#Beyond the western deep

[temiree]

As an April Fools' joke this year, I did the same thing that I did last year with Kingdomblade, where I did my best to mimic their style in a drawing and then have them post it to see if anyone notices (partially fueled by me being confused as the artist of Beyond the Western Deep a few times)! This was the result of me copying @kobbers's style, with me specifically drawing their character, Dakkan. :3

I'd say it was a success! After she posted it on her page, there were zero skeptical comments questioning whether she drew it. :D

Click here to see the comic I did last year in Kingdomblade's style! Headshots I drew of Dak while I was practicing her style are also available on my Patreon.

[realfuurikuuri]

ZOMG, MEGA SUPER AWESOME VIDEO SPOTTED!!!

[urban-hart]

s'been awhile huh

[kobbers]

We reached the halfway point of our Kickstarter campaign, so I had Dak break out the puns. Still have a ways to go to meet our ultimate stretch goal (the paperback omnibus) but I still dare to hope!

[tdcpresents]

Our Western Deep Volume 3 Kickstarter ends in just five days! It's been an awesome campaign so far--the hardcovers are fully funded and we've already hit TWO of our stretch goals, unlocking the Music of the Western Deep digital album for all our backers and netting all physical tier backers a brand-new emote sticker sheet and our wonderful V3 promotional print by Kosperry. With just five days to go, we're aiming for our next major stretch goal: the TWO PIN SET, adding the sharp-toothed, succulent-slinging lutren rogue alongside burgeoning assistant-ambassador Janik! If we hit $30K, every pin backer gets upgraded to the two-pin set for free, and we'll add the pins to our BackerKit store for everyone to enjoy!

Let's finish this up strong! We know we can do it!

head to https://www.westerndeep.net/kickstarter and check it out!

[fabledskies]

Drew a piece for Beyond The Western Deep!

[ultimateanthropoll]

Bracket 11: Carnivora Order

Zig Zag (skunk/tiger hybrid; Sabrina Online) vs. Rook (marbled polecat; Beyond the Western Deep) vs. Mother Glory (hyena; Friends at the Table)

Submitters say:

"This one's really towing the line, and even if she gets accepted she's likely to be voted out round one. She's technically an OC, but has been a canon character in a few different comics across the years. Either way I wish her the best as a candidate for sheer furry notoriety" (Zig Zag)

"he's my guy" (Rook)

"god i wish i could get smoked out by a fifteen-feet-tall hyena woman" (Mother Glory)

[mapas-fantasticos]

Map of the Four Kingdoms of Dunia from Beyond the Western Deep webcomic by Alex Kain and Rachel Bennett.

[anghraine]

This is probably my most "born and raised in the rural western USA" post ever, but there really is a kind of annoying white dude who shows up in the western states at times, and occasionally even comes from them, who I keep encountering. This kind of guy might not be an obvious bigot (though sometimes he is), but regardless, is one of the most irritating creatures on the face of the planet. Common traits:

goes around in full wannabe western cowboy (21st century edition) cosplay and never shuts up about the plight of the rural poor and his own history of poverty in small town rural America. he understands in a way that these city elites never will.

turns out to be from a comfortable middle-class family in Missoula. (as one example; there are lots of variants of this)

affects an obviously fake drawl in no way characteristic of the actual region he comes from to go with the cosplay.

the hat is pristine, the boots are unscuffed, the belt buckle is ... wrong, and the obligatory truck was bought new and couldn't pull a Toyota out of a mud puddle or make it up a moderately steep hill in half an inch of snow.

assumes everyone he professionally interacts with has no more experience of actual rural life and/or poverty than he does himself, especially if he's in the arts in some capacity. The poors don't care about Art, you see (sometimes stated, usually strongly implied with little comprehension that he's saying it).

relatedly, has intense food+social class opinions and appears to think that cheap food for the proletariat is, like, the Olive Garden.

throws around his red state creds while giving the distinct impression that it's been 20 years since he saw a cow.

the more liberal versions talk a lot about awareness of their privilege and positionality as white men, but don't really do anything to support marginalized colleagues. unless "picking on younger and less powerful men who haven't done anything wrong" counts.

[taliabhattwrites]

I’m sorry if you’ve answered this, or if it should be obvious, but you does your substack say trans/rad/fem? What is trans radical feminism? How does it differ from just radical feminism?

Yep! It says Trans/Rad/Fem, as does the title of my book.

The short version is that your average online hate speech aficionado who calls themselves a TE"RF" is no more well-versed in actual radical feminist literature than the billionaire writer. The most feminist literature they've read is likely wizard kidlit, and maybe the most hateful bits of 'Transsexual Empire' or a bit of Sheila Jeffreys if you're lucky.

Meanwhile, the radical feminist tradition was one that itself emerged as a materialist, inclusive, and more working-class counterpoint to the First Wave's doddering Friedanism. People don't recall much of the first wave, but it engendered such ironclad feminist arguments as "lesbians are not oppressed by patriarchy because they do not marry and are not confined to the domestic sphere", or "mothers and fathers are equally responsible for women doing to the bulk of childcare, because mothers are so reluctant to let go."

Truly, it's a miracle there were any subsequent waves at all.

Adrienne Rich's essay on Compulsory Heterosexuality can be viewed as something of a turning point, a collation of a more materialist framework (since I don't believe Rich necessarily originated all the points she raised). She, rather gently and with more patience than I have ever demonstrated, addressed the arguments of the heterosexual feminists and highlighted the coercive nature of patriarchy and of heterosexuality itself, which could be considered a social regime, a model that attempts to subsume all women into domestic servitude and sexual labor for men.

(A quick aside--if you've ever encountered any arguments on this site along the lines of "CompHet is only for lesbians", do note that the original text involves Rich, a lesbian, laying out the argument to hetfeminists that all women, even straight women, are subjected to a mandatory heterosexual existence, and are punished for trying to live outside of it, as by pursuing economic independence or choosing to be childless.)

For me personally, given the rather dismal state of Indian feminism, which is dominated by affluent liberals and ignores the more radical prolefem and dalit feminist elements attempting to come to the fore, it was refreshing to finally behold a piece of feminist literature that identifies and names forced marriage as an aspect of patriarchy, one that a significant chunk of women all over the world, both within Western territories and without, live with. So much mainstream feminism in the 2000s and beyond was located in the interpersonal, the foregrounding of choices women "should" make, ignoring that for the vast majority of us, patriarchy either denies us any choice at all, or presents us with false ones, harshly punishing us for some choices while presenting them as "free".

(Liberal ideologies and systems, bound up as they are in a veneration of contracts between equal parties, account very poorly for contracts between parties on unequal footing, where one is at a significant material disadvantage and cannot truly make a "free" choice.)

Besides, it is neither true that modern feminism entirely discarded the second wave--look at "gender is a social construct" and "heteronormativity" for now-banal feminist concepts steeped in radfem origins--nor is it true that the "third wave", such as it was, was entirely aa step forward in inclusivity, trans-acceptance, class consciousness, or even racial justice. One need only look at the state of modern feminist discourses to see how well the latest "waves" have managed to argue the case for trans liberation, and my current most well-known essay is a deep dive into the Orientalist, transmisogynistic origins of "third genders", an idea the queer academy has uncritically absorbed and even championed.

I am under no misapprehensions that second-wave feminists would be my pals. A lot of them were white, for one thing. It is, however, a tradition that is both more diverse than the prevailing image of white, middle-class lesbian academics would have you believe, and one that has more than a few useful things to say, especially to a transfeminist.

I don't think we are best served by erecting a cordon sanitaire around the second wave and refusing to engage with it critically. I've read Transsexual Empire, for fuck's sake, and doing so revealed to me just how paper-thin this reactionary movement has always been. That book is as farcical and easily disproved as Hilary Cass' recent bilious screed, but both were elevated to legislative and political relevancy not due to their veracity, but because institutions simply need any literature to provide a veneer of legitimacy to their transphobia. That the texts exist at all is enough.

I have, in short, made my life's work engaging with scholarship that has historically ignored us, vilified us, or instrumentalized us, and that is as true for second-wave feminists as it is for cultural anthropologists. I just believe that Monique Wittig and Adrienne Rich made valuable contributions to feminist thought, and even as we remember all that their missteps, we should not erase what they did right.

On a personal note, I can think of no better revenge than taking the abandoned threads of the radical feminist tradition and finally fulfilling its aborted potential, as a transfeminist. The trans question tore the movement apart because of a subset of zealots who couldn't and wouldn't see us as sisters in the feminist struggle.

I am going to finish what they started, and make the conclusions that they couldn't. We're good at cleaning up other people's messes, after all.

[drgnflyteabox]

Imagine you're a sheltered woman from New York in the 1850s. By the time you're a young lady both your parents are dead, so you have no choice but to leave your cushy little family home, get on a train and meet your only living relative. You're kind of useless, bookish and naive. You've never experienced anything but comfort. Your uncle tells you he doesn't want you around, but as a woman you can't do much on your own, and what could you do? You're as helpless as a lamb.

Your uncle betroths you to a man in Oregon, and ships you off to travel the oregon trail with all your treasure (jewelry, bonds, antiques, etc). The only thing is that he can't just send you on your own- you've only been in the real world the past few days to travel to him!!! You've been an anxious little hermit, and who's gonna carry your trunk full of romance books?

Your uncle hires security company 141 to escort you through the grueling journey, and you're none the wiser that company 141 doesn't exist, but outlaw gang Ghost team does...

Anyways I neeeeeeed more western and cowboy 141 and I've been playing rdr2 lately soo

This could work for any of the boys :')

Gaz who's just like your fairytale men. Kind, considerate, kisses your hand. He gives you a little extra bacon in the morning when you whine and picks wildflowers for you when he sees a pretty one (like you). You're defenseless against his charms.

Price who's...... the embodiment of your daddy issues. Spoiler? But you grew up so sheltered because your dad believed your family was cursed, and made you scared to be in the world. Price is so big and solid and comforting, older and bearlike... you definitely could call him daddy :')

Johnny who's got you flustered and blushing the entire way, even when you're miserable, when you're beyond travel weary. He's carefree about touch and space, and for someone who grew up locked in a single space for so long, you're like putty at the simplest touches from him

Simon's a wildcard. He wears a bandana, which makes everyone but the company nervous, and he's always riding off. You rarely see him, but you're mesmerized by his pale eyes and pale lashes, his scars and his story. He kind of hates you for how you don't seem to know like... anything. He let's the others care for you, counting the days until they can meet up with Kate and abandon you for dead with all your ma and pas jewelry and valuables and onto the next robbery... unless (0)o(0)

Also the guy you're meant to marry is graves LOL. Your family is deep in the railway industry and filthy rich and graves is buying up land and planting vineyards. Hes getting rich off of wine :') that's the story in my head

Plsss forgive me if this has already been written!!! I had a dream about it and I couldn't remember if it was something I'd read, or something I thought up. I looked around tumblr and ao3 for anything but couldn't find anything. Pleaseeeeee contact me if its your idea, I'm terrified of accidentally plagiarizing lol

[radio-charlie]

Just try looking for a positive story on China any day of the week in any of the leading global media outlets. Apart from reports in January about the Lunar New Year, there will hardly be any, and these too are likely to have a negative spin. It would appear there is a confidential memo circulating within Western media groups that guides reporters and editors to ensure there cannot be any positive news arising from a country with 1.3 billion people.

Typically, the negative stories adhere to three core ideas, which inform the unspoken guidelines within these press rooms when it comes to reporting on China.

First is the belief that China is a threat to the world and that this belief must be relentlessly reinforced at every available opportunity. How and why China is a threat is never explored; such is the deep-rooted and almost religious nature of the belief. Sound arguments do not matter. The basic tenets of good journalism are ignored when it comes to a China story. There is no need to explain or give evidence of why China is a global threat.

Left ignored is the plentiful evidence that shows China is not a global threat – even if one can point to mistakes and overreach in certain areas. China has not invaded any country in decades, or imposed sanctions that have devasted the lives of millions in poor countries, unlike the West, led by the United States.

Second is that China must be linked to every possible global event that affects the West. This provides an opportunity for the West to bash China while simultaneously burnishing its own credentials as the supposed arbiters of what is right and wrong in international relations. From the pandemic to the Russia-Ukraine war to carbon emissions; from rising sea levels to the scramble for rare earths; from the building of infrastructure in Africa to the production of vaccines – there must be an angle to demonize the country and instill fear in Western nations (and beyond).

Indeed, media outlets are reverting to the “yellow peril” of the late 1800s. There is no subtle and nuanced approach to instilling fear like this. It is full-on and very often blatantly racist – but it is now acceptable for one to be racist about the Chinese in Western media, despite the fact that Black-White relations are very carefully described.

The third part of this phenomenon, which is surprisingly not challenged by liberal readers of mainstream media, is the sentiment that everything must be done – even illegal and unfair methods – to arrest the rise of China. Never mind the rights of hundreds of millions of Chinese to have a better life after a century of poverty and deprivation.

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

⋆⭒˚.⋆ your biggest fan ⋆⭒˚.⋆

idol!jaehyun x popstar!reader

summary: in which the world discovers your relationship with Jaehyun and surprisingly… they love it

(cw: f!reader, descriptions of sasaengs and receiving hate)

a/n: bonus ig posts at the end

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

You weren't exactly sure how you and Jaehyun became a couple, that was his area of expertise, not yours. All you remembered was meeting him in 2019 at the iHeartRadio Jingle Ball and from there a relationship blossomed at some point.

It was hard on the both of you, you were both so busy. He was busy pumping out music every year, always working. If he wasn't touring, he was recording, promoting, learning a new dance, or working on the next step. The life of a Kpop idol was vastly different from the fame you knew as a western artist. You had breaks between albums, a few singles here and there, but your tours lasted so much longer.

It was a reality you were used to though. You came into the limelight as a teenager, building a deeply dedicated fan base that grew in size and grew up with you. A fanbase that grew from your hometown to spanning various continents. Your success and fame had grown far beyond what you had ever imagined when you first signed on to create your first record. This life was everything you dreamed of and more, even if the reality was less... perfect than you thought it would be.

Having been in this industry for as long as you had been, a romantic relationship wasn't at the forefront of your list. There were a few here and there, kept under wraps, but they could never understand the demands of your job. When Jaehyun came in, he turned your world upside down. He was a breath of fresh air and inspired you more than anyone ever had.

It had been 3 years of dating now. You were head over heels in love and so was he. The time differences, the constant missed calls, and dates in the cover of darkness hadn't diminished any of the love you had for each other.

These past few weeks had been lucky, you were in your Asian leg of your tour and Jaehyun had been able to join you for the last week of your tour which was starting with a few nights in Seoul and ending in Japan. It was the night before your concert, definitely past midnight, but you and Jaehyun were hungry. You were both dressed "in disguise" with masks on, hats covering your heads, and baggier clothes.

It really was a mistake on both your ends to think that there would be no one watching. Sure, the traditional paparazzi wasn't really a thing here, but there were other people with cameras. People who were too dedicated and a... different kind of fan that you and Jaehyun were unfortunately familiar with. These people knew where you were staying and would take any opportunity to catch a picture. And that’s what happened.

You both entered a convenience store and you pulled off your hat to fix your hair which left your face more visible to the cameras taking pictures. A few minutes later Jaehyun lowered his mask to take a drink from his cup and from there your relationship was revealed and spiraled out of control.

Fans were making connections, some far reaching and others that were legitimate. In your short, 20 minute trip down the block both you and Jaehyun were trending. You didn’t even know it was all happening until the morning after when your assistant walked into your hotel room with her phone in her hand that was quickly pushed in front of your face.

You scrolled through hundreds of tweets, replies, quote tweets, various hashtags.

Your voice was tired and deep from sleep, “what is happening?”

“Fans caught you two in the convenience store last night and uploaded the picture. Jaehyun our team have been in touch with your management and we’ve agreed to each put out a statement confirming the relationship. I know this isn’t what either of you had planned, but you were lucky for a good few years,” your assistant explained with a soft smile.

Jaehyun turned to you with a nervous expression, “I’m sorry this happened. Just ignore all the negative comments and focus on the good, okay? I love you and this won’t change anything.”

“I’m sorry, but there’s no negatives. Well sure, haters are everywhere but 99% of the posts, comments, reactions, everything really- is positive. You’re both international stars with very dedicated fan bases that have some intersection. Seriously, look for yourself,” your assistant hands her phone to Jaehyun. “People want duets, joint tours, they want interviews together. Seriously, it’s crazy!”

You laugh I shock, looking over Jaehyun’s shoulder to read all the feedback and comments from your fans.

“We have to improve your Korean, baby. They want you to collaborate with NCT,” Jaehyun laughs.

“You told me my Korean was good!” You exclaim with a soft hit to his arm.

“It is! But we can practice more for a whole album full of duets,” he replies with a soft laugh.

“You’re getting ahead of yourself,” you laugh in reply.

That night at your concert, the arena full of fans erupts in cheers so loud you can hear it through your ear pieces when Jaehyun is shown on the screen. “My boyfriend is here tonight! And we can all thank him for my amazing Korean! Before we start the next song, which is about him, how do we all feel about an extra show here?”

The screams get even louder and you look at Jaehyun with a bright smile. He sends you a finger heart and you send a kiss right back in his direction. This was everything you’d dreamt of.

+ BONUS

yourusername

liked by _jeongjaehyun, zendaya, and others

yoursusername in case you somehow managed to miss the news, here’s the confirmation! my inspiration, my muse, my biggest fan, my love, nobody gets me like you do. I’m so lucky to live this life with someone who gets me better than anyone else. i love you foreverrrrrr

comments on this post have been limited

_jeongjaehyun

liked by yourusername, bumkeyk, and others

_jeongjaehyun Sometimes I still can’t believe it myself. I’ve learned so much from you and continue to learn something new everyday. I’m my best self around you. I love you baby, I’m your biggest fan

comments on this post have been limited

[captain-hawks]

DELICATE.

tetsurou kuroo x f!reader

The Mage of Nekoma visits your bedchamber by moonlight after weeks spent away from the castle.

wc: 2.2k tags: 18+ only, fantasy au, princess!reader, mage!kuroo, forbidden relationship, feels, fingering, mirror sex, unprotected sex, creampie -> requested

“Princess.”

Startling, you whip around from your place in front of the tall, gilded mirror to find an unexpected visitor casually leaning against the wall, the door to your chambers left slightly ajar.

“Kuroo,” you breathe out in surprise, eyes going wide, heart stumbling clumsily in your chest.

Your father ordered the mage off on a treacherous mission in enemy territory three weeks ago. Three long, arduous weeks that have left you fraught with worry, pacing your rooms late into the evening by the glow of candlelight. A small, haphazard pile of books sits on the window sill, evidence of your long hours spent perched there anxiously waiting for signs of a rider approaching the palace gates. 

Left to agonize over his absence in secret, your handmaidens were convinced you had fallen ill as you quietly moved through the castle like a ghost for days on end. 

Tension leaves your body in waves as you drink in the sight of him, alive and unharmed, save for a fading bruise on his jaw and a cut on his cheek. But the dark circles under his eyes betray the easy smile on his face—he must have just arrived and immediately sought you out, rather than retiring for the evening first. 

He pushes off of the brick to stride toward you, one hand subtly flicking backward, and the dancing shadows of torchlight from the hall beyond disappear as the large wooden door quietly clicks shut. 

“Is it Kuroo now again?” he asks. 

His hazel eyes flicker with the rest of the questions he leaves unasked—

Have you grown tired of this? Of him?

Has Prince Daichi finally asked for your hand?

Has this fool’s charade run its course?

You step toward him—and he waits. 

Because for as much as much power as the Mage of Nekoma wields, for all the old, rich magick that hums from the soil of the earth into the grasp of his fingertips—

This is your choice. 

“Tetsurou,” you whisper, chin wobbling as your eyes begin to sting with the threat of tears. 

He will always be your choice. 

His embrace is warm like nothing else can ever hope to be, steady in a way that settles the trembling of your knees and the knocking of your heart. 

It is nothing like the efficient sweep of your handmaidens’ palms over the wrinkles in your skirts or the weight of your father’s heavy hand atop your shoulder. 

It is not the brush of a prince’s lips against your knuckles or the physician’s gnarled fingertips at your temple.  

His touch is deliberate and familiar and all-consuming, a torch at the pyre beneath your ribcage that sets your heart strings alight. 

Tetsurou holds you like he knows you. 

Like he knows all that you’ve been, everything you are, what you’re still yet to be.

Warmth seeps deep into your bones, 

You wonder sometimes if he’s aware of the way his magick sinks into you when you meet, soft, tickling tendrils that wrap around your ribcage like the vines that climb the western palace walls. It’s a tender feeling that bleeds freely into the marrow of your bones, that leaves your nerves washed gold and humming with energy. 

It rolls around inside of you like a lazy feline in the afternoon sun, belly up with trust. 

Lips buried in your hair, he murmurs your name, the sound of it on his tongue lovelier than the most divine of incantations. 

“I was worried that—“ you inhale sharply, throat tight. 

“I’m here,” he assures you, calloused thumb drifting against the hinge of your jaw. 

Tetsurou’s lips are soft against yours when he takes your chin between his thumb and pointer finger. 

You dig your fingers in the front of his cloak, tears sliding down your cheeks as the side of his nose tenderly grazes yours. He drags his lips over the damp trails, hazel eyes meeting yours once more. 

“I’m here,” he says again, though you’re not certain if it’s to you or himself this time. 

A small laugh bubbles up out of you, the roiling emotions in your gut capsizing under the trajectory of his steady gaze. 

“You’re here.”

Tetsurou smiles. 

Nudging you back toward the ornate mirror, he tells you to turn around. You watch as he reaches into a pocket, pulling out a delicate golden chain. 

“I know you won’t be able to wear it out and about, but—“

Your heart flutters. 

“Put it on me, please.”

Tetsurou offers you a boyish, lopsided smile, the same one he gives you when you insist he spell your chamber door shut and remain in your bed late into the morning.

The one he gives when you tell him you’d sooner flee the country with him on horseback with nothing but a satchel, rather than be forced to let another man take your hand on the basis of status and decorum alone. 

Deft fingers brush over the nape of your neck, and you shiver at the sensation, watching as the chain comes to rest at the base of your throat. 

A tiny, sparkling ruby dangles at the center, and something tender rouses inside of you as you think of the similar red gemstone that dwells in the golden band that never leaves the middle finger of Tetsurou’s right hand. 

He catches you staring at said ring. “You don’t have to wear it if—“

“It’s perfect.” You cover his hand with your own, lacing your fingers together. “Thank you.”

Tetsurou grins, pressing a kiss behind your ear. “Now the real question is, why are you still awake and dressed at this hour?”

Letting your head fall back against him, you sigh. “I told the handmaids I could manage on my own tonight, but now I can’t get this damned dress off.”

Thumb pressed against the small of your back, he asks, “Would you like some help then, my Lady?”

You roll your eyes fondly at the title. “I beg of you, sir. I ask you most ardently to employ the diligent use of the arcane to—“

Your words die on your lips as a pleasant, tingling feeling washes over you, your dress softly falling to the floor, the complicated hooks and ties giving way under the command of Tetsurou’s magick. 

Left only in the gauzy fabric of your shift, you look at him in the mirror, lips pursed playfully. 

“What ever would my father say if he knew what blasphemy the Mage of Nekoma wields his power for in the Princess’ bedchamber?”

Tetsurou’s breath is hot against the shell of your ear as he leans in. “What would the court say if they knew how their lovely Princess writhes and begs under the unbecoming touch of his mana?”

Your shift joins your dress on the floor, leaving you bare save for the necklace. 

“One should only be so lucky to know the feeling,” you whisper, cupping the hand currently tracing your jaw and pressing a kiss to his palm. 

“One should only be so lucky to witness it,” Tetsurou rasps back, tilting your chin to redirect your gaze back to your reflection as he traces the curves of your breasts. 

His hand slides down your chest, past your belly button, coming to rest in the valley between your upper thighs. 

He stares at you while he carefully moves his thumb across your clit, toying with the sensitive bundle of nerves as it swells and begins to throb. You watch him dip lower, two digits slotting into the slick heat of your folds, gliding wetly in your damp arousal. 

The touch of Tetsurou’s fingers here is a familiar pleasure, one that’s sent you toppling over the edge and moaning helplessly into the curve of his shoulder many times over. 

But it’s a wholly new experience to watch as he does it, to see the way his eyes darken as glistening arousal slides down the inside of your thighs. To see his thick fingers disappear as he sinks one, then two into the tight heat of your cunt. 

You moan, letting your weight fall back against his chest. 

“No amount of coin in my pocket could rival this luck, this fortune,” he breathes out, voice rough. “No title nor kingdom, not in this realm or the next.”

Tetsurou groans when you reach backward, fingers threading in his black hair, leaving the strands haphazard and mussed as you tug. 

He cups your breast, thumb dragging pointed circles over your pebbled nipple. Fire licks its way into your gut, your back arching with each subsequent plunge of his fingers into your slick entrance. A lewd, squelching sound fills the room, accompanied by your soft, breathy moans. 

A hand turns your drifting focus back to the mirror, where you tremble lust drunk in the carefully sculpted golden frame. And even with his fingers busy caressing the side of your neck while his other hand strokes your plush inner walls, a sensation seeps over your swollen breasts. Teeth sinking into your bottom lip, a whine whistles up your throat as Tetsurou’s magick strokes them with the ghost of a touch. 

“Tetsu, please,” you gasp, all at once feeling woefully underfilled as your desperation blooms white-hot. 

His cloak slips from his shoulders, pooling on the floor, and you find yourself greedily drinking in the flash of his chest from the loose ties of his tunic. He shrugs off the black material as well, and it’s a battle in and of itself to resist the urge to spin around and trace your fingers over the carefully inked runes that permanently adorn his skin. It’s a ritual—the way you trace your fingers over the shapes, the way his eyes fall shut as you kiss the one that sits atop the jagged scar on his collarbone. 

There’ll be time for that later, beneath the whisper of moonlight that yawns through the glass panes as you lie tangled beneath the sheets. 

He hardly has his cock out of his trousers before you’re pressing back against him, too needy and impatient from  weeks spent apart. 

“Lean forward,” he murmurs, guiding you to grasp the edges of the mirror on either side. 

A thrill races up your spine as you look at your reflection, watching the reverent way he slides his palms over the globes of your ass. He gently nudges your legs further apart, one hand coming to rest at your hip as he slowly drags his length against your folds. 

Notching the head of his shaft at your entrance, he pointedly locks eyes with you before he begins to sink into your tight hole. Inch by inch, the pleasure inside of you expands rapidly until you can hardly breath, your cunt aching with the satisfaction of being filled so very deep. 

Despite all of the times you’ve looked into Tetsurou’s eyes while he beds you, it’s a wholly new experience here as you grasp the mirror and meet his lust-filled gaze. He makes you feel wanted and desired like nothing and no one else, but to see it reflected back in this gilded frame now like a spectator leaves you dizzy under a heady, abrupt wave of carnal desire. 

“Tetsurou,” you moan, careless of your volume since the day he spelled your walls blessedly silent. 

Stars prick behind your eyes as he rolls his hips into yours, his cock sinking deep into the damp heat of your cunt, gripped tight by your walls with each push and drag. 

Your fingers ache from how hard you’re clinging to the mirror now. Tetsurou groans, his own hands wrapped around your hips. Your toes curl tightly against the carpet when he buries his cock to the hilt, folding his body over yours and pressing a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses to your back. 

“Harder,” you breathe out, a need, a plea. 

Tetsurou obliges, your sweat slick skin sliding against his as he begins to roughly pound into you. Your legs start to shake as you lose your grip on the searing feeling that’s been steadily building up in your abdomen. The tender caress of his magick spreads in your veins between one breath and the next, stablizing your trembling limbs. 

And then the pleasure inside of you explodes. 

Your climax punches through you like a northern gale, and Tetsurou’s name is a moaning sob on your lips as you slip past your melting point into a euphoric daze. Thick, hot ropes of cum spill into your tight channel a breath later as his cock pulses with his own release, your cunt milking him dry.

You hardly remember Tetsurou cleaning you up and carrying you to bed after, save for the warmth of his body curled around yours while you slipped into your first restful sleep in over a fortnight. 

When you wake the next morning, the mage is regretfully gone with duties to attend following his return. 

But a single red flower sits waiting in a vase on the window sill. 

An early winter frost creeps its way across the glass panes, a stark contrast to the vibrant life that remains in that single clipping.

Tetsurou told you once that the care of flowers is a delicate magick, for one must cherish each petal. 

[kobbers]

Looks like I never posted the BtWD album cover here, but might as well! Our comic Kickstarter reached its first stretch goal recently, which grants a free digital copy of this album with every backer tier!

You can also check it out on Spotify right now!

[tdcpresents]

Mark your calendars: Western Deep returns to Kickstarter for Volume Three on JULY 18th! We'll have the V3 hardcovers, new character pins, and even a special stretch goal: a softcover omnibus of V1-3!