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ashcroft-writes · 4 days ago

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Thoughts on Cad Bane in Tales of the Underworld

I almost never post analyses of my fave fandom things! But I've been thinking about nothing but this show for a solid 24 hours, haha. Honestly, I've been pretty light on sharing my thoughts on the beloved blorbos previously because I don't often care for engaging in the hot take trading in Star Wars fandom... and I also know things tend to grow on me over time, even if something bothers me at first. I’m also in times when people like me worry for their lives and futures, so the me that shows up for Star Wars anymore honestly just wants to have a little fun with it and appreciate what these creative teams manage to do, especially today, when I get Cad Bane content so enchantingly rarely!

BUT, these episodes definitely had a big effect on me. So I've sat with them a little, let ‘em roll around in my head, and though there’s parts of the narrative I think I would have also liked to see… what was done with this story, I ultimately really enjoyed.

But let's dig in deeper, because it IS fun.

THE RELATIONSHIP

Alright, to get it outta the way, anything that involves showing a past relationship for a character seems to set off a bomb inside fan heads. And as a queer writer with an MLM Bane series, some folks have seemed to kind of want to feel me out on this one!

Honestly, the Bane and Arin relationship intrigued me, and I like her.

But first, before I dig into why, I have seen some folks uncomfortable with the idea of a character that's had a blank slate backstory past now being given a "love interest," so I'm going to speak to that first. What is presented here doesn’t change all that much about what we know of Bane as a character—this was a relationship that was definitely physical and involved SOME sort of emotional attachment, but that's about all that was said, and I don't see how it really threatens most interpretations of Bane. Yes, even and especially the queer ones. One can write Bane and/or Arin with any earth-equivalent sexuality, gender, or romantic preferences (or lack thereof) that you choose and these interpretations would still work within this canon information (if you even want to keep canon information in your works!) I've been looking at this relationship from the angles of queerplatonism, aromanticism, bisexuality, pansexuality, heterosexuality, gay with a confusing puberty, etc. etc. etc.. And that’s just if Arin is in fact a woman in the sense that many earth humans mean it.

There’s a lot of wide narrative holes for creatives to nest in here, and I'm really happy I can say that, because I'm already building a nest. And, besides all THAT, Bane’s a cowboy alien?? Like. I think we should all keep getting weird with it, because he SURELY would be up to things outside of our earthly human day-to-day perspective.

So yeehaw. Do Whatever You Want Forever!

Moving on.

THOUGHTS ABOUT ARIN HERSELF

I really like her. I love the idea of this young person who was kind, who was trying to pull Cad back from the worst parts of his nature, who was wiser than he was about the possibilities of a future past the violence of their world. That is part of what my own OC Nuni was when I wrote him. And now in canon, there were at least two people—Arin and Niro—both trying to pull Cad back from his fixation on gold and blood, and I like that theme!

Was I curious how Cad and Arin came together…? Yeah. Of COURSE. But I know this was limited time we had, and decisions were made about how to convey the most telling details in shorthand and the story in broad brushstrokes—so here, I settle for the subtle body language, which honestly was very deliberately rendered. It’s clear Cad is attached on some level to Arin; the way he works easily alongside her and doesn’t leave her behind when the going gets tough isn't without meaning at all. For him, it seems as close a relationship as he's able to have. But a lot of their interaction regardless comes across as a very Cad way of handling someone, especially while younger, rasher, his anger hotter. He doesn’t confide in her, he snips, he barely listens. He hardly looks at her or even touches her, though her own gaze is often on him, analyzing, hoping, bidding for him to let go of what doesn’t matter. But he doesn’t consider her needs for a single second as more important than him coming out on top. And this… this was a relationship I’ve seen before in life, in which one side is too focused on what they’re chasing to properly, truly notice the other person, even if some facet of having the other person around comforts them. I couldn't help but wonder if Arin was indeed startled by how easily Cad hugged Niro, when Cad just doesn’t seem to be like that with anyone else that we see, not even her. So yes, his and Arin’s relationship was strange, one-sided, with so much unspoken… but it was a lot we can glean from very little.

I wish in some ways that Arin had still been alive in the final episode, but I am sensing perhaps why it was decided that she wouldn’t be. There’s a narrative hole here I’m going to have to speculate inside, but—when Bane returns an unspecified amount of time after he was arrested, he’s grown up a fair amount. Got new scars. He has crew coming to meet him as if they want to give loyalty, when he didn't exactly come across as Lazlo's second in command previously. And now, the community council seems like they’re wetting their pants about him showing up, and they ALL know and seem to fear his name, whereas when he was arrested, they absolutely didn’t.

Frankly, the writing seems to imply that there was some serious stuff that happened in the interim between when they arrested him and he made his way back to his old stomping grounds. I don't know if it was a situation in which Bane still managed to make trouble from inside his cell, pulling strings, or if there were periods in which he was free, then arrested again.

But either way, Arin was left behind for a long while, just like Niro was once. Enough for Cad to get up to his own mischief, forge at least some part of his intimidating legacy. But again, he’s been so sucked into his own workings that the world he left behind moved on without him. I don't think he ever says that he was coming back for Arin when he does arrive; that’s a guess everyone ELSE is throwing around. He’s seemingly just there to settle accounts in general, and the mention of Arin having married Niro just seems to stick him in the pride. Either way, he's come back far too late to have done anything about it. They've both long moved on, and he wrote her off as a traitor long ago. Arin's had a life alongside a kinder person, and now is gone, and perhaps Cad could have tried to learn anything at all about what had happened before now, found a way for someone to bring him intel, wrote a letter, etc. But he didn’t.

He only returns to old places in this story when it’s time for revenge.

I think it fits his character fairly well, so unwilling to deal with these emotional difficulties that any question of Arin he still held in his heart was answered by a life fully lived without him, one he stayed ignorant of until it came back to needle his ego. The fact that Arin is dead isn't the point. It was that he didn't know she was dead, years gone. If that isn't a character statement, I don't know what is.

So yes, despite the missing parts, Arin is a character I like. I see some folks mentioning the concept of her being “fridged,” but I personally don’t think that entirely fits. Fridging is… specific. She wasn't there in the story only to die of violent or sad means, all to inspire the protagonist into having character development. Conversely, Arin doesn’t pass the Bechdel test, no, and I wish she did! Regardless, the tragedy is that Arin DOES have agency and uses it to live, not die—and her sacrifice doesn't inspire or change Cad, because he was hurtling down into the dark all on his own. She chose to end the violence, defy Cad and steal his gun because she’s kinder and wiser than he is, and knows how to let go and move on. She only died after having lived a life she chose, even an offscreen one, Cad’s choices be damned. I can’t call it a fridging. I do still wish she had more time to tell us more about who she was, but I suppose fic is here, and I’m just going to have to write something about it sometime.

CAD BANE’S SON

I yelled when he appeared. Jfc what a cute kid. This story also told us Cad was a cute kid too. And the narrative spares neither of them. :(

I’m going to get it out of the way: the only thing, literally the only thing, I am having difficulty accepting about this story is the kid’s name. Isaac. What? What?? EXCUSE ME. IS THE BOOK OF GENESIS IN STAR WARS?? I’m going to need ten linguistics and history enthusiasts in my replies immediately so we can figure out what the hell happened culturally with the Duros and Judaism in a galaxy far far away.

BUT I DIGRESS. This kid Isaac looked into my soul with those big eyes and I opened a door in my heart for him and now I’m in hell, so whatever I guess.

I AM IN HELL AHHHHH.

But. The moment when Cad looks in that kid’s eyes and knows EXACTLY who the father is was almost startling. Like, he even reaches out for a second. Just a split second. It’s this razor-sharp shard surprise-cutting him inside his moment where he thought he was just wrapping up all the loose ends. All that gloating to Niro about “I’ll take care of him like you did Arin” had so little real caring behind it that I doubt it was any kind of real promise.

But it’s then that Cad sees. For one of the few times in this story, Cad looks into someone else’s eyes outside of himself, and he properly sees them.

And he reaches out.

But that’s shut down fast. The interfering mayor clearly knows who Isaac comes from, just like Cad knows now. And neither of them say anything about it, but their understanding is clear, and Cad walks away, quietly agreeing, perhaps, that it’s the right move to do so. What he’s become can’t help this kid in any meaningful way. He’s just made another abandoned orphan like he was, and who knows what kind of life is in store for that child now?

Obviously, later in canon, Cad will have a go at helping another kid’s journey, mentoring Boba Fett. I wonder if, perhaps, he did it to try and prove to himself he could, gnawing inwardly over what happened on this day with the son he’ll now never know.

After all, he's not very good at letting things go.

THE STORY IN GENERAL

I’m kind of working backwards with my thoughts, from this very specific musing regarding the important relationships to the larger story... I haven't even gotten into Niro! Did you see that moment where Cad was the one to hug him, and he couldn't quite manage to do it back? When the last time they saw each other, he was the one being abandoned? How he faced Cad in person, and so is NEVER the person running away to save himself? I am gently patting this Duros' face. Excellent. But. I am going to have to wrap this up eventually and save any other thoughts for later.

At the end of the day, there was a lot inside this short little visit into Bane’s life that really delighted me. The scores of different Duros characters (shoutout to the guy in that giant hat, hahaha. LOVE A DUROS IN A GIANT HAT <3) The love given to the modeling, texturing, and overall craft of this production... all my love to the Star Wars animation team. The small look at the culture in the area Bane lived in as a child. The way he discourages his friend from buying a little toy their hearts clearly want, in favor of that which is practical. That moment when child Bane gets a taste of what money can do, hungry, licking the box clean that held his first real, good meal in a long time. The moment when Niro tries to get him to walk away from Lazlo’s scheme, and he immediately spins around and agrees it’s not worth it unless they’re paid twice as much—the budding negotiator!

Being fast, agile, sliding over the hood of a car as he runs from the cops.

Choosing to save himself, then the instant regret, lack of surety, fear—drowned in his first handful of gold.

The visual of him as an adult seeing his childhood self in the glass before shooting that thought right through the heart… the foreshadowing. Goddamn.

Like, I do have mixed feelings on some level. It was too big a story in too small a space. The first episode was plain excellent, but the latter two suffered from the broad brushstrokes preventing us from being able to get to know some of the new faces introduced, and raised a lot of questions about other things—truly, we never get to see what Lazlo comes to mean to young Colby, why he inspired a boy to become so like him. We never see when Colby decides to leave behind his old name and why. We never see where Todo comes from, or why Cad chose Arin to spend his time with. It also doesn’t show the why’s and how’s that made Cad Bane the Legend exceptional at what he is.

But it did give us tantalizing tidbits, the smallest pieces of the before-times we can explore more on our own. It showcased that Cad Bane's greatest strength as a bounty hunter, why he's so feared, is the precise fatal flaw that made his life the way it is: the fact that once he has the scent of his goals, he’ll never let go, not ever—he'll chase them from one end of the galaxy to the other to settle accounts, inexorable, deadly.

And it hasn't brought him happiness.

#tales of the underworld #cad bane #arin #niro #duros #star wars analysis #ashcroft has opinions #star wars

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hoseokslefteyebrow · 10 months ago

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The Anomaly || JJK || 0

Prologue

summary : In which you're isekai'd from your (own) parallel Jujutsu Kaisen universe to the canon universe.

wordcount : 1.3k

Pairing: Jujutsu Kaisen X Reader, eventually Character x Reader (idk who yet tho)

Masterlist | Next

[ 19.58, parallel Jujutsu Kaisen Universe ]

Your eyes narrow, taking in the scene in front of you. This fight is becoming tougher by the minute.

The special grade cursed spirit across from you smiles, it's face agonizingly similar to that of a human's.

You're weighing your options. This special grade seems to have powers that connect with space. It can move at an impossible speed, managing to pop up in the nick of time in a completely different spot meters away.

It's powers are powerful. Currently, you're a second grade sorcerer. You're powerful, but more against curse users than actual spirits. You can do a lot of things other sorcerers are still dreaming of.

Your cursed technique is Water Manipulation. Like the name suggests, you can manipulate and change the structure of any body of water. You're powerful, but especially against people, as they are made up of 60% water after all.

" It seems you're losing. "

The cursed spirit is laughing at you, it's dark, hollow eyes scrutinizing you as it takes you in.

You huff at him, forcing yourself to stand your ground. You raise your arms, ready to continue your fight.

A fake, easy smirk settles on your face.

" Maybe you should open your eyes, I'm actually imagining all the different ways I can exorcise you. "

Your expression is smug, though you feel anything but, internally panicking.

You'll have to fight your way out of this, even if you're not sure you can win.

You're not dying today. You will make it out alive.

You unclasp the water skins resting on both of your hips, your hands moving fluidly as they guide the water into a make shift weapon. Today, you choose for it's vast, sharp nature, speeding the water's movements as you form two ring blades- two huge circles who act as an extension of your arm. The water they exist of is whirring at an incredible speed, making them exceptionally sharp. Right now, you're not aiming to fight the spirit. It doesn't seem all too afraid of close up combat, but you hope you can draw it back far enough towards the bridge that connects this village to the city over a river. If you can do that, you'll stand a chance. You could escape, or better yet, win.

Your eyes narrow into a serious expression as you charge at it. It's smug, it's counter powerful as it fights back.

" This is also quite fun you know, I didn't expect we'd be getting all close and personal. " It grins.

The spirit you're fighting might look humanoid, bit it's still got a weird purple skin colour. It's hair is blue, the colours clashing with one another. It's not pretty, in fact, it's very uncomfortable to look at.

You scoff.

" Don't get used to it. "

You don't bother to say more as you quicken your movements, your aim a little desperate, but definitely dangerous. It's starting to work. Your rapid attacks are sending the cursed spirit back, not wanting to be caught in one of your make shift blades. Soon enough, it's drawing back, slowly getting closer and closer to the river. It raises it's arm, and you jump out of the way. A new, free path lies in front of you, and you take your chance.

To your horrific surprise, it seems to launch some sort of ball, vaguely reminding you of Gojo's sensei's technique. It doesn't just explode the building it hits, it turns into a small, black hole, sucking in a part of the falling bricks. You're running towards the river, however, just before you reach it, it jumps in the way. However, the river is now in your reach, and you seize the opportunity. Reaching out your hands, you command the water far below you, and it shoots out in a spike towards the cursed spirit. It moves out of the way just in time, and you take it's place instead, continuing to summon the water around you. It turns into a huge circle, spinning protectively around you. The weight of the water is heavy, but you can handle it, even if it does weigh down your movements.

However, as you're getting ready to launch the attack, the spirit laughs, sending another ball your way. You release all the water, letting it fall on the ground as you jump out the way. The ball hits the ground, and this one doesn't turn into a small black void. Instead, it releases a huge wave, sending you back. First, it makes you hit the railing of the bridge, your back hurting on the impact. Ouch. Lucks seems to be on your side, as you somehow manage to flip over the railing, now falling towards the river. A very rich power source.

The spirit smirks, catching you of guard. It creates some kind of golden ring, and to your surprise, it teleports. It's under you within a second, and before you know it, you're falling in it.

You groan as you wake up, squinting at the harsh sunlight.

" Huh?.. " You're puzzled.

Where are you? It takes you a few moments before you realize exactly where you are. As you turn to your left, the archway to Jujutsu Tech greets you.

You're back here? How?

Something is wrong. You were in a nearby village just now, not too far away. It was cloudy there. It was only a 10 minute drive from your school. How was it sunny here already?

You rub your face, completely confused. You can swear that the air is different too. Something isn't right. However, a searing pain spreads through your body. Shit, your back. You forgot about that. You groan as it hits you.

You turn to your water skins, only to see that you left it uncapped. The water must've fallen out as you fell. Damnit, you don't even have enough water to heal yourself.

" Salmon roe? "

" Inumaki senpai! Holy shit am I glad to see you. " You groan, struggling to get up.

He sends you a questioning look, stepping back when you reach for him. You return his look.

" My back's killing me-"

" Pickled mustard leaf. "

He's raising his hand at you as he speaks, a warning for you not to move. Your eyes widen in realization. He doesn't recognize you. He's asking how you know his name.

Your mouth opens slightly. What was going on? You were relatively close with your upperclassmen.

" You- what? - You're playing a game, right? You know who I am. C'mon, we've sparred so often. You trained me for the exchange event a few months ago-"

Inumaki shakes his hands at you, making you pause your words. The both of you blink at each other for a good minute. Him wondering who you are, and you wondering what was going on.

" I'm your underclassman. You know me. I know you. You're Inumaki Toge. You can only speak in rice ball ingredients because of your cursed speech technique- your favorite rice ball ingredient is Tuna mayo. I know because I asked months ago when we got to know each other. Also I accidentally hit you in the head with a baseball during our baseball game against the Kyoto school.- I'm Kamo Y/N. Your favorite underclassman (you're probably not, but that doesn't matter), Ryomen's best friend-"

He blinks in question again, as you blink in response.

" Ryomen Sukuna? My best friend? He's like-"

" Sleep. "

Your eyes fall closed as you fall to the ground, completely unconscious.

#idkeitherman #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #platonic jujutsu kaisen #inumaki x reader #Spotify

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comfortless · 1 year ago

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All That You Don’t Want

PAIRING: witch!fem!reader x apprentice!König

CONTENT: 18+! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. oneshot. obvious au— so not canon-compliant!, questionable morality, mutual pining, animal death (it’s still alive! but not!), minor character death, power imbalance? technically teacher/student, forced proximity, smut; unprotected piv, creampie, cunnilingus, cockwarming.

NOTES: title from this song! (i will never stop titling my König fics after The Twilight Sad lyrics sorry) i have never written smut in my life i apologize if this is rough!! cover: Robert Bresson, 1951 wc: 7.7k

You never wanted an apprentice, never had the need for some bright-eyed whelp shadowing you for their own benefit. The kingdom had enough competition as far as your craft went— green magic, potion brewing and enchantments, why in the world would you risk teaching someone your secrets only for them to outdo you at every turn? Those with the propensity for magic weren’t treated human, anyway. You saw the looks, uneasy and disgusted, unless of course they had need of you.

The Guild keeps your protected, scrawl your praises in every fresh sheet of parchment passed about, brings in new clients for you to keep yourself afloat without you ever having to leave your little cottage in the forest just beyond the towering walls of the kingdom. So, when you receive the damned letter, how can you refuse?

Green magic couldn’t protect you from the King’s headsman, nor could it keep you hidden away from the constant threat of bandits and other malevolent forces, but the lines in the small letter detailing your new apprentice’s abilities are enough to make you swallow back some of that displeasure.

“… proficient in offensive magics…” and “… formerly in service to the King as a worthy candidate for knighting…” even “… a skilled huntsman…” all tell you that whoever this enigmatic pup is, he would have no qualms hissing at and chasing off a few rogues if they dared step too close to your territory. You picture some ruggedly handsome and charming gentleman arriving at your door with a sword of the finest steel hanging from his side and you loathe the way that your heart seems to flutter with excitement at the prospect.

A fortnight after the letter arrived at your doorstep, you realize that fantasy is often far sweeter than the reality.

You’re busying yourself sorting out a towering shelf with haphazardly placed vials, some labeled and others… well, if you had to guess based on the color of the fluid inside, you should probably toss lest you accidentally poison the next poor woman that comes by simply wanting something to charm the cute farmhand while her piece of shit husband, far too old for her, is off on another brothel visit. You may not be equipped to defend yourself in battle, but you know very well how to make nightshade and wolf’s bane taste like milk and honey.

It’s when you turn with your arms burdened by a heap of unlabeled, possibly poisonous concoctions that you see a figure just outside your window— tall, face shrouded with a blackened veil with only two holes cut out for his moonstone eyes. You curse the way the sight makes you nearly jump out of your skin, dropping everything you were holding onto the wooden floor, brightly colored fluid and glass shards staining a nearby rug you had spent an entire month painstakingly hooking yourself. The specter just tilts his head at you before inviting himself inside. Why bother pretending to be civilized when you look like that, anyhow?

You crouch to collect the shards of glass and wipe away the mixture of maybe-poisons as he enters, not sparing him a glance even as his footfalls lead him to stand uncomfortably close. Perhaps if the entire ordeal hadn’t pissed you off you would have the sense to be afraid, consider the fact that this titan of a man could have been a thief, but something tells you that this is the bright-eyed whelp you had anticipated. The man doesn’t even bother to greet you, let alone kick his muddy boots off at the door, he just hovers over you with his face tilted downward as you scrub up the mess you tell yourself he had caused.

“Leave it to The Guild to send me a dolt,” you mutter below your breath, barely audible as you move to deposit bits of broken glass into a wastebasket at the corner of the room.

“Ja?” The man huffs amusedly.

“Ja?” You question.

“Yes.”

You give him a look, one that suggests you’re in no mood for whatever this is and he seems to stiffen. Any mirth in those haunted eyes of his is quickly snuffed out, replaced with his gaze darting from perusing your backside to the corner of the room, then back up to your face.

He introduces himself as ‘König’. No surname, no title. Though, you supposed in his language, his name was a title in itself. Perhaps your disappointment is more notable than you realize, because the man seems almost nervous around you as you introduce yourself in turn. His fingers curl into his palms in repetition at his sides, and it’s impossible to tell by the small glimpse of his face whether or not he wants to strangle you or bury himself instead.

You rise to your feet, feeling acutely defeated as you lead him around the home, showing him to each room before stopping at the door to his own and crossing your arms over your chest.

“You’ll stay here,” you say quietly, avoiding his eyes as he lowers himself to look at you, thanking you graciously as his hand lingers a bit too long on your shoulder. You gently reach to pry it off, only to feel him grip at your fingers running his thumb over each knuckle before finally drawing away.

You watch from the doorway as he inspects the room. A bed a size two small for a man such as himself sits in the middle, a desk cluttered with spare vials of ink and a few quills made of swan feather, and a towering bookshelf filled with books on simple magic that you haven’t bothered to touch since you were a girl. He seems pleased, despite how very little effort was made for him. As much as you wish otherwise, you almost feel the sting of guilt when you watch him seat himself on the small bed and his eyes light up as he looks to you.

It didn’t take much perception to see the world hadn’t treated this brute too kindly.

He hunts your dinner, bringing home several rabbits that he took his time to skin and prepare for cooking in the yard. Even more, he roasts them over a fire he stoked up for you in a display of gratitude. You watch him from the fogged window as he seats himself by the fluttering flames, watching the meat with a focus that speaks volumes about his own discipline.

“Have you lived on the land for long, König?,” you ask him when the two of you are seated at the table, wiping away the remnants of your meal from your lips with a small handkerchief.

He’s only rucked up his hood enough to eat, the scars lining his jaw run deep, the skin pasty there. He looked far too pale to even be a living thing at all, but his thin lips pull into a grin at your question. “You can tell?” He asks with a slight tilt of his head, the tone of his voice suggesting sarcasm. “Perceptive little witch.”

You furrow your brow at him, surprised by his sudden arrogance. You would have sooner expected the man to tear a hole through you than meet your little question with a cocky response if his twitchy behavior was anything to go by. But… his voice sends a shiver down your spine, the amused lilt mixed with his accent, some natural charm that makes areas of you ache that haven’t been touched in years.

“A man must know to feed himself, ja?”

“Well, I don’t hunt.”

He huffs out a laugh at that, raising a hand to readjust his hood, pulling it back down over his face. König is not pretty, far from it from what you could see, but you almost find yourself downtrodden that he’s hiding himself again when you were only just starting to find yourself curious.

“I will teach you,” he suggests as he clears your table, depositing both your dishes and his own into the washbasin at the far corner of the kitchen. He’s helping, and your eyes merely track him dumbfounded.

“You don’t have to, König— I, um. I’m supposed to be teaching you, remember?” You’re trying to sound authoritative, like a proper mentor but it’s fruitless, really. How long had it been since a man was this close to you, living out in the forest? You had clients, sure, but in your craft you came to know about their proclivities, their ailments, and any interest you may have had died with their innumerable requests.

The Guild had set you up, surely, you decide as your eyes wander over to the man washing your dishes, the man who had prepared your dinner, who had stared openly at your ass. The man who smelled of dew and timber and fire smoke. The man with the most beautiful, tired eyes you had ever met.

You can see the muscles of his back through his tunic, tightly bundled up from where he’s drawn his sleeves to his bicep to wash up the remnants of dinner, mind almost numbing from the sight alone. It felt like some divine torture, to be sent something you adamantly did not want only for that very same thing to make your pulse quicken and throat dry.

“I want to teach you,” he tries again.

You feel sinful for the place your mind goes then. Do the ladies in the kingdom often allow monsters to bed them? Is his size comparable to the stature?

“Okay.” Your voice was tight, barely a whisper.

He finishes up his cleaning and turns to look at you as he wrings his hands over the washbasin, his eyes narrowed and crinkled at the corners. Grinning again like a wolf knowing he’s got his claws in you.

— — —

You go over the standard protocol when dealing with customers seeking remedies with König as you hear the approaching horse whinnying out in the yard. Simple, standard. Most people had a wariness for those who were touched by magic, understandably so. It’s human nature to fear what isn’t fully understood. With König’s imposing height and the veil over his face, you needed him to be extra careful in these situations. He doesn’t seem to take offense at your fretting, merely smiles beneath the veil as you speak and all is settled and well by the time your client wraps lightly at the door.

You swing the door open with a polite smile, hands clasped at the lap of your dress. The smile is maintained even as you catch sight of his face, scars from a horrific burn covering over half of it, his right eye filmed over and sightless in its socket. He wasn’t here to charm a lady or conceal his face with glamours, only for a balm to alleviate the lingering, phantom pains that stretched from his scalp down to his neck. A decent man, and a damned good blacksmith from what you had heard. He was one of your favorites.

König observes from the corner of the room, leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest without a word as you fetch the jar of balm for the client, accept his coin and send him back on his way.

“Oh.. I don’t know how he got that nasty burn but it’s hard to look at isn’t it?”

König gives you a look, something unsaid hinted at just beyond the surface of his icy eyes, and you realize it’s a little too late to pull your words back.

— — —

Days seem to pass by with an awkward tension in the air. It’s not because of his tutelage under you, either, because he’s doing surprisingly well with his studies. Potion crafting is a tricky, fickle sort of thing. One mistake and an entire batch is ruined and the gods only knew when you would stumble upon what was required whilst foraging again. König is careful, attentive as he follows your instruction. He studies diligently, spending his free time reading through his books, often out in the foyer and if not for how skilled he was, you would assume it was all for show. Wishful thinking, a vicious yearning settling in between your breasts that wants for him to try and impress you, to court you.

It’s tense because you’ve found you can’t keep the man out of your head. In the late hour when the house has fallen silent, you could often hear his desperate grunts through the thin slats of wood separating your own room from his. You’ve imagined the sight of him fisting his cock, biting down onto his scarred lip as he whines through his release more times than you would ever confess. The gods themselves couldn’t pry the admittance from your lips that you wait up sometimes to hear him with your own hand between your thighs.

And König had this look about him now, more confident as he walks about. His hands don’t twitch as much when the two of you speak.

It’s the seventh morning as you’re preparing tea for the both of you that he enters the cottage entirely nude (apart from the hood; he seems insistent about keeping it almost entirely on in your presence). His body drips with river water, looking more like the skillfully carved statues that took residence in the castle courtyard than any man at all. You can’t help your staring, and he seems unperturbed by it as he slips behind you to set some freshly plucked milkweed on the wooden countertop. So focused on the cords of tight muscle layering his body, the obscene thing swaying between his legs, you hadn’t even noticed he had bothered to collect an ingredient you so desperately needed.

A man such as he should be seated on a throne, worshipped by a harem of pretty ladies, all pawing at his lap. Yet— he merely had you, ogling him as openly as he seemed to do to you.

“For the elixir,” he hums, sounding amused as he tilts his head to look you over as he had a striking amount of times already.

“Yeah.” You try to subtly clear your throat, cursing yourself for the way your reaction prompts his eyes to dart to the swell of your breasts beneath your dress. “Thanks.”

“You look pretty today.” He’s making everything worse. Turning your quiet life around and filling you with some horrid feeling you’ve avoided for years out here in near-isolation. “You look pretty everyday,” he corrects himself before you can speak. The obscene pillar between his legs seems to grow at the sight of you, and if you were not certain before, you know assuredly now that something has cursed you.

A good, knowing witch would tell him that his compliments were inappropriate, unwarranted. She would tell him to not walk around with his cock on full display and send him off to practice mundane spells as punishment. You are not a good, knowing witch at all if the warmth on your face is anything to go by.

“How was the river?” You ask instead, graciously retrieving a towel from the cupboard to hand to him. Despite how orderly you tried to keep things here, it’s not the water he’s dripping all over the hardwood that has your mind spinning.

“Gut.” He says words in his native tongue, often, and you’ve already grown accustomed to deciphering them. They sound prettier on his tongue than your own. He accepts the towel and merely draping it over his broad shoulders. “Come with me next time,” he offers, all but innocently.

God damnit.

“I made tea.” You’re trying to avoid his undressing stare, busying yourself with the tea kettle. The scent of mint seems to calm you as you pour the tea into your own mug, careful not to spill it out onto the counter with your trembling hands.

“I like you.” Blunt as always, you wonder if he even has any sort of control on the things he says.

God damnit all.

“I like you too, König. You’re a good apprentice,” you respond, your nerves alight with something that you can’t quite place; a twig on the verge of snapping under its weight.

He laughs soft, and graciously gives you a reprieve from well… that as he steps out of the room to finally dress himself.

Later that evening as the elixir is fully prepared and the client arrives to pick it up, you realize that König is no where in sight. It’s not uncommon; the man certainly lacked his social graces, but he hadn’t seemed to mind the shopfront side of what you do before until you had spoken so carelessly. The client is a nervous little thing, a girl not yet a woman, anxious and shaky as she takes the vial from you with an abundance of thanks. It’s no wonder why she had requested such a thing meant to put a patch over her anxieties and communicate better now. You steal only a spoonful from the cauldron as you empty it, praying that it silences the buzzing of nerves and the fluttering in your heart as you bed down for the night.

— — —

You wake to a door slamming shut in the dead of night, followed by the quieted hiss of what you believe to be a curse in a language that is not your own. It immediately sends you on high alert, thinking back to the threat of bandits and enchanted wildlife or whatever else. Jolted from your bed by the kick of adrenaline, you tiptoe down the stairs to see that… nothing is out of place. The den is as homey as always, every vial and potion bottle in its place on the shelves. The only thing that appeared to be missing at all was a book on your shelf. You knew that book, too. It was a favorite of many of your customers, the ones with weathered skin or features that were not the golden standard of delicate, royal beauty. A book on glamours was not something that would be stolen away by any thief in the night, seeing as it wouldn’t be of much help at all without a dedicated practitioner.

It only really settles in for you that your apprentice snatched it away when you take a peek out of the window and your eyes settle on a darkened corner of the garden. Tall sprigs of lavender sprung up from the earth there, and an even taller man sat, legs crossed with your book in his lap beneath the milky glow of the moon.

König looks… agitated. Even from this distance, the glass and wall and several meters of organized plant life separating you, you can see his hands shaking as he ghosts his calloused fingertips over the pages. His shoulders tense and a fiery look in his eye. He reads the incantations aloud with proper annunciation, forced through his thick accent. Repeats them, several times over. Not a thing changes.

But you leave him be, return to bed, because despite him being your responsibility, his private matters are still his own. As much as you would like to snatch the book from his hands and confess through tears that he haunts your dreaming just as he is now, you can’t bring yourself to do so.

When the book is in its place the following morning with König still in his bed, you read over the pages heavily scented by lavender. The ones that tell you how he sees himself in truth without a single word from his own being. Too tall, too ugly, too ruined.

It’s not enough to say your heart breaks. You feel it shatter somewhere in your chest, little pieces crumbling down into the darkest pit of your middle. Perhaps he’s only doing this due to your careless words about your client the other day, perhaps he wants to be seen as something beautiful for once.

The day is spent with a heavy weariness in your eyes. König picks up some slack for you as you fester in a sadness that should not even be your own; prepares something meaty for you both to eat, incorrectly sweeps some dust from the wooden floors that you know you’ll have to properly clean later on, and even tends to the garden. He’s good with the plants, gentle as he plucks berries from their stems and cuts away only what was required with a sharp dagger.

While you’ve thrown yourself over a cushioned chair, König kneels before you to speak. He’s just finished telling you some gory tale about when he squired for Ser… something, a name you don’t even care to remember. It was a rare occurrence for him to open up, you’ve come to realize that. Maybe it was simply too soon for him, but then again, he seemed to have no qualms allowing you to hear his desperate howling at night or walk about after a bath with his cock fully erect in your line of sight. If words were too much then what the hell was all of that?

“How come you didn’t become a knight, König?” you ask him, your tone sounding a bit more dead than intended. It wasn’t that you weren’t interested in his stories, you were simply still coming to terms with one of his likely innumerable secrets. “The Guild said you were a good candidate, so why?”

You ask your questions, his eyes light up. He’s not used to this, it seems, and the fact that you want to know him at all makes him giddy. His fingers drum against his thighs, eyes creasing at the corners as he smiles beneath that veil and you wonder… wonder how the world could be cruel to someone like this at all when all that you want to do is bundle up with him beneath your thick quilts and kiss him in places only lovers would.

He doesn’t respond to your question, though. Another secret for some other time, you supposed. Instead, he asks his own, “Why are you so alone?”

König speaks freely, you knew that well enough but the words that escape his lips cause you to freeze all the same. His tone is neutral, not accusatory or mocking, but there’s something— something there you can’t properly uproot.

“I’m not lonely.” A little white lie couldn’t be too terrible, yet the thought of betraying your companion in even such a small way, hurting him like you assumed so many others had before is just unthinkable. “I am sometimes, but I like living here,” you correct.

“But you are alone,” he insists.

“I am not. You’re here.”

Your words are like a charm, really, and any rationale König may have had immediately dissipates when you speak them. He climbs over you, the chair creaking under your combined weight as he looks down at you with this hope-filled expression that tugs every one of your heartstrings at once. “Let me kiss you.”

His shallow breathing flutters his veil, the hunger in his eyes more than apparent, and you’ve the sense that a mere kiss would not suffice, turning into a long night with an impossible soreness between your thighs come morning.

You shake your head and he backs off immediately, returning to sit on the floor before you instead with a simple, “Okay.”

The room falls silent for a moment. You wanted to. You’ve been longing to. And yet the opportunity had gone and went; for any normal, sane person your rejection would have been enough. Weeks spent in his company should have taught you that König was a far cry from normal. The man treats you like you’re a doll, not a seasoned witch. Takes to hiding away from any company you may have and spends his nights outside in the dark wishing and failing to change what he was.

“If I tell you why I am not a knight will you kiss me?,” he tries again as you shift to sit upright in your seat.

“What? König, no… that’s not how—”

“I will court you,” he interjects quickly, rising to his feet to stare down at you. The man was practically buzzing with excitement, and you wonder if he intends to bolt out of the house right then to bring back ample gifts of flowers and fine silks just for a chance to mash his mouth against your own.

“You’re not here to court me,” you huff with a pinched brow. Stop making this harder! Why must you always make this harder?!

“I think about you at night.”

The giant professes his affections by telling you that he’s fucking his fist to the thought of you with all the simplicity of idle talk. Somehow, that seemed less alarming than the fact that you don’t even seem horrified. Words fail you when you desperately need them most, merely gaping up at him so dumbly you must have actually belayed interest, because he continues.

“In the river too.”

“König… that’s inappropriate,” you manage to find your voice then. You know that you’re a plaster saint, too, because the thought of bathing where he spreads his seed sends a swell of warmth from your tummy to the aching blossom between your legs.

“Ja, it is… why do you tease me? The way you look…” He trails off with a shake of his head, his blue eyes narrowing in confusion. He was trembling as though afraid, so violently you almost fear he’ll come crashing over you like an ocean wave. You would catch him, drown in salt water and foam, a curtain of sharp teeth and darkness.

He fidgets as he waits for an answer that never comes. What could you say? Admit that the way he feels is a mirror of yourself, that the two of you are only seconds from diving into a pool that you could never resurface from.

But just like before, König retreats up the shadowy staircase, up to his room. Another reprieve, another stone weighing heavy in the recesses of your mind.

— — —

Secrets are stupid, evil things you decide.

You’re staring into the glazed eyes of a dead buck as it stands before you on it’s hind legs. It’s head hangs limply from its broken neck, mouth gaping with each fragile intake of breath. It’s bloated belly leaks it’s own entrails as it takes a shaky step towards you, trying desperately to kick at you with the stiff limbs tucked against its chest.

“I don’t know how to make it go away,” König pants at your side, and despite his shallow, rapid breathing there’s this calm look in his eyes. This has happened before. This has happened before and to a far worse extent than a deer.

It makes sense, now, why something as trivial as casting a glamour simply didn’t work for König. The man was touched by something darker, something the King’s men would happily cut his head from his shoulders for. Necromancy was immoral and frankly, horrifying. Seeing it now, it was really no wonder why this sort of magic would send one directly to the headsman.

The deer huffs a breath, too long and ragged. It’s not used to breathing any more, after all. König steps between you two, his dagger raised. “Just… close your eyes.”

It’s over as quickly as it’s manifested and König does well at shielding you from the aftermath, your face pressed to his chest as he pulls you into his arms and walks you back home. What was meant to be a simple practicing session, resulted in chaos, and you’ve no words to give to fill the silence hanging over the two of you as he finally deposits you by the door.

You stand on shaking legs, a million questions swimming through your mind, but even as you part your lips to speak not a single sound comes out.

He looks exasperated when he finally remedies the quiet. “You’re afraid of me.” It’s not a question, only a resounding fact.

“No,” you lie immediately with a firm shake of your head.

“I will go.” König’s eyes are tired, always tired. He’s already slinking back towards the door when you reach for him, almost clawing at the length of his sleeve in your own desperation. If you were cursed this man was, tenfold, and you couldn’t bear the thought of sending him back out into a world that had hurt him so. One that would assuredly end his torment should this ever happen again. You don’t know whether you’re being merciful or selfish anymore; the definitions all a blur. You only know that the thought of König leaving your side feels like the ache of a thorn embedded in your heart.

“König, please— We can figure something out, we’ll make sure this doesn’t happen again,” you huff as you bury your face against his shoulder. He’s both tense and trembling beneath your warmth. “I just need time to think.”

He cocks his head, a resounding twinkle of mirth breaking through the listlessness in his eyes. “Why?”

König isn’t dull-witted. He knows the words you never have a chance to speak. No one’s ever held fast to his side like this; no one has ever truly wanted him.

You know that the second he pushes his veil up and presses his mouth to yours. It’s clumsy, the force he uses, as if he’s trying to headbutt you instead of give you his affection, but you reciprocate in turn. You breathe shakily against him when you finally bring yourself to part your lips and he immediately begins to languidly lap into your mouth, drawing his arms around you; one finding the base of your neck as the other settles on your lower back, his fingers digging into your velvet dress, bunching up the fabric enough to reveal the meat of your ass.

You both moan as though you’re already having sex, caught up in a tangle of limbs he tastes your mouth as though it were sweet wine; his tongue flicks against your own before pulling back, lapping at your lip, pushing back in in some steady repetition that makes your knees weaker. Your hands find the hem of his tunic, slipping beneath it to feel a wall of muscle layered over his abdomen and he groans into the kiss with such fervor you would think he’s already come. He tears the cloth off the second you thumb over his nipple and drops to his knees clutching at your thighs.

“I need to taste you.” He sounds so desperate, looks so pitiful as though he’ll cry if you don’t allow him to fuck you with his tongue. You’re too far gone to give him anything more than a nod, and he all-too-readily lifts the skirt of your dress, hooks his finger around the seat of your panties and buries his face between your thighs. The first sweeps of his tongue are almost punishing; he wastes no time plowing the muscle into your cunt, writhing and grinding it against your velvety walls. The sound is already obscene, but then he begins to moan.

He sounds even more desperate than those nights in his lonely room, somehow, as he paws at his own erection straining against his trousers and drives into your pussy at a feverish pace. When he finally moves to take your clit between his lips, you grasp at the top of his head to keep yourself upright, moaning so loudly you’re certain that the entire kingdom could hear. He hums, amused at this, places his hands on your ass and pushes your hips for you to grind against his tongue.

When he jerks your panties aside again to rub circles against your asshole, the tautly pulled coil inside of you finally snaps. You curl over him as you mewl, cradling his head as his tongue pushes against your labia and your slit to lap up every bit of your essence. He releases his grip on your ass as you tremble, strokes himself freely below you as he pants against your pulsing cunt. Graciously, he gives you a moment to recover before he’s rising to his feet, tearing off your ruined panties and lifting you in his arms just enough to rub his leaking tip against you, you give him a strangled cry of his name when his length brushes against your swollen clit.

“Let me fuck you,” he rasps, his eyes wide and pupils blown as you squirm in his arms. “Bitte. Please. Let me fuck you.”

“Yes— Please, please fuck me König,” you whine as your arms curl over his shoulders. He doesn’t hesitate when he lies you back against your rug and pushes your knees up to your chest. His fingers flex against your flesh at the sight of your pussy still twitching from aftershocks, soaked down to your ass and pleading to be filled by him. He drops a hand to spread your lips, groaning deeply from his chest as he watches in awe as the tip of his thick cock sinks into you.

You hadn’t realized just how dirty König was until you see that look in his eye, pulling his head out only to repeatedly push into you with a choked whine of sheer bliss. You hadn’t realized how filthy you were until you find yourself tucking your arms beneath your knees to keep yourself in position so he can grope at the flesh of your ass as he does it.

“So— fuck— so schön,” he mutters as he continues to tease you like this. It’s almost hell the way he still hadn’t filled you entirely when you ache to have that long, ugly pillar buried so far it’s bruising your very womb, and it’s almost heaven the way you squeeze against him with each shallow thrust, your pussy desperate to devour his weapon of flesh.

“König…” You’re breathing his name as though it were a prayer, and as though a gift from the heavens his calloused thumb begins to rub over your clit the moment he finally sinks himself into you. There’s resistance, your cunt wasn’t meant to take a cock so large, you’re certain, but he bottoms out after what feels like an eternity, parts your knees with one hand to see your face as he gasps. You take him all, enveloping him in a vise grip and he hissed something in his native tongue, a string of words you can only imagine are praise because the way he’s looking at you now is as if he’s found a goddess all for himself.

“I’m going to fill you,” he declares as he lowers himself atop you, his weight almost crushing. “I’m going to… feels so…” His words fall short as he begins to move, groping at one of your tits as his other hand remains over your mound, flicking your clit. König’s fingers trace against your nipple before pinching it just hard enough to draw a choked mewl from you as your back arches. “Ja, liebling… you need it..”

His pace picks up, thumb deftly rolling over your clit until you spasm around his cock. It’s savage, the fervor he puts into fucking into you, grinding the tip of his cock against your cervix until you cry out, only to draw back enough to bully against your g-spot until you shiver. Your orgasm hits you so unexpectedly and so hard your bite down on your lip enough to draw blood. König licks at your mouth as your sex pulses around him, groaning in tandem with your pretty cries.

He trails small kisses along your throat before biting down as his own climax hits. He alternates between spitting out words that sound like pure venom and moans that make him sound weak as he gives you one more thrust. His cock twitches so violently inside of you as he presses against your cervix your mind entirely blanks. You can’t tell if it’s his semen or your own slick spilling past his cock, painting your thighs when it all ends. You hang limply against him as he carries you over to the chair, keeping you plugged as he pulls you into his lap.

He fully unclothes you as he peppers your face and neck in sweet, open-mouthed kisses, pets you from the crown of your skull down to your back, brings a hand around your waist to pull you close as his other squeezes and squishes at your breasts. König’s gaze is adoring as your eyes meet his, he’s looking at you with a love you’ve never even known, the warmth of summer somehow still present in those eyes like glaciers.

“Will you stay?,” you force yourself to ask as if the answer isn’t already clear, his cock’s still buried in you and the man seemed utterly in love after merely having a sweaty, adrenaline addled session.

König presses his face into your hair, nuzzling at you as he kisses your temple. “You want me to stay?” He sounds bewildered, so fucking broken that he’s confused by the prospect anyone would even want him around, even if he just gave her the best fuck she’s ever had, even if she’s been staring at him adoringly since he found his way to her door.

“Of course I want you to stay!”

“Then… Ja, I will.”

It’s a declaration of love, in a sense.

König drops his hands to your hips as he kisses you again. The desperation has been strangled, buried someplace in your core. It’s sweet now when his kisses become sloppy and overwhelming. He shifts below you as he maneuvers your hips to grind against him, his length already hardening within you again. He noses at your jaw and pressed kisses to your cheeks when you take a moment to breathe. You curl your arms around him and bury your face into the crook of his neck as your ride him, the both of you moaning soft and panting against sweaty flesh. He finishes inside of you once more just as you lift his veil and kiss along his scars.

He bathed you in the river, carrying you down to the rocky shore as though you were a treasure, his hand stroking through your hair as the water laps over your bodies. It’s not enough to simply hold you, either, because one bath becomes two after he’s bent you over a stump and licked you to completion again before rutting into you like an animal.

Nights are no longer spent with a wall between, he takes to your bed without question, ensures you’re comfortable and warm as he holds you through the night. There’s a sort of desperation in you both, two outsiders that have finally found sanctuary in one another.

“I love you.” Followed by: “I love you.”

You’re not entirely sure who says it first.

— — —

“A deer?”

There’s a man in your home that you don’t recognize, looking you over as though you were well-bred cattle rather than a human being at all. Says he’s concerned about a potential necromancer after something foul slipped its way past the castle walls and paraded itself through an annual ball, sullying a few too-expensive and uncomfortably layered dresses and goring a man with its antlers.

König was seated in front of him, rigid with a forced calm you had never seen on him before, hands clasped and unmoving. You know he’s nervous anyway, his shallow breathing speaks volumes for what the veil keeps from you. You round the table to bring them both tea, trying your best to play the part of indifference as the two men speak.

König had said he didn’t know how to make it go away, and of course he didn’t, because how do you kill something that’s already died? Neither of you would have anticipated it finding its way there of all places, and in retrospect, you’re not even certain that the thought came to mind at all, you had lost yourselves in one another the moment you arrived home. Seeing as you both were the only magic-touched folks roving these woods, it was obvious why The Guild had sent this creep to question you.

“Yes. A large buck, it was,” the man continues, winking at you as he takes a sip of the warm liquid in the mug. You wished you had poisoned it, ridding the world of a man that made your skin crawl like this surely wouldn’t be too sinful. Looking to König, you realize that there’s no need for poisons, because the look in his eyes suggests that before this interrogation is over your rug will have a more stubborn stain than spilled potions and come.

“We use green magic,” you chime in flatly, giving König a moment to quiet his fury as the man turns his attention back to you. “Maybe a traveler slipped into the kingdom, it has nothing to do with König and myself. Why are you here?”

If he hadn’t already told you a thousand times earlier that morning when he took you in the garden, laid you down in a bed of blue and purple wildflowers, König would have told you he loved you right then. You were true, protecting him and risking your own head as well.

“That’s the thing,” the man begins with a laugh entirely devoid of amusement. “Your apprentice here was under similar scrutiny while he was in service to the king. A dead man brought back to life…” he waves his hand as he speaks, staring up at the ceiling as though he’s recounting poetry instead of listing the reasoning why he wanted to have your lover decapitated. “… killed ten good knights. We never suspected him at the time, but all of this…” He shrugs his shoulders and raises his brow, looking somehow even more insufferable than before.

You cross the room to gather the letter signed off by The Guild, detailing your apprentice’s arrival and thrust it into the man’s face. “He would have never passed any sort of eligibility exam if that were the case, and you sent him here.”

The man takes the letter with a click of his tongue before he laughs again. “We didn’t,” he says as he taps the signature at the bottom, hardly a signature at all, only a messy scrawl, the guild master’s name even spelled incorrectly.

König didn’t meet your gaze when you looked to him then.

You made a promise to him you would figure this all out, and you would. You just needed to buy some time, slip some wolfsbane into his tea—

“On behalf of The Guild, I do apologize for the trouble this monster has caused…”

There is no time.

“I’ll be sure that he and his rotting pets are disposed of prop—“

You’re clutching at the dagger König had left on the side table without even thinking it over, fingers curled so tightly around the grip, your knuckles felt alight. The man’s voice is silenced the moment he notices as he takes a wary step away from you. It’s not, really, that you could ever even see yourself taking a life, you never have, but the thought of losing König over a horrible chance in the stars that some uncaring god cursed him with makes bile crawl up the back of your throat and white hot fury course through your veins with all the subtlety of a stampede.

It wasn’t his fault.

König places himself between the two of you and curls his arm around you protectively. If lying for him hadn’t already resigned you to the same fate, drawing the dagger assuredly had. He gently pries the dagger from your hand and tucks your face against his chest, just as he had before when he tried to correct the accidental gift of life he had bestowed to the deer, only this time… you feel the pull of his muscles, you hear sounds of the dagger meeting it’s mark as he cuts through the interrogator’s tender flesh. It takes mere seconds for you to know his blade has struck true, the dying man eliciting a weak gurgling cry from his torn throat as König drops the dagger to the floor with a clatter and strokes your hair.

He makes you stand outside while he cleans up his mess.

A sane woman would run, she would count her losses and look back on her time spent with this unhinged man with criticism. You find that you are not a sane woman when you realize the tears falling freely down your cheeks are not of fear or anger at your own situation, but at the knowledge that he’s suffered being shunned on his own for so long; that he’s killed without remorse because this is what it takes for someone like him to survive at all.

When he finally returns from burying the body and scrubbing the blood from your floor, you readily embrace him and he nuzzles into your hair.

“Es tut mir leid,” he huffs out against you, pulling you so close to him you think, pray, he’ll never let go. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.” It’s not and you both know it, but you reassure him with your words and soft kisses to his cheeks as he wipes away your tears. “We can not stay here.”

We. Us. Together.

Something breaks in him at your words, and he shuts his eyes tightly to fight back the tears like claws at his eyes.

“So, tell me where we’ll go.”

He tells you of a place he read about in a book, somewhere across the sea and past a stretch of hills where the accidents he may cause won’t have him looked upon like a monster, where you can love one another in comfort, a place he’s dreamed about since he was a boy and found out just what he was when he reanimated his mother’s beloved cat. He tells you of his father’s cruelty, that a cat’s claws aren’t the only thing that’s left him riddled with scar tissue.

He tells you everything as you pack your things and begin a long walk to a shoddy harbor by the sea, his hand in your own as your board the ship to a new home, a new beginning.

#könig #konig #konig x you #könig x you #könig x reader #konig x reader #konig fanfiction #cod fanfic #könig fanfiction #cod fanfiction

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erenjaegerwifee · 10 months ago

Text

Slave boy

Survive the night: Day 5

Paring: Lo’ak x Fem!Na’vi!Reader

Warnings: MDNI 18+, master/slave kink, mommy kink, slight boyxboy, some parts are NON-CON but not the entire fic, mentions of blood and killing, subby lo’ak, soft dom reader, explicit language, titty fucking, slight oral fixation, cum eating, spitting,

Word count:

Disclaimer: All my characters are AGED-UP! If you are uncomfortable, I do not recommend you read, if you do however. Any negative feedback will be blocked off my account.

Event Masterlist

You come from a very aggressive forest clan, you are very secretive and known to kill first and ask questions later. It is not an odd thing for your family to enter other forest clans successfully enslaving the people. Your armies are large, larger than any other forest clan on pandora, it does not which clan the na’vi are from, they have ultimately heard of you.

During the first human war on pandora, your clan was one Jake Sully sort out for help, on the condition his second born child, when it is born will be enslaved to your clan when the time comes, lucky for you it was a boy. Without your father’s help, Jake Sully would have never lived to see his family grow and ultimate agreed.

The entire Sully family knew well that one day they would have to give up Lo’ak to your clan, to your family. As much as he protested over the years, it is a debt he must pay. And that day is today. You jump off your ikran excitedly waiting to meet your new little slave, your father always made it a big deal that he got you one of Toruk Makto’s sons as a give to his first and only daughter.

He was proud of himself for the deal he struck and he will be happier to see his little girl’s wishes comes true. She is finally getting her own slave like the rest of her family. It is tradition for members born into your leading family to have their very own slaves, since the time of the first songs. As awful as it sounds, these people that you trade for at the mate with you for the rest of your life, but they remain slaves until the day they die. Their only real purpose is to provide you with heirs.

Your mother is a slave because of this tradition and so are the wives of your two brothers. They are not always treated badly but they know their place well enough to not step out of line. You make your way to your father’s side; your mother and brothers stand a bit behind you both and you come face to face with the infamous Toruk Makto.

His eyes are somber, it doesn’t appear he wants to hold up his end of the deal, but you know your father will not disappoint you. You look beyond him to his two sons that stand tall behind him, ‘one of them has to be yours’

You just turned 23 and you were told your slave would be turning 21 by the time you got him, so he must be the shorter one. You smile brightly seeing him, he doesn’t look like he wants to leave him family, but he has no choice. Truthfully, you feel like of bad for him, everyone who mated into your family has had to leave their own, but you don’t feel that bad about it.

“Lo’ak step forward” Jake says to his son, you look towards the rest of his family who stand in tears, while Lo’ak walks forward for you to get a closer look at him. You giggle at their silly actions, “do not cry Sullys your son will always be well taken care off, by me of course. Maybe if he is a good slave, I can bring him to visit” you say in a sweet tone.

Lo’ak’s ears pinned down by your words as he looks to the floor, “Lo’ak eyes up, look at me, you are going to spend the rest of your life with me the least you can do is get used to the view” you walk in front of him letting his tall broad frame dwarf you. Having this much power over someone feels amazing, you can understand why your brothers like it so much. His eyes meet your face without uttering a single word.

“Can you let gather his things and say goodbye to us” his older brother spoke up to you. You turn your head from your slave to his brother, “no need everything he needs is with me there is nothing he must take from here” your voice was heavy with attitude as you look around you judging the surroundings they live in. You sigh, “but, I guess you can say goodbye”

You take a step back waiting for Lo’ak to turn and hug his family, after a few minutes of their women crying for him, you yank on his arm, “I’m ready, let’s go” you wave obnoxiously at them, “I’ll let you grab a few things to keep quickly if you want” you raise your hand gesturing for him to hurry up while you are standing in front of his family hut.

When he walks back out you smile and wave goodbye to his weeping family as if everything is dandy and you take him to your ikran, you get on the rest of your family following and Lo’ak gets on behind you. When you fly up starting your journey home, Lo’ak still has yet to speak to you.

“So, your name is Lo’ak, it is a lovely name” you say, not looking at him, and he doesn’t respond, he doesn’t even touch you. You think it’s quite disrespectful, has he any idea how much men want the honor of being your slave? And he sits here, unappreciative of the opportunity that he has.

You can offer his family and that entire god-awful clan all the protection from the sky people they could ever want, and he wants to sit in silence? “Lo’ak.” you say sternly, “don’t be disrespectful now, your life is now in my hands, I’d hate for you to lose it so soon”

“Sorry ma’am, Lo’ak is my name yes, Lo’ak te Suli Tsyeyk’itan” he says softly, his voice sounds scratchy, must be from all that crying. The thought makes you roll your eyes but you still respond to him nicely by telling him your name. “Now before we arrive home, I would just like to make a few things clear, I’m in charge, I always will be, anything you do, or want to do has to go through me first, you will sleep where I tell you too, you will eat whatever I give you when I say, and you will fuck me whenever I see fit, are we at an understanding?”

Lo’ak sniffles behind you and answers a small ‘yes ma’am.’ you don’t say anything about what he calls you, you let it be because you quite like it. You believe that Lo’ak will thoroughly enjoy living with as your property, you can be quite soft something when it comes to the slaves, you sometimes feel for them, which your father and brothers do not like. But whatever they don’t get to tell you how to control your new little toy.

When you arrive home you jump off your ikran hurriedly, you want to show him your hut, his new home. You walk hand in hand with him, ignoring whatever your father was saying to you pulling him towards the out skirts of the built-up village towards your grand hut. Lo’ak looks around letting your lead him, something he knows he has to get used to.

He observes the beautiful markings carved into the wood of the strong huts and the beautiful clothing the other na’vi in the village wear, he feels under dress even if he is a slave now. The people pay him no mind, they know better than to stare at what is yours, your wrath is known for that sort of thing, you are very possessive. Lo’ak knows better than to misbehave, he’s father told him much about what he should expect in this position, but he does not see any reason to not like this clan, despite the fact that he might never see his family again, everyone at this clan lives happily and in harmony, he just can’t see how a place so beautiful can he filled with cold-hearted, aggressive people.

When you make it to the front of your hut, you push open the big doors that serves your only entrance and exit to the inside. You are just bubbling with excitement you cannot wait to see what he looks like in the collar you make him. “We live here, you will not leave without my permission ok, not that you could” you mumble the last part as he walks in and you light the candles around the hut and shaking up the jars with glowing flies that is used as extra light so he can see better.

You watch him look around what is now his home and you dig around your stuff to find the collar, when your pull him towards the bed to take a seat. You push him down onto the bouncy, soft mattress and take the knife that was on his hip and toss it aside. “You won’t be needing that anymore” you hold the collar up securing it around his neck hooking your finger in the little D shaped ring that you would attach the leash too.

“This is your side of the bed; you will be responsible for cleaning and keeping yourself neat. I’m not doing that for you, and I don’t care much for complaining so, don’t do that. This is long enough for you to move around the entire hut without taking it off, you have no reason to do that unless I say so” Lo’ak watches you grab an ankle cuff attached to a big chain that sits on the side of the bed. You bend down and attach it to his ankle tightly,

“ow” he whimpers, “oh, sorry, I actually wasn’t trying to hurt you yet” you smile cheekily. “Now I must go hunt us some dinner, there is a guard stationed at the door, so if you try to leave, he will kill you, not that you can” you joke. You give him a quick kiss on the lips and grab your bow to move outside.

Lo’ak finally let his tears fall, he grabbed the bag he brought from home going through all the things he took from his family to remember them by. He took Neteyam’s necklace, one of Kiri’s crystals, a toy of Tuk’s, His mother’s crafted bracelet and his father’s arm band. These are things they use every day, along with some cherished family photos of all of them. Lo’ak missed them dearly but there is not going back now.

He feels like this is unfair, how could his parents agree for him to become someone’s slave. Granted you are very pretty with your soft, loose hair that falls mid-way down your back and your doe eyes, your strong body with soft curves that is still smaller than his if this were a different situation, he might have agreed easier but he didn’t have a choice this time.

His head raised to a sound by the door, did you come back already? He thought. But no, he was wrong, the guard that was stationed outside came in to take a peek, something about him gave Lo’ak a bad vibe so he quickly put away his things and stuffed them under the bed. “You are the slave boy huh, I knew you were coming from a forest clan but I had no idea you were so pretty”

The man was taller than Lo’ak, more muscular it made him feel small. It had been a little over 30 minutes since you’ve been gone. Lo’ak looked around for anything he could use to get out of this situation but his knife was tossed on the floor a little way from him, if he lunched towards it, he is sure the man would become defensive. “Um, yea that’s me” he said softly, he doesn’t want to accidently be disrespectful. His eyes dart to the floor as the man got closer to him.

Lo’ak hopped up in his feet and jumped to the other side of the bed creating distance between them, “shouldn’t you be by the door?” Lo’ak said, shaking his leg with the ankle cuff on it, he’s not used to the feeling. “Do not sass me slave” the man quickens his movements getting closer to Lo’ak.

He tried to dodge the giant but he tripped on the chain and fell backwards onto the floor. He started scooting backwards until he hit a wall and the man came up right in his face and held his arms over his head, Lo’ak tried to fight him but he wasn’t strong enough. Lo’ak kicked and screamed but no one came to his aid, he tried so hard to get the man off him but he couldn’t. When the man slotted his face in his neck biting on the skin, Lo’ak whimpered, blushing at the feeling, his body was betraying him even though he was screaming for help. When you walk in happily ready to feed your little slave, the sight before you makes you see red.

You drop the meat you hunted to the floor and rip the man off of Lo’ak standing between them. “What the FUCK is going on here?!” your body feels hot with anger as you look between them, “He asked me in here he wants me to fuck him.” I turn my head to Lo’ak and see him shaking his head ‘no’ with a scared look on his face. Fortunately for him, you believe him, “This man is my slave, mine! You have over stepped your boundaries and I will not have this” you hiss out furiously, you tail swished from side to side.

You walk up to Lo’ak’s knife on the floor and pick it up charging straight at the man, he tried to run but it was so late for him, Lo’ak watches as you stab him repeatedly in the chest and abdomen, blood sprays out messing up your floors and clothes. Lo’ak is terrified, he’s never seen a woman with such aggressiveness in them, now he understands why you, why your clan is so feared.

When you are satisfied with yourself, you drag his dead body out your door leaving him to the predators of the forest and walk back in seeing Lo’ak in the same spot you left him, “ma fil, are you ok?’ you ask him while he walk up to him. Lo’ak quivers under you, he was skilled warrior but never in his life has he had to deal with anything like this.

He nodded his head at you explaining the man didn’t get a chance to do much before you came in. “Do me a favor slave, clean that up” you gesture to the blood on the floor as you walk over to your indoor shower area to clean yourself up. When you are both done with your respective task Lo’ak politely asked to clean himself up and you allowed him to while you fixed dinner for you both.

“You are a good cook ma’am...the food is great” you roll your eyes and smile at his comment, “You do not have to suck up Lo’ak, I already own you and I’m not mean unless you do something to upset me, which I trust you won’t,” Lo’ak quickly shook his head ‘no’ “I meant it” he said with his mouth full.

You smile once more before a question popped in your mind, “Slave, when I came in here and pulled that man off you, you were blushing like a little girl with a crush” your words make his face heat up, “My question is, did you like it? Having a big strong man on you like that? You answer will not upset me, please be truthful” your tone is motherly, as if you actually care what he would prefer.

“It was scary, I didn’t like the way he held me down, but I guess it felt nice when he kissed me” you voice raised almost immediately. “He kissed you? WHERE?!” Lo’ak’s ears pinned down to his head at your tone, “NO- no not like that, he didn’t kiss my lips he kissed here” his fingers touched the part of his neck the man kissed him and showed you.

You let out a sigh at your over reaction, you couldn’t expect everyone to keep their eyes away from him even though you try to make sure they do. But you will continue to kill people that touch what is yours, does not matter who they are.

You walk over to him slowly, kneeling down on the floor next to him looking at the spot on his neck the man touched. “What if I did it?” you look up at him, “kissed me? You want to kiss me?” he said softly. His words make you laugh aloud, his ears pin back to him head at the sudden noise. “Awe pet, you are mine, I can and will do whatever I want with you, I own you Lo’ak” you voice was unwavering with a grin to match. “So, tell me, what are you?”

You wait for his response then you hear a small voice whisper out, “your slave, yours.” you grin widely at his answer, “good boy” you lean in closer and kiss the same spot on his neck, softly but you know he felt it. Then you did it again this time you lightly sucked on the skin drawing a little moan from his mouth.

You press up your body against his huge bicep. It’s funny, he is so much larger than you, he could over power you, but he doesn’t Lo’ak knows his place and it turns you on so much, you feel like you want to mate him now. “Rutxe” (please) Lo’ak whispers, when you pull away, his eyes are shut as he takes in the feeling of your body close to his. He wants you, it’s evident from the bulge under his loincloth.

“Rutxe pehrr?” (Please what). His eyes travel to yours, “rutxe, ‘ampi oe” (touch me) his voice is gentle, “Peseng?” (where) your tone matches his, “fitseng...” (here) his hand moves yours gently to his bulge. The action makes you grin wickedly thinking about all the things you will do with him.

You stand up distancing yourself from him walking to the bed, “come.” You word commands him quickly, he stands and walks behind you, the chain around his ankle drags as he makes his way to you waiting for you next instruction. His tail twitches in anticipation as he waits. “Lay down” you say once more he follows immediately.

When he is situated, you start to undress yourself, untying your loincloth and pulling your beaded top over your head. Lo’ak watches you with his lip trapped between his teeth, his cock straining in his loincloth making his squeeze his bulge to give himself some relief. When you take in his moments you smack his hand away from it untying his loincloth before straddling his thighs, “Rule number 1, you do not touch yourself, you want relief you ask me and wait until I decide to give it to you. Do you understand?”

You took his cock in your hand making him whimper out, “yes ma’am sorry” in a sweet voice, you spit on the head as you stroke him making it all wet, “Rule number 2, when you want to cum, you beg. If you don’t you will be punished with whatever I see fit.” he mumbled out another ‘yes ma’am.’

Lo’ak is so turned on by this attitude, he has never had anything treat him this way, and as mean as it sounds, he loves it, he can’t wait to see what else you are going to do to him, to make him do. “Such a good boy for him” you smile at him and let go if his cock, “You do not touch anything unless you have permission do you understand?”

Lo’ak exhales with a breathy ‘yes ma’am’ before you move up to his face spinning around until you at hovering above his face, his body below you is in your full view, you see the way his cock jumps at the sight of your tight hole, making you giggle. “Eat” you instruct him and sit yourself down on his face, but you don’t put your whole weight.

Lo’ak immediately forgets your last sentence and his hand shoots up to wrap around both of your thighs pulling your weight down on him. You almost let it slide when you felt his warm tongue tease you hole but what kind of master would that make you?

“Lo’ak fuck- I just told you don’t touch” you rip his hands off your body and raise off him feeling his head chase after your cunt. Your hand reached behind you and grip his hair pushing his head down making his whine in protest, “slave, listen carefully, if I have to correct you again am going to end your life, do you get it” you voice comes out stern but you don’t miss the way his cock jumps again, you let go of his hair when he mumbled another ‘yes ma’am’ and sit back down on his face.

Lo’ak’s tongue works heavenly, you have never felt someone eat pussy do desperately, you grind your hips on his face feeling the way his tongue slides over your clit amazingly, “fuck slave, you’re doing such a good job” you throw you head back taking in the feeling, your words make him moan sending vibrations through your cunt.

You reach forward, grabbing huge cock in your hands, you used the pearls of precum dripping from the tip and rub it all over making his entire length wet. Lo’ak moans and groans under you, his hands grip the sheets as he isn’t allowed to touch you, his toes curl up and his tail thumbs on the bed next to you. He is losing it, he wants to cum. “Please, please I want to cum”

His words are muffled in your pussy, you raise off him again and his eyes dart down to your hand stroking him, “please!” Lo’ak begs quite easily, makes you wonder how far he’ll go before he is in tears. “Please what slave?”

“Please mate let me cum pleaseee.” he calls you his mate, his eyes are shut tightly opening to dart his eyes at his cock. Calling you his mate makes your heart speed up just a little bit, he’s such a loyal little slave because you both are not mated yet. You smile wickedly at him, “no” making loak whimper in protest, “Please, please” he begs again. “Not yet prrnen” (baby) you say making him whine louder, you know he is close and he is trying his best not to burst, it is absolutely adorable seeing him like this.

The tears start to fall from his eyes as he babbles nonsensical pleads, but one of those words catch your attention, “Please ma..” he begs, ma? That is one you’ve never heard, “mama-mommy please” fuck.

Your feel your cunt pulse when you hear it, your brain fogs up almost as much as his, “mommy? You want mommy to make you cum slave?” he immediately responds with a long chain of yeses begging you to let him release. “Cum for mommy prrnen” your smile is wicked; you bring your face down to his neck sucking on his skin leaving sweet marks. You stroke faster brining him closer to his release until his cum shoots up onto his abdomen, some even ooze out on your fingers.

He comes with a very pretty moan of your new nickname and tilts his head towards you a bit. His eyes are shut when you raise up from his neck, you call out his name watching his eyes pop open as you suck on your cum-covered fingers. The sight makes him stiff once more, he moves his hands up to touch you but he suddenly remembers your rules. “Mommy can I touch you?” his little voice makes you giggle; you can’t help but give him permission.

His hands move up to your perky tits and he squeezes the flesh and tugs on your nipples, he sits up bringing his mouth close to them before he looks up at you waiting for permission to suck. When you give him a nod he instantly goes down, your hands come around his head holding him close to your chest as he bites and sucks at the flesh. “You are such a giving slave you know that? Such a good sluttly boy for me” you smile hearing him moan to your words, you don’t miss the way his cock twitches when you call him your slave. He likes it.

“Fuck slave yea suck in my tits just like that, you are doing so good for me” his cock twitches again making you giggle a bit at his desperation. “Can I fuck them?” he pulls away and ask you. His request makes you smile and you lay down for him to come on top of you, straddling your chest right under your tits.

You press them together letting him thrust his slick cock between them watching his face as he loses himself. Lo’ak thrust begin to speed up and he leans over you, hands placed above your head on the bed as he watches the way his cock disappears between your tits. You stick your tongue out letting it graze the tip of his cock every time he thrust. Lo’ak quickly loses his self-restraint when he feels your wet tongue on him, he fucks faster dropping his head down lower ready to come, “Coming slave?” you say up to him, “yes yes please-ma" his words come out so fast as he looks at you desperately for you to say yes.

It appears you have a soft spot for your slave when you grant him another yes, his cum shoots over your tongue and chest making a big mess on you. It surprises you how much he had in him after how much he came the first time, “oh baby you made a mess on me” you let out a fake gasp.

Lo’ak doesn’t wait this time for you to tell him clean it up, his hazy mind brings his head lower down to your chest and licks up his own cum, “don’t swallow it slave I want it.” he doesn’t respond just raises his head over yours and line up your mouth with his. When you open, he sticks his tongue out lazily letting his cum fall into your mouth.

When you swallow all his delicious cum you bring both your hands to the side of his face, “Kiss me slave” you pull his head down to your, slotting your lips on his for the first time ever. You taste a mixture of yours, and his cum on his tongue when you shove yours into his mouth, his lips are so soft against yours. He does not even fight for control Lo’ak lets you take everything, he syncs the kiss perfectly, pulling away for air at the right moment before tilting his head giving you more access to his mouth.

His obedience makes you shiver, you feel your stomach flutter with butterflies. You love the feeling of his body towering you and you being in charge. But there is nothing you love more than a well-trained slut listening to your every command.

When you push him away from your mouth you observe his tired eyes, your slave wants to sleep now, but you aren’t finished with him. You push him onto his back watching his eyes flutter a bit, you quickly straddle him over his thighs and raise yourself over his cock, “You can touch me Lo’ak” you tell him as you sit yourself down on his cock.

Lo’ak’s eyes widen feeling you sit on his cock without warning, his hands fly up to your hips as you lower yourself on his massive cock. Your lips part as you take him in you, Lo’ak mewls under you in overstimulation. You swear his cute sounds alone could make you cum. You start off slow bouncing on hos length and progressively get faster.

Lo’ak squeezes your fleshy hips and squirms under you, he begs and begs for you to cum faster so he can. He moans in the overstimulation he feels whimpering at all your encouraging words. He feels so good, he’s gonna cum so hard inside you but first he has to ask. Lo’ak begs for you to make him cum, he whimpers and cries for his release.

Tears fall down his cheeks and he babble out pleads for you, “Please, please, pleaseeee mom-myy, let me cum in-inside you. Want it so bad” you throw your head back at his sounds coming hard on his cock before giving him permission to fuck himself to a release, your hands fall on his chest feeling week from the riding and he ruts up into you looking for his release.

When Lo’ak cums he wails. Man forgets other people lives in this village with that wail, people might think you’re hurting him on the first day. You feel his cum shoot up into you and his cock twitches until his balls are empty and he lays limp on your bed. You crawl off him and lay beside him over his under that hugs you around your hip.

“So baby, ready to go again?” with a cheeky grin. Lo’ak knows he is in for a long night.

✨I hope everyone enjoyed reading! Feedback is always appreciated. Be sure to like, comment and repost☺️

✨please do not repost my work on any other platform.

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hazshit-hotel-hater · 5 months ago

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As a person who was genuinely made uncomfortable when I discovered Viv does all this crap like 🍇-romantification, I appreciate this blog so far.

For months I've been trying not to interact with hazbin because of viv's actions, which genuinely makes me sad cause I really liked the show (not including episode 4).

I understand darker skin not suiting your style (like mine) or having trouble with different proportions of characters due to where they're from or something (like me) but the fact that she made all the bad guys that way really doesn't scream "I have trouble drawing ____!"

⚠️YOU ARE NOT REQUIRED TO REPLY OR READ FULLY⚠️

Hi! Totally get this all dw, I just got out of the hospital however so if I explain weird please forgive me 😬 also dont take all of this as me giving specifically you a lecture, this is just me letting my thoughts flow out to whoever is reading 🤝

Also theres leaks in this! If you people don’t want leaks be sure to not read past “read more”!!

Its been brought to my attention that the information in the next paragraph is not true and Vivzie did not design or draw these characters! So she apparently just actually can’t draw them at all

Viv has absolutely no problem drawing POC! I mean just look at the human designs for the succubi in Helluva boss

These designs are wonderful and very diverse! But out of these characters, the ones that are important are Verosika and Vortex and even then these characters are side characters. And on top of that, technically they’re only really coded as POC since these aren’t their true bodily forms, but hey thats a topic for another time. Let’s just ignore that for now and say they 100% are POC, they’re still side characters. She can draw POC wonderfully, she just has issues… making them important.

For characters like Alastor (who was only made POC to get away with demonising a closed religion) we don’t see him as his human form. I mean to be fair why would we- but also why did he turn white when he died?? Why did his entire hair texture change. This is a problem for Vivzie where she doesn’t want to commit to representation or feels she doesn’t need to. Vivzie could’ve made Alastor’s design look more like his leaked human design or couldve just altered his colours a bit, but she didn’t do this because she feels so connected to her original high school OC design that she cant bring herself to change him. Like look at this.

Yeah it’s got a different style, but this is the same guy; he’s just weirdly marketable now. It’s incredibly easy to tell that Vivzie didn’t want to change him if she didn’t 100% have to. Lets take a look at Alastor’s old human design.

This guy definitely looks like he could be Alastor! He’s got the same sort of hair but shorter in the back and a little more combed, but looking at this you can still tell it’s Alastor. However this guy doesn’t exactly seem mixed, right? That’s because he isn’t! Back way way in ye olden days when Alastor went from race ambiguous to white, he just kind of looked like that! And there’s no problem with him being white! Good for him on doing that! I guess!? But when you look his design now, things start to come off as a bit odd.

This is where you non-leakers go read somethin else

This is an entirely different person now. Not just race wise, but personality, the way he presents himself in the arts pose, and just overall the actual look of the character. He looks conniving yes, but he doesn’t look like Alastor. This is not a face matchup.

Now, you definitely can have your ugly little red thing design and still use that human one! You just have to not be too chicken to actually change your character so it makes sense. Let me demonstrate.

Shocking how easily this design can fit the human one while still maintaining the original aesthetic of the base design isn’t it! This Alastor looks like the provided new human design. If you don’t want the character to change, don’t change them physically. And if you do, follow through on it and don’t be a wimp. I don’t see whats so hard to grasp about that to this lady. If you want to keep that same ugly fucking bob then just keep him white. She literally only changed his race so she can use it as an excuse to appropriate vodou. Vivzie can draw POC, she just doesn’t want to when it comes to actually having to change a character. Anyway, good day!

#hazbin hotel #hazbin critical #hazbin hotel criticism #hazbin hotel critical #alastor hazbin art #alastor hazbin #alastor the radio demon #human alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel spoilers #hazbin hotel leaks #hazbin leaks #hazbin spoilers #my art #anti vivziepop

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acesw · 5 months ago

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Knowing our Arcanists 12: Pavia

Welcome to entry twelve of my series: "Knowing our Arcanists"! This is a series in which I introduce and tell the stories of our fellow characters in Reverse: 1999. Today's character is the one and only: Pavia!

Disregard my previous post about Зима being the first one hit with the yaoi beam, he was the meat shield before him. I think I'd want to have his accessories even if they're horribly cheap. Lets get started.

Pavia is a mixed individual born on July 24th in Rome, Italy. When he was young, he was sent to Piedmont and lived there for many years before moving to Sicily. Pavia's arcane skill is a physical manifestation of his trauma with isolation, turning into a pack of wolves molded by darkness.

He's a mercenary that is currently active in the 90s, known for doing jobs left and right. He's an excellent mercenary, but tends to lack collaboration skill and is adamant in working independently.

As a child, Pavia was born from both arcanist and human parents. His mother, who came from Piedmont, moved to Rome to be with his father. At one point after Pavia was born, his mother had been sent to an asylum whilst his father went missing, leading him to be sent to Piedmont to be raised by his aunt.

Likely unbeknownst to him, his mother died back in Rome, and his aunt was overcome with grief. To her, Pavia looked a lot like her sister, and he was a troublesome child. Being taken over by such grief and hate, she confined Pavia in the basement for a long time as he grew up.

Confused and enraged, Pavia did all sorts of things to try to get out of the basement. Cry, fume, attempts to yield and apologize to his aunt, but the door never opened for him.

At first, he had access to the outside, being able to see passersby who crossed Piedmont to travel to different regions in Italy, even meeting a traveler who talked of film to him. But over time, natural light ceased to exist in his world, leaving him in the dark.

Out of that isolation came his friends, the wolves that gathered around him and allowed him to rest easy in the endless night. Like imaginary friends who never seemed to fade away since daylight never reached them. They became family to him, ones who would never leave him behind.

When he became older, he gained that strength to break out of that basement. What became of his aunt is unknown, but he became the infamous mercenary afterwards, traveling from Piedmont to Sicily. With quick and straightforward work, he gained his hard earnings, and

At one point, he worked with a man named James Burton, who published a book named Reminiscences, who described Pavia to be a "madman" and a "punishment." Many jobs later, he found himself hired by the Timekeeper in the Foundation, but didn't realize 'til way too late that he can't back out of it now.

Pavia can be described as a very aggressive and prideful individual. He uses threats to keep people distanced from him and to allow him to work on his own. This resulted in a lot of complaints about him, but he was never one to care.

When he does make friends however, his aggression can become affectionate; while he puts little trust in those around him, he'll always be open to talk of his gore-y and violent fantasies.

He's also an avid enjoyer of art and sweets, wearing cheap and handmade accessories, even wearing patterned shirts and sporting tattoos. He's often found eating gelato and tends to be very specific about its refrigeration.

The trauma coming from long-term isolation runs deep, often making Pavia uncomfortable when working with others. He shows great aversion to collaboration and affection from those around him unless its his close friends: the wolves that grew up with him.

All with names, they're who Pavia can put his full trust in to walk through the cold and dark nights across the world. He'll rarely ever sleep, instead taking the time to admire the dark skies and the guiding moonlight from above.

#reverse 1999 #knowing our arcanists #pavia #hes basically those 2020 internet emo kids #semmelweis had every right to spike his sachertorte

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kikyoupdates · 3 months ago

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Love Bite ⭑˚🩸⭑ 𝑟𝑢𝑑𝑒 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑟𝑢𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

yandere!vampires x f!reader

yandere, reverse harem, original characters, vampire!ocs x fem!reader

Desperate for money to pay off your debts, you sign up for a program that allows you to sell your blood to vampires. At first, everything is fine, and you’re finally able to make ends meet. But they soon begin craving more than just your blood.

previous | story masterlist | next

Life really is ironic.

Just a few days ago, you were the one who needed to be brought to the hospital, but now, Caleb has taken your place. You’ve swapped from being the patient to being the chaperone, and frankly, you’re not sure if you want to laugh or cry.

“Ugh,” Caleb groans. He’s just stepped out of the doctor’s office and is hobbling weakly. There’s gauze taped to his nose, and his voice sounds vaguely stuffy when he talks. “That sucked. I sure as hell never want to do it again.”

You offer him a sympathetic smile. “I’m guessing it hurt a lot when he set your bone back in place. I can only imagine how uncomfortable that must have been.”

“It is what it is,” he sighs. “At least I didn’t need to have surgery to fix it. It’s a good thing it wasn’t a really bad fracture.”

You bite down on your lip. No part of this situation is good, and it’s ridiculous that he was attacked out of nowhere, meanwhile, the guy who injured him gets off scot-free.

Vampires face active discrimination every day. You know that for a fact. There are vampires like Elliot who don’t even feel comfortable going to a coffee shop because they worry they’ll scare people, and it’s true that humans say all sorts of cruel things about them, without even giving them a chance.

Not all vampires are bad. But of course, not all of them are good either.

You used to think Felix was the perfect example of this rule. Up until you met that bastard, Kai. He’s even worse than Felix. At least in Felix’s case, he’s simply an asshole who doesn’t know how to hold back. He’s greedy and childish, but you could tell that he wasn’t trying to cause you any discomfort. He was simply too caught up in the taste of your blood to bother restraining himself.

But in Kai’s case, he was very much trying to hurt Caleb. He did it just for the hell of it. Just to blow off some steam.

Vampire or human, it makes no difference.

Pricks like him are the fucking worst.

“If I ever see that douchebag again, I’m going to kick his ass,” you grimace, shaking your fist in frustration.

Caleb chuckles weakly. “No offense, but I doubt even I stand a chance against him, and I’m bigger than you. Their bodies are completely different from ours. They’re just way stronger.”

True. An ordinary human can’t possibly put up a fight against a vampire. Perhaps a skilled fighter, like a wrestler or a professional boxer, but between Kai, and you and Caleb, it’s obvious who would lose that fight.

That’s what sucks the most. The fact that he’s got so much strength and chooses to hurt others with it. Worse yet, he’s in a position of power thanks to his dad and doesn’t hesitate to abuse his authority. He knows he can get away with all kinds of fucked up shit. God, some people are just given the golden ticket in life.

“It’s okay, [Name].” He smiles, despite the fact that it probably hurts, and pats your shoulder. “I appreciate you getting angry on my behalf. But I’ll be fine. Sometimes unlucky stuff like that just happens. To be safe, I should probably start going to a different arcade, though. I’d rather not get my nose broken a second time.”

He laughs good-naturedly, and you briefly wonder if you would’ve been able to act the same way, had you been in his position.

...no, definitely not.

Perhaps that’s the difference between you and Caleb. When life beats you down, you sulk about it and let it damper your spirits. You keep trying to push through day by day, but it eats away at your soul and saps your hope. You become more bitter every time it happens, and in doing so, the joy of life slips further from your grasp.

But when life beats Caleb down, he endures it with a smile. He doesn’t lose the shine in his eyes and faces forward with no regrets.

You have to admit, you admire him for it. Even if he might not have suffered as much as you have in your lifetime, it takes a certain type of person to be able to stay optimistic in the face of adversity.

Caleb blinks. “What is it? Is there something on my face? Uh... I mean, other than all the gauze covering my nose.”

“No. It’s nothing.” You smile brightly. “I was just thinking you’re really cool. I like how you’re always so positive, no matter what. It might be hard for me to pull off, but I’m going to try to be more like you from now on.”

“Huh...?”

It takes a few seconds for your words to sink in, but once they do, Caleb’s cheeks practically burst into flames.

“Y-You’re giving me way too much credit,” he chuckles bashfully. Even the tips of his ears are getting red. You wonder if he’s not used to being complimented so earnestly. “It’s no big deal. I just don’t want to waste too much energy being upset about things. But... I’m glad you think I’m cool. I have to admit, it makes me feel pretty good about myself.”

You smile again. Going to the hospital is hardly a festive occasion, but with Caleb by your side, somehow, it’s actually kind of fun.

“...I’m not being a bother, am I? B-Because if you’re not comfortable doing this, I completely understand,” Elliot stammers.

You chuckle softly. He’s as neurotic as always, it seems. You think it’s rather cute how much he fusses over things, but at the same time, you’d rather he didn’t get so worked up for no reason.

“I wouldn’t have agreed to spend time with you if I wasn’t comfortable,” you reassure, setting your apron aside. Your shift is just about to be over, and you're closing again, so the coffee store is empty apart from the two of you.

Elliot blushes. “Oh. I-I guess that’s true. Sorry. I just really don’t want you to feel like I pressured you into doing this...”

“Of course not. I like being with you. You’re my favorite customer, remember?”

You playfully pinch his cheek to emphasize your statement, and his blush deepens tenfold. He even shrinks in on himself, awkwardly fiddling with his thumbs. To think that a vampire with strength and senses far superior to yours would be so timid... it just goes to show there’s all kinds of people in the world.

Before long, you’ve cleaned up and closed shop for the night, and then you step out into the dark of night, filling your lungs with fresh air.

“It’s kind of chilly,” you remark. “It’s getting colder and colder these days.”

“Really? I think it feels quite pleasant. It’s a lot better like this than when it’s warm.”

Well, that answers your question from before. It looks like vampires are much more comfortable at lower temperatures. You briefly wonder exactly how hot is too hot for them, but ultimately, you decide not to ask.

You flash Elliot a smile. “Okay, well, we’re here now, so what did you feel like doing? We could maybe grab a drink someplace nearby, if you’re up for it.”

“A drink? Oh, um... I guess we could. But truthfully, I’ve never worked up the nerve to try alcohol before,” he admits. “I heard the taste can be pretty strong, and I’m not sure if I have the stomach for it.”

“Well, not to peer-pressure you or anything, but sometimes it’s nice to try new things,” you grin. “And I guess part of me is secretly wondering how you’ll act if you get drunk.”

“That... probably won’t happen.”

“What?”

“Um, nothing. But sure, let’s try having some drinks. Like you said, new experiences can be fun. Especially with the right company,” he adds shyly.

He really is adorable. So much so that you can’t help the warmth that inevitably rises to your cheeks.

Shortly thereafter, though, your face is warm for an entirely different reason.

“These cocktails are so good,” you sigh happily, tilting your head back and letting the sugary alcoholic beverage stream down your throat.

Elliot’s brows knit together. “Are you okay, [Name]? I feel like you’ve been drinking a little too much. I don’t want you to get sick.”

“I’m fiiiine,” you dismiss. You stretch out the word, slurring your speech a bit. You’re getting pretty tipsy, but since no drunk person ever admits they’re drunk, you’re convinced that you’re perfectly fine.

“If you say so,” Elliot chuckles. “Don’t worry. I’ll be here to make sure nothing bad happens. But still... maybe try pacing yourself a bit more.”

You groan and flatten your cheek against the table, feeling a sudden head rush. The room is starting to spin a bit, and your body’s getting hotter by the second. If not for how intoxicated you are right now, the heat would have probably made you start sweating like crazy.

Actually, come to think of it...

“You’ve had more to drink than me,” you protest, pointing to several of the empty glasses sitting next to Elliot. “So why should I be the one to pace myself? Don’t you think that’s a bit hippo-hippo, uh-hypocritical of you?”

“I guess so,” he laughs. “Sorry. It turns out that I don’t actually mind the taste of alcohol as much as I thought I would.”

You purse your lips, and like every drunkard, you have the sudden urge to not be outdone.

“Let’s do shots,” you blurt. “First to get blackout drunk loses.”

Elliot’s brows jump. “Huh? I-I don’t think that’s such a good idea. More like, it’s almost guaranteed that you’ll be the one to lose...”

“Excuse me?” you gasp, visibly offended. “You only just started drinking today! There’s no way I’ll lose to a newbie!”

“Uh, no, you don’t understand. Vampires can’t actually—”

“Shots! We’re doing shots!”

Despite his best attempts to dissuade you, you’ve already made up your mind, and you’re not listening to any of his protests either.

In hindsight, you really wish you had.

“What’s... happening?” you mumble weakly. “You’ve been drinking so much more than me... and you still look... completely fine.”

Elliot’s expression is riddled with concern as he watches your head slump onto the table for the umpteenth time.

“This is why I said it wasn’t a good idea,” he frets, pressing his hand against your forehead. Just like Xavier, his fingers are ice cold, and they feel amazing atop your flushed skin.

“’M’not... drunk,” you babble semi-incoherently. “You’re the drunk one.”

“[Name], vampires can’t get drunk. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you for the past thirty minutes.”

It’s probably not the first time he’s uttered those words, but you’ve only just now registered them.

Suddenly, you jolt upright and jab your index finger towards him, accusingly. “So, you were cheating this entire time!”

“Does it really count as cheating if my body doesn’t circulate blood the way yours does?” he chuckles weakly. “The alcohol in my blood doesn’t affect me since it never actually reaches my brain. Which is why I can just keep drinking as much as I want. It mainly sits in my stomach.”

“Cheater,” you mumble, and it feels like your eyelids are getting heavier by the second. “If not for that... I would have won.”

You pass out in your chair scarcely a few moments later, and needless to say, Elliot spirals into a panic. Normally, you’re a bit better at holding your liquor, but your body must have been especially tired recently. You also can’t remember the last time you drank like this. Perhaps you pushed yourself too hard.

Since you’re out cold, you aren’t aware of how much trouble you end up causing Elliot. In fact, you aren’t aware of anything at all, not until you come to with a gasp and realize that you’re lying in the backseat of a cab.

“Oh, good.” Elliot heaves a sigh of relief and gently pats your back. “You’re up again. I was really scared. I swear you stopped breathing for a few seconds.”

“How did I get here?” you gape.

“I called a cab, and thankfully, I managed to get you conscious long enough for you to tell me your address. I’m not sure if you remember. And I sure hope it’s the right address, otherwise we’re probably headed to the middle of nowhere.”

“Hey, you’re still paying me,” the cab driver snaps. “It’s not my fault if you got the address wrong.”

“O-Of course I will, sir.” Elliot smiles weakly, then glances back towards you. “More importantly, how are you feeling? Drinking is dangerous. I never realized how sick it could make people.”

“It’s only dangerous when the person drinking is an idiot,” you groan. You rub your temples, which are throbbing like no tomorrow. “The address you gave him seems fine. We’re going the right way. Anyways, how did you get me out of the bar?”

“I carried you,” Elliot replies, as if it’s obvious.

Right. Well, he is strong, after all. Unconscious bodies usually weigh a ton, but for a vampire, it probably wasn’t much of a problem.

It’s still pretty embarrassing, though. Having to be carried because you passed out drunk at your age.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize. “I ended up being a major pain in the ass. I let my guard down a lot, probably because I feel so comfortable around you.”

Elliot’s eyes widen. “R-Really? You feel... comfortable with me?”

“Of course. You’re super nice, and it puts me at ease. Even though we don’t know each other all that well yet, I really like having you around.”

He swallows thickly, then hastily averts his gaze, too embarrassed to look you in the eye. You can still feel the aftereffects of all the alcohol you drank, and you’re far from being completely sober, but at the very least, the words you just spoke are completely genuine.

“...and you’re not just saying that because you’re drunk?” Elliot asks hesitantly.

“Whether I’m drunk or not, I wouldn’t make something like that up,” you reassure.

Unless the alcohol is seriously hindering your vision, you swear that Elliot’s blushing again.

“Okay, we’re here,” the cab driver blurts. He reels to a halt, and you nearly whack your head against the window because of how suddenly he hit the brakes.

The last thing I need is whiplash on top of everything else...

“Here you go,” Elliot says, handing the driver his fee. He smiles kindly, as always, but all he gets in return is a derisive sneer.

“Hurry up and get out. I’ve got a long night ahead of me.”

Elliot’s shoulders droop. You wonder if that was yet another instance of discrimination because he’s a vampire, or if that cab driver just happened to be a massive dick.

You suppose you’ll never find out.

“Is that your apartment?” Elliot asks, pointing towards the shoddy building that you have the misfortune of calling home.

You nod grimly. “Yeah. As you can see, I’m not exactly living in luxury, but then again, most people who work as baristas don’t have mansions.”

“It looks nice,” Elliot says, clearly making an effort to be polite.

“Elliot, please. It’s a dumpster fire. And even that is giving it too much credit.”

He shamefully lowers his head, not knowing what else to say. You take a few steps forward, but soon realize that your legs feel like jelly after the car ride, and your head is still spinning from all the alcohol earlier.

“H-Here,” Elliot blushes, offering you his arm. “You can hold on to me if it makes it easier to walk.”

Even though it just makes you feel more self-conscious about how much of a mess you are, you gratefully accept, then cling to his arm in order to avoid stumbling.

His lean frame is rather deceptive, because you can feel how sturdy his muscles are underneath the fabric of his clothes. You’re not sure if that’s because he’s a vampire, or if he actually invests a lot more time and effort into his physique than one might assume.

Whatever the case, he feels nice to hold onto.

“I hope you’ll be alright by yourself,” Elliot mumbles. He glances at you, shyly, out of the corner of his eye. “I’m worried that you might get sick overnight. Do you happen to have any family who can watch over you?”

Your expression darkens without you even realizing it.

“No,” you scowl. “I don’t have any family.”

“Oh. I-I see.”

Elliot awkwardly clears his throat. He must have realized that he said something to get under your skin, even though he couldn’t possibly have known any better.

You try to muster up a smile. “Anyways, thanks so much for tonight. I had a lot of fun. Even if some parts of the evening are kind of fuzzy. I know I caused you a lot of trouble, but I hope it was somewhat enjoyable. Up until I blacked out, at least.”

“I had a great time,” Elliot reassures. “And please don’t worry. It didn’t bother me at all. I’m just glad you’re feeling a bit better now. That’s what’s most important.”

Your fingers tighten around his arm, and he blushes again, visibly conscious of your touch. For a brief, fleeting moment, you wonder if it’s just because he’s shy, or if there’s any chance he thought of tonight as a date.

Right as you’re about to ponder whether you consider it a date or not, someone brings you back to cold, unforgiving reality.

“Well, well, well,” a familiar, disgusting voice chuckles. A man emerges from behind one of the trees, and he shamelessly waltzes right up to the two of you.

There he is. The bane of your fucking existence. That absolute shithead, Johnny.

“It looks like my cute, impoverished [Name]’s bagged herself a man,” he muses. “Who would’ve thought?”

Elliot blinks in confusion. He clearly doesn’t know what to say, and he can’t seem to understand why you seem so apprehensive all of a sudden.

Just like that, you’ve instantly sobered up.

⊱.⋅follow + post notifications on for story update announcements or join the author's discord!⋅.⊰

🩸 main masterlist! ♡ character appearances

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bendableperformer · 2 months ago

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Ranking Popee The Performer Ships!!

(Also a “what your favorite ship says about you”)

Please don’t kill me.

Popee x Kedamono: 1/10

If you ship this, you’re either a child who doesn’t know better or a maniac who will only settle for the most toxic, acidic sludge of yaoi.

Firstly, there’s an age gap between 7-10 years. Secondly, Popee’s a minor and any sort of sexualization of him makes me deeply uncomfortable so all ships involving him get docked points. Thirdly, there’s a beastiality argument floating around but that doesn’t count because Kedamono is definitely sentient so…. No. My answer is still no. Fuck you.

You get a 1/10 because it is a perfect setup for some toxic yaoi it’s just the wrong characters and the wrong context.

Also, if you want the concept of two guys killing each other over and over again in the desert forever and they have this crazy forbidden fucked up toxic yaoi relationship, AND they’re both legal adults? Have I got the fandom for you. (It’s TF2)

…as for shipping them in chinchirukin only? *dissapointed sigh* fine. But I’m fucking watching you.

Popee x Eepop: 3/10

You wanted a “cleaner” Popeemono.

It’s quite literally the same dynamic as Popeemono but it’s straight and also they’re the same age and both humans. So. That’s cool I guess.

I really don’t care though. Like I said, any sexualization of Popee makes me deeply uncomfortable.

“What if it’s only romantic?” you ask. To that I say: Yeah right. As if you’re only shipping them so they can be in a stable, loving and healthy relationship. I know you want yandere Popee so bad. I know you want that fucked up boy.

Also this ship does tend to be depicted in a very binary-gendered way. Almost all art depicting Popee and Eepop force the two of them further into their gender roles (ex: Eepop has boobs and eyelashes and a skirt or something) even though they canonically look FUCKING IDENTICAL.

Kedamono x Pink bitch Wolf: 4/10

God I do not care about these fuckass genderbends. Same as the above ship.

A little better because we love a girlboss but man. I just do not care. Kedamono deserves better I think.

Popee x Pink bitch Wolf: 0/10

You want to see this twink get ravaged so bad. WELL GUESS WHAT?? He may be physically ALMOST 18 but MENTALLY. HE IS A CHILD. HE IS NOT A TWINK HE IS AN ANDROGYNOUS CHILD PLEASE LEAVE HIM ALONEEEEEEE.

Kedamono x Eepop: 0/10

You want the weird fucked up age gap and human/furry relationship but you don’t want the toxic yaoi. You pathetic wimp. At least commit if you’re gonna be a degenerate.

Papi x Alien: 7/10

The fandom was so desperate to pair characters off that I’m sure this started as a joke. But honestly?

It’s really fucking funny to me. Especially if it’s one sided. Papi is absolutely enamored with this random fuckass Alien and said Alien does not give two shits about him. It’s just so silly.

Papi x Kedamono: 4/10

….Honest to god I don’t hate this one. They really seem to get along sometimes. They’re both legal adults. In the context of my headcannon backstory it becomes weird, but in cannon material? I dunno. I kind of like it. It’s a little silly.

Especially when you realize what Popee’s reaction would be. That boy is gonna be Third Wheeling FOREVER.

Papi x Popee: 0/10

If you ship this please get therapy.

Popee x Marifa: 0/10

You really like fucked up sibling incest, don’t you? You fucking loser. Go touch grass

Kedamono x UFO girls: 10/10

Ideal PTP ship. You KNOW Kedamono wants this. I think Kedamono needs some forehead kisses from these lovely ladies.

Kedamono x Alien: 5/10

*Cough* *wheeze* I don’t even know what to say here…. Um…. Yeah.

Papi x OC/Self Insert: 9/10

No comment.

Popee x OC/Self Insert: 8/10

*takes drag of cigarette.*

I was like you once…..

Kedamono x OC/Self Insert: 9/10

Yeah. I get it. I understand. You just want good things for this dog.

….Honestly this fandom is just….. Not good for shipping.

(Unlike TF2 lol)

#popee the performer #popee the ぱフォーマー #ptp popee #popee the clown #ptp kedamono #kedamono #ptp papi #ptp alien #text post #shipping discourse #shipping #this was in my drafts #for so long #I was so scared to post it

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otori0 · 14 days ago

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talent and expectations | arturo giles rant

I was really hesitant to post this here, but it has been a while since I've posted an analysis and I feel like Arturo isn't talked enough, so why not. This was written on a twt thread that was meant for me and one friend so it's a bit messy. Also take into account that we're lacking a lot of info on him so none of this is my definitive opinion and I'm sure my thoughts will change and develop when more DRDT releases. And like in all my rants, this is just my opinion and interpretation, and I 100% respect other different perspectives!

VERY messy, very incoherent thoughts and opinions.

Much like David, Teruko, Arei and Ace, among other DRDT characters, Arturo is another example of a person who closed themselves off emotionally to the point of losing empathy because they dont want to face their issues. I feel like the fandom fails to see this because he's the icky one, the one that makes people uncomfortable. There's nothing wrong with being uncomfortable with Arturo's actions, he IS a weirdo, but I think it's a shame that he isn't as understood and talked about as the other characters who fall into this. I would even say that this is a huge part of DRDT's message. You have to open yourself up to others and trust, you have to face your reality, and so on.

Arturo outright denies what happened with his sister because he can't handle the guilt that would come to admit that he had some sort of responsibility over his sister's suicide. If we take his word for it, his sister commited suicide because of him leaving to make his own life (although I don't doubt there's more to it), which he absolutely rejects and denies to the point of threatening Eden. This comes from the extreme distress the situation gives him. He often shows being emotionally closed off, being extremely evasive of his issues, and a lack of empathy constant through the game that is in no small part because of this. Because if you hate and reject others and don't even stop to consider the effect your words has on them, then your mind is at peace and you don't have to face these flaws. It's like they don't even exist- just like Arturo himself says, they're all below human to him. In return, he seems deeply affected by J's rejection and attitude, so it's easy to assume that he is generally affected by other people's actions, just shuts that down more often than not. Arturo is a mess, he's full of contradictions, but this is not all that surprising considering his life until now.

We know that all DRDT characters are over 18, but Arturo is specifically 18. As far as I know, Min has mentioned being 18 on her bonus episode, so considering a few years should have passed, she is probably above 18, or exactly 18. Either way, this makes Arturo one of the youngest, if not the youngest in the cast. And yet, I feel like the fandom fails to see this sometimes and always expect better from him— which is another focal point of his character, in my opinion, and the next point i want to go into. Just like the meme says, I feel like a lot of people have fallen for the character's facade that's meant to be dismantled by the viewer, much like David's lies (I will keep bringing him up bc he's the easiest to compare, but this applies to many other characters, which makes me believe even more that it's the case for Arturo too).

I believe the point of Arturo's characterization is that your talent doesnt translate to actual ability when faced with certain situations, and also, that intelligence doesnt translate to maturity. This is more easily seen in David and his complex relationship with his speech persona and the world as a whole, but that's a different topic that many people have already delved into and not the point of this rant. (I will sidetrack for a second to say that one of my favorite things about DRDT is how you can make some sort of connection between almost any duo of characters, it's really interesting to me how they're all just constantly projecting their issues onto each other despite how much they have in common). But we can still see it on Arturo, especially with his attitude during the trial when he doesn't see himself as able to save Levi, of course he doesn't, he's young and doesn't have the type of experience the others assume he has. Adding to this that Arturo started studying ONLY plastic surgery since he was 12, it's easy to assume that he hasn't grown up normally, even more if he did actually leave his house to pursue his studies. I believe that Arturo's immaturity (despite his intelligence) comes from here.

Part of me hopes that Arturo doesn't get a redemption arc like Arei, I hope he doesnt get redeemed at all, because a lot of people can only sympathise when a character shows the specific emotions they can sympathise with (fear, sadness and regret, mostly) but as soon as they break that mold, there's a lack of willingness to sympathise and understand them (I have a separate rant on my twt priv about how characters who display anger instead of sadness are way more disliked and misunderstood, if anyone wants me to post it I'll think about it, although it's even more personal than this one). I think it'd be more interesting if he takes a different direction, although I'm definitely very curious to see how will Ace's words affect him in the future, and whether Levi lives or dies.

Lastly, although obviously DRDT is a fangan and not an official game, I think it's important to remember one of the core aspects of Danganronpa when discussing DRDT, which is how talents affect people's lives and personalities. This is easily seen in many DRDT characters so I won't go too into it aside from Arturo. We have characters whose whole personalities were shaped around their talent (Junko being the biggest example, but many others come to mind), and I believe Arturo is another example of this that goes unnoticed. Veronika herself has theorized that Arturo's initial slight aversion towards ugliness, before it was an actual issue, was worsened by his talent. Obviously Veronika isn't Arturo, but judging by his reaction and her talent to pinpoint people's deepest issues, we can assume this is true to an extent. This also connects to Arturo's quote about Mai: ''A girl who sees the beauty in everyone''. So there's definitely more to his personality than meets the eye, and as ''weird'' (i hate the use of that word esp in fandom spaces) as he is, I don't think he's all that worse or hard to comprehend than the rest.

My original rant stopped here so I don't really know how to end it. But I hope it was interesting!

#drdt #danganronpa despair time #arturo giles #otori analysis

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emotionallyattachednerd · 1 year ago

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Eternal Soul | IDW Rodimus/Hot Rod x f!human reader | NSFW 18+

Word count: 3500+

Warnings: Smut ( oral, sex, size difference and first time ) and robot on human. NSFW 18+.

Notes: Don't mean to sound creepy, but I enjoy the virgins. Something fun about first timers. Thanks @lonetile for sending through. Sorry for the wait. Once again, like many times before, I went a little crazy with the length of this. Hope you all enjoy. 🥰

☕ Coffee

Being the only human on the Lost Light crew was very exciting, but also hard, though you managed to find some sort of adjustment over time and to fit in with the new species. There is something though that has been on your mind, and you wish you got it done and over with before leaving earth.

You're still a virgin.

The last thing you want is to be a forty year old virgin, not that you were close to that age, but you didn't know just how long you were going to be away or if you were ever going to return to earth. It made you feel weird, and you wish you just hooked up with someone just to get the deed done.

Everyone was great, big, but allowed you to fit in. Each one has their own personality, different characters, but only one stood out. Rodimus is quite the charmer, silly, very flirty with you, and you find yourself falling for his charms.

At first you took it as his type of character, it's how he speaks to a lot of people, but over time you realise the tone difference when he's around others or around you, it's more smoother, husky even.

You never even imagined to be attracted to another species, yet here you are, almost drooling over the sight of Rodimus. Then it happens, he invites you back to his quarters, to talk more in private.

It gets more difficult though when he suddenly downsizes himself. Still large, but closer to your size. Apparently their species can do this and they call it mass displacement. The very sight of him like this gives you very sexual ideas but you force yourself to put these in the vault, for now at least.

Another thing that surprises you is the amount of comforts and silks he has on his berth. You didn't think his species had such things, then again you're still learning about them. More things will probably surprise you along the way.

"Are you alright? You look uncomfortable?" You're snapped out of your thoughts when you hear Rodimus speak right beside you, and you realise that you've been quiet, you probably look so stupid.

"Oh! I'm fine..."

"Sure, you look completely fine." Rodimus chuckles lightly. Damn that laugh. "Come on, you can tell me anything. I promise to keep all your deepest and darkest secrets to myself." He sends you that upturn charming smirk.

"Yeah, right." You can't help but snort softly through your gentle laughter before clearing your throat nervously. "Just...alright, look, you've been really nice to me the moment I arrived, helped me fit in and even spent time with me. You're...nice."

"What can I say? I'm a terrific guy!" He sits with his legs spread wide, cool guy style, helm tilted and optics directly on you. Jesus Christ.

"Is there a real reason you've been nice to me?" You cross your legs, sitting comfortably on the comforts under you.

"Do I need a reason?" He quickly adds on. "Well, I'm curious about you, don't meet many humans, and I find you rather cute." Its time for you to blush. He chuckles noticing this. "Ah! Even cuter when you get that hue going. Guess my charms truly work on you."

"You have no idea..." You murmur, and finally, you ask. Fuck it. "Sorry if this is weird, but I was wondering, does your species have sex?"

"Yeah!" He chuckles, answering as if it was nothing. "We call it 'interfacing' though. Why do you ask? Do you want to fool around?" There it is again, that husky tone.

"I-I mean...maybe?"

"Great! Let's get it going then!" He's suddenly on top and presses you down onto the comforts, about to kiss you but you stop him.

"Wait" You push against his chassis, panting heavily, slowly trying to recover from what just happened.

"Oh, sorry, too much? Thought we were both wanting the same thing? Or is there a weird human thing I don't know about?" Rodimus rambles as he sits up and gives you a little more space.

"I do! I-I do want that, but there's something you need to know about first, and I don't know how you're going to react."

Rodimus narrows his optics, watching them drift down and up your body. "Are you secretly a male? Because if you are, I'm totally cool with that."

You stare at him, baffled. "What? No, no I'm not. Jesus, don't you have any limits?"

"Not really." He sounds so proud of himself, making you giggle lightly.

"Alright, well, you should know that...I'm a virgin."

Now that's something he wasn't expecting, and ends up staring at you blankly through widen optics. The lingering silence makes you anxious and you meet his gaze, only to notice something in his face. "That turns you on, doesn't it?" Of course it does.

"It very much does. Sure, I've claimed some virgins in my time, but never a human, so I feel pretty damn lucky right now." He hovers over you closely, that charming upturn smirk plastered across his face.

Your nerves slowly start boiling up through you. Sure, you want this, but you are still agitated and processing what you are feeling. You weren't oblivious when it came to sex, you've watched porn, and some friends from earth have told their experiences.

"Scared?"

"A little." You admit through a shy murmur. That spunk is gone from him.

"Listen. I don't want you to feel pressured, so if you want to stop we can. But if we continue, I promise to go slow, whatever pace you want. I'm rather skillful so you've got the best offer here for you." All that smugness is gone and he's being all tender and caring. He understands you're nervous, and is being a real gentleman now.

This is happening, you don't want to back out.

"Alright, I trust you." You manage to answer through your shaky voice.

Rodimus is going to show you the best time possible, leaving no regrets and you only wanting to lay with only him. "Let's try this again."

He leans down again and this time you let him kiss you. It's soft and warm, not what you imagined kissing a robot would feel like, it's oddly delightful, and you lean into the kiss slowly, moving your hand up to caress his cheek.

You feel his glossa running across your lips before dipping between them, coiling with your tongue and letting out a low moan against you. There's a warm metallic taste coming from him, but there's a sweetness in it, surrounding your taste buds and causing you to moan softly in return. Sure, you've kissed guys before, but nothing compared to this kind of kiss. It was very sexual, needy, yet calm.

His servos observe over your body against your tight fitted clothes, sneaking under to touch your warm skin. He breaks apart from the intense kiss, letting out heated vents as optic downcast across your body curiously. "So, maybe you could help me out? Not used to these clothes you wear, kind of new to me."

"Alright." You're still nervous but bottle it up as you proceed to remove your clothes. First your tights, then your tank top, leaving you in your undergarments. Rodimus tilts his helm curiously at you, watching you remove your clothes slowly as he admires every inch of your soft body.

Unhooking your bra you can't help but hold it against your breasts for a moment before finally letting it drop. Then you slip out of your undies, kicking them aside and leaving you baren naked for him. You're flushed, heart hammering, feeling very exposed in his lustful optics, watching them glow brightly against you.

Silently he crawls closer, servos running up against your hip and up over towards your breast. Feeling his soft padded digits against them makes your breath hitch and nipples perk out from the contact.

"So soft." You hear him say through a gentle tone. "These can be played with, right?"

"Yeah..." You can't help but flush in embarrassment, earning an upturn smirk from him.

"I bet you've touched yourself plenty of times." His words cause you to stutter silently, earning a snicker from him. "You're so cute when you blush. Don't worry, I'll take very good care of you."

You find yourself laying down again on your back, Rodimus hovering over your naked body as he skillfully touches you all over, focusing on your breasts as he massages them before leaning over to gently drag his glossa against your perk nipple.

This causes you to arch your back, a surprised gasp leaving you, feeling nothing but the buzzing electric pleasure that rocks through your body. He likes your reaction, smirking smugly at her before taking the whole nipple into his mouth.

A lavish moan erupts from you as he does this, humming around your delicate nipple while circling his glossa around the bud, sucking as if he was a hungry baby. You feel his servo drift down between you both and touch your inner thigh making your skin quiver in delight. You then feel his digit glide up across your soft curls and against your pussy. A sudden shame tightens in your chest and he feels your body tense up, making him stop his movements and let go of your nipple with a slick pop.

"Is this alright?" He proceeds to place a kiss against your shoulder as her shifts himself back up a little. The tender contact makes you give him a bashful smile.

"Yeah. I just...don't want you to think I'm weird and hairy." You don't shave often, seeing no point, but you don't want to feel grossed out by you.

"Nah, not even close. You're an exotic beauty, gorgeous, and you have a seductive vibe that is really making me hot." He sends you a playful smirk. "So, can I continue?"

He's not your average guy, not in the slightest, but you think that's what makes this a little better to relax yourself. He's not one to judge, but to enjoy himself and make sure you have a good first experience. All you can answer with is a nod, and he continues, moving down across your body.

His warm kisses trail down lightly, across your breasts, stomach, moving between your thighs causing your breath to hitch from the tingling contact. His servos smooth against your hips and up over your waist, mouth lingering and heated vents hitting your very core, feeling his lascivious optics looking at you for just a short moment, before you feel his servos spread your thighs wider and his digits parting your pussy lips.

A jittery gasp escapes, feeling yourself exposed makes your body fidget slightly. Sure, you've touched yourself before, but no one has ever touched you like this.

"What a pretty tight flower you have." Rodimus whispers seductively, his dentas nibbling at his lower lip while he admires your fleshy pinkness, so much like a valve much to his delight. It means he knew exactly what to do with you. Leaning closer he gently drags his glossa between your folds and across your sensitive clit, letting out a groan that rumbles from his chassis.

A surprised whine erupts from you feeling him do this, so little yet with a strong reaction, it feels intensely good.

“Oh, I love that sound you make.” He drips out lustfully through a smug smile. "I can't wait to hear what other sounds I'll hear from you." He then moves forward again, nuzzling his mouth against your pussy and starts to lap at you slowly and eagerly, drawing out your sweet juices as you crane your neck back against the comforts and let out short blissful whimpers.

His glossa rolls between your folds before feeling it dip into your tight entrance causing your breath to hitch, mewling softly as he starts to feast upon your pussy and lap at your sweet dew all for himself.

Your hands grip at the comforts you lay under, eyes fluttering close as you spread your thighs more for him, melting under his erotic touches and glossa. This is so much mroe different than touching yourself, it's a thousand times better, a growing pleasure you've never felt before. You love it, every second of it.

Rodimus lets out a lingering moan against you, craving your sweet juices leaking constantly for him, drinking up everything you give him as your hips shimmy under his servos, moving in sync with his glossa.

His lips suddenly latch onto your clit and he sucks hard, causing you to mewl aloud as shivers through your body. Rapid pulses rush through you over again, eyes screwed shut as your mouth hangs open with lingering moans.

Suddenly, he stops, making you pout and causing him to chuckle lightly. "Oh don't worry, I'm not going to leave you hanging for too long." He moves back up and kisses you smoothly, tasting yourself at his lips and feeling his digit prob at your entrance before he pushes in your tight depths.

A whined hiss leaves you against his lips, the stretch is new and you are not used to it, but you try to relax by spreading your legs more and letting your body adjust to his exploring digit curling gently against your inner walls.

"So tight." He says as if he was praising you. "Frag, it's going to be a snug fit for my spike. Getting me really riled up here." Your cheeks bloom red hearing his words tickle against your ear.

"Just...please be gentle." You are worried it's going to hurt a lot, even though you're so aroused, you're still nervous about what is about to happen.

"I'll be gentle, don't you worry. You're soaking wet, so my spike should glide in with ease." He assures you before adding a second digit, stretching you further a little.

Your breath hitches but the pain wasn't so bad as you clench around him, hips moving slightly with his slowly pumping digits as he sucks at your tits again, letting out eager moans against you while you arch your chest up against his warm mouth latched onto you.

"Fuck." You breathe out through a moan, eyes closed as you lick your lips ambition.

Rodimus smiles against your nipple before letting out and gazing up at you. "Oh I love these babies, they are so soft and sensitive. I just want to bury myself in them."

Hearing this causes you to giggle tenderly through your growing arousal. "Yeah? Well, you can play with them whenever you like."

You say it before you think about it, however, he lets out a proud grin. "I was hoping you would say that. For now though, I want to make you mine, and claim your innocence."

There's a sound that confuses you, like metal shifting, then you feel something long and warm running up against your inner thigh causing your breath to hitch before glancing down.

There in plain sight was his cock, or his spike as he would call it, and you can't help but swallow thickly at the size of him. He's so thick! Bumpy ridges cascaded along his length, red luminous lines surrounding, and pink fluids leaks from his twitching tip, running around his spike to drip down onto the berth. You didn't even realise you've been staring so long and hear his playful snickers.

"Am I truly that impressive?" He leans closer as he asks this, caressing your cheek as his spike rests against your pussy.

"Yeah." You admit through a bashful smile. "You're rather big. Will you fit?" You can't help but question.

"I'm sure I'll fit. I have no doubt that you'll be able to accept my spike in your tight body. So, shall I pursue?"

All you can do is nod for your answer, feeling his lips against your own again as you rub your hands over his shoulders, a way to distract you as he positions himself and pushes into your tight entrance.

It's happening. You feel his pulsing length invade your heated core until he is met with resistance, lifts your leg up against his hip before pushing more firmly, and you feel the sharp pain snap through you.

You're no longer a virgin.

The pain wasn't so terrible but it does sting and ache still, feeling him going slow as he pushes further in, feeling his ridged spike pulsing rapidly through your channel while he kisses you slowly and passionately. You moan, both pain and pleasure, and he groans in return while his glossa coils eagerly with your tongue.

Rodimus is now pressed firmly against your pussy, fully imbedded, as he keeps still to savour your tightness clenching around him. You feel so full, which causes you to move your hand down between you bodies and your breath hitches when you feel a bulge against your lower belly caused by his vast spike throbbing in you. He does the same to meet your hand and feels it, making him break the kiss and lets out a lazy grin through his flaming arousal.

"See? You took all of me so well. You're so tight, can feel everything in you, feels fragging, wonderful, tightest valve I've ever had. Are you doing alright?" To hear him ask was kind of him.

"I'm alright..." You whimper out softly. "Please, fuck me, I want to feel it all."

"Have it all you shall have, darling." He says before he starts to move, pulling out gently, noticing the wet crimson along his spike indicating your innocence is no more. He feels rather proud of himself to be able to be your first. Gently, he rolls his waist back in, fully imbedded, and sets a calm pace as he fucks you, groaning lowly repeatedly.

Your legs tighten at his waist while your hands wrap around the back of his neck to hold onto him, soft mewls erupting from you as you feel yourself rock gently under his movements. The pain dulls and you casually now feel only the growing rush of heat flooding through you, feeling your clit rubbing against him with his movements in perfect sync.

The bulge repeatedly expands against your lower belly over again as his spike reaches deep, claiming every bit of you. Your body rocks and shakes under his slowly growing movements, thrusts becoming shorter and firmer, heated grunts formed out from him as he holds a tighter grip against your thigh and hip, watching himself entering your pussy over again. His spike hits your g-spot causing your back to arch sharply.

"Fuck! Oh fuck!" You cry out in bliss, the pounding pleasure boiling rapidly through your hot body, pussy accepting every inch of him as he snaps forward over again. There's no holding back now.

"Fragging pit, feels so good! Sucking me whole, such a good girl. Yeah, that's it, keep clenching. I'll fill you deeply with my fluids, over again, make sure your body drinks everything I give. Do you want that, huh? Want me to frag you always?" His heated vents hit against your neck as he leans closer again, pace firm and hard as he tugs you against his solid movements.

"P-please..." You whimper out as you struggle with your words.

"What's that? Go ahead, tell Roddy what you want." His rough movements are intoxidating, you crave every bit of it, clenching around his throbbing spike even more, feeling your pleasure about to snap.

"You!" You cry out in ecstasy. "All of you!"

"Take all of me then!"

Burying his face into your neck he sets an abrupt and hard pace, jackhammering against your body as he bends your leg up over his shoulder, stretching your body and you love just how much you can flex under his strong movements. He grunts hard into your ear, each thrust creating another animalistic sound from him as you fall apart under him, lust consuming every bit of you and him in the rapid movements, before you feel yourself about to crumble and don't hold back, cumming hard around his thrusting spike buried deep in you.

Your orgasim is what sends him over the edge as he lets out a lingering throat loud moan followed by the warm trans fluids flooding your channel, overlosding himself within you. His movements continue, slowing down and giving small jerks against you so he can savour every bit of you still.

You're a painting mess, moaning as you feel his spike still buried deep with the bulge and fluids embedded deeply, allowing yourself to catch your breath as he slowly comes to a stop.

Rodimus tilts your head and shares a kiss with you, tender and loving kind, before looking deeply into your eyes through his hazy optics.

"So, pretty good right?" That smugness in his voice is cute.

"So good." You answer without lying.

"Think you can handle a second round?" He gives his waist a teasing thrust, spike twitching through your inner channel that makes you whimper softly through a cocky smile. Sure, why not?

"Let's find out."

#transformers #valveplug #idw #mtmte #rodimus prime #hot rod #reader insert #rodimus x reader #robot x human #smut #fanfiction #writing #sugarrusheag

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