#amara as apex predator
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Some interesting, malformed, shapeless thoughts:
DEAN (About Jess): Now, I don't know what it feels like to lose someone like that.
KAREN (about Bobby): Oh…I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say, you’ve never been in love.
Paired with Amara:
In O Brother, Where Art Thou?, Amara looks slightly confused before she kisses Dean
In Hell's Angel, Amara seems intensely perplexed as Dean shouts for Cas
In All in the Family, the same look of confusion comes over her as she hovers over Cas's chest and uses it for symbolic wayfinding: straight to Dean
THE HEART OF THE MATTER
Earlier in the season, in The Devil in the Details, she carved a message into Cas's chest...for Dean to read
AMARA: Blue eyes, you’re not even worth the effort... and no offence, but you look a bit used up. Plus, I have a job for you.
Amara puts her hand on Castiel’s chest and Castiel screams as he is sent away in a blinding flash of light.
It's played as a joke, because for one, it's genuinely funny, but for two, the fact remains that she carved a threat to Dean on Cas's chest: I am coming
Twice, she uses Cas's heart to deliver threats directly to Dean
But the fact remains: Amara's never been in romantic love before.
She can't recognize it for what it is between Dean and Cas. She knows it well enough to use it, but mostly it fills her with writhing confusion.
But she does notice it and wonderingly ponder over it. Like season 10's Dean, she's dealing with the wounds of her nursery in order to become able to engage in that kind of self-actualization.
She's also a little like all those girls craving attention in season 10, from Claire to the girl who is murdered trying to capture the attention of an older, unsavory man just to plug the familial lack of support at home. It's about throwing yourself into any distraction just to ease that absence of familial self-worth and security:
MR. McKINLEY: By suggesting my daughter was a slut?
DEAN: I'll admit that thought crossed my mind. Then I came here, and I smelled the deceit and the beatings and the shame that pervade this home.
MR. McKINLEY: You shut your face right now.
DEAN: And you know what? I don't blame Rose anymore. No wonder she put on that skank outfit and went out there looking for validation, right into the arms of the monster that killed her. (Dean looks at Mr. McKinley and in a very calm voice says) Joe, who did this?
It's about the core wounds of the nursery, her brother leaving her. It's like Claire needed a loving parent, not Randy or Salinger. It's like Rose needed loving parents, not Reggie, who would murder her.
Amara's a little like Hannah, too, as Caroline cries out for her husband Joe:
HANNAH: Being on earth, working with you, I've felt things. Human things -- passions, hungers. To shower, feel water on my skin... to get closer to you. But all of that was nothing compared to what I felt when I saw him.
Her husband -- his anger and his grief. And Caroline was inside of me, screaming out for him, for her life back. These f-feelings, they aren't for me, for us. They belong to her. I know it's time to step aside.
Amara isn't very good at parsing emotions. Retroactively, we know she brought back Mary to extinguish Dean's volatile "fire" and to quell his inner turmoil. She's trying to assuage the core wound of his nursery, too.
#spn amara#amara is the hidden love#amor#the darkness#Angra Mainyu#spn gods who eat souls#amara + soul eater#cosmic hierachy#amara as apex predator#amara & dean#dean/cas + heart connection#dean + narrative heart
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Shal, I hope you are feeling better! I wanted to add something to your Silvia-Amara meta if you don't mind me putting something into the mix as a long shot. Carmen from the djinn dream in What is and Should Never Be looks a lot like both of them. That seems like something!
Thank you. I'm feeling some better, but veeery sore and sleepless for the pain. (On the flipside, I can breathe better and already have more energy.)
This is so iiiiiiiinteresting, thank you!
I'll be honest...I had to go back to remind myself what Carmen even looked like. But yes! Carmen from the El Sol ad! Carmen the nurse! (I always thought she was a nod to one of Dean's psychosexual fixations, too; that is, films with hot men who dance like Swayze (Carmen 1983). I mean, hello Antonio Gades.
Plus, you know his thing for Spanish soap operas... ("Mi amor! Mi amor! Por favor despierta!" Poor Ricardo.)
And Dean's love for soaps from 7x03 The Girl Next-door. (Yes, the "My love, my love, please wake up!" one.)
//
Ahem. Anyway. Back to our Carmen. *points* Oh, my God. Yeah, it's El Sol, but it's also the specter of the beach. I am choking on my own spit here.
There's definitely something analogous in Sylvia (from season 15's Gimme Shelter) being an idealized something that Connor maybe thought he wanted, felt comfort going after, or tried to make himself want.
For that matter, I think there's something parallel here in how Amara views her love for Dean, too. Amara's view of Dean is idealized, draped in always-or-never statements, and impersonal. Meanwhile, the Dean of season 11 has grown immensely since the djinn dream in season 2. His conceptualization of love has become less romanticized:
DEAN: I can’t explain it, but to call it desire or love…it’s not that.
Carmen was an ideal, and Amara was perhaps the network's ideal, but Sylvia is actually not quite as one-to-one to either of them here. Sylvia was a real relationship with Connor, even if was perhaps a tragic childhood misstep for Connor while he was trying to figure himself out.
Of course, Carmen Porter's own words come back to haunt the Dean & Amara and Dean & Carmen relationships. Even our idealized romantic relationships falter, and they too become as baggage-ridden as our family, and our family is imperfect.
CARMEN: Well, you don't really spend a lot of time together. I mean, I just think you don't know each other all that well.
In early days, Dean's conceptualization of Carmen is adorably immature, like a teenager's dream: someone who accepts my eating habits n' idiosyncrasies, listens to me, and loves me. Someone who is "respectable" and stable. (In season 2, Dean is still, like Amara, dealing with the core wound of his nursery.)
Sylvia and Connor seemed to know each other quite well and were "a couple." He genuinely loved her, in his own way. Their connection just wasn't exactly what Sylvia thought it was, or wanted it to be. She became angry with Connor and called him a LIAR, and then she murdered him.
Dean has carried healthy relationships with dark-eyed beauties as well, like Lisa Braeden and "I-thought-we-had-a-connection" Risa from season 5's The End.
Hmmm. Okay, yes. I think your point is a good point. And it has branching points, too. There's a lot tangled up in here! Season 15's Sylvia Jones has some uncomfortable similarities to season 5's Risa, especially.
//
(REF: Here's the recent stuff about Sylvia and Amara-Silvia stuff and more Amara failing to recognize romantic love and Chuck setting Amara up for disappointment.)
#spn gimme shelter#asks#lisa braeden#carmen porter#spn + djinn dreams#spn risa#sylvia jones#amara#spn amara#amara is the hidden love#amor#the darkness#Angra Mainyu#spn gods who eat souls#amara + soul eater#cosmic hierachy#amara as apex predator#spn 15x15#spn season 2#spn season 15#spn season 11
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more mara ramblings because i’m at work and bored :)
Amara is the apex predator. Not only because she’s a werewolf, and literally is on top of the food chain in that regard. But no, it’s actually outside of her lycanthropy.
Shes cunning and driven and she knows exactly what she wants and can do. She became the crossed wands champion her fourth year, started her own far more secret midnight version of the club. Trained relentlessly, studied the field, planted the seeds to become the tactican she’d become later in life. And post-bite, because she knows that her time will be up inevitably once someone finds out the truth, she is relentless about it.
When she starts her aurorship she is ruthless, wolfish in the way she meticulously stalks her targets, decisive in the ways she disposes of them. She has to be sneaky at first, the unforgivables are unforgivable for a reason. But once you reach a untouchable threshold of status.. is anyone going to wring their hands over the way it all happened?
#Commissioner Ambrose is also a general in the global wizarding war#the thing about Amara is that as an adult she is very questionable and callous but it makes her so efficient#it makes her a good leader - a good strategist and the like#and of course she has her own wolf pack her inner circle of loved ones#but my god she is so convinced her life is going to be over at any moment she won’t let a single opportunity go to waste#she’s very fun to write and think about#amara ambrose#commissioner ambrose#hogwarts legacy#hphl#boxd headcanons
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mel week: AU | leviathan (a snippet)
Once again, no time to complete this, so this is just a snippet of a dark and debauched dead-dove-do-not-eat of Mel, in which she and Silco become allies. The Amara referred to is the cool corrupt lady we met in episode 4 and 5 in the show, because I love her and of course she'd host illicit soirees with fellow corrupt business folk, and I like the idea of Silco "the industrialist" having explicit ties to the illicit financial flows in topside and abroad, although a lot of them are scared shitless of him, as they should be. Title is tentative and hopefully one day I'll be able to publish this for the three-person MelCo gang, bless.
Silco held court in the Delaunay’s den as he always did at such gatherings, a sneer of antipathy on his thin mouth, his cravat perfect and just this side of too tight, a snifter of cognac in his careless fingers and a cigar, clove-scented, in the ashtray in front of him.
He watched the room.
The illicit congregation in the mansion of Amara Delaunay, one of his most useful merchant allies, brought together some of the more adventurous business elites from topside. He’d spotted at least two council members, several steel and other resource magnates, the head of Piltover’s biggest publishing house amongst them, along with far more ambitious investors from so-called forbidden territories such as Noxus and as far off as Freljordian lands. These were the sorts that were interested in the pharmacological developments he and the other chem barons were building.
Delaunay, who had a flare for dramatics, had set the den up as something between a luxury gambling hell and a brothel, scantily clad masked creatures wandered about with coy invitation in their eyes, tables were set up with all manner of games, from piquet to poker to faro, wait staff toted teetering trays of champagne, absinthe and other liquor to offer the guests, a coiling curtain of smoke hovered in the air like corruption, sweet as the opium-laced incense the host favoured, lending a desultory energy to the proceedings even as eyes lit up with avarice and deals were struck. These were the kinds of business dealings built for the dark, for hidden passageways and clandestine corners, coded contracts negotiated in the shadows, money passed furtively between proxies under the table while you tittered over wine, cards and the groping of yielding perfumed flesh—whatever it was that appealed to your tastes.
There wasn’t much new for him here, but he’d come for the sake of business parlay, easily concluded within his first hour in attendance. And now he watched it all with an apex predator’s nonchalance. Most of the people in the room didn’t dare approach him openly, eying him warily as though a good portion of them didn’t owe him thousands and more. No matter. They were all pathetic fools who would be trodden over by the world he intended to build, one way or another. He considered them less significant than the lowliest flea, suckling greedily on the worthless carcass that was Piltover.
And so, when the woman walked in—nay, glided in, undulated, in a shimmer of gold and ivory, he noticed. How could he not?
Even the most soused amongst them noticed her. She was the sort of woman one couldn’t help but take note of. She moved about the room, greeting some of the guests with a charming familiarity, she kissed Amara on the cheeks, nuzzled that daft twit Hoskel on his liver-spotted pate, ran her elegant fingers down Salo’s foppish blouse with a flirtatious ease.
He’d never seen her at one of these before but clearly, she was very familiar with the goings on.
He was giving a pretense of nodding off when she made her way to him, seating herself on the closest chaise with sinuous grace.
“May I have a light?”
In almost any other case, Silco would outright refuse or ignore such a request with a cool indifference.
But against his most natural instincts, he flicked his gilt lighter and held the shivering flame just below her mouth. Her lips cradled her cigarette, plush and perfectly painted in a sultry plum colour, her golden freckles glittering in the dim light, there was something effortlessly sensual in the way she lit the end, a whiff of floral and mint from the spume of smoke, inhaled, her eyes lifting up to meet his head on. He would tolerate her presence if for no other reason than that she was the very first person to openly approach him in this party and she didn’t shy away from looking at him in the eye.
“Much obliged. I’m Mel Medarda.”
“My—.”
“Oh, I know who you are—Silco.” She said his name with a distinct relish. “Industrialist, investor, crime boss, ruthless fiend—I’ve read all sorts of things about you. Still unsure which ones are fabrications and exaggerations and which ones skew to the truth. All I do know,” she said, tapping the end of her cigarette in his ashtray and then tipping her head to the room. “Is that they’re all desperately afraid of you.”
“And yet you’re not,” Silco said, a measured calculation in his gaze as he cast it over her. Curious.
“No, not at all. I’ve met far harsher monsters than you in my time.”
She was a mystery. Not on the surface of it. The gold shimmering across her bronzed skin spoke of wealth, the confidence in her shoulders and the way she looked at him head-on with nary a trace of intimidation bespoke power. She seemed the embodiment of everything that Piltover stood for privilege, prosperity, pomposity all set in a perfect resplendent form. But there was something about her, something else.
There was also a troubling twinkle in her eye as she watched the berth Piltover’s most enterprising kept around him, as though she found the performance of fear and trepidation rather amusing.
“I think we both want the same thing.” The smile on her face was sly as a fox, on the edge of feral, and Silco couldn’t help but be a little piqued by it.
“And what’s that?”
“To see the top-city burn.”
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It’s All a Performance (Silco/f!OC)
Post-Act 1
Silco/f!OC
Chapter 10 of ?
3,850 words, NSFW
Explicit, minors dni
AO3 link
Even with the only light in the room being the glow of neons through the drapes, Amara felt exposed under his intense gaze, as though that burning iris could pierce right through her dress. He let the mask fall, revealing the raw hunger hiding beneath—hunger that she’d barely glimpsed during their playful flirting. The way he removed his gloves was practically sinful, promising filthy things done by those bared hands that she’d stared at in fascination more than once in the past. She watched his Adam’s apple bob raptly as he loosened his tight, high collar (the tie was a clip-on, how odd) and stalked toward her like the predator he was.
His long arms reached much farther than hers, taking her by the hips and snapping her against him as he dove into her mouth like a man famished, teeth colliding in the heat of the moment. If her mouth wasn’t busy being plundered, she’d have teased him about whether this sort of thing was how he chipped his teeth in the first place, but her mind short-circuited the moment she felt the hot, hard length pressed against her pelvis. Sweet Janna, she needed that inside her—mouth, cunt, she didn’t care.
Large, strong hands slid from her hips to her ass as hers gripped his shoulders, squeezing and pressing her even tighter to him, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. If she didn’t love her dress to death, she’d demand he rip it off her right now. He was careful in his manhandling, gentle as his hands glided across her body, firm when grasping and groping, never putting too much strain on the embroidery and beading.
“You looked so magnificent,” he purred against her mouth, one hand sliding up to cup her breast, “like a dark goddess gracing mortal halls. Everyone was desperate for even the lightest brush of your silken gown.” The questing hand slid up her chest to the back of her neck, long fingers managing to stretch from the palm cupping her cheek to tangle in the fly-aways of her loose updo. The other remained, keeping her hips where he could grind and thrust, chasing their pleasure like a man possessed. “It was agony keeping my hands off of you, letting them dance with you when I was the only one who should have been able to touch you…” His fingers found the hidden zipper at the collar, pulling it down slowly, letting a single finger follow to part the sheer fabric of the back window and brush the skin exposed. Something made him gasp, pulling his head back to study her in a mix of disbelief and amusement. “You’re not wearing undergarments?”
“It would’ve shown through the dress,” came her shy, murmured reply. She’d been so anxious during the first dance, with so little separating her from the insufferable Piltovian noble, but now, even as bashful as she was about it, she was glad she’d foregone them. Less between her and him.
Silco’s pupils were already wide in the low lighting of his bedroom, but she watched the seafoam nearly vanish as he drew a stuttering breath before a wicked grin drew up his thin lips. “How deliciously naughty of you,” he practically growled, chipped teeth nipping her bottom lip playfully as his hands palmed her ass again, fingers tucked much closer to the apex of her legs this time in a way that had her whimpering. Trailing up her back along the gap of the open zipper, his long fingers barely brushed her skin, his dark voice chuckling at the shiver up her spine that followed after them. Her bottom lip was drawn between her teeth as they reached the high collar and slowly pulled the fabric open, over her shoulders, slowly down her chest, until the fabric slid off her hips and pooled at her feet, leaving her bare before him.
She’d never felt especially confident in her body, even with the attention the flirtatious Siren garnered—she’d always assumed it was as much her talents and charisma that drew others to her as her pretty face. She had that characteristic Zaun look: thin and lanky, as those who survived malnutrition in their youth always developed. Her breasts were small, her hipbones sharp, her ribs revealed themselves if she drew a particularly deep breath. And yet Silco looked at her like she was the most beautiful woman in Runeterra, jaw flexing subconsciously as his eyes raked over every inch of her.
“Stunning…” he whispered, hands almost reverently returning to her hips, fingertips brushing with the pressure of butterfly wings. A gentle, closed-mouth kiss was placed on the corner of her lips, the beginning of a heated trail that led across her jawline, under her ear, and down her neck as his hands drew up. They cradled her ribcage, thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts, when she felt the first nip at the juncture of her neck and shoulder, the briefest sharp pinch that was immediately followed by loving laves of his tongue and suction. “Gorgeous…” His mouth traveled further down, across her collarbone, to the top of her breast, where another mark was left. “Perfect…”
The first open-mouthed kiss on the peaked bud was like flint on tinder, an ember springing to life with the promise of building to something searing and voracious. Her hands shot to his head, tangling in his dark locks to keep upright as her back arched into him. The dark, rumbling hum he made against her skin made her tremble, spurred further as his thigh slid between her legs, pressing gently but insistently at her mound. “Gods, Silco…”
“We’ve barely begun, and already you’re trembling?” he purred against the flushed pink skin of her nipple, tilting his head so he could look up darkly at her with that eerie glowing eye. With a very intentional growl, he hoisted her up in a simple against-the-body lift with his hands—again—firmly grasping her bottom and carried her to the bed.
She couldn’t help the surprised giggle, enjoying being taller than him for a moment. Keeping a firm grip around his shoulders, it meant crawling onto the bed with her if he wanted to lay her down on the magnificently soft sheets. Only then could he slip out from under her looped arms to resume worshipping her body. The heat had taken root between her legs and was steadily building, no thanks to the burning look he gave her as he shed his vest and slithered down her body, open collar giving her a tempting glimpse of his slim, pale chest as he drew a line with his tongue down her abdomen, past her navel, toward her eagerly awaiting core. Two thuds sounded as he paused a moment to toe off his shoes, and then, with mischief in his half-hooded gaze, he pulled her hips to him with a sudden yank, fingers digging into the soft flesh of her thighs as though afraid she’d pull away (the last thing on her mind). Her legs twitched instinctually, breath leaving her lungs in a silent woosh, as Silco barely ghosted her glistening petals with a single fingertip.
“All this for me?” he rumbled smugly.
She couldn’t help herself. “I don’t know, your valet was pretty handsome…”
That got a sudden bark of laughter from him, teeth nipping the inside of her thigh in chastisement. She barely got a moment to bask in the glowing pride in getting an actual laugh—not a chuckle, not a huff, but a laugh—out of him before he once again swept her feet out from under her with a broad, long sweep of his tongue along the entirety of her slit. Her head flew back against the bed with a gasp, bangles jingling as they tumbled from her tousled locks, hands flying to grip the sheets. He gave a shuddering exhale against her clit, as though he’d tasted the finest nectar in Runeterra, diving back in like a man starved before she could even register any embarrassment at that, a firm grip on her thighs to keep her open for him. Every touch burned in the sweetest way, his saliva like hot, honeyed opium coaxing more and more sweet juices from her. All she could do was splay her toes as he pinned her open like a bug on a slide, a private feast that he savored with sinful grunts and groans as he focused his attention on that bundle of nerves that had her crying out.
“I confess, I imagined the sounds you’d make…” he rumbled, granting her a reprieve by peppering kisses along the inside of her thigh, “imagined how my little songbird would sing under my touch…”
“A-and is my patron pleased?” Catching her breath, she gently carded her fingers through his dark hair with one hand, the other resting where it was cast across her forehead.
His chuckle was dark and heated, breath washing over her as his thumbs held her lips open to his seeking tongue as it teased her entrance, earning another keening whimper. “Nothing compares to the real thing,” he murmured against her, brushing the tip of his nose against her pearl. “Heady…” his tongue returned to drawing lazy circles around it, “Dulcet…” his finger teased her opening, making her squirm, “Dare I say, addicting…” and slowly it pushed inside as his lips closed around her bud and sucked.
Her back shot off the bed, body bowing until very nearly the only parts of her touching the sheets were her head, bottom, and toes. A loud, choked cry slipped from her mouth before she could clap her hand over it, but Silco snatched her wrist away with a growl.
“No. I want to hear every sound I wring from you.” The always-glowing iris of that dark eye was barely a ring, yet it burned like a circle of fire in the dim light of his room. His heated gaze softened after a moment, however, hand drawing her wrist to his lips (wet from her, oh gods). “It’s only us, lovely. No one will disturb us. They wouldn’t dare.” The last was added in a dark rumble against her mound, guiding her hand to join its partner in his hair before he fervently returned to work.
He slowly pumped his finger inside her, a second joining it as she readily accepted the stretch. No, he wasn’t her first, but that was just another understanding in Zaun—you were almost guaranteed to die young, so you got as much out of life as you could, and that included fooling around. Obviously she wasn’t his first, either, by how well he played her like a fiddle; a maestro with long, slender fingers and a hot, agile tongue. It just meant this night was going to be amazing, confirmed when those digits curled to stroke something inside her that had stars bursting behind her eyelids. Her fingers reflexively tightened, accidentally pulling on those stiffened strands and wrenching a hiss from the Chem-Baron. Her eyes shot open, rushing to scan his features for anger or pain, but her fear was immediately assuaged by the heavy exhale he released a moment later, hips grinding against the mattress as the hand still holding her leg open tightened to the point of bruising.
“I won’t break,” he chuckled, scissoring his fingers, building that delicious heat and tension that was beginning to gather low in her belly.
“I might,” she moaned, covering her eyes with the back of her hand. She’d see that glowing iris flick up to her every few seconds—the hunger in its depths was growing too intense for her, walls fluttering every time it pierced the dark.
By the time he added a third finger, she was taut as a violin string, teetering on an edge he continued to tease, laser-focused on her clit and that sweet spot within her, banishing all language from her tongue.
“You’re close, I can feel it,” he husked against her, letting his teeth ever-so-slightly graze her nub, fingers suddenly taking up a frantic pace, in and out, hooked to pound and prod the widening crack in the dam. “That’s it—come for me.”
And she did, with a ragged sob and another near back-breaking arch off the mattress, light exploding behind her eyelids as her body shook with the electric energy rocking her. He carried her through it with a secure grip on her hips, keeping her on terra firma and under his—startlingly—unceasing attention; reading her body, easing her down as her hips’ instinctual rutting against him weakened.
Head spinning, lungs heaving, the ceiling slowly came back into focus as the stars faded from her vision. Well that had never happened before. Only one partner had been kind enough to go down on her, and only enough to ease the main act. Not even her own fingers had brought her so high. Just when she’d begun to worry how she’d possibly be able to please him like she wished to, she looked down and watched in rapt awe as Silco slowly, deliberately licked his fingers clean one by luxurious one, eyes locked on hers. Suddenly she was on fire again.
“Exquisite.”
Her hands covered her face, certain she had turned a bright shade of tomato red at that—the dark chuckle he gave sent a shiver down her spine. A rustle of fabric prompted her to peek through her fingers, finding the Chem-Baron sitting back on his heels, slowly unbuttoning his crisp burgundy shirt. As he pulled his shirt from the waistband of his pants to reach the last two buttons, she couldn’t help but follow the movement, eyes drawn to the large bulge in his perfectly-tailored pants. Having felt it pressed against her, she’d known he was large, but now she finally got an idea of how large. She didn’t fear whether or not he’d fit—she was experienced enough, and he’d done a magnificent job of prepping her. No, on the contrary, she couldn’t help but wet her lips with how hard the need for him suddenly struck her.
Silco noticed, mischief sparkling in his eyes as he shrugged his shirt off. He leaned forward and took her hand, pressing a much more lascivious kiss on her knuckles before guiding it to his manhood, straining against the front-fall of his pants. “Feel what you do to me?” he rumbled, not hiding the pleased shudder as she gave him a firm squeeze. Each button undone gained a sigh, the volume of his relief increasing until finally he could shuck his trousers down, and his boxer briefs with them (tellingly wet in a certain place). He was upon her a moment later, but it was long enough for her to get a good look. Long, uncircumcised, bobbing under its weight below a thin trail of dark hair. Its hot skin was velvety soft against her mound as he slotted himself back between her legs, groans swallowed as he slanted his mouth against hers and caressed her tongue with his own.
“And that?” he growled, chipped teeth nipping the shell of her ear as he ground his cock against her, coating himself in her release. “Feel how much I need you?”
“Gods yes, Silco.” Fuck, the things that voice did to her. Just in conversation she found herself hanging onto every word, but now… lower, worn with want, right in her ear… That warm afterglow was immediately transformed back into a burning, yawning chasm of need, sending a paradoxical shiver down her spine. Canting her hips into him, she gripped his hair just tight enough to draw a hiss from between those perfectly imperfect teeth. “Stop torturing the both of us—this is already so long overdue…”
Groaning loud and low in the back of his throat, Silco drew up, resting his weight on one bent forearm next to her head while his other hand left a trail of fire down her body to take a hold of his weeping member and line it up with her entrance. His eyes meet her with an intensity that leaves her trapped, unable to look away even as he pressed inside her. The stretch is delicious, not even the slightest bit painful as he fills her with a single steady, slow thrust. His head fell forward as his pelvis met hers, his move to kiss brought to a halt as he sighed as though all the air was punched from him. His now freed hand flew up to rest beside her head, gripping the sheets so tight she could hear the threads strain.
Fortunately he didn’t make her wait long before he moved, giving two short, shallow bucks as though to test the waters before finding a slow, languid rhythm. “Yesss…” he moaned, finally finishing the kiss, swallowing her moans as the friction began to rebuild that burning pressure deep inside her. “So tight, so hot… You take me like you were made for me…”
Her hands flew from his hair to wrap tightly around his neck, dragging her nails across his shoulders as her legs rose to wrap around his narrow hips. “Gods, you feel so good, Silco…”
“Can you go harder?” he barely whispered, groaning in delight at her frantic nod as he began to piston his hips faster and harder against her until the room was filled with the lascivious sounds of skin slapping against skin. “I’m going to pound you,” he hissed, bucking especially deep to emphasize his words, “until your cunt takes the shape of my cock…”
She couldn’t help the sob that escaped her at his words, voice low and gravelly with lust, right in her ear. The world shrunk to just the two of them, the way he so thoroughly surrounded and penetrated her, filling every sense with him—his scent, his voice, the warmth of his wiry muscles pressing against her, the scratch of his pubic hair against her clit, the lewd, wet smacking of his balls and hips hitting center, and that exquisite sensation of fullness… Anything more than “Yes,” and “Fuck,” was impossible for her cock-drunk mind to get out, hoping the way she matched his rhythm and clung to him for dear life communicated adequately how good he was making her feel.
As the heat of their bodies grew to be somewhat uncomfortable, Silco sat back on his heels, thrusts never faltering as he hooked his hands under her knees and pulled her legs further apart, mismatched gaze falling on their joining. “You look so beautiful, so perfect on my cock…” his voice was a ragged whisper, grit teeth flashing below his ever-burning iris. The faint lights of the neon streets of the Lanes slipping through the window made the sweat on his body glisten, casting him as some alien predator conquering her, and sweet Janna it was so hot.
He leaned down to hungrily lave at her breasts as her back arched, the new angle he plunged into her sending spikes of pleasure through her, nothing but “Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods!” falling from her lips.
“You’re going to come again?” his voice rumbled against her flesh. “Do it. Come undone on my cock. Sing for your patron.”
Three more hard thrusts, canting his hips to grind his pubic hair against her pearl, and she shattered, screaming his name as her body convulsed below him. Her mind was a mess of firing neurons and crackling stars, climax like a hex crystal combusting in its beautiful, powerful destruction. In the back of her mind she was aware of Silco’s own imminent orgasm, eyes cracking open to just make out hunched form, a ragged cry of agony tinged with relief wrenched from his throat as his thrusts stuttered at how her walls clenched around him. Still he pushed on, trying to draw out her own release for as long as possible until finally he stiffened, fingers gripping her thighs tight enough to bruise, back arched into that final thrust as he gave one heavy, shuddering exhale to the ceiling. As she slowly came down and her senses returned, she could feel him pulse within her, a strange satisfaction filling her as he did.
He collapsed atop her, the two filling the sudden silence with their ragged breaths until the faint sounds of the city finally filtered back in from through the window. She came back first, hands stroking soothing shapes across his back as the sweat cooled. She could feel the texture of the scarred side of his face against her where he’d slumped, tucked into her neck, certain at this point that both of their makeup was ruined. Finding his weight atop her actually rather comfortable, she let her mind drift to that dreamy middle-space between consciousness and sleep, hands drifting up his shoulders to card through his hair.
Mid-journey at his neck, however, Silco suddenly stiffened, jerking up and snatching her wrist in a firm grip. “No!” he barked, orange eye frightening her with its brightness as it darted frantically about the room, miles away, before locking on her, the stern lines on his face softening a moment later as though only then recognizing her. “No,” he repeated quieter, releasing her hand as he took a few steadying breaths. “Not there.”
Not… his neck? Well, the clip-on tie made a bit more sense, but what in the world had happened to him to garner such a response? Did it have anything to do with whatever happened to his eye?
“Okay.” Slowly retracting her hands so as not to spook him, she instead gently cupped both cheeks, soft, reassuring smile on her lips as she swiped a stray bead of sweat with her thumb. “Okay.”
His brow furrowed, “You’re not going to press me on that?”
She shook her head. “You’ll tell me when you’re ready.”
Brow smoothing, his seafoam eye closed with a sigh as he tilted his head to kiss her palm. “How has the Undercity not killed a gentle soul like you?”
She snorted, “You were there when I killed two boys not an hour ago.”
“Defending yourself and your gaggle of orphans,” he countered, finally withdrawing from her and sliding from the bed with a tired grunt, disappearing into what looked like an ensuite. She unabashedly watched his ass as he went. He returned with two moist cloths—one he offered to her, gesturing to his face (he’d removed his very smudged concealer), the other he used the delicately clean her deliciously sore nethers. It was a good opportunity to find and collect all her dislodged jewelry, depositing them on the nearby nightstand. He drew the covers over her as he collected the rags and tossed them into presumably the laundry bin. Gloriously fucked out, Amara began drifting in and out again, luxuriating in the soft sheets and even softer mattress. She only partially stirred as he joined her back in bed, slotting her into his side, lulling her to sleep with the steady sound of his heartbeat under her cheek.
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Coming to Twitch Prime in February!
Looking for loot? You’ve come to the right place. Here’s a taste of what Twitch Prime members will be receiving just for being members throughout February.
Apex Legends
Heard about the next evolution in battle royale, Apex Legends? Well, we have a surprise for you! Starting today, Twitch Prime members will have access to an EXCLUSIVE Pathfinder skin and 5 Apex Packs!
MapleStory 2
For the first time, get exclusive bonus loot in MapleStory 2 with Twitch Prime!
Coming soon, link your Nexon and Twitch Prime accounts to claim some exclusive items in MapleStory 2, including a Flying Fan flying mount, White Rabbit outfit, Tamed Lil Boogie ground mount, and seven days of MapleStory 2 Premium Club!
Vainglory
Coming soon, Twitch Prime members will be able to unlock 6 heroes & 2 emojis to celebrate Vainglory cross-platform launch!
Keep an eye out for other loot coming soon in League of Legends, Neverwinter, The Grand Tour Game and more!
Be sure to follow us on Twitter @TwitchPrime to stay updated on all the in-game loot available to Twitch Prime members and where you can find your favorite streamers checking it out.
And if you missed our recent releases, don’t forget to check out the other exciting offers we have available to Twitch Prime members:
NBA 2K19
For a limited time in NBA 2K19, Twitch Prime members can up their game with 25,000 Virtual Currency and 5 MyTEAM Packs!
RuneScape
Twitch Prime members can get a free 14-day RuneScape and Old School RuneScape membership along with exclusive loot:
Exclusive Amara Outfit
Exclusive Chinchompa Plushie
2 Umbral Chests (guaranteed super-rare prizes)
15 Treasure Hunter Keys
40 Hearts of Ice
200 RuneCoins
FINAL FANTASY XIV Online Starter Edition
Get the PC version of the FINAL FANTASY® XIV Online Starter Edition free with your Twitch Prime membership until May 3 and begin your journey as the Warrior of Light!
Warframe
Twitch Prime members can get Trinity Prime, Vectis Prime, Fang Prime, an exclusive Prime Sugatra, and the exclusive Spektaka Prime Syandana for free!
Free Games with Prime
March into February with this month’s Free Games with Prime
We’re two months into the new year and that means more Free Games with Prime. In February, Twitch Prime members can claim and play these games:
· The Flame in the Flood
A rogue-like river journey through the backwaters of a forgotten post-societal America. Forage, craft, evade predators. From the mind of the Art Director of BioShock and a team of game industry veterans from BioShock, Halo, Guitar Hero, and The Rock Band series comes The Flame in the Flood.
· Dear, Esther
Dear Esther immerses you in a stunningly realized world, a remote and desolate island somewhere in the outer Hebrides. As you step forwards, a voice begins to read fragments of a letter: ‘Dear Esther…’ — and so begins a journey through one of the most original first-person games of recent years.
· Downwell
Downwell is a curious game about a young person venturing down a well in search of untold treasures with only his Gunboots to protect him.
· Draknek & Co Puzzle Collection
Includes 3 challenging puzzle games: Sokobond, A Good Snowman Is Hard To Build, and Cosmic Express.
Sokobond is an elegantly designed puzzle game about chemistry.
A Good Snowman Is Hard To Build is an adorable puzzle game about being a monster and making snowmen.
Cosmic Express is a puzzle game about planning the train route for the world’s most awkward space colony.
Once you claim a game, they’re yours to keep forever!
What is Twitch Prime?
Twitch Prime is a premium experience on Twitch that is included with Amazon Prime. Benefits include monthly games and in-game loot, a Twitch channel subscription every 30 days AND all the benefits of Amazon Prime. See all current Twitch Prime offers here.
Check out the full list of Amazon Prime benefits in: US, UK, Canada, Germany, France, Austria, Belgium, Italy and Spain. You can try it for free for 30 days right here, and when you do, you get all the Twitch Prime benefits instantly just by linking your Twitch account to your Amazon account.
Coming to Twitch Prime in February! was originally published in Twitch Blog on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.
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Gosh, Chuck really set up Amara to trust Dean and then lose hope, didn't he?
What a cosmic dick!
The truth is: Amara's love was an immature love, a love of childhood, and even a little like Harper Sayles. In her own way, she's struggling with the Idealization of Apple Pie and the Romanticized Notion of the White Picket Fence.
In season 8, when Dean was reeling from total 24/7-360-degree war and the uncomfortable grayness of real-world civilian life, he too became fixated on an unobtainable concept of love (and people) as something that will never let you down.
In season 15, we find Amara dressed in vibrant hues and exploring life. And it's lovely that Amara has gained so much wisdom in her time spent individuating.
She encourages Chuck to see meaning in his creation. She lectures Dean about how "now is always better than then." She laments the loss of the opportunity to get to know Jack.
However, she's not integrated in terms of how she conceptualizes love, and in particular, she speaks of Dean in always-or-never statements.
AMARA: Like I told you when we first met, you and I will always help each other.
On accepting the wholeness of life, we can turn to Buddhist teacher Pema Chödrön, who wrote in her deeply insightful book When Things Fall Apart:
“We think that the point is to pass the test or to overcome the problem, but the truth is that things don’t really get solved. They come together and they fall apart. Then they come together again and fall apart again. It’s just like that. The healing comes from letting there be room for all of this to happen: room for grief, for relief, for misery, for joy.
Amara is a long, long way from the disillusionment necessary to truly see another person as a complex individual. She's a long way from the mature disillusionment-and-choosing of real relationships.
In season 15, it's even more of a contrast than usual, as it's flanked by the disagreement-and-repair spousal dynamic that characterizes Dean-and-Cas. Dean became disillusioned with Cas as early as season 4, when Cas and Uriel attacked Anna and especially so in season 6 during the Angelic Civil War. Cas became disillusioned with Dean as early as Dean giving in to Michael in season 5.
///
Chuck eases Amara into thinking that her love connection is real, in exactly the way she had conceptualized it:
CHUCK: The Winchesters have gotten to you, huh? Figures-- you and Dean have that whole weird... thing.
AMARA (an awed, wondering smile): That wasn't you? Writing?
CHUCK: Ugh! Not that part. Gross.
Amara gives another, privately pleased little smile.
Then, once the plan he knows is brewing springs into action, he in turn snaps his jaws shut on her. He'd been grooming her for hopelessness and slaughter all along. And so, he consumes her.
AMARA: No, but... but Dean can't hurt me.
CHUCK: No, but he can lie to you. He could send you into the meat grinder with a wink and a smile.
He capitalizes on and then leverages her naivete to cannibalize her. He cuts off her development in order to use her as fuel. "She's in here somewhere," is so ominous. It calls to mind how Amara talked about the beings she devoured, not an egalitarian shared mind-space of equals.
CHUCK: Look, I get it. You wanted him to care about you, but humans... they'll break your heart every time.
Chuck thrives on hopelessness.
#chuck & amara#spn amara#amara is the hidden love#amor#the darkness#Angra Mainyu#spn gods who eat souls#amara + soul eater#cosmic hierachy#amara as apex predator#chuck shurley#spn chuck#spn god#spn the light#spn season 15
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Chuck as author, but Amara as self-insert DeanxReader
#spn crack#spn amara#amara is the hidden love#amor#the darkness#Angra Mainyu#spn gods who eat souls#amara + soul eater#cosmic hierachy#amara as apex predator#chuck shurley#chuck + the writer#amara + the reader#becky is to sam as amara is to dean
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loving this era of acknowledging how being a heavenly soldier heavily influenced cas
there is lovely “standalone” complexity to cas’s morals and soldier archetype!
cas intensely struggled w the concept of destiny and power till the bitter, bitter end
cas has a very interesting relationship to power and consuming power (hi chuck, amara, lucifer, jack, all god characters as apex predators)
(also…he was NOT the golden parent half of you make him out to be. he waffled on the whole concept of installing jack as harbinger of paradise; he encouraged him to eat angel hearts to get stronger to “meet his destiny” etc).
cas was conflicted like everyone in the show!!!! he also put the weight of the universe on jack’s shoulders, and had faith it would not-could not corrupt jack 💔
in particular, cas’s distrust of other angels (“i am uniquely different” than the others under the thumb of authoritarianism), hurts him. cas tries to solve things by himself, then becomes so frightened of his screwups “i destroyed everything…and I will do so again,” that he struggles with wanting to solve things alone versus the horror of tyranny. and when jack comes into the picture, he idealizes/puts him up on a pedestal and puts that burden of wielding cosmic power (sans corruption) on jack ….
just like chuck putting the mark on lucifer :(
power needs to be shared, it’s messy
yeah. cas is interesting
#also no offense but cas did not invent free will#i think that’s asking the text to do things it doesn’t do#free will is a bigger question that affects every character#there is an ongoing struggle against war and tye need to consume resources just to be alive in the multiverse#as well as eliminate threats that would view you as food etc etc
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