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demonicbaby666 · 15 days

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Dom Emily prentiss x intern fem reader is all i ask!! Smutty ofc, a lil bit of a humiliation kink if you’re comfortable!!! Thank yewww

Packing Heat

One shot | Criminal Minds Masterlist | Masterlists

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x fem!Reader

Genre: Smut

Words: 4.8k+

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, strap-ons (r!receiving), semi-public sex (office sex, again…), praise, degradation, mommy kink, kind of dub-con at one point, top!Emily, bottom!reader

Summary: Interning at the BAU means you don’t interact with the person in charge a lot. Of course, this doesn’t mean you haven’t seen the section chief in passing or exchanged pleasantries; it's that they’re simple, short-lived and often anti-climatic. However one evening, you find yourself in the desolate office with no chance of going home, work to be done, but no one to sit with you through the process. With only one other soul residing on the sixth floor, it seems Emily may be your best bet for company.

A/n: Listen, could she be more dom? Yes. Is there any humiliation? Not really... But I got lost while writing, so please don't be mad at me... Hope you still enjoy!

When you'd first started at the BAU, it was safe to say you hadn't seen much of the woman calling the shots. There were always updates about when the team were taken out of state, what their cases would entail, the steady progress being made, and the brief comical encounters Garcia spewed around the office. When they were back, everyone made an effort to small talk. They welcomed you well and continued to appreciate the little things you did for them daily. Emily, however, was constantly on the go, meaning every encounter you'd had with her consisted of one-way glances and hopeful smiles in the event she decided to notice her surroundings and the human lifeform less than two metres away.

She never did, though, until one uneventful evening.

Almost everyone had vacated the building. The only remaining souls left on the sixth floor were you, Emily, and a one-person cleaning crew—whom you watched exit through glass doors before approaching the brunette's office with shaky knees. Peeking through the window, you saw her attention dart to and from the bright computer screen to the mountains of bureaucratic paperwork lying atop her desk. It was easy to get lost in the little creases between her eyebrows, brought out by the deep scowl she wore, the delicate way her fingers were woven together, and the pads of her thumbs skirting against one another as she pondered in deep thought.

It was nearing eight, and you were struggling to understand how someone could appear so put together at this late hour, given that their day was most certainly jam-packed with non-stop slog.

Emily's eyes suddenly flashed up. She squinted toward her door, trying to figure out who'd be here this late other than herself. When she appeared to have worked it out, she leaned back victoriously in her chair, a smug smile on her face, when she called out, "Are you going to stand out there all night?"

You could have done two things: scurried off like a teenager caught peeping or held your chin up high and walked into the older woman's office with little to no shame. Somehow, you managed to do a mix of both, scurrying in with sagging shoulders, a guilty smile plastered on your face and trembling hands clasping your laptop over your chest.

"Well, it's eerily quiet out there, and I would go home to write this paper. It's just that my roommate and her boyfriend have an awful tendency to forget about volume control when they're—" You cut yourself off, realising it probably wasn't appropriate to talk to your boss about your roommate's over-the-top borderline pornographic soundscape. "I was wondering if I could, you know."

Emily, satirising as ever, waited with a raised eyebrow and a relaxed smile for you to continue your purposefully unfinished question.

"Sorry, I should let you work." You surrendered to your weak resolve with flushed cheeks and began to turn around.

"Sit," she ordered before you had fully turned back around to the door, nodding to the available chair on the other side of her desk. Her eyes followed your journey to the seat, watching as you placed your laptop down and opened it with shaky fingers. Satisfied, she turned her attention back to her work. "I could do with some company."

The following silence, starting as unsettling and stagnant, blossomed into something warm and comfortable. There were occasional glances thrown your way and vice versa. Their acknowledgement and appreciation were shown in the form of timid smiles on your end and double takes followed by teasing smirks on Emily's.

When half an hour had passed, your shoulders had finally relaxed, your fingers had stopped their infernal twitching, and your paper neared its completion. There was a proud smile cresting, and you were trying to prevent it from forming, knowing how dorkish it made you look. But you knew there was no hope when your cheeks ached and your jaw locked. You granted yourself the freedom to display your gloating smile.

Just as expected, Emily had a questioning look on her face when you dared to look up from the document. There was a playfulness to the upward quirk of her lips - the superiority of a predator knowing the power they have over their prey, ready to prove it at any given moment.

"I've almost finished," you timidly admitted, feeling obligated to explain as heat infiltrated your jutted-out cheeks.

Without a second thought, the ravenette stood up and made her way around the desk. She could have easily chosen to turn the laptop around. Instead, she took the far more intimate route.

Soft curves grazed your shoulder blades, causing you to shiver. The weight finally settled, soft padding pressed flat against your back as Emily read your paper, and suddenly, your stomach had worked itself into looping knots, and your heart was racing.

The struggle continued as you fought not to fidget, if only to alleviate the growing tension mounting between your thighs. This was only made worse when Emily's right hand left the back of your chair to drop down over your shoulder and land comfortably on your thigh.

"Such a smart girl," she whispered sultrily into the shell of your ear, squeezing generous flesh between her fingers.

With a scrambled brain, there was little fight to be put up against the meek whimper that crackled against the constricted lining of your throat. Subconsciously, your thighs tensed, and your pussy fluttered as you were reminded how close Emily's hand was to where you could only dream she'd touch.

You'd thought you imagined it—the subtle shift in the room from breezy and light to torrid and all-consuming, but with Emily's fingers veering off course, inching higher and higher, reality came crashing down.

"Thank you," you struggled to get the words out, and when they did come out, they were tremulous and feeble.

Turning to look at her may have, in hindsight, been a mistake because where her gaze should have been fixed on the laptop screen, it was glued to your lips. Unexpectedly, your stomach flipped, and you felt dizzy. She was still superbly perfect up close, skin smooth like silk, cheekbones sharp as a razor, and lips cut from velvet. It was too close, dangerously so, you had to look away. Outside the window, you spotted a swarm of birds barely visible against the night sky. You ignored the clanking of your heart as you focussed on their synchronicity, watching them circle each other until they became one big blur of messy movements.

The hand resting on the leather backing of your chair rose, skirting up and over your neck, until a firm grip was established around your dangling ponytail. She was gentle when she tugged, aware that though she wanted to educate you in the art of being owned, you were delicate.

"I think a pretty thing like you deserves a reward," she baited. "Don't you?"

Her grip on you may have been physical. However, a stronger pull was coming from deep within you, an unimportant piece of scrap metal drawn in by a powerful magnet. It was useless to deny her. The mesmerising glow of her chocolate eyes and the promise of being made to feel special was too powerful. So, you nodded slowly but eagerly, desire painting your eyes dark shades of lust.

"That's a good girl."

Emily didn't miss how you preened at the praise and safely stored that information away for further use. She shifted to your side, hands migrating to the small of your waist, guiding you to your feet. The act of it was far gentler than you'd expected, like a gentleman asking a maiden to dance, sweeping her off her feet to whisk her away into a fairytale land filled with magic and romance.

Certain the benign treatment would be short-lived, you granted yourself the leniency to enjoy it whilst it lasted, refusing to get too caught up in the dull ache between your legs that craved the form of savagery Emily displayed in the field.

There was nothing short of passion in how she worked. It drove you crazy. As wrong as it felt, you couldn't help but envy the dirtbag the team was working to catch because you saw how badly the brunette wanted them. The look in her eyes, gratification and disgust all at once, when she'd achieved what she set out to do and was staring the devil right in the face - it made your heart race, your palms sweat and your cunt throb.

The memory kickstarted what could only be described as a brutal attack upon the older woman's lips. To her credit, Emily indulged the outburst for a lot longer than you'd have thought. As if she'd expected it, she quickly responded, pulling you into her body and tilting her head to the side to deepen the kiss. The lead was stolen promptly from your grasp when Emily wedged a leg between your thighs, backed you up against her desk and tactically slid her tongue into your gaped mouth. You would have gasped if not for the fact you were immediately indulged in the minty taste of your boss's tongue skirting over the roof of your mouth. So much so that you scarcely noticed the pressure coming from your core was no longer just a phantom need manifested but taut clothed muscle pressing you further and further into the sharp wooden edge of the desk.

"Emily," you breathily moaned, pulling back and separating your kiss-swollen lips from the brunette's. Ordinarily, you wouldn't have allowed what happened next to occur, but this was Emily, after all, the BAU section chief, and if you were to let anyone order you about, it would be her.

She backed away from you with a final nip to your bottom lip, letting it go with a pop, and you fought the urge to reach out and pull her back to you. You knew you'd already tried to take things into your own hands once, and doing so again may undermine any chances you had of keeping the ball rolling on tonight's affairs.

You could feel the tight pull of your ponytail and all the places where hair had been lead array from the confines of your hairband, and it truly dawned on you how out of sorts you must have appeared. Tracing your fingers over your lips, you could make out how swollen they were - puffy and hot, yet desperate and pouted, begging for more. Your breathing was laboured, filling the room's silence, and your shirt suddenly felt too tight as your chest expanded with each intake of oxygen. It almost came as a relief when Emily opened her mouth to finally speak until you heard what she'd said.

"Take your clothes off," she mindlessly ordered, walking around to her chair and sitting back in it. Her eager eyes trained over your body with the faintest shimmer of mirth.

Initially, it was a shock. Of course, it was. You were in an official government building, personnel still sparsely spread throughout, and a goddess of a woman was asking you to bare yourself to her.

For the longest time, revealing your body to someone always felt like giving up something. Perhaps some kind of purity. The moment you gave it up, it bred only guilt and shame that twisted and pulled at the pit of your stomach until you felt sick. You stood there, waiting for that feeling to come. It never did.

Remaining still, your body pulsed not with nerves but with exhilaration and anticipation. It took a few seconds to realise this was precisely what you wanted. You wanted to give this false sense of purity away. There was not a sudden influx of courage soaring through every living cell of your body. However, there was enough for you to put on a front and do as you were told.

"Slowly." Emily sat further back and placed her elbows neatly over the arms of her chair. She laced her fingers together, offered you an encouraging nod, and then was back to watching you raptly.

Feeling like a glutton, you followed a path of desire and heeded Emily's request, fingers increasingly fumbling over each button of your shirt.

"So obedient." And in no way was it said negatively; the adulatory smile she gave you only sought to prove that further.

The way she looked at you made you feel as though you were already naked. Maybe that was why it was so easy to get lost in the subtlety of undressing. It was art, and you were a performer. That's what you told yourself. And for the most part, it worked.

With closed eyes, you trailed your fingers over your shoulders, letting your shirt drop to the floor. The AC raised goosebumps over your chest, pebbled your nipples under your plain bra, and you smiled. You smiled because this was the most alive you had felt in months. The thrill of moving on to your slacks and deftly unclasping your belt felt like being on a rollercoaster, like missing a step and laughing fear in the face afterwards. You felt utterly fearless.

In the back of your mind, you could sense Emily's eyes still on you. You could hear her moving around but didn't think to check her reaction. You were in your element, and far be it for a look of appraisal, or lack of, to stop you. That was until your trousers hit the carpet with a soft thud, and a sharp breath was heard from across you.

Your eyes snapped open, and you found Emily's smile was absent. The brunette now had her bottom lip trapped between her teeth as she looked you up and down, knuckles white from her deadly grip over the armrests.

She lifted a hand, palm facing the ceiling as her index and middle finger crooked. "Come here so I can get a proper look at you," she said, slightly breathless.

The desk had conveniently covered the lower half of Emily's body, which meant that when you circled around and came to stand next to her, you could see exactly what the earlier ruffling had been about.

"Is that?" You froze, both shocked and utterly intrigued by the thick black dildo jutting out from the older woman's opened slacks.

She didn't need you to finish the question, already nodding as she followed your line of sight. Leaning forward with an outstretched arm, Emily coiled her fingers around your wrist and pulled you forward, causing you to almost stumble over your own feet. At this closer distance, you could tell the faux cock would give you a run for your money. It was thicker than anything you had taken before, though that was not a hard trophy to earn, given that the most you had let anyone put inside you was three fingers.

"Do you want to come sit on mommy's lap?" Emily asked with a tilt of her head.

She didn't miss how your breath caught in your throat, how you seemed to stop blinking, stop moving, stop existing.

"Are you scared?" the lioness asked, sights set on her prized fawn.

You shook your head and placed one foot in front of the other, eyes downcast as you took in the size of Emily's additional appendage. The shake of your jaw gave you away.

"I don't like being lied to," she snapped, eyes dimming to an even darker shade of brown.

She pulled you in by your waist and sat you on her lap, cock brushing over the thin material of your underwear. Instinctively, you wedged your bottom lip between your teeth to quiet yourself. But Emily wasn't having any of it. Her thumb came to your captive lip, where she helped release it with a soft flick.

The smooth texture of Emily's cock through your sodden panties was a needed relief. Its head purposefully pressing against your sensitive bundle of nerves evoked a flurry of shivers to run down your spine. And with nothing holding you back, you moaned in gratitude.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" Emily smirked, watching you rut against her.

"Yes," you uttered, breath caught in your throat.

Happy to watch, Emily relaxed her shoulders and leaned back, enjoying the show you were putting on for her. Only when she recognised the tell-tell signs of frustration wash over your features, from your creased brow to the bite of your lip between your teeth, did a sick smirk lick the edges of her lips. With a mischievous glint shining in her eyes, the older woman shifted her position, pointedly ignoring the sound it pulled from you.

"Something wrong?" she asked with a hitch of one eyebrow, adamant to appear oblivious.

You gave no reply, only held tight to her shoulders in defiance and continually ground down on her, trying so hard to pleasure yourself to no avail that your eyes began to sting with the emergence of tears.

With sweat threatening to spill down the side of your face, the tension between your legs starting to ache, and your release nowhere near in sight, you threw your head back with a sigh and whispered a quiet 'please' to the ceiling.

"Please what?" Came the dull reply, tone bored, unamused, unimpressed.

You tried to impale yourself, failing as strong hands held you down. It was driving you crazy—pleasure being so close yet so far.

With one hand removed from your hip, Emily gripped your jaw and turned your attention solely to her stern gaze, "Are you going to stop being a brat and tell me what you want?"

When no answer came, she let go, jerking your head back as if disgusted with the lack of compliance.

"Get up."

Ice, you were made of ice. Sat still, shocked, speechless and slightly mortified.

"Do I need to repeat myself?" Emily's voice was no longer flat; it was not roaring either. Instead, it was layered, resembling the same barbed tone a teacher might use with a disobedient student. It was enough of a motivator to get you to rise to your feet.

Following you closely, the older woman, too, rose to her full height, hands meticulously reaching behind your back to expertly relieve you of your bra. Never once did she look you in the eye.

With the same callous approach, you were turned and pressed against the desk, papers sticking to your heated chest. Emily was quick to loop her fingers through the hem of your underwear and slip them down your thighs, allowing gravity to do the rest.

The full-bodied presence behind you lessened, and you took it as the opportune moment to glance back.

The brunette had let her trousers drop to the floor, allowing you to see how her porcelain skin was directly contrasted by the black leather of her strap-on. Unlike yourself, she did not appear nervous or afraid. As she kicked the tailored pants aside and met your gaze, you realised how in control she was.

Her gaze moved down your body, hands running down your back, until finally, she pressed herself against you and lowered her body atop yours.

"I can feel how wet you are," she teased, running two fingers through the mess between your legs. "Are you always this wet?"

"Emily, please," you begged.

"I asked before, please what?" She raked five fingers down your side, moving them back up till they wound tightly in your hair and gripped your neck to an uncomfortable arch. Two fingers pushed inside you but did no more than that, remaining still as stone. "If you're going to be a baby and refuse to tell me what you want, you'll get nothing."

"Fuck me!" You no longer had the sound of mind to acknowledge shouting something vulgar could attract attention. Logic had evaded you, allowing you to play right into your boss's hands. "Please just fuck me."

Sliding her slick fingers out of you, she proudly stated, "That wasn't hard, was it?"

If the older woman wanted an answer, she did not allow for one. In one fluid motion, she rose from over you and snapped her hips forward, sheathing the entire length of her cock into your cunt. Your breath caught in your throat, resulting in a strained groan tumbling out of your open mouth. The pit of your stomach dropped, and try as you might have not to clench around the toy inside you, you did precisely that.

It was new, the foreign feeling of being filled so fully that one slight move would summon pleasure that sent shivers through your whole body. It wasn't unwelcome, especially when Emily started to move, and heat engulfed your entire body. Her pace was languid, allowing you to feel each slide of her cock along your slick walls, how each push of her hips ended in the tip hitting the spot within you to cause the furling in your stomach to expand tenfold. It was all you could do not to scream when the push and pull and Emily's hips moved with more purpose, jerking your body into the edge of her desk.

"I've barely started, and you're already dripping down your thighs." Her voice was laced with mirth, finger smearing your mess as if to prove an unnecessary point that had your cheeks burning up. "How long have you been thinking about this?" Emily finished her question with an arduous thrust. "How many times have you sunk your fingers into your pussy and thought of me?"

The questions continued, each hitting the nail right on the head. Your cheeks were scorched with the embarrassment that comes with having your desires known and exposed, but it did not take hold of your conscience as the event of falling in front of a large crowd might have. It was comparable to how a blushing maiden may feel when caught by a suitor in only their undergarments. It excited that small part of you that gave in to demoralisation and encouraged you enough to meet Emily halfway as she thrust into you.

As your pleasure mounted, the need for more grew. Your clit, swollen and needy, begged for relief, and you beckoned to its call, sliding one hand from above your head to the juncture between your legs. It was when the tips of your fingers brushed against your sensitive pearl and you gained the briefest taste of the euphoria that Emily removed her hand from your thigh and snatched your hand away, halting all movement.

You could have cried, having everything, then nothing, so quickly.

"Did I say you could do that?"

Abruptly pulling out, Emily stood tall and proud, staring down at you with curiosity and disappointment lining the brown of her eyes. She heard you whimper and acknowledged your sniffle.

"There's no need to cry," she tutted, flipping you onto your back and lifting you by your shoulders. "You're going to listen to me from now on."

You nodded, and she once again lined her cock to your opening, only now she waited, taunting you with possibilities.

"Beg," she instructed.

And you heeded.

"Please. I need you."

"You can do better." She sounded bored, and this struck a nerve within you, one that begged you to impress her, show her you could be a good little girl, and beg as though your life depended on it.

You took a heaving breath and looked into Emily's eyes, sporting your best puppy eyes. "I need you. I want you inside me. I want you to fuck me with your big cock, mommy. Make me scream out your name. I need it."

"There's a good pet," she cooed, mesmerising you with the bating of her lashes as she looked down to where your bodies were so close to touching.

It all happened in a blur. The next thing you knew, your nails were digging into muscled shoulders, legs wrapping around a slim waist as the brunette filled you, wasting no time in picking up a brutal tempo. You barely recognised the sound of your voice as high-pitched obscenities spilt past your lips. You felt your whole body light up, heard blood pulse in your ears, and saw in real-time just how easy it was to aid Emily in calling upon your impending orgasm.

Your vulgar mouth, luckily, seemed to amuse Emily enough for her to let you continue rutting your hips against her. The corners of her lips curled, and her smirk lasted only so long for you to see before she inched forward and kissed you with passion and hunger. It was easy, so easy, to melt into the brief moment of intimacy. The butterflies felt tangible, and the sparks crackled in your ears; it felt so fucking good you'd almost forgotten just where you were. Of course, bubbles eventually popped, and this one was demolished by rustling outside Emily's office.

What little movement Emily allowed, her hands holding you firmly against the desk by your waist, was not enough to wriggle free and glance behind to see what was happening. Instead, the possibility of being caught weighed heavier with each drawled-out second.

"Emily," You tried but were cut off by a tongue sliding into your mouth. "Emily, stop."

With a bite to your lip, the older woman backed off, confusion marking her features, "What is it?" she punctuated her question with a hard thrust.

"Someone's o-" another hard thrust. "Someone's outside."

Emily smiled, picking up her pace, forcing you to breathe so deep you felt your lungs expand.

"You'd better be quiet then."

Whatever protest you were about to give died in your throat when nails skirted up to your chest and dug painfully into your breast, and Emily pushed herself so deep within you that you felt her hitting your cervix. A strangled cry was briefly heard before you managed to clasp your hand over your lips and silence your own mewls. She was fucking you as if her life depended on getting a reaction out of you that would draw attention. Nevertheless, you held firm and stayed as quiet as your muffled sobs would allow you to be.

"Emily, please," you were pleading for release and for the brutal fucking stop because you knew there would be no chance you could keep a lid on your volume; there would also be no chance you would survive not cumming.

Taking note of this, the older woman took the route of giving you your release, dragging a thumb down over your clit and applying the right amount of pressure to have your tense legs turn into a shaky mess of tremors. She didn't stop there; with a brief slide, she ran your slick over your bundle of nerves and started to circle steadily.

"Fuck!" You screamed out, missing the way the ruffling outside suddenly stopped. "I'm cumming. I'm cumming."

"That's it," the brunette encouraged, her fingers coming up to crook and tangle through the mussed mess of your hair, nails slowly working against your scalp. "Let everyone hear what a slut you are, letting me fuck you over my desk."

She didn't stop, though, not when your clit felt raw and your pussy tender, not when you begged and not even when you reached out and tried to grab her wrist. Emily only yanked you down by your hair, relishing the thud the brutal move made. She fucked you harder till stationary fell to the floor from your thrashing arms, and by then, her lips were already wrapped around a nipple, sucking firm whilst you cried through a second orgasm.

When you finally felt empty, you didn't even try to open your eyes. You knew your vision would be blurred if not blacked out. Instead, you focussed on coming back down to earth, steading your breath and not thinking about how you strangely missed being filled by Emily despite being so fucking sore.

"Are you still alive?" a smug voice asked from above, and you pried your bleary eyes open to weakly smile.

"I think so," you whispered, peeling your sweat-slick back from the desk. That was when you remembered the unknown personnel outside and shot a look at the door.

"They're gone," Emily said, cupping your chin and turning you back to her. Again, you were greeted by that conniving smirk. "After your commentary, I think they understood we didn't want to be disturbed."

"But-"

"Uh-uh." she silenced you with a finger to your lips, the smell of yourself still narrowly fragrant. You took the digit into your mouth, patting yourself on the back as you watched Emily's eyes turn dark. "You want to make Mommy feel good now, don't you?" She knew the answer, but oh, how she loved to watch you sink to your knees and eagerly nod anyway. You helped unclasp the straps of her harness, then set to pealing the last barrier keeping you from her heat down her legs.

"My good little pet," she said, smiling down at you and happily watching you beam. Her hand cupped your jaw before moving to the back of your neck, where she pulled you to her core and began singing a melody of moans.

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prettiestlovergirl · 1 month

Text

YOU CAN BE THE BOSS

tw: MDNI; fem!reader; slytherin! reader; unprotected sex (wrap it b4 you tap it); rough sex; degradation kink; hair pulling; dacryphilia; begging; some drinking; dom! mattheo; bratty! reader; french! mattheo; impact play.

concept: you and mattheo have been enemies with benefits for a while now, but after you score higher on a test... he wants to make sure you still remember your place with him ;) song: you can be the boss by lana del rey

a/n: still pushing the french! mattheo agenda bcos bilingual men make me go weak in the knees (and ruin my panties). my french is still shit, they do not teach you kinky pet names in high school french class! so bear with me you guys. enjoy, my lovelies! 𓆩♡𓆪

mattheo riddle was the bane of your existence and the source of all your most recent orgasms.

you couldn't stand each other! he thought you were an insufferable know-it-all and you thought he was a cocky asshole. if it were up to you, you'd have never had to interact with him again.

then, after one late night in the library, it was like a flip had switched on in you both. you still couldn't stand each other, sure, but suddenly you both seemed much more bearable to the other when his cock was bruising your cervix.

and thus began the new phase of your relationship: taunting and teasing each other in public and then fucking out your grievances in private. it was the perfect system, really.

today, you had been particularly insufferable to him. you'd scored exactly two points higher on a charms test and hadn't stopped gloating. you needed to be brought down a peg or two, and mattheo knew just how to do it.

you were both in the common room, the quidditch team having thrown a party to celebrate your house victory in the game against ravenclaw.

you were certainly cocky today and you knew it, your small academic victory had made you a bit giddy. normally, you wouldn't have cared, but mattheo was so annoyed by it, you couldn't help but rub it in! how were you to know that there'd be consequences to your actions?!

when your eyes finally landed on mattheo, he'd been holding a red solo cup and talking with theo in the corner. he looked hot, not that you'd ever tell him that. he didn't need his ego getting any bigger.

you were used to him pouncing on you almost immediately after you spotted him, so when your eyes landed on him and he didn't even look over? you instantly knew that it was him being petty.

well, if he wanted to be petty, two could certainly play that game! he wanted you to come crawling to him and beg him to fuck you? you'd rather die! well, not die, but you know.

mattheo could feel your eyes on him, but he made no effort to look your way or give you any attention. if you wanted him, you had to put in the work tonight. if you wanted to be stubborn, he was more than willing to go home alone and leave you to suffer.

the next hour consisted of you trying to gain his attention in a multitude of ways. you flirted with blaise, danced with theo, even left a perfect imprint of your lipstick on draco, and nothing. little did you know, he kept a tally of every little act for... later use.

he continued to ignore you, despite the fact that he wanted nothing more than to grab you and fuck you right there in front of everybody. you weren't his girlfriend, but you were still fucking his, and you were absolutely gonna pay for your teasing.

after another 20 minutes, you were done. he was sitting back on the couch, the usual picture of cocky and casual that both turned you on more and simultaneously made you want to slap him across the face. it was a fine little line you walked daily.

you walked up to him, arms crossed over your chest as you narrowed your eyes at him. "fine! you win." you hissed, only to be met with his stupid smug smirk.

"i'm sorry? not sure what you mean, ma douce, (my sweet) what exactly did i win?" he questioned, giving you a fake n innocent look. "i win at so much, gonna need you to be more specific."

you should have just walked away. he was too cocky, it made your skin crawl, but fuck you needed him. "this! this stupid little game your playing, you win, i give up, lets go. now." you felt like a child, wanting to stomp your foot on the ground and beg for his stupid attention.

"ah, well, since you asked so nicely." he grinned, taking his sweet time getting off the couch and setting his cup down. he didn't grab your hand or look back to see if you followed him up the stairs; he knew you would.

"you are such a sore fucking loser!" you huffed once the door was closed, making him laugh at your annoyance and frustration. "so fucking dramatic." he smirked, hands already slipping under your skirt to grab your ass.

you moved to kiss him, but he turned his head away, instead choosing to place his lips on your neck. "dick." you whined, nails scraping over the nape of his neck while his teeth sunk harshly into your skin. "who? me. i'm being nice, don't want to ruin your pretty make-up, môme" (brat) he scoffed back, rolling his eyes at your dramatics.

you dug your nails into his skin as retaliation, but it only resulted in him spanking your ass so hard you yelped out. "un tel putain de gosse" (you're such a fucking child) he murmured as he brought his hands up and unbuttoned your school shirt.

his hands moved quickly to push the fabric off your shoulders, but his mouth moved slow and rough as he let his teeth graze over as much of your bare skin as he could. he might have been annoyed with you, but fuck did he love seeing you covered in his work.

you were getting desperate for more and he knew it, the slowness of his actions entirely purposeful. "mattheo, please." you begged, head leaned back as he smirked against your skin. "please, what? you know i like it when you use your words."

"i hate you." you grumbled, hissing lightly at the pain of his fingers digging into your waist. "sorry, 'm sorry!" you huffed, biting your lip before going on. "please fuck me. now." you half begged; half demanded.

"that's more like it." he smirked, spinning you around and smacking your ass once again. "get on the bed, salope (slut). on your stomach" he commanded, and you happily complied. you laid down on the bed, ass up in the air just like he'd told you to.

"putain (fuck), look at you." mattheo sighed, lifting your skirt up with his hands while he dragged your panties down just under your thighs. he used his hands to keep your spread open, admiring your already glistening pussy.

"you've been so cocky all fucking day, flirting around, bragging. what would they all say if they could see you now? all soaked and desperate." he cooed, dragging his thumb all the way through your folds.

you whined a bit, hips attempting to grind against his hand the best you could before his other hand came back up and spanked you harshly. "gotta stay still, ma douche (my sweet). don't wanna see your pretty little head get hurt." he teased, rubbing over your warm skin.

"s-sorry." you nodded, instantly whining as he pulled away from you. you kept facing the wall, but you could hear his belt being undone and him stripping right behind you.

mattheo groaned as he wrapped his hand around his cock, moving it up and down a few times as he admired the view of you all ready for him.

you wiggled your hips a bit, desperately waiting for him to put you out of your misery and fuck you. he chuckled at your desperation, smacking his cock against your ass just to hear you gasp and moan out.

"tease!" you huffed, grabbing the bedsheets gently as he started to slowly, teasingly, rub his cock through your wet folds. he was just trying to make sure your wetness was spread evenly, that's all! he was being a good fuck buddy.

"fuck, mattheo, please!" you begged, closing your eyes as he continued to tease and mess with your puffy cunt until you were close to tears.

"i had to watch you walk around, flirting with all my fucking friends like a fucking salope. (slut) now you're here, whining and begging for me to do you a favor? doesn't work like that, ma douce (my sweet). you take what i give you, got it?" he asked, spanking you again for good measure.

"'m sorry! 'm sorry, i know, but please, mattheo! need you!" you begged, his hand moving to hold your hip down to keep you from squirming while your arousal dripped all over his cock.

"you gonna be a good girl f'me? if i fuck you real nice, are you gonna keep running your mouth downstairs?" he asked, to which you immediately nodded. "yes! yes, i'll be so good, won't say a word, promise, just please!" you whimpered.

"well, if you promise." he teased, and thrusted all the way into your soaked pussy. he groaned as your walls fluttered around him. you'd fucked dozens of times at this point, but he never got tired of feeling your walls squeeze his cock.

he moved painfully slow, tearing out whines of anguish and frustration from your throat as you gripped his bedsheets. "what's wrong, ma douce (my sweet)? i thought you wanted me to fuck you." he mocked, squeezing your ass tightly.

"please, please, please!" you whined, desperate tears starting to drip down your cheeks as he pulled almost all the way out before slowly and roughly thrust all the way back in. you could feel every inch of him filling you up over and over.

"'m just doing what you asked, ma douce (my sweet). or do you need even more from me?" he scoffed, squeezing and massaging your ass as he continued his slow thrusts.

you instantly nodded, not caring that he was mocking you n calling you greedy. you were too fucking desperate and needy for him and all your tears only seemed to make him want to tease more.

"tellement putain de gourmande." (so fucking greedy) mattheo smirked, punctuating his words with another slap to your ass before finally giving in to your pleads for more and speeding up his thrusts.

"fuck! yes, thank you, thank you, fuck yes!" you moaned, his hips snapping roughly into yours as his free hand gathered your hair into a ponytail, tugging you back and making your back arch.

"such a needy fucking brat, what am i gonna do with you?" he scoffed, looking over your teary face as you continued to moan and whine as he fucked you rough and hard.

you couldn't speak, mind already so hazy from the way his cock stretched your walls. he pulled you into a sloppy kiss, swallowing your moans and squeaks of pure fucking bliss.

he tasted like the malt liquor he'd been drinking from before and you swore you were getting drunk off the taste. he sunk his teeth into your lower lip, groaning against you as he bullied your pussy again and again with no remorse.

your walls fluttered and clenched around his cock, signaling just how close you were to cumming. "mm, please, make me cum, please!" you whimpered against him as he pulled away from your lips, hand still tightly fisting your hair as he fucked you.

"that's it, that's ma douce (my sweet). be a good fucking girl and cum on my cock, yeah? cum all over my fucking cock." he commanded, watching as your legs shook on either side of him while you coated his cock in your creamy slick.

he let go of your hair and you practically collapsed against the bed, face smushing into the sheets. he continued to fuck into you, groaning at how much tighter you felt now that you came.

you whined as the overstimulation started to set in, but you were unable to squirm with your legs all jellylike and his hand keeping you in place. you sobbed in pure bliss, staining his sheets with your mascara and tears.

"fuck, that's it fuck." he grunted, biting his lip harshly as he slowed down. "fuck yourself on me, ma douce (my sweet). make me cum." he demanded, drawing another whiny cry from your lips.

"c'mon, you want to be a good girl, don't you? thought you were sorry for being such a brat, huh? fuck yourself on me." he cooed, kneading your ass while you pouted but nodded and forced yourself back up.

you rocked your hips back against him, working at a sluggish pace as you were still too blissed out to function normally. the alcohol n orgasm n cock still filling you up left your brain numb and blank.

after a few more rocks of your hips, he pulled out of you and started to tug his cock until his cum shot onto your back. he watched as your swollen n gummy cunt leaked with your juices, panting as he watched you collapse and he laid down beside you.

you both laid there until you both caught your breath. your eyes were heavy n you were already starting to doze off when he nudged you. "c'mon, lets get you cleaned up." he smirked, pushing himself off the bed.

"whatever you say..." you mumbled sleepily.

ᵈⁱᵛⁱᵈᵉʳ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ᵇʸ @ᵐᵘʳᵘᶠᶠⁱⁿ

#☆lola writes !#mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle x you #slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader #smut #mattheo smut #harry potter #harry potter smut #harry potter x reader

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buckrecs · 1 year

Note

Hi!! Was wondering if you had recs for Bucky and reader fake dating??

Fake Dating / Marriage

masterlist | req masterlist

ONESHOT

Keeping Score by @all1e23

After hearing you begging Steve to pretend to be your fake boyfriend to keep your family off your back, Bucky quickly jumps at the chance to play your boyfriend even though you’re a hundred percent sure he hates you. What could possibly go wrong?

the right partner by @bucky-bucket-barnes

You and Bucky have always possessed a complicated history, and even more strained relationship with one another. Begrudgingly, you're sent out on a mission with Barnes where you two are posing as a newly wed couple. In an effort to investigate the consistent disappearance of young women in a certain neighborhood, you find yourselves forced to confront a whirlwind of emotions.

Suburbia by @wkemeup

Posing as husband and wife, you and Bucky infiltrate a quaint suburban neighborhood in search of a Hydra hacker. Perhaps if you weren’t so in love with him and he hadn’t broken your heart, the act of pretending wouldn’t hurt so much.

where do we go from here by @barnesafterglow

when you agree to be bucky's date for his sister's wedding - and his fake girlfriend for the weekend - you're expecting a good time with your best friend. but things may never go back to normal

Fake It Till You Make It by @buckyalpine

Fake dating solves everything… right?

A Little Longer by @buckyalpine

It’s just a little lie.

Crossing The Line by @jadedvibes

After your friends set you up on a blind date with your sworn enemy, you both drunkenly decide to mess with them by making a bet to see who can pretend to be a happy couple the longest.

annoying neighbors and fake boyfriends | 2 by @lovelybarnes

“You stayed over at my place one night but my nosy, annoying neighbour saw you leave. They always get on my case about being single so I told them that we’re dating to show them”

Undercover by @buckysknifecollection

You and Bucky go on an undercover mission, where you need to pretend to be married. You are close to solving the case when Bucky decides he’s done pretending.

Make Believe on Christmas Eve by @green-eyeddragonfanfiction

When your family insists you bring your [nonexistent] long-term boyfriend over for Christmas, you panic. You hadn’t expected to be put in this situation; you never thought you’d actually have to bring “him” over.

Stop flirting with the staff by @writingsoftheloser

You and Bucky go undercover to stop the sale of a very important device.

The Karen’s of the World by @espinosaurusrexex

Aunt Karen is possibly the worst person you know. So when her annual Independence Day party arrives, you try to give her as little reason to pick on you as possible. Not being single for once should cover most of the topics she complains about. So you ask your friend Bucky to play pretend.

Tis the damn season by @starrysebastians

On the first post-blip Thanksgiving, you find yourself having to reunite with your parents and your heart is not in it — Sam persuades you to take Bucky with you, and this might be an opportunity for you two to get to know each other.

SERIES

The Holiday Hack by @gogolucky13

You ask Bucky to be your stand-in boyfriend for your family’s Christmas party.

Breaking The Rules by @redgillan

You hate James Barnes with a burning passion and the feeling is entirely mutual. Just when you think things can’t get any worse, you are tricked into attending his sister’s wedding as his girlfriend. Stuck with a bunch of strangers, you come up with a set of rules that are not going to last long.

Best Boyfriend You’ve Ever Had by @language-rxgers

When you find out your sister is getting married and expects you to bring a date to her wedding in two months, you panic, having not gone on so much as a coffee date with a guy in far too long. After all, being an Avenger doesn’t leave too much time for a life outside of work. So, when your best friend, none other than the James Buchanan Barnes himself, offers to pretend to be your boyfriend and plus one, how can you refuse? It seems like something that would come out of a movie. However, real life is never like the movies, and stories like this never go as planned.

Stepping Up by @i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend

When Steve can’t go with you to your cousin’s wedding, he sends Bucky in his place. What happens when more than one person assume you’re dating?

Picture Perfect by @writingsoftheloser

When Steve asks his collegue to be his fake girlfriend, she accepts, thinking nothing could really go wrong. Then, she meets Steve’s best friend.

-> this is not bucky and reader fake dating but it’s one of my favorite fics so I included it!

Worst Idea Ever by @firefly-in-darkness

Wedding Season is brutal as it is but throw in two friends that decide to be each other’s plus ones and a mixed bag of feelings, what's the worst that could happen?

Heart to a Gunfight by @lailannajacobs

You didn’t want to help Bucky Barnes make it through the party by pretending to be his fake girlfriend, after all, you had just met him. You also didn’t plan on the charade lasting as long as it did.

am i more than you bargained for? by @morsmordre-writes

Bucky has an unwanted secret admirer, so naturally you pretend to be his girlfriend until it blows over. Will someone catch feelings? Will they be absolute idiots about it all? Will they live happily ever after? We may never know.

Almost Had Me Believing It by @tuiccim

An undercover operation playing Bucky Barnes' wife is a dream come true. Playing house in the suburbs while trying to take down a drug ring brings you and Bucky closer but a nosy neighbor causes trouble in paradise.

A Certain Romance by @wienerbarnes

With the threat of yet another bad date at the result of Sam Wilson’s meddling, Bucky’s desperate to find a solution. As are you, another victim to Sam’s failed matchmaking. The two of you come up with a genius plan: pretend to date each other in order to escape the poking and prying nose of the Falcon.

The Proposal by @toomanyrobins2

Y/N Arnaud is the liaison to the Avengers, but she’s also a French citizen. After a couple mistakes, her visa application is denied. Even though they can’t stand each other, Bucky offers to marry her in order to keep her visa status in the U.S. and avoid deportation.

Follow My Lead by @ciarawritesmarvel

You and your new friend Wanda are enjoying a day together at the Avengers Tower, her giving you a tour around the place when you both run into the infamous Bucky Barnes. Moments later, he’s introducing you to Sam as his girlfriend and placing a kiss on your temple and you’re not sure you’ve ever been so confused in your life.

Where Dreams Go To Die by @insomniumstella

#bucky barnes fic rec #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes smut #winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes fake dating #fake dating #bucky barnes fake marriage #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #neighbor!bucky #bucky barnes college au #bucky barnes modern au #best friend!bucky

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najia-cooks · 1 month

Text

[ID: A wide cylindrical pile of rice, eggplants, and 'lamb' on a serving platter, garnished with parsley. End ID]

مقلوبة / Maqluba

مَقْلُوبَة⁩ ("maqlūba," "upside down" or "turned over") is a Levantine casserole in which spiced meat, fried vegetables, and rice are arranged in a pot and simmered; the entire pot is then inverted onto a serving tray to reveal the layered ingredients. Maqluba historically uses lamb and eggplant, but modern recipes more often call for chicken; tomato, cauliflower, potato, bell pepper, and peas are other relatively recent additions to the repertoire.

A well-made maqluba should be aromatic and highly spiced; the meat and vegetables should be very tender; and the rice should be cohesive without being mushy. A side of yoghurt gives a tangy, creamy lift that cuts through and complements the spice and fat in the dish.

Maqluba emphasizes communal eating and presentation. It is usually eaten during gatherings and special occasions, especially during Ramadan—a month of sunrise-to-sunset fasting which celebrates the revelation of the Qu'ran to the prophet Mohammad. The pot is sometimes flipped over at the table for a dramatic reveal.

History

Many sources cite Muhammad bin Hasan al-Baghdadi's 1226 Kitāb al-ṭabīkh (كتاب الطبيخ لمحمد بن حسن البغدادي) as containing the first known reference to maqluba. However, the recipes for "maqluba" in this book are actually for small, pan-fried patties of spiced ground meat. [1] The dish is presumably titled "maqluba" because, once one side is fried, the cook is instructed to turn the patties over ("أقلب الوجه الآخر") to brown the other; the identical name to the modern dish is thus coincidental.

References to dishes more like modern maqluba occur elsewhere. A type of مغمومة ("maghmūma," "covered" dish), consisting of layers of meat, eggplant, and rice, covered with flatbread, cooked and then inverted onto a serving plate, is described in a 9th-century poem by إبراهيم بن المهدي (Ibrāhīm ibn al-Mahdī):

A layer of meat underneath of which lies a layer of its own fat, and another of sweet onion, another of rice, Another of peeled eggplant slices, each looking like a good dirham honestly earned. [...] Thus layered the pot is brought to a boil first then enclosed with a disc of oven bread. On the glowing fire it is then put, thus giving it what it needs of heat and fat. When fully cooked and its fat is well up, turn it over onto a platter, big and wide. (trans. Nawal Nasrallah) [2]

These sources are both Iraqi, but one story holds that maqluba originated in Jerusalem. صلاح الدين الأيوبي (Ṣalāḥ ad-Dīn al-Ayyūbi; "Saladin"), after capturing the city from the Crusaders and reinstating Muslim rule in 1187, was served the dish, and was the first to describe it with its current name. Before this point, the Jerusalem specialty had supposedly been known as "باذنجانية" ("bāḏinjānīyya"), from "باذنجان" "bāḏinjān" "eggplant" + ية- "-iyya," a noun-forming suffix.

[ID: The same dish shown from directly above. End ID]

In Palestine

Maqluba is often invoked in the context of Palestinian strength and resistance, in defiance of its occasional description as an "Israeli" dish. Palestinian magazine writer Aleeya Rizvi reflects:

In the wake of the recent [2023] war in Gaza, our culinary endeavors, particularly in crafting and sharing traditional Palestinian dishes like Maqluba, represent a conscious effort to contribute to the preservation and resilience of Palestinian culture. In a time when cultural heritage is under threat, preparing and enjoying these time-honored recipes becomes more than a mere culinary activity; it transforms into a deliberate act of cultural continuity and solidarity.

Maqluba also has a more specific association with physical resistance against the backdrop of increased settler and police violence against Palestinians, including regular Israeli raids and attacks on the جامع الأقصى ("Jāmi' al-Aqṣā"; al-Aqsa mosque), during Ramadan.

The holiest month in the Islamic calendar, Ramadan is given over to fasting, prayer, and reflection; people gather together in homes and mosques to break their fast after sunset, and spend entire nights in mosques in worship. Khadija Khwais and Hanady Al-Halawani used to serve maqluba for افطار ("ifṭār," fast-breaking meal) in the Al-Aqsa mosque, until Israeli occupation authorities banned them from the mosque for "incitement."

In response, starting in 2015, Al-Halawani and other volunteer مرابطين ("murābiṭīn," lit. "holy people," guardians of the mosque) stationed themselves on the ground outside the mosque's gate (باب السلسلة; Bāb as-Silsila, "chain gate") to prepare and serve maqluba. Those who were banned from entering the mosque broke their fast and prayed at the mosque's gates, and in the nearby alleys of the Old City. The same year saw Israeli security personnel and settlers attack Palestinian protestors and guardians outside and inside the mosque with tear gas and stun grenades.

For Al-Halawani, the serving of maqluba at the al-Aqsa gates symbolizes "defiance, steadfastness, and insistence on continuing the fast [...] in spite of the occupation’s practices." The "Maqluba at al-Aqsa" ritual "has become one of the most disturbing Palestinian scenes for the occupation forces," who associate it with the defense of "Palestinian heritage" and the intent to "motivate worshipers and murabitin to repel incursions into the mosque." (Al-Halawani has been arrested, threatened, beaten, and detained by Israeli police multiple times for her role as a defender of Al-Aqsa. She was among the prisoners freed in trades between Israel and Hamas in December 2023.)

In 2017, occupation forces installed metal detectors, electronic gates, metal barriers, and police cameras to surveil worshipers following a shoot-out at one of al Aqsa's gates. Hundreds of protesters refused to enter the mosque until the repressive measures were removed, instead gathering and praying in its courtyard; surrounding families bolstered the sit-ins by serving food and drink. When the gates were dismantled, over 50,000 people gathered to eat maqluba in celebration, picking up on the earlier association of the dish with Saladin's victory (and its resultant alternate name, "أكلة النصر," "ʔakla an-naṣr," "victory meal").

The name "maqluba," meaning "upside-down" or "inverted," may be associated with victory and resistance as well. Fatema Khader noted in 2023 that the method of serving maqluba was a "symbolic representation of how Israeli policies and decisions against Palestinians will be flipped on their heads and become rendered meaningless." It is also relevant that maqluba is meant to be served to large groups of people, and can thus be linked, symbolically and literally, to solidarity and communal resistance.

This year in Gaza, Palestinians show steadfast optimism as they paint murals, hang lanterns, buy sweets, hold parties, and pray in groups amongst the rubble where mosques once stood. But despite these efforts at creating joy, the dire circumstances take heavy tolls, and the holiday cannot be celebrated as usual: Israel's campaign of slow starvation led Ghazzawi Diab al-Zaza to comment, "We have been fasting almost against our will for three months".

Donate to provide hot meals in Gaza for Ramadan

[1] Also reprinted in Mosul: Umm Al-Rubi'in Press (مطبعة ام الربيعين) (1934), p. 57. For an English translation see Charles Perry, A Baghdad Cookery Book (2005), pp. 77-8.

[2] This poem, as well as one of Ibn al-Mahdi's maghmuma dishes, were compiled in Ibn Sayyar al-Warraq's 10th-century Book of Dishes (كتاب الطبيخ وإصلاح الأغذية المأكولات وطيّبات الأطعمة المصنو; "Kitāb al-ṭabīkh waʔiṣlāḥ al-ʔaghdiyat al-maʔkūlāt waṭayyibāt ʔaṭ'ima al-maṣno," "Book of cookery, food reform, delicacies, and prepared foods"), p. 99 recto. For Nasrallah's English translation see Annals of the Caliph's Kitchens, pp. 313-4.

In the 14th-century Andalusian Cookbook (كتاب الطبيخ في المغرب والأندلس في عصر الموحدين، للمكلف المجهول; "Kitāb al-ṭabīkh fī al-Maghrib wa al-Andalus fī ʻaṣr al-Mawahḥidīn," "Book of cookery from the Maghreb and Andalusia in the era of Almohads"), a maghmuma recipe appears as "لون مغموم لابن المهدى", "maghmum by Ibn al-Mahdi". For an English translation see An Anonymous Andalusian Cookbook, trans. Perry et al.

Ingredients:

For a 6-qt stockpot. Serves 12.

For the meat:

1 recipe seitan lamb

2 cups (330g) ground beef substitute

1 cinnamon stick

1 bay laurel leaf

Pinch ground cardamom

Several cracks black pepper

For the dish:

3 cups (600g) Egyptian rice

2 medium-sized globe eggplants

2 large Yukon gold potatoes (optional)

Vegetarian 'chicken' or 'beef' bouillon cube (optional)

2 1/2 tsp table salt (1 1/2 tsp, if using bouillon)

Vegetable oil, to deep-fry

Fried pine nuts or sliced blanched almonds, to top

Egyptian rice is the traditional choice in this dish, but many modern recipes use basmati.

I kept my ingredients list fairly simple, but you can also consider adding cauliflower, carrots, peas, chickpeas, zucchini, bell pepper, and/or tomato to preference (especially if omitting meat substitutes).

For the spices:

1 1/2 Tbsp maqluba spices

1 4" piece (3g) cinnamon bark, toasted and ground (1 1/2 tsp ground cinnamon)

3/4 tsp (2.2g) ground turmeric

3/4 tsp (1.5g) cloves, toasted and ground

3/4 tsp (2.2g) black peppercorns, toasted and ground

15 green cardamom pods (4.5g), toasted, seeds removed, and ground (or 3/4 tsp ground cardamom)

Instructions:

For the meat:

1. Prepare the seitan lamb, if using: it will need to be started several hours early, or the night before.

2. If using ground meat: heat 2 tsp oil in a skillet on medium. Add cinnamon stick and bay leaf and fry for 30 seconds until fragrant.

3. Add meat and ground spices and fry, agitating occasionally, until browned. Set aside.

For the dish:

2. Rinse rice 2 to 3 times, until water runs almost clear. Soak in cold water for 30 minutes, while you prepare the vegetables.

3. Optional: to achieve a presentation with eggplant on the sides of the maqluba, remove the skin from either side of one eggplant (so that all slices have flesh exposed on both sides) and then cut lengthwise into 1/2" (1cm)-thick slices.

Cut the other eggplant (or both eggplants) widthwise into coins and half-coins.

4. Sprinkle eggplant slices with salt on both sides and leave for 10-15 minutes to release water.

5. Peel potatoes and cut in 1/4" (1/2 cm) slices.

6. Heat about an inch of oil in a deep skillet or wok on medium (a potato slice dropped in should immediately form bubbles). Fry the potato slices until golden brown, then remove onto a paper-towel-lined plate or wire cooling rack.

7. Press eggplant slices on both sides with a towel to remove moisture. Fry in the same oil until translucent and golden brown, then remove as before.

Fry other vegetables (except for tomato, chickpeas, and peas) the same way, if using.

8. Drain rice. Whisk bouillon, salt, and ground spices into several cups of hot water.

9. Prepare a large, thick-bottomed pot with a circle of oiled parchment paper (or with a layer of sliced tomatoes). Add ground meat, if using. Layer widthwise-sliced eggplants into the pot, followed by potatoes. Place longitudinally sliced eggplants around the sides of the pot, large side up.

10. Add rice and pack in. Fold eggplant slices down over the rice, if they protrude.

11. Pour broth into the pot, being careful not to upset the rice. Add more water if necessary, so that the rice is covered by about an inch.

12. Heat on medium to bring to a boil. Reduce heat to low, cover with a closely fitting lid, and cook 30 minutes.

13. If rice is not fully cooked after 30 minutes, lightly stir and add another cup of water. Re-cover and cook another 15 minutes. Check again and repeat as necessary.

14. Allow maqluba to rest for half an hour before flipping for best results. Place a large platter upside-down over the mouth of the pot, then flip both over in one smooth motion. Tap the bottom of the pot to release, and leave for a few minutes to allow the maqluba to drop.

15. Slowly lift the pot straight up, rotating slightly if the sides seem stuck.

16. Top with fried seitan lamb, chopped parsley, and fried pine nuts or almonds, as desired.

#Palestinian #maqluba #eggplant #rice #lamb #Ramadan

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nobodyfamousposts · 4 months

Text

Coffeenette

For the record, they blame Alya. All of them do. No question. They will never NOT blame Alya for this.

Even Nino, who is her boyfriend and supposed to support her. He’s agreed with her about almost everything. But not about this.

Even Rose, who is the sweetest girl in their class. She’ll apologize and be really nice about it, but she still blames Alya.

Heck, even Chloe did, which was a surprise. She was a bully sure, but as such, anyone would have thought this sort of thing would be beneath her. Though it could simply be that she just liked having any excuse to make fun of someone.

…Or so they thought until they saw Chloe scramble away to hide as soon as she saw it happen.

But none of them blamed Alya more for this situation than Marinette, who could only swear all unholy vengeance and glare daggers at her soon to be ex-best friend as she took her sole reason for living in this cold and terrible world and threw it in the garbage!

“Marinette, come on. It’s not that big of a deal!”

“It was innocent…”

“It was a cup of coffee!”

“The perfect cup of coffee. The coffee to end all coffees. Brewed to perfection and at just the right temperature. I could have died happily with that coffee. No other cup of coffee will ever compare. Ambrosia was in that cup and you threw it away!”

“Are you serious?!”

“Shh. Shh…I must mourn.”

“Get off the floor!”

“Mourn, I say!”

Oh sure, some had shrugged it off at the time. Alya had just rolled her eyes and dragged Marinette to class—coffeeless. Others had simply laughed a little at the dramatic display before moving on.

But those who knew better were panicking.

Some were already looking up therapists. Two were immediately calling their parents to ask about a school transfer. A few had given up on life and were writing up their wills.

It should be made clear: Marinette Dupain-Cheng was a kind girl. Sweet. Dedicated. Dependable. If you needed help, she was there. She was the one to look to for a solution to any problem. She was the first to put forth an effort and offer an olive branch, even if you hurt her. And of course the last thing she ever wanted to do was upset anyone. And if she did, she would be the first to apologize and try to make up for it.

…the problem was that this was all when Marinette was in a good space. And while her good days exceeded her bad days, that was not to say that there were not bad days. And when she had her bad days, they were…bad.

The thing that few knew about Marinette Dupain-Cheng was that there were…times, you could say, when she was not her normal friendly self. Times when she was…

…Grumpy.

Kind of mean.

Downright brutal, actually.

It only happened when she was either very angry or very stressed.

Which, unfortunately for everyone, has been increasing quite a bit since Hawk Moth made his grand entrance into the world of supervillainy.

Marinette had been stressed for a while and it showed. She’d been losing sleep. And they could tell she’s been more groggy given how frequently she’s been walking into walls and doors. They had thought this was cute at first. They had even laughed about it.

They hadn’t realized that this was actually only the first stage. Not until she started coming in with coffee—something she hadn’t done in years.

Marinette struggled when she was tired.

Thanks to Hawk Moth, she had lately been very tired.

And with her consistent lack of sleep, coffee had been her best friend. Or at least her best consumable friend. The sort of friend that brought her relief and made living bearable.

…until Alya took it away.

It turned out that Marinette’s parents had become…”concerned” about Marinette’s caffeine intake and had forbidden her from the beverage. Normally, they could only keep it away from her at home by either keeping her from the coffee pot or when necessary, switching to decaf. But Marinette had found ways around that by getting her bitter bitter life-saving paint stripper juice outside, usually on the way to school.

Or at least, she used to. But this was a new year and THIS time, Marinette had a new friend—and a BEST FRIEND at that in the form of Alya Cesaire, whom Tom and Sabine had chosen to enlist in their plot to protect their daughter from things that weren’t good for her.

Like coffee. Her precious life-preserving coffee.

And next to the Ladyblog and her secondary role as Rena Rouge, Alya had never jumped on anything faster.

Marinette’s morning coffee run? Done. A thing of the past as Alya would walk her to school and ensure they made no other stops along the way.

Marinette’s stash of coffee and energy drinks? Ransacked. Alya searched her locker, her desk, her bags. And being Marinette’s best friend, she knew ALL of her potential hiding spots.

Marinette’s emergency chocolate-covered espresso beans? Taken. Alya practically treated it like it was radioactive given the gloves and goggles she wore as she removed them. And in her defense, they very well may have been. Marinette was very tight-lipped over just where she had gotten them. She had tried to hide the fact that they WERE espresso beans, but Alya still wasn’t fooled.

Alya was on the hunt and there was NOTHING that could stop her. For her best friend’s “greater good”.

…as far as Marinette was concerned, the “greater good” could shove it.

She saved Paris on a daily basis! This was the LEAST it could give her in return!

Sadly, it appeared that Alya—and by extension Paris, cared not for Marinette’s sacrifice. Thus she was left to stew in her growing rage…stew like the precious brew she was being deprived of.

Up until that point it was clear that Marinette had been surviving on coffee and sheer spite. And now she only had one of those two things left.

But it would be fine! Really!

…so long as no one earned her ire.

Chloe had been one such unfortunate recipient of that ire some time ago in her younger days. Though Marinette had profusely apologized to her afterwards, Chloe never forgot and has held it against her ever since.

...well, after her several month sabbatical from school, at any rate.

So the fact that Chloe was suddenly trying to convince her father to let her take a vacation in the middle of the school year should have been a major red flag.

…or the way Marinette slammed her bag on her desk to get the class’s attention when they started getting off task and too loud in class.

……or the death glare she gave Kim the instant he tried to poke fun at her state with a literal poke to her cheek to try to wake her…and the injured finger he received for his trouble when she grabbed the offending object and bent it back.

…………or how most of the teachers were conveniently refraining from giving them any homework assignments they knew they should have been getting. Or not acknowledging Marinette’s grumpy behavior and sleeping in class. Or avoiding even looking in Marinette’s general direction.

The point was that it was evident that not all was right in the classroom and especially with their normally kind and happy Everyday Ladybug.

To their credit, the classmates had tried to bring Marinette coffee in order to help restore her to her usual state...or at least avoid her wrath.

But all their attempts were for naught, as Alya herself had become something of a bloodhound for caffeine. And having appointed herself as enforcer of the coffee ban, she would confiscate any form of the substance they tried to bring in and dispose of it in short order—much to the classmates’ horror and Marinette’s growing displeasure.

As far as the class could figure, it seemed that coffee was either simply useful in keeping Marinette awake and aware, or it was a comfort to her when she was feeling stressed.

Probably both.

And Alya, in all her misguided concern for the girl’s health, had taken it upon herself to remove the one thing keeping Marinette stable. Stable and happy and not inclined to traumatize anyone unfortunate enough to get in her way.

So yes, everyone in the class did blame her. They didn’t do anything about that resentment, of course, but they did still blame her.

Not that Alya seemed to care.

“Alya.” Nino knelt—literally knelt before her, his hands clasped as if in prayer. “Please. I’m begging you! Just let the girl have her coffee!”

She only rolled her eyes before throwing away yet another cup Marinette had managed to procure from the teacher’s lounge—somehow completely ignoring the daggers the other girl was glaring at them all with from the window of the classroom.

Alya was unmoved.

And seemingly oblivious to the scratch marks on the window left in the wake of Marinette’s pawing.

“It’s for her own good.” Alya insisted, much to the growing horror and frustration of those around her.

“What about our good?“

“You’ll be fine.“ She said dismissively.

“She made Kim cry!” Nino exclaimed, gripping his hat.

“You’re exaggerating.“

“She brought out the Vial. Do I need to tell you about the Vial?“

“The what now?“

“Marinette has a special Vial she carries during…these times.” Max explained as he helped the despondent Nino to his feet.

Alya blinked.

“Okay?”

“She uses that Vial to collect the tears of anyone who so much as annoys her while she’s in this state!”

“That’s a little weird, but—”

Nino cut her off.

“She uses those tears to flavor her coffee.”

Alya stared.

“What?”

“She flavors her coffee with tears, Alya!” He continued, gripping her shoulders. “Not cream! Not sugar! Not cinnamon or chocolate or pumpkin spice like normal people and Americans! TEARS! OUR TEARS! What does that tell you?!”

“That tells me you’re exaggerating.“ She replied, looking decidedly unimpressed. And thus cruelly ignored his whimpering as she tossed the rest of the coffee into the trash bin.

She shot them a look as she slammed the bin lid closed, as if daring them to challenge her.

Nino looked on the verge of a breakdown.

Max sighed and texted the others.

To everyone else, the slamming of that bin lid was akin to a signal…one that indicated the sealing of their fates.

Some cried. Some prayed.

Most chose to stay out of the way.

…that was likely all they could do.

Other than blame Alya, of course. Which they did.

As Marinette’s antics changed from funny “walking into walls isn’t she cute” to less funny “eviscerate your soul with words”.

As whispers from the rest of the school followed the classmates, offering them sympathy and prayers.

As the very atmosphere changed from a sense of melancholy to ever growing unease and outright paranoia. As if her presence itself brought with it something seemingly eldritch in nature.

And through it all, Alya ignored the warnings and insisted this was for the best.

To be fair, it was perhaps her friendship with Marinette that offered her some protection from the worst of it.

…others were not spared.

Timothy—everyone remember Timothy? Prominent student and good friend to the rest of the class. Top of his class. Fellow swimmer and athlete to Kim and Odine. Was one of the few people Chloe would listen to. Tried to help Nino throw the party during Bubbler and the only one to notice Sabrina hadn’t appeared in a while in Antibug. Remember? That Timothy. Had totally been there all along and was well liked by everyone. Possibly as much as Adrien.

…until he admonished Marinette for bumping into him and not looking where she was going.

And.

Marinette.

Snapped.

It was the moment Marinette finally had enough. Both of the lack of coffee and of holding back her frustration about the situation.

It was also the last time Timothy was seen at school. Or anywhere for that matter. Given how abrupt it was and how people actively avoid mentioning him again, some question if he had ever really existed…

Eh, probably not. It was likely just a rumor.

What wasn’t a rumor was how Chloe (after being denied being allowed to ditch school) presumed that a new year and being Queen Bee meant she was stronger than she had been before and thus strong enough to put the caffeine-deprived version of Marinette in her place. She would prove to Marinette, to herself, and to everyone that SHE was the head bitch in charge.

Marinette was abruptly woken out of a nice daydream that either involved Adrien or coffee or Adrien AND coffee to find herself being yelled at. And find herself face to face with Chloe.

Oh wait, Chloe was the one yelling at her.

She had a hard time making out what Chloe was saying, but the fact remained that it WAS Chloe. Which was never a pleasant place to begin any realization.

It would help if she had coffee.

Was there coffee?

Marinette looked at her depressingly empty hands.

No.

"Well?! Do you hear me?!" Chloe shouted.

Marinette looked up at the blonde and took a slow breath before opening her mouth to speak.

...

…thirty minutes later, Sabrina found Chloe catatonic under her desk and took her home early.

To be fair, she had brought it on herself. After all, she really should have learned her lesson from the last time. But still, it was hard to forget the scene as Sabrina gently guide her out of the building as Chloe mumbled to herself, her face pale, her mascara running, and her eyes wide and haunted.

She was out for the rest of the week.

Bustier was...no help. In her ever rose-tinted fashion, she attempted to speak with Marinette early on what had been a particularly bad morning.

“Marinette, I heard you’ve been having some trouble with your classmates.”

It took a minute for Marinette to realize Bustier was there, much less that she was trying to have a conversation.

“—argument with Chloe the other day. It seems like whatever you had said really hurt Chloe’s feelings.”

Marinette blinked, trying to comprehend what was being said to her.

“—was uncalled for. Chloe didn’t deserve that.”

Bustier. Something about Chloe? She hadn’t seen her in a while. She thought things had been quieter lately…

“—you know how Chloe is and that she needs help. Surely whatever she said couldn’t have been that bad, and—”

These were clearly words, but they weren’t making sense.

“—remember what I said before about the Marinette’s of the world? It’s important to show love to people, even if they aren’t nice. So they can learn from your good example and—”

Marinette.exe needed coffee to continue this conversation.

“I think the two of you can talk this out. You can apologize to Chloe and model the right behaviors.”

Was there coffee to continue?

“—and who knows? Maybe the two of you will even become the best of friends!”

No.

“—what do you think?”

Marinette frowned at Bustier and opened her mouth to speak.

...

...it would be the first and only time Bustier would make such an attempt to speak to coffee-deprived Marinette. Nobody knows exactly what happened, as the students had come in when class started only to find Bustier in the aftermath, sobbing over her desk and completely inconsolable.

No class was had that day.

#ml fic #marinette dupain cheng #alya cesaire #coffeenette #why alya why #alas poor timothy #we...didn't really know you at all actually #but you will be missed #yes I'm actually writing this #pray for me #pray for everyone actually #the poor poor traumatized souls

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greenglowinspooks · 5 months

Text

(DCxDP) Drowning in formaldehyde (Pt. 1)

—

Tw: one instance of canon-typical violence (DC), vivisection mention

Will be crossposted to AO3 eventually

(Prologue) - (Pt. 2)

(Subscription post/masterlist)

—

Danny has been working for Mr. Cobblepot for over a month now.

The first few weeks he was in the Penguin’s company, he couldn’t do much of anything. Instead, Mr. Cobblepot made sure that he was well-rested and beginning to recover.

Danny cried a lot in the first week that he was there.

He cried when he ate for the first time in years; the GiW had kept him on IVs and a feeding tube, so they wouldn’t have to move him from his surgical table.

He cried when he was given his own room to stay in, when he was brought clothes to wear, when he was given a bodyguard to protect him.

He cried when Mr. Cobblepot’s doctors told him that the damage to his vocal chords was likely permanent, and that he would never sound the same again. That he would find it hard to speak at any volume above a whisper.

Apparently, he had a lot more damage to him than he had thought.

The doctors said that the scarring in his brain stem suggested his entire brain had been removed and had regrown. Danny couldn’t really disprove that, and it did line up with a pretty substantial gap in his memory, but if that was the case then why couldn’t his voice recover too?

The scarring and incredibly new tissue that showed up in scans of several other parts of his body suggested that the GiW had done the same thing with most of his organs, as well as a few limbs, and all of the fingers on his right hand.

Danny could remember that. He just didn’t want to.

Perhaps it was the feeling of pity that kept Mr. Cobblepot so understanding of Danny’s slow recovery. That didn’t really matter much, though; Danny’s energy was focused on keeping his place here, ensuring that Mr. Cobblepot didn’t decide he was no longer worth the effort.

As it turned out, there was an easy enough solution to that.

Danny was the only one who knew how to properly operate and modify the weapons and inventions stolen from the GiW.

And so, Danny had a niche he could occupy. He could be useful, useful enough that Mr. Cobblepot couldn’t get rid of him, even if he wanted to.

And, as it turns out, Danny remembered quite a lot of the theories he heard while he was on the cutting board.

As soon as he had enough muscle control of his arms to do so, he was working away at the machinery created by the GiW and his parents.

No, not his parents.

Doctors Madeleine and Jack Fenton.

Regardless of their creators, he was able to understand them quite intimately.

Maybe it was because the ectoplasm flowing through the weaponry was his own, maybe it was because he had nothing to listen to for three years other than the excited chatter of his vivisectionists as they cut him open. Maybe it was because they were both simple weaponry without a purpose.

Danny found working on the machines soothing in a way that nothing else was.

The smell of oil and grease, the sounds of mechanical clanking and metal joints squealing, the feeling of cold steel beneath his fingertips.

The first thing he did to the machines was replacing the paint, from shiny white to a matte black. That way, they were recognizable as his own modified creations.

It was only a bonus that he didn’t catch his reflection in the metal surfaces this way.

Still, his reflection was starting to become more familiar to him. It was still strangely off-putting to see, but his face was beginning to plump out from consistent eating, and his skin was beginning to lose its unhealthy pale tone, going back to a more natural pinkish color.

His eyes still looked devoid of life, but that could be ignored as long as he didn’t look at himself for too long.

Danny sighed, leaning back in his chair as he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. He was working on modifying the ectoblasters so that they could properly hit humans, as per Mr. Cobblepot’s orders.

He probably should feel some sort of moral conflict over it, but really, Danny couldn’t find it in him to care. Maybe it was some sort of deep internal flaw, or maybe it was because he knew that they wouldn’t be shot at anyone without blood on their hands. Either way, he didn’t have any qualms with what he was doing.

As Danny reconnected the circuitry within the gun, the indicator lights on the side of the muzzle blinked to life, a familiar neon green.

Danny would have to change that color too, he thought. Maybe red would be nice instead, or an icy blue?

He was pulled from his thoughts by the door to his temporary workshop opening. Danny looked up, and smiled when he saw that his bodyguard was the one standing in the doorway.

The man, known only as Derringer, was 6’2”, built like a tank, and known for his love of unusual firearms. He was also a big fan of card games, and had been teaching Danny how to play Blackjack during their meals.

He gently closed the door behind him, strolling into the workshop.

Danny hopped out of his seat, hugging the man tightly. Derringer laughed, patting Danny on the back as he clung to him like a koala.

“Good to see you too, kid,” the man said, his deep voice rumbling in his chest, “you just about done in here?”

Danny nodded, letting go of the bodyguard. He picked up the gun on the desk, handing it to Derringer, and pointed to the target resting in the far corner of the room.

Derringer glanced down at Danny, shrugging before aiming the gun.

He pulled the trigger, and a large scorch mark appeared in the center of the target.

Derringer whistled appreciatively, walking over to inspect the damage.

There was a deep dent in the center of the metal target, around an inch in diameter, and a large scorch mark surrounding it. The metal of the dent was white-hot, and the area around it was somewhat warped.

“That’s real nice, kid,” Derringer said, “don’t know how you do it.”

Danny grinned, baring his teeth at the man. He smiled back, ruffling his hair.

“The boss is gonna go forward with the Arkham raid soon, so long as your guns are ready,” he said, “he’s eager to try them out for real. You think you’re up to talking to him?”

“Yes,” Danny signed, nodding to the man.

“Good,” Derringer signed back.

Mr. Cobblepot, not wanting Danny to be limited in his speech by the damage to his vocal chords, had ensured that all of the people who interacted with him knew at least the basics of ASL.

When he wasn’t working on the ectoblasters, Danny was practicing his ASL with a dedicated tutor, or with Derringer, who learned the language when his mother had gone deaf.

“Can I eat first?” Danny signed, “I forgot to.”

“You forgot, or you didn’t want to leave your work?” Derringer asked, signing as he spoke, the corners of his eyes crinkled with amusement, “and yeah, the boss wants to talk to you in thirty minutes. You’ve got plenty of time before then.”

“Thank you,” Danny signed, “let’s go.”

“Hey, just a sec,” Derringer said. His face had dropped into something unusually serious.

Danny nodded, tilting his head as he signed a quick “what’s wrong?”

“You’re a good kid. Even after what you’ve been through, you’re…you’re a really sweet kid,” Derringer said, looking away. “But you…you can’t keep being sweet to everyone. You gotta act tough, alright?”

“Why?”

“You just…” Derringer sighed, combing a hand through his thick, curly hair, “a lot of the guys think that you’re too weak to be here. They’re calling you the Penguin’s pet project, and the problem is that they’re not really wrong. You gotta be scarier to survive, alright? Gotham’ll eat you alive if you don’t. Just make up a persona and roll with it.”

Danny nodded slowly, processing his words for a moment.

“Like a mask?”

Derringer laughed, a bittersweet smile on his face.

“Yeah, like a mask. Just don’t start fighting crime while you’re at it.”

“Okay,” Danny signed, his movements slow. “I can do that.”

“Good on you, kid,” Derringer said, ruffling his hair once more, “now let’s go get lunch.”

The two of them ate quickly, Danny’s mind on Derringer’s advice the entire time.

He was right, and Danny knew it. He’d seen the way that some of Mr. Cobblepot’s men had looked at him.

He wasn’t anywhere near big enough to pull off the looming intimidating look that Derringer did; his doctors back in Amity had told him that he would grow to be over six foot, but his time in the GiW seemed to have stunted his growth significantly. He was only around 5’6”, and it seemed that he was going to stay that way.

In the same way, he wasn’t nearly frightening looking enough to pull off the terrifying stares of the smaller individuals working under Mr. Cobblepot. He just couldn’t get the glare right; his face would always fall back to a blank, dead stare.

Though, maybe if he played into that…

A few minutes before they had to leave, Danny excused himself to go to the restroom. He stared into the mirror, looking into his cold, dead eyes, and let his face drop.

When he adjusted his stance, and kept his eyes a bit wider than usual, he looked downright unnerving.

Danny had already noticed that most of his mannerisms were…unusual, after his stay at the GiW base. Put simply, he had forgotten what it was like to be a human.

He had noticed that most of the people around him would avoid being in his presence, and had begun mirroring their body language as much as he could to seem more normal.

Maybe, though, it would be better for him not to.

He could lean into the whole thing. An unstable young adult, experimented on by the government for years.

Danny looked into the mirror, and wide, icy eyes stared back at him.

Danny left the restroom. Derringer turned to greet him, jolting when he did. After a moment, he nodded.

“That your new look?”

“Yes. Is it good?”

“Yeah. Freaky. Gonna take some getting used to, but yeah. Now,” he said, getting up from his spot at the break room table, “let’s go see the boss.”

Danny felt anxiety bubbling up in his chest, his entire body beginning to twitch. If Mr. Cobblepot didn’t approve of the weaponry, or if he thought they were underwhelming, would he be thrown out? Would he be tortured again, or killed?

Danny shivered when they came to a stop in front of the door to Mr. Cobblepot’s office. Failure wasn’t an option. He had to make sure this went well.

“You’ll do great, kid,” Derringer whispered, pushing the door open.

Mr. Cobblepot had been talking with a few other people, but their conversation died out when Danny and Derringer entered the room. Danny’s skin crawled.

“Ah, Danny! Just the person I wanted to see,” Mr. Cobblepot said, a large smile on his face, “Do you have one of your guns with you?”

“Yes,” Danny signed, nodding.

“Wonderful. I was just telling my associates here about your work. Do you mind giving a demonstration?”

“Where should I shoot? Do you have a target?”

Derringer was quick to translate. Mr. Cobblepot nodded, gesturing for a hired hand in the corner of the room to pull out a small wooden board, holding it up in the air.

Danny paled. He would definitely burn the man’s hands if he hit the target, even if he aimed for the furthest corner of the board.

Still, he was more terrified of disappointing Mr. Cobblepot than he was empathetic towards the man, so he drew a blaster from the holster on his leg and aimed carefully.

The blast hit the center of the board. The man holding it howled in pain, dropping the target and drawing his hand close to his chest. The nauseating smell of burning flesh filled the room.

Danny breathed shakily, in and out.

Mr. Cobblepot, for what it was worth, looked like he couldn’t possibly be happier. He and the others inspected the board on the ground closely, ignoring the hired hand as he ran out of the room, still cradling his damaged hand.

A large hole had been blown into the board, and a good portion of it had been incinerated.

“Look at that, ladies and gentlemen! I told you that Danny would deliver, and deliver he did! Imagine if that had been a person instead! Danny, what would you say would happen?”

Danny paused, trying to wince when he realized that the question wasn’t hypothetical, and Mr. Cobblepot actually wanted an answer.

“It would give them S-E-V-E-R-E burns,” Danny finger spelled the word that he didn’t know the proper sign for, “mostly S-U-R-F-A-C-E. It can’t P-E-I-R-C-E, because there is no bullet, just energy.”

Derringer translated for him.

Mr. Cobblepot frowned, and Danny frantically continued, “but it can be L-E-T-H-A-L! Burns on the head kill fast. Burns on the body make S-H-O-C-K, and kill. Strong I-M-P-A-C-T, too.”

“So they do still kill, just not instantly?”

“Yes,” Danny signed, “they’re fast. They hurt bad. Bad way to die, hurts a lot.”

“Well,” one of the other men in the room piped up, “I guess he’s not completely hopeless.”

“Of course he isn’t,” Mr. Cobblepot replied, fixing a terrifying glare onto the man, “it was my idea to bring him in, after all.”

“Danny,” Mr. Cobblepot said, turning his attention back to him, “we’re going to be collaborating with these fine individuals in the future. I’m going to need twenty guns ready for use in a week. You can handle that, can’t you?”

Danny nodded frantically.

“What kind?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Mr. Cobblepot said, waving his hand dismissively, “semi-automatic is preferable, but handguns and shotguns also work. Just make sure they work perfectly.”

The room was silent for a moment.

“Well, that’s all. You can leave now, and I’ll finish discussing the details with my associates.”

Danny nodded, signing him a quick “thank you, goodbye,” and slipped out of the room alongside Derringer.

They made their way back to Danny’s workshop in silence. Once they were inside, Derringer heaved a heavy sigh, running his fingers through his hair.

“You really think you can make that many guns that quickly, kid?”

“Yes,” Danny replied, “but I need your help.”

Derringer groaned, a smile on his face.

“Of course you’re putting me to work. I should’ve expected it. Now, what do you need me to do?”

“Well, first, hold this…”

—

#dcxdp #dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #dc x dp fic #vengeful danny #villain danny #btw Derringer is named after a type of gun #dw he isn’t the focus forever #I just felt like Danny could use like. a single person who isn’t trying to manipulate him #also I think he would get along very well with the goons :)#aside from. yknow. the whole target thing HDJDNDND #also there IS a lore related reason that his vocal chords can’t recover but the rest of his body can #you just gotta wait to see what it is >:3 #anyways. Arkham time next chapter #Awwawaw

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gothbitez · 1 year

Text

linger, ellie williams

pairing: dealer!ellie x afab!reader

chapter: one shot (5.5k words) (theres hope for a continuation tbh) proofread but I'm dyslexic so if you see a missing word, double words and errors- mind ur business </3

warnings: explicit sexual content, 18+ so minors do not interact!!!, dealer!ellie so mentions of drug use and marijuana, afab!reader and gendered nicknames, poc friendly!! blasphemy, choking, use of trusty strap. ellie's a bit rough but it's all consensual she just gets pussydrunk tbh, (think that's all)

summary: reader returns from patrol to find her stash is empty, relying on her trusty masc dealer who loves calling her nicknames and teasing her.

Disclaimer: I do not support the genocide of the indigenous Palestinian people, and neither should you, please don’t buy the new Remastered or continue giving any more money to Druckmann. Educate yourself, learn the history, it is vital. From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free 🇵🇸

A sigh escaped your lips, damn.

You looked at the almost empty baggie with a slight pout, almost pleading to the bag, hoping its substances would magically reappear. But you knew better than that.

You glanced at the clock behind you, it rested on a mahogany wall which had seldom been cleaned or decorated, you simply didn't have the time or effort, to be honest. Even after so many years.

There was too much to do in Jackson, whether you were on patrol, sorting out stables or farming crops. There was rarely any free time, but tonight you had returned from a three-week patrol, and all you had wanted was to spark up and relax for a few hours. Maybe finally get some good fucking sleep, in your own bed.

Alas, you had returned to Jackson to find your stash box considerably emptier than you remember. You could've sworn you had some more left, but knowing your habits, three weeks prior you had probably decided it would be best to smoke it all, as a going-away present to yourself. You sighed at your own stupidity.

The clock's hands ticked as you reevaluated your situation. Another look at the clock told you it was now 2:36 a.m. What were your options?

You could attempt to sleep without a joint and lie awake all night, your mind consistently reminding you of all the shocks and horrors you'd seen that you'd hoped had all been forgotten. Sometimes, you'd see the restless faces you had killed, sometimes you'd see the people who tried to kill you. Other times, flashes of infected, masses and masses of them charging after you. You shook your head to yourself. Needless to say, going cold turkey was not something you had wanted to do, especially at nighttime.

With that in mind, you collected some things and put some denim pants on, they were a bit on the baggy side but in the apocalypse, beggars can't be choosers, they fit around your waist that's all that matters. On top rested a tightly fitted green shirt, it was actually one of your favourites as it let you see what was going on underneath those clothes, it made you feel confident and you'd need all the confidence you had for this.

You had no other choice, it was almost 3 a.m and the only other person who was likely to be awake, someone with the same sleeping struggles as you, was none other than Ellie Williams. Your cheeks flushed. Would she even be awake? Would she even want customers at this hour?

You hesitated as you reached your front door, this probably wasn't a good idea but you were desperate, with a final sigh you unlocked your door and stepped outside into Jackson's winter weather.

***

With a light tap, you knocked on Ellie's door, suddenly unsure of yourself. A few moments passed as you thought no answer was going to come when you heard shuffling from inside the building and a shadow moving across the window.

You sighed, happy that she was awake.

You heard the door unlock before it opened revealing the auburn-haired girl you had hoped to see. Her brows were furrowed, a hint of confusion on her features.

"It's a bit late, you know." She spoke, her voice raspy, she was probably tired. It was then that you realised how desperate you probably looked, knocking on Ellie's door at ungodly hours of the night.

"Sorry, ran out of weed." You muttered, that was all you could say, a gust of condensation exiting with your words due to the cold. Hopefully, she'd be kind enough to give you some and spare you the embarrassment. Ellie had a reputation for being a bit of a menace, though.

Ellie chuckled quietly, looking down at you. "Well, that explains it," she hummed, her green eyes locking onto yours. Unable to hold her gaze, you looked down at your hands. They were slowly becoming numb from the extreme weather, your jacket not padded enough to protect you from this cold. "I know it's late, I just can't sleep without it..." you trailed off, "sorry, I can come back tomorrow if that's better."

Ellie simply shook her head, a soft smile grazing her plump lips, "I couldn't turn away such a pretty girl," she stopped, "especially at this time of night, it's dangerous out there."

At her words, you felt yourself fumble. You knew there was little to worry about in the safe confines of Jackson in terms of danger, except for a few raids here and there. Memories flashed in your head from a few years ago, you blushed at the thought, refusing to entertain it any longer. You wondered if she remembered it, too. Probably not.

"Only if it's no bother," you said, unsure. "Of course, not. It comes with the job of being the only source for miles," she reassured, to which you smiled and shook your head, agreeing.

"Come in, you look like you're freezing." That you didn't expect, usually in your meetings you would quickly exchange goods before returning home. But this time, she was looking at you with that smile of hers, and the cold was slowly decreasing your energy. "Yeah, okay." you hesitated, following her into her home.

Ellie closed the door behind you, before speaking again, "It's upstairs, I'll go grab it, you can take a seat wherever." She accommodated, I sat as she left the room, hearing her footsteps trail upstairs.

You took this time to look around, your house was comfortable, but it wasn't quite lived in as Ellie's, who seemingly had personalised and decorated her space. You wonder if she has people over often. For some reason, that thought tightened your chest.

You were quickly pulled away from your thoughts as Ellie reappeared in the living room. "Here," she threw a bag towards you, you smiled as your mission had been successful, catching the bag in your hands. "Thanks," you spoke, gratitude all over your voice.

"Don't mention it," she paused, "Seriously, don't mention it, Maria's been on my ass about it." "Having a domestic dealer probably wasn't what she wanted for Jackson." You joked, knowing Maria always made disapproving comments when she'd catch a whiff of it at your house. "Well, too bad. If I had to deal with an apocalypse sober, I'd have shot myself." She deadpanned, and you laughed in return.

"Thank you for providing sanity for us all." Ellie laughed at this. Her eyes looking over you, it reminded you of that day so many years ago. You shuddered.

"Well, I'll head off, don't wanna bother you more than I already have." You said, thinking that it must be at least four in the morning by this point. "Rude as always, I see." she joked, putting her hand over her heart in feigned hurt, "not even gonna stay for a joint?" Ellie pressed, finding herself entertained with the pretty girl in her living room.

To be honest, you were quite comfortable and warm. Not wanting to face that cold again, you mulled over what she said, surely one joint with her can't hurt right? "If you insist," you finally said.

With that, Ellie picked herself up off the floor, making her way over to Joel's vinyl player. You took this time to really look at her, she'd only gotten more attractive over the years you'd known her. Her short auburn hair was tied into a half bun, the rest of her hair left down, biting down on her lip softly as she scoured for a good record to play, god she really was attractive, you thought.

Against your will, memories of ardent kisses, lingering glances, heavy breaths and harsh touches appeared in your brain again. God damn it, you thought, not now. You pressed your legs together as Ellie had finally picked a record, placing it delicately on the player before turning her attention back towards you, music playing softly in the background.

"So, we've not really spoken for a while, huh?" Ellie said, grabbing the baggie and her paraphernalia as she settled down on the floor to roll. Ellie knew you could roll perfectly fine, you had been getting weed off her for years, but she couldn't help herself from wanting to show off her skills a little. You glanced at her arms, toned and tanned, adorned with a tattoo, your glance reaching her hands as you inspect the delicate way she grabs the items. Her hands are so pretty- veiny and strong, your thoughts roamed, thinking about what she could do with them, you blushed to yourself.

"I've been on patrol the past three weeks, only got back tonight." "I was wondering where the beauty of Jackson had disappeared off to," she half-smiled, looking up from hands to you, "Glad you're back."

You felt the blood in your cheeks rise, you were far from the prettiest girl around. "Me too, couldn't take another day of Jesse and Dina sneaking around during the night." You joked, those two thought they were so subtle and you couldn't shatter that blissful illusion for them. "Why do you think I refuse to go on patrol with both of them?" Ellie said, the joint rolled in less than a few minutes.

You couldn't help but be impressed, it usually took you a good amount of time before you could perfectly tuck the paper into itself, that part always annoyed you. But, Ellie? She did it all so effortlessly, her fingers habitually manoeuvring the paper before bringing it to her lips, licking the edge of the paper to stick it all together. Her eyes never left yours as she did this, lingering on you.

You watched, wordlessly as she finished rolling it. What could you say? Yeah, that was really hot, do it again, never. "Why are you so far away, I don't bite," Ellie said, trying to soften the tension that glazed over the room.

You didn't realise the distance there was between you two, you being happily sat on the couch whilst Ellie settled herself on the floor. "Alright," you scootered down next to her on the floor, resting your back against the couch. "That's more like it,"

With that, she held the joint up to your face, placing it lightly between your defined lips. You froze, watching her grab a lighter and bring it to the joint, lighting it for you. You inhaled, securing the flame was actually lit before pulling away and exhaling.

You remembered something Tommy had said, how before the outbreak, men would sometimes light cigarettes for women they find attractive and were actively pursuing. You wondered if Ellie was making a subtle move on you, but before the thought continued, you passed the joint back to her, fingers lingering on each other briefly. She established eye contact, not breaking it as she inhaled. You felt something in the air switch.

"You know something?" She broke the silence, exhaling the smoke as she did so, you thought she was about to say something really serious, so you listened. "I think you've never had to roll a joint in your entire life," she accused, an impish glint in her eyes letting you know she was officially reaching teasing territory.

"Excuse me, I can roll very well, thank you." You responded, feeling confident in your abilities. "No, I don't think that's true," she paused, taking a drag, "Pretty girl like you, I'm sure men are fawning at the chance to roll for you to impress." Ellie teased. "What, like you?" You retorted, not wanting her to have the upper hand. This seemed to catch her off guard, "What? You think I didn't notice you 'fawning to roll to impress me'?" Ellie was silent, then. Her teasing had backfired and she was left with nothing to say. You felt a swell of pride, you had made the confident Ellie speechless.

Passing you the joint back, Ellie thought back to the same day you couldn't stop remembering, she recalled that day clearly. The way your mouths had fervently collided, a haze of lust in each other's eyes. You had probably both been about 17 at the time, succumbing to each other after a night of secretly drinking Tommy's whiskey behind the stables. Of course, the lovely make-out session had been interrupted by Jesse, who was roaming around the stables. Ever since then, they never mentioned it, and nothing further happened. To make it worse, she found out that the day after you two had kissed, there was a certain man trying to grab your attention.

Ellie was never insecure, but seeing you laugh at this random bastard's jokes made her feel inferior, so she gave up. She left you alone and decided she wouldn't mention it. Though, her body craved to feel you again. She had assumed you were straight, in all honesty, but she never bothered to ask. If she did she would've found that you were the exact opposite. You had dated men in the past, slept with them, Ellie knew this. However, she was none the wiser to the truth that you were, in fact, dealing with a heavy dilemma as you realised you weren't actually attracted to men. You had always known you were into women, but finalising that you weren't into men at all, was a recent development.

Ellie sighed, thinking of that night. You had probably forgotten, she thought. It was so long ago now. "Penny for your thoughts," you said, after exhaling and passing it back to Ellie. "I'd rather stay penniless." She stated, not wanting to expose what she was really thinking about. "Come on, that's no fun." You said, feeling light-headed.

"I was just thinking," she trailed off, realising she had lost the upper hand. Ellie wouldn't have that, she craved being in control of the situation again. Ellie liked control, she liked to have her bearings and to be honest, you were making her lose it. "What?"

"I was wondering if you remember that night." You gulped, eyebrows slightly raising and stopped the movement of your hand raising the joint to your lips. There it is. Ellie thought, a smirk grazing her lips, she remembers. "I don't know what you're talking about, Ellie." This was the first time in the entire night you had said her name, and the rush it brought her was unreal, feeling more confident to press further. She saw you shudder and she wanted to see it again, she wanted to see you in all sorts of compromising positions.

"You don't?" Ellie teased, "Really?" Inching closer to you, gaze dropping down to your lips, not believing a word that was coming from them. You tensed, of course, you remembered. How could you possibly forget? The way she grabbed your waist, kissing up your neck. It was heavenly. You sighed, and she ate it up.

It was an unspoken thing, you both quietly decided that it'd be best to never mention it. But now, Ellie was reaching dangerous territory, and she couldn't pull herself back.

"Cos I remember," she leaned closer to your ear, "I remember everything." Your mouth hung open, feeling the heaviness of her breath hitting your ear, almost making you flinch. "You do?" you breathed, moving your head so it was level with hers.

"Everything," Ellie stated. Her eyes were blown out, the joint almost neglected as the smoke kept disappearing into the room's air. Ellie grabbed the forgotten joint from your hands, bringing it to her lips and inhaling, before moving it back to your lips. Your faces were so close, she blew the smoke at you. You latched on to the joint taking a final drag before Ellie stumps it out and throws it aside, "Let me jog your memory," grabbing the back of your head, bringing your lips closer.

With the smoke still in your throat, you close the gap, lips meeting in a needy manner. Her hand still latched on to your hair, pulls your head back as you have no choice but to sigh into her mouth. Ellie sucks the smoke from your lips, taking her final drag before ripping her lips from yours to blow it out.

You had never seen anything like it, you felt a rush down to your core at the action, then realised you were sad that she had taken away the warmth of her lips.

With a groan, she replaced her hands at the back of your neck, breathing heavily as she reconnected your lips together. God this was so much better than you remembered, Ellie's gotten good at this, causing a pang of jealousy to hit your chest.

Your hands travelled, meeting her waist and letting out a small gasp as Ellie grabbed the back of your head and pulled your neck back again, exposing your throat to her. This time, she leaned down and placed her soft lips on your supple skin, groaning as she sucked, causing soft hisses to escape from you. Ellie chuckled and continued leaving marks all over your neck, she was enjoying this, fucker.

Her roaming hands grasp the skin underneath your shirt, gripping you tightly. You let out a sigh as she manoeuvred her hands up, reaching the hem of your bra. Ellie brought her lips from your throat back to yours, almost laughing at how much she wanted this. She grabbed your thighs, a noise reverberating in her throat as she felt how warm they were, with a slight squeeze of your inner thigh, she hoisted you on top of her lap. Legs spread over hers.

Ever since that day, Ellie had never forgotten about you. Haunted by the memories of the night she held sacred. She often wondered if you thought about it. She wishes she had gotten further with you that night, but Jesse had to ruin everything. Here, today, she was given another chance, another chance to claim you, to mark you and make you feel the best pleasure you've ever felt.

It was almost carnal, her desire. She thanked her gods for bringing you to her tonight, she had a taste of you that night, and now she was ready to have the whole serving. "Ellie.." you trailed off, suddenly embarrassed, looking at her with those doe eyes. How can you look at her so innocently? Ellie almost melted at the sight, your eyes needy and chest rising rapidly, tugging on her waist harder. "What is it, pretty girl?" You almost moaned at the nickname, feeling a wave of shyness hitting you.

"Use your words, baby." Ellie hummed, placing her lips on your earlobe as she bit down gently, her hands caressing your back as she grabbed you tightly by the waist.

"Ellie... I.." You finally moaned, allowing yourself to give in, "Yes, angel?" Her raspy voice in your ear was causing your thoughts to run at a million miles per second. "Please," you finally said, covering your eyes with your hands.

Ellie was having none of that, she quickly raised her arms to grab yours, pulling them away from your face. "Why are you hiding, pretty girl?" You locked eyes, the longer you looked at her, the less resolve you had. She was just... so hot. The scar on her eyebrow brought a certain toughness to her appearance, her plump lips slightly red from kissing you, you could only imagine what you looked like. "I want you." You said, to which her smirk reappeared.

"Is that right?" she pecked your lips, "What do you want me to do?" She was teasing you, she knew damn well what you wanted. But she'll be damned if you weren't going to say it.

"Ellie!" You groaned, "Don't make me say it." hiding your face into her neck. "Say it." Her voice deadpan, "Say what you want me to do to you or this stops."

Her sudden change in demeanour took you by surprise, not expecting the way her words dripped with honey and hung in the air. You heard Ellie had a reputation, word travels fast in a small town, but you didn't realise just how quickly she could switch to being so dominating. You had no choice, now. Ellie wanted you to submit to her, assert her power and give you everything you needed. You just needed to say the word.

The tension hung in the atmosphere as you stared at each other, her pupils were dilated so large you could barely see the green eyes leaning on you. You couldn't take any more, you needed her, like a flower craves sunshine. "I need you to fuck me, Ellie." That's all that was needed. As soon as those sweet, sweet words left those tender lips of yours, Ellie knew she was a goner.

"That's all you had to say, pretty girl," she whispered into your lips, her hands at your thighs. It's like she just knew where to touch you, like she was born knowing. You let out a moan when she placed her knee in between your legs, grabbing her neck for support. You were still on her lap, your hips started moving automatically at the feel of her knee where you needed her the most.

"That's it, baby." she hummed, "Keep moving those hips for me," Her hands moved down to your ass, grabbing it and pulling you down further on her knee, all you could do was moan, and she had barely done anything. The power was quickly going to Ellie's head as she became unabashed. Loving how you looked so weak right now, so powerless, so... hers.

Ellie took notice of the way your cheeks darkened whenever she called you those names, she wanted to use that to her advantage. With a quick hand, she unbuttoned the pants that were still in the way, dragging them down your legs to reveal your silken thighs and lace underwear. Ellie groaned at the sight, fingers already making their way to your underwear before either of you noticed. She almost slapped herself for not doing this sooner, then remembered that guy.

"All those times you came here, saying you wanted a joint," she paused, "What you really wanted was for me to fuck you until you break." Her fingers teased circular motions at the inner part of your thighs, the sensation making you squeeze your legs. She was so close. "Isn't that right?" she questioned, "You just want to be fucked properly, can't fault you there, baby girl. These stupid men don't know what they're doing."

"Ellie... please." you moaned, feeling her fingers so, so close to your dripping core. "Is that what you want, hmm?" she cooed, her lips going to your neck again, "You want me to fuck you like those guys never did?" Fingers inching closer and closer, they slid the fabric of your underwear to the side. "Fuck.. Ellie.. please." You couldn't believe yourself, you were someone who liked to be in control, and Ellie was completely undoing everything you thought about yourself by the second. You heard the desperation in your own voice, almost ashamed that you could ever sound that needy.

"I'm gonna make you feel so good, baby." She dipped her finger into you, rotating it in small circles that made your skin feel as though it was on fire. The slight pressure of Ellie's finger stretching you out brought moans from your lips, it had been so long since you had been touched. And even longer since you felt this turned on. You craved more, you craved her.

Rutting your hips against her finger, Ellie decided to add more digits. Watching you as your face contorted with bliss, your eyebrows raising slightly as your mouth hung open, delicious sounds escaping your lips. It was music to Ellie's ears. This was officially the furthest you two had ever gotten.

"Do you know how long I wanted to do this, to see you rocking on my fingers? God, I could've killed Jesse that night." She groaned, her eyes gleaming as she smirked, feeling your hand grab her wrist, almost to say, more, more.

You were becoming breathless, but it still was not enough. You wanted all of Ellie. For her to give you her hardest. "Mhmm..." you moaned, smiling at the thought of Ellie being annoyed that your time in the stables had been interrupted, she thought about it as much as you did. It was clear now.

Ellie caught the smile and grinned, bringing her hand up to your throat. Smiling darkly up at you as she applied gentle pressure to your windpipe. You gasped, anytime a man had even tried to lay his hands on you like that, you'd tell him to kick it where the sun don't shine, yet with Ellie? With Ellie you would let her ravage you, take complete ownership of you. It was so natural. "You think I didn't see you practically drooling over my hands, you're not as subtle as you think, doll."

Her toned arms gleamed in the dark as she fucked you, her other hand grabbing your breast under your shirt and rubbing your nipple, placing her lips over it as she sucked. You were getting close, the knot in your stomach tightening at her actions, and then she halted, pulling away from you and directing you onto the couch.

All you could do was whimper. Pathetically. That was until she leaned over you, your back resting against the couch as she spread your legs. She was tall, and she towered over you. Her fingers removed your shirt as yours removed her sports bra and shorts, throwing the garments with reckless abandon, uncaring of where they ended up, meeting each other's lips with a fever.

You felt your heart beat faster, the anticipation nearly making you come on the spot, you clenched wondering what she was about to do. Ellie lifted herself off you and onto her feet, "I'll be back, baby." She said before ruminating through a box in the room, you couldn't see what she was doing though, her back turned to you.

When she returned to you, she reconnected your lips, feverish hands moulding themselves over every inch of your body. As if she was worshipping you. Her head travelled down, dropping kisses on your collarbone, down to your stomach and finally reaching the top of your pelvis. You felt your thighs being pulled apart before Ellie placed her warm tongue down on you.

You moaned, relaxing at the sensation of her wet tongue lapping up your juices, she was good at this, there was no denying that. You were quick to lose control, hands clawing at the back of Ellie's head, as she wrapped your thighs around her head, bringing her tongue deeper. "Fuck..." you gasped, grabbing her head to relieve the pressure as she licked harder, alternating between soft and harsher pressures. It wasn't long before you were a moaning mess, whimpering and clenching around nothing.

Ellie decided to multitask, stretching you open with her fingers as she ate you out. She groaned herself, even without you touching her she was already so turned on, her mind reeling and all she could think about was you. You, those moans and that body. She felt drunk from the sounds you released, and wanted nothing more than to continue hearing them.

She removed her mouth from your core, fingers still dipping in and out of you. "You like that, baby? Huh?" She breathed, "You like having my fingers inside you?" She teased, looking up at you with those darkened eyes, before dipping her head back down to your core. "Ye-mhmm, yes, fuck!" You never knew head and fingers could make you feel so good, just goes to show the kind of previous partners you had.

"More, plea- Ellie!" The pace at which she was going in was unmatched, you were surprised a smoker had so much stamina. "Did you say more, pretty girl?" She hummed, waiting till you closed your eyes and nodded, "I think I know how I can help." There was an impish look in her eyes, as she stopped. You heard her shuffle around with something before you realised what it was.

Fuck. That had all just been a teaser, foreplay before the main event. Ellie had manoeuvred herself into the harness, glancing at you as you bit your lip, watching her silently, as she slid the plastic tip over your folds. Running the tip along the wetness of your core, you ground your hips against it, hoping Ellie would take the hint.

If she did, she made no acknowledgement of it, teasing you slowly as the tip became covered in your slick. Ellie just loved teasing, curious to see how long she could drag this out until you couldn't take it anymore. "Ellie, if you don't fuck me with that already, I'm leaving and never coming back," you groaned, your voice breathless as you tried to level out your breathing.

"Don't worry, darling, all in good time," she said, before finally slipping in the tip to your entrance. You couldn't bite down your moans anymore, feeling more full by the second as you stretched around the object. "Oh-," you gasped out, barely able to speak, this is what Ellie had wanted all along, you around her in this way as she grinded her hips into yours.

"Like that, baby?" she cooed, caressing your thighs, you nodded, "Yeah? Is this what you wanted?" "Mhm-my god," you moaned, finally feeling relief as the object dipped in and out, hitting you where you craved, filthy sounds left both of your lips. "No god here, just me," she smirked, with an air of cockiness, as she grabbed your hips, locking them into place as she went deeper inside you, relishing in the delicious sounds erupting from your lips.

"Ellie, feels so- so good," you nuzzled your face into your arms, feeling your eyes roll over to the back of your head, conscious about what you looked like, you hid. But Ellie seems to like it when you're confident, not shy.

Grabbing your arms and ripping them away from your face, she thrust into you as she held your arms over your head, keeping you in place, all exposed for her. She loved the filthy expression on your face, lips in the shape of an 'o', brows furrowed and eyes rolling. "Who knew?" she teased, "That you were just a dirty little girl just waiting for me to fuck you," she loved the way her words had an impact on you, feeling high off your reactions.

"Please," you were reduced to whimpers and moans, the air felt obscene. Ellie suddenly grabbed your hips, flipping you over so you were on your stomach, she delved her hips into yours and the new position left you seeing stars. Her hand grabbed your hair, and you raised your hips, arching your back and rocking your hips with hers. The auburn-haired girl rubbed her palm softly on your ass before smacking her hand down with force, you yelped, not expecting the sudden hit and Ellie almost got scared until she noticed you settle into yourself, moaning louder.

"Fuck, doll, you're so hot like this," Ellie breathed, smacking her hand down on your cheek again, this time there was the red mark of her digits imprinted into your skin, it was devilish how much that riled Ellie on, losing control over her mouth as the obscene words escaped her lips. "Look at you," she scoffed, smirking, "So perfect, just made for this cock," At her crude words, you cried out, almost feeling overwhelmed by all the sensations you were experiencing, that didn't stop Ellie, though.

"I bet no man has ever fucked you like this, huh?" Her hips thrust into you, slower this time but deeper, you were already close, she didn't have to do much, taking long pauses before entering you again. Her fingers moved down to your clit, rubbing the bud to enhance your orgasm, as she leaned over your ear, your hair still bunched into her hand, which was handy as it allowed her to bring your head closer to her own. "Answer me, doll,"

"No, Ellie-" you struggled out, "No one, ju-just you," You were delirious, evidently having lost your grasp on yourself as your body shook, you were so close. "That's what I thought," she whispered into your ear, dropping your head back into the couch, fucking you relentlessly.

Her fingers on your clit exacerbated your orgasm, as you let out a final "Fuck!" as your body rode out the high, twitching in Ellie's arms. "Fuck..." you whispered again, as you rested your head on your crossed arms, taking deep breaths as you slowly came back to reality. Ellie slipped herself out of you, rubbing circles into your thighs as she placed sweet kisses on your spine.

"You are... wow." she hummed, you were better than she ever expected. At a loss for words she decided to wrap her arms around you, you still lay on the couch, catching your bearings as you felt her strong arms cover your body. "I could say the same for you," You giggled, covering your face, "Come on now, still shy?" Ellie chuckled, "What we gonna do about this, then?"

"It's your fault, you're just so.." "So what?" She continued, her fingers rubbing against your skin. She was so different now, all affectionate when she had been a lust demon just seconds earlier. You two clearly had a lot to talk about. "Irresistible." "I'll take that,"

"I think I'll come down to your house at 3 am again," "I'd like that."

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie willams fanfic #ellie tlou #ellie x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x reader smut #the last of us #fanfic #smut

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ymiwritesstuff · 3 months

Note

Not really smutty (though it could lead into it) but how about tav helping halsin brush and braid his hair? This man deserves to be pampered and have someone care for him as much as he does for everyone else

WOWOWOWOWOW I LOVE THIS IDEA!!! This was so much fun to write thank you Anon!! I hope this turned out the way you were hoping!! Halsin deserves all the pampering!!! Enjoy!

A Moment Together

Baldur's Gate 3

Halsin x Tav!Reader

Summary: After a long day of hard work and battle, you and Halsin decide to spend the remaining hours of the day in each other's company during which you are eager to make sure he feels as relaxed as possible.

Notes: Fluff (so much that it's disgusting lol), hair brushing, no spoilers, just good vibes :)

“Alright, that should be enough.”

The heavy pieces of firewood you had spent almost the entirety of the day gathering fell on the ground with a loud thud, the positive exclamations of gratitude from the others soon following. It was always a rather tedious task, but it proved to be one of the most rewarding. No one could sleep or relax after a hard day in the coldness of the night unless you happened to have an infernal engine for a heart. Karlach was lucky in that aspect, you thought.

The sun still peaked through the thick trees of the forest, though it would not take long until it would retreat behind the horizon. Looking around the camp, everyone seemed just about ready to shed the weight and responsibilities of working to find a solution to your parasite issue and enjoy some much needed rest. The tents were put up, the bedrolls were set around the campfire and the heavy pieces of gear and armor were abandoned in favor of something more comfortable.

You ought to do the same soon.

However, your mind soon wandered when a certain druid entered your vision. A smile crept up to your lips. You were reminded of something you had said earlier in the day, a promise of a moment for just the two of you. Halsin was quick to relax his gaze as he looked over the camp and noticed how everyone seemed content. Should there have been an issue, he would have most likely been the first one to volunteer and offer his help, being the kindhearted druid he was. The thought only made you smile more.

As soon as his eyes found you, you were quick to point to the edge of the camp with a tilt of your head, your feet slowly carrying towards the direction. You were inviting him for a stroll, as you had discussed previously, and he certainly hadn’t forgotten, as he quickly followed you.

The camp slowly disappeared behind you and once it did, Halsin was quick to intertwine his large hand with yours, a gesture he often did when you shared a moment together. You were sure the rest of the camp was privy to the way you two shared glances, some of them were rather… perceptive, and secrecy wasn’t something either of you desired. Perhaps it merely felt more natural when there weren’t others present. Halsin certainly seemed more at ease like this.

“You seemed quite busy today,” you commented, remembering how you hadn’t seen him much all day. It was not terribly unusual, but to say you did not miss him would be a lie. He hummed.

“There was a shortage of potions and other healing items. So I made a longer journey to find a merchant.” You nodded as you listened, but also frowned your brows.

“We do have you and Shadowheart with us…” If you were honest, you were not sure why spend the effort to gather potions when your group consisted of more than one healer. Your thoughtful muttering reached his pointed ears and he was quick to let out a hearty chuckle.

“That may be so. But it does not hurt to be resourceful. We do journey separately at times, after all.”

“That’s true.”

You could not help but smile. Halsin had always been looking over everyone, making sure to offer his help whenever it may have been needed. His kindness was admirable, and in truth, it was needed during times like these.

You continued to walk by his side, his larger stature perfectly framed by the setting sun that continued to seep through the branches and leaves. To not look at him would have been a crime, so you allowed your eyes to wander, taking in his utter beauty as you walked. He had a small but fulfilled smile upon his lips, and his eyes idly looked around ever so slightly, marveling at the grace of nature.

The journey led you two to a gentle stream that flowed through the forest. The water was crystal clear and the warm colors of the sun were reflected on the calmly moving surface beautifully. You were sure this same stream spread into the vast lake just next to your camp.

Giving glances at each other, the silent decision was made to rest here and unwind after yet another long day, maybe even fall asleep. It wouldn’t have been the first time, and Halsin always made sure to keep you warmer in ways a mere campfire never could.

You carefully sat down on the ground, Halsin keeping your hand in his until you were fully seated. He then laid down, placing his weary head on your lap, looking up at you with a smile that made your heart swell. The habit of his was incredibly endearing, there was just something about this druid, built like the most durable stone wall, gently lying beneath you at the mercy of your touch.

Smiling at him, your hands immediately went to his hair, pulling it back until all of it pooled in your lap. Tilting your head, you looked at his locks, noticing how they had some woodchips and tangles in them. Not a rare sight, quite natural, even. But you frowned, though playfully.

“Shall I brush it?” You asked, making sure to not pull on the knots with your fingers. A small chuckle left his lips.

“I have my doubts you’ll let me get up if I do not accept.” The sarcasm in his tone was obvious, it made you scoff jokingly.

“Of course not. What would the others think?” You sighed and groaned dramatically. “Imagine how horrified Astarion would be!”

Halsin laughed, that pleasant sound ringing in your ears long after he stopped. His laugh was contagious, so you briefly joined him, while reaching for your pocket and pulling out a comb. You looked down at him again.

“Well, what say you?” Your smirk was once again jesting, but his smile was genuine.

“Go right ahead, my heart.”

Smiling, you carefully began running the comb through his hair, noting how he let out a deep breath at the sensation. Brushing his hair had become somewhat of a regular activity, you did it for him every time you could. He enjoyed it. To be surrounded by nature and touched by you so attentively, he could not even begin to think about any better way to forget about the harshness of reality that affected everyone.

You had always thought that Halsin was far too considerate for his own good. He often put himself before others, especially with you. Though it was an incredibly valuable trait, it often left you wondering if anyone ever did anything for him. That’s why you helped him whenever you could, that’s why you held his hands and asked if he needed anything, that’s why you brushed his hair.

Halsin’s breathing was calm and paired with the gentle trickle of the stream as the sun slowly set, you felt like all the horrid things that happened around you did not exist, even if it was for a brief moment.

His hair was mostly rid of its previous debris and the comb flowed through it effortlessly. You were more or less done but felt like something was missing. Placing the comb down, you ran your fingers through his locks, marveling at the length. His long hair was always open, flowing freely in the wind. As nature intended, you thought.

You took a brief look at him. His eyes were closed as if he was asleep, but you doubted this was the case. Regardless, he looked peaceful and you felt a wave of satisfaction hit you. It would be a lie to claim that it didn’t feel rewarding to see this druid, so concerned for everyone else and working tirelessly to ensure safety among everyone, at ease and utterly relaxed.

Gathering his hair into your hands, you sectioned it and began interweaving them. Halsin surely felt it, as his eyebrow raised ever so slightly. You had never done this before.

“Trust the process,” you said to which he gave a humorous hum. His hand rested on his abdomen and he took a deep breath, simply enjoying the way your fingers touched and gently tugged his brown hair.

As you reached the end of the braid, you looked for something to tie it with. You spotted a flower, white petals practically glowing in the moonlight. It had already been plucked from the ground, so you did not feel bad for reusing it for the greater good. You took a small piece from the base of the stem and used it to tie the end of the braid, to ensure that it would stay put.

You looked at your work and Halsin seemed to sense that you were done, as he slowly stood up, and turned to you. And as you looked at him, you could not stop the heat that spread across your cheek.

The loose braid rested upon his broad shoulder and his large frame was illuminated by the moon, giving him an almost otherworldly aura. His fingers brushed along the braid, there was some surprise in his expression, but it quickly melted away when he noticed how you looked at him.

“I suppose I can compete with Astarion now?” Halsin chuckled as he spoke to which you couldn’t contain a smile.

“Well, almost.” Your hand reached for the flower you had used to tie his hair with and you scooted closer to him, lifting yourself so your eyes were on the same level. Even when sitting down, he towered over you. Carefully, you brushed some of his hair that framed his face behind his ear, the flower following soon after. It came to rest against his ear, giving him a look that seemed to blow you away.

You retreated from him, grinning on the outside, but screaming and squealing inside at how incredibly beautiful he looked.

“Now I’d say you have a chance.”

Halsin pulled you to him as you both laughed, holding you close. He was warm, he always was. You pulled away to look at him, the affectionate sparkle in his hazel eyes warming your heart.

“Thank you, my heart. You… Do so much for me.”

If only he realized. This was nothing compared to what he did not only for you but for everyone. You smiled for what felt like the thousandth time and kissed him, keeping your hands on the sides of his face. The night had fallen, and all possible thoughts of returning to the others faded away. Tonight, you would sleep under the stars, dozing off to the soothing sounds of the stream with him next to you before repeating the grueling routine of the day all over again.

But it felt worth it. For moments like these, you’d do anything.

Feel free to support me on ko-fi!❤️

#baldur's gate #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #halsin #bg3 halsin #baldur's gate 3 halsin #bg3 x reader #baldur's gate imagines #baldur's gate 3 x reader #halsin x reader #bg3 halsin x reader #Halsin x tav #baldur's gate 3 halsin x reader #fluff #reader insert

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missycolorful · 1 month

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I think I'll just say this: I don't agree when people call any of the islanders "bad parents" just because their parenting is flawed.

Like, parents and their parenting is flawed. Inherently. One parent cannot meet all the demands of their child; it is literally impossible. As humans are imperfect, there will always be something missing or lacking in one's parenting. Hell, sometimes even two parents can't meet all their child's needs, depending on their personalities. If that's the case, then I guess all parents are bad parents. But that's not the case, so I don't get why people are so adamant when they see that a parent isn't handling things 100% perfectly and go "wow this person's parenting sucks."

And this is even more so when you take into account... pretty much everything going on in Quesadilla island. These people never really planned to be parents, yet here they are! And this island is out to kill these kids, so it's also a dangerous game of survival now, too! There are horrors around pretty much every corner. Plus, outside or inside forces are making the islanders suffer very often. The islanders are never okay. How they take care of their children is going to be different just by the very basis of their environment. The standards of parenting are different here. Their relationships with people, including their children, were never going to be 100% healthy or positive or okay. It's just not possible.

so, no, I don't think that just cause, say, q!Tubbo or q!Phil aren't great in regards to their emotional intelligence and often isolate themselves, or when any other parents in general don't handle what their children are going through perfectly, that they're bad parents. That kinda statement feels like it diminishes pretty much all the hard work and effort and love they put into taking care of their kids and even kids that aren't their own. Tubbo gives his everything for Sunny, and was/is an active babysitter for a lot of other eggs. Phil works so hard to love and teach survival to and take care of his two eggs equally. (Like, being 'basically' a single parent, of one or WORSE, two, is already hard enough in the real world - imagine being one on this fucking hellscape they're on).

Like, I don't think there's anything wrong with pointing out the parents' flaws. Their flaws make them human, and it'd be foolish to disregard their humanity. And it's interesting to analyze their flaws and what they say about the character, and how they impact their family. There's nuance there, and it should be discussed.

But I think when you're just going "oh, they're bad at parenting in general" because they fumble the bag in other departments lacks nuance. Sure, if you're just saying "they're bad when it comes to certain aspects of parenting," that's a different story, because that's understanding their flaws while recognizing that those flaws don't define all of their parenting. But to just say they're bad at it in general isn't productive analysis of their characters in any way. I haven't watched q!Phil take care of his egg for a whole year (followed by a second egg more consistently shortly after) only for people to shit on his parenting just because his lack emotional intelligence is more noticeable as of recent due to all the trauma and bullshit he's endured. And I haven't seen q!Tubbo put his whole heart into taking care of Sunny as well as multiple other eggs, being Chayanne and Tallulah's reliable godfather, just for people to put down his efforts because he's not always great at more emotionally in depth conversations. They're good parents in a lot of ways, and those strengths shouldn't be discredited just because they aren't good at other things. Their characters deserve way better than that.

tldr these parents are all good in many regards and are just trying their damn best in the worst of circumstances, can we cut them just a bit of slack, please?

#qsmp #fuck it i'm tagging the characters i mentioned #philza #tubbo #missy rambles #also tldr this discourse is fucking dumb #like jesus calling them bad parents feels like it's shitting on all the time they've spent on this damn island taking care of these kids #all cause they're bad at talking about feelings sometimes? give me a break

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zarla-s · 2 months

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Do you get anxious whenever you start drawing comic pages? Is that connected to ending of Handplates? It's like you're trying to find any random activity to avoid drawing comics. And your usual sketches get less and less dialogue. I'm asking because I'm worried and I don't know what's happening. D:

Hmm... I haven't really thought of things in these terms? I was like "eh that can't be right" but then I did a quick look back and it does look like I've been doing solo shots or single/two panel comics for a while, haha. I've just got a lot of small ideas or images I wanted to get out recently. And I've been writing a lot of fic! Which I haven't done in a while, which is nice. Writing a fic (particularly lengthy ones, like the Hell jailbreak or the hanahaki one) is a lot more time consuming than people might think. I started the hanahaki one in early December and only just posted it a few days ago...

I was doing Handplates for such a long time, like seven+ years and all, that I'm assuming the vast majority of you out there never really knew me when I wasn't doing it. The thing is that Handplates is a massive outlier - I never did any project of that scale before, or one that updated that consistently or took that much constant effort. Never! Most of the time before when I'd start a big project I'd get distracted and never finish it, or there'd be huge hiatuses between updates (Vargas). It was super weird to have such a big project I so consistently updated and worked on. It's not common for me! I'm amazed looking back on it all that I was so committed to it when so many other ones fell flat.

Handplates took up a LOT of my time, so with it over I've been doing some other things I wouldn't have had much time for before. Playing some games, taking screencaps, writing fic, web design, little small experiments like all my pixel stuff. Just trying out different things! I don't think I'd say I was anxious about doing a comic page... it's more so that I'm just tired, I think. I was doing these huge elaborate pages that'd take days to finish for so long - now that I don't have to do it anymore, my brain just wants to relax, haha.

The reason for the slow updates on Defrag is really that I keep getting stuck lol. It's not really focused like Handplates and I still don't really know how it'll end. I keep getting stuck on what should happen next, so I keep putting it off. It's just me being a lazy writer rather than having anxiety about doing a page. |D

At least, I think that's what it is...

#asks and answers #morning8magpie #to be fair i kept getting distracted while doing the hanahaki one #case in point #been hard to focus lately!

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sacredindigos · 1 year

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i say this as an el stan. a hardcore el stan. and i am able to say this bc i know how to admit when a character i love does some not so nice things. just keep that in mind.

el is not a good girlfriend to mike.

sure she puts his pictures up in her shrine and whatever. but those are miniscule things in a relationship. those are just flashy little things you do for show. but when you dig deeper into their relationship and look at things like how they connect emotionally, their overall behavior towards each other, how they communicate, accountability, and etc .... el falls just as short as mike does in those categories. maybe even more for some of them.

i mean like with the accountability thing. at least mike attempts to apologize to el when he fucks up. el on the other hand has hurt mike but has never apologized or attempted to apologize to him.

for instance, she broke his trust in s3 and invaded his privacy when she spied on him. and instead of apologizing when he was clearly upset about it, she just played it off as something she was allowed to do bc "she makes her own rules." making her own rules is totally fine and an important lesson she learned from max, but not when it comes at the expense of other people's feelings and privacy. and that is what happened. she didn't take mike's feelings or privacy into consideration at all and she got away with thinking what she did was ok. and then in s4 she consistently lied to mike for 6 months straight. and he was mad and hurt when he found out she lied to him for 6 months out of their relationship and she wasn't actually the person she was said she was. and yet she never apologized for that either. when he politely tried to figure out why she had lied to him and he apologized for how he treated her, she spun all the focus onto him and started grilling him abt how he never says he loves her. which yes is something she should have done bc that was clearly an issue between them, but that could have waited til after she apologized to him. mike deserved an apology for that as well. they both should have apologized but mike was the only one who ended up saying the words "im sorry." that isn't ok. relationships take accountability and effort on both sides !!

mike's "apologies" to el are definitely not perfect and they have their issues. like a lot of issues. but at least he tries. he makes an attempt at apologizing to her and fixing things between them. el doesn't. she has never really made an attempt to make things better between them when they are having issues (that they both cause). she just pushes all the blame onto mike and all the pressure of fixing things onto him. and she's never apologized to mike for her mistakes that have upset him or taken accountability.

i think it just shows us that mike is really the one who cares more abt their relationship and puts in more effort. el definitely does not care as much as he does (granted, i don't think he cares for the right reasons but that is for another day) or puts in as much effort to fix their relationship. mike ends up having to do it all and that isn't fair to him. mike deserves better than that, despite what the people who think his character revolves around el think.

el is a bad girlfriend to mike just like mike is a bad boyfriend to her. not enough people want to acknowledge that.

#anti mlvn #anti mileven #byler #byler tumblr #stranger things

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suashii · 4 months

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꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ 𝒞𝐿𝒪𝒰𝒟 𝟫

info ⭑ nagi seishiro x reader. 1.4k wc. sfw ﾉ fluff

nagi doesn’t think his apartment has been this clean since he first moved into it.

to be fair, it hasn’t ever been really messy—not by his standards, at least. just cluttered. the only person who ever visits consistently is reo and despite his thinly veiled complaints about the lack of tidiness, nagi feels no need to impress him. you, however, are a different story.

he thinks it might be a little bit rude and even more embarrassing if his home is in any sort of disarray the first time you get to see it. that’s why he set his alarm early and spent his entire morning cleaning; organized all the pairs of shoes he carelessly kicks off at the entryway, washed the dishes he had neglected last night, and folded and hung up all the clothes tossed on the unused lounge chair in the corner of his bedroom.

nagi’s lighting a candle when he hears your knocks and muffled sing-songy voice announcing your arrival. once he’s sure the wick is burning, he tosses the lighter onto the coffee table before scrambling towards the door. in his rush to let you in, nagi misses the little step that separates the small foyer from the rest of the apartment. his hands stick out to catch himself in just barely enough time and he curses under his breath at the blunder. after righting himself, he pulls open the door, revealing your figure on the other side.

you’re smiling, but it looks like you’re holding back a laugh.

“everything okay?” you ask as you survey him from head to toe. you could have sworn you heard something—or someone—hit the door only a second ago.

nagi nods, his snowy white bangs bouncing up and down with the gesture. he’s sure you can piece together what happened without his input and he’s not too keen on admitting that he tripped on the way here. instead, he turns his body to create some space for you, jerking his head in the direction of his living room. “come in.”

“you can put those on.” nagi points to a pair of new slippers that he bought just for you. he figures you should have your own since you’ll be around more often. well, he thinks you will—people who are dating hang out at each other’s houses, right?

you do as he says, trading your sneakers for the house shoes (that fit perfectly) while glancing around his apartment. it’s neat, neater than you expected. the scent of dish soap and lemon cleaner tips you off that he had cleaned before you arrived and his effort brings a smile to your face.

“so,” he twirls the fine hair at the nape of his neck around his finger, “i have mario kart if you want to play. and we can get takeout if you’re hungry.”

“sounds good,” you assure him, following the man to his living room. other than the pop of green from his cactus situated on the table beneath his television, everything from his furniture to the lack of décor is neutrally colored. that much doesn’t surprise you but you’re curious to see if his bedroom has more character.

in your search for his room, your eyes catch sight of a narrow staircase leading up to a lofted area. “is your bed up there?” you point at the landing.

pulling his gaze away from the handheld console in his hold, nagi’s dark eyes follow the path of your finger and he hums in confirmation. “you can check it out.”

you take him up on his offer and make your way up the steps. the space you find at the top is just as simple as that of his first floor but twice as cozy. there’s a hammock chair in the corner that slightly swings with the air of your arrival and at least three throw blankets in varying shades of gray strewn across his mattress. your foot gently taps the soccer ball resting on the light hardwood floor, sending it rolling toward the wall, as you approach his bed.

shedding yourself of your slippers, you flop onto the mattress with a soft thud. your body sinks into the cushion as though it’s a marshmallow—it certainly feels as soft and pillowy as one. you’re two seconds away from calling down to nagi to comment on how comfortable his bed is when you turn on your side to face the table settled beside said bed. the surface you’re met with is littered with taped-on photo strips dating back to when the two of you first started hanging out.

the series of pictures are arranged chronologically like he’s been adding them as they’ve been taken. and you can see that, with time, he grew more comfortable with the camera—with you. poses that were once awkward peace signs turned to tight-lipped smiles and eventually he even went as far as crouching down so you could hold your fingers above his head like cat ears.

in his bed, swathed by his familiar scent, nagi’s little gesture leaves your heart floating and fluttering in your chest. you have your own identical set of these photos at home pinned to the bulletin board that hangs above your desk, you look at them every day—yet there’s something different about seeing them stuck to the spot that nagi stares at before he closes his eyes to go to sleep.

“hey, the game is—” nagi cuts his sentence short upon seeing that you’ve found the souvenirs from your visits to photo booths across town. he wasn’t even thinking about them when he told you to help yourself to explore his room. your silence blankets him with a strange sense of unease. nagi knows the two of you haven’t been dating for very long but he hopes the display doesn’t make you uncomfortable.

at his voice, you sit up on your knees to meet nagi’s eye. his finger is nervously twirling at his hair again and the tips of his ears and the apples of his cheeks are flushed a rosy pink. despite his height, you’ve never seen him look smaller.

you figure he’s embarrassed about you stumbling across the pictures. the both of you are still settling into your new relationship status, clumsily fumbling with couple-like behavior and romantic actions. although, he has nothing to worry about. it’s cute—his growing collection of memories.

you jerk your thumb over your shoulder, gesturing to the prints with a small smile. “mine are hanging in my room, too.”

the tension in his shoulders practically melts away with your words and his feet no longer feel anchored to the floor. nagi joins you on his bed, the mattress dipping underneath his added weight. he leaves a safe amount of space between himself and you but he’s considerably more relaxed than he was a moment ago.

“look,” you start, pulling your phone out of your pocket. nagi’s newfound proximity and his exhibit of your shared photo excite you and make you want to share one of the many ways you are beginning to fall into the designated role of significant other. you tap the glass surface of the device which lights up with your action, revealing an image of the two of you that reo took. your arms are wrapped around his waist and one of his hands sits atop your head. neither of you is looking at the camera, your gazes are focused on each other instead. with a smile, you turn your phone to him, “we’re even on my lock screen.”

nagi silently stares at the captured moment displayed on your screen. the day wasn’t long ago and the memory of it is still fresh in his mind. it was the first time you referred to him as your boyfriend in the company of someone close to him. just looking at the photo makes his heart skip a beat like it did when he heard the foreign-sounding word spill from your lips. only when the screen returns to its sleeping state does he look up to you.

he’s never had a way with pretty words and even now he’s struggling to voice his feelings, so instead of saying something sweet and saccharine fitting for the occasion, he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. “wow, you’re mushy.”

“shut up,” you tell him through an unconcealed laugh. your thumb and index finger come together to flick the center of his forehead. the fluff of his hair lessens the impact but he still rubs the spot instinctively as a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips. you smile back at him before smoothing your hand over his head. “let’s go play.”

hihi~ sua here :3 ! thank you for giving this a read! if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging and/or leaving a comment! much love from me to you ❤︎

#₊˚ପ⊹ signed: blue lock #nagi x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #nagi x you #bllk x you #blue lock x you #nagi drabble #bllk drabbles #blue lock drabbles #nagi fluff #bllk fluff #blue lock fluff

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david-talks-sw · 1 year

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What "The Hidden Fortress" (1958) tells us about the Jedi's status in the Prequels.

In 1999, George Lucas had this to say on BBC Omnibus: A Long Time Ago: The Story of "Star Wars" and then The Phantom Menace's director's commentary.

“I greatly admired Kurosawa, especially the film Hidden Fortress, which told a story from the point of view of two serfs, two slaves...

... peasants who tag along with this famous general and a princess-- y'know, royalty. And the whole story is told from their point of view. And I like that idea. I like the idea of telling a story from the lowest person's point of view, uh, in the food chain, and that's how the story got to be told by Artoo and Threepio.”

“[The Phantom Menace] is told primarily from the Jedi's point of view, but the story that's being told is essentially the story of Queen Amidala and her plight of having her planet blockaded. As in, say, Episode IV, where the story is told through the eyes of the droids, in this one, it's told through the eyes of the Jedi.”

“But [from the moment we get to Coruscant, Anakin and Jar Jar] are standing on the sidelines. It's a little bit a riff on the very first film where the story is told through the point of view of the droids, who were sort of the lowliest characters.”

“And in [Phantom Menace], I'm doing it through - primarily - the two Jedi, but then the secondary characters are also carrying a lot of the weight when the Jedi aren't around.”

George Lucas draws a comparison between lowly characters like Hidden Fortress' peasants Matashichi and Tahei, the droids in A New Hope, as well as the Jedi in The Phantom Menace.

What do they all have in common? They are all the lowest-ranking characters in their respective films. Repeat: the movie frames the Jedi as almost at the bottom of the food chain.

Because of course they are. Functionally, they're just diplomats. They hold no political power whatsoever and barely have any authority .

What little authority the Jedi do have in TPM comes from the Queen's young age, which allows them to ease into a more advisory position, and Qui-Gon's rebellious streak. And even he's explicit about the fact that his mandate has limitations.

The only characters "below" them in status are Jar Jar, an exiled Gungan, and Anakin, who just yesterday was still a slave kid, Artoo the literal object and that's it!

Also the other Prequel films are consistent with this portrayal. Who do we see lower in status than the Jedi? Dexxter Jettster and the clones. Everyone else is pretty much above them.

Yes, the Jedi are part of the system, but they're not as high-ranking as you'd think. Yes, they have Force Powers, but that means squat when put against political power. So, like, to expect the Jedi to...

influence the decisions of the Senate,

wage a war against the Outer Rim to end slavery,

or blatantly refuse an order to join the war effort,

... is incredibly unreasonable.

They're not meant to be seen as "the elite, peering down upon the people from their ivory tower".

They're the servants! Servants of the Republic.

And they're seeing their higher-ups destroy what they should all stand for, but are unable to stop them.

Later on, with The Clone Wars, we are introduced to civilian characters and from their point of view, the Jedi are ultra powerful and are highly placed and "should do more but don't".

It makes sense that these characters would see the Jedi as 'the elite'. But they don't have the full picture.

We, as the audience, do.

So we know that the reality is more along the lines of the Jedi "should do more but can't".

After all, we are made privy many instances of the Jedi speaking up and trying to change politicians' minds, only to be dismissed and overruled at every turn.

↑ these aren't even all the times we see it happen, btw, there's more examples...

So at some point, if you - as an audience member - see all this and are still saying "the Jedi should've done more!" I really need to know... what more could they have done?

Take control of the Senate?

That'll result in a dictatorship, there's a reason they waited as much as they did before trying to take down Palpatine.

Power corrupts and they're wise enough to know it.

Don't join the Republic in the first place?

George Lucas never frames the Jedi's involvement with the Republic as a bad thing. In the foreword to Shatterpoint (2004), he says their being part of the Republic led to 1,000 years of prosperity.

Where's the issue, then? Well, it's a two-man job and the Jedi's bosses, the Senate, grew corrupt and stopped doing their part. They stopped carrying their end of the couch.

But “no Jedi in the Republic from the get-go” means the Sith will rise to power even faster. Fun!

Stay neutral in the war?

The Separatists were killing civilians and testing weapons on neutral systems, or enslaving them.

The choice put before the Jedi was "do what we tell you and fight, or let people die".

But also, out-of-universe... do you really think Palpatine, genius politician, master of spin, can't re-frame the Jedi staying neutral in a negative light?

When they joined the war, he unleashed propaganda that either directly (on the Separatist side) or indirectly (on the Republic side) framed them as "warmongers who corrupted their values". If they don't join, they're "apathetic cowards who care more about their own values than the lives of the people they're supposed to protect".

So either way, Order 66 comes around, wipes them out and the Republic goes "good riddance".

So what else could they do?

The answer is "not much".

Because the whole point of the narrative is that Palpatine checkmated them by taking the fight to a field the Jedi had no experience in or right to meddle with: politics.

So if you look at these characters who are nowhere near the top of the food chain, and say "well, why didn't they fix things?" I'm sorry to say you're missing the point of the narrative.

Or maybe you do get the point of the narrative and just aren't trying to be fair...

... in which case, at least be consistent and also argue:

"Why didn't Threepio & Artoo do more to save the Rebel crew of the Tantive IV from the stormtrooopers?!"

"Why didn't Matashichi & Tahei do more to save the Akizuki clan?!"

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doodledrawsthings · 6 months

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Hello, I'm currently in an art class and I'm taking storyboarding. I noticed that people draw their storyboards in VASTLY different ways. Some people draw it super rough and minimalistic while I've seen others with super fleshed out and cleaned panels that boggle my MIND. I remembered that you're an actual storyboarder in the industry so I wanted to ask which style tends to work better or is more is more popular among studios? Sorry if this question came out of nowhere :/

(Also I've recently been admiring how you do line art in your art in particular its very thin and clean :]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]] )

It really depends on the project you’re working on. The boards I did at CN were allowed to be a lot more loose than the boards I did at Rough Draft.

In my opinion, boards should lean more on the loose side so as not to stress out the artist, but due to industry trends it seems like cleaner ones are becoming more and more common. Although I do think a lot of the time, the super clean boards you’ll stumble upon on Twitter would probably/ hopefully have gone through layout and revisions to make them look as clean as they do.

Based on what I learned, though, what I think matters most about boarding is clarity. Are the boards legible and is it easy to tell what’s going on, which characters are on screen, who’s talking, where they are, etc? Are things consistent or are you breaking 180 rule too much or trying to do too many complicated things where something simpler would be more efficient or effective? At CNS Academy I was told that I should judge how much time I put into drawings based on how important they are to the scene. (i.e. this close up or establishing shot is important to the tone of the scene and lasts a couple seconds longer than the very quick shot of the character speaking coming up next, so I will put more effort into making the former shot look nicer, because it’s more specific.)

Important to keep in mind no matter how loose or clean your boards are.

#also thank you!

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arlechinav-blog · 9 months

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Training for Trancework

(Pictured: A working trance altar with resin incense, flowers, chocolate, salt & herbs, and a plate for monetary offerings.)

Basic Trancework -Just trance for the sake of trance. Celebration. Experimentation. Fun. Labor.

In the beginning, your efforts should be focused on just getting into and out of an altered state safely and reliably. You can do that by giving yourself permission to go all in. Embrace the magic floppy time without hesitation or second guessing yourself. Make peace with things as they are. If your hair is messy, just let that concern go. If your mind is too loud to release from your body, disconnect from your worries. Whatever holds you back from totally relaxing into yourself, put it aside temporarily.

In my opinion, the best way to do these things is to just play around with it. When starting out with any new thing, there should be a childhood phase. It may grow to be a serious thing later but in the beginning, you get to be childlike and just explore what is possible and what you like. Whatever brings you a sense of peace and joy. That will give you a strong foundation to build upon later.

On a practical level, that will mean putting on some music or playing with live musicians and engaging in simple repetitive (dance) movements that disrupt the body's equilibrium. Rocking side to side or front to back, whirling, rolling movements that ripple from the spine through the limbs. It is okay to flop on the group. Trance dancing is dance but it is more to be felt than seen so it doesn't have to look dignified in any way. Just enjoy yourself and let your mind go.

If you are developing trancework as a musician (musician's trance is definitely a thing) then at this stage you will want to practice your music until you feel confident with it and then condition yourself to relax more and more as you go. Committing a song to memory will really help, that way you don't have to stay focused. Your muscle memory will carry you through but only if you have trained your body to do it while fully awake first.

Catalyst Trancework -Trancework that utilizes a fuel source to propel you deeper into an altered state. This can be a heavy emotion like love, rage, or grief, OR a substance like alcohol that can melt away barriers between the active wakeful mind and the loose uninhibited mind. It can also just be a power object that you introduce whenever you trance that will send you over the other side.

Once you have the basics down and you can get in and out of a trance without much difficulty, you will want to shift to a different goal. At this stage, you will want to build up your hypnotic conditioning to reduce your reaction time and encourage muscle memory over active waking-mind reactions. This is where trancework starts getting formal. If you want to engage with Med style trancework then you will wear white when you trance. Every time. This conditions your mind to only trance when you are wearing white and it helps to keep you out of an altered state when you don't want to be in one.

At this stage you can use colors, symbols, and scents to create the hypnotic suggestion that now is the time to trance as well as what kind of trance you want to engage in. Use different incense, scented oils, and perfumes to trigger different muscle memory states. Use each scent consistently and for no other purpose to keep those associations strong. They will build over time.

You can also paint symbols on your body that have deeper occult meanings for you personally or culturally. I use mud, henna, and wood ash to create designs on my body for this. They can be for protection, for magic, for enhancement, for whatever you need. Just use them consistently and for no other purpose than this.

This is a good stage to start developing group trancework as well. Through repetitive chain or circle dances with others. Just like with the musician's trance training described above, you will want to learn and perfect the dances you want to use while fully awake and then begin conditioning yourself to relax while doing them in a trance. This places the burden of movement on your muscle memory rather than your active wakeful mind.

As a musician, you can start weaving more complicated rhythms and start developing your skills at improvisation. To do this as a singer, take one or two songs that you know really well and start amusing yourself by crafting new lyrics for them. Do it often in a wakeful state. The goal of this is to condition the mind to be able to improvise lyrics in an altered state. This is used in traditional Mediterranean mediumship where the ability to spontaneously compose verse from the perspective of the dead provides proof of state. With an instrument you will probably end up going down a folkloric numerical rabbit hole. Where each number has a spiritual significance and you start anchoring the music you make to those numerical associations.

Ecstatic Trance -Spiritwork. Any trancework that involves spirits other than your own but not gods. This can be a form of automatic mediumship, or some form of possession. The Cult of the Winds and some of the trancework relating to both the Mountain Mothers & Dionysos fit this description.

There are so many angles to developing the knowledge and skills for this type of trancework. If you are a Bride then you would initiate into a living tradition or a reconstructed one with people that you trust. To develop skills as a Bride, you will want to practice extremely strict compartmentalization and reinforcement of your hypnotic triggers. The exact parameters of what you would do here depends on what spirit you are a Bride to.

If you are a musician then you will spend a lot of time memorizing threads (spirit chants) and rhythms. There can be dozens to hundreds of threads depending on which spirit cult you are involved with. You will also devote some energy to strict compartmentalization of your hypnotic triggers, which are also cult specific.

If you are training as a monitor (someone who watches over the entranced), you will spend a lot of time in the trenches watching the body language of the entranced and learning to read the signs to interpret what is going on. And, of course, you will spend time learning how to troubleshoot various scenarios where your skills will be tested.

If you are training to be a lead musician then buckle up because you will have to learn all of it and then some. To be a lead musician is to intimately and skillfully be able to perform every role used in trancework. You will also want to start acquiring gear that your trance group will need to host a ritual. (I'll make a separate post on what kind of materials you will want to have on hand for that.)

Euphoric or Enthusiastic Trance -Bridalwork, which is ecstatic trance with gods instead of spirits. This will also be cult specific. Some euphoric traditions just focus on becoming closer to divinity for no other purpose than it is holy and desirable. Others use music as a diagnostic process to see if a person has run afoul of a god. And still others utilize euphoric trance to drive away lesser spirits who are making problems for mortals.

This is the most formal type of trancework there is. That formality is there as a safety feature and to facilitate the creation of proof of state. The more strict you are with this type of trancework, the farther you will go with it. It takes a lot of faith. You have to know what you are doing with absolute certitude and commit to it fully. The more reverence you put into it in your waking life, the deeper your connection while entranced.

Unfortunately those three different ritual goal styles listed in the description have radically different needs so I cannot help too much in a general sense. The major thing that connects them is that formality though. So focus on that, cultivate strong relationships with divinity by doing things the way you are supposed to do them when you are supposed to do them. And this will build over time and repetition.

A Final Note Taking your sweet time is very important. Rushing to an imagined destination or an end goal will create a weak foundation. I recommend spending at least a year of active weekly development on your skills for each stage before actively moving on to the next. You can build your skills in each type of trance up all at the same time but it will still take years. The longer you keep at it and more consistently you do it the more you will be able to do with it. This is a lifelong pursuit.

Hope this helps! Good luck.

#trance work #hellenic polytheism #spiritwork

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