Hope you're enjoying the new season 🫶

Love this take and your lexical choices crack me up!! I think that, at one point, Criston was a bit of a playboy, as he does explain with his own mouth that he's had dalliances in the past, but most of my thoughts on that I've put into this post here (so as to not repeat myself). Also this addition here. But, I agree that, fundamentally, Criston has had years to develop his feelings for Alicent, whereas, during his affair with Rhaenyra, he was a young man in awe of a pretty fairy tale princess. So it would make sense why his connection to Alicent would be deeper and more meaningful by now.

Also! People are allowed to "break up" and then get with someone else!

Haters forget that he can be legitimately upset at Rhaenyra not just because she unknowingly placed his life in danger, but also because she was so callous about it. She was proposing that they have occasional hook-ups, whereas he was ready to be very serious about her. So there was this disproportionate emotional involvement in their affair where Criston was risking a whole lot for someone who didn't really care for him, while Rhaenyra wanted casual sex and risked a slap on the wrist for it.

In any case, they quarreled and parted ways. Honestly, the reason doesn't even matter as much - who hasn't broken up with a bf/gf at some point over some dumbass reason, left and never looked back?* Are they supposed to hold a candle over that past relationship forever (regardless of how "legitimate" the grievances were)? The Dance of the Dragons didn't happen because of anything Criston did to Rhaenyra in revenge, she made a lot of bad political decisions herself to compound on the succession crisis engineered by her father. He is allowed to cross over to Alicent and "support" her side if he wants to; it's not the reason Rhaenyra got into trouble.

Not to mention that, after his mental breakdown and freaking suicide attempt, he's had years to contemplate the question of what being a knight and breaking one's vows means and what he boundaries he would be comfortable crossing. The Criston who's that's that me espresso with Alicent isn't the same Criston who slept with Rhaenyra and had a crisis of faith in the aftermath. He knows what he's getting into and he actively chooses to do so, isn't just put randomly in a situation from which he can't extricate himself.

*EDIT: Not that Criston's reason was dumbass, but even if it were, he's not beholden to being sexually available to Rhaenyra forever just because they fucked one time. (I feel like you have to include disclaimers for every gosh darned thing on this website). And the fact that Rhaenyra stans don't understand the concept of consent and how much it colours one's experience is just.... 🤦‍♀️

[mailjeevasfan]

Okay I have a dialogue idea but I don't know how to put it together so I'm going to throw it out with the couple of words I have loose and hope for the best lol. Okay so "you're fucking crazy" "for you" with the death note characters. As if their s/o did or said something that caused them to drop that phrase and their s/o responded that way, what would their reaction be?

Personally I don't think that neither Near or L (or at least Near) would curse but you get me. Anyway thank youuu ^^

sorry for disappearing for a little longer than anticipated, but she’s making her comeback!

ty for the req!!! i hope this is what you were after

-light, l lawliet, misa amane, mello, matt, near

༺♡༻

‘you’re fucking crazy’ ‘for you’ with dn characters ❦

light

-it’s bound to be a struggle to be dating light whilst he’s literally kira for lots of reasons. but one of them is that you really worry for him and his safety. you trust him most of the time because you know how intelligent and calculated he and his actions are. however, there come times where he just seems to be reckless. you would hit your limit in these times and take matters into your own hands.

‘i’ve told you before y/n, let me handle all these things. what were you even thinking, you’re fucking crazy!’

‘for you.’

light would probably either disregard this and still continue to berate you, but if you caught him on a certain day then he’d drop it. either way, he’d be doing it purely out of love and care for you.

༺♡༻

l lawliet

-we all know that l’s got a few screws loose himself. the plans he likes to carry out in order to benefit his investigation(s) are insane and surely bound to fail, but his intelligence prevails every time. so, you can be slightly influenced by this after long enough. at some point, he’s struggling with the kira investigation and running out of ideas, and this seems to be taking a toll on his self esteem and mental health. you don’t want to see him this way, so you’d come up with some crazy plan to proceed through the situation. (i’m gonna go with the idea that he would rarely curse, and when he does then you know it’s pretty serious)

‘y/n, this is completely illogical and just… crazy. you’re fucking crazy!’

‘yeah, for you…’

‘…i see.’

he’d probably sigh and drop the issue. he wouldn’t admit it but he definitely saw something sweet in this (and probably enjoyed it)

༺♡༻

misa

it could be something similar to light, but it could also be something to do with her occupation. she’s very famous and attracts the attention of a lot of people, so dating misa could be hard sometimes. you may be a little jealous at times, but also worried that she may not be safe, like she’s attracting the wrong kind of attention or something. so you’d respond to the situation in ur own way depending on your personality i suppose. the gist is that you’re maybe a lil possessive at times 😁

‘jeez, you’re fucking crazy sometimes y/n…’

‘for you.’

‘aww, you’re adorable!’

misa would find this the cutest out of everyone 100%

༺♡༻

mello

mello gets into a lot of dangerous situations due to the work he does. after a while you get used to the mafia lifestyle, and it certainly helps knowing that he’d kill anyone who even laid a finger on you. that being said, you can’t help but worry about him too. you know he can handle himself fine, and that he’s more well versed in these topics than you, even without his extremely high level of intelligence. but you still worry about him getting hurt or mixed up in something he can’t handle. you try your very hardest to leave yourself out of it because you know how much mello cares about doing things himself and not accepting help from others. but one time, you probably couldn’t help yourself, and got mixed up in a dangerous task.

‘what the hell y/n?! i told you, this isn’t for you to be handling, it’s too dangerous! i swear, you must be fucking crazy!’

‘for you, mello.’

‘i-‘

his rage would probably subside quicker than ever as he tried his hardest to tell you how cliche and unreasonable you were being, but he still relents and drops it after that comment.

༺♡༻

matt

matt is consistently involved in whatever mello is doing, which, as i said, is very dangerous stuff. he just kind of goes along with whatever mello has planned because their bond is strong and he trusts him with everything. you know matt isn’t stupid, in fact he is very smart. it does help that he’s usually just on the sidelines, managing some sort of technical work like surveillance, but every once in a while he’s right in the middle of the violence. you worry about this because it’s dangerous for a start, but also completely out of his comfort zone. you may have stopped him from going along with a plan one time, as it just seemed like way too much.

‘y/n, i need to do this for mello. please just trust me.’

‘i do trust you matt. but you can’t do this, i won’t let you!’

‘listen, i love you, but you’re fucking crazy.’

‘…for you…’

it was already a shock to hear matt being so serious, let alone so vulgar towards you, but this stopped him in his tracks. he’d stay silent for a moment, before returning to his usual self and laughing it off. he couldn’t possibly say no to you after that, but he also couldn’t let you off without teasing you a little.

༺♡༻

near

near is kind of a mixture of everything that has already been said. despite his methods being at least a tiny bit more conventional than l’s, he’s still in threatening situations often. he’s very well protected and very intelligent himself, but similarly to the others, you still worry regardless of this. you’d sit him down one day when you began to worry about his meeting with the task force, and your emotions became a more intense than you anticipated.

‘y/n, you need to stop and think about what you’re saying. you know how long i’ve been planning this, what you’re saying is just crazy. you’re crazy’

‘for you, near.’

he probably wasn’t expecting something like this. however, he dealt with it as he usually would, reassuring you and realising that he should be more sensitive when you’re acting this way. it is out of love after all, and he’s beginning to realise this.

༺♡༻

[lover-of-mine]

I think some of these BT shippers really think all of this is way more serious than it is and that we’re all more powerful than we are (themselves included)

They think Tim is going to punish us for “harassing” them about Buddie but reward them with Tommy main for…whatever it is they’re doing.

They think we hacked Lou and all we did is post a weird tweet and block a bunch of people but yet we hacked ALL OF DISNEY for one deleted scene.

Y’all were just a bunch of nerds posting our opinions on the internet calm down 😂

Though I suppose if your first experience in fandom is the utter chaos that happened because of Lou’s cameos you might come away with an inflated sense of power.

Well, urban legend at my university used to say that once we finish the degree (I have a bachelor's in computer science) we enter a worldwide low-level threat watchlist, so maybe I am dangerous? oaksoaksokaosk (this is a joke, I mean, there is talk about the watchlist but I am one of millions of computer scientists on the planet, doubt is that serious)

But seriously, the hypocrisy of it all. If the internet craziness was going to end up in punishment, they would punish both sides and like, I don't know, get rid of Tommy and make Buck end up with groovyheels because she showed up at the station with a 6-year-old with Buck's birthmark or whatever.

We are somehow hacking instagrams, and twitters, and all of Disney for a fucking show. Like, what? Look, I love the show and I want canon buddie, but I'm not gonna risk going to actual prison because of it. Think for 2 seconds, maybe? We are all a bunch of nobodies with internet access yelling at the void. We get no say on anything. We have no power. None.

The cameos gave them this idea that they could manipulate canon at their will, but Lou has no power either. He's not a writer. No one here has any control over anything. But somehow now we are hacking one of the most powerful corporations on the planet for a ship war while Ryan takes over control of the show with the power of his abs? Be fucking for real.

[9leaguesofmirrors]

The Pain:Pleasure Ratio (a Ross Gaines x Joseph Lisgoe fanfic)

I wanted to talk a bit about this one, you don't have to read it, I'm just oddly passionate about this fic hehe This started off as just another smutfic where they like pain, but then I decided that I wanted to do something that was more like a deep-dive into the Gainsgoe dynamic

Though I'm taking this in a slightly different direction to my other fics, I really hope you guys like it!

CONTENT WARNINGS: This fic does NOT intentionally romanticise abuse. The characters involved are a highly unconventional pairing, and the threats/violent content is completely consensual

The Pain:Pleasure Ratio contains mentions of blood, bruising, rough sex and threatening language

Pain (noun): A highly unpleasant physical sensation caused by illness or injury

Pleasure (noun): A feeling of happy satisfaction and enjoyment

Two different concepts in a head-in collision

*********************************************

Ross can tell whenever his partner needed an outlet, usually because it results in his back being slammed against the nearest surface: sometimes a wall or a door, other times a table or kitchen counter. The sting in his back creeping around his body until it feels like fizzing and bubbling. There's no talking, no asking questions, just the aggressive press of mouths and forceful, deliberate hands

This sort of contact is bruising, literally and metaphorically, and the sensations linger where their skin meets. Lisgoe doesn't just use his fingers, but his nails too. The claw, scratch and pull of them is prominent on every fibre of Ross' body and he can't stop his back from arching for them

A hand reaches Ross' throat and he's slammed back again, their eyes meeting as their breathing synchronise

"Need this..." Lisgoe's voice is coarse and breathy "fuck... need you..."

"Need me?" A smirk forms on Ross' lips "How badly, Joseph?"

"Been thinking about this all day." The hand around his throat tightens slightly "Went fucking mad thinking about how your body's gonna look when I'm done. You'll think your nerves are on fucking fire, that's how much I'm gonna put you through."

Lisgoe has never been a gentle man, Ross knows that. He supposes he should also know that these were threats. Well, if anyone heard, they'd tell him they were threats. And he supposes that's how they sounded, but they aren't. They both know what will happen if either of them made a serious threat. Because of that, Ross knows there was no harm in answering back

"You wouldn't do anything to me," his tone drips with mockery "you're obsessed with me. I know full-well you couldn't bring yourself to hurt me."

"You mouthy little fuck." Lisgoe snarls "I could squeeze every. Last. Drop. Of breath out of you until all you can do is scream and beg." Finally, he takes off his hand to tear off the shirt Ross was wearing, dragging his nails down his torso "See this shite? It's mine. My own little canvas. And I'm gonna do whatever the fuck I want with it."

The dares, the danger: from an outsider's perspective, it's something volatile. A fire that needs water before it got out of hand. It's true, there's a blazing heat between them that seems to crash and collide, but there's also a mutuality. Whatever one gives, the other gives back. Likewise, neither gives what they couldn't take. It's unruly, and the inferno would've destroyed anyone else, but they can easily sit in amongst the flames without feeling suffocated by the smoke

They're protected by a simple, mutual, agreement - the limits are there to be pushed, not trampled

And Joseph Lisgoe? Well, he likes the infliction of pain

It's pretty simple to understand. He likes leaving his mark in as many ways as possible. Teeth sink into collarbones, hands grip so tightly to wrists and hips that they bruise a deep red, nails burrow and scratch deep into skin and produce little red beads

... OK, so maybe it isn't that simple. Lisgoe doesn't get his kicks in hurting Ross, it's the look on his partner's face. That mix of agony and pure euphoria, like somehow the pain was breaking through whatever barriers he'd built up, the image of a clean-up and respectable man being shattered - all because of him

And likewise, it isn't the pain that Ross likes, not entirely. But Lisgoe knows exactly what to say and how to say it in order to drive him crazy. The words leaving his mouth should been disgusting, they'd have disgust anyone else, but when Lisgoe coarsely whispers "that's it, bleed for me like a good boy" as his tongue drags up the trail of scarlet liquid he'd just created, or when Ross overhears the secret murmur of "does that hurt? Tell me how much it hurts" after his collarbone and neck have been painted with teeth marks and hickeys, it's clear that Ross is more than a little swayed by Lisgoe's voice

However, what he loves more was the side that few people saw. The give and the take. The mutuality. The metaphorical and physical switching of roles

There was something about seeing someone as commanding as Lisgoe up against the wall, panting softly with an excited smile on his face that made Ross think two things at the same time:

God, he's beautiful like this

I want to break him like a China doll

He watches as Lisgoe looks up at him through his eyelashes, breath escaping him in shallow puffs, his smile melting into a more playful smirk

"Be gentle with me," He whispers in a tone that could easily be read as mocking - probably because it was "won't you, Ross?"

"Do you want me to be?"

They both laugh, knowing damn well what the answer is

"Fuck no."

People don't know about this side of them. All they see is opposition, the testing of patience and the pushes to the edge. The marks on their bodies where the other had been, the poison in their words

What they never see, however, is the way they wait for each other's poisoned tongue with a mouth full of antidote, leaving no pain and keeping the delightful feeling of whirring and twisting in their guts. They don't see the way that the constant competition and battle stokes a fire within them that they long to feel dragging against their skin. They don't understand that, with every chunk of the other they hold in their hands, in their nails, in their jaws, it feels like too much and not enough. Nobody understands how desperately they want to consume the very essence of the other, to keep everything that makes the other theirs bound so tightly to them that there was no wedge that could separate them and no knife that could severe them

They want the pain, the pleasure and every single way those two opposing forces intertwine. That's just them. Messy, unorthodox and deadly. Sick-minded and volatile

However...

"You alright?"

... in the midst of this...

"Just need to breathe..."

... there's something else...

"Ross?"

"Hm?"

"You're staring at me."

... reserved only for them

"Because you look nice."

"Piss off with that sappy shite!"

"You don't believe me?"

"... Nobody calls me nice."

"Well, I am."

Nobody needs to see that

"Ross?"

"What is it?"

"... You're so fucking pretty."

[frostgears]

We Who Are Far From Home, ch. 6: Bree 4

Bree found herself staring over another railing. Instead of a frigid ocean, this one kept her from a two-kilometer drop. But oh, the view…

The sun rose behind her, glinting gold off a chain of mountain lakes and glowing through snowpack, leaving shadowed forested valleys alone with a promise of deeper greens later in the day. Worth protecting, she thought, and then, is this bit even mine? Nobody had yet gone to the trouble of painting red lines on the ground visible from airships. She couldn't tell Pact from Kingdom from unaligned from wilderness up here.

"Can't believe you used to be a little bratty underclasswoman," Emmerline said from behind her.

Bree turned, arranged her face in an approximation of an actual smile instead of an unsettling grin. "I was never a brat," she responded. "Best behavior at all times. Scholarship to maintain."

"Sure you were. Always got the last word in lecture and the first move on the dance floor. I was just thinking that you look so fucking dignified now."

"Hah. You want to know something horrifying that I picked up from the Fist?"

"You had me at 'horrifying'," Emmerline said.

"Ghoul."

Emmerline grinned, warmly, invitingly, a grin sculpted by a dozen generations of posh ancestry to produce one dangerously handsome woman. "Spill it," she said.

"You know they're calling me 'Bree the Blessed' now?"

"Get out. The Fist is?"

"They are. I'm sure they didn't invent it. The Fist idiot reading off the charges said 'commonly known as Bree the Blessed' right before they announced they were there to kill me."

"Well, that's a step up from 'Bree the Bodiless'. Which was never true anyway! You have a body."

"Mmm, yeah," Bree said, "that's what's got me brooding off the port bow of the Eternal Blue, as it happens. It's… I'm… I don't know. I think I'm starting to like it."

"We should all be so lucky,"

"I'm serious!"

"So am I. I don't get the problem."

"The body comes with certain habits. Or thoughts. You said 'dignified', right?"

"Yes, and I also said you used to be a huge brat. Couldn't go five minutes without starting something. Now you seem, I don't know, calmer. You've been hanging out at the bow for hours now, doing what, watching the clouds and thinking deep thoughts? Plus you look like you were born to have that cloak flap dramatically in the breeze. Well. Not born, I suppose. But it suits you either way."

"Em, this isn't me! I'm not sure what is me and what's the doll body and what's from the compulsions and constraints and bindings it was crafted with."

"You sure you didn't just grow up a bit?"

Bree tensed all of her frame actuators in frustration.

"I'd be more sure if I hadn't helped Coda build a few dozen like it with the same service compulsions. Mostly in the parts I can't swap out."

"Ah."

"I can practically feel the need to be a good helpful little… servant," she said, stopping "maid" just before it escaped her voice box. "And I don't know how far it extends! None of the dolls would ever have serious magic, power, allies, all the things I have, so I have no idea what'd happen if one got them! Am I only running around protecting the Kingdom because a bunch of control spells are woven into the pretty little reliquary where my brain should be? Or because that damned archon laid something even worse on it?"

Emmerline tilted her head, appraising.

"Bree. Darling. Two things. One: I'm under no such compulsions. I tracked you down, remember, after you saved my life? I'm here of my own free will." Emmerline held up a finger, then held up another. "So's Nost."

"Please. The way she looks at me. The things I've done to her—"

"It's a small airship. I've heard them. Has one of them been talking? Because I've had more than a few chats with her while waiting for your return. As obviously submissive as she is, Bree, as unassuming and as self-effacing as she can be, it's easy to forget that she's older and more experienced than either of us. She's been with good and bad partners, she's completely capable of choosing for herself. Oh, she also wants your body, but that's just her being an artificer."

"What about Zai?"

"Hmm, yes, Zai," Emmerline put up a third finger, furrowed her brow. "I have no idea. Is she here because she believes in you enough to go rogue, or is she the king's loyal servant, ready to stab us in our backs the instant we try something that Royal Intelligence wouldn't like? Sorry. Can't illuminate the bottom of that swamp," she said cheerily. "But that brings me to my second point: Zai's here and making herself useful because you started a fight with one of the great powers of the world, and by some measures, you are winning. How many of your dolls went and did that?"

Bree laughed, and turned from the rail. "Okay. Okay. Just me, so far. You might have a point."

"And you might still be a dramatic brat. Just a successful one. Stop questioning why everything, focus on how and when and where and what next and keeping the demon-fuckers in the Pact busy. Keep doing that and I'll back you up with all I've got."

"I'm not your underclasswoman any more, Em, I didn't even graduate. And we're a long way from the Academy now."

"Eh. Close enough. We Academy girls gotta stick together."

She offered a hand. Bree took it. Em pulled her, with some effort, into a hug.

"Did Zai put you up to this?" Bree said softly into Emmerline's ear.

"She only said you were moping near the bow."

"Not moping. Just… being. Promise."

"She did, however, have a suggestion for our next port of call."

---

"So you were able to get something out of those letters!" Bree cheered. "Nice. Thought our last excursion before I went north had been a bust."

"She helped," Zai said, jerking her head in Emmerline's direction.

"I recognized a phrase, that's all. Our pet spook had the first few words of the key worked out, and I just happened to remember the epigraph of 'Four Flowers on the Wind'. Funny that they used a Kingdom novel to key their code."

"You saved me at least a week, on that letter alone. And the reason they used a Kingdom novel is because it'd look strange to be caught with Pact literature. Now, the letter named a target for the squad you took it off two months ago, and Bree, you left them unable to exfiltrate and report?"

Bree nodded. "I did ask. Same as always. One chance, put your weapons down, walk away. No takers."

"I envy your ability to make the offer," Zai said suddenly. "You're strong, you can give them that one chance, knowing they'll almost certainly not take it. I'm weak, I fear giving my enemies anything, and I'll kill them before I offer them the chance to kill me." The spy had a pained expression.

"You wouldn't want to be a doll, Zai," Bree said. "Or would you? I'm not sure I'd recommend it."

The spy shook her head, her hair-bun wobbling side to side. "I think not. I've honed my own body; it does what I need." She pursed her lips briefly. "For now. Anyway, the letter: they're meant to converge three heavy squads at the Turquoise flower show, and the Pact noble Marchioness Miriya of Rostalpan is to be executed by the Fist, for the crime of collaboration with the Kingdom, in front of all the mingling aristos from both sides. Apparently Miriya loves flowers. She'd be an example for any other aspiring collaborators: don't even think about the other side of the fence."

"Is she a collaborator?"

"Not sure. Doesn't matter. We have the means and opportunity to visit Turquoise, and look like we're meant to be there right up until we counter-ambush the Fist."

"Miriya. Miriya," Bree said. "Heard that name before, I think. What do you know about her, Zai? Em?"

"Rostalpan is a poor march and house by the standards of human Pact nobility. No demonic patronage. That's all the Service knew when I left," the spy said, "a two-line entry in the Big Book. Didn't rate anything in the Little Book."

"Artist," Emmerline chimed in. "Landscapes. Competent, not brilliant, unless she's evolved spectacularly."

"You know her?" Bree asked. "Would she recognize you?"

"Not likely, since this was way back during the last peace treaty. My father took me to the cultural exchange. Said the peace would be no doubt over soon, but that I should learn what I could."

"And that was what you took away?" Zai asked.

"I was thirteen. What fine points of international politics do you remember from when you were thirteen?"

"At thirteen? I was in His Majesty's Reformatory for Wayward Youths for the crime of frightening a dauphin's horse with my screams after he ran me down in the street, maimed my brother, and broke my leg."

"Gods, you never said! And you're on our side?"

"What side?" Zai shrugged. "That dauphin will get his someday. Preferably slowly. The rest of you parasites will give up their riches or die. Meanwhile, I don't want to see my neighbors die to war and then demons than you, or the doll. So we work together, yes?"

Emmerline stared. She winced. She opened her mouth, closed it again. Then, "Yes," she said, and stuck out a hand.

"Right." Zai clasped it briefly, let go. "Bree, do you need help reconfiguring yourself? Should we go fetch Nost?"

"Oh good, you haven't forgotten about 'the doll'. Yes, please," Bree said, "it's much faster that way. But full briefing first. I don't think she's going to like it."

---

"So, Zai, you're serious about this? You want to have Em make an appearance at this resort town? To do what?"

"Turquoise is at a triple boundary between the Kingdom, the Pact, and the Gulf of Pearls. Neutral. Full of aristos from both sides, on vacation and behaving badly. We're going to visit to catch the famous yearly flower show and cozy up to this Marchioness before the Crimson Fist does. Em is once again Lady Emmerline Dupree, second daughter of House Dupree, still on her increasingly lengthy gap year between Academy graduation and royal service. Bree and I are her servants."

"This is going to burn Em," Nost said.

"Had to happen sometime," Emmerline snorted. "Last chance to clean out the family coffers, raid the closets, and steal the silverware. Least it's for a good cause."

"All right. What about me?"

"You're known to too many Pact security elements. You stay with the ship, as backup."

"And Bree isn't known?" Nost asked. "They have a whole list of epithets for her."

"Not… in my old body," Bree said, looking to Zai, who nodded.

"Her old body?" Nost blanched. "As in… no, you said the archon took that one. Which means… No. No no no. Bree, you can't. Everything we've built together, you won't have it!"

Bree grinned. Her grin left some humanity to be desired. Someone had told her that it never reached her eyes, given that even her current face didn't have the fine articulation she'd need to match human skin. It also displayed far too many teeth, which she'd added an extra row of, just because. Pity the teeth would need to stay with this head.

"Hey," she said, "Originally? I was literally 'maid' for the job. Get it?"

---

prev: We Who Are Far From Home, ch. 5: Bree 3

next: We Who Are Far From Home, ch. 7: Bree 5

[sysmedsaresexist]

Would you explain the driving/DID thing more? I thought that supposed law as A. In the UK and B. Not even in law.

It's an exceptionally dumb thing to try and legislate anyway. Dissociation can happen to anyone, and accidents from people zoning out and not paying attention happen literally all the time. Texting and driving has killed infinitely more people than a dissociated system ever has, and yet that law does nothing to actually curb that.

Your comments sound like you support that kind of thing and I sure hope I'm just misreading that.

Hi! I'm not 100% sure I understand-- I think I do, but if I misinterpreted, let me know!

Please note that this doesn't even scratch the surface of these topics. This entire thing needs a BOOK to go over every little aspect. That said, my response is going to very topical, but I hope it still answers the question. I also get rambly, but when don't I?

To my knowledge, the original driving ban was actually in relation to autism, not CDDs, and nothing has ever come into place from a legal standpoint-- this includes my knowledge of the UK, US, and CDN laws. The same is also true of gender affirming care-- it was a discussion about autism several years ago. I actually made a post where I even found the person who started the CDD rumor, I'll see if I can find that post.

Now, this doesn't touch on the current climate around trans rights (especially minors' rights), because the states are having a fucking... moment, over there that sort of overlaps with this conversation but not specifically enough to get into, just pointing out that I understand things aren't exactly peachy across the world.

And that's important.

Things aren't perfect.

I admit that a lot of sectors need some serious reform and work, but we need to talk about real issues, not exaggerated ones. We can make things better for people with physical and mental health issues, but there's zero point in arguing about things that aren't actually real or happening.

I support the current safeguards in place-- doctors treating each person for their unique issues and symptoms. Personalized approaches.

I'm going to assume you're either UK or US, so for example...

Here's info on UK guidelines. You can see that, as I stated, it's about symptoms, not specific diagnoses. It also lists what's required for someone to be able to drive, and it's... really not that bad? 3 months symptom free? I see no issues with the way it's laid out. You've probably already passed the 3 month mark before this ever matters.

Canada works like the UK. The US has very similar stipulations, but doesn't list it as nicely. The general rule is that if you're at risk of ever not driving safely, check yes. "Not driving safely," is defined very similarly to the screenshots-- recent flareups or episodes, risk of falling asleep, seizures, loss of awareness or conscious control, same kind of things.

I support this. If someone is experiencing symptoms that would make driving dangerous, why would I not? I've been in too many accidents and like I said, I already lost my father.

The idea that you'll automatically lose your license, or not be able to get your license, is just wrong, and it's always anti psych people who say it. And like, pwCDDs can't get a job? Better tell that to all the VERY real doctors diagnosed with DID and actively working as clinical therapists. Guess they didn't get the memo.

A diagnosis will not stop you from doing ANYTHING. A lack of knowledge about your rights will.

No one should ever be afraid of being diagnosed or getting help. I am so angry at people that present a false idea of what happens. Like instead of lying and saying we're all going to lose our licenses, just teach people what they need to do and who to contact to sort licensing issues out. Let's focus on holding doctors accountable and ensuring they're making fair decisions on these things.

We all know that doctors aren't always fair, and it's not necessarily the system's fault. As patients and clients, it's our job to understand our own rights (yes, it is our job, unfair as it may be and as much hand holding as you might expect). No one is saying that there aren't shit doctors that will abuse their power. Unless we, as patients, understand our rights, no one else will stop that doctor from doing it to someone else. The law already backs us, it's holding them accountable and pointing out when the laws aren't clear enough. We can have our licenses, we should be promoting awareness of rights and responsibilities of the government, doctors, and patients.

And guys, I know it can be inconvenient, but... if you're not supposed to be driving, just don't.

My dad was not supposed to be driving. In fact, he was in a treatment center ACTIVELY RECEIVING TREATMENT, and was allowed to check himself out. That same night, he got behind the wheel, and he wasn't the only one who died.

In this way, I agree with you. Laws don't make a difference. Literally none. He would have driven that night with or without a license. It's up to us, as people, patients, and family members, to be honest about our symptoms and abilities, inconvenient or not, and we pray to God that someone gets pulled over with a revocation flag on file, rather than cops showing up to an accident that's already happened.

But no one will be fucking honest if people keep lying about how "dangerous" being diagnosed with something is.

Losing your license is a very small risk compared to the benefits (and no, it's not gone forever), and knowing your rights is the best thing you can do for everyone, yourself included.

Know your rights, know how to exercise them.