#[-*so have this hand-drawn promo*-]

[teatime-at-4]

Update: I was Wrong (incorrect info in red)

FLYING BARK IS NOT GONE: about the trailer animation

PLEASE DO NOT SPREAD THE IDEA THAT FLYING BARK WAS REPLACED.

THIS IS FALSE.

Flying Bark made the decision to outsource additional animation, this includes things like trailers and promos- not the actual show. this decision was made because Flying Bark is also currently working on the upcoming animated ATLA movie, and they needed to lessen their workload. Flying Bark is still handling the animation of the actual episodes and specials, they just needed some breathing room and got that by giving some of the less important responsibilities- like promos and trailers- to someone else for the time being.

the animation isn't even bad, there's no need to act like this is the end of the world and start acting like everything will be changed forever. though I will give some of ya'll the benefit of the doubt and say you probably didn't know these details, but we shouldn't have jumped to conclusions anyway.

edit: there is a post saying that Wildbarin has a deal for two seasons + specials of LMK, this was a misread, the site this info was taken from was mentioning the already existing content for LMK on Amazon Kids+. the deal wildbrain was, again, for the additional animation. Please do not harass this blog if you see the post however.

edit 2: it has been alleged that Wildbrain has been given a 1-2 year deal for two seasons + a special per leaked "legal documents" from Flying Bark, and I may have been wrong in the above edit. this has yet to be confirmed, if it comes out as true then I will be removing this post, so far I have seen nothing but the misread website however. that being said if it is true, FLYING BARK IS STILL SET TO RETURN ONCE THAT DEAL IS FINISHED. but be warned, my word is not law, and I'm not infallible.

PLEASE REBLOG AND SHARE THIS REPOST TO OTHER SITES IF NEEDED

SPREAD THE WORD

PLEASE DO NOT HARASS ANYONE FROM LMK'S TEAMS OR WILDBRAINS'S OR ANY OTHER PERSON SPREADING NEWS ON THE SHOW

UPDATE:

thank you to @anxiescape for providing more information/confirmation directly from Flying Bark

(Tweet from a director at Flying Bark)

unfortunately Flying Bark does seem to be fully parting ways with LEGO Monkie Kid due to the inability to keep up with deadlines, likely contributing to the decision to sign off the license to Wildbrain as that would make a change from hand drawn animation to puppet 2d/3d animation.

please note that the voice teams and writing teams are remaining the same, only the animation team is being changed.

that being said looking at the trailer the main differences in the animation appears to be in the dept and lighting, things that can be easily fixed and likely are only off because the are unfinished. the animation we see in the trailer is likely not the final product, and I implore fans to remain patient and respectful with our new animation team.

(but again, please do not take my world for law, I am not immune to human error)

I apologize for helping further misinformation about lmk s5.

farewell Flying Bark, you'll be missed.

[q8qwertyuiop8p]

New League Splashes! Vi, Singed, and Cait

TFT Art! Vander and young Vi

If they don't make a new tft art for Silco then they are definitely mocking us. Every time they have drawn him in TFT so far aside from the Into the Arcane promo they have "beautified" him, absolutely butchering his beautiful Roman nose and mutilating his face.

They owe it to us to give Silco an actually good splash, and if they do not give it to us then I will absolutely never play TFT, League, Valorant, or any game Riot makes for that matter. Not even the upcoming fighting or rpg ones. We can't let them think this is ok. On the other hand, I promise if they make an actually good Silco art I will try to play TFT and the fighting game at least once. Don't let us down Riot 🙏🙏🙏

[thelovehypothesis]

Lights, Camera, Flirt

Carlos Sainz  x Fem!actress!reader

From this request!

Summary: On set, Carlos flirts endlessly, and sparks fly—both on camera and off...

a/n’s: This is a recent request!

warning: fluff, fluff, fluff!

The soft hum of the studio lights buzzed as you stood in front of the mirror, fidgeting with the hem of your leather  jacket. It was a polished but casual look—a perfect fit for today’s shoot promoting Formula 1, a new venture for you. Being an actress, you were used to long hours on set, but working in a sports-adjacent environment like this felt different. The idea was to bring more eyes to the sport—broaden its viewership—and someone thought it was a good idea to pair you with one of F1's top drivers, Carlos Sainz.

You weren’t entirely sure what to expect from him. From what you’d heard, Carlos was a total charmer. And while a little flirtation could be fun, you were determined to be as professional as possible. The last thing you needed was to get flustered in front of cameras.

The crew buzzed around you, adjusting lights and preparing equipment as you tried to focus. The director had explained that today’s work would involve some casual interviews, behind-the-scenes shots, and some promo clips where you'd playfully interact with Carlos to showcase the fun side of the sport.

“Alright, ready to go?” the assistant director asked, snapping you out of your thoughts. You nodded, taking a breath. Just a job, you reminded yourself.

Then, Carlos walked in.

He was every bit the picture of a star athlete. Dressed in his red Ferrari team kit, dark hair perfectly tousled, and a confident smile that tugged at the corners of his lips, he exuded a kind of effortless charisma that made it hard to look anywhere else. The energy in the room seemed to shift the moment he stepped on set, all eyes automatically drawn to him.

“Hola,” he greeted warmly, walking over to you, his brown eyes twinkling with mischief. 

“You must be the one and only Y/N Y/LN I’ve been hearing so much about.”

You smiled, offering your hand. “That’s me. I hope I can keep up with a star like you.”

His hand was firm but gentle as he shook yours, holding it just a second longer than necessary.

 “I think I’m the one who’ll need to keep up with you,” he said, his voice a low murmur, his accent making the words seem smoother than they had any right to be.

You let out a polite laugh, already sensing that keeping things professional around him was going to be a challenge. But you were here to do a job, and so was he.

The crew gathered around, making final adjustments as the director explained the shots they'd be filming. The first segment was an interview where you and Carlos would chat about the upcoming F1 season, his team switch,, the thrill of the races, and how someone new to the sport—like you—could get into it.

“So,” Carlos started once the cameras were rolling, “how much do you know about Formula 1?”

You leaned in slightly, a smile tugging at your lips. “I know enough to know you’ve got a pretty packed season ahead of you.”

He raised a brow. “And enough to know I’m probably your favourite driver now, sí?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the flirtatious tone in his voice. But instead of letting it throw you, you tilted your head playfully. “Well, I suppose we’ll have to see how today goes before I make any declarations.”

Carlos grinned, leaning back in his chair, clearly amused by your deflection. “Challenge accepted.”

Throughout the interview, he kept up a steady stream of light banter, occasionally throwing in a playful comment that made it nearly impossible for you to keep a straight face. Every time you tried to steer the conversation back on track, he’d toss in something cheeky, making the crew laugh as you struggled not to break character.

“So, what about driving?” he asked at one point, his expression a little more serious. “Do you like fast cars?”

“I think I could get used to them,” you replied smoothly, knowing full well where he was taking this conversation.

Carlos’ eyes sparkled with a playful glint. “Maybe I’ll take you for a spin sometime. Show you how a real professional handles a car.”

You bit back a laugh, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “I’ll hold you to that,” you said, shooting him a knowing look, to which he winked—an actual wink.

The director called cut, giving the crew a short break while the cameras reset for the next segment. As you stood to stretch, Carlos approached you again, his tone a little softer but no less playful.

“You’re good at this,” he said, nodding toward the cameras. “I almost believed you weren’t enjoying my flirting.”

“I’m trying to stay professional,” you teased. “You’re making that a little hard.”

He chuckled, looking far too pleased with himself. “I think you’re doing a fantastic job. It’s not my fault I’m irresistibly charming.”

“Modest, too.”

He grinned, leaning in slightly as if sharing a secret. “I’ve been told it’s one of my better qualities.”

Before you could respond, the director called everyone back to set for the next shoot—a light-hearted promo bit where the two of you would be doing some silly races with miniature cars. As you both knelt on the floor, lining up your tiny cars for the race, Carlos was back to his antics.

“Loser has to buy dinner,” he quipped, positioning his car.

You raised a brow, not missing the suggestiveness in his tone. “What makes you think I’ll lose?”

He flashed that infamous grin again. “Just a feeling.”

“Don’t count me out just yet, Sainz,” you said, focusing on the little car in front of you. “I’m competitive too, you know.”

As the mini-race began, the room was filled with laughter and cheers, the silly nature of the task making it easy to relax and have fun. Carlos, of course, managed to sneak in more playful comments as you battled for first place. Despite your best efforts to ignore him, you found yourself smiling more than you probably should have.

In the end, you did lose by a fraction of an inch.

“So,” Carlos said, standing up and offering you his hand to pull you off the floor. “Where are we going for dinner?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help grinning as you took his hand. “I walked right into that one, didn’t I?”

“Si,” he said, laughing softly. “But don’t worry. I’ll make sure it’s a night you won’t forget.”

His tone was teasing, but there was a warmth in his gaze that made you wonder if there was more behind his playful flirting. It was clear that Carlos wasn’t just charming for the sake of the cameras—there was something genuine in the way he looked at you, the way he seemed to enjoy your company.

As the shoot wrapped up, you found yourself lingering on set, chatting with Carlos long after the cameras had stopped rolling. You couldn’t deny it anymore—Carlos Sainz was more than just a flirt. He was kind, funny, and had a way of making you feel completely at ease, even as he teased you relentlessly.

“So,” he said, his voice soft as the two of you walked toward the exit. “About that dinner…”

You smiled up at him, finally giving in to the undeniable chemistry that had been building between you all day. “I think I might be free tonight after all.”

----

Hope you liked it! and let me know if you want to know how take dinner went.....

-Lots of love, Em.

[ms-demeanor]

Also I have to say "but bands are using AI art for their album covers" is not a winning argument.

That band wasn't going to pay you. That band was going to beg somebody's artist brother for a freebie or they were going to have the people in the band who can kind of draw draw something or they were going to use a moody photo someone took with their cellphone. Best possible scenario is "they were going to trade for something from someone in the scene," and this is still the most likely scenario for bands that *give a shit* about that kind of thing.

And I've been the one doing freebie artwork for my musician friends; I've made album covers and done promo shoots, I've drawn logos and I've got a standing offer to make buttons for the cost of materials for every band I've ever played a show with. The people who give a shit in the scene are already doing this because everybody knows that everybody's broke.

I'm certain that there's not *zero* overlap between "bands that can afford to pay artists and photographers to create album artwork" and "bands that are using AI art for their album covers" but if you think "indie musician" is a demographic that has money to spare on commissioned artwork, I'm pretty sure you're mistaken.

Like. Okay, I mean my *big* argument is that AI image generation is fair use, full stop.

But the secondary argument that I've got is that I'm not sure there's a market to have the bottom fall out of.

The person making shitty covers for their amazon romance novel was not going to pay you. They were going to pay someone on fiverr eight dollars *at best* and that's only if they couldn't find a way to DIY.

That band that's trying desperately to sell ten tickets so they can play a show at the cool venue was not going to pay you to do their cover art. Their last fifty bucks just went to covering those tickets because their friends aren't even coming to their free shows. They were going to stage a photoshoot with a cellphone and a timer and someone's sister's selfie stick.

That person who made an AI avatar was not going to pay you for a custom avatar they were going to take a screenshot of your work and use that.

The people who are able to afford to pay artists and who are interested in paying artists are not the people who are replacing artists with AI. The t-shirt dropshippers, the shitty book cover designers, the bland corporate artists, and the art reposting instagram pages were the ones who undercut your market.

If you're concerned that someone is going to use AI to make art that is materially similar to yours and sell it, you're just concerned that someone is going to make art that is materially similar to yours to sell. The concerns about AI doing it are functionally exactly the same as what happens when someone says "wow, I want that on a t-shirt" under your drawing. If someone were to draw a character similar to but distinct from yours with words similar to but distinct from yours and put a link to that on a reblog of your post, that person is not actually infringing on you. They're a shithead, but that's not actually art theft. If they used your character and your words, or if they directly copy the image, that's art theft and you can try to get their post taken down. It's the exact same thing with AI.

The people who care about art and can afford to pay for it are always going to pay for it. Your problem isn't with AI, your problem is with the fact that people don't value art and that's as true now as it was a decade ago.

You are trying to sell a complicated, crocheted sundress made with 100% hand-dyed alpaca wool on Etsy and are complaining that the loose knit acrylic sundress from walmart is undercutting your market. Some people are always going to make the effort to save up and pay for your work because they value the craftsmanship, but those people didn't want to shop at WalMart in the first place. And the ones who value your craftsmanship but just plain can't afford it were going to dig through the bins at a thrift store until they found a crocheted swim cover from the seventies that they could pass off as a dress with a few alterations.

[blueskittlesart]

Okay, I'm curious cause I've only played Wind Waker, and BotW/TotK: Why is Link sometimes left-handed, sometimes right-handed? I assume it's because of possible motion controls, and not a Lore Reason.

He was definitively left-handed up until they started putting out games on the wii, barring a few anomalies like flipped sprites (there's like one sprite in NES loz where he's got the sword in his right hand) and oot 3d master quest (the entire game is mirrored.) I've heard a few reasons for this, including miyamoto being left-handed and a left-handed sword swing looking better from most angles for the original 2d sprites, but to my knowledge we don't have an official reason as to why this was the general rule. up until botw the answer for the right-hand switch was definitively motion controls--both skyward sword and the wii version of tp would flip depending on the hand the player uses. (I know that in the gamecube version of tp he was always left-handed but I don't have sksw HD so I'm not sure which hand he uses by default with button controls. he's drawn right-handed in pretty much all promo art for that game tho.) However, botw didn't have motion control options but still went with a right-handed link. there are a few potential explanations for that--I wouldn't be surprised if they were toying with the idea of a motion-controlled sword swing early on since the switch does have that capability but ended up scrapping it in the dev process, but it's also entirely possible that since they'd been working with a (predominantly) right-handed link for their 2 most recent home console releases they just. didnt bother switching back. lmfao.

from a lore standpoint though my personal headcanon/theory/whatever you want to call it is that botw link is right handed because that's what's expected of him. Botw link is a character who is very very very conscious of peoples' perceptions of him and the expectations on his shoulders; it's arguably one of his most defining traits pre-memory-loss. When you picture a soldier, you picture the sword in their right hand. I don't think that it's a deliberate CHOICE in-universe to use his right hand, but i do think that being left-handed has the potential to give someone pause when talking about him, which is something that botw link can't have. Nothing can be even slightly out of the ordinary with him, because if it is it's something for the gossip-hungry public to latch onto. (I don't necessarily think that a left-handed link would have been more or less scrutinized in this context than a right-handed one, but being left-handed would have definitely been something of note, especially in the context of a swordsman, and link's whole thing in this game is that he really doesn't want people scrutinizing him any more than they already are.) In this sense, his being right-handed sort of affirms this picture-perfect image he's attempting to project, which is important in the context of the rest of the game. Again, there's no proof that this is actually the reasoning behind the decision, but I personally think the decision to make him right-handed for botw was a good one. I also like that eow went back to left-handed link tho! It's cool that we're getting variety and I think it'd be interesting if they started playing with that difference more in the future beyond just the necessity of hand-switching for motion controls.

[killxio]

pr mishap | e. yaeger

word count: 627 [ 2 min 20 second read] | ✪ content warnings: porn w plot (is this enough to be considered a plot?), writer who thinks they’re funny, p in v sex, car sex

famous!eren x influencer!reader

✭ curse eren and his stupidly good brain melting dick.

so.

you and eren recorded a little dancing tiktok. you were both big social media presences, so you expected big numbers, but this went reaaaaaaaaal large and you couldn’t figure out why.

until you did.

at a point in the dance, eren spins around and in his back left pocket there’s just enough fabric to make out what it is:

a lacy thong.

this had y’all’s followers up in ROAR!! you’re away at a shoot all day as twitter explodes, barely having time to check your phone.

─────

─────

and of course, here is your idiot big head boyfriend keekeeing on the timeline.

─────

─────

so how exactly did eren become eren Panty Snatching yaeger?

you and eren share feverish, desperate kisses. you don’t wanna let each other go, but eren doesn’t want to miss a second of your body being revealed to him as he undressed you. unbeknownst to you, he slips your pretty soaked thong into his pocket after tugging your shorts off.

eren pulled up on you taking promo pictures for a swimwear line and couldn’t keep his hands to his goddamn self. so, here you are in the back of his tinted black audi fogging up the windows.

he’s taken time to kiss from your nipples to your clit, spitting at your cunt for extra lube before sitting up and tugging down his jeans.

you moan, low and deep, fist clenching ,as he enters you. he begins to fuck into you, deep and on a mission to fuck you stupid.

and he does. his fingers are relentless against your clit, determined to make you shake with the help of his other hand keeping your hips in place.

“eren.. ohmygod so good ssso good so g-good” you quietly chant, eyes unfocusing a bit but still locking on his gaze.

“is it, baby?” he questions, smirking down at you in between loose strands of his hair.

“y-yessss.. ah- too good, too deep,” your praise changes after he uses his hand to lift you up and pull you towards him more, going deeper and knocking the fucking air out of your lungs.

you bring your hands up, desperately trying to push against his pelvis to slow him down. he just pulls his hand from your hips and moves yours up to his lips, kissing your knuckles before letting them fall back down. he knows you don’t have the strength to try again.

before he goes to help you maintain the arch, he pushes your thighs up and out a tiny bit despite the constricted space.

“fuck, how much tighter can you get princess?” he asks in awe, the repositioning having helped, “oh fuck, damn near choking me.”

you have him moaning, not groaning, moaning out in your ear.

it’s enough to drive fling you over the edge, passing up eye contact for rolling your eyes back and beginning to shake under his touch.

“eeereeeeeeennnnnn..” his name is long, breathy and drawn out from your lips, a beg for something unspecified.

he doesn’t falter in place despite the twitching of his cock, a silent signal of how close he is, not allowing you to come down from your high. by now you have no defense left and are a babbling, moaning mess under him, still cumming on his dick. eren cums, the two of you moaning so loudly you’re sure anyone walking past the car had to hear.

after a few slow strokes he pulls out, the plat plat of cum dripping onto his leather seats is audible over both of your harsh breathing. a string of cum breaks when his lower abdomen disconnects from your pelvis.

by the now, the last thing you were worried about was where the hell your panties were. no worries, 1/4th of twitter found them for you.

[jorvikzelda]

So. Star Stable's Spotify header.

I saw this on a little trip to SSO's Spotify page to see if they'd released any music without announcing it again and went hm. This looks kind of weird. I sure hope they haven't stooped so low as to use AI for their promo material. And then I looked closer.

First thing I noticed was the stirrups. Or, should I say... "stirrups".

Did they like... employ someone who doesn't know how tack works? What IS that? Also I'm only noticing this as I'm writing the post but why on earth does the boot not have proper laces or eyelets

And what the fuck are these weird straps on the saddle? And the guitar straps aren't attached to the guitar?? Actually... it can't be... but let me look at the hands. Just real quick

Uh. hm. that's not very hand. Are they fucking using AI

OH BOY.

The bit and the reins are... not properly attached to one another, just welded together. The noseband just disappears. The buckles at the top of the bridle don't really exist and the chin strap doesn't fit properly at all. The reins are double on one side, but not the other, and one or both of the reins on the far side almost look attached to the breast collar - or they're just being held a lot looser than the near side rein. Also, you need a very specific type of bit to use double reins, which is not the type of bit that's on this bridle. Or maybe the two weird straps are supposed to be a fucked up martingale, and that's why they're attached to the breast collar? But then why does the horse only have one rein? Also the martingale is attached wrong if that's what it's meant to be, see below (it's never attached directly to the bit). The breast collar is also attached to the underside of the saddle, rather than the saddle itself like it should be. The horse's front shoulder looks like it's drawn by someone who doesn't know very much about horse anatomy, or... y'know... AI.

The cart isn't fucking attached to the fucking horse. Poor guy is dragging that thing along with one singular back leg.

The keyboards all have the wrong number of black keys in the wrong places. And also those knobs do not look right. Oh, and something is DEFINITELY wrong with that drum kit.

And also just look at this fucking horse. Yeah, it's passable as a horse, but have you seen the quality of SSO's horses and horse art??? This isn't even anywhere CLOSE to that

So yeah uh, SSE used fucking AI art for their spotify banner. I feel like this is the greatest punch in the gut they could've possibly sent their laid-off artists' way. You cannot defend this.

[astro-eats]

Any reason why you ship Gangle x Zooble?

( i also ship them ) 🥺❤

TYSM FOR ASKING AHEM

1- They would just work together (I love the ship dynamic so much!!!)

2- They would comfort each other like when zooble hates themselves she would say cute stuff and tell them how amazing they are

3- Zooble would gladly kill Jax for her <3

4- they would stand up for her when she's too scared too

5- Both have fragile bodies so they could relate to eachother

6- I feel like zooble would have physical affection unless it was from her

7- They would hang out often and yap about their hatred for jax

8- yapper x listener?! <3

9- Cuties are my favorite characters <3 fav character x fav character hits different

10- They're so different from each other which is cuteee

11- I feel like Gangle would dream about them often :3

12- Its really funny imagining Gangle begging zooble to go on an adventure

13- Caine would pick up on their closeness and use it to his advantage (ex: Telling zooble if they went on the adventure they could pair with gangle)

14- Cute weeb probably obsessed with sanrio and cute things X punk baddie who never really thought about that stuff until they met her

15- Zooble would also probably think of her whenever they see any cute stuff

16- Gangle would help them find parts they like

17- zooble would help Gangle fix her mask often

18- date where they murder jax <3

19- Zooble would try their best to comfort Gangle

20- I feel like they would both have mood swings (Zooble wouldn't have them as bad as gangle tho duh)

21- Their ship name is literally abstragedy its meant to be

22- Zooble would try to protect her from jax

23- They're just drawn to each other cuz they're soulmates

24- I cant remember if this was a dream or not but gooseworx posted a photo of her liked posts and one of them was zooble and Gangle hugging?! (Don't take my word for it tho I have bad memory But im pretty sure it did happen)

25- "Gangles too shy to say anything about it.." HOW CAN YOU HEAR THAT AND NOT SEE THE LOVE IN THEIR DIFFERENTLY SIZED EYES?!

26- "What about zooble..?" Not her being the only one who cared? Not her loving them and wanting to marry them?

27- also her wanting to save them but kinger won lol imagine STOP ABSTRAGEDY COMMUNITY WOUKD BE GOING CRAZY IF GANGLE WON ROCK PAPER SCISSORS SOMEHOW AND SAVED THEM

28- The christmas promo where zooble gave her a new mask?!

29- Gangle probably is obsessed a little

30- Zooble makes her feel like shes cared about and that she matters <3

31- I want coleslaw

32- Zooble has a lot of knowledge about animes Gangle likes because she's a yapper like that probably

33- Uh not zooble putting their hands near their heart and looking more relaxed when they talk about her? The love is showing they can't even hide it

34- Gangles probably a scaredy cat so she would run to zooble when something scares her

35- Zooble would actually take time to get to know her which makes her feel loved

36- Zooble would be so confused and like idk about their own emotions because they've never felt this way for anyone else

37- Gangle would be very concerned about how they feel about stuff which no one has really cared about that before

38- They would hide their relationship from Jax to avoid getting teased and stuff

39- Gangle would be such an idiot around them when she first realized she liked them cuz she was nervous

40- zooble thought it was cute and silly when she did

41- Its true love you can't deny we all saw the look in their eyes when talking about Gangle and also the way they glanced at her while saying they aren't straight?! Why would they look at her while talking about their gayness IF THEY DIDNT LIKE HER?! @starspangledbatter Im pretty sure is the one who pointed that out <3

42- We might get more abstragedy crumbs as the show progresses hopefully

43- They've been in the same shot like 3 whole times :0

44- Ignore the fact they called her an idiot that's irrelevant

45- Wait imagine them calling her an idiot in an endearing way :0

46- I'm literally listening to an abstragedy playlist rn its just in my blood to love abstragedy (I do have to admit, in the first month I didn't ship abstragedy... I shipped ribbun..... BUT WE DONT TALK ABOUT THAT ANYMORE!!! IT WAS A PHASE!!)

47- I headcanon gangle going to zoobles room in the middle of the night when she can't sleep <3

48- Gangle would be a listener when she needs to be

49- Zooble would help her get out of bad situations

50- She would hug them like a snake

51- They would constantly glance at eachother then look away really fast before they started dating probably

Anywayssss this took way too long- But heres 50 abstragedy stuff!!!!

[sankttealeaf]

LET SLEEPING DOGS LIE

it's easier to never acknowledge the situation between them both. why let it burden them? why allow feelings and care to seep in when they will soon be seen as gods?

cracks start to form in the foundation of their alliance. it will destroy them.

or: a collection of interactions between bhaal and bane's chosen, leading directly up to their respective downfalls.

1. BEFORE | A CHILDHOOD SO SWEET

⤷ "I thought you might want to be friends." She remembers her manners and sticks her hand out for him to shake. "My name is Ruelle."

He considers it for a moment and takes her hand with caution. "Enver." 

2. A REQUEST OF ALLEGIANCE

⤷ Bhaal's Chosen and Bane's Chosen make contact for the first time.

3. "BHAAL'S BLOODY HISTORY"

⤷ The Hall of Wonders is wonderful place for a first date. Nothing draws people closer together than the sweet embrace of Bhaal!

4. REUNIONS AND NEW UNIONS

⤷ Past connections click into place like a puzzle Gortash has been missing pieces of for years.

5. A YEAR

⤷ A year passes by and the two fall into a routine with each other.

6. DOMESTICATING A BHAALSPAWN

⤷ Enver Gortash's guide on how to make a Bhaalspawn come crawling back to him every time!*

*He cannot be held responsible for any unwanted feelings that may arise. He would greatly appreciate any tips on how to combat these feelings.

7. THE FIRST REFUSAL

⤷ Her nature is not to be refused, yet Rumour finds it rather easy to do when it's Gortash asking for her not to kill for one night.

8. CONSEQUENCES

⤷ Actions have consequences only worsened by time.

9. THE DAWN OF A NEW ERA

⤷ The Gods deliver an important message that cannot be ignored.

10. THAT UNWANTED ANIMAL

⤷ An adjustment needs to be made between them to prevent them from breaking under the weight of the ever growing tension.

11. WHERE IRON MEETS FLESH

⤷ Advancements are made with personal projects and God-driven projects.

12. THE CHOSEN OF THE DEAD THREE: UNITED

⤷ The Chosen of the Dead Three meet in person. There's something hidden deep in the walls of Moonrise Towers.

13. TWO HANDS LONGING FOR EACH OTHERS WARMTH

⤷ Plans begin to form to start their journey to Godhood. Does it matter anymore when all she wants is to be by his side?

14. THE HEIST

⤷ Cania is quite lovely at this time of the year

15. KILL YOUR DARLINGS

⤷ Dreams can be read as warnings, depending on how one interprets them.

16. BEFORE THE STORM

⤷ Cracks start to form in the foundation of their alliance.

17. GODS OF THE NEW WORLD

⤷ Godhood awaits.

18. THE SURRENDER

⤷ She should've seen this betrayal coming.

19. THE BETRAYER

⤷ A betrayal so perfect, why would she feel guilty?

20. THE MOURNER

⤷ They promised each other they would never leave. So why is he alone now?

21. HAUNTED BY THE GHOST OF YOU

⤷ Gortash always knew, deep down, he would do this alone.

22. A LOYAL DOG WILL ALWAYS COME HOME

⤷ Returning to the city unlocks a wave of memories Rue is unsure she wants to relive.

23. ONE LAST TIME, PLEASE

⤷ Rue finds herself drawn back to Gortash, over and over again. He holds secrets and she wants to understand them all.

24. SWINGING BY MY NECK FROM THE FAMILY TREE

⤷ The daughters of Bhaal reunite.

25. CHANGE THE PROPHECY

⤷ It's hard to bring the dead back

26. IN THE DARKNESS I WILL MEET MY CREATOR

⤷ Death's cold embrace grasps Rue tightly. She's alone.

27. YOU BELIEVE ME LIKE A GOD, I BETRAY YOU LIKE A MAN

⤷ He’ll get her to understand it’s them against the world. It always has been.

28. AFTER | PICK IT ALL UP AND START AGAIN

⤷ Final goodbyes and a new beginning.

COMPLETED

finally dropping my durgetash fic links here. it's very self-indulgent but i feel like i should promo it more considering how much of a labour of love it is. featuring my durge, rue [tiefling wild magic sorcerer] (cool gifs of her can be found HERE i really should make more of them)

[pininghermit]

Dare I Desire- Promo

AN: This is a promo chapter for this series. Let me know if you guys would like to read more of it. Also this is my Ao3 fic that converted to second person.

Pairing: Adrian x Male Reader

Genre: Romance & Mystery

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5| Chapter 6|

The putrid stench of alcohol, vomit, blood, and urine makes you gag. The castle is piled with layers and layers of dust, with broken furniture hurled in every corner. Curtains are drawn, leaving little light despite the bright sun outside. Outside… outside is another nightmare, with a little graveyard filled with piked corpses.

Although you feel a mix of satisfaction and rage at the corpses that stand in front of the castle doors, you can't stop your delight. Not after all that you have witnessed. If it had been you, death would not have come so easy to those traitors. Hushing the snarling voice in your mind, you focus your attention on the present.

You train your eyes on the unmoving figure in the living room of the giant castle. How long has it been? How long have you been left to wither in this isolation? Stepping closer, you can see him now that darkness no longer cloaks him.

With quiet motions, you kneel down to the dhampir who lies unmoving, covered in his own vomit and blood. Blood has clotted, forming numerous scars on his arms. You spy older scars that make your fists clench in wrath. Uncaring of the filth surrounding you, you gently wipe the golden-haired man's face. Your hands tremble as you feel the cold skin under your fingers. The rightness of your bond goes futile with the situation you find your mate in.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, your heart begging for forgiveness. "Forgive me."

Your heart whispers to the unresponsive dhampir in your arms. Pushing away the matted hair, you truly look at his face, and the breath you don't need to live gets stuck in your throat. Your mate is magnificent, even in the state you have found him in.

Your mate, your mind whispers with a vicious possessiveness. "Ours," the voice snarls again, enraged at the scars. Yet, the voice gets no reply from you. With shaking hands, you continue weaving your fingers through the golden hair.

"Forgive me," you speak, your voice quivering. "Forgive me and let me make this right, please…" you whisper, a tear rolling down your cheek and landing on the pale face in your lap.

You would grovel and beg. You would do everything to make up for your delay and the pain it has caused your person. And so, with a smooth movement, you get up from your position, carrying your mate in your arms.

You have your work cut out for you.

[illfoandillfie]

Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is

Pairing: Rich Fuckboy!Ben Hardy x Fem!Reader

Summery:  An unexpected call from Ben results in an unexpected evening.

Warnings: Smut (18+), Rich kid dickishness, dom/sub dynamics, mostly dom ben and sub reader, but also a little round the other way, a fair bit of derogatory/degrading language (esp whore), edging, cockwarming, a little spanking, oral sex (m receiving), face fucking, piv sex, begging, bondage, forced orgasm. I think thats all.

Words: 12,890

A/N: Wasn't necessarily planning to write more of rich bitch Benny but then I saw some promo pics for his movie Love At First Sight and something in my brain booted up. This was written over a stupidly long time, literally months, so hopefully its okay lmao. Also please excuse any weird formatting. The way tumblr works, paragraphs can't be more than 4096 characters so some of the dialogue had to be broken up to make it postable.

Taglist: @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming@queenmylovely @ilovequeenmorethanyou @johndeaconshands @borhapbois @stardust-galaxies @cherries-n-rocknroll @rogersslave @scorpiogemini

“You get two questions.”  “Five,” Bianca countered.  “Two. I want to have a shower.”  “Fine.” She agreed, disgruntled. Bianca had ambushed you the second you got home, having stayed up waiting on the couch to hear all about your date with Ben. She’d listened patiently, laughing or nodding and squealing a little, as you told her about the restaurant he’d chosen and the club and ending up on the yacht. But when you’d admitted you had slept with him, she got so excited you were a little worried she’d forget to breathe. Bianca thought for a moment, choosing which of her questions were most worth asking, “Okay, one, was he good? Like did you get off?”  “Yeah, he was very good,” you smiled to yourself thinking about just how good he’d been, following all your orders.  Bianca seemed a little relieved that the exceptional lover she’d fantasised about so many times could live up to the image. “Was he into any weird kinks?”  You thought for a moment, contemplating how little you could get away with saying, “Nothing super unusual. But y’know that’s stuff you don’t necessarily bring out the first time.”  “Nothing kinky? Not even like some bondage or spitting or anything?”  “You asked me about weird! Yeah there was a little bondage. Spanking too.” 

"I knew it!” she said before the loudest squeal yet and you hurried to shush her before a neighbour complained.  “He was hung right? Please god tell me he was hung.”  “Thats more than two questions.”  “Fuck, c’mon Y/N. Just describe his dick for me. I've been trying to picture it for years, it’d be mean of you not to tell me.”  You laughed, enjoying teasing her but you felt a little bad for sleeping with her celebrity crush so held up your hands to demonstrate an approximate length, “Comparisons could be drawn to horses.”  Her eyes lit up like it was Christmas, “I knew it.”  “He wasn’t super thick but he was decently long. Nothing crazy but more than enough. Very slight curve.”  She’d closed her eyes and hummed as you described him, “It’s beautiful,” she said dreamily.  Laughing, you bid her goodnight, looking forward to showering and then heading to bed, but once more she stopped you.   “Wait, are you going to sell the story?”  “Oh, I can’t. He made me sign an NDA. I’ve probably said too much already so don’t go repeating it okay.”  “So that’s why no one ever spills too many details.”  “Yeah, must be.” You felt a little bad for lying but you really wanted to shower, and you knew she’d ask more questions if you admitted you didn’t want to tell anyone now. If the night had gone more to Ben’s plan, if you’d let him be in control, you wouldn’t have had any qualms about writing to a magazine with the big scoop. But he’d obviously cultivated a particular image in the public conscious, one that didn’t necessarily align with ideas of him as a willing, even eager, submissive. The thought of selling that story made you feel dirty in a way the other versions just wouldn’t. So, at the end of the night you’d promised to keep it a secret, even if that meant remaining poor. You’d gotten to domme The Benjamin Hardy after all, what more did you need.

As it happened, it wasn’t so much what you needed, but rather what Ben did. Around two weeks after your night together, you answered a call from a private number, hoping it wasn’t a scam caller. Your surprise at hearing Ben’s voice saying your name was rivalled only by his apparent surprise that he was calling.  “Um, what’s this about?” you felt entirely caught off guard.  “I- well, I guess I was wondering if you wanted to go out with me tonight?” It didn’t sound so much like he was asking you, as he was questioning his decision to call.  You laughed, stepping into your cupboard and pulling the door closed so you’d be less likely to be overheard. The darkness made everything feel more surreal than it already did, “You already bored of the airheads who just do what you say?”  He scoffed, his uncertainty falling away at the first opportunity to be a tosser, “No, actually, I’m looking for an easy shag. Most of my regular options are at this fashion thing this weekend but I knew you wouldn’t be invited.”  “Fashion event? Is that what they told you? They’re probably off trying for a different sugar daddy.”  “Good luck to them. They’ll all be back, but my cock’s hard now.”  You rolled your eyes, “C’mon Benny, you don’t have to lie to me. Just admit you liked what I did to you and want me to do it again.”  “I just liked your cunt.”  “You liked me threatening to peg you.”  He paused for a beat, “I like the idea of fucking your arse more.”  “Okay, this is cute,” you said, growing bored of his asshole attitude, “but I’ve got better things to do. Bye Ben.”  “Wait, don’t hang up.”   You let him hang in silence for a few seconds before saying, “I’m listening,” intrigued by the way the bravado had dropped from his voice.  “Would you like to get dinner with me?”  “Just dinner?”  “Yes. Your call if anything else happens.”  You hummed in thought, weighing up your options. On one hand, Bianca would freak out at even the smallest hint there was more than just a one-night stand between you and Ben. And you didn’t really feel like being paraded in front of cameras or his boorish friends again. But on the other, you’d clearly awoken something in Ben. To the point where he seemed willing to go out with you again, even without the promise of sex. And that was after just one night of being edged....imagine what you could do with more time. “Okay, dinner sounds nice. But not at that ridiculous place you took me last time.”  “You didn’t like it there?”  “It was nice, but the cameras are a bit of a buzzkill.”  “Well I can get us in anywhere else, but the paparazzi will find me wherever we go.”  “So then let me pick where we eat.”  “Do you have a standing reservation at any Michelin star restaurants?”  “No but they’re not the only places to eat in this city.” you only just managed not to call him an idiot.  “The only worthwhile ones. Michelin literally means delicious in French.”  “It’s a tire company Ben, it means jack shit. Just let me pick where we eat.”  “Fine, but only if I’m guaranteed a shag. A good one, that I get to control.”  “What happened to just dinner?”  “I think we both know just dinner wasn’t really going to happen. You liked my cock too much. But if I’m not allowed to choose where we go, you’re not allowed to dom me.”  “But isn’t that the entire reason you called?”  “Not the entire reason. I’ll have you know there were ulterior motives.”

As it happened, it wasn’t so much what you needed, but rather what Ben did. Around two weeks after your night together, you answered a call from a private number, hoping it wasn’t a scam caller. Your surprise at hearing Ben’s voice saying your name was rivalled only by his apparent surprise that he was calling.  “Um, what’s this about?” you felt entirely caught off guard.  “I- well, I guess I was wondering if you wanted to go out with me tonight?” It didn’t sound so much like he was asking you, as he was questioning his decision to call.  You laughed, stepping into your cupboard and pulling the door closed so you’d be less likely to be overheard. The darkness made everything feel more surreal than it already did, “You already bored of the airheads who just do what you say?”  He scoffed, his uncertainty falling away at the first opportunity to be a tosser, “No, actually, I’m looking for an easy shag. Most of my regular options are at this fashion thing this weekend but I knew you wouldn’t be invited.”  “Fashion event? Is that what they told you? They’re probably off trying for a different sugar daddy.”  “Good luck to them. They’ll all be back, but my cock’s hard now.”  You rolled your eyes, “C’mon Benny, you don’t have to lie to me. Just admit you liked what I did to you and want me to do it again.”  “I just liked your cunt.”  “You liked me threatening to peg you.”  He paused for a beat, “I like the idea of fucking your arse more.”  “Okay, this is cute,” you said, growing bored of his asshole attitude, “but I’ve got better things to do. Bye Ben.”  “Wait, don’t hang up.”   You let him hang in silence for a few seconds before saying, “I’m listening,” intrigued by the way the bravado had dropped from his voice.  “Would you like to get dinner with me?”  “Just dinner?”  “Yes. Your call if anything else happens.”  You hummed in thought, weighing up your options. On one hand, Bianca would freak out at even the smallest hint there was more than just a one-night stand between you and Ben. And you didn’t really feel like being paraded in front of cameras or his boorish friends again. But on the other, you’d clearly awoken something in Ben. To the point where he seemed willing to go out with you again, even without the promise of sex. And that was after just one night of being edged....imagine what you could do with more time. “Okay, dinner sounds nice. But not at that ridiculous place you took me last time.”  “You didn’t like it there?”  “It was nice, but the cameras are a bit of a buzzkill.”  “Well I can get us in anywhere else, but the paparazzi will find me wherever we go.”  “So then let me pick where we eat.”  “Do you have a standing reservation at any Michelin star restaurants?”  “No but they’re not the only places to eat in this city.” you only just managed not to call him an idiot.  “The only worthwhile ones. Michelin literally means delicious in French.”  “It’s a tire company Ben, it means jack shit. Just let me pick where we eat.”  “Fine, but only if I’m guaranteed a shag. A good one, that I get to control.”  “What happened to just dinner?”  “I think we both know just dinner wasn’t really going to happen. You liked my cock too much. But if I’m not allowed to choose where we go, you���re not allowed to dom me.”  “But isn’t that the entire reason you called?”  “Not the entire reason. I’ll have you know there were ulterior motives.”

By the time Ben pulled up you were waiting out on the street. You’d decided it was best to get out without Bianca finding out who you were going out with, just to minimize the questions and potential jealousy or excitement. You weren’t sure which direction her emotions would go in. So you’d twisted the truth a little to make it sound like Ben was a random guy you’d matched with on tinder. Bianca had been interested but not as overbearing as she might have been had she known, her questions more general ones about where you were going and how long you’d been messaging the guy. Ben seemed a little surprised when he saw you waitingbut got out and held the limo door open for you.   “Worried if I came up you’d forget yourself and just have to get my cock out?”  You snorted, “No, I just don’t want Bianca to know I’m going out with you again.”  “Bianca....why does that name sound familiar?”  “She’s my roommate. I mentioned her last time. She was with me when we met and you first asked me out.”  “Oh, right, the chick who puked.” Ben laughed, “You worried she’d be jealous? Should have invited her, she sounds easy and you know that’s my type.”  “Ben,” you said firmly, beginning to regret not just hanging up on him, “you know that sort of comment isn’t going to work on me, especially since you’re talking about my friend. Now either stop acting like such a prick, or I will go back upstairs and block your number. There is no one here who is going to be impressed by your bullshit.  “Sorry.” He said softly and surprisingly sincerely, “You look nice, by the way.”  “Sure you don’t want to tell me I should have dressed sluttier?” You waved a hand in front of yourself, indicating the dress you’d chosen. It was neither as short, nor as tight, as the dress you’d worn last time, falling to your knees, not clinging to your skin. The only vaguely revealing part of the dress was a little bit of cleavage on display and even that wasn’t much.   “No, it suits you. And you look lovely in it.”   You were a little suspicious but chose to accept the complement, thanking Ben before saying, “I did do as you asked though. No underwear.”  He tried not to look too pleased, “Can I see?”  “Not yet.”  “What if I promise to go down on you until we get to wherever you’re taking me – which is where by the way?”  You gave him the address and he passed it on to the driver.  “So?” he asked as the car began to move, “You know I know how to eat pussy.”  You rolled your eyes, though you felt that at least his tact included offering to pleasure you rather than just himself, “No. Not yet.”  “I thought you promised to be my whore,” he pouted. Ben still wasn’t used to not getting his way immediately, “My whores do what I say when I say it.”  “Well we both know that doesn’t work with me, does it baby,” you weren’t sure how far Ben would let you push him, but it was fun to test the waters. He made a low rumbly sound, almost a growl, and for a moment you wondered if he’d put his hand on your throat like last time, attempt to intimidate you into complying. Instead, he just nodded and subtly palmed the front of his pants.  “I know I let you maul me in this limo last time,” you felt confident enough that he wouldn’t try anything to continue, “but that was when I was trying to lull you into a false sense of domination. So we’re going to have dinner first and you’re going to be nice to me. And then, once we’re on the way to your place, that’s when I’ll let you take control.”  Ben was quiet for a moment, contemplating what you’d said. You could see his habitual tendencies to objectify every women he talked to were battling with his clear enjoyment of being bossed around, “Okay, deal. But you’ll be fucking in for it later.”

“Who’s house is this?” Ben asked as he offered you a hand out of the limo, the bag of food in his other. You leant back in to grab the bottle of champagne and the glasses, able to feel Ben ogling the hem of your dress as it rose up the back of your legs, “It’s not the house we’re here for, c’mon.” You led him around the corner and up a little alley that ran behind the houses. Ben scrunched up his nose a little, “Bit…dingy isn’t it. Not really the sort of place I want to eat. Quickie during a party is a different story though.” You ignored him, leading him further down the path until it opened out into a little garden which was surrounded by trees, making it feel removed from the outside world. Ben’s dissatisfaction with the alley turned into a bemused approval, “Well this is quite nice. You set it up yourself?” “No, the lights got put up for a Christmas party a few years back and they just left them up.” Ben looked around at the twinkling white solar lights draped throughout the tree branches, “Well it’s not what I was expecting but it’s nice. Cute. Little bit romantic even with the moonlight and all. Well done.” You laughed a little and took the bag from him as you sat down in the middle of a circle of stone pavers, pulling out the few dishes you’d ordered as well as some paper plates and bamboo cutlery. Ben watched you for a while until you told him to sit down. He warily crouched down, brushing leaf litter from a patch before he sat proper. When he caught your raised eyebrow he shrugged, “This suit is worth more than you make in a year. Not even the best cunt in the world could make me ruin it.” “You think I have the best cunt in the world? I’m flattered,” you continued dishing up the food, handing a plate to Ben. “That’s not what I meant. We’ll see after tonight though. If you behave and take me the way I want, you might be in the running.” You did your best to hide a smile, trying not to give away how amusing his comment was. That is, until he took it too far and your smile turned into an eye roll. “Although, to really be sure I’d have to have all the contenders lined up for me to test out one after another. Hmmm, now that’s a thought." You cleared your throat, hoping a gentle reminder would be enough but Ben remained lost in pornographically unrealistic fantasies, the outline of his cock much more visible than it had been a moment before. “Fork Ben?” you asked, tempted to poke him with the implement.” “You’ve gotten eager but alright.” This time you did poke him, just quickly in the shoulder, emphasising correct articulation as you repeated, “Fork.” “Ow, alright.” He took the cutlery from you, “you’re the one who was talking about cunts though. Can’t blame me for mishearing.” Before you could do more than huff in response Ben quickly said, “So, you gonna explain this place to me? Because I can tell you, if we’re caught trespassing here, we’ll definitely end up in the papers and that sort of publicity is much less fun than being seen at a nice restaurant.”

You shook your head as you settled back with your own plate, “No, we have permission to be here. Hows the food by the way?” “Incredible. Can’t believe I haven’t heard of them before.” “Well they don’t have any Michelin stars so maybe that’s why. And don’t you start telling your rich friends about it. I don’t want you ruining my favourite Thai place.” Ben laughed, “So when you say we have permission to be here what do you mean?” “Well, I grew up in this area actually. One street over, but I used to come to this spot a lot. It was designed to be a little community garden, there’s still some planters over along the fence, but mostly it gets used for street parties and things, so usually it was empty. I used to come here when I wanted to be alone. It seemed so secret and secluded and, I don’t know, kind of magical I guess. I mean, now I know it wasn’t quite as secret as I thought. The house that we’re behind can see directly between those two trees,” you pointed at them, “and the old couple who used to live there were friends with my parents, so they’d keep an eye on me. And then when I was a bit older I did some baby sitting for their daughter who eventually moved back into the house to look after her parents and who still lives there now since she inherited it.” “So she can see us? Didn’t know you were into exhibitionism.” “She’s overseas at the moment. But our families have kept in contact and when I said I had a date I wanted to bring here she said it’d be fine.” “Condemning silence about exhibitionism which I’ve definitely filed away. But this place is nice. A little dirty perhaps, but nice.” He had another mouthful and then said, “So, why exactly did you bring me here?” “Isn’t that obvious?” He hummed thoughtfully, “Because you’re a dirty girl who likes doing it outside? Because you didn’t want me to have home ground advantage? Because you don’t like the idea of other women having me and this way you get me all to yourself? Am I getting close?” “I wanted to see you away from the cameras and the fawning models and the arseholes you call friends. I wanted a nice, normal sort of a night where we weren’t going to end up on the front page of every gossip website. And I wanted to see if you were a prick even without an audience.” “Please, you like it” he scoffed teasingly, “And I don’t understand what you’ve got against having your photo taken. I told you last time that being seen is half the fun. I mean, don’t me wrong, this is nice too. Just a bit boring in comparison.” “Mmm, well I’m sure there’ll be plenty of articles speculating on where you were tonight since no one’s got a picture.” Ben perked up a little at the idea, “That’s a good point. Maybe a quiet night every so often isn’t a bad idea.”

For the next little while, as you finished your dinner, Ben oscillated between total sweetheart and utter dickhead, as though he were playing Double Dutch with the line between. You’d hoped that getting him on his own would discourage some of the behaviours he’d displayed last time you’d been with him. If he wasn’t around his idiot friends, he’d have no one to objectify women with. If you weren’t at a restaurant, none of his previous or prospective conquests could remind him of wild nights that he’d then tell you all about. If he couldn’t throw money around in order to buy your company for the night, he’d have to offer stimulating conversation and a genuine reason for your interest instead. But apparently it was not as cause and effect as you’d assumed and Ben still managed to do all the things you’d hoped to avoid. And if anything, being alone with him with no other women to distract made him even more intent on getting you out of your clothes. He suggested first that dinner would taste better eaten off your tits. And then when you tried to come up with a new topic of conversation, he decided to reminisce about a time he’d seduced a TV personality on the set of a cooking show after they’d both been judging it. And every time you took a sip of champagne he’d watch as if telepathically trying to get you drunk. The annoying thing was that in between he was absolutely delightful. You knew there was a decent man buried beneath the layers of wankery his affluent lifestyle had imbued him with. But it was only after he smiled charmingly, leaned in close, and suggested you give him a quick handy if you weren’t going to lift your skirt, that you grew fed up enough to voice the opinion you’d formed about his style of flirting. “Y’know, I thought you’d be better at it.” “Better at what?” he asked suspiciously, “I can assure you I’m incredible at it, you just need a proper demonstration.” “No not that. Flirting. I mean, that is what you’re trying to do isn’t it?” “Obviously,” he said, taken aback. “I guess you’ve never had to really try have you? You were blessed with looks and money. Probably never been turned down in your life, even when you should have been.” “What are you talking about? Don’t tell me you actually are as dumb as the rest of them. And here I was thinking fucking your brains out would be an actual accomplishment.” “No, I just….it’s not good flirting. You realise that right?” “What do you mean not good flirting? It works every time.” “No, I think it’s the money that works every time. Being rich means you can get away with a lot of other bullshit.” When he seemed likely to try and contradict you, you spoke over the top of him, “Listen, I know I can’t speak for every woman you hit on but I can tell you that if an average looking guy with an average amount of money tried to flirt the way you do, he would be shot down. Very, very quickly. For the most part women don’t want to be degraded by random guys they go out with. And they don’t want to hear about all your other conquests when you’re hitting on them.” “Well what would you know,” he said, crossing his arms in sullen defensiveness.

You turned up the condescension, “Aww baby, I get it. You’ve never had to learn how to keep a girl interested without buying her attention." Ben was still pouting but his expression had changed, less cocksure. “It’s okay baby, I’ll keep you in line.” Ben gave half a nod but then paused, “Hey, wait. Stop making me feel subby, I’m meant to be domming tonight.” You laughed at how he sounded almost like he was going to throw a tantrum, “but it’s so easy and fun.” “Well turning you into a fucked out cockslut will be fun too.” There was a short pause and then Ben, much more seriously said, “But you really think my flirting is bad?” “I hate to break it to you but, kinda yeah. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s not all bad. You just need some work. Sometimes you take things a bit far with the teasy banter.” “Like when?” “Hmmm well, just before when you were bragging about how expensive your suit is – which is pretty unsexy by the way – and then I countered with a joke about having the best cunt in the world. Personally I didn’t mind your come back about making me behave or whatever. It was a little crass maybe but not too much more than what I’d said, and since we both know I’m letting you take charge tonight it was a bit hot. But then you took it too far by inventing a scenario in which you would have the chance to compare me to other women. We went from hot to ick in a matter of seconds.” “I’m pretty sure I was implying that you would win.” “Didn’t really sound like it and absolutely not the point. How can I put it? When you talk to me like I’m a normal human being not something put in front of you for your sexual gratification, when we have a proper conversation with a little bit of banter, that’s fun and enjoyable and makes me want to sleep with you. But then you’ll tell me about some other woman you had sex with or you’ll make a derogatory comment about my friend, whom you’ve not even properly met, or you’ll act like you expect me to get my tits out as, I don’t know, decoration while you eat. Basically anything to imply that the only reason you’re even here with me is to have sex.” “But that was the agreement.” “I know. And I am totally fine with having a night out with the expectation it’ll end in sex. But it would be nice, and it would make me want to fuck you more, if you acted like getting laid wasn’t the only thing you care about. Especially because sometimes it’s like you don’t even care who you have sex with as long as you get off, like you have no interest in if I enjoy it, you just want to use me cause I'm there.” “And that’s bad?” “As a flirting technique yes.” “But it’s a complement? And I’ve been with loads of women who say being used is hot.” “Well it’s not the nicest complement ever. And I’m not saying it isn’t hot in some situations. But not everyone likes it and even women who do enjoy it don’t necessarily want it all the time or with someone they’ve never slept with before.” “Lighten up, it’s a bit of fun and I always get them off." “Yeah but you imply that you don’t care if they cum or not which makes you seem like a bit of an asshole. Plus sometimes it can come off a little rapey. Less like a ‘I don’t care if you cum’ and more of a ‘I don’t care if you actually want it’ type thing. I don’t think I need to tell you why that’s unattractive.” “I- no- how,” Ben spluttered before he finally managed, “I would never!” “I’m not saying you have and I’m not saying you would. But sometimes you can come off a bit like that, even if it’s well intentioned. Last time we went out you pinned me down in the back of your car, your hand on my throat, and told me I was going to do everything you wanted. You were practically a stranger, I didn’t know where we were, I had no quick way of leaving partly because we were in your car and partly because of the stupidly high shoes I was wearing. It was kind of threatening. I mean I know that wasn’t your intention but…” you trailed off letting Ben absorb what you’d said.

“I really didn’t realise that’s how I sounded, I’m sorry.” “It’s okay. I was never scared or anything, I didn’t think you would rape me. And I don’t say this to accuse you of something or to be mean. I’m just sick of some of the things you’ve been saying, and I think you deserve to know that what you think is cheeky flirting can come across differently to the women you’re flirting with. "Um, well, thanks I guess. ‘Spose it is better for me to know. Don’t want to get cancelled or whatever, father would kill me. So, do you want me to take you home now?” “What? No, not at all.” “I don’t want you to think you have to sleep with me. If you want to end tonight early, I’m okay with that.” “Oh, baby, no, that’s not what I want. I came here knowing I’d end up in your bed and I think we can still have fun. Besides, I’m still eating.” “Are you sure? Wouldn’t think you’d still be up for it after everything you said.” “To tell the truth I'd really love to dom you now. Punish you for some of the gross bullshit you’ve said, put you in your place again. But we made a deal and I’m very happy to hold to it.” “Really? I think you killed my boner.” You giggled, “Well if you don’t want to, we can just finish dinner and you can drop me home. But I think I can get you back up.” Ben eyed you suspiciously, “How?” “I train you to behave better.” He shifted surreptitiously but didn’t say anything. “We stay here, finish dinner, finish his bottle of champagne, talk for a bit. But every time you say something I would consider bad flirting technique, I will do something to remind you to be better. Pull your hair, maybe edge you, whatever will get the message across.” “I guess that could be fun.” Ben said, trying to sound as if he didn’t mind and failing, “Not really the deal we made though.” You laughed, “Are you telling me that wouldn’t make you want revenge? Being edged and teased when you were meant to be in charge. Wouldn’t that rile you up. Make you want to turn the tables, show me who’s boss. I mean, all your cocky dom behaviour is what got me wanting to tie you up last time, but maybe it doesn’t work like that for you.” “Oh! I hadn’t thought of it like that.” “Because you like when I tell you what to do.” “No. Well maybe a bit. But mostly because I feel bad and thought I should just do what you want so you’d know I wouldn’t, like, hurt you or whatever. I mean, I would have expected another night for you to make it up to me but…” “It is tempting but I’ll admit I might have some ulterior motives for letting you dom me,” you leaned closer to Ben as if you were about to reveal a big secret, “You can learn a lot about how to control a guy by letting him control you. So I’m happy to let you do virtually anything you want to me. With a few exceptions.” “What sort of exceptions?” “I don’t mind anal play,” you dropped into a more serious tone rather than the sultry one you’d slipped into, “but I haven’t done any prep for it so none of it tonight please. Also, I would prefer any marks left are in easy to hide places. Concealer can be bloody expensive and I don’t want to waste any on whatever hickeys and bruises you want to leave. And I’m not super into choking. I don’t mind a hand on my neck but no squeezing if possible.” Ben hummed, “But everything else is on the cards? Mouth and cunt? Spanking? Hair pulling? Tying you up?” “Mmhmm. Whatever you want. As soon as we’re back in that car of yours. Of course, if you’re feeling all subby then that could be what you want.” A low rumble emanated from Ben’s throat as if he were growling and it made you intrigued and a little wet. But you did your best to play it cool, “See, looks like we’re fixing your boner already.”

Fortunately for you, it seemed to take Ben a little while to grasp just what you considered inappropriate flirting. At first you kept your reminders small, giving him firm taps and small pinches, maybe cutting him off to tell him to try again. But, when the lessons didn’t seem to be sticking, you ramped it up a little. By the time you were finished with the food and had moved on to finishing the champagne, he once again tried to describe a night he’d spent with another women, going into unnecessary detail about her figure in less than polite terms. You let him talk as you undid his zip and reached into his pants. Ben hummed as your fingers stroked along his already semi hard length, easily pulled free since he’d not worn underwear either, “Your gonna try and outdo her now are you?” he asked, seemingly having forgotten your threats, “Hope you know how to suck properly cause she was an expert.” You didn’t respond, just kept focused on the handjob as Ben went back to describing what the young woman had done to him. His voice became strained as he got more excited, his cock well and truly hard within your grasp, beads of precum at his tip. “Why’d you stop?” he groaned when you removed your hand before he could finish. “I told you I’d edge you.” “I thought you were bluffing,” he admitted, his face flushed. “Oh I never joke about edging baby. Especially when I’m using it to correct bad behaviour.” “What’s to stop me just finishing myself off?” “Well then you obviously wouldn’t need me at all tonight.” Ben’s hand hovered over his cock for a moment before he moved it aside. “Good boy. Now tell me more about that art show you mentioned. Did you say there was an auction?”

“Um, yeah.” He blinked like he was trying to get his brain to switch thought, “Father thinks I should be seen at fundraisers and charity events more than at clubs and restaurants so I mostly went to keep him off my back. It was mostly pretty boring but I ended up winning this stunning painting, only good piece of the night. Very detailed nude. The tits on her, phwoar. I even met the model who posed for it. Wanted to com-” Ben cut himself off as you began wanking him again. “Sorry.” “Thank you for apologising baby,” you sped your hand up, figuring since he’d caught himself before he said anything really bad you wouldn’t draw this one out. “You can stop, I didn’t say anything.” “Aww baby, I still have to edge you. Otherwise you’ll never learn.” Ben swore when you did release him, his breath heavy as he said, “That wasn’t fair. I wasn’t even going to say anything bad. Besides your tits are better. Not as big but I’ve touched both and yours are better. No, no, please.” “You can come up with a better complement than that.” You sighed, as if edging him was a chore you didn’t enjoy. “Fucking bitch. I know this is just cause I’ve got the best cock you’ve ever had and you wanted an excuse to touch it.” “Amazingly, that’s worse. And it’ll cost you another three edges. One for calling me a bitch. One for being so far up your own ass you think I couldn’t possibly have had better. And one because I know you’re enjoying this and that’s why you keep saying the douchiest shit.” You pulled your hand away, “Thats one.” Ben whined when you started on the next, the break between only short. “Don’t cum,” you reminded him, “it will not stop me, I’ll just overstimulate you instead. Maybe then you’ll really learn your lesson.” “Please, please, close,” Ben managed to whimper, and you pulled your hand away again to reward him. Ben whined and pounded his fist against the ground once, but he managed to keep whatever thoughts he was having to himself. He was clearly learning. “Just one more, okay baby?” Ben nodded, leaning back on his elbows. His cockhead was dark and precum dripped down his shaft. He wouldn’t last if you began another edge too soon so you decided to toy with him in other ways while you waited. Pushing yourself to your knees, you gathered the hem of your dress in your fists and slowly began to raise it. “Wasn’t sure I believed you,” Ben said, not quite managing to sound as cocky as he had before the edges but making a valiant attempt “Good to know you can follow instructions.” He reached a hand out as if to touch your naked pussy but you tutted and grabbed his wrist. “Not yet, baby.” you shuffled closer, keeping the front of your dress lifted as you placed a knee on either side of his legs. “Now edge yourself for me.” Ben groaned with longing as he looked at your cunt, but then he switched to glaring at you as he did as you’d said, slowly working his hand along his shaft, aided by precum and a little of his own spit. You’d been fully prepared to rub yourself along his cock or even against his thigh if he’d made a fuss, but he hadn’t even tried to argue. He was clearly planning your demise, if his expression was anything to go by, but you had expected that and only minded in so much as you were missing out on the subby little face he made when you’d had him last and he’d given in completely. But you let him go, occasionally instructing him, but mostly just watching his reactions, seeing if you could pick when he was close. It didn’t take long for him to get there, whining as he pulled his hand back. “Good boy,” you let your dress drop again, leaning forward to carefully tuck his leaking cock back into his pants, hoping that just your touch wouldn’t set him off.

Settling back onto the rug you continued the conversation as if nothing had happened, sipping at your champagne. Ben drank his a little faster, still staring daggers at you from over the rim of his glass, even when responding to you. But he seemed to have learnt his lesson. Once or twice he started to say something but cut himself off and changed tact, and you ended up having a genuinely pleasant chat. He was still flirty, still explicit about how much he wanted to fuck you, just less obnoxious about it. You didn’t have to hear about any more of his previous sexual escapades at any rate, and he was attentive enough to make you feel like sex was only most of what he cared about. Finally, you decided to put him out of his misery and see what he had in store for you.  “Bottles empty."  “I’ve got more back at the hotel” Ben said, catching on instantly – the bottle had been empty for a little while.   “Perfect,” you smiled and let him help you to your feet, collecting the rubbish in the bag from the Thai place and dropping it into a bin out on the street as he hurried you back to the car. The driver stubbed out a cigarette on the road when he saw you approaching and was holding the door open by the time you reached him. 

You were barely inside when Ben put his hand on your knees, pushing your legs open. “Already?” you asked, breath hitching as he exposed you. “Are you kidding? After what you did tonight, you think I’d wait?” he leaned in closer, one hand sliding up your thigh as the other remained firm on your knee so you couldn’t close your legs again, “After last time you really think I wouldn’t be itching to get my hands on you? You got something no one else has had and I’m so fucking annoyed that I liked it. I went home so pissed off after we docked because I know that you could have me on my knees, at your beck and call, in an instant. And I can’t have you out there bragging about it, telling anyone else, or I’m ruined. Especially because I also love domming sluts. Now, we did your quiet little dinner thing, I listened to you criticise me and imply I don’t satisfy my women. And then, as if that wasn’t enough, I let you have some fun at my expense. You were obviously so desperate to get my cock out that you had to make up an excuse to touch me,” his fingers stroked against your cunt and he smirked as if your wetness was proving him right, “but that’s okay. I like my whores desperate.” You wanted to interrupt him, to tell him that he was wrong, or better yet to steal control from him again, but as soon as you opened your mouth his palm was covering it. “Shhh no, it’s my turn to talk. I think it’s time for you to have a lesson, a hard lesson, in what it means to be my whore. That was our deal anyway. So you’re going to be quiet and do what I want. Nod if you consent.” You decided you must have got through to him at least a little bit since he was now trying to make consent clear, it was a far cry from when he’d last had you pinned down in his limo anyway, and you had agreed to it beforehand. So you nodded. “You’re going to be an eager and willing slut for me aren’t you?” You nodded but it wasn’t enough for Ben who moved his hand away and ordered “repeat what you are.” “You’re eager and willing slut. Sir.” “That’s what I like to hear. And you will enjoy everything I do to you. That’s not a threat, that’s a promise. Now show me your cunt again.” He sat back and you readjusted yourself in the seat, hitching your dress up as you spread your legs wider. Ben hummed in appreciation, “Touch yourself for me.” You swallowed thickly and did as he asked, stroking your fingers over your lips, already a little wet from teasing him. But Ben expected more, “Do it properly. You know how big I am, get yourself ready so I can fit.”

It made you want to roll your eyes but you resisted the urge, ready to play along like you’d promised. Instead, you kept eye contact with him as you stuck your fingers in your mouth, slicking them up with saliva before moving them back down to your cunt. On another day you might have been able to use the position to your advantage, make him so eager for you with your display that you could take charge before he realised what was happening. You were certain that if you’d made Ben watch you fingering yourself last time he would have turned submissive before you even made it onto the yacht. But he seemed determined to give you a taste of your own medicine today. He made a pleased sound and just watched. There was definitely a tension to him – something in the way he sat back from you and how his hand rested on the edge of the seat as if he were about to dig his fingers into the soft leather to keep from giving in – but he kept up the appearance of nonchalance. Which made you less sure of your assessment, and more worried about what he had in store for you. By the time you were adding a third finger, you felt very flustered and warm. Ben hadn’t looked away once. He’d relaxed more, content with watching despite how he was straining against the fabric of his pants. He’d made a couple of comments to either instruct you more specifically, or to gloat about how following orders suited you. “You like to play at taking charge, but we both know you want a man like me to control you.” You shook your head but your defiance was undercut by a whine. Ben just laughed, “you’re cunt agrees with me. I can see how wet you are. I can hear it. Don’t think you’re wet enough to handle my cock yet though. Guess I should give you a hand.” He’d been slowly rolling up his sleeve as he spoke but once it was up he quickly moved to take over. His body boxed you in against the seat and he pulled your fingers free, replacing them with his own. You half expected him to reach for your throat like last time but he didn’t. He did however shove three large fingers into your cunt, making you whine a little at the extra stretch of them. “Knew you needed help,” he smirked as he began fingering you relentlessly, his movements shallow and fast but reaching deeper. After a few rapid strokes he added in a little curl of his fingers against your front wall and you moaned suddenly. The look Ben gave you was his most insufferable yet, entirely too pleased with himself, but there wasn’t much you could do since he was making you feel so good.

Entirely too quickly he stopped and you looked around confused, wondering if you’d arrived already.  Ben didn’t answer, more concerned with getting his pants undone and pushing them down.   You were about to suggest that maybe he was the desperate one when he sat down and beckoned you over.   “You wanted it so bad, whore, here you go.” When you didn’t move straight away he clicked his fingers, “I know it's a monster but your cunt can take it. C’mon.”  You moved closer and Ben grabbed your hips, manhandling you onto his lap, groaning as you sank down he shaft.  Your back was to Ben, so you braced your hands on his knees, assuming you were meant to ride him. But he stopped you, wrapping an arm around you to keep you still, “no don’t move. You can warm me for a bit while I explain the trouble you’re in.”  You squirmed, not out of a strong desire to exhaust yourself riding him, more to show he wouldn’t have it too easy, even if you had agreed to submit. Ben’s grip remained tight but his other hand did slip down to your pussy, his fingers finding your clit with surprising ease and rubbing it lightly. Not firm enough to get you very far but enough to make you want more.   “You’re going to get a taste of your own medicine. I’m going to make you wait, and I’m going to make you beg, and I’m going to have you as much as I can tonight. And maybe again in the morning if you’re lucky.”  “How do you know I’ll beg?”  “Well if you don’t that’ll be your problem. Because you won’t be cumming until you do. But, see, I’ll get off as much as I want. Your little edging game means that even just being in you has me close already. It gave me some ideas too.” That was when he started rubbing your clit properly, his fingertips pressing against it, pulling you closer to the edge.   You knew it wouldn’t last, that he’d stop before you got anywhere near orgasm, but that didn’t change how disappointing it was when he did. Especially because you involuntarily clenched around his cock at the sudden lack of stimulation, and heard Ben groan in your ear.  “God you feel good when I deny you,” he said as he started again.   You quickly lost track of how many edges you had and how long you’d been in the car.   Ben hadn’t had the satisfaction of hearing you beg, but he’d made you whine and whimper. And he’d had more actual satisfaction than you, managing an orgasm just from the wet warmth of you tightening around him a few times. He’d gone rigid for a moment as he reached his release but then he’d recovered himself and gone right back to edging you. You’d tried to clench around him more intentionally, hoping to overstimulate him a little, but if he felt much he didn’t let on. Which meant that by the time he pushed you from his lap you could feel a combination of his cum and your slick on your thighs and dripping from your cunt.   The car pulled up as Ben said, “Clean yourself up,” tossing you a few tissues from a pocket inside his suit jacket, “Can’t have you dripping through the foyer.”  That felt more humiliating than anything else he’d done or said, especially because of how horny and wet you were, but Ben didn’t seem to notice as he tucked himself away again and smoothed out his suit.   Once you’d straightened yourself up as much as you could in the confines of the limo, Ben helped you out, once again acting the gentleman as he offered you his arm.

You tried to act as normal as possible as you walked through the foyer of what was obviously a five star hotel, an ambitious goal considering what had happened on the drive there and how fancy the place seemed.  "Do you live here?” you asked, hoping that having a conversation to focus on would help with the image you were attempting to cultivate.   Ben shook his head as you approached the lifts, “No, I have a house. Father bought it for me when I turned 18. He thought it would do me good to live on my own or something. But I never take the women I fuck there.”  You blinked, surprised, “why not?”  “If I was dating them it would be different, and in fact one of my exes did move in there with me for a while. But one night stands don’t get to see where I live. I permanently keep the penthouse suite here for getting my dick wet. That’s how you know you’re one of my whores.” He didn't give you a chance to respond, pulling you into a demanding kiss, his hands roaming over your arse until the elevator dinged at his floor.  

It was a short walk to his door and Ben already had the keycard out by the time you reached it, clearly eager for more. He took just enough time to place a do not disturb hanger on the door handle before he pushed you to your knees right there in the entry way. When you looked up he was working on unbuckling his pants again, his cock already hard as he pulled it out, his quick refractory time a result of the edges, or so you assumed.   “I’m sure you’ve got some little plan to get on top going on in your head right now, Y/N,” he said as he worked on his pants, “But I assure you it won’t be happening tonight, so I think a little test is in order. You need to prove you can submit before you go any further.”  You nodded meekly, already horny and resigned to your fate.   “Well go on, suck.”  You shuffled forward, feeling Ben’s large fingers twisting softly in your hair to guide you. Bracing yourself for his fist to tighten or for him to force you down his shaft, you pressed your lips to his tip. But he defied your expectations, his hands leaving you altogether once he had you in place. It was strange but you didn’t complain, focusing instead on his cock.  Ben sighed in pleasure as you brought a spit wet palm up to stroke his shaft, your mouth busy becoming acquainted with his tip, but otherwise he made little acknowledgement of your actions. Instead he preoccupied himself getting undressed.   You felt more than saw him shimmy out of his jacket, flinging it unceremoniously to the floor behind him. Next came the sound of his wristwatch being placed, much more carefully, on the hall stand beside you. A moment later his cufflinks joined it. When he took off his dress shirt you had to pause your bobbing, letting him fall from your lips as you pulled back to watch. He did have a very nice chest, you remembered that from last time, and you were sure he’d take your looking as a complement.   Ben flashed you a pleased look as he noticed you, allowing you to watch as he slipped the shirt from his arms and dropped it to the floor, but once it was off he considered the show over. His fist was once again in your hair, this time much more forcefully tugging you back towards his cock.   “I didn’t tell you to stop.” he drawled as you got your lips around his tip and felt his palm pushing you further down his length.   You managed okay to start but without being able to control your pace as much you couldn’t keep from gagging as you took Ben deeper.   Ben hummed, clearly satisfied with the sound, his hand loosening a little as a reward.   You took the hint and found a rhythm that pleased him, working yourself up and down his shaft, your hand stroking whatever wasn’t in your mouth. You gagged a few more times as you pushed yourself further, but Ben definitely enjoyed it when you did.  All of a sudden he stopped you, both hands in your hair to keep you from moving.   “I think you’re ready now, hands off.”  You had no idea what he thought you were ready for but you did as he said, partly because you wanted to prove him wrong about your ability to follow orders, but mostly because you were very turned on and wanted to hurry up and get to the bit where he’d fuck you for real. The thought was distracting enough that you were caught off guard as he pressed his hips forward, pushing more of his cock than you were ready for towards your throat. You gagged again and Ben groaned. 

“Good girl, just take it.” He said grunted as he thrust into your mouth again, and then again, not worrying about going slow.  Your hair was tangled tight in his fingers, keeping you from moving too far from where he wanted you. Instinct made you try to lean back a little but aside from Ben’s grip, you were too close to the door to get very far. You heard Ben’s knuckles bump against it, the solid wood an intimidating barrier behind you that made it clear you had little choice but to do as Ben wanted. You assumed that if you’d tapped out, Ben would have let you, but you didn’t want to. Ben had been right when he’d said it was hot to be used. You were already very wet but your pussy ached as he fucked your mouth, denying you what you really wanted so he could take what would satisfy him. Each shift of his hips made indecent wet sounds as saliva built up and dripped onto your chin and he pulled more gags from your throat. Tears pooled in your eyes but Ben didn’t seem to care. He kept up fucking you for longer than you might have expected if you’d been able to think clearly enough to guess. Especially with how turned on he must have been, just based on the groans and moans he made as he used you. But finally Ben seemed to reach a limit of just how much pleasure he could withstand. His hips sped up, and he grunted each word on a new thrust as he said, “Gonna fucking cum. You better fucking swallow.”  You blinked more tears from your eyes which Ben took as compliance with his wants as he got himself off, rutting against your tongue until he stopped, keeping you pinned between his hips and the door as he filled your mouth with cum. Ben pulled out quickly which you were thankful for. You’d been able to steal breaths throughout the blowjob but had unwittingly held your breath as he finished, and were eager to be free. He took half a step back, hands rising to his hips as he stared you down, daring you to recoil at the taste of his cum or worse still to spit it out. Between heavy breaths through your nose your swallowed, fighting the urge to wipe your eyes or face.  “Good girl,” Ben cooed as if he’d expected a brattier display, “I knew that fem dom shit was just a cry for attention. This was what you really wanted all along.”  You shook your head so that you could at least say you tried to disagree, but Ben was more concerned with tucking his cock away again and missed the display of defiance altogether. Once he was sorted he helped you up, taking a moment to examine your face before dragging his thumbs under your eyes to clear up the mascara that had transferred there.  “Pointless,” he muttered softly when he realised he was mostly just spreading the mascara around, “I’m sure it wont be the last you cry tonight. Unless of course you want to admit you’re nothing more than a desperate whore and beg for my cock.”  “I’m not begging,” you frowned, sure he’d be quicker to give in once he got close to your pussy.   Ben just smiled, “You will. For now I want you on the bed.”  You made to move down the hall but he stopped you before you made it more than a step.   “Wait. There’s a rule I have. Whores aren’t allowed to wear clothes past this point. I might make an exception for nice lingerie but not tonight. Not for you.” He didn’t even give you the satisfaction of stripping for him, pulling the zip of your dress down and tugging on your dress until it slipped down to join the mess of discarded menswear on the floor, quickly followed by your bra. “Mmmm,” he hummed as his eyes raked over your naked body, “Perfect. Bed, now.” A spank landed on your arse cheek and you hurried ahead of him, able to feel Ben’s eyes on your arse for the whole length of the corridor.  

The upside of being on the bed before Ben had even entered the room was that you had ample time to admire how good he looked without a shirt. You openly ogled him as he moved to the cupboard, taking a moment to dig something out, though his delicious back was blocking your view of what it was. Although your preoccupation with his naked chest also meant you weren’t as observant as you might otherwise have been. You were too distracted to notice him tuck something into his pocket, and you entirely missed it when he began speaking, only realising when he seemed to address you.  “-only fair I get to do the same to you, right?”  You blinked, knowing you’d missed something but not wanting to let on because you knew he’d be a dick about it.   As it was he raised his eyebrows and prompted you to respond, “Well? It’s a simple question. You’re not normally this ditzy, did sucking me off make you too horny to think?”  You shook your head, “No Sir, I thought it was rhetorical.”   For a moment you weren’t sure your gambit had worked but then Ben laughed, “Almost a shame you’re not so cockdumb yet. But maybe you’re right,” Ben strode around to the top right corner of the bed, squatting slightly to pull something from under the mattress, “My expectation was that you’d agree.” He grabbed your wrist and tugged it back, fitting a black loop around it.   As he tightened the restraint you realised what he’d been talking about. That this was pay back for when you’d tied him to the yacht’s bed. He’d been eager for it then, practically walked you through tying sailor worthy knots with the rope, but you couldn’t blame him for wanting to see you bound to his bed in the same way. So you just wriggled yourself into a little more comfort as he rounded the bed and restrained your other wrist too.   “Now what are you going to do to me?” you pouted at him coyly, feeling a little like you were poking a bear.   “I already told you.” he said, kneeling on the end of the bed, “I’m going to make you beg.”  That was when he revealed what he’d taken from his cupboard and tucked into his pocket. The vibrator wasn’t huge but it was powerful, making you jolt as he pressed it to your clit.  You squirmed but the wrist cuffs kept you from being able to move too far from its buzzing and you couldn’t help but moan as your long denied orgasm built.   Ben quickly stopped the toy, replacing it with his fingers, dragging them through the wetness between your lips, “Go on whore, tell me you want my cock in this needy cunt.”  You shook your head, biting your lip to keep from moaning again as his fingers entered you easily. He thrust them in and out of you a few times before bringing the vibrator back to your clit. Whenever Ben sensed you were getting close he’d stop touching you entirely. Sometimes even before you were close, preferring to hedge his bets and stop early rather than risk giving you the orgasm. It would undercut his dominance if you came earlier than he wanted, even if he ruined it. So he was careful with how he edged you. He alternated between his fingers and the vibe. When he felt you were enjoying yourself too much he’d intentionally ignore your clit. You’d be left with three of his fingers pumping into you, hearing Ben make pleased little hums when he found spots within you that made you whine or gasp. When that didn’t seem to be enough to make you give in he upped the ante, pressing the tip of the vibrator into you. It didn’t stretch you as much as his fingers (or his cock) did, but the patterns of vibrations when he turned it on made up for what it lacked in size.

While you’d already decided you’d let Ben have it his way, part of you still wanted him to have to work for it. Unfortunately, any ideas you had about withstanding his onslaught went out the door very quickly. You were way too worked up to hold out and the combination of his fingers and the toy he was fucking into your cunt had you begging in only a few short moments. At your first, “please Sir,” Ben laughed. “Embarrassing how easy that was,” he smirked, “I expected more but I guess you really are just one of my whores.” You whined as he removed the vibrator and his fingers, worried the edging would continue all night. “S’pose it’s about time I fuck you properly. Lord knows im stiff for it.” You watched as he undid his zip and finally removed his pants, his cock semi hard again, and you couldn’t keep yourself from begging again. “Only one question left. How should I do it? Flip you over and take you from behind?” He wrapped his fist around his cock and you whimpered as he stroked himself harder, “Make you ride me? I know how much you like being on top. Think I like the idea of seeing you under me too much for that. This time anyway. No, I know what I want.” His breath came a little harder as he moved onto the bed, cock still in hand as he pushed your legs open again. “I want you to watch me while I fuck you. I want you right where you are, tied up, incapable of dominating me. You’ll soon see how much you like it.” As he spoke he pressed against your hole, teasing you one final time before he finally gave you what you wanted. His cock slipped in easily, and Ben’s groan was nearly as loud as yours. At another time, with free hands and a clearer mind, you might have enjoyed that more, knowing Ben was as desperate as you were. But after so much edging and teasing, you could only focus on how good and full you felt. Ben’s eagerness extended beyond just sounds of delight too. Any plans he might have had to draw it out, go slow and deep to torment you more, went out the window as soon as he felt you clench around his shaft. His hips jolted forward, cock sinking into your audibly wet cunt, and he couldn’t help but do it again and again, falling into a rapid rhythm. Barely half his length made it in you, his thrusts too rapid to allow him to get much deeper, but it didn’t matter. The feeling of him dragging against your walls would have been enough, but Ben also added a thumb to your clit. He rubbed you messily, more concerned with how it felt to be inside you, but you didn’t need much stimulation to get close again. “Cum,” he said simply when you moaned about how good he felt. He fucked you through the first orgasm, praising you for being such a good whore, not even relenting when you were panting, no longer arching under him. “You’re going to cum again, sweetheart” he ordered, pounding into you with a particularly hard thrust that made your head spin. A slight breathlessness was the only sign he was at all worked up, which just added to his control, and all you could do was nod in agreement, sure you would cum as many times as he wanted no matter how hard it became. Ben chuckled, clearly pleased with how fucked out and compliant you were, but focused his energy into fucking you rather than any banter. You squirmed a little more, a touch sensitive after your first orgasm, but not uncomfortably so, and your second came up quickly too, your body eager for release after being denied it for so long. Ben didn’t last much longer either, the feeling of your cunt tightening round his cock again enough to undo him. He groaned more and more as he got closer, finally pressing himself as deep as you could take him as he hit his release with a satisfied moan.

Ben collapsed on top of you, his weight pressing you comfortingly into the mattress as his lips found your neck. He was breathing harder now, the puffs of warmth tickling your skin.   You groaned as you tried to shift under him, your thighs aching from being spread open, but you found you couldn’t close them since Ben was still filling you.   “Uh uh uh,” he tutted into your skin, “Didn’t say you could shut your legs.” He pushed himself back up, leaning back to look at himself disappearing into you, “You look good like this.”  You shivered as he ran a finger around where you were stretched around his length, your wrists jolting in the bonds.   Ben remained thoughtfully silent for a moment, absentmindedly touching your pussy and your thighs, as he took in your dishevelled and restrained appearance.   “I think I want to see you cum again.”   “Again?” you whimpered, partly from his touch and partly from his tone.  He answered by reaching for the vibrator again, pressing it to your clit and holding it there until he’d forced a third orgasm from you, just because he could.  It was good but a lot, your body more sensitive now, and unable to move as freely as you’d have liked. There was no escaping the stimulation, no shifting your hips to change the angle of the vibrations or to spread them over more of your cunt than just your clit. You had to take it the way Ben wanted you to, the vibrators setting higher than you would have chosen, pressed firmly in place until your toes curled and your thighs shook.   Ben pulled out as you neared the climax, so that when you came he could watch his own release dribble onto the sheets, grinning cockily at the sight.  When he was finally satisfied, he turned the toy off and let you collapse, chuckling as he leaned over to free you from the restraints. Gently he rubbed your wrists, making sure you were okay as you gathered your senses.   “What was it you said about me not caring if my whores get off?” he asked, flopping on top of you again.  You wanted to come back with something clever but your brain was still too hazy to manage anything more than, “Oh shut up.”  “You beg real fucking pretty by the way. It’s obvious I’m the best you’ve had.”   You rolled your eyes at his smirking, the insufferable way he was speaking reigniting your desire to put him in his place, “Keep being such an ass and I’ll have to pick out a toy to use on you.” You squeaked as Ben cut you off, grabbing your cheeks so your lips were pushed into a pout.  “No. Eager and willing sluts don’t threaten their Sir’s. While you’re here, you’re mine,” his hand covered your cunt possessively, “I’m going to want you again tonight and I expect you to keep being the good girl I know you secretly love being.”  You swallowed thickly, nodding in his grasp.  Ben let you go and, as if to soften his words or placate you, added, “But maybe tomorrow I’ll let you tell me some of your silly ideas, see if you can convince me they’re more fun than fucking my new toy brainless.” 

[iinryer]

ama: what're your fav and least fav character and pairings to draw and why? what's an idea you've wanted to make but haven't, and what's stopped you? what's your fav piece(s) of your art that you want to share (self-promo!!)

favorite character to draw: karen 🥰

favorite pair to draw: nancy & marjan and also buck & eddie!

least favorite character to draw: eddie i love you but your face eludes me

I don’t think i have a least favorite pair to draw? i probably would simply not draw them lol

unmade idea: i have SOOO many song comics that ive never made simply because they take so long and i dont always have the drawing stamina left over after doing other work 😭 the one i started thumbnailing out in my sketchbook that i still haven’t started on for real is “funeral bell” by philadel… agony <3

favorite art: HMM… I’ll do a 911 art and a personal work for yall

my favorite 911 thing I’ve ever drawn is EASILY the first raise hell song comic… i love this thing so bad

and then I think one of my favorite personal pieces was this funky hands illustration I did for my sister!

actually im going to share one more :) it’s an audio creation instead of visual, but im the producer and editor on the short-form audio drama @thinplacesradio :) it’s like if the “dear abby” column was a haunted radio show, and every episode is ten minutes or less… you should give us a listen wherever you cast your pods :)

[lickingthywounds]

Any chance we could get a teaser for your story? A dustjacket promo or a lil excerpt? No pressure!

Will the full first chapter suffice? 😌

Wool Over Eyes | Chapter 1

The first thing he remembers is the fire.

Not a stranger to arson, he’s plenty familiar with the idea of flames against poorly guarded skin. This, however, was a different kind of heat. A blazing inferno — and no creation of his own — tearing through his gut, pacing chasing racing like his heart as it burned from entry wound to exit.

A fire of the invisible sort. That is, ruthless and unforgiving agony. Warm tails lapping at the lacerations. A single breath, gargled between beads of crimson, and he finally comprehends the sensation — and the severity of it.

He’s been shot.

The second thing he remembers is wetted concrete against his cheek, the way his temple fell against the cold remnants of a late summer’s rain, copper bangs sticking to his forehead, and the echo of patient footsteps that prefaced a shadow. The way its narrow body stretched beneath the streetlight is forever seared into the back of his eyelids, its owner a mystery.

His current surroundings, too, a great conundrum. The place he wakes next is not home, nor a hospital, but somewhere entirely foreign to memory. A simple room, beige walls under flush mounted lights, a single picture window with the curtains drawn, and a small cot dressed in cotton sheets with which he currently rests beneath… until, upon a quick double-back of the room, he becomes distinctly aware that he isn’t alone.

Then he is sitting upward in a matter of seconds — or making an attempt of it, anyway. His endeavor is interrupted both by a miserable burn in his shoulderblade and the eager gestures of the stranger who’d nearly leapt from their chair upon seeing him up.

“Easy, kid,” says the man now at his side, “your wounds are only beginning to heal, try not to aggravate them already.” 

They are no one he recognizes. A tall and lissome frame, his head crowned in rich black hair that is wrapped in a lazy bun, the sides shaved out, he wears a comfortable turtleneck and a watch of extravagant design. A strange show of wealth when compared to such a plainly decorated room. 

Not allowed the chance to overthink the observation, his thoughts are interrupted as his savior’s hand reaches for his clean shoulder, “That was some mess you got caught up in,” they mutter, “Can you talk?”

“Don’t touch me,” he spits, answering the man’s question either way, “Don’t—” A stilted breath is kept hostage in his lungs until the man’s accusing hand withdrawals, and they lift both palms to show they mean no harm, only then does he release the air. His body sags forward with the effort. “Sorry,” he mutters under breath, as though it’s only an afterthought, “just — just give me a minute.” The heel of his palm lifts with careful measures — minding his wounded shoulder — to rub over his eyes, blinking away the remaining crust of sleep. “Who are you, again?”

An easy shrug is all he initially receives, unbearably casual. “Don’t sweat it,” the stranger replies, “you’re well within your right to be scared. Shouldn’t have reached for you just after wakin’ up, but you would’a torn right through the bandage if I hadn’t.” He turns over his heel and drags the stool he’d been on earlier to stand against the frame of the bed, then hauls himself over it so he’s less towering. “Let’s start over, yeah?” The man extends his hand to shake, “The name’s Esmond. And you are…?”

“Still waiting for you to answer my question,” comes his swift reply. There’s a drumming sensation between his ears, the headache he’d been nursing now making itself a force to be reckoned with. It does nothing but further sour his mood. “Maybe I wasn’t obvious enough. Where am I, and how the hell did I get here? The last thing I remember is a lead nose shaving through my insides, I should be surrounded by doctors right now.” Or dead, if he was being realistic, but that dreary thought didn’t need to be voiced.

“You don’t like the room?” Esmond asks, mock-disappointment dripping from his tongue. The attempt at humor is forgotten quick as it arrived, however, and replaced with a long sigh of defeat. “You’re in my house, that’s all. I found you half-dead on the pavement with uppers and snow spilling out your pockets. Thought I’d be doing you a favor, fixin’ you up myself over speed dialing the nearest cop.” He leans forward, tongue peeking out to wet his lips, “I meant no harm in bringin’ you here, kid. You…really don’t remember me?”

He stares long and hard, hazel eyes burning, trying his damndest to catch a lick of trust in the man before him and finding nothing promising. Cynicism is a bitch and it always got the better of him, anyway, but nothing about their character screams good samaritan to him. Not that he has much of a choice but to place his trust in the man for the time being. As it stands, he’s a whole arm short in terms of functionality and bedridden until the damage to his body and its residual soreness decide to play nice.

Speaking of soreness, that’s about all he feels of it. A sensation, or the lack thereof, that had gone unnoticed until now. He ought to be feeling a whole lot worse after taking a bullet like that, yet the pain in his shoulder is limited to a dull blade pressing hesitantly against his collarbone. Aside from that, it’s just the growing pressure between his temples and a subtle whirling of thoughts, like his mind swims through cotton, and that — if nothing else — is familiar.

“Hey, are you listeni—”

“Did you drug me?” He cuts the man off with a question of his own, aghast and well guarded, his head woozily swings upward to look him in the eyes.

“I…” Esmond pauses, a hand coming to rub against the back of his neck like a guilty dog hiding its tail, “well, yeah,” he answers honestly, “you were just shot, remember? I wasn’t about to let you endure that without some help, ‘specially since I had to dig the shrapnel out by hand. Real nasty work.”

His heartbeat quickens at the mention, and it’s a good deal calmer than it ought to be. Slower than if only under the effect of any over the counter pain relief he knows off the top of his head. A sedative, then?

He still isn’t getting the answers he wants. If anything, he only has more questions. The blanket shifts over his increasingly restless legs as he finally takes the time to better examine his surroundings; the feeling of clean linen itches against his skin, now more obvious than ever. He pulls away the covers with his good arm to see himself in a too-big shirt and gray pants, neither of which are his own. The beloved hoodie he went down in is no where to be found.

“It was like rooting around for a prize at the bottom of a cereal box,” Esmond continues to fill the silence, returning again to his strange choice of humor, if only briefly. “I didn’t give you anything serious, if that’s what you’re worried about. Just somethin’ to kill the pain ‘s all. Scout’s honor. Wasn’t sure how clean you were with shit like that in your pockets, after all, and I didn’t want a dead kid on my conscience.”

“I’m not a kid,” he’s quick to correct, “stop calling me that. I’m not some druggie, either. Only getting a few bucks where I can.”

Again, Esmond’s hands raise in a show of apology, “Alright, alright,” he resigns with a dry laugh, “why not give me something else to call you, then?”

A name. That’s all the man wanted, right? Even a nickname would do if only to keep that damn word out of his mouth. Still, his lips pressed together like a closing door, locked up tight. They weren’t getting anything from him.

“Fine,” hums Esmond, his mouth curving into a cheeky smile, “Ovis it is.”

Suddenly his lips can’t part fast enough. “That’s not my name,” he says.

“Maybe not,” Esmond shrugs, “but you seem determined to keep it from me, so I’ve decided your name is Ovis. You’re free to correct me at any time.”

The action is almost jarring enough to make him reconsider the decision to keep his identity a secret. Almost. This man already has him in the flesh, already has his clothes and any belongings left on his person after the incident. He didn’t want to give up his only remaining sense of privacy.

So again, his mouth clamps shut, visibly resolving to keep it that way this time. He’d rather stew in a pot of ire than give the man what he wanted.

Esmond’s smile grows teeth. “So stubborn,” his sigh is almost romantic, chin hanging casually on the base of his palm, “you’re more clever than you look.”

That’s all it takes for him to decide that it’s time to leave.

“Well, thank you for your help until this point,” he moves as he talks, legs swinging over the edge of the bed, his feet are bare as they land on the cold wood paneling, “but I think I can handle myself from here on out, so I’ll get out of your hair.”

“You’re leaving already?”

He moves to stand and makes it to his feet - barely. The sudden burden of his entire weight nearly threatens to topple him backwards and against the mattress once more. He grits through it, locking his knees in place until he feels stable enough to try again, and doesn’t bother tossing a look behind him until then.

Esmond, himself, does nothing to indicate that he plans to follow or stop him, anyway. The man remains seated at the bed’s side, hands now settling politely in his lap.

“I just really need to get home,” his answer spills out between labored breaths, each step further shocking the gentle analgesic from his system, “so if you could just hand over my shoes and jacket—” he is dizzy and heavy and so, so tired, a bone-deep exhaustion that has thoroughly settled its way through every joint, it makes the stretch between bed and door feel like miles. The left side of his body is beginning to scream. He makes it across the room and stables himself against the wall beside the door for only as long as it takes to catch his breath.

Still, Esmond says nothing, does nothing, up until the very moment his patient finally makes for the doorknob—

“Well, that’s a damn shame.”

—only to find it locked.

Ovis stills where he’s at, back turned to the man as his spine attempts to crawl out from between his teeth. The hairs along his arm prickle and brush against his soiled bandage, aching wildly, now, the wounds hidden beneath feeling all the more damning now that he’s well and truly cornered. 

Breathlessly, he risks a glance over his shoulder.

Esmond’s hands brace against his knees as he stands with a low exhale, as if the next words to come out of his mouth are in any way remorseful. “The way I see it, you owe me a debt.” Casual strides carry him across the room and in no time at all he’s covered the distance between them, that same sly grin making up for the otherwise lazy expression on his face. “See, you’d be dead if I hadn’t dragged your sorry ass to safety. You have me to thank for being alive and well. It’d be selfish to just run off now, don’t you think?”

“What the hell are you talking about,” Ovis barks, shoulders going rigid. His hair stands on end like raised hackles as he turns fully to face the man again while his hand continues its fruitless struggle against the doorknob at his back, relentless. “I can’t stay here, I need to get home,” he finds it easy to keep the tremble out of his voice if he focuses on his growing temper rather than the fear slowly overtaking him, “listen, I can pay you, okay? I’ve got some cash stowed away that’ll make up for all of this.”

Another step forward brings them ever closer, toe-to-toe, until their arm braces idly above Ovis’ head, against the door, and their breath warms his forehead, “I’m not sure you understand, clever boy,” he speaks sweetly, like explaining something simple to a child, nothing but smiles as he bends to be at eye-level, “I wasn’t asking.”

A beat of silence passes between them. Limbs still, paralyzed, his breath quickening.

He ducks beneath Esmond’s arm and heads for the window, ditching the idea of escape through the door, but his captor is fast, faster by a mile, and catches him by the wrist like one might swat casually at a fly. It snaps, the joint locking beneath his iron grip and reverberating up the chain of muscle until thunder claps against his shoulder and the first cry escapes between his clenched teeth.

“Settle,” they order, tone even, “you’re only going to hurt yourself further like this.”

“You’re the one hurting me!” Ovis growls back, struggling still against the firm hold.

“I’m only holding you in place, lamb, to keep you from hurting yourself more,” he counters, “you’re the one squirming, Ovis. If you’d only settle down, like I’ve asked, you wouldn’t be in so much pain. It will stop when you decide you’re ready to listen.”

“Fuck that!” He lurches away, all but tearing his elbow from its joint in the process, and stubbornly bites back the resulting scream until the insides of his cheek tastes like old pennies. “Let. Me. Go—”

He’s released in an instant. The sudden lack of binding has him staggering backwards, and he lands — shoulder first — against the hardwood floor.

There’s few means to stop the shriek that erupts from his chest this time around. It echoes against the walls and yet earns no change in expression from the man standing over him.

“See?” Esmond tuts, abandoning him there on the floor and momentarily stepping in the opposite direction, instead, “I suppose you’re determined to learn things the hard way.”

He isn’t listening, and he doesn’t care to. Rather, his attention is evenly divided between the blinding spasms abusing his newly reopened wounds and the wave of nausea that each brings. He chokes on the taste of bitter acid at the back of his throat and fights it off the best he can, but his vision is swiftly tunneling, and he hasn’t much time to do anything more than take shallow breaths and feel like he’s drowning on land.

It can’t end like this. If he passes out for a second time, there’s no telling where he’ll wake up or what else will happen to him. He has to move. He has to get out of here. He has to get up. Get up. Get up.

Shaking, still, he manages to gather the strength to prop an arm beneath him, bent at the elbow, and with that last remaining burst of energy he raises himself up by an inch, then two—

A boot makes contact with the space between his shoulderblades and drives him back into the floor with a resounding crunch. 

Ovis howls, dry heaving around the agony. With no strength left to shake the shoe off his back he is forced to stay down, fists clenched, angry and panting like a stray on the side of the road. 

Blearily, he realizes he will be forgotten like one, too.

The stars forming in his vision are warm and inviting, the ring in his ears like a blaring alarm. He lacks the strength to refuse them a second time, and so his body slumps, fists uncurling to expose open palms, and everything

falls

silent.

[radiaurapple]

Lucid Dreams of New Orleans: Chapter 9

CHAPTER SUMMARY: IN WHICH Lucifer suffers the consequences of an unexpected oversight.

FIC SUMMARY: Lucifer has always kept his distance from sinners. It's what keeps him (relatively) sane — if he gets too close, he is haunted by visions of the tragic mortal lives that landed them in Hell.

But in his new life at the Hotel, it is more difficult than ever to stay away — and when it comes to light that his daughter's insufferable facilities manager is gravely wounded, it falls to Lucifer to deliver his soul from Death.

In so doing, he falls headfirst into the sins, past lives, and heartbreaks of the one human whose contradictions he is powerless to resist.

[AO3 LINK]

It's Saturday so it's new chapter time, and I'm very excited about this one!! No promo art this time, but I do have a shiny new fic summary 📻🍎

Chapter preview below!

The days pass. On one slow afternoon, Alastor slips out of the hotel for tea with Rosie. He returns as the violet of evening bleeds across the horizon. The bar is deserted — Husker has vacated his post.

There is a low, menacing chuckle behind him. Alastor turns, sighs in fond exasperation, and plucks Niffty from her perch above the doorframe by the back of her dress.

“Alastor’s home!” Niffty screeches.

“Great!” Charlie calls from the next room. “Will you ask him to join us in the dining room, please?”

“Charlie wants you in the dining room,” Niffty says.

“So I hear,” Alastor says. He sets Niffty down and she scampers off — Alastor follows.

The hotel’s residents are gathered at the table, mid-meal; a plate has been set out for him between Charlie and Angel Dust. It is piled high with what he can only hope is spaghetti — he notes with resignation that everyone at the table is ignoring their food, apart from Niffty, who has clambered back up onto her chair and is digging in with reckless abandon.

“Okay!” Charlie claps her hands together. “Now that everyone’s here, I can finally share the good news!”

Angel grips the edge of the table with four hands. “I’m unbanned from the ice cream machine?”

“Absolutely not,” Vaggie says. “After what happened last time, you are never touching that thing again.”

“Neither am I,” Husk mutters.

Angel frowns and slumps back into his chair.

“Actually, the news is a little more exciting than the ice cream machine!” Charlie says. “Emily reached out to me, and Heaven has invited my dad and I to visit Sir Pentious! While we’re there, they want to meet with us about the redemption exercises we do at the hotel.”

Vaggie smiles. “Charlie, that’s amazing!”

“I know!” Charlie says. “Maybe they’re finally taking us seriously.”

The table erupts with chatter — but Alastor is hardly listening. He is looking at Lucifer across the table. He has gone very still, his expression neutral apart from the faintly downturned corners of his mouth — his shoulders are drawn inward, slightly, and Alastor is reminded of the blanket he wrapped around himself when he was crying, in the memory Alastor caught only a glimpse of.

A disquieting emotion churns inside of Alastor. He himself has certain memories he would rather run from.

“It’s interesting that they requested Lucifer’s presence,” he says lightly.

“Yeah, I was a little surprised,” Charlie says. She turns to Lucifer. “Emily seemed convinced that you were the reason for our success, even though I explained that you only joined us after Sir Pentious was already redeemed.”

“Well, if they’re sure they want me there,” Lucifer says, and the thread of tension in his voice only strengthens Alastor’s assessment.

“Hold on. Lucifer — are you sure you can spare the time? I’d be happy to attend in your stead,” Alastor says — and then the gears in his mind come to a screeching halt as he processes what he’s just done. What he’s just volunteered to do. He scrambles for a way to back down and still save face, but comes up empty — when that fails, he searches for an explanation to smooth over his uncharacteristic lapse in self-interest. What dynamic was he meant to have with the King of Hell, again? Ah, yes — antagonism. “Besides, if Heaven asks any pertinent questions about our operations, I’m sure they’d prefer accurate answers, as opposed to whatever meaningless folderol you might see fit to share.”

Not his most convincing barb, but Charlie frowns anyway. Lucifer, however, seems to see through the deception and recognize the olive branch Alastor has extended. His expression is pure, unfiltered gratitude.

“I, uh — yes,” Lucifer says, too quickly. “That’s fine with me. I don’t mind at all. I’ve got lots of — uh — stuff on my plate already. Thanks.” Then he tacks on, as an afterthought: “Asshole.”

So Alastor’s interpretation was correct — and now there’s nothing else to be done but see this through. He widens his smile.

Charlie’s mouth snaps shut and she blinks in surprise. “Okay, then! It’s settled,” she says after a moment of floundering. “A week from today, Alastor and I will go to Heaven.”

Alastor clenches and unclenches his fists beneath the table. “I look forward to it,” he says.

Lucifer lasts scarcely five more minutes at the table before he mutters something about a project he needs to get back to and slinks from the room.

Alastor watches him go. There is a tightness in Alastor’s chest, one that is completely separate from the newfound dread of his imminent trip to Heaven. No — this is somehow related to the sight of Lucifer across the table, frozen in shock — to the barely-concealed tension in his voice.

“I had best be going,” Alastor finds himself saying. “Thank you for the lovely meal.”

He drops his napkin on the table and leaves the room — once he’s out of sight, he dips into the shadows.

So it seems his self-sacrificial episode in the battle with Adam may not, in fact, have been an anomaly — it may have been the beginning of a new and troubling pattern of behavior. Why this surge of protectiveness? Alastor has always been defensive of his allies, but the Devil hardly warrants such behavior.

He reforms and realizes belatedly that he has not gone to the radio tower — he’s standing at Lucifer’s door. He raises his fist to the door, hesitates —

Well. He and Lucifer have only recently settled into a mutually beneficial routine, and it won’t do to disrupt it now. So he knocks.

[AO3 LINK]

[marciaillust]

do you have an estimated date for preorders of your asry doujinshi?? im going crazy im so excited for it 🙇🙇

Hi!

At this point in the project I am dashing down the final stretch to get it done. There's still a handful of things that need to be finalised/drawn for the release, and I need to re-analyse the optimal logistics and fulfilment process aka manufacturers, shipping, packaging etc etc. but things are about 90% there since this is far from my first rodeo.

While normally I would expect all that to take 2-3 weeks of work, September is looking downright packed to the brim for me with freelancing jobs and one cross-Europe trip for a wedding. Even if I finished it in September (doubt.jpg) it'd be impossible for me to publish it and manage the whole undertaking from like, a plane or my best friend's wedding party.

So long story short, I prophesize that the doujinshi will go on preorder around October, with the precise date being announced sometime in September.

There will be a lot more promo material coming up before the release than there were for Event Horizon so if you're on the lookout I'm sure you won't miss the bells ringing :)

[thesamoanqueen]

what do you think of the new bloodline? I'm not sure if I like it or not 😭..

I personally like them, but I understand why so many fans don't think the same. It must be said though that fans think they can use the original Bloodline as a standard and Solo/Tama/Loa are clearly not that Bloodline.

This faction is deliberately a Bloodline that is more of a parody of the old one, forcibly different and with Paul accompanying them in the midst of a mystical crisis. A parody doesn't have to be the same as the original or it would be a copy. People must not like them, they must not work well or they wouldn't have the desired effect for what will come next.

Roman/Jey/Jimmy are on a different level sure, but have been working in the WWE for decades, are used and trained to function in front of all those cameras and people. Fans are drawn to them because they know them, even when something new happens.

Solo has been on the big scene for a short time and has almost never taken a mic because Roman, Paul and the WWE gave him a role in which he just had to learn everything and fast, there's no strong emotional bond between him and fans, he's emerging now and doing better than others who have already been on the roster for years to be honest. Tama is a beast in the ring, he has a huge moves set, but he comes from NJPW, where it's a lot about what you do in the ring and not promos, he's not used to thousands of people examining him from every angle. Tanga is the least gifted of the group, I'm honest, he's always struggled, but he comes from there too and as Tama tag team partner worked well.

They are doing everything they have to and how they have to, even losing their matched. The problem I think is in the crowd's reception of their supposed "ferocity" because the og Bloodline was clearly more dangerous than them. I would work on attacks, revenge, on the senseless chaos Paul talked about in a promo last week. Roman/Jey/Jimmy were methodical, there was always a plan, Solo/Tama/Loa must be the opposite like kids whose strength has gotten out of hand.