#(and thank god for that turns out one of them was in a CULT)

[slightly-knot-insane]

omfg congrats on your blog! truly deserve it

meanwhile let me get this outta my horny ass

stressed with work, you pray to any god who hears to take your troubles away

demon hears and demon takes

Thank you so much! I hope you'll enjoy my little snippet for you.

[m!demon x gn!reader]

New Acolyte

You've never wanted to be a part of a strict religious cult. You were basically sold into it since your parents were too poor to feed and educate you. And now you spend your best years serving gods you don't even believe in. Even worse, you've been promoted to an acolyte and you run around and serve other members like a slave. You're the youngest and most disobedient - there is always work for such as yourself.

You sigh in front of the altar. Every evening you wipe it with a damp cloth and put three candles on top. Candles are sacred and can only be lit by higher members of the clergy. They pray every morning using these precious candles. They apparently have mystical powers and can fulfil wishes. High priests know what is the best for the clergy and what people need the most so only they can ask for favours from gods.

Your mouth twists into a scowl. What about what you need? These gods don't care that you desire so much more than these dark halls and chanting. This is no life to live!

Checking behind yourself to see if you're truly alone, you light the three sacred candles and kneel, saying your personal prayer. A truly blasphemous one. You are willing to do whatever it takes to escape this life. You don't care which god - if they even exist - does this.

"Just get me out of here!" You hit the floor with your fists, staring into the flames. They flicker once, twice, and a strong gust of wind blows them out.

"I hope you don't mind I'm no god." The voice behind you is deep and husky reminding you of lions purring. "But I can help you with your wish."

You don't dare turn around. Cold sweat covers your brows. You are in danger - something truly sinister is one step behind you. A long red arm emerges in front of you and gently takes you by the chin. "Turn around, young acolyte."

You have to obey. You fall on your soft behind because you tremble too much, but now you can see the creature that visits you. A tall, lean, creature. His eyes are fire and charcoal and his toned body a sinful shade of fresh blood. And he is completely naked.

"You said you would do anything to get out of here." His voice is strange, as if multiple people speak and echo. "I have a request." You are still trembling but you nod your head.

The demon's black and red cock (which you tried oh-so-hard not to stare at) erects as if on command. It is bigger than any human you've seen while sneaking around. So shiny and smooth. "Have you done this before?", he asks you.

You blush. "Only in dreams."

Demon smiles and two rows of extremely sharp teeth make you shiver. "Come here, and let me teach you."

You obediently crawl on the floor and reach the demons legs. His cock smells surprisingly nice, something like burnt caramel. You lick it - unfortunately it doesn't taste like any candy but it's not too bad either. Your inexperienced tongue twirls around the tip and you hesitantly plant kisses along the shaft. Demon strokes your head. "Very good. Now lick your palm and use your hand as well."

You nod again and do as instructed. Your hand moves up and down, jerking off the demon, and your pulse speeds up. It's not only excitement; you feel hot, like you have a fever. Your head and chest are burning. "Good little acolyte." Demon's voice is soft and he is towering you, a happy and terrifying grin on his face.

You are too hot! You have to remove all your clothes or you will melt! Without letting delicious demon cock fall out of your mouth, you remove all your robes and underwear. It barely helps - your skin could ignite any second! But it doesn't matter - this cock, this wonderous organ, exquisite limb - is all you can think about. Making it more wet, making it more hard, pleasuring it faster, more skillfully. Demon moans and his voices echo for a long time. "Acolyte..."

Some ethereal invisible hands touch your hot skin. They fondle your neck, back, nipples, stomach, slide between your thighs. You've never been touched like that. You shake from delight, never for a second letting go of that cock, working on that shaft with all your might. Demon's breath hitches and your mouth gets filled with sweet demon seed. Some of it end up on your naked body and you notice it's red like wine. The invisible hands are gone and you are left without release and soiled, excitement rushing through your veins. You need more.

"Please... Please... Take me... Don't leave me here..."

Demon smiles and touches your cheek with his sharp nail. "You are my acolyte now. I promised you new life. I'm not going anywhere without you."

[casually-eat-my-soul]

Sterek fantasy au?

Stiles is a spark in training, but is expected to be the strongest spark in over a millennia

That is until he’s kidnapped by a moon worshipping cult. They plan to use him and his death/blood to summon one of their deities. They dress him in white and drag him out on the night of a full moon, leaving him at the altar that is carved like a wolf. Stiles tries to disrupt the ritual, including trying to rip out the throat of an attendee with his teeth when they got close. Stiles knows that the minute the cult finishes chanting they will offer him up as a virgin sacrifice. He can feel the presence of something far more darker and dangerous being summoned.

The priest in charge goes to speak but stiles beats him to it. In an act of desperation, he calls out to what ever being is there, if he is going to be the sacrificial bride, he might as well get the benefits.

“Husband, I offer you these sacrifices”

Stiles can feel the air change as a mocking laugh sounds though the glade. Everything freezes before the screaming starts. Stiles can’t see anything but a blur ripping apart the cult. Some of the members try to reach him and with his spark bound he has to fight them. He is able to disarm one and use the sword to kill the other two, when a voice calls out to him.

“What a pretty fierce wife I have”

Derek was bored and annoyed when he could feel the worship and his name being invoked. It was always the same cult who tried to get him to bless them with his might and offered him virgin brides in a place of his mate. He didn’t even know how that rumour got started, he didn’t have any use for any of the brides. Most of the weak ones died in his presence and the one or two strong ones he offered a place among the wolves but never by his side.

— (I’m picturing Erica being a sacrifice, and Derek just pops up and is like “hey do you want the power to rip these guys apart” and she ascended to deity level and is now known as one of the best shield maidens) —

Derek almost didn’t let himself be summoned, but he could feel the presence of a power that had never been apart of the rituals before. So he fades into the call, and as he steps into the mortal realm, he sees the most beautiful creature laying in his altar. He bares his teeth, blood dripping down his lips, and something just ignites in Derek. So when this fae calls out to him, naming Derek his husband, and calling for the deaths of the cult members, derek is powerless to obey.

Stiles watches as the wolf’s form ripples and in its place stands a man, the most handsome man he has ever had the pleasure of laying his eyes on — hands dripping with blood.

Stiles notices that every surface is covered in the bits and pieces that use to make up the cult members, but he remains untouched from the carnage. Well besides the three dead members who he drops at the feet of this god. So he turns back to look this deity, thanks him for the save and tells him that he must be on his way.

Derek laughs at this humans audacity, to name Derek his husband, offer him a hunt, to join in on killing, leaving his offering at Derek’s feet and then to turn his back on him?? Derek grabs the human and bring him into a kiss.

Stiles has never been kissed in the way that this deity is kissing him. Like ships laying siege to a battle ground, full of possessiveness like the god is trying to claim stiles. When they break away, the god whispers in his ear, with an amused tone

“My wife trying to run before I even get his name. Know little fae, that there is nowhere on this earth you can hide from me, where I can not hunt you down.”

Anyway they give each other their names, Derek fucks him on the altar and brings stiles back with him as his mate. (Maybe stiles demands that Derek courts him, but Derek raises and eyebrow and says that stiles was the one to offer courtship first)

Derek is head over heels love with stiles, especially after he sees stiles take revenge in his name. When the agent came to burn down his temple and stiles hunted them down and gave Derek their hearts. He had looked devastatingly gorgeous using his spark to rain fire down upon them. The bride offering also stop real quick after this one.

Stiles return regularly to the mortal realm. He tries to continue to learn how to deal with this spark but his teachers have no idea how to teach the divine. (He names Lydia as his priestess, as a way to help her with her banshee powers and give give her status in the mortal realm) 

Anyway just deity Derek being obsessed with stiles, his number one worshiper

[menofprogress]

I saw someone say that Viktor constantly reaching out to Jayce and trying to get him on his side after he initially left him and after Jayce fought, rejected and shot at him makes no sense but i disagree.

Imho jayce and viktor are incredibly, INSANELY codependent, they were each others closest contact for nearly a decade, saw each other every day, single mindedly worked towards the same goal, etc. Their lives immediately take a nosedive once theyre even slightly separated from each other (viktor nearly dies, jayce kills a kid, viktor atomises sky and then nearly kills himself, jayce lands in apocalypse land and viktor starts a cult). They instinctively always act like theyre still partners, even when theyre clearly supposed to be enemies because not being together feels unnatural to them.

Jayce doesnt act consciously when reviving viktor using the hexcore and YES viktor is hurt and distressed bc he was essentially turned into rio and he feels like he needs to leave, but then what? He probably finds out about jayces disappearance a few days later and is like "oh no, oh fuck, i know I left HIM, but i didnt want this" i mean he probably thought jayce was dead.

So for a few months he builds his commune and deliberately integrates sentimental things about his and jayces partnership (his 'home' looks like the hexgates, hes still wearing the blanket, for some reason theres a forge in the commune) which, imho, shows hes mourning and missing jayce in his own way. (A special personal hc of mine is that he grew out his hair out of grief). And in the pit we have jayce sobbing and crying bc he misses both mel and viktor so much.

So jayce reappears and viktors like "heeeyyyy bestie, oh my god, i missed u come visit me!!!" And jayce is rightfully confused like "didnt YOU break up with ME?" and viktor is like "nooo, hahaha, i was crazy back then, just forget about it, pls visit me?" And is only mildly concerned by jayce killing one of his followers (and then hes also mostly concerned about jayce, not salo lol)

Then jayce arrives and shoots him and its very painful bc viktor fully didnt expect jayce to hurt him! Hes so shocked 😭

Anyways after that Viktor "attacks" (more like "does a mating dance for") jayce in the council room and AGAIN asks him to join his emo band and is AGAIN shocked and hurt when jayce genuinely fights back and rejects him. Viktor is temporarily hurt and gives singed the ok to start the process.

And then as the fully transformed herald he STILL talks about how happy he is to see jayce and doesnt really put any effort into neutralising him. Like he could have just shot him hbxhnxgkhfj

All the while we have jayce talking big talk about stopping viktor, but when it comes down to it?? He doesnt manage to take him out and still talks to him. And then he sees Viktor in the astral realm and once there is a SLIVER of hope hes immediately like "oh thank god i can stop trying to kill him, this was never going to work"

All of this isnt contradictory to me. It means that both of them actually know that they should be on opposing sides now, they start acting according to the idea that the other one is now an enemy, they make plans accordingly, but when it comes down to it theyre reluctant to actually follow through bc that would mean a life without the other and thats worse than staying enemies forever.

Viktor kept reaching out, hoping to be partners again after MULTIPLE rejections and jayce couldnt bear to kill viktor or to let him die alone. Being apart from each other is quite literally the worst thing for either of them, so the instinct to reach out to each other will always take over.

[00-jammy-00]

HI!

Could you do a reader deity who is basically forgotten but Yan finds them and worshippes the hell out of them? (Maybe to the point of having a cult if you're comfortable)

And if you're uncomfortable with the ask that's perfectly fine! I'll probably send another Idea then!

Also any chance I could be 🔪 anon?

Thank you and have a good day! :D

Yan!Worshipper HC’s

Yan!Worshipper x GN! Deity! Reader

Content warning - Yandere themes, obsession, murder, implied stalking, nsfw mentions, manipulation, cult themes, he’s really pathetic I won’t lie

A/N - One more day until my 1K follower special ends!

———————————————————————————————————

Yan!Worshipper who had stumbled upon you when he decided to listen to his dumbass boss and go hiking. He had fallen down the side of a hill, almost breaking his ankle in the process. Though, all of that pain was so worth it when he saw your old, ruined shrine.

Yan!Worshipper who began visiting once a week. When you noticed you had finally gotten a follower, you were excited so you showed yourself when he prayed. He saw stars. You were so gorgeous, so perfect. Just seeing you had his jaw dropped and his pants uncomfortably tight.

Yan!Worshipper whose schedule slightly changed. Visiting you once a week, once every three days, once a day, multiple times a day… It didn’t matter though! He quit his job because you blessed him with amazing luck. He fixed up your shrine but he still felt horrible, you were forgotten. He did the only thing he could think of doing and started to spread the word about you.

Yan!Worshipper who slowly developed a following for you, just a few people here and there…a few hundred. He was a devoted man okay?! Of course he led the cult, none of these fuckers were worthy. None of them were allowed to gaze upon you but him. Only he could bask in your presence, bathe you, dress you, watch you, follow you, fuck you.

Yan!Worshipper who snapped a few necks while attempting to keep this cult going. Some people were so ungrateful, didn’t see what you had to offer. He made sure to soothe you whenever you got too stressed about the disappearances too. “It’s okay, my love, they are apart of something bigger, now look at all the offerings you are getting!” He made sure these brainless drones donated a bunch to this fucking thing too, he couldn’t go broke while servicing you.

Yan!Worshipper who is attending to your every need constantly. He brought you the finest silks, the biggest bed, the ripest fruit and anything else you wanted, as long as you were pleased then he was happy. It made him even more happy when you let him service you in other ways.

Yan!Worshipper who pounds you like the world is ending tomorrow. He can’t help but constantly be touching you, admiring you. He drags his fingers down your body, memorising every single piece of you. You were all his! He didn’t care about his own pleasure when his god was sitting right there. He once came three times just from giving you head.

Yan!Worshipper who’ll never let the cult be shut down. He’s paid off police and government officials to turn a blind eye to the murders sacrifices that happen at the mountain. He couldn’t have his work taken away. God forbid you get taken away. You’re his now. You chose him.

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Likes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated, requests are open <3

please do not copy, repost or translate any of my works on other platforms without my permission.

[tales-of-the-ghost-zone]

DP X DC crossover prompt

Sam and Tucker, thanks to living in Amity Park and being overshadowed and controlled by ghosts so many time, had become very liminal. Until an accident while trying to stop the newest ghost enemy led to the two of them becoming halfa’s. Sam’s ghost form looks like what she looked like during the whole Undergrowth thing. And Tucker’s ghost form looks like his King Tuck design.

After a reveal gone wrong, Danny, Sam, and Tucker flee Amity Park. The trio run away to Gotham, and using money Sam managed to snag from her account before they left, they buy a nice sized building right in the middle of Crime Alley. They decide to turn it into a bookshop and cafe. There’s a garden/greenhouse attached to the back end of the building where Sam grows all her plants and herbs. Tucker has his own tech room in the basement alongside Danny’s tiny lab space. They live together in the apartment above the bookshop/cafe.

One day while out on a walk, Danny stumbles across two tiny twin half formed baby ghost cores. They’re nothing more than tiny little balls of glowing light at the moment. Baby ghosts that are just starting to form but are nothing more than cores at the moment. But they seem to be slowly fading. Danny refuses to let them fade away into nothing. He scoops them up, infuses them with some of his ectoplasm to get them going, and then shoved them into his chest for safe keeping and so that they can be close to his own core which starts slowly feeding them energy.

Danny rushes back to the shop and drags Sam and Tucker to the upstairs apartment and shows him the baby ghost cores he’s found. The three all agree that they’re going to help these cores develop into actual ghosts. They switch off on who carry’s the ghost cores around. Some days it’s Danny. Some days it’s Tucker. And some days it’s Sam. Each of them feeding the cores a little bit of their ectoplasm to help them grow.

One of the cores feels distinctly female and has a purplish blue glow to it. The three start jokingly calling her violet. The other core has a distinctly male feel to it. It’s an orangish red and has a small crack along one side of it. Danny jokingly said one time how he (the baby core) kind of looked like Nemo’s egg at the beginning of Finding Nemo and ever since they’ve been calling him Nemo.

The two cores have been developing very slowly, both seemingly unable to absorb the needed ectoplasm, to form into full ghosts, quickly. The trio is fine with this, they can be patient, and wait to meet their twins.

Then one day there’s some kind of massive ghost attack. Maybe a cult or something attempted to summon the ghost king but messed up the summoning and accidentally summoned something else. The Justice League try and fight the thing, but they’re no match for this ghost monstrosity. And the JLD aren’t available to help for whatever reason. The trio decides to step in and help. They kick the crap out of the ghost pretty easily and send it back to the ghost zone. Then Danny, in his King Phantom garb (crown of fire, whispy white fire like hair, a regal looking version of his hazmat suit, the ring of rage on one finger, and a cape around his shoulders, the outside being pure white but the inside looking like the vastness of space) approaches the cult and rebukes them, telling them how even if they had managed to summon him he never would have helped them take over the world.

After that the trio become members of the Justice League. Thanks to some of Danny’s previous time travel shenanigans, and Danny being the ghost king, and Sam and Tucker his consorts/mates(?) the Justice League all think that the trio are ancient eldritch ghost gods.

And then one day when the trio are in the Watch Tower with the rest of the League their twin baby ghost cores come up. Maybe it was time to switch out who was carrying them, and mid meeting or lunch or whatever, Danny just reaches into his chest, pulls out two small glowing orbs. He cradles them close to his chest for a moment, looking at them lovingly, and whispering something soft to them in ghost speak. Then hands them over to Sam, who does the whole cradle them close and whisper softly in ghost speak before shoving them right into her chest.

They look up from this to see the whole League staring at them wide eyed and confused. Danny just casually explains that those are their children but they’re still forming so the trio needs to keep them close to their cores to help them grow, but they like to switch up everyday who carry’s them. Every member of the Justice League becomes super protective of the trio after this. They see it as the three essentially being pregnant (sort of), and they don’t always know which one of them is carrying the baby ghost. So best to just be protective of all three. The trio finds this kind of amusing and a touch bit sweet.

When the twin baby cores finally develop into actual baby ghosts, the two kind of look like a mixture between Danny, Sam, and Tucker’s ghost forms. Though Violet has dark purple hair and eyes and Nemo has bright orangish red hair and eyes.

[hamliet]

Love is Life, and Also Unpredictable

The Decameron is a brilliant, beautiful show that deserves way more praise than the lukewarm reviews. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a love story so beautiful and characters who subverted expectations in the most satisfying ways.

Every time you think a character is an unforgivable lout, you'll be surprised at how human they'll be. The character you think is a buffoon and whom you wish would die because they're THAT level of annoying ends up making you bawl with their words a single episode later, and it still feels in character.

I dunno, the show has pretty mixed reviews, but if you like dark humor and a study on humanity, this show is for you. Also, if you like love stories of any sort, because this show contains several of the single most unique love stories I could have ever imagined. Yes, including queer and... ace love.

*yes i have read boccaccio's work on which it's based

Spiritual, Agape Love: Neifile and Panfilo

I genuinely think the sexless marriage and partnership of a gay man and a devout, neurotic straight woman is one of the most beautiful love stories I've seen in media, ever. They genuinely want each other to be happy, and they aren't content just being each other's "beard" or financial security. They want to know each other more. They want honesty. They want to be together and to have intimacy, just not romantic or sexual.

The scene where they reconcile in front of Ruggiero is stunningly wholesome and--dare I say it--pure.

The scene where Neifile falls in the well and waits for God to save her is clearly a riff on the classic parable of the guy who is drowning and turns down two boats and a helicopter rescue saying "no thanks, God will save me," only to die and get to heaven and cry, "God, why didn't you save me?" Then God replies, "you dumbass, I sent you two boats and a helicopter!"

Neifile is rescued because her husband Panfilo pays someone to rescue her and to tell her God sent a vision telling them where to find Neifile. When she finds out Panfilo orchestrated it, she's furious about him deceiving her. But the reality, we later realize, is that he didn't exactly. Neifile wanted proof God still cared about her. He sent her a husband who loved her so much he would do anything to save her.

Neifile's faith isn't perfectly written, but it's not mocked. In the end, Neifile and Panfilo live like Christ--which is to say, they save their friends even though they die. Neifile dies afraid, but life comes with no guarantees. It's unpredictable, just like love. And after her death, Panfilo seems to lose the will to live--but when he decides to sacrifice his life to die alongside Neifile, it's not so much out of a desire to die as it is out of a desire to have his friends survive. And it's not a coincidence that the foe they face off with is a self-proclaimed prophet who's really a cruel, hypocritical cult leader. Neifile's dead, plague-ridden body is more holy than the cult leader's sword.

Romantic/Eros Love: Misia and Filomena, Tindaro and Stratilia, (and everyone)

Everyone has romantic love and/or a sexual relationship in the story. Everyone has a "pairing," but it is seldom their most important bond.

Dioneo and Licisca

Filomena and Misia

Pampinea and Sirisco

Tindaro and Stratilia

Neifile and Panfilo/Ruggiero

Panfilo and Neifile/Andreoli

The two that are the most important here are Misia and Filomena, and Tindaro and Stratilia. Yet they are both quite unique portrayals as well, because while Misia and Filomena's love is requited, Tindaro's loev for Stratilia is completely unrequited. Yet, its power still shines through.

Tindaro's love for Stratilia is utterly unrequited and stays that way. However, his love for her is nonetheless real and he proves it over and over, and it isn't dependent on her returning it. His determination to love her, no matter what she does or doesn't give him, is honestly a beautiful exploration of unrequited love. Usually in fiction unrequited love is either someone wasting their time or a tragedy.

Rarely does unrequited love have power to redeem and save, but here it does. It motivates Tindaro to change himself for the better and to become the best version of himself, and it saves Stratilia's life and the life of her son.

Yet, the story avoids any kind of iffy subtext about sex corrupting love. Misia and Filomena get a happily ever after (the only pairing in the series that does), but Tindaro's love for Stratilia, which literally starts as hate sex and stays that way for her, redeems Tindaro. So the show avoids saying that sex is all that love is, and avoids the implication that sex ruins love as well.

Familial Love: Licisca and Filomena, Stratilia and Jacopo

The series addresses sibling love in a variety of ways. Filomena and Licisca are clearly sisters long before we get the official reveal that Licisca is actually Filomena's half-sister in blood. And even when we see them fighting and pushing each other off a bridge (literally), they love each other. They can't bear to see each other die, even as they peck at each other and insult each other constantly.

Filomena: Licisca, you saved me again! Licisca: Yeah, you dumb bitch. Love's got long claws.

Truly, a sister exchange right there.

What gets in the way of their familial relationship is class. The series juxtaposes class issues against familial ones quite a bit. Leonardo, for example, we never meet, but the way he treats Stratilia and Jacopo (his son) is pretty terrible.

And yet, Jacopo has a good life. Stratilia loves him, even though he is the reason she can never leave the villa, marry, or have any sort of life of her own. She knows Leonardo never plans to have Jacopo as an heir or treat him as a son in any way, but she loves him and sticks around for him, and doesn't resent him for it. And he in turn adores his mother and wants to protect her. Love is a burden, as Panfilo says directly, but so is life. Love anchors.

What gets in the way of love for this mother and son, temporarily, is again class. Not for herself, but for her son, Stratilia eventually decides to take the villa since Leonardo is dead and Jacopo is the rightful heir. But clinging to class and material possessions in this series never ends well.

When Stratilia realizes her desire to seize the villa in the name of justice for her son will likely get them all killed, she cries and blames herself for their coming deaths.

As Tindaro says:

Stratilia: I failed my son Tindaro: No. You have given him everything. And love most of all. He is blessed. You understand that Jacopo? You are blessed.

In other words, love doesn't have to be perfect. It can involve major screwups and pain, but that doesn't mean the life they had or the love was any less powerful.

Also of note: the whole reason the peasants turn to mercenaries and cults is because the rich lock themselves away from the poor, when in reality they are all humans. You can't counter acts of God (or, y'know, rats) but where humans do have power, in all the terrible hands life slaps them with, is the ability to love each other and help each other. While this sounds cheesy, the juxtaposition of this idea with a black comedy plague setting actually makes it shine.

The Loveless: Pampinea

At the start of the story, there are two buffoons: Tindaro and Pampinea.

Tindaro is misogynistic and pathetic, and Pampinea is equally insufferable but more sympathetic because her insufferable tendencies are clearly driven by her status as an unmarried woman in a patriarchal, misogynistic society.

Yet Pampinea has all of these kinds of love, and can't accept any of them. Sirisco loves her and thinks she is beautiful. She not only pushes him away, but is cruel in doing so. She has the respect of Neifile and Licisca. She has unrequited loyalty and love from Misia, and uses it to manipulate Misia into killing Ruggiero for her (and the irony is that Misia, who is traumatized from killing Ruggiero, then kills Pampinea).

Pampinea is a well-written villain, imo. You love to hate her, but you also see her humanity. The way she treats Misia, though, is increasingly horrifying, and their relationship foils Tindaro and Dioneo's, Filomena and Licisca's, and Leonardo's and Stratilia's/Sirisco's.

In fact, Filomena even directly acknowledges that she's no better than Pampinea for how she's treated Licisca. Tindaro doesn't get the chance to have that realization about Dioneo while Dioneo is alive, but he does give him a decent burial when he definitely didn't have to. And, there's an aspect of tragedy there too--Dioneo did care about Tindaro, but Tindaro's inability to show any kind of care for Dioneo while he lived means that he doesn't realize that Dioneo did in fact find love in the end, though he acknowledges that this was what Dioneo did primarily want in life.

In contrast, Pampinea has chance after chance after chance to choose differently, to choose a single bond, and she doesn't. She also recognizes that her servant wants love more than anything, just like Tindaro and Dioneo, but instead of using that to honor them, she uses it to degrade and manipulate Misia.

Bad Victims and Toxic Love: Misia and Pampinea

Misia is a bad victim. It takes forever for her to realize she's being abused and even longer to accept it. She does in fact murder someone for her mistress, and she keeps going back to Pampinea even when it means essentially betraying Filomena, whom she romantically loves. When she asks for help, she pushes the people she's asked away.

Eventually, the only way she sees to free herself is to kill Pampinea, because love for Pampinea is a way to cage someone rather than a way to set them free. Pampinea's already introduced the idea of killing for love, so it's not really a surprise when this comes back to bite Pampinea and she is killed.

Yet the story doesn't demonize Misia for this. It shows how damn difficult it is to free oneself from an abuser, and how genuine the love for an abuser can be. In fact, the victim can often not even realize they're being abused and taken advantage of.

Furthermore, Misia's abuse doesn't make her a better person. Most people tend to assume that victims cry and wait for rescue, but that's not realistic. Victims lash out and can sometimes have a massive cognitive dissonance, as demonstrated in the show when Misia begs Sirisco for help and then blames him for Ruggiero's death when he calls her out on Pampinea's abuse of her.

Even Misia killing Pampinea isn't portrayed as a moral positive. It's tragic, but it also doesn't have to destroy Misia's future. Filomena loves her and forgives her, and that love can tether Misia to life despite her having two murders under her belt.

Sirisco also goes down a bad path, similar to Misia. He brings misery and problems to the villa in his outage over Pampinea's treatment of him. Yet he does repent after he sees that his actions have directly led to the deaths of the peasants who treat him well, and he survives.

[serpentface]

The goddess Arweny, depicted in Setem-Whe ornamental style. She is usually described as a female elowey protruding from the jaws of a gigantic serpent, or as a small snake with a rat perpetually stuck in its throat.

She is considered to be one of many local spirits of the wilds across the vast forested region known as Nekhuatseth, and is venerated (and cursed) as the god of the hunt-interrupted. She is believed to lend strength and speed to hunted quarry, allowing them to escape predation against insurmountable odds. She is completely impartial, and will lend her mercy to an insect just as easily as she would to a person.

Hunters blame her when what seems to be a certain kill escapes, and pray to her when they find themselves hunted. In many places, it is believed that she will hide all prey if she is not appeased, and as such is left offerings of fruit and wine before any expedition. It is common in rural parts of Nekhuatseth to wear amulets depicting her likeness to ward off attacks from wild beasts.

A folktale from the Sykhilic cult (a Nekh and Setem-Whe religious order devoted to a lunar goddess, scattered in temples at the edges of wilderness areas) intends to teach youths about the dangers and impartiality of the wilds, and illustrates beliefs about Arweny's intervention in the cycle of hunter and hunted.

A young hunter walked alone through the wilds in the heat of the dry season. They were on their rite of passage, and as such were armed only with a knife and could feed only on what game and forage they found on their journey. They were three days in, tired and hungry and missing the comfort of the city more and more with every step.

The hunter stopped at the edge of a clearing to eat a few clumps of dry, tasteless grass. They chewed miserably and dreamed of the great feast that would be held upon their return, when they heard a sudden snap. The youth had only a moment to turn before a great beast seized them in its claws. A tyger had been stalking them, and now pinned them to the earth under one massive paw!

Thinking fast, the young hunter called upon one of the wild gods of these parts. 

“Arweny! Rat-Who-Chokes-The-Snake! Please, lend me your strength!”

And there was a great rustling in the bush, a sliding, slithering sound, and a cackle of frightful laughter. And the hunter felt every muscle in their body seize with a great strength, and they wrenched themself out of the stinking cat’s grasp.

The youth scampered up a tree and sat in its high boughs with their breast heaving. The cat paced below in helpless agitation, for the branches were far too lithe to support its great weight.

The great beast stalked away, and the hunter cried out their thanks to the lord of the triumphant prey and nursed their wounds.

The young hunter walked along deer trails all day, but there was no quarry to be seen, and the scents were weeks old and unpromising. With hunger now gnawing painfully at their gut, they came upon a great river. There were water lillies growing in the shallows with thick, tasty bulbs, and the air was alive with frogsong. The youth crept out into the muddy water, hoping to find something good to eat.

But a slight ripple on the water filled their gut with ice. Their instinct told them to be afraid, and in the fraction of a second, they whispered, “Arweny, lord of the hunt-interrupted, lend me your speed.”

And in that same moment, a colossal riverdrake sprang forth from the murk, faster than the hunter could have run. But their body was seized with a great quickness, and they leapt into the air, high above the drake’s head, and came down upon its jaws, forcing them shut with a snap!

As they sprang away from the beast, they heard a wet slithering sound, and that same cackle of triumph. They silently thanked the lord of the biting quarry, and ran far from the river and its dangers.

But now, the hunter was near starved. The small insects and dessicated grasses they had found along the way did little to abate their hunger. They needed to make a kill or they would surely starve.

And as if by divine will, they came across a river hog hopelessly tangled in a thorny mass of dead vines. It squealed and strained with all its might, but to no avail. The hog collapsed to its side and laid still, chest heaving and showing the terrified whites of its eyes. The hunter sighed in relief and drew their blade.

And suddenly, the hog trembled and burst away, ripping up and dragging all the vines along with it! The hunter was frozen in shock. How was this possible? The hog was as good as dead!

And as if to answer that question, they heard that same slithering, the sound of something heavy dragging its long body over the dry leafbed. And they heard that same cackle, a laugh of triumph, as the prey fled and the hunter starved.

[girliism]

70s cult leader art who picked up your friend from the grocery store on day and you haven’t seen her since.

“hello” you hear a voice you haven’t heard in months.

“oh my god? are you ok no ones seen you for months. i thought you died.”

“died?” she laughs through the phone. “i haven’t died in fact i feel more alive than ever.”

“well, where the hell have been?”

“that’s what i called you for, i want you to come visit me. it’s been so long and i missed you dearly. he even said you could spend the weekend.” he?

you don’t question it to much telling her you’ll be there. she gives you the address and says to come on friday.

you leave early in that morning, the california sun beating down on you through the window as you approach a huge house. you eagerly park your car getting out to see your friend.

“i’m so glad you came.” she pulls you in for a tight hug. “god, i missed you so much.” you hold her just a little bit longer before pulling notice something on her upper arm. “what’s this?” you stroke the mark on her arm. “looks like a tattoo but worse.” she pulls away from you. “it’s nothing. come on i’ll show you around. and don’t worry about your bags someone will grab them.”

the house was beautiful. a giant staircase and a crystal chandelier hangs in the foyer. “holy shit.” you stare in awe. your friend laughs at your reaction. “i know right wait til you see the rest of the house.”

“and this is where you’ll be sleeping here with me.” it was a huge room, lots of windows and six beds lined up next to each other. “you can have the bed on the end-” “girls.” you turn around to a man with blonde curly hair dressed in a long silk rob and tiny underwear. “art!” your friend goes up to place a kiss on his lips. oh? “art, this is my friend the one i was telling you about.” you hold you hand out for him to shake but his immediately pulls you in for a hug. “it’s so great to finally meet you. i hope you have a fun time here.” he pulls away with a big smile on his face before leaving. “isn’t he just so great.” your friend stared at the now empty door way. “anyways you should probably change out of those jeans before i show you outside. it gets terribly hot.”

dressed in a loose white dress you and your friend walk through the garden. “this is our garden all of our produce is grown here by our garden members.” they were all naked sporting the same mark on their arm as your friend. she showed you the rest of the huge property and soon it was time for dinner.

the dining room was full of talking and laughing. three long tables placed next to each other. you sat in the middle one. the room got quite when art walked in. “family, today we are joined by a new friend. i hope you all made her feel welcome.” yes is echoed throughout the room. “join hands and thank the divine for blessing us with such a beautiful harvest and such a beautiful guest.” they all joined hands thanking the divine before passing food around starting up conversations again.

art watched you the whole night. they way your lips wrapped around the fork how easy you got a long with every one. maybe you were what was missing from the house.

“you got so lucky tonight. you got to sit at his table right next to him.” you friend said to you from her bed. it was night and you and your friend were talking about the day you had. “what’s so great about this art guy.” you say. everyone here seems so obsessed with him. “he’s amazing. when he found me i was so sad and hiding it from you, but he saw that and he helped me.” you hummed. “well i’m glad you’re happier now.”

you get awoken in the middle of the night by howling and the urge to pee.

the old house creeks below you feet as you walk back from the bathroom when you hear it. moans. they were coming from a room and the door wasn’t all the way closed, so against your better judgment you looked through the crack. you saw bodies fucking in a perfect circle with art in the middle, two people going down on him. what the fuck? you accidentally push the door causing it to creek. art snaps his eye to yours making quick contact with you. you gasp moving back immediately making your way back to the room. you replay the scene in your head pushing a pillow in between your legs grinding against it softly.

the kitchen is busy that morning, people moving in and out of it. your friend spots you coming up to hug you. “good morning. how was your sleep?” “it was fine. um what’s going on here.” you pick up and apple from the fruit bowl but it’s ripped out your hand. “no eating that those are for tonight.” you ask what tonight was. “the first full moon of the summer. we’re gonna be camping outside, oh i do hope you stay for it.” “oh uh i wouldn’t want to intrude.” you say shaking your head. your friend smile drops “that’s ok. it’s been so much fun either way i do hope you come back and visit.” she shrugs going back to preparing for tonight.

you were packing your bag up getting ready to leave when someone comes in tell you art what’s to see you in his office. you make your way to his office knocking on his door. you hear a soft come in and you walk in taking a seat in front of him. “i hear you’re not gonna stay for the full moon camp out.” art says leaning back in his chair blue eyes locking with yours. you draw a breath looking away. “i just as an outsider wouldn’t want to crash you know.” art laughs getting up to take a seat on the desk in front of you holding your hands in his lap. “please, we would love to have you join us.” his thumbs stroke the back of your hands.

so you find your in another white flowy dress walking bare foot up a hill arm hooked with your friends. “i’m so happy you decided to stay you’re gonna have so much fun.” you friend smiles.

“drink this and find a spot.” you drink the mysterious drink the guy at the top of the hill. you start to fill whatever it is you drank, your muscles feel loose and the flames in front of you look as if they are waving. you see your friend encourage you to get up and dance with her so you do. jumping and twisting dancing around the fire getting lost in the night. art watches from his spot before getting up to dance too, grabbing your hand pulling you off to a more secluded area.

art pushes you to lay on the grass hovering over you pulling the strap of your dress down. you moan at how his touch shockes you. whatever you drank has you overly sensitive and needy. “i saw you watching us last night in the shadows.” your bare tits get exposed to the cold night air nipples harden. “you wanted to join just us or did you want me all to yourself.” art pulls your head that was rolling to the side smacking your cheek to get your eyes to open. “yes, i wanted you i even went back in my bed and touched myself.” you whine at the filling of art’s fingers teasing your cunt.

you were so high. your eyes glossed over and drool spilling out of your mouth that art licks ups slipping his tongue in your mouth. “want you to fuck me with your cock.” the small sober part of you was confused on why you were acting like this, but the major part of your mind felt fuzzy, and art hands holding your thighs open made you want to cum on the spot just from his touch.

art chuckled at your directness. “i can do that.” art pulls is cock out of his pants pushing it into your wet heat. “fuck.” he grunts bottoming out. the second he enters you, you feel reborn like his cock was what was missing from your life. “oh my god.” your eyes roll back. art shakes his head. “no, not god. the divine.” he smiles at you bringing one of your legs up over his shoulder and starts fucking into you.

“i thank the divine for bringing you here for bringing me such a welcoming pussy to lay my sperm.” art kisses all over your face gripping your breast hard, panting like a dog in your ear.

“art art art - oh fuck - fuck me harder.” you whine. the twigs on the ground scrap your back, and art is punching the sweet spot inside you with his dick.

art starts licking and sucking on your breast, leaving faint bite marks there. “the best fucking pussy. need you to stay with me, rule with me in my divine kingdom.” everything art’s saying and how his thumbs moves fast on your clit has you blanking. absolutely nothing is being thought. the only thing echoing up there is arts pleads of staying with him.

“i think i’m gonna come.” you dig your nail into his arm as your cum gushes down his cock. you don’t know when art cums in you but he does. the only thing you do know is how you feeling like your floating. everything around you seems so bright and vibrant. is this the divine?

you come back to reality when art kisses your lips asking if your were ok. “i’m more than ok, i’m perfect.” you breathe out. art smiles down at you. “so you’ll stay with me?” art ask taking advantage of the state you were in.

“yes, i’ll do whatever for you.” you and art lay there under the full moon.

(poor girl was tripping off shrooms thinking she’s having a religious experience 🙂‍↔️)

[ghost-proofbaby]

NOW WE'RE STANDING IN THE RING, BREAKING EVERYTHING THAT WE'VE BEEN BUILDING UP SO LONG. I DON'T WANNA DO THIS - BREAK IT UP.

☆ pairings: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

☆ warnings: no use of y/n, strong language, angst, everybody's a hypocrite, minors dni

☆ WC: 3.2K+

thank you to my love @hellfire--cult for the divider!

masterlist

You can’t tell if the ride on the elevator is all too short, or if it drags out entirely. 

The entire ascension, you find the fire again. All the pain and anger that had fueled you to be acting out so cruelly in the lobby. And yet the bell that signals you’ve arrived to your intended floor still dings all too soon. 

It’s hard to get lost. The moment you step off the elevator, you can clearly see only three doors – two of which sit within an indented section of the wall and face one another, clearly the bathrooms. 

Behind the other one, Eddie Munson, no doubt. 

You still cling to that notebook as you take all your steady steps towards the door, turning over all your fury in your head. Turning all the lyrics over in your head. 

All those songs, all those lines – and he’d never picked up the phone and just called. 

You can only assume that it was all written more recently. Before he’d seen you again, even. And if he had still been writing about you, he could have tried calling you. He could have said all that he’d written to you directly, rather than hiding it all within songs that there was no guarantee you’d ever hear. Instead of singing them to crowds of adoring fans rather than to your face. 

You don’t knock on the door – you just open it. 

Music immediately surrounds you as you step in, loud enough that they clearly hadn’t heard you enter. Grainy guitars, deafening drums, billowing bass. And finally, amongst the madness, you can hear Eddie’s voice singing. 

“Do you wanna see how far it goes? Do you wanna test me now, my love?” 

Yes. Yes, you certainly fucking do. 

It’s not Eddie’s live voice coming through the speakers. It’s clearly a recording as he sits beside the producer, hunched over and nodding along, face twisted as he seems to dissect the music in real time.

One flourish of his ringed hand, and the producer is clearly hitting pause. 

“Do you think we can add in that synth I recorded earlier here-”

“Eddie.” 

His hand drops the moment he hears your voice. The chair he’s sitting in nearly tips from the speed in which he spins it around to face you, resembling a statue as he takes in your silhouette in the doorframe. 

You can only imagine the image he’s faced with. 

You, all your vexation and all your torment painted so clearly across your features. Your knuckles, looking physically strained from how tightly the metal spring of the notebook digs into your palm. Your chest, heaving with every breath, as if even being within his vicinity right now was torturous. 

And it was. God, it was. 

Salt in your wounds. Dagger in your stomach. Poorly bandaged contusions you’d never taken the time to balm and soothe. 

“Sugar,” he breathes out, earning him a strange look from the producer, “What are you-”

“Can we talk?” 

Your voice is quivering, strained from trying to keep a level head until the two of you are alone. 

“Right now?”

“Right now,” you almost add on the given alone, but Eddie is one step ahead of you. As he stands, he also waves his hands a bit, clearly dismissing the producer. 

“You want me to leave?” the man asks, standing slowly, looking curiously between the two of you, “Where do I even go? Matt said we’d be working for another few hours, at least-”

“Go to the fuckin’ lobby or something,” Eddie spits out, having a hard time pulling his eyes away from you, “I don’t-” He pauses, his eyes finally finding sight of that notebook in your hand. Clearly, he hadn’t noticed it before. “-care.”

All the blood drains from his face. He’s so pale, you’re worried that he might pass out any second now. 

He doesn’t look prepared for a fight – if anything, he looks terrified of whatever you may swing at him. 

The producer leaves, not without a few mutterings under his breath about not this again, but you don’t even bother to dig deeper into it. If Eddie frequently gets into fights in this studio, that’s his problem. 

Maybe he shouldn’t write songs about girls he’d hurt, and never pick up the phone.

He seems to be waiting on you, but you’re waiting on the click of the door. All that hurt, all that seething is burning in your chest, waiting for release. There’s no need to have any witnesses to the downfall of both of you. 

“How was your mor-”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence. One click from the door, and you’re storming across the room to slam that notebook into his chest, uncaring of how much it might hurt. 

You hope it hurts. You hope it aches like your palm that had held it, like your chest that feels as though it’s been pried wide open. 

“What the fuck is this?” you spit out, already choking up with tears. 

“What do you-”

“Where the fuck do you get off on writing all those- all those- all those fucking songs about us?” You don’t care that you’ve cut him off – it’ll be the least harmful thing you do during this argument. You’re desperate, rabid and crumbling as you push the notebook harder for emphasis, unable to let go just yet, “All those goddamn songs, lines about wanting me to come home, lines about us. Fucking pages of them! And not one single call. Not one single text.”

The first tear falls, and you’re quick to let go of the notebook so you can swipe it away. You’re not crying in front of him right now. You’ve done enough of that this morning, over old photographs and times you can never get back. 

“I’m sorry, excuse me?” he laughs nervously, looking between you and the notebook he now has ownership of. He flips open the cover, and his face falls when he sees the first page, “You were reading my notebooks?”

“Who even cares at this point?” you hiss out, taking a step back, needing physical distance now. “It was the only way I would ever find out how you really feel, right? It was between that, or having to hear it on the radio, right?” 

His face goes through several revelries before he settles on an emotion, mouth agape as he shakes his head slowly at you, brows furrowed and all his creases exposed, “Are you seriously pissed off right now that the rockstar wrote songs about you? That I wrote about you, which is what I do for a living?” 

“Your job isn’t to write about me!” Thank God for soundproof studios. Your voice is rising, tone cracking with emotion, “I’m not fucking mad that you did that, I’m mad that you never called-”

“I did call!” he yells back at you suddenly. Not out of intimidation, not even out of fury. He has to do it – he has to match your volume just to be heard. “I called hundreds of times. Before the tour ended, when I got back, when I saw you were gone. I did fucking call-”

“I’m mad that you fucking left!”

Silence fills the studio. Eddie has no retorts left as your words weigh down the moment, ricocheting off the walls and puncturing every delicate foundation of whatever closure bullshit you two had begun to falsely build. 

You finally throw your head back in bitter laughter, blinking away the unwelcome tears, “I’m so goddamn angry because you left me.”

“What?” his face falls, almost crumpling in the same manner as it felt your chest was, “You told me to go on those tours. You wanted me to get out there with the band. Not to mention, you left too. You left, seemingly without a goddamn reason. You said it yourself, just now-”

“It’s not about the physical leaving,” you interrupt, bones growing weary, tired from it all. Weighed down with memories and weighed down with emotions that should have been dealt with years ago. “I lost you long before you stepped foot on that tour bus that last time. You…” you pause, breathing erratic, coming out in harsh puffs, trying to build the courage for what needed to be said. 

“I what?” he’s all but begging now, the need to scream over each other evaporating into thin air.

“You stopped saying you loved me.” 

The words are out there now, and you can’t take them back. Two long years of him writing songs, of you washing away a stain that won’t ever fade, of something broken that can’t seem to be fixed. 

You reach out, but not to try and steal back the reason from him. No, that’s not possible. Instead, you take the notebook back from him and begin to gingerly flip through the pages as the tears fall and the words pour out.

“All those phone calls, all these songs, and you still never say the words I needed to hear,” you’re not just talking in past tense any more. It all seemingly blurs together, the past and the present nothing more than watercolors as they spill across the page and merge together. You can’t tell where the hurt from the beginning lays and where the hurt from now feathers at the edges. It’s all the same, and it all remains a stain, “I never needed elaborate metaphors or pretty words, Eddie. I just needed to know you still fucking loved m-”

You cut off as the door to the studio suddenly swings open. You’re frozen, rooted in spot, hand glued mid-flip as Eddie’s messy handwriting stares up at you from the page you paused on. 

Eddie looks ready to fight. To scream at whoever may have interrupted this crucial moment – a moment for you to finally say what you needed to, a moment for him to finally get his answers. 

He doesn’t, though. Not when a fairly livid, almost frazzled Matt is standing in the doorway, glaring at both of you.

“Ah, good,” he says, stepping fully into the small space that had just been a war-zone for you and Eddie. The door slams shut behind him due to its own gravity, “You’re both here. Makes my job easier.” 

“Matt?” Eddie crinkles his nose, “What the Hell are you doing-”

“What am I doing?” Matt walks until he’s standing in front of the coffee table, and motions to the couch with a flick of his wrist. Eddie is quick to follow the silent instruction, taking a seat, but you’re slower to move. You are not Matt’s dog, refusing to be at anybody else’s beck and call at this moment. And so you continue to hover, “What are you doing?” 

You become the pet he needs you to be when he suddenly tosses a magazine down on the coffee table, and you realize that maybe, just maybe, Matt has good reason to be commanding you. 

The vinyl front cover stares up at you, shining beneath the lowlights of the studio, but the image is clear. 

You and Eddie, walking into his apartment building. And in bold lettering, simple textually strokes in blinding white, is a headline that weighs you down enough to make you take the last few necessary steps around the table to fall into place beside Eddie on the couch. 

EXCLUSIVE GOSSIP ALERT: Rockstar Eddie Munson Spotted Canoodling with Mystery Flame! (pg. 89)

Matt’s eyes dart between you two before he finally sighs, “We need to talk.” 

—

The sweat of your hands is making the corners of the magazine pages curl. 

It’s the detail you choose to focus on rather than all the honking and commotion surrounding the car you’re currently sitting in, or the chilling AC that has blasted your right cheek to the point of numbness. The radio is off, the tinted windows are rolled up to dull the music of the city around you, and Matt hasn’t said a word since you’d buckled yourself into his passenger seat. 

Following Matt’s abrupt interruption of you and Eddie, contained chaos had ensued. A symphony of Eddie immediately coming to your defense, claiming the two of you weren’t even canoodling in the photos on the front cover. Of you, only being able to utter a shocked question of how? 

How did they get those photos? How did they print them so fast? How, how, how?

In the last twelve hours, as your life had been piecing together old rotting bricks only to once more fall apart entirely, some cheap gossip journalists had been formulating a front cover that truly felt like it was ruining your entire life. You didn’t know who all had seen the magazine, you didn’t know if the news had spread far and wide across the internet, and you certainly didn’t know what happened next. 

But then Matt insisted you all return to his office. A guarded ivory tower to discuss exactly what you were questioning – to figure out where you go from here. 

Eddie had been quick to suggest you ride back with him in the car that had brought him to the office; you had been quick to shoot down the offer and ask Matt for a ride instead. 

That’s how you ended up here. A magazine you wanted to burn at the stake in your lap, stuck in traffic on a busy street that more so resembled a parking lot at this point. 

“We need to talk about it.”

The first words Matt has spoken to you since the drive began. Not a question, not a request – you were going to talk about this shit show. No running from it, it seems. 

“I don’t know how they got the photo,” you blandly reply in monotone, staring down at the two photos clearly taken back to back, merged together with some pretty impeccable photoshopping. Doesn’t erase the fact that they’d definitely caught you’re bad angle, “I didn’t even see any paparazzi-”

“I don’t care about that,” Matt waves off as the light you’d been stopped at for several minutes now turns green, and there’s just enough of a gap in bustling pedestrians crossing the street for him to make the right turn he’d been signaling the entire time, “One thing you need to learn right here, right now, is there will always be paparazzi around when you’re in public with Eddie. You won’t always see them, but you should always assume they’re there.” 

The ceasing of that irritating clicking is heaven sent. One less commotion to cloud your reeling mind. 

“What do you care about then?” you mumble, finally side-eyeing the older man beside you. 

“I care about what you are to Eddie.” 

“I can promise you, I am noth-”

“Don’t feed me the same bullshit excuses he has, please,” Matt sighs as the rolling car slows, and he signals once more to turn into the parking lot of one of the many impressive skyscrapers towering over the street, “I’m not an idiot. Eds may seem to think I am half the time, but I’m not,” a confining parking space is where the SUV finally settles, but Matt makes no move to turn the vehicle off as he turns to look at you fully, “Look, just level with me. Because as of right now, the only thing I know is that you went to high school together. I need to know where exactly you stand with Eddie, not just because he’s my client, but because of the conversation we’re about to have.” 

Your heart fully drops, “What kind of conversation are we about to have?” 

“A hard one,” Matt instantly replies, not missing a beat, “A very, very hard one. With so many moving factors, it’s gonna give you a headache. And I want to warn you of it, give you a fair chance, because you seem like a nice girl. You’re not used to this circus like me and Eddie are – you deserve a fighting chance at what’s about to be asked of you.” 

What’s about to be asked of you. 

You had a few guesses, simply based on the grave look on Matt’s face. Simply based off of all the research you used to do back in your room in Hawkins’, when the joke of you managing Corroded Coffin felt more and more like a real possibility. 

“An NDA?” you guess, trying to seem indifferent. You should have seen that coming. 

“More than an NDA, dear.” 

Your head snaps in his direction, brows furrowing, “What could you possibly want from me that’s more than signing a piece of paper that promises I won’t tell anyone what’s happened last night?” you hold up that magazine from your lap, giving it a fluttering shake for emphasis, “Wasn’t that the point of showing us this?” 

He only smiles. Your heart only sinks further. 

“I’m going to ask you one last time; what are you to Eddie, really?”

A muse. A stain. A ghost. Something to haunt every avenue he’ll ever take for the rest of his life. A mistake better left unspoken between the two of you. A blip in his past, impossible to avoid. Something better left dead and buried, but the Universe just won’t seem to let the two of you rest. 

“I’m his ex-girlfriend.” 

How do you define an ex, though? Did you ever really end it? How can something be over if neither party has ever been willing to say the words? 

Matt nods slowly, smiling almost sadly, “I figured as much. Thank you, at least, for being honest.” 

“Can I ask you something, and you answer me honestly?”

The car carrying Eddie is probably nearly here. They had probably gotten swept into traffic while following behind Matt’s car. A few extra minutes added to their journey as they’d tried to navigate the nightmarish streets of New York. 

Come to think of it, you don’t even know if he’ll be using the same front entrance as you and Matt. 

“You won’t always see them, but you should always assume they’re there.”

He could use the back entrance, if there was one, to avoid the paparazzi. 

Technicalities you had never had to consider before. You’d only experienced a fraction of Eddie’s fame firsthand, in the beginning, when it was still reasonable to show him off. To brag about him in public, to pronounce your love from every rooftop. Hiding had never been an option – it hadn’t needed to be an option. 

“I know what your question is,” Matt says carefully, “And we both know I won’t say anything until we’re inside that building with Eddie.” 

“Is he even going to go through the fr-” you start to question, but cut off just as you see a familiar black SUV pull up to the front doors of the building. 

You have your answer, it seems. 

Matt unbuckles his seatbelt, and you take it as your sign to do the same. But just as you begin to reach for your door, Matt’s hand on your forearm stops you. 

“For what it’s worth, I am sorry for what I’m about to ask the two of you. Especially now that I know the truth.” 

Your heart finally arrives to the point of no return, unable to answer as the organ is buried six feet under within the grave that should be meant for yourself when it comes to the history books of Eddie Munson. 

Just what was Matt about to ask of the two of you?

You open the door without responding. 

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @mediocredreams @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin

@ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87

@thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @aysheashea@kellsck

@cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking

@witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore

@mikiepeach @ali-r3n @hawkebuckley @alwaysbeenfamous @darkyuffie-blog

@vintagehellfire @lilmisssiren @elvendria@loveryanax@stylexrepp

@princessstolas @fangirling-4-ever @eddiesguitarskills @babez-a-licious @josephquinnsfreckles

@writinginthetwilight @trixyvixx @kittydeadbones @munson-addict @bluejeangenies

@cryingglightningg @joannamuns9n @missmarch-99 @rhirojo@findmeincorneliastreet

[writingforatwistedworld]

Hii, I'm glad you're back . Even if it was for a few days you really left a place in tumblr not just for your work but for your presence itself.

I had a question for a while and I'm sorry if you answered it before and I seemed to not notice , if that's the case then forgive my ignorance but I was wondering , since sebek seems to respect his grandfather alot and has inherited the hate for humans from him and it's a known fact in self-aware au that the faes 'love' the overseer alot I must say.. does that mean that sebek also inherited his 'love' for the overseer from his granpa? If so how did green grandpa see the overseer, what made him 'love' them and how does he show it .

If you don't want to write this then feel free to ignore it , hope you have a great day and don't forget to drink water and eat well<33

Hi there Anon. It's so sweet of you to say that. I didn't think I would have made such an impression on anyone. But I completely forgot to write about Sebeks grandfather -_-

Well, better late than never.

Self-aware au

WARNINGS: Jp-version spoiler (like, the whole thing!!!), (Platonic!) yandere themes, war, religion, unhealthy mindset, isolation, unhealthy family dynamic

(Platonic!) Yandere headcanons

Ah yes, our local way too loud and loyal member of the reptilian family. No need to to worry about him. I mean, what could go wrong? (Hehe…)

Baul was not from the Valley of Thorns. Growing up in Sunset Savannah he did not grow up with the beliefs of the Faes (in other words, he was not part of a religious cult)

So imagine the huge shock he felt when he finally became a solider under the Draconia banner and started to become more and more like the other Faes

Well, for starters, yes, he wasn't indoctrinated into the whole church thing since birth but also wasn't raised to see you as an equal like the beastmen of the Savannah

You could say that he was a healthy mixture of both

Emphasis on the “was”

You see, isolation and being the only one sticking out (if we discount the humans invading the valley) does leave you open for a lot of things

If we count two (being the surroundings he was in) and two (his more or less unnoticed loneliness) together, we can see pretty fast where that led

Never mind his superior (and friend I mean come on they might as well be brothers) Lilia constantly rambling about the Overseer, savior of all, and how you accepted everyone in your kind embrace

Ok. Nice. Neat. Great. In the beginning, Baul wasn't very interested in joining any kind of religion

But the longer the war held on, the more he wished there was someone he could ask for help in his task of protecting those he deemed close to himself (you see the generational pattern?)

At some point, even the proudest of all can't hold on for forever

So he turned to you, the supposed God that was on so gentle

And goddamn that religious gaslighting and placebo effect worked damn well

Not only did he feel like there was someone there who supported him from somewhere in the universe (even though that was just him believing too much but let have him have some hope, ok?) but also he finally had a community

Whenever he would leave one of the many churches in the valley a Fae would approach, thanking him for protecting their home

Sooner than later did the former non-believer think of himself as your chosen shield of the valley

The war came and went away

If only the same thing could be said about Bauls new religious beliefs

And when he saw that grandson of his, cute little chubby hands that gripped a wooden toy sword tightly, he knew that his position as the valleys shield would not cease

Yes, even Baul would die one day. Fae or not, he was at the end of the day mortal

But that talent of his grandson would surely be of use to you, right?

If his younger self would see him like this, would it run away? Would it feel disgust at the thought that his future self would use his own grandson for selfish, religious reasons?

If only Baul knew that “God” didn't even know they were living beings that existed in a different world…

[lostsoulofdragon]

some small headcanons I got for the forest god au by @llamagoddessofficial

Please note that all the things stated down there are NOT canon, but headcanons I made up as I aggressively scourged down every bit of information I found about this au, thank you very much :)

also I’ll be heavily focusing on my favorite boy Skull (I’ll just call him Horror for now because I can handle it better) here, because why not, I love him 

Sans is not opposed of letting humans do their thing. If they wander his territory, they wander his territory. He’s even turned humans fae if they showed devotion to him. Some have started a cult about him, and he finds it amusing enough to let it continue. And hey, they even protect his forest FOR HIM, so all he really has to do is care for the fae and animals, not if trees get cut down or rivers get dammed. He can just sit back and relax, and have the enjoyment of humans running around for him. He doesn’t consider it to be selfish- heck, he never showed himself to them, he didn’t start the cult. That’s on them.

 He viewed the cult as… family, to some degree. After all, he turned some into his kind. After the forest of a fellow deity was lost t the humans and then the deities wrath, he watched the cult fall apart. They left his forest, leaving him to feel abandoned by them. He TRUSTED them. He never showed himself to the most of them, but he still LIKED them. They were like the most of family he ever had. And now they were gone.

Red likes humans. We all know that. But over the centuries, as they evolved, he watched them closely. So closely, that when you are fortunate enough to enter his core domain, you are faced with ancient human machines. Old pictures of random people in surprisingly good health for being tucked away in a tree in the middle of a forest. If you want to get an item of yours back after loosing it in the forest, you must trade it with him (dipping into the fae aspect here, hehe). He allows humans to stay in his domain, at least at its edges. But those that live there whisper about how many things go missing regularly. That bird that grasped your hunting knife as you left it unsupervised? Sent by the local deity. The fox pulling a bag of different tools? Reds personal thief. The deer eyeing the self made pouch of multiple layers- you get the idea.

Horror wasn’t always a hulking multilegged creature that resembles beasts. Before his rage took over, he was a humanoid deity, like the others. He allowed humans to wander through his territory and hunt and forage to a certain extent, and those that exhausted their stay just wouldn’t find any more. No more berries on the sides of the path, no more deer trails to follow. Similar to Red, he finds humans intriguing, but in a slightly different way. While Red wants to know all about the human race, Horror is content with letting them into his forest without having them fear for their safety. He allows them to hunt and forage, but no one dares to set up a permanent home there. A camp for the night, sure, but anything that indicates a longer stay than a full moon cycle will be left without food or other resources soon enough, alongside great rain and extreme temperatures that only worsen the longer the human stay.

Anyone who dares exhaust their stay even AFTER he told his animals to evade the human, made the plants temporarily close their flowers when the human was around… they learn to never upset a god the hard way. Every step they take makes water seep into their boots that never dry again. Every plant they decide to pick, it either wilts before they can consume it, or it makes them sick. The animals they slaughter put up a vicious fight. Arrows don’t harm the animals anymore. The meat turns bad in a heartbeat, or it infects the hunter with diseases or parasites. Horror allows humans to redeem themselves if they move out when he tells them, but if you decide to exhaust his hospitality even after his warning signs? You have been cast out for your life.

Horror liked his fae-underlings. He allowed them to toy with humans, but only to a certain degree. He refrained from turning humans to fae, because they could get the wrong idea. But there are stories about a certain human who was granted a special connection to his forest, and his forest alone.

[taylor-titmouse]

I'm Taylor Titmouse, I write and illustrate queer erotica featuring freaks and monsters. I also draw a lot of porn that I can't post here, so those will be posted as crops with links to my various uncensored locations.

You can find my illustrated novellas and artbooks on Itchio. I've published a Lot of them. If you don't know where to start, I recommend the Dragon Double Feature series or Roger Crenshaw, or Spring with the Unicorns--that one's free! I've also written up a guide to all of them here!

Some of my latest releases, try The Long Road if you like gender-based worldbuilding!

You can find the most complete collection of my uncensored art on Patreon and Subscribestar (both are equally served.) I post high resolution art regularly, and everything is neatly organized going back to 2022 (that's longer than I've been posting here!) $5 patrons get access to over 180 exclusive illustrations, and can vote in monthly polls from suggestions made by the $10 tier--who can also commission me at any time with a 10% discount!

Just .05% of the exclusives you unlock by subscribing!

You can also follow me on Twitter or Bluesky, where I post my art uncensored. Below the cut is a list of story tags, which will link you to art and posts about those stories, and provides some context to what they're about. Thanks for checking out my work!

TT Art: my art tag TT Talks Drawing: my tag for talking about the art-making process TT Talks Writing: my tag for talking about the writing process TT Testimonials: my tag for asks reviewing how good my books are :^) TT Asks: my tag for answering asks

Story Tags Barnyard Bound: F/M, human/furry, bondage, breeding kink, Harvest Moon also for some reason. Cherry Brilliant Ryder: M/F, aliens and medical play (The Xenosexuality Conference) Brilliant, Dr. Lindon, Dr. Odonata, Dr. Pinkie, Dr. Menura, Councilman Somato, Zeal-and-Duty Cadogan: Trans masc wizard, fantasy monsters, predicaments and situations. Cadogan, Madog, Myrddin Chique: NB/Various, fantasy monsters, elves, nudism, catch/fuck (The Sunken City, The Wild Woods) Chique, Lien, Lutin, Fuck-elves The Dragon Double Feature: M/F, M/M, M/M/F, dragon/human, oni/human, plus size. Fantasy princess/dragon CNC, Edo era Japan (The Dragon Double Feature, The Dragon Double Feature 2) Eveline, Gundrid, Wakatake/Taki, Kenta, Mrs. Arakawa, Jerund Eternella 7: M/M/M, Gundam-inspired space opera erotica. (Eternella 7 Parts 1-3) Risk, Turn, Engel House Gerhardt: F/F/M, vampires, trans women, femdom, male humiliation, 1800s. Lady Cygnet, Countess Gerhardt, Conrad House of the Risen King: M/F, old god, exhibitionism/nudism, sex cult. (House of the Risen King) Vee, Zihbeh Knight of Thorns: M/F, giant faceless knight/petite princess forced marriage. Rosaline, Knight of Thorns Laurestine: Trans unicorns, monsters, bondage/stuck in situations, catch/fuck (Spring with the Unicorns) Laurestine, Barberry, Mazereon, Edelweiss The Leylic Sea: M/M, historical fantasy, pirates, university wizards (The Captain of the Tybaltine, The Boy from Karkutt) Mr. Todd, Oliver Bullock, Lucas, Mirza The Long Road: Goblins, dwarves, bandits, a princess and a knight. Gangbangs, rope bondage, CNC (The Long Road) Tourmaline, Angre, Vanesse, Samwell, Georgie and Markie (the Twins), Jarett, Bingo, Goblina. Lover Rescue: F/F/Genderfluid, magical girls, monsters, plus size, cam girling. Lover Pink (Momoka), Lover Gold (Hikari), Lover Blue (Aozora), Lord Heteracuto (Hiroto) The Masson Circle: M/M, M/F, 1970s crime romance, multiple ships, femdom, trans male character (The Masson Circle) Ezra, Tessa, Leonard, Lionel/Nell, Jean, Mathieu Max and Mortis: M/F, exhibitionism, naturalism, photography, nudism. Max, Mortis/Daisy Monsterfuck Mountain: Fantasy monsters, WIP erotic CYOA (You're A Mage on Monsterfuck Mountain) The Mage, Trolls The Night Guest: M/F, young man/older woman, oni/human (The Night Guest) Mrs. Arakawa, Tōru Objects of Affection: M/F, F/F, robot girls and people being weird about them. Touma, Shima, Mari-ko, Ratna, Mari Mouse, Samart, Marinette Season's Breedings: Gnomes, Imps, and probably other critters, and their biology/breeding habits. Applecore. The Sleeping Garden: M/Agender, alien, science. Dr. Arbor, The Flower Starbuster: M/M, a WIP novel-length superhero romance. Mitsuo, Tom, Starbuster Roger Crenshaw: Trans M/M, monsters, occultism, early 1900s (The Vampires of New Haven, The Wolves of the West, The Shadow in the Shelves, The Dogs at Duskfall) Roger Crenshaw, Professor Reed, Grigori, Mateo, Johnny, Sweet Nate, Jackie-Ralph, Cam Ellis, George Adler, Combe Hooper. Romick: Evil wizards, obedient doll, magical sex, experimentation kink, dungeon bondage, monster sex (The Tenebrous Tower) Romick, The Doll, Osmund, Vester

[archduchessgortash]

Unpopular Opinion

An 'evil power couple ruling Toril together' ending for Durge and Gortash is a horrible idea, and I'm glad that it doesn't happen in Baldur's Gate 3. If it ever did, it would not be a happy ending for either of them.

If that's your kink... cool. It's such a popular ask in the fandom that I'm sure someone already wrote it months and months ago.

My kink is redemption, but hardly anyone seems to want that for Gortash, and it makes me sad. I really think it should have been an option.

Here's why I don't want Durge and Gortash ruling Toril:

Durge and Gortash have both been abused, manipulated, and treated like complete shit by their families, their caregivers, and their gods. Bane's treatment of Gortash isn't exactly clear except that he tortures his soul for failure even though Gortash did everything he possibly could to succeed in the Absolute plot. By the time we meet him in-game, Gortash has become as bad, if not worse, than his abusers. Pre-tadpole Durge was a piece of work, too, although Sceleritas does mention that they struggled to stay the course that Bhaal had set them upon even before their lobotomy.

We know that one of the themes in Baldur's Gate 3 revolves around cycles of abuse. Even when the victim-turned-abuser isn't arguably 'as bad' as the one who hurt them, if they choose the same sort of path, they lose everything they were ever really fighting for: themselves.

I know Ascended Astarion stans will stomp their feet and say he hasn't become Cazador 2.0. To them, I say: 'You're right. He hasn't... yet.' However, he has eternity now and a delusional slave of his very own to bring out the worst in him. There's a reason that spawn Astarion mentions how he felt everything he'd learned since meeting his new friend/partner slipping away when he thanks them for stopping his ascension. Because that is what ascension does to him. Astarion loses. Cazador wins. Even dead, he has won. That the fandom doesn't get that boggles my mind.

Some fans like the idea of evil Durge and Gortash taking out Bhaal and Bane, becoming gods themselves. In my opinion, this is so much worse. Killing or torturing their abusers as revenge isn't 'finally showing them' or proving their strength. It is, in fact, a mirror of their abuser's own weakness manifested in their victim. Gortash has already crossed this line. Dravo Flymm is effectively dead, animated only by his tadpole. This is another reason I wish Karlach had the option to forgive Gortash--not for him--but for her.

Gortash intellectualized his own abuse so hard that he actually thinks he was helping Karlach by giving her to Zariel. He has not truly dealt with anything that was done to him. He projects it onto the people around him and makes his own problems into everyone else's. I believe this is why there's no ending in which he survives. That, and running out of time and money to do him and Wyll justice with their storylines.

I don't like Durge and Gortash becoming worse together. A history of abuse does not excuse its continuation. I don't want to watch them be overtaken by their own weakness, to weep as I gaze upon the manifestation of their inescapable cowardice.

I want to see them win, but my definition of winning is not ruling. My definition of winning is choosing to no longer emulate their abusers, to become what tiny glimpses into their back stories show us they once had the potential to be.

The idea of Durge and Gortash enslaving the world and ruling it brings to mind a line from one of my all-time favorite songs: Veteran of the Psychic Wars by Blue Öyster Cult.

'Did I hear you say that THIS is victory?!'

Well... it is. Just not theirs.

Repeating the cycle of abuse is nothing short of ensuring the legacy of the abuser.

Like I said... I want Durge and Gortash to win.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Cult of the lamb ask!

The reader is the god of adventure. They don’t really have a cult like the other gods did, being a person that was on the move too much to settle down and form one. But they frequently travel to places that are either in abundance of adventure or where the people desperately need one.

Lambert is constantly having to stop the reader from dragging their cultists into dangerous adventures or is having to deal with reader following them around as they crusade against the other gods and dragging him into some more adventures against his will.

(Reader isn’t malicious, perhaps just a little ignorant to how much damage the mortal body can take)

With nearly all of the old gods having fallen to the Bishops ages ago, Lamb never expected to meet any of them..

Until he did, in fact, meet one such god:

You, the God of Adventure, who only survived the wars/massacres by simply moving from place to place all the time.

This made you difficult for the Bishops to track.

Your singular purpose was to seek out people who were in desperate need of an escape from their routine lives and give them new adventures/quests to undertake.

You've basically invented crusading...so why the Bishops wanted to destroy you and that very concept was baffling.

In a way, you've helped the Old Faith grow stronger. They should've been thanking you instead of hunting you like an animal.

After a few centuries, you passed by Lamb's cult and quietly observed its growing size, never straying too far.

Despite having followers who worshipped you, you've never actually settled anywhere to start your own official cult. But they've adopted a nomadic lifestyle in your name.

Wherever you went, they were never far behind, spreading your gospel...although after Narinder's betrayal, many of them went into hiding or got captured, leaving you to be slowly forgotten about.

But seeing Lamb's followers going on missionaries gave you an idea..

Of course, an immortal god couldn't feel the thrill of "dangerous" adventures and would never know what it's like to have a close brush with death.

So..why not become mortal instead?

Thus, you made a pact with your Crown to dull its powers, showing up to Lamb's cult as a humble creature looking for a new home.

Obviously the Red Crown sensed your godhood and it made them wary of letting you stick around.

But you've proven you're trustworthy enough.

Now you're tasked with assigning missionaries to followers and accompanying them in the Bishops' domains.

If several are going at once to different places..you prioritize whoever had the lowest chance of survival to ensure a safe trip home (which may or may not involve you giving a few subtle blessings to them).

However you've found yourself dragging them into danger quite a few times while evading hostile creatures and traps (especially in Silk Cradle where they seemed to be at every turn).

Even when Lamb's crusading, you'll cross paths with them sometimes and end up running right into heretic territory.

While you can't die from old age, your mortal body still has its limits....and Lamb only had to revive you once.

Ofc you don't remember that and brush off their concerns.

"Oh come on, little Lamb. What's adventure without a little danger every now and then? There's no fun in beelining it to the Bishops and not exploring the world around you!"

"...the only things that are "around us" are centipedes that spit acid and giant axe traps-"

"Then let's go to where they reside!"

If Narinder ever found out who was the most recent cause of Lamb's death...he'd just roll his eyes.

[theamberfist]

It's Tough to be a Teacher | Alastor x Teacher! Reader

Platonic! Alastor + Best Friend! Teacher! Reader

Description: You and Alastor have been best friends since you were alive; where you two served as a murderous radio-host-and-kindergarten-teacher duo. Now, your refusal to become an overlord and protect yourself in hell causes Alastor to come up with a plan to convince you; for your own safety.

(Notes: CW Alastor, mentions of cults)

❀ We've got a song in this one! (Sometimes I like to write in songs I find if they fit the scene since Hazbin Hotel is a musical after all!) ❀

Words: 4,243

Alastor was someone who absolutely thrived in hell. With almost no consequences for any of his actions, he could kill, torture, or eat anyone he wanted. It was no surprise to you that he'd risen to be one of hell's strongest overlords in such a short time after his death.

You'd also been dead by then. In fact, you'd been killed off long before he had when your crimes in life were discovered. Alastor, upon arriving in hell years later, had informed you that he'd gotten revenge on those responsible for your death in the most brutal, bloody way possible; just as a best friend should, and he'd been making a name for himself here ever since with your support.

You were under the impression that you thrived in hell, too. However, since you had absolutely no interest in becoming an overlord, this sense of safety and contentment you felt was really thanks to your best friend's protection. There were few in hell who would mess with the Radio Demon, and even fewer that would have risked harming you and incurring his wrath when the two of you were always seen together.

But that didn't mean there weren't any at all.

Since his debut as an overlord, Alastor had caused many of hell's strongest to go missing, where he broadcasted their screams of pain and torment for all to hear. As it turned out, many of those missing overlords happened to be connected to not-yet-missing ones, who would then take it upon themselves to exact their revenge upon him. And more recently, that meant going after the closest person to him, you, as an eye-for-an-eye sort of situation.

He hated it. Even more so because you could have easily become just as powerful as him if you wanted to. You'd been a killer in life too and you certainly had the stomach to deal in souls, but every time he brought the topic up, you refused it.

Your murders had always had a strict moral code to them when you were alive. The pattern had been what ultimately alerted the New Orleans police that you were a suspect and got you caught in the end. You only ever killed those that you had deemed deserving of it based on a list of circumstances and traits. In short, you'd been trying to make a positive impact on the world in your own twisted way by killing off people you considered bad.

In fact, you met Alastor precisely because of your little 'good deeds,' as you'd referred to them at the time. You had been in the woods burying a body, only for him to be out hunting at the same time. Surprised by the presence of another person, he'd come over to strike up a conversation and the rest was history. You'd been best friends ever since because, ironically, Alastor had never met your qualifications for a truly 'bad' person.

Together, you two were a radio host and kindergarten teacher duo by day, but a pair of serial killers by night; both very notorious for your crimes.

And yet, when you'd arrived in hell, you'd seen no point in becoming an overlord. Why own the souls of other sinners? It wasn't like you wanted to become some sort of god and the way you saw it, you could protect yourself just fine without that extra power (though, Alastor would have begged to differ on that point, considering it was usually his power protecting you without your knowledge). So every time he tried to suggest you join him in his path, you'd politely but adamantly refused.

Which was why he was now left at a loss for what to do. Sighing, the Radio Demon slumped in his seat as he stared down at the 'coffee' in front of him. He'd come down to Cannibal Town since they had some of the best cafe's in hell and a warm drink had always helped him think better.

He could continue to protect you the way he currently was just fine, of course, but should he ever not be physically present, and an overlord that was on the stronger side showed up, he wasn't as confident in the fact that you'd get out unscathed.

The Radio Demon had never worried for another person to this extent in his life or afterlife, but it seemed his best friend was one of few exceptions to that. After all, without you, who would he share endless hours of gossip with when even Rosie was busy? Who else in hell had he known in life that didn't constantly ask him for favors the way Mimsy did? Who else had quietly listened to his broadcasts every day while their kindergarteners took their afternoon naps in the classroom?

No matter what you said, he refused to allow you to come to any harm if he could prevent it. Whether he liked it or not, you were too much of an important aspect in his life for him to even risk that. For heaven's sake, you had hardly even committed a single crime since arriving in hell of all places because you claimed "everyone here was probably a bad person" and that you "couldn't actually kill them anyway so what was the point?"

So it was Alastor's concern for your safety that finally brought him out of the cafe and on a walk through the cannibal colony in the hopes of coming up with a solution. If he couldn't get you to become an overlord, perhaps there was some other way to ensure your safety down here. Could you make a deal with someone in higher standing? Sneak into heaven? Get a job working for Lucifer, if you had to?

Luckily, he didn't have to ponder long, because as he walked, he passed by a group of what looked like young adult sinners all resembling various animals. They were gathered in an alleyway and huddling like a sports team might before a big game, and since they weren't doing anything that particularly irritated him, he nearly passed them by without a second thought.

...Until he heard them say your name. Well, it was your last name; they'd referred to you the way your kindergarteners might have, back when you were alive.

Alastor froze, his head snapping to look at the group now. Upon noticing his gaze on them, they all quieted down as he repeated your name with an unreadable expression.

"Do the lot of you happen to know them?" He asked. The sinners all exchanged glances before hesitantly nodding.

"Yeah, we all had them as our teacher when we were little." One finally spoke up. Clearly, he recognized who Alastor was because he and the rest of them all seemed a bit timid.

"Interesting..." Alastor said as he took a step into the surprisingly-clean alleyway now. He was extremely curious as to why they'd brought you up at a time like this. If they were your former students, he was sure they'd absolutely loved having you as a teacher; all of them had. But bringing up someone who'd taught them when they were in kindergarten at a time like this seemed excessive.

As he came closer to the huddle, he noticed a few more interesting things on the wall behind them that only amused him further. It seemed he'd been right when he called them excessive.

Dozens of what he could only assume were their assignments from kindergarten had been plastered on the wall; all graded by your hand and with that sparkly pen of your favorite color that you always used. The Radio Demon wasn't even sure how they'd procured those things in hell, but that wasn't all. There was a photo of you with your class of kindergarten students from when you were alive at the center of it all, and lines drawn in bright red blood connected everything; wrapping up this odd display.

It was a shrine. That knowledge only made Alastor's smile widen further in amusement. You likely didn't even know these former students were in hell, so he enjoyed imagining how your face would look when he told you all these details.

The sinners exchanged glances with one another now, seemingly put-off by his silence this whole time.

"Do you have a problem with us?" One of the braver ones spoke up, "If so, we're not alone! I'll have you know there are tons of us down here that will gang up on you if you try anything!" The Radio Demon wanted to roll his eyes at that- as if a group of regular demons, no matter how large, could stand a chance against him- but an idea was forming in his mind now that he couldn't help but want to investigate further. He hummed, taking another step forward as he raised his microphone-cane to point at the wall-shrine.

"And do the rest of you worship this person too?" He questioned casually. It seemed your former students hadn't expected that because they exchanged glances with one another again before answering.

"...Yes. All of us were their former students," one said, "We were inspired by their death and followed their ideals in our own murders. Now, we continue to spread their knowledge throughout hell."

"I see..." Alastor replied. He couldn't have been more amused in this moment; here he'd been worrying about your safety since you didn't want to become an overlord, and now it seemed he'd just accidentally stumbled upon the solution. "If that's true, then I assume you've yet to run into them down here?"

That gave the group pause.

"They're down here?" The sinner who had first spoke up asked and Alastor nodded.

"Indeed!" He replied, "In fact, they happen to be a dear friend of mine." Their eyes seemed to narrow at that; as if they didn't approve of the supposed friendship. Alastor, however, paid them no mind as he stood taller and rested his hands on his cane. "I have a proposition regarding your former teacher," he announced to the group, "One I believe you'll be more than inclined to accept."

He could already see their intrigue as he began explaining.

..........

You quietly hummed to yourself as you made your way to what essentially served as your dwelling here in hell. Thanks to Alastor, you could have chosen just about anywhere to live if you wanted, so at the moment, both you and him resided in an otherwise-empty apartment building that closely reflected the architecture found in New Orleans during your time. Your apartments were next door to one another; even having a door on one of the walls between them for quick access, though Alastor rarely ever used it; instead just popping up out of nowhere in your house.

Unlocking the door to your home, you stepped inside and shut it behind you. Since your best friend had been busy today, you'd taken a peaceful walk by yourself and had now returned to make dinner for the both of you. Alternating who cooked and when was a common practice for you and the Radio Demon since you both shared the same tastes and preferences when it came to food. You had to admit, though, that he was much more skilled in the kitchen than you.

You turned on one of the many radios found in your apartment as you moved through the kitchen; humming along with the song Alastor currently had broadcasting. You were just about to start cooking when there was a knock at your door.

Frowning, you set down the apron you'd been about to tie onto your body and made your way to the entrance of your apartment. You'd never received visitors before; and especially not out of the blue like this. Alastor tended to ward off anyone who might have been looking to come see you.

Curious, you looked through the door's peephole to see a huge group of people crowding the hallway. Slightly nervous but remaining confident, you pulled open the door to greet them.

"Hello, can I help you?" You asked as kindly as you could. Alastor would likely lecture you about not answering the door for strangers like this later, but it wasn't like anything was going to happen, right?

Suddenly, someone from the group called your name, but not just any name; the title you'd gone by as a teacher. Your gaze snapped to them in surprise.

"Y-yes, that's me..." You replied carefully, "And you are?"

"It's me; James!" The person called and suddenly, memories of your life came flooding back to you. James had been one of your very first students and he was always such a sweet kid. He used to offer to sharpen your pencils for you during his own recess time, and though you never took him up on it, you were always appreciative.

"And Joseph!" Another demon called.

"And Ruth!"

"And Mary!" Suddenly, a whole chorus of names were called out, all belonging to your former students. Your breath hitched and a huge smile made its way onto your face at being able to see them again.

"My goodness, what are you all doing here?" You asked happily, ready to invite every single one of them into your home for dinner, even if they could barely fit in the long hallway outside your apartment, as it was.

But then it hit you; this was hell. If this many of your former students were here, that meant they hadn't made it into heaven like you'd always assumed. This was only a handful of those you used to teach, of course, but if this many had ended up in hell, you wondered what could have gone wrong to make them commit anything worthy of being here.

"What are you all doing here?" You asked, now crossing your arms. It had been a while, but those teacher instincts of yours were beginning to come back just from seeing all your old kids.

"We found out about your killings!" Mary eagerly spoke up. You cringed at that. You'd known your students would likely hear of what you'd done, and while you didn't regret any of it, you did feel bad that it had likely ruined the image of their former favorite teacher in their memories.

"We were inspired!" Joseph called now and your eyes widened.

"You're like our idol!" Agreed Ruth, "We want to be just like you so we've been living the way you wanted and continuing your legacy of cleansing the world of evil!"

You felt like you couldn't breathe. They were here because of you? Because of what you'd done? You weren't sure whether to be proud or guilty over that, but before you could decide, James dropped another bombshell.

"And now we want you to own our souls!"

You paused, taking the information in. A part of you expected them to backtrack, laugh, and tell you this had all been some elaborate prank, but that didn't happen. They were dead serious about wanting you to be their overlord.

"What?" You asked in surprise as Mary nodded.

"We want to give our souls to you and work under your command!" She explained excitedly, as if what she was proposing was the most normal thing. You weren't sure what to do.

"Uh...Could you all give me one moment?" You asked politely, feeling as if you might faint. The students nodded and you quickly shut the door before going straight to your living room. That was where the connecting door between your and Alastor's apartments was located and you hurriedly knocked on it, needing the support and guidance of your closest friend right now.

"Al?" You called quietly enough that the students wouldn't hear you but loudly enough that he would, "Are you there? I could use some help!" There was no response, even after you waited a minute, and you sighed, assuming he wasn't home yet.

You went to turn around now, trying to come up with a nice way to reject the crowd of people outside when you jumped at the sight of a bright red deer-like demon standing behind you.

"What is it, darling?" He asked in a cheerful tone.

"You've got to stop sneaking up on me like that!" You exclaimed as you reached a hand to your heart. It wasn't like you could have heart attacks in hell but it sure felt that way.

"Why, but it's so entertaining!" He replied before setting his cane down and letting it rest in the crook of his arm. "Now, what seems to be the issue today?"

Ignoring how he almost sounded like a customer service worker, you sighed and reached a hand to your forehead in an effort to calm your already-growing headache.

"Remember how I used to teach kindergarten?" You asked, though, you knew he did. Regardless, the Radio Demon nodded and you continued. "Well, it looks like a bunch of my former students grew up looking up to me and now they're here in hell. They showed up just now and they want to give me their souls like an overlord!"

Alastor remained smiling, as always, so it was hard for you to notice just how amused he was by this situation. "And why, pray tell, would that be an issue?" He asked.

"Because I can't do that!" You exclaimed, groaning in frustration, "I can't hurt them; they're still my former students! I would have no idea what to do with that kind of power and besides, I don't want to be an overlord!" You plopped down on your nearby couch as Alastor listened intently to your plight. Finally, he hummed.

"I still fail to see the issue, dear," he told you, holding his cane in his hands behind his back as he calmly paced in front of you, "who says you would have to harm them if you owned their souls?" When you didn't respond he went on. "And as for the power, you would hardly need to use it. They could live their lives just as they did before if you so wished, but this way, you would finally be able to protect yourself."

"I can already-" you started to protest, only to see the look in his eyes and think better of it. You'd been in denial about the role your best friend played in your safety for a while now. Finally, you sighed. "But Al, they see me like some sort of god," you told him, "they idolize me to a concerning degree. I can't have that power over people; it's never been my style."

Alastor knew this was true. After all, in life you'd always preferred to manipulate the world from the shadows via your killings. You would never have been comfortable with this much glory, but he wasn't about to give up on the idea yet.

"Perhaps I can put it a different way," he said. The sentence was a reference to your teaching style as well; always willing to try and explain or show things differently if a student didn't get it the first time. You were endlessly patient, and luckily, he knew that would work in favor of his current plan. 

With a wave of his cane, a hoard of shadow creatures appeared in the room around you. You glanced at each of them, having seen the group before, wondering how he planned to get this point across. That was when he pointed to the door, where one of the creatures had grabbed the handle and was now swinging it open. In the hall, you could see your crowd of students all kneeling, but they looked up with smiles once the door was open. That was when Alastor, in his theatrical fashion, began to sing.

"There, you see? They're on their knees!" He called, pointing his cane in the direction of the hall, "Being worshipped is a breeze!" As if to further prove his point, the shadow creatures ran over to kneel in front of him. The one that had been at your front door now closed it and joined them. "Which rather suits us in the interim!" Alastor added with his signature wide smile.

"I just...Don't think I'm cut out for it," you admitted with a sigh, completely ignoring his song. On a normal day, you might have sang and danced along, but you weren't in the mood right now. "They want me to be a god!"

You plopped down on the couch with a defeated look on your face but your best friend wasn't done yet. 

"It's tough to be a god!" He admitted dramatically as the shadow creatures spun in circles around him, "Tread where mortals have not trod! Be deified when really you're a sham!" You could tell he was mocking you now as he leaned on the couch and raised a hand to his forehead like an exasperated lady. You rolled your eyes but then he moved to stand in front of you, taking both your hands in his.

"Be an object of devotion!" He sang as the shadow creatures performed some surprisingly elaborate choreography around you. "Be the subject of psalms!" He pulled you up off the couch so you both were standing now and then draped an arm over your shoulders, pulling you in and raising his hand to his mouth as if telling you a secret. "It's a rather touching notion; all those prayers and those salaams!" He took your hand now, spinning you in a circle as you chuckled. 

Alastor knew his plan was starting to work now; at the very least, he'd cheered you up. It seemed pretending he had no part in the arrival of your former students really had been the right choice; otherwise you would have caught on to what he was doing. 

"And who are you to bridle if you're forced to be an idol?" He asked as the shadow creatures brought of both their hands and shrugged dramatically, "If they say that you're a god that's what you are!" You bit your lip at that; seemingly still not enthusiastic about the idea. Knowing he needed to try another tactic, Alastor snapped his fingers, transporting a few of your students into the room.

All of them were kneeling on the floor surrounding parts of what had been their shrine to you. Your widening eyes told him you hadn't realized their devotion ran that deep yet and his smile grew more sly as he went on with the song. 

"What's more," he sang, "If you don't comply with the students wishes I can see you being sacrificed or stuffed!" He dragged a finger across his neck for emphasis and you seemed to get a little more nervous. In order to bring back your enthusiasm, though, he pulled you back into a side-hug as you both faced the students. Now as they continued to kneel, silver platters of your favorite foods rested in their hands and they held them out to you. 

"So let's be gods, the perks are great!" He lead you over to one of the students and took note of how your eyes lit up slightly at the sight of your favorite food, "All of hell here on our plate!" He spun you again now and snapped his fingers so the platters disappeared and a few more students joined the others in kneeling. "The students' feelings should not be rebuffed!" He sang as he directed your attention to the sinners, who all gave you puppy-dog-eyes in agreement. Alastor had to hand it to them; they had a knack for going with whatever he came up with in order to convince you. "Never rebuff the students' feelings, no my friend!" 

The shadow creatures began dancing around again and the other demons joined them, despite not really knowing the choreography. The result was an adorably awkward dance between the two groups. "It's tough to be a god!" Alastor repeated to you as he took a step, gesturing to everyone around you both. "But if you get the students' nod..." He trailed off, giving you the opportunity to speak. You did, with slight hesitation. 

"Count your blessings?" You asked more than you sang. Alastor nodded, glad to know he seemed to have gotten you on-board now.

"Keep them sweet; that's my advice!" He replied as he came to stand by your side again in the middle of the circle of shadow creatures and students. 

"Be a symbol of perfection..." You sang softly. The Radio Demon knew his plan had worked now so he nodded and went on. 

"Be a legend, be a cult!" He advised you, "Take their praise, take the collection as the multitudes exult!" You turned to the students, one of your hands slightly extended as it began to glow your favorite color; a phenomena you'd never experienced before now.

"Don a supernatural habit?" You sang as you glanced back at Alastor, who nodded, before leading you slightly closer to the group. 

"You'd be crazy not to grab it!" He sang as the first student eagerly lined up to shake your hand. This time, you didn't reject the offer and the Radio Demon was glad to know his plan had worked out just the way he wanted. He knew you only needed a little more convincing in order to become one of hell's next best overlords. "So sign up this new god for paradise!" He sang as you finally took the hand of your student, shaking it and solidifying your first deal as a new overlord. "Paradise~!"

And with that, it was done. You would finally own souls of your own, and with them, you would finally have the power to protect yourself just like your best friend had always wanted. 

[fangirl-writes]

It's a wolf thing

Jacob Black x Fem!Reader

Warning(s): swearing, violence, canon-level things

Request: Jacob Black x fem! reader, where reader is dating Jacob, and he is getting more distant towards reader. Bella and Jacob are getting really close so she thinks he is cheating on her with Bella. Reader goes to school, and confronts Bella about it, and Bella tells Jacob. Jacob then yells at reader and reader asks him "Do you still love me?" and then Jacob breaks down and cries, and tells her that he became a shapeshifter. You can finish the rest!

Notes: Jakey really needed a girl to get his mind off Bella; shame that the author decided that girl should be an infant. Anyway-

PS: I went a little bit of a different route than the request, but only slightly. The main beats are still there. Hope you like!

You weren't worried before.

You'd been dating Jacob for a while before Bella moved back to town, and really, what did you have to worry about?

Bella was nice, a bit awkward, sure, but nice. She didn't seem interested in Jacob and, since they didn't go to the same school, they didn't interact with much.

She was with Edward, you were with Jacob, that was that.

Until.

That dreaded word “until.”

Until Edward and the other Cullens left town.

Until she came hauling a motorbike in the back of her truck.

Until Jacob started spending all his free time with her, instead of you.

"Hey," you said, walking into the garage where Jake was crouched by the motorbike and Bella was sat next to him.

Your hands were in the pockets of your jacket, feeling like you'd just interrupted something, even though the guy in the room was your boyfriend.

"Hey, babe," Jacob replied, grinning at you.

"Hey," Bella replied in her usual soft way.

"Bike almost done?" you asked.

"Yeah, I think she's about ready for a test drive," Jacob replied, standing up and wiping his hands a rag. "What do you say, Bella? Ready to give it a go?"

"Sure," she said with a non-commital shurg. "Let's load em up."

Jacob walked over to you, smiling and kissed your temple. "You wanna ride along?"

"If that's okay with Bella."

"Of course it is, why wouldn't it be?"

You shrugged, trying to sweep the pit in the middle of your stomach under the rug.

"Bella, it's okay if Y/N rides along, right?" Jacob asked, walking back over to help her wheel the bikes out to her truck.

"Oh, yeah, of course," Bella replied, smiling a little at you.

Jacob gave you a look that clearly said "see?"

"Thanks," you said, following them out of the garage.

Jacob lifted both bikes into the back of the truck easily, like they weighed nothing.

It made you shake your head and laugh when he did a few extra lift ups to impress you.

See? You're being silly. You have nothing to worry about, you thought.

You hopped in the truck, taking up the middle space between Jacob in the passenger and Bella in the drivers seat.

It was a mostly silent ride to wherever Jake had decided would be good for a test run, but he soon turned it serious with one question.

"If I had told you I couldn't fix these bikes, what would you have said?" he asked.

It was a question you knew to have been nagging at him for a while.

He and Bella weren't exactly close before this project, so why had she come to him?

You wanted the answer almost as badly as he did.

"Are you doubting your mad skills?" Bella replied, jokingly.

"No. Definitely not," Jake said, smirking. "I mean, they'll run fine. It just, uh..."

He glanced at you on the trail off.

"Maybe if I was smart I would have dragged out the rebuild a bit."

That struck you.

"If you told me you couldn't fix these bikes, I would say that that's really too bad, but we're just gonna have to find something else to do," Bella said, a little laugh in her voice.

You, however, weren't laughing.

What had he meant by that? By dragging it out?

"Is that Sam Uley?" Bella asked as they drove by the jumping cliffs.

"Yeah," Jacob replied. "Him and his cult."

You gave him a look and he shrugged. "What? It's true."

"Oh my god," Bella pulled over as one of the members of Sam's group was practically pushed off the edge of the cliff.

The reaction made Jacob (and you this time) laugh.

"They're not really fighitng, Bella," Jacob assured her. "They're cliff diving. Scary as hell, but a total rush."

"A rush?" she asked.

"Most of us jump from lower down," you said. "We leave the showing off to Sam and his disciples."

Bella, reassured that no one was in serious danger, turned back towards her truck. "You guys have some kind of beef with him or something?"

Jacob tossed his head. "I don't know. They just think they run this place."

"Embry used to call them hall monitors on steroids," you remembered, smiling.

"Now look at him."

"That's Embry?" Bella asked.

She'd met him and Quil a few weeks ago at one of the bike repair meetings, back before he was with Sam.

"What happened to him?" Bella asked.

"He missed some school," you explained. "Cut his hair, got a weird tattoo."

"Now all of the sudden, he started following Sam around like a little puppy," Jacob added, frowning. "Same thing happened with Paul and Jared."

Jacob had mentioned that Sam had been keeping an eye on him lately. Like he was waiting for him or something.

It was freaky.

It was like he was next.

Bella straddled the bike, adjusting herself and wrapping her hands around the handles.

"You look like you're scared," Jacob said.

"I'm not," Bella replied.

You were perched on the edge of Bella's truck bed, watching from a safe distance.

Dirt bikes weren't really your thing and it was their project.

As much as the jealousy monster clawed at your insides, you wouldn't let it win. There wasn't a reason.

Not yet.

Bella reved the bike after Jake showed her the controls, but she seemed distracted.

"You sure she's good to do this?" you asked him as she took off.

"I don't know," he replied, watching her go. "Something's off."

He was proven right as Bella swerved, unable to hit the brake before she was careening over the handlebars and rolling into a stone.

"Oh, shit," you said, hopping up as Jacob used the other bike to speed over to her.

You followed, slower, obviously, stopping only to stare dumbfounded at your boyfriend when he swung off his shirt to tend to Bella's head wound.

What, he couldn't have tore the shirt or something? There wasn't a rag in the truck? What the fuck?

By the time you reached them, they were already walking back. Jake's hand was on Bella's waist and she was leaning on him.

"You okay?" you asked her.

"Fine," she replied, though from the blood still fresh on her forehead, you guessed you were done for the day.

You glanced at Jacob, but he wasn't looking at you. His focus was on her.

A few days later, he said he was going to see a movie with her and some of her friends. Some action flick you knew you wouldn't have the stomach for, so you stayed home.

Which, in hindsight, was a bad idea.

You should've asked him to stay with you, fake something you wanted to do with him that night.

Would he have stayed with you when Bella was on the table?

And when he came back he was angry.

You stopped by his house, wanting to see him after the movie, but he was practically boiling when he got there.

"Woah there tiger, you okay?" you asked when he stormed into his room.

He froze when he saw you, an unknown emotion crossing over his features as he stared at you.

"What is there something on my face?" you asked after a beat.

"What are you doing here?" he snapped, grabbing at his head.

Your eyebrows furrowed and you frowned. "What I can't just stop by anymore? You are still my boyfriend right?"

"Get out," he said.

"What the hell?" You said, getting up from your slouched position on his bed when he turned away from you. "Did something happen? Hey, talk to me-"

"Stop! Just stop," he replied, pushing your hand off of him. "Get out. Now."

"Why?"

"Becuase I asked you to."

He was breathing heavily, his skin was hot to the touch, and he was starting to sweat.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Y/N, just leave!"

Taken aback by his anger and not feeling like fighting, you relented. "Fine. Call me when you decide to stop being an asshole."

But he didn't.

In fact, he stopped answering your calls, texts, everything. Every time you went to his house, his dad said he wasn't there. He wasn't at school, he didn't go to group hangouts anymore.

You were starting to get worried.

At first you just thought this was a breakup. That he'd finally decided he wanted Bella more than he wanted you. That he switched schools and was spending every breathing moment he could with her.

So, you decided to confront her. Ask her what the hell kind of game she was playing at. And if he was there, better yet, you could yell at him to.

You slammed the door of your car, storming up to Bella's truck where she was perched, talking to some Forks kids.

"Hey!"

She turned, surprised to see you.

"Where's Jacob?"

"What?" she asked, dumbly.

"Is he with you? I haven't seen him in weeks. He won't return any of my calls. He's gone completely cold, so I'll ask again, is he with you?"

You were seething. You wanted to see the words come out of her mouth, for her to confess that she'd wanted him all to herself.

But she didn't.

Instead, she said, "You too?"

You were slightly relieved to find out you weren't the only one that Jacob had ghosted.

And with a quick conversation, Bella assured you that she just wanted Jacob's friendship and nothing else.

Now all you had to worry about was where the hell your boyfriend was.

You caught him at his house one afternoon in the pouring rain, almost not recognizing the boy who froze when you yelled his name.

You stormed up to him, soaked to the bone and freezing, but he stood there, stone-faced and shirtless.

"Where have you been?" you shouted. "You cut your hair, you got that stupid tattoo. What Sam finally got his claws in you too?"

"You don't know what you're talking about, Y/N," he replied.

"I don't?" you asked, angrily. "Cause you look just like every other cronie in Sam's cult. He have a no girlfriend rule or something or was ignoring me just easier than breaking up with me?"

"Go away, Y/N," he said instead of answering.

"Hey!" you shouted, grabbing his arm when he tried to turn away from you. "Talk to me! If you need help-"

"I don't need your help."

"And you need Sam's?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

He scoffed, shrugging out of your grip. "Go away."

"No!" you stomped forward as he started to move away. "Don't you still love me?"

He froze.

"Or was that just some bullshit you thought you could say to get in my pants?"

"Stop," he said, turning to face you again. "It's not like that."

"Then what's it like, Jake?" you asked, throwing your arms out. "I don't know cause you won't talk to me! I'm out here in the goddamn rain right now for you and you won't tell me anything!"

Shouts from over Jacob's shoulder got your attention and you saw Sam, Embry, Paul, and Jared standing by the treeline.

"Tell me something," you pleaded. "Anything, Jake, please. I love you."

"I love you, too," he said. "Which is why it's better if we- if I..."

He sighed. "Go inside. My dad's there, you can dry off...I'll be back later, okay?"

"And then? You'll talk to me?"

"Yes. Now go."

You didn't stop him when he turned away this time.

Blinking away the rain and the tears to see him running into the trees with Sam and the others.

Billy offered you a towel and an apology when you went inside.

You grabbed some of Jake's old clothes and put your wet ones in the dryer.

Then, Billy, trying to break the ice, started telling you some of the tribe's old legends.

Wolves.

Jacob came back later, after the rain stopped, to find you and his dad talking, questions flowing out of your mouth.

"Well, this is cozy," he said, strolling casually in the room.

You looked at him, still a little upset with him.

"Can we talk?" he asked.

"Finally?" you asked back, standing.

Billy and Jacob exchanged a look as you passed him on the way to his room.

"You sure about this, son?"

"She won't tell," he replied. "And...Sam said I could. You know why."

Billy nodded sagely, resigned to his son's decision.

Jacob turned to follow you.

You made it to his room first, sitting yourself down on his bed.

He sauntered in soon after, closing the door behind him.

"Hey," he said.

You raised an eyebrow. "Hey?"

"So, dad buttered you up for the truth?" he asked, coming to sit next to him.

"And the truth would be?"

He sighed. "When I tell you this, you're going to think I'm crazy. But I promise that I'm not."

You turned your head slightly, questioningly. "Okay..."

"All these...changes," he started. "They're not...choices."

"What."

"I mean that they're...better for me to have."

"Jacob, you better get to the point or I'm going to slap you."

He huffed out a laugh. "All right, all right. Um. I'm...I'm a werewolf."

"What?"

"Everyone in Sam's pack is. He's the leader."

"Jacob Black you'd better not be fucking with me right now."

"I'm not!" he said. "Ask my dad, ask Sam."

You shook your head in disbelief.

You'd always known Forks was a sort of beacon of strange happenings. The "bear" attacks, the destroyed dance studio last year, other things over the years. Living there your whole life, you start to pick up on that stuff.

Not closely, enough, apparently.

"And...this is a tribe secret?"

"Well, yeah..."

"Then why are you telling me?"

"Er..." he bit his lip. "Cause you're...kind of my soulmate."

"I'm what?"

He laughed, a bigger, happier laugh than you'd heard out of him in a while.

"It's called imprinting. Every wolf has one and, well, I found out you were mine the same night I shifted for the first time," he said.

"When was that?"

"The night I came back from the movies with Bella. Remember how I was all angry and hot?"

"Yeah."

"It was the wolf in me trying to come out. After you left I had to practically jump out of my window to avoid destorying the house."

"I bet Billy would've been thrilled with that," you said, laughing.

Jacob laughed to, leaning in to hug you. "I'm sorry for putting you through all this shit. I thought...I thought it would be easier if I just...waited. But you've never been patient so I should've known that wouldn't work."

You smacked his still bare chest.

He smiled.

"This is a lot to take in," you said.

"I know. Take your time. I'm not going anywhere."

You reached up to cart your fingers through his hair. "I miss the long hair. But I can't complain about the abs, and the tattoo is kind of hot."

He snorted. "Thanks."

"Is the...warmth all a part of the wolf thing, too? Or is that just you."

He chuckled. "It's a wolf thing."

You hummed. "Well, I've never complained about that part. Tell your ancestors thanks for that."

"I'll get right on it," he said, smiling.

The two of you laid down then, snuggling up on his small bed.

"So. I have a werewolf boyfriend."

"That you do."

"A soulmate werewolf boyfriend."

"You're not gonna let this go ever, are you?"

"Nope. Get used to it, wolf boy."

He groaned. "Do not start with the nicknames."

"Oh, no, I've got a whole list I'm excited to test out on everyone. Think Embry would like dog breath? Ooh, or butt sniffer?"

Jacob rolled on top of you, practically smothering you, which only made you laugh.

He sighed, lifting himself up to look at you. "I really do love you. You know that right? I didn't just say it that time because-"

"Hey," you said, reaching up to cup his face. "I know. And thank you. For telling me the truth. I, uh, I kind of thought you were cheating on me with Bella."

Jacob laughed. "With Bella? I knew you were jealous."

"Was not!"

"Was too!"

"Oh, you're gonna get it now, wolf boy," you said, pushing him off of you and taking the upper hand.

He let you, of course, you couldn't move him before he had extra wolf powers, let alone now.

You couldn't hurt him, but you didn't think wolves were impervious to being ticklish.

"AHAHA!" he laughed out when you started, making you smile with triumph. "Okay! Okay! I give! Uncle! Can we go back to cuddling?"