#GOLDEN Preview Behind the Scenes

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#정국 (#JungKook) 'GOLDEN' Preview Behind the Scenes

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bts_bighit X 24 nov. 2023

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Divine Touch

Requested by: Anon! Request: That would be so good if there would be kink series(some aren't tho)! Good thing someone asked for it l'm shy I have a list on mind Imao: Roleplay, breeding kink, Exhibitionism, scene play, age play or ddig, praise kink?, cockwarm?, threesome with peter b parker prob, lactation kink, phone sex?, mirror sex?, dacryphilia, oh maybe like an au where the reader is pregnant n Miguel just get turned on by that LMAO

A/N: I completely adore this request, it's literally the inspiration for the kink series so thank you so much anon! I hope you enjoy the first one! ❤🧡

🧡staring: Deity!Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Maiden Reader

      🏺preview:  

“I must keep the balance in Nueva Yorkhaven or chaos would go rampant upon our lands.” He said, keeping his crimson eyes on you. “So if I take a life…

 I must replace it…”

⚔️summary: After being coerced by your mother into a marriage with a man you didn't love, who treated you poorly, you believed your life was over. It wasn't until you remembered one last divine solution that could possibly help alleviate your wretched situation.

🥟tw/cw: Big Dick Miguel, Breeding Kink, Clit Stimulation, Doggystyle, Grinding, Historical Era, Mythology-Based, Orgasms, P in V, Power Difference, Praising, Unprotected Sex, etc…

🍵Pet names: Cariño (Darling), Pequeñita (Little one), Querida (Dear)

     ⛩️Rating: 18+ explicit I SMUT I

 🧡 Word Count: 12.3k

(I do not own any of the photos used! All credit goes to the original artist!)

(*All rights reserved. DO NOT repost/translate/copy any of my work.*)

(This oneshot contains Breeding do not read, if you are not comfortable)

Breeding kink - The sexual desire to be impregnated or to impregnant another.

**YOU'VE BEEN WARNED**

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow over the beautiful village of Nueva Yorkhaven and bringing upon the covering of night, you, a fair maiden of the town, traversed during the dark hours down the cobblestone pathways. The gentle glow of lanterns that adorned every trail served as a guide towards your desired destination.

You clenched your black cloak tightly to your body, attempting to hide all traces of your being and the basket that you carried. With frantic, cautious eyes, you swiftly flicked them around, trying to detect any lingering presence in your path; but upon finding none, you quickened your pace.

On your covert journey, you passed cottages with ivy-covered walls and huge trees with dew-kissed leaves that danced in the moonlight, welcoming the night.

Your feet, adorned in black Astrids, carried you through the winding routes of the village, leading out into the quiet meadow that surrounded it. You left behind the dreamscape facade of your village to tread warily into the forest.

Following a dirt path that looked to be used before by countless others, it led you deeper into the meadow. Fireflies wove trails of light along the dark road, while the distant hooting of an owl echoed through the woods, making you jump. Your hand landed on your chest, feeling how harshly your heart was pounding.

You knew the consequences if you were caught, but it didn’t matter.

Things had gone too far, and you needed assistance.-

Divine assistance.

The forest was painstakingly quiet. Every rustling of leaves, cracking of wood, along with your timid footsteps, seemed to reverberate through the trees. A gentle breeze brushed past you, filled with the scent of pine and wildflowers, yet a subtle unease clung to the air like sticky sap on tree bark.

With every step, a voice in your mind told you to turn back, to stop.

You soon realized it to be your mother’s.

Her pestering and nagging words clouded your head the deeper you entered the woods.

‘You know traversing the forest in the dead of night isn’t fit for a young lady. Turn back now!’

‘What would Sir Hawthorne think of you?’

‘Turn back now or you would be seen as a disgrace to your father!!’

Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes, a shaky exhale passing your lips. Even though it was your own head, your mother’s pestering sounded almost too real; it shook you to your very core and even had you contemplating returning back the way you came when the silhouette of an ancient structure emerged in the distance, causing your worried thoughts to halt.

With a soft gasp, the idea of leaving left you as you hurried along, a sense of relief washing over you. You left behind the unsettling forest and looked upon the worn, yet sturdy stones that held up the quiet sanctuary of your town’s guardian. The large entrance was framed by weathered gray columns, adorned with two flickering torches that casted a soft glow of red-orange into the dark space. The air carried a new sense of otherworldly, different from the feeling of unease you felt before.

You gazed up at the olden engraving of letters, etched into the stone above the massive doors, reading under your breath:

Sanctuary Of Miguel O’Hara Guardian of Nueva Yorkhaven

Just uttering the deity’s name felt ancient and heavy upon your tongue. A huge grin spread across your lips, reading the name of the divine structure once more.

You did it. You actually did it.

You were here…

The harsh grip you had on your basket loosened; anxiety and fear that clung to your being like leeches faded away. You felt an overwhelming sensation of safety and security as you approached the ancient doors.

Despite the feeling of disbelief at your success, you set down your basket and placed both hands onto the ringed doorknobs. The doors were heavy, and it took all of your strength to hear the satisfying creak and soon feel the stone doors move out of their rooted place. You were only able to open them a little, but it was big enough for you to slip through, entering into the sanctuary of your village's infamous guardian.

Instantly a rush of cool air brushed along your body, making you hug your black cloak closer to you. The room was dimly lit with torches and candles as your feet walked along cool ancient stone, guiding you to the heart of the shrine. Respectfully, you drew down the hood of your black cloak, your eyes unable to take in the magnificent sights before you due to astonishment.

You had always heard stories and legends about the great Miguel O’Hara. How he saved your village from many horrific storms, dreadful winters, and blazing droughts. How, with his divine might, he crumbled armies and men who dared to harm his people.

Miguel protected your town and watched over every villager. He was there to pick you and your people up when you fell, whether that was with love, wealth, or glory.

The villagers of Nueva Yorkhaven looked to Miguel for needed support, and he was known to answer your calls of need every time…

Standing and gazing upon your protector's sanctuary, it resembled the great deity perfectly.

The room was styled lavishly in warm reds and muted yellows and oranges, granting a sense of protection to those who entered. Tall pillars rose at each corner, stabilizing the grand building, and the walls were decorated with sacred symbols—images of laurel leaves and celestial patterns that showed Miguel’s guardianship and lasting connection between the divine and mortal realm.

As you move further into the sanctuary, your eyes instantly are drawn to what lies in the center. On an elevated platform adorned with laurel wreaths and symbols of protection was your Guardian’s majestic stone throne, and in front of the throne was an intricately designed altar. The sacred surface was covered with offerings of fruits, flowers, prepared dishes, and tokens of gratitude that were carefully arranged. Candles flickered softly around the tributes as your feet led you towards it.

Nervously, you bit your lip.

You couldn't remember the last time you’d done this.

Before, your family would visit your great deity’s sanctuary once a month, dress his altar with beautiful gifts, and pray for protection until the next month when you’d return once more.

After your arranged marriage to Alden Hawthorne, a man who traveled to your village in search of a wife to betroth, your family stopped visiting.

Sir Hawthorne lacked all youthfulness in his appearance. His facial features showed his age, and he wasn’t a suitor who set hearts aflutter either; instead of his looks doing the speaking for him, his wealth did.

His stature and wealth led many fair maidens of your village to toss themselves at the older male in his late 40s in an attempt to get a grab at his riches.

Of course, without seeking consent, your mother had already given your hand to the salt and pepper-haired male, who, with one glance at you, agreed almost immediately.

You were the most beautiful in your village. A rose that bloomed gloriously amongst ordinary flowers. Due to the poor conditions of your household, your mother sought for more. After your father’s death, she became adamant on finding a living, so she used you to do so.

With the betrothal to Sir Hawthorne in place, from then on, only pesters and nags left the lips of your mother, demanding perfection and a great image. “You will be the wife of Sir Hawthorne, after all. You’ll have to act like it as well, dear," she'll tell you countless times until that dreadful day.

Vows that weren’t written by your hand and said by your heart were read aloud, expensive, lavish rings were exchanged, and the most atrocious kiss was shared.

You didn’t think your life could get any worse until after your wedding when your mother pulled you to the side. With a huge grin and beaming face, she told you what was to occur during your honeymoon.

Something so very abysmal it almost made you retch.

“During that time, the breeding of children will be had. You remember the drawings I’ve done for you—that is to occur.” She said with a smile. “All you must worry about is laying back, spreading your legs, and not being a little pest to him. Got it!?” She spat harshly, proceeding to speak of being a grandmother and having grandchildren to take care of and fill her day, not at all concerned for her daughter who was real and right before her.

And as you anticipated, that night was horrific and excruciating…

It was laden with weeps of sorrow and agony. The booming voice of your mother, that told you repeatedly to not be a pest and to not protest, filled your head while a pain that struck you like a hammer upon a nail hit you over and over again…

It’s a memory you try to efface from your mind.

After the dreadful honeymoon, you, sadly, had to live with him. Sir Hawthorne had a house built in your village, Nueva Yorkhaven, one so grand and modernized that it contrasted greatly with the usual dreamscape cottages.

You hated your life there as every day in the lavish halls of your new home, you were worried about only one thing.

Did Alden’s advances work? 

Would you bear him a child?

You would weep every time the idea crossed your mind. After two months had passed, Sir Hawthorne hired doctors to come to your home. You weren't showing any signs of pregnancy and that worried your ‘husband’ to death.

Finally, after what felt like forever, you breathed a sigh of relief for the first time in your marriage when the doctors told the two of you about the failure of Sir Hawthorne's advances. It appeared to have been a failed impregnation, but one on Sir Hawthorne’s part.

Your ‘husband's’ inability to produce an heir angered him immensely.

After the doctor visit, the facade of your marriage crumbled, and Sir Hawthorne revealed a side of himself that you had feared—he turned abusive—mentally and emotionally.

Every word that left your mouth was seen as an irritation. He demeaned and belittled you and constantly criticized your appearance.

Sir Hawthorne isolated you from villagers, housekeepers, your mother, and forbade you from having friends. He even halted your use and access to his riches—although it wasn't like you used it anyway.

As a sign of punishment, he forced you to assist in keeping up the house. He had housekeepers that worked alongside you, but he purposely gave you higher expectations than the normal help.

Despite the stress of your new job, you found solace in it.

It reminded you of the peaceful times back in your home cottage when things were right.

A time when your father and mother were together, your mother wasn't so cruel, and where you were loved.

It was a memory that always came when hanging clothes to dry or harvesting produce.

It wasn't until Sir Hawthorne discovered your contentment with your punishment that he made things even worse for you. He gave you harsher tasks, such as washing every window of his grand house to sparkle in the sun, redecorating rooms over and over again to his liking, and being made to work even in the dead of night.

The physical labor had become too much as he even denied you access to necessities like food and proper clothing.

You felt trapped.

Stuck in this cycle of degrading and forced labor that felt endless.

Many times you thought of running away, but to where? You didn’t have anywhere to go.

You didn’t have friends; he forbade it.

Your neighbors in Nueva Yorkhaven adored Alden. They’ll think you were the crazy one if you came to them with your troubles.

And you definitely couldn't go back to your mother; she’ll send you back.

It felt hopeless…

Like a blossomed well-kept garden, suddenly, an idea came to mind. One that after all these years, you've completely forgotten was the solution to any villager of Nueva Yorkhaven's debacles.

Miguel O’Hara.

The protector of your village, the guardian of every mortal being born and raised in Nueva Yorkhaven.

He was your refuge, your solution to this mess.

But standing before his altar, inside of his sanctuary, you’ve never felt so disconnected from him.

With shaky hands, you set your basket down upon the stone tiles and untied the black cloak from around your body, laying it down gently onto the stone floor to create a small cushion. You descended upon your knees, a neutral-colored bodice with short sleeves adorning your figure. Aimlessly, your eyes wandered the altar, trying to remember how your family did it before.

When you were all together… 

Father, Mother, and you…

It felt so long ago.

You pushed back the urge to cry as your gaze landed on the throne, a feeling of strength overwhelming you. You lowered your head, closed your eyes, and began to speak and recollect the words your father uttered all those years ago.

“‘O’ Mighty deity of protector and strength. I…I call upon you on this night to ask for your presence.”

You declared with a shaky voice. After a moment, only silence followed and filled the quiet sanctuary.

Fear and worry filled your being. After your father said those words, you remembered feeling a warmth, a rush, a feeling, something!

The only thing you felt was the heat from the candles and the excruciating silence that seemed to span on forever. Your lips trembled, tears beginning to slide down your cheeks.

Did your deity turn his back on you?

Was that why he wasn’t listening?

The thought only made you sob even harder. You lowered your head to the ground, placing your forehead against your cloak.

P-Please…Miguel. I-I need you.”

You cried, the sound of your weeping being the only thing heard after your desperate words.

It felt hopeless… 

It felt like you could feel his presence, but he just wasn’t answering.

Like he was just…

There…

Watching…

In the midst of your sobs, a strong hand cupped your chin, lifting it up.

In alarm, your eyes snapped open coming face-to-face with what you deemed utterly impossible.

“Lift your head mortal. You have shed enough tears.”

The booming voice of your deity said, his crimson eyes holding its divine blend of stoicness and softness as he gazed down at you.

You were unable to speak, only capable of staring back in shock.

Your mighty protector smirked, stroking your tear-stained cheek with his thumb before pulling away. The mere action sent a wave of heat throughout your body, the urge to cry and the sensation of sadness melted from your being.

Unable to keep your eyes off his mighty figure, you watched him walk away from you, his majestic scarlet robe trailing behind him whilst he walked up the steps of the stone platform to take a seat in his throne.

You still couldn’t believe he was here, blinking once, twice, thrice to make sure you weren't mistaking the sight.

Miguel O’Hara, your town’s powerful and divine guardian was, indeed, before you. Your eyes traveled to his seated being, taking in every part of him.

In the dimly lit sanctuary, the great deity sat on his throne. His tanned muscular frame exuded strength, a declaration of his divine might. His dark hair cascaded in waves, framed a chiseled face of stoicness. Crimson eyes stared down at you, the dancing fire of candles and torches reflecting off his red orbs.

Draped in celestial attire, Miguel wore a flowing robe of deep scarlet, adorned with intricate golden patterns. Atop his head, a circlet of gold laurel leaves styled his thick brow and around his neck hung a pendant, both signifying guardianship. To complete the divine being's attire, golden sandals that were crafted with celestial elegance dressed his feet.

Despite the times you came here with your family, Miguel’s appearance was a first.

There were legends and rumors that drifted through the village of his presence gracing the eyes of mortals, but many believed it untrue—but here he was, before you, sitting in his throne with a posture so perfectly regal and straight it was astonishing.

You didn’t know what to do or what to say; his previous touch seemed to be burned into your cheek. With a stunned expression, you stared up at the mighty deity who returned your shocked look with a stern gaze that shook you to your very core.

He then raised a thick eyebrow, his eyes still locked on you. “You appear surprised, yet you summoned me, mortal.” His deep voice seemed to echo inside the small space. You exhaled, breathing out the breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Y-Yes, mighty deity. I-I did call upon you.” You stammered, not knowing what to do and hastily lowering your head in a bow while remaining in your kneeled position.

You thought you were dreaming. That this was all just a moment occurring in your time of slumber, but the thunderous voice heard before you said otherwise.

“Lift your head and state your reasoning for summoning me, mortal.” He said in a gravelly tone, one that contrasted greatly with his previous touch and soft gaze.

Like the mighty being ordered, you lifted your head, meeting eyes with the deity once more, and instantly you lost the ability to speak. All thoughts escaped your mind as you gazed up at him.

He was majestic just like he was described, painted, and sculpted by mortals; yet, standing before him in the flesh surpassed every interpretation drawn by man.

His tanned skin seemed so radiant and flawless, and his body looked taut and perfect. It didn’t help your stunned state that he was very attractive, despite his face being completely hardened and cold.

“Human. State your reason.”

He repeated, knocking you from your trance. Your lips quivered, trying to find the words, and when you did, you held onto them tightly, not letting them go.

“M-My name is Y/N. I’ve resided in Nueva Yorkhaven since my birth and I-I need your divine assistance, great deity.” You muttered with a voice of little confidence. Deep down, you were still shaken up at the fact that he was here before you, in all of his greatness.

Although the belief of him making an appearance to villagers was thought to be untrue in Nueva Yorkhaven, it was said if he did appear, you were special.

So were you…

Special?

You didn’t feel like it.

The celestial being grunted in disapproval at your words. “Y/N…it’s been ages since I’ve seen you here at my sanctuary, yet you ask for my assistance.” He stated in a rumbling voice that unsettled you like an earthquake.

Your lips trembled, shame visible upon your facial features. “Y-Yes. I-It’s, indeed, been a while since I’ve come to g-glorify you, mighty protector.” You said, tears beginning to prick at the corners of your eyes due to worry about how this interaction would go.

“I see…” He uttered, his piercing crimson eyes still trained on your small being before his altar and throne. “I hope you have brought a tribute along with your presence, Pequeñita.”

Hastily you nodded, opening the case of your basket and taking out the many offerings you had brought for your divine protector— apples picked from Sir Hawthorne’s garden, a woven beaded necklace made by your mother from your youth, cooked empanadas that you knew were the deity’s favorite, and something that you cherished deeply— the last letter written by your deceased father.

You placed each item in a neat arrangement upon the surface of the altar. “I hope you accept my offerings, ‘O’ great one.” You whispered, your voice carrying a blend of hope and reverence.

Miguel’s eyes lingered upon the sacred surface, taking in your tributes from his throne to settle his gaze upon the cooked meal. “Hmm, empanadas.” He uttered, his voice holding satisfaction at the sight of the delicacies. “You know your deity.” He chuckled, giving you a brief glimpse of his sharp fangs that gave a formidable aura before he turned his gaze back onto you.

“Wonderful choice of offerings, Cariño. I'm deeply pleased.” The great being said, filling you with relief. “As well, I am happy that you have come back to me after all this time.” He said, a comforting smile spreading across his tanned lips that brought a sense of warmth inside.

You placed a hand on your heart, giving your deity a deep bow once more. “I am grateful for your comforting words, mighty deity.” You said, a satisfied grunt leaving your protector’s lips at your appreciation.

“Now, tell me, mortal. How can I assist you?” He asked, his crimson eyes seeming to draw you in as well as his fanged smirk. You gulped, apprehension filling your being at his anticipated question.

You were aware of the reason you sought the great deity, but you didn’t know what other way for your life to be fixed if not for the dreadful request you were about to utter.

“Great deity, I…I need you to…

Get rid of my husband.”

You said in a trembling voice. A deafening silence filled the sanctuary after your shocking request, one that even seemed to surprise the great being.

His thick eyebrows rose on his face, his regal posture faltering upon his seat. “You want me to…get rid of your husband?” He inquired, his powerful voice demanding clarification and certainty, bringing you to nod.

You’ve heard of the great being ridding your village of bad people, of individuals like murderers, thieves, and outlawed criminals who came to seek refuge, but he’d done it of his own free will.

There wasn’t a story where a villager asked for the assistance of the protector to eradicate anyone, so it felt odd and a little scary to be the first.

Miguel hummed, his crimson eyes roaming over your being before returning to your face. “Pequeñita, I cannot lie - your request surprises me.” He said, studying you as he spoke. “Your husband is Alden Hawthorne, is that correct?”

Your eyes widened at your mighty protector’s knowledge of your husband, but you should have known - he watched over the villagers of Nueva Yorkhaven, after all.

“Y-Yes, protector. Alden Hawthorne is my…husband.” You replied, finding it hard to prevent yourself from speaking in disdain at the role the horrible male had in your life. While you spoke you kept your head lowered in a way that still showed respect but attentiveness to your great deity.

Miguel hummed at your agreement, shifting to rest his elbow on the armrest of his stone throne and placing his chin onto the knuckles of his divine hand that was covered with golden bands. The change caused his scarlet robe to ripple with his movement and the light to bounce off his circlet golden laurel leaves that sat upon his head.

“Alden Hawthorne.” He scoffed. “The foreigner who has entered my lands and who hasn’t even come to meet me?” He asked in disdain—it seemed Sir Hawthorne hasn’t made a good impression with your villager’s mighty guardian.

“Great deity, y-you are correct. Sir Hawthorne, i-isn’t from Nueva Yorkhaven. He comes from New England.” You said. “Sir Hawthorne also doesn't know of your divine presence upon our lands.” You explained to him in a shaky voice. A surprising fanged smirk spread across his tanned lips at your explanation. “You do not have to be formal when it comes to him, Pequeñita.

It’s just you and me.”

His words made your heart flutter. At your guardian’s request, you realized what you’ve been saying. Alden and your mother had taught you to always speak of your ‘husband’ in such a way—to always address him formally. It had become such a normal thing for you that despite despising your husband, you still did it.

Even now before your great deity, you were speaking such a foul name.

You bowed your head once more in appreciation. “O-Of course. I-I will not be formal when addressing him, ‘O’ great one.” You said, a little too delighted at the thought of deserting such a name that gave you a sense of freedom from your dreadful husband.

“As well as me.”

The divine being added with a small smile. Your eyebrows furrowed, not believing what your great deity just said. You looked up at him to see his crimson eyes gazing back at you, still holding their sternness but now a hint of tenderness was found.

It felt odd for him to ask you, a mere mortal, to abandon the formal names that were meant to be used to glorify and show his divinity. It was hard to abide by such a surprising request, but for your great protector, you would attempt to.

“I-I will try my best, M-Miguel.” You whispered, his name still holding the same weight when you read it upon the sanctuary entrance.

Miguel smirked proudly, leaning back in his seat and resting both of his hands on the armrests, using his thick finger to trace patterns into the stone of his throne as his scarlet eyes never left you. “Good mortal. Now, this…Alden.” The divine being said, returning back to your request at hand.

“I knew of him to be a problem when he first stepped into the village of Nueva Yorkhaven.” He said with a disapproving head shake. “No good comes from mortals who think of themselves as gods.” He growled, his lips turning up into a scowl. He looked at you once more, his crimson eyes settling on your kneeled being before him. “Tell me, what problems has this mortal caused in my lands?” Miguel inquired, his face hardening.

You wetted your lips, preparing the words that you were to tell to your mighty guardian. “Alden Hawthorne shows little interest in knowing your divine greatness upon our lands.” You began. “He…built a home by taking down the sacred trees of the village, and he uses others to serve him… l-like a deity.” At your words, Miguel’s thick eyebrows narrowed, his crimson eyes seeming to darken. “This mortal is living off the backs of people - My people?”

“Y-Yes, Miguel.” You confirmed causing him to snarl, his eyes wandering the room in rage before settling on you.

He looked to be sensing something, his crimson orbs glowing for a second, while his finger tapped the armrest of his throne in steady, thunderous beats, all the while keeping his intense gaze on you.

It was rather unnerving…

“But that isn’t why you want him gone…Is that right, Y/N?”

His surprising question struck you right in the heart. Every cutthroat word, demand, and task that Alden had given to you came rushing back in an instant.

“Y-You are right. T-The words I previously spoke i-isn’t the reason I want Alden gone.” You sniffled, trying to hold back tears that threatened to fall down your cheeks. Miguel’s eyes softened, his attention drawn to your trembling being. “Speak to me, pequeñita. What has this…foreigner done to you?”

His question only made the harsh memories flood back to you like a tidal wave. You shakingly exhaled, blinking back tears. “Frankly, if I were to recollect every wrongdoing that Alden has ever done to me, I’m afraid, you’ll be here forever, Miguel.” You confessed sadly, just remembering everything Alden had done to you was like an endless web of thorns, each holding a prickling reminder of the pain he has caused; some greater than others.

“Then forever, I shall be.”

Miguel’s deep voice filled your ears, brimming with comfort and warmth that instantly soothed your broken heart. Meeting his eyes, you found his enchanting red orbs holding love. “Tell me, Cariño,” he urged. “I might already know what you will say, but I want to hear it from your beautiful lips—if you may, my dear.” Your heart fluttered at your deity’s compliments and endearing names.

You knew speaking of this would only make you more emotional, but you knew you must.

For your deity you’ll do anything…

Before you spoke, Miguel gave you a small smile. “And if you may, will you come closer? I want to see you before me.” He asked, his request leaving you stunned once again. No one was ever to transverse further than the altar, but at your divine protector’s wishes, you rose to your feet.

Your bodice trailed behind you as you walked up the stone steps of his platform to step directly in front of him. His divinity seemed to radiate from him. One could instantly feel Miguel’s superiority and it made you want to kneel and glorify him.

You kept your eyes on your feet as even when he was sitting, Miguel still towered over you. A small chuckle passed his lips when you felt his divine fingers take hold of your chin, lifting it up to meet his gaze.

“Are you ready to begin, pequeñita?” He inquired, his intense gaze causing your legs to tremble slightly. You wet your lips, nodding slowly. “Y-Yes, Miguel.” You whispered. He gave you a fanged smile and released you to settle his hands on his armrest, giving you a nod to begin. You took a deep breath before starting from the beginning.

“M-My mother married me off t-to Alden two years ago.” You said, trying to hold back the agonizing desire to burst into tears. “I never liked Alden, ever since I casted my eyes upon him for the first time - he was prideful, egotistical, and a womanizer.” You explained.

“O-Our marriage wasn’t consensual from the start and as time passed I felt like I was losing control of everything. M-My mother led my life like it was her own, driving me to seal my dreadful fate with Alden in the spring.” You said in a trembling voice, a tear beginning to stream down your cheek at the recollection.

You couldn’t meet your great deity’s eyes, certain you’ll break down into a fit of tears; so you pressed on without casting him a glance. “A-After the wedding, t-the honeymoon occurred…” You trailed off, that horrific night coming back to you. A shaky exhale passed your lips, the trembling of your body only intensifying.

A large, rough hand was placed on your waist, the tremors instantly coming to a halt. “You do not have to dwell on details if it pains you so.” Miguel voiced calmly, stroking your waist with his mighty thumb.

With a small sniffle, you nodded slowly, deciding to continue, bypassing that painful night. “I-I was forced to live with him afterward, a-and he was hoping that I would bear a child for him.” Your voice quivering as you spoke. Miguel’s face remained unshaken, but the subtle tightening of his fingers against your waist revealed his inner turmoil.

Once you caught your bearings you continued. “I-I couldn’t help but be a little relieved when I discovered that I-I wouldn’t. T-The doctors were trying to be modest when they spoke to us, but we discovered that Alden couldn’t bear himself a child even if tried.” You said.

“H-His body couldn’t will it.”

To your surprise, a small smirk spread across Miguel’s lips at your words. “Ah, you see everything must be balanced, Cariño.” Miguel uttered. “Alden constantly took from the world, in turn, his ability to reproduce was taken from him.” He said so wisely with a voice of might. A greater burst of relief and satisfaction filled your being at your deity’s words.

“I-I’m grateful for that occurrence, Miguel. Very much.” You said very appreciative, recalling the many days and nights you spent stressing and worrying. Miguel caressed your skin through your beige and black bodice, the mere touch making your body burn up. “You are welcome, pequeñita, and you may continue.”

With a nod, you proceeded. “Because of his inability to create, Alden became angry at everyone and everything, but especially me.” You sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. “He began to treat me unwell, such as demeaning and speaking vulgarly to me in such a ridiculing manner.” You tried to explain in a stable voice, but failed miserably. Miguel listened intently, his mythical eyes never leaving your being as you spoke.

“Alden Hawthorne made me into his personal servant, and when he saw that wasn’t a harsh enough punishment; h-he made things worse by giving me impossible tasks to complete and dehumanizing me.” Your lips trembling horribly as you recalled the terrible memories. “A-And for two years, I've lived this horrific cycle of degradation a-and harsh labor and…

 I just wish to be free…” 

You said sadly, allowing your final words to fill the air. When you looked up at your great protector, he was fuming. Miguel’s eyes were darkened and anger could clearly be seen in his facial features despite his attempt to keep a hardened face. 

You’ve never seen your deity so furious, even the flames upon the candles and torches inside of the sanctuary seemed to intensify with his growing rage. “He’s really done these things to you, pequeñita?” He inquired through gritted teeth and sadly, you nodded. 

He growled, baring his fangs in fury. “So this useless leech believes he can come to my lands, live upon it and use and hurt my people?” Miguel hissed, his hand continuing to caress your waist in a soothing manner despite his palpable rage. 

You didn’t know if to be scared or appreciative of his shared disdain for Alden. Your divine protector’s anger was causing the entire room to heat up, the flames of the lights to burn larger with his rising fury. His narrowed crimson eyes moved in thought, his large hand lifting from your waist to settle on the armrest of his stone chair. 

Miguel's stern gaze landed on you, a deep exhale passing his tanned lips, causing the raging fire of the torches to settle.

“Allow me to consider your request…” 

He said as you hastily lowered to your knees before him, casting your eyes to the ground. 

During judgment, the great being would go into a state of complete thought. Like you've read in your youth, during this time, he'll become knowledgeable of the outcomes of his choices and if the human before him is worthy to be graced with their request…

And depending on their request, they could be struck down by Miguel himself in the place they stand…

You chewed your shaky lip, anxiety overwhelming you like an overflowing well. Being the first villager with the request of eradicating a human, it could be seen as murder, a disruption in the land of Nueva Yorkhaven. 

Your mind raced of what would occur. 

Would Miguel deny you your request, send you back to your life of torment and anguish by Alden, or strike you dead where you stand?

But there could be a possibility he does neither…

That he'll grant your request and you could finally be graced with the peace and freedom that you've yearned for…

However, you didn't want to get your hopes up…

If living by your mother's cruel words and residing with Alden Hawthrone has taught you anything is that hope strikes the heart deeper than any weapon when used carelessly.

And right now, you couldn't be careless to believe you'll reach the light at the end of the dark path. 

It'll only wound you even more if you do…

So, with a pounding heart, you awaited your great deity's next words, chewing your bottom lip raw and clenching your bodice so tightly that your knuckles turned white as you waited…

…

..

.

“I've come to a decision, mortal.”  

Your heart dropped, harshly gulping. Shakingly, you looked up to meet your deity's piercing crimson eyes, his face completely devoid of emotion. Giving him a curt nod to show your attentiveness, you prepared yourself for the worse—that he would reject your request and even worse, punish you for asking him such a thing. 

You were shaking in fear, full of anxiousness of what he decided that your heart was pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

“With the request that you've traveled to ask me Y/N, I've come to the decision to…

Complete it…” 

Your eyes widened, everything seeming to have come to a stop. You were certain you had stopped breathing. “W-what?” You stammered breathlessly, looking up at Miguel’s stoic face in surprise. “I’ll rid the world of your husband, like you asked.” He said, your heart skipping a beat at his clarification. 

But before you can utter your astonished appreciation, his next words made you freeze.

“But, you must do something for me in return.” 

With furrowed eyebrows, your shock face turned into full of worry as you gazed up at your deity. You wanted Alden gone, but you were a little concerned at what the price you’ll have to pay to do so; 

However, your desire outweighed your fear. 

Hastily, you bowed your head once more, pressing your forehead onto the stone tile before his mighty feet. “W-whatever you need, Miguel. I-I’ll satisfy it.” You declared in a voice full of desperation. 

A hum left Miguel’s lips, before he ran his fingers through your hair, the action causing you to look at him. His piercing crimson eyes instantly meeting your poignant ones. 

“Don’t agree until you know my terms, Cariño.” 

He uttered mysteriously causing a knot of anxiety to build inside of your belly. You nodded slowly, chewing your bottom lip. Miguel leaned back in his seat, his eyes still on your kneeled being before him. “I spoke previously about a balance. You do remember that, right pequeñita?” He inquired, causing you to nod. “Y-Yes, I remember.” You told him, a little worried about how the balance of life was important when it came to your request; it didn’t help that Miguel’s face gave no hints on what he could possibly mean, making you even more nervous.

“I’ve never had one of my people request to take the life of the living. Due to this wish being from a mortal, I must demand something in return.” He explained, tapping his finger against his stone armrest. You wet your lips, looking from his large hands that were decorated with gold rings to up at his mighty tanned face. “And…w-what do you require, Miguel?” You asked, feeling your heart quicken. Your great deity’s eyes narrowed, his face turning completely stern. 

“I must keep the balance in Nueva Yorkhaven or chaos would go rampant upon our lands.” He said, keeping his crimson eyes on you. “So if I take a life…

 I must replace it…”

Miguel trailed off, his words repeating themselves over and over in your mind, yet you were still puzzled about what he needed in return. “Miguel…I-I do not understand.” You honestly said to your great deity, and Miguel didn’t hesitate to tell you. 

“If I am to kill Alden Hawthorne, you must bear me a child to replace the life taken, Y/N.” 

His voice seemed to echo and bounce off the walls of your mind, repeating itself for eternity, but you still couldn't believe what your great deity needed from you.

“Y-you want me to bear a child for you? In return for Alden being…gone?” You asked in astonishment. Miguel grunted in agreement, only making you even more baffled.

“But…a-a deity mating with a human is forbidden.” You reminded the great being even though you already knew his knowledge of the ancient laws. Miguel nodded at your words. “Indeed, but when it comes to…circumstances such as this, the laws are allowed to be bent.” He stated, his words causing a wave of heat to fill your being.

“So, Y/N…will you accept my terms in exchange for Alden Hawthorne to be eradicated or leave my sanctuary without my divine assistance?” The great deity inquired, his crimson eyes trained on your kneeled being before him. You could feel his gaze traveling along your body as you pondered your decision.

‘If I agree, Alden will be gone, things can go back to the way they were before his appearance into my life…but I'll have to bear the child of my great protector — and not just any child, a demigod!’ You thought in disbelief, chewing your bottom lip.

‘But if I do not, I'll return back to my dreadful life of sorrow being a mere servant to a man who I'm to call my ‘husband.’’ You pondered, trying to discover which choice would be better.

The thought of returning back to Alden was a nightmare, but you couldn't help the uncertainty that was bubbling inside your stomach like a potion being brewed by the village doctor at the thought of bearing such a mighty being. It felt like a huge responsibility, one that you weren't confident you would be able to handle.

You lowered your head in respect, gripping the fabric of your neutral-colored bodice in your fists. “M-Miguel, I…do not believe I-I’m the right person for this task.” Sincerely you told him in a trembling voice. “I-I want A-Alden gone, but I’m afraid of disappointing you.” Your words of ambiguity reverberating off the walls of the ancient sanctuary before fading into silence.

The feeling of Miguel’s piercing gaze upon you was intense as he grunted in understanding. “I comprehend your reluctance to agree to my terms, but without me, your fate will be jeopardized, my dear.” The divine being said, his deep voice causing you to lift your head and meet his perfectly chiseled facial features once more. His face still held its stoicness, but his eyes, like before, held a look of tenderness that made you warm inside.

Miguel leaned towards you, the scarlet robe shifting slightly to give you a glimpse of his toned pec underneath as he cupped your face in his mighty hand. “With my child, you would grow stronger.” He said, his eyes wandering your face whilst his fingers held your cheek with such gentleness. “This child shall heal all the wounds of your heart and return the joy you’ve lost back into your life, Cariño.” He explained, his expressions full of love and compassion, the most emotion you’ve seen since his appearance.

“This baby is your refuge— your solution if you wish to live in peace and happiness once more, Y/N.” He cajoled, the more he spoke, the more enticing his deal was…

Miguel, of course, was right…

The thought of having a demigod, a mighty being, a child would, indeed, help everything…

Before departing from your dreadful mother, she spoke heavily about you bearing a child—one that she could care for and love.

During that time, you didn’t understand her reasoning, only seeing it as her not loving you anymore and wishing to replace you, but it wasn’t that at all. 

Your mother was wishing for something to fill the hole in her heart that was created when her husband, your father, passed away. She yearned for a grandchild that could help her mend her sadness and grief, which her desires blinded her from the pain she was causing you. This revelation changed your view of your mother. Over the years, you’ve grown to despise her when really, she was broken just like you.

Perhaps, like your great protector has said, this child could fix everything. With their mere divine presence, they can restore the good in your life and return it to how it was before…

Your mother, back to her happy and loving self.

Alden Hawthorne gone.

And lastly, peace and joy being restored to your life.

If this child was to impact your life this greatly, you couldn’t help but want to agree to these terms.

It seemed as if it was your last hope.

Your last chance to make things right…

Miguel stroked your cheek with his thumb, drawing you from your thoughts and back to the grand decision beforehand. “So what will it be, Cariño?” The divine being asked, his eyes seemed to glow with hope and reverence, the look rather foreign on the great protector. After thinking it over, you knew your answer, causing you to give him a hesitant nod.

“I-I agree…” You uttered sincerely. “I’ll bear your child and bestow upon it the love that I could only have wished for in my years of being with Alden.” You affirmed, keeping your eyes on the deity and holding the confidence in your voice.

At your declaration, Miguel gave you a warm, fanged smile. “I’m delighted to hear your acceptance of my terms, querida.” He said, caressing your cheek with his mighty fingers before pulling away.

"But may I confess something in return?" 

He inquired, returning to his regal posture with his arms positioning themselves upon the stoned rests of his throne. You were intrigued, yet worried about what his confession could be.

Was it about the child? 

Your fate? 

What secrets could possibly be shared from a divine being to a mere mortal? 

It was a troubling thought...

Giving him your approval with a nod, you shifted on your knees into a comfortable position, awaiting the deity’s confession.

Miguel smiled, keeping his crimson eyes on you. "I’m known as a being of protection, a divinity that is to guard the people of Nueva Yorkhaven, but that is my only role— it’s what I was created to do." His deep voice echoed off the walls of the sanctuary and blended well with the flickering of candles and torches inside; but to your surprise, the deity’s usual stern expression suddenly saddened.

"But recently I’ve grown to want more…"

He uttered, silence following his words. You were stunned at his confession, never wondering from the great protector’s perspective that possibly he could desire something other than being a guardian.

You felt sympathy for him…

"What is it that you want?" You asked with a compassionate voice, one that seemed to be new to the great being. His thick eyebrows furrowed and his posture faltered. Miguel tilted his head at you, confusion found in his usually stoic facial features. "I’ve…never had someone ask me such a thing." Miguel admitted, a soft and uncertain chuckle passing his lips. The mere question of his desires seemed to cause him to be unsettled.

"M-My apologies." You began. "It’s just…humans always come to you with requests and desires, and you consult them each and every time." The words being pulled from your being as your mouth continued to move. "Yes, we bring you offerings and tributes to thank you, but what is it that you truly want, Miguel? What is it that you seek but believe it’s too far away that even you cannot seem to grasp?" You sincerely asked. 

Miguel’s crimson eyes widened,  his defined Adam's apple moving with a hesitant gulp "What I desire sounds rather silly, but it’s a mortal want, something as a deity I find to be impossible to obtain." He said with a small laugh, the riddle troubling you. Miguel smirked, taking in your confused expression.

"I desire love, little one."

Your heart skipped a beat at his confession. You weren’t expecting that to be what he wanted from the world. Like he had stated, it sounded like a human desire rather than from a great being that has lived upon the world for many, many years.

Miguel took in your face as he shook his head, a snicker passing his tanned lips. "I know, a silly desire from a great being as myself, but I want to love like you, humans." He said once more, his expression turning into one of deep thought.

"I do not mean love as in worship, but intimacy and connection…I want to experience what it is that causes mortals, such as your mother, to not be able to live on without the presence of their loved one." Miguel said, looking off whilst he spoke.

"I want to feel the beating of the heart and the flutter of the stomach that you humans write of in stories and tales. I desire a love that drives and strengthens me; one that courses through my being and is the reason I breathe." He admitted so vividly that it could be seen as he turned his red orbs back to you. His eyes seemed to slightly glow a bright red hue.

"But that isn’t what I wish to confess to you, Cariño."

You were even more surprised than you were before at his words. "W-What is it that you'll l-like to share, Miguel?" You muttered with a voice stained with anxiousness. You were nervous to ask what he really wished to reveal that was even more shocking than what he stated before.

Miguel’s entire face hardened, his stern eyes trailing along your being, taking in every part of you—the aged bodice that framed your figure perfectly, the dark circles under your beautiful eyes, and the failed effort of taming the unkempt hair upon your head.

Even in this state, something was happening and it troubled the great being immensely.

"You’ve…done something to me."

He simply stated, causing your breath to become stuck in your throat. "W-what?" You asked in confusion and fear, not understanding what he could mean. "You’ve done something to me, human." He repeated, his piercing gaze never faltering from your kneeled being.

Your eyebrows furrowed in perplexity, his statement leaving you completely bewildered. Despite how troubled you were by his words, you kept silent, looking down at your lap as Miguel's thunderous voice filled the sanctuary once more.

"When you arrived and called out to me in tears, I couldn’t stop myself from appearing before you," he stated. "When you told me your request of wanting your husband gone and your reasoning, it made my heart behave…oddly, especially when you did what no human has ever done and asked me what I desired." He tried to explain; however, his gravelly voice was laced with rigor and disarray.

Your heart dropped at his explanation of these "odd" feelings he was experiencing.

‘He’s not feeling what I think he’s feeling, is he?”

You pondered, biting your lip and rising slowly to your feet. “M-Miguel, I do not wish to speak out of turn or assume incorrectly, but is it perhaps that you are experiencing what you desire…? 

Love?”

As if a lantern was sparked inside of a dark forest, Miguel’s eyes widened. “It…It’s possible.” He replied in a suspicious voice while his gaze roamed along your figure once more before settling on your face. “To be honest, I’ve found you captivating since I first saw you in my sanctuary, Y/N.” He confessed with a small smile. “But it did sadden me to hear the debacles in your life. 

I would’ve eradicated Alden sooner to prevent them.”

His tone was completely cold and serious as he looked at you, but your heart fluttered at his natural protectiveness, something you wished you had alongside you in the years of being Alden’s wife-servant. “But…with your help, we can fix them now.” You whispered, remembering the terms of your agreement with the great being that brought a smile to his lips.

“Indeed…” He replied in a tone that he, perhaps, didn’t mean to sound erotic but made your cheeks burn nonetheless. You gulped, trying to regain your composure. “And…how would this be done?” You inquired, believing it to be a divine touch of his hands upon your belly would magically create a baby into your womb.

But this was far from a fairy tale…

“To seal our terms, we must perform it in connection to one another.” He explained.

“As one.”

You suddenly felt like fainting. The thought of experiencing that, with the great protector, shocked you more than anything you’ve heard in your time in the sanctuary.

Completely stunned, you could only look at him with an agape mouth and widened eyes. Miguel laughed. “Don’t be so surprised, human.” He chuckled, suddenly taking your hand and pulling you onto his lap.

With a gasp, you found yourself upon his thick thighs, your legs resting upon the taut muscles. Your cheeks reddened as instantly you were aware of how close the two of you were—the divine silk of his scarlet robe and your bodice being the only obstacles between the two of you.

You gulped, the action not helping your rapidly beating heart like you hoped. Snapping you out of your thoughts, Miguel cupped your cheek in his large hand, caressing your skin with his thumb as his crimson eyes roamed along your face.

“I know your first time was…painful,” He said sympathetically, continuing to stroke your cheek soothingly.

“But I’ll be sure to replace that memory to be something truly wonderful.”

He promised, his other hand moving along your side, feeling your body through your bodice. A shaky exhale passed your lips, eyes fluttering at the sudden intensity of sensations that were coursing through your being. You believed that due to his divinity, it was causing everything to be more heightened, every touch seeming to linger and burn into the surface of your skin despite fabric blocking his bare touch.

You couldn’t help but nod in approval, craving his divine touch. Miguel smiled, drifting his hands down to run along your legs, disappearing under your bodice to bring your housekeeper dress up and over your head. He dropped the neutral colored bodice on the ground beside his throne, revealing the white chemise that covered your bare body underneath.

He sucked in a breath at the sight, caressing your thighs and rear. “So beautiful, little one.” He purred, placing a hand to the back of your head and pulling you in for a kiss. You instantly gasped as he kissed you passionately, massaging your chewed lips with his tongue before entering your mouth to taste you.

You’ve never experienced intimacy in this manner, allowing him to take the lead and bashfully returning the kiss. Miguel’s arms wrapped around your body, pulling you flush against him whilst he continued to kiss you. Every part of his being wasn't left unnoticed. 

It was impossible.

It was hard to ignore how his pecs pressed into your peaked chest through both of your clothing, his burly arms and muscles that held you snug against him, and his thick thighs that flexed underneath your legs; even the intensity of his body heat was causing your core to throb in desire, a feeling you’ve never felt before. Everything about your deity was slowly blinding you, like a heavy fog was briskly clouding your mind with the only light source being him.

You wanted him, needed him to be able to see clearly again, and Miguel, like always, was there to cure your debacle.

He pulled away from your lips, the lingering buzz and taste of him still on your tongue and mouth. “Are you ready?” He asked, caressing your bare thighs soothingly, his suggestive question causing a pit of uncertainty and fear to fill your being. The memory of your dreadful honeymoon with Alden rushed to the surface along with the excruciating pain, sorrow, and the suffocating feeling of helplessness that followed.

Miguel instantly saw the fear that grew upon your face, bringing him to take your chin in his powerful fingers, his eye contact with you, unshakeable. “What occurred with Alden will never happen again,” he sternly said, his crimson eyes roaming your face, taking in every expression.

“If you are worried, the pain will not exist with me; your body will be too consumed with…other feelings that it will not allow it.” Miguel reassured, stroking your cheek. “And if, by chance, the pain does occur, don’t hesitate to speak—to tell me to cease, and I will. Do you understand me, querida?” The great protector inquired.

With trembling lips, you couldn’t help but nod, wholeheartedly believing his words of assurance. In Miguel’s arms, you’ve never felt safer, and you trusted that he would make this intimate experience with you enjoyable.

The deity gave you a smile, reaching down to undo his robe and drawing back the scarlet fabric to reveal his perfectly defined olive pecs, abs, stomach, and thighs; but what instantly got your attention was the enormity that sprung up from the red fabric to rest against your belly.

In all of your life, you’ve only seen the male’s intimate part once, and it was with Alden; but his was nothing compared to the great being’s.

Miguel’s tanned member was large and thick with a bulging vein and an angry mahogany tip. It pointed up to the ceiling, perfectly erect and hard. The sight intimidated and aroused you as you looked up at Miguel with stunned eyes. Miguel chuckled at your astonished expression, running his fingers through your hair. “We will take it slow,” he said, consoling you once more.

You bit your lip, looking back down at the size of his length, trying to imagine how it’ll possibly fit.

It seemed incredulous.

Your eyes snapped up at Miguel at the feeling of his hand beginning to draw your white chemise up, revealing your bare rear underneath. A heavy blush spread across your cheeks at being exposed in front of your mighty protector, drawing a laugh to rumble from his chest at your flustered state.

His crimson eyes looked down at your exposed crotch and up at you. “Do you mind if I touch it?” He asked, his tone sweet and not wanting to overstep. “I just need to see if you are…

Ready.”

Miguel explained, but you didn’t understand what he meant. Your mother had never gone into thorough detail when it came to intimacy, only stating this was how babies were born and what occurred, other than that, you were lost.

Nevertheless, you placed your trust into your mighty protector, giving him a nod. You assisted him by lifting your chemise to your stomach, allowing him more access to your sensitive area whilst you nervously awaited for his touch.

Miguel looked pleased at your approval, moving his ringed fingers between your thighs to run the pads of them along your folds. You sucked in a breath, eyes instantly becoming hazy at his divine touch. Miguel clicked his tongue at your lack of saturation before pulling away. He looked up at you, meeting your flushed cheeks and half-lidded eyes. “You aren’t…wet enough.” He stated, causing your eyebrows to furrow as he continued. “We’ll have to get there before we begin.”

Despite your perplexity, you followed his every word absentmindedly. Miguel placed his hands on your waist and slightly lifted you upon the girth of his cock. He groaned softly, his length laying against his stomach while your folds rested on the base of it. You moaned softly at the feeling of his warmth and hardness in between your folds.

Miguel looked up at you, a fanged smirk on his lips as he rocked you against him. The most unlady-like sounds began to be pulled from your throat at the sudden bursts of pleasure; his cock sliding between your folds and pressing into your sensitive bud with each push and pull of your hips upon him.

The great being grunted and groaned, his crimson eyes looking between the grinding of your pussy along his cock and up at you. “How does it feel?” He inquired, but you were unable to speak.

The pleasure was so intense and foreign, a tingling sensation seeming to sprout from your core and throughout your body. With clouded ears and dazed eyes, you noticed the divine being snicker softly, satisfied that you were enjoying it.

He gripped your hips tightly with his large hands, grinding your body along his cock with much force and speed causing your heavy gasps to change to loud moans in an instant. A wetness began to spill from your core, coating your thighs and his cock with each nudge of his base and tip into your swollen bud.

In all of your life, you’ve never felt this blissful. Naturally, you overheard the many housekeepers at Alden’s mansion speak of this type of intimacy with their husbands and lovers—of euphoric feelings that were so addicting, one could become entranced by the activity.

At the time, you couldn’t understand…

Your time with Alden Hawthorne was anything but enjoyable and euphoric as the ladies spoke of, but now…

You understood what they meant…

Everything about this moment was what they described—euphoric, blissful, and most of all, addicting.

Your hands landed upon his broad shoulders, a heat pooling at your stomach as you took control, sliding your hips forward and pressing your core along his base with each grind. Miguel’s large hand held your lower back to steady you, but his attempt in holding in his groans was intensifying the feeling. 

“Just like that, pequeñita.” Miguel moaned softly, meeting your dazed gaze. “You know how to please me.” He chuckled between his heavy breathing, the praise only making your stomach tighten like the thread of a spinning wheel about to snap.

“M-Miguel…” His name fell from your lips in a whine as your thighs began to tremble and still. You were feeling like you were about to burst with each ongoing friction upon your sensitive bud. 

“I can’t…Something’s c-coming.” You whimpered, gripping his shoulders tightly, blunt nails piercing the skin, but it didn’t seem to bother the divine being. At your words, you felt Miguel’s massive length twitch against your core, and a soft groan to escape his lips. “Can you hold it for me, pequeñita?” He inquired in a stable voice, despite being so aroused. The tension in your belly only heightened at his request, however, you bit your lip, nodding. 

Miguel grinned at your willingness and obedience, soon effortlessly lifting your body and standing from his throne. You gasped at his suddenness, his large hands holding your bare thighs and pressing you closely to his muscular body. Your arms wrapped around his neck as your white chemise fell down your body to cover his large hands that rested upon your legs. 

When you met the great being’s face, the look he held was different and very unexpected. His crimson eyes were brimming with love and affection, but something that you’ve only hoped your true lover would cast upon you. The sight made your heart skip a beat and your stomach flutter. 

The thought of a great being such as him feeling this way towards you, despite all that you’ve been through, made you feel profoundly grateful and touched. Everything about him felt heavenly, like this moment was the world apologizing for what it had put you through, and you couldn’t have been more thankful…

He walked to the side of his throne, lowering you to the floor without breaking eye contact with you. Your white chemise covered your figure once more, whilst Miguel’s hands were placed upon your waist to turn you around. You followed along with his wishes, giving him full control. He gently laid you across the armrest of his stone throne and pulled your chemise up to rest on your hips once more, revealing your bare bottom.

You bit your lip in anticipation, feeling a wetness sliding down your thighs at the longing for the addicting pleasure he could bestow upon you. A contented groan left the lips of your protector at the sight of your rear, his massive, ringed hands moving to roam the soft skin of your bottom. You moaned softly, the need to release was still evident in your belly, but only intensified with every divine touch of his hands upon your body.

You suddenly became aware of how massive and close the deity of protection was. His body heat was like a furnace on a cold winter night, his mere presence being able to warm you in an instant. His toned pecs and abs were palpable against your back through your chemise as he leaned over your body. The great protector’s hard cock poked against the back of your thigh causing your wet core to drip along your legs. Miguel’s lips grazed along your ear, the feeling sending a wave of heat to sprout through your body. 

“Are you ready for me, Querida?” 

He asked, seeking clarification in case of you regretting your decision; but you could sense he hoped you didn’t.

The many fearful and anxious thoughts overwhelmed your senses once more, but his sweet kisses along your ear and cheek were causing them to fade. “Y-Yes.” You replied hesitantly, still nervous about performing such intimacy that always terrified you after Alden. 

Miguel was relieved but still sensed your hesitance. His large hand caressed your stomach through your white chemise and continued his soothing kisses in hopes of calming you. “Trust me.” He whispered into your ear. “I promise, it would not feel how it was with Alden. It’ll be better.

I’ll make sure of it…” 

You always found the traits of the great beings fascinating, one of them being their inability to deceive. The deities could only speak the truth which only made you believe his words even more. 

“O-Okay.” You replied, taking the hem of your chemise in your hands to cope with your anxiousness but to also grant him better access. The sight only made Miguel smile, thankful that his words were able to settle your troubled thoughts. He pressed a final kiss to your cheek before pulling away. 

Your heart was beating rapidly against your chest as you felt him slide his tip along your soppy folds, the squelching filling the room. “Take a deep breath for me,” Miguel told you, stroking your hips. 

You took a deep breath, inhaling deeply, and upon exhaling, he pushed his length inside. A loud moan erupted from your throat, fingers gripping the chair at the intensity of your stretched core. 

“G-Goodness, you are…so tight.” Miguel groaned into your ear, his grip tightening on your waist. His enormity filled you up completely, and to your surprise, you didn’t feel pain as you thought, only pleasure that only heightened when he bottomed out. He groaned, kissing along your neck. “How do you feel?” He asked, his voice full of lust and desire, his hips stilled to allow you to adjust to his massive length. 

You could only frantically nod, your stuffed core quivering in delight at how wonderful the sensations felt. Miguel smirked, pulling out to the tip before slamming back in, causing you to release a choked moan. It was as if an avalanche of pleasure crashed into you and overwhelmed your every sense with the suffocating emotion. At your wonderous response, the great deity began to slowly thrust into you, dragging his massive length into you and sliding out. 

In all of your life, you’ve never felt something so good and addicting. Your unkempt hair spilled over his throne whilst the most unladylike sounds were pulled from your lips with every smack of his hips against your rear. “Such pretty sounds you are making for me, Cariño.” Miguel cooed behind you, wrapping an arm around your stomach to hold you close. 

The great protector kissed along your neck, nipping softly and grazing his fangs along the skin. It wasn’t long before the tension in your stomach returned. You whimpered and moaned, the improper sounds of skin and squelching bouncing off the walls of his sanctuary as the divine being took you to your blissful end. 

“M-Miguel, I- something’s coming.” You whined through body tremors and the clenching of your walls. “You may let go, querida. Give it to me.” Miguel moaned breathlessly into your ear, aiming his rhythmic thrusts to attack your sensitive spot over and over. 

Unable to hold it any longer, with a loud cry, you released the pent-up pleasure that was building in your stomach. Your eyes rolled, body shaking horribly in Miguel’s arms. Suddenly a rush of euphoria overcame you, making you weightless, like a feather being drifted off into the wind.

Miguel’s hips never ceased their movement, rutting into you as his grunts louden against your ear. "Are you ready to be mine, querida? To bear our child?" He asked, his pace quickening. 

The blood rushing to your ears and the pounding of your own heart made his words faint, but nevertheless, you heard him. Frantically you nodded. "Y-Yes. I'm...ready." You told him through breathless gasps and the slapping of his hips against your rear. 

At your final approval, a guttural groan escaped his lips as he burrowed his length deep inside you and released his warm, hot essence into your womb. You could feel his thighs tensing up against your legs and his toned chest heaving on your back whilst he filled you; granting you a child and fulfilling the terms...

The sanctuary was now laden with both of your heavy pants and the small flickering of fire upon the torches and candles. A comfortable silence fell upon the two of you as Miguel slowly pulled out, leaving you empty and longing for him once more. 

The great being kept you in his arms, seeming to not be able to let you go…

Not like you wanted him to anyway. 

It felt like forever since you were loved, and in Miguel’s arms was where you were cherished. 

But like all good things, they must come to an end…

“Your request will be completed, Y/N,” Miguel promised against your backside, caressing your stomach through your white chemise. In your moment of pure bliss, you’ve forgotten the reasoning behind the shared passion between the great being and yourself. 

His words brought you back to the harsh reality that you’ll have to eventually leave him…

He pulled away, fixing the scarlet robe upon his mighty, chiseled body whilst you also got dressed, drawing down your chemise and adorning your neutral-colored bodice once more. When you were finished, you turned to look at Miguel to see he was already staring back at you, his crimson eyes holding adoration in them.

He walked up to you, his divine body towering over your form. “Y/N…” He said your name upon his mighty tongue, making your heart flutter. You looked up at him, trying to calm the desire to avert your eyes due to how intense his gaze was. “Y-Yes?” The inquiry leaves your lips in a timid voice. Miguel gave you a small smile, cupping your face in his large hand and stroking your cheek with his thumb. “I need you to promise me something.” The great being uttered, his words greatly intriguing you. “W-what is it?” You asked, willing to do anything for him. 

The divine being’s eyes roamed over your face, taking in your every facial feature. “In all of my years that I’ve traversed this world, I’ve never experienced something like this.” He confessed, tracing his fingers along your jaw. “You’ve done something that no human has ever done, Cariño.” He whispered, leaning closer to you, so close that his breath fanned against your lips. 

“You’ve fulfilled the wish of a deity and have set my heart ablaze.” 

You sharply inhaled, staring at the great being with widened eyes. You wanted to believe that his words were false, that the great protector of Nueva Yorkhaven had mistaken his feelings of love for you as something else; but the truth of the most alluring trait about the deities continuously filled your head. 

He couldn’t lie. 

He was created unable to…

His words of adoration and affection were all real. The great being loved you out of all mortals and that thought only made you even more confounded. 

You wet your lips, meeting the red-eyed protector, and taking in everything about him: his morals, values, greatness, natural will to protect his people, and even his physical appearance with his perfectly sculpted body, chiseled face, dark wavy hair, and beautiful, scarlet eyes. 

In all your life, you’ve never fallen deeply in love, you were never given the chance to—being forced into marriage with Alden severed your ability to find love for yourself, however, after all this time, you believed you’ve succeeded. 

You’ve fallen in love with your divine protector...

“I…love you too.” You said, the words leaving your mouth before you could even think about it. Miguel’s thick eyebrows rose briefly in shock to soon settle once more. He hastily pulled you into a kiss, his plush lips interlocking with your own in a passionate entanglement that seemed to go on forever. 

When he finally pulled away, he kept you snug against him, his arms protectively wrapped around your body. “I want you to promise me you’ll never love another—that your heart will always burn for me as mine does for you,” he uttered, his deep voice filling the small space between you and adding to the tender moment even more. 

Unbeknownst to him, his promise was an easy one...

In the pit of your stomach, you knew from this moment onward, things would never be the same, and you were content with that. 

When you first pressed your lips against the great protector’s, it was as if you were being reborn, your wretched life leaving you as a new one welcomed you. 

Once you leave this sanctuary, Alden Hawthorne would be like a terrible nightmare that never occurred. Your mother and yourself could mend the relationship between the two of you, and you would always have a piece of Miguel with you even if he wasn’t there physically, holding you in his mighty arms. 

And you were satisfied with that…

Like the sun emerging to dispel away the shadows from a long, dark night and bring light across the lands, goodness was being revived into your life all because of the might of Nueva Yorkhaven’s great protector—Miguel O'Hara. 

Looking up at Miguel with glossy eyes, you smiled at him, wrapping your arms around his waist and pulling him into a loving embrace. 

“I promise. 

I’ll love you till my last breath.” 

A/N: Thanks so much for reading my oneshot! Shoutout to the wonderful anon who gave me the request, there is still more to come for you, but I hope you enjoyed it!

Make sure to like, comment, reblog and follow! If you would like to add a request to the kink series or have an idea in general, just message me or submit an ask! ❤️

<3 Taglist:

@oscarissac2099 @powerful-niya @szapizzapanda @mcmiracles @mreowmoreww @thedevax @jadeloverxd @lazyotakuofficial @migueloharacumslut @nattywattyy @homewreckingwreck @kinkybandages @prazinos @huniedeux @impossiblebagelcowboyfreak @anniee-mr @crimin4llyins4ne

(*All rights reserved. DO NOT repost/translate/copy any of my work.*)

[jkvjimin]

JUNGKOOK 'GOLDEN' Preview Behind the Scenes [x]

[tadc-harlequin-au]

Fun fact! The song caption from the WIP preview I posted roughly translates to:

"You've caused harm, lady, you've got magic You've turned my limbics into a bouquet You are like an art in a museum that never gets old My lady she's golden, down to her soul"

Why did I choose this song? Oh, no reason, no reason at all trust 😇anyways hope y'all enjoy the Behind-The-Scenes process! I've put so much effort into making this, I couldn't just let all of this go unnoticed.

[leesielex]

The Last Holiday

Summary: Dany Targaryen has just arrived at her dream resort to spend the Holiday Season. Once a shy woman who kept her head down and let others walk all over her, a recent event in her life has changed her perception. Now she is grabbing life by the jingle bells and living to the fullest. Not even Jon Snow, the arrogant and out of touch, wealthy, CEO of Starklannd Department stores, where she worked in retail, can ruin her holiday. Though he may not be able to say the same for her.

Preview: Podrick dodged the bustling people with expertise. All the guests around them were dressed in designer clothes, their outfits and accessories costing more than most people’s houses. When he reached the center, he noticed her lagging behind to take in her surroundings, and stopped to wait for her. As she reached his side, a familiar face walked past her smiling curiously.

“Senator,” Dany greeted.

“Miss,” he nodded back, genuine interest in his mismatched eyes.

“Well, I suppose I know why Senator Lannister was unable to attend the meeting,” she murmured to herself, shaking her head in disappointment. When she smirked up at the bellhop, she watched him scrutinize her from her Martellmart boots to her Starklannd parka, trying to figure out who she was and if she was important.

Raising a bushy brow at him, she waited, amused. This seemed to shake him out of it, gesturing for her to approach the reception desk to check-in.

“Daenerys Targaryen,” she said, giving her name and passport to the buxom woman smiling slyly behind the desk.

Her green eyes already focused on the screen as she typed her info into the computer. Dany leaned over and squinted to read her name tag. ‘Ros’.

“I’m sorry, Madam Targaryen, your room is not quite ready. We were not expecting you for two more hours.”

Dany smiled fondly. “Well, Ros, I wasn’t expecting to get here by helicopter either. Can you please see if another room is ready? My time is precious these days.”

“Of course.”

The keyboard continued clacking as Ros went back to her screen so Dany let her eyes wander. A giant tree decorated with ornaments and ribbon stood tall next to the grand staircase. It had to be twenty feet high, dwarfing her petite frame as she strained her neck to see the enormous star on top.

Poinsettias were arranged on each side of the desk, sitting on tables in a lounge area, and hanging from the walls. Golden statues of children of the forest watched from the top of columns. She studied the painting of the wolves above, the enchanting way they frolicked as a pack on one side and sat in awe and facing what she now noticed was a weirwood tree in the center, its crimson leaves and bleeding smile staring down at her.

She knew the north believed in the Old Gods and the weirwood trees were how they believed they could speak to their gods, and their gods could watch over them, and answer their prayers. Only a handful of trees still stood, though she hadn’t a clue where one may find one. The more she gazed upon the ethereal scene above her, the more she felt transported into it.

If she closed her eyes she could feel the cold wind upon her cheeks, the rough bark under her palm as she whispered her most secret desire. Would the old Gods answer them if her own wouldn’t?

“Doesn’t that ceiling ever just make you wanna cry?” Dany asked wistfully.

“I never noticed before.,” Ros mumbled as she typed into her computer, the keys clicking and clacking. “The only room available is the presidential suite. It is 4,600 dragons a night,” Ros told her hesitantly, her eyes darting to her plain clothes.

“I’ll take it.”

“Madam, it is quite a bit more expensive than your original room. Are you sure you don’t wish to wait. We have a seating area and lots to do in the area while you wait.”

“I would like the presidential suite, please, Ros.”

“Madam Targaryen. I know you will find our presidential suite most comfortable,” Podrick appeared out of thin air at her side, giving a pointed look at the woman behind the counter before smiling down at her and holding out his arms to escort her to her room.

Walking back to the elevators, she heard a voice say, “Mr. Snow, can you sign my book?”

Following Podricks line of sight, she saw a man in a grey suit with dark curls pulled into a knot at the back of his head. Even from where she stood, she could see his god-like body, muscles so strong they looked like they might tear through the expensive material that clung so perfectly it looked like it was made for him.

Well, it is Mr. Snow, it was made for him. Dany rolled her eyes. A red-headed woman stood next to him, her hair twisted into an elegant coiffe. He faced Dany as he turned to grab the book to sign.

“Jon Snow.”

Click to read on AO3

[kuerie]

rocky and his water motif

ive seen a few people analyze rocky and his symbolism with water, and i thought id jump on the train and contribute what ive found. i looked through every piece of art in the gallery and messed around with the dead drop to find everything here! with that being said…

obvious spoiler warnings! and warning for a lot of speculation and over analyzing! a lot of things i mention are really big stretches but i added them anyways incase anyone else wants to look into it more

starting where the pilot starts and near the start of the comic (the page “lackadaisy dithyramb”), right off the bat we have an entire poem from rocky dedicated to the mississippi river. this iconic poem is literally just about the river, and he recites it in both scenes from on the bridge over the river.

note that in both cases there is also a crescent moon featuring in the background

more poetry! this one is from the comic on the page “lackadaisy doggerel”. this is actually one of my favourite pages in the comic, its very cool! we have this poem that, again, is entirely about water. it talks about water in a metaphorical way, comparing it to memory and the passage of time. maybe ill try to analyze this poem sometime but idk im not very good at that stuff. seems to talk about rockys past but im not sure

i didnt want to just put this entire page here but i will note that the page has a raging storm, an ocean, a water mill, another storm cloud and a waterfall all picured above rocky, who, in this case is ahem under water, in a way.

last bit of poetry im talking about is probably the most relevant. rockys feauture in the “lacrimosa” poem/halloween artwork shows him seemingly drowning outside a window.

the significance of it being outside a window is somewhat unclear to me, as every other character appears in something reminiscent of a picture frame. my only idea is that its meant to show him outside of what could be a home, in reference to him getting the “unceremonious boot”. the text emphasizes this idea, saying hes away from home

this next one is more obscure and much more of a stretch! after digging around in sketchbook pages, i found this tiny little sketch on a page simply labeled “lackadaisy preview 0018”. the sketch page features sketches that were used for the page “lackadaisy palaver” in the comic, and a few bonus doodles. this was one of the bonus doodles, and i cant seem to find a comic pannel that matches it anywhere.

this sketch could be a lot of things, its a bit hard to tell. most likely, its an unsused pannel of rocky that was going to be used on the comic page. maybe him on whe windshield, or something like that. that being said, the first thing i thought of was the lacrimosa art. its a stretch but i thought id add it, just in case! who knows really

next up is rockys character artwork, which features him standing on a barrel floating in a river.

be careful rocky, you might fall! one little detail about this art that i like is that hes quite literally hiding his sadness behind his back. and again, the crescent moon motif features in the background. the cattails in this image also remind me of this scene in the pilot

…but i mean cattails do grow near water so i dont think that means anything

speaking of the pilot, this scene has rocky accidentally blowing up a water tower and flooding the area, and getting a whole bunch of water dumped on him

be careful rocky, you might get hurt! ...i dont think he cares

one last note from the pilot (for now) is a line from mitzi after rocky comes back with alcohol for them. it could mean nothing, could be foreshadowing, who knows

note in the second image: “rest” as in the rest of the alcohol they were meant to bring back

the music video for liquid gold ends with rocky dropping a bottle and the golden liquid flooding the room

i wasnt even looking for water symbolism when i found this, i was just rewatching the music video for fun! i just about had a heart attack when it ended like that D: rocky please dont drown

back to the comics! sorry this is a bit all over the place. forgive me for just uploading an entire comic page, but the page “lackadaisy thunderhead” features rocky standing over a river. at the bottom of the pannel on the right there are daisys, a symbol that features in a lot of rockys artwork and is generally associated with the lackadaisy speakeasy. the daisys could just be for aesthetics or to frame the pannel better, but its also notable that they appear where the water is.

the name “thunderhead” is interesting given some other pannels

not sure what it means though

the very first scene in the comic aside from the introduction shows rocky at the river.

in the page “lackadaisy trouble boys” from the early concept art mitzi makes a comment about rockys aim, and makes an… interesting metaphor

side note: im gonna cry is that actually how rocky gets the little hole in his ear lmao

the mini comic “wilderness” has rocky climbing out of a small muddy pool of water claiming “the waters great”, despite looking absolutely horrible. isnt shown here, but he says he cant feel his legs and calls for freckle to come back.

knock knock! its time for the playing cards! rockys card depicts him as the 8 of spades, although hes also been shown as the ace of clubs multiple times.

first up, 8 of spades! i really like this art but i have a lot of questions. for one, why is rocky holding a shovel and whats with the lantern? theres nothing wrong with it, just caught my attention since i think freckle is drawn with shovels a lot more than rocky (might be wrong on that though) second, this is the only picture i can find where you can CLEARLY see rockys head injury healed. cool! third, the outfit hes wearing is… atypical for rocky, you could say. for obvious reasons. he always wears blue, why suddenly the change to black? and obviously, the choice of making him the 8 of spades. some quick google searches and this is what i found: from various websites (the first things that popped on on google), apparently spades symbolizes the winter season and the water element. it seems to represent old age, change, wisdom and acceptance. the number 8 supposedly represents victory, prosperity and overcoming. i was going to put images, but i could only have 30 and i ran out of space lmao im so sorry this is SO LONG djfjsjnrfj

make of it what you will. as for the ace of clubs:

my google searches were much less interesting so ill just put my own thoughts. the clubs is likely just for the association with the lackadaisy speakeasy, as in both of these cases he is shown alongside other characters from the lackadaisy and everyone has clubs. as for him being the ace, the main notable thing about the ace is that its generally the highest card.

the main idea i personally took from these cards is the idea rocky will possibly not be a part of the lackadaisy in the furure. we see him in his classic outfit, no head injury as the ace of clubs, with clubs being associated with the lackadaisy. but we also see him with a healed head injury (so clearly in the future) with a new outfit and no more clubs suit.

not sure if this is even notable but this entire (very iconic) scene in the comic takes place in the rain

be careful rocky, you might get shot!

and now, even more crescent moon motifs

so why have i been pointing this out? well its undeniable that rocky also has motif with this crescent moon. i have no idea what it means but heres my very quick five minute thoughts on it: one: the moon controls the tide. obviously a river doesnt really have a tide, but still! theres some association with water there, so its notablea. two: this might be a stretch but in the pilot theres this very memorable frame where it shows the reflection of the moon (which initially looks like a cat) ahem in the water. obviously water reflects stuff so its not abnormal for the moon to reflect in the water but i just thought it was cool!

aaaand last but not least

this analysis was brought to you while listening to hatsune miku, i probably made a lot of typos so yell at me and ill fix them but not my grammar its terrible and im not fixing that, lmk your thought and if i missed anything, thank you for reading have a nice day sorry it was so long <3

[curio-queries]

I saw Jungkook's documentary this weekend and have just a few thoughts. If you're avoiding spoilers, don't click the cut!

The Hybe Documentary Format

So...as a reminder to you all, I do not have professional expertise in the film industry. I'm just a very discerning consumer. I also haven't seen Hobi's documentary and I watched Road to D-Day while I was quite ill last year so I only vaguely remember some bits. (I'll definitely be getting back to those sooner rather than later though as research for a series of posts I'm developing.) That being said, I think we have enough data points to state that Hybe has absolutely no interest in filmmaking techniques outside of music videos.

I did mostly enjoy my experience seeing this film yesterday and I'm always grateful for any amount of footage the members are willing to share with us but this 'documentary ' was worse than Jimin's Production Diary. Any of you that managed to make it through my rambling review will know how dissatisfied I was with that.

I Am Still is not a documentary, it's a mixture of showcase footage and behind-the-scenes clips, most of which has already been divulged in the various episodes and shooting sketches on YouTube. Honestly, if you're not able to see the film, just go rewatch all of the bangtantv content for JKs solo period and the showcase and you'll be up to speed with 85% of what was in the documentary.

There are definitely some expansions to the storylines featured in the bangtantv content; mostly being anything that wasn't overtly optimistic. For example, we learn a little bit more about just how sick JK was during the Seven/3D promotions. That content likely was pulled from the bangtantv edit because it would have put a damper on the promotions and given certain 'fans' a focus to fixate their vitriol. But overall, it feels more like an extended version of existing content rather than a new work. At least JPD didn't continually feed us footage we'd seen before.

I'm someone who gets completely bothered by previews spoiling content so I didn't watch any of the promos until after I saw it and I am so glad I skipped them because most of the 'original' scenes of the film were featured in least one of them. Alas, that's a separate issue of which I'm definitely in the minority.

Was There No Structure?

Kinda. Like JPD, there is a semblance of a structure: Attempting to follow the chronology of release activities for JKs GOLDEN album through the lens of JKs staement trying to prove that he is still worthy of everything he was being hailed as during the BTS group activities but I don't feel this was successfully executed. It jumps round enough and isn't very successful in explaining the events if you didn't already know about them. The film starts with the SEVEN performance at GMA and footage that we've already seen of JK recording SEVEN, not mentioning anything about the music video or really how JK got involved with the song in the first place. The rest of the story beats have similar missing points.

They have a vague narrative with the 'I Am Still' points but that's mostly carried by subs and a couple of moments that JK mentions himself. I'm not saying it's not true or wasn't top-of-mind for JK during this process but it's not the main point of many of the moment/messages he shared with us during this time period so it feels a little disingenuous since everything else jn this film really only makes sense if you've already seen quite a lot of behind-the-scenes content.

Honestly, it makes me question the intended audience. Obviously, they know that ARMY will shell out whatever we need to when there's new content from our members but most of us will have already seen all of the bangtantv content so we are already familiar with the most of the footage in this film. I genuinely don't think this was produced in such a way to be palatable for audiences not familiar with BTS so who does that leave? Our friends and family that are peripherally aware of the content but haven't learned the basics of JKs album? ARMY with short term memories only?

But again, it seems this film was compiled by an editing team and not lead by a director with experience in crafting a documentary. The only new footage that Ican guarantee was captured with the express purpose of being included in this film was the few clips of JK talking in the practice room with the albums displayed by him. But we all know that's where all of the promo clips were gathered as well. I have issues with that approach as well but I'll leave this point alone for now unless anyone is interested.

Suffice it to say, all of these suppositions over the past year about how JKs documentary was getting special treatment or even questioning about investment in a project up front are dead. This was a product assembled with bits of what they already had completely in-house which was sold for distribution.

So, Did We Learn NOTHING?

No, there are a few Golden nuggets (see what I did there?). I can't recall everything having only seen it once (and having a rather disruptive audience - I swear there were only dozen or so ppl in my theater but I forget how obnoxious teenagers can be. I'm glad they're enjoying and supporting but we really didn't need light sticks flashing during a film and how many times does one person need to get up to answer their phone during this runtime? Three according to the row in front of mine.)

Anyway, something I thought was interesting to learn was that Standing Next To You was initially recorded the day after JK heard it for the first time. And hearing a little more about how JK yearned to perform that song definitelygot me thinking a little more about it. We can't reach any conclusions just with this little nugget but it does open the door to some theories. Like perhaps they were initially planning to have JK record two separate albums? SEVEN and 3D would be the singles of the first and JK would perform them as we saw but perhaps STNY was originally planned to be the single of the 2nd album that would release while he was in the military and thus be unable to perform it? Maybe JK loved STNY so much that everything was grouped into one album and Never Let Go was the only track held back for ms? Definitely some theorizing space to be had now.

Final thoughts?

Similar to my thoughts on the GCF: Budapest (which I feel would have had a much better reception if it had been labeled as a bangtan episode rather than a GCF), I AM Still should not have purported to be a documentary. It was much more similar to the annual Memories compilations. But the general public would not have shelled out the $25 to go to a theater to watch a Memories DVD so alas, we have our content packaged as a ~documentary~...

Did my view on the music change at all? Not because of the documentary. We're coming up on the year anniversary of GOLDEN and it's still definitely not my favorite. I completely understand why some people like it but it's just not to my taste. The overall impact falls a little flat for me. Too much breadth and not enough depth. I came into my musical soul during the 00s emo phase and will always be a sucker for music that absolutely drips in an emotional way rather than catchy songs vaguely referencing heartache and love. Again, just a matter of viewpoint.

I do think most of these songs stand much better being shuffled amongst other artists in a Playlist and several of them are significantly better when JK sang them live but I still won't be listening to them regularly. I wholeheartedly believe JK completed his task of proving himself as an extremely dedicated and versatile singer and performer. He's definitely got some solid points added to his resume after this project.

[atiny-for-life]

Golden Hour feels different and I think I know why...

This album feels a lot less cohesive than all others they've ever released. I'm by no means saying it's bad or you shouldn't enjoy it or support the comeback, but it's still something noteworthy.

They said they were really happy making this album, which is amazing and I'm glad they've been enjoying all the new opportunities they've been getting, but when I listen to most of these songs, I feel like we' we've been given a folder from the producer's computer with all the leftover/unfinished tracks, and I think I may know why that is.

First, I wanna say what I mean by the album being less cohesive: Ateez are big on concept albums. The songs tell a story, they're connected, both conceptiually and lyrically, even as we switch genres. Look to the Fever and World Series where you can track the themes even without knowing about their storyline.

Ateez are also famous for their cinematic songs - Inception, Answer, Guerrilla, Halazia - the instrumentals are layered, interwoven, it feels like you're on a journey as you listen to it. You start in one place and don't know where you're headed until you get there. They're full of unique instruments, random noises, hidden harmonies from Maddox and the vocal line. It's art.

And now move on to Blind, Work, Shaboom, and it's one beat in the back that switches up as we move along but there's nothing new to notice on repeat listens, nothing remarkable to pick out. Wooyoung summed it up as "easy listening" in their KStar Next Door interview. Lyrically, Work is also a lot more repetitive which is something Ateez historically stayed clear of because Mingi and Hongjoong especially are very invested in the writing process and want the songs to have meaning.

Proving my point, they mentioned during the Preview Live that Mingi and Hongjoong worked more on Empty Box and Siren, with Siren even being a contender for the title track and Empty Box being their collective favorite and, hey, look at that, those two are the only songs on the album which are a lot more complex on all fronts, a lot more similar to their usual approach to music.

Looking at the bigger picture, I absolutely don't think it was laziness which led to the slight drop in quality. I think KQ just has a pre-planned release schedule where everything is organized so they can squeeze in comeback promotions between tour schedules and, this time, they had to find a way to squeeze in Coachella, which is an opportunity you simply cannot turn down and they made a judgment call and decided to take preparation time away from the album.

Regardless of how Ateez felt about this, they worked their asses off, and while they're already in the US, they attend interviews, take extra classes, film the music video etc. and thus, weeks of album preparations are now spent on Coachella-related schedules. As a result, there ultimately just wasn't enough time to hole up in the studio as much as they normally would've which, as a performer, must be a whole lot more fun, but isn't so great when you're just a listener.

The Edenary team is still responsible for most of the songs, of course, but they're now also working for Xikers which is likely possible because Hongjoong now has years of experience under his belt and can compose full songs or add finishing touches himself whenever needed while also working on Xikers' music on occasion - we've seen him credited multiple times.

On top of that, they also used a live band at Coachella, meaning their songs had to be translated to acoustic which was most likely fully Edenary's doing and also took them away from preparing for this comeback.

These days, their albums aren't as pre-prepared anymore as they used to be a couple of years ago when we still got song teasers at the end of tracks several comebacks in advance. They've caught up by now, as we've been able to see in behind the scenes footage of Hongjoong in the studio and from his interview with Changkyun from Monsta X (I.M on the Beat) where he largely talked about working on The World - Ep Fin. which was clearly still fresh in his mind.

Normally, this wouldn't be a downside at all, but it does make scheduling conflicts like this something to be cautious about, especially looking back to how exhausted they (and most other K-pop artists) always are between December and February every single year when all the award shows come together.

Whether I'm right or not, I don't know and can't prove, but I think it makes a lotta sense and would explain some things. Either way, watching them perform Work is still fun and it's lovely to see them so happy and thriving, but I do think there'll be a noticable difference when the next album drops without any surprise schedules throwing things off course.

[sunwarmed-ash]

Ah Fuck it, Friday

Alright I made the executive decision that Love bites, but so do I will be getting the Sinful Sunday slot this week! BUT I've also been working on alot of older wips this week. Like Silence isn't golden for example!

Here's a little sneak preview of the next chapter! It's not enough for me to make it a standalone chapter yet but I know this one has a few very dedicated and sweet fans 💚 this is for yall!!! thanks for sticking with it!

TW's: kidnapping/torture mention

Fanom: Harry Potter- Post HBP, Drarry, first person POV, heavy angst fic

Finally, FINALLY we have a lead.  Ron, Hermione, Dobby, and I burst through the doors of the Edinburgh flat without feeling the wrath of any of the spells that hurt Dobby.  “That cannot be a good sign,” I sigh irritability as the four of us split off in the small flat for any clues we can find.  There isn't much, this place has been scrubbed clean, metaphorically and literally with magic. And that’s more suspicious than if they had just left it.  There has to be something else here. Something to help us.  “This is the room I found him in,” Dobby says, pointing to a room I hadn’t initially seen. Once inside, I realize its barely a few cubic meters bigger than the bedroom I grew up in. The only difference is this one has a bathroom.  It's also the only thing in the house that still has remnants of any proof of life.  When they fled, Snape scrubbed any proof of himself from the premises. The same extension did not apply to Draco. All of his things were still here. Clothes, books, empty potion bottles, small trinkets stashed behind the bed for safe keeping. Things Draco treasured enough to keep around and Snape made sure they leave behind.   My hatred for Snape grew stronger the longer I looked over the room. It didn't take a master aurour to piece together some of the atrocities that went on in this room based solely on the state of things. If I wasn’t so desperate to preserve the scene in efforts to find Draco faster, I would have blown the room apart.  

Azkaban

Snape slinks through the prison easily and without attracting any attention. It’s a true testament to how snake-like the slytherin truly is. Moving silently and efficiency through the shadows had started as a defence against school bullies but now serves him in the real world, hiding from forces much, much stronger.  “Lucius?” The hollowed out shell of a man blinks up from his cell, his pale, empty eyes growing wide when he sees the other man’s face.  “Severus!” “Silence!” Snape bites, because his invisibility only extends so far. If Lucius screams his attendance it doesn't matter how fast he moved past the guards.  “Yes, sorry, sorry my friend, it's just- so good to see you! You don’t know what it's like here.” “I've been working on your case,” Snape maneuvers past pleasantries onto the task at hand. “Crafting alibis. It hasn't been easy.” “And my son, how, how is he?” Lucius asks, face obviously fighting to will down tears that wish to spill.  Severus doesn't blink when he lies.   “He’s dead.” “W-What?” “Slain, by Harry Potter. I tried to keep Draco hidden. But you know him, his disobedience has never been able to be reigned. He snuck out, and was executed.” “Draco- Draco is-”  Snape grabs Lucius’ hand through the bars.  “Yes, but you are not, Lucius. We don’t have time to grieve, every minute we wait, is another day closer to your execution.” “You're right, you're right,” Lucius sniffles, squeezing Snape’s hand before breaking away to wipe away his tears. “Thank you my friend, I don't know where I’d be without you.”

Edinburgh flat

I'm still not sure what pulls me in the direction of this evidence, whether it's my intuition or something magical but im both infinitely grateful and horrified to have followed this instinct to fruition.  The notebook I found was buried under a magical spell ive never seen before. Thankfully, brilliant Hermione has, and after a moment, the chest is unlocking, revealing a single book. Theres no outside descriptors, and the magic glamour on it is making it look older than it is. Another disguise to shroud its contents.  The bad feeling grows stronger as I leaf through the parchment pages.  - I’m barely through week two of Draco’s retellings of his torturous days in Snape’s care before my guts are spilling all over the floor of the flat.  “Oy! Gross Harry!” Ron scolds, which is fair, I nearly hit him with it.  “Are you alright?” Hermione asks, rushing to my side.  I drop the book and shake my head. I can't look at it any more. I know I need to. To help find Draco. But I can’t right now.  “What is that?” Ron asks and I can't make my mouth move.  He moves to pick up the book and I snap. “DON’T FUCKING TOUCH THAT!” Ron’s hands go up in reflexive surrender, “Whoa! Hell Harry! Okay!” “Harry,” Hermione asks again, her own fear and concern growing stronger, “what is it?” I close my eyes and exhale.  “It's so much worse than we thought…”

See you sunday! 😘

[fountainpenguin]

"Always hear the same kind of story; break your nose and they'll just say 'Sorry...'" (x)

---

Pixels Imperfect series ~ Double Life - Boat Boys

“Canadian Idiot” - 23k words

❤️ Read on AO3

💛 Paper Boats [Etho & Joel series]

💚 More Pixels Imperfect fics

I've been drawing preview images for some of my 'fics that didn't have them yet. Here's a pretty post for a personal favorite!

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Summary: Etho is a fox hybrid who aggros on people who cause him damage. During Double Life, Joel and Etho are soulbound. And Joel causes Etho a lot of damage. The mob-strengthening full moon doesn’t help.

AKA - That one 'fic where Etho bites Joel a bunch of times and Joel stomachs it like the good little soulmate he is.

(First 1,000 words under the cut)

---

Canadian Idiot

"Where is Etho? Why hasn't he come home? I'm SO worried…"

🖤  💛  ❤️

Act 1. Scene 2. Introductions are behind them; the Hero's Journey has begun. They balance on the precipice hand in hand, except they're nowhere near hand in hand because Joel has done nothing wrong and Etho's about to bring him crashing down. With a label like Act 1, Scene 2 melting in your brain, you're practically encouraged to overstep; make mistakes. Isn't that a proper story outline? You start by introducing goals. Then faults. 'Tell me one thing your protagonist does wrong…'

It's Etho, not Joel, who does something wrong. Wrong and immoral and without consent, and he's shaking - he's shaking - as he slips his hand above the milk-white bed sheets. He slightly cranes his neck, lifting just a little from his pillow. He's already squirmed closer to Joel more than he'd admit to anyone outside the Boat. Joel's cradled against him, stomachs and knees and hips flush and ticklish and warm. Joel's hand rests atop the blankets. Atop Etho's chest, pretty much.

And Etho's itchy, pain swelling deep inside. His breath's all clogged in the back of his throat. A problem that Joel doesn't have, because Joel's some kind of insect hybrid and he breathes through the spiracles down his torso… which Etho can feel both on the outside of his legs (because Joel is shirtless under the blankets) and threaded through his own body (because they share every flickery touch, even in the way they breathe).

I wonder if Joel ever gets sick of feeling "my" breath in the back of his mouth. That's gotta be a weird feeling when he doesn't have lungs…

In Act 1, Scene 2, Etho initiates the Rising Action. He lays his own hand on the far side of Joel's. His eyes are glowing - the candles and furnaces are glowing too - and it's warm and rosy and golden brown down in the depths of The Relation. Etho's shaking as he nudges Joel's fingers higher up the blankets, from their random flop (is it random?) across Joel's chest and up to Etho's neck. Conflicting pixels bristle when they come into contact. They tense up, even while Joel stays sleepy and mild-mannered. Etho stares down at those gleaming pixels and watches them re-situate themselves, building up their little barrier so they stay firmly Joel's and his own pixels remain firmly Etho's.

There's unwavering trust in the way Joel lets himself sleep, curled against Etho's side. The pixels in their legs blended together long ago, making mermaids out of them. They don't even itch. They're perfectly melted inside each other, heels and toes overlapping as easily as the edges of their hitboxes do.

Etho can feel the easy flutter of mingled bits and pieces shifting between them, pixels bumping and evaluating their neighbors and occasionally switching back and forth. He's got bits that used to belong to Joel in his ankles, probably. The colors have probably already changed over. You wouldn't even be able to tell. It's nothing. It's normal. Everybody does this. They're sharing a bed. They're sharing hearts and health and pain; exchanging pixels during hitbox overlap isn't nearly as weird.

It's not like I'm anxious and 65 anymore. I've got a couple thousand years in me. I've shared my bed before. This isn't weird.

It's not like this in the singleplayer, though, where he sleeps alone.

And it's not like this on Hermitcraft. Where he sleeps alone.

And it wasn't like this in his wool castle on 3rd Life. Where he slept alone.

And it wasn't like this in Last Life. Bdubs slept on the far side of their shared room, his narcoleptic phantom soul knocking him out cold hours before Etho crept to bed. And slept alone.

Etho squirms, which blurs his foot with Joel's and sends a static ripple up his leg. He stops so it won't seize up in the pit behind his knee. His pixels need a minute to orient again, sluggish in their sleep just like the softly breathing Joel. The air is stuffy inside The Relation's lower room. Etho already pulled his mask off before bed; it lies (rumpled and unfolded) on the crafting table to his left. Though dry, the air is cool against his exposed skin. His tongue traces across the curve of each and every pointed tooth inside his mouth.

I have to.

The closest he'll come to voicing it. He tries to fold his hands away. He grips his own wrist, grinding it in the wrinkles of blankets tucked against his stomach. Candles flicker in the edges of his vision. He stares across the captains' quarters, rotating his hand back and forth, forcing it to press his stomach. To calm some kind of hunger that doesn't stem from there.

He does not personify the aggro instincts creeping up his spine. They don't envelop him in words. Offering words to the thought would mean caving in, admitting its strength and hold against him. Etho stares without blinking at the far wall and twists his wrist in that space between stomach and guts. Tight. Unyielding. Firm.

It's never been this bad on-server before…

It's twisted. It writhes in him, like a snake dropped down his pants, spiraled around his leg, and looped to slither up his spine and wrap around his throat. It's a full-body shiver that leaves him opening and closing his hands, palming his knees through the bed sheets. He has really pointy knees. Etho presses, rubbing his hands up and down and all around in circles, but it doesn't help.

He needs to. This. He needs- he just does. He can curl his legs and writhe and grimace all he wants to, but he can't hold it in forever… like Bdubs can't help but lunge when Etho's pushing at the boundary of long nights with no sleep.

Can't.

He sinks down in the pillows, exhaling, and tugs the white covers of the bed up to his chest again. It shifts Joel's arm. Etho can feel it through the blankets. He can feel the touch of soft, carefully crafted wool on the back of that hand as clearly as his own. Joel's expertise with wool leaves absolutely no question that he thrives on the Empires server, weaving banners on a loom. There's no itchiness to the blankets. They're so soft, they may as well be silk or cream.

This ship feels like a cake, lit by the candles on the wooden shelves. As the wind gusts against the outside of their base, it creaks the boards and Etho shivers, shifting one leg a little tighter between both of Joel's. Pillager grunts carry down the hill. He can hear their distant pacing. The constant loading of crossbow bolts. The way they mutter, bending heads.

Do pillagers ever snuggle with their friends late at night? Maybe not. They're just mobs; maybe they aren't programmed with a sleep schedule. He's never charged inside an outpost to find them startled and fumbling out of bed.

[Cnt'd on AO3 - Link at top]

[hareofhrair]

Beauty and the Beast story preview

I'm working on this beauty and the beast inspired monster romance short story and I thought I'd share the first scene to maybe get folks interested! When it's done it'll be posted on my patreon.

This is going to be a somewhat dark take, focused on a predator/prey dynamic, very much leaning into the monstrousness of the beast and the necessity of approaching romance with a nonhuman in a very nonstandard way.

In terms of content, everything that happens will still of course be explicitly consensual. I may do dubcon in a different story in the future, but it'll be the exception and very clearly marked. Most of what I write will always be clearly consensual. The beast is very non-human- primarily quadrupedal and so far he either doesn't speak at all or only very rarely. He's fully intelligent and capable of communicating, but also very much not a human. Not sure about other content tags or warnings to include yet since it isn't finished, but I'll update as I figure it out! Now on to the story!

---

Beauty had been living in the Beast’s castle for about a month when she began to realize she was enjoying it.

Her heart thundering in her ears she sprinted down the hall, bare feet slapping against the cracked and tarnished marble, the gallery illuminated in stark squares of black and white by the pale moonlight slanting in through the tall, dusty windows that lined one side. Behind her she heard nothing but his breathing, his paws silent as a ghost. If she could hear his breath he was close, too close. She needed to buy herself some space if she was going to make it up the stairs. But she was learning the layout of the castle well by now.

She swerved abruptly, diving through a shadowed door into a sitting room. She slammed the door behind her, knowing it wouldn’t slow him long, but maybe long enough. She leapt over a collapsed and moldering settee and rushed to the far wall beside the cold and cobwebbed fireplace, feeling along the aged wooden paneling with shaking hands.

“Where is it,” she hissed through her teeth, panic beginning to rise the longer she could not hear the Beast on the other side of the door. If he was not breaking it down, or simply opening it, she didn’t know what he was doing, and that was dangerous.

Suddenly, a candle flame jumped to life beside her and she flinched, already braced to throw herself out the window, the closest avenue of escape. But it was not the Beast. It was a plain white candle in a simple golden candle holder, hanging in the air as though being held. If she caught them at the right angle, Beauty could sometimes almost see the faint image of a pair of white gloved hands holding it, the most she’d ever seen of the ghostly servants that tended this place.

The candle moved closer to the wall, illuminating the faded scroll work along the chair rail. A spectral hand faintly gestured to a hidden switch among the carved roses. Beauty nodded in terse gratitude as she pressed the button and slipped silently into the narrow servant’s passage behind it. Even if the Beast knew of this passage (which he almost certainly did) he would not be able to fit in it to follow her, and it had several different exits, so he could not simply circle around to wait for her at the other end. Not unless he already knew her so well he could guess which exit she’d choose.

The foyer exit was the obvious choice, being the closest to the grand staircase. She obviously could not use that one. The exit to the kitchen was unexpected, but so far from where she was trying to go that it’s advantages were more or less nil. He would likely assume she’d head for the great room, which was reasonably close to the staircase but still less obvious than the other choices. That is, if he didn’t know that she knew that if she followed the passage to the west gallery it was only a quick sprint across the hall to the drawing room with the attached butler’s pantry, where behind the moldering linens the back of the cupboard swung open to reveal a small staircase which led to the second floor hallway with the guest bedrooms.

She climbed the narrow stair as quickly and quietly as possible, pulling up her dress to cover her mouth and nose to protect them from the thick dust and cobwebs that filled the dark, cramped space. At one point a rotted wooden step gave way under her foot, but she caught herself in time.

She emerged slowly through the hidden door at the top of the stair, scanning the dark hall for signs of the Beast. The moonlight through the windows pooled silver on the moth eaten rug that ran down the center of the hall, but did not illuminate the dark doorways of the bedrooms. But Beauty could only go forward, slipping silently out into the hallway.

Her room, the room the invisible servants had shown her to the day she first came here, was at the end of the hall. The hall was too dark, but if it had been daylight she would have been close enough to see her door. She felt, to her surprise, a strange kind of disappointment.

Then she felt the hair on the back of her neck lift-- There was no sound, there never was, he was always perfectly silent, but she felt his presence suddenly behind her regardless. She lunged forward without a moment’s hesitation, flying into a sprint like a race horse leaping off the starting line. She heard the thudding impact of his body landing on the floor where she’d just been, the weight of the body that would have driven her to the ground and trapped her there as his teeth closed around her neck.

But the miss didn’t slow him down. He was an inch behind her, close enough for her to not just hear but feel the heat of his breath. Her door could not have been more than nine yards away, but it felt like it stretched on forever, time slowing as fear pulsed through her like electricity, lightning running down her veins. She’d been running since sun down, and her muscles were screaming, air burning in her lungs. Panic gripped her heart, certain this time was going to be it, he had her, she’d been too slow, too predictable. In a moment his teeth would be in her and she was going to die.

There was her door, looming out of the shadows, just a foot away, then an inch. She slammed into it with her shoulder and closed her eyes, certain it was too late. She felt a rush of air, claws a centimeter from her face, a brief flare of pain in her back--

And then she was tumbling, rolling to a sprawling stop on the floor of her room.

For a long second she just lay there, face against the aged wood floor, still expecting death to catch up with her. She was shivering with exhaustion and soaked in fear sweat and she could feel stinging, shallow lines of pain on her back in the shape of the Beast’s claws, but she was alive. Slowly, she raised her head to look at the door, which stood open not a foot away from where she lay.

The Beast stood just outside it, huge leonine head lowered, golden eyes watching her with a predator’s intensity. He was the size of a draft horse, body somewhere between the ursine and the feline. She’d seen him walk upright when it suited him, but he clearly didn’t prefer it. Long, wickedly sharp horns curled from his brow. It was easy to see why they called him a Beast. Though, at the same time, the flat, nearly human shape of his face, the way his elongated forepaws were almost hands, made it impossible to dismiss him as entirely animal. The effect was unsettling, to say the least.

He watched her, but made no move to cross the threshold into her room. He never did. She always braced herself, expecting each time to be the time he broke this rule, but he still hadn’t done it yet. He simply stood there and watched her.

Finally, relief flooded through her and she fell limp onto the floor again, laughing wildly. She was going to live. For one more night at least, she was going to live.

“Not tonight, Beast,” she said to him with a sharp, vicious smile. “You’ll just have to try again tomorrow.”

He didn’t respond, he never did, just stared a moment longer, then slowly turned and padded away down the hall, vanishing into the shadows. Beauty just lay back on the floor and laughed, the ecstasy of victory, the thrill of escape, rushing through her in waves. Her skin tingled, hyper sensitive under the sheen of cooling sweat, her senses still on high alert, feeling more alive and awake than she had in all the years before she’d come here. A shaking hand slid down her thigh, pulling up her rumpled skirts to slide beneath them, and her ragged breath hitched in her throat. She considered, for a moment, closing the door, and then decided against it. Let him watch, if he wanted.

[walnutsxblacklicorice]

AHS Hotel Deleted Scenes Theories

Sometimes in promos or featurettes snippets of scenes are shown that never make it into the final cut of the episodes. There are a few from American Horror Story: Hotel that I really wish we could've seen so I'm going to list them here along with my theories of what they may have been.

This is adorable elevator footage that definitely should've made it, look how soft they are 🥹

The post-sex scene

This is a snippet from the promo for episode 5 "Room Service" and for the longest time I assumed the Countess' hair was reminiscent of the late 80s/early 90s and this was a flashback. However, I am now convinced that this scene is actually from episode 11 "She Gets Revenge" and I'll tell you why.

This gif is from the actual scene in the episode. Notice how the setup with The Countess smoking in the front and Ramona standing in the back is the same (just in a different location)? That is how I first noticed the parallel.

The reason why I think the deleted snippet happened after is because for one, when the Countess opened the doors to her bedroom in the actual episode, her bed was made and tidy. In that snippet you may notice in the background the sheets are messy as if someone had just been in that bed. The Countess is wearing the same makeup and nails as in the episode and her hair looks like it was the same style and she just let it down during their love session. I'm not sure where Ramona got that orange dress but I assume it would be from the Countess' closet.

I really wish we had gotten this scene because I am very curious what their conversation after they had sex was like and how Ramona eventually decided to spare her life.

Ramona admiring the Countess' art piece

This snippet was shown in a sort of fall preview promo for the FX networks. My best guess is that in this scene Ramona was in the Countess' penthouse for the first time (in 1977) and admiring her art collection. I can imagine that this clip was maybe shot to be shown when Ramona talks about how the Countess knew everything about art and literature (there is also a deleted scene where she's flipping through a book, which I'll get to in a moment).

How I know this scene is set in the 70s is because of 3 things. Number 1, her hair looks the same as it did in the 70s scenes we got to see. Her curls aren't as defined as in her present-time hairstyles. Number 2, her eye makeup is golden-metallic. If you look at her different makeup looks you will notice that her eye shadow in the 70s was always golden, whereas in 2015 it is always lilac purple-ish metallic (which was also popular in the 70s and may symbolize how she's still yearning to go back to that time). And number 3, the art piece she's admiring is not on display in Elizabeth's penthouse in the present. A somewhat similar figure could also be seen in the background of this behind the scenes clip of a scene that also took place in the 70s, though.

That shows how the Countess had different pieces of art on display in different decades.

Ramona in the nude on Elizabeth's couch

This behind the scenes footage is from a featurette. Angela Bassett has talked about how she had to sign a nudity waiver for this season but, though we got a sensual scene between her and the Countess, we never actually saw her in the nude. I wonder if they also shot a more revealing sex scene and it just didn't make the cut but the closest we know of that Angela came to being nude this season is this snippet.

Ramona is nude wrapped in Elizabeth's blanket, implicating they just had sex, and flipping through a book. I can imagine this was possibly meant to be shown when she talked about the Countess' love for literature.

The Countess walking down the stairs

This scene may very well be the same one I just discussed because I am convinced she is looking at Ramona sitting on the couch here. Why? Because her hair is the same style it was when she met Ramona and her nails are still red, too. It looks like she just changed into a different dress. And also the look in her eyes and the faint smirk is very similar to how she looked at Ramona before, indicating romantic interest in whoever she's looking at (Ramona).

Ramona in the ballroom

We don't know who the Countess is pointing at here exactly in this behind the scenes footage. But we do know that Ryan Murphy originally tweeted that "Angela will be making lots of trouble with Gaga in the ballroom and elsewhere."

The ballroom scenes are set in the late 70s when the Countess and Ramona started dating. However, Ramona is nowhere to be seen, likely due to the fact that she didn't get introduced until an episode later. Which is unfortunate because it would've been a lot of fun to see her in the ballroom and also given more context as to why it was Elizabeth's favorite time period.

That concludes my findings of deleted scenes from AHS: Hotel. I hope you enjoyed this little deep dive and are just as disappointed as I am that we didn't get to see these gems so that hopefully one day Ryan will release them for our viewing pleasure. It's especially sad because both the Countess and Ramona deserved a lot more sceen time, so to see they did originally have more scenes is frustrating. But alas I am grateful we got the scenes that we have at all.

[akumahoshojo]

Castlevania I + II Fanfic: A Horrible Night's Dream (Chapter 1 preview)

I wrote this fic for @eboni-napalm as part of a Halloween gift exchange that started back in like... 2021 😱 After two of the roughest years for me ever (school/health/family/general RL problems all happening at once), I've actually been able to work on it!

While I'm still finishing up my final draft of the first chapter (fingers crossed I can do it before midnight!), I thought I'd post this preview of it here for tonight for any CV fans who might be interested in reading... and hopefully checking out the rest. It's the first 4 out of 8 vignettes to be contained in the completed first chapter, set in CV1 era for now.

Game: Castlevania I and II Pairing: Simon Belmont + CV2's "Mysterious Woman" (😉) Themes: Prophecies, Curses, Fighting Fate, Anachronic Order, Second Person POV, Experimental Style Content Warning: General themes of prejudice, non-graphic human sacrifice scene Thanks so much for your patience eboni-napalm-- I'm so sorry about the delay, but getting to work on this story has been rewarding and challenging in the best kind of way! 💗 Check out the story below!

i. now

To one who dreams the future, the present is the past. And thus all your remembered life has been a divided one, waking eyes on constant guard and inner eye fixed on time untold, like two-faced Janus in the body of a girl.

You've never been able to consider your nighttime visions a power, or even a gift: not when they've only come to you as you've lain helpless in the dark, bringing unwanted glimpses of a greater darkness in the world that encircles the realm of dreams.

And if some force beyond even that world can tear through the layers of time to give you a fleeting glimpse of what lies on the other side, then one lone human attempting to change the future’s design in response seems as futile a task as attempting to prevent an avalanche through the placement of a single snowflake.

But that's never stopped you from trying.

ii. then 

To the citizens of Transylvania, he may have been a savior, but to you, he was no different from the rest of them—which placed him somewhere just above scum. And so, as all of Jova turned excitedly north to welcome their conquering hero home, you chose to remain alone in the wooded outskirts of town, where they'd told you your kind would always belong.

Simon, the latest golden boy of the Belmont clan, with a mane of golden hair and bags of looted gold to match, was already the stuff of legends. He'd journeyed alone only days before to Dracula's stronghold beyond the mountains, slaying its monstrous guards and unholy master in a single night and escaping just in time to watch the demon castle crumble at dawn. Stories of his triumph had already traveled down from the hamlets at the foothills and across the river from the town of Yomi, faster than the news of the Dark Lord's resurrection on the night the Black Mass occurred. 

The night they’d shunned you for the last time.

iii. now

The future creates itself in the darkness behind your closed eyes. Your essence stares back from the depths of your mind.

Another vision, two-sided as always: fate's promise to you, and yours to yourself. You will fight it, the truest part of you swears, in the waking world where dreams can't reach, no matter what you'll see and see again.

It catches you off guard anyway.

As your mind's eye clears, the darkness that clouded it coalesces into a black sea, the crests of dozens of waves rising ominously from its surface. The light comes next—faint touches of distant moonlight and dancing candlelight, refining the indistinct sea of shadows into something all too real.

Hooded worshippers, lit by candles as black as their robes, fill the gutted remains of an old church. The church is dark, and the night outside is darker, showing through the shattered stained-glass windows like a void swallowing up the holy and the fair. Idols and relics, goat-headed demons and inverted stars and things you can't decipher, lurk just at the edges of the shadows.

But it's the thing on the altar that scares you the most.

Nearly shrouded in a tattered black cloak, it lays limp and motionless, sickly pale as any corpse—but with a countenance alert as any living man. Its face is twisted into a rictus of mad triumph, sightless eyes fixed on the crumbled ceiling above and a sky empty of stars, as if to mock, even now, whatever higher power watches from above. You're certain you've never seen it, through this eye or your outers. And yet, the longer you stare, the louder a primal alarm seems to scream from somewhere deep inside you.

Known and unknown, mighty and weak, living and dead—the thing’s very existence is a contradiction made flesh.

Clarity flashes across your mind in the errant glint of candlelight off a fang.

You know, now, what this thing is. Its—his—name is Dracula: scion of the dragon, the devil's very son.

His dark grip still chokes Transylvania as tightly in legend as it did in reality, even a century after his last death. Though the countryside has long healed from the scars of his prior reign, those like yourself, too well acquainted with the occult, feel their phantom ache to this day. It is the pain that springs up with each scornful word and every hostile stare, the chafing knowledge that anyone judged slightly less than normal will never be truly safe from a populace still cowering from even the memory of Dracula's shadow.

Your gaze focuses once more at a sudden shuffling among the faceless worshipers: a parting of the shadow sea. From the darkest corner of the church a maiden is borne, light as spindrift, through the crests. Her dress is pale, and her panicked face is paler. She seems almost to shine amongst the shadows that guide her onward, a lone spot of white nearly consumed by the blackness of the church.

A sacrifice.

As she nears the grim idol that lies in wait upon the altar, one of the encircling shadows shoves her roughly forward. She stumbles against the altar's edge, delicate hands bound tightly behind her back.

You are forced to watch, powerless as always, as present and future slip beyond salvation.

Another shift of the lurking shadows. A fleeting flash of metal. A torrent of blood from the maiden's lovely neck.

As the blood splatters on the leering corpse below, its fanged grin seems only to widen. And with a creeping chill of dread, you realize the thing on the altar isn't a corpse anymore.

The church darkens even more, beyond what seems possible, as the sky through the ceiling is choked by thunderclouds. The candlelight drowns in a shadow sea.

For a moment, you see nothing but blissful darkness, blessed oblivion—for a moment, you can nearly imagine what a normal night's sleep might be.

By the time a flash of lightning illuminates the church once more, Dracula is already gone—the monster loosed from its temporal cage.

You barely notice. You'd seen it, then, when the lightning struck, in what little you could view of the world beyond the church. The outlines of a cityscape all too familiar. The narrow curve of a waning gibbous moon.

Jova. Easter Sunday.

You still have time, you realize.

And, fate willing, so do they.

iv. then

It had been Easter then, the time of the town's yearly carnival. Those dull brick buildings had looked almost inviting, festooned with grand banners and colorful paper lanterns, as lively dances and celebrations went on in the market square. The scenes of joy and community, the swirls of music and laughter, seemed to sweep you up despite yourself, almost softening the heart their world had hardened long before. You were hopeful enough to believe the Lord's Resurrection reason enough for them to accept you, for that one day at least, to heed your warning and save their souls.

You were wrong.

No matter who you approached, no matter how you pleaded, the hatred you'd grown up with, inseparable as your shadow, blocked you at every turn. Maybe it was your clothes, or your accent, or just the fact you knew something they didn't, but whatever attempt you made, they judged it to be wrong. Your warnings, increasingly desperate, were met with insults from even the kindest faces in that celebration, insults steeled with the threat of something worse.

Liar.

Witch.

Unholy.

Unwelcome.

You'd finally turned your back on Jova when the stares began to linger a little too long, when the murmurs in the crowd began to overpower even the sounds of the festivities. You refused to add your own life to the number that would soon be lost.

And you'd tried, dammit. They couldn't say you didn't try. 

If their blood was to be shed, it would not be on your hands.

You told yourself this as you left them all behind, the music growing fainter and the colored lights dimmer with each step you took into the engulfing darkness. They'd just shown they cared nothing for you, for even themselves, so why chance your life for them? You didn't care—you truly didn't care.

But when your prophecy came true and hell came to earth, you suffered with them all the same.

[mylesimeblr]

Remember me this way Part 4 preview

Spoiler alert: jealous Lo'ak

A bit further from them, Lo’ak observes the scene. He’s not stupid. He understands what's going on. His own heart clenches in his chest as he remembers his dreams and their reality. It’s so obvious that he’s not the only one to have noticed. The two female Na’vis begin to gossip behind him.

“Poor thing!” Hupu says in Na'vi, “He’s gonna break her!”

Ngosey chuckles, “I hope she likes big things!” she adds with a wink.

The two women laugh. Lo’ak glares at them hatefully. 

“Hey! Be respectful of your Olo’eyktan!” he hisses, “Do not imply such vile things!”

He doesn’t know what’s worst, what’s hurting the most. That Aonung’s obvious little crush isn’t going unnoticed, that they make fun of it so crudely or the sad and unwanted truth of Myrcella’s fate if something physical were to happen…

“I like you guys, I really do, but I don’t exactly fancy ending up as human jelly when my gigantic Na’vi mate is done playing with me.”

“Is this really the image you have of us?”

“Why?” Hupu says, annoyed by Lo’ak’s reaction, taking him away from his dark thoughts.

“She’s tawtute!” he responds, his mind shaken and vision blurring with thoughts and memories he doesn’t want.

“So what?”

“There’s no future between a Na’vi and a human!” he spits, “It’s unnatural and ridiculous!” There’s no future. No compatibility. There’s nothing.

Hupu shrugs, “Maybe… But an innocent crush doesn’t cost anything!”

He swallows at her poor choice of words. He wants to tell her that she’s wrong, terribly so. That she has no idea what she’s talking about. That it does cost so much. That it cost him everything. 

She looks away from him. He follows her gaze and it falls on Spider - Miles - crouched on the floor, studying the bones in deep concentration, his muscles flexing with every gesture (Great Mother, he’s beautiful) and his blood runs cold when he understands what’s happening. 

“Do not!” Lo’ak immediately snarls at her, “I knew you were giving him the eyes! He’s not of the People!”

She shrugs, “He’s actually quite tall for a tawtute,” she defends herself, “Smart and very handsome,” she adds with a small smile, “I like his tattoos and his golden hair! He would make beautiful offspring!”

Lo’ak’s eyes widen in horror. Ah, no, no, no! He hasn’t gone through all that trouble and pain only to watch another Na’vi make a claim on what should have been his if he hadn't been so reckless in the first place! There’s no way he’s letting that happen! Not ever! He’s already quite pressed with that small human Aonung has set his interest on… (She’s very close to Spider - Miles… He doesn’t like it).

[bizarrequazar]

GJ and ZZH Updates — November 19-25

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This is part of a weekly series collecting updates from and relating to Gong Jun and Zhang Zhehan.

This post is not wholly comprehensive and is intended as an overview, links provided lead to further details. Dates are in accordance with China Standard Time, the organization is chronological. My own biases on some things are reflected here. Anything I include that is not concretely known is indicated as such, and you’re welcome to do your own research and draw your own conclusions as you see fit. Please let me know if you have any questions, comments, concerns, or additions. :)

[Glossary of names and terms] [Masterlist of my posts about the situation with Zhang Zhehan]

11-19 → Rising with the Wind completed airing for VIP viewers.

→ The Instagram posted eight photos of "Zhang Zhehan" and a drawing of a whale.

→ Gong Jun posted a douyin of himself with a paper airplane. Caption: "The finale [of Rising Against the Wind] has its own rules and can break the situation with one strike! Goodbye, Xu Si" Fan Observation: The hoodie that he's wearing is the same brand as the one worn by the figure in the golden mountain photos he posted on 2022-12-17 that many speculate to have been Zhang Zhehan.

→ Gong Jun's studio posted a behind the scenes video (flashing lights cw) of Gong Jun with a puppy. Caption: "It’s time to cook, and the puppy patted Mr. Xu Gong Jun Simon and said: Hurry up and add more dog food!"

→ Gong Jun posted a video of Xu Si for the show's completion. Caption: "Exploring what can be done and what cannot be done is Xu Si’s investment rule. Dear investor Xu Si, I wish you good luck in the future!"

→ Gong Jun Outdoor Office posted eleven gifs of Gong Jun from the Rising with the Wind set. Caption: "The project is over, Mr. Xu please take a rest"

11-20 → Zhenguoli posted a photo ad featuring Gong Jun.

→ Fresh posted a photo ad featuring Gong Jun.

→ 361° posted a photo ad featuring Gong Jun.

11-21 → One of the Zhang Sanjians arrived at an airport in Singapore. In a video of this, he seemed to respond to someone saying "Bai-laoshi".

→ 361° posted eight photo ads featuring Gong Jun.

11-22 → Gong Jun's studio posted three photos of Gong Jun in costume as Xu Si. Caption: "EP41 (extra chapter) has been updated: Xu Si @ Gong Jun Simon’s winter greetings are continuing to be transmitted 📱"

11-23 → Vogue+ posted two polaroids of Gong Jun to their Xiao Hong Shu.

�� Gong Jun's studio posted a video teasing the outfit Gong Jun would wear to a Vogue event that evening. Caption: "Embroidered panda, full of charm. A preview."

→ Gong Jun's studio posted a video from Gong Jun's photoshoot that day. Caption: "Curves weave everything, and the charm of ink is hidden in the texture. @ Gong Jun Simon wears 'home' on his body and inherits the prosperous ancient heritage."

→ Gong Jun's studio posted four photos from his shoot that day. Caption: "Use needles as pens and threads as ink, fully displaying the charm of Bashu. Elegant and modern, with a harmonious artistic conception, @ Gong Jun Simon pays tribute to the intangible cultural heritage culture."

→ Gong Jun posted six photos of himself from that day. Caption: "Thanks to @VOGUE for the invitation, GJXM is here 🐼"

→ Gong Jun's studio posted four photos of him at the Vogue event. Caption: "The ink is smudged, delicate and elegant. @ Gong Jun Simon uses the beauty of Sichuan embroidery to convey the romantic quintessence of China."

11-24 → Gong Jun's studio posted two promotional images teasing a new single by Gong Jun. (1129 kadian) Caption: "On the count of three / please hold your breath and / recite my name silently again. 'Tomorrow Will Be Clear and The Sky Will Be Thousands of Miles'. Countdown to the release in 3 days"

→ The Instagram posted eight photos of "Zhang Zhehan" at a stage rehearsal.

→ Gong Jun's studio posted twelve photos from his photoshoot for the Vogue event's second day, where he would speak in a panel with Jason Wu. Caption: "Profound, mellow and elegant. @ Gong Jun Simon explores the integration and development of traditional culture and modern fashion."

→ Gong Jun's studio posted six photos of him at the event. Caption: "Drawing on the power of fashion, @ Gong Jun Simon explores the cultural texture."

→ Gong Jun's studio posted a video from that day's photoshoot. Caption: "Walking as usual, hiding in ink. @ Gong Jun Simon went to the fashion appointment calmly and touched the spark of ideas." BGM is The Rime by SCSI-9.

→ Vogue posted three group photos and a solo photo of Gong Jun from their event. They later also posted a video spoken by him. [subbed video]

11-25 → Gong Jun posted six photos from the Vogue event to his Instagram. Caption: "Special work, from my hometown. Thank you Jason and Kang Ning!"

→ The lawsuit against Nada, the Word of Honor scriptwriter, was resolved with her found not liable. [details here]

→ Gong Jun's studio posted a teaser of the upcoming single. (1129 kadian) Caption: "Count to two / and say yes. No matter how long it takes, / you will never forget. Countdown to the release of 'Tomorrow Will Be Clear' in 2 days."

→ Jason Wu posted three photos of Gong Jun in the suit he had designed for him to his Instagram. He also shared a number of photos and videos in his story, with the caption on one including a 🍊.

→ The Instagram posted ten photos of "Zhang Zhehan". This was later followed by another ten.

→ The scam held a concert in Singapore. At one point Jian dropped the mic without it making a sound, which is... not how mics work when they're on. As refreshers, [here] is my breakdown of the previous Bangkok concerts and [here] are notes from a space that discussed how these concerts are most likely fronts for money laundering.

Additional Reading: → N/A

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[jadeleechisagoodboy]

Chapter 13 of the Jade x Yuu Book 3 rewrite fanfic is here!

*Banging pots and pans above my head* Overblot time!!! It took 13 chapters but we finally reached Azul’s overblot!!!

Chapter preview under the cut!

Outside of the main school building, the twins easily overtook the freshmen and ran ahead of them into the hall of mirrors and straight through to Octavinelle.

Immediately they were met with chaos.

“You there— give me your lightning magic! And you, give me your athletic ability!” Azul shouted, eyes wild and dorm uniform askew, aiming his silver, octopus cane at students who were scrambling to hide or escape.

An unfortunate Scarabia student screamed as he was hit by Azul’s unique magic, before collapsing onto the floor among others who’d met the same fate.

“Azul! What are you doing?!” Jade shouted, walking past Leona, Ruggie, and the suspicious pile of golden sand on the floor in front of them.

“Whoa… What happened here?!” Floyd asked, taking in the scene with a horrified expression.

“Jade! Floyd!” Their housewarden exclaimed, his shoulders visibly relaxing and relief washing over his face as he turned towards them. “Thank goodness, you’re finally back! Can you believe what these FOOLS have done to me?! I’ve lost all my contracts!” He breathed heavily, his head falling forward slightly so that the brim of his hat cast a shadow over his face, his icy blue gaze peering out from under it. “Which is why I’m going to need your powers now. Come on… give them to me!!”

Jade instinctively reached for his magical pen, but Floyd was quicker, managing to deflect Azul’s attack with his own unique magic. Behind them, the pack of freshmen finally stumbled in.

Yuu gasped. “Oh no…”

“Dude, this does not look good!” Ace said.

“Is Azul going out of control?!” Deuce asked.

“Looks like he’s sucking different students’ powers outta them by force,” Jack guessed, quickly grasping the situation.

“Leona! You were bullyin’ him, weren’t you?!” Grim accused.

“You’re blaming me?” The lion beastman huffed. “You’re the ones who told me to turn the contracts into sand.”

I see… so that’s what happened, Jade thought. No wonder Yuu was concerned about their plan.