#tw posession

[geode-crystal]

Possessed/mind controlled/magically puppeteered Whumpee fighting from the inside.

That's it, that's the post.

[undead-furbies]

CW religion and demon mention

Me (Host) thinking about my teenage years when I didn't know about my dissociative disorder and legit thought there were multiple demons posessing me and wondering why they didn't go away no matter how much I prayed

Trauma holder (one of the former "demons"): "Not even god can kill me😎"

[that-angry-noldo]

His eyes are open wide, and he is breathing heavily.

(Not his eyes. There is no time to think.)

Someine is jumping at him. No time to react.

Their eyes blow open before he jolts up from the ground. There is no sword in his hand (not his) (doesn't matter), so he settles for digging his claws into the orc.

There are no claws. The iron of his gloves barely scratches them. (Broken wrist, stepped on . Fix the bone loosely, so the hand is not inverted. Should do.) He jumps to the side and ducks another attacker.

There are too many. He needs to get here faster (It is not easy to navigate two bodies at once.) He soars above the battle, trying to pick up his other half.

Word of power, and the second orc falls to the ground. Duck low. Grab a sword of a dead soldier. Up, swing, down. Power coursing through his veins, blood flowing from his wounds.

Rewind. Blood is not supposed to flow out. Make it go back into the body. No time to seal the wounds; just pay attention, so no more blood is leaked.

Someone cries, another orc is jumping, there is a net. Word of power, throw it away. (Valar, the battle is a mess, he should have came earlier, he cannot find—he must be close, must be there.) Spin, duck, sword in. Someone else is plunging a dagger into his shoulder. Irritation. Sword through the gut, make the skin fasten around the blade where it sticks from his flesh. (That is not how the bodies heal. No time to fix.)

Someone new screams, making their way to him through swarm of foes. A friendly face, a tall brown woman with more of her company. Stop to breathe. Duck another attack. Is that a broken rib? How long has it been there? Snap back into place.

In the sky, finally, he sees them. Ducks down with all his speed. Familiar face, unfamiliar eyes. Oh, right. His eyes. (Having two bodies is confusing.)

The enemy screams, terrified by his appearance.

He lifts himself to his hands. The other body hangs like a puppet. The woman screams at him to go. He nods. Not long left yet.

He flies back to where the medics run among the wounded with speed of the strongest wind, and makes himself one again.

"Valar," Eönwë breathes as the sounds around him suddenly sharpen. He looks down. Finarfin is lifeless in his hands, safe for the still warm blood and barely rising chest. "Oh, by Eru, I was too late."

Medics are rushing to him, taking Finarfin from his hands, lowering him to the stretchers, each pale and working as one. Eönwë breathes, his hands shake.

The fight is still on. He needs to go back.

He closes his eyes, opens multiple of them instead, and throws himself into battle's embrace with fury renewed.

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

god… thinking about how horrifying it’d be if c!tommy was c!dream’s prophet. like. imagine you’re a very religious kid, and you meet your god and he blesses you with visions. you hear his voice in your head, you see visions of the future and have beautiful paradisal dreams and you’re in constant contact with your beloved god. he tells you secrets freely to lead people in grace and righteousness. you never need to think, you’re guided every day by your god, given visions of truth and the future and simply comfort and beauty in the dream-world. after all, there is no need for pain or suffering in a dream, in a revelation.

and then your god grows crueller. more possessive. and as you try to leave, your visions slowly and slowly grow to be a curse. you stop getting visions of the future that allow you to help, but endless visions of the horrific fates that await everyone you love and everywhere you love. you’re given half truths and lies as revelations that all try and force you to stay, stay, stay. the dreams you had with your god, laughing and revelling in paradise, become torturous. after all, it’s not like you can die in a dream. nothing carries over, and minutes drag on like hours. you try not to sleep, but visions invade your waking days, the most horrific things done in the world playing constantly, desperate pleas that are not your own clawing their way out of your mouth. you black out and wake up with religious symbols written on your walls with blood, nonsense scribbled in notes like a parody of a bible.

being the conduit of a god you love is holy. being the conduit of a god who’s love is not reciprocated is hell.

[mawofthemagnetar]

@newtoodles-dot-png *dings bell* order up! Someone ordered some phone fic as to what would happen if Keralis was in 3L/LL?

[Why Keralis was not in Third Life]

(Warning for death, violence, and violence against Bdubs)

Keralis cheats.

Those two words burned through Bdubs’s head as he sprinted through the forest. Doc breaks the rules, Grian raises Cain, and Keralis cheats.

He closed his eyes, listening to the rattling of skeletons and the hissing of creepers. The whole world was bathed in eternal blackness- he’d tried to make it day more times than he could count, but no matter how many times he did his ritual, it didn’t seem to take.

Something human called his name from the darkness and Bdubs kept running.

He couldn’t listen to that voice calling after him. That wasn’t Cleo.

Or if it was, it wasn’t worth stopping to check.

Keep running. Just keep running.

Don’t stop. Stop and you’re-

Bdubs stopped dead in his tracks.

His eyes went wide, wider than usual, as he took in the devastation that had swallowed spawn whole.

It was like some mad engineer had turned up with the express intention of hollowing spawn out from build limit to bedrock. All he could see was a sloping canyon that crawled to a bedrock floor, on into the distance. As though Doc was just around the corner, waiting to put some mega farm at the bottom of the crater.

This was no perimeter and there was no farm.

Holes, chasms in the bedrock, like some mad giant had come through and smashed a fist through the bones of the earth. Yawning black holes through which the void was clearly visible, and-

Protruding from those pits were great black hills, teeming with an unsettling parody of life. Tall spindly things made of spines swayed in the breeze, as horrible scuttlers moved across the lumps of flesh…

And the holes were only growing. With every pulse they wore away at the bedrock, slowly swallowing it as they pressed up against the razor-sharp edge.

The whole world was going to be slowly devoured by these things, highways of starved, pulsating veins rolling out across the landscape like an alien tumour.

And then something stronger than steel and colder than a glacier wrapped around his neck and cinched tight as a noose.

“Time to go home, Bubbles.” Skizz’s voice said.

Something grabbed the top of his head, and yanked-

<BdoubleO100 was slain by >

[netheriteaxes]

fear or comfort?

this fic is based off of and set in @dreamsclock ‘s total control au in which dream has been under the complete control of the dreamon for a lot longer than we realised. 

(it has been a while since i last wrote and so this might not be as good as it could be- im totally open to constructive criticism) 

tw for themes of possession

Do you know what it’s like...? 

Do you know what it’s like to drown in your own mind?

To only have moments of clarity through the darkness and see what ‘you’ have done in the times you were blind?

Dream found it terrifying- or he used to. Maybe he still did. It was hard to tell anymore- it had became so natural. Now… How did he feel now? Did he feel anything besides the gentle but sharp grasp on his mind and body? Maybe he did, during those moments of clarity- however, he rarely felt anything good during them. Usually it was confusion, more recently panic and fear was thrown into the mix too. Why did everyone look at him like that? Why were they so afraid, so angry? Why did they look at him like he was a… like he was a monster? 

“Don’t mind what they do.”

But they’re his friends… he should care, right? He doesn’t want his friends thinking of him like that. There’s a coo as he felt claws carding through his hair, slow and careful and with only the slightest twinge of pain, “Regardless of how they think- that’s not what’s important.” With that he was sinking again, swallowed completely by the darkness and held within the depths of his own mind again.

The next time he had control of himself again, he was in a box. A box of… obsidian? Shoulders brushed against the walls, he could hardly move and panic was quick to set in. Hand on the cold material he usually loved so dearly, he tried to listen to the voices outside. Tommy? Was that Tommy? And… He couldn’t make out who else- but he knew there were others. In the midst of growing panic, irony fills his mind- he has the most control and sight he’s had in what must be a while, and yet he’s trapped within a pitch black box where he can’t move. 

Eventually, the obsidian concealing his face from anyone’s view is broken away and his mask stares out at anyone. If it wasn’t for that damned mask, maybe everyone would’ve seen the raw confusion and fear that was plastered across Dream’s face before darkness filled his vision, and he was pulled away from the front of his mind, and left to drown again. 

Now, he was in an obsidian box again- this one was much bigger, but still small. And hot too, the wall of lava was the obvious cause. What was this? Something in his mind told him he knew but he couldn’t place his finger on it- maybe it would come back to him soon.

Though, the longer he spent in this box, he realised how much he missed the darkness. How he missed someone else being in control- his body felt so stiff and slow, it had been so long since he was the one leading. Even if he couldn’t sleep, sometimes he sat himself against the wall and closed his eyes, trying to crawl back into the darkness, to whoever it was in his mind with him, and yet he was met with nothing. 

[forcefully-awoken]

@kyovtani was posting about fucking mikasa in front of eren and my brain went with it. because it’s good and hot.

@kohito has started aot and truly helped ignite my mikasa love.

cw- nonconsensual voyeurism, possessive themes, let me know if anything else should be tagged.

mikasa x f!reader, eren adjacent.

you know it’s wrong.

you know, in your heart of hearts that mikasa would never agree to this. she might be shyly stepping out of the shadows from behind eren and armin, might be letting you explore her body every night in bed, but she’s not an exhibitionist. she doesn’t want anybody but you to know how she sounds when your fingers hit that sweet spot inside of her, doesn’t want anybody to see the way she eagerly laps at your own cunt.

so you don’t ask her.

you simply tell eren where the hole in the wall across from your bed is, where he can get the perfect view.

you wonder, as you help mikasa shed her clothes, if his hand has slipped into his pants but when mikasa pulls you in close to press her lips to yours you find that you don’t really care.

“lay back,” you tell her, and mikasa only knows how to obey commands. her back drops to the bed, as she helps you shimmy her out of her pants, underwear quick to follow. her legs fall open, her already wet cunt beckoning you closer.

you’re good at following her silent commands as well.

your mouth latches onto her clit, fingers spreading her apart. mikasa whimpers, hands grasping so hard onto your sheets you think you hear them rip. you smirk as a particularly loud moan tears from her.

two fingers slip into her hot cunt, meeting little resistance. you would normally tease her, test the waters, let her truly figure out what works for her, what doesn’t. you just want to feel her juices flood your mouth, feel her cunt flutter around you, see the relaxed look of unbridled pleasure on her face.

and then push her past it. just because.

you want to drive him from her mind, want to drive the fact home to him that she isn't his. mikasa is yours, your lover, and you are hers. you have claimed her first kiss and you plan on claiming her last. you want eren to see her face, to hear your name slip out in the breathy loving way it does when she orgasms. you want him to know it’s you now, never him.

her first orgasm passes with a gasp, her whole body going tense and then relaxing. she thinks you’ll stop when your fingers slip from her but groans when your tongue takes their place. your tongue curls, making sure to brush over her sweet spot, drinking up whatever she gives you.

“please!” mikasa gasps out, your name leaving her mouth like a plea, like a prayer. you ignore her, especially when her hands find your hair pulling your face even closer.

you can’t tell her you love her, not outloud, not yet, but when she falls apart under your ministrations again and again, almost until the sun rises you think she gets it.

and when you hear a harsh thud against the wall, like a fist slamming against it-

you think eren does too.

[pilotryearchive]

Here are my designs for an au me and @probotype have i guess!! basis is michael is thrown out of the spiral, and jonah gives up elias’ body, with some og elias/michael shelley thrown in too