#Hellish Jams | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

weministertomonsters · 9 months ago

Text

Incubus

"Please? Please, please! I'm fucking starving," your incubus whines.

"Crybaby. I told you this was going to be a problem," you sigh, gripping the steering wheel of your rented car.

You had stopped at a gas station ten minutes ago and gotten yourself some food. With your belly full, you're prepared for the next three hours of your roadtrip. Not your incubus though, he's acting like he hasn't had anything in days.

Which might be true. It's been a confusing couple of weeks.

"What was I supposed to do? This is a six-hour road trip," he sighs. "And you said you'd let me."

"Dude, I was drunk and horny," you laugh sheepishly.

He petulantly jams his foot against the glove compartment and tugs his shoe off. The unnatural purple veins in his skin are starting to make an appearance as his glamour wavers.

"Ah, get your demon foot down! What if someone sees it?"

"When was the last time we passed another car on this god-forsaken road?" He pouts. "Besides, my glamour is slipping. I don't have enough energy to keep it up."

"Why don't you sleep the rest of the way? We'll be there soon enough," you reason.

"Fine," he grumbles, tipping his seat back so he can recline comfortably.

Despite all his huffing and whining, he ends up falling asleep. He has one hand draped over his face, sheilding his eyes from the sun. His glamour is in the halfway stage, revealing pointed ears and a body that's now a little too large for the car seat. He twitches in his sleep and moans.

"God no," you mumble in mock horror and stifle a giggle.

The sounds he makes in his sleep are worthy of a porn audio and you feel like you shouldn't be listening. Still, that kind of thing doesn't bother you as much as it did weeks go. You've come a long way. The ride is manageable for a while, until his wings suddenly unfurl like a rebellious umbrella and thwack you in the face. You're forced to pull over.

"Wake up, idiot. You almost made me crash the car." You grab his shoulder and jangle it.

He wakes up with an inhuman growl and grabs you. There isn't much space for either of you to move, so all he ends up doing is pulling you into his lap. Tears spring into your eyes when you hit your elbow on the car door.

"You did that on purpose!" You moan, rubbing the tender spot.

"You can't just touch me when I'm sleeping," he says in exasperation, peering at you with blackened eyes.

He's right. This isn't the first time you've tried to wake him up and he ended up freaking out. It's obvious something happened to him in the past to make him act that way, but he wouldn't let you pry.

"Sorry, I forgot," you admit. "You were moaning in your sleep."

"Was I?" His eyes twinkle. "Look at you, getting all flustered. Hey, don't look away."

To change the subject you say,

"Your glamour is gone."

"It appears so." He flares his wings out as wide as he can, wincing. "I miss flying."

"Soon you'll be able to fly again," you promise, your heart going out to him.

Even though summoning him was an accident, you could have done so much more to make the experience a little less weird for him. You treated him like a literal demon thanks to your religious upbringing. Only when you realized that holy water and crosses and exorcisms were no good did you start to treat him with a modicum of respect. And he endured all of it for you. You've gotten better with your hellish companion since then.

Someone takes the initiative to kiss, but you're not sure whether it was him or you. All you know is that the wall you've built has come crashing down, and all the secret desires you hid away come clamoring forward, demanding attention.

You can't get out of your clothes fast enough, growling in annoyance when you hit your elbow again. You should have rented a bigger car.

"Hold on," he says, ripping his face away.

His lips are swollen and bruised from the heavy makeout session and his pupils are ridiculously dilated, but he still looks aware and a little worried.

"An hour ago you were denying me. Why now..."

"Don't ruin the mood," you tell him, wiggling into the backseat. "I just realized all my little rules are pretty stupid, that's all."

He twists around to look at you in the back.

"You won't regret it later?"

"I will if you made me take all my clothes off only to say you don't want to do it anymore," you say, leaning back and opening your legs. "Come here."

His eyes light up. If he had a tail, it would be wagging. The last of his glamour sheds, and you stare at his ebony-colored horns in admiration. Just a few weeks ago the mere sight of them had you stammering the Lord's Prayer and dousing him with anointing oil in an effort to make him go away. Now you grab one of his horns and drag him closer. The small car means you are both in pretty uncomfortable positions, but you'll complain about your back later.

His licks a blazing trail down your stomach, the purr in his voice muffled as he presses his lips to your body, tracing the red lines where your too-tight jeans aggravated your skin.

"I love this."

"My muffin top?" You snicker.

"All of it. All of you. Goddess," he says reverently before he dips between your legs.

His long, slippery tongue is talented. As he stokes your pleasure higher and hotter, he drinks from the blaze of it. Once he has enough energy to use his glamour again, he glamours his claws away and slides two fingers into you, looking up at you with gleaming, burning eyes.

The way his wings arch makes you think of an eagle protecting its dinner. You dare to touch them, stroking the struts of bone and the delicate membrane stretched between them.

"You're so beautiful," you admit. "And I'm not just saying that because you're so good at this."

He looks amused with the compliment. Maybe he's remembering the time you called him a "vulgar hellion of hell" in a fit of religious indignation.

You jump at the sudden zing of pleasure when he nips your inner thigh.

"Focus on me," he demands. "Let your mind go blank for just a little while."

You nod frantically, clutching the sturdy leather of the car seat. Your hips follow the thrusting motion of his fingers, desperate for more. He gives you what you want. You come when he adds a third finger, the stretch, and the pleasure and the stimulation of your clit throwing you recklessly off a cliff. It feels like he takes some of your energy, crafts it into a gem of pure gold, and passes it back to you in a hard kiss. It's like you've died and gone to heaven.

It's only when he taps your stomach that you remember you have to breathe. You suck in great gasps of air, squinting at him. He wears your cum on his face, his lips glistening as they part into a pretty smile.

"What was that?" You finally ask.

"The best orgasm of your life," he grins. "Please tell me I've ruined you for other people."

"Don't get ahead of yourself," you scoff playfully as you tug your clothes back on.

You think he has though.

#exophilia #terato #monster x reader #monster lover #monster x human #monster fucker #monster smut #incubus

356 notes · View notes

eldritch-spouse · 4 months ago

Note

Just when you thought taking a day off from retail when you're sick would be paradise away from the retail hell boys when your door suddenly explodes and the retail hell boys enter your room when they heard you got sick. You can't win.

TW: Reader has a dark mindset, their suffering is not treated seriously.

It's kind of ridiculous that your only respite is sickness, isn't it?

Does it count as self-harm to deliberately let yourself get sick just so you can miss a day or two of work? Does... Does not caring about a twisted ankle that much because you know you won't have to work for a while count as mental illness? If only you could afford a psychologist right now.

What you do know, is that in spite of your physical pain, you haven't felt this at peace in a while. You can even ignore the fact that your pay is getting damaged from this, it's worth it. It's calm.

No weird coworkers, no pressure from a shitty boss, no creepy clients-

CRASH

There's no mistaking it. That was the front door of your rackety little apartment.

Fear has you flatten to the wall of your bedroom, ankle squealing with pain. Deep down, you've always dreaded this would happen since moving to Hell. That some nutjob would just break into your place and butcher you like a pig. Because they feel like it, because some demons are just like that, because humans are easy targets.

Humans are like gazelles to them. And amidst all those grazing bodies, a tired and beaten down one like you is the gazelle with the limp, the one that's getting picked first.

Fucking damn it, you should have bought the domestic defense bat that tall butch tried to sell you when you moved in. You wondered why she was pricing it so high until she revealed it was some kind of hellish beast, as opposed to a barbed wire bat.

As is, you can only grab the bedside lamp and hope, with every fiber of your being, that the thing you're up against has a skull soft enough to allow brain damage.

Hearing hushed voices, your plan is to turn the corner and possibly run outside before you have to hit anyone.

A plan easily thwarted when a meaty hand swipes the bedside lamp right out of your hands.

Alright. You didn't think that far ahead.

" YEAH, THAT'S IT SMALL FRY! " The meathead you've come to recognize as one of the creepy regulars beams. He smashes the bulb out of the lamp, and jams some kind of blade in the hollowed space, using fabric to tie it all together. Is that... Part of your curtains?

" Moz, you ruined the door, you oaf... Isn't that essential to keep the house safe? " The other one, the incubus, points out, feeling the dents left in your wall.

Said wrathful demon pauses to gouge the extent of the damage for several seconds, then waves. " Huh. I'LL DO YA ONE BETTER- WHO NEEDS DOORS?! By the time I'm done, no one will even think of trying to get in. "

Babesley turns around. " Well, she does- Oh! Oh there she is, our tasty workaholic. " The incubus gets a glimpse at your injured limb and gasps. " My sweet hardworking princess, what are you doing out of bed?! Come on, let's go lie down, I'll give you a wonderful massage and you can tell me all about the awful people you work with! "

The awful people being them both, mostly. On a good day.

Babesley has started pulling you along gently, and frankly, you know there's nothing you can do to get them out of your home now, so you might as well just bide your time and see what comes next.

He openly evaluates the state of your room before cautiously helping you lay down, starting to work on your back muscles with surprising competence. You didn't know he was a masseur! Out of spite, you don't allow the shock to show on your face, keeping noises to a minimum.

" Come now, it's no fun if I don't get to hear it. " He huffs. " You're being difficult when we're just trying to keep you safe! Tsk tsk, brats these days. "

" Get- Hnnh- " Oh he popped something ancient in there. The smug brow raise is his display of victory. " Get out of my home. "

" Mhm, not happening. I was thinking of getting a pizza from that cozy nook downtown. "

Pizza does sound good.

You ponder on it to the sounds of Moz breaking your house apart in a nightmare DIY session.

" ... I want the pepperoni one. " It was a moment of weakness. And most importantly, free food.

" Say please. " He sing-songs, clawtips flirting with the fat of your rump through your pajama shorts.

" Cunt. "

" Yes, I bet yours is heavenly. "

Before things can get any more awkward, the other demon bulldozes in with a cup, slapping your ass with a force so great it has you barking every curse under the sun.

" Spit on this, jizzbrains. " He angles the glass at Babes, who easily 'ptoo's in.

You think that one slap just undid all of the incubus' work on your accumulated tension. " What are you even doing? Ruining my house for the fuck of it?! "

" HAH. " Moz grunts. " I'm making it IMPENETRABLE. This here is for a booby trap. IMAGINE DYING WITH A BONER. "

You and Babesley look at him blankly.

" They walk in, right?! They STEP on the plate, they ACTIVATE THE TRAP, THEN BOOM- GET A SPRAY OF THIS NASTY SHIT AND THEN THE FUCKIN' LAMP COMES SWINGING DOWN JAMMING RIGHT BETWEEN THE EYES! Either that or the throat... Actually, I need a plan B for a shortstack. "

You decide you'll mourn your furniture later.

" What about the pizza guy? "

" WHAT PIZZA GUY?! "

Babesley waves Moz away, continuing his earlier work above you. " Think about it this way, if it works, we won't have to pay for it. "

You want to go back to work.

#Retail Hell boys

128 notes · View notes

kohakurin8 · 5 months ago

Text

~ Elevator Hitch ~

What Does it All Mean!?

A brief theory on the symbolism and lore behind a really cool game

⚠️ WARNING ⚠️

This post will contain SPOILERS for the game and all 14 endings. If you wish to play Elevator Hitch before reading, you can download it for free at this link.

So, Where do we begin?

Elevator Hitch is a really cool isolated-loop surreal horror game. For those of you who aren't familiar with this concept, an "isolated-loop" is a time-loop scenario which only affects a single person, small group of people, single room, etc. — but does NOT affect the entire world or universe. This is where it's common to see things like acquiring an item in your inventory, getting murdered, then waking up again at the beginning of the day with the item still in your inventory.

This concept has been used in various different media, and to varying different degrees of complexity. But, honestly, I think this game is my favorite instance of it so far.

So our story revolves around Protag, a somewhat meek and nervous lil guy who comes to this office building to take an interview for a new job. All he knows is that his interview isn't on the first floor, so he gets in the elevator in an attempt to find it. Before the door closes, Coworker forces his way in, and the elevator suddenly shorts out and jams before you two can begin your journey. The rest of the game is your various attempts to exit the elevator (alive) which get increasingly bizarre — especially after Protag realizes that whenever he dies, time restarts to when they first entered the elevator!

Shame Coworker doesn't seem to remember anything, though...

Now, since the lore within the game is pretty cryptic, none of our questions about the situation ever seem to get totally answered. It's up to the player to theorize and surmise just what exactly is happening to Protag and Coworker, and that's exactly what I've come here to do.

Death and Clues on Every Floor...

Literally! Every floor is a single room containing at least 1 clue, and at least 1 possible death — including the elevator itself. But what's even more important than that is the lore that all of these scenes show you.

Interestingly enough, the lore all seems to revolve around who Protag is as a person, to the point that one of the floors is actually his childhood bedroom.

Kind of intriguing that everything about this environment is centered around him, huh?

Hold onto that thought.

Every room and scenario is increasingly more bizarre, featuring anything from Eldritch-esque beings to settings that could almost pass for torture chambers. Every puzzle requires something from a different floor, making it ridiculously easy to screw up and croak, meanwhile Coworker is so maddeningly unaware that even when he tries to offer advice it's just as cryptic as the situation itself.

It all feels a lot... Like Hell...

Not just as an expression, but actual Hell. Mind rending stimuli navigated through tedious puzzle solving, where the penalty is gruesome death and the only reward is more torture. A neverending loop of suffering and confusion. It's all quite hellish!

At first this feels a bit superficial. "Of course it's hellish, this is a horror game!" But, honestly, good horror like this game is rarely ever bizarre and incomprehensible for the sheer shock value. If all of these allusions were superficial, why would we have such a detailed and cryptic conversation with Manuel, the maintenance worker?

Why would every single "correct answer" to the puzzles have sinister undertones?

Why would the religious subtext in Protag's room be so subtle and yet so distinct at the same time?

So if we humour ourselves and follow this train of thought then that leads one to wonder...

Why would Protag be in Hell?

Good question! After all, he doesn't even seem to be aware of having any initial death!

But, we are given breadcrumbs to what sort of person Protag is through the various different scenarios that ensue. Some things are minor details, like his lack of remorse for feeding an innocent rat to a hungry black hole. Others are more intense and significant, like the clues in his bedroom...

Let's start with pointing out the obvious direction that Protag's dialogue trees nudge you in.

After all, this game is a visual novel, so of course there are points when your dialogue options matter and can very well change the outcome of the situation. However, most VNs have options that are distinctly "good" or "bad" for the story directions, often leading the player on a journey of teaching the protagonist how to be a better person.

But Protag.... doesn't become better...

All of his dialogue options are either:

• Confusion, Frustration, Disbelief

• Self-Deprecating, Meek

• Deceptive

• Lashing Out

Obviously some of these options are better for certain scenarios. Deceiving Coworker into giving you his lighter is a way better idea than trying to steal it and burning you both to death.

And deceiving your Doppelgangers into trusting you before your brutal betrayal is arguably better than trusting them and getting betrayed in return.

But none of these options point to Protag being a good person. As much as he learns to adapt to his environment, nothing he does teaches him how to be a better person than he started out as. In fact, some of them even lead him to commit murder himself!

Of course, this isn't saying that Protag is necessarily a bad person either. After all, his initial reaction to the Doppelgangers is to trust them and even show them pity.

We also get a lot of information about Protag from the floor that mimics his childhood bedroom. He was monitored constantly by overbearing and religious parents, to the point that one of the Bad Ends is his parents entering the room.

He couldn't sleep, plagued by nightmarish beings which he even made drawings of, and had to take sleeping pills just to cope (which may or may not have been hidden from his parents as well)

Considering this, and just the sheer amount of existential dread Protag has upon visiting this floor, it's very possible that his parents were abusive. His personality issues are probably a result of that abuse, meaning even though he isn't necessarily a good person, he also isn't inherently a bad one.

The Allusions of Suicide...

This should honestly come as no surprise, but this game does have a lot of potential allusions to suicide. Especially when taking into account what suicide means in Christianity...

I first noticed this in the dialogue on Floor 9 with Normal Guy, as well as the dialogue contained in Ending 13 (screenshot above). During the interview on Floor 9, Protag seems to struggle with answering most of the questions. When asked why he wanted a new job, all of the answers imply that he doesn't actually know why, and when asked why he left his old job, Protag states that "it wasn't a Real Job" or at least not one viewed as respectable.

Then, when attempting to leave the Lobby on Floor 1, Protag is blocked by an alarming figure who berates him. The figure taunts Protag with phrases he's likely told himself, like "you worked so hard to get here" and especially "you NEED this job"

Now, this game absolutely LOVES its workplace puns, and something about these ones just struck me as significant. Upon further reflection on everything going on, I realized that these phrases are almost synonymous with suicidal thoughts.

As someone who's experienced this myself, I understand that a lot of suicidal thoughts are rooted more in the desire for change, and not the desire for death. So consider this...

Protag isn't looking for a new job, he's looking for a new life. His old life didn't feel "real" or "respectable", likely because of whatever abuse he endured from his parents. After all, his childhood bedroom is described by him as his "old place", meaning he likely was living with his parents until somewhat recently.

So then when he finally passes the interview — passes this hellish elevator trial of self-discovery — and tries to flee, he's stopped by the thoughts of regret for taking his own life.

"You worked so hard for this new life, why are you throwing it away?"

"You NEED this change."

"You can't go back to what you were before."

Then there's the Sleeping Pill found in Protag's bedroom. It's not found in a pill bottle or any other typical storage, but rather it's under the bedsheets. This gives the impression that the pill either fell out of Protag's hand in bed, or that he was hiding the pills from his overbearing parents.

Then there's the fact that sleeping pills are a very common medium for attempted suicide.

This leads me to suspect that Protag either overdosed in an attempted suicide as a child, causing his parents to become even more protective.

Or... This is how Protag ended up at the office building in the first place...

Welcome to Protag's Purgatory

Yeah, you may have guessed it already, but I am in fact suggesting that Protag has committed suicide and is currently trapped in Purgatory. After all, if you consider the distinct hint at his religious background, it's not unlikely to be following the Christian belief that suicide will condemn you to Purgatory. In fact, the opening of the game, where Protag feels like the only one who doesn't know where he's going, is a reference to the nature of Purgatory.

Consider, also, the nature of the game. Everything you do in it is a sort of trial, and it all tests the nature of Protag's true self. Not to mention that Purgatory is an unchanging limbo, just as the game paints a picture of an unending time-loop on repeat.

Protag took his own life, and his penance is to be trapped in an unending trial of self-discovery. Floor 9 resembles Heaven, like Cloud 9, where Protag is administered one final test. Normal Guy gives Protag the option to have become a better person, and possibly pass on to a better afterlife, however our dialogue tree tells us that Protag hasn't reached that level of self acceptance yet.

Therefore, the only options are what appears to be working in Purgatory (possibly like Manuel), enduring the trial over and over again, or as hinted by the eerie staircase downward in Ending 14, descent into Hell...

You're probably wondering if this theory accounts for Coworker, and it certainly does. After all, he seems rather unperturbed by the events he's undergone. I suspect he also committed suicide, but didn't have the same background of religious guilt that Protag had growing up. Coworker knows that he's supposed to go to the top, that he's supposed to pass on. He's at peace with who he is and where he's going, therefore he doesn't endure the same personal torture that Protag does.

No matter what ending you get in Elevator Hitch, nothing truly changes for Protag, because he himself hasn't changed. It's possible that there is some sort of future where Protag can change and move on — in fact, Normal Guy even hints that speaking to Coworker more could be the key to his salvation — but this possible future is one we will never see.

Because that's not the point of the game. The point is to become immersed in the torture which Protag goes through, and to try and unravel the mysteries of who he is and what he's enduring.

So there's my thoughts on the game. I hope you all enjoyed reading, and I'd love to hear any comments or input you have!

#elevator hitch #studio investigrave #racheldrawsthis #indie horror game #game theories #analysis #itch.io #elevator hitch protag #coworker elevator hitch #normal guy #this took two days to write help

78 notes · View notes

realdonkeykong · 1 year ago

Text

A good friend of mine sent this to me today, and I believe I have an explanation:

So the Mario RPGs often make reference to events in the platformers, meaning we can safely assume that the Marios in these two game types are the same guy. HOWEVER, this does not hold up when talking about the PAPER Mario games, due to the existence of Mario and Luigi: Paper Jam, which canonized Paper Mario as a separate being, along with Paper Bowser, the Paper Toads, etc. The important thing here is Mario. These two characters, being separate entities with their own lives and histories, can coexist as pure and sinful. Mario is a holy man, but the paper has sinned.

But that's not all.

Let's talk about HOW exactly Paper Mario dies. Late in the game's story, he, alongside evrcery other playable character, is ambushed and killed by a dark wizard. Dimentio, to be precise. Now, we know for a fact that Dimentio is the most objectively evil of all the villains in Super Paper Mario, so it is not a stretch to assume that he commands some form of hellish power. That being said, I would posit that the only reason why Paper Mario is sent to hell is due to his method of demise. He was killed by a hell wizard! Of course he'll have a hard time going to heaven! Not to even mention the fact that every other character goes to hell, too! Bowser, I get. But Peach? LUIGI??? Never.

The final nail in the coffin here is that, about halfway through the chapter, Mario and the gang actually do manage to get into heaven with little to no problem. How do they do this? Through the power of a Pure Heart. They are cleansed of the evil energy which Dimentio imbued them with, and are thus transported to the Overthere.

TL;DR Paper Mario and Regular Mario are different guys, and neither of them are sinners. Dimentio just hit Paper Mario with this:

#paper mario #mario #supper mario broth #twitter #mario and luigi #mario and luigi paper jam #super paper mario #dimentio

306 notes · View notes

icycoldninja · 1 month ago

Note

If requests are still open, could you write Dante and male neko!reader that has sensitive hearing?

As of right now requests are closed, but since you sent this a while ago, it was already in my inbox before I closed requests, so here you go! Enjoy! (And sorry for the long wait)

Noise (Dante x male!Neko!Reader)

Pressing your hands over your ears, you whined and sunk deeper into the sheets, seeking solace in the plush fabric, hoping that soon, the horrible noise echoing from downstairs would cease. Unfortunately, it wouldn't. It would never end, not unless you went down there and told the producer of such hellish noise to stop.

Of course, in doing so, you would ruin Dante's jam session, and that was a selfish thing to do, so you buried yourself further into your blanket-pillow nest and tried to shut out the world. This, too, was unsuccessful. Your tail coiled and uncoiled around your ankle, occasionally slapping against the sheets as you tried to distract yourself from the pain throbbing in your head; the thrusting deep in your ears, and the annoying ringing that followed. You were in so much pain, so much misery, such unfathomable discomfort, you didn't even notice Dante come through the door.

"Hey, babe, what's up? You taking a nap?"

"No..." You whined, wincing as the pain increased with a jolt.

"What's wrong, then?" Dante questioned, quickly noticing how you had your hands over your ears.

"My ears...they're too sensitive. It hurts..." You muttered quickly, desperate for him to shut up so your poor ears could stop ringing.

"Sorry, baby," Dante whispered, sitting on the bed and pulling you into his lap. "C'mere, I'll hold ya."

If only cuddles could take away pain. Alas, they cannot. They can only fill you with warmth and make your stomach all fuzzy inside, and occasionally make your ears twitch with happiness, especially if they are given a good scratch. Still, this was better than suffering alone with nothing but sheets to hold onto. The steady rhythm of Dante's heartbeat, as well as his tender back rubs, helped calm you down, making you feel more at ease, relaxed your mind, and gave you something to focus on while the pain in your ears faded away. Before you knew it, you were fast asleep.

30 notes · View notes

mr-kench · 7 months ago

Text

Theirs something brought to my attention about Helldivers that I don’t think many thought of but the Warhammer Fans pulled through again with the comparisons. For a bit of back story let me explain to you the most valuable Cannon Fodder that exists within Warhammer 40k. Everyone thinks of Space Marines when they think of Warhammer but they’re actually rare on a battlefield with most wars being preformed by their normal army, typically known as The Imperial Guard. Within the Guard is a Corp (or as they call themselves the Korps) Called the Death Korps of Krieg, or Kriegsman for Short. Long backstory made short they’re a group of Loyalistic Fanatics that were in Civil war for so long the planet turned into a nuclear wasteland and resorted to nothing but Trench Warfare. The winners surprised the Imperium by not only returning to the Imperium but already having a large contingent of Soldiers ready to enlist in the Imperial Army. Keep in mind that the Empire wrote them off as dead centuries ago and just abandoned the planet.

The Kriegsman are notable for the fact they do not fear death and instead embrace Death. They’ve been raised since birth to treat their own lives as expendable just to win a Centuries Long Civil War and that every death was worth it for just a few inches of land. Whenever a War Front gets too perilous and turns into a Meat Grinder the Empire says “Send in the Kriegsman” they’re thrown into hellish fights almost exclusively because they’re borderline suicidal and will do anything to complete a mission even if it means climbing on the bodies of their fallen comrades.

Helldivers are Kriegsman. They consist of the most Fanatic Among enlisted soldiers. Helldivers aren’t thrown in to win wars. In fact you’re not expected to survive your mission. Your thrown deep into enemy lines with no other support but your Fellow Helldivers, you Sabotage, Distract, Destroy Points of Interest and evacuate priority targets. Even if you die it’ll be considered a successful mission if you complete your goals. You’re Cannon Fodder given the illusion of being the best Super Earth has. You’re just there to jam the gears while the real fight takes down the enemy forces. You surviving is just a happy accident and you get to be more experienced Cannon Fodder for the next fight.

#story writing #warhammer 40k #helldivers #helldivers 2 #warhammer 40000 #death korps of krieg #Kriegsman

69 notes · View notes

potatoplace · 3 months ago

Text

Omega Needs - Chapter 7

Feylin, eventual Feysand

chapter 6 | chapter 8 | series masterlist

Story Summary: Feyre presented as an omega after being changed into a high fae Under the Mountain. Her heats have been hellish, and Tamlin has neglected certain aspects of her presentation. After the disastrous wedding ceremony, how will Feyre’s omega handle being away from her Alpha?

Warnings: A/B/O Dynamics, light smut, not proofread

Words: ~5.4k

Author's Note: here it is!! I am so damn excited for this chapter, it is probably my favorite in this series so far. Poor sweet Feyre, so ruled by her omega... also I miight have had 'guilty as sin?' Playing on repeat for the last 2k words hehe 🤭 I hope you guys all enjoy this chapter!!

18+ only pls

🩵💚🩵💜🩵

The sun was shining brightly when a noise pulled Feyre from her dreams.

“Feyre?” It was Mor. “Feyre, wake up, we brought breakfast.” There were footsteps and the sound of someone rustling through her wardrobe, then something soft hit Feyre in the face.

Feyre bolted upright, eyes wide as she stared at the Alpha- her citrus and cinnamon scent was overwhelming and delicious, so much so that Feyre was tempted to drag her straight into her nest.

“We?”

“Yes,” Mor smiled. “Rhys is waiting outside, he wanted me to check and ensure that you’re decent and comfortable with him coming in here. So, are you?”

Feyre put on the dressing gown that Mor had thrown on her, coincidentally it matched her nightgown and long socks, then loudly stated “Yes, you can come in Rhys.”

Rhysand entered the room with a smile, a tray overloaded with food in his arms. He set it down on the table, then began scooting it over to the edge of Feyre’s nest and moved the two chairs as well.

His scent flooded Feyre’s nose, the salt water and citrus scent was so refreshing, and Feyre nearly dragged him into her nest, the urge even stronger than when she had scented Mor. Feyre had already scooted towards the edge of the bed closest to the alpha without even realizing it, and stopped once it registered in her brain.

Feyre. Get a hold of yourself, she mentally scolded, and tried her best to breathe in the smell of the food rather than the two wonderfully scented alphas seated in front of her.

Mor took a seat and began dishing out food for herself while Rhysand plated everything for himself and Feyre. There were scrambled eggs with diced potatoes, onions, peppers and small slices of sausage, pieces of toast accompanied by pots of jam, and bowl filled with chunks melons and orange slices.

Rhysand stood at the outside edge of Feyre’s nest, plate in hand, but didn’t move to pass it to her, instead asking “Is it alright if I hand it to you, Feyre?”

Again with the level of politeness and care towards her nest that she had never been given back home. “Yes, that’s fine Rhys.” He handed her the plate, then a napkin and fork before sitting down. “Thank you, Rhys.”

“You’re welcome, Feyre darling,” He said with his soft smile, the one that Feyre though made his face most beautiful. Though she would never tell him that, it would inflate his ego far too much.

“We can skip training today, if you’d like.” The offer came are a few comfortable minutes of silence while they ate.

“Why would I skip training?” Feyre asked. She feels fine, though she would protest if she had to leave her nest at all.

“I just thought I would offer, is all. And practicing in here is no issue, either.”

Feyre bobbed her head, happy to have that confirmed again.

“So Feyre, was there anything you thought of during the night that was missing?” Mor asked, her eyes tracking Feyre’s movements, every lift of her fork to her mouth and its descent back to her plate. Feyre looked around at her nest, she hadn’t even thought to wonder if she was missing something, it had felt so instantly perfect.

“No, I think… I think it’s perfect the way it is,” she said softly, a hand gripping the fine silks beneath her. “This is the first time I’ve gotten to choose everything to build my nest,” Feyre admitted, turning her eyes back to the alphas, who were staring at her with shock in their eyes and mouth agape. “What?” Her voice held panic, worried that her nest had offended them, that it wasn’t perfect in their eyes.

“No, it’s nothing Feyre, that you’ve done. It’s just…” Mor started.

“Most omegas, especially the Lady of a court, are given and abundance of fabrics to choose from for their nests. Omegas are rare, and their nesting process is sacred,” Rhysand explained. “If an omega does not feel fully comfortable in her nest, it is unlikely their heat will be fully satisfied even after it ends, and it makes the probability of conceiving even lower than it already is. It’s just… it was odd, to hear that you have not been given this opportunity before.” His voice was gentle, full of his alpha tone to keep Feyre calm as she heard and processed the information.

“I… I didn’t know,” Feyre whispered, tears filling her eyes. She pushed her half eaten plate of food off of her lap and onto the bed, then grabbed a pillow, soft and fluffy, and buried her face in it.

“Hey, Feyre, it’s alright,” Mor soothed. She whispered something in a harsh tone before she spoke to Feyre once more. “I’m sure it’s just because the Spring Court was decimated over the past fifty years, there might be a shortage of the fabrics right now, sweetie.”

Feyre was still leaking tears onto the pillow, her breathing uneven.

“Feyre, it’s okay. You have a perfect nest right here, right now. We can even send you home with all of the fabrics if you’d like, that way you can have your perfect nest at home,” Rhysand offered, his voice so soothing and alpha and the thought of having her nest like this all the time was perfect.

Feyre leapt out of her bed and into his lap, tears staining his shirt as she curled up in his arms and sobbed. She breathed in his scent, unconsciously tilting her nose towards the scent gland in his neck. One of his hands started running through her hair and down her back, the gesture so comforting that Feyre sobbed harder.

Why wasn’t Tamlin like this with her? Why couldn’t he comfort her and teach her what she needed to know about her new biological needs?

Rhysand gave her a few minutes to calm down, his scent and touch quieting the outrage of the omega in her chest. She sniffled a few times before finally turning her face away from his chest, peering up at the alpha holding her.

“Sweet omega.” Her heart skipped a beat at his low voice, and her hand tightened its grip on his shirt. “You need to finish your breakfast, darling. Then we can do some magic training f you still feel up to it.”

Feyre bit her lip. She was embarrassed, yes, that she had crawled into Rhysand’s lap and cried like a child, but she hadn’t felt so safe and taken care of as she did now in such a long time. She didn’t move, hand still clutching Rhysand’s black silk shirt, right above his heart. She couldn’t move, if she was being honest. Her omega instincts had her rooted her, kept in the warm embrace of the alpha who had shown so much care to her over the past four days.

A very, very quiet purr left Feyre’s chest.

That had her bolting out of his arms and back to her spot on the bed, eagerly finishing off the rest of her breakfast as Mor and Rhysand shared a look that she missed.

“Well, Feyre, if there is anything that you think of that you would like for your nest here, or even duplicates of everything for you to take back to Spring, just let me know,” Mor proposed as she stood from the table. “And would it be alright for me to pick out things that I think you would like, if I happen across them while doing my own shopping?” Mor asked, a hopeful gleam in her eyes.

Feyre nodded her head- having someone pick out things that they think would fit Feyre’s taste would be nice. “I would love that, Mor. Just don’t go too overboard,” Feyre warned with humor in her voice.

“Oh, I won’t Feyre. They will be things that scream your name rather than just remind me of you. And it helps that I know what you like, since we went shopping together already.” Mor was over by her bedroom door now, hand on the doorknob.

Feyre gave her a warm smile. “That is true, you know what colors I like and the fabrics I can’t stand.”

“Yes I do, Feyre. I’ll see the both of you later for dinner.”

And then Feyre was alone with Rhysand.

She finished off the rest of her food, and Rhysand made the dishes disappear once she was.

“Do you feel up for training still, Feyre?”

“Yes, I should be able to manage,” Feyre confirmed, already building up the shields in her mind.

“Alright, we will only be doing magic training today, I would like to save shielding for our next week, though I expect you to still practice on your own, is that clear?” Feyre nodded. “Good. Next month we will begin working on having your shielding stamina raised, so that you can eventually have them active at all times. That means that I will be attempting to break into your mind, as gently as I can, at random points throughout the day to make sure you’re keeping them active.”

“Okay, so over the next month I should attempt to keep them active at all times?”

“Yes, that would be perfect, Feyre.” He flashed her a smile, and Feyre couldn’t help but give him one in return.

Something was definitely off with her, today. Though it was her first time nesting in a place other than Spring, and she had learned some… uncomfortable truths about the world that had not yet been shared with her by her actual family. Feyre would just chalk it up to the nesting.

“For today, we will continue with your magical training, and the stretching of your core. When you’re ready, Feyre.”

Feyre closed her eyes and concentrated on that cold mass of power in her chest. It was already more active than it was the day before, it seemed to Feyre that the training was waking it up gradually.

She stretched it as far as it would allow, through the joints of her shoulders this time. When it snapped back, she attempted to hold it, and managed to keep it slightly expanded with some effort.

Her breathing was hard when she opened her eyes, locking them with Rhysand’s. Her lips broke into a grin, even as she was struggling to keep the power in place. “I’ve got it expanded slightly!” She exclaimed, proud of her efforts.

“That’s wonderful, Feyre, try to let it go slowly, rather than snapping back to its original form. Adding that into your training regime will help you gain more control over your magic and make it more reliable in tough situations.”

Feyre did as he said, letting her power relax slowly back into its original shape and took a moment to catch her breath.

She was sweating already, her sleep clothes dampened with it, but she didn’t care.

Feyre was learning.

They spent the next three hours working on expanding Feyre’s core out to her fingertips and releasing it slowly, when Feyre hit a new milestone.

Her power was stretched so, so taut as it neared her fingertips. Feyre was hardly breathing as she concentrated so intensely on pushing it further, managing to coat her fingers in the viscous magic.

And then it happened.

A slight breeze swept through the room, rustling Feyre and Rhysand’s hair as it did so, and Feyre magic snapped back into her chest so quickly Feyre recoiled back into the bed, falling onto her back.

“Feyre, are you alright?!” Rhysand asked fretfully, standing at the edge of her nest and peering at her.

Feyre merely giggled and launched herself back up and into Rhysand’s arms. “Rhys! I did it! I used magic!” She exclaimed, hugging him tightly in her arms. His arms wrapped around her and squeezed her for a brief moment, before pulling away to look at her beaming face.

“You did, Feyre. You have done so perfectly, so wonderfully and I am so proud of you,” Rhysand gushed, and Feyre could feel it in her bones how sincere he was being.

“Thank you, Rhys.” It was then that Feyre remembered how unclothed she was, wrapped only in a dressing gown over her socks and nightgown, and she stepped away from him and back onto the fabric of her nest.

“You’ve earned it, Feyre. Now, I think we should call it a day, if you’d like I can go get us some lunch while you wash up?” He offered.

“I’d like that, thank you Rhys.” Rhysand left the room, leaving Feyre behind to bathe.

She reluctantly left the area of her nest, stripping off her clothes and tossing them into the laundry bin in her bathroom. She submerged herself into the bathing pool and looked out at the mountains in front of her. It was snowing today, a layer of white covering even the valley below, and Feyre couldn’t help but gaze at it in awe.

She hadn’t realized how much she had missed snowfall over the past year. While it had signified death to her as a human, now it was just a beautiful feature of the weather, something that quieted the land around her. Everything seemed more peaceful with the snow falling.

Feyre sighed, longing to capture the landscape on a canvas. Instead, she washed her hair and body quickly, not wanting Rhysand to return while she was still naked in the bath. She got out and wrapped her hair in one towel and her body in another and went to her wardrobe. Feyre dressed in a pair of black leggings and a knit sweater again, this time the sweater in a dark purple that was nearly black. She had slipped on a pair of socks right as a knock came on her door, and Feyre padded over to it.

She opened the door, revealing Rhysand carrying a tray holding two grilled sandwiches and two small bowls of salad. “Come in,” Feyre said, opening the door for him.

He placed the tray on the table once more, and handed one of the plates and bowls to Feyre after she had settled down in her nest. The sandwich had chicken, tomato slices, cheese, and some type of green sauce, which initially threw Feyre off until she smelled the sandwich, the basil and garlic scent was divine.

They ate in silence, Feyre too tired to make conversation and Rhysand lost in thought.

“What are you thinking about?” Feyre questioned after a few minutes of Rhysand’s face being slightly scrunched up.

His eyes met hers, intense violet crashing against stormy blue. “I am wondering why you have been kept in the dark on omega and alpha customs. Nothing against you, of course, I’m just… curious as to why.”

Feyre sighed. “I am… wondering that as well. It seems as though every day here I learn something new that I feel I should have known a year ago.”

“No matter the reason or timing, I am glad that you are able to learn now, Feyre. It is… a very important change in your life, and you deserve to have all of the information you can.”

“Thank you, Rhys.” Feyre gave him a soft smile.

“Well, now that we’re done eating, I’ve got to be off,” Rhysand said as he stood up, vanishing the dishes. “I have a few meetings to attend, but I should be back in time for dinner, Feyre. Are you still wanting to take your meals in here?”

“Yes,” Feyre confirmed. “I don’t think I could be comfortable out of my room, tonight…”

“That is no problem, Feyre. I will see you in a few hours.”

He walked to the door, opening it before Feyre voice made him pause.

“Thank you, Rhys. For everything.”

He looked back at her and flashed her a brilliant grin. “You’re welcome, Feyre darling.” He shut the door behind him, leaving Feyre alone in her bedroom.

Already, she was missing the comforting scent of an alpha filling her senses. Feyre grabbed the romance novel she has been reading from the nightstand and curled in her body pillow. She tugged the blankets up around her body, getting as comfortable as she could before she began to read.

🩵💚🩵💜🩵

Feyre had nearly finished the book by the time Mor and Rhysand arrived at her bedroom door again, and it swung open to reveal the two gorgeous alphas on the other side, scents flooding Feyre’s vicinity along with whatever delicious food they had brought with them.

The food was placed on the table, a bowl of… something placed in Feyre’s hands by Rhysand after he got permission to hand it to her. He also give her a small bowl of crackers.

The food in the bowl was made of minced beef, beans, and onions and was very thick, thicker than a stew. Rhysand and Mor were already crushing crackers over their bowls, and Feyre followed suit.

When she took the first bite, she was blown away by the flavor and how comforting the dish was, the extra taste of the crackers only adding to it.

Rhysand and Mor were talking to each other, but Feyre could hardly pay attention to the words they were saying. Between their overwhelming scents and the delicious food, her thoughts were muddled and it was all she could do to keep quietly eating her dinner.

When Feyre finally came to the present again, Mor was already gone, and Rhysand was vanishing their dishes away, Feyre’s included as she had finished her food minutes ago without realizing.

“Are you doing alright, Feyre?” He asked sweetly, and Feyre looked up at him. She nodded without thinking, not having heard anything but her name. “Alright, if you’re sure. I’m going to head to bed, I suggest you do the same, Feyre. You worked hard today.”

Feyre’s cheeks heated at the praise and she bit her lip while staring at him, mind blank. He moved to the door, and Feyre tracked his path.

“Go to sleep, omega,” he commanded in his alpha tone as he shut the door behind him, taking his scent with him.

A whine built in Feyre’s throat, but she suppressed it before it could escape her. The command hung heavy in her mind, and she quickly went to the wardrobe to change into sleepwear. A nightgown similar to the pink one she had worn a few nights ago caught her eye, this time in a rich amethyst. Feyre plucked it off its hanger and slid it onto her body, loving the way the fabric slipped down her like water. The flowing skirt of the nightgown called to Feyre, and she did a few small spins to see the way it moved around her, fascinated by it.

But the command pressed into her bones, her omega calling her to her nest. She slunk over to it, crawling between the many blankets and swaths of fabric covering bed. Feyre pulled the violet body pillow into her body, pinning it between her legs and clutching it in her arms. Her hips rocked gently against the pillow before she finally settled, letting out a deep breath and allowing sleep to claim her.

🩵💚🩵💜🩵

The heat was unbearable, so much so that Feyre woke in the middle of the night, legs still clenched around the pillow and hips rocking against it, searching for friction. Without thinking, a hand slipped down to her clothed cunt, pressing against it in an attempt to ease the ache that was building.

A whine left her lips, desperate and wanting.

Her nest was missing something.

Feyre dragged herself out of her nest, into the hallway. A smell caught in her nose, musky and perfect and alpha.

Alpha. That’s what I need.

Feyre began following the scent, pausing her journey only when cramps overtook her ability to walk. She let out another whine, she needs her alpha now.

The scent grew thicker with each step she took, until she reached a door. Her alpha must be in there.

Feyre turned the doorknob, stumbling into the room and falling to her knees as the delicious scent of her alpha overtook her. She sucked in a few deep breaths before standing again.

Bed. Need to get to the bed.

Feyre clumsily made her way to the large bed covered in black sheets and an alpha between them, shaking like a newborn fawn as another cramp rips through her abdomen. She makes it, lifting the sheet and slipping underneath.

His scent is so strong here, and she pressed herself against his chest as close as she could be. The cramps slowly come to a stop as she breathes in greedy lungfuls of his citrus and salt scent straight from his scent gland, her nose brushing against it.

Her alpha stirs when she scrapes her teeth against his neck, taking in a sharp breath.

“Feyre?” Her name rumbled through his chest so perfectly that Feyre started to purr, only nuzzling further into his neck. “Omega, what are you doing in here?”

Feyre moans at her title coming from his lips, the sweetest it had ever sounded in her ears. “Alpha,” she whined into his skin.

Her alpha attempted to pull away from her, so Feyre latched onto him, a leg swinging over his own and arms wrapping as far as she could around his chest. He loosed a sigh, and Feyre stopped purring.

Have I upset alpha?

“No, omega, you’ve done nothing wrong. Just… you should not be in here…”

Tears pricked at her eyes, and a whine dragged itself out of her lungs, prompting her alpha’s arms to wrap around her and pull her in, which instantly quieted her and put a smile on her face. “Alpha,” Feyre sighed, relaxing into his strong arms holding her.

“Alright, omega, you can stay in here until morning. But after that I need to take you back home, alright?” Feyre whined again, stopping once her alpha’s hand stroked along her scalp and down her spine. “Shh, pretty omega. Be a good little omega and go to sleep, okay?” Her alpha commanded gently, and Feyre was helpless against his words, immediately sinking back into the honeyed dreamscape she had awoken from.

🩵💚🩵💜🩵

The sun had barely risen when Feyre woke again, the cramping in her abdomen and heat blazing through her to painful to sleep through. Her alpha was behind her, her back pressed tightly to his chest and his arms caging her in, making it impossible to move anything but her lower half.

She lowered her nose to his hands, breathing in deeply to scent him as best as she could in this position. Instantly, slick gushed out of her, wetting her nightgown even further than it had in the night.

Feyre wiggled her hips, searching for any kind of friction when she felt it- pressed against her rear was her alpha’s cock, hard and already slightly swollen at the base, a promising feeling to Feyre as her cunt clenched, wanting nothing more than to have it inside of her, filling her up with his seed and locking them together with his knot.

She pressed harder against him, angling her hips so that her pussy lips were aligned with his length, moaning loudly when she got the perfect amount of friction to lessen the heat flooding her veins.

Her alpha’s breathing quickened and arms tightened around her for a moment.

“Feyre?” His sleepy voice asked. “What are you-?” He paused, taking a deep breath in to scent her even as Feyre’s hips kept moving against his, she was nearly there-

“Fuck, Feyre, I need to get you home.” Her alpha disentangled himself from her, and she cried out at the lack of contact, heat instantly building inside of her again as she moved her hand down to the apex of her thighs.

Tears were streaming down her face as her pleasure sputtered out, even with her hand moving as quickly as she could manage. “Alpha please,” she cried.

Her alpha returned, pulling her into his arms and she sighed, burying her face in his neck.

“What happened?” Came a female alpha’s voice.

“She went into heat and snuck into my room, I thought she would be fine for a few hours so I could take her back at a reasonable hour, but-”

“But you were wrong, Rhys. There’s a reason her heat came on faster than normal, you know that, so why did you take the chance?!” The other alpha asked angrily. “What would you have done if you lost control, if you had claimed her right now?”

A growl ripped through her Alpha’s chest, and Feyre groaned against his throat. “I didn’t, Mor. Now are you coming with me or not?”

“Fine.”

Feyre kissed and licked at her alpha’s neck as they slipped through the fabric of the world, Feyre hardly noticing the sensation as her mind wrapped around the taste of her alpha. “Perfect,” she breathed against his skin.

“Fuck, what did you do to her?” Came a third alpha’s voice, uneven as he ran up to them.

“Nothing, Lucien. Feyre went in to heat in the middle of the night,” her alpha explained. He tried to loosen his grip on Feyre’s body, but she clung harder to him, lips latching onto his throat as she sucked on it, wanting to leave a mark-

Mark.

Feyre bared her throat to her Alpha, whining to get his attention while he argued with the new alpha.

“Fuck, give her to me.” Her alpha’s arms loosened, and someone’s hands pried hers apart.

“No!” Feyre yelled, attempting to lace her arms around his neck again, even as her body was being passed into the third alpha’s arms. “Alpha please,” Feyre wailed, tears falling freely as she lost her grip on him.

“Feyre, it’s going to be fine, Tam will be here in a moment,” the alpha who grabbed her said, attempting to soothe her, but it only made her more incoherent.

“Alpha,” she cried again, eyes opening to search for him- but he and the female alpha were gone. She sobbed harder, writhing in the alpha’s arms.

“What the fuck happened, Lucien?!” A booming voice yelled, and Feyre cowered into the male’s arms, hiding her face in his neck.

“I don’t know, they said she went into heat during the night, but that’s all I know.”

Feyre was passed to another set of arms, and she curled into them. But it wasn’t right- they didn’t feel solid enough, the scent was all wrong- earthy lilac and cedar, not the perfect soothing blend of salt and citrus that she needed. Feyre bawled harder, turning her face away from the alpha’s chest.

“Why is she crying so much?” The voice was too loud, too angry against Feyre’s ears and she pushed against the chest of the person holding her.

“I…I’m not sure, she’s been crying ever since she was handed over to me.”

“Mother above, she fucking reeks.” A female alpha, different than the one before. This one’s voice grated against her ears, sending more tears cascading down her face. “We need to question her, while the memories are fresh.”

“Are you serious, Ianthe? She is in the middle of her heat, she is in no state to-”

“While the memories are fresh.” The alpha carrying her took off quickly, and in a minute Feyre was being dumped into a hard wooden chair. “Feyre.” She turned her head into her hair, sobbing harder with the loss of contact as her heat built further, becoming even more unbearable than it had been in the wrong alpha’s arms.

“Omega.” The commanding tone had her peeking up, meeting green eyes with her watery blue. “Tell us the layout of where you were staying, and any information that you learned. Now,” he commanded.

Feyre merely cried more, fat arms rolling down her cheeks and onto her neck, wetting the amethyst of her nightgown further.

“She is obviously not going to be able to tell us anything useful in this state, Tamlin.”

“Shut up, Lucien,” he snarled. “If you tell me, as soon as you’re finished I’ll take you upstairs and give you my knot, alright omega?”

The promise of a knot had Feyre wracking her brain for answers, anything to get the relief that she needs, even if it isn’t from the right alpha.

“I… what?”

He repeated the question, slowly, as if she were a child.

She did her best to give him the layout, her mind hazy with arousal and pain as she struggled to summon anything of use.

“That’s really all you have to give us?” The female asked in a condescending tone. “You spent a week there and all you can give us is a vague layout? Fucking useless,” she scoffed, walking away and slamming her door behind her.

The green eyes alpha made to follow her before Feyre cried out a soft “Alpha.” He looked back at, then snarled.

“You smell horrid, omega. Take a bath, I might give you my knot then.” He stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him so roughly that one of the hinges broke.

Feyre sobbed, collapsing into the table in front of her.

“Sweet omega.” The one alpha left in the room approached her slowly. “Can I pick you up?” Feyre cried harder but nodded, allowing the alpha to secure her in his arms and take her away from the room.

A few minutes later he set her down on something squishy, and she collapsed back into it.

“Omega, you should take a bath and change, I’ll send your alpha in in a little bit, okay?” The alpha suggested gently, wiping hair out of Feyre’s face. “I’ll make sure you have some time to make your nest, okay?” Feyre nodded her head, not quite sure she had understood him, but she got she got the main gist of it.

Bathe. Change. Nest. Alpha.

The alpha left the room, and Feyre was alone. She dragged her tired body off of her bed and into her bathing room, turning on the tap to fill the bath with cold water. She took off her nightgown, scenting it before she tossed it into the laundry bin.

Alpha. Feyre moaned. Her alpha’s scent was still all over it, and Feyre pressed the dress to her nose, quickly working her clit as slick spilled from her center. She came with a loud moan, the scent of her alpha ingrained in her mind.

Feyre hid the dress in one of the counter drawers, wanting to keep the scent of her alpha around as long as possible.

She slipped into the tub, her orgasm and the cold water soothing the heat bubbling within her down to a low simmer. Feyre lasted only a few minutes in the water before she was pulling herself out, the water heated too much for her to bear any longer.

She dragged herself into her bedroom and grabbed the thinnest nightgown she could find before dragging herself into her bed. Feyre tried arranging the nest to her liking, she truly did, but nothing compared to the perfect nest she had already made.

This one was… horrible. Absolutely horrible. None of the lovely pinks and blue and purples, but dull greens and cream colored linens.

Feyre burst into tears just as her bedroom door opened.

“Oh, now, now, omega. I brought you tea just like you like, Tamlin is busy with some things that are more important than you, I’m afraid,” the fable alpha said as she made her way into Feyre’s bedroom, sitting down in her nest and placing the tray of tea on it as well.

Something in Feyre protested, a growl building in her throat.

“None of that, you foolish omega. Drink your tea, Tamlin will be up to see you whenever he is able to manage.” The alpha shoved a teacup into Feyre’s hands. “Drink,” she commanded.

Feyre had no choice but to obey, drinking down the scalding liquid that burned her insides as it went down.

“I’ll check up on you in a few hours, but don’t even think of leaving your room. You won’t get far in this pitiful state anyway,” the alpha tacked on, a vicious grin on her face as she glared down at Feyre. She took the tray and breezed out of Feyre’s room, slamming the door shut behind her.

Bone deep exhaustion hit Feyre, and in a few moments she was deep in sleep.

Series taglist: @icey--stars

27 notes · View notes

sol-flo · 9 months ago

Text

In 1871, irish author Sheridan LeFanu began publishing a Dr. Hesselius' retelling of a certain Laura's experiences with the vampire Mircalla Karnstein (whom she knew by the name of Carmilla). But now my attention turns towards another nested narrative: General Spielsdorf's. His niece, Bertha, had recently died, a victim of the "hellish arts" of the vampire. It is her story with Mircalla (whom she knew as Millarca) that I'd like to explore and give proper attention to, dig up from underneath the weight of three prejudiced 19th century men.

i've now published my entry for the queer vampire jam! bertha is a visual novel retelling / expansion of a nested story within carmilla. really liked working on this, hope you like reading it too :)

download on itch.io ^_^

#lesbian vampires #carmilla #indie games #visual novel #vampjamp #my art

70 notes · View notes

melbatron5000 · 2 months ago

Text

Sleepy, hungry, drugged, lost

The record album covers from Maggie's shop have been confounding me for a couple months now. They are JAM PACKED with Clues.

A couple of them I think I have figured out. A couple of them I think are pointing us towards something, like a trail of breadcumbs frozen peas.

Some of them are just making me nuts.

There are repeating themes on the album covers, and I started sorting them into categories based on their themes. But let me tell you about the first theme I noticed right away. I call it the "sleepy, hungry, drugged, lost" theme.

Right off the bat, what the fuck?? Sleepy, hungry, drugged, lost. Who? What? When does any of this happen in the show? And why is it the biggest category of albums?

Let me show you:

Antoine Balynska: It's Been a Long Night. Song titles: I can't wait to take my shoes off/Slip into the bath/Read a good book/Have a watery nap/Grab my jammies/Curl up in bed/Press my head into the pillow/Fall asleep forever

Colors: Black, gray, pink, green. Crowley, shades of gray, God, Hell?

Theme: Sleepy.

Okay, great. Some weird song titles on an Amazon extra. Whatever. Except:

Hamid Moon: Sea Songs. Song titles: One day I started floating/Got lost in the waves/Didn't bring a paddle/Been here for three weeks/Can't see land/There's little hope left

Colors: Soft blue, tan, brown, burnt orange. Aziraphale, Aziraphale, Aziraphale, secret Crowley?

Theme: Lost

Okay, the first one involved being sleepy, the second, being lost. Where are you going, Mel? Stay with me.

Izabelle McLaughlin: Singing in My Sleep. No song titles.

Colors: Black, gray, neon pink. Crowley, shades of gray, Heavenly miracles?

Theme: Sleepy.

Wasn't someone singing in their sleep? We assume Gabriel, but no name is actually said, and I'm not so sure. Don't ask me who it is, I don't know yet, but I don't think it's Gabriel. So, a second album featuring sleepy. Big whoop, right?

Oslo Revival: Come on Over to Our Third Floor Apartment. Song titles: We're having a party/Just for you/Four in a bed/Have this drink/It doesn't taste weird/We'll take care of you/We love you/You're one of us now/Together forever.

Colors: Black, white, gray, red, yellow, green, blue, auburn, purple, pink. Crowley, Heaven, shades of gray, Crowley, Crowley, Hell, Aziraphale, Crowley, Hellish miracles, Heavenly miracles?

Theme: Drugged, lost?

What the sweet Frances MacDormand??? What kind of song titles are these? Someone came up with these, deliberately, and then they got put in the Amazon extras. Why??

And Mel, what have you put in my drink? Where are you taking me?

Onward:

Raga Koboj: Earth, Swallow Me Whole. Song titles: Why can't I just stay in bed?/Sighing loudly/No one's going to lunch/I'm hungry but I don't want to eat alone/I wonder what's on the menu today/Probably something mediocre/I'm tired/It's Friday/I wish it would end

Colors: Black, blue. Crowley, Aziraphale?

Theme: Sleepy, hungry

Again, what the heck is going on here? Although now we have some overlap between sleepy/hungry. Still, though, what does this have to do with Good Omens??

There's more:

Randa Ransom: I'm Lost and I Don't Speak the Language. Song titles: Lost in Tokyo/What's that shop selling?/Sex dolls (self-assembly)/Where's the bathroom?/This toilet is singing/More sex dolls/There's a cafe for cats/I want to go home/What's home in Japanese?/Take me anywhere, taxi man.

Colors: Green, purple, red, neon pink. Hell, hellish miracles, Crowley, God?

Theme: Lost.

So here's another album involving being lost. Not hungry or sleepy. I'm still super confused about what's going on here. You? Great, let's keep going.

Rat Keith: Look at This Mountain. Song titles: The Mountain I Climbed/Assorted Wailing Chants of Peril/I Ate Some Berries (Shouldn't Have Done That)/What Happens on the Mountain, Stays on the Mountain/I See it in My Dreams/Soiled Leaves and Soft Bark/Don't Touch the Mushrooms/Huddle for Warmth/My Map Blew Away/This is My Home Now/Finally Rescued

Colors: Black, burnt orange, blue, purple. Crowley, secret Crowley, Aziraphale, Hellish miracles?

Theme: Drugged, lost, hungry.

With me so far? Good, me neither. One more:

Rehan Yu: Neon Dreams 2.0. Song Titles: Late Night Madness/Last Orders/Stumbling/The Night Tube/Falling Asleep/Waking Up in Vauxhall/The Night Tube (remix)/Giving Up at Wood Gree/Walking Alone/I Dropped My Phone/Shitty Kebab/Restless Sleep in a Bush

Colors: Black, white, red, blue, purple, neon pink. Crowley, Heaven, Crowley, Aziraphale, Hellish miracles, Heavenly miracles?

Theme: Sleepy, hungry, drugged (drunk), lost. There's the whole thing connecting all the other threads.

Did I say "connecting??" What the hell could the connection here possibly be?

The only thing I can think of right now is my theory about the missing scenes -- that there should be scenes opposite The Resurrectionists scenes, but they're missing. It's the only spot I can think of where someone -- Crowley -- gets drugged. So given the missing scenes should be parallels, Crowley drugs someone? Fucking WHO??

Whoever it is they've got in the bookstore, who isn't "you know who" any longer and was singing in his sleep? In both those instances, we assume Crowley and Aziraphale are talking about Gabriel, but I don't think so.

Is it Jesus 2.0? Except I suspect Nina is Jesus 2.0. Is it fucking GOD?? I know God is voiced by a woman, but let's let go of genders for a moment and remember God is often thought of and described in Christian mythology as not really any one gender. And given the Izabelle McLaughlin album, black and pink, titled "Singing in My Sleep," I think it might indeed be God. Though how Crowley might have drugged Her, I have zero idea. Does it have something to do with the 25 Lazarii miracle? Still, how could even that potent a miracle fuck with GOD?? What about someone else? Could it be Adam? Why would they kidnap Adam and drug him? Is it someone else ENTIRELY??

I will add that while I have black interpreted as a Crowley color here, it also seems to represent hiding and secrets throughout the show. And there is more than one person in the show with a black outfit and a pink accent piece. I feel like God's floating around somewhere, more present than we think.

I've also got purple interpreted as Hellish miracles -- but Gabriel's eyes are purple, too. Are those two things different shades of purple? I'm not even sure. It's kind of hard to tell. So take my color interpretations with a hefty grain of salt.

And frankly, I could be dead ass wrong about ALL of this. I could be overlapping categories that I'm putting the albums into -- sleepy, hungry, drugged, lost; only Neon Dreams 2.0 fits all four. That inspired me to put all these albums in the same category, but it's possible they don't go together. Maybe the sleepy albums all go in one category, and the lost albums all go in another. I don't know for sure. Perhaps they spider out from Neon Dreams 2.0? I don't know what that would mean.

But I feel like I'm onto SOMETHING. I'm going to keep poking until I find out exactly what.

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens meta #good omens analysis #ineffable mystery #good omens fan theory #is it a theory if I don't know what the hell I'm looking at?#good omens maggie #the small back room #maggie's shop

30 notes · View notes