#//The closer you are; the more likely the action will go unpunished

[dutybcrne]

Fun secret fact that can be exploited, the fastest way to diffuse Diluc’s temper, even if for only a moment, is booping his nose mid-tirade/swing.

[venmondiese]

Playing with fire

Summary: Aemond is as doting as he is cruel, and misbehaving won't go unpunished.

✧Pairing: Modern!Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader ✧Warnings: MDNI 18+, daddy kink, degradation kink, slight breeding kink, masturbating (m), sex toys. ✧Word Count: 1.5k ✧AO3 link: here

You are by the side, cursed to watch him by the side, and not being able to do anything else but whine. 

You sit at the end of the bed, right beside his right feet. If you were more lucky, you would be seated between his feet, looking up at him just how you like it, and his cock almost in your face. But, you are not so lucky.

“It’s your punishment, dear” he told you. You hated it, and you whined in protest. Not that he cared.

Aemond could be as generous as cruel, playing with fire always meant getting burnt around him. He’d make sure of it, anyways. 

And you deserved it, you knew. For ‘whoring yourself’ as he so calls it, and behaving badly. Taunting him, teasing him and flirting with other boys. You always looked back at him, making sure he was fuming as you touched other men’s chest and complimenting how strong they were, or how lucky girls were to have them as a partner. 

Burning was always frustrating with Aemond. You are seated on your feet, looking at how he doesn’t even try to hide his lust and arousal, or his erect cock that you could see fully if you stretch a bit your neck. 

“Daddy…” you whine a bit, embarassed by how wet you feel yourself getting, just at the sight. 

At most, he would bluntly tell you to shut up. To stop being a whining bitch, but now he flats out ignores you. And it hurts, because you and him both know how spoiled for attention you are. 

“Daddy” you insist, and the wet sounds of him fucking the fleshlight, ignoring you as if your presence was not more important than one of an insect. insignificant,small, powerless.  “I’m sorry” 

That doesn’t even seem to satisfy him, as he keeps ignoring you with all his might. You try to get closer to him, moving thinking he doesn’t notice. He does, and he moves away once you are close enough to smell his scent and your breath to hit his leg. He doesn’t give you the privilege to even look at him fully. 

Aemond is cruel in this, fucking a fleshlight, more like a silicon body, small and he is perfectly capable of manhandle it as he wishes. As he does with you when he isn’t mad. And Gods forbid it, but you are jealous over a stupid fuck toy that, for some reason, Aemond has. It was very much unfair, and it seems like an unbalanced punishment for something… silly. 

“It’s so unfair” you add, frowning in annoyance, hearing the wet sounds his hips against the fake body does. The lube he used to get the job done made every thrust he did louder, and you wondered if he did it on purpose to make you jealous of the sinful sounds that once were made because of you.

“Oh, it’s so unfair, silly girl?” Aemond asks mockingly, finally tilting his head slightly to see you. He has that smug smirk in his face, while his hair is undone a bit. You see his well formed abdomen, and he still wears his sweatpants, just lowered to get his cock out, and you can even get a glimpse of his balls. You pout at how unfair it is to be unable to touch him as you want. 

“It is cruel” you add, trying to make your point stand. Aemond chuckles, not minding your silly opinions about unfairness. The silicon body rests against his crotch, his cock is full deep in the toy, though it is unable to cockwarm him as he so much likes to do with you.

“You are lucky this is silicon and not a real girl” He states, no longer mocking. “Perhaps I should be real unfair as you claim me to be” He looks down at you, literally, and he raises his eyebrows. “Maybe she’ll behave. She will hear her Daddy”

You frown, and sulk into your position while.looking at him. You didn’t defy him out loud, it was always your actions. Touching yourself when he forbids it, flirting with other men to tease him, and insulting him with your expression and your eyes. He could always read you like the palm of his hand.

“Ah, your pouty lips won’t do anything for you” Aemond mocks you, moving the fleshlight slightly slower on his cock. “Maybe if they are wrapped around my cock” 

You love the idea, because when he was this mad, he would usually grab your hair tightly in his fist, commanding you to relax your throat and keep your jaw hanging open for him. He would fuck your throat, harshly, how he wants, whenever he wants, and wherever he wants. And you would take it every single time .

His balls hit the end of the silicon body, now he looks at you deeply as he fucks the toy, contradicting his previous actions. You were still seated on his feet, your pouty lips almost whining in frustration. 

You were wet, your hips tilted a bit in your place, your uneasy hands wanting to grab the end of his trousers and hold onto it, at least being close as he pleasures himself with the toy.

The silicon body goes up and down, the wet sounds echoing the room, plus the noise that the silicon made. It was perverse, depraved, but it made your pussy clench in need, primal desperate need. His hands gripping the ‘waist’ of the faked body, so possessively, as he did once with you. It made your jaw clench in jealousy. 

“I am sorry. Please” You beg once again, almost squealing as you look at him. 

“Maybe I’ll breed this” He murmurs, his tone low in a groan, and not even the wet squishing sounds can appease his words. “Full of my cum, a shame it is a dumb toy instead of a dumb girl” 

His eyes once again drift to the fleshlight, seeing how his cock disappears on the silicon body, he groans, not minding you as his balls start hitting the ‘ass’ of the toy.

“Daddy” You say wanting his attention again, hating how his gaze moves to the toy. “I’ll… I-I’ll do anything” you try, but he starts to pant, his mouth slightly open as he keeps looking at the toy.

“Anything but behave” 

It’s getting frustrating, and you want to take the stupid thing, and break it in half, burn it and then throw it at the sea. But you don’t, and you cannot, you just sulk in your place.

“Fuck, fuck-” He says, his hips hesitate a bit, and from the angle, you could see his balls twitch a little, as he bites his lower lip slightly, and his left hand grips tightly on the fake hip of the toy as he keeps it steady; it is his hips who thrust in and out the toy, moving up and down, as he throws his head back 

Even if you don’t know, he can look at your face with his peripheral view, your pouty lips and doe eyes as you look at his cock, and then his face. You can see both in your position, and he can see how your hips try to get some friction, even if it means trying to grind them in the ground. It is cute, and arousing for him at the same time. He smirks slightly as his hips go up in a ruthless pace, fucking the fleshlight as he starts cumming.

He wishes it was you, but of course, this is a punishment for a silly girl who can’t follow a simple rule. Aemond loves nothing more than to breed you, filling you up with his cum, and his seed deep in your cunt. Your poor cunt, he thinks, looking at you. 

“Is my baby’s pussy hurting?” He asks in a raspy tone, looking at you as his balls tighten one last time, but it is your answer who makes him cum hard.

“My pussy hurts so much for daddy…” You whine with a pout, and he has to grit his teeth as he cums, hard, he throws his head back and feels the toy fill up with his cum, stuffing it with hot cum as he moans and groans. You hate how it isn’t you, but you are too aroused to get angry at that, you simply let a little whine that it is more like a frustrated moan. 

He breathes hard a few moments, his head looking at the ceiling as if his neck was too tired to keep the weight of his head. He knows that you are desperate, but for once, you and him both know that this isn’t about you.

He has to suppress the smirk on his face as he feels your hesitant hands going around his ankle, shyly and not sure if you can touch him, but he knows that you do it out of pure and raw desperation. The silicon body rests on his cock, some of his cum falling out and it isn’t so pleasant as when he cums in you. He keeps his hands firmly grabbed on the toy’s waist, and he sighs. 

“Daddy” you murmur, testing the waters.

“That’s what you get for being a dumb bad girl for daddy” He tells you in an out of breath tone, and this is probably the worst punishment ever for you. After all, playing with fire always results in getting burned.

✧ Part 2 ✧

[blade-liger-4ever]

Why I'm not big into TFP Arcee

Now don't get me wrong, TFP Arcee is the only version of the character I'll ever give almost 100% respect. However, I'm really tired of all the gushing and praise she gets, and that's not counting how much I ended up hating her in S2. Now, admittedly, most of my beef with her is in her treatment of Smokescreen, but in light of @chaoticcreatorgardendean's points about her characterization in S1, I'll lightly tackle her problems there.

No worries, this - shouldn't, I hope - be as bad as my dressing down of Jack.

So, when Arcee is introduced, we're told in pretty rapid fashion that she's 1 an aft-kicker in her own right, 2 has a traumatic backstory that left her with a procupine-like exterior to everyone, and 3 that she's very much not all that caring. Yes, I clearly recall her protective streak with Jack; however, that came after she ditched housesitting duty in favor of blowing off steam on patrol. Right here, we see a couple of vices to Arcee's character: she's arrogant in how her skills are used (further emphasized with her arguing against being Jack's guardian), and that she is irresponsible. Face it, she knows better than anyone in the audience that Bulkhead's got a spine made out of chocolate when it comes to kids or pressure of any kind that's not from a Decepticon. To leave him in charge with Miko, the single most strong-willed being in this continuity after Optimus and Megatron, is so reckless and immature that it borders on stupidity. No, she didn't realize that Miko would join the battlefield, but it's pretty dang clear that Miko is a force of nature unto herself. Butter spines + Bombs of willpower = the Butter spines losing. That's just a fact, and it tells us that Arcee, while pretty and bad-butt, has many flaws.

Then comes her saga of arcs with Jack. Not only is she shown to be immature and hypocritical when the race episode comes up, but she also chafes/bites back at authority, even from Optimus. Don't forget, anytime Airachnid or Starscream/revenge was on the table, she flew off the handle and went straight for the kill, practically giving the finger to Optimus numerous times while doing so. Heck, I don't think Optimus even grounded her at base for her insubordination, and while that's kinda respectable insofar as Optimus not being harsh to his pseudo family, it's a tactical risk when letting Arcee's wrath and hatred go unchecked or even unpunished. No joke, Arcee continually almost got herself and others killed when she was greedy for revenge or offended by a bratty kid; the fact that she's not really punished (I'm not counting the race episode because she still disobeyed orders to make Jack look good for the stupid chick) at all is a writing and military failure on everyone involved. Letting her get away with this and not learning from her mistakes, when even Miko (who was also filled to the brim with rage and grief) knew after killing Hardshell that it didn't change what she felt/what happened, is - I don't even know how to categorize it.

Yeah, it's relatable that Arcee is like this, but it's stupid that she doesn't learn, not to mention dangerous for those who try acting like her. In real life, there would have been severe consequences for her actions but, since this is fantasy land where strong females can do whatever and walk away scot-free, a blind eye is turned to Arcee.

Now we come to my biggest problem.

Her treatment of Smokescreen.

I understand that his attitude/personality at first is gonna grate on her nerves, but even slow Bulkhead gave him a better wakeup call by saying what amounted to, "Look at me, kid. You really think war is easy and that you can just go in guns blazing and jump us closer to victory?"

Pits of Kaon, that was literally more thoughtful and thought provoking than Arcee's demeaning points. All she ever did was make him the butt of her own sarcastic commentary, pick on him with various condescending nicknames, and then lash out whenever he was already kicking himself for messing something up. Smokescreen held himself to high standards, an issue that Bulkhead knew and empathized with due to his own insecurities, and tried to comfort him and lift the burden from his shoulders. Smokescreen wouldn't take it because he knew he'd been the one to fail, and felt like a failure and dead weight whenever his presence didn't bring something good to the table. He never wanted it to be all about glory, or fame, or really anything superficial. He just wanted to prove his worth, carry his weight, and do his part.

But Arcee never or wouldn't see that. Instead, she just saw a kid with a supposedly inflated ego and chose to read him the riot act when he was already doing that to himself fourteen different ways from Sunday. She didn't care enough about Smokescreen to actually listen and think "Okay, that's what's going on in his head"; she just wanted someone who would "take things seriously" and was gonna verbally abuse him until he "got the message".

Sweetheart, if you want him to mature, you help him by guiding his steps, nurturing his virtues, and helping him up when he's fallen. You don't do it by telling him how much he stinks for not grasping the state of things in the time it takes to blink, or by kicking him when he's down. All that tells him is that he's a waste of time for the people he's dedicated his whole life to helping, which in turn will make him self-destruct. Now luckily, Smokescreen was of a stronger constitution, and therefore shook off the doubt and fear of ineptitude when faced with bigger problems, but if he were anyone else, who's to say he wouldn't have eaten a bullet out of despair? Arcee would've then had the blood of an innocent life on her conscience, and nothing could have made up for that.

I do, objectively, like TFP Arcee, especially compared to her alternate counterparts.

I just can't stand how she got off so easily so many times.

Well, hope y'all enjoyed this, even though I'm pretty sure I did worse to her than I anticipated.

Til next time -

"Roll out!"

[honeycollectswhump]

Thorns of a Nightmare

[masterlist]

CW: pet whump, it-pronouns used for (internal) dehumanization, gore (?? kind of?? its the description of a nightmare), chronic pain (if i missed something, feel free to tell me)

Mutt awoke with a start, barely escaping the claws of its latest nightmare, drenched in sweat. Its tears had left a salty taste in its mouth. Even that couldn’t overshadow the lingering taste of blood staining its mouth. It could only hope it hadn’t screamed, hadn’t woken its owner up like an ungrateful brat. The raw feel of its throat told it otherwise.

The memory of the horrific punishment was still too fresh in its mind. It had been deserved –of course– but the pain had haunted the Pet ever since. It couldn’t even remember what it had done, though it knew it must have done something. It just remembered its old Master’s rage. 

He had bound Mutt’s wrists with barbed wire and chained it to the wall. If it dared to close its eyes now, it could see its old Master approaching with a broken pipe in hand, burning fury twisting its Master’s features. He knew where to hit, knew how to shatter bones into tiny pieces. Blow after blow came raining down until Mutt’s hands were a bloody pulp, its fingers barely discernable. They never healed quite right afterwards –nothing ever did, instead growing so twisted and crooked that Mutt could hardly move them. Master hadn’t allowed his disobedient Pet a reprieve then, only hours later when Mutt was a grovelling sobbing mess on the floor. 

When it looked down at its hands, it could still see the thick and ragged scars the barbed wire had left behind as it had dug into the Pet’s skin. They never stopped burning and itching, but now it was even worse. It was as if the wire had never left. Mutt found that it couldn’t move its fingers at all aside from involuntary twitching. Instead, they were cramped up just as they had been when bound: a constant reminder of its failures. 

Soon, real pain would follow. Mutt knew such an offence would not go unpunished. Even if Master didn’t hear the scream, it would fess up in the morning so that Master could take disciplinary action. That was the least it could do. Mutt didn’t dare go back to sleep. The nightmare wouldn’t have allowed it to anyways. But more so, it desperately wanted to be good. It vowed to show its Master how willing it was to be corrected. 

As silently as its forever broken limbs allowed it, it clambered out of its bed. It still could barely believe that its Master would grant it such a privilege, especially after all the times it messed up so badly. Just like now. 

Once Mutt reached the cold floor on its hands and knees, it immediately missed the soft warmth of the bed. There was a fluffy-looking rug on the floor. Mutt was sure it would feel wonderful for its mutilated knees. However, it knew it wasn’t allowed. Mutt would dirty the beautiful carpet with its disgusting animal body. 

Instead, it crawled in front of the door, careful not to accidentally touch the carpet. There it knelt, head bowed, hands on the ground, ready and open for its Master. She would come –eventually– Mutt knew. If not now, then in the morning when she would get the Pet out of the confines of the room it was kept in. It knew its place. Nothing else mattered.

To its horror, Mutt could hear footsteps coming closer. It really must have woken its Master up. Steeling itself, it pressed itself closer to the ground. It would be good and obedient for its owner. 

From its position on the ground, Mutt couldn’t see the door open but it could hear the creaking of the old wood, no matter how soft Master tried to open it. There was a pause before she took a silent step inside.

“Atlas? Everything alright?” Master whispered.

Only react when your Master directly tells you to. You are nothing until your Master has a use for you.

“Oh, Atlas, no…” It heard a soft thump then a hand came into view. Mutt shuddered, suppressing a flinch. It knew better than to move away from its Master. 

Master pulled her hand back without having touched her Pet. Mutt wished she did.

Pets don’t have wishes. Or wants. 

“Atlas, please look at me. It’s okay, I promise.” Its Master said. Mutt loved her so much. Her, and her calm voice, and soft touches, and It’s okay’s. It would do anything for her.

(It had never been allowed to look its old Master in the eyes. If it did, its vision would be taken away. It had only been temporary, but even a stupid Pet like Mutt could grasp the underlying threat.)

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong? Did something happen?” 

Its entire body vibrated with fear, but Mutt knew deep inside its bones that it had to fess up. Maser was giving it the chance to admit its wrongdoings. But at the same time, there was no reason for it to whine about a silly little nightmare it had. Master wouldn’t concern herself with such irrelevant nonsense. She simply wouldn’t.

It had been so determined to say something, to show its willingness and obedience, but now that the time had come it didn’t know what to say. 

Say something, you useless Mutt! it wanted to scream at itself, but no matter what its body stayed frozen on the ground.

“It’s alright. You can tell me.” 

A whimper escaped Mutt’s lips, the memory of the nightmare never having left its mind. It could feel thorny wire digging into its skin, binding its arms together, its pleas for mercy going unheard. Broken bones grinding against each other. Mutt knew it had been a necessary punishment but still… It was hurting all over.

“Please fo-forgive this Pet, Master.” It stuttered, still unused to speaking even after months of being with its new Master. Just another proof of how braindead it was. 

“This P-Pet, it had a… a bad dream. It believes it screamed, Master. It knows this is un-unacceptable behaviour. Please correct this stupid Pet, s-so that it can continue to serve you in the future.”

Mutt just hoped it wouldn’t be thrown out. This wasn’t the first time it had awoken its new Master by being such a noisy nuisance, and it doubted it would be the last. So far, mercifully, Master hadn’t yet decided to take action, but Mutt knew deep down that any day could be its last.

“It’s quite alright, I promise,” Master assured it. “I was already awake when I heard you.”

“It is so sorry. This Pet will try to be quiet, it promises. You could–” Mutt dreaded the suggestions but knew they were necessary. 

It would do anything for its Master. 

“If-if it would please you, Master, you could tie this Pet up and stuff its mouth, or-or lock it outside. But if… if you would pre-prefer a long-lasting solution… you could c-cut this Pet’s vocal cords.” Mutt tried to force a smile. “It knows it isn’t there anymore, but its old Master saw this as a feasible option… al-although he never went that far.”

Master took in a sharp breath, which made Mutt shake even more. 

“No! You don’t–that won’t be necessary.” Master paused. Surely, she was judging her worthless Pet, debating how lenient she should be, debating when her patience would run out. “It’s not a big deal, I promise. As I said, I was already awake. And even if I weren’t it would still be alright. Really.”

Mutt wanted to believe her so badly. It didn’t matter if it was all a lie and she would punish her Pet later on –rightfully so. It wanted to believe everything would be alright, that it would be a good Pet, even as the pain all across its body reminded it of its inevitable shortcomings. 

To its horror, big, fat tears started rolling down its face. The nightmare, the memories, the pain. Master’s gentleness. It was all too much. 

Shrinking back from its Master, Mutt tried to stifle the sob that threatened to break free, tried to hide those traitorous tears. It couldn’t cry! Not without explicit permission. But no matter how hard Mutt tried, it was like its body had forgotten all those lessons that had been beaten into it. 

Once the tears started there was no end to them. They would just get worse. It couldn’t stop the tears or the heavy rasping breaths, or how its nose immediately clogged up. It tried to turn its head away to hide the shame of its cries.

“Oh, sweetheart…” Master whispered, carefully cupping its face in her hands, preventing it from looking away. Mutt could feel its tears catch on her soft hands and its stomach twisted painfully. 

“I–I can’t!” Mutt sobbed. “I’ll dirty you! I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. This Pet isn’t worthy.”

“It’s alright.” Master's soft voice washed over Mutt. She waited for a moment, then scooted closer. Mutt’s protests (that a Pet like it shouldn’t have anyways) died right on its tongue. 

She drew it closer to herself, wrapping it gently in her arms. Mutt’s breath hitched. 

“Just let it all out. You will be alright, I promise.” Master assured it. A moment passed, then another. 

Mutt couldn’t help it. It melted into her embrace, her soothing voice, her warmth. In this moment, wrapped in Master’s arms, Mutt didn’t care if it would be punished for this later, for the tears soaking into the fabric of her pyjama. 

Distantly, it could feel her rocking it back and forth, whispering sweet nothings into its hair. Its hands grasped the back of her shirt like a dying man, burying its face in the crook of her neck. She pressed its body a little bit closer to herself, and Mutt could feel its heart nearly beating out of the ribcage against her chest, her calm breaths a steady rhythm.

[jaladwolf]

Giggly Grizzly Bear

Been a while since I’ve written any fics, so have this random TK fic I made.

CW: Possible swearing, brother fluff, My AU and of course tickling! If you don’t like it, then don’t read (IDK what else to tell you). Also, DNI if you are N$FW/F€stish, Pro/Comship!

Cast: Freddy, Goldie

Summary: Freddy’s been being a grumpy pants all day, so his little brother decides to try and cheer him up and put a smile on his face.

Today was not a good day for Freddy. There was a rowdy customer in the restaurant during a birthday party that morning and it ended just as well as you would expect it. So it was only logical that he would be in a bit of a bad mood when after hours rolled around. Freddy was now sitting on the stage by himself, trying to get his mind off of what happened, but it was too no avail.

It was only then that Goldie decided it would be the perfect time to annoy him. He was already in a grumpy mood and the last thing he wanted was to deal with him.

“What do you want Goldie?”

His tone was tired and had a hint of anger in it. But Goldie, being ever so persistent, kept trying to try to talk to him.

“Aww come on Fredster! I just wanna talk.”

Goldie gave him a playful pout, which only seemed to further annoy the brown bear. He knew he wasn’t stop until he got what he wanted. But what was it that he wanted exactly? He could care less.

“Leave me alone.”

Freddy turned his back to his little brother as he crossed his arms. This however only seemed to make the golden bear want to annoy him even more.

“Come on, perk up a bit! You know you wanna-”

“F*ck off Goldie.”

Goldie was a bit taken aback by his brother suddenly swearing. It was clear that he was in a bad mood and didn’t wanna be bothered. But at the same time, Goldie wanted to make him smile and it’s then that he had the perfect tactic on how to achieve that.

He leaned a bit closer to his brother, a sly grin on his face.

“Alright Mr. GrumpyPants. You can either cheer up or I can make you…”

Freddy turned his head a bit when he heard him say that before rolling his eyes. Seriously, how could he possibly cheer him up in this situation? There wasn’t anything he could do to possibly-

“Ghh’hk!”

His thoughts were cut off by his brother squeezing his sides, causing him to let out a yelp. He turned to his brother with a glare as he felt his face flush a bit.

“Wh-… what was that for?!”

Goldie giggled a bit at his brother’s reaction. Now he had the brown bear’s attention, and there was no way he was gonna stop now. Without warning, he pounced on him before he began tickling his brother’s sides, wiggling his fingers up and down. The reaction he got was almost immediate as Freddy burst into a fit of giggly chuckles.

”Hehehahaha! Gol-Goldiehehe, quit it!

“Ah ah ah, no protesting now. I told you to cheer up and you refused. Now, you have to have to suffer the consequences!”

Goldie cackled a bit seeing his brother attempting to push his hands off, causing him to move his tickling to his underarms, raking his claws across the sensitive area, making his brother let out a giggly yelp as he dissolved into another fit of laughter.

”Sto-stohohop! F*ck!”

Goldie let out a fake offended gasp when he heard his brother swear again.

“Freddy Fazbear! Swearing is not allowed onstage. I’m sorry, but such an action cannot go unpunished.”

With a sly grin, Goldie moved his hands down to his hips, squeezing and gently scratching the area with his claws. Freddy immediately let out a squeal as he desperately tried to push his little brother’s hands away. At this point was a laughing and flustered mess as he began flailing helplessly trying to get him to stop, but to no avail.

“Kehehahaha! Sto-stop ihit! I’m sorry!”

Goldie chuckled a bit at his brother’s begging. He couldn’t help but find it hilarious how this pile of laughter was actually his usually serious brother.

“Hmm, I don’t know.”

Goldie temporarily stopped his tickling, but moved his hands to his belly, not doing anything just yet. Freddy, knowing what was gonna happen next, immediately grew nervous as he looked at his brother with anticipation.

“Y-you wouldn’t…”

“Depends. Are you still gonna be a GrumpyPants?”

Freddy just rolled his eyes, which gave Goldie the go-ahead to keep tickling him as he began tickling his belly as he kneaded and prodded the soft spot, turning Freddy into a pile of laughter all over again. To make matters even worse, Goldie had begun blowing raspberries onto the side of his neck, a spot which Freddy both favored and despised at the same time.

“EYAHAHAAAHAHA! GO-GOLDIE, NAHAHAHA!”

At this point, Fred thought that his voicebox was gonna give out. Goldie seemed to take note of this as well and decided to cease his attack. With one last raspberry on his neck, he finally stopped, allowing Freddy to catch his breath as he tried to give his brother a glare.

“Hah… hah… J-jeez, you’re horrible…”

Goldie giggled a bit as he hugged his brother, clearly glad that his little scheme had worked.

“Heheh… Aww, love you too big bro!”

Freddy let out an exhaustive sigh as he let his little brother hug him. As annoying and scheming as he could, he was glad to still have Goldie in his life despite everything that’s happened.

And done, finally! This was honestly really fun to write. Hope y’all enjoy it!

[caointeag]

𝔖𝔱𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔟𝔢 𝔥𝔲𝔯𝔱 ❄︎ this is a private & selective rp blog for the original character 𝑳𝒀𝑨𝑹𝑹𝑨 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑲 , eldest daughter of Eddard and Catelyn Stark and twin to Robb Stark. Mixed though primarily BOOK canon along with elements taken from the Old Kindgom / Abhor.sen series by Gar.th Ni.x the blog itself is a sideblog to @gedwimora​ , as this is a hub-style multimuse. If you follow here the follow back will come from there. est 2019 & rebooted 2024.

Medium to sporadic activity. Created by Train | EST | 30s | They/Them

❄︎ 𝑨 𝑺𝑻��𝑫𝒀 𝑰𝑵. war is hell. badass bookworm. jeanne d'archétype. prophetic visions. eerie pale-skinned brunette. good is not nice. chaos & order. action survivor. silk hiding steel. broken bird. combat pragmatist. the banshee. the gods demand blood. ends justify the means. the red right hand. the spymaster. last sane man. he who fights monsters. anything for family. eldest daughter woes. cursed with awesome/blessed with suck. no good deed goes unpunished. dark is not evil. freezing & defrosting ice queen. the extremist was right.

𝑹𝑼𝑳𝑬𝑺  ❄︎ 𝑩𝑰𝑶  ❄︎ 𝑸𝑼𝑰𝑪𝑲 𝑹𝑬𝑭 ❄︎ 𝑴𝑬𝑴𝑬 𝑻𝑨𝑮 ❄︎ 𝑷𝑰𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑬𝑺𝑻 ❄︎ 𝑳𝑶𝑹𝑬 𝑳𝑰𝑩𝑹𝑨𝑹𝒀

blog canon/heavily built into her lore: @azmenka / @tymptir , @sandw0lf , @playshrp pretty princess club: @wornkindness

𝑼𝑺𝑬𝑭𝑼𝑳 𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑹𝑨𝑪𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑰𝑵𝑭𝑶 :

❄︎ Lyarra is not betrothed even as the eldest daughter and at the age for it, she's wiggled out of that successfully for a while.

❄︎ Lyarra is an apprentice bard, which in the North is much different than in the south. I base a lot of Northern culture on gaelic cultures (Ireland, Scotland, etc) and historically a bard there like poetic scholars. They would create great works of lyrical art yes, but they also maintained chronicles, genealogies, journals of the goings on, and recorded and preserved traditions. I'm also throwing in the role of a brehon into the mix, which is basically a ye olde legal professional. So basically she's a junior magistrate and historian who can write a sick tune about how much you suck ass. more detail on this can be found in the General Northern Lore and North: Women Lore pages I have.

❄︎ Lyarra is a staunch follower of the Old Gods. In my lore that includes human sacrifice, so buckle up. More details in the General Northern Lore .

❄︎ Lyarra is a skinchanger. She has her direwolf Night and adds onto that a bird, usually something like a raven or hawk, which she uses to do reconnaissance.

❄︎ Lyarra will always get her facial scar one way or another. It's a universal constant.

❄︎ Lyarra is a good archer, learning to get better with melee weapons and very fit from all the illegal exploration she's done her whole life. But she is more likely to manipulate, poison or stab you in your bed.

❄︎ Lyarra is a stubborn and increasingly paranoid person. She's cool but polite to strangers, sometimes even stand offish if the paranoid is really kicking in, but she's not cruel or unkind. She's only actively hostile when she dislikes someone or very scared or agitated. The closer you are to her the more obvious it is how loving and considerate she is. She's kind of the Stannis of her family but like, with a better sense of humor and more amicable.

❄︎ Also like Stannis, she has rap.ists gelded. No Exceptions.

[bridgyrose]

Beacon had classes on lawyering. Ruby signs up to be a defense attorney in case her team ever gets into trouble, but is surprised when Cinder signs up to be a prosecutor.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Blake asked.

Ruby smiled a little as she tried to adjust her stance with her heels, knees shaking as she started to lose her balance a bit. “One of us has to know how to defend our team in case something goes wrong. And I can learn how to defend us in case we end up in any legal trouble.” 

Weiss sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I can handle all of that just fine after we graduate. Besides, dont you think this is a bit extreme for yourself?” 

“Yeah, but as our team leader, its my job to make sure that we stay out of trouble.” Ruby paused for a moment. “Or… at least that’s what Professor Goodwitch tells us in leadership training. So I’m going to sign up to learn how to legally defend ourselves if anything comes up.” 

“And what kind of trouble do you really expect for us to get into?” 

“I mean, any mission we take has a chance of collateral damage that could be pinned on us if something goes wrong while trying to stop any grimm.” 

Weiss rolled her eyes. “Fine, you have a point.” 

“While I’m glad you thought this through, that’s… not exactly what I meant,” Blake said as she sat down. “I’m talking about dressing up like this for a mock trial. You know you dont need to do that, right?” 

Ruby paused for a moment as she finally managed to keep her balance in the heels she wore and looked over the dress she had on. “I-I wanted to look my best for this today. Even if it is a bit restricting.” 

Weiss shook her head. “You should get going now or you’re going to be late.” 

Ruby nodded and started to walk through the halls of Beacon as the sound of her heels clicking along the floor echoed around her. Of course she had felt nervous at the prospect of this kind of trail, even if it was just a mock trial, though another part of her felt relaxed about it. Just the idea of being able to keep her friends safe even away from grimm made her heart soar. 

The smile on her face started to fade as she made her way closer to the signup lists for the mock trial once she saw Cinder selecting her own name. “Cinder? What are you doing here?” 

“The same thing you are,” Cinder answered with a smirk. “Though, maybe on the opposite side. Someone has to keep huntsmen in check, otherwise they’ll be able to get away with everything they want.” 

“Yeah, but… that’s… that’s not the point of the class. Its so we can learn to keep ourselves out of legal trouble if the grimm-” 

“And that’s the issue, isnt it? Its never the huntsman's fault, only ever the grimm or the rogue hunter they’re after. Just like when you and your friends took Roman and that stolen mech to the freeway, putting people’s lives in danger just so you can stop him, right?” 

Ruby looked away for a moment, that particular incident still hitting her hard. It hadnt been her team’s fault that the fight moved its way to the highway, at least not completely their fault. There wasnt time to get him anywhere else and everything else had happened so quickly. “We… we didnt do that intentionally…” 

“And yet, here you are, unpunished for putting lives at risk.” Cinder grinned and pulled her hand away from the signup board. “If your plan to be a hero means putting innocent people at risk just so you can get your thrills, then maybe you’re not cut out to be one.” 

Ruby sighed and looked up at the signup board as Cinder left, her arm shaking as she slowly pressed the button labeled “Sign up” and pressed each letter of her name. Of course she wanted to be a hero, and part of being a hero was learning how to make sure to keep everyone safe, even when everything about the job is against her. With a deep breath, she finished entering her name and accepted putting herself on track to learn how to be a defense attorney, hoping to be able to learn more about defending her teammates’ actions if a job goes wrong. She had to make sure no one would get in trouble.

[itsalwayswellattheworldsend]

Chapter 14 - What Ralph Heard of the Matters of the Burg of the Four Friths

Text Audio

Synopsis:

Ralph talks with the locals (and Roger) about how the Burg operates, and is troubled by what he learns.

Summary:

“For the wise men say that such folk are no more within the law than kine be, and may not for their deeds be brought before leet or assize any more than kine. So that if the master punish her not for her misdoings, unpunished she needs must go; yea even if her deed be mere murder.”

There was no candle in the hall when he entered, but it was not so dark that he could not see Roger sitting on a stool by the chimney, and across from him were two men sitting on a bench. One of the men was very tall and big, the other very small. Roger was looking away from them and whistling, and Ralph thought that it may be that he was trying to make it seem like he had nothing to do with those two. But he turned around as Ralph came closer, and started talking to him and asking how he liked the Burg, and he was speaking quickly and loudly, which again made Ralph think he was acting suspiciously.

Ralph paid little attention to him, but kept looking at those other two, who were now getting up and going to leave, but when they were halfway to the door a servant came in with candles, and the light fell across them, flashing off the tall man’s helmet, and Ralph saw that he was wearing a long white robe. Immediately he recognized him as that man whom he had last seen at Higham, and seen before on the road in the Hill Country. As for the smaller man, Ralph did not recognize him, but he could only see a little of his face because he was wrapped up in a cloak—despite how warm the evening was—and wearing a broad-brimmed hat, too, but his eyes seemed large and wondrously bright.

But when they were gone, Ralph asked Roger if he knew them, or if they had said anything to him.

“No,” said Roger, “They came in while I was sitting alone, ate their meat, saying nothing to me and little to each other. I think they’re strangers in this town. Indeed, I doubt if they are honest men.”

As he spoke, some men from the town came in, merry and noisy, and they called for food and drink and more light, and the hall was quickly filled with action as the meal was served. These men, while supper was being readied, started talking to Ralph and Roger, asking them questions about where they were from and where they were going, but they were not rude about it. Roger gave the same story he had told Ralph, but Ralph told only a little bit about himself.

But when the meal was ready, they said to sit down and eat with them. Ralph sat down at once and Roger would have served him, but Ralph told him not to, making him sit by his side, and the two sat a little apart from the townsmen.

When they had eaten their fill, the wine was brought out and the men were drinking freely, and Ralph began to ask Roger about those women he had seen in the street and the captives whom he had seen brought in by the soldiers, and if they were of the same people and what that was all about. He spoke a little softly as if not to disturb the conversation of the townsmen, but Roger spoke loudly for all to hear.

“Yes, lord, I will tell you about them; it’s a good example of the wise laws and great mercy of the folk of the Burg and its leaders.”

And Ralph said: “Are these women also of the Dry Tree? They seem to be enemies of the Burg.”

Now the townsmen stopped talking and listened to them, and Roger answered loudly: “No, no, that’s not it. These women are war-thralls, but not part of the Dry Tree, or they would have been killed, not captured, just like their men were. No, these are folk of the Wheat-wearers, the same as those you saw brought in today amidst the other spoils of war. And to these people, the Burg shows mercy, and so whenever the soldiers fight them and win (which is almost every time they fight), these good people don’t kill any of the women, only the men and boys of any age. As for the women, they are brought here and sold at the market to the highest bidder. It’s an honor for them that the ones who are pretty (and these are mostly the younger ones), sell at a high price. However, I would be hesitant to purchase such things; for they make poor servants, being proud, and not accepting whippings peacefully, nor working harder because of them. They’re also quick with a knife if they feel they’re being taken advantage of. Am I right, sirs?” he said, turning to the men from the town.

One of them, older, said “Absolutely right; and it seems to me that peaceful men should not have such servants, all the more because if one of those women gets to knifing, or strays from her master’s bed, the laws of the Burg do not apply to them. For wise men say that such folk are no more held to the law than cows are, and they’ll not be punished for their crimes any more than cows. So, if the master does not punish her for her actions, no one can, even if that action is murder.”

“That’s true,” said the younger man, “but sometimes they get it goes poorly with them in regards to our women. My father’s brother just came back from the war to find his thrall completely spoiled by his wife: and what can he do about that? His money's gone, just as if she had sold his horses or best cow.”

“Yes,” said a third man, “we’d be better off without such cattle. A thrust with a sword and it’d all be over with—that’d be a better way to deal with them.”

Another said, “Though, the women are good weavers, and without them silks would be hard to get a hold of and very expensive here.”

A young man in bright clothes, who had been looking at the speaker with disdain, spoke next, saying: “Fair sirs, you’re all talking like hypocrites, and like your wives were here to hear what you were saying. You know how good these slaves are, and that many of them can be kind, and you’d be upset if you couldn’t buy such jewels. Which of you will go to the market next Saturday and buy a prettier wife than you’d find here in the Burg? And a wife whose feelings one does not need to pay attention to any more than his dog’s or his horse’s, as long as the whip hurts.”

One or two men smiled as he spoke, but some glared at him, but not with any real anger, and the discussion dropped, and Ralph did not ask any more questions, for he was saddened, remembering the free maidens of Upmeads, with their friendly words and strong kisses. It seemed now that the world was a little worse than it had been before.

The oldest and soberest of the guests—seeing that Ralph was a stranger and noble-looking—came over and sat by him, and began telling the tale of the wars between the men of the Burg and the Wheat-wearers; and how in the past when the town was barely fortified, the Wheat-wearers had stormed their gates and taken the city, slaughtering many people, but they spared many of the fighting men, though they stayed there as masters over them, holding them in slavery for three generations, after which time the grandchildren of the old Burg-dwellers had grown numerous again and some of them were trusted with important tasks by their masters, who were not harsh with them. The Burg-dwellers rose up against them when they had the opportunity, in winter during the Yule feast, and slew them, except for a few who had gone into hiding.”

“And since then,” said the old man, “we’ve made the Burg a fortress, as you see it is today, and we took for our leader the Forest Lord, who had previously lived in the clearings of the wildwood, and he married the Fair Lady, who was the granddaughter of the one who had been our leader before the Wheat-wearers conquered us, and we because safe and free and strong once more. And the son of the Forest Lord, whom we call the War-smith, decided that the people of the Burg were too soft and loved the pleasures of life too much, and he worked to harden our hearts. He made it so that all freemen learn the ways of war and battle, and so the crafting and merchanting was left to the women, the slaves, and the outlanders. Even now we hold to this, and you’ll find that we are strong of heart, though maybe not as joyous as we could be. Still, we will not be easy to conquer.”

“It does seem that way,” said Ralph. “Though I will ask you a couple of questions.

“Ask away,” said the man.

“Why is it that you all—who are so powerful—still let those of the Dry Tree trouble you? You take a few men here and there, but couldn’t you completely destroy them?”

The man reddened, then cleared his throat and said: “Sir, it should be clear that those monsters are no real threat to the Burg of the Four Friths; all the trouble they give us is like when a mongrel dog bites one on the calf; yes, the man is hurt, but the dog is killed for it. They cause us such pain, occasionally, but they are repaid for it. So the hunting and killing of them keeps our men in shape and entertained; to put it briefly: they are the best deer we hunt in the woods.”

He stopped for a bit and then went on again, saying: “In truth, they are not so easy to crush as one might crush a wasp, because there is sorcery about them, and the tricks of the one who is there Queen, the most evil woman that ever spat upon the blessed Host of the Altar: but she is strong, a devouring sea of souls, God help us!” and he made the sign of the cross.

Ralph said: “And about the Wheat-wearers; it seems that you never fail to conquer them in battle?”

“We rarely do,” said the man.

Ralph said: “Then it would be easy for you to gather an overwhelming force and take their towns and castles, to take away their weapons, and make them work as thralls in the lands they now call home; in doing this, you would have everything of theirs, except what they need to live on.”

“Then why do you not do it?”

“It wouldn’t be a good idea,” said the man. “What we want of their wealth we can have already at the price of a battle or two, over and done with in an hour: if we were their masters occupying their lands, with them hating and plotting against us—we’d have constant rebellions on our hands. What do you think?”

“That seems true to me, but it’s not really in-character for such mighty men as you all are. But then, why do you kill all the men while you take away the women to be thralls, giving you enemies in every house?”

“It might be true,” said the old man, “that it’s not our smartest habit, but we can’t do anything else. We are sworn to do it by the greatest oaths we could swear, back in the days when we overthrew them, and we were not then so strong as we are now. And now it’s such a part of our culture, and even our hearts and minds, that we kill the Wheat-wearers as easily as we kill rabbits or minks. But now my group is leaving, and I wish you good night. I also give you some good advice along with that wish: it would be best if you did not ask too many questions about our enemies in this city; we are suspicious of strangers here if they haven’t come to join our fighting men or sell us things.

Ralph reddened at his words, and the old man looked at him steadily as he spoke, which Ralph took to mean that he was not trusted. In fact, three or four of the others glared at him as they went to the door, while Roger stood nearby, smiling and humming part of an old song.

But when the other guests had left, Roger stopped humming and turned to Ralph and said: “Master, it seems to me that they do not trust us, and we might be a step closer to that danger which I spoke of before. I think we should get out of here and back into the woods; I’m sorry I brought you here.”

“No, my god man,” said Ralph, “don’t worry about it; besides, it was me, not you, that they seemed suspicious of. I will leave tomorrow morning no worse than I arrived, leaving you to seek your fortune here, and good luck to you with that.”

Roger looked at him hard and said: “No, young lord; if you’re going then I’m going with you, for you’ve won me over, somehow. I really would be your servant, to follow you wherever you go, for I think you will do great things.”

These words pleased Ralph, for he was young and quick to put faith in the things people said, and loved to be thought well-of, and was fond of having companions. So he said: “That’s good to hear from you, and I thank you for it. Come with me on my adventures and you’ll have your fair share of the rewards. Here, let’s shake on it!”

Roger shook his hand, but his face seemed a little troubled, though he didn’t say anything. Then Ralph said: “It’s true that I’m hesitant to join on with the Burg, for it seems that the yare hard men, cruel and joyless, and that serving with them would be more brutish than knightly. However, let’s sleep on it and we’ll get going tomorrow, for I am now very tired.” Then he called the servant, who carried a candle and led him to his room, and he undressed and threw himself on the bed, falling to sleep at once, before finding out where Roger was sleeping, either at the inn or elsewhere. 

Notes:

The Knight of the Dry Tree returns! And who is the mysterious young lad with him? The robe the Knight is wearing is described as being a “gaberdine,” which (when used not referring to the type of cloth) is a wide-sleeved robe that men wore in the middle ages, and which now is largely associated with Jewish men? Googling is difficult because all the results just want to sell me clothes made of gaberdine, but the image on Wikipedia looks just like the sort of robes you see priests wearing in illustrated Bible stories.

The line “or they would have been killed, not captured, just like their men were” was originally “they would have been slain at once, like as the carles of those accursed ones”. I bring this up to say that it’s ambiguous whether the men (carles) in question are those of the Dry Tree or the Wheat-wearers. I picked the latter because “accursed” was used to describe the women in the last chapter, I think.

The Wheat-wearer slaves are often referred to as “queens” (adding another to the list which already has carline, damsel, dame, and maiden). I haven’t been able to find some special relevant meaning; I think they may do it just because they are beautiful and proud.

I’ll speculate a little now on Roger’s behavior, without reading ahead to confirm or disprove my theories. First, he is acting odd and aloof when Ralph enters, when he is near the Knight of the Dry Tree and the Knight’s companion. It could be that—those two likely being from Hampton under Scaur—he was just talking with them (assuming he really is dishonest and deceiving Ralph) and hoped Ralph wouldn’t think that was the case; or it could be that he was distancing himself from them in hopes of not drawing their attention, lest they recognize him as being one of their runaways. It’s also possible that some of the Burgers (or “burghers” as the text calls them) might have associated him with them if they were hanging out and talking, and if they were uncovered to be Dry Tree agents, that would not go well for him. So with that, we know that Roger is acting unnaturally, but can’t yet draw hard conclusions.

Further speculation on Roger’s behavior: he seems quite cool with the Burg’s habits of slaughter and slavery, but he is also speaking conspicuously loudly. I can think of only one explanation for this: he’s hoping the Burgers notice how down he is with their questionable way of life and so ingratiate himself with them if he’s going to stay here in the Burg.

“Strayeth from her master's bed” is the original line. I thought about trying to explicate that, but decided it would not be possible to do without definitively making the call that the slaves are used for sexual purposes. Because of that, I left it as it originally was, letting the reader decide for themselves.

The man’s uncle came back to find “find his thrall all spoilt by his wife” which I am uncertain as to the meaning of. I was unable to find any uncommon definitions to clear things up. I think that she either sold her or killed her.

Technically, the man does not mention whipping in his “if you hurt them right, you don’t have to worry,” speech. He says “so long as the thong smarts, and the twigs sting”, which I assume means hitting them with a leather strap (not quite a whip; though do note that “thong” is also the word used to refer to the Wheat-wearers’ sandals, so that’s another possibility) or caning them. I was tempted to use the term “switch” but I don’t know if the word in this context is widely known outside of the American south (also a “switch” is a single twig and this is plural, meaning it would be birching, not switching).

The old man who talks to Ralph is called a “burgher” a lot, and it’s sometimes capitalized and sometimes isn’t. That’s not an important detail, just another example of poor editing.

Technically the old man compares killing a Wheat-wearer to killing a “fowmart” which is a Scots term for a kind of mustelid; creatures like ferrets and minks and such.

I should probably add space south of the Burg for the Wheat-wearers’ lands, but it’s like 2am and I do not feel like doing it. I’ll do it next time.

Map:

[craneswings]

Yuzu makes her way through the entrance hall and adjacent gardens, slipping past the occasional small group of students. She walks today on a search, seeking not educational or combative knowledge, but knowledge of the cultural kind.

As a newcomer to this academy, it has already become clear that Yuzu lacks insight on the history of where she is studying. Several times she has heard classmates discussing the results of a battle between...eagles and lions? Well, deciphering that riddle is simple enough thanks to the naming of their established Houses.

But wait, does that mean the warrior girl has missed out on an immense battle? Her?!

Her next course of action is only obvious, she must get caught up with the times before they outpace her once more. As luck would have it, a more remote section of the dining hall holds a board that appears to be stocked with announcements and requests alike. As appealing as the latter sounds, a collection of missions to help in improving her skills, her task for now is to learn, not perform. Action can wait until another day.

That being said, one part of the board catches her eye, a poster mentioning potential preperations for an "Ethereal Ball," which sounds important enough to retain in her mind. The author wishes to recreate magic from previous iterations through..."photos"? It sounds harmless enough to check...

"Hmm? Waugh-!"

...and it seems like whoever shoved her aside would agree. Or at least Yuzu hopes they'd agree, otherwise the push will not go unpunished! Though once the woman sees that her assailant is only the mysterious Niamh, her initial shock is somewhat calmed. Only somewhat.

The booths are said to hold two people...

"Niamh, if I may," Yuzu provides a small cough to establish her presence (in case she is still unaware of the girl she just shoved), "take a look at that promoted 'artifex-box.' I would need a partner to fully assess it myself. If it...sounds of interest to you."

Getting Niamh's full attention on anything was a truly difficult task, at least that is what Yuzu recalls from their brief interactions in the past. The purple-haired woman gets closer to the board and points under the poster she is referring to, just in case.

@boundlesschaos

"cant stand her boundless chaos!" *10 minutes later*

non-mission task: showcase

[proserpina-magnus]

Switch reader calling Sirius “puppy” for the first time and him just melting and letting you do whatever you want to him, yes please

This is a bit short, but if anyone wants a part 2 I would be happy to write it!! Also, thank you so much for the request, mwah!

Puppy (S.B)

Prompt: Calling Sirius puppy and giving him a hand job in the common room. 

Reader: GN

Word count: public sex, slight s & d undetones, hand jobs under a blanket, sirius is lowkey at your mercy, teasing, sorta orgasm denial, comment to add more.

Word count: 1.0k

—

You sunk into the deep warmth of the gryffindor couch, Sirius by your side with a deep mischievous grin. He kept a hand on your knee, rubbing along the underside of your thigh as his hands smoothed back and forth- you couldn’t lie, the small touch that was very common between you both was driving you a bit crazy, causing you to exhale and take a look towards the blooming fire. 

A blanket wrapped around both your waists, it’s thick so barely anyone noticed the deep loving strokes Sirius held along your thigh. It was second nature to him, he sits by you- hand goes on thigh, simple. You didn’t mind the action, but Sirius had been whispering dirty things against the low of your ear since dawn. You didn’t know what riled him up, but there’s barely a reason other than just him being Sirius. 

“-Oh she was so mad! I swore it guys! When that ravenclaw came up and pushed lily away to get to me.. lily was fucking jealous!” James had declared loudly, cutting you from your thoughts. He was loud and proud, something that consumed the soul of Sirius’s best friend- you couldn’t be around James without a daily yell or shout of enjoyment. Due to James' excitement, Sirius repeated just like a dog would- he got excited too. 

“No way!” He says, almost mockingly but very intrigued with James- the other two boys not so much. “.. or maybe she was mad cause the girl pushed her out of the way?” Peter chimed in, Remus nodding- he was the only one out of the five that knew Lily the best. 

“Shut up peter! She was very jealous!” Sirius retorted and James nodded along. Ah- friendly banter. Peter opened his mouth instantly and shot a “go fuck yourself,” in which Sirius replied with a “you first!” 

The excitement between the boys was annoying the other gryffindors, they all shuffled either back up to their dorms or out the portrait. Of course James nor Sirius noticed this, intrigued more about the jealous Lily Evans. 

“Settle down.” You whisper against Sirius’s neck, making it seem like you were snuggling closer in the other boy's perspective. The last thing you wanted was a riled up Sirius, it took him merely a second to start and hours to stop. “make me,” he bit back, kissing your cheek before listening back to James' story. 

“What?” You taunt, kissing below his ear as your hand slid between the waistband of his trousers- his attitude of the day wouldn’t go unpunished.. if you could call jacking him a punishment, Sirius would no doubt enjoy having your hands down his pants. “You gonna bite me?” 

Sirius inhaled, his legs closed on impact of your hand against his softened cock. In usual times he would slide them right open, but you knew it would take a lot more than a few touches to ease his stubbornness. 

“I’m gonna’ fucking ravish you,”he bit back with a whisper, you chuckled along his neck- his friends long lost and didn’t seem to even notice. “Settle down pup,” you whisper and place a kiss under his ear, Sirius perked up at the nickname and his legs fell open. You smirk and continue your kisses, Sirius exhales in defeat.

 “M’sorry, m’a good puppy,” he mumbled low, growing silent as his cock almost instantly hardens. You can’t help but admire it, a little word had got him so embarrassed. 

“I know you are,” you reply, at which James points out your ‘gross’ position and you have to pull back as everyone chuckles. Sirius retorts with his usual grin, masking up how his cock twitches as you slip past his boxers. 

“What can I say, they can’t keep their hands off me!” He smirks, and of course you only reply with a roll of your eyes as you grasp his thick length. 

“Yeah that’s for ‘sure” you mutter low against your breath, Sirius sinking in the couch as he widens his stance. His hand overlaps yours, pushing it further into his boxers to get you to play- what you assumed he wanted- was his balls. You roll your eyes once more and give in, cupping them and applying a firm pressure that has him clutching onto the sofa arm rest for support. 

“You like that puppy?” You mumble, massaging him with force- which has him visibly shaking. He nods, taking a breath as you grip his leaky cock again. You rub it at a slow pace, your thumb against his veins because you like the way he shivers from it. 

Sirius settled down, his energy now focused on his cock being played with. But you encourage him to act normal, making him talk to his clueless friends with shaky lungs. He stutters, James confused but understands nonetheless cause he’s just glad someone’s on his side of the story. 

His calm demeanour earns him rewards- which Sirius picks up on, much like how a dog learns he can get treats when he performs a trick. You speed up, wishing you get down on your knees since you figure you’re better with your mouth, but human decency keeps you from it. 

His chest falls and rises, he clutches with a death grip to the sofa as he holds down his throat. The excitement of doing this in front of his friends makes the thrill go a lot quicker, his cock hot and messy against your palm- you’re almost afraid his friends hear the small slaps of skin. Your hand slips from his trousers, Sirius snapping his head towards you in desperation. He almost chants out a “no!” But holds it in his throat. 

“Good puppy’s wait, y’know that,” you tut, hand sleeping out of the blanket as you listen to whatever banter is going on between Remus and James. “M’was a good puppy,” he sulked and you offer him a gentle smile, 

“Well continue being one ‘n I’ll take you up to my dorm later,” you promise, Sirius has big eyes as he nods- excited at the new task. 

—

Part..2?

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[p-redux]

Finally home, as promised, here's the LATEST Monica Aksamit drama...

For those who don’t know, Monica is a 31 year old, 6 foot tall, American (of Polish descent) Olympic medalist in fencing, who mostly lives in New York. She and Sam Heughan used to mutually follow on social media, they flirted, DM’ed, and talked about getting together in person the next time Sam was in New York, but that didn’t happen. Instead of MOVING ON, Monica went on an all out campaign to PUBLICLY badmouth him. Sam's "toxic" behavior was that he "led on" Monica, kept promising to meet up, never did, then still kept contacting her after. Psst, Monica, come a little closer, let me whisper in your ear, “He’s just not that into you.” But Miss Thang’s Olympic size ego couldn’t deal with that and she proceeded to smear Sam in a MONETIZED $$$ podcast on Apple and Spotify, as well as other outlets. More on that later... Eventually it all died down and we all went back to forgetting about her...guess that was the problem. So, a few days ago, Monica decided to resurrect her beef against Sam 👇 Gee, what a coinky dink that she is trying to get attention again riiiiiight after she got eliminated as a contestant on the dating reality show “Joe Millionaire.” Hmm. 

Click on Keep Reading for the rest of the post. It’s a long one, so put up your feet, and grab a beverage...

And guess WHO befriended Monica and supported her bashing of Sam? None other than the biggest Outlander fandom Sam haters--Cant Resist Temptation and her Minions, who consist of Ex-Extreme SamCait Shippers, Shipper Sympathizers, and assorted fandom Mean Girls. The comments below belong to Monica aka mon mons right here on Tumblr. She left comments on CRT’s Tumblr blog and is commiserating with other Sam haters about their mutual guilty pleasure--hating on Sam. 👇 It says a lot about Monica's level of pettiness that she’s talking to FANS...I mean who does that? And on top of that, fans who clearly have a bias and an agenda. JS. But speaking of agenda...Monica knows all about it...$

And of course, the worst of the worst dedicated Sam haters, CRT, Bootsauce and Frenchy rabidly jump in to express their support of Monica. Just picture the DM’s going back and forth between Monica and that group. I can almost smell the putrid froth from here. 👇 They’re all acting as if this is some #metoo type of abusive situation when the REALITY is Sam’s “just not that into you,” and Monica was butthurt and decided to make a mountain out of a molehill. Let’s save the outrage for REAL victims of abuse. I hate when women play victim when they’re anything but--takes credibility away from real victims. I’m not a Sam mommy, I don’t think he walks on water, and I know he’s not a saint, BUT what happened between Sam and Monica did not warrant her vindictive actions. And worse, she used Sam to get her name out there, give herself more visibility, and make money. Thirsty doesn’t begin to cover it.  

But, let’s backtrack a bit and do a history lesson of how this all came to be. Like I said, a few years ago, Sam and Monica were mutually following on social media. If you do a search of Sam and Monica’s names on different social media platforms, you’ll see some interactions that were friendly and flirty. Tumblr limits screencaps to 10, so I’m not posting those, but they’re out there. At some point, Monica Tweeted that she needed help to have enough money to go to the Olympics (I can’t find that exact Tweet, so I’m assuming she deleted it). And Sam replied to her and retweeted her Tweet, thus giving her fundraising campaign FREE publicity, since his over 700,000 Twitter followers would see it. Monica got some hate from Extreme Shippers who don’t like it when Sam talks to pretty, sporty, young blondes, and she also interacted with some fans who showed her support. 👇 As you can see, her Go Fund Me campaign exceeded expectations, and in no small part to the boost Sam gave her by Retweeting on his account. 

Weeelll, as the saying goes “no good deed goes unpunished,” and things eventually went south between our two blonde giants. Sam and Monica continued to DM and flirt and made plans to get together whenever Sam was in New York next, but an in person date never came to fruition. Sam is VERY BUSY, so I’m not surprised, BUT, the reality is if a guy is into a woman he will MAKE THE TIME to see her. When Sam didn’t follow through on tentative plans, THAT should have been the signal to any woman who has dated human men, that, say it with me, “he’s just not that into you.” But, guess Mon Mon didn’t get the ages old dating memo.

Should Sam have been direct and told her he actually wasn’t interested? In an ideal world, yes. But, as we’ve seen, Sam is a people pleaser, doesn’t like anyone getting mad at him, and on top of that, he’s a HUGE flirt, who doles out his ubiquitous “let’s meet for a wee dram the next time I’m in town,” to any remotely attractive woman. I’m sure he figured when he didn’t actually SEE Monica IN PERSON, that she would get the message that it was a no go. But of course, that’s not what happened. Should Monica feel disappointed and upset that Sam made it seem like they were going to get together in person, continued to contact her, and then flaked? Of course, that’s an appropriate reaction. But once she figured out there was not going to be any Samonica, she should have put on her big girl panties and set her sights on someone who actually wanted to be with her. And realized what smart women with life experience know, when a man is into you, he will make the effort to SPEND TIME WITH YOU. Now you know.

What is NOT an appropriate reaction is what Monica ended up doing and continues to do. She went all over social media badmouthing Sam, acting like he was killing puppies FFS, AND created a podcast where she directly badmouths him and MADE MONEY OFF OF IT. 👇 And she’s STILL badmouthing him. SMH. 

In her podcast, she talks about all the men who have wronged her (Gee, who’s the common denominator here?) but it’s interesting that the ONLY one she has ever named is Sam, the one who is rich and famous and has tons of followers. Why hasn’t she mentioned the names of the other men? $$$ In the podcast, we find out exactly how over the top her reaction to what happened is. She admits that she used to “stalk” Sam’s whereabouts, she scoured the Internet to find out who else Sam had dated, going as far as reaching out to these women! (As an aside...2 of Sam’s exes she contacted blocked her). Well that sends a clear message on whose side they were on AND helps us gauge Monica’s level of crazy.

Eventually, after Monica gathered all her intel, she made the podcast where she PUBLICLY smears Sam’s name. Oh, and if Sam was such a terrible person and she didn’t want anything to do with him, how come she didn’t block him when she first made her podcast? (Now they’ve both mutually blocked) but as you can see below 👇 Sam “liked” one of her pics not long after all of this was happening. You can’t do that if you’re blocked. Also important to note, with few exceptions, ALL of Sam’s exes and ex flings still follow him on social media, including some of the women Monica talked to, like Georgia Ellenwood and Danielle Kling. If he’s such a "toxic" man, why haven’t THEY blocked him? 

Monica has a right to be pissed off all she wants that Sam made promises to see her and then didn’t, but to then launch a public witch hunt against him is so OVER THE TOP and not commensurate at all with what actually happened. They never even met in person! The same way a woman has a right to change her mind, doesn’t a man have the same right? Sam thought he wanted to go on a date with Monica and then he CHANGED HIS MIND. That’s not a crime. Or are some women under the impression that once he tells a woman "we should have a wee dram when I'm in town," he is OBLIGATED to go through with it? That sounds like forcing someone to do something they don't want to do just because there was a previous expectation. And that's NEVER acceptable for women or men. And given everything we now know about how Monica behaves, Sam had good instincts that she was a train wreck and he thankfully dodged a bullet. 

ALSO, she said Sam “threatened” her. It’s disconcerting that she used the word “threaten” to describe Sam and his legal team warning her that they would pursue legal action if she continued to malign him publicly. But if we’re going to use emotion-laden words, with viscerally aggressive connotations, let’s continue with “threaten.” SHE threatened him FIRST, she went after HIM. Um, she PUBLICLY smeared his name AKA his brand, of course he was going to defend himself. He had every right to have his legal team contact her letting her know that if she continued slandering him, they would report her to the Olympic Committee and Fencing Association for “conduct” violation. Read their rules of conduct and she violated them with her libelous words against another person. In addition, it would be understandable if Sam decided to have a cease and desist order sent if she continued to publicly slander him, since it could have an effect on his career. That's not Sam "threatening" her, that's Sam protecting his livelihood.

Here she is encouraging people to promote the podcast where she bashes Sam and inciting them to "blow it up ladies" IOW make it go viral AKA witch hunt against Sam. And notice the shout out to follow her on all her social media accounts and "support this podcast." $$$ 👇

Every woman Sam has actually been in a relationship with (not just hit on in DM’s) has nothing but nice things to say about him, and like I previously mentioned, the majority still follow him, that speaks volumes. Even, his ex Cody Kennedy’s mom, Jinx Kennedy, said “I don’t have anything bad to say about Sam, he was a gentleman,” and this was after Sam broke up with her daughter to go back to Abbie Salt! Again, that speaks volumes. Is Sam perfect? No. Can he be a douche? Of course. He’s a human male, they can all be douchy at some point from birth to death. But overall, he is a good guy, and the MAJORITY of people who know him attest to that. It’s sad that one bitter Betty, I mean miserable Monica took it so far, and for her own self-serving ulterior motives. $$$ I’m getting tired writing this...almost done. 

Here’s something that’s ironic. Monica criticized Sam for messaging her and then blowing her off, yet here she is rationalizing why it’s okay for HER TO DO THE SAME THING. Hypocrite, much?  👇

And for someone who claims to want to keep her private life private she sure DOES the OPPOSITE.  👇 Again, hypocrite, much? And she mentions she worries men will want to date her for the “clout.” Um, NO ONE knows who she is except Olympics fans...oh wait, NOW THEY DO, because she made sure of that by ranting and raving about Sam “ghosting” her, MAKING MONEY off her association with Sam, and most recently, going on the nationally televised reality show “Joe Millionaire.” Which ironically is about MULTIPLE women trying to win the heart of a MILLIONAIRE...gold digger, give me my 15 minutes of fame, much? Literally 15 minutes on the show and she was the first one voted off by BOTH men. She claims it’s because they both thought she was too tall...yeah, I guess it didn’t have anything to do with her off-putting personality and the ding ding ding bunny boiler alerts going off in both guys’ heads at all. Sure, Jan. 

Monica keeps Tweeting that she’s a “strong confident woman.” She can SAY that all she likes, but her ACTIONS have shown us quite the OPPOSITE. How she dealt with being rejected by Sam has solidified her reputation as a woman who is emotionally immature, petty, vindictive, bitter, stalkerish, fame-hungry, with a pinch of gold digger, and gives off red flags galore. Proceed with caution--if you piss her off, she’ll talk about you in her podcast and make money off you. Good luck finding any sane guy wanting to date this colossal HOT MESS now. Way to go, Mon! 👏

[palaceofpassion]

MAY I stop Time?

A fic done for a friend!  In which May lets her new semblance go to her head.  

“Okay… okay I can do this.”  

Here May rested, her body hanging above the man of her dreams, one of the many people of her dreams but still the only man.  Her eyes gazed upon his delectable form, his toned form gained through months and months of hard work.  His boyish face on the threshold of a chiseled deity.  Nearly losing herself in his gorgeous blue eyes she felt her heart thump in her chest.  Her beloved Jaune rested below her, his body glistening with the sweat of his hard labor.  

Even as she lowered herself upon his lap he made no distinct movements, no signs of noticing her attempts.  In fact he didn’t move at all, neither did the incredibly gorgeous women around him.  Taking the time to handle her nerves she gazed upon the other six figures in the room.  Her pulse raced in her veins as she stared at each of them, bare as the day they were born.  Their bodies much like Jaunes were coated in a thick layer of sweat.  And just like the man below her they made no special attention to her own depravity.  None of them moved, not a single person besides herself were even aware, conscious of her actions.  

Even as she pressed her virgin lips against the tip of his massive cock she couldn’t help but remember the day this all started.  The day that she unlocked her semblance, what felt like so long ago was only a month.  In that month she’d learned to control her powers, learned to use them to their best and make the most out of them.  And what else would she do with them but enjoy her beloveds to their fullest.  And here they all where, here they all sat around her.  

Closing her eyes she pushed down, the memories of yonder days returning to her mind as she did so.

It had been any other day, May had been at the shooting range practicing her sniping, she wouldn’t let that Ruby girl show her up!  Then out of nowhere one of the punks from Team CRDL decided it was a great idea to scare her, so they decided that they’d take a pot shot at her.  In her surprise something happened, before the dust round hit her the world came to a halt, everything slowed till the bullet stopped right in front of her.  

“Wha?!  What’s going on?!”  The normally quiet May couldn’t help but have a minor freak out when she realized the bullet that should have slammed her right in the face had stopped.  After a moment it dawned on her, this was her doing!  Excitement filled her breast as she stared at the bullet, completely forgetting about those jerks from CRDL.  In her excitement she dashed out of the room, not even paying attention to any of the other students as she passed by.  She only had a small group of people she wanted to tell, the most important people in her life.  

With speed that would drive Ruby to envy she found herself in the Library, where she knew her special friends would be.  Spotting them in the distance she made her way forward, the first coming to focus was her most beloved man.  Jaune Arc, the only person who would go out of their way to talk to a wallflower like her.  He’d gone out of his way to talk to her when no one else would at the beginning of initiation.  Being teamed with him had done nothing but cause her near case heart attacks.  She’d pretend not to stare when he’d come out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel.  She was only so strong though, weak willed as she was, she'd gaze upon his figure over and over.  And believe her when she says he’d come a long way.  She still held their first conversation dear in her heart, it was because of him that she’d been able to make such precious friends.  She wouldn’t admit it, but she’d had many an erotic dream about the young blonde… though speaking of erotic dreams she knew she wasn’t the only one.

To his right, was quite possibly the single most gorgeous woman in existence.  A beauty who made lesbians out of even straight women, Pyrrha Nikos.  The all Star Champion, the invincible girl, the untouchable unapproachable or at least that’s what May used to think.  If it hadn’t been for Jaune she may have never seen the real girl underneath, the one who was just as lonely as her, who only wanted to make friends.  They both owed a lot to Jaune, and if she was being honest, Pyrrha was probably her biggest rival for his affection.  At least she would have been if not for her also being a target of May’s pining heart.  The woman was amazing, strong, powerful, glorious, gorgeous!  But more than that she was just a girl, a sweet and loving girl that like herself was just happy spending time with her friends.  

Then there was the girl to his left, the dark skinned beauty Ciel Soleil, her own partner.  She hadn’t really known what to think of the girls when they first met.  But now they were as thick as thieves, even if Ciel rarely ever spoke.  She owed much of this to her previous two teammates, they’d taken the time to get everyone to sit and talk with one another.  She knew that if they’d been left to their own devices then neither her nor Ciel would have taken the time to become friends.  She would have surely regretted that decision.  Despite her cold nature, May knew she cared in the end, she herself was an incredibly sweet woman who May couldn’t help but feel an affinity for.

To Ciel’s own left, there was Penny Poledina, her odd but rather fun friend who had come along with her Atlas.  The two had originally planned to be partners, but because of Ciel accidentally running into May first those plans had become derailed.  Things had worked out surprisingly well as Penny would visit the four of them frequently, becoming fast friends.  May herself was surprised at how quickly Jaune had adapted to Penny’s inquisitive nature, he himself admitted to having seven sisters so he had grown to become rather patient.  She was incredibly adorable, and May couldn’t help but feel her heart flutter every time the inquisitive girl spoke to ehr.

In front of them were sitting the other three members of their little friend group.  One being the second year Velvet Scarlatina, a student who had somehow just kind of drifted into their little group.  May couldn’t even remember when she first showed up, but she was now a full part of their group.  And honestly she didn’t really mind her, though she saw the way she looked at Jaune, not that May could have blamed her.  The girl herself was quite the beauty, her adorable ears expressed a lot of her emotion, and well May would be lying if she said she HADN’T stared at that nice plump rear of hers.  

To her right was another odd one to join their friend group, Reese Chloris, she’d apparently been having issues with some of the girls from team NDGO, and Pyrrha happened to walk by.  Not one to let things like injustice go unpunished, she stepped in and absolutely humiliated them.  It was pretty obvious that Reese had originally joined by the simple virtue of her own lust and admiration towards Pyrrha.  But as time went on she became a genuine friend with the group.  May really liked her style, her mohawk was incredibly stylish, and her slim figure was one that May envied.

Then there was Weiss, the last member of their little group.  Member of team RWBY, Heiress of the Schnee Dust Company, she will never let you forget that by the way.  Or at least she wouldn’t have in the past.  Weiss was honestly the most surprising member of their group, she’d been a pain in her posterior when they’d first met.  Mostly because of how Jaune had been stricken by the young Heiress.  May hadn’t been the only one bothered by this obviously, as Pyrrha despite giving Jaune the go ahead had come to dislike the attention that she had been given.  Then there was the fact that she was quite mean when it came to turning down the young Arc.  He’d only asked her out three times and yet she’d gotten terribly upset with him… she wished he’d been more forward with her or at least Pyrrha or Cie.  Though things turned around near the dance, he’d realized that it wasn’t going to happen he  apologized and even helped push that Neptune guy in the right direction.  That ended up not working out, and well they’d become friends along the way.

She wouldn’t say that she was as fond of her as she was all the other girls, but for what it was worth she was very pretty.  

Even in her excitement she didn’t yell out to them, she hated drawing attention to herself, she was quite literally a wallflower.  Her parents had named her after a mayflower in itself.  Though, as she drew closer she noticed something strange, they hadn’t moved even the slightest.  That… that wasn’t normal, not even in the slightest.  Her confusion grew as she drew closer, finally reaching them.  Then she looked around… no one was moving, not a single person!  “Wha..what?!”  Fear seized her heart as she started to panic, had she done this?!  Did she freeze everyone?!  

“Please go back, please go back!”  Closing her eyes she wished as hard as she could that this was just a dream.  

“May?”  She nearly jumped out of her large jacket, her one good eye opening wide as the other seven individuals watched her with concern and confusion.  “When did you get here?”  Jaune’s warm voice assisted in calming her nerves.  

“I… uhm… I….”  She wanted to tell them about her semblance, this was a big moment!  But… but there was a part of her, concentrating once more she felt the world fall to a halt.  “I… I did do this…”  She’d stopped time!  She wasn’t sure exactly how she’d do it, or what had brought this around.  But this was amazing!  Though… though sinister thoughts fluttered through her mind.  Mustering her courage she walked in between her friends, taking a deep breath she leaned over towards Jaune.  It was quick and small, but she pressed her lips against his offering him a small peck.  

Pulling away she felt her face burn hot, embarrassment flowed through her.  “I… I did it!”  She couldn’t believe she’d done it, she couldn’t believe that she’d managed to kiss the boy of her dreams.  Though one could hardly call it a real kiss, it would suffice for the time.  She wasn’t quite brave enough, nor did she want to abuse these powers.

Moving back to her previous position she concentrated, time fell back in.  “Uh, I… I just wanted to come by and study with you guys… if that’s okay?”

“Of course it is sweetheart.”  Her heart fluttered in her chest as Pyrrha stared at her, her gorgeous emerald orbs peering into her ugly blueish grey.  “We’d love to have you… though it is quite strange how you’d gotten here out of seemingly nowhere.”  

“Yeah dude!  Where did you even come from?”  Reese’ question nearly threw her off.

“I uhm… I just walked over, maybe you guys didn’t notice me? I am really hard to notice. ”  She didn’t mean to get down on herself, and she sort of prided herself in her unnoticeable status.  But there was a part of her that really didn’t like it.

“No… no we would have noticed you.  You’re always noticeable to us.”  All of the girls nodded along to Jaune’s words, and once more May remembered why she loved these people.  All of them, each and every last one of them.  “So what brought you over here in a hurry?”  

“I uhm I!”  In her panic time stopped again, “oh no!”  She’d need to get better control of that, still she watched everyone.  Their lips puckered in worry for her, and then… then a thought hit her.  She could do anything!  Anything at all… so she made her move.  Stepping to Weiss first she gulped, her heavy chest heaved beneath her thick jacket.  Lowering herself she cleared the hair out of her vision.  

With courage that can only be found from her new found abilities she pressed her lips against the Heiress.  Just like her namesake she had a crisp icey taste to her, one that May would very much like to try again in the future.  

Not delaying she pulled away with a small pop, running her tongue around her lips.  

Next came Reese, the exotic girl proved to be quite the opposite, her lips had an earthy taste to them, it wasn’t bad, just completely different from Weiss.  

Next came Velvet, May couldn’t help but giggle against Velvet’s lips which tasted like Carrot Cake.  “Oh Vel~”  Pulling away she couldn’t help but run her fingers through Velvet’s ears, running her nails through her thin fur.  

Penny was next, copper, it tasted a lot like copper… and silicone?  It was an odd combination!  But she didn’t hate it, it was pleasant once she grew used to it and she may have dilly dallied a bit more than she meant to.  She placed another gentle kiss against her forehead before moving onto Ciel.

She took a moment staring at her partners glossy chocolate covered skin.  Oh god she felt her nerves fail as she grew closer.  Unlike the other girls she made sure this one lasted, her lips pressed tightly against the timely strict girl and she kept them pressed for a while.  She enjoyed her flavor most of all so far, it was a cool minty flavor one that sent chills down her spine.  After reluctantly pulling away she moved over to Pyrrha.

Her heart fluttered thoroughly in her chest, like a drum beating rapidly she felt her heart about to explode.  Mustering her courage she actually grabbed Pyrrha’s head.  Puckering as much as she could she pressed her lips, spice and ginger filled ehr senses as she found herself unable to pull away from the exotically erotic woman in front of her.  Running her tongue across her cherry red lips she couldn’t help but enjoy the woman’s plump lips.  

Truly reluctantly she pulled away, her heart thumped louder and louder to the point she swore that she could hear it pumping blood in her veins.  Turning towards Jaune she just went right in, her moist lips crashed against his.  One minute, two minutes, three minutes she continued to kiss him, not even coming up for air her courage turned into a burning fire as she ran her tongue across his teeth.  Pressing on she slipped into her mouth, by this points he was basically tongue fucking him.  She lost count for how long she’d been doing so but she now knew his taste intimately!  Thick ropes of drool rippled down as she pulled away, her tongue slipping out of his mouth last.  “So goooood~”  She wanted more, needed more!  She could always feel the power going to ehr head, but she didn’t care!  For now though… she needed to keep things under control.

Pulling back she made sure to take her original spot, giving herself time to calm her beating heart she finally allowed time to return.  She’d nearly missed it, but several of the girls, and Jaune, had quickly pressed their fingers across their lips.  Velvet herself had slipped her hand across one of her rabbit ears.  Once more time stood still, and a sudden realization hit her, “They can feel it… they can’ feel everything…”  This should have scared her, should have terrified her, but it didn’t, instead it excited her, it sent powerful urges and lit a strong desire inside of her chest.  

Once more taking the time to calm herself, she let time flow again, “I… I just wanted to see you.”  Despite her meek tone she felt far more courageous than she’d ever felt.  The fire that lit in her soul wouldn’t burn away, not for a long long time.  For now though, she’d take the time to practice, to truly get used to her powers.

“Uh… well come and sit down!”  It was obvious that Jaune was trying to get over the strange sensation in his mouth, but bless him for still thinking of her.

A small smile crossed her lips as she sat down with the group, this really was the good life and she wouldn’t trade it for anything… but she wanted more… wanted more with all of them.  It was small, but she knew what she would do.

The sun hadn’t even risen by the time she’d woken the next morning, the excitement of the previous day had truly gotten to her and in her excitement she’d found sleep hard to come by.  Even Pyrrha, Ms. Wakes up before the crack of dawn, was still slumbering, “Mmm~ Jaune not in front of the others~”  

A smile slipped past her lips as she listened to their Vice Leader talk in her sleep, it was a good thing that Jaune was such a deep sleeper.  Though she’d have to talk to Pyrrha about that one day, the girl’s thirst was unquenchable, not like she could blame her.  Jaune was quite the wonderful boy, she’d had quite a few dreams about him as well.

Though… speaking of the boy, her eyes glanced over at his resting figure.  The soft silver light of the moon illuminated his lithe figure.  As her eyes trailed down from his face, to his chest she felt a knot grow in her throat.  Apparently Pyrrha hadn’t been the only one to have an erotic dream that night, with only the moon’s light casting upon him she could still make out his impressive mast standing at full attention.  

Once more she had that sickly thick feeling bundle in her chest, her breathing grew heavy.  Without thinking she slid off her bed, with light steps she made her way over to him..

Activating her semblance the world grew still. Her core grew slick as she drew closer, trickles of warm juices began to run down her inner thigh.  Before she knew it she was already by his side, her hand gingerly pressed against his thick hard member.  Even covered by his rather soft onesie she could tell just how massive it was, excitement began to boil in her core.  

As her gaze fell to his slumbering face she felt herself awash with shame.  Was she about to do this?  This was an invasion of privacy!  Jaune would never do that to her… but… but this could be her only chance… the only times he’d ever get to actually see it.  Then she looked back towards his towering member, she was so very weak.  Pushing past her hesitation she slipped her right hand up his surprisingly firm chest.  Her fingers slowly pinched upon the zipper, the zipper that held her long desired treasure.  

And without even the slightest bit of hesitation or a second thought she slid the metallic key downwards.  As she slowly pulled on the last lock to her goal a thought occurred to her, how was she moving something even when time was stopped?  How could she still hear the sound of the zipper coming down?  She’d have to investigate later, but for now, for now she had a prize to unbox.  

Her heart throbbed in her heaving breast as her goal came into sight, finally she’d pulled that darned thing all the way.  She wanted to enjoy this, wanted to really let the moment sink in.  Bit by bit, she continued.  First her gaze fell upon tufts of unsheared golden fur, “Oh!”  He was as voluminous in the lower section as he was up top.  She’d… she’d love to run her nose across it, take a moment to really enjoy his scent.  

As she continued her venture she felt her boxers wedge into her quivering pussy, she would need to change after this.  Finally she reached the very tip, and with one last pull she allowed it to spring free.  She felt as if she’d used her semblance on herself, her mind went blank as everything stood still.  There it was, in all it’s massive glory, “Could… would… would it fit?”  She couldn’t help but tremble at the sight, both in awe and fear at the mighty shaft that stood at hopefully full attention in front of her.

She couldn’t help but feel in awe of how mighty it was, but at the same time, the very thought of trying to slide it inside of her frightened her.  She would need to practice, need to get ready for when the time came.  But!  That was not why she was here, no she was here to… to… to help her leader!  Yes!  That’s why she’d come this far, he must have been in so much pain, so she as his faithful teammate, had to do her duty and help… help relieve his stress… yes… right that’s what she was doing.  This was for him, this wasn’t for her…  right.  At least that’s what she told herself.  

Once she’d taken the zipper to the very end she had decided on repositioning herself.  Laying herself between his legs, she allowed herself to really get close up and personal with hopefully her future husband’s mighty… p… penis.  She felt her face flush hot at the thought of using the word!  Still… something was odd, she’d tested it before but she could definitely taste things even with time frozen.  But apparently she was also able to smell them, her nose was assaulted by a thick strong musk, one that was mixed with the scent of spice.  That in itself had answered a question that was at the back of her mind, did he shampoo his pubic hairs?  The answer was apparently a strong yes!  

Still… it was impressive, impressive with how even after he’d spent nearly 25 minutes in the shower he still had this strong… powerful… tantalizing… invigorating odor to him!  Pressing her nose forward she pressed herself between his thick heavy sack, and his impressive… massive… gorging c...c...cock… yes that’s what this was!  She felt his flesh move against her touch, she’d almost jumped back when she realized that it hadn’t been as hard as she thought.  Instead she felt warmth, felt his touch against her face.  This… this was good… she’d been worried about how well this would turn out.  But as she took in deep strong breaths she knew it was going to be amazing.  Burying her nose against the base of his penis, she allowed herself the time to take in his scent.  She was practically marinating in it, and she loved every last second.

Her instincts took control of her actions, without realizing it she’d already brought the tip of her tongue to the slit at the head of his massive cock.  Before she could stop herself she’d already moved in to get a taste, running her pink muscle across his sensitive glands, scooping up bits of frozen precum as she dug into the tiny hole.  Once she’d finished she took the moment to savor his thick and natural flavors.  She’d read that most women hated the taste, but she found herself becoming addicted to the salty tangy flavor.  

Once she’d pulled back she took the time to admire the view in front of her.  “I can’t believe I’m doing this… it’s… it’s so wonderful.”  She wanted him, wanted to feel so very full, wanted to slide that thick hard cock between her needy pussy.  She could feel her womb tighten at the thought, begging for her to mount him and breed herself on her unsuspecting love.  

However, she still had enough self restraint, it was too early for that.  She couldn’t let herself be carried away… though… though she could help him out a little right?  He’d been there for her from the very beginning, it would only be right if she were to… were to help him get off.  Just… look how hard… and pent up he must have been.  Right, she was just being a good friend… a good… a good follower!  Yes that’s what she was doing…

WIth her final bits of self control crumbling before her she took the time to move forward.  Once more she placed her nose between his cock and balls allowing his scent to invade her nose.  She couldn’t get enough of it!  She hadn’t realized just how amazing scents could be till today, but here she was stuffing her face into her beloved man’s balls like a… a… a horny little slut… “Ahhh~”  She felt her pussy clench at the thought alone, her body shook with excitement in response.  “I… I’m a dirty… I’m a dirty little slut.”  That crumbling self control was gone, and now only her desires leaked out.  

“I want you to breed me… I want you to breed me!  Breed Pyrrha!  Breed CIel!  Breed Reese!  Breed Penny!  Breed Velvet!  Breed Weiss!  Break all the other girls!”  Her right hand moved to the base of his cock, she swore that the hot burning member throbbed at her touch, but that wasn’t possible.  Her left hand moved between her thighs, slipping between her tight boxers her fingers moved along her plump moist vulva.  Unable to control herself any longer, consumed by his thick musk, she moved her hands in tandem.

Her dainty thin fingers ran along her plump lips squeezing and grinding back and forth.  She could feel herself growing slicker and slicker.  Her nose buried deep between his massive cock and heavy balls she continued to breath in his thick scent.  Her right hand continued to run up and down his thick heavy meaty fat cock, pumping him over and over running her fingers across his thick heavy veins.  Her brain could only think of breeding, could only think of pleasuring the man before her, even if he wouldn’t feel it.  But she did anyways, placing her lips against his thick, full balls she placed several heavy and hearty kisses against them.  From time to time she dragged her tongue across his sweaty savoury orbs.  

She wanted more and more, when her tongue wasn’t enough she wrapped her lips around one of his impressive sacks.  Dragging her tongue against the precious balls of flesh she began to gently suck on them.  Her pumping grew faster and faster, while her fingers continued to explore her nether regions.  SQUELCH SQUELCH SQUELCH   Over and over she ran her thin digits through her plump pussy.  Her fingers began to explore her thin hole, finally penetrating her needy little slit.  She could feel her pussy suck and clench around her fingers, she needed something bigger!  She needed his cock in her, she needed to be bred!  She wanted him to do her, to do so to so many others!  The thought of all of the girls riding this member, while the others watched invaded her mind!  The thought of him putting those nasty girls, those nasty insulting girls that liked to put him down in their place.  For him to have them face down ass up, this MIGHTY cock plunging in and out of their holes as they begged for more, begged for him to breed them like the dirty little breeding sows that they were.  Those thoughts invaded her mind like never before.

She couldn’t believe herself, couldn’t believe how easily she felt she was being corrupted!  But it wasn’t just the breeding!  No! NO! That would imply she only wanted his cock in her!  She wanted other things, wanted to run her tongue through Pyrrha and Ciel’s pussy, to eat them out and savor their flavors.  She wanted to stretch out Weiss and Reese, bend them in positions that only their thin, gorgeous, and lithe bodies could handle.  She wanted to grind with Penny, wanted to get tribal with Velvet!  

Her inner desires burned through, she’d been a good girl!  She was allowed to have these absolutely nasty thoughts!  She wanted more and more AND MORE!  Her suction grew harder till she felt her jaw grow tired, he was so impressive!  So mighty!  Even as she continued to invade her own body, with three fingers invading her needy pussy.  She found herself gazing upon his manly mane, the tufts of blonde hair that called for her to bury her nose into.  Scooting forward she placed her face against his sternum, dragging her nose against his thick fur.  He smelled so good!  The harsh fragrance from his shampoo hit her nose at the same time as his thick heavy musk, built up from the heat of the night.  “Oh god!  I’m so bad~  I’m such a bad little girl.”

She couldn’t stop herself, her cervix opened and closed as she continued to attack her own pussy.  She couldn’t stop, there was no way she could, her juices flowed freely down her thighs, her boxers were practically drenched in her own fluids by this point.  She really couldn’t use them anymore!  It would be too embarrassing, and yet, and yet a thought occurred.  What if Jaune were to catch her like this?  What if she started time up again… oh what would he do to her?  Would he push her down, breed her?  Use her massive ugly tits like… like handles as his thick hard cocked pumped in and out of her nasty… naughty...needy… pussy?  The thought was tempting!  She wanted to do it!  But she knew she couldn’t, she just couldn’t!  She was too scared, absolutely terrified!

Still the thought was there!  The thought that was pushed back into the depths of her mind!  For now though, she felt herself hit her climax, her body shivered and convulsed, her juices oozed down her thighs, her boxers drenched and unwearable at this point.  She fell forward, her chest heaving up and down as she did her best to breath, her nose buried deep against his pelvis.  

As her post orgasm clarity hit her, her face began to burn hot, burned so damn hot.  Her eyes snapped open as she pulled away, nearly tripping as her drenched underwear clung to her body.  Embarrassment consumed her at a realization of what she’d just done.  “I… I… no!  No!  I’m sorry!”  Running towards her dresser she grabbed a clean pair of boxers, she couldn’t believe what she’d just done, what she’d just THOUGHT!  It was… it was so bad!  Burying her face into her clean underwear for a moment she did her best to sling her moist used set down her slick wet thighs.  With a wet SCHLOP her boxers hit the ground.  

She shivered at the sound, her body growing hot as her embarrassment consumed her once more.  Once she’d slipped on a fresh pair, she’d need to make sure that he was fixed as well.  As she began to zip him up once more she couldn’t help but give him one last gift.  Pressing her lips against the tip of his cock she gave him one last kiss.  Once she’d finished setting him up she made sure to hide her… her shameful piece of cloth at the very bottom of her clothing hamper.  

Gently she climbed into her sheets and closed her eyes.  Her power over the world began to vanish, and she’d been prepared to fall asleep when she heard a loud thrashing sound and… and what sounded like a powerful squirting noise!

“NNNNGH!♥!!”  Her eyes snapped open as she stared at the cause of the sound, Jaune was twitching, his upper body jolted upright.  Her eyes glanced downwards as his loud moaning filled the otherwise quiet dorm room.  SPURT SPURT SPURT SPURT!  Her face grew red hot as she realized what was happening!  All the feedback from when she'd been stroking him was finally happening.  “Ah! AH AH!”  Under the silver light of the moon she could clearly see his cock twitching and spurting out thick globs as his onesie became stained in his thick seed.  

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry!”  She hadn’t meant for that to happen!  In her own lust she’d forgotten about it!  Now the boy of her affection was having quite possibly the strongest orgasm he’d ever had, and it… it was all because of her!  A sense of pride filled her chest, but was quickly replaced with shame as she saw the distraught face in front of her.  Her instincts screamed to move and comfort him!  But… but she couldn’t bring herself to move, she couldn’t let him know she was awake.  Instead she watched him, watched as he stared in panic at his own sputtering cock the obvious shame built upon his face… it did things to her... things she didn’t want to admit.

“Hah hah hah…”  His panting echoed and sunk into her ears, it was… it was doing things to her.  She could feel her core heat up once more.  “I… why… I… no….”  Despite how terrible she felt, that small tinge of pride still filled her chest.  “Why… I… no… I… they can’t see this… they… they’d hate me…  I can’t… I cant believe I had a… wet dream about all of them… why…”  She nearly flinched when he turned towards her.  “I’m sorry May… I can’t… I can’t believe I… to you…”

Had he been having a wet dream?!  Was she in it?!  Was that why he was apologizing?!  “You… I’m… I’m such a bad friend.”  Even with her eyes closed shut as they were, she could still make out the sounds of him heading to the bathroom, obviously to get changed and to clean off… off that thick… stain on his onesie… that rich… fresh…  and like that the world stopped once more.

Once more she got up, making her way around him she quickly unzipped his onesie, unable to resist the treat in front of her!  Once she’d gotten the zipper all the way down she was treated with his cum coated cock.  She remembered the previous embarrassment!  Remembering how bad she felt!  But how could she resist?!  Quickly she moved, running her tongue along his still thick hard shaft she lapped up his thick honeyed cum.  “Schow good!  You taste schow bery good!”  She couldn’t stop it, she couldn’t stop till she consumed every last bit.  And there was just so much!  So very much very much.  For what felt like forever she continued to lap away, consuming and gulping down as mucha s she could.  Tasting his flavors so directly had nearly lit her fire again, but she needed to control herself.  

Once she’d made sure to have consumed as much as she could, even going as far as to lick what she could off of his onesie she went back to bed.  Letting time return she heard him nearly fall over, “Wha?!”  He’d apparently grown weak kneed with her previous endeavors.  “Wha… what is wrong with me?”  His voice released a hushed whisper, but she could still hear it, hear the embarrassment in his voice.  It… it was so delectable.  She… she was awakening tos something new.  She wanted more… but for now she’d sleep, close her eyes and rest.

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Wounded Love (Lady Dimitrescu/F!Reader) Pt. 3

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for blood/violence and language Genre: Action with a lil bit of fluff Warnings: Lil bit of blood Notes: There's an unnamed character in here who may or may not end up as recurring in my stories. I don't really have anything in particular planned for her, she's kinda just here to fill a role/allow for some easter egg type shit in the next chapter. Previous Chapters: Pt. 1, Pt. 2

{Wounded Love 3: Bloody Valentine (No, not that Valentine)}

“Mother Miranda, I must insist, if these lycans stray any further they might start feasting on the village as well! Pray tell, who will you use for research then? We can’t just-... Forgive me… Mhmm. Yes, I understand. Of course… Have a good night, Mother Miranda,” Lady Dimitrescu said, before setting her phone down with a loud thunk. Her hands shake a little, and for a moment you worry that her vanity won’t survive the coming moments. Then you make eye contact with her reflection, giving her an encouraging smile, watching as her gaze softens. “I’m afraid there’s nothing she can do, my dear. I cannot allow Heisenberg’s negligence to go unpunished, but we will have to take care of it on our own, without Mother Miranda’s support.”

“Is that wise, love? To go behind her back like this? I can’t imagine she’ll be terribly pleased if we cause chaos for one of her favored few,” you replied, clicking your tongue as you thought things over. Again you see anger cloud Alcina’s face, though she makes sure not to direct it at you.

“We are not the ones who started this mess,” she reminded you, through clenched teeth. “But we will be the ones to end it, one way or another. I don’t care if I have to gut that wretched man-thing and bring Miranda his corpse as proof of his incompetence! He has shown his lack of loyalty hundreds of times… and now he will pay.” Gulping, you rise to your feet, wanting to comfort your girlfriend. While you had understood that your injury angered her, you hadn’t (until this moment) realized the sheer intensity of that rage. How much blood would be shed before this was over?...

-----------------------------

Crimson drips down the beast’s side, across matted fur, before hitting the wooden floor. A stench as awful as you had ever found filled the air, only made tolerable by the nearby presence of scented candles. What a mess, you think, glad that you wouldn’t be the one to clean it up. Why had the girls insisted on bringing the damn thing inside? Couldn’t they have simply snatched a few teeth from its jaw as a prize? Somehow you doubted that the thought had even crossed their minds. Violence was a passion of theirs, and they preferred their trophies to be as large as the effort they put into getting it.

“How close to the path did you find it?” You asked after finishing your examination of the lycan. Next to you, the eldest daughter is rapidly taking notes in a leather-bound journal. Both of her siblings stand near the fireplace, hands held out next to the flames, needing to warm up after being outside for so long. It wasn’t even that cold of a day, with temperatures averaging around eighteen degrees celsius. All the snowfall from the prior week had now melted. While you knew of the family’s weakness, you also knew that they had bundled up before leaving, and had even taken a torch with them in the hopes of using it on a lycan. Their powers had taken somewhat of a hit, temporarily, but not nearly enough to prevent them from killing a single lycan.

“Heard it howling almost as soon as we left the castle. We couldn’t smell it until halfway to the village, though. Once we could we tried to track it, only for the stupid thing to come charging at us. Must have been eight, maybe ten, meters away by the time we collided,” Cassandra answered. There’s a bit of a shiver to her voice, and you can’t help the rush of sympathy you feel in response. Being out on the path, wearing little more than a dress and scarf, had been absolute hell for you. Even if it was warmer outside now, you imagined that being weak to the cold just about made up for the difference. “There was a little more howling once we started walking back here. Louder, if not closer. Heisenbitch isn’t even trying to keep these fucking things in check.”

“Cassandra, language!” Came a voice in the distance, making everyone present look up at once. Strutting down the stairs was a clearly miffed Alcina, eyes narrowed, body tense. “Did you three really have to bring the mutt inside? Surely you advocated against this, Bela? Or did you think I wanted new bloodstains right by the entrance, where everyone can see them?” Next to you Bela winces, but doesn’t respond, too worried about angering her mother further. “And you, my dear, what on Earth are you doing on the floor? You should be resting, in an actual chair, if not lying in bed awaiting my return. There’s enough for me to worry about without you limping around on a useless leg!”

Now it was your turn to wince.

“Please, love, I know you’re stressed, but I can still help. Given enough time I could help ascertain these things’ weaknesses. At the very least I could pass on what I learned during my fight with one,” you pleaded. Then you tried to stand up, wanting to prove yourself, only to stumble, barely avoiding a faceplant- and only doing so because of Bela’s quick reaction time. She helped you to your feet, letting you lean on her, then lead you towards a bench. Begrudgingly you sit back down. “You’re only doing this because I got hurt. Helping you in your endeavor to avenge me is the least I can do.”

“Don’t be foolish,” Alcina snapped, now just a couple meters away from you. Even with that space between you, her presence was intimidating, and you almost felt like a child being scolded. “Were you to get hurt again, how would we avenge you? If you fall by your own hand, there will be naught I can do other than lock you away somewhere without any dangerous elements. What sort of existence would that be for you? I simply can’t allow it, no exceptions.” At this you pout, feeling rather disappointed. It’s not as if you were asking to carry a gun and shoot Heisenberg yourself! Not that you would be opposed to doing so, of course. “Try to put yourself in my place, my dear. Could you live with yourself if you failed to protect me?”

“I suppose I could not, love. Very well, I shall simply root you on from here, and kiss away any injuries you return with,” you replied, at last giving in. Then you found yourself smiling… and on the receiving end of a very soft forehead kiss. “Nothing will separate us, my love. None can tear apart that which the universe has stitched together.”

-----------------------------

“Like I said, my Lady, I already want him dead. Did you really think that your family was the only one to suffer because of his machinations? I know half a dozen people who would love to put a bullet in that fucker’s skull, bare mims,” the huntress said, white teeth showing in her half-smirk. There was an odd coolness to her voice, like this whole ordeal was just another job, and you couldn’t help but feel uncertain about her. Could she really be the solution to Alcina’s problem? You couldn’t even judge her arsenal, considering she had been instructed to come unarmed. After all, she was a hunter of monsters, with a sizable history to her name. If not for her hatred of Heisenberg, you would never have felt comfortable letting her come within two hundred meters of your girlfriend.

“How can I be sure that you’ll succeed? The last thing I want is to have that wretched man-thing come crawling out of the filth he lives in, angry and coming for vengeance,” Alcina responded, scrutinizing gaze locked on the huntress.

“Didn’t Duke give you my file? Or at least read the good bits out loud? I’ve been in my fair share of scraps, with all sorts of bioweapon mutant freaks. Besides, I don’t plan on leaving any receipts behind. If he manages to survive, which is already one hell of an if, there’s no way he can prove that you asked me to do it. Considering he’s already seen my face, and knows I want him dead… yeah, he won’t bother accusing you, not when I’m in the picture, and certainly not when you’ve got such a big reputation for following Mother Miranda’s word down to the very last letter. So, you gonna make this official, or what?” The huntress asked, gesturing her arms wide. Although you’re still not convinced, Alcina nods quietly, seeming ready to make her decision. Regardless of how you feel about the stranger in front of you, you’re more than willing to support your girlfriend in whatever she planned.

“Very well, huntress. Show us just what you’re capable of.”

-----------------------------

Flames licked at her heels, even as she charged forward, tickling like hot breaths against her skin. Behind her half a dozen lycans roared and screeched in unison. Smoke and ashes flew upwards, into the air, but could not poison her lungs, not when she had come prepared. Still, the mask was not as easy to breathe in as she had hoped, making her chest heave with effort at each intake of air. Good thing I’ll be gone soon, she thought, sparing a glance behind her as she ran. Dozens of trees were aflame, and countless glowing eyes watched from between the branches. They wouldn’t be there for much longer, not with what she had done.

Soon enough an explosion would shake the Earth. Then, finally, both the lycans who had killed her father and the man who desecrated the remains would be dead. And if a certain countess happened to pay her for her services? All the better, really. Funerals could be expensive, especially in such a remote village. More than that… there was no guarantee that she’d be able to outrun Mother Miranda on her own. A little money would make the flight out a hell of a lot nicer.

Assuming she made it that far. There was another scream behind her, this one more human, though somewhat warped by mechanics. It wasn’t a pained cry. No, it was filled with rage. Clearly Heisenberg had come out of his lair, hearing the fireworks, finding his scrap metal and werewolf army in chaos. From the sound of things- metal against metal, electricity crackling- he was coming her way.

“Fuck fuck fuck!” She muttered, desperately trying to get to higher ground. Even if the lycans succumbed to the overwhelming fire, it wouldn’t be hard for their leader to overcome. But the huntress was still too close to her explosives to risk activating the detonator. Just a bit farther, she thought, ignoring the way her lungs ached. Rocks kicked up with every step, loud enough to be heard from a distance, and made traction harder to keep. In the end she had to scramble to get up the side of a short cliff. A few scrapes appeared on her hands, making her curse under her breath.

But with one last movement, pulling herself up with both arms, she was finally far enough to be relatively safe. In one clean second she turned around, pulled the detonator out of its pouch and clicked the trigger. Just like that, a forest blazing turns into a mushroom cloud of pure hellfire. The setting sun makes for a beautiful backdrop, and the sight almost brings a tear to the huntress’ eyes. For a few moments she just enjoys the view. Then, without hesitation or remorse, she starts to walk away, mentally congratulating herself for a job well done.

Until something shoots past her head with terrifying speed. Before she can react another sharp piece of metal flies past her, grazing her arm, and there’s a blood-curdling roar from behind her. Then she’s running, fast as she can, pulse pounding harder than it ever has. One hand goes to the rifle on her back, pulling it out as quickly as she can. The area is rocky, with plenty of outcrops, perfect to hide behind (assuming there weren’t any hidden metal deposits). Quickly she ducks behind one, crouching to keep her head out of sight. Mere milliseconds later another metal spike slams into the ground just beyond her cover.

In the distance, more screams pierce the air, and something heavy drags itself across the ground. It almost sounds like a tank rolling through the woods. The thought alone worries the huntress, but she had never been one to let her fear control her. So she double checks her rifle, adjusts the scope, and pops out of cover. Less than a second later she has her target in her sights. It’s Heisenberg, for sure, more metal than man, but dripping with red. One press of the trigger sends a bullet straight for his ugly head. Unsurprisingly, it’s not enough to pierce his cranium, instead making him mad as hell.

Which is why automatic guns were invented, probably. The huntress holds the trigger down this time, though briefly, before dashing to the next piece of cover. She repeats the process a few times, hoping to kill the man before he could climb the cliff she stood on. If he managed to get up there with her… no, she couldn’t think about that, not now. She had to focus.

-----------------------------

Hidden among the trees, the Dimitrescu sisters watched as plumes of smoke rose in the distance. Even though they had been aware of the huntress’ plan, they hadn’t expected this much carnage. It was certainly exciting! But they really couldn’t see much from where they were. Getting closer was probably a horrible idea, and yet Cassandra shared a meaningful look with Daniela. A split second later they were forming a swarm, rushing into the trees, leaving their elder sister to yell after them.

“Mother’s going to kill me,” Bela said, before rolling her eyes and following. Maybe she could at least keep them out of trouble?... Probably not.

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Metal hands wrap around the huntress’ throat, squeezing hard, but do not twist or otherwise break their prey. No, Heisenberg does not intend to end this that quickly. This rodent had taken so much from him, set his plans back by decades. He was going to kill her slowly. When she still fights back, pulling a knife from her boot and trying to stab whatever she can reach, he does little else but laugh. It’s a crazed cackling that echoes through the surrounding rocky hills.

Just barely loud enough to drown out the sound of insects buzzing.

“Fuck that guy!” Someone shouted, right as a sickle descended upon the monstrous Heisenberg’s neck. The first slice isn’t enough to sever the connection, which is why it’s immediately followed by a second, from another sister, then a third, from the eldest, that finally does the job. Just like that the hands release from the huntress’ throat, and she gasps for air. Coughs leave her distracted as the sisters move to surround her. “Good thing we wanted to see the show up close and personal, eh?” Daniela asked, twirling her sickle with a little giggle.

“You idiots are just lucky I followed you,” Bela added, glaring at her sister. Internally, she was relieved that the end result was a success. Still, she worried about what her mother would think, and certainly didn’t intend to voice her satisfaction at delivering the killing blow. “Now let’s get back, before mother assumes the worst and comes to get us herself.” Sighing, she extends a hand to help the huntress up. Though their mutual enemy had been defeated, there was still much to be done. Who knew how Mother Miranda would react? Who, if anyone, would take Heisenberg’s place? There was plenty to be unsure about, and Bela let her mind wander the whole way back, hoping that things would only get better from here...

[drwcn]

《 Without Envy 》 storyboard 10 - concubine/sleeper agent!wwx & prince!lwj

Other snippets and storyboards can be found on [Master List]

Exactly 851 days - 2 years, 4 months and 11 days - after Wei Wuxian arrived at Gusu and began his mission as a sleeper agent, he was activated.

That chilly morning, he walked into the pastry shop - a front maintained by a decade-long Wen spy - a walk he'd done hundred of times on hundreds of mornings since he arrived. He breezed past the packaging counter, skipped through the faded cotton drapes, and rounded behind the back staircase to the room where Xue Yang always waited for him. Only this time, it was not just his candy-obsessed, murder-happy shidi, but a face he hadn't seen in many, many months. "...Shifu?" Wen Zhuliu's visit meant the end of his carefree days. It's time. That night, Wei Wuxian did not look at either Lan Wangji or Jiang Yanli when he bid "dianxia" and "Jiang-zhuzi" good night. He pretended to retire to bed early, after washing himself of his servant's exterior and donning his robes of night-black. He laid in the dark, waiting for time to pass, and reminded himself of his true purpose. He was never meant to care about these people; love these people. Jiang Yanli was not his doting foster sister; Lan Wangji was not his beloved wangye. I am Wei Wuxian of the great Qishan Wen. Nevernight is my home. I am a spy. Gusu is my enemy. Wei Wuxian kept his eyes closed, his breathing even, and his heartbeat slow. In the lonely quiet, he waited, and waited, and waited. Until the candlelight around the princely manor dimmed to nothing, until the night grew still and the moon shone bright and high in the dark, dark sky. Reaching under the floorboard beneath his bed, Wei Wuxian retrieved his life-long companion from its hiding place and released it from its sheath. "Hello, old friend." He whispered, stroking the blade edge. Suibian's steel glistened with cold malevolence in the stark, pale moonlight.

It would be another year before WWX's identity is discovered. During that time, he lived a double life. In the day, he was Lan Wangji's precious Wei Ying, and at night, he was the blade in Wen Ruohan's hand, stealing, killing and destroying on command. His assignments were not always murder; sometimes it required him to break into secure facilities and obtain copies of certain documents. He was never alone on these jobs; there was always someone convalescing with him from within. Slowly, he began to realize just how deep Wen Ruohan's spy network had infiltrated Gusu's foundation. In a way, it excited him, to know that the posturing and pretending would soon be over, that in the near future a quick war would sweep across the land and unite the two nations. In another way, it frightened him to the bones.

Wei Wuxian killed 37 individuals within the span of a year, 37 men and women of different ranks, status and stations. He did not always know why these people needed to die; in fact, he often didn't and preferred it that way. If he didn't know the motive, then he couldn't argue against the reason, and thus could go on believing that what Wen Ruohan did was ultimately for the betterment of everyone. The men of Gusu were weak - Wei Wuxian was always told - they were not fit to rule. The people of Gusu would be better served under a united empire. He repeated this statement to himself before every job, but over time, the mantra on his tongue began to lose its flavour.

In the meantime however, Lan Wangji and Jiang Yanli quickly formed a strong plan on how they wanted to live out the rest of their lives. Lan Wangji never quite enjoyed laying with women, but Jiang Yanli had just enough wickedness behind her demure exterior that things were... well, interesting. In any case, it was not long before she came to him all smiles and whispered the good news over luncheon .

"Truly?" Lan Wangji set down his chopsticks. "Hm uhm." Jiang Yanli dapped her mouth delicately. "Now, perhaps it's a good time to discuss how dianxia should go about winning A-Xian's affection. He's under the impression you've cast him aside on taishi's orders and has been giving him the cold shoulder." "I wasn't." Lan Wangji defended himself, distressed and slightly offended. "It's just, huangshu's been watching me like a hawk. I was afraid any further attempt to be closer to him would give my uncle reason to remove him from my household entirely." Jiang Yanli was sympathetic. "The summer hunt is in two week's time, and afterwards, since bixia always likes to finish the night on the river with fireworks, perhaps...." She let the sentence dangle, a knowing smile playing at her lips. Lan Wangji felt hope.

Unfortunately, a little hiccup happened before the hunt could take place. Jin Ziyan falsely believed that Wei Wuxian had fallen out of favour with Lan Wangji and was itching to show him his place. Poor Mo Xuanyu was caught in the middle. Jin Ziyan knew Wei Wuxian was an audacious one, but not so stupid that he could be easily goaded into committing a grave offence. Thus, Jin Ziyan planned to cause an incident in the garden whereby poor Mo Xuanyu would unwittingly "offend" him, and he would publicly announce a punishment that was harsher than necessary. He made sure that Jiang Yanli and Wei Wuxian were near by, as they usually took a mid-afternoon stroll after lunch. True to his predictions, Wei Wuxian could not stop himself for interfering on Mo Xuanyu's behalf. Then in their altercation, Jin Ziyan would fall into the pond, making it seem as though Wei Wuxian was the one who shoved him out of anger. Oh but a lowly servant shoving Hanguang-wang's deputy consort into the pond??! He was as good as dead. What's more, everything happened on the same afternoon that Lan Qiren was scheduled to visit Lan Wangji to discuss matters of court. If it was only Lan Wangji, Jin Ziyan knew Wei Wuxian would suffer little consequence, but taishi tolerated no insubordination or churlish behaviour of any kind.

Lan Qiren was incensed, livid, but he was not hasty to deal the punishment. Instead he turned to his nephew and asked, whilst fully knowing the answer, "Wangji, your household follows the regulations that govern all princely manors, does it not?" "It does, huangshu." "Then tell me what is the punishment reserved for a servant for daring to lay hands on a deputy consort and to cause physical harm to said consort?" "It....I - huangshu -" "What is the rule?" Lan Wangji knew very well that the punishment was death for any servant, maid or eunuch who dared to harm any member of the harem. But Wei Ying, his Wei Ying... "Wei Ying is very precious to Yanli and to Yunmeng-hou. As well..." Lan Wangji hesitated. "Yanli is with child again. It is still very early so we thought it best not to announce it lest we have a repeat of last time. It would not do to upset her at this time." Lan Qiren was extremely dissatisfied with his answer, but conceded for Jiang Yanli's sake. "I'm glad, Wangji, that you've found your way back to your proper companions. This Wei Wuxian clearly has been spoiled to the point of impropriety. His actions today are utterly unacceptable and cannot be allowed to go unpunished or else others would surely follow his example. Guards!" "Detain Wei Wuxian. Have him strung up on a post in the servants' courtyard and give him fifty lashes. No food nor drink. Sun or rain, he is not to be let down until dusk tomorrow." "Huangshu!" Lan Wangji's head buzzed, as though someone had struck him squarely in the temple. His chest felt tight, and his heart ached where it rebelled inside him. "Please -" "He has his life. That is mercy enough."

Wei Wuxian was stripped down to his trousers only and tied up to a post, his hands bound together above him and his bare feet never finding purchase on the ground no matter how he struggled. This fucking suck ass. Jin Ziyan you're a dead man. When all fifty lashes were dealt, even the guards were sweating through their robes. They left him dangling there in the blistering summer heat. A young maid dared to try and sneak him some water but was thwarted by an older momo. "What do you think you're doing, lassie? Did you not hear taishi, no food or drink until dusk tomorrow. Do you want lashes too? Go on! Go!" It rained hard all through the night, only easing up at dawn, but the aftermath of the storm left the air muggy and humid. Combined with the heat, it felt as though he was being steamed alive like a wheat bun. At some point during the second day, Wei Wuxian finally lost consciousness. He was not aware when Lan Wangji barged into the courtyard against Lan Qiren's explicit orders and cut him free.

Really tho, i just want this scene to happen (╹ڡ╹ ) "I'm sorry." Wei Wuxian blinked at Lan Wangji's hunched figure sitting at his bedside. "Whatever for? You saved me, dianxia." Lan Wangji, "But it was my attention that put you in such a position in the first place. Huangshu was looking for a reason to punish you since that day he saw us in my study." Wei Wuxian, "dianxia..." "I find you... lovely, Wei Ying," confessed Lan Wangji with a heavy sigh. His ears burned red not only with the embarrassment of a youth in love but with shame. "I wish for your company, even when you have no desire to be part of my harem. Now I know my mistake. I should have respected the boundaries. I should've known my attention on you would incite jealousy from the others, and as a servant, you have no means of protecting yourself. This is entirely my fault." Wei Wuxian's heart fluttered despite himself. He quickly shook his head. "No dianxia, please don't blame yourself -" Lan Wangji, "perhaps I should send you back to Jiang-fu; I'm sure Jiang-xiao-gongzi would be delighted to have your company back. You would be safe there." Jiang Wanyin had come to visit his sister the very next day after Wei Wuxian was sentenced to whipping. He was one of the most accomplishment young men of his generation, anticipated to be a great general. Nie Mingjue had thought highly of him and had expected great things from this youth. Though perhaps what the late feng-jun found truly commendable was Jiang Wanyin's complete lack of pretense and his short-fuse temper. That is to say, he did not hesitate to get in Lan Wangji's face. His sister would have chastised him, had she not been so preoccupied by her tears. Wei Wuxian, "Jiang...Jiang Cheng was here?" "He was, and he was very upset about your condition. He left many fine medicine and ointments for you." Lan Wangji sighed again. "I shall speak with Yanli. If she is amenable, then I shall make arrangements for you to go back to Jiang-fu. You would not have to put up with me any longer." Lan Wangji stood up. Wei Wuxian grasped his sleeve immediately. In that moment, he could not tell if his panic was derived from his worry that he would not be able to complete his assignment if Lan Wangji were to send him away or if he simply did not wish to part with the prince. "Dianxia - I - I don't want to leave. I - it's true I had once rejected you, but...would you think less of me if I said your attention … hasn't been unwanted for a while, that I have come to enjoy them." At Lan Wangji's widened eyes, Wei Wuxian continued quickly. "You need not give me anything, no elevation, no rank. I don't care about any of that. I am a man, I have no ability to give you children. Nor do I have any family who would benefit from your continued favour of me. I am an orphan, dianxia, I have no place to go. I just....don't send me away. Please let me stay! I'm not afraid of Jin Ziyan, or taishi, or anything!" Lan Wangji sat back down. His hand trembled when he laid it on top of Wei Wuxian's. "Wei Ying...?" Wei Wuxian smiled, still radiant despite his pale complexion. "Dianxia -" "Lan Zhan. No more dianxia, I only want to hear you call me by my name." Wei Wuxian flushed pink. The blush was real, as was the pleased little smile he tried to hide. "Lan Zhan, Wei Ying is yours, if you still want him." The worst part of that was that he meant it. Just the mere thought of being held by Lan Wangji, of being kissed by him, of... so many other wonderful possibilities, made Wei Wuxian want to hide his flaming face into his pillow. Lan Wangji smiled. Quietly, he lifted Wei Wuxian's hand and pressed a kiss to the inner side of his wrist. "Rest, I will be right here." Wei Wuxian felt his treacherous little heart soar: oh no … oh no no no no ….. (Xue Yang's voice in narration: and it was in this moment, that Wei Wuxian knew, he fucked up.) The cruellest thing Wei Wuxian ever did was give Lan Wangji hope knowing that one day he would take it all away.

[chipper-smol]

Hollow Knight Telephone Round Two: Pale Jester Chain 1

Prompt: PJ finds himself alone with the Grimmchild after the bug who finished the ritual abandons the Grimmchild charm

By @alaska-ren-works​

“Oh, the red casts great and terrifying spells Ones which no one knows The drums go bang and the bats ignite ‘Lo and behold a toad!”

The Pale Jester hummed to the beat of his steps, the atmosphere of King’s Pass having a little color now, PJ thinks. Little taps from crawlids and squawks of vengeflies adding a little harmony to his cheery bells. Ah, to have an orchestra of his own to play and dance to. Never the mind, there’s always his friends he could sneak away with. He’s sure Brumm wouldn’t mind if he borrowed him and his accordian. Brumm was always a lovely companion with his somber mood. Hm, now if only he could remember where he left his lute he’d be on his way to play with the troupe.

The jester paused when mued noise echoed from a tunnel above. Shrugging, his bells jingled as he scaled the stone up and up while wondering what this little mystery was. A statue of a great bug with red eyes a-plenty loomed from the jester's place on the edge, guarding over a single opened chest. The noise echoed from its hollow depths.

A grub? It must be. Unless something else can make such high-pitched sounds.

The jester jingled quietly to the chest, preparing a little song to cheer the poor sap out. Who would leave a child in a desolate place such as this?

He'd have a word with the young one's parents. A strongly worded one at that. If he had a child, he would never abandon them when they needed him most.

Indeed. You have done far, far worse. Strange. Is the wind howling voices? What a peculiar land this is.

The sound whimpered louder and at this the jester froze. It couldn't be. No, of course not. Master had made sure the bug was to be trusted. They would never... They would never do such a thing...!

He hurried and his claws dug into the chest's metal. His heart stopped when he saw what, or who, was inside. The black gleaming horns. The scarlet flame stuttering under glassy eyes.

No.

"Grimmchild?"

A stuttered whimper his only reply.

How dare that excuse of a life betray our child.

Grimmchild did not respond when the jester picked them up, cradling them in his puy-sleeved arms. Dark red stained their cheeks. Dark, sorrowful red.

"Child," he gently cooed, frowning when they hardly moved their head. "How long were you left here?"

No reply. What have they done to you?

“Let’s go home, little one. I am certain you are tired after your long adventure,” he sang with restrained tones, his fury marbled with his grief for this little one. "I have a few tricks I want to show you! Made them perfect while Brumm learned how to juggle. He's not the most dexterous of us all but perhaps one day he can handle flaming darts! What fun that would be!"

No reply.

The Jester trembled with every rocking of his arms for the child. He remembered how the child laughed and beamed when the bug took them to gather the scarlet flames. The child sang with such glee at the bug's performance with the master. The child grew more brilliant with every step this bug took with them down to the kingdom's last flame.

Come to think of it, he had not seen the bug once the heart was defeated. ... No.

"O, child," the jester piped. Taking one step, a stalactite fell from above. His hand moved on its own and in moments, the rock turned to powder under his clenched fist. The child merely curled in his arms, eyes dimming to a close. "Child, you need rest! Once you wake, you'll be in such a lovelier place with the most delightful of games to play with!"

That... fiend... left the child when the ritual was over? Like a mere toy to be buried once play time ends?

That abomination will pay. For every tear this child shed.

Every. Damned. One.

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By @lametinkerer​

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By The Grimm Chronicler

At first, it was easily muffled by all the noise outside. Then he heard it. A thud, a sudden cry of desperation.

Investigating at the source, there he found it, hidden away within a small chest. A child. A weeping, frightened child, clinging to his robes so tight and desperately as though the mere mention of legging go could mean that they would return to the chest and be trapped once again. 

"Oh, child..." The Jester whispers. "Who could do something like this to you? How long have you been there?" Questioned the Jester, though he knew he'd receive naught but silence. Embracing them as gently as possible, he rocked them evenly back and forth until they stilled, having given in to slumber.

His investigation has proven itself to be quite uncomplicated. Within no time, he found out about the child's former guardian and how they were so utterly left aside to simply rot away in the confines of an ornate chest in a secluded area. The mere thought brought forth despicable, hideous emotions he never thought himself capable of experiencing.

Anger. Pure, unbridled anger.

He swore that he'd find the one responsible for this sick malevolence and bring them to justice. Mayhaps even the Master would offer his aid. It mattered little whether he did so or not, the Jester sought naught but to seek out the evil being and he would do so relentlessly. He promised that. As he held the child in his hands, their crimson eyes staring innocently at the funny man with a strange makeup and even stranger outfit and pointy prongs on his head, they giggled at the sight. "That abomination shall pay for every. Single. Tear you ever shed. I shall see to it. They will not go unpunished for such atrocity."

The Jester brought them closer to him, closing his eyes. They giggled at the contact, embracing him back.

"I promise you."

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By @lagt-duck​

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By @al-the-frog​

the unexpected isn’t always desirable

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By @largeegg​

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By @wasabi-arts​

The audience departed, the stage left empty, not a sound. Usually Brumm’s pleasant tune filled the halls draped in red with faint echoes of the notes, but tonight remained silent. It wasn’t often the bug was left with the distinct lack of noise, with no joke to entertain himself or company to keep. All that greeted him was the faint whispers of an audience no more, the spirits that haunted the troupe.

And to think at first you loathed him- a creature created by the king of all nightmares after humiliating your very existence as the king’s little fool. However. . now? You feel pity for him while you watch the jester in red with his head in his hand, sitting on the edge of the stage. He’s weighed by a misery he can’t understand, memories he’ll never recall, all in a world through the holes of a stice striped mask. The stamp of the Grimm Troupe.

On the stage, the jester just stared at something in one of his hands, round and white. Normally, it's something you’d dismiss- perhaps a relic spawning a curiosity that would be short lived- but the curled carving, the white charm shape- it was unmistakable. Something that he and his wife had once shared, then split in two- was suddenly regained.

Several emotions filled your mind as you, in your ghostly shadow of self that remained trapped in the nightmare realm bound by a red string, inched closer to your physical counterpart. The kingsoul. Last you remembered- no, last you knew you held it on your cold dead corpse in the palace long since gone, hidden within a lingering dream. The other half was to your wife, if she even still considered you as much after everything you had done.

Tears ran down his face while he laughed, unaware of the peeking figure standing by the entrance- Grimm, though not the one bound by nightmares. Though the cloaked one’s look of pained sympathy wasn’t where your interest lay.

“Ah. . . .h . a . . ha h.” He laughed through tears, some falling on the kingsoul he held in his hand. “Isn’t this hilarious- laughing over a rock!”

He cringes at calling it such a thing as you do, staring with a mix of disgust and sadness, watching the red flame’s reflection flicker in the charm. The broken crown even seemed to sag even more, a dinky replica of what you yourself once were.

“Did-” A pause from the fool sitting on the edge of the stage- his stage that was built for him in this troupe of misfits. “Did she give this to me to make me cry? Hah-ha! M-Maybe it has a crying effect.”

Your annoyance and anger switched into a deep sadness, watching your counterpart laugh through tears, tears of which he knew not where the source was.

“That’s not what that is-” You say to no one, letting out a sigh as you turn away, responding to a world that wouldn’t hear you regardless. “You won’t know, and I doubt anyone would tell.”

The jester and the peeking Grimm didn't respond, as you expected. Though, finally your counterpart peeked up, catching the taller, monstrous bug in a spare glance. In an instant he hopped up on his feet, charm in hand, greeting the master of the troupe with four open arms- the charm in one.

“H-Hello hello!” He cheered, voice cracking through his tears, the unfamiliar sense of deja-vu crippling his very being. He bowed. “Why, my performance as long since ended, but if my master himself wants another show- then I shall prepare for one-!”

“That is not needed, dear Jester.” Grimm said simply, waving a hand to pause the jester’s actions, finally deciding to enter the room. “While I do enjoy a good show- I didn’t wish to disturb your thought.”

“Thought. . ?” The jester questioned, stature changing from fun to a distinct slouch. You huff- and he looks in your direction, though he doesn’t see you. You’re merely a shadow haunting this jester’s mind. Soon enough his focus drifted back to the round object in his hand. “Ah.”

“Are you feeling alright-”

“Splendid! I am doing fantastically, Master!” He exclaimed as you scowled. Master- what a disgraceful word for a wyrm to call such a makeshift god. Though he’s not a wyrm, nor are you. Not anymore. “I have just been given a cute little charm by a fair lady deep within the gardens. Well- half of it! The beauty said I had the other half, haha!”

Grimm cocks his head, in worry and curiosity, making you wish your counterpart- the one born for the stage and as a mockery of yourself- wasn’t nearly as tone-deaf.

“Hm, you had the other half, she said?” Grimm asked, moving closer to the jester.

“Why, yes! And you’ll never believe where I found it- in some dark little place deep below. How odd!” Grimm let out a ‘hrm’ in response as he spoke.  “Found it on a corpse of all things- a hollow shell of armour! Don’t you find it curious, Master?”

“Hmm- that is quite odd. What do you plan to do with it?”

You watch the jester flinch in a rather odd fashion at the question.

“Well- I don’t know. Perhaps I’ll hang it on to it- or perhaps I’ll wear the darling little thing! Maybe it will help me cry on command, wouldn’t that be hilarious?” Silence. A long, agonizing silence greeted both for a moment, the red flame glittering in the dark room. All these tents had for light were shades upon shades of red- you quite hated the color.

“I suppose it is.” Grimm said, extending out a hand. Long, bony, black. He seemed to lack a lot of the segmentation that typical bugs had. “Why don’t you allow me to hold on to that until you decide what to do with it? We certainly don’t need such a thing getting sawed in half during one of your splendid performances!”

“Why- of course, Master! If you would like it- who am I to refuse such a request!” He hummed back, reaching out to give it to the taller bug. The action disgusted you. Giving away such a precious charm that was your’s and no one else’s, let alone to that made your blood boil.

“Are you going to let go?”

You turn, finding that the jester hadn’t let away his grip of the carved white stone. In fact- it was almost like he couldn’t.

“I--I apologize, Master. I feel like. . . I don’t want to let it go? That’s not very funny, though! Ha-ha! I-”

“Then you can keep it.” he said, the slight smile of his pointed teeth not hidden under his collar for once. “It is yours- so you will do with it what you wish.” The Pale Jester turned his gaze from Grimm to the charm once more, turning it in his hands once. Twice. “However, let’s not focus on that- you have a grand show tomorrow, and I would love to view it from the audience this time around.” He turned to leave with a bow. “I expect an even grander performance than before! ANd I am greatly looking forward, my dear Jester. Have a pleasant night.”

“Goodnight, Master.”

And with Grimm gone, you look back on your counterpart, giving a joyful wave with a solemn, sad expression on his face. The charm lay loosely in his hand. And for once, you wonder what he was thinking in that separated mind of his as he left the stage.

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By @ded-lime​

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By @vivifrage​

The wyrm was in tears.

In times like these, it was even harder to remember that the broken, warped Jester dancing around the Troupe’s grounds used to be these lands’ god-king. Cold. Stoic. Unfeeling, many claimed. Ruled by and ruling over pure logic and calculation.

Easily enough disproved with sufficiently annoying input; Grimm’s own memories trotted out tales of delighting in that knowledge over and over. The wyrm was a stick in the mud, a hardass, arrogant and prim and so fun to bother until he was literally incandescent with anger he’d deny up and down and up again.

Yet here the wyrm stood, muddied white carapace given a pink cast from the tent’s fabric all around, tears still slicking the black tracks in his mask, giving them an obsidian shine. And for the life of him, Grimm couldn’t feel that spark of delight in seeing the pale bastard showing some kind of emotion.

(The Heart certainly could, but its smug pulse felt oh-so-alien versus this dismal thing dampening all the rest of his core more thoroughly than any rain could soak an eternally-burning god.)

He couldn’t quite bring himself to a smile, even a polite one, when the Jester hopped over, something clutched tight in one hand. He settled for an inquisitive look, a soft tilt of the head, eyes alert and bright, hands raised in greeting.

The Jester waved back, in that brief moment as cheery and oblivious as ever. But the moment passed, and he hesitated, hands sinking back against his sides, the closed fist kept close to his collar.

Whatever he held, he pressed it to the lower third of his mask, be it in hesitance or reverence.

Or both.

Grimm let him take his time.

It was the least he could do, really. For the both of them. The wyrm to find his words, Grimm to settle the dread rising in his throat. That rather particular sort of dread, too, that one that anticipated an ugly, ugly task.

“Master?” the Jester asked at last, “May I tell you a story?”

“Of course,” Grim said. It was not a lie. It felt like it was.

“Well, once upon a time, there was a- a-” He clicked his fingers together. “Something bright, almost shining. Resplendent. White, white as snow or ash or death. A tree! No, a tree’s root. And she had crystals for eyes, but they’ve long clouded.

“And in exchange for a laugh, a smile, and a goodbye, she told the funniest tragedy. One of two lovers who saw in each other the world, and whose deeds drove them apart. She gave me a token of their story, of their love, and told me to do with it as I will.”

He opened his fist.

Cradled in his palm was half a charm. White, a colder color than even pale ore, so white and with such a sheen that it seemed to cast the tent in winter tones, the most direct reflections twinkling like evening stars. All save for a black stripe cutting across the face, through the hole of the eye, dug through the detail in the same way the marks on the Jester’s and Grimm’s own masks featured their otherwise plain faces.

Grimm’s stomach dropped. He clenched his jaw to keep it from hanging open. Deep within his chest, the Heart sang in shock, confusion, and uncertainty.

That was wrong.

That was so, so very wrong. In so, so many ways. In ways the Jester could not know.

His eyes traced the mark from halved forehead to fractured jawline. That should not be there. It never should have been in the Jester’s hands but that should not be there-

The Heart swallowed his burst of flame-hot anger, echoed it back with the roar of a furnace.

Grimm put on a polite face. It just so happened to bare his teeth.

The wyrm continued.

“Personally, what I would like to do is mug the other half of the other lover’s no-good corpse!” He twittered with laughter in a way the dour king never would have. The sound just made his carapace crawl. “Ah, but that would require finding it, and the Ritual has us so busy, Master. It must be a matter for later fools.

But, in the meantime, I don’t- It hurts. Such a story. It’s cliché, is it not? The doomed lovers? I could tell you six like that with my tongue tied, and I’m sure you could tell me twelve right back, and we’d both laugh at how silly they all are, to think their love could ever be enough. Perhaps it’s something about holding this little trinket but-” He closed his fist again, held it to his throat. When he spoke, his voice was choked, and he pressed two hands to his temples, another two covering his mask. “The sight of her stung my eyes and I drank her words as sorrowful wine, and now my tears fall and my tongue bleeds in all the pretty reds-”

“Jester?”

The wyrm stared at the waiting hand Grimm held out between them, eyes slowly rising to meet his. There was a spark in there, shadowed behind those vacant carvings in the mask, something bright and cold staring back at him. He smiled at it, and let the chill sink into his teeth.

“If it upsets you so, may I hold it for a time? For your respite, of course. I seek no undue pain from my people, and perhaps I could look into this local legend myself, so we could discuss it together. Besides, it is quite the curious artifact, and I would love a closer look.” His hand bobbed, palm up and curved into a perfect receptacle for the little broken charm.

(Well, not perfect. Only two beings in the world had ever had hands for that.)

Wordlessly, the Jester handed it over. It clinked into Grimm’s hand, its weight off-balance in a way that itched at his mind. And, for everything he knew it was, it struck him as so mundane. Like there should have been something to it, holding a wyrm and a root’s wedding charm. Even half of it. But rather, the thing felt…

Dead, it felt dead.

Comatose, at best.

(Or worst.)

(He glanced back at the Jester. The spark had faded from his eyes, replaced with mellow-warm embers.)

(The Heart thudded its relief.)

“Thank you,” he said, and stepped back.

The Jester blinked, visible only as the slightest hint of eyelids moving behind the mask. He stared at his empty palm, touched the tracks of his mask and rubbed the lingering wet he found. “Was I upset?”

He stared up at Grimm, searching his face. “What was I upset about?”

Grimm offered only a shrug before he turned away, and left the Jester standing alone.

“Brumm,” he muttered, clasping the other bug’s shoulder as he passed by, “Prepare a fire. I must commune.”

Brumm hummed in that low, doubtful way he always did when he sensed Grimm was up to something he ought not to ask about directly. “Are you sure you can’t rest for it? I’d not blame you a moment’s respite.”

Grimm paused, reached back, took his wrist and squeezed it gently. “I know. But I must be of clear mind for this.”

His thumb rubbed the halved charm, stroking up and down the new line carved into its face. The Jester’s story turned over in his head, biting in like a sliver of carapace caught between the teeth.

The dread grew sour.

This could not go on.

The Jester didn’t come to dinner. An odd happening; his appetite easily rivaled Divine’s, and he knew it had been suppressed. Allegedly for how recognizable a wyrm trait that was. But also, the Troupe only had so much in their stocks.

Still, a Troupe member in poor state was a Troupe member in poor state, and Grimm sought him out.

He wasn’t hard to find, exactly. Easier than it used to be by far. The Jester was loud, extroverted, and flashy. But even in his quiet moments, he had a pull to him.

No matter his background, though, Grimm should not have found him in the first tent he checked, hidden away under the first curtain he got a suspicious feeling from.

The Heart sank, staring at the Jester’s back as he curled up, sobbing into his hands. Something was going horribly, horribly wrong. The Jester was the dancing fool the wyrm had shown himself to be, that was all. If he cried, it was when something got too close, and Grimm had told the Grimmkin to ensure he stayed very clear of anything that could trigger that again.

Grimm sunk to the floor beside him, letting the curtain fall back into place. It brushed his back, the fabric thick and heavy, and absorbed everything but their breaths and the sound of the wyrm’s sobbing.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, with all the fireplace warmth he could muster. His hand ghosted against the Jester’s back, bumping over the rings dangling where wings once laid.

(Going back up, stroking again, this time pressing harder, he swore he felt slight swells where the buds should have been burned out.)

“I don’t know.” Desperation bit through the wyrm’s voice, through all the tears and despondence. He shuddered, sucked in a raspy breath. “I don’t-”

He turned his face away, pressing his knuckles into his eyes. He keened, the low sound of a hurt creature, kept close and intimate by all the fabric they’d hidden in.

Grimm just rubbed his back, and let him find the words.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have. Perhaps he should have taken a more directorial role in this two-bug production, and told the Jester what was going on, what his poor soul ought to be feeling. How he was new to the Troupe, and some of the changes took time to settle in, he would be fine. Most everyone had been upset for at least one Ritual, especially their first, and sometimes it was hard to place those feelings, wasn’t it? It would pass, it would get better, it meant nothing, really. Not in the long run.

And, if his memory ran long, that sometimes stories just struck a chord, but he need not be upset at simple trinkets and tragic stories with doomed lovers. They were all so silly, weren’t they? Thinking that, in the end, their love would matter.

Why, he ought to set all of it out of mind, and come to dinner. Surely he was hungry?

His tongue laid still, his mouth stayed shut.

“I- I miss- I don’t know. Someone? Something? I don’t know. I can’t find them, they’re slipping through my hands every time I reach. But Master-” His voice broke, cracking into a plaintive cry. He clutched at his chest, hands pawing uselessly at the fabric over his heart. “It hurts.”

Grimm clucked his tongue and cooed. His arms wrapped around the Jester, drawing his form, at once limp to his touch and much too tense, close, until he tucked him against his chest. Head held to heart, listening to its steady beat. All four arms wrapped around his abdomen, knees bumping against his thigh, while Grimm held him and drew his wings from their resting place to wrap around them, shielding the Jester even further from the world beyond.

“I’ve got you,” he purred. The side of his jaw brushed against the wyrm’s horns. “I’ll make it better.”

The Jester shifted in his arms, head tilting up til Grimm found himself cradling its back. When he stared down to meet his eyes, he found that spark staring back, cold as ice and with just as sharp an edge. “How?” he asked.

It could have been a coincidence. A slip of the tongue, the familiarity in how he spoke, with a voice like a lone gust of wind trailing through a cavern. The weight to just that one word, the melancholy it steeped in.

Grimm fought the chill clawing at his back to give him a smile. Gently, he rested the wyrm’s head against his chest again, where the Nightmare Heart beat. “A nightmare feels so very real, does it not? As false as it may be?”

(Again, the sickly sweetness of a lie on his tongue.)

The Jester hummed. After a moment, he snuggled close, full body up against Grimm’s, cool against the Troupe Master’s warmth. “I guess.”

“Take your respite, Jester. Let me care for you.” He leaned back as far as he could, letting the Jester’s weight rest on him. “Then we can get dinner, yes? I bet you’re hungry.”

“Oh!” The Jester’s hand curled against his stomach. “Yes, that would be good. But… a moment, first. To catch my breath.”

“Of course.”

Forgetting was the greatest kindness he could offer the Jester, and the cruelest punishment the wyrm deserved. Let his troubles slip his mind. Let him cry and wail for things he didn’t know, acting out grief for the horrors he didn’t know he committed.

But there was not supposed to be such a gouge in the Kingsoul’s face. There was not supposed to be that soul behind his eyes. There were not supposed to be stories of beautiful roots or jokes about horrible wyrms. There were not supposed to be wing buds in the Jester’s back. The side of him that resided within the Nightmare was not supposed to have such a strain in its voice, nor was he supposed to feel the snap of spellwork.

Something was going wrong.

And all he could do was watch and try to stuff the wyrm back into the Jester’s shell.

-------------------------------

By @artisticdragons​

[yurissweettooth]

On Trauma, Alienation, and Yuri Petrov

After the anon I recieved yesterday got me thinking about Yuri's lack of support system as well as had me coming back to this one scene in the Rising where Kotetsu tells Yuri that he could never understand what Barnaby went through. This will be a bit of a ramble so bear with me!

As he's meant to be a foil for Barnaby I feel like most of the attention goes to Barnaby and his trauma when making a comparison between the two (which is fair, he's a main character after all). Because of this some people don't really see the depth behind Yuri and the realism to his trauma. Some have written him off as part of the "abused people become abusers" stereotype or outright dismissed him as some egotistical man child of a villain. I think it's important to take a look at him and how his multiple traumas, and the alienation he faced thereafter, lead him down the path he's on by focusing on his side of the comparison.

To start with, one notable point is that Barnaby is able to reveal his trauma on live television and have the entire city rally around him. His support system and the people who have his back extends further than just the people he knows. 

Yuri, on the other hand, can't reliably even talk to his own mother (the only person he's shown to have any type of connection to) about what he's been through as her responses seem unpredictable. We can make the reasonable assumption that he doesn't have any friends because it states in the translated hero schedules that nobody has his phone number.

As a judge he can't admit to murder, as the son of the most highly regarded and beloved hero he can't speak ill of him (he likely wouldn't be believed anyway), and as someone who is seemingly still full of guilt and questioning his own behavior (no doubt aided by the fact that even his mother, who he was trying to save, doesn't always support him) he can't easily admit to the aftermath either. 

Continuing with the focus on his portrayal in the Rising, I'll point out again (as I did in my response yesterday) that there is a particularly interesting scenario where we get to see the aftermath of the effects of trauma relating to loss of a parent in three people at once. One desperate for revenge and one who has technically gotten his revenge yet didn't feel any better because of it.

"Now wait a moment." You may be saying "Yuri killed his own father so isn't that different than the other two?" and to that I would like to posit that Yuri did have his father taken from him before he ever killed him.

Aside from his hatred of "evil", Yuri also seems to view heroes as immoral, fame driven, and unable to help those in need. I think a lot of this can be tied back to the fact that Yuri lost his father as he knew him the moment the abuse started. 

Child Yuri seemed amazed by his father, right down to the Legend themed outfit. It can be assumed he was a great dad and a great hero at this point. However, that image was shattered when Legend began to drink and abuse his family (as an aside, one of the artbooks confirmed that Yuri was beaten as well). The man he looked up to, the hero, the man who taught him to never let evil go unpunished, was hurting him. It's not difficult to image what that sort of effect dissonance could have on a child.

Legend was staging his arrests and trying desperately to hold on to what he had, putting the anger he felt at losing his position over his duty as a husband and father to be there for his family (I could contrast this with how Kotetsu, in the same situation, uses this time to get closer to his family but that's for another time). He was loved and admired by all with no one any wiser to what happened behind closed doors. 

I think it's because of this that Yuri seems to live his life in opposition to the hero lifestyle. In a way this could almost be seen as a form of revenge seeking against heroes themselves. He's seen what a "hero" can be like and he can no longer trust them to make the right choices or have a genuine desire to help anyone so he takes it into his own hands and has no qualms about airing his spiteful opinions while doing so.

As a side note, in a way I also believe that his decision to kill those that are evil is, in part, a form of reassurance to himself that he's not wrong for what he did to his own father. We kind of get a hint of that in the scene where he's hallucinating and yells at his father's apparition after having his actions questioned by him.

To return to the main point, Yuri isn't really given the opportunities the others had to change their ways and heal. There was no one there to stop him from going down the wrong path. Barnaby tells Virgil that he's not out to save Schneider, he's out to save Virgil himself. Barnaby also says how Kotetsu was able to be there for him and that, had it not been for him, he wouldn't even have been standing there today and would have gone down the wrong path himself. 

I often see people discuss what Yuri might have been like had he never been abused or killed his father but I think a more interesting thing to consider is what he could have been like had he had someone on his side when he really needed it, if he didn't live in a world that would likely turn on him if he spoke against the most well-known celebrity hero (I would imagine that, much like in our real world, if an abuse victim spoke out against a celebrity they'd be shamed and called a liar), if there had been someone there to set him straight before his pain and twisted morals consumed him.

Even as we see him in the show I don't think he's a bad man. He does terrible things, yes, but he does them out of a desire to save people, to help others, to prevent more suffering. It annoys me to see him portrayed as some childish villain just stupidly killing for the sake of it. He's misguided, yes, but there's a method to his madness.

I guess the main point is that, regardless of how Kotetsu meant it, I feel sad thinking about Yuri stating his views on how to heal from the past only to be told that he "Doesn't know the first thing about what [Barnaby's] been through". Yuri does know pain, loss, and betrayal quite well which is how he came to those conclusions in the first place, he just hasn't been in a situation that's allowed him to admit and process that.