#and above all an supernaturally evil baby

[codenamesazanka]

i always loved the Geten Himura reveal and blurb of backstory because it really rounded out the world of bnha. imo. It was a relatively tiny detail, but it showed that problems were deeper and more complex than just Bad Man, because many things were interconnected, and how tragedies can occur due to those chains of intersections.

Like, the fact that the Himura were traditional wealthy landowners was significant, because it meant they were the exact sort of old-money conservative douchebags that would hate change, that would marry cousins to keep their bloodline pure, that would raise children with the expectations to sell them off in arranged marriages. And because they were an old landowning clan, they would've had influence over local village politics - so is it any surprise that villages would be awful towards heteromorphs, when the village leaders or elites were people who rather marry their cousins than 'taint' their bloodline with outsiders and possibly have a kid with a heteromorphic quirk?

It meant Rei was always prepared to not marry for love, but be married to someone rich, and stay in that marriage no matter what, for the sake of her family. I don't know how low the Himura fell, but given that they're a big landowning family, they probably weren't 'starving in the streets' poor and in need of cash for survival, but rather didn't have the money to support their previously comfortable lifestyle. Rei kept in contact with her mom, but the mom could offer no support when Enji turned abusive - whether it was because the mom was also trained to be a traditional housewife and thought this was all normal, or because the mom needed the daughter to keep up a lifestyle, it's all fucked up. And plus, the marriage broker in Chapter 301 also mentioned "Himura women" like there's bunch, and there probably were - Rei's sisters or cousins also getting married off for money, also stuck in this clan-obligation-duty-dysfunction-web.

Enji was the asshole Rei ended up marrying, and everything that happened is his fault, but there very much could've been five other wealthy assholes that her parents had lined up for her to meet. In fact, Enji could've been a particularly useful idiot for the Himura - at the time, Enji was only 21, 22 years old, only having reached the age of majority the year or two before; his father was dead, so he's the head of his household, so they don't have to worry about pesky in-laws; he was probably nouveau riche from his Hero career, so he had no idea of old clan politics; he wanted a quirk marriage, which fit perfectly with their blood purity ideology; and he wanted a kid immediately, sealing the deal. Enji's selfishness matched beautifully with Himura's own messed up issues.

And so the problem isn't just Enji, and it didn't affect just Rei, it's a whole thing. And I so always thought this reveal added so much to the landscape of HeroAcaWorld, where quirks didn't only brought new problems, but exacerbated old prejudices and inequalities, entrenching them even further into the fabric of society. And it would've been fascinating to see how Heroes would have to deal with that.

[danothan]

yoshikage kira headcanon list:

1. his finger-chewing tendencies existed even before he could form memories, so his mother bought him baby mitts to knock the habit early. the lack of grip led him to slip and fall often, which gave kiramom quite the scare, but seeing as the mittens were a necessary evil, she took it upon herself to do for him what he couldn’t. read into that what you will.

1.2. by the time it was no longer an appropriate age for him to wear baby mittens, he was still indulging the habit like nothing had changed at all. i imagine it started off as mostly a habitual comfort early on, and developed into self-harm when he felt the need for control.

1.3. jumping off of izzy’s hc that he has a low pain tolerance, i think that the sensation of pain is very sobering to kira, hence the development from thumb-sucking to finger-chewing, as noted by f0r. as unbearable as pain is for him, i think it’s also grounding, esp in moments of anxiety. low pain threshold, low pain tolerance, but a high secret third thing (bad coping mechanisms).

2. this one isn’t canon compliant, but i like to think that kira’s nails don’t actually grow supernaturally fast and are more of a reflection of his state of mind. i think they def grow faster than the average person’s, but it’s a mix of genetics, routine nail care stimulating the growth, and perception bias. he only “notices” it when he’s aroused or stressed bc it’s harder to ignore, and let’s be honest, arousal and stress go hand-in-hand for the guy (ha. hand-in-hand).

3. kira doesn’t just hate body hair on women but also on himself, tho probably for different reasons (aesthetic vs sensory, respectively). this wasn’t much of an issue before taking on kosaku’s face seeing as he doesn’t grow much of it himself, but he would still shave all the same, and always smooth. this is evidenced by the fact that he reached for the blade razor rather than kosaku’s electric one (blades are known for a closer shave, while kosaku used an electric razor since “regular razors usually give you burns,” implying that he uses a guard which is a less close shave). living as kosaku was hell too since he had to shave more frequently and the stubble was a lot scratchier.

4. bouncing off of f0r’s selective hygiene hc, his idea of cleanliness is very contradictory and more aligned w perceived contamination than actual germs. may i remind you of when he licked blood off of his hands during the fight w shigechi as to not stain his clothes. granted, it was his own blood, but considering his self-report abt masturbating, i wouldn’t say it’s far fetched to believe he’s not all that concerned abt washing his own hands.

4.1. speaking of self-report masturbation habits, kira believes himself to be above masturbation despite probably being a virgin, but the difference between him and those “sweaty unwashed guys” is that he never uses his own hand anymore. 😥

5. kira is attentive to detail but only to the extent that he’s aware. he has an appreciation for specific types of hands, but it’s all very superficial. for example, he’ll paint some nails pretty, but he wouldn’t think to push back the cuticles. like what is this:

right over the cuticle… you know that polish is chipping, and he’s sucking it right down 😭

6. kira uses this exact cologne:

6.1. i appreciate that his cologne is unisex since he prob wants a feminine scent for his gfs but nothing so flagrantly womanly that it reflects poorly on him, which leads me to believe that he never went out of his way to buy nail polish (suspicious for a man!) but instead stole it from one of his victims, perhaps if she was carrying it in her purse.

7. he’s a serial killer dater, but he’s no cheater. he might be looking at other hands while he’s in a “relationship,” but at least he’s monogamous abt it; he’ll break up w his current gf before moving on! i mean, why not just take both hands? simple, he can only handle one lady at a time 😌

8. he’s a stickler for routine, and this applies to his diet. these are 2 separate breakfasts he made from eps 1 & 21:

the exact same, even down to the placement of each dish and utensil. maybe he adds a little measured variety in his lunch and dinner choices, but i’d like to think this is how he makes breakfast every morning, and he never gets sick of it. shinobu occasionally cooking up dif breakfasts for him was probably a shock to the system.

8.1. if he was cooking in someone else’s house and they didn’t have a butter knife or, god forbid, had orange juice w PULP, he’d genuinely get offended. no decorum or taste whatsoever, tsk tsk. it’s a good thing he’s there to “set her soul right.”

8.2. maybe further down the line in the kawajiri household, shinobu would’ve commented on his repetitive breakfast choices, and he’d have to force himself to make an omelette or smth to appease her wildly sporadic (normal) appetite. maybe she’d learn how to make breakfast the way he usually does, just to show that she cares ☺️ but unfortunately she overcooked the eggs, and the knife is in the butter the wrong way, and the toast errs on the side of burnt, and… well, no matter. he’s more than okay being the cook every morning from now on.

9. kosaku styles his hair flat and slick, but kira has no experience w the heavy duty gel that he uses, so it ended up in spikes so he could keep his signature little noodle bangs. old habits die hard.

and seeing as how shinobu made no comment on kira’s hair turning white, i’m gonna add a bonus kosaku hc that he’s always changing up his hair in some kind of early mid-life crisis. (“there goes my stupid insecure husband doing his hair differently again, as if that’ll change the fact that he’s already graying. 😒”)

10. rounding us off w my handcanons from a while back, kira’s hands aren’t smth he cares to keep prim and pretty the way he would for someone else’s, but he does have his own routine that puts them above average. although he picks at them during bouts of stress, they tend to heal quickly, as hands do (aided by his saliva bc you know even if he wasn’t chewing on them, he’s sucking on his thumb after peeling the hangnails). the lack of scarring all his life enabled his bad habits, only tempered by the impoliteness of it drilled into his mind as a child.

[book--brackets]

Summaries under the cut

Emily by L. M. Montgomery

Emily Starr never knew what it was to be lonely—until her beloved father died. Now Emily's an orphan, and her mother's snobbish relatives are taking her to live with them at New Moon Farm. She's sure she won't be happy. Emily deals with stiff, stern Aunt Elizabeth and her malicious classmates by holding her head high and using her quick wit. Things begin to change when she makes friends: with Teddy, who does marvelous drawings; with Perry, who's sailed all over the world with his father yet has never been to school; and above all, with Ilse, a tomboy with a blazing temper. Amazingly, Emily finds New Moon beautiful and fascinating. With new friends and adventures, Emily might someday think of herself as Emily of New Moon.

Savvy by Ingrid Law

For generations, the Beaumont family has harbored a magical secret. They each possess a "savvy" -a special supernatural power that strikes when they turn thirteen. Grandpa Bomba moves mountains, her older brothers create hurricanes and spark electricity . . . and now it's the eve of Mibs's big day.

As if waiting weren't hard enough, the family gets scary news two days before Mibs's birthday: Poppa has been in a terrible accident. Mibs develops the singular mission to get to the hospital and prove that her new power can save her dad. So she sneaks onto a salesman's bus . . . only to find the bus heading in the opposite direction. Suddenly Mibs finds herself on an unforgettable odyssey that will force her to make sense of growing up-and of other people, who might also have a few secrets hidden just beneath the skin.

The Last Apprentice by Joseph Delaney

Thomas Ward is the seventh son of a seventh son and has been apprenticed to the local Spook. The job is hard, the Spook is distant and many apprentices have failed before Thomas. Somehow Thomas must learn how to exorcise ghosts, contain witches and bind boggarts. But when he is tricked into freeing Mother Malkin, the most evil witch in the County, the horror begins...

The View from Saturday by E. L. Konigsburg

How has Mrs. Olinski chosen her sixth-grade Academic Bowl team? She had a number of answers. But were any of them true? How had she really chosen Noah and Nadia and Ethan and Julian? And why did they make such a good team? It was a surprise to a lot of people when Mrs. Olinski's team won the sixth-grade Academic Bowl contest at Epiphany Middle School. It was an even bigger surprise when they beat the seventh grade and the eighth grade, too. And when they went on to even greater victories, everyone began to ask: How did it happen?

It happened at least partly because Noah had been the best man (quite by accident) at the wedding of Ethan's grandmother and Nadia's grandfather. It happened because Nadia discovered that she could not let a lot of baby turtles die. It happened when Ethan could not let Julian face disaster alone. And it happened because Julian valued something important in himself and saw in the other three something he also valued.

Mrs. Olinski, returning to teaching after having been injured in an automobile accident, found that her Academic Bowl team became her answer to finding confidence and success. What she did not know, at least at first, was that her team knew more than she did the answer to why they had been chosen.

The Looking Glass Wars by Frank Beddor

When Alyss Heart, newly orphaned heir to the Wonderland throne, flees through the Pool of Tears to escape her murderous Aunt Redd, she finds herself lost and alone in Victorian London. Befriended by an aspiring author named Lewis Carrol, Alyss tells the violent, heartbreaking story of her young life. Alyss trusts this author to tell the truth so that someone, somewhere will find her and bring her home. But he gets the story all wrong. He even spells her name incorrectly!

Fortunately, Royal Bodyguard Hatter Madigan knows all too well the awful truth of Alyss' story - and he's searching every corner of our world to find the lost princess and return her to Wonderland, to battle Redd for her rightful place as the Queen of Hearts.

Misty by Marguerite Henry

"You'll never catch the Phantom," says Grandpa. "That horse is fast as the wind. She's escaped from every roundup on the island!" But Paul and Maureen want the beautiful wild mare for their very own. "I'm going to capture her myself," says Paul.

When Paul finally overtakes the Phantom, he makes a surprising discovery. Running at her side is a brand-new, silvery-gray colt - Misty!

East by Edith Pattou

Rose has always been different.

Since the day she was born, it was clear she had a special fate. Her superstitious mother keeps the unusual circumstances of Rose's birth a secret, hoping to prevent her adventurous daughter from leaving home... but she can't suppress Rose's true nature forever.

So when an enormous white bear shows up one cold autumn evening and asks teenage Rose to come away with it--in exchange for health and prosperity for her ailing family--she readily agrees.

Rose travels on the bear's broad back to a distant and empty castle, where she is nightly joined by a mysterious stranger. In discovering his identity, she loses her heart-- and finds her purpose--and realizes her journey has only just begun.

The Midwife's Apprentice by Karen Cushman

The girl known only as Brat has no family, no home, and no future until she meets Jane the Midwife and becomes her apprentice. As she helps the sharp-tempered Jane deliver babies, Brat--who renames herself Alyce--gains knowledge, confidence, and the courage to want something from life: "A full belly, a contented heart, and a place in this world." Medieval village life makes a lively backdrop for the funny, poignant story of how Alyce gets what she wants.

Circle of Magic by Tamora Pierce

With her gift of weaving silk thread and creating light, Sandry is brought to the Winding Circle community. There she meets Briar, a former thief who has a way with plants; Daja, an outcast gifted at metalcraft; and Tris, whose connection with the weather unsettles everyone, including herself. At Winding Circle, the four misfits are taught how to use their magic - and to trust one another. But then disaster strikes their new home. Can Sandry weave together four kinds of magical power and save herself, her friends, and the one place where they've ever been accepted?

Catherine, Called Birdy by Karen Cushman

Catherine feels trapped. Her father is determined to marry her off to a rich man--any rich man, no matter how awful.

But by wit, trickery, and luck, Catherine manages to send several would-be husbands packing. Then a shaggy-bearded suitor from the north comes to call--by far the oldest, ugliest, most revolting suitor of them all.

Unfortunately, he is also the richest.

Can a sharp-tongued, high-spirited, clever young maiden with a mind of her own actually lose the battle against an ill-mannered, piglike lord and an unimaginative, greedy toad of a father?

Deus! Not if Catherine has anything to say about it!

[stackslip]

I'm curious, at the point where you're at in FMA 03, have you met Dante yet? I'm curious at what you think of her.

late but now that i'm done: i adore her. like, she could have benefited from a few more episodes' worth of development (like envy, really, and many other aspects of the ending that were clearly VERY rushed for time), but i fucking *love* what we got of her. i find her a thousand times more compelling and thematically appropriate an antagonist than father is.

the first thing i enjoy about her is that she is, fundamentally, a human. she claims to have surpassed humanity and looks down on them, but she is a real human person who just happens to have used alchemy to extend her own life, and the process costs not only her but everyone! she isn't a supernatural being, and in fact her bodies are all extremely fragile even outside of the whole rotting thing. what she is is really the ultimate alchemist: someone who really does see the world and everyone within it as material to be analysed, decomposed, and recomposed to her will. someone who dehumanizes others so profoundly they are just tools to her, things to be manipulated or destroyed or remodeled at her will, and who's fundamentally baffled when they react as people. but outside of being that good an alchemist, she's also just....... human. she's scared, and petty, and honestly a bit cringe and old-fashioned. she's cunning and used to manipulating people and movements, but she's good in that human, predatory and slimy way rather than as an inhuman force of evil. her motives too are human! she wants to keep living. she claims to be above it all but she is really just another human, among many MANY in the show, who struggle with the concept of dying and letting go of an idealized life. she isn't special among them! she isn't particularly unique in her motivation! she's one of a dozen characters of fma 03 who cannot cope with death as a part of life.

the second thing i enjoy is, how despite her manipulations and how she is, in essence, responsible for everything the brothers have been through (they wear her mark without knowing it for most of their life for fuck's sake!) she is not actually the only one with agency in the world, and while she pushes amestrian towards its genocidal policies the show makes it very very clear clear that she is not solely responsible for them, and that excising her does not suddenly make everything better or end racism or all that fucking nonsense lmfao, it's so clear that really, dante has been taking advantage of existing prejudices and amestris's own imperialist ambitions for her own gain. amestrians support the genocides and wars! it brings them resources, and national pride, and racial superiority! it strengthens the might of state alchemists! again what dante is is first and foremost a manipulator. the homonculi are all lost, and hollow, and desperate OR they are her own creations from past lovers and children she views as her property and lies to. they are inhuman and yet genuinely intimidated by her. she knows what buttons to press. dante doesn't implant or create things in others, she takes advantage of what is there and remolds it to her desire! equivalent exchange if you will :)))

third reason is: again. she is slimy. she is cringe. she is predatory but in a weird flailing way. she is so obviously a predator, and a very much older woman who knows nothing about the times and thinks she's still hot shit. she is sloppy at times in her handiwork. she is deeply, unbelievably petty. she is so awful it becomes campy. she throws a baby in the air for fun and experiments. she is so mad hoheinheim got himself a wife she uses the wife's homonculus for fun. she is EXCEEDINGLY creepy about rose and sexualizes and exoticizes her openly in a way that feels.... genuinely real and pathetic and racist (she is racist tbc, the narrative is v clear about it and isn't doing this for fun points). i think there need to be more evil girlfailure villains who aren't like just, hot sex machines but are this kind of realistic kind of everyday awful and evil.

fourth reason is that she's an excellent foil to a number of characters, starting with hoheinheim obviously and his own fucked up actions, and his own predatory nature towards younger women (and btw just like.... the little we get of their relationship and interactions has my head spinning, it's so good and juicy) and refusal to accept death until he does. but also edward--she isn't just trying to convince him bc he's hoheinheim's son and she's a fucking creepy, but bc again and again the narrative has shown that ed IS teethering on the edge of morality with his alchemy, that his curiosity and drive to prove he CAN do these incredible things deemed impossible, that he IS no ordinary alchemist and his love for al can lead him to dark places. he isn't dante, not yet! he turns away from her values! but had dante played her cards a bit better, maybe he could have been. and of course there's the izumi parallel too: izumi, dante's student who flees her master because there's something wrong with that woman; who grieves her son and tries to bring him back and is stuck with the homonculus that resulted--where dante tried to resurrect her son and used him as a tool. and all those who committed human transmutation in the name of bringing back lost loved ones, when pride and greed are said to be based on dante's former lovers she killed and controlled. did she ever really love them? was her first transmutation genuinely out of grief? when did she lose sight of the common humanity at the core of these other people? was it from the start, or did she lose it gradually as her soul rotted with her bodies?

i think that's also one of the most fascinating aspects of dante. she is, for all intents and purposes, a living corpse who refuses to die and move on. a zombie. in a show full of ghosts and people who are unable to die or move on, in a show about how idealizing the past and trying to freeze it or recreate a pitch perfect version of it stops you from seeing the love and possibilities right in front of your nose. and nowhere is that seen more than in dante: whose bodies rot faster and faster and yet she keeps believing she can fix it. she can use a thousand more lives to let her use a body for a few more months. why should she have to die and move on? why can't the world just stop for her? it should. everyone in fma 2003 keeps trying to repeat the past, to start up the same old cycles, to drag the long dead and buried kicking and screaming into the present. dante literally lives in a city so old and forgotten people have forgotten its existence and that it is the foundation on which central is built. she drags the bones of the homonculi's former selves to threaten them. she tries to immediately start up a relationship with her ex's son, believing she can remodel him to her liking. she takes and she takes and she takes. she has forgotten that one is all and all is one and that all struggles are connected, that the old must give to the new, that you cannot make the same mistakes over and over and get what you want whenever. she is rotten inside and out. i think it's fitting then, that she isn't killed by ed or al's hand, but that she simply storms off mad when things don't go according to plan (because she is just that petty) and that she is killed by the rebound of her own actions of untethering gluttony. she has so thoroughly dehumanized others, literally and figuratively, that she gets swallowed by the results of it, and dies the same pathetic death that the priest did in episode 2, and marcoh did, and many others that she sent gluttony to clean up.

like gd i do wish we could have gotten another full ten eps of her. but i'm also fine with her as she is. she sucks so bad. she's so delicious to dive into, the layers of her fucked up ness.

[ntoxicatedcherri]

WARNING: 18+ ONLY, NO MINORS ALLOWED. Supernatural themes, mentions of violence and manipulation, kidnapping themes, and coercion if you squint. This story contains smut and is dark in content. This is not meant to represent Jackson in anyway. This is purely fiction. If the themes mentioned above make you uncomfortable, do not read.

Word Count: 13.694

Pairing: Jackson Wang x Black!Original Female Character

This is for the Black K-Pop Girlies. I'm new to it but I love it. We don't have a lot of representation in this space either, so this is my contribution. I will be writing more in the future as well because Black K-Pop Fans exist and we are valid.

You’re safe. No one will hurt you.

Atabey could hear her grandmother’s voice

The goddess will protect you.

White sheets covered the mirrors.

The blue and green glass bottles still hung from the branches. 

Evil cannot enter this home.

But Atabey’s soul told her….

Something else.

The wood floors creaked as she walked the floor of Sylvia, her grandmother’s, home. It was well into the night. The time on her grandfather’s old pocket watch read 2:59 am.

 The rain spattered against the window pane. The lightning lit up the sky, casting purple and indigo against the clouds. These were the nights her grandmother would tell her, 

“Goddess Aaerie is talking. Be still and listen.”

Sleep didn’t find her easily these days. Her heart is still aching for her grandmother. Her last days filled Atabey with pain as she watched her slowly slip away. Muttering to herself about evil in the shadows. 

Atabey would braid her hair as her grandmother would rock herself back and forth, whispering prayers, and singing. Her last words were, “Keep the devil in the night. Keep the Goddess with you. Always.” as she passed her a silver necklace, covered in blessed oil. 

Atabey didn’t know what she was talking about, but her blessing made her feel safe.

But her soul told her….

Atabey

The sound of her name chilled her bones. Where did it come from? She was here alone. 

Atabey. Come to me baby. 

Atabey’s heart beats faster and faster. She crept to the front door. Her hands shook as she reached for the knob. She slowly opened it, the wind immediately sweeping her nightgown into the breeze. The rain poured, slightly obstructing her vision. 

But she could see a figure standing at the end of the end of the walkway. The lightning struck and she could see his slim figure. He was wearing all black. His light colored hair shone bright in the moonlight.

It was almost like he was standing right in front of her. 

Sweetheart…Sweetheart, come here.

The wind carried his voice to her ears. Her body dared to move closer to him.

Sweetheart…Come here. Now.

Her feet crossed the threshold of the house. The rain soaked her nightgown, the wind chilled her bones. Atabey’s mind was blank. She could only see him. She could only hear him.

That’s it. That’s my good girl. Come to me, baby.

He held out his hand to her. She was so close.Her fingertips grazed his palm. The silver necklace around her neck burned, snapping her from her trance. When lightning struck again, Atabey could see his wicked grin. The lust and desire in his dark eyes made her blood run cold.

Don’t be afraid, baby.

Her voice failed her, as fear overtook her body. Atabey turned, and ran as fast as she could, back to your grandmother’s house. She could see her grandmother. She was standing in the doorway, arms open wide for her. 

You cannot run forever, sweetheart. You belong to me.

Atabey slammed the door behind her. Her body shook from the immense fear that soaked into every pore of her being. Atabey could hear her grandmother’s voice. Singing and praying. 

“Keep the devil in the night. Keep the Goddess with you. Always.”

Atabey was safe. No one can hurt her.

But her soul told her

Something else…..

Four Months Later

Under the warm embrace of the afternoon sun, Atabey moved gracefully through her grandmother’s garden, a patch of earthly paradise tucked away in the heart of her home. The scent of blooming roses, honeysuckles, lilies, and tulips mingled in the air, creating a symphony of fragrances that enveloped the senses.

As she knelt among the sea of colors, Atabey's eyes surveyed the vibrant tapestry she had cultivated. The roses, with their velvety petals, whispered tales of love and passion. Honeysuckles, weaving through trellises, released their sweet fragrance like secrets carried by the breeze. Lilies, elegant and regal, stood as guardians of the garden's soul, while tulips, their vibrant hues a testament to the spectrum of life, bowed gracefully in the sun's gentle glow.

The scent of apricot and honey filled her nose as she coated herself in the oil,  High Priestess Ariah, gave her. Atabey had not been able to truly find comfort since that night. His smile would flash in her mind, sending a chill down her spine. 

Although, she did her best to convince herself it was just a dream-it didn’t work. She could still hear his voice in the night, calling her name in a sweet, honeyed tone. Her body would fight against her, wanting to follow the sound of his voice. All she could do was pray and call out to her Goddess. 

From the day she turned twenty-one, her grandmother and the other High Priestesses told her that she was blessed. The golden tattoos that appeared on her skin, deemed her as the Goddess’s chosen daughter. The daughter who would lead her generation of sisters to prosperity through truth, virtue, and dignity. It was a heavy burden on her shoulders but she knew that she had to carry it. 

Atabey grabbed her wicker basket and began to grab flowers from her garden to take to the temple for offering. She was preparing for her crossing ceremony tonight. During this ceremony, she would commune and ascend to the level of the chosen daughters before her. Through their guidance and wisdom would she be able to properly lead. 

She picked her honeysuckles, lilies, and tulips. The fruit on her trees had not bloomed yet, or she would have picked apples, oranges, and lemons to offer to the Goddess as well. 

She placed the basket on her hip and headed toward the wooden gate of the garden. She was eager to get to the temple and be in her Goddess’s presence. She used to be afraid of the idea of ascending. She was told that she would be separated from her body and enter the spirit realm to commune with those before her. In other words, she would enter a state of death temporarily. But through prayers and encouragement, she overcame that fear.

Close your eyes, my precious one,Underneath the moonlit sky,For in your dreams, the goddess comes,To bless you as you lie.

She chose you, child, from realms afar,To hold her light within,So hush now, dear, and heed her call,Let her love gently begin.

May stars above, in their celestial dance,Guide you through the night,And may the goddess' tender embrace,Fill your dreams with pure delight.

Sleep now, my darling, safe and sound,In the cradle of her grace,For you are chosen, blessed, and loved,In her divine embrace.

Atabey sang to herself. It was a song her grandmother had sung to her as soon as she was identified as the Chosen Daughter. It always brought her comfort.

As she walked through the tall grass, she could see a figure up ahead. She couldn’t tell who they were due to their head being covered by a black hood and their back was to her. Her heart began to beat faster. Her mind flashed back to that night.

Her footsteps slowed. So did theirs. Atabey moved to her left to hide behind a tree. Her nerves were on edge. She had been paranoid ever since that dream to the point where any unfamiliar face or presence she immediately took as a threat. She peeked around the tree to see that the person had disappeared. She wasn’t sure how they’d gone so fast but she took that moment to flee the area as soon as possible to make it to the temple. 

She didn’t want her fear to keep holding her back. Maybe once she ascended, these fears won’t be so heavy on her. She sent a silent prayer to her Goddess.

No one can hurt you. 

Atabey continued her journey toward the temple. As she wandered toward the forest that hid the temple, she felt a chill go down her spine. She could feel that someone was watching her. She looked back over her shoulder to see a man standing where she just was. He was wearing all black with vibrant red hair, holding an apple just as bright. He cocked his head to the side and waved at her. 

Atabey’s blood ran cold. He made no move toward her but Atabey could feel the power emanating from him still. Her heart was in her throat. Who was he and why was he watching her?

It was when he took a step toward her, that her basket fell to her feet. She was frozen in her spot. He was so fast, it was as if his every step was the length of twelve. 

Atabey finally willed her body to move. She turned to the forest and ran. Sticks pricked her feet as she bounded across the earth. She dared to look over her shoulder again. She could see his face clearly now. His pale skin glimmered in the bit of light filtering through the canopy. His eyes were a brilliant blue. He was not the man from that night, but he still felt familiar.

Atabey turned around and collided with something hard. A pair of arms grabbed her to steady her. She looked up and saw the most beautiful brown eyes she had ever seen. The way they sparkled in the sunlight that managed to filter through the canopy had her heart beating faster. He smiled down at her. She could see his lips moving but she couldn’t hear over the sound of her own heart pounding.

“Miss?”

Atabey snapped out of her trance. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t see you”

“It’s okay. Why were you running like that?”

“There’s a man over there. He appeared out of nowhere and I think he wanted to hurt me.”

The man looked past Atabey with confusion on his face. Atabey looked over her shoulder to see that no one was there. She was standing here in front of a beautiful man, breathless, speaking of a man who disappeared into thin air. She was sure she looked crazy. Where had he gone that fast? Atabey reached up for her necklace, but the jewelry was missing. She looked around, frantically, for her necklace. Atabey parted the grass and turned over every leaf. She needed her necklace. It was her lifeline.

The man bent down and grabbed Atabey’s trembling hands.

“I don’t see a man, but if you say you saw one then you saw one. Maybe you shouldn’t be out here alone. Where were you headed, I can take you there if you’d like?”

Atabey bit down on her lip. Should she go with him? Should she trust him? He appeared out of nowhere too… 

It’s okay. He won’t hurt you, sweetheart. Trust him. He will bring you to me.

“It’s alright, Atabey. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Atabey pulled her hands away and slowly took a step back away from the man. His smile faltered a bit. He did it so fast that it wouldn’t have been noticeable had she not been looking at him.

“I didn’t tell you my name.”

The man dropped his hands to his side. He turned his head and laughed to himself. Atabey, still backing away from him, kept her eyes on him. She wasn’t sure what he was capable of and because she hadn’t ascended yet, she wasn’t sure what she was capable of either. 

“Wow Christopher. You really fucked that up. Hyunjin, help me with this please.”

The red-haired man, who is assumed to be Hyunjin, appeared next to him. He looked annoyed with the dark-haired man next to him. 

Atabey turned to run and collided with Hyunjin. He didn’t speak. He only kissed his fingertips and placed them on her lips. Atabey started to feel light headed and began to sway on her feet. She pushed past Hyunjin and tried to move through the trees to escape. Her feet felt heavy. The world around her started to move in slow motion.

What did he do to her?

She collapsed to the ground. She did her best to crawl away. Her vision started to blur and darken around the edges. Her body gave up on her and she could no longer move. 

She felt weightless.

“I’m sorry Daughter of Aaerie. But he wants you and whatever he wants, he gets''

Atabey’s ears began to ring. It felt as if the ground was opening beneath her to swallow her whole. Heat began to encompass her body. She could feel flames lick her skin. It didn’t burn but the sensation was strange against her skin. 

Atabey did her best to look through the blur in her vision but her senses were immediately overwhelmed by the opulent grandeur that surrounded her. The air was heavy with the scent of black pepper, cardamom, cinnamon, and clove. Beneath those scents was the metallic stench of blood.

Atabey's gaze was drawn inexorably to the walls, where torches, ensconced in sconces fashioned from the bones of fallen warriors, cast dancing shadows upon the stone floor, their flickering light imbuing the chamber with an otherworldly ambiance. 

Stones of sapphire, emerald, ruby, and topaz were embedded in the rough-hewn stone like stars scattered across the night sky. Each gem glimmered with its own inner light, reflecting the torches' flames in a dazzling display of color and brilliance. 

At the far end of the chamber, upon a dais of polished black marble, sits a throne—a formidable seat of power crafted from the bones of fallen titans and encrusted with gemstones of incomparable rarity and beauty. 

She could feel the weight of body returning to her. Her fingers fidgeted against the stone floor. 

She could feel the eyes of unseen watchers upon her, their presence a silent reminder of the ancient powers that dwell within these walls. And yet, despite the palpable sense of danger that hangs in the air, there is also a strange allure—a whisper of temptation that beckons her closer, drawing her toward the throne and the enigmatic figure who sits upon it.

With his eyes adorned in dark makeup that accentuates their piercing gaze, he commands the room with an air of quiet authority that would send shivers down the spine of even the bravest souls.

Clad in a black mesh shirt that clings to his powerful frame, he exudes an aura of raw strength and dark allure. The fabric whispers as he moves, revealing tantalizing glimpses of skin beneath its veil, hinting at the secrets that lie hidden beneath the surface.

In his hand, he holds a glass of dark liquor, the amber liquid swirling within its confines like liquid shadows. As he raises the glass to his lips, the flickering torchlight casts dancing shadows across his face, accentuating the sharp angles of his features and lending an otherworldly intensity to his dark eyes. There is a dangerous elegance to his movements, a sense of quiet power that is as intoxicating as the liquor he drinks.

As he rises from his throne, a palpable tension fills the air, thick with anticipation and a hint of danger. He moves with a predatory grace, his eyes locked on Atabey with a gaze that seems to strip away the layers of her very being, laying bare her deepest desires and fears. 

With each step he takes, the sound of his boots echoes through the chamber like a death knell, sending a shiver down Atabey's spine. She can feel the weight of his presence bearing down upon her, suffocating her with its intensity, yet drawing her in with a magnetic pull that she cannot resist.

As he approaches, his movements are deliberate, his every gesture laden with a sense of power and control that leaves Atabey feeling both exhilarated and unnerved. She can sense the darkness that surrounds him, a swirling maelstrom of shadows and lust that threatens to engulf her whole.

Suddenly, without warning, his hand lashes out, sending his glass bottle hurtling towards the wall with a force that shatters it into a thousand glittering shards. The sound echoes through the chamber thunderously, a loud crack that reverberates in Atabey's ears, leaving her trembling in its wake.

In that moment, fear and desire collide within Atabey's veins, warring for dominance over her senses. She can feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins, her heart racing in her chest as she struggles to reconcile the conflicting emotions that rage within her.

On one hand, there is an instinctual terror that grips her soul, a primal fear of the darkness that surrounds him like a cloak. And yet, intertwined with that fear is an undeniable attraction, a magnetic pull that draws her towards him with a force that she cannot resist.

As he draws closer, the conflicting emotions within Atabey reach a fever pitch, threatening to consume her whole. She knows that she should flee, that she should run far and fast from the danger that lurks in his gaze. And yet, despite the warnings screaming in her mind, she finds herself rooted to the spot. A sense of familiarity starts to settle with her as she looks up at the man who stands before her—the man from those months ago, whose very presence ignites a fire within her that she cannot extinguish.

“Who are you?” 

As Atabey's voice cuts through the tension-laden air, Jackson's gaze softens, his eyes momentarily losing their steely edge as he looks upon her with a mixture of longing and affection. Despite the darkness that surrounds him, there is a vulnerability in his gaze, a glimpse of the man beneath the facade of the King of Shadows.

A faint smile tugs at the corners of his lips as he hears her question, a gentle warmth suffusing his expression as he steps closer to her. His voice is low and husky, tinged with a hint of emotion that belies the stoic exterior he presents to the world.

"My dear Atabey," he murmurs, the endearment rolling off his tongue with a familiarity that speaks of a deeper connection between them. "I am many things—a ruler, a shadow in the night—but above all else, I am yours. My name is Ka-Yee, but you may call me Jackson''

There is a tenderness in his words, a sincerity that cuts through the darkness like a ray of sunlight piercing the clouds. As he reaches out to gently brush a stray lock of hair from her face, his touch is gentle, his fingers tracing the curve of her cheek with a reverence that speaks volumes.

He leaned down to her, his lips gently ghosting over hers. Not a kiss, but a delicate brush.

“Welcome home, baby.”

A searing heat flooded through Atabey’s body. Her golden tattoos slowly changing to crimson. Atabey looked down at her body in horror and instinctively recoiled from his touch, a flicker of frustration crossed Jackson's features, darkening his usually composed expression. His brows knit together slightly, a furrow forming between them as he watches her retreat, a pang of hurt and confusion tugging at his heart.

For a brief moment, the vulnerability in his gaze gives way to a flash of irritation, a shadow of frustration clouding the depths of his eyes. It's as if a barrier has been erected between them, a wall of uncertainty that threatens to drive them apart.

Despite his efforts to conceal it, the frustration is palpable in the tension that creeps into his posture, the set of his jaw tightening imperceptibly as he struggles to reign in his emotions. His fingers curl into fists at his sides, a silent testament to the restraint he exercises in the face of Atabey's rejection.

But beneath the mask of frustration, there lingers a deeper well of longing—a yearning that refuses to be ignored.

Atabey picks herself up from the floor and runs toward the ornate doors of the throne room. 

“Would you like me to go after her?” Hyunjin asked, suddenly appearing beside him.

“No need. She has no idea where she’s going.”

As Atabey flees from Jackson's throne room, her heart pounds in her chest like a drumbeat echoing through the labyrinthine corridors of the castle. Panic courses through her veins, driving her forward with a desperate urgency as she searches for an escape from the oppressive darkness that surrounds her.

The winding passageways seem to stretch on endlessly, twisting and turning in a dizzying maze that leaves Atabey feeling disoriented and lost. Shadows dance along the walls, casting eerie shapes that seem to leer at her from the darkness, and the flickering torchlight offers little solace as it plays tricks on her senses.

With each step, Atabey's fear grows, gnawing at the edges of her mind like a ravenous beast. She can feel the weight of the castle pressing down upon her, suffocating her with its embrace, and the sense of isolation only serves to deepen her unease.

And then, as if by some cruel twist of fate, Atabey finds herself standing before a room unlike any she has seen before. Its entrance is shrouded in darkness, a sheer fabric that billows gently in the stagnant air, offering no clue as to what lies beyond.

For a moment, Atabey hesitates, her heart hammering in her chest as she debates whether to enter. But the sense of urgency that drives her forward outweighs her apprehension, and with a trembling hand, she pushes aside the fabric and steps into the unknown.

As she crosses the threshold, Atabey is enveloped in darkness, the oppressive silence of the room closing in around her like a suffocating cloak. But even in the midst of her fear, there is a sense of relief—a respite from the chaos and confusion that swirls outside.

With a deep breath, Atabey gathers her courage and presses forward, determined to uncover the secrets that lie hidden within the shadows. 

Suddenly the torch lights flickered on.

The chamber is a realm unto itself, a sanctuary of opulence and intrigue nestled within the castle. 

The centerpiece of the room is a massive bed, its intricately carved frame reaching towards the vaulted ceiling like a monument to decadence. Draped in sumptuous silks and velvets of deepest black, the bed beckons with an irresistible allure, promising comfort and luxury beyond compare.

Along the walls, rubies and aquamarines are set into the stone like jewels in a crown, their vibrant colors casting shimmering reflections across the chamber. Each gem seems to pulse with its own inner light, bathing the room in a kaleidoscope of hues that dance across the walls like ripples on a pond.

Above the bed hangs a mirror of polished silver, its surface gleaming with an otherworldly sheen. As Atabey approaches, she catches her reflection in the mirror's depths, her features bathed in the soft light of the torches as if seen through a veil of moonlight.

But it is not just the sight of the room that captivates Atabey—it is the scent that fills the air, a heady blend of tobacco and vanilla that hangs like a fragrant cloud around her. The aroma is intoxicating, wrapping her in its warm embrace.

As she inhales deeply, Atabey feels a sense of calm wash over her, the scent of tobacco and vanilla mingling with the whispers of the shadows to create a symphony of sensation that soothes her troubled mind.

“Well, I was going to wait to bring you here sweetheart, but since you’ve made your way into my chambers-shall I make love to you now?”

Atabey's heart leaps into her throat as she feels his presence behind her, a shiver running down her spine at Jackson's proximity. She turns slowly, her pulse quickening with a mixture of apprehension and anticipation, her breath catching in her throat as she meets his gaze.

There he stands, his eyes ablaze with an intensity that sends a thrill coursing through her veins. Atabey's mind whirls with a whirlwind of emotions—surprise, desire, fear, and longing intertwining like threads in a tangled tapestry.

As Jackson's words wash over her, Atabey feels a flush of heat spreading across her cheeks, her heart pounding in her chest echoing through the cavernous chamber. She was speechless, caught off guard by his boldness, yet unable to deny the flicker of desire that ignites within her at his words.

Jackson’s eyes drifted over to the bed. The large fixture beckoning to him. The vermillion sheets. He wanted Atabey there, spread open for his pleasure.

He reached out and touched her with the tips of his fingers. His touch was soft against her skin. He pulled her closer to him, burying face in the crook of her neck. Atabey's scent is a symphony of floral and fruity notes, each one intertwining with the next to create a fragrance that is both complex and enchanting. There are hints of jasmine and rose, their heady sweetness mingling with the light, airy notes of cherry blossoms and peach. 

With each inhale, Jackson is transported to a world of beauty and serenity, his mind awash with images of sun-dappled meadows and blossoming orchards.

And as he presses his lips to the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent with every breath, Jackson knows that he is lost. His tongue traces her jawline, sending a rush of heat over her body. Jackson moans at the taste of her and starts to push her back toward the bed. The backs of her legs collide with the plushness of the mattress. The silk and velvet fabrics gently caressed her skin as her body settled into the bed. 

She shudders as his hands push her skirt up her body. His touch is gentle against her. Atabey’s eyes fluttered closed at the feel of him. He nestled himself between her thighs, his tongue still tasting the skin of her neck. 

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited for you, my love. I’ve been drinking my loneliness away, but you’re here now. I love you so much.” Jackson groaned. A ripping sound reached her ears, as Jackson tore the bodice of her dress.

“You don’t know how bad I want you on top of me, beneath me, screaming and crying my name sweetheart. I’ve only dreamed of this moment.” Jackson whimpered against her flesh.

That searing hot feeling flooded through Atabey again.

Atabey! Stop!

Atabey forced her eyes open, catching sight of herself in the mirror. Her tattoos were changing to red again.

 She pressed her hands against Jackson’s chest and pushed him away. Jackson stares down at her, a pained look on his face. She kicked away from him, forcing her body up the bed and toward the bed frame. She had been fighting a fierce desire from the moment she’d laid eyes on him.

Jackson’s gaze was still intense, full of desire and restraint as his eyes trailed her body. She covered her exposed skin with her hands, cowering beneath his gaze. 

“I can’t be here. I have to leave. I need to go to Aaerie’s temple. I need to go home.”

“Baby, this is your home now. I’ve waited for you for so long, and I can’t wait any longer. If you went to Aaerie’s temple, I would’ve lost you forever. And that goddess be damned if I lose you.”

Atabey met his gaze with a mixture of defiance and anger, her jaw set in a determined line as she spoke.

Aaerie be damned? Who is this man and how dare he curse your goddess?

 "I am chosen by the Goddess Aaerie to lead my people. It is my duty, my purpose. I cannot abandon them, just as Aaerie has never abandoned me.”

Atabey pushed herself off of the bed and headed toward the sheer fabric of his room. As Atabey steps out of Jackson's chamber, the labyrinthine hallways of the underworld castle stretch out before her like a maze of twisting corridors and shadowed alcoves. Each turn she takes seems to lead her further from her intended path, the oppressive darkness of the castle closing in around her like a suffocating embrace.

Jackson’s presence seems to haunt her at every turn, his voice a constant whisper in the back of her mind, urging her to stay—to return to him and let him show her how much she means to him.

But Atabey pushes on, her determination driving her forward even as doubt gnaws at the edges of her consciousness. She knows that she cannot stay, that she must escape the clutches of this place and return to her people—to fulfill her destiny as their chosen leader.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity of wandering through the maze-like corridors, Atabey reaches the doors to the castle—the threshold between the world she knows and the unknown expanse of the crimson desert beyond.

But as she reaches for the door handle, Jackson calls out to her. Turning slowly, Atabey's heart sinks as she sees Jackson standing before her once again, his expression pained and desperate.

Why does she feel guilty for leaving?

"Atabey,," his voice was loud and commanding, echoing in the silence of the deserted hallway. "You cannot leave. You will die out there without me.”

“No, I cannot stay here. My people need me.”

“If you walk out that door, death or life, whatever fate has for you is on you.”

With that, she pushes open the doors and steps outside, into the crimson desert beyond. The air is dry and acrid, the sky above dark and foreboding, illuminated only by the eerie glow of a blood-red moon.

As Atabey takes her first steps into the unknown, she feels a sudden weakness wash over her, her vision blurring and her limbs growing heavy. 

How long have I been walking?

Panic rises within her as she finally realizes that she is alone, lost in a vast and unforgiving wilderness with no one to guide her.

With a sinking heart, she looks back towards the castle, hoping to see someone behind her, ready to come to her aid. But to her horror, she finds only emptiness—the castle was no longer visible. Only the red desert was present, the wind whirling the red sand around her, as if mocking her with an impassive indifference.

Atabey trudges through the vast expanse of the crimson desert, each step feels like a struggle against the oppressive weight of the world bearing down upon her. The air is thick with the acrid scent of sand and dust, the heat of the desert beating down upon her like a relentless hammer.

With every passing moment, Atabey's strength wanes.

Her limbs grew heavier with each labored breath. The sand beneath her feet seems to shift and sway, mocking her with its endless expanse, as if daring her to continue on in the face of the odds against her.

And then, with a suddenness that takes her breath away, Atabey's legs give out beneath her, the weight of her exhaustion finally overcoming her. She collapses onto the burning sand, her body trembling with fatigue and despair as she struggles to push herself back to her feet.

But the desert shows no mercy, its unforgiving embrace swallowing her whole as she sinks deeper into its crimson depths.

**********

For a moment, Atabey lies there, helpless and alone, the vastness of the desert stretching out before her like an endless sea of torment. But then, with a quickness that catches her off guard, darkness descends upon her vision, and she slips into unconsciousness, her body succumbing to the exhaustion of her ordeal.

When Atabey awakens, she finds herself lying on Jackson's bed, the softness of the mattress beneath her a stark contrast to the harshness of the desert sands. For a moment, she is disoriented, unsure of how she came to be here, but then the memories come flooding back—the desert, the heat, the overwhelming sense of despair.

As she sits up, her heart heavy with confusion and longing, Atabey casts a gaze around the room, searching for any sign of Jackson's presence. But, she finds herself alone, the room shrouded in silence save for the sound of her own ragged breath.

As Atabey's gaze drifts up to the mirror above Jackson's bed, she is taken aback by the sight that greets her. Gone is the simple attire she wore before—now, she is adorned in a sleek black dress that hugs her curves like a second skin. The bottom of the dress stopped just above her knees, giving a peek to her thick thighs.. A leather corset cinches her waist, accentuating her thicker frame and adding a hint of edge to her, usual, innocent appearance.

For a moment, Atabey can't help but marvel at the transformation, the unfamiliar garments lending her an air of mystery and allure that she had never known before. She runs her hands over the smooth fabric of her dress, the sensation sending shivers racing down her spine as she takes in her reflection with a mixture of awe and disbelief.

But as she sits up in the bed, her attention is drawn to a more pressing concern—the parched feeling in her throat that serves as a stark reminder of her ordeal in the desert. With a grimace, she reaches up to touch her throat, the skin feeling dry and rough beneath her fingertips.

“Hello, sweetheart. You’re finally awake.”

Jackson’s sudden appearance is an unexpected interruption to Atabey's thoughts. She turns to face him, her eyes widening in surprise at the sight of him dressed all in red, the black makeup still lingering beneath his eyes like a shadow. 

In his hands, he carries a tray laden with a cup of water and a platter of various meats, cheeses, fruits, and vegetables. As he sets the tray down on the bed before her, Atabey can't help but feel a pang of gratitude at the gesture, despite the fear and resentment currently flowing through her.

"Thank you," she murmurs softly, her voice barely above a whisper as she reaches for the cup of water, the cool liquid soothing her parched throat with every sip. She casts a sideways glance at Jackson, who sat down next to her on the bed. He gently traced her jawline with his thumb before doing the same to her bottom lip.

“How are you feeling, my love?”

"Why do you insist on calling me those names?" she demands, her voice tinged with frustration. "My love, sweetheart, baby—what do they mean to you?"

Jackson meets her gaze with a steady intensity, his eyes burning with a fervor that sends a shiver down Atabey's spine. 

"Because that's what you are to me, Atabey," he replies, his voice low and husky with emotion. "You are my love, my sweetheart, my baby. We are destined to be together, now and forever."

But Atabey shakes her head, her resolve unwavering even in the face of Jackson's unmoving conviction. 

"You say things like that but you were willing to let me die out there. My goddess would never." 

Jackson's expression darkens, a shadow passing over his features as he listens to her words. 

"Your goddess," he scoffs, his voice dripping with disdain. "She doesn't choose people to lead. She chooses innocent women to feast on their souls until they die slowly, and they end up down here in the underworld with me. Besides, that was a lesson you needed to learn."

A cracking sound was heard as Atabey’s hand collided with Jackson’s face. This was the second time he disrespected her goddess and she was becoming annoyed by it. And a lesson she needed to learn? Who was he to think he was qualified to teach her anything?

Jackson laughed, his husky voice filling the space. He admired her tenacity.

“You find me funny? You are a pig for disrespecting Aaerie.”

“Of course I find you funny, my love. You have such an unwavering devotion to that heartless deity, who has never shown you any proof of her love, and yet you are not even giving me the chance to show you my love and devotion. You would rather continue worshiping an evil, soulless wench. It is quite funny.”

Atabey refuses to believe that her goddess could be capable of such cruelty. "I don't believe you," she declares, her voice laced with venom. 

A smirk appears on Jackson’s face. Darkness flickering in his eyes as he reaches out to gently cup Atabey's cheek. "Then let me show you," he murmurs, his touch sending shivers racing down her spine. "Come with me, Atabey. Let me show you the truth."

Jackson held out his hand to her. Atabey slapped it away from her before standing up from the bed. She nodded her head toward the sheer fabric.

“Lead the way”

*************

As Jackson leads Atabey through the corridors of the underworld, a sense of apprehension hangs heavy in the air. Atabey's heart pounds in her chest like a drumbeat echoing through the cavernous passageways, her senses on high alert as she follows Jackson deeper into the heart of darkness.

Could it be true? Could her goddess be nothing more than a cruel trickster, luring innocent souls to their doom in the depths of the underworld?

Finally, they come upon what appears to be a dead end—a solid wall of stone stretching out before them with no apparent way forward. But as Jackson places his hand upon what seems to be a random rock jutting out from the wall, a mirage-like filter shimmers into existence, revealing a hidden passage beyond.

With a sense of trepidation, Atabey follows Jackson through the opening, her breath catching in her throat as they step into the dimly lit chamber beyond. And then, as the darkness gives way to light, Atabey's eyes widen in astonishment at the sight that greets her—a crystal-clear lake shimmering in the center of the chamber, surrounded by a multitude of spirits weeping silently upon its shores.

Each spirit is a woman, their ethereal forms adorned with tattoos similar to Atabey's own. They sit in silent vigil around the lake, their eyes brimming with tears as they gaze into its depths with a haunting sense of longing.

Jackson calls out to them in an ancient language, his voice echoing off the walls of the chamber like a whisper in the wind. Slowly, the spirits turn to face them, their faces etched with a mixture of sorrow and resignation.

One of the spirits steps forward, her form glowing with an otherworldly light as she reaches out a hand to Atabey. With trembling fingers, Atabey reaches out to touch hers, feeling a surge of power pass between them as their hands meet.

Tears stream down the spirit's face as she speaks in a language unknown to Atabey, her words carrying the weight of centuries of sorrow and regret. But as Jackson translates her words, Atabey's heart clenches with a sense of disbelief and horror at the truth she reveals.

The spirits, it seems, were once like Atabey—chosen by their goddess Aaerie to ascend and lead their people. But instead of finding glory and honor in the world above, they were deceived and betrayed, their souls consumed by Aaerie and the remaining sent to the darkness of the underworld.

As the weight of the revelation settles upon her, Atabey feels her mind spinning with disbelief and fear. She recoils from Jackson's touch, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she struggles to process the enormity of what she has learned.

“I want to go home.” Tears started to fall from Atabey’s eyes.

“Baby, you are home. This is your home now.” Jackson grabbed the back of Atabey’s head and cradled her in his arms.

Atabey pushed against Jackson’s frame. Her eyes red from the tears in her eyes.

“I want to go back to my home. My grandmother’s home. Take me home”

“Atabey, I want nothing more than to give you everything you want. But I cannot give you that. Anything else you desire of me, it’s yours.” He traced a fingertip from her jaw down her neck and to her collarbone. “And soon, I hope that you’ll want me the way that I want you, sweetheart.”

Atabey's vision began to blur, her head swimming with dizziness as the pressure in her skull built to a crescendo. She staggered, her knees buckled beneath her as darkness closed in around her, and in the chaos of the moment, Jackson caught her in his arms, his voice a distant echo in the darkness as she slipped into unconsciousness.

********

As Atabey's eyes flutter open, she finds herself once again in Jackson's room, the familiar surroundings providing a strange sense of comfort amidst the chaos of her thoughts. But this time, there is something different—a subtle shift in the air that sets her senses on edge.

She can feel it—the presence of another, the faint sound of water splashing echoing through the room from behind a sheer black fabric that hangs like a veil between her and the unknown.

Curiosity piqued, Atabey sits up in the bed, her eyes scanning the room until they land upon her reflection in the mirror. She gasps in astonishment at the sight that greets her, a vision of herself adorned in a stunning red corset dress, the fabric hugging her curves with a sensual elegance that takes her breath away.

With a hesitant step, Atabey rises from the bed, the fabric of her dress rustling softly as she moves. Her heart races with anticipation as she approaches the sheer black fabric that separates her from whatever lies beyond.

With a trembling hand, she reaches out and pulls back the fabric, revealing a sight that leaves her breathless—a bathing pool, steam rising from its surface like wisps of fog in the morning light.

And there, amidst the swirling steam, sits Jackson, his blond hair dripping water as he cleanses himself in the warm embrace of the pool. Atabey's breath catches in her throat at the sight of him—his muscles glistening with droplets of water, his skin bronzed and radiant in the soft glow of the room.

For a moment, time seems to stand still as Atabey drinks in the sight before her, her heart pounding in her chest with a mixture of desire and longing. She feels a flush of heat spreading across her cheeks as she watches him, the intensity of her gaze never wavering as she takes in every detail of his form.

He leaned to the side and grabbed an emerald glass bottle. He poured, what smelled like eucalyptus oil, into his other hand. Atabey bit down on her bottom lips as she watched him rub that oil over his chest.

I could do that for him….

And then, as if he could read her mind, Jackson looked up at her, his eyes meeting hers with a knowing smile that sent a shiver down her spine. He could feel himself hardening under her gaze, as he held out his hand to her. 

“You are more than welcome to join me, sweetheart.”

Atabey steps back from the sheer fabric, her cheeks burn with embarrassment, her gaze fixed firmly on the ground as she tries to regain her composure. She can feel the weight of Jackson's presence in the room, his every movement sent a shiver down her spine as she struggled to meet his eyes.

Atabey looks up as Jackson walks back into the room. Water dripped from his hair down his face. The droplets slid down to his neck and chest. He swiped his hand down his bare chest and to his pelvis. Atabey couldn’t help but follow his hands on his body as he stood, naked, before her.

“Do you like what you see, baby?”

“I…You…Big” Atabey could feel her stomach clench at the erotic thoughts that started to bombard her.

Jackson. Naked. Bed. Writhing. Sweaty. Needy.

 Atabey dropped her eyes to the floor. She was still trying to process Aaerie being an evil deity and consuming the souls of her worshippers. She needed to focus. She couldn’t lose herself in Jackson’s naked form at the moment. 

Too risky.

She feels a sense of relief as Jackson hands her the cup of water that was sitting on the table in the center of the room.

As much as she wanted to take her mind off of it, she could feel Jackson staring at her. Unashamed at his nudity, he continued to watch her. 

“I would have loved for you to join me. I could have given you immense pleasure.”

“Please, don’t. You shouldn’t say things like that to me.”

“You’re right. How about I show you? Tell me to show you, sweetheart.”

Atabey looked up to see Jackson stroking himself. He bit down on his bottom lip, staring at her with a fire she had never seen in anyone before.

“No.” Atabey looked away, doing her best to not let her true feelings show. 

Jackson knelt down in front of her. He hands gently caressing her legs.

“I know you feel the connection between us, baby.” Jackson gently kissed her thighs.

“And if I do? That doesn’t mean I want to sleep with you.”

“Oh baby, neither of us will be sleeping.” Jackson’s intense gaze swept over her. He wanted nothing more than to rip that dress from her body and consume her, but he wanted her to want it too.

“You shouldn’t talk like that. I want no part of you.”

“I think you want every part of me” Jackson reached out and traced her bottom lip with his thumb.

“You truly are delusional.” Atabey ran her tongue over her lips, tasting his finger in the process.

“Delusional? Perhaps I’m more perceptive than you want me to be. I am a god, sweetheart.”

Atabey, reluctantly, forced her legs closed and moved away from him. Jackson had a way with words that made her want to give her all to him. But she knew she couldn’t do that. She suddenly remembered she had a cup of water in her hand, due to its content spilling onto her from her shaky hands. 

As she drinks her water, Atabey can't help but feel a surge of curiosity bubbling within her. 

"Was it you who dressed me in these clothes?" she asked.

Jackson shook his head, his expression solemn. "No, it was Christopher's mate," he replied, his voice low. "She's been taking care of you while you were unconscious."

Atabey wasn’t sure if she could believe him. Her head was still spinning from her current predicament.

"Why would Aaerie take the souls of her worshippers?" she asked, her voice full of anger and pain.

Jackson's gaze darkened, a shadow passing over his features as he spoke. "Aaerie has always been jealous of any woman, human or deity, that surpasses her in beauty," he explains, his voice heavy with sorrow. "She marks them with tattoos and grooms them to believe they will lead their people into prosperity."

He paused, his eyes searching Atabey's for understanding.``I know because I've sat back and watched for millennia," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "The souls of those consumed cry out to me, which is why I had them hidden behind that mirage wall."

Atabey's heart clenched at the revelation, a sense of horror washed over her as she realized the extent of Aaerie's cruelty. "But why me?" she whispered, her voice trembling with fear.

Jackson's gaze softened, a look of profound sadness in his eyes as he reached out to gently cup Atabey's cheek. "Because you are the purest soul Aaerie has ever found," he murmured, his voice filled with tenderness. "When I saw you, I knew I couldn't bear to see how that future would unfold for you. That's why I appeared to you those months ago, I wanted to take you with me to avoid the danger that awaited you at Aaerie's temple."

Jackson could see the despair on Atabey’s face. He took the cup from her shaking hand. He cupped her face and looked her in the eyes, Atabey could see the sadness in his.

“I can never go home. My grandmother’s home…”

“I’m so sorry you found out your purpose was a lie, my love. I wish I could take the pain and confusion from you but you’re safe here with me. I will take care of you. And it is important that you do not go and talk to the spirits of your sisters alone. They are your family, but they are detached from their bodies. They are not who they once were and spirits can become malevolent. Promise me, you won’t go alone.”

Atabey thought for a moment. Could she really trust his word? She thought about her sisters’ spirits behind that wall and her heart sank.

“I promise.”

Jackson smiled warmly at Atabey.

Atabey looked into Jackson's eyes, she felt a strange pull at her chest—a sensation she can't quite explain but one that fills her with warmth and a sense of belonging. She saw it reflected in his eyes, the depth of his emotions laid bare for her to see, the way he cared deeply for her, willing to move paradise and hell to ensure her safety and happiness.

“Do you need anything, Atabey?" Jackson asked, his voice soft with concern. "Anything at all, just name it."

Atabey hesitated for a moment, her mind raced with possibilities before settling on a simple request. "I'm hungry," she admitted, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Jackson's smile is like a ray of sunshine breaking through the clouds as he takes her hand in his.

“You might want to put some clothes on,” Atabey giggled. Jackson looked down at his nakedness and smirked. He could see Atabey’s eyes drop down to his erection and she quickly looked away. 

Jackson quickly went to his drawers and pulled out a pair of leather pants. He threw them on and made his way back to Atabey, who was looking at herself in the mirror above the bed.

“You’re beautiful, Atabey”

“Thank you. So are you.” Atabey murmured. It pulled on Jackson’s heart to hear her say that to him. 

Atabey laced her arm through his, and stepped out into the hall. The silence was comforting as she followed his lead to the dining hall. The room is bathed in the warm glow of candle lit chandeliers, their flickering flames casting dancing shadows across the marble floor. 

At the center of the room stood a long marble table, its surface adorned with an array of fruits and delicacies fit for a king. Atabey's eyes lit up at the sight of the peaches, her favorite fruit, nestled amongst the other offerings.

With a delighted squeal, she reaches out and grabs a peach, its juicy flesh yielding beneath her fingers as she takes a bite. The sweetness exploded on her tongue, filling her mouth with flavor as she savored every delicious morsel.

As they sat down to eat, Atabey and Jackson engaged in a long conversation, their words flowing freely as they shared stories and dreams. Atabey tells Jackson about her garden, how she loves to spend her days planting flowers and tending to the various fruits and vegetables that grow there. She speaks of her love for drawing, the way it allows her to express herself and capture the beauty of the world around her.

Jackson listens intently, his eyes shining with genuine interest as Atabey talks about her favorite things. For the first time in what feels like an eternity, he feels a spark of joy ignite within him—a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, there is more to life in the underworld than he ever dared to imagine. And as he looks at Atabey, her eyes alight with passion and excitement, he knows that he would do anything to keep that spark alive, to see her smile and hear her laughter echo through the halls of his lonely kingdom always.

********

Six Months Later

Atabey sinks into the warm, fragrant waters of the bathing pool, she feels the tension of the day melting away with each passing moment. The oils, scented with the sweet fragrance of peaches and the comforting warmth of vanilla, envelop her in a cocoon of relaxation, filling her senses with a sense of tranquility and calm.

Her mind drifts back to the events of the past six months—six months spent in Jackson's company. In the beginning, she had been hesitant to trust him, wary of his enigmatic charm and the air of danger that seemed to cling to him like a shadow. But as time passed and she learned more about Aaerie and her twisted nature, she found herself opening up to him, slowly but surely, allowing herself to lean on him for support and guidance.

Despite his intimidating presence and the occasional glimpses of anger that flared within him like a raging storm, Jackson had always been soft and gentle with her—his voice never rising, his touch always tender and reassuring. He had a way of making her feel safe and secure, as though nothing could harm her as long as he was by her side.

And as she reflected on their time together, Atabey found herself falling deeper and deeper under his spell, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. She can't deny the pull of his charisma, the way his mere presence fills her with a sense of warmth and belonging she has never known before.

But amidst the swirling waters of the bathing pool, Atabey finds herself grappling with a whirlwind of emotions—fear and desire warring within her heart as she struggles to make sense of her feelings for Jackson. She knows that he is not without his flaws, that there are parts of him that are dark and dangerous, but she can't help but be drawn to him nonetheless, captivated by the depth of his passion and the intensity of his love.

Just as she begins to lose herself in the blissful embrace of the waters, she could hear Jackson enter the other room. She could hear the rustling of paper and drawing implements in hand. He placed them gently on the bed, his movements graceful and deliberate, before turning to leave the room.

But before he can make his exit, Atabey calls out his name, the sound echoing softly through the chamber. Jackson pauses in his steps, turning to face her with a curious expression as he steps into the bathing area and leans against the wall.

Atabey looks up at him, her eyes drinking in the sight of him—his black and red color-blocked outfit contrasting sharply against the pale stone walls of the chamber, his blond hair falling in loose waves around his face. She feels a smile tugging at the corners of her lips, a playful twinkle dancing in her eyes as she leans on her arms against the edge of the bathing pool.

"Enjoying your bath, sweetheart?" Jackson asks, his voice warm and inviting as he meets her gaze.

Atabey nods, her smile widening as she basks in the warmth of his attention. Images filled her mind.  "I am," she replies, her voice soft and melodious. "But it would be even better with some company."

Jackson's lips curve into a smile, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he meets her gaze. "Is that an invitation?" he asks, his tone teasing as he steps closer to the edge of the pool.

Atabey's heart skips a beat at the proximity of him, her pulse quickening with anticipation as she nods eagerly. "Of course," she replies, breathlessly. "I would love nothing more than to share this moment with you." 

Jackson begins to remove his clothes. Atabey watches as each item of clothing hits the floor. He’s standing in front of her in all of his naked glory. He’s not erect this time but he’s still big. Atabey’s heartbeat quickens at the sight of him.

Jackson joined Atabey in the bathing pool, the warm water enveloping them both in a soothing embrace, sending ripples of relaxation coursing through their bodies. Atabey felt a sense of contentment wash over her as Jackson settled beside her, his presence like a comforting anchor amidst the swirling waters.

With a gentle touch, Jackson took Atabey's feet in his hands, his fingers working magic as he began to massage away the tension of the day. Atabey sighed with pleasure, closing her eyes as she surrendered to the sensation, her muscles melting beneath Jackson's skilled touch.

“In the depths of the underworld, where shadows reign,

I found a light that banished all my pain.

With every breath, with every beat of my heart,

I knew that you were mine, right from the start.

In your arms, I've found my sanctuary,

A love so true, it's beyond ordinary.

With every touch, with every whispered vow,

I know that I need you, here and now.

So let me hold you close, never let you go,

Together, we'll face whatever storms may blow.

For in your love, I've found my home,

Forever and always, you'll never be alone

Oh, Atabey, my love, my heart's desire,

You set my soul on fire.

I need you more than words can say,

Forever and always, in every way.”

“That song is beautiful Jackson” Atabey sighed, his husky voice sending a shiver through her, despite the water being warm.

“As beautiful as my inspiration.” Jackson looked at her adoringly.

As they relax in the warmth of the bathing pool, conversation flows easily between them, the intimate setting fostering a sense of closeness and connection. Atabey can't help but feel a sense of curiosity tugging at her mind as she considers the question that has been lingering on her lips.

"Where do you usually sleep, Jackson?" she asked, her voice soft and curious.

Jackson's expression softens, a hint of warmth in his eyes as he meets her gaze. "I have another room not far from here," he replied, his voice gentle and reassuring. "It's nothing compared to this one, but it suits my needs just fine."

Atabey nods, a thoughtful expression crossed her features as she considered his words. And then, with a suddenness that surprises even her, she finds herself blurting out the question that has been weighing on her mind.

"Would you like to join me in sleeping in your bed tonight?"

Jackson's eyes widened in surprise at the unexpected invitation, his lips curving into a smile as he met Atabey's gaze. "I would enjoy that," he replied, his voice filled with warmth and sincerity.

With a sense of excitement fluttering in her chest, Atabey leans in closer to Jackson, her heart racing with anticipation as she looks forward to spending the night in his arms, the warmth of their shared connection filling her with a sense of belonging and comfort she has never known before.

**********

Atabey reclined in Jackson's bed, she felt a sense of tranquility wash over her, the soft silk of the sheets caressed her skin like a lover's touch. The room is bathed in the warm glow of tall red candles, their flickering flames casted dancing shadows across the walls and ceiling, creating an atmosphere that is both intimate and seductive.

When Jackson enters the room with a tray of wine, strawberries, and peaches, Atabey's breath catches in her throat at the sight of him. His leather pants were tight on his thigh. They were untied at the waist, giving her a peak of his flesh. He decided to go shirtless, his beautiful chest and abs on display.

His presence filled the room with a magnetic energy, drawing her gaze to him like a moth to a flame.

Jackson also takes in the sight of Atabey. Her red silk robe clinging to her curves in all the right places. The slit in the fabric is high, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of her thighs, and Jackson feels a surge of desire course through him at the sight.

With a graceful flourish, Jackson places the tray on the table beside the bed and passes Atabey a glass of wine. She takes it with a grateful smile, her fingers brushing against his as she accepts the glass.

"Thank you," she murmurs softly.

As she takes a sip of the wine, Atabey is enveloped in its rich, deep cherry flavor, the taste filling her mouth with a sense of warmth and decadence. She closed her eyes, savoring the sensation as it danced across her tongue, her senses heightened by the intoxicating aroma of the candles and the heady presence of Jackson beside her.

Atabey placed her glass back on the table and beckoned Jackson closer to her with her finger. He obliged, knees falling onto the bed, his hand following behind, slowly he crawled toward her. They stare at one another, the air between them crackles with tension, the space filled with a palpable sense of lust and desire. 

They have shared countless moments together, but this one feels different, charged with an electric energy that seems to hum in the air around them.

Jackson's gaze is intense, his dark eyes burned with a hunger that mirrored her own. He reached out a hand, cupping Atabey's cheek in his palm with a gentleness that belied the intensity of his emotions.

He closed the distance between them, his lips met hers in a kiss that sent sparks flying through her veins.

Atabey's breath catches in her throat at the sensation, her entire body came alive with a rush of heat and longing. His lips are warm and soft against hers, moving with a rhythm that is both tender and passionate, as though they have been waiting for this moment their entire lives.

“Atabey,” Jackson whimpered against her lips, “I need you.”

Jackson’s hands went to the ties of her robe. One pull of the fabric and it was falling away from her body. She was so beautiful naked. Ths moles that adorned her skin around her breasts were stunning. Jackson wanted his hands on her everywhere at once. His fingers traced the gold tattoos of her skin, and as he did—they slowly turned crimson.

Atabey looked up in the mirror and at her body in awe. 

“They’re turning red again” She whispered.

“Yes. It’s a sign of your devotion changing from Aaerie to me.” Jackson explained.

Atabey looked back at Jackson and placed her hand around the back of his neck. She pulled him back toward her and kissed him hard, catching him off guard. Her hands pulled at his leather pants, nearly ripping them off of his body.

Jackson was surprised by her boldness, but he didn’t want to push her too much.

“Baby,” Jackson said, hardly getting the word out between her kisses, “I want you to take control tonight.”

“Hmmm?” Atabey was barely listening as she wrapped her legs tight around his waist and her pelvis was raised up and down, pushing against his hardened length..

“It’s you tonight.” Jackson said, sitting back on his knees.

“Me? But..why?” Atabey asked breathlessly.

“Sweetheart, I know that when you devoted your life to her that meant you remained pure. You haven’t known any man and as much as I’d like to claim your body on every surface in this room, I want your first time to be comfortable. I want you to know that I will only do whatever you allow me to.” 

Atabey’s mind ran wild at his words. 

White-hot and consuming. Bodies, naked and grinding against one another. Hands on her hips as he’s between her lush thighs. She wanted all of him, all at once.

Jackson moved so that he was laying on his back, in the center of the bed, and she was on top of him, sitting on my hips.

“My hands will stay right here” he informed her, holding onto the ornate headboard, “You are in control, my love. My body is yours to do as you wish. Do anything you’d like to me.”

Jackson closed his eyes, a pleasant smile on his lips as he waited for Atabey’s touch.

She moved over for a second, but didn’t get off him. 

Jackson peeked at her and she had the red silk tie of her robe in hand. Smiling, she leaned down and kissed him gently. Atabey then laid the tie over his eyes, not tying it behind his head, just letting it sit there, hiding her from his view.

“I love this so far.” Jackson smiled dreamily.

“Ka-Yee, God of the Underworld. You are powerful and intimidating but you are also beautiful and thoughtful. While my tattoos are changing, showing my devotion to you, tonight…you belong to me. You are to devote every part of your being to me. Is that clear?”

“Yes sweetheart,” Jackson sighed. Jackson couldn’t describe the feeling of her using his other name. She had never used it since he introduced himself to her, but this let him know that she was truly devoted to him. 

He could feel her crawl up his chest and then her legs were on both sides of his head. Her honey scent clouded his mind. He could feel the warmth emanating from her, making him salivate. He flicked his tongue out, in hopes of catching a taste but she wasn’t close enough.

“Atabey, sweetheart..Please, I need to taste you”

“I…I don’t,-”

“It’s okay love, just sit down. I’ll do all the work”

Atabey hesitated before slightly lowering herself down. Jackson could feel her getting closer but not close enough. 

“It’s fine, baby. A little lower, let me taste you baby.”

Atabey lowered herself onto Jackson’s face. His tongue immediately pushed between her slick folds. Jackson hummed in delight as he lapped at her juices. She became wetter as he continued to lick and suck at her. He took her sensitive bud, gently, between his teeth. 

Atabey sighed at the unfamiliar feeling. She had never felt like this before. No man has ever touched her and she never touched herself. Jackson was the only man to do this to her and she was enjoying every minute of it. 

Atabey screamed out loud, staring blankly at the mirror above the bed, as Jackson’s lush lips covered her clit. He moved his tongue over it. Side to side, then up and down…then in circles, wet, hot circles.

His tongue, his lips, his teeth. He used them all. 

He could feel her legs beginning to tremble. 

Jackson encouraged Atabey to release for him. He wanted to drink every drop of her sweet nectar. Atabey’s cries of pleasure reverberated off the walls. That only encouraged Jackson to push her to the edge again. He wanted all that she could give him and more.

“That’s it baby. Come for me baby. Let it go” 

Atabey’s hands gripped the headboard. She could hardly hold herself up. This feeling was intense. She cried as she released onto his face, her legs locking around his head. Jackson pushed his tongue further inside of her, relishing in whatever remained.

“Jackson, please please please” Atabey chanted over and over.

“Please what baby? Tell me what you want”

“I want you. I want you so bad”

“Then have me baby. I’m yours”

Atabey scooted back, that way she was hovering over his dick that was standing straight up. 

“Jackson, I’m going to need your help. I’ve never done this.”

“It’s okay baby. I’ll teach you. May I have my eyes?”

Atabey removed the tie from his face. Jackson looked up at her and smiled. Her face was flushed from her orgasm. The robe she was wearing had joined his pants on the floor. Jackson was entranced by the view of her naked body. The now red tattoos glimmered in the candlelight of the room. 

“You are so beautiful, Atabey.”

“Thank you”

Atabey felt her face heat up as Jackson’s eyes raked over her body. At one time, the idea of being with a man would have sent Atabey straight to Aaerie’s temple. This time, her body was singing and rejoicing. 

“Close your eyes”

Atabey didn’t argue with him.

“I want you to imagine me behind you. Imagine my fingers gently caressing your skin.”

Atabey could feel phantom hands on her body. The feeling sent a rush of heat through her body.

“Now, imagine me gently pushing you forward. You’re on your hands and knees for me. I’m spreading your wet lips open again, sliding my fingers between your wet folds. Can you feel me baby?”

“Yes, yes I feel you”

“Good. I want you to touch yourself baby. Slide your fingers in, nice and slow”

Atabey obeyed. Even though he said she would be in control, he didn’t have a problem letting him take the reins.

“That’s it baby. Just like that. Keep those fingers going”

Atabey slowly pumped her fingers in and out. This was all new to her but it was exciting. Jackson ignited something in her that she never knew could be lit.

“Lean forward for me baby” Again, Atabey obliged.

Jackson lifted himself up on his elbows. He took one of her nipples into her mouth. Atabey whimpered at the feeling of his hot mouth, once again, on her body. The combination of her fingers and his mouth sent shocks through her body. 

“You taste so sweet, my love. Are you ready for me to be inside of you?”

“I am”

“Good, I’m going to use my hands for a moment.”

Jackson grabbed Atabey’s wrist and slowly pulled her fingers out of her. He put them to his lips, kissing them before taking them in his mouth. He moaned at her sweet taste. He gently grabbed on to her waist and slid her down to his hardened shaft. He lifted her up so that she was directly over him.

“Take me in your hands, sweetheart.”

Jackson hissed as Atabey’s soft hands wrapped around him. He felt like he could come right then and there. 

“Lower yourself on to me, baby”

Jackson bit down on his lip as he felt his tip brush against Atabey’s slick folds. She was so wet for him, he couldn’t wait to be inside her. He slowly raised his hips to slip inside of her more. He watched her face contort in discomfort.

“Take your time, baby. I’m right here.”

Atabey began to lower herself more onto him more. He was big and this was new to her. He stretched her but it made her feel wonderful. She was beginning to feel alive. 

Jackson kept his hands planted onto her waist and planted his feet on the bed. He slowly raised his hips to meet hers. Atabey gasped at the sudden feeling. This was better than sitting in the sun. This was better than her grandmother’s garden.

To think, she would’ve missed this feeling if he had not taken her. She was glad he did.

Atabey anchored her hands on his chest as he picked up his pace. He grunted as his shaft pumped into her tight walls. She was warm and wet. It was nothing like Jackson had ever dreamed before. His nerves were sparking with renewed life. It was sheer bliss.

“That’s it, baby. Take me. You’re doing so good for me.”

Her body slammed up and down. 

She panted his name over and over again, “Ka-Yee, Ka-Yee, Ka-Yee” She couldn’t say it enough. It was etched into every cell in her body. “Ka-Yee….Jackson”

“Kiss me,” Jackson growled.

She meshed her mouth against his, his hand holding her by the back of her neck. She gasped in pleasure and he swallowed the sound. Fast and hard, his tongue sparred with her as she rode him.

“Come for me, sweetheart. Show me how much you love having me inside you. Show me, baby” Jackson growled.

Atabey couldn’t hold back. Her orgasm clouded her vision. She threw back her head in pleasure, with the tightening of her stomach. Her nails dug into the flesh of his chest, making him hiss. Jackson could feel her leaking onto him like a waterfall. His hips and pelvis were soaked from her orgasm.

 He reared into her at an incredible pace, chasing his own orgasm.

“Oh, fuck baby. I love you, I adore you.” Jackson whimpered.

The sound of their skin pounding against one another, bounced off of the walls. His feet dug into the mattress of his bed as he continued to sink into her. His orgasm made his hips stutter, as he pushed his seed into her womb.

Atabey collapsed onto his chest. She was breathless, but also full of life. She could see that her tattoos were now completely red. She was pulled into his orbit and she didn’t want to leave. Jackson traced circles on her back as the two of them caught their breath.

“Mine, baby. You’re mine forever.”

“Yours, Ka-Yee. Yours”

********************

Atabey’s eyes slowly opened. She hadn’t realized that she had fallen asleep. She patted the spot on the bed next to her to see that Jackson was not there. Atabey sat up, her body sore from the night before.

She grabbed her robe from the floor and put it on. She was used to not seeing other people around, but on the off chance someone else was there-she wanted to be covered. She stepped outside of the room, looking around the empty halls. It was quiet. She wondered where Jackson was. 

She decided to look for him. And since this castle was going to be her new home, she figured she may as well explore it anyway. She walked down the halls, making random turns in the labyrinth. She figured there had to be a method to find your way around here. Her hands glided across the jeweled walls. The topaz and aquamarine glimmering in the candle light.

She passed by an opening in the hall that looked familiar to her. She then remembered it was where the souls of her fallen sisters were. She bit down on her lip and looked over her shoulder. 

Still, no one was around.

Jackson wouldn’t be upset with her for paying her respects, right?

Atabey wandered down the hall and approached the solid rocks. She placed her hands on each one until she found the right one to open up the room, where her sisters were.

The spirits turned to face her. The sadness in their eyes were evident. 

“Hello, my sisters. I hope you can understand me. I am sorry about what happened to you. I, too, thought Aaerie was a benevolent goddess, but to hear that she took your souls and then condemned you to The Underworld, is so heartbreaking. But I want you to know that I won’t be going back to ascend. I’ll be here with Jackson and with you. Maybe one day, I can understand you and then we can talk more and I can learn from you.”

One of the spirits approached Atabey and held out her hand. She placed it onto Atabey’s cheek. Atabey was surprised she could feel it but welcomed the gentle touch.

I can understand you.

Atabey’s eyes widened. 

“That’s great. Maybe I can understand you now because I devoted myself to Jackson and my tattoos are red now”

The spirit stepped away from Atabey, horror in her eyes.

You what?!

The other spirits surrounded her now. Looks of sadness, anger, and horror on their faces.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Atabey was confused. If Aaerie was the one to wrong them, why were they upset about Jackson.

You devoted yourself to that monster. You couldn’t understand us because he was changing our language. We were trying to warn you sister. Another spirit spoke up.

“Monster?I don’t understand. Jackson told me that Aaerie was the one who stole your souls and sent you down here.”

No, sister. Jackson stole us from Aaerie. He has been stealing Chosen Daughters for millennia. And when you don’t devote yourself to him, he traps your soul here forever. Sister, you have cursed yourself.

Atabey’s head began to hurt. Cursed herself? No. She couldn’t have. Jackson wouldn’t do that. He said that he loved her. 

“No, that cannot be true. Jackson loves me.”

Jackson loves no one. 

“Sweetheart?”

Atabey looked over her shoulder.

She swallowed hard as Jackson approached, a dark cloud seemed to settle over his features, his brows furrowed in frustration and anger.

"Atabey, what are you doing?" Jackson's voice was sharp with anger, his eyes flashed with intensity as he confronted her. "I warned you about the dangers of meddling with the spirits. Do you not realize the peril you place yourself in?"

“They just told me that you stole them from Aaerie and trapped their souls down here because they wouldn’t devote themselves to you. And that when I devoted myself to you, I cursed myself. Tell me that’s not true. Please, tell me it’s not true”

“Sweetheart, they are lying to you. I would never-”

Lies, Ka-Yee! You have stolen another Chosen Daughter. You have cursed her soul for eternity. You are ev-

The spirit’s words were cut off by a gulf of flames consuming her. Her screams echoed in the room. One by one, the souls of her sisters caught alight. Their pain chilling Atabey to the bone.

Jackson's eyes blazed with fury, his features contorted into a mask of rage. His jaw clenched tightly, muscles tensing beneath the surface of his skin as his brows furrowed in a deep scowl. The lines of his face, usually smooth and composed, now twisted into a snarl of anger, every line etched with the intensity of his emotions.

His lips, usually soft and inviting, were now pressed into a thin line, a stark contrast to the simmering fire in his eyes. A vein pulsed angrily at his temple, throbbing with the force of his rage as he struggled to contain the storm brewing within him.

His nostrils flared with each sharp intake of breath, the sound a low growl of frustration escaping his lips.

Atabey had not seen him this way since she was first brought here.

He looked over to Atabey, flames in his eyes. He quickly approached her but she moved away from him, him only catching her robe-tearing it from her body. Atabey ran into the stone maze of the hallways. She didn’t know where she was going but she knew she had to get away. Maybe she could find the door to the Red Desert and escape. That sandy hell would be better than staying here with Jackson. 

Atabey was thrown off balance by the ground in front of her opening. She fell to the floor, scooting back as far as she could from the pit in front of her. Flames erupted from the ground as Jackson pulled himself through the pit.

As Atabey's gaze met Jackson's, she was suddenly overcome by a wave of terror that threatened to paralyze her. His eyes, once warm and inviting, now seemed to glint with a malevolent gleam, cold and empty as they bore into her with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine.

His features, usually handsome and alluring, were twisted into a grotesque mask of menace, every line etched with a predatory hunger that made her blood run cold. His lips, usually soft and inviting, were now pulled back into a snarl, revealing the glint of sharpened teeth that seemed to glisten in the dim light.

A dark shadow seemed to hang over him, casting his face into deep relief and accentuating the menacing aura that surrounded him. His nostrils flared with each ragged breath, the sound a low, guttural growl that echoed ominously in the air.

But it was his expression that truly terrified her—a look of pure, unadulterated malice that seemed to pierce through her very soul, stripped away the facade of safety and left her feeling exposed and vulnerable in its wake.

As Jackson's hand closed around Atabey's ankle, she was suddenly overwhelmed by a searing sensation that felt like flames licking at her skin. The touch, once filled with warmth and tenderness, now sent waves of agony rippling through her body, every nerve ablaze with fiery torment.

It was as if his touch had transformed into something sinister and malevolent, a cruel mockery of the intimacy they had shared just hours before. Where once she had felt safe and protected in his embrace, now she was consumed by a burning pain that seemed to radiate from his touch like a scorching inferno.

Atabey gasped in shock as the heat seared through her flesh, her skin blistering beneath his grasp. The sensation was unlike anything she had ever experienced, a relentless onslaught of agony that left her feeling helpless and vulnerable in its wake.

But even as she cried out in pain, there was something else lurking beneath the surface—a sense of betrayal and betrayal that cut deeper than any physical wound. To feel such agony at the hands of the one she had trusted implicitly was a bitter pill to swallow, a harsh reminder of the darkness that lurked within even the most seemingly benign of beings.

And as Atabey writhed in agony, she couldn't help but wonder how she had been so blind to the true nature of him. In that moment, she realized that the warmth she had felt in his embrace had been nothing more than a cruel illusion—a fleeting glimpse of a happiness that was never meant to last.

“Jackson, please. Let me go. Please, please, please.”

Jackson's laughter echoed through the chamber, a chilling sound that sent shivers down Atabey's spine. It was a laugh devoid of warmth or mirth, a sinister melody that filled the air with a sense of foreboding and dread.

It was a laughter that spoke of dark intentions and hidden malice, a taunting reminder of the danger that lurked behind Jackson's enigmatic facade.

“My sweet Atabey, I told you that you are mine forever. I will never let you go.”

[zmediaoutlet]

spn20rewatch, 1.07: "A life unlived is the saddest of passings."

Lori's a preacher's daughter. A good girl in a pink shirt. She goes to college, which is okay... except that she's in a sorority house with Naughty Partiers, and those Partiers are Bad. She dates a boy, which is okay... until she's going to have Premarital Sex, and that Lusty Boy is Bad. She loves her dad, which is okay... until it turns out her dad is an Evil Adulterer and sleeping with a married woman, at which point he becomes Wrong and Bad and has to be Punished.

It's a typical horror story with its morals written in crayon, but we've already learned that ghosts don't see in shades of grey -- and, importantly, neither does Lori. The bigger problem with the Hook Man is that he goes off and does the punishing for her. It's her reactionary and black-and-white thinking that's sending the ghost off like an assassin, because she's in this role -- the good girl, the morally righteous baby, who's meant to be a pristine white flower. Those who impinge on that strict little universe need to be punished because they're Bad, and Wrong, and it's Not Supposed To Be This Way. But there's a flip side to this story, too, based in how the ghost gets sicced on its victims -- if she hadn't stepped out, if she hadn't joined the sorority and she hadn't gone with the boy and she hadn't learned her dad's secrets, they would all still be alive. She realizes this, too -- that it's her beliefs and her presence that are the problem, and the source of all this death and mayhem for the moment -- and the Hook Man turns on her. (And as we go further back, whose fault is that, really? Is it her dad's? Is it religion itself? Is it the culture that created Jacob Karns in the first place?)

Supernatural's conversation with free will and duty and destiny and all the spaces in between is always tense and ever-evolving. Of course you should have free will, the show shouts out loud -- except that the only way you can function inside the universe created is by doing what you were meant to do. Of course you should do what you want and be a free whole person -- but if you do that, you're punished, because the moral structure doesn't work that way. You want to make friends with cool fun people and break outside of your good-girl mold, and then your roommate gets shredded to pieces and you move back home to your dad. You go to college, and your girlfriend burns alive, and you end up back in the car you were raised in. Although -- there's always a question, there. At what level is the punishment coming from above, or from within? How are you making these choices? At what level are the choices being made for you? Does that matter, or is it only your attitude about it that matters?

Aren't you glad you didn't turn on the light?

Maybe it'd be better to stick to your small role and turn your eyes away from things you might've wanted. Maybe the dark's safer. But no one's allowed to do that, because if you did that you wouldn't be a protagonist. You have to live. How guilty you feel about that and how you handle it -- and whether a bunch of other people end up dying because of it -- is another question.

[cookies-and-mirrors]

Prison of Stone and Flesh

Chapter Nine

This is a collaborative fic between @cookiesupplier and @faceless-mirror.

Dividers by @samspenandsword & @cafekitsune

Pairings: Chris x transfem!Vinny, Justin x transmasc!Ricky, Chris x Justin x Ryan, Chris x transmasc!Ricky, Ryan x ONBC, Ryan x transfem!Vinny, Ryan x transmasc!Ricky, Justin x transfem!Vinny

Triggerlist: transphobia, homophobia, abuse, SA, dubcon, religious trauma, past suicide attempts, mental health issues, grief, death, (To be added to)

Christopher, Justin, and Ryan are members of the Gargoyle Order, soldiers fighting in the angels war against the demonic supernatural evils of the world to protect human kind. Through the years they lost comrades and now just the three of them remain in their little town.

Now, Ricky and Vinny are moving into their church, stirring up old and new feelings, along with the past, posing the challenge of navigating this new chapter in their lives.

Can they all navigate this path successfully and break free of the prisons that is their lives of both stone and flesh, or will they all be trapped forever in a world that could prove to be a constant misery?

MASTERLIST HERE

Taglist: @embracethereaper42 @21-century-tae @dragon-chica @shilohrosechicken @phxntxsmicgoricxl

@missduffsblog @witchyweeb34 @spicywhenspeaking @lacktoesandtoddlerants @blackveilomens

@bngurngheart @dominuslunae @collapsedglasshouses @embracethereaper42 @emmmm127

@sunsshinesunny @latenightmusiclover @dontdiganothergravetoday

(please comment/reblog/message to be added to taglist)

Chapter Nine

Justin was thankful that Ryan had made himself scarce before the bar closed, heading up to the rectory with Christopher. With his little trip to the supply room with Ricky, he had wondered if in the end Ricky would choose Ryan over him, he was older, more experienced, and he saw the way Ricky looked at him.. The way Ryan looked at Ricky. Justin didn’t know why that surprised him, of course the first time he actually wanted someone for himself, one of the older gargoyles would swoop in above him. 

Maybe it was the tip Ryan had given him, about what to order, to make sure he had a worthy bar tab to pay off. He knew it had been a cheeky comment from him, but it had been funny, at the time, before he’d seen them walking away and them both coming back seeming like… that. Sure, Justin was used to sharing lovers, it was no surprise, it was nothing, but this felt, different. Ricky was special, and when Ricky had looked at him, it had sent something through him, and he didn’t want to let Ryan touch it. 

Despite being vastly smaller than Justin, Ricky had pulled him along and sat him on his bed popping the first few buttons on his button-up before letting down his hair, as he kicked off his shoes. His dress pants hugged his legs and thighs as he crawled on top of him to pin him gently fingers tracing his skin subtly feeling the slight ridges of tattoos and scars, “Now… baby boy… Are you gonna be good for Daddy?”

Blue eyes gleamed beautifully as he pressed his forehead to his, “Baby…” he whispered, something almost primal about it, the rasp to it like a distant rumble of a storm, tantalising. 

Justin sat back to the bed, letting Ricky pull him upstairs without a thought of even resisting. His size was the least of the issues there, by the angels, he wanted him, he wanted all of him. Whimpering at his question as he looked up at Ricky, eyes wide as he did, watching him get undressed, his fingers toying with the hem of his shirt, “Please, please.. Can I take my shirt off, Daddy?” Almost panting as he asked permission to start getting undressed too.

“Yes, baby boy… then I need you…on all fours on the bed. I wanna make you feel good… and I want to make sure you remember how good you feel when you listen to daddy…” he murmured.

Shuddering, none of the others called him that, even if he knew he pretty much was, almost, almost always had been, the baby of the unit. Justin had always been one of the youngest gargoyles here, now, he was the youngest. Lifting the shirt so eagerly over his head, none of his clothes were a perfect fit, considering they were technically all, well, stolen, but he didn’t care. Tossing it aside, he nodded quickly, “Yes, yes Daddy, I’ll listen, I listen to Daddy.”

Climbing up onto the bed, he wasn’t sure what Ricky was going to do, Justin wasn’t thinking about logistics, or how Ricky was born a female, because for Justin, that wasn’t a factor. All that mattered, was that he trusted Ricky, and he knew what he wanted… Ricky. Daddy.

He smirked, and kissed his lower back and hips softly. “Baby, I need you to pick a dildo.. I need to be able to fill you up baby… and then I'll decide if you've been good enough to cum inside me… sound good?” He teased, trailing his fingers, and got a few dildos out for him to pick from.

Justin turned his head to look over to Ricky, biting his lip, not sure exactly what he was, um, dildo, he’d heard the word, he’d heard plenty of words. Some of which made absolutely no sense to him, this being one of them. What the hell was a- ohhhh, that was a dildo. They were cocks, fake cocks, that.. Ricky… wore.. To.. fuck him? That’s right, humans couldn’t do what they could do, they couldn’t change as they wanted to easily. Still, the thought of Ricky fucking him, at all, Justin couldn’t help but groan slightly, looking over the cocks, the dildos.. He’d had sex like this before, of course, it wasn’t always about breeding despite religious misconceptions, but not with Ricky.. 

Whining.. He didn’t know how dildos would feel.. He didn’t know what Ricky would like. Biting his lip, shit.. Vinny had called him a size king, impulsively Justin picked the longest dildo he had. “That one.”

He smiled and kissed his lower back, “okay baby. That is a bigger one. Is this your first time being pegged, baby boy?” He asked gently and lovingly, stroking his skin with a smirk. “If it is… I'll be gentle as I can." His words were a sweet promise, petting his hair gently.

Then he was getting the strap prepped and lubed his fingers, gently teasing him and massaging his hole slowly and sweetly smiling at him. “That's a good boy.”

Pegging, Justin was going to take a decent guess and assume that mean sex with a dildo here, because, reasonable right, groaning at the thought.. “Not like this, anal, yea.” He licked his lips a little, looking down it, was it plastic, it looked like it was made of something a bit more flexible than plastic though. He knew there were sex things, toys mortals called them, but despite their immortal lives, with their duties, they didn’t have time to explore. There was always something. That, and Christopher kept them to their edicts, made sure to keep them in line, and safe, it was his job, and before him their handler before he disappeared. 

Justin was more than eager to try as he felt Ricky’s fingers at his hole, his eyes almost rolling a bit as his head hung forward at the massage, a whimper at the light touch, pressing back a little. He could take more, he could take so much more. Justin knew well he could take more than any mortal could give him, but that wasn’t the point.. He just wanted Ricky.

He chuckled softly, “Good boy… you look so pretty-” he breathed in delight gently easing a finger in slowly, spinning his finger slowly offering that slight stretch letting him melt happily under the gentle touches. Ricky's free hand ghosted and teased over his back and up to his shoulder to hold him still on his full digit, smirking at him. “How's that feel, baby boy?”

The gargoyle couldn’t help but preen at the praise that he was washing over him right then, his breaths coming in soft pants at the feeling of his fingers pressing into his ass. Humming a little as he tried not to squirm too much with the way Ricky was touching him, the brush of his fingers over his back, his shoulder. Groaning as he felt the way Ricky twisted his finger inside of him. “Please, please more, Daddy.”

“We have time, baby, just relax for daddy.” He promised sweetly easing another finger in fucking him slowly, “that's a good boy. Why don't you tell me how it feels?” He urged gently, as his blue silver eyes gleamed Lovingly as he watched, noting every detail.

Oh, Justin right then was feeling so breathless, he didn’t feel very wordy, at best babble might come out, not making any sense at all. So at the question, his head hung low and the long unrestrained moan that escaped him came right from his chest as he rocked his whole body back. Pressing against his fingers wantonly, time, they didn’t have as much time, Justin know he couldn’t just fall asleep with Ricky, and wake up in the morning like his other lover last night. It wouldn’t work like that for him.. “So good, please, it's good, so good, need more, so bad, I need so much more.”

Ricky smiled and kissed his shoulder before moving faster and harder, his fingers moving expertly, “good boy- good boy.” He whispered softly, praising him before adding a third with a smirk, “good boy.” He purred, kissing his shoulder, scissoring his fingers and working him open, determinedly.

Moments later, he slipped a condom on the strap and put some extra lube. “Ready baby? I'll try to be gentle at first.”

Justin couldn’t, didn’t even try to stop the sounds that he was making as Ricky continued to stretch him open. Maybe he should, maybe he should be more courteous of Vinny, but he wasn’t thinking of being quiet. All he could think about was Ricky, and the way he felt inside of him, his voice, the shiver down his skin every time he called him a good boy. Then came the press of his lips to his skin, and he just wanted so much more.

His hands were fisting the sheets under him as he heard Ricky prep the dildo, licking his lips, groaning softly, “Yes.” Practically breathing out his answer, yes, yes, he was so ready. “Please.”

Ricky teased a moment longer, before lining up and pressed in slowly, easing into him, “Still feeling good?” He asked softly, rubbing gentle circles over his hips. “You're doing so well for me, baby boy.” He purred gently, rolling his hips until most of the dildo was in, holding still for a moment.

A soft whine had escaped Justin’s throat at the tease of the toy at his rim, not meaning to, and then he was finally pushing into him. The pressure was like a release, and yet it didn’t feel the same as he was used to. It was, different. The dildo wasn’t the same as one of the others cocks, he couldn’t explain it. He wasn’t about to stop him, the way he was rubbing against his hips, the feel of Ricky’s dildo filling him like that, he just.. “Yes, I’m good, please, I’m good.” Babble, thats how it felt like all that could come out of his mouth, how much he wanted Ricky to keep going. Glancing back to him as much as he could over his shoulder, positioned as he was, “Daddy, Ricky, please.” Justin couldn’t help but moan his name.

The smaller smirked before starting a slow but gentle pace before letting his grip tighten, and he started moving hard and fast without mercy, laying over his back some as he finally, truly, started. His grip was tight and firm, holding Justin in place. “Good boy, making all those pretty noises for daddy… just for daddy… fuck, you’re so pretty when you're on my dick like this. You're not allowed to cum yet though…” he purred.

Oh shit, his mouth went completely dry when Ricky just started railing him like that, and then telling him he couldn’t cum. A part of Justin wanted to whine and plead, but the rest of him was moaning as Ricky thrust deep into him, the way the dildo surged deep, and he felt every inch of the one he chose.

Enochian expletives fell from his lips, which he knew would sound like nothing but more inane babble to the mortal, but he wasn’t thinking anymore, he was begging. Rocking back onto Ricky’s cock as much as he was driving into him, gasping, moaning, “Daddy, daddy!”

“Pretty boy- being all good for daddy- fuck…” he groaned softly as his head fell back slightly, moving faster and harder. “Tell me… where do you wanna cum…? On the floor…? On your stomach… or in daddy?” He asked, raking his nails down his back eagerly. “Fucking pretty boy…” he murmured.

Justin swallowed, he wasn’t a very aggressive lover, even when he topped he wasn’t the one that was in control. It was always about pleasing his partner, always, and even then it had been so long since he had even that luxury. Not being allowed to partake of mortal attractions, and his own kind being so limited here, neither Christopher nor Ryan were anything but tops themselves. “All of it Daddy..” And he could... He could keep going all night... Never question a gargoyle’s stamina, the amount of time he’d cum in one night... But mostly... “But please, please, I want to be inside of you, Daddy.” Shuddering at the feeling of his nails down his back.

He smirked, “Tell me when you’re close,” he whispered, kissing up and down his spine slowly. “Then… you’ll get to be in me,” he whispered softly, before licking up his spine slowly to blow cool air against it, a vast contrast to the warmth offered by the kisses. “So pretty,” he growled lowly, his hips slowing some, already starting to ache some.

Close, close? How could he not be close? Moaning, “Yea, yes, please, so close, Daddy, please..” He was pressing back against him as he thrust into him, even as he slowed, the feel of his tongue, the cool of his breath making of him shudder, fuck, “Please, please, I need you. I need to cum so bad, Daddy, please.”

It was a shock with how fast Ricky had pulled out and moved to slip off the strap, leaving him bare, flipping Justin with ease. Truly a shock if he had been paying enough attention before he was on his lap rolling his hips teasingly. “What do you say, baby?” he asked gently, holding his shoulders, his own body heat lurking just above Justin’s erection, hardly out of reach.

Justin found himself laying back on Ricky’s bed, his frame massive under the lithe form of the mortal man that he’d been watching for the weeks as he readied the bar. He’d come to terms with his feelings for him being so much more than they used to be, and now, fuck, he was risking everything. The edicts said this was wrong, Justin didn’t care. Fingers wrapping around Ricky’s hips he looked down that gorgeous, marked body, Ricky just as tattooed as Justin, it made him wonder how he looked to him.. The angel markings taking form of human tattoos to mortals.. That.. wait.. Fuck.. why.. 

Ricky.. Ricky had angel markings too.

What, wha, where… The Church, the gargoyle platforms, the tapestries. He’d remembered them, he’d copied them, oh, by the angels, Ricky had marked himself, some of them.. Some of the symbols were on the very blades that Justin carried. Holy.. “By the angels, you, you are so beautiful Daddy,” swallowing as he looked up to him, his fingers squeezing. “Please, please, I want to be inside of you so bad.”

Ricky smiled and cupped his face, sinking down on his cock and joining their lips together. His slick soft walls stretched around his cock, milking at him gently, pressing his chest to his as he kissed him deeply with a tender moan against his lips hungrily. “Fuck baby-” he breathed before starting to ride him in earnest, knowing that the pace wouldn’t quite be enough, as good as it felt. He was going to make sure that Justin craved relief as much as he, himself, did. 

The movement, every roll of his hips was addicting, especially as he picked up his pace. The wet noise of their bodies joining filled the air as Ricky moaned, leaning his head back, showing just under his jaw, Loyalty in the same script.

Ricky nodded, “Yes, baby, go ahead. You’ve been good. You can go as hard as you like-” he said warmly, blue silver eyes catching his as he leaned in to kiss him with a shiver. “Fuck…” he whispered out slow and gentle against his lips thighs trembling from the effort of before and now riding him catching up. “Loyalty-” he moaned, eyes fluttering softly, hoping Justin didn’t quite catch it. No one needed to know he daydreamed about being fucked by a statue.

Justin kissed Ricky like he was the very air that he was breathing, and right then he felt like it, his hips lifting slightly from the bed as he felt Ricky roll his hips and moving with his motions. Whimpering as he felt how tight he was around him, oh, his eyes went side at the sight of script.. He’d never seen the word so close, so cleanly, and he moaned seeing his virtue named so distinctly on Ricky’s skin. Oh, oh Daddy..

“Please, please Daddy, can I touch you?” Justin wanted to make Ricky cum too, he wanted to feel him, he wanted to see him unravel.

The moment Yes left Ricky’s lips, Justin reached between them and his fingers were at his tiny cock, so perfect, and rubbing at with a moan, hips jerking up to him as he kissed him. The fuck came as he felt the smaller man tremble, and then, then as he moaned out… by the angel, Justin took that as a cue.. He needed him, he needed more.. And Justin was happy to help. He knew what to do, even if Ricky might get upset with him, Justin flipped them around.. Laying Ricky back down on the bed, holding himself up over him, “I’ve got you, Daddy, please, let, let me..” Kissing him again as he thrust into him, wanting to make him feel so, so good. Rolling his hips and thrusting deep into his body.

The smaller bartender groaned loudly back arching as his body trembled eagerly under him whimpering softly with wide eyes, looking up at him before kissing back holding onto him and started moving to meet his thrusts hungrily. “G-good boy- You can keep going baby-” he moaned approvingly of his movements, forgetting how to think when Justin found his sweet spot, his back arching as his pussy bore down on him eagerly. “Oh fuck-” he breathed out, his grip on Justin’s arms tighter as he moaned into his mouth with no regard for the other people in the building, though he knew Vinny wouldn’t mind.

Yes, he would happily keep going, especially with the way he felt Ricky tense around him on reflex, oh, oh he knew that reaction, fuck there it was. He found his g-spot, shit, perfect, shifting to keep up that angle with his thrusts, wanting to please Ricky. Know how he felt when he came undone, came apart on his cock. Kissing him, swallowing his moans greedily, panting against his lips, “Please, Daddy, I need to cum.” His thrusts a little harder, not wanting to let go until he felt him.

He cried out, grasping onto him as he came squirming on his cock cumming hard on his hips moaning his name Loyalty, as he came eyes rolling back, “oh… baby…baby f…fill me up… fill d…daddy up-” he urged, walls fluttering around him as he moaned louder.

It was like a snap, just like that, Justin couldn’t hold back any more, with Ricky cumming and clenching around him. By the angels, hearing him moan his virtue, the way Ricky used it as his name, and fuck.. Fuck fuck.. Moaning as he thrust into him harder as he started to cum, filling him with hot spurts of cum, “Daddy, I- Ricky.”

Ricky moaned leaning his hips back mindlessly as he angled himself so he wouldn't lose a drop of cum shivering as his body milked him eagerly, quietly begging him not to be done. “Can… you give daddy more cum..?” He moaned in his ear… urging him, “wanna breed daddy full-?”

Oh, oh fuck, he didn’t ask that.. Ricky just, Justin was still hard inside of him. Mortals had refractory periods. Gargoyles literally had none. When they sex, when they bred, they kept going, and going… until they wanted to stop, or were made to stop, either way. He could just keep fucking Ricky until he was begging him to stop. Lay there, inside of him, hard, keeping him full, as long as he needed him to, and oh, oh he wanted that.. He would do that if Ricky wanted him to.. Let him sit on his cock all night. Just let him take his pleasure, all that he desired.. Right until.. Right until dawn and he had to leave.

Justin felt his face flush warm at the thought, that, he probably wouldn’t have to leave if Ricky knew.. He’d happily keep him here, stone, at dawn, perfectly naked… and hard. Not that it mattered, he’d never do it… Christopher would kill him just for thinking it.

Moaning as he kept fucking into Ricky all the same, “Yes, yes Daddy, pump you so full you’ll feel me all day.. Yes, Daddy..”

Ricky moaned and shivered, “two more loads…? Can you do that, baby?” He groaned. This would Be okay- it would be okay. He had plan b. “Hard, baby, make daddy scream-” he urged, crying out sharply, shivering.

Justin was looking down at Ricky in pure awe, he was, he was actually wanting two more.. And harder, to scream.. He, he.. Didn’t humans need rest.. Oh.. as he urged him on, Justin sharply snapped his hips into him with a grunt. “Y-yes, Yes Daddy, I, I can, I want to, please, I can, I will, I promise I will.” Whimpering a little as he heard Ricky cry out, not wanting to disappoint him.. Rolling his hips into him as he reached between them to rub against Ricky’s cock, shuddering as he leaned over him.. “So good.”

Ricky pulled him down and mewled into his mouth softly shivering in pleasure as he spread his legs wide, whimpering out as he delved inside of him so fully. So lovingly… fuck. Ricky was certain he was going to keep him. Keep him for many more times to come.

The moan that poured from his lips was delectable. The sound filled the room with need and urgency as he quivered beautifully for him, his body fully milking him as Ricky orgasmed again. His back arching instinctively, trembling as pleasure washed through his entire body mercilessly, leaving him in a silent moan with his eyes rolled back in his skull.

Usually his only repeat was Vinny… maybe he could add Justin… his baby boy.

He was cumming inside of him again as Ricky pulled him down , a deep thrust inside of him as he kissed him. Humming so softly, Justin willing to give everything he was to Ricky right then, he knew it could get him into so much trouble, but he did care. With the way Ricky looked at him, with the way he said his name, he’d picked, him. Marked himself with his symbols, his virtue, his name.. Moaning against his lips.. Hips still rocking into him, a little slower this time but so deep.

Justin wasn’t fully thrusting properly into Ricky at this point. He was grinding into him with the roll of his hips, keeping his cock as deep inside of him as he could, keep him so full of his cum. It was instinctive, and oh, a bright red flag that Justin should really recognise the pure breeding behavior. Ricky had asked to be bred, and every instinct was making sure, making sure he did everything he could… that if it were remotely possible that he couldn’t be tonight… he would be.

Ricky's moans kept going, and he kissed him deeply, trembling against him, fingers in Justin's long hair nuzzling his neck as he got close again. It felt like it was already so much more serious than just a casual mention of breeding. Maybe he found someone just as interested in the primal need as he was. He wasn't pulling out to fuck him he was moving hard against his hips his clit pinned as he took every movement of his hips and the friction between them.

The gargoyles hands had shifted around Ricky’s slim hips and shifted as he ground into him, trying to keep getting that sweet spot while pressing in as deep as he can. Practically panting for breath against his lips with a moan, “Daddy, Daddy, one more, one more right?” So earnest, so purely needing approval from right then. Each movement of his hips had a slick squelch sound from the effort of between them, sweat, sex, cum.. Fuck.. 

He arched, “yes- yes ba…baby! One more one more! Knock daddy up-” he moaned back, arching off the bed as he cried out tight around his cock starving for more as his muscles ached. Black hair stuck to his forehead and neck, some of it splayed behind him over the covers like inky tendrils.

Ricky moaned and pet his face gently, kissing his lips, “baby- you did so well. You made me so happy- I feel so good- oh baby… you were amazing.” He moaned softly, kissing him and pulled him closer nuzzling his cheek softly.

Holding himself still deep inside of Ricky as Justin came this time, practically lifting his hips up off the bed, and moaning so loud at the way he was clenching so tight around his cock, like a vice. Oh, he was so beautiful splayed out like this, so absolutely gorgeous, and Justin couldn’t help himself as he gave him everything he wanted, filling him up just like he asked. “Yes, yes, anything for you Daddy.. Anything.”

Lowering him back to the bed to lay with him, Justin not pulling out yet, wanting to keep him full as he kissed him, long, and slow.. “Did I do good?”

As Justin lay with Ricky, he knew he had to head back up to the rectory soon, but he wanted to stay with him as long as possible. Sighing softly, “I have to go when Vinny gets up, and Christopher goes to meet with her.” Turning his head to pressing his lips to Ricky’s cheek.. He didn’t want him to think he wanted to leave, he had to.

Ricky nodded slowly, leaned into him, eyes fluttering softly as he looked up at him. “Okay baby. But… just know my bedroom is always welcome to you. Anytime… anytime at all.” He breathed, melting at the kiss, his heart fluttering happily at the contact. He was… he wanted him to stay all night in his bed… but he understood. But it was strange for him to want someone other than Vinny to sleep in his bed with him.

Ricky fell asleep in his arms, and Justin, he heard Vinny’s wake-up alarm as clear as day with a sigh, she’d be up to bake and brew, do.. Whatever she did before she opened the café.. And he looked down at Ricky. Leaning down, he pressed the softest kiss on his lips before he slid out of the bed and grabbed at his clothes to pull them back on.. So he could slip out.. He’d give anything to stay the day with Ricky, even if it meant sleeping half the day away, but that wasn’t to be.

[mermaidsirennikita]

Please, give us some loser heroes

Hahaha gladly

(this got long)

I mean, I've gotta say, one of the loseriest heroes I've read recently is Envy from Throne of the Fallen by Kerri Maniscalco. I've said it before and I'll say it again--if you're looking for a fantasy romance to try, especially if you normally read historicals, this is it (and TotF does stand alone if you want to try it first versus the trilogy that comes before it).

Envy is like, on a quest to save his court, and he's ostensibly a Prince of Hell and therefore very strong and full of supernatural gifts but like... He spends so much of this book falling flat on his face, ESPECIALLY with his heroine Camilla, who is Extremely Unimpressed. (There's a moment wherein he has to do something amazing to save his own life, and she's genuinely like assuming he's just going to die lmao.) His brothers randomly show up to dunk on him throughout the book. Not even for like, plot, just to be like "Sooooo have you seduced her yet? No? Shocker." He does things he thinks are so cool and then is like "Oh God immediate regret mistake".

*love him*

Seven Nights in a Rogue's Bed by Anna Campbell is a recent read wherein the hero presents himself as very suave and confident, and he's like "I SHALL KEEP YOU HERE FOR SEVEN DAYS AND SEDUCE YOU, MY INNOCENT MUAHAHAHA" before being like "nooooo I have harmed the innocent, I AM A WORM!!!" when the heroine shows pitches an emotional fit at him.

Allegreto in Shadowheart by Laura Kinsale is another "muahahahahaha" hero, and he is like, legitimately dangerous and threatening (TW: noncon in the first encounter) but once the heroine, Elena, gets her hooks in him... He is.... a sad little baby. A sad little baby who doesn't think he can go to church because he's done too many murders and is going to hell. BUT HE'S COOL WITH THAT. He's totally cool with that.... he's cool.... Arguably even more of a loser if you read For My Lady's Heart first, which is set ten years earlier and features another couple (the hero is less of a loser but still has embarrassing moments like being visibly aroused in front of the heroine and getting called out on it by her in front of SEVERAL priests, and also thinking this heroine is his perfect lady who he's pledged to for thirteen years only to meet her for real and be like "oh my god she's kind of EVIL??? My life has been devoted to a VILLAINESS???? I'm so STUPID") and also a teenage Allegreto who does absolutely RIDICULOUS things like carry a plague apple around because he's scared of plague, and like, hold the hero's hand during sleep because he thinks the hero will ward off plague, and pretend to be A CASTRATO for an ELABORATE SCHEME which he HONESTLY DID NOT HAVE TO DO.

A Rose at Midnight by Anne Stuart (TW: a lot of dubcon between the hero and heroine at first, noncon in the heroine's past not with the hero) has another "I am such a villain, my lady!!!" hero who is actually a massive ball of guilt and angst. The first time they sleep together she actually secretly enjoys it and hates herself for it, but she didn't Get All The Way There and he walks away like "I'M SO EMBARRASSING I CAN'T DO ANYTHING RIGHT" and like kicking rocks while pretending to be very above it.

Mafia Madman by Mila Finelli. Enzo d'Agostino's master plan is to kidnap the heroine by blowing up a bar for REVENGE and everyone around him is like "honestly your master plan... doesn't even make a lot of sense" even though it TOTALLY makes sense, y'all just DON'T GET IT. He then proceeds to get schooled by the heroine at every opportunity and become her dog (literally there's a bonus epilogue where she's gone for like 30 seconds and his brothers are like "look at what she did to him, he used to be a perfectly good mafia don, now he has anxiety").

Charlotte and The Seductive Spymaster by Grace Callaway has the titular spymaster who faked his death to keep his wife safe and IMMEDIATELY regretted it, returning from the dead twelve years later and getting mad that she's flirting with another man. So he like. THROWS ROCKS AT THE OTHER MAN??? FROM A SECRET HIDING PLACE? Embarrassing behavior. He also faints at one point. Like, it made sense, but I still laughed my ass off. And his wife is super competent, so she's constantly like "... really?"

Seduce Me at Sunrise by Lisa Kleypas has Kev Merripen, who is extremely competent on paper because he's literally the only person in that series who has a real job, but emotionally... the boy ain't right. He literally thinks that if he sleeps with Win ONCE she'll get pregnant and die. He like, hides in the background. Married by Morning also has an extremely losery moment from Leo Hathaway in which he basically does that thing from that meme where he trips and drops all of his obsessive things about the heroine, and the obsessive things are tons of drawings he did of her wearing nothing but her glasses. And she's like ".... you sure have an active imagination". Honestly, Harry from Tempt Me at Twilight also has his share of cringe, like the time he thought he was super hurting Poppy during her first time, so he just jumped off her and hated himself for days and ran away and she had to literally hunt him down and go "I'm FINE now FINISH IT".

Hart Mackenzie from The Duke's Perfect Wife, I will always maintain, is a massive loser who pretend to be extremely competent. Like, he's all "Eleanor, as you know, we did it three times when we were engaged" and she's like "yes.... like a decade ago Hart... I'm not.... impressed". He's being blackmailed by a stranger who sent Eleanor (a reporter) nude photos he took years ago and he's like ".... well those certainly are photos I took Eleanor". He gets all growly at her and she boops his nose. It's pathetic.

Dreams of a Dark Warrior by Kresley Cole, aka "he's constantly being reincarnated after sleeping with the heroine, like they hook up and then he just dies half an hour later in what sound like frankly increasingly comical death scenes, and she's immortal so she finally just gives up on even kissing him"... One of the legitimately saddest heroes I've ever read, lol. He's been brainwashed into hating immortals (with some solid reasons tbf) so he's like, the head torturer in this prison of immortals (TW, it's kinda intense) and he HAAAATES the heroine and she's DETERMINED to kiss him to kill him this time because she HAAAATES him. But like. His body count is like 1.5 because he's never actually really been interested in anyone because, though he doesn't know it because he doesn't remember, his soul only wants HER. So he meets her and is very *boing* about her and HATES it, and they literally have a fight in his office where he ends up on top of her and she's like "... I can feel EXACTLY how into this you are" and he's like !!!!!!!!!! He's just increasingly confused.

Also, this leads very nicely into Lothaire, where the big bad of the series is revealed to be a frankly loony tunes nightmare who's like "honestly I'm only 50% lucid at any given time". And he does a lot of puzzles in his spare time. And he wears trenchcoats because he thinks it looks cool (it doesn't). And he's constantly getting OWNED by a 24 year old psych major dropout. Like, she'll just perfectly diagnose him and he goes "... well you got me there". At one point, she hops on it with their clothes on (because he's trying to menacingly be like "YOU HAVE NO CHOICE" but it was actually exactly what she wanted him to do) and he has an Incident in his jeans, and she later finds him in the shower and throws said jeans at him like "NEXT TIME YOU TRY TO BE ALL HIGH AND MIGHTY REMEMBER WHAT I MADE YOU DO LOSER". Sad of him.

Embry Moore in Sierra Simone's New Camelot trilogy falls in love with Ash when he's literally stepping on him. And it's honestly just a string of embarrassments after that.

The Master by Kresley Cole (Kresley kinda specializes in Powerful Losers) features a billionaire Russian mafia hero shivering in the rain while the heroine takes an important test texting her like "I hope you do well :D!" because he's trying to get on her good side again lmao I was frankly embarrassed on his behalf

A Demon's Guide to Wooing a Witch by Sarah Hawley features the demonic big bad of the last book coming back with AMNESIA and the heroine rescues him from getting beaten up in like, the first chapter. And he's all "wooooow she's so strong *_*"

Hugo and The Maiden by S.M. LaViolette has a sex worker hero who's all "I'M JADED, I CARE FOR NOTHING BUT MYSELF" getting shipwrecked while being transported on a tiny island, and he gets picked up by a giant, sweet guy who carries him like a baby (while he angrily protests) to this makeshift hospital where the heroine, a vicar's uptight, bossy daughter berates him, and it's like all downhill for his dignity from there.

We cannot forget my beloved Duke of Lockwood from The Duke Gets Even, who spends three books getting swerved or cucked or both, and finally admits he's into Nellie and is all "we shall begin a no strings affair" only to like, immediately fall in love with her. And the rest of the book is her being like "we aren't going to get married Lockwood" and he's all "but whyyyy" and she's like "because you literally said this was a no strings affair which is the only reason why I agreed to it. (Him: :(.) He's also completely broke and thinks that he, as a duke, has sway in America, and there's an entire scene where Teddy Roosevelt himself is like "I like you but I can't help you because you're actually just a broke loser here" after he tries to boss up.

Wynter from C.L. Wilson 's The Winter King is all, "I'm a conqueror, I'm so dangerous, if you don't give me a child within a year I'll leave you on a glacier to die" only for everyone in his employ to be like "girl the glacier thing is actually bullshit". He's actually a puppy. The heroine discovers that he makes sad little ice sculptures of his dead family because he's so lonely. I was like "aww" but also "Jesus dude go outside".

The Duke Gets Desperate features a duke who's an art history major, basically, and like all art history majors (I say as one) he has no applicable life skills and his estate is going under. (I LOVE a broke aristo.) So when the heroine shows up having also inherited the estate and is like "we're going to charge people for tours of the castle to make sure we can pay for it" he's all "GAAAAAASP MADAME DUKES DO NOT HAVE TOURS OF CASTLES DUKES ARE DIGNIFIED AND BROKE!!"

Mercy by Sara Cate features a hero who was literally a cheater in a previous book, a rotten SCOUNDREL finding out that what he really needs to straighten up is to be humiliated and dominated by an older woman (ideally, his dad's close friend).

The Queer Principles of Kit Webb by Cat Sebastian has former highwayman and local sad man and cafe owner Kit begin tutoring dandy swordsman Percy on how to like, rob people. But Kit is ridiculously attracted to Percy, something Percy clocks immediately by being like "this loser is looking at my ankles" and whenever Percy Does Something to Kit Kit is like "THANK YOU OMG".

Oh, speaking of, Shane in Heated Rivalry is like, a perfect athlete and also a massive dork. He's also a "thank you omg that was amazing" guy and then is immediately like "I SAID THANK YOU???" At one point when he and Ilya do it for the first time his inner monologue is like "what if we get stuck together and the fire department has to come and pull us apart and EVERYONE WILL KNOW". A human ball of anxiety. Constantly embarrassed by himself. Ilya is more confident and smooth but also has some losery moments, like when they're camming for each other and he looks at Shane after and says in Russian "I'm so in love and it's horrible" lmao.

Lol Jamison from Tracey Livesay's American Royalty is notably pathetic because he's like, a frosty uptight British prince, and as soon as he sees the heroine he immediately becomes a slobbering ridiculous mess. He manages to keep up the frosty prince act for approx. five minutes.

Managed by Kristen Callihan. Scottie is so in control and prickly and TOGETHER... except for the scene where he fishes her dirty laundry out in the bathroom and does Unspeakable Things and then hand washes it and hides it under the mattress for Later and she FINDS IT.

Hotel of Secrets by Diana Biller has a virginal hero who believes he must be celibate to be an amazing operative, and he's great at the operative stuff, but he's soooo into the heroine. At one point there's a scene where she's bandaging him and she touches his ribs and he's like "pls stop" and she's all "why" and then Looks Down and goes "oh". Humiliating stuff!

Lush Money by Angelina M. Lopez has a hero who gets caught by the paparazzi when he's servicing the heroine on his knees in a car. Very sad for his dignity.

[zenonaa]

It’s 5/5! On Boys Day, families with sons will fly kites that look like koi fish above the house (a Black koi (representing Dad), a Red koi (Mum), a Blue koi (the eldest son), and various other coloured koi for any younger sons. Byakuya’s family would’ve had quite an impressive school of fish kites—if they were allowed to indulge in anything “fun”… (I imagine when Byakuya finally has a son(s), he makes *sure* to get him a kite (made of the finest materials, of course) and lets his son have fun)

Shobu-yu (Iris Bath) is a traditional Children’s Day (5/5) custom. Iris leaves (long, shaped like sword blades) have a strong fragrance, and it’s said to ward off evil spirits and make children grow healthy and strong (like a samurai!) Japanese bath tubs are very DEEP, so very young children often take baths *with* their parents (because the water level could go above a child’s head) Touko, canonically, HATES baths! But I think she would (somehow) deal with it—so that her children can benefit

:ooo ooh!!! If they had all grown up together, that would be so many koi kites omg haha. But yeah, I don't think Togami as a kid would have done that with his family (for the reasons you said, he did not grow up with his half-siblings and father, and <headcanon> his mother would want him to only focus on being a good heir) (also I can't decide if Aloysius would have done it with him, he may have declined to do so as he would see it as overstepping a boundary) but I think togami would do it with his own family! and I think Naegi would be the one to tell him about the tradition. Naegi watches the ToFu family doing it and smiles to himself then Kirigiri coughs and he goes back to his own family

aww i think she would be ok bathing with her little ones!! Fukawa and Togami aren't ones for the supernatural but I think with Togami's/Fukawa's poor family life growing up, they'd still do this and it'd be nice for them. and their little baby would be splashing and togami's face would scrunch as water got in his eyes and fukawa would giggle and be like sorry byakuya! then he'd flick some water in her eyes and sdsfdsdsds

thinking about fukawa feeling safe bathing with togami... thinking about togami methodically and patiently working through her hair... thinking about fukawa despite her fantasies and lewdness and forwardnes being shy with her nakedness but togami is as well... ahhh

[bigmouthlass]

Title:  Artificial Lullabye

Series: Supernatural B-Sides

Author:  BJ

Fandom:  Supernatural

Rating:  Teen

Pairing:  John Winchester/Mary Winchester

Synopsis:  We all know Hey Jude is what Mary sang to her babies as a lullabye. It's a good choice, you can na-na forever until the kid calms down. John, being half a macho bastard and with different tastes in music, would probably sing something a little bit different.

Tags:  John Winchester, Mary Winchester, Baby Dean, Songfic, Teething Babies Are Evil, John's Not A Complete Bastard

AN:  Song is "Hootchie Cootchie Man," written by Willie Dixon and covered by Steppenwolf on their self-titled album. Before anybody says anything, Mildred Winchester's Universal Teething Cure isn't recommened because alcohol is poison-- use whatever gum medicine your pediatrician recommends. All recognizable intellectual properties are owned by their respective creators and holders of any copyrights or trademarks. This is a not-for-profit work of fan art and protected by Fair Use.

---

Asleep on his feet, John shuffled down the hall towards the shrieking of all the damned souls of Hell.  Funny, he reflected, of all the times Mary had threatened to run away and join the circus since having the baby, it was only after the little fiend started teething that he'd started to worry she might actually do it.  Funny too, of all the skills bashed into his head in Basic the ability to function while effectively dead was proving most useful in life as a husband and father.

Making shushing noises, John crossed the nursery to the crib under the window, where his firstborn son wailed in agony to the heavens above.  If angels really were watching, poor bastards must be getting an earful.  "C'mere, Deano," John said, lifting Dean and settling him on his chest.  Did the little rat calm down in the protective circle of his father's arms, lulled by the steady beat of a heart under his tiny pink ear?  Hell no.  Assured of a captive audience, Dean screamed straight into John's ear.  "Thanks kiddo, I can still hear out of that side," he muttered dryly.  "Let's go downstairs before your mother wakes up and bitches me out.  Again."

Down in the kitchen, John held Dean in one arm and used the other to assemble Mildred Winchester's Universal Teething Cure-- a glass of Four Roses on the rocks.  He dipped his finger into the chilled bourbon and slipped the finger into Dean's tiny mouth.  He winced as Dean bit down with his sharp new teeth.  Three on top and two on the bottom so far.  The demon spawn that had replaced his placid infant son had already drawn blood with the damned things.  God help him, John had come close to slapping Mary when she smacked Dean's nose while feeding him the other day.  He hadn't gotten it until she'd shown him the tiny tooth cuts on her nipple.

"Lesson number one," John said, massaging his cold whiskey-moist finger against Dean's feverish gums, "is real men never hurt girls.  Especially not that one."  Another dip and thank all the heavenly blessings Dean's howling tapered to sniffles.  A frozen waffle for gnawing and a quick wipe with John's handkerchief, Dean looked almost himself again, peering out at the world with his huge green eyes.  His paternal grandmother's eyes, and didn't Mom just love that?  Not like his own dark brown eyes -- a gift from Grandpa Solomon -- or Deanna Campbell's aquamarine.

He frowned.  For some reason, when he tried to think of meeting and talking with his in-laws, the memories felt strange in his head.  Like he'd been high at the time.

Hah.  Show up to the Campbell house bombed equals fancy way to scrag yourself.  Samuel Campbell had detested John on sight and John knew full well he'd never wavered from that judgement.

Dean started to fuss.  "Sorry Deano," John said, bringing his attention back to the present.  "Just me thinks."

John drank off the whiskey and stuck the glass in the sink.  Upstairs, he changed Dean and started to put Dean down in the crib.  Dean let out a little whine and John sighed.  On top of everything else, the boy was a slow sleeper.  Putting him straight down was just asking for a repeat performance.  "Can't never make things easy on your old man," he sighed, blissfully unaware of the coming years in which the scrap in his arms would become his only barricade between sanity and madness.  John settled Dean with his son's little face in the crook of his neck and shoulder and started pacing.  The Impala would put him under in a New York Minute, but he'd exchange a crabby baby for a crabby wife, and given a choice--

Well it wasn't like Mary was the only one of them who could run away and join the circus.  Maybe they could drop Dean off at Mom's and make it a mutual thing.  Goodbye son, hello sequined tights.  See ya when he hits college.

"Gypsy woman told my mother . . . 'fore I was born . . . you gotta boychild comin' . . . gonna be a real sonofagun . . ." John sang under his breath, keeping his steps short and gently bouncing to the blues riff.  "Gonna make the pretty womens . . . jump and shout," God it was a fucking miracle, Dean lay quiet in John's arms, waffle forgotten in his mouth, wide eyes turned up to John.  John grinned.

"Cuz you know I'm him . . ." he did a little reverse-step.  "EVER-ry body knows I'm him . . ." remembering Mary feather-light in his arms as they danced at that old honky-tonk outside Jackson, Steppenwolf blaring from the jukebox and realizing he'd fallen like a sack of mail.  "I'm your hootchie-coochie man . . ." God, Dean's little baby smile looked a lot like Mary's, sweet but with that edge, the one that told the world screw around with me at your own risk, "everybody knows I'm here."

He stuck to humming the next verse, and if he threw in a few dancing twirls nobody but God had to know.  If it got Dean to Dreamland he'd drop trou and do the funky chicken.

Yeah, John thought to himself, holding his son a little tighter.  No tinny music box tinkling out a cheap dime replica of a lullaby for his kids.  No disappearing into thin fucking air out of fucking nowhere, leaving Dean alone to be the man of the house.  It still blew John's mind that one day the tiny thing cuddled into him will be a man someday.

Just love him, Johnny, Mildred had told him, the first time she held her grandson in her arms.  Start with that and the rest will follow.

"Yes ma'am," John muttered.  "On the seventh hours . . . on the seventh day . . . the seventh month . . . seven doctors say . . ."

Mary cleared her throat from the doorway and John looked over his shoulder, meeting her tired smile with his own and holding a finger in front of his lips.  "He was born for good luck . . . and that you will see . . ."  Gentle as though he were disabling a landmine, John laid a snorting Dean down in the crib.  "I got seven hundred dollars, so don't you mess with me."   Dean let out a couple sleepy squirms and settled, his mouth curved in a tiny baby smile.  John chuckled a little.  Put it next to his Vietnam Service Medal-- I made my kid smile.

Turning to his wife, John pitched his voice low.  Suggestive.  "But," he pointed at Mary, "you know I'm him," Mary smothered a laugh with one hand, "everybody knows," John jerked a thumb back at himself, "I'm him.  I'm your hootchie-cootchie man," his arm went around Mary.  John kissed her neck where it made her giggle, breathing in her scent of clean hair and soft perfume and just a hint of milk, "Everybody knows, I'm him."

Mary checked on Dean.  She gave John a thumbs-up and tiptoed out.

"Should we ever tell him why you're singing that to him?" Mary asked.

John grinned.  "Sure.  When he's old enough to learn how to drive it."  Maybe they should make a pilgrimage to the bridge they'd been parked underneath that night.  He kissed Mary and pulled her close.

Mary melted under his touch for a few delicious minutes, then gently urged John still.  She yawned.  "Down boy."

"Yes ma'am."  Hand in hand, they went back up the hallway.

One whole step.  Then from behind they heard the tattletale tiny whines and snorts.  John shut his eyes and said something he picked up from the Island.  Mary rolled her eyes heavenword and said something she got from her sailor uncle.  Dean made up in volume what he lacked in vocabulary.

Mary looked at John.  John looked at Mary.  Together, they weighed their love for one another and their love for their son.

John threw Paper, Mary threw Rock.  Groaning, Mary turned on her heel and went to confront the Beast.  John stood and just listened for a long moment.  A corner of his mouth lifted in a wry smile.  Up to his neck in picket fence wholesomeness and it felt good.

I'm a high school dropout who doesn't amount to much, John said to himself.  And I'm going to have to make it up as I go.  But I swear my son will grow up knowing what a man should be, because I'm going to be right there to show him.  Dean I promise-- you'll never doubt how much your daddy loves you.  Not ever.

---

Four years later, John will sit on a cot in a fire station with a howling infant and a silent little boy, the last of his wife leaving him as the smell of smoke fades from his clothes.  Dean still has Sammy in his arms and is pacing and bouncing, the way he's seen Mary do when Sammy fusses but of course he's pacing too fast and bouncing too hard.  He's too young to know babies need finesse.  The John Winchester that would've picked up both his boys and held them close is disappearing too and somehow Dean knows it.  John doesn't do anything but stare at nothing as the fire department's secretary coaxes Dean into slowing down.  She reshapes Dean's arms to cradle Sammy properly and shows him how to sway in that special soothing way.  John can't do anything but be distantly grateful.  At least Sammy's calming down.

Both of his sons will say later that for all intents and purposes John died when he found Mary burning alive over Sam's crib.  The reality is, John died when the secretary turned the radio on Low and his children spent their first night without their mother falling asleep to an artificial lullabye.

---

AN2: Wow, this went to an angsty place. I just re-watched S8E12, 'As Time Goes By,' and it explains a lot about John-- why he made the choices he did, why he absolutely refused to home-base the boys with Pastor Jim or Bobby, and why he never really acknowledged the damage he was doing to his sons. It's the question people raised by troubled parents have to grapple with all their lives; John did the best he could, but how much does that justify? Or excuse?

[mousecolor]

Anime I’ve Been Watching Recently (April 2023)

Giant Gorg

I’m a few episodes into this kids adventure show from the 80s and I’m obsessed with it. It’s got the typical genre crew: boy protag, girl, nerd, heavy, giant robot and dog mascot. The villain is an evil nepo baby trying to earn his billionaire inheritance by taking over a fictional island in the South Pacific for his family’s mega corporation. He is basically what the characters of Succession think they are. 

This show also contains some pretty heinous racial caricature of Black people, to the extent I would be remiss not to bring it up. It’s mostly background characters, so far main characters with dark skin are depicted sensitively. 

Here’s what I like about the show: the protagonists are constantly killing people. After the last few years of working in kids media and building a laundry list of pretty benign stuff I’m not allowed to depict in kids comics, (can’t show a kid prick their finger on a cactus, can’t show a kid use scissors that are too big, can’t show a mom greet a kid with a neutral expression, she has to be ecstatic) I have to admit I’m pretty jealous of a show where the protagonists get a tank and fire it at evil capitalists. I know this is kind of like being nostalgic for when gasoline had lead in it. 

Gorg has also had a couple scenes that were genuinely creepy and scary. Those scenes usually are completely silent, something really rare in kids cartoons. I’m excited to see where Giant Gorg goes.

Kanon

I came across this while browsing and, based solely on the image above, I correctly deduced that it was based on an erotic visual novel from the 90s. I felt like a genius when I looked it up and saw I was right, then I felt ashamed I had amassed enough experience rubbing elbows with such media that i could identify it immediately. Is there a term for this? The skills we acquire by accident in pursuit of our hobbies?

Anyway this show is complete schlock based on an eroge and it still made me laugh out loud and cry actual tears. 

I also got the feeling I got when I first read “Night on the Galactic Railroad” and other stories by Kenji Miyazawa in that I was realizing how many manga and anime had been influenced by his work. I had been encountering work inspired by, responding to, and reaching for his work for years, but I had never read the original text. Suddenly he was everywhere. Similarly, I realize now I’ve been encountering works responding to Kanon for ages now. 

I was curious about how adapting a romance visual novel for a TV show would work out. Each girl gets her own pollen, slightly interwoven with all the others, and the show spends a few episodes introducing them all at once, then goes through each girl’s story line one by one. In a VN the storyline would culminate in a love confession and the couple getting together, but for a show that still has a few more girls for the protagonist to get close to, each storyline culminates in something akin to a love confession, then the girl gets conveniently removed from the story. Mostly they get put in the hospital. 

I really like how the supernatural elements are introduced in the show, which is bit by bit, and then all at once. The girl with the most implausible, magical storyline is explored first, so the rest seem completely believable in comparison. 

The show did become a little one-note in that all of the plot lines culminate with the girl (or someone close to her) being sick or injured. There are a million scenes of girls languishing in hospital beds or tending to someone doing the same. I don’t know what any of the sex scenes in the VN were like, but this almost felt more perverse. By the end of the show, almost the entire cast is in the hospital. 

Anyway, I loved it!

Record of Lodoss War (OVA)

I first saw this years and years ago as a little kid. I got the DVDs from my local game rental place, which had a tiny rack of anime tapes and DVDs for rent. It was really fun to compare what the show actually is against my memories.

Anyway, this show looks great. At no point did the story or characters surprise me in any way. I loved looking at it but I was also enduring it.

[windywallflower]

Lets talk COMICS!!

So hey did you know Windy & Wallflower is kinda responsible for a few FREE little webcomics floating around the internet?

You might recognise Tas' work through

The Sanity Circus

This guy follows the life of a girl named Attley who thought she was living a pretty normal life until her best friend decided to become evil? And she stumbled into some shifter boy? And now she's busy running from scarecrow and instrumen?? Turns out he isn't even human or as normal as she once thought!

Tas has put a good honkin' 8 years of work into this bad boy and it's nearing just about 700 pages! If you're looking for something to deep dive into, you should definitely check it out~! (Updates every: MONDAY and FRIDAY)

Paint the Town Red

This is our first big collaborative baby as Windy & Wallflower! We've been chipping away at this bad boy since 2017 and NOW this one even has a website of its own! We've got the entirety of Volume 1 up and Volume 2 is being posted every WEDNESDAY and SUNDAY!

This one releases in physical volumes first and online later.

Paint The Town Red follows a dramatic slice-of-life between vampires and werewolves in the strange supernatural city of Merlot. The story starts with a new werewolf and her best friend upkeeping a werewolf shelter.. when one day a vampire shows up looking for shelter as well! HMMM~~

The last of our big comics is our newest baby yet..

AUGUSTINE

This one's our greek myth x borderlands webcomic! It follows a ragtag group of wanted hooligans who tend to make things worse in their efforts to save local folks. They mean well but well... that doesn't always work out. Fate, however has something else in mind for this group as their found family is put to the test when their leader-- well that's going into a bit of spoilers isn't it? (updates every: TUESDAY & THURSDAY)

We're releasing the first chapter as book really soon! Its even up on pre-order on our shop!

Windy & Wallflower is just a little duo putting out a whole lot of stuff we think is pretty neat and we know you don't like being Advertised To but y'know, we gotta eat and you can help support us by checking out our work (reading our comics) by stopping by at our convention tables OR by checking out our shop online!

Right now most of the above titles have books in our shop so if you like what you're reading we could always use the sale ;>

>> SHOP HERE <<

And if you CAN'T buy these straight up but you love reading books we'd be over the moon if you contacted your local libraries & pointed them our way //chin in hands ~

Always HUGE thanks for all your support! Have fun reading about our rowdy guys!! hehehe!

[cljordan-imperium]

Hello, there. My name is CJ. I'm a writer of the Fantasy and Dark Fantasy, sometimes Supernatural genre(s) and I love to write about romance, friendship, found family, the evolution of my characters, twists and turns, surprises, damaged characters, lost love, good vs evil. Secret identity, ummm…there are a lot and I don’t want to bore you.

I am both sfw and nsfw, warning on the nsfw ones.   I do write fantasy, evil, demons, angels, religion, blood, viscera, evisceration, gore, swearing, slavery, manipulation, ptsd, emotional manipulation, dv, sa, abuse, death, hell, torture, violence, war, fighting, anger, injury, emotional abuse, verbal abuse, so just be aware of that.  I do put trigger warnings at the beginning of the chapters that contain those other than: heaven, hell, angels, demons, fantasy, religion, as those are central to the plot of my stories.  Tropes you will never find in my writing include: overpowered characters that cannot be hurt, incest, teenagers of any kind, pedophilia.

In my humble opinion, my best work I've posted is the pixie series because it was really a work of love.  I spent a lot of time and research on it. The history on it is accurate other than the supernatural parts.  There is so much religious canon in it that required research that I’m proud of it. My heart was really in it.

My all-time favorite characters I've made are: Abriella, Deacon, Olly,  Anna, Yael, Phaedra, Grae and Adalicia, The Royal Guard.  I’m proud that I have been able to carry on Cruz, Talon, and Dez true to their original creators and that they love the characters.

Something I'd love for you to know about my writing that isn't listed in this game is Abriella is over 20 years old.  She has evolved a lot in that time.  The current story is a continuation of a story that started in 2019 after I pulled her from being an RP character and began writing her story solo.  The old stories are posted on Facebook, and I’ve considered posting them here along with the story of an archaeologist who is the daughter of Marie LaVeau that is like a mix of Tomb Raider, Indiana Jones, and The Librarians.  All of my characters are my babies.  Both Abriella and Mel (the other character) have hundreds of chapters written and I know them as well as I know myself..

Thank you for reading and now I challenge the following people to fill this out: @saltysupercomputer @shipping-through-eternity @late-to-the-fandom @blind-the-winds

@iloveyou-writers   @introducing-writeblr

[sanguinifex]

Actually, a good example of this is the anime Mushishi. Maybe it’s because it only got 2 seasons, but it’s very much the above but in Meiji-era Japan, and Ginko (the protagonist) is mostly resolving conflicts between humans and the creatures who were already living on the land these humans were trying to farm. Many episodes are essentially about zoonoses: humans disturb the habitats of wild animals (but spooky ones) and end up getting supernaturally sick as a result. In many cases, the solution is not to destroy the “mushi,” or supernatural creature, but to accommodate both it and the humans. In one episode where a woman is parasitized by magic plant babies after she and her husband accidentally built a house on top of a parasitic plant baby plant, Ginko pretends to injure the plant and force it to become dormant and hands the couple a rock, telling them it might take many years to wake up (because they got attached to the plant babies, which are actually the plant’s fruit, and originally called Ginko bc the oldest one had fallen ill, having reached the end of its life cycle); in the next scene, he’s revealed to be talking to the plant’s actual self captured in a jar, and he’s going to replant it somewhere where it will be safe from human encroachment for many years.

Like, in contrast, I’m not going to say that the X-Files or Supernatural or Buffy were bad shows—they were very good in their early seasons, before their respective commitments to ever-increasing stakes drove them off the rails—but they portray the supernatural or the alien as universally adversarial to human existence. That is a very Western Capitalist mode of thinking, where humans must expand their settlements and extract material resources from the earth at all costs, and shift most of those costs onto the plant and animal populations of the area being pillaged, and the rest of the costs onto the workers being exploited to perform the resource extraction and any humans unfortunate enough to already live in the targeted area. And the Western Capitalist response to any resistance to such extraction, which every monster hunter show is ultimately at least in part an allegory for and reflection of (how many XF and Supernatural and, yes, even Buffy episodes are about our anxieties about American colonization and Native genocide?), is “kill it with fire.”

What we need, especially in this era of increasing ecological devastation, is a paradigm shift to the idea that monsters in this genre are just more species of animals or people, and it’s usually either our fault or nobody in particular’s fault when two such groups come into conflict.

Like, I’d like an episode where, just once, the scary evil possession phenomena just turns out to be a bat virus. Which people are getting because someone accidentally dug up a bat habitat to build a new shopping center, so now you’ve got bat poop dust blowing all over town and people are breathing it. And where the solution is not “kill all the bats” but “build the shopping center somewhere else,” or “does a town this size really need a third Walmart Supercenter, anyway? Just higher more stockers and cashiers at the other two!”

Or an episode where the werewolves are only attacking humans or livestock because they’re starving—the local deer population has collapsed due to an unusually deer-lethal strain of covid. The city council buys up a lot of wholesale offal from a slaughterhouse and provides it to the werewolves until the deer population recovers, because the werewolves would qualify for SNAP benefits anyway if they actually had birth certificates and social security numbers.

Et cetera.

Et cetera.

To a more mutualistic future.

my most unpopular stranger things related but not stranger things exclusive opinion is that i am very bored with how almost every story that has paranormal or scifi elements eventually evolves into a story about stopping the end of the world. and i do know that apocalypse media has its enjoyers however i am not one of them and i very rarely choose to consume it so you see why it would exhaust me that so often all my horror shows and podcasts turn into an apocalypse thing

[nijjhar]

Luke 11v29-32:- Jesus didn't perform miracles among the clever unbelievi.. Luke 11v29-32:- Jesus didn't perform miracles among the clever unbelieving authoritarian Rabbis but the village people. https://youtu.be/lufKuCvGTCM Holy Gospel of our Supernatural Father Elohim, Allah, Parbrahm, etc., delivered by the First Anointed Christ, which in Punjabi we call Satguru Jesus of the highest living God Elohim that dwells within His Most Beautiful Living Temple of God created by the greatest artist demiurge Potter, the Lord of the Nature Yahweh, Brahma, Khudah, etc. and it is called Harmandir or “Emmanuel” according to Saint Luke 11,29-32. While still more people gathered in the crowd, Jesus said to them, "This generation is an evil greedy dirty-hearted generation; it seeks a sign, but no sign will be given it, except the sign of Jonah. Just as Prophet Jonah, a witness to the Light became a sign to the Ninevites, so will the Son of Man be to this generation and that was he rose on the Third Day. At the judgment the queen of the south will rise with the men of this greedy generation and she will condemn them, because she came from the ends of the earth to hear the wisdom of Solomon, and there is something greater than Solomon here. At the judgment the men of Nineveh will arise with this generation and condemn it, because at the preaching of Jonah they repented, and there is something greater than Jonah here." A Testimony by an American Soldier:- Youtube channel - Truthsoldier I served in the satanic Iraq war. I openly am shamed for that and I asked for forgiveness for taking part in that war. I actually had my awakening while over in Iraq. My eyes were opened to the injustice of that war. The Iraqi people loved Saddam; they had whole stories with nothing but Saddam’s face on everything. Since then I have been speaking out against the US and ISRAEL on my Youtube channel. Here is my contribution:- Holy spirit, common sense, shatters the fetters of the dead letters, the Holy Books. If we have One God, our Supernatural Father of our souls, then there should be one Faith. In Christianity, Jesus said One Fold called the Church of God headed by One Shepherd, our Bridegroom Christ Jesus/Christ = Satguru Nanak Dev Ji, the Second coming of Jesus. they have DHARM. That is why no Bhagat was needed there except when Satguru Thomas visited and transformed people into Christianity in which you go by heart and not by the forbidden Jewish Leaven  Book, called the Bible. This time of Kalyug has been defined by Christ Nanak:- All the Glory to our Father in honour of our anointed Elder Brother Christ Jesus, who introduced to us our Father through His Word. We are solitary Christ from above in Christ Jesus, the True Vine planted by our Father Elohim, Allah, Parbrahm, etc. PAWANN (REVELATION) ARANBHH (BEGINNING) SATGUR (SAT = THE BOTTOM LINE GOSPEL TRUTH, THE ROCK OVER WHICH THE TEMPLE OF GOD STANDS AND GUR MEANS TARIKA = FORMULA, WHICH IS LOGICAL REASONING THAT YOU YOURSELF HAVE TO DO) MATT (WISDOM OR WAY OF LIFE) WAILA (TIME); SHABD (END PRODUCT = NECTAR OF THE LOGICAL REASONING CALLED LOGO = HIS WORD) GURU = TEACHER; SURAT (COMMON SENSE) DHUNN CHAELA (A DEVOTED STUDENT). That is, the Gospel cannot be written down in ink on paper as the Scriptures, the Milk for the once-born babies is. Gospel is the Flesh of Jesus and Nanak or what came out of their mouths. In India, the crooks were imitating the Gospel and for this reason, Satguru Arjan Dev Ji got one written under his supervision in which every Saint and Satguru himself appeared and spoke that the Scribe Bhai Gurdass Ji sitting in another tent wrote. Each page was signed by Satguru Arjun Dev Ji. The one who was sent to get it bound diligently copied it and presented two Holy Books called Ad-Granth; Satguru Arjan Dev Ji rejected the copied version and said that the spiritually blind would read that copied version. So, these holy books in the Sikh Temples like the Bible are corrupted that the spiritually blind read and become drunken fanatics. I will make a YouTube Video on this topic. Saint Matthew 19,16-22. A young man approached Jesus and said, "Teacher, what good must I do to gain eternal life?" He answered him, "Why do you ask me about the good? There is only One who is good. If you wish to enter into life, keep the commandments of Yahweh as our Supernatural Father is Spirit and He sets us FREE of the Law and commandments. This is a Messianic Jewish corruption." He asked him, "Which ones?" And Jesus replied, " 'You shall not kill; you shall not commit adultery; you shall not steal; you shall not bear false witness; honour your father and your My ebook by Kindle. ASIN: B01AVLC9WO Full description:- www.gnosticgospel.co.uk/Rest.htm Any helper to finish my Books:- ONE GOD ONE FAITH:- www.gnosticgospel.co.uk/bookfin.pdf and in Punjabi KAKHH OHLAE LAKHH:-  www.gnosticgospel.co.uk/pdbook.pdf Very informative Channel:- Punjab Siyan. John's baptism:- www.gnosticgospel.co.uk/johnsig.pdf Trinity:- www.gnosticgospel.co.uk/trinity.pdf .

[darkmarkets]

DM's Field Guide to Dark Fiction - Supernatural Horror

genus: supersticiae ad infinitum orders: Tales of Terror, Horror, Gross-out

Common traits – Supernatural Horror most often involves a protagonist battling against some force that is above or greater than nature, and that force can be anything from spiritual to occultic, religious to mythological. This force must inspire revulsion and fear in the protagonist (because prancing around happily with a sexy supernatural centaur does not Supernatural horror make). For the right horrifying effect, ghosts and demons are popular, sometimes joined by vampires, ghouls, succubi, poltergeists, werewolves,

While the supernatural elements in the story can combine to aid the hero or heroine in their war with forces beyond their understanding (such as helpful gypsies with spells to close the gates of hell or priests who know how to shut that malignant ghost up), for the most part the protagonist is at odds with the supernatural, wishing to kill/escape/stop it. The supernatural can almost always be killed, escaped from, or stopped because the spirit world is just as regulated as the boring old mundane one, and that is what sets Supernatural Horror apart from the Weird Tale or Psychological Horror: the threat is a faith, myth, or superstition-based menace that can be defeated by the rules set forth by whatever occult know-it-all happens to be hanging around.

Historical sightings – The supernatural has been used in fiction since the first storytellers crawled out of the primordial sea; it's been used even more heavily in life throughout history. There have been decades of life on this earth where people actually believed that an improperly-blessed sneeze could let demons in, so the use of such ghastly ghost mongering in stories is hardly something that can be tracked.

However, the use of the supernatural in order to terrify is a relatively recent phenomenon. In Western publishing, Supernatural Horror has its roots in the Gothic traditions of the 18th and 19th centuries, with notable occurrences like Henry James' story "The Turn of the Screw" and W. W. Jacob's "The Monkey's Paw", not to mention the stories of occult-obsessed Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.  Bram Stoker's immortal classic Dracula also hails from this camp, as the well-informed Professor Von Helsing battles against the shape-shifting ancient evil bent on draining the blood out of ol' Harker's honey boo.

The tactic of using the supernatural to give readers the willies has been taken up by tons of writers throughout the 20th century: Richard Matheson, Shirley Jackson, Ramsay Campbell, Anne Rice, Ray Bradbury, Clive Barker and a slew of others. It was during this horror-happy decade that The Exorcist by William Peter Blatty and Rosemary's Baby by Ira Levin emerged as stunning classics of occult fiction (the former actually leading to a spike in exorcisms requested by the general public).

While the frenzied bloodthirst for Horror fiction has tapered off in the beginnings of the 21rst century, many horror writers still put in hard time in the grand Supernatural tradition. Writers like Caitlyn R. Keirnan and Laird Barron are serving up serious literary fare with a supernatural taste, and more mainstream writers like Bentley Little and Edward Lee dip their pens in the inkwell of the occult. And of course, many other cultures around the globe have fantastic traditions of terrifying with the supernatural, on every continent from Latin America to Africa to Asia, each following their own completely different sets of rules and gory regulations, but to survey them all would take a lifetime of arcane study.

Modern habitats – The old tropes of supernatural horror—possession by Judeo-Christian-style demons, wrathful souls of the dead speaking through Ouija boards, anything with gypsy curses—are not taken well in modern Western Horror publishing. (In Western Horror films, of course, they live mercilessly unchallenged, and anyone who says the Paranormal Activity series isn't wet-your-pants scary is probably not wearing pants. But Paranormal Horror is a different species.) Still, that doesn't mean the supernatural itself is shunned. Big Guns like Clarksworld Magazine still is happy to look at an offical Supernatural Horror story, and Reputable Guns like Psuedopod and Three Lobed Burning Eye won't shake a mojo stick at them either. But, if a writer is interested in a market that doesn't specifically say supernatural accepted here, then it's a simple trick to rely more on another subgenre like Psychological or Weird, and then dole out a helping of supernatural on the side.

Related: Ghost Story, Creature Horror, Werewolf, Vampire, Demon, Dark Fantasy

See also: Introduction 

LD Keach