#another fucking cultist

[eldritchqueerture]

if I was the Documentarist I would honestly probably strangle Mor at that point

[the-valiant-valkyrie]

i'm KIND OF REALLY BAD at making outfits/designs for characters so i'm not sure if i'm ever going to get around to anyone else.... but the isat tag can take my cultist au odile. as a little treat.

Odile - Siffrin - Isabeau

[drawnandredrawn]

The file name is 'Preechur' and I think that's swell. Monster preacher Vox with some, but not all, of the cross gonk I wore around during my misspent (in several cults) youth.

This picture has moved beyond my potato-ass desktop's ability to process so it's done now, but if you want to support my ability to do more involved pictures like this in the future I'm trying to scratch together 60$ for some parts to fix my significantly more powerful laptop and I'll draw you a sketch for donations. Win-win, right?

[feralpodcastlistener]

the word ‘heist’ to WOE.BEGONE is what ‘cultist’ is to Malevolent

[swordmaid]

companion shri’iia au and you meet her in the blighted village where a couple of goblins are cowering around her, at first she’s wary at the group’s arrival but when the bluetooth worm connection happens and player character is like oh you’re tadpoled like us she’s like yes true… and when you ask her about how did she get here she will say the goblins took her here, mentions something about an absolute etc. you ask her who she is she’s like im shri’iia, an adventurer 🙂. if you ask her if she’s good at fighting she’s like yes im a paladin after all 🙂 and you can recruit her bc she agrees that getting rid of the tadpole is the priority and the odds are better if u stick together. alternatively if you point out that it’s strange to see a drow in the surface she’s gonna be like the same way it is strange we have worms in our heads no?

but if you walk around one of the damaged houses there’s gonna be an opened discarded book that regales the tales of this paladin adventurer and she basically mimicked what was written when she was introducing herself. if you point it out to her later she’ll be like oh that’s a fun coincidence ☺️ and leave it at that

[divinecomedyproductions]

*See's fanart American McGee's Alice and Lies of P Pinocchio together, happy, and healing*

...Yup, you two getting put into The Emperor-Verse...

(Which is set in the Narnia Multiverse for those who are curious)

[eldritchqueerture]

LARSON: It led us all to the Order of the Fallen Star. ARTHUR (scornful): Jesus Christ. LARSON: So you’ve heard of us? ARTHUR: No, I just lost a bet with myself, that you weren’t just another fucking cultist. YELLOW: He’s stopped eating his apple. He’s gestured to Uncle. (Uncle stomps forward, growling. The sound of tearing flesh. Arthur groans in agony as the sound of high-pitched ringing becomes audible.) YELLOW: Arthur, he’s torn off a piece of your right ear! LARSON: I admire your gumption, but will not be disrespected in my own home. (The sound of blood dripping.) YELLOW: He’s finished the apple and placed it down. Maybe you should shut up and listen, Arthur.

STOP DISRESPECTING MY ARTHUR WHEN HE'S BEING SO FUNNY

[hussyknee]

Lol no she hasn't. She's categorically stated her continuing support for Israel several times. I don't care about performative boycotts, she's been cosigning everything Biden did the last ten months. Who the fuck is she boycotting, she's the VP of the administration that's invited him lmaooo. If she can't get her party to listen to her now, when they need the votes, she won't do shit when they no longer do.

Y'all keep saying you're voting for not just the President but the administration. This entire Democratic administration is responsible for Israel's genocide of Gaza. There will be nothing left to save by January. I know browbeating vulnerable minorities is your favourite pastime but it will not ever win you one single vote. You are not dealing with a bunch of brainwashed idiots with no principles like you, you are dealing with people who would quite literally rather die than endorse a party that won't stop blowing up children. There is no "less evil" genocider. Kindly spend your time and energy screaming at your pet Zionists to divest from Israel and comply with the ICJ, or prepare to lose in November.

Biden's stepped down for a younger, more competent genocidaire to take his place. Probably think they won't need to change the policy as long as they change the face.

[werecreature-addicted]

Sacrificial Lamb reader/vampire priest.

Just consider— a cute little lamb reader lying on the altar, begging not to be slaughtered, the tears their crying making the vampires heart flutter. All the cult members are confused why the ritual keeps getting pushed back- meanwhile the vampire is spoiling his little lamb rotten.

ohioohooohiohoo

His hands are gentle, stroking your cheek as you wake slowly, your eyes flutter open slowly to the morning light, and there he is, your keeper.

"Morning," you yawn sleepily,

"Good morning, little one,"

"is it a good morning? I thought my execution was scheduled for today." you huff, you should be more scared but the soft look on his face can only mean one thing. you get out of bed and change idly, not minding the priest as he watches you, he's a man of god after all, there's no way he'd be looking at you in lust.

"ah well, we thought so but some knew doctrine has come to light, now is not the time for sacrifices. we'll have to wait for next winter, at the very least," he says. You hum thoughtfully turning back to face him, his hungry red eyes fixed on your body, flicking up to meet your face as you turn around.

"Well, I'll make myself useful until winter then." When you were born, it had been prophecized that you would be sacrificed to the gods and your death would bring about a new golden age for your homeland. Then, on your eighteenth birthday, you'd been handed over to the church, to live out your final days in the temple, under the watchful gaze of the father and his dedicated cult. Your execution has been postponed four times now.

You wondered if the cultists even bothered setting up the altar this time. it was always something, the stars weren't aligned properly, the materials were all wrong, you fell ill and couldn't be slaughtered while sick, and now, Spring was a time for rebirth, you'd have to wait for winter for the ritual. which winter? who's to say? it might be another few years before he tries to start your sacrifice again.

He comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist. he puts his nose to your throat and kisses your skin. "You could be useful to me now," he breathes, his voice strained, tight with hunger. You had been so scared the first time you'd almost been killed, you remembered sobbing and pleading for your life, his knife poised above your throat, He told you that you could live, for now, if you served the cult and him. Of course, you agreed, that was the first time he bit you, spilling your blood on the altar in a different way.

You lean your neck to the side and sigh as you feel his fangs pierce your skin. you have to lean back against him for support as he drinks your blood and you grow weaker.

"so perfect, so delicious," he murmurs to himself as he drinks your blood, licking at your throat, catching any stray drops of blood. His hands slide down your body feeling up your hips and thighs. You can feel his hard cock pressing against your back as he slowly grinds against you. The priest is chaste, a man of god, but he's also a vampire, as he's explained he can't help but get erect when he feeds it's a natural side effect and completely nonsexual.

He pins you down on the bed and pushes your legs apart, grinding against you, fully clothed, as he bites your neck again. you feel dizzy, a mix of feelings as your blood is drained and as you buck and grind against the vampire on top of you. you try to keep quiet, but you can't help but moan as he takes full advantage of you. You feel dirty, the man who's saved your life so many times now is just trying to eat and here you are getting off, practically masturbating right in front of him with his cock.

You can feel how large his dick is as you grind together, you can't help but wonder what it would feel like if he pulled your underwear aside and fucked you properly while he drained your blood, the thought alone makes you shudder and press up against him as he continues to dry hump you. although with the sticky feeling between your legs and his wet mouth sucking on your neck, "dry" might be the wrong word.

you bite down on your own hand to muffle the sounds of your pleasure as you cum, still trying to hide your own lust, what would the priest think if he found out you were so lustful? if you were lucky he'd bend you over and spank you for being so sinful, at worst he might chain you down to the sacrificial altar and leave you there.

The priest pulls away, breathless, your blood smeared messily around his mouth "What a mess we've made," he huffs, looking down at your neck, and then his eyes drop further to the place where your bodies meet.

"I can clean it-" you offer weakly,

"no, no little thing, rest, you need to let your body heal, close your eyes, I'll take care of all this," he coos reassuringly, you nod obediently and close your eyes.

You look so venerable like this, he could do almost anything he wanted with you in this weakened state. the prophecy said it had to be a virginal sacrifice, maybe he could halt the ritual permanently if he just took what he'd wanted from the beginning.

[clockwayswrites]

5 Times the JL Learned Batman was Married and the 1 Time They Met the Spouse.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. + 1

“What is going on?” Batman asked the group as he swept into the room.

John stayed focused on the circle, not wanting to mess up now. It would be a lot of faff for nothing if he did.

“Constantine believes he has a contact to help us with our current issue,” Superman explained. “He is working on the summoning circle now.”

“Is that safe to do on the Watchtower?” Batman asked, as cautious as ever.

“Yeah, mate,” John answered for himself. “This one is a good one. Haven’t met them myself, but real helpful sort of fellow from everything I’ve heard. Or at least real helpful for the things that they can help with.”

Careful not to smudge any lines, John moved backwards out of the circle and gave it a good look over. The rest of the lot were talking about something, but if Batman hadn’t stopped him yet, John figured he was good and intended to keep working. A little slice to his finger, a few drops of blood, the right words, and it was done.

The white markings of the circle seemed to shudder and warp, like the lines on a desert street. Then they snapped a bright green and the inner lines seemed to fall away into an endless void. The void rippled and suddenly a hand reached out of it. The claws made the worst sound as they gripped into the metal floor.

Another hand joined it.

And then the being pulled themselves out of the summoning circle.

John knew better than to try and comprehend what he was seeing. It was all shadow and green flames and fear anyways.

“Who dares to call upon the Ghost King?” the being asked. The voice echoed through the room, through John’s head, through his soul. It sounded like a thousand screaming voices of the dead speaking all at once.

Toxic green eyes in the black mass swept over the group. It was like they were being seen; their souls, their very beings, every aspect of them flayed open and on display for this other worldly entity. John swallowed reflexively when the eyes paused on him for a moment. He wasn’t scared, but there was still a primal part of his brain that said he should run.

Then the gaze landed on Batman and stayed there. Superman stepped forward, slightly, as if to shield Batman from the being’s view.

The being didn’t seem to care and leaned forward up to the edge of the circle. “B?”

Batman inclined his head slightly, “Phantom.”

“Shit. This Justice League approved, huh? Sorry about the dramatics. Usually I only get summoned by cultists who want Pariah Dark, the old king, to give them power or cleanse the world of life or blah blah blah. Best to show up and put the fear of me into them,” the being said, motioning to themselves and all their horror. The reverb of their voice had settled some, now only like a few voices overlapping.

“Understandable,” Batman agreed, seemingly unaffected by it all.

John could only shrug incredulously at Superman’s questioning gaze. Fuck if he knew. Sure, Bats was unflappable, but everyone knew he avoided the supernatural stuff if he could.

The being pulled the last of itself out of the portal which sealed with a sickening squelch. “You could have just called though. Like, I get summoning is a quick way to travel, but it's a little painful."

“Painful?” Batman asked, turning to stare at John, who swallowed nervously at the cold tone.

“Yeah. This was a pretty clean circle though, props to the maker—”

“Thanks, I think?” John mumbled at he watched the being start to shift. It was like watching a black hole collapse in on itself.

“—so it's not that bad, but still it feels like ripping some duct tape off my skin or something,” the being continued. They were much more human shaped now, though they still smiled with an alarming number of very white teeth.

“We'll keep that in mind in the future. I was unaware of who, exactly, they were summoning.”

The rest of the roiling darkness settled on their shoulders like a half cape— one that seemed to hold the infinity of the night sky inside it. The vortex of flames settled into a crown of fire that floated above a head of stark white hair. They flexed their claws and the limbs settled into normal hands that they tucked into pockets of their three piece black suit with its sharp white accents. Then they stepped over the live of what was supposed to be an unbreakable summoning circle.

Like it was just waking through a door.

Like it was nothing.

John took a reflexive step back. This kind of rule breaking shit was exactly why he liked to avoid the Infinite Realms when he could; they were too chaotic to easily manage.

“All good,” they said with a shrug and a fanged smile. “So, what did you need the Ghost King for?”

-

Bruce watched Phantom scan the meeting room as they entered. Their eyes caught, just for a moment, and a million thoughts ran through Bruce’s head. Did he want to do this? Was it time? He trusted the Justice League. They had issues and conflicts, like any group, but they were heroes through and through.

Revealing this also did not mean revealing either of their civilian identities.

The nod was barely any movement at all, but Bruce knew that Phantom had caught it and understood. After so many years together, they hardly needed words, which Bruce often appreciated. Words had never been easy for Bruce. He worked on it for his family. He had to after…

Bruce forced himself not to think about that. Danny had saved Jason, even if the resulting years without Danny there were some of the hardest for the family. They were together again and better for it. Bruce let out a careful breath and took his normal seat.

“Thank you for your assistance, King Phantom,” Wonder Woman started. Phantom held up a hand.

“I didn’t say I could assist. I’ll listen and help if I can and see fit, but there are a great many things that are not mine to aid in,” Phantom said sternly, though his voice was carefully kind. “My influence is only over those closely tied to death and of the Infinite Realms. The living are outside of my jurisdiction.”

“Of course,” Superman said quickly as he could without rushing the words. “Listening is a great start. If you’ll take a seat.”

Phantom nodded and strode right past the indicated seat. With a casual ease that Bruce had always envied, Phantom sat on the arm of Bruce’s chair.

“Um, King Phantom, your majesty?” Flash started nervously. “Batman doesn’t really like to be touched?”

“Really?” Phantom asked innocently. Bruce couldn’t see it, but knew exactly the smirk Phantom had as he leaned back to lounge against Bruce’s shoulder. (Bruce loved that smile.)

Bruce schooled his expression as he watched Flash and Hal exchange looks and frantic hand signs to each other.

J’onn tilted his head curiously as he took his own seat. Bruce could see J’onn come to an understanding as his eyes flickered down the the black metal brand around Phantom’s ring finger in the shape of a flying bat.

“Ah,” J’onn said softly.

“Ah? Ah what?” Flash asked, his words almost a whine. “What do you know?”

Bruce rested his hand lightly on Phantom’s hip, well aware that the motion was in sight of both Superman and Wonder Woman.

“Ah,” Wonder Woman said with a little smile. “J’onn knows something we all know, though not in this context. It is good to meet you, Phantom.”

“Good to meet you also, Wonder Woman. I’ve heard a lot about you,” Phantom said as she sat down next to them.

“I wish I could say the same,” she said with a teasing smile directed Bruce’s way.

“Hn.”

Phantom just laughed, the sound echoing like a ringing bell. “It’s okay, I know what B is like. Trust me, that you know anything at all is a big deal. He’s just bad at doing things the normal way.”

Bruce held back a sigh and just pinched Phantom’s side again, making the other squeak and backhand Bruce in the chest.

“Holy shit!” Hal jutted a finger at Phantom. “You’re Batman’s husband!”

“Guilty as charged,” Phantom said.

“Wait, no, you’re what?” Flash asked and zipped closer to the table. “Huh. You are so not what I expected. I mean, I guess ghost plus Spooky works but you’re so… lively! Wait— is that like, offensive to call the dead lively?”

Phantom laughed again and shook his head. “No, but not everyone in the realms will take it as a compliment. I don’t mind and besides, I’m only half-dead.”

“Half-dead?” Superman asked with his brow furrowed worriedly.

Phantom just waved the concern away. “It’s complicated. Mostly it just means that I still get to live out my human life as simply a human. Ghosts move slower, having eternity and all, so there’s not too much for me to do as the king other than attend to summons and make slow changes.”

“So,” Hal started, ignoring Bruce’s glare and sliding into a seat finally. “You’re married to Batman in your civilian form as well?”

“Of course, it would be silly otherwise,” Phantom said and then added, “and no, I won’t tell you who B is. That’s for him to choose.”

“Okay, but like, we can talk to you, right?” Flash asked, eager as ever.

“Well, I’m here, aren’t I? But work first. What do you think I can help you all with?”

Bruce moved his hand to rest on the small of Phantom’s back and watched his husband command the room like the king he was.

--- AN: and here's the last part! The JL finally meet Batman's husband, or at least once side of him!

[nightingale-prompts]

Incomprehensible Horrors

Inspired by that one scene from Vanitas no Carte

Another day another cult that wants to summon a god.

"You're too late Justice League! The dawn of a new age is here!" The leader shouted from the suspended platform.

"You idiots you can't open that portal! Awakening him will kill you too!" Constantine shouted back.

The entire base shook as the portal splintered open leaving a gash in reality. Green speckled black tar spilled out onto the platform and dripped down to the floor like rain.

"Come to us!"

A figure entombed in black tar rose out of the portal chained by black tendrils.

"You must not free him unless you can kill him! He will end our reality!" Constantine's words fell on deaf ears.

Gravity in the room fluctuated paralyzing everyone in place. It was like a black hole had opened up in the room. Streams of black smoke rose out of every corner. Unknown voices echoed around them each sounding different to everyone. Hallucinations of eyes appeared in the darkness and gazed at them.

"Constantine, how do we stop them?!" Superman shouted over the white noise of the voices.

"Fuck all! It's here now!" Constantine said though clenched teeth.

The cultist raised his knife and cut open the tar bubble.

"Watch now! The rebirth of a god!"

A wailing echoed silencing the voices. The distorted crying sounded eerily like that of a baby.

The figure emerged covered in the remnants of the inky womb that contained him. Its skin shined like black opal stone, embedded with starlike speckles of color. Glowing green eyes stared from behind a curtain of wet and stained white hair.

"My god, I offer you these souls so that you may regain your strength-" The cultist was suddenly stopped when the god grabbed him by the neck.

"YoU sHoUlD nOt HaVe DoNe ThAt."

[evilminji]

You know all those Cults in Gotham?

Bet at least ONE of them could spring for both a Legit Magic User and a Cloning pod.

Because The Wayne's? Hearts of Gold. Long standing pains in the asses. Probably the only thing standing between this gods forsaken wasteland of a city and Their Dark Lord. For GENERATIONS no less!

It's sooooo obnoxious!

So they want to Curse Um dead. Just a good ol fashioned bloodline curse. Destroy um from within, etc. BUT! To do THAT? You kinda need a blood relative to sacrifice!

And Bruce is... well... rather infamously An Orphan With No Biological Kids (at that point).

So? What do you do? Make one, obviously. You send in some of your own on a Holy Mission. Honeypot that playboy! Get us a kid to sacrifice! Our God will reward you etc! But... FFS! What? Are brunettes not your TYPE or something?! Pretty lady! Throwing herself at you!!

TAKE THE BAIT!

But he DOESN'T. Because he's both really used to that behavior, as The Wayne Heir and a False Playboy, AND because? He's fuckin Batman. He can see through your schemes.

Okay.

Okay!

Plan B!

Get us some DNA. We'll CLONE the sucker. That should be doable, right?

........OH COME ON! How?!

Batman: [REDACTED] / Cultists: 0

Fuck it! This is impossible! How are we supposed too... *eyes drift over to the Wayne Family Private Graveyard* .......Idea? Ideeeeaaaa~! Someone get us a shovel!

So they, cultist bastards that they are? Fuckin rob a grave for some DNA.

OBVIOUSLY though, it can't be one of the more RECENT graves! He probably VISITS those! Watches them! No we gotta be SNEAKY! Get one a bit further back! Mwahahahaha! We're so brilliant! Our God is gonna give us SUCH a Good Grade in follower!

A thing that is both REAL and possible to achieve!

So, while a Weirdly FURIOUS Batman? Is just... VIOLENTLY breaking ALL of their bones? Cultist 17 is furiously digging like his life depends on it. Either somebody snitched or Batman was hunting them down! Either way?

Gotta! Get! That! DNA!!! *digs faster*

Ah HA! Got it!

Fucking SCATTER! Run you fools, RUN!!! *everyone bolts*

And AT LAST! They have it! Wayne DNA! Now? Pop that sucker into the machine and make us a baby! Too sacrifice! *relieved noises* Man, that was hard work you guys. But we DID it!

Except??

Theoretical Babies? And "Real, slowly forming in front of me and becoming a human child" type babies? VERY DIFFERENT psychologically. It's ONE thing to sacrifice a HYPOTHETICAL baby... but when you're the guy running and monitoring the Cloning machine? Watching it slowly form and come together into... into a CHILD?

You start asking questions of yourself. Of God.

Of what, EXACTLY, you are willing to do.

What lines you find yourself unwilling to cross.

And yeah, your life was SHIT before the cult. Yeah, you were alone. Adrift. Without purpose. Angry at the world for all of its ugliness and failings. But... sitting, alone, in a dark room? Nothing but the steady hum of machines and the cool light of that pod? You are left with nothing but time... and your thoughts.

And the baby.

The one... the one YOU made.

Almost... he's almost like a son, in a way. Your son. Floating there, innocent and unknowing. Destined to be born, only to die painfully, for a cause he could not even begin to understand. Because he's too young. Too small. Just... just a baby.

The baby YOU made.

Doubt seeps in like mist. Creeping into the cracks forming in your faith. Surely there's another way, right? Why not save up for a better magician? Or... or hire a hitman? Why involve a child? Surely... surely your God would not WANT this, right? Or if He did! Surely, he would want the boy to be able to CHOOSE, right? A noble sacrifice, for the cause?

The pressure builds. Batman is tearing the city APART looking for your fellow Believers. Leadership is pressuring you to get "It" ready all ready.

He's not an "it".

They are dismissing your questions. Threatening and posturing, as you grapple with your faith. Where? Where is the COMMUNITY that you joined? The camaraderie? Every day, Believers are being torn down. The faith has lost so many!

How can this be WORTH it?

Your faith is slowly, cruelly, strangled in your chest. A death, by ten thousand silences, and ten thousand more cruelties.

Your son is ready.

You do not tell them.

The Clone of Bruce Wayne's great-grandfather is small, but healthy, in your arms. A tiny warm body, with a strong beating little heart. You call the police. Leave your phone, call running, on the desk. No one thinks to stop you, as you calmly walk out the back door.

Why would they doubt?

You are Faithful.

You drive. Pray to a God you have lost faith in, beg forgiveness for what you do now. Your beat up old junker of a car makes decent time, as you leave Gotham. Your son, asleep in a carefully made nest of blankets, on the seat next to you. You drive. You keep driving.

Past towns.

Past cities.

Out of the state.

Stopping only to feed your son and fuel your car. You... you can not bring yourself to care about what will happen to you now. You know they will find you. Know this is the end. But something ancient burns in your chest. A caring you never thought was REAL.

You are afraid.

But you will not let them harm your son.

Finally, a town. Far from Gotham. Quite and cheerful. It calls to you.

Here. It... it has to be here.

You find the hospital. Tears choking you. There is a place to drop of children. You've seen them before. How strange, that now you stand before it and HURT. Your arms not listening to your command. You... you have to do this. You HAVE too.

He is just a baby.

He is your son.

You have to keep him safe. And... and that can not be with you.

You gently put your baby boy into the drop off. Press the buzzer. And then? You make yourself walk away.

Get back in your car, and drive. The gun in your glove box will insure they can never pry from you, what you have done. Where he is. He is safe now. He has to be. You... you did your job. As his father. You made sure he was safe.

You can barely see the road, through your tears.

You take your secrets to the grave.

And Danny? He grows up. Is adopted young and never knows different. Both a Fenton and a Wayne. Knowing only one of these, to be his. But... that Wayne? Was a damn fine man. A pillar of his community and a champion of the people.

Got tossed more then a few blessings, in his life.

They weren't the STRONGEST. But they added up. And more importantly? Were hardly the refined magics of the more powerful. They were cast onto "Him". By blood and bone, more often then not. Which was all well and good!

When there was only ONE of "Him".

Cloning technology did not exsist. So why would you word carefully against it? Danny becomes a VERY lucky boy. Survives many things he should not. In fact, the kindness and hard work of his original? Gifted back in magically powered well wishes? By this, he survives something NO ONE could possibly expect him too.

It saves his life.

His template would be quite pleased, knowing that. That his life of good deeds, saved the life of the child he never got a chance to meet. That it protected his children, from even beyond death.

And in Gotham? At long, long last. The program Bruce made in his helplessness and despair, to search EVERY child until the child made of his bloodline was found? Spits out a match.

A Watchtower engineer.

Daniel J. Fenton.

@hdgnj @hypewinter @lolottes @babbling-babull @nerdpoe @mutable-manifestation

[qqueenofhades]

There is no law that prevents a convicted felon from running for and becoming president, nor a law that bans someone from being president in prison. Also, if Trump gets incapacitated in someway, many ultra right republicans who equally despise trans people and immigrants and Muslims would happily take his place

And I ask, with all due respect, what is your point?

Do you think I don't know that?

Do you think I am somehow convinced that everything is hunky dory now and we don't have any work left to do?

Are you just determined to be the first of the gloom-and-doomers who show up like clockwork in my inbox, every time some consequence happens to Trump, to morosely insist that no consequences will happen to him? First it was "he'll win re-election." Then it was "the coup will succeed." Then it was "he will never be indicted." Then it was "2022 will be a red wave!" Then it was "he will never be tried." Then it was "he will never be convicted." Now we've moved on, within less than 2 hours of the first US President ever to be convicted of ONE felony, let alone THIRTY-FOUR, "he'll never be sentenced or face a real consequence or lose the election." The goalposts keep moving RIGHT along without even a single pause to acknowledge the difficulty and the value of the progress we have made thus far, and it makes me CRAZY.

Do you people realize how fucking rare it is, both in the world today and historically, for a former (and would-be future) head of state to be held to criminal account by a jury of 12 anonymous ordinary citizens? When that one person, Trump, is the center of the malignant fascist cancer that has spread through this country ever since 2016, and plenty of his cultists are still insisting that it's Trump or nobody for them? When we've actually reached the stage of holding him legally accountable for (some of) his crimes for the first time in his miserable misbegotten life? I suspect that most of you are so deep in the "America is totally broken and the system is useless and we can only Revolute!!!1" rabbit hole that you're bound and determined to argue away every step we take, however slow, as Meaning Nothing TM. Voting? Fake. Fighting to make real progress? Also fake. Everything is fake except our belief that everything is broken and we need the Keyboard Warrior Glorious Revolution!!! As long as you can keep inventing ever more contorted twists of logic to ignore everything else that's happened so far, this makes sense... or something. I guess?

Now we're onto "removing Trump won't matter :(" when a whole lot of people have been fighting day and fucking night to get all the privileged-princess Online Leftists to get off their Che Guevara cosplaying asses and cast a single fucking vote to keep us from full-on-sliding into fascism. A slide into fascism that, again, has been spearheaded and centered around Trump's toxic cult of personality and which is still tied to him in almost every way. Apparently holding him to account (again, which has never happened to him in his life) already doesn't matter because wah wah he won't suffer any consequences. If he loses this election he's probably going to jail for the rest of his life! We would have electorally defeated the greatest threat to the American democratic experiment in 250 years, and frankly a huge part of the fascist far-right hydra that is currently attempting a comeback around the world! This is, yet again:

THE FIRST TIME ANY AMERICAN PRESIDENT, EVER, HAS BEEN CONVICTED OF MULTIPLE FELONY CHARGES IN A COURT OF LAW BY A JURY OF HIS PEERS

and yet we're still hearing that nothing matters and no work has been done and removing him will have no effect???

Come on. Come on. I know it's tiring and it's slow and it doesn't go as fast as we want. But every single damn time the process goes another step, here you people are in my inbox insisting that we're still at zero progress and it means nothing, and lemme tell you, I am Tired of it. Come on. You don't have to jump up and down (my own feeling is glee and vindication but still not relaxation, I will not relax until he loses the fucking election and goes to jail), but you also don't need to keep myopically pretending that all the effort thus far by so many people means nothing. Come on.

[capesch-arts]

Death

(In which Arthur Lester writes his final letter. Scroll until below).

"I am going to die. That is for certain.

As I write this I can feel my mind stretched thin and my consciousness fading as fatigue takes me over. I know that when I sleep this night, I may never wake up.

Before my mind is taken and broken apart to dust, I wanted to leave this behind. For anyone that follows me, whether it be friend or foe. I know why you all pursue me, and you will receive what you wish to seek. But, allow me to share my thoughts.

I've been running for nearly 10 years, killing cultists and evading creatures that would drive men mad. It's been a long time since I've slept with peace in mind. So much blood has washed upon my hands that I still feel it under my nails.

Am I the same person anymore? I wonder.

'Was it all worth it?' I often ask myself.

I'm not a good man. Especially before my encounter with The King. An unfit husband. A coward. An alcoholic. A poor father. I am all these things. And perhaps, whatever is waiting for me when I shut my eyes will be deserved. At least I'll find peace in that.

My only regret is leaving you. Alone. I wish I hadn't found that book. I wish I wouldn't have done all this to keep you away from its curse. I wish- I wish. I wish we had more time together. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

This path I've taken is dark and dreary, and it will only end in tragedy. So if you still wish to walk it, so be it.

That damned book has not been in my possession for years. A new friend has helped me hide it somewhere I don't know. I thought that after all this game of cat and mouse, HIS eyes would not stop following me. Those damned golden eyes would be so fixated to me that none of his followers noticed when it slipped from my hands and a decoy was in its stead.

If you are one who walked this path to protect humanity from darkness, then I'm sorry. It was too much of a risk for it to fall unto another person. But, if you're HIS, well... Fuck you. Good luck. I'm sure your King would be satisfied knowing how well you've accomplished your mission.

I can feel it. Pulling. Music, unfamiliar, filling my head. A vision of a city, unnatural, with impossible angles, whenever I close my eyes. The twin suns above Lake Hali and the tattered cloak of The King in Yellow...

Death is at my doorstep, and I fucking welcome it. I will not squirm. I will not beg. You want me to drown in despair as you come and harvest me. I'm not giving you the satisfaction.

I am the master of my own fate,

I am the captain of my soul

- Arthur Lester"

[luxaofhesperides]

Accidental Bride Sacrifice ; requested by @starlightcat04!

Danny has long since gotten used to the feel of summonings. They don’t happen often, but sometimes the right components are put together to force him into answering, and he’d have to go as the new Ghost King.

Which no one told him was a thing! He hadn’t protested too much about the whole Ghost King deal when they finally told him about it after he graduated high school. It gave him a good excuse to ditch life in the living realm and not worry about college or a career, and let him really embrace his ghost side. 

The summonings are a problem, though. They always feel staticky and bad, like a dumpster that just got struck by lightning. The taste of iron on his tongue, a clear sign of blood being spilled, lets him know that it would be one of end the world for us summonings, because some people can’t put in the effort to do it themselves, apparently. 

But this time, the summoning feels different.

Danny pauses, eyes going unfocused in the middle of his conversation with Jazz. He had been looking forward to spending the week with her, now that she’s on winter break, but his luck is as bad as always.

“I’m being summoned,” he tells her, cutting off her rant about a transphobic professor she had. 

“Oh, no. Do you need me to do anything? Should I go with you to beat up whoever it is that’s summoning you?”

Danny tilts his head to the side, considering. The taste of blood is noticeably absent. In fact, this summoning pull doesn’t make him feel sick at all. It makes him feel warm, as if he’s just been wrapped in a hug.

“No,” he says. “I think I’m good. This one feels different.”

“A good different?” Jazz asks, worry clear in her voice.

“Yeah. A good different. I’ll come back soon, okay?”

“Alright. Be careful, Danny.” Jazz pulls him into a quick hug, then steps back to watch as Danny stops fighting the pull of the summoning and disappears into a swirling white rings that flashes into existence behind him, blinding her for a moment, and is gone when she manages to blink the spots out of her vision. 

For a minute, Danny drifts in a void of stillness, traveling through the realms as the summoning draws him closer to the correct realm. And then he’s rising out of the ground in a dark building made of concrete, candles of green flame scattered all over the place.

“Great One!” someone in a hooded cloak cries, raising his arms in jubilation. “Our calls have been answered!”

“I’ll fucking kill you!” a mechanical voice yells from farther back. When Danny looks past the cultists’ heads, he spots a man in a red hood and leather jacket chained to a pole, along with a bunch of other people in strange costumes tied up, desperately trying to free themselves. 

“Silence!” The leader of the cult, or who Danny assumes is the leader, snaps at the hooded man and gestures to the people off to his left. They force another costumed person forward, this one in yellow armor. He can see the blood running down their face from beneath their helmet and from their nose, dark lines of blood cutting through their brown skin. 

The cultists throw the armored person forward, forcing them to kneel. Then they bow to Danny and step back.

“Great One,” the leader says, voice unpleasantly reverent and grating, “Welcome to the mortal realms. We offer you this sacrifice to feed your strength. He will make a fine general for your undead army in your crusade to rid this world of its filth.”

The people in the back begin shouting all together, panicked voices overlapping, and Danny is left staring down at the cultists in shock.

The summoning had felt so nice. What the hell was this? He did not sign up for another ‘end of days’ insane cult. He just wanted to be hugged. 

His silence makes the cultists nervous. They begin to shift uneasily, whispering to each other, and the leader clears his throat, then pulls a large crystal dagger out of his cloak. “We shall prove our devotion to you through an offering of a hero’s blood!”

And then he moves towards the sacrifice and Danny snaps out of his shock to yell, “Wait!”

The entire room freezes. Even the costumed people in the back go still. 

Danny winces, then tries to smother his power, make himself more palatable to the humans of this dimension. “Wait,” he says again, and he sounds closer to human now. If he could, he would drop his ghost form entirely, but he knows better than to endanger himself like that. “What, exactly, did you summon me here for?”

The cult leader stares at him for a moment. “To… To rid the world of filth and allow your loyal followers to spread word of your power. You will be worshiped again, Great One, and serve as a reminder to man that Death shall always prevail.”

“Okay, I get that, but I was talking more along the lines of the summoning. What ritual did you use? What specifically were the summoning requirements?”

Normally, he’d be able to figure it out himself, but these cultists didn’t use a summoning circle. So they did something else, something less visible and therefore harder to figure out, in order to bring him here.

A woman standing off to the side speaks up, stepping forward hesitantly. “I had pieced together a few summoning spells from this book to bring you here. You had to accept our chosen sacrifice to your side in order for the summoning to work.”

“Hold up that book for me, please?”

She does, and Danny flies down to grab it from her hands. “Point out which lines you used,” he says, already reading a few of the words written down. It’s definitely ghostspeak written down, which should be near impossible for living humans to translate without being skilled in magic.

“Ah, these ones.” She points to each line, reading them out for him, and Danny starts understand what, exactly, went wrong.

“Is there a problem, Great One?”

Danny returns the book then floats over to the sacrifice and picks him up. The costumed people make alarmed noises, but quietly quiet down again when all Danny does is move him away from the cultists.

“Okay,” he says, “So. The lines you used to summon me were not translated properly. What you interpreted as ‘accepted to stay by the king’s side in loyalty and strength’ is not meant to be, like, him being part of my undead army or whatever. It’s a royal marriage vow.”

“They married us?” the sacrifice shouts, disbelieving. The cult leader buries his face in his hands and sighs.

“My deepest apologies, Great One. We meant no offense. We simply wanted to aid in your destruction of this depraved world.”

Danny scrunches his nose and shakes his head. “Yeah, that’s not gonna fly with me. I do not do the biding of random people, especially those who are ready to murder innocent people for no reason. Frighty, if you would.” He snaps his fingers, calling up Fright Knight who always enjoys getting to torment the people who summon Danny for murderous reasons.

Fright Knight appears in a swirl of darkness and screams. Shadows swallow the room, and when they recede, no cultists remain.

“Thanks, Frighty. Have fun with them. I need to figure out all… this.”

Fright Knight bows to him, then disappears. Danny lets out a breath, then floats down lower to be eye level with the sacrifice. “Hey,” he says gently, with a smile, “I’m so sorry they did this to you. I’m Danny. What’s your name?”

“Du— Uh, Signal,” the sacrifice says, sounding rather dazed. 

“Signal,” Danny repeats. “Like… a traffic signal?”

“No. I mean, maybe? But it is Signal. That’s my hero name, not my real name.”

“Oh, you’re a hero!” His getup makes more sense now. Danny checks him over for any signs of injuries. So far, only his head and nose seem to be injured, but his wrists are tightly bound behind his back. Carefully, Danny calls upon his ice and shapes it into a sharp knife, then cuts through the zipties.

He helps Signal up to his feet, floating by his shoulder. “All good?”

“Yeah, man, all good. Let me just get the others free.”

“Oh, I can do it!” Danny flies over to the other costumed people, who must also be heroes. All it takes is one link in the chain being frozen and broken for the entire thing to go lax, allowing them to free themselves. Hooded guy spares Danny a single glance, then hurries over to Signal to check on him. The other three, a man with a blue bird across his chest, a blond girl with a yellow bat outline on her chest, and a guy with bandoliers and a golden bird emblem, all watch him warily as he floats back towards the center of the room.

“So,” the blue bird man says, “If they summoned you with a marriage vow, and you accepted, does that mean you’re planning to steal Signal away from us?” He’s smiling, but it’s not a nice smile.

“No! I had no idea they did this! I am so sorry you all got caught up in this. You most of all, Signal.”

Signal shrugs, nudging hood guy away from him. “Nah, man, it’s all good. This is definitely the better outcome.”

“I don’t know, being married off isn’t really a good thing.”

“Hey, at least they married me off to a decent guy.”

“You don’t know that,” Danny says, “What if I’m secretly evil?”

“If you were secretly evil, you’d be destroying the world right now. I think you’re fine.”

The blond girl waves at him, demanding his attention. “Quick question! They were calling you ‘Great One’. Are you a god or something?”

“Not really? I’m the Ghost King. So I’m a ghost who rules over other ghosts and also a majority of the Infinite Realms.”

She nods as if this is all totally normal for her, then shoots Signal a grin. “Congrats on bagging a king! Not the worst way to spend a night, right?”

“Can you break the marriage?” blue bird man asks, the lines of his shoulders tense.

Danny awkwardly rubs the back of his neck, not looking any of them in the eye. “I honestly don’t know. I can look for a way! But I genuinely have no clue. This was unexpected.”

“But you accepted.”

“I didn’t know what I expected! It just felt like a hug, and I wanted a hug! I thought I was being summoned for something nice for once!” Danny curls up, bringing his knees up to his chest, and hides his pout behind his hands. He knows he’s being childish, but he can’t help but be upset that he couldn’t have this one good experience from being Ghost King. 

It’s always responsibilities and death cult summonings and fighting ghosts who don’t think he should be king. Sure there have been some good things, but they’re comparatively few when looking at all the other stress and pain that comes with the crown. Sue him for wanting to have a nice night for once. Hell, at this point, he’d take being summoned to help with some kid’s homework, because at least then he could have a quiet night helping someone.

“Hey, man, can you come down here?” Signal asks. 

He wants to stay out of reach, hiding himself away for a bit longer, but Signal is his new, surprise, accidental husband, so Danny lowers himself to the ground and peeks through his fingers to look at him.

He tenses when Signal hugs him, soft and warm and comforting. It takes a moment for him to realize what’s going on, and then he’s melting into Signal’s embrace, dropping his hands to wrap them around Signal’s back.

Distantly, he can hear the other heroes talking quietly amongst themselves. He blocks out the sound as much as he can, determined to enjoy this hug while it lasts.

Which is… fairly long. Signal makes no moves to end the hug, so Danny closes his eyes to really savor the moment. 

“So,” Signal murmurs into his ear, “As newlyweds, how about we get to know each other a bit better before we start working on fixing all this?”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Let’s ditch these guys and take some time to ourselves.”

“I promise I’ll get this fixed,” he says, just to make sure Signal knows. “Genuinely, I am so sorry to have married you through an old Realms vow when you had no say in it.”

“Hey, if it lands me a very nice, very attractive king, then I don’t mind at all. I could have done without the murderous cultists, though.”

Danny huffs out a small laugh. “Oh, for sure. Thanks for being so cool about this. Want me to fly us out of here?”

“Yes please,” Signal says. Danny smiles and tightens his grip on Signal, then lifts them both up. “I’ll see y’all later! Have fun with the rest of your patrols!” he calls out to the other heroes, who start shouting at him.

Danny flies them right out the roof before the other heroes figure out a way to kick his ass. The city they’re in is smoggy and dark, tall buildings rising up into the cloudy sky, and police sirens ring through the air. There’s no where that looks like a particularly nice spot to land for a conversation, so he asks Signal where he’d like to go and follows his directions from there.

They end up phasing through a building, then into the floor, which leaves them in what Signal calls The Hatch. 

Danny takes a quick moment to freak out over being in a hero’s secret hide out, the composes himself and finally pulls away from Signal.

“So,” he starts, looking around The Hatch and taking in the giant computer, the workstation, the motorcycle farther down the way, “What did you—Woah!” Danny spins around, slamming a hand over his eyes the instant he realizes that Signal is taking off his helmet, leaving his face bare.

It’s not like he’d know who Signal is anyways, being from a different dimension, but it’s the principle of the matter.

Signal laughs when he sees Danny’s attempt to keep from looking at him. A warm hand wraps around his wrist and gently pulls it away. “It’s okay, Danny, you can look,” he says. “It would be pretty weird if my own husband didn’t know my face.”

Slowly, giving Signal to change his mind, Danny opens his eyes. He moves his gaze up, going from Signal’s armor to his face, his very cute face and his warm brown eyes, and Danny stares for a moment. 

“Hi,” he whispers.

“Hi,” Signal says, fondness coloring his voice. “My name’s Duke. Are all Ghost Kings as cute as you?”

“Duke,” Danny repeats. “Hi. Um, no. The last one really sucked, actually, which is why I fought him. He was so bad the Infinite Realms didn’t want him anymore, so though I technically didn’t beat him in single combat, it was enough for the Infinite Realms to kick him out and get me on the throne.”

“Man, I can not wait to hear more of your stories. Think we got time for that while we search for a way to undo that marriage vow?”

Taking his chance, Danny says, “Sure! It’s a date.”

He’s awarded by Duke’s bright smile and idly wonders how long he can keep them married. Hopefully long enough for them to get into a real relationship where he can propose properly. And then he can get Jazz’s blessing too—

“Oh shit,” Danny realizes. 

“What? What’s wrong?”

“I need to tell my sister or she’s going to actually kill me.”

Duke winces. “And I should probably tell the others before Spoiler makes a mess of things… B is not going to be happy with me.”

They share a despairing look, already dreading the amount of scoldings they’re both going to get. He’s not looking forward to it.

“...Put it off until tomorrow?”

Duke nods. “Yeah. That’s a tomorrow problem. For now, how about a late dinner?”

“Sounds perfect.”

. . .

[send me a ghostlights prompt!]

[scratchandfriends]

Shut Me Up (+18)

This is my formal application to join the Holy Rolan Empire. Who do I need to talk to about this?

Pairing: Rolan x Female Tav (human sorceress in mind because that’s my tav lmao)

WC: 3000 oops

Summary: All you do is save the day and yap. It drives Rolan up a fucking wall. He absolutely cannot stand you… or so he is trying to convince himself. This would be so much easier for him if you weren’t so damn cute. 

Content Warnings: alcohol consumption, angry sex, face fucking, teasing, oral m receiving, unprotected sex (don't), creampies, making out, aggressive kissing, hair pulling, PRAISE KINK GOOD BOY ROLAN (because somebody needs to tell him), he just has a big fat crush on you.

— — 

First, it was killing the goblins attacking the grove. 

Then, it was defending Last Light from the cultists. 

Then, it was rescuing the gnomes and tieflings from Moonrise Towers. 

And on top of all that, you just had to save his sorry tail from the Shadow Curse. 

Jaheira had given the go-ahead to dip into the extra supplies for a bit of fun to increase morale and celebrate the safe return of the captives… and of course, much to Rolan’s dismay, you were the belle of the ball. Even his own damn siblings were fawning of you and your rowdy companions, but he let his annoyance lie since you did save their lives after all. 

He should be grateful, shouldn’t he? You brought his family back together and saved many more from death or a lifetime of grief. You kept Last Light safe from the Shadow Curse and were planning on defeating Ketheric and the Absolute yourself. Your heroics were not lost on him, and judging by your behavior here at the party, they were not lost on you either. 

Rolan sat at the bar nursing another bottle of wine alone as he watched you with a scowl. You had discarded your usual robes for a glittering, light-blue party dress, no doubt stolen, Rolan thought. You danced energetically with that massive, brutish tiefling woman, both of you spilling wine all over yourselves and the floor. Your long, blueish silver hair cascaded down past your shoulders and just kissed the exposed skin above your lower back, the milky skin shown by your backless dress peeking out at him as your hair moved when you danced. 

“Enjoying the show, brother?” Cal’s teasing voice comes from behind Rolan’s barstool. 

“We could be killed at any moment, hardly a time for anyone to be enjoying anything.” Rolan remarked as he straightened his back and his eyes were peeled away from you. 

“Always such a stick in the mud. Would it kill you to have fun for once?” Lia appeared on the opposite side of Rolan and rolled her eyes. 

“In this situation? Perhaps. Someone should be aware of their surroundings at a time like this.” Rolan quips. 

“Judging by how much of that bottle you’ve drained, I wouldn’t say you’re entirely aware.” Cal says. 

“I have to tolerate the company somehow.” Rolan snorts and takes another sip. 

“Well I’d practice your manners, your favorite little sorceress is coming this way now.” Lia says with a smirk. 

“Come on, we’re missing you all on the dance floor! I’ve tipped Alfira greatly, I think my favorite song is coming up soon!” You sidle up to the bar across from the tieflings and put your elbows on the bar top. “Missing even you, grumpy.” You flash Rolan a cheeky smile. 

“I’m perfectly content here. Drunkenly frolicking like an imbecile isn’t relevant to my interests.” The wizard snips at you with a frown. 

“Aaah, I see! Makes sense. So you won’t be needing this anymore, then.” You say as you snatch Rolan’s bottle of wine off the counter in front of him and take a heavy swig. 

“Give that back.” Rolan says with a slight snarl, baring pointed teeth. Rolan reaches an arm out across the bar to grasp towards his stolen bottle. 

“Oh, this? You want it back?” You say with a giggle before taking another sip from the neck of the bottle. You smile and take the opportunity to wedge the bottle down the front of your dress, lodging it tightly between your ample, exposed cleavage. “Why don’t you take it?” You ask with a devilish grin. 

“Go on, then!” Cal goads with a laugh, slapping his brother on the back. 

“Hmph. Keep it.” Rolan sits back on his barstool, feigning disinterest in your antics. “I’ll just have the kids bring me another.” 

You sigh and pull the bottle from your chest. You lean onto the bar, pushing your breasts together in the process. It doesn’t escape you how Rolan’s eyes are glued to your tits resting on the countertop. 

“You’re no fun.” You lean in close to him and whisper in a sultry tone. 

You take your stolen bottle of wine and return to your friends who were still reveling in Alfira’s lute playing. 

“What in the hells did you say to the cranky bastard?” Karlach asks while pulling your hand and spinning you around in a twirl. 

“What do you mean?” You inquire with a bit of a smirk. 

“The poor sod’s tail is twitching! No doubt something else is too. You flash him or something?” Your large friend questions. 

“Almost!” You laugh. “Just trying to see if I can get him to crack… he’s quite handsome!” 

“Try complimenting his horns, male tieflings really like that. They pride themselves on those things almost more than their cocks.” Karlach adds. 

“Hmm… good to know…” You say as the intrusive thought of Rolan’s cock enters your mind. You’d never laid with a tiefling before and you were desperately curious. Something about this wizard’s unfriendly, pompous nature intrigued you and you wanted to see what was underneath his prickly exterior. You always liked a challenge. 

— —

Another hour or so of partying goes by and you find yourself both sufficiently drunk and sufficiently bored. You sneak a glance at the bar and find Rolan standing behind it, rummaging through the shelves no doubt searching for more booze. You slink up next to him and try to peek into the cabinet he’s looking through. 

“Need help?” You pipe up. 

“Agh!” In surprise at your sudden appearance, Rolan knocks his head on the wooden cabinet door. 

“Sorry! Didn’t mean to startle you!” You giggle and put your fingers to your lips. “Don’t want you hurting those horns of yours. They’re quite the handsome pair, you know. Best of anyone here-“ 

Rolan slams the cabinet door shut and turns to look down at your shorter figure. 

“What the hells is your problem?” Rolan seethes. “Every second of peace I have is somehow disturbed by YOU each time! You are positively infuriating!” 

“I’m just trying to be pleasant, Rolan.” You remark. 

“I am not interested in pleasantries. I’ve given you plenty of gold, I don’t know what other gratitude you want from me.” Rolan says, frustrated and annoyed. 

“Well…” You purr. “Just as you’re not interested in pleasantries, I’m not interested in gold.” You slowly move closer, your chests almost touching. You expected him to push you away, but surprisingly enough he stands in place. “Perhaps you can thank me in a different way…” You cock your head to the side flirtatiously and raise an eyebrow. 

You see Rolan’s Adam’s apple bob nervously. 

“Tav.. I.. ” He stutters. You cut him off. 

“If for whatever reason you find yourself unable to sleep tonight, I’ll be in room 104. Upstairs. Alone.. and my bed is always warm.” You wink before slinking off to the stairwell leading to the inn’s guest rooms. 

— — 

You had swapped your party dress for a short, white nightgown with lace trim and slits high up on either hip. You sat on the feather bed, brushing through your hair that had gotten tangled from the night of revelry. You had made sure to freshen up your perfume in the hopes that Rolan would take you up on your lewd offer of late night companionship. 

*knock knock*

You smirk at the gentle knock on your door. You waltz excitedly over to the door and open it. 

Sure enough, Rolan was standing in your doorframe. 

“I was hoping you’d-“

Your snarky comment was abruptly cut off by a clawed hand gripping the side of your head, tangling in your hair, while the other hand forcefully grabbing your waist to spin you around. The door slammed behind you and you were pushed against it roughly. 

Rolan pulls you by your scalp and smashes his lips on yours. 

There was no grace or eloquence in the kiss, much unlike his usual way of speaking. It was a gnashing of wet tongue and clacking of teeth as he ravaged your mouth, his grip on you never faltering. You froze at first, shocked by his boldness, but eventually you relent and open your lips further for him. You wrap your hands around his neck. 

Having had his fill from your lips, Rolan eventually moves his mouth to trail messy kisses and sharp nips from your jaw to your neck. 

“Wow, eager are-“

“Do you ever shut UP?” Rolan pulls back from your neck and growls, shoving his knee between your legs further, causing you to instinctively grind your bare sex onto his trousers. He brings his hand from your hair to grip your neck. 

“You’ll just have to shut me up, then.” You choke out with a smile, his clawed hand around your throat gently squeezing the sides. 

“It would seem so.” Rolan’s nostrils flare and he picks you up and tosses you on the bed with surprising strength for a wizard. 

You strip your nightgown over your head excitedly and lay back on the bed in as seductive of a pose as you could muster. Expecting to be either insulted or pounced upon, you sit up on your elbows in anticipation. Surprisingly, Rolan was standing at the foot of the bed, mouth agape, seemingly entranced by your nude figure laid before him. You take this opportunity to shift the tides in your favor. 

“What’s wrong, Rolan?” You say as you slowly spread your legs, exposing your swollen, dripping cunt to him. “Hellcat got your tongue?” 

This snapped him out of his daze. 

“Brat.” He scoffs before frantically shedding his own clothing. 

As he strips, you sit up on your knees on the bed so you can get a better look at your new lover. Geometric infernal ridges covered his chest and abdomen, almost guiding your eyes downward to his erect cock bobbing desperately in front of you. It was long and bright red, leaking tip more pointed than you were used to, but its most unusual feature were the prominent ridges decorating his shaft. You were dying to know how it felt in your hand… your mouth… your cunt… 

“Stop gawking, it’s not polite” Rolan says, less aggressive now than he previously was now that he was stark naked in front of you. Was he blushing? It was hard to tell. 

“How pretty you are… you have to let me play with it.” You purr as you lower yourself on your elbows, pushing your ass high in the air, wiggling it and successfully distracting Rolan from your advances towards his member. 

“Play? Is that how- shit!” Rolan gasps and curses as he feels you wrap your soft hand around his cock and stroke it slowly. 

You loll your tongue out of your mouth and place his hot tip on it, all while staring up at him lustfully. Rolan lets out a low growl and bucks his hips into your face, pushing his cock past your lips and into your eager mouth. You happily wrap your lips around his cock head and begin to slide up and down his ribbed length. His hand comes up to pull your hair into a makeshift ponytail and guides you along his cock. Drool pools in your mouth and dribbles out the sides and you groan in approval of his roughness. 

“Ah ah, no talking with your mouth full.” He smirks playfully down at you. 

You try to reciprocate the smile, but can’t manage much do to your mouth being forcefully stuffed full of cock. Rolan must have noticed they way your thighs were tensed and rubbed together impatiently. 

“Touch yourself. Get yourself ready to take me.” He commands. 

You spread your knees and bring one of your hands down your front to play with your wet sex. Supporting yourself on one hand, you circle your clit in time with your sultry bobs on Rolan’s cock. You slide two fingers into your soaking hole and moan around his length. You continue to work yourself up, pushing and pulling on that special spot inside of you, whimpering and sharply inhaling as you slobber all over Rolan. 

“What a sight… Gods, such a messy girl…” 

You nod happily, not removing him from your mouth. You can’t help but notice as the rough grip on your hair becomes… softer. His thumb began rubbing against your head soothingly, as if to gently encourage you to suck him off instead of demanding it. 

“That’s enough, I'm going to have you now.” He says as he cups your chin and pulls you off him, a long string of saliva still connecting the two of you. You eagerly push yourself onto your back and spread your legs wide to make room for him. 

Rolan climbs over you and teases your clit with the tip of his cock. 

“Pretty little thing you are…” He says as his eyes rake over your body. 

“Be careful, wizard, that almost sounded like a compliment.” You chide and buck your hips up into him, wordlessly pleading for him to penetrate you. 

“I would tell you to hush…” He positions himself at your entrance. “But I think now I’d like to hear every little sound that comes from those sinful lips…” 

Rolan presses into you finally and you gasp at the ridged intrusion, unlike anyone else you’ve ever laid with. You arch your back and rake your hands down the infernal ridges on his abdomen. Once you feel his hips flush with yours, you look up and see the wizards eyes screwed shut in concentration, clearly trying not to let this moment end too soon. 

You grind your pelvis into his, beckoning him to start moving inside you. 

“Nine Hells… so fucking wet…” Rolan remarks with a sigh as he starts thrusting shallowly. He grips your breasts as leverage, teasing your nipples with his thumbs. You wrap your legs around his hips, encouraging him to fuck you deeper. 

“Gods Rolan, you feel so good…” You moan out to the ceiling. 

“Y-yeah?” Rolan asks as he picks up the pace and intensity of his thrusts. 

“Yes! Fuck! You’re so good!” You cry out in pleasure as you feel those gorgeous bumps along his shaft caress your walls so deliciously. 

“I-I’m good? Say it again..” He asks shyly. “Please tell me again…” 

Suddenly, you feel his tail wrap tightly around your leg, squeezing it possessively. It was like he was holding on for his life...

“You’re so fucking good Rolan. Your cock feels so perfect inside me. Fuck me harder, you’re going to make me cum…” You feel his cock inside you twitch and you could have sworn you heard him whimper. He obliges your request and pistons his hips into you harder. You feel the familiar warmth of your impending release tingle throughout your lower half. 

Rolan slinks an arm underneath your lower back, leaning over you further in the process and cards his other hand into your hair splayed out on the pillow beneath you. 

“I’m so close, please Rolan, you’re such a good boy. I want to cum on you. Fuck, there!” You moan and pant up at him as you bring your hand up to cradle his face in your palm. You could barely keep your eyes open, but the sight above you was too delectable to miss. 

“I-I am a good boy.. please cum for me…” Rolan pathetically whines and pleads to feel your release coat him. 

“Yes Rolan, my good boy… I’m- shit!” You cry out and feel your walls begin to convulse in anticipation of your climax. With the next thrust against your sweet spot, your dam breaks and you let out a vulgar moan as your orgasm overtakes your body. 

“Fuck, yes, your good boy!” Rolan pants and fucks you through your high. “I-I’m close.. where should-?” 

“Inside. Make me yours.” You say breathlessly, still delirious from your powerful climax.  

Rolan could no longer hold back, groaning loudly as he spills himself entirely deep inside of you. He grinds himself into you as he continues to cum, seemingly endless ropes of spend decorating your wet walls. 

Once finished, Rolan gingerly slips out of you and collapses tiredly onto the mattress beside you. 

You spent the next few minutes catching your collective breaths, nothing being exchanged but soft pets and tender touches as you calmed yourselves. You were stroking Rolan’s cheek with your thumb gently when he finally spoke. 

“Nothing to say now, then?” He smiles softly, teasing you. You return the grin.

“That was incredible.” You giggle. “I didn’t know you had it in you, Rolan.” 

“Wizards are full of surprises.” He jokes, pulling your body into his, rubbing circles into your hip. “There’s certainly more where that came from…” You notice his glowing eyes dart away from yours with uncertainty. “… If you’d have me.” 

You place a tender kiss on his lips. 

“The night is still young, isn’t it?” You nuzzle your nose against his. 

“I don’t just mean tonight.. come see me in Baldur’s Gate. I.. I can show you around, if you’d like?” He still can’t bring himself to look you in the eyes again. 

“You won’t be too busy with your apprenticeship?” You question. 

“I… I can try to make time.. if it’s for you.” He says sheepishly. 

You press your chest closer into his and tilt his chin up to meet your gaze. 

“What a good boy you are.” You smirk and pull him into a deep kiss. 

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