#and that a lot of you are filling in the gaps without whatever you want and making assumptions based on those things :

[c0mbatchameleon]

hi anna my love would you mind telling us what the possession au is about 🥺🤲🏼💗

LUNEEE ABSOLUTELY ABSOFRUITLY I CAN.

Ok so the tldr here is James is a demon that possesses reg. This all came from a drunk 3am note in my phone about the “intimacy of literally inhabiting the same body, to become a singular noun; my thoughts are yours now, you don’t even know where you end and I begin, your soul would feel so empty without me here to fill in all the gaps” etc etc. Right ok. Long ramblings below, be warned.

So picture regulus, our resident high-strung control freak who has lived as a puppet on a string at the whims of his family ever since he was a teenager and they began staging him to join / eventually take over their major capitalist conglomerate empire or whatever. Iffy on the details still but there’s a lot of politics involved. Think like the richest of the rich in the world and they want to keep their family on the top—regulus is their vessel to do so.

And the thing is, he goes above and beyond. He gave up on trying to escape the life he’s been (to him) imprisoned in a long time ago, and his (perceived) lack of control and agency has only driven him to climb higher, hungry for even more disgusting amounts of wealth and power, fuck everyone else, he wants to be at the fucking top, and maybe then he’ll be free. He’s terrible and he’s miserable and he’s everything they wanted him to be, he feels like a slave to time and to the life that was carved out for him, and it manifests in him exerting extreme amounts of control over the one thing he can have some semblance of control over, which is his own body.

(slight tw for disordered / obsessive eating / body habits?)

Picture him scheduling his days down to the minute. He wakes up at 5:30am everyday after getting the exact amount of sleep to complete five rem cycles, he has a strict workout regimen every day perfectly planned out for the week, meals all the same mapped out down to the calorie. You’d think he’s in the army. His skincare routine puts patrick bateman to shame. He jerks off once a week cuz he thinks it has health benefits or keeps him sharp or something (if you’ve watched The End of the Fucking World I’m pretty sure this is where my brain subconsciously picked this from) and it’s mechanical and he’s dead in the eyes and he knows it will take him exactly 5 minutes and 8 seconds to come.

And then. Suddenly. He’s having weird dreams about some man he doesn’t know and they’re making him feel things when he has specifically trained his body to NOT feel things and what’s happening to him? And then dreams become daydreams. And then he’s losing time. HES LOSING TIME. Which is literally his worst nightmare. It’s making him fuckinf spiral, his routines are being thrown off, the small semblance of control is slipping, so he’s already at his wits fucking end when a goddamn voice in his head starts talking to him. Like that’ll do it.

But then the voice, the man, the figure from his dreams, James, is telling him to relax. Telling him you’re so wound up. I can feel it, you know? How tired you are. It’s okay baby, let me take the reins for the day. You just have to sit back up in that head of yours—of ours—and let it all turn to static for a bit. Don’t worry. I’ll give you your body back tonight. Don’t you trust me? Wouldn’t it feel good to just.. let go for a bit?

And eventually regulus discovers that it DOES feel good. He fucking loves it. He gives up control willingly for the first time, he lets James do it all for him, to move him around like a puppet in the most literal sense but it’s different from his family, from everyone else. It’s freeing.

and it’s like this weird corruption-anticorruption thing because yes james is influencing him and planting thoughts in his head and literally taking over his body at points but it’s all to make him do…kinda good things? “Fuck the company, don’t show up today, let’s go to the coast like you used to as a kid,” “don’t pick up the phone, I know you’ve never declined your mother’s call before, but just try. Don’t you feel powerful?” Until eventually reg is sabotaging the company, his family, he’s basically suicide-bombing the stock market, he’s giving all his money away, etc etc. he’s more free than he’s ever felt in his life and to the outside world he looks absolutely insane and, shit, maybe he is, but it feels fucking amazing.

I just love the thought of James’ more mundane influence on him too. He’s craving hot Cheetos for the first time in his life and absolutely appalled and confused and James is like “shit my bad I was thinking abt them.” James has him smoke weed for the first time (the scene I have planned for this……) and he has to take over to roll the joint for him. Why the fuck is reg enjoying abba music? But also—why the fuck is a demon enjoying abba music?

I’ve rambled way too much so I’ll reign it in there. Lots of details subject to change, but this is basically all I’m thinking abt these days.

#lovely lovely lune thank you for indulging me #I fear this response got away from me. forgive me—I’ve been possessed once again #fic / possession au #lune tag #mail #jegulus #jegulus fic #regulus black #james potter

[jennaispunk]

A Symptom of Being Human

Summary: An unlikely connection forms between Joel and a new resident of Jackson. (sorry I suck at summaries)

Word Count: 2.6k

Rating: T

Pairing: Joel Miller x OFC (Maggie)

Warnings: fluff, slight age gap (Joel is 50ish, OFC is 40ish), grief, loss of spouse, loss of child, panic attacks, mild violence, allusions to SA but no specific details, possible friends to something more, soft!Joel, please let me know if I forgot anything.

Notes: This fic was inspired by 'A Symptom of Being Human' by Shinedown. When I first heard this song, the idea for this story immediately popped into my head. This could become a series if it doesn't flop.

Thank you @fallingforthearch for being my #1 fan and my biggest supporter. I would have never had the courage to put my writing out there without you.

dividers and banners by @saradika-graphics

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Brian promised they’d be safe. They were traveling in a group, not going far. Maggie begged him to stay at the settlement, but the promise of something better for Aiden had made her relent.

The sounds of Brian’s screams still rang in her ears. The ground scattered with the lifeless bodies of their traveling companions; husbands, wives, and children, all just wanting something a little better from this existence.

Her furious struggles elicited laughs from her captors.

“She’s a feisty one, Ty. Gonna be a lot of fun breakin’ ‘er down.”

The smell of his rotten breath filled her nostrils, and she choked back the bile in her throat. His grimy hand slid up her side, roughly groping her breast.

The one called Ty looked over at her as he stood over the limp body of her husband. His steely blue eyes pierced through her, and she froze, her blood running cold.

“Please,” she sobbed. “I’ll do whatever you want; just give me back my son.”

Ty slowly sauntered over to her, tilting her chin so she had to meet his gaze. The cruelty in his eyes betrayed the tenderness of his touch.

“Shhh…” His dirty thumb wiped the tears from her cheek, leaving a streak of dirt in its wake. “You’ll do whatever I want, anyway. You don’t got a choice, darlin’.”

Aiden screamed, struggling in vain against the arms that held him. Her heart shattered at the sight of his tear stained face.

“Please, he’s just a boy.” She begged. “He won’t be any trouble for you, I swear.”

Ty clicked his tongue, shaking his head slowly.

“That boy’s got fight in him, like his daddy.” He drawled. “Only a matter a time ‘fore he tries somethin’ ta save his pretty little mama. Can’t have that.”

A wicked smile formed on his thin lips. “B’sides…he’d be just another mouth ta feed.”

Ty nodded to his companion restraining Aiden.

“No!” She knew what that meant. She kicked and screamed wildly, her shoulder joints aching as she struggled to get to the only thing that mattered. She couldn’t let them harm him. She had to protect him at all costs; it was her job. A sharp backhand to her face caused her head to spin.

She watched helplessly through blurry eyes as a shot rang out, and her son…her baby, crumpled to the ground. Her screams filled the air as she thrashed and spit at her captors. Her entire world was lying on the ground in front of her. She wanted them to kill her, too; she had nothing left.

The last thing she remembered was the blinding pain as the butt of a handgun connected with her temple.

Maggie’s eyes shot open, shooting upright in her bed. Her chest heaved, the sound of that gunshot still rang in her head as if it had just happened moments ago and not over a year ago. Her eyes darted to the small clock on the bedside stand… 5:06 AM. She squeezed her eyes closed; the chance of going back to sleep was lost.

Six hours of uninterrupted sleep- that had to be a record. It had been ages since she slept that long without waking. She rolled herself out of bed, peeling her sweat soaked t-shirt from her body as she padded toward the bathroom. The worn hardwood floor creaked, announcing to the empty house that she was awake.

She turned the faucet to the hottest setting and stepped under the water. Closing her eyes, she let the scorching water beat down upon her. She hoped it would wash away her memories, but she knew better.

The sun was just coming over the horizon as she approached the dining hall doors. She made this trip every day for the last three months, and it hadn’t gotten easier. She took a few deep breaths in front of the faded double doors, her mask firmly in place, a friendly smile that told the world she was okay. Some of her neighbors knew her story…at least the parts she shared with Tommy and Eugene when they found her in the woods, but she never shared the full story with anyone. Speaking the words aloud would make it all too real, and she didn’t want any pity.

The clanking of dishes and silverware filled the dining hall, along with the low hum of conversation. Smiling at her neighbors, she made her way through the hall to grab some food and some much needed coffee. She always sat alone, needing the time to collect her thoughts and prepare for the day. A familiar figure appeared in her periphery; he sat alone, too….always alone. He had a story, too. Tommy had said as much when she first arrived in Jackson, but he didn’t elaborate. She noticed the way he glanced at her from time to time, but he never spoke. Her step faltered slightly as if she was going to break the ice, but she kept moving past him.

Joel watched her as she walked past, taking the same seat by the window every morning. He saw how she smiled at everyone and pretended to be okay, but he knew she wasn’t. He knew that look in her eye…. he’d seen it in his own so many times. The look of loss…of heartbreak and misery. She’d lost something, too. She may think no one noticed…but he did. He wanted to say something to her….anything to let her know he understood, but the words stuck in his throat. He’d never been good at letting people in.

The air in the barn was surprisingly stuffy for this time of year, and the earthy smell of dirt and hay surrounded her. Despite the stuffiness, she found solace in the scents and sounds of the barn. It brought her peace; she could focus here. She didn’t have to be anything… didn’t have to be happy or smile. The animals understood.

Willow, the chestnut mare, blustered and pranced restlessly around her stall. Maggie brushed a stray lock of her long hair off her damp forehead and reached out to pat Willow’s shoulder over the stall door.

“I know, mama.” She cooed. “The last few days are the hardest, but once you see that little baby you made, it’ll all be worth it.”

She remembered how it felt when she was pregnant with Aiden. How those last few days were uncomfortable, and she struggled to sleep. The mare nudged her hand in silent commiseration. Maggie smiled at her and rubbed Willow’s nose.

“I’ll be here with you when it’s time…make sure you and the baby are alright.”

Joel watched silently as she spoke to the mare. She was so different here…much different than when she was in the dining hall or slinging drinks at the Tipsy Bison. He wondered if she ever slept. It seemed like she had her hands in everything here in Jackson…tending the garden and the animals and bartending at night. He understood the need to keep busy, to drown out the pain and the failure.

The longer he watched, the more guilty he felt. He shouldn’t be intruding like this, watching her like some creep. He backed away slowly, not wanting to interrupt her private moment. The heel of his work boot connected with a bucket, and the clank reverberated through the barn.

Her eyes snapped up, focusing on Joel. How long had he been there? What had he heard?

His cheeks flushed with embarrassment at being caught eavesdropping.

“Sorry…I…didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s okay. I’m usually not this jumpy.”

She was lying through her teeth, hoping he couldn’t tell. Her heart pounded so loudly she could hardly hear him speak.

Joel smiled sheepishly. He knew how badly he scared her and felt terrible for it. He cleared his throat and took a small step forward. Maybe this was his chance to connect with someone again.

“It’s Maggie, right?” He asked. “I’m-“

“I know who you are.” She winced at the sharpness of her tone.

“Right.” He sighed a little too loudly and dragged a hand through his peppered hair. He cursed himself for being so stupid; of course she knew he was. His brother was just about the only person she had a conversation with that lasted more than a few minutes.

“Is everything alright with the mare?”

He was desperate to change the subject, to get the conversation back on track.

“Willow? No, she’s fine. I was just checking in on her.” Her hand dropped to her lower abdomen, instinctively covering her womb, her eyes tender. “The last few days before giving birth can be pretty uncomfortable.”

Joel’s eyebrow twitched. She’d lost a child, too. He knew that agony all too well. The unbelievable pain and darkness that engulfs you, pulling you down into a pit of emptiness that leaves you with nothing but a gaping hole where your heart should be.

Her face went slack. She’d always been so careful about keeping details of her past close to her vest. She didn’t want pity; she just wanted to feel normal.  

Joel’s eyes softened as they stared at each other, an unspoken conversation between two people with the worst thing in common.

Even twenty-plus years later, it still hurt. It hurt to think about what Sarah would have grown up to be if she’d had the chance, if it hadn’t been stolen from her…if he wouldn’t have failed her. Those moments that she would never have played in his mind… her first day of college… her wedding day… the birth of her first child, his grandchild—his hands clenched into fists as his eyes misted.

He’d never had anyone to share that pain with, not even Tommy. Maria had lost a child, too, but there was no chance of the two of them talking about it; she wasn’t exactly his biggest fan, even after all this time.

He opened his mouth to speak, but the words caught in his throat. The fear of taking that first step kept them from escaping. 

“Come on, Joel. We gotta go, Eugene’s waitin’ on us.”

Tommy’s voice echoed through the barn. Joel and Maggie averted their gazes from each other. His hand flew to the back of his neck, while she fidgeted with the hem of her shirt.

Tommy’s eyebrows raised and he chuckled under his breath.

“Hey, Sparky.” He drawled, his Texas accent more pronounced than usual. “You’re comin’ to the Spring Fling picnic, right?”

Maggie cleared her throat, forcing herself to smile as her heart hammered in her chest. They had been so close to something… something she’d wanted for so long but had been afraid to let herself wish for… understanding. Had she found a kindred spirit in Joel? She saw it in his eyes; he understood. He knew her pain because he felt it, too.

“Yeah, wouldn’t miss it.”

“Good. I know Maria’ll be real happy to have ya there.” Tommy smiled and clapped Joel on the shoulder before turning and heading out of the barn.

Joel shoved his hands in his pockets. The toe of his boot scuffed the ground before he looked up at her once more. He desperately wanted to say something… anything, but his words evaded him—a grown-ass man, tongue-tied like some goddamn teenage boy. The corner of his mouth twitched into a sheepish smile. He turned on his heel and walked away without looking back.

The chaos of the picnic made things seem almost normal: the sounds of children laughing and playing, the smell of burgers on the grill, and the warmth of the sun on her skin. It all made it easier to pretend that she was okay.

Joel sat silently across from her on the picnic table while Maria, bouncing her toddler on her lap, chatted about the upcoming improvements the council was making to the town.

A blood-curdling scream broke through the din, and everyone scrambled to their feet. She didn’t think; she instinctively ran with the group. She covered her mouth as she saw a little boy lying on the ground, bloodied, and screaming for his mother.

Maggie’s chest heaved, struggling to get air into her lungs. Her heart pounded like it was going to explode out of her chest. The edges of her vision went black as she was immediately pulled back in time. That little boy's voice was Aiden’s… the blood was Aiden’s. She was back in that field, seeing her little boy on the ground dying before her eyes, and she was powerless to stop it once again. She squeezed her eyes closed, clutching her chest as she leaned back against the brick wall.

Joel caught her movements out of the corner of his eye as the chaos swirled around them. He knew what was happening and was at her side in moments.

“Hey.” He gently took her by the elbow. “Just breathe, okay? In through your nose and out through your mouth.”

He’d been through this himself; he knew exactly what she felt.

Each breath felt like lava had been poured down her throat. A burning concoction seeping into her lungs making each breath more difficult than the last. Tears slowly trickled down her cheeks as her muscles clenched keeping her frozen in this hell, not that she could escape it if she tried.

“That’s it, sweetheart…just like that.” His voice was calm and soothing. He could feel her spiraling, and he grabbed her cheeks. “You’re alright. Just focus on me. Look at me.”

She forced her eyes to open to see his soft and tender chocolate brown eyes in front of her, a warm, reassuring smile on his face. His words echoed in her ears. ‘Focus on me. Look at me.’ Her eyes traced the lines of his face. The scent of pine and canvas filled her nostrils, a scent she would forever associate with him.

“I’ve got you. You’re in Jackson…you’re safe.”

Reality slowly settled in. Her chest began to loosen, each breath a little less torturous than the last. The images in her mind slowly dissolved to reveal the tangible world, the feel of his hands on her face, the gentle breeze fluttering the streamers on the picnic tables.

“Good girl…just keep breathin’.”

His large hands cupped her cheeks as his calloused thumb brushed her soft cheek absentmindedly.

“Feeling better?”

Maggie nodded slowly, letting out a shaky breath. She’d never had a panic attack so intense before. Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment and then opened again.

“Thanks.” A bashful smile teased at her lips. “How?...”

“Happened to me before, too.” He chuckled softly, scratching at the salt and pepper scruff on his cheek. “But that’s a story for another time.”

He knew he could share that story with her one day; she would understand. There was a long-forgotten feeling in his chest. He wanted to connect with someone for the first time in a very long time.  

Her body went slack against the brick wall; her muscles tingled from the exertion. The nervous and excited chatter of everyone around her filled her ears.

“I think you’ve had enough excitement for one day. Would it be alright if I walked you home?”

“Sure, I’d like that.”

He wrapped a protective arm around her, guiding her away from the picnic. She sank into his warmth, her head cradled perfectly into his shoulder. She never thought Joel Miller would be the one she connected with. This might be an unlikely friendship, born of mutual hurt and pain, but it felt right. She wouldn’t ask him for his story now; she would be patient. For now, she would be content with this.

#a symptom of being human #joel miller #f!oc #fluff #joel miller fanfiction

[delizbin]

Personal take but totally inspired by the ff Fine Line by the amazing @firstdragonlady

#this is not canon but my mind kept running so… yeah #when I say I’m obsessed with some fanfic I’m not kidding #like… I fully fantasize about what’s happening next it’s insane #i just love it so so so much I hope it’s fine if I took a personal interpretation #fine line #whatever #they’re cool #hayffie fanart #hayffie #haymitch x effie #high school au #and it’s only 7/75 chapters in. I’m already at this point NOW . I can not imagine when we’ll reach around 35 what will happen #I’ll make a whole damn movie about it idk #why is he without tshirt? idk I wanted to draw him half naked that’s it don’t assume anything #just to flex the stomack scar I guess #yeah I just need these two to kiss already but I also love the slow burn so #my mind just has to fill in the gaps you know #why so many tags today idk #i have a lot of things to say i guess #or I just like to talk randomly #i don’t even have a proper caption I just want to screem on a wall

[rogueddie]

You know, it's heart shattering that war in Ukraine is almost 2 years and there is no single repost in your blog on that matter...

And the problem is that ordinary citizens of other countries are not aware of the horrors of the war and the real numbers of Ukrainian casualties. The overall figures are based on UN reports, which are far from reality. They do not contain horror stories about the torture of the civilian population, the rape of not only women, but newborn children, not to mention the murders that the Russians carry with them. And there are tens of thousands of such stories if not more...

You know, and now almost every family, even in regions far from the war, feels pain and are suffering, because someone's father, someone's husband or someone's son were killed, whom without being military, went to defend their country.

And for those who say that Ukraine is to blame or that the problem arose because of the EU and NATO, it is not so. Because as we can see, as of today, Ukraine still does not have the opportunity or potential to be a member of these organizations.

So why did I write all this? Because I really love your work, but I can't understand: how is it to condemn the war in one country, but not notice it in another?

The people of Gaza, and Palestinians in general, are not at war. They are being murdered in an ethnic cleansing and my country, and many others, are not only supporting that but providing them the funding they need to commit said genocide against civillians and children.

The horrors happening in Ukraine are awful. It definitely deserves more attention. But you don't need to entirely dismiss the atrocities happening in Gaza to do so.

You are also ignoring vital context; Ukraine has been reported on, spoken on, for the entire war. They've recieved military support. Monetary aid. Everyone is for them and I've never needed to tell my countries governement to support Ukraine, they already are.

But the political powers, right now, are supporting Isreal. They are supporting genocide. And the only times they aren't able to send that support? It is because we, the people, are stopping them from doing so. It is extremely vital in this case, with Gaza, to keep speaking on it and keep people informed. To keep people motivated.

More than 11,000 people have been murdered in Gaza. The UN has called it "a childrens graveyard". There are Isrealis who sit and watch the bombing of Gaza like it's a fireworks display.

I haven't seen anyone blame Ukraine, and I don't doubt that there are people saying that, but I have seen plenty of people blame Gaza. I've seen plenty of people blame Islam. I've seen plenty of people say that they feel nothing for the children being murdered.

Also, if you love my work so much then you probably should have noticed by now that I haven't really spoken about things that could be considered political that much before this. I spoke about things like the Queen dying and the missile that landed in Poliand, during the Russia - Ukraine war.

It's not because I'm ignoring any of it. It's because this is my dumb little fandom blog where I smash Stranger Things characters together like they're my Barbie dolls. It's a way to talk about my hyperfixation without annoying people irl, who I annoy enough by talking about politics, constantly.

But the horrors happening in Gaza, to Palestinians, is so horrible, so beyond unforgivable, that I feel like I have to talk about it. And I have a platform now- reblogging things about Palestine will bring more attention to it and, who knows, maybe one person will feel motivated to do something. I can only hope.

#ask #I'm putting this point in the tags bc I might be wrong #but the way your first paragraph is phrased feels dishonest #you talk like you expect me to have posts from the time the war in Ukraine broke out but... I didn't have a tumblr blog back then? #I made my blog around 7 months AFTER the war broke out #it felt like the best thing I could do at the time was send money to things like humanitary aid charities #and like... idk something about this ask is reminding me that y'all know pretty much nothing about me #and that a lot of you are filling in the gaps without whatever you want and making assumptions based on those things :/ #already tempted to delete but they're right that ukraine should get more attention. palestinians are just... in more dire need right now

[the-everqueen]

Honestly your coworker sounds like a manipulative nightmare person!!!? Like, you don't need to write her a thesis on why her constantly asking you to work for free makes you feel undervalued and insulted! It should be pretty fecking obvious to her >:(

lmaoooo you would think! except that i, too, am constantly arguing with myself about "well, she's under a lot of [personal] stress, and she's also a grad student, and she has [these conditionals] that make her life harder, so maybe i'm being unnecessarily cruel in expecting her to think about my feelings when things are Difficult." but also...while we don't have the same circumstances, i have my own things going on that she is not aware of, personal and professional, and i don't think we should have to argue Who Has It Worse for me to qualify as a person. i think what it boils down to is...she is a thoughtless person. she has developed selfishness as a means of defense. and i understand why, but...i don't have to condone it, or agree with it as a response. i can sympathize but also want something better.

#anon #tbh at this point i should have some kind of tag for this nonsense lmao #she is the kind of person who says out loud to you without irony: #''i'm a really empathetic person'' #and then proceeds to tell you why everyone else is shitty #(she has in fact done this) #i also recognize she has done some self-improvement work in the past year #like. i think she's trying. #i don't think she's trying wrt me? #i think she prizes me for what i represent to her #(validation of her politics and her emotions) #and i think it's hard for her to distinguish between that construct and me as a person #who may or may not actually be the thing she wants #also as with a lot of my past relationships #(and this is partially my fault as a ''fixer'') #i think i fill gaps in her personal life that she hasn't yet found other people for #like an SO or a familial support system or whatever #so that furthers the whole ''i am not a person to her i am a function''

[sunderwight]

Much as I love the idea of PIDW being rife with terrible porn tropes and interesting (if contrived) erotic writing conventions, all actual evidence in canon would seem to indicate that apart from some sex pollen and "uh oh, the protagonist has gone into a fugue state, whatever shall calm him down?" type stuff, it was fairly vanilla.

Like, that's part of both Shen Yuan and Airplane's frustration with it, I think. It's full of sex and it's not even sex either of them enjoy the concept of. Airplane was fully just trying to pander to an audience he felt he knew and could manipulate, but not one either he nor his ultra mega hate reader were actually part of.

Not that they understood that themselves at the time.

I mean I know fandom likes to make Airplane less closeted than Shen Yuan (for a lot of reasons), which I support, but I feel like in canon at least... he didn't cotton on to Luo Binghe's change in interests at first either. It wasn't until he was watching his protagonist obsess over resurrecting Shen Qingqiu at any cost that the light started to dawn. For Shang Qinghua, also, many more years have passed since he was back in their original world. He's had more time to reconcile himself to certain ideas.

What glimpses we get of the person he was before he died, was reborn, and lived a whole other life well into adulthood, would seem to indicate that he probably wasn't much better than Shen Yuan back when he was writing.

I mean he probably was still BETTER (the bar is on the floor), like I bet he could have a fantasy featuring Mobei Jun without having an existential crisis or pretending it didn't happen, but he would have probably been like "wow I guess I've been writing so much m/f porn that I can't even enjoy it anymore and my brain had to come up with something else, anyway Mobei would make a hot chick tho, I'm gonna write one of his cousins as Binghe's next wife" and gotten on with things.

Basically I guess what I'm driving at is that it would be funny if SQQ and SQH figured they had a solid handle on the kinds of sex pollen-y porn tropes to expect from the world (mostly just the occasional fuck-or-die that missionary can cure), only for the rug to get ripped out from under them because the system incorporated a bunch of stuff from Airplane's subconscious to fill out the gaps. Not even his notes. His daydreams and fantasies.

SQQ: what the hell?! PIDW didn't even have werewolves or tentacle porn monsters!

SQH, suddenly reminded of some very specific fap sessions: right?! this is definitely weird and in no way my fault! it must be because of the genre switch!

SQQ: *suspicious*

SQH: which is your fault! you made the protagonist gay! in fact it's probably your fault that I'm gay too now!

SQQ: bullshit. what did you do. was this in a draft?!

SQH: *sweating* I can say with absolute confidence that it was not! I never wrote anything like this!

SQQ: *having a crisis now because maybe he DID accidentally cause the monsterfucker stuff and he desperately doesn't want anyone to realize that he's actually into it*

SQH: *continuing to sweat because the world is consistently manifesting content from his personal spank bank and if cucumber ever figures that out he's a dead man*

#svsss #scum villain's self saving system #scum villain

[jksprincess10]

'Tis the damn season || DBF!Joel Miller x reader

Summary: Each year, you go back to your hometown for Christmas, hoping to get a special treat from Mr Miller. This year might just be your year.

CWs: dbf!joel, a bit of soft dom!joel, innocence kink, big ol' age gap (20s and 50s), reader didn’t have many partners before but she had sex a few times, reader has a crush on Joel since she was a teenager so maybe a bit of power imbalance, alcohol consumption (no one having sex is drunk), explicit smut, protected p in v, fingering, daddy kink, size kink, choking on a dick, lots of pet names (baby, sweetheart, etc), not wearing underwear, reader is a menace, praise kink, reader is a bit insecure, mentions of religious figures, somehow very fluffy for some reason ??? anyway (4k words)

The drive home is long and boring, music and your own voice being your only entertainment. You usually had another friend going back home riding with you, but she decided to stay on campus for Christmas. The radio predicted a storm like you haven't seen in years. So, you just hoped you wouldn't be stuck in your hometown longer than necessary.

Your parents were simple people. Christmas was never a big thing. Until they started celebrating with the Miller's. Both of your families were small, yours consisting of three people and the Miller's of Joel and his daughter. Sometimes, Joel Miller was even alone.

You convinced yourself every Christmas that you came home for your family. But you knew deep down that you came back every year for Joel Miller, your dad's best friend.

You had a crush on him since you were a teenager. The first time you had a fantasy, it was with Mr. Miller in mind. The first time you touched yourself it was with Mr. Miller in mind. When you lost your virginity, you had Mr. Miller in mind.

Since you were now in your 20s, you had hoped he saw you like the woman you were and not the daughter of his friend.

This year, you were on a mission: get Mr. Miller's attention. Whatever it took.

When you get home, you exchange small talk with your family and help your mother with the food. Your family wasn't the gifting kind, but you always brought food and lots of alcohol to the table.

While you waited for the hours to pass, you got ready in your childhood room, changing your outfit at least three times. You chose a black velvet dress that hugged your body with a deep V in the back back and matching tights that had a hint of sparkle to them. You also did your makeup: bloody red lips, shimmery lids, and fine black liner that finished in a sharp wing. You had hoped it made you look mature enough to finally get what you wanted.

When you get downstairs, your parents compliment you. You all get in the family car and take the road to the Miller’s house. It’s a 20-minute drive, as he lives in another neighbourhood.

This house was his pride and joy. Joel didn’t like to buy extravagant things for himself – hell, he still wore his old hole-filled t-shirts and jeans old enough to have kids. But his house was nice. and he liked having people in a comfortable setting.

When he bought the home after Sarah left for college, it was nice enough first, but it got even better when he renovated it with the help of Tommy and his wife, getting rid of walls to make it mostly open floor, changing the whole kitchen, repainting, the whole shebang.

He was always anxious and happy to have your family over, especially when you were there. Of course, he had seen how pretty you’ve gotten on the pictures you posted on Facebook. You were his best friend’s daughter, but he was a man with eyes and needs... and he could see beauty.

Sarah wouldn’t be there to entertain you with her girl talk. Her flight got cancelled due to bad weather, so it would be just him and his best friend’s family. He had to act natural around you.

The bell rings and he walks to the door, beer already in hand. Without any surprise, his favorite family is in front of him. He kisses the cheeks of your mother and hugs your father tightly, stopping when he gets to you.

Since you had gotten older, he didn’t really know what was the proper way to greet you. A kiss to the cheek? A hug? He was afraid to touch you, afraid of what it would do to him.

 Joel opens the door, the warmth of his house spreading outside as he hushes you all inside. You see how he freezes in front of you, so you go in for a short hug. You can smell the cologne he wore every year for special occasions. You had memorized it, but you liked having a reminder. It was a complex fragrance of sandalwood and freshness.

He also wears the same red flannel – his festive flannel, he calls it. Joel seems to love routine. The only thing that is different this year is the black-framed glasses on his nose. You immediately notice them. You can’t deny the electric feeling of arousal it sends through your body. He looks amazing.

“Already old enough for glasses?” You tease him with a smile.

“Don’t go around tryin’ to take Sarah’s spot at teasing this ol’ man, sweetheart.” Joel responds with false anger.

“I would never.” You bite your lip in a flirty manner and disappear into the kitchen.

Your mother takes everyone’s coats and hang them up like she’s in her own house. You don’t know if you’re imagining it, but you feel Joel’s intense gaze on your bare back as you bring the food to the kitchen.

Of course, you had to wear that stupid sexy dress. It’s like you were on a mission to taunt him. He wondered how it would feel to kiss the soft skin of your back, how long it would take him to kiss every single mole there. Joel does stare, until his best friend catches his attention and asks for a beer.

When you’re all sat and eating together, conversation drifts to the usual small talk.

“So, why isn’t Sarah here?” You ask innocently.

“Her flight got cancelled. There’s some bad weather comin’ our way. I’d rather have her safe and see her later than not see her at all.” Joel answers between bites. He doesn’t look at you, only at his plate.

“Yeah, I’m happy you got here before the storm.” Your mom tells you.

Joel visibly tries to ignore your presence at the dinner table. He really does. But he sees the way you bat your eyelashes innocently at him, the way your red lips close around your fork for a little too long, the way your eyes linger on his arms stuck in the sleeves of his flannel that were getting just a bit too tight. It didn’t help that you looked like sin in that dress. He just wanted to tear it off your body. 

Like every Christmas dinner, you all end up in front of Joel’s fireplace. Like every Christmas dinner, your parents are loud and laughing too hard while you’re still sipping on your first glass of wine.

Unlike every Christmas dinner, the weather outside is ugly; wind loud, snowflakes coming down the sky and covering the ground in thick coats.

“Y’all should stay the night. Don’t wanna be responsible for a crash.” Joel says as he looks through the window, where the city is getting covered in a white coat.

“We’ll take the guest room; the bed is so comfortable.” Your dad slurs his words, and you roll your eyes discreetly. You hated the way they still acted like teenagers who didn’t know when to stop drinking.

“I’ll take Sarah’s room.” You mumble.

“Maybe y’all should rest. Drinkin’ doesn’t do no good for old people.” Joel jokes and helps your parents climb the stairs to the guest bedroom as your dad curses him for laughing at his old age.

Your stomach twists in anticipation; you could make a move on Joel when he comes back. You decide to make yourself look busy, so you load the dishwasher while you wait, your body bending down in hopes that Joel catches you.

And he does catch you, his eyes catching the curve of your bare ass and your glistening pussy under your tights. His grip on his empty beer bottle tightens and he takes a deep breath. You’re too young. Too sweet. You’re his best friend’s daughter. Why are you doing this to him.

“Oh, Joel.” You sound surprised, like you got caught. You turn around with a soft smirk dancing on your red lips, lips that he stares at. “Did mom and dad get to bed without any accidents?”

“Y-Yeah, they did.” He stutters. Joel abandons his empty bottle on the counter. He should stop drinking now. Maybe two cups of hot chocolate would help.

His neck is red and warm, he feels sweat on his eyebrow.

“I always tell them they shouldn’t drink so much.” You giggle sweetly, and he wants to swallow the sound and keep it for rainy days. Your fingers tease the flannel covering his arm. “Let’s go back to the living room, I’m cold.”

“Yeah, just gimme a minute, sweetheart. I was thinking about makin’ some hot cocoa for us. What do you think?”

“Sounds lovely.”  

Joel drinks a glass of cold water in one go like it’s a shot in hopes to clear his mind getting clouded by dirty thoughts of you. He makes two cups of hot chocolate, just how the two of you liked it. He remembers you staying over and drinking hot drinks with Sarah on cold nights. Yeah. All of this was so wrong.

But when he finds you laid on his couch like a pretty painting, he loses any hope of redemption. He prays to God in his head and sits near your feet.

“So, how’s school? “He clears his throat as he sets the fuming cups in front of you too.

“Oh, school is fine. I have good grades. How’s Sarah? I should text her more often.”

“She’s great. She’ll be an amazing psychologist when she’s done. I’m so proud of her.”

You both take your cups at the same time, your fingers so close to his you could take his hand in yours. You smile shyly and follow the sight of the cup in his massive hand. You wondered how it would look around your throat.  How his thick fingers would feel in your pussy.

“And boys?”

You laugh.

“College boys are… very immature and have nothing in their head. You see, I prefer older men.”

You look at him from the side and your smile widens when you see him try to speak, but the words get stuck in his throat. You were feeling very bold and you hoped that the signs you detected weren’t false.  

“M’not sure what you mean, sweetheart.” He finally says after swallowing some of the warm liquid. You watch as it goes down his throat. You both abandon your mugs on the table after that.

“I think you know, Mr. Miller.” You say as you straighten up. “Or if you don’t understand, I can demonstrate.” You throw your leg over his and straddle his thighs, looking down at him with lustful eyes. He tries to keep his hands to himself, looking up at you with restricted want.

“Older men will also break your heart. ‘Specially this one. M’not good for you. We shouldn’t…” Joel looks like he’s about to list every reason that keeps him from wanting you. But you stop him with the sweetest whisper in his ear.  

“Please, Joel.”

“God forgive me.” He says as he looks up to the ceiling and puts his hands on your waist. He’s barely touching you and your body is already hyperaware, goosebumps forming on your skin. You bend down and your lips latch onto his. His scruff is rough against your skin, his hands are traveling lower and lower. He lets you have control for a few seconds before he pries your mouth open with his tongue. Joel kisses you deeply, without restraint. It was even better than what you had imagined in your numerous fantasies. When he leaves the comfort of your mouth, his lips go down your jaw, your neck. You tilt your head to the side to grant him better access.

“You fuckin’ filthy girl. Not even wearing any underwear. You did that on purpose, huh?” Joel growls. “Your pussy’s out just waitin’ to be touched, huh?”

Your eyes roll in the back of your skull, and you whimper at his words. When you don’t respond, he slaps your ass, as soft as he can. He doesn’t want to scare you with his roughness.

“Respond.”

“I-I did. Hoping you would finally notice me.”

“You’ll be a good girl if I give ya what you want?” He asks, teeth scraping against your skin.

“Y-Yes, Joel. I will.”

He helps you out of your tights, and you grind your bare pussy against him, trying to get some relief. His big hands stop you from moving.

“Nuh-Huh. You said you’d be good, sweetheart.”

“I-I’m sorry.”

“Turn around.”

You obey, your back now facing his chest and your ass resting on the hardness in his pants. Joel keeps kissing your neck, until he gets to the bare skin of your back. You shiver and repress a moan.

“Open up your legs for me baby.” He helps you, though, a rough hand spreading your thighs. You hike up your dress, so he has better access. He puts two thick fingers against your bottom lip and you open your mouth, taking them in and wetting them.

“You sure you want this?” He asks as he pops his digits out and bring them to your bare pussy, just hovering over where you want him the most. You nod enthusiastically, but it’s not enough for him. “Tell me with words, sweetheart.”

“P-Please Joel, I want you. I want everything you can give me.”

Satisfied, Joel starts caressing your slit with the pad of his fingers, going up until they hit your clit. You already feel like putty in his arms and you’re thankful that one of his arms is holding you. He draws tight, expert circles on your bud of pleasure, and it’s better than your own hand or anyone you had before. His name comes out of your mouth softly because you know you can’t be too loud. Joel finds a fast rhythm that is guaranteed to rip a rapid orgasm from you. When you’re just over the edge, he slows down. You feel his hot breath against the skin of your neck.

“I’d usually take my time with you, darlin’. Discover every little thing that makes you spasm and cry. But you’ve been teasin’ me all fucking night and I feel like I’m gonna explode.”

“I-I’m sorry…” But the little smile tugging at your lip tells him you’re not.

While his thumb keeps circling your clit, his thick index finger enters your hole. You squeeze around him, and the sounds of him touching you are already sinful.

“Already havin’ a hard time taking my fingers, how are you gonna take my cock, huh?”

You try to relax, your back laying against his chest and you spread your legs a little more, your feet holding you up on the couch.

“I can take it.” You assure him.

He thrusts his finger in and out a few times, before slowly adding a second one. You feel a slight burn, that is soon replaced with blinding pleasure.

“How many boys have ya had sex with?”

“F-Four. Couldn’t stop… thinking about you, Joel.”

“You bad girl.” Joel tuts. “Thinkin’ about your dad’s friend like that… What am I gonna do with you?”

You feel Joel’s fingers curl inside you as his thumb keeps circling your clit. Your legs spasm lightly and your head falls on his shoulder, your mouth slightly open.

“Fuck… T-That’s it, Joel.”

He keeps hitting that spot again and again until you can’t take it anymore. Your walls close around his fingers as you come like never before. You could never find anything better than this. He leaves you empty as you try to control your breath.

“You did so good.” The contrast of the soft kiss he leaves on your cheek with the dirtiness of the words that came out of his mouth earlier is striking.  “What else do ya need, baby?”

“Need to suck your cock.” You turn your head, so he has access to your lips. His rough, still wet fingers are on your cheek as he kisses you softly, ignoring the heaviness in his balls.

“C’mon, let’s go somewhere more comfortable so you don’t hurt your legs, hm?” He slaps your thighs as if to prove his words and you get up on wobbly legs. He hooks a strong arm around your waist and helps you move upstairs to his bedroom.

The guest bedroom’s door is closed, and you can hear the familiar sound of your dad snoring. You follow Joel to his bedroom, and he closes and locks the door behind you. You realize you’ve never been in this room before, it felt so personal. You only got glimpses of it when you went to Sarah’s room. Joel’s bedroom is messy, on the contrary of the rest of his house. But you like it.

“Quit snoopin’ around and c’me here.” He’s sat on the edge of the bed, shaky fingers trying to get rid of his old flannel shirt. You smile and stand in front of him, your hands coming up to his face to delicately take off his glasses. You set them on the bedside table, and you come back to him, fingers helping with his flannel.

Of course, you had seen Joel shirtless before. But not in the quietness and secrecy of his bedroom. His shoulders are wide, freckles are decorating his chest. His tummy is hanging over his belt a little, and you just want to lay your head there. Joel pushes his pants down and kicks them off, before laying down on the bed, looking up at you with attentive brown eyes.

Your fingers find the hem of your dress, and you pull it off your body slowly, before letting it join the mess of clothes on the floor. You’re not wearing any bra as it would ruin the backless look.

“Jesus.” He sighs, like your beauty physically pains him. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Thank you. Not so bad yourself, for an old man.” You crawl on the bed between his thighs. Without waiting, you slide off his boxers that do little to hide his erection. You had imagined his cock countless times, the color, the shape, the size of it. But your fantasies didn’t do justice to the real thing. You press a kiss to one of his strong thighs as you take the base of him in your hand. You leave a little red mark on his skin. His breath gets stuck in his throat. He’s so sensitive, more receptive than you thought.

You start by licking the head, red and angry. You discover every sensitive spot there, everything that makes him twitch, before taking the tip in your mouth. You suck on it softly as you move your hand against his length at a slow pace, wanting to drag this moment as long as you can. You want to memorize the way he tastes; how big he is in your mouth. Joel threads an encouraging hand in your hair, guiding you without putting too much pressure.

“You’re doin’ so good, sweetheart.” He encourages you in a low voice.

You tighten your grip a little as you slide your hand at a faster pace, the tip sucked in your mouth. You simply feel euphoric when you hear him moan. You can’t believe you’re doing this to Joel.

You feel bold, so you take more of him in. You really try to get to the base, but you feel yourself choking. Joel pulls on your hair to take you off his cock.

“Oh baby.” He soothes you as he attracts your body closer to his. You lay on him and hide your face in his neck, ashamed by your failure. “C’mon, look at me.” He cups your face and pulls you to his level, his fingers making the tears on your cheeks disappear. “You’re such a good girl. You did so good. You were just a little greedy.”

“I’m sorry. Do you still… do you still want me?” You ask shakily, suddenly all your confidence drained from your body.

“Of course, I do.” And you believe him with the warm smile he gives you.

He rolls over you, his strong body trapping you beneath him. You can’t describe it, but you feel safe. Joel leaves a kiss on your forehead before he stretches his arm to fetch a condom. You wish you could have him bare, but still. Safety first.

You watch as he pumps himself a few times and roll the protection over his cock. He uses his knee to open up your thighs, before grabbing your legs with his hands. You slowly start to feel him, the burn of the stretch. You try to keep your eyes open so you can burn the image of him fucking you in your mind. He stops when he’s fully sheathed in you, and that already knocks the breath off your lungs.

“I know it’s a lot.” He coos. “I’ll go slow.”

You nod, thankful that he’s so soft and caring with you.  He rests his palms on each side of your face, his stare holding yours as he starts moving his hips slowly. You try to repress any sound, but you still let out a soft moan.

“Feels so good, daddy.” You don’t miss the way his face gets red at your dirty words.

“I know sweetheart. You’re choking my cock.”

“Hmmm.” You close your eyes for a few seconds, taking the time to just feel. “You can fuck me harder. Please.”

“Yeah? Stop me if it’s too much.”  His hands grab your legs and he pushes them up slightly, making half of your body bend, and accentuating the sensations for both of you. The snap of his hips becomes more powerful, and you have a hard time keeping your eyes on him as they just want to roll in your skull.

“So fucking good, daddy. Never had anyone like you.” You let out, completely shameless. The words seem to encourage him, as he fucks you deeper and harder with every thrust. You feel him hitting every sweet spot in your being, and you feel like you’re gonna burst. No man has made you come on his cock before.

“Think you can gi’me another one, sweetheart. C’mon. Touch yourself.”

One of your hand cups your tits as the other one travels down your body. You draw fast, tight circles on your clit as Joel keeps fucking you harshly. You feel your walls clamp around him, and his thrusts getting messier as you hit your own high. You think you feel him spasm in you as he spurts in the condom.

Everything feels blurry, like a dream when you come down your high. You feel him coming out of you, vaguely see him getting up to put the condom in the trash. He sounds out of breath. You feel his weight beside you on the bed, and you feel the soft caress of his fingers on your cheek.

“You should go pee.”

“Hmmm.” You lazily get up and disappear into the bathroom linked to Joel’s bedroom. When you’re done, you open the door to see him already under the covers, with a spot open for you.

“You can stay.” He offers. “Your parents will probably sleep forever… We just need to wake up before them.”

You nod and take the spot beside him. He pulls the blanket over you and he brings you closer to him, warm arms around you as you lay against his chest.

“Can we make this a new Christmas tradition?” You ask, looking up to his face.

There’s a smile tugging at his lips, even though he can’t promise anything. “We can.”

#joel miller #dbf joel miller #dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel #dbf!joel x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x yn #joel miller x y/n #joel smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut

[spamton-deactivated19970420]

i made a little hand-sewn beast based on everydayspamton's drawing & took it with me on a family roadtrip

if you'd like to make your own, i've included the [[FREE]] pattern & some rough steps below the cut, as well as an Educational Video

EDUCATIONAL VIDEO. THIS IS NATURAL SPAMFISH BEHAVIOR & IT IS NOT SCARED OR IN PAIN.

BEAST CRAFTING INSTRUCTIONS:

disclaimer: i'm an amateur & i've never tried making a pattern before, nor have i ever tried writing directions

materials you'll need:

sewing needle & pins

black thread & white thread

fabric in these colors - black, white, red, yellow, & pink

stuffing

(optional) a squeaker

notes:

for the thread, i suggest something thicker, like whats used for embroidery - i used two different thicknesses on mine, & i think the thicker one; (the black thread); stands out a lot nicer

for the fabric, i used craft felt. its nice because its cheap & malleable, but if you want something that can actually be washed & played with without disintegrating on you, don't use felt. different fabrics will have different results, though, & may not give you a clean-looking edge & lines

you can also just go nuts & use whatever colors of thread/fabric you want, make pattern alterations, whatever

if you make one, feel free to @ me, send an ask or DM me with it, i'd love to see!

^^^ here's the pattern!

now the actual steps?:

1.) download & print out the pattern - it should(?) fit normally across a regular sheet of printer paper. i don't have exact measurements, i eyeballed this whole thing & then lost the original pattern - (there's only a copy that i scanned & edited left on my computer. woops.)

2.) cut the pieces out. pin the patterns to the fabric color the instructions call for, & cut out the number you need for each

^^^ here's what you should end up with!

now the sewing! for this whole thing i used doubled-up thread & a 'running stitch', then went over it a secondary time with another running stitch to fill in the gaps. you could also try using a 'back stitch' (which i don't know how to do), but that might be tougher. the goal here is to give it an Outlined look, like a drawing

3.) with white thread, sew the pink & yellow eyes onto the glasses - pink is Left, yellow is Right. reference the image above if you're not sure!

4.) sew all the fins pieces together - on the black fin, use white thread; & on the white fins, use black thread. reference the pattern for the detailing. i made my own front fins 'wrong', but you don't really have worry too much about being exact

5.) overlap the Head pieces onto the Body pieces - making sure you have a Left and Right side! pin the heads to the bodies, & compare their lengths by holding them together to make sure you've got it right. sew the heads to the bodies using black thread. detail the head with black thread, & detail the body with white thread

6.) now that you've got the two sides of the body completed, you can hold them together to try to get even placement for the red cheeks. pin each cheek to each side, then sew them on with white thread

7.) using black thread, sew the pink glasses onto the Left side of the body, and the yellow glasses onto the Right side. they'll be slightly overlapping the cheeks

8.) with white thread, sew the front fins on to each side. NOTE: i put mine on wrong, & didn't realize until i was finished. for the 'right' placement on these (closer to the original drawing), reference the pattern, & not the images

you now have all your parts ready for assembly! for me, this is the hardest part. you'll need a bunch of pins - use the guidelines on the pattern and/or reference the below image to get the right placements

9.) pin in the back fin & the nose. leave some space on the bottom for stuffing when you start, & using black thread, sew together the nose & the fin unto the body - the fin should be sandwiched Between the two body halves

10.) pin in the tail fin. continue sewing down the back with the black thread, & sew the tail fin in - once again, it should be Between the two body halves

11.) pin in the back fin between the halves. continue with the black thread, sew along the tail & sew the back fin in - Stopping once its secured. you should have some good space still open on the belly

12.) time for stuffing. using something thin, but not sharp - like a chopstick or the back of a crochet hook - & push stuffing into the nose & tail portions. stuff the head about halfway. now, if you have a squeaker, put it into the widest part of the head, & stuff a little around it

13.) still using the black thread, sew the belly up a little more so its easier to keep the stuffing in, & then fill up the rest of the body. once fully stuffed, sew the remaining hole together

14.) congrats! you now have a spamfish. if you opted for a squeaker, squeak it thoroughly

don't worry if it's not exact, some individual variation is fun & makes your creature unique! mine has upside-down front fins with upside-down detail lines

here's the thing with some friends i had made a little bit before him. have fun with your beast!

i am not liable for any damage it causes to you or your property

#spamton #myart #spamfish #i made this thing&took pictures of the process to show my friends a few months back.i finished it a few days after thedailyspamton's post #i had already been making funny little fish&it was just the perfect timing!now i want to share the spamfish with others :)

[monimccoythings]

Alastor x Daughter!Reader: Runaway I (Platonic)

So, what would it happen if Y/N after a lot of time at the hotel, decides to run off and explore the human world? Just like it happened in Helluva Boss I think. This is lighter than the others, but I really wanted to write this one. This could be interpreted as some AU of the Au or even set in the same series after a lot of time has passed.

I know the Grimoire doesn't really look like that and is in the ownership of someone else, but I was thinking that since Lucifer is the King of Hell, he should have at least a copy.

Reminder: Alastor is in hell for a reason.

Tw: Controlling behavior, possessive behavior, Alastor being a very controlling dad.

tags: @anonymousewrites, @nonetheartist, @littledolly2345, @sunnyx07, @ouroborostheunholy, @mo-0-o, @sydneyyyya @lbcreations-blog, @kiraisastay

Things have gotten much better for you since you first arrived. It had finally gotten inside your thick skull that this experience was for real. As crazed as Charlie's dream seemed to be, you couldn't help but believe in her and her goals, given her optimism and enthusiasm. You could say this place was safer than anywhere else you had been crashing for the last ninety years.

But the safety of a place didn't always come hand in hand with feeling safe. And there was only one person to blame for that: Alastor.

If he had been overprotective as a human, as a demon he was much worse. He didn't give a fuck about subtlety anymore. He knew the kind of people that were out there; in fact, he was one of them! Time had proved over and over again you wouldn't make it out there without his protection! He just wanted what was best for you and he also casually happened to know what it was! He was that smart, hahahaha!

As a minor, there was little you could do in Hell, you couldn't drink, you couldn't smoke, you couldn't have sex. So that just nuked three of the most popular hobbies there. Not that you cared much, but it just really left you with a feeling that you didn't belong among the guests and staff friend group due to your youth. The emotional age gap was quite something. And there were times where you felt like the tag-along-kid more than a part of the team.

It was really embarrassing to pull yourself up to one of Husk's stools, ask for the strongest he had, and get served some pineapple juice. He may get a few laughs out of your antics, but you just wanted to fit in.

Sometimes you played with Nifty, since she seemed to be the closest to you in age. Unfortunately, Nifty didn't seem to know any game that didn't involve cleaning or roach mutilation. (how was she even able to find a murderous point of view to Parchis???)

Charlie and Vaggie were too busy managing the hotel and attracting new customers, but you got a feeling they still wouldn't manage to fill that void you seemed to have.

Angel was like the big brother you wished you had had back when you were alive. He loved to gossip with you and Cherri; even when you didn't understand half of what they were saying, it felt nice having some kind of normal teenage stuff around. He also liked to nudge you towards some potential boyfriends, saying that you were in 'in the age' *wink* *wink*. Your dad did not appreciate that.

Alastor wouldn't consider himself a boyfriend blocking dad, Heaven's, no! Just a humble boyfriend murdering dad. So whatever idea of dating or just hanging out with other people your age was out of the question. As soon as you started talking to someone that was in the same age range as you, his shadowy form started to appear behind you and his eyes changed into dials, that was enough for anyone to start running in the opposite direction (he had scared away so many pontential guests it was unreal)

You couldn't even own a phone. Your dad insisted that 'his hotel, his rules'. Any technology that surpassed the 50s was out of the question. (they still didn't have a working phone). If he caught you with one in your hands, specially a VOXTECH phone, even if it was not yours, the battery suddenly started to heat to unbearable levels and you just had to drop it before it exploded in green flames.

Where was the fun loving dad you grew up with? The one that at least had the decency to be a bit more discreet? 'Dead at the prospect of raising a teenage girl!' He liked to say with a laugh.

You talked to Rosie about it, hoping she would talk some sense into him, and he had the nerve to act all innocent and oblivious! Like you were the one being unreasonable!

Somehow, this safe haven had started to become like a prison. You found yourself feeling suffocated and alienated from the others. When you were out there on your own you had lived in fear and trauma, which you hated with all what remained of your heart; but now that you were in a relatively safe place, you felt isolated and trapped. There was no common ground. You needed to breath, to live (or unlive), to enjoy life! You were not a little girl anymore! (҉Y҉e҉s҉ ҉y҉o҉u҉ ҉w҉e҉r҉e҉!҉)҉

So, one day, while helping Nifty clean and hiding from the Radio Demon That Sees It All, you casually stumbled into something very interesting at Lucifer's workshop. It looked like an ancient book, unlike those at the library which you had read and reread over and over again (One could read one too many times Mr. Waddles Goes to Church before it started to get old).

Something in that book drew you towards it, you knew you shouldn't look. It was probably full of ancient demonic knowledge, but maybe a teensy weensy peek wouldn't hurt, right?

Your face lighted up when you opened the book, (and not only because the light was coming from it). There were no words to describe what you found inside. You could see everything inside of it, it was like it was filled with everyone's dreams and hopes, you wondered how something as beautiful as that had ended up in Hell.

Without thinking, you touched the pages which felt warm to the touch. In response to your delicate caress, the pages started shining even brighter. You were so mesmerized by it that you didn't notice how the room was starting to fill with small orbs of light that started moving around you at impossible speeds, like a tornado.

Crafting materials, toy ducks and gizmos were sent around the room due to the force of the movement. But you didn't pay them any attention. There was something truly magical about the orbs' dance. It was enrapturing.

The door shot wide open, revealing Lucifer, Charlie and Vaggie with an horrified look in their faces. They were shouting something at you, but you could barely hear them, too lost in the orbs and their hypnotic dance. So distracted that you didn't feel the chilling presence that joined them until he spoke.

"Y/N, my dear? ." You felt a shiver run down your spine and your heart filled with the fear of a child who knows they have been caught doing something they shouldn't. You could perfectly hear his radio filtered voice, clear as a day, quiet as the calm before the storm. "Step away from that book, cherie. You could get hurt, and we don't want that, do we? ." He spoke with the kind of condescending tone one would use with a little kid.

A new sudden emotion emerged within you, something you had never felt before and never had any need for it. Anger. Who was he to stop you? Why did he always treat you like you were one of his puppets? Like you were another toy he could dress up and command as he pleased? Why couldn't he let you live?.

Feeling braver, probably due to the book's influence, you looked at his red eyes defiantly, once again touching the pages. Despite his permanent smile, you could tell he was getting angrier by the second.

"Y҉/҉N҉" His body was morphing, growing, eyes already changing to those red radio dials that gave you the chills. "I҉ ҉F҉O҉R҉B҉I҉D҉ ҉Y҉O҉U҉-҉"

"No!" You found yourself surprised at your own voice."I lost my life for you, I got sent here because I tried to protect you, I wasted my life because of you!" That last part came a bit more demonic sounding than intended. "Now. I WANT TO LIVE."

And with that, you were enveloped in a bright light and dissapeared.

For a couple of seconds, nobody dared to make a move. After what felt like hours, reality seemed to kick in and everyone sprung into action; Lucifer desperately searching through the pages of a suddenly very uncooperative book, just in case you had been sucked in, Vaggie was already establishing a perimeter around the hotel and search parties, and Charlie, poor sweet Charlie was franctically looking through every single room on that floor.

The only one who hadn't moved yet was Alastor. Already shrunk back to normal size, he seemed completely relaxed and chill in what could be considered an extremely catastrophic situation to any parent.

"Ah, must be those teenage hormones kicking in." His voice sounded as cheery and joyful as always. Almost like he didn't care. Lucifer shot him a venomous look, silently urging him to show a little care for his MISSING DAUGHTER. But Alastor had already retreated back into the shadows and returned to his radio tower.

If only they knew.

The truth was that Alastor cared. Way too much. He sunk his claws into the table while he fought against the deeply buried instinct in him to let himself loose and destroy everything in his path. The chains in his neck, glowed menacingly, a bitter reminder that he wasn't at full power.

He had lost you. Again.

He had you there, close enough to reach and you had vanished before he was able to do something. You had run away.

The mere thought made his hands shake with anger, antlers already growing twice their normal size. How could you? After everything he did for your sake, for your safety, y҉o҉u҉ ҉d҉i҉s҉o҉b҉e҉y҉ ҉h҉i҉m҉??? His smile looked more like a grimace and his eyes were pools of red hot rage. Oh, you were so grounded when he got you back.

Now you were out there, who knows where. All on your own. Defenseless, at the mercy of his many enemies without anyone, HIM, to protect you.

He sent his shadows into the city, he would leave no stone unturned no crackden untouched until he found you. He didn't care who he had to kill, maul or destroy. You would be coming back with him. Only HE could keep you safe, whetever you wanted it or not.

His desperation only grew when his shadows came back empty handed, the crazed look in his eyes combined with the slasher smile only made him look like the deranged psychopath he actually was.

You weren't in the Pride ring. He was even starting to doubt you were in Hell at all. What was the last thing you had said?

His non beating heart gave a painful twist when your parting words echoed in his mind. The bitterness and resentment in your voice hurt his tainted soul in ways no other person could have. His claws dug even deeper in the wood.

No.

All he wanted was to keep you safe back at the hotel, to ensure no one in this hellish landscape ever laid a finger in your delicate skin. He was just being a good father. You may not understand it, and probably never would. That's irrelevant.

He had found you again after nearly ninety years since that fatidic night when he lost it all, he was not going to allow anybody to take you away from him.

A theory started forming in his twisted mind. You had said that you wanted to live. Alastor was no fool, he knew what the Grimoire could do, in fact he had been dying to take a peek himself. Whatever you had wished, would have probably come true. His grin turned sour.

You had gone where he couldn't follow.

The mortal plane.

Who knew the kind of horrors you were facing up there? The kind of fools that would dare to disrespect the child of one of Hell's most powerful overlords?

He couldn't go there, at least not physically. If he could synchronize his radio frequency with the ones on Earth, he may be able to locate you before some fuckwad up there decided to have their way with you.

"We're on air"

#hazbin hotel #alastor #x reader #reader #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #tw: controlling behavior #tw: possessive behavior

[p4p1l0nn]

“i never meant for it to be this way”

pairing: idol!johnny x fem!reader

genre: romance, angst, slice of life.

a/n: hello! just dipped my toes into writing for the first time. it’s a bit raw, a bit emotional, and a whole lot of me typing away on my phone. dive in! :>

the air, once filled with laughter and shared secrets, now hung heavy with unspoken words and the lingering ache of a love slipping through the cracks. johnny's silence, like an icy wind, created an atmosphere of uncertainty.

“johnny, what do you want for dinner tonight?”

“just make whatever.”

undeterred by johnny's cold reply, you simply nodded, assuming the weariness from dance practice had etched its mark on him. “kimchi fried rice it is.” even though johnny had been a bit distant for a week now, you pushed through, cooking up a warm meal for him. the sizzle in the pan and the familiar smell filled your home. despite the recent chill, you hoped the comfort of the food would bring a little warmth back between you two.

finishing up the kimchi fried rice, you couldn't shake the feeling that something had gone wrong between you and johnny. you wondered if you'd missed a step or said something unintentionally, racking your brain for any clues to his sudden coldness. the clatter of pans and the aroma of the meal permeated the air, but your mind was preoccupied with questions.

as you set the table, your gaze kept drifting to johnny, sitting quietly. a knot of worry tightened in your chest, unsure of how to bridge the unspoken gap that had grown between you.

“honey, dinner's ready,” you called out. johnny, still wrapped in his own world, made his way to the table, his demeanor as chilly as the air around them. the table was set for one, the plates and utensils neatly arranged.

johnny, oblivious to the situation, went straight to digging into his meal. midway through, he glanced around and noticed only one serving. with a hint of confusion, he asked, “you're not going to eat?”

y/n, maintaining a gentle smile, replied, “i already ate earlier. enjoy your meal.” johnny, lost in his thoughts, remained silent, his focus returning to the food in front of him. the room was filled with the sounds of clinking utensils, but the unspoken tension lingered.

in a contemplative moment, you couldn't help but stare at johnny. the soft kitchen light highlighted his features as he ate, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. taking a deep breath, you voiced the question that had been haunting you.

“what happened to us?”

johnny abruptly stood from the table, leaving his half-eaten meal untouched. without a word, he grabbed his keys, a silent indication of an abrupt departure. a mix of bewilderment and hurt in your eyes, reached for his arm in a desperate attempt to halt the growing distance.

“johnny, where are you going? we need to talk,” you pleaded, but johnny resisted, his gaze avoiding yours. “i don't want to talk right now,” he deflected.

y/n, frustration and sadness bubbling within, pressed on. “you can't just keep shutting me out. what's going on?” his defensive silence only fueled your inner turmoil. “you've been like this for days. i can't pretend everything's fine.”

in a vulnerable moment, tears welled up in your eyes. “did i do something wrong? have i failed you somehow?” the weight of unspoken emotions hung heavy as johnny, caught off guard, struggled to respond.

“i don't understand what's happening between us. i miss the johnny who shared everything with me, who made me feel loved. this silence is tearing us apart,” you confessed, voice breaking.

in the quiet aftermath of your tense exchange, johnny stayed silent. you, sensing the heaviness of what wasn't said, continued, “it's our third anniversary today . . .” your words held a mix of sadness and letdown as you walked away, leaving johnny standing with guilt and regret etched on his face.

johnny, left alone in the stillness, couldn't help but question himself. “what have i become?” he mumbled, his gaze fixed on the abandoned dish and the remnants of your strained conversation hanging in the air.

feeling a knot tighten in his chest, johnny took a shaky breath and decided to confront the silence that had grown between the both of you. he picked up the abandoned dish, a physical symbol of his neglect, and made his way to the kitchen. the dim light accentuated the solitude as he washed the dish, each clink of the plates echoing the void he felt.

as he dried the dish, regret lingered in the air. burdened by the weight of unspoken words and the realization of what he had let slip away, couldn't shake the haunting emptiness that surrounded him.

johnny, feeling uneasy, neared the door where you retreated. almost grabbing the handle, he hesitated and took a step back, deciding not to go in.

on the other side, you waited for him, anticipating a talk. instead, you heard a door lock from outside, signaling that he left the house.

“oh, johnny,” you sighed to yourself, disappointment evident in your voice. “i wish you'd just confront me about it, talk to me,

and i hoped you'd want to fix it.”

#nct 127 #nct #nct scenarios #nct smut #johnny #nct haechan #mark lee #jaehyun #taeyong #taeil #jungwoo #yuta #doyoung #nct imagines #johnny x reader #nct dream

[turbulentscrawl]

Would you be willing to go more in depth to the nort/naib/reader poly group?

It's fine if you wanna do just sfw or sfw/nsfw head cannons

♪⁠(⁠┌⁠・⁠。⁠・⁠)⁠┌

I sure can 😏Spicy stuff under the cut~

SFW

-Norton and Naib are really good for one another in some ways…and really bad in others. They get along partially because they get what one another has been through—to be clear, they get it…but don’t understand it, which is where some issues come in. Naib doesn’t hold Norton’s personality flips or outbursts against him, but gets frustrated by Norton’s fear of hurting others during them. Norton is cool with Naib’s overbearing need to look out for ‘his’ people, but gets frustrated at his lack of self-preservation. They both have things they need to work on. I really like the idea of a triad with the reader being a 3rd partner who kind of bridges those remaining gaps. They all three help one another to know the other two on a deeper level.

-Naib and Norton are both protective, but have different methods. The usage of them depends on who out of the three of you is in trouble. Naib has an up-front, hands-on way of confronting issues left over from his military service. And Norton, on the other hand, was ganged up on for so long that he prefers to deal revenge under the radar. The issue is that together, especially when it’s you who’s been hurt or wronged, they’ll enable one another and do both. Norton is willing to get into a fistfight when Naib is there to be backup, and Naib is willing to help with Norton’s cruel schemes, and it’s just a mess.

-I have a specific scene in mind of some hot-headed survivor mouthing off at you, for whatever reason. Tensions are high, so Naib and Norton linger nearby. It doesn’t matter if the situation is your fault or not, the second that other survivor lays a threatening hand on you, they’re both up. Norton has longer reach, but Naib moves faster, so it’s a toss up who gets there first. The end result is the same, though: the offending party, hauled in by their shirt, socked solid in the face, and pinned to the ground with living embodiments of a “rock” and “hard place” looming overhead. To add salt to the wound, that person finds their matches to be especially difficult for a while after for some reason or another. How did no one know Jack owed Norton a favor from winning a card game?

-They both make a conscious effort to not leave you without an option for company, but it happens sometimes. They’re both used to lots of alone time, but when their duo becomes a trio they don’t want to assume it’s the same for you. So Norton tries not to isolate himself when Naib is busy, and vice versa, that way you can get some affection when you feel the need. That said…it happens sometimes. Try not to give them a hard time.

-“Dates” with the three of you are a bit of a grab-bag. Norton wants some extravagance for once in his life, so he really likes it when you and Niab go big for him. The awed expression on his face when he takes in a beautifully decorated dinner table in the bright, flower-filled sunroom is really something. Naib is far easier to please; he’s happy to do anything that involves food. If you accommodate their preferences, they make an effort to meet yours as well, regardless of however difficult they may be.

-Naib runs hot, like a compact space heater, but Norton runs a bit cold because he’s still building up his body fat. They also both like a good bedtime cuddle, so feel free to snuggle up to whichever one of them you need to regulate your temperature at night. Naib kicks off the blankets a lot, though, and Norton steals them, so expect all the sheets to migrate to one end of the bed throughout the night.

NSFW

-Norton really doesn’t like to take the role of a submissive/bottom, but that works out with Naib because he’s a switch. When Naib isn’t feeling up for being the bottom, they just engage as equals. (Basically, no penetration happens.) They’d probably like it if their third preferred to bottom, at least for these instances. You ever wanted to be spitroasted?

-Of course, sex doesn’t have to happen with them both. They’ll still have private time, just the two of them, as well as one-on-ones with you. A threesome is just too much work sometimes, honestly. But when you are all together they have a habit of making it into a competition. Norton and Naib tease and mouth off to one another a lot anyway, and it will carry into the bedroom…just sometimes they respond to insults with a really steamy kiss instead of a comeback. It’s pretty hot.

-Norton is an ever-so slightly more selfish lover than Naib. Neither of them are cruel, certainly, but when you’re all together it’s Naib who gives you those extra touches to help you along, while Norton is close and focused on himself. Ironically though, Norton is a little better with his hands than Naib.

-A third partner is also convenient because Naib has a bit of a thing for semi-public sex. It’s the thrill of almost being caught—or, in this trio’s case, actually being caught by the 3rd partner. He’ll run it by everyone first, but it really gets Naib off for one of to you walk in unexpectedly while he’s getting busy with the other. His bedroom door is left “conveniently” unlocked a lot of the time. No one else goes to see him besides you two anyway.

#idv x reader #identity v #norton campbell x reader #naib subedar x reader #norton x reader x naib #polyship #turbulentscrawl #spicy content

[kurain-genealogy]

i said i was gonna post about it and i am. i don't think william afton hates his kids. i don't think william afton is a mad scientist that kidnapped and put children in hallucinogenic gas chambers. whatever the fuck dittophobia said about afton doing all that, plus not stopping/furthering the bullying between michael and cc, is just dumb & wrong. william wanting his kids to fight, even die, is comically evil in the "bad writing" way. him being characterized as someone who experiments on children (including his own with no regard for their lives) in order to achieve immortality or whatever his supposed motivation is, is just really... nothing? as a character there is nothing to make him feel real. in an attempt to flesh out this character, they made him into a cartoon villain with "evil" being his only defining trait. whatever, i could talk for so long about how dumb i think all the dittophobia stuff is but i think most ppl on tumblr are on the same page regarding that.

to me, william afton is best characterized as someone who, at the Very Least, Doesn't Want His Own Children To Die. he can be a shitty father all around, or he can be a genuine loving father who is also a serial killer, as long as he Cares if they Die? most of what makes william afton an interesting villain, and where a lot of people interpret his motivation comes from, is how despite all his best efforts, he cannot prevent the death or downfall of his own family. he is in a tragedy of his own making, a self-imposed hell crafted by his hubris and violence. if you take this away, why should i care what happens to him? william afton was scariest when he was just purple guy and we knew nothing. william afton is most interesting when we have all these relationships and dynamics where we can seriously study and speculate the circumstances behind/around his actions, when he has something to lose (and will lose). william afton is most stale when more things are added to his story without purpose, filling in gaps that were better unfilled or we didn't even know were there – anything after UCN, basically. bro isn't scary anymore because he's either peepaw afton who's brought back despite his story being over, or he's cartoon network's newest over-the-top villian that you can't take seriously.

okay anyway. ANYWAY. william doesn't hate his kids. even if he's a shitty father, i think he still loves his kids. why else would he try and scare his kids away from the robots if he didn't want them to die? why would he design circus baby after his daughter if he didn't care for her, adore her, even? if you believe the theory that he talked to cc through the fredbear plush (idr if that's actually canon), why would he be trying to protect/comfort him?

i don't think he's a perfect, or even a good father, by any means. if you interpret him to be on the better side, that's great and fine. i'd love to hear how other people interpret/characterize afton if you wanna share! continuing on for this post, i'm going to lay out how i personally see william afton.

to me, he is someone who is very concerned and preoccupied with his image and how others view him & his family. even if he's super shitty and awful towards his kids, he at least cares that they all look good as a family unit, that they're well behaved, that he can send family portrait holiday cards to all his business partners and investors.

he strikes me very much as the typical authoritarian parent of the 80s. harsher on his sons because "men don't cry," wants his kids to say "yes, sir," and "no, sir," believes in "tough love," often says "my house, my rules," he has the final say in everything, maybe thinks hitting them from time to time is a normal, necessary punishment. not all entirely malicious, but thinks he's doing what's best, what's right, acting like a parent and father Should act, perhaps how he himself was raised. unfortunately, a very common parental mindset (even outside of serial killers). maybe he was a little scarier sometimes though, a little more unhinged or violently angry. who's to say.

but he's still just a guy who could exist in real life. he still eats dinner with his family every night, hangs his kids' drawings on the fridge, had to turn the car around because they wouldn't stop fighting in the backseat, attended awkward parent-teacher conferences, everything. he was once a new father who happily came home with his first newborn, lost countless nights of sleep over the course of two more, loves them because they're his.

meticulously and senselessly killed children, then came home and tucked his own into bed and kissed them goodnight.

he can be abusive and still love his kids. he can be a murderer and still care for his own kids' lives. maybe the loss of his own kids is what triggered his actions, or maybe it was something else. i'm fine with not knowing because we don't need to know everything, and it's more interesting when we don't.

Something Is Seriously Wrong With This Guy And We Don't Know What or Why. when acquaintances find out he's a suspected murderer, it should be shocking and upsetting. he's such a great man and father, he wouldn't murder those kids! when michael discovers his father's crimes, he should be in denial. sure, he could be scary sometimes, but he wouldn't kill anyone... right? there's a great cognitive dissonance between who he appears to be and who he actually is.

whether william descended into grief-induced madness and obsession, or was just always some kind of freak, or both, i don't think he saw his own family as disposable. even if he didn't truly love them, he at least needed to keep up his own facade as a friendly family man. personally i like to see him as someone who was a shitty father but still loved his kids, because people like that exist, and it makes him a much more interesting, realistic, and nuanced character than if he just didn't care about them At All.

#fnaf #five nights at freddy's #william afton #purple guy #dontlistento me #sorry if this is so incoherent or all over the place or rambly. im insane. #fuck it im posting

[viperwhispered]

Soo, some further thoughts of a you/Yuu corruption arc with Jamil, building off from this post and @twstgo's comments on it.

Jamil’s overblot left you with a whole bunch of mixed feelings. You couldn’t say you agreed with what he did, but at the same time, you couldn’t really blame him for getting desperate and wanting things to change. It really was an untenable situation he had been placed in.

Basically, you certainly got the why, if not the how.

So you find yourself encouraging Jamil to stop holding back. He deserves so much better – and most importantly, he deserves to be himself.

What you don’t expect is when he practically says the same thing to you. That you should think less about what’s right and proper, and more about what it is that you want.

Which, certainly seems rich coming from him and the way he’s been holding up appearances.

Yet, there does seem to be some truth to his words. Maybe you do have the tendency to be a little too careful. Maybe you do set yourself on an unnecessarily narrow path.

Also it really is a sight to see Jamil when he lets loose. Whether it’s outwitting an opponent on the basketball court or nudging things to go his way in general, seeing his confidence and cleverness shine always seems to leave you weak.

So you help him out with a few things.

Go to him for suggestions with a few of your problems.

And the closer you two get, the more you seem to think alike.

So maybe you’re out together, trying to deal with some jerk. Maybe there’s something one of you wants from someone. Maybe you come across Jamil having a conversation with someone, and you very quickly realize that a) Jamil is lying and b) you know why.

Anyway, before you know it, you two are working in tandem, getting what you want from that person. You’re surprised (and kind of delighted) by just how in sync you two are dealing with the situation. It’s not like you two had the chance to hash it out, yet you seem to be supporting each other’s efforts rather seamlessly.

It’s one of those moments that sends butterflies up to your stomach, realizing just how close you two have become, just how well you’re starting to know each other.

And you have to admit, it is satisfying. Getting what you want, just with your words, using the situation to your advantage. Being clever, and succeeding at it.

So it keeps on happening.

You set up the bait, only for Jamil to swoop in for the finishing touches.

Or a shared effort, both of you building up on each other.

One time, you realize you were even doing the same thing with the same person without even being aware of each other.

Which, again, fills you with that warmth and delight. That knowledge of being on such a similar wavelength, it really is a sweet thing indeed.

Slowly, it becomes bigger things, bigger goals, something to plan for.

You’d like to think that you’re a moderating influence, keeping Jamil from going too far – certainly, no one needs a repeat of what happened before his overblot.

But when you start talking about Jamil getting his freedom, well. In such a predicament, a lot of options are very much justified, aren’t they?

Ace and Deuce used to be baffled by your fondness for Jamil. (Yes go check out this comic by @crystallizsch and while you're there enjoy all their other fun Jamil stuff it's great)

Now they complain that you’re becoming just like him.

Out of reflex, you start arguing against it – you’re hardly so resourceful, so capable, or so willing to do whatever it takes as Jamil is.

But afterwards, the more you think about it… You used to think you and Jamil had some rather significant differences in how you view the world and the other people in it.

Nowadays, it really does not seem like such a insurmountable gap.

Also psst @diodellet maybe you'd also enjoy these thoughts?

#twisted wonderland #jamil viper #twisted wonderland x reader #jamil viper x reader #ner talks #welcome to another installment of ner's jamil brainrot #I promise you it will not be ending #eta: removed the title because I slapped in on last second and wasn't too happy with it #we'll see if I'll retitle this or if it'll just stay as is

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Carpe Noctem 7

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, gaslighting, manipulatin, other dark elements. Proceed with caution. (short!reader)

Note: Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

You make yourself leave the bathroom, the smell of maple greeting you as Lloyd sets out the cardboard containers at the end of the bed. There's not much in the room besides the bed and television. He smirks as you elude his gaze.

"So, you a waffle girl–"

You take a container without concern for the contents and catch the plastic-wrapped cutlery as it rolls off the top. You turn your back to him and sit on the side of the bed. He sighs, his soles shifting as he slowly struts around the corner.

You flip open the box, balancing it on your lap as you open the fork and knife. You juggle awkwardly to pour the container of maple syrup over the French toast. He looms over you, a hand in the pocket of his powder blue pants.

"You put some ice on that?" He points to your cheek.

"I'm fine," you insist and cut into the eggy bread, "please, just say whatever little speech you have prepared and go."

He walks in front of you and clears his throat. He tugs on his pants before he sits beside you. You scarf down a mouthful, trying to focus on the food over him.

"You really gonna go back to a jackass who would do that to your pretty face?" He leans back on his arm, his shoulder behind yours. Too close for comfort.

"So you came to gloat?" You scoff.

"I came to repay the favour and let me make it clear, I don't do that shit. Favours, what the fuck ever. But baby, most women would left me stewing in that gin–"

"I should have," you scowl.

"But you didn't," he leans his shoulder into yours, "so the least I can do is offer you a place in your time of need."

"Uh huh, you seem like the generous type," you poke at a piece of crust.

"I brought you breakfast," he intones. You look at him sharply and he snickers, "alright, it doesn't come without some… terms."

"Terms?" You frown.

"Look, I don't do that pining bullshit. Sexual tension makes my balls ache, they fill up like pendulums and I can't walk straight–"

"You're disgusting."

"Sure am," he pulls his arm out from behind you and leans his elbows on his legs, "but I'm not gonna lie to your face then bash it in. I just want a little tit…" he looks you up and down, "for tat."

"Ew."

"Don't think of it too deep. We both got needs, even if you can't see it now but I know for a fact you haven't been fucked the way you should and I can do just that. Plus give you a nice room of your own and a place to get away from that man child you call an ex."

"Ex? We didn't–"

"Ugh, don't make me say all that sappy shit but you… don't… he doesn't… deserve… whatever. You know that old cliche."

"Wow, very moving," you close up the box, your appetite shriveled.

You get up, trying to make space between you and him. You put the box down and brace your hips.

"You got your work and life, I got mine. I'm just looking for some stress relief at the end of the day. It's nothing serious. Fuck, high five, go on our way."

You chew your lip. You don't even want to acknowledge the offer. It's gross and slimy. Just like him.

"And I'll help you get your shit from the dickless fuck before he destroys it. Make sure he doesn't go for round two on your mug."

You huff, blowing out air until your lungs thrum. You shake your head. You can't really be considering this.

You could call the twins and… they live with their parents still. Coworkers… they all have kids and families… your mother lives in a totally different city and you can barely be in the same room for more than an hour before you're ready to bawl.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

"Right," he pulls out his phone, "I'm looking at listings. Nice bachelor for, hm, 2400 a month. Good deal. Oh if you want a one bedroom that'll be another three hundred…"

"Stop. Stop," you face him, "I get it. Okay. I fucking…" you flinch and touch your cheek as it throbs, "I get it."

"Aw, baby face," he stands and nears you, surprising you as he nears and cradles your chin, "you just wait until I meet this fuckboy."

You look at him, defeated. You can't say it. You can't admit it. You're at a dead end and he's the only way out.

"Nah, you don't gotta say it… yet. But we both know the facts. So, you get your stuff, check out, and we'll do this step by step."

He spins and goes to the bed, scooping up your cell phone. You follow him as he keys into the screen and you try to take it from him. He keeps it out of your grasp and grins triumphantly.

"Alright, so my address is in there," he throws it onto the pillow, "I'll meet you there. Also, key code is on there too. Let yourself in."

"What? Where–"

"I got business, we'll debrief later," he winks at you, "in a manner of speaking."

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #the gray man #au #drabble #the club #series #carpe noctem

[sunlightmurdock]

Blow by Blow | 0.4 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader au

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

Synopsis: Bradley’s washed up before his career has even really begun. He doesn’t want to fill his father’s shoes and he doesn’t want someone else to either. Stuck in limbo, living the same way he always has, the opportunity to step up wanders through the door of his gym in a mini dress and heels that are a size too big.

Warnings: unspecified age gap, violence, probs boxing inaccuracies somewhere along the line, blood and injuries throughout the fic but will be specified in the warnings of the chapter. Smut and other 18+ content, minors dni, no warnings in particular for this one

…

Bradley’s car pulls into the parking lot at seven, prompt — on time for once. The radio is playing loud, some seventies tune that he hums along to with little regard for the neighbors. Head tilted back, humming softly to your own music, the water pours over your face.

You scrub shampoo through your roots, swaying softly to your music. It’s a relatively calm track, you’re hoping for a relatively calm day. The plan is to take Tank for a walk through the park down by the marina, then come back and work on the website a bit — Nat’s going to train with you in the afternoon, then you’ve got the evening to yourself.

It’s a nice change, having this much freedom over your day. No asshole telling you what to wear, telling you that walking the dog takes too long, dragging you along to whatever he wants to do.

Bradley’s brows furrow. He pops open the glove box and riffles through it before patting down his jean pockets again. No keys. “Fuck.”

It’s the first time that he’s been on time in a week. If he has to call Jake to borrow some keys then he’s just going to get another lecture. He knows exactly where his keys for the gym are, somewhere on the floor of your apartment.

Sliding out of the driver’s side of his Ford Bronco, he slams the door with little regard for the neighbors again — he half does it just to let you know that he’s coming. Then, he jogs up the metal stairs that lead to the door to your apartment and knocks loudly on the glass panel in the door.

Immediately, he’s met with a big bark. Loud, deep and right by the door from the sounds of things. Yeah… Natasha had mentioned a dog. Bradley knocks the glass loudly again, unfazed by the barking.

He lifts his hand, ready to hit the glass hard when he hears you unlocking the door. The blue wood pulls back and opens just slightly. He has a split second where he can glance you up and down, get a good look at you, still wet and wrapped in a towel. Once his gaze lifts, he’s met with an unimpressed scowl.

Next, Tank lurches forwards, barking wildly as he aims himself at the stranger just outside the door. You put your knee against the doorframe and block Tank with your body.

“I need my keys, I dropped them here the other night.” Bradley ignores the dog and looks back to you without greeting you. He’s in kind of a hurry, Jake’s going to be here any minute and Bradley could do without being ridiculed today.

“Say please.”

It slips your mouth before you’ve even had time to think about it. It’s just the demanding tone and the way he looks at you. This is what would get you in trouble with Jett. You both seem equally surprised at what you just said. You swallow softly and step back.

“Sorry, I just — I’ll get them—“

“Can I have my keys, please?” Bradley asks softly. You take a deep breath and exhale through your nose, holding the towel against your body.

“Yeah, stay there.” You say quietly. You turn your back on him and nudge Tank back with you, catching hold of his collar and gently guiding him back towards the living room. Bradley’s keys are on the counter, approximately three steps from the back door — you had found them while cleaning last night and had been planning on returning them.

One step from the door, two, and then you let go of Tank’s collar. He seems calm enough now, you know him well enough to know that he’ll stay that way as long as Bradley stays outside.

Bradley slips his phone from the pocket of his gym shorts and checks the time. Jake’s going to be here any second. He steps inside, his strides are longer than yours and he’s close enough to you in one step. Too close, as Tank decides.

The dog growls sharply, then leaps up at him again, barking and snarling. The same puppy that had been curled up on the couch with you, wrapped in a cozy blanket and snoring, an hour ago.

You gasp, spinning around and catching the towel to keep it from falling. Bradley’s closer than you’re expecting, he can see the panic in your eyes when you turn. You catch hold of Tank’s collar and pull him back.

“I’m sorry, I was just going to—“

“I told you to wait outside.” You frown at him, brows furrowed, heart pounding in your chest. Maybe a braver person would yell at him now. You’d like to. Bradley glances down at your dog, still growling lowly, now standing between you and him with his heckles up.

This isn’t the first time that this dog has stood between you and a guy who has gotten too close.

Bradley takes a couple of steps back, bumping into the doorframe as he raises his palms in defense. You might forgive him, but Tank’s not so quick to recover. He continues to growl, deep and rumbling, warning the trainer to stay outside.

You swallow softly, fingers curling around his keys without looking back. You take them from the counter and toss them towards him. Bradley catches them in one hand.

“Thank you. Thanks. I’ll — I’ll see you later.” He nods, already half turning away, waving you off and heading down the steps. You step quickly forwards and close the door behind him, clicking the lock shut.

You crouch down and run your fingers over Tank’s fur, humming quietly. “So, you think he’s kind of an asshole too, huh?”

Bradley can’t fault your home security system. With your aim and nearby projectiles, and your new guard dog, he’s certain that if anyone tries to break in up there then they’ll be sorry about it.

He hears Jake’s truck pull up outside just as he’s finished opening up for the morning, the exhaust is fucked and it’s louder than it should be. Bradley walks back to the front desk and pulls his phone out, acting like he has been here and done with his work for a while.

“Wow, you’re here.” Jake quips, raising his eyebrows in amused surprise as he lets the door ring closed behind him. He’s wearing a black cap and matching gym wear today. With his experience and skills, he should probably be at a more upmarket place, but Jake’s got a soft spot for Bradshaw’s.

Sometimes, Bradley wishes he had the same choice.

“You look like you just saw a ghost, you alright?” Jake continues as he steps around the counter and slides the clipboard towards himself, flipping through the pages to find his schedule for the day.

“Yeah, that kid’s dog just lunged for me — don’t think either of them like me.” Bradley scoffs, shaking his head as he leans over Jake’s shoulder. Lots of empty spaces on the schedule, Mav isn’t going to be happy.

“Who, Tank?” Jake looks up, brows furrowing. Bradley nods his head. Jake scoffs, “Wow, you must’ve really pissed him off, he napped in Bob’s lap for like an hour last night. Curled up like a baby.”

As Jake finishes talking, you walk past the front of the gym. Tank’s wearing a harness and walking ahead of you on his leash, tail wagging contentedly. You’re wearing a pretty dress, it’s red, stops mid-way up your thigh and has little flowers on it.

Jake smiles as you turn your head towards the two of them. He lifts his hand and waves his fingers at you through the glass. Bradley stares as you wave chirpily back at the two of them.

It’s a sunny day, and you feel sunnier than you’ve felt in months. You pull your sweater from your bag and lay it out on the grass, then settle down. Tank readily settles with you, laying his head against your legs and wagging his tail.

Tank was an apology. For one of the first times things had gotten bad between you and Jett — an explosive argument that left behind an entire day’s worth of tears. You’d gone to sleep that night swearing that you were going to leave him. The next morning, you had woken up with a tan coloured cuddle bug who needed you to stay.

Before this, you haven’t spent much time on this side of San Diego — you had heard that this wasn’t the best area to hang out in. Maybe that’s why Jett liked to, maybe it made him feel tough. It isn’t like you had thought it would be. Down by the boats, sitting in the grass, it’s nice. There’s a view out over the bay and Tank likes to watch the birds in the trees above you.

“Heads up.” Bob nudges his elbow into Jake’s. Jake lifts his gaze and frowns. They’re standing by the front desk and trying to find stuff to keep them busy so that Mav doesn’t realise how dead it is today. They stare out of the front window together as the car door slams.

“Oh, what the fuck is that assho—“

Jake shoots a look at Natasha. She closes her mouth and breathes out hard, curling her knuckles around the counter as Jett walks towards the door. With guys like Jett, Jake knows what he’s looking for. It’s a fight, nothing more. A couple more of those, one more lawsuit and this place is getting shut down for good.

With everything that Maverick has lost already, Jake’s not going to let that happen.

The bell above the door rings. He’s barely got one foot inside, nostrils flared, dark circles under his eyes. There’s a grey sheen to his skin — maybe drinking too much, maybe something heavier. Jake’s not too sure.

“Where is she?”

Natasha opens her mouth. Bob elbows her softly.

“Where’s who?” Jake shrugs his shoulders calmly.

Jett seethes, surging forwards. Jake takes one step back and squares his shoulders.

“My girl.” Jett spits.

“Why would she be here?” Bob asks gently, leaning forwards on his palms. He adjusts his glasses.

“Cut the shit, I know she’s here! — My neighbour saw her with you.”

Phoenix glances across at Jake. Jake folds his arms over his chest. He’s two weight classes above Jett, and confident in the knowledge that Jett knows he won’t win this fight.

“Here to apologize?” Jake taunts.

“Here to talk her dumb ass down from whatever high horse she’s on. You don’t know her, man, she always freaks out like this.”

Bradley rounds the corner, leaning his head back, breathing hard. That session really took it out of him. He rolls his neck and opens his mouth, then closes it. He stops in his tracks.

He takes a moment to stare at Jett, and then take in what he had just said. Now it all makes sense.

“You want to talk to her?” Phoenix challenges, pushing herself up from her chair and rounding the desk. Behind her, is the internal door, behind that are the stairs to your apartment. “Try it.”

“Don’t think that just because you’re a girl, I won’t—“

That’s enough. They have heard enough. Bob moves to step between him and Phoenix, Jake steps towards Jett. Bradley throws his towel onto the ground and surpasses Jake.

He steps forwards and curls a fist into Jett’s t-shirt.

“Rooster, don’t.”

Rooster knows that there are only a couple more times that the police can get called to this place, and he knows that their insurance isn’t going to cover him starting another fight. Luckily, Jett’s smaller than he is.

His feet lift briefly off of the ground and stumble the rest of the way, scrambling for purchase, his arms swinging out to the sides. Rooster walks him backwards. The bell above the door rings loudly as the door swings open and then closed.

Jett’s shoes scrape along the concrete, not stopping long enough for him to get steady footing. His arms shove at Bradley, but it’s little use. Bradley worked as security for a while, there are a lot of bars downtown and he needed some time away from the gym. He’s used to throwing scrawny losers out onto the curb.

They walk back until Jett’s clear of the property boundary.

He tosses Jett backwards. Jett grunts as his back slams into the hood of his beat up, old car. He slinks down onto the floor. Bradley can tell that he’s going to try to get up before he does.

He leans down in front of your ex-boyfriend, eyes dark and serious, his broad frame blocking out the mid-day sun from behind him.

“You know me, right, Jett?” Bradley asks gently. He’s asking more than if Jett knows his name, which Jett does — he knows about Bradley’s career, and he knows why it’ll never extend past Bradshaw’s. Taking note of the clear recognition in Jett’s blue eyes, he nods his head. “That’s right. So you know that I have a hard time knowing when to stop. Right?”

Jett swallows softly.

Bradley nods his head again. “You come by here again, I’m not gonna stop.”

Tank walks ahead of you happily, his nose pointed up as he takes in his new surroundings. He seems to like it down here, all of the fresh smells, all of the birds. You’re four chapters into a book you’ve been meaning to start for months.

The bell above the door rings, Tank wanders in first and walks right on up to Bob. Your lips quirk slightly as he looks up expectantly at his new friend. You lift your gaze. The four of them are looking at you.

Smiling sweetly, you tilt your head a fraction to the side. “Everything okay?”

“Always is when you’re around, sunshine.” Jake shoots you a quick wink. Your cheeks are warm, and not because you just spent a couple of hours out in the sun. Bob and Natasha relax as you giggle sheepishly.

Bradley’s looking at you differently now. Maybe because Tank scared him this morning. You can’t quite place the look that he has on his face.

“Are Mickey and Javy here? — I had an idea for the website and I need to talk to all of you for it.” You continue on, well aware of those big brown eyes boring into your side as you pull your notebook from your bag and lean forwards onto the counter.

Phoenix shoots Bradley a look. He stares back at her. Everyone knew except him. She told everyone other than him about what had gone down between you and Jett. He didn’t realise that things had gotten that bad. Folding his arms over his chest, he wonders what else she has kept from him over the past few weeks.

…

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #miles teller #top gun #top gun: maverick #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw smut #bradley rooster x reader #rooster smut #rooster x you #rooster bradshaw imagine #rooster top gun

[quillkiller]

microfic: effiebarty, 1.3k words, mature.

age gap (barty 22, effie 46), cheating, referenced abuse (barty’s father), mild sexual content

Barty huffed out a not-so-surprised laugh when his back hit the couch, looking up at the lust filled brown eyes that, in turn, were looking down at him. Christ, he thought. He was in way over his head. 

Nowhere else he'd rather be, though. 

It had been his fathers idea– to help out at the Potter’s. Maybe befriend Fleamont Potter’s only son, James Potter, the loud arrogant fucker. The most important task at hand, though, was to be at Mr. Potters side. Offer your assistance, his father said. Whatever he wants, and maybe something will become of you. 

Barty had expected Mr. Potter to open the goddamn gates to the pretentious fucking mansion he was living in, but instead he was met with the Missus. It was early in the morning and she had been wearing a mint green silk robe and not much else. Hair a little messy and unkempt, unimpressed look on her face. Twenty years Barty’s senior, at the very least. 

“Fuck me,” Barty had exhaled, inelegant and inappropriate. He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but in his defense his father always did say he couldn’t beat him into a proper young man.

Certainly didn’t stop him from trying though. 

Mrs. Potter raised one single eyebrow, raised her coffee cup to her lips and watched him as his eyes followed the motion, and then stepped aside to let him in. She laughed, a quiet mischievous little thing, when his breath caught in his throat. 

“Fuck me,” he repeated through a breathy laugh. 

“Unlikely.” an amused Mrs. Potter said. 

Barty did whatever Mr. Potter told him to, which were all bullshit jobs that certainly wouldn’t help the bloody career he didn’t even care about in the first place. He brought him coffees, cleaned their giant fucking pool, ran errands– and on some, very rare, occasions he was to follow James around. Take notes, Mr. Potter said. 

Barty had punched people for a lot fucking less. 

It could’ve been worse, though. His anger simmered away immediately when he entered the kitchen to find Mrs. Potter already there, standing by the kitchen island. She’d pour him a cup of coffee and ask him how he takes it. She was a bloody goddess, too good for this house, in the early morning sun peeking through the large kitchen windows. 

Barty would say something stupid like: your husband is waiting for me. 

Mrs. Potter would grin and say: you’d rather drink your coffee with him? 

Fuck no, he’d laugh. He figured he could steal five minutes of the day, just to share them with the Missus of the house. Mr. Potter wouldn’t miss him, certainly. Maybe Barty would even survive this bullshit not-even-a-job without breaking something if Mrs. Potter would continue to indulge him. If she’d let his greedy eyes watch her. He felt like a stain in her presence, afraid to get too close and infect her with his filth. 

She stepped closer, entering his personal space, and raised the cup of coffee for him to grab. Their fingers brushed when he took it. She hadn’t flinched at the touch. Hadn’t wrinkled her nose in disgust. She let her fingers linger, just a little, before removing them. 

Good boy, she’d said. 

Barty nearly dropped the coffee cup on the floor.

Since then, she would always wait for him in the kitchen when he came down. Or at least he’d like to think she was waiting. For him. And when he was cleaning their pool, she’d come out and offer him a cold drink. Sometimes she’d stay, lower herself onto one of the tanning chairs with a book. Sneak a glance or two, and maybe, just maybe, Barty would throw his shirt off. Claiming it’s too bloody hot out. Maybe Mrs. Potter’s glances would increase after that.

Yeah, it could’ve been worse. 

“Why are you here, anyway?” Mrs. Potter asked one afternoon, outstretched on her tanning chair in a white silk robe and another book in her hands. She liked books. Maybe Barty would bring her one of his own someday. 

“Why are you?” Barty challenged, and fished a cigarette from out of his back pocket. He raised his eyebrows towards the older woman, as if to ask do you mind? 

Mrs Potter shrugged, “My husband wouldn’t like it if he knew,” 

Barty didn’t know which question she was answering, but he lit up the cigarette and brought it to his lips. Mrs Potter watched him do it. “And you?” he asked. 

Mrs. Potter laughed, a bright thing Barty wanted to hear more of. He felt the burning heat of jealousy bubbling up in his chest at the thought that Mr. Potter got to hear it. Probably a lot, even. Maybe from their shared marital bed, where he touched her in ways he didn’t fucking deserve.

“You’re cocky, you know that?” 

“I’ve been accused of worse things.” 

“I’m sure you can be a good boy,” Mrs Potter teased, “when you want to be,” 

Barty fought the urge to drop to his knees and crawl over to her on all fours. He wasn’t completely sure he wasn’t salivating, like a dog with a bone just out of reach. He wondered if Mrs. Potter was doing it on purpose, dangling it infront of him like this. It certainly didn’t stop his imagination from running wild. 

They held each other's gaze, tension heavy in the air. Barty knew he was blushing, but he didn’t look away. His knees would buckle, though, any second now, he was sure of it. The thought only made him blush further. He wouldn’t mind falling to his knees in front of Mrs. Potter. Wouldn’t mind submitting to her every whim, really, if that’s what she wanted 

Mrs. Potter bit her lip and lowered her gaze just slightly. She put her book down on the ground, ever so slowly— and allowed her legs to part, her silk robe loosening sinfully as her legs continued to spread. 

The cigarette fell from Barty’s lips, long since forgotten. He was about to say something, to maybe possibly object. Remind her of her bore of a useless husband, before he realised he absolutely didn’t care. Couldn’t care less, really, as his gaze lowered and watched as Mrs. Potter’s fingers reached the hem of her swim wear. 

“Mrs–” 

“Effie,” she interrupted. 

Heat pooled in his chest, his belly— his entire body. He swallowed tightly as her fingers dipped even lower. Someone would kill him for this, he thought. If they ever found out. 

He bit his own lip until he could taste the metallic tang of blood. Mrs Potter - Effie, he corrected - moaned as her hand disappeared between her legs, not looking away from him once.  

His knees buckled. 

“Watch,” Effie commanded, “no touching,” 

He’d die a lucky fucking man, though. He’d let Effie herself kill him, gladly, if that’s what she wanted. Whatever she fucking wanted. He’d lay his head down on her knee, like someone would lay their head on the execution block, and he’d look up at her so fucking sweetly. 

That’s how he had ended up here, with his back against the couch– in a pool house with a married woman. Not knowing or caring where her husband was. His fathers words echoed in his mind, demanding Barty do whatever Mr. Potter asked of him. Offer your assistance, his father had said. 

Effie straddled him, hand around his throat and robe falling off her shoulders. Sure, Mr. Potter hadn’t asked him to do this, but if that idiot couldn’t keep his wife satisfied then someone would have to do it for him. A woman like Effie should always be satisfied. Should have whatever she fucking wanted, whenever she wanted it. He was simply offering his assistance. 

Effie closed her hands around his wrists, keeping them above his head. “Will you keep them there?” she whispered, gently rolling her hips. “for me?” 

Way, way over his fucking head. 

“Anything,” he stuttered. 

“Good boy.” 

#jen’s microfics #im gonna try doing this maybe once a week to cure my writers block #ANYWAY……… #i offer you…. effiebarty….. #effiebarty #euphemia potter #barty crouch junior #im so nervous to post this lmao #marauders #marauders fandom