#behold the only thing greater than you

[where-our-stories-start]

Roots (2016)

[mingi-s-dimples]

New Year's Eve - Yungi (Special)

Happy New Year's Eve & Happy New Year, sweethearts! 🎆

pairing: ceo!mingi x model f!reader x manager!yunho

genre: 18+, filth(ish)

summary: alcohol loosened your mouth a bit.. and your actions had gotten bolder to the point you fucked both your ceo and manager. but fuck it, they were whipped for you anyways.

wc: 6.1k

warnings: ceo!mingi, co-ceo/manager!yunho, fashion model f!reader, alcohol involved (champagne and whisky), Mingi is damn wasted and desperate for reader, Yunho is more controlled but he's also done for, oral, double oral (mhm yes she takes em both hihi), soft deepthroating, soft hair pushing/face thrusting, making out, teasing, drunken confession, in my opinion Yunho could drink more than Mingi and Mingi would still be gone & wasted, oral sex (f), use of sex toys (vibrator), use of hand restraint (Yunho's belt), some praise sprinkles, double penetration, threesome, did I say Mingi is needy?, lots lots of cumm, overstimulation, unprotected (boo wrap up irl!), unedited, might edit later, for sure forgot something.

Author's Note: I completely forgot to post this bro 😭😭😭 I'm so sorry I was out all day and night for nye and I completely forgot. But hey! It's spicy and I was like eh fuck it, no one would've read it exactly on nye soooo here it is finally! I hope everyone had a great if not wonderful time with their loved ones, doesn't matter friends, family or lovers ^^ Happy New Year, Happy 2025 and let's have fun together!!! Love you sweethearts 🤍

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent the reality of the members in any way.

The penthouse was a sight to behold, an epitome of luxury that only Mingi could pull off. The crystal-clear windows framed the city skyline, glittering with lights as the countdown to New Year’s Eve loomed closer. Inside, the space glowed with warm lighting and tasteful decor. The centerpiece of the evening was a bucket of expensive champagne chilling on the bar, a nod to the success of Mingi’s fashion empire and the new year that promised even greater heights.

Standing near the bar, Mingi adjusted his cufflinks, his sharp black suit fitting him like a second skin. He swirled a glass of whiskey in his hand, glancing at the clock with a raised brow.

“Late as always,” he muttered, though a smirk tugged at the corners of his lips.

The soft chime of the elevator broke the silence. Mingi straightened, setting down his glass. The doors slid open, revealing Yunho first, his easy grin and sharp blazer exuding a casual confidence. But it was you who stole the show.

Dressed in a sleek, shimmery black dress that caught the light with every step, you walked out behind Yunho. The fabric hugged your curves in all the right places, the slit high enough to turn heads. In your hands, you held a bottle of champagne, a playful smile on your lips.

“We brought reinforcements!” you announced, holding the bottle up triumphantly as you walked toward Mingi.

“Fashionably late, I see,” Mingi teased, taking the champagne from you. His eyes lingered just a moment longer than necessary. “But I’ll forgive you. You look stunning.”

“Thanks, darling. It’s only fair to match the ambiance of your penthouse,” you replied, flashing a wink before slipping past him to the bar.

Yunho chuckled as he followed, setting his coat aside. “Don’t let her charm fool you, Mingi. She made me stop twice to check her hair on the way here.”

“I just like looking perfect. Is that a crime?” you quipped, settling onto one of the plush chairs near the fireplace.

The evening began with laughter, the champagne flowing freely as the three of you toasted to the successes of the past year. Mingi, ever the gracious host, ensured that your glasses were never empty. Yunho took the role of storyteller, regaling everyone with tales from childhood, including one about a particularly embarrassing moment involving Mingi and a failed attempt at skateboarding.

“Some things don’t need to be shared,” Mingi grumbled, but the fondness in his tone betrayed his irritation.

“Come on, it’s the last night of the year!” Yunho said, raising his glass. “We’re celebrating everything tonight—embarrassments included.”

You laughed, leaning closer to Mingi. “I think it’s endearing. Shows you’re not always perfect.”

“Oh, trust me,” Mingi replied, his voice low and smooth, “I’m far from perfect. But I’m close.”

As the night progressed and the champagne bottles were emptied, the atmosphere shifted subtly. The room was warmer, the laughter louder, and the touches lingered just a little longer. You found yourself seated between Mingi and Yunho on the large sectional, your legs tucked beneath you as you leaned toward Yunho, your hand resting lightly on his arm.

“So,” you began, your voice teasing, “what’s the plan for next year? More long meetings where you two bicker like an old married couple?”

Yunho groaned, tipping his head back. “You have no idea how much patience it takes to deal with this guy.”

“Me?” Mingi scoffed. “I’m the reason we’re successful. You’re just here for damage control.”

“And to manage your favorite model,” Yunho added, nudging you gently.

“Ah, yes. The face of the brand,” Mingi said, his gaze sliding to you. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

“You flatter me,” you said, feigning humility.

“Only when it’s true,” Mingi replied, his tone dipping into something softer, something that made your cheeks warm.

It wasn’t long before the champagne had taken its toll. The three of you were sprawled comfortably, the city outside sparkling brighter as midnight approached. You stretched, your dress riding up slightly as you did. Neither Mingi nor Yunho missed it, though they both tried to be discreet.

Feeling bold, you leaned against Yunho, your fingers toying with the lapel of his blazer. “You know,” you said, your voice a little too sweet, “I’ve been thinking.”

“Uh-oh,” Yunho teased, his brow arching. “This is either going to be genius or chaos.”

You smirked, your fingers trailing up his chest. “Don’t you think we’ve been a little... too professional all this time?”

Mingi, sipping his drink, choked slightly and glanced at you with wide eyes. Yunho froze, his hand hovering awkwardly in the air.

“Excuse me?” Yunho finally said, his tone somewhere between disbelief and amusement.

You tilted your head, your gaze meeting his with a challenge. “You heard me, sweetie.”

“Sweetie?” Mingi echoed, setting his glass down. “Oh, she’s bold tonight.”

“You’re drunk,” Yunho said, though his eyes darkened just a fraction as you moved closer, climbing and settling yourself on his lap without hesitation.

“Maybe,” you admitted, wrapping your arms around his neck, “but I’m also right.”

“Weren’t we keeping this professional?” Yunho asked, his hands instinctively settling on your waist.

“Maybe we’ve been too professional,” you whispered, your lips dangerously close to his ear.

The tension in the room thickened. Mingi leaned back in his seat, watching with raised brows and a barely concealed grin.

“Well?” Mingi drawled, his voice dripping with amusement. “Are you going to let her get away with this, Yunho?”

Yunho groaned, shaking his head as if to clear it. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, though his hands tightened their grip on your waist.

“And you love it,” you shot back, brushing your nose against his.

With a resigned sigh and a muttered curse, Yunho pulled you closer, his breath ghosting over your lips. Mingi let out a low whistle.

“Happy New Year to me,” Mingi said, raising his glass. “This is better than fireworks.”

Yunho froze for a moment, his lips just a whisper away from yours, his breath mingling with yours. It took a second for the haze of alcohol and your boldness to fully register in his mind. But when your hips shifted against him again, pressing closer, the wet heat seeping through the fabric of your panties and onto his pants, a low growl escaped his throat.

It wasn’t just teasing anymore.

“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, laced with tension. His hands tightened their grip on your waist, his knuckles whitening as he tried to steady himself. “Do you even know what you’re doing right now?”

You tilted your head, a mischievous grin on your lips as you leaned in, brushing your nose against his. “What does it feel like I’m doing?”

Yunho’s restraint cracked. His lips crashed against yours, firm and commanding, like months of held-back desire spilling out all at once. The kiss was nothing short of a claim, his hands sliding from your waist to your hips, holding you in place as he deepened the kiss. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging lightly, and the sound that rumbled from his chest sent a thrill through you.

Your hips shifted again, pressing against him instinctively, and Yunho let out a sharp breath, breaking the kiss for just a moment. “Y/N,” he said again, this time almost a warning, but his voice betrayed the edge of a groan.

Your arousal was soaking through your dress, dampening his pants, and the sensation only made the heat between you more unbearable. Yunho’s lips found yours again, rougher this time, as if he couldn’t help himself.

From across the couch, Mingi watched the scene unfold, frozen in place. He’d tried to stay calm, to play the role of the disinterested observer. But as your hips shifted again on Yunho’s lap, the way your dress clung to you and the damp fabric hinted at just how affected you were—it was too much.

Mingi shifted uncomfortably in his chair, the tightness in his pants now impossible to ignore. He cursed under his breath, trying to adjust himself discreetly, but the movement caught Yunho’s attention.

Breaking the kiss, Yunho rested his forehead against yours for a moment, catching his breath before glancing over at Mingi. His sharp eyes took in the way Mingi was shifting, his jaw tight and his glass held a little too firmly. A smirk played on Yunho’s lips as he spoke.

“So,” Yunho drawled, his voice thick and teasing, “she’s not the only one excited here.”

You blinked, momentarily dazed from the kiss, but when the meaning registered, your eyes darted to Mingi. The sight of him—tense, clearly aroused despite his attempt at composure—sent a flush up your neck.

Mingi scoffed, his voice rough as he tore his gaze away from you. “Don’t flatter yourself,” he muttered, though even he didn’t sound convinced.

You smirked, turning back to Yunho. “What can I say? Guess I have that effect.”

Yunho chuckled, his hands sliding possessively up your sides. “That, you do,” he murmured, his voice low enough that it sent a shiver through you.

Mingi stood abruptly as he made his way to the bar. He poured himself another drink with more force than necessary, trying to shake the images from his mind. The heat radiating from where you and Yunho sat was unbearable, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to look away completely.

“I need another drink,” he announced, his tone clipped.

Yunho’s smirk widened as he turned back to you, his fingers brushing along the edge of your dress. “I think we’re making him uncomfortable,” he teased.

You laughed softly, leaning closer to Yunho. “Good,” you said, your voice a sultry whisper.

Mingi clenched his jaw, his grip tightening around his glass as the tension in the room grew thicker, almost suffocating.

The air in the penthouse was thick with tension, the kind that made your heart race and every movement feel electrified. Yunho’s hands lingered on your waist as you leaned back slightly, his lap still warm beneath you. Your eyes flicked to Mingi, who was pouring himself another drink with a little too much focus, his jaw tight and his posture tense.

You smirked.

“Don’t think I forgot about you, darling,” you said, your voice smooth and teasing.

Mingi froze for a split second, his eyes narrowing as he glanced at you over his shoulder. “What are you talking about?” he muttered, though his voice lacked conviction.

Slowly, deliberately, you slid off Yunho’s lap, your movements fluid and calculated. For a moment, Yunho’s hands tightened on your hips, reluctant to let you go, but he released you with a low hum of curiosity.

You stood, adjusting your dress with a slow, deliberate motion, your eyes catching briefly on the evidence of your effect on Yunho—the bulge pressing against his slacks, darkened slightly where your arousal had soaked through. The sight sent a thrill down your spine, your confidence swelling as you turned your attention to Mingi.

He was pretending to be unaffected, his focus on the drink he was pouring, but his shoulders were tense, and his grip on the glass was just a bit too firm. You sauntered toward him, your heels clicking softly against the floor.

“Mingi,” you said sweetly, standing just close enough that he could feel your presence.

“What?” he replied, his voice clipped, though he didn’t turn around.

You reached out, your fingers trailing lightly up his back and over his shoulder. The touch made him stiffen slightly, and you smiled, stepping closer until you were standing in front of him.

Your hand slid up his chest, fingers teasing over the fine fabric of his suit jacket, and his eyes finally met yours. There was heat there, barely restrained, as if he were trying desperately to keep some semblance of control.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice low and laced with warning.

You tilted your head, your hand drifting lower, over his stomach and down toward his belt. “What do you think I’m doing?” you asked innocently, your fingers brushing against the obvious bulge straining against his slacks.

Mingi flinched slightly at the contact, his breath hitching as his free hand shot out to grab your wrist. “Careful,” he said, his tone dark and edged with tension. “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

Your eyes sparkled with mischief as you leaned in closer, your lips just a breath away from his ear. “Oh, I think I do,” you whispered.

Before Mingi could respond, Yunho’s hands appeared on your waist, his warm touch grounding and electrifying all at once. His chest pressed lightly against your back, and his voice was a low rumble as he addressed Mingi.

“What do you think we should do with her?” Yunho asked, his tone teasing but his grip firm.

Mingi’s jaw clenched, his eyes darting between you and Yunho as if trying to gauge the situation.

You, however, didn’t hesitate. Turning your head slightly, you met Yunho’s gaze with boldness, then looked back at Mingi.

“I want both of you,” you said bluntly, your voice steady and unwavering.

The statement hung in the air like a firework, bursting with heat and possibility. Mingi’s hand tightened slightly around your wrist, and Yunho’s grip on your waist became more possessive.

“Is that so?” Yunho murmured, his lips brushing against your ear, sending a shiver through you.

Mingi let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as if in disbelief. “You really are something else,” he muttered, though the tension in his voice hinted at something deeper.

“And you love it,” you said, throwing the words back at him with a sly smile.

You leaned closer to Mingi, the faint scent of his cologne enveloping you as you arched your back slightly, pressing yourself against him. The contact was electrifying, your hips moving just enough to graze against the hardness straining in his slacks. Mingi’s jaw tightened, his grip on your wrist faltering for just a moment before he caught himself, his sharp intake of breath betraying his composure.

“Y/N,” he warned, though his voice was shaky, the restraint in it fraying at the edges.

Before he could say anything else, Yunho’s hands slid over your waist, his touch firm and grounding, yet possessive. His chest pressed against your back, and the warmth of his body seeped into you, making you feel caught between the two of them in the most delicious way.

Yunho leaned in, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he spoke, his voice low and husky. “You’ve got no idea what you’re doing to us right now,” he murmured.

You smirked, glancing back at him. “Don’t I?”

His eyes were dark, sultry, and filled with desire as he looked down at you. The alcohol had clearly loosened his tongue, but his confession came with a weight that made your breath hitch.

“I’ve been wanting to fuck you for a damn long time,” he admitted, his voice raw with honesty and hunger. “Every time you walked into the room, every time you gave me that little bratty attitude of yours, I wanted to take you apart.”

The words hung in the air, making your heart race. Mingi stiffened, his jaw clenching as he turned his head slightly to glance at Yunho.

“And Mingi,” Yunho continued, his tone teasing now, “he’s just as bad. Wanted you just as much. But he’s a pussy and never said anything about it.”

Your lips parted slightly, stunned by Yunho’s bluntness, though a flicker of amusement danced in your eyes as you turned to Mingi. “Is that true?” you teased, your voice lilting and playful, though the weight of Yunho’s words lingered in the air.

Mingi’s gaze darkened, his restraint snapping as the last thread of control unraveled. His hand released your wrist, and in a swift motion, he grabbed your waist with both hands, pulling you against him. The force of it made you gasp, and before you could process what was happening, he lifted you effortlessly and placed you on the bar counter.

His body caged yours, his hands firm on either side of you as his eyes bore into yours with an intensity that sent a thrill through you. “You want the truth?” he asked, his voice low and dangerously controlled.

You nodded, your confidence faltering slightly under his piercing gaze.

“The truth,” Mingi said, his voice rough as his hands slid up your thighs, “is that I’ve wanted you since the moment you walked into my office. But I kept my mouth shut because I thought it was the professional thing to do.” His hands tightened on your thighs, his fingers digging into your skin just enough to make you shiver. “And now, here you are, making it impossible to hold back.”

Before you could respond, Mingi’s lips crashed against yours, his kiss searing and commanding, leaving no room for argument. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer as he claimed you with a fervor that made your head spin.

Yunho’s hands never left your waist, his presence behind you a constant reminder that this was far from over. His low chuckle filled your ears as he leaned in again, his lips brushing against your other ear. “Told you he wanted it,” he murmured, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

Mingi pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his breath heavy and his eyes searching yours. “Is this what you wanted?” he asked, his voice rough and barely controlled.

You nodded, breathless. “Yes,” you whispered.

“Good,” Mingi replied, his voice firm as he pulled you back in for another kiss, his grip on you unwavering.

Yunho’s breath was hot on your ear as he leaned in, his hands still resting on your waist. His voice was husky, full of that delicious edge that only alcohol and desire could bring.

"Should we take this further?" he asked, the words slow and deliberate. "But I can't guarantee you'll be able to walk tomorrow. You might even forget how to be that bratty little thing you are the next day."

Your heart raced at his words, a wicked little smile curling on your lips as you glanced at Mingi. His gaze was fixed on you, dark with desire, and for a moment, it was clear neither of them had any intention of backing down.

Mingi, too drunk to process his thoughts fully, stood without a word, the hunger in his eyes evident as he moved toward you. Before you could even protest, he swept you into his arms, lifting you effortlessly, his body pressing against yours.

Yunho, eyes never leaving you, followed behind him as Mingi made his way toward the bedroom, his hands tightening around you as he carefully but urgently laid you down on the bed. The movement was smooth, deliberate, like he couldn't wait another second.

The bed shifted beneath you, and you could feel the heat radiating from Mingi as he straightened up. His fingers fumbled briefly with the buttons of his shirt, the fabric falling away from his body, revealing the toned chest you had been imagining for so long. Then, with a look that bordered between hunger and need, he took off his pants, standing tall over you.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away, and you noticed Yunho following his lead, his eyes darkened and filled with a similar urgency. The way they both moved, as if they were drawn to you like magnets, made your heart race even faster. He'd only taken his shirt off, his patience running thin.

But then, it was your turn.

Yunho moved closer to the bed, and with a surprising tenderness, his hands brushed over your sides, gently lifting your dress over your head. The way he undressed you wasn’t rushed or forceful. Instead, it was slow, almost reverent, as if you were something rare, something to be cherished.

You shivered under their gaze, the anticipation in the air thickening as Mingi and Yunho marveled at you. The delicate black lingerie that enveloped your body seemed to shimmer in the soft lighting, contrasting beautifully against your skin. Both men were momentarily frozen in awe, their gazes roaming over you with admiration and wonder.

"You’re…" Mingi started, his voice barely above a whisper, but the word hung in the air—unable to fully capture the intensity of what he was feeling.

Yunho’s lips parted slightly, his hand resting on the bed beside you as he took in the sight. “You’re perfect,” he said, his voice thick with desire, a soft smile pulling at his lips.

“I've never wanted to fuck you so bad until now… but that can wait, for a moment” Mingi said, eyes roaming over yours.

The room was softly lit, the golden glow of the bedside lamp casting long shadows on the walls. Yunho stood near the bed, his tall frame calm and composed, while Mingi leaned casually against the dresser, his grin wide and easy, though the flush of alcohol in his system was evident in the slight sway of his movements.

—

“You know,” Yunho began, his voice smooth and steady despite the faint tint of tipsiness in his cheeks, “I think it’d be better if your hands were tied. Might make things easier for you to focus.”

His eyes flickered toward the leather belt at his waist. He slowly unbuckled it, the metallic clink of the buckle filling the quiet room. His movements were deliberate, giving you plenty of time to object if you wanted to.

You nodded, your pulse quickening at the anticipation in the air. Turning around, you felt the edge of the bed press against the backs of your thighs as Yunho stepped closer.

“Hands behind your back,” he instructed, his voice gentle but firm.

You complied, feeling the smooth leather loop around your wrists. Yunho’s fingers brushed against your skin as he secured the belt—not too tight, just enough to restrict your movement without causing discomfort. “Let me know if this is too much,” he murmured, testing the knot before stepping back to admire his work.

“Perfect,” he said, his lips curving into a small, satisfied smile.

Mingi let out a low chuckle, his gaze flickering between the two of you. “Yunho, you’re too good at this,” he teased, his voice slightly slurred but playful.

“She makes it easy,” Yunho shot back with a smirk, gesturing for you to kneel on the edge of the bed. The soft fabric of the comforter brushed against your knees as you adjusted your position, your bound hands resting lightly against your lower back.

The two of them moved to stand in front of you, their towering frames blocking out the dim light. Yunho was the first to step forward, his hand cupping your jaw as he tilted your face up to meet his gaze. “Start with me,” he said, his thumb brushing lightly along your cheek.

And you knew exactly what he meant.

You leaned forward, your movements deliberate, as you traced your tongue om his cock, from the base to the leaking tip. Yunho’s breathing hitched slightly, his calm composure wavering as his hand slid to the back of your neck. His touch was firm, guiding you but never forcing.

Beside him, Mingi watched intently, his fingers twitching as if itching to join in. “Damn,” he muttered under his breath, his usual boldness softened by the alcohol coursing through his system.

After a moment, Yunho gently pulled back, his hand lingering on your shoulder as he stepped aside. “Your turn,” he said, nodding toward Mingi.

Mingi wasted no time, stepping closer with a lazy grin. “Been waiting for this,” he said, his voice low and teasing. His hand tangled lightly in your hair, his touch less controlled than Yunho’s but no less careful. He let out a shaky exhale as you leaned into him, his body visibly reacting to your efforts. Your lips sucked on his tip, drawing out whines and soft moans from his rising chest.

The energy shifted as you alternated between them, the rhythm fluid and unspoken. Yunho’s steady presence contrasted with Mingi’s more erratic responses, creating a dynamic that kept you on your toes.

Then came the moment they had both clearly been waiting for. Yunho’s hand brushed against Mingi’s shoulder as they exchanged a glance, a silent agreement passing between them.

“You think you can handle both of us?” Yunho asked, his tone a mix of challenge and encouragement.

You nodded, your confidence growing as they moved closer, their proximity forcing them to stand shoulder to shoulder. Yunho tilted your chin up, his thumb brushing across your bottom lip. “Take your time,” he said, his voice steady.

You started slowly, focusing on one and then the other, testing your limits as you adjusted to the new feeling.. of taking both cocks at the same time. Their reactions were immediate and visceral—Yunho’s quiet groans mingling with Mingi’s more vocal appreciation.

As you began to take them both simultaneously, the intensity in the room shifted. Mingi’s hand tightened slightly in your hair, his usual bravado replaced with quiet murmurs of encouragement. Yunho’s breathing grew heavier, his hand steadying you as he guided the rhythm. Their cocks rubbing together in your mouth as you sucked both off, the stretch you felt in the corner of your lips making your eyes tear up.

Mingi was the first to test boundaries. He softly thrusted in your mouth. The feeling of hitting the back of your throat made him cum instantly, a string of curses escaping his mouth at the surprise of his fast release. Mingi pulled out and caught his breath as Yunho took full control of your head, his cock filling your mouth nicely. As you bobbed your head on his cock, your tongue licking the shaft as you sucked him off, it drove him fucking insane. You sucked harshly on the tip and pressed your tongue into it as he came in your mouth, the smirk in his fafe telling you everything you had to know. He gestured you to swallow everything, a satisfied hum filling the air.

When Yunho finally pulled back, his breathing was uneven, and the room was thick with lust. He leaned down, his fingers deftly undoing the belt around your wrists. “You okay?” he asked, his voice soft but steady.

You nodded, a tired but content smile spreading across your face. Mingi flopped onto the bed beside you, his usual boldness tempered by the quiet intimacy of the moment.

—

His lips curved into a sly grin as he got up in a rush and knelt between your thighs, his large hands gently pressing them apart. “I think it’s time we really spoil her,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

Beside you, Yunho got up from the bed to rummage in one of the bed drawers, taking out a small vibrator. He turned it on, the faint hum of the toy adding an edge to the already charged atmosphere. “Relax for us,” he said, his tone calm but firm.

Mingi wasted no time, his warm breath brushing against your clit before his mouth followed. The first touch of his tongue was soft and deliberate, a slow, wet stroke that sent shivers down your spine. He took his time, his lips and tongue exploring every inch of you, finding the spots that made you gasp and lingered there.

Yunho watched intently, his sharp eyes taking in every reaction. “She’s already responding so well,” he murmured, a faint smile tugging at his lips. He lowered the toy closer to where Mingi’s mouth worked, the anticipation building with every inch.

The first contact of the vibrator was light, teasing—a gentle buzz that sent jolts of pleasure through you. Mingi adjusted his rhythm immediately, his tongue working in perfect harmony with the toy. He alternated between firm, focused licks and softer, swirling motions, his hands gripping your thighs tighter to keep you steady.

“Good girl,” Yunho said softly, his deep voice grounding you as the sensations began to build. “Let us take care of you.”

Mingi hummed in agreement, the vibration of his voice adding another layer of stimulation. He angled his head slightly, his tongue flicking in quick, precise strokes that made your hips jerk against him. “She tastes so good,” he muttered, his words muffled but filled with genuine appreciation.

Yunho increased the intensity of the toy slightly, the buzzing growing sharper as he pressed it closer to your clit. The combination was overwhelming—Mingi’s hot, wet tongue moving with purpose, and the relentless vibration of the toy pushing you closer to the edge.

“Hold her still,” Yunho said, his hand pressing gently against your lower stomach to keep you steady as your body began to tremble.

Mingi glanced up briefly, his lips slick and his grin wicked. “She’s close, isn’t she?” he said, his voice low and rough. Without waiting for a response, he redoubled his efforts, his tongue moving faster and firmer, as though determined to push you over the edge.

The pressure in your core built to a crescendo, every nerve alight as the sensations became too much to bear. Yunho adjusted the toy one final time, hitting the perfect spot just as Mingi sucked lightly, his tongue swirling in tight, focused circles.

Your orgasm hit like a wave, your body arching as pleasure surged through you. Mingi didn’t stop, his tongue easing you through the intensity while Yunho pulled the toy back slightly, letting the vibrations fade as you came down from the peak.

“Breathe,” Yunho said, his tone gentle but steady as he rubbed soothing circles on your hip.

Mingi pressed a final kiss against your inner thigh before sitting back, his grin smug but affectionate. “Told you we’d make it good,” he said, his voice low and teasing.

You managed a shaky laugh, your body still trembling slightly. “You weren’t kidding,” you said, your voice breathless but full of satisfaction.

Yunho leaned over to untie the belt from your wrists, his touch careful as he massaged the faint marks left behind. “Next time,” he said with a smirk, “maybe we’ll let you be in charge.”

Mingi flopped onto the bed beside you, his hand resting lightly on your knee. “If she can still move after this,” he joked, his voice light.

—

The room was warm, the three of you still catching your breath as the quiet tension settled. Mingi stirred first again, his sex drive being overly high when he’s drunk, sitting up with a groan, his hand raking through his messy hair as his gaze locked onto you. His eyes were dark and needy, roaming over you like he couldn’t get enough.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice shaky but insistent. “Can I ask you something? Please.”

You tilted your head, curiosity flickering in your expression as your heart raced. “Of course,” you replied softly.

He leaned closer, his hands finding your thighs and gripping them firmly, his touch hot and possessive. “I—” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard before continuing. “I want you. Both of us. Together. I’ve been wanting this for so fucking long.” His hands slid up slightly, his thumbs brushing your skin. “Please tell me I can have you. I won’t stop thinking about it until I hear you say it.”

Before you could answer, Yunho let out a low chuckle, his smirk teasing but edged with something darker. “Mingi, come on,” he said, though there was an unmistakable smile tugging at his lips. “Give her a second to breathe, man. You’re drunk. Don’t push her.” His eyes flickered to you, meeting your gaze as he softened slightly, though his intentions were clear.

Mingi’s jaw tightened, but there was a flash of something softer in his eyes as he glanced back at you. “I just… I need to know,” he muttered, his voice husky. “Please, I want this so badly.”

You felt your heart flutter at the desperation in his voice. You reached out and cupped his cheek, leaning closer. “I do,” you said, your voice steady, yet filled with longing. “I’ve wanted this for so long. I want both of you.”

Mingi’s face softened, the tension easing from his body as he let out a deep, relieved breath. “I’ve wanted this for damn long…,” he repeated, his voice raw with need.

Yunho leaned back slightly, his eyes tracing the curve of your body before returning to Mingi. “You’ve been waiting forever, huh?” he teased, the playful edge in his voice not hiding the hunger in his gaze. “Seems like it’s time we make this happen then.”

Without another word, Yunho’s hands slid under your arms, pulling you into his lap with a smooth, practiced motion. His grip on your hips was firm as he steadied you against him. “You’re shaking,” he murmured, his tone softer than before but still filled with something deeper. “Relax, sweetheart.”

Behind you, Mingi’s hands found your waist, pulling you closer, his touch needy and urgent. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” he murmured, his lips brushing your neck as his hands slid lower. “How long I’ve wanted to make you ours.”

Yunho chuckled softly, his voice low and teasing as he pressed his lips to your temple. “She knows now,” he said, though the underlying hunger in his tone made it clear that he wasn’t backing down.

“She’s ours now,” Mingi growled, his fingers gripping your hips possessively.

Yunho’s fingers tightened on your hips as his gaze turned darker, more focused. “Ours, huh?” he muttered, the teasing gone from his voice now. “Then let’s see if she can handle both of us.”

Yunho, the ever composed one even if he drank as much as Mingi, lifted you up slowly and lowered you even slower on his cock, letting you adjust to his huge size. Mingi did the same but more urgently, he got closer to you, his hands roaming on your body as they settled on your waist and lowered your ass on his cock. You moaned softly at the sensation of being so stretched out, arching your back against Mingi.

“Damn she's taking us good…” Yunho groaned, starting to thrust up and down slowly. Mingi did the same, trying to be in sync with Yunho as he buried his face in the nape of your neck, his vocal self never faltering as he whined and groaned out with every thrust of his. Your hands were straddling Yunho's shoulders, steadying yourself while bouncing up and down on both men. It felt so good, so full and so hot.. to be fucked by both. The alcohol in your bloodstream only made it even better. You were not drunk, no… tipsy? Yes. But it only made it better.. the fact that your words were loosened and actions bolder meant everything to you as you've been trying to make a move on them since forever.

Though, Mingi… felt exactly the same. Only that he was gone for, needy and practically begging for you to move more above him.

“P-please, y/n..” he whined in your ear, turning you in even more.

Yunho looked at Mingi and giggled, his words eliciting, “just do whatever, she's all in for it.. just look at her, taking us so damn good. Tell me sweetie, do you want us to fill you both? Hm?” he said as one of his hands rode up your body and stopped on your breast, playing with your nipple.

“Ah, Y-yunho!” you whimpered out when he pinched it.

“Say it, sweetie. I need to know..”

“Y-yes… for fucks sake, please..” you pleaded, both men pounding into you more fiercely when hearing your words.

“Mhm, that's more like it…” and his thrusts started getting deeper, sloppier and wilder.

Both men's hands gripped your waist and thighs down, pushing you on their cocks only to make you take them deeper.

Within a few thrust Mingi couldn't help himself anymore and came, filling you up with his huge load of cum. He's followed by you, your inner walls clenching harshly on Yunho's cock, soft cries and moans escaping your rapidly rising chest.

His eyes widened in surprise and he came, basically being rushed to by your needy cunt. He fucked you thru your and his orgasm as Mingi had done the same and they slowly rode their highs, slowing down and eventually lifting you up and laying you on the ruined bedsheets.

“Wow… that was..” Yunho started, but you continued.

“Fucking hot.” you chuckled out, your legs trembling and head dizzy from all the action. Both men laid on each of your side and caught their breaths.

“We shoulda done this sooner.. I never thought it woulda been this amazing.” Mingi said, his words slurred.

“Well.. That was a damn Happy New Year for me.. for us” you said and the two men laughed softly, embracing you in a warm hug.

NETWORKS:

@blossomnet

@illusionnet

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@mingleshine @musiclovingfairy @crazylittlebisexual @sanhwalvr @artistic-rendition @hongjoongtime117 @cypher-03 @peachy-bell26 @atiny1 @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @atzlordz

[knavcsblade]

hullo!

hope you're having a decent enough day/evening. i read your latest arlecchino oneshot and mm. yes. "amateur" writer my ass.

i have come by dint of the sheer scarcity of f/f sub!yae miko content. (they ask you how you are, and you just have to say that you're fine, when you're not really fine—)

anyway, thank you for your time! happy late holidays, if you celebrate.

- 🫠 anon

worry not, i'll indulge you, anon. i hope this is to your liking.

woven tails.

+18!

cw: sub!yae miko x (dom)f!reader. overly descriptive. cunillingus. fingering. slightly public sex, if you squint. overstimulation.

wc: 3.0k

summary: you have missed your playful kitsune so much you decided to pay her a visit at the shrine.

a/n: oh, how i love this woman. this was pretty fun to write! i did quite a bit of research on kitsunes and japanese culture for this… send help, thanks!

Sunsets had always been nothing short of beautiful at the Grand Narukami Shrine—truly a sight to behold. The sky’s hues shifted from bright blue to a stunning mixture of pink and reddish-orange in the blink of an eye. Or well, that is how the Lady Guuji would describe it, at least.

She idly stood beneath the ether, taking in its magnificence with twined fingers as the soft breeze washed away any lingering thoughts in her mind. The feeling of her rosy locks being brushed by the wind was almost a lullaby of its own.

The sole reason for her sudden distraction from the moment were the sound of footsteps approaching her, ones she recognized faultlessly. She could even feel you coming from a mile away if she paid enough attention.

“Always the unexpected visitor, aren’t you?” Her voice was laced with that usual wit of hers while she turned to face you. Her elegance was something you had always found intensely alluring, no matter how long it had been since you met each other.

You couldn’t help but watch her for seconds that felt like an eternity. Your eyes lingered on the intricate details of her stunning kimono-like outfit before you even dared to speak. What a breathtaking woman she was.

“Yes, well… I have missed you.”

Her eyebrow arched in pure amusement at your unexpected comment—that little smile of hers only enhanced her reaction. Every mannerism of hers was soft and graceful, and the sight turned perfect as she crossed her arms and you caught the way the cherry blossoms adorned the scene surrounding you both.

She wasn’t used to such vulnerabilities from anyone, even if you had been more open about your feelings in the past yourself.

“My, how bold.” Perhaps it was the dim lighting emanating from the sun that made her almost perceive a faint glow posed on your irises, or it was all a mere figment of her imagination. She knew that look on your face better than she would like to admit, however. “Your words are… delightfully quaint, I must say.”

Your surprise was even greater than hers had been towards your first sentence. She spoke with nothing but the truth, which was fairly uncommon—she had always enjoyed teasing and pranking you. At the end of the day, that was her nature.

Miko’s hum filled the silence as she took a few tentative steps towards you, a slight tilt of her head only demonstrated how occupied she was examining you internally. She knew why you missed her—what you missed that only she could give you.

She circled you slowly as she took in your looks. Her arm crossed loosely right below her breasts, the opposite elbow now casually resting against the back of her hand as her chin was caressed by her index with sluggishness. It was clear she knew just how seductive you found this whole ordeal.

“Are they?”

If only she knew how much you truly missed her… all of her.

“They are indeed,” the smile upon her features was one you could almost hear even though she was right behind you. “What an intrepid little thing you have turned out to be.”

After some time, once she got bored of her eyes roaming all over your frame, she stood before you with the corners of her lips generating that mischievous expression she carried around at every moment. Your presence made her heart pound in her chest, though she would never say it aloud.

This relationship you had with the kitsune was quite complicated in its own way. You belonged to each other in a style neither of you could describe, but enjoyed greatly each time you were face to face. It had taken you such an awfully long time to get her to show her different facets, but you wouldn’t change it for the world.

“I expect you to understand how preposterous it is for you to meet me at the Shrine for such reasons, however. Your cloying excuse is… as endearing as it is foolish.” Her velvety tone only served to make you shudder.

You knew it was ridiculous for you to show up unannounced and expect her to share her warmth, though you didn’t seem to mind it as much as she wished for you to by the way you exhaled loudly through your nose and wrapped an arm around her waist to squeeze her close.

Just how audacious could you really be?

She somehow maintained her poise despite being caught off-guard by your actions. All she could feel was the way your breasts pressed against each other’s and your hot breath against the skin of her soft face. She was grateful her clothing covered the goosebumps you had inflicted upon her—she wouldn’t want you to see the effect you had on her that easily.

“I’m aware of it, Miko. I simply can’t find myself caring when, as I said, I miss you.”

She hummed, hands now resting on your biceps in an attempt to find some balance. “You’re aware, but you don’t care? How charming… Well, perhaps, you should rethink that stance, for your own sake.”

Always the playful one, her lips remained locked on that little smirk you couldn’t stop yourself from finally savoring after such a long time apart. Once more, you caught her utterly unprepared with your sudden kiss, one she would’ve pulled away from if only it weren’t yours. She caught onto all the feelings you poured into it the instant the shock washed away and she allowed herself to flutter her eyes shut—longing, desire, and pure appreciation.

How sweet.

Needless to say, the sight was one that seemed to have been plucked out of one of those sapphic novels Miko often read thanks to you. Pink petals surrounding you due to the soft breeze of the island, the gorgeous sunset highlighting both of your features, and the meeting of lips from two lovers too lost in the moment to remember this was a public setting.

She always allowed you to explore her mouth as much as you wished since she knew just how much you enjoyed it. It was so obvious you needed this from the way your fingertips sunk into the fabric of her obi so she wouldn’t escape from your affections.

She would never.

You were just so, so rushed to feed her your unwavering love with a silver spoon you wouldn’t have even noticed if the shrine maidens were around. You had mindlessly busied yourself with making up a dance with your tongues right after you had licked her lower lip to ask for permission.

It was maddening to withdraw from her at long last, though absolutely necessary. She couldn’t have you running out of breath just from a mere kiss, could she?

“Hm,” she swallowed hard as she took a good look at you, her lips and yours now swollen and glistening with saliva, “Alright… alright. I suppose I can indulge you, just this once. Don’t let it go to your head.”

You could tell she wanted it as badly as you did from the way her eyes were half-lidded and there was a hint of blushing on her cheeks. She could always deny it, but her body betrayed her each time, and it was truly adorable.

Your reaction was quick to the compliance of the kitsune—you twined your fingers with hers just to feel the heat radiating from her body as you pulled the both of you into the inside of the Shrine. You could have easily proven to her how much her absence had been weighing on you right there and then, beneath the Sacred Sakura, but you knew it wouldn’t be to her liking for your intimacy to be so public.

The walk towards her quarters was silent, awfully so. She followed close behind with that wicked grin upon her features as she watched the way your fingertips were digging into the smooth skin of her hand. You were holding back only by a thread, and she began to find your desperation strangely enticing.

After the agonizing moment of tension, Miko’s steps came to a halt against the tatami flooring once inside her personal area. You had been there quite a few times before, but never so late in the day for a reason as superficial as this.

She poured all her focus on how you slid the fusuma shut, though her gaze lingered on the way your clothing draped your figure so gently. It was mouthwatering, in fact—she wanted to sink her teeth and claws into your warm body already. It was difficult to resist, but she managed.

Her composure wavered ever so slightly seconds later, however. This time, she was anticipatory of your actions, though still affected by them. She could see the determination in your strides as your hands rose to cup her jaws and pull her in for a new searing kiss, and the poor woman had to take a couple of steps back from how forceful your grasp was.

Verbal communication wasn't needed there and then. The only sound echoing through the shoji panels were that of the sloppy clicking of your tongues, and it unconsciously filled her belly with a bubbling heat. You were oh so messy it made her tingle.

You forced the Head Priestess to stumble backwards unpremeditatedly, already knowing where that expensive futon of hers lay in the room. Of course, you helped her down on it with gentleness and care, though the contrast of your rough kissing made her realize you would be everything but lenient with her.

She wasn’t the type to surrender so easily to someone—you were that one exception.

You immediately found yourself pressing your moist lips against her neck to savor the soft texture of it, hands working on releasing her of her garments with practiced ease as you relished the jagged breaths she let out.

“So… primitive,” you heard above your head the instant you finally rid her of her robe, which would be situated beneath her at all times until you were done with her. You truly didn’t feel like throwing it away carelessly—it would make the scene less sensual, you thought.

The only vexing piece of fabric that separated you from her fully exposed form was that of her soaked undergarments, which clung to her pretty pussy like a second skin. Your gaze traveled downward to scan this image she provided you in such a selfless manner, and it was so delicious to witness that you contemplated the idea of eating her out over the white material.

Never mind that—you wanted full contact. That barrier would only make it worse.

You had fully ignored her previous comment to wrap eager fingers around the hem of her underwear, thanking Celestia above she never wore a brassiere. Her tits were on thorough display just for you, and you could see the way in which her pink nipples perked up when her hips rose to give you leeway to undress her.

It was almost frustrating how beguiling she was.

“You are enjoying this far too much, aren’t you?” She started, her tone as frolicsome as it was soft, “I suppose I should let you have your fun, hm?”

She expected an answer with the corners of her plump lips lifted slightly upwards, though you managed to catch her off-guard again. She didn’t understand how you managed to do that every time, but it was refreshing and new to her.

The moment you tasted her, that smile of hers dropped to introduce an expression you were familiar with: arched eyebrows and mouth agape as her breath caught in her throat. Where was that playfulness now? She seemed at a loss for words.

Your eyes could’ve rolled to the back of head at the mere feeling of those tangy, slick folds on your tastebuds. Never had you savoured something as delicious as her drenched cunt, and it drove you wild each time.

You made sure to hook your arms around her thighs to keep her close, meeting her gaze throughout the entirety of your favorite meal while her rosy cheeks gave you a sense of pleasure rushing through your body. You loved to see the way her hands grasped her own breasts to massage them while your tongue searched for new sensitive spots on the area you had previously explored several times.

Miko wasn’t a moaner, but rather a woman who would huff, puff, and whimper gracefully at every jolt of pleasure she felt thanks to you. She would attempt be even quieter this time due to how the thin walls of her quarters could easily allow the maidens to hear just how, with no effort, you could make her experience divinity with your lips.

“My…,” the syllable dragged on quietly for an instant, only because she had to silence herself by catching her own lower lip between her teeth. The sight of you amidst her legs was one she could admire for eternity.

You found that delectable bundle of nerves with your flattened tongue after taking your sweet time, something that made her fuzzy ears twitch upwards at the feeling and a gasp escape her unconsciously. Her face contorted while you slurped her juices and sucked on her sopping pussy, which began to clench around nothing as her head tipped back. Her reactions were always so elegant despite the unrefined nature of the situation.

You were aware of the fact that she was in need of more contact—more satisfaction. Who were you to deny her of this?

To her delightful surprise, one of your digits made its way inside her, and this combined with the way you were eating her out, the lewd noises from your mouth, and the heartbeat she could already feel on her cunt, it had been just a matter of time before she allowed herself to moan.

You adored those sounds. They were just as precious as her.

Her walls quickly throbbed around your finger, the intensity of it growing the moment you added a new one and pressed the tips against that spongey little spot on her core. You were driving her insane with each flick of your tongue and the latest movements of your hand.

It was borderline torturous. You suckled her pussy so disgustingly well while your fingers forced that feeling of release to grow in her lower stomach to the point of her legs already spasming. She was so flustered as a thin layer of sweat coated her and made her look heavenly—way better than the evening sky right outside the building.

Her eyes rolled back the instant her vision was blurred by a white flash, and she could swear she saw stars once her orgasm washed over her. All you observed was the way Miko’s back arched, her eyes glowing pink before disappearing behind her eyelids as her long claws buried into the soft flesh of her overly abused breasts.

Maybe your newest idea would make the moment more overwhelming for her, though you didn’t seem to mind it much—you wanted to worship her thoroughly, no matter the consequences.

Your digits continued to pump in and out of her sensitive cunt, tongue savoring each drop of her saline nectar as you exploited her poor, swollen clit. Of course, this drew a mewl from her; she was trying her hardest to come down from her high and you just kept her riding it like it was nothing.

“Darling!” She moaned out, glowy eyes meeting your hungry ones as her features still held that lovely fucked-out expression that made you even wetter than she was.

Her legs continued to quiver around your head while your nose nudged her mound with each soft shake of your crown, and she knew you didn’t plan to pull away until you gave her a louder climax to quench your thirst. Insufferable even at a time like this.

Naturally, one of her hands abandoned her tits to grasp your hair and try to make you calm down, but the sudden, electrifying sensation traveling up her spine forced her to shudder and whimper. Tears were starting to prickle her eyes now, the feeling of vulnerability overly new, though not unwelcome.

She was dripping wet, so much so your fingers were having a hard time keeping themselves inside her—of course you added a new one to continue overstimulating her delicious core.

Oh, she was gone.

Her soft cry was so obscene you would have found your own release from it if only you weren’t so busy helping the woman reach hers. All she could think about at this point was how good you were, how dirty but determined you could be just for her.

Her digits twined with the messy locks of your hair, drawing you impossibly closer to her swollen cunt to almost use you to climax once again. And once she did, her grasp grew stronger and her thighs squeezed your head so firmly you wouldn’t have minded having her asphyxiate you right there and then. It would be the perfect way to go, wouldn’t it?

She moaned in a way you hadn’t heard before—fascinating. It was such a smutty and loud sound everyone in the entire nation could’ve heard her if only they paid enough attention.

Once her hips had stopped their twitchy motions, Miko’s ragged breaths filled the room while your damp lips pressed soft kisses on her inner thighs to soothe her as best as you could.

“Well done,” was all you said as you held her legs in place to rise from your spot and meet her lips with yours. The aftertaste of her orgasm was delicious, you simply wished to share it with her.

She hummed at this, finding it amusing through the haze she felt. She enjoyed the praise, though quietly, of course.

“Hm…,” it took her some time to find her voice as her trembling hand traveled up to brush a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Sweetling… do you ever stop to think about how fortunate you are to have me by your side? Only I coddle you this way.”

You seemed to have stolen her playfulness by the way you wickedly smiled at her words, holding her sides gently as your thumb rubbed mindless patterns against her boiling hot skin. “Yes. I think about it every night and day, Miko.”

You weren’t lying. This sweet kitsune of yours was the only thing that flooded your brain constantly—and she would only continue to do so after this glorious encounter.

[astrolocherry]

Birthday Venus-Saturn aspects ~ "Your Daddy Loves You..."

Written by Astrolocherry

Venus conjunct Saturn, Venus sextile Saturn, Venus square Saturn, Venus trine Saturn, Venus opposite Saturn

The individual born with Venus forming aspect to Saturn is gifted a double-banded commitment ring from Saturn. Therein contains a promise that while partnership may be potentially timeworn and difficult to find in this lifetime, when the love eventually comes it will be greater than anything she could have imagined. She may have distant fantasies or longings about her ideal partner, but never completely entertains these as actual possibilities, often due to an inherent sense of worthlessness or being undeserving with matters of the heart. Something happens during the developmental phase of life that breaks this heart before it has fully formed. It is sensitive, scarred, and often bandaged in the protective defences that cut her off from accepting the affection and attention that she can’t admit is much needed. In traditional astrology, Venus is the portion of our consciousness that beholds our eye of beauty, femininity, aesthetic, and style. The shadow of Saturn leering over Venus often produces an apathy and at worst, a revulsion regarding her own self-image of beauty. 

Despite feeling so disconnected and detached from her feminine side, the individual with a Venus-Saturn aspect is divinely feminine in its most timeless, antiqued, resiliently elegant, and everlasting archetypal form. It is a lifelong reunion between the inner Fairy Godmother, and the little girl inside who is enslaved to those leftover feelings of being defective, unattractive, and impossible to love. It is until this reunion occurs, or in the worst case scenarios when the inner work has been left incomplete and it never happens at all, that the individual experiences the traditional Venus-Saturn suffering in love that we would expect. These conditions may result in a choice of relationship partners and dynamics that reflect and play-out the sentiments of the little girl inside rather than the woman, and may involve themes of relegation, power imbalances, mistreatment, and re-casting father figures. There may also be some form of self-imposed entrapment in relationships, something inside that stops her from walking out an open door.

The traditional Venus-Saturn age-gap in love and attraction to older people may be one relationship theme that prevails through life. However, as she grows older and wiser, she will often come to recognise this attraction being shaped by different needs and desires that are more authentic and ultimately satisfying. As she becomes less beheld to old conditions, the need is less for paternal fulfilment and redemption . This could be a young soul or an old soul - her attraction to older people has never been about that. It’s rather about a depth that this heart possesses, a serene, dewy, alluringly tragic wisdom and insight that is decades older than its years, searching for somebody who could possibly understand this, at times confusing age for inner experience.

With her poised and intriguing interactive style, she is often readily complimented and admired by friends, colleagues, superiors, and strangers alike. And while she hears the sentiments quite clearly, she barely absorbs a word. She appreciates the genuineness, but she cannot feel a thing, and she won’t until that girl is back in the arms of the Enchanted Elder inside. Breaking their spell of separation repairs her broken heart. She slowly embraces her femininity, and a pageant of Feminine Priestesses embrace her back, and once she starts seeing and styling herself in this way - the real show of Who She is really begins. This is also often when the first chapters of life’s true love story only just begin. A growing comfort and confidence, a silver Saturn glow that may have seen its shadows, yet there blooms a Venus rose that is everlasting and can never die without sunlight.

Cherry

[zackprincebooks]

Beloved of the Blood Moons

While the planet of Baal and its twin moons are seemingly lacking in spectacular displays of nature, there is a singular phenomenon, albeit it is a rare occurrence: the Blood Moons. When Baal Prime and Baal Secundus are in perfect alignment, they reflect the sunlight back onto Baal with a red tint from the sand. This turns everything on Baal a red tinge for forty-eight hours. It’s a sacred time for the Blood Angels. They say Sanguinius was buried on Baal during the Blood Moons, and it’s a time for mourning and praying. Work is halted except for extreme emergencies. This year, things get…weird, during the Blood Moons. At least for you. (Sanguinius x Reader, explicit. 2nd person POV; Reader is AFAB but not addressed with any pronouns. Because this is Sanguinius, there is blood drinking involved.)

Want to read it on AO3? Click here!

Want to read my original fiction? Click here!

As Baal Prime and Baal Secundus move closer together, the sun’s rays align with their planetary surfaces. They become glittering rubies in the sky, projecting the image of their red sands onto the planet of Baal below so everything is bathed in a red tinge for forty-eight blessed hours. 

The Blood Moons are a momentous occasion. Not only is it a beautiful sight to behold, but it is a sacred sight as well. While not as sacred as Sanguinala itself, a Blood Moon had occurred during the burial of The Great Angel.

As the lid of the Golden Sarcophagus closed over Sanguinius, a red haze filled the air. Blood Angels and serfs alike looked up from their despair to marvel, for there could be no greater sign that Sanguinius was with them and always would be. 

From then on, the Blood Moons became a time of rest, worship, and reflection. Work would be cleared weeks in advance so they could dedicate their time to prayer of The Great Angel. They anoint themselves in special oil and lay artifacts and offerings at the Golden Sarcophagus. It is a beautiful time, and for a serf to witness the Blood Moons in their tragically short life is a miracle. 

Unfortunately, your first—and likely only—Blood Moon is spent in quarantine. 

You sniffle loudly and whine, trying to project your disappointment to the Apothecary, Brother Caphriel. He doesn’t lift his head from the computer he’s hunched over. “I understand your frustration, as this is a holy time of your life that will likely not occur again. However, until your temperature returns to 98.6 degrees Fahrenheit, you are under strict quarantine.”

Brother Caphriel reaches over and plucks the thermometer out of your mouth, plugging it into the computer. “Your temperature is still 104.5 degrees Fahrenheit, which is considered a high-grade fever. This will require strict bed rest, elevated consumption of fluids, and strict quarantine," he repeats. Though you cannot see Caphriel’s eyes, you can feel his judgmental stare on your prone, feverish body.

Too weak to protest, you shake your head and whine again, dislodging the wet washcloth from your burning forehead. You spent the last month planning for the Blood Moons; finishing your chores early, creating an outfit to wear, and preparing an offering for the Golden Sarcophagus. When you felt the tingle in the back of your throat, you thought it was just a sign of dehydration. When you began wheezing and sweating at night, you prayed it would clear before the Blood Moons occurred. 

Maybe you hadn’t prayed hard enough.

“I am not any happier than you,” Caphriel sighs, fetching the washcloth. He wrings it out and places it in a laundry basket. “I am also missing the Blood Moons in order to care for you.” Taking a clean washcloth, he submerges it in cold water and wrings it out. “If you rest and take your medication, we will both be out of quarantine faster.” 

Though the cloth brings some relief, your sour expression does not sweeten. No matter how much you rest or how much medication you take, you will not get better in time. 

You flip your pillow to the cool side and close your eyes. Sleep embraces you in its arms, and you fall faster than expected.

---------------------------------

Though you come to consciousness slowly, you do not feel ill or fatigued. You are able to sit up unaided in bed, and when your Apothecary does not berate you, you realize his post has been abandoned. The computer he used to read your temperature is dark, with the thermometer still plugged in. 

You swing your legs out of the bed and shakily stand on your bare feet. The chilled floor of quarantine sends goosebumps up your legs and you wrap your arms around yourself. 

“Hello?” Your voice echoes in the medical bay. “Is anyone there?”

Stony silence greets you. Combined with the ruby haze of the Blood Moons, it feels as though you stepped into an ancient temple untouched for thousands of years—still sacred, still mystical. 

The door to quarantine is wide open. If you wanted, you could leave and bring your offering to the Golden Sarcophagus. You could do it and run back fast enough that you could get back in bed and the Apothecary would never notice. 

You take off running, the sound of your bare feet slapping against the metal floors. It’s not just the medical bay: everywhere in the Arx Angelicum is empty. No one is in the feasting hall, no one is in the armory, and no one is in the serf’s dormitory when you fetch your offering and tuck it into your medical gown. There’s no time to change into your devotional attire, so your cloak wrapped over your medical gown will have to suffice. 

You can only hope The Great Angel will forgive you for your disheveled appearance as you leave the dormitory and make your trek to the Holy Sepulchre. Every now and again, you have to duck behind a corner as you hear a voice or a creaking door nearby, trying to escape the exasperated frown of your Apothecary.

But each time, there is no one. The Arx Angelicum is completely empty, and you appear to be the only soul inside. There aren’t even any signs of habitation, such as abandoned snacks or weapons carelessly leaned against a doorframe. 

At least, until you approach the Holy Sepulchre and the sound of singing and chanting fills your ears. While the Golden Sarcophagus always gives off a glowing golden light, it seems brighter now as it spills down the stairs leading into the Holy Sepulchre. Under the Blood Moons, it has been painted crimson; like a velvet carpet, it invites you to ascend. 

One shaking, footstep at a time, you climb the marble steps. The singing and chanting grow louder until it vibrates your entire body. They praise the Blood Moons and thank The Great Angel for the gift of His presence.

…His presence…

With each step, the Holy Sepulchre is revealed to you: Blood Angels garbed in their ceremonial robes line the entrance, their voices lifted to the vaulted ceiling where incense burners gently sway. The Blood Moons shine through the stained-glass windows depicting The Great Angel’s many victories and splash muted colors on the walls.

Once you have ascended the stairs, you can see the Golden Sarcophagus. You have seen it on previous Sanguinala celebrations, where you gazed at The Great Angel’s visage in His eternal rest. It always occurred to you that He looked…lonely in there, laying in an ocean of red silk. You wanted to climb into His coffin and rest His head on your chest, stroking His hair. Candles throw soft light on the details etched across the lid and sides of Sanguinius’s great battles and victories.

Halfway through your approach, the lid of the coffin moves, for the first time in ten thousand years. You pause, heart in your throat, as you watch the lid shift in place before slowly lifting. It falls away behind the altar on which the Golden Sarcophagus sits, briefly overwhelming the chanting and singing with its clattering and clanging.

Two hands extend from the Golden Sarcophagus to grip it on each side. Before The Great Angel leverages Himself out of His coffin, you’ve already taken a knee and averted your eyes from this sacred vision. The resurrection of Sanguinius is a hope that has sat in the heart of many an Imperial subject; a dream that blesses their slumber every night. You have been blessed with the opportunity to witness it firsthand, and you refuse to squander it.

Deep, rich laughter fills the Holy Sepulchre, silencing the singing of the Blood Angels and drowning out the roaring of blood in your ears. Sanguinius lifts Himself from His coffin and descends the altar, approaching you on bare feet adorned with jingling anklets. His wings rustle overhead, stretching after laying on them for so long. A single, white feather floats into your view, begging you to pick it up.

“Rise, Sweet One. I have need of you.” Sanguinius offers a hand decorated in gold rings and bracelets, beckoning you to His side.

Your throat unsticks enough to speak, “I am…worthy of this, Your Grace?” You reach for Him, but where you are hesitant, Sanguinius is not. His fingers encompass the length of your hand and wrap around the entirety of your arm as he pulls you up. Sanguinius could easily dislocate your arm in one pull, but He is gentle.

He is close enough that you can hear His breathing; a sound no one has heard for ten thousand years. You are at stomach height with Sanguinius and though you don’t dare to lift your head to His face, you can see His chest rise and fall through His gold and red robes.

“I have a gift for You, Your Grace. In honor of the Blood Moons.” Sanguinius makes an inquisitive noise and you reach into your cloak, through your medical gown, to pull out the necklace you made for Him. “It is a modest thing,” you confess weakly as you offer Him the chains of citrine and red tiger eye cabochons; as close as you could get to the rubies and gold of his armor on a serf’s meager salary.

“’Tis a princely gift,” Sanguinius insists, “for you made it with your own two hands, with all the earnestness in your heart. I shall accept it, and I shall do so with gladness.”

And—to your shock and horror—Sanguinius kneels in front of you.

He pays no heed to your stammering protests of unworthiness; you try to avert your eyes but you have no idea of where to look. It would be rude if you did not give The Great Angel your full attention, no matter how undeserving you are of His.

And so, you look.

Sanguinius sits with His hands folded neatly in His lap, waiting patiently as a child waits for their teacher. While the majority of His hair falls loosely around His shoulders, a singular braid encircles His noble brow in place of a crown. The lids of His sapphire eyes are painted with glittering gold, and His cheeks dotted with gold flecks. His nose, eyebrows, and ears have been pierced with gold rings and rubies, and when Sanguinius blinks, gold dust scatters across His cheeks and nose. Even when kneeling, He is eye-level with you.

“Will you please put it on for me?”

Your sweaty hands tussle with the clasp as Sanguinius patiently waits for you. After stopping to wipe your hands on your cloak, you’re able to unclasp it. He leans forward so the tip of his nose brushes yours and the smell of sage incense and sandalwood oil floods your senses.

When you put the necklace around His neck, your hands tuck under His hair. Touching Him feels like a holy act, and you savor the moment as long as you possibly can. Sanguinius indulges you, leaning His head back so your hands are engulfed by His soft, golden locks.

The gesture bumps His chin against your lips and you freeze. Sanguinius looks at you from under hooded eyes and some of His gold flecks shower across your brow like starlight.

“Fear not, my Sweet One. Show me your desire.” The hoarse register of Sanguinius’s voice goes straight between your legs and they squeeze together tightly. This does not go unnoticed by Sanguinius, as His eyes slip from your face to the opening in your cloak. His pupils are dilated so wide, the blues of His irises are nearly eclipsed by black.

You allow your cloak to fall to the ground. Under the eyes of Sanguinius, your rumpled hospital shift feels like a luxurious gown. “You were ill?” He tilts His head to the side, reaching out to pluck the fabric.

“A brief sickness,” you reassure Him, “I am well recovered.” And you find that it is the truth; your chills have subsided, your temperature feels normal, and your appetite has returned. Though the hunger lingering in your lower belly will not be sated by food…

The hand that plucks at your gown turns into a fist, and Sanguinius rips the fabric off your body with little fanfare. It joins your cloak on the ground and you are laid bare before Him, in all your mortality. The heat rolling off His form envelops you and Sanguinius’s eyes follow a bead of sweat trailing down your throat.

“What a luxurious gift,” He murmurs, following the bead of sweat as it continues down your chest. It stops near your nipple and Sanguinius lets out a deep breath that ruffles your hair. “Would you give this to me, as well?”

“I would, Your Grace.” Your voice is barely a breath, but it echoes to the ceiling of the Holy Sepulchre. “I will not deny you anything.”

His wings encircle you as Sanguinius lifts you effortlessly into His arms. He barely needs to exert effort as He carries you to the altar and lays you gently in the Golden Sarcophagus.

“Lord,” you protest, “I cannot! This is a holy place!”

“It makes for a most comfortable bed,” Sanguinius counters with ease, “for I have lain here for nights uncountable and had naught but the sweetest dreams.” And you cannot gainsay him when the silk cushions you and your skin is tickled by His discarded feathers. “You look lovely against the red silk.” As the Golden Sarcophagus needed to house Sanguinius comfortably, you can lay in it as though it was a bed.

“I once thought you looked lonely, laying here,” you confess as Sanguinius climbs in with you, “and I wished to lay alongside you, to comfort you during your long sleep.”

“Such kindness,” Sanguinius muses, kneeling on top of you. Your eyes are laser-focused on His fingers as they untie the knot of His robe; once Sanguinius realizes this, He slowly pulls the ties apart.

Sanguinius is a treasure. Inch by inch, His golden skin is revealed to you, glistening with oil under the light of the candles melting on the altar. His nipples, pink and pearly, are pierced with rings linked by a golden chain with rubies hanging from it. It’s so beautiful, it only makes you feel more self-conscious about your modest gift.

He is almost shy when the robe parts on His thighs, revealing His cock to you. As expected of a Primarch, Sanguinius is generously endowed, though longer than he is thicker. His pubic hair is well trimmed, and a darker color than His flowing locks. The veins along His shaft pulse enticingly, though the most mouthwatering part about Him is the gold ring pierced atop His cockhead.

“Would you like to touch it? I promise it’s not as frightful as it looks.” As though to demonstrate, Sanguinius grasps His cock and strokes it. Your eyes are fixated on the way that it bobs and twitches under His touch, and the shuddering groan that passes His lips is sweeter music than the chanting Blood Angels.

Emboldened by His noises, you reach out for His cock. Your fingers brush over His as Sanguinius moves His hand, and your fingers close around His cock. Sanguinius is oiled here too, and your strokes are smooth as you pump up and down. It’s warmer than you expected, and when you squeeze, a droplet of precum appears on the head.

“Have you touched another in this manner?” His voice comes out breathlessly, bucking His hips into your hand. You duck your head and bite your lip, but Sanguinius lifts your chin with two fingers. “Please, do not hide from me. I merely wish to understand.”

“A couple of times,” you admit, “but more than not, it is often my own hand.”

“Have you imagined me thusly?”

Your hand stutters in its stroking. Some of the statuary and tapestries in the halls of the Arx Angelicum of Sanguinius striking down the forces of chaos inspired your hot and heavy dreams later that night. “On the odd occasion,” you confess, resuming your strokes. He does not inquire further, but His throaty chuckling is a bolt of heat down your spine.

“Would you like to do more than merely touch? There is a myriad of things I would like to show you.” Sanguinius runs His palms up and down His thighs as He watches you, his eyes drawn to the quiver of your throat.

“Please show me,” you beg of Him, and Sanguinius gently disengages from your hand to lay down on top of you, supported by his elbows. When you’re so close to Him, you resist the urge to close your eyes as His breath cascades across your cheeks.

His lips are soft against your chapped and bitten ones, and His tongue swipes the space between to wet the kiss. Soft, slick sounds fill your ears, which burn red with arousal. Sanguinius is not quiet as He kisses you, humming against your lips as He pushes His tongue inside your mouth.

Sanguinius tastes like fresh figs and plums; sweet but with an earthy undercurrent. He kisses you gently at first, letting His tongue toy with yours in your mouth. When you try to push your tongue into His mouth to give Him the same treatment, Sanguinius presses against you almost aggressively, your wrists caught in His hands.

He finally deigns to pull away from you, a string of saliva stretching between your lips. “Please, allow me to take the lead in this. When you inflame me so passionately, I may lose control.” His lips are red and swollen, but beneath His upper lip is a glint that makes your heart stop.

“I understand,” you whisper softly, “though if you feel overtaken by your hunger, please grant me the honor of your bite, my Lord.”

You cannot stop your eyes widening when Sanguinius licks His lips and one of His fangs is exposed. It’s a sharp weapon, ready to plunge into your skin at the slightest provocation. Sanguinius must have powerful self-control indeed to reign in his Red Thirst during the throes of passion.

“You are the one who honors me.” He ducks His head to nose against your throat. Sanguinius runs the tips of His fangs along your jugular, scraping your heated skin and delighting in the shiver that runs through your body. But Sanguinius toys with you, continuing to tease you with the tips of His fangs against your neck. When He presses just a little harder against your jugular, your entire body seizes.

“I can feel your heart beating through my fangs,” He murmurs against your skin. Sanguinius licks the red marks He left behind before moving down your body. Where Sanguinius kisses you, warmth floods that spot even after He has moved on. It seems that Sanguinius is particularly fond of your nipples, as He swirls his tongue around the pink bud and applies pressure with His lips.

Or perhaps it is your reaction, as you cry out in pleasure and immediately fist your hands in His golden hair, loosening the braid encircling His brow. To ensure that your other nipple doesn’t go neglected, Sanguinius slides His hand over to twist and pinch it, playing the instrument of your body so your voice soars to the vaulted ceiling of the Holy Sepulchre.

Sanguinius is polite enough to let you come down from your ecstasy before moving on, though this is not the height of your pleasure. You watch with your heart in your throat as Sanguinius moves down your body, peppering kisses across your hips and belly in preparation for feasting on His prize.

His thorough affection for you has gone straight to your pussy, and by the time Sanguinius settles between your legs, you are wet and your clit throbs with need. “What a delicious meal,” Sanguinius murmurs. He slides one of your legs over His shoulders, nuzzling the interior of your thigh.

“I will not bite you here,” Sanguinius promises as His fingers spread your pussy lips. You are caught, unable to look away as Sanguinius blesses your swollen clit with a kiss but overwhelmed and wanting to look away.

Blissfully unaware of your internal struggle, Sanguinius keeps one hand on your thigh while His other hand slides up and down your pussy lips, gathering wetness until He can slip a finger inside of you. The hum that passes His lips vibrates your clit and your walls flutter around His finger.

It’s just His finger, but the enormity of His size means that even a Primarch’s finger inside of a baseline is stretching you deliciously. While He lavishes your clit with kisses and licks, Sanguinius slowly pumps his finger in and out of your pussy. His blue eyes are hooded by His golden lids, but you are pinned under Sanguinius’s gaze just as much as His strength.

The hand that holds your leg open begins rubbing the soft skin of your inner thigh. Sanguinius puts pressure on your femoral vein and holds it there, letting it throb against the pad of His thumb.

A second finger is added to your pussy and you whine, pulling harder on Sanguinius’s hair. His braid comes completely undone so His hair falls around His face and tickles your thighs. “Oh, o-oh, I’m so s-sorry,” you whimper, trying to push His hair behind His ears. Your fingers brush the shell of His ears, feeling the chains linking each earring.

“Hmmm?” Sanguinius chuckles, sending vibrations up your body through your clit. His eyebrows bounce into His hairline but doesn’t stop His attention on your clit. Once you settle around His fingers, Sanguinius resumes pumping his fingers in and out of you. They curl up into your pussy and stroke your sweet spot, making your toes curl and your mouth drop open, though no sound comes out.

Sanguinius finally lets off your clit with a soft, wet popping noise, but His fingers continue stroking you inside. “That’s it, give yourself over to me. Do not hide your pleasure from me.” His words of encouragement dance on your ears, distracting you as Sanguinius moves from your pussy to where your thigh is slung over His shoulder. Keeping His thumb on your femoral artery, Sanguinius runs His tongue along your inner thigh until He stops and sucks on the spot to make it tender.

You know what He’s going to do before He does it, but Sanguinius curls His fingers inside your pussy again to stroke your nerves. As pleasure bolts up your spine and white stars explode in your vision, Sanguinius sinks His fangs into the soft flesh of your inner thigh. Any pain you would feel is lost underneath the waves of your orgasm. By the time you come down from it, the pain has faded and His fangs in your thigh feels…almost sensual.

It's hard not to, especially when Sanguinius wears a look of sheer bliss on His face. When you stroke His hair, a rumbling noise escapes Him almost like a purr.

“Drink to your satisfaction, Your Grace,” you whisper tremulously. His eyes have slipped closed as He drinks deep of your blood, the sound of His swallowing making a nest for itself in your brain forever. When you tilt your head back slightly, you are treated to the sight of Sanguinius’s neck bulging slightly as He drinks your blood.

You’re not sure how long He drinks; it could be anywhere from a few seconds to multiple days. But with a long, guttural groan, Sanguinius pulls off your thigh and cleans the bite wound with his tongue.

“I was right to call you my Sweet One,” He coos, “though I cannot tell if your blood is sweeter than your cunt.” Your blood decorates His mouth in a ring of shining crimson and when He licks it off, your eyes follow His tongue.

His arms wrap around you and pull you towards Him, so His cock slaps against your belly. Your legs can barely wrap around His waist, thighs straining with the effort. But it is worth it for Sanguinius to dip his head and nuzzle your forehead.

“I can no longer wait,” He warns you, using one hand to guide the head of His cock inside of you. It splits your pussy lips and the piercing rubs your clit. Sanguinius rubs Himself on your open core, wetting His cock with your juices while getting you wet with His precum. Only when you are both glistening does Sanguinius begin feeding His cock into your pussy.

It’s a tight fit. Your hands fist into the red silk and your eyes squeeze shut, your head hammering with overstimulation. Sanguinius’s wings flutter, sending more feathers drifting into the sarcophagus to brush against your bare skin and make you whimper.

“Do you think you can take all of it?” The rasp in His voice makes your pussy clench around Him, and Sanguinius moans.

“I want to take all of it,” you whisper, and grit your teeth as Sanguinius pushes the rest of His cock inside of you. The piercing on His cockhead rubs against your inner walls before it comes to rest at the entrance of your womb.

“And so, you have.” Sanguinius takes hold of your wrists again, holding you in place. You are helpless under His strength as He begins to move out of you, slowly at first until His glans brush the lips of your entrance—

—Before Sanguinius slams back inside of you, rocking the Golden Sarcophagus back and forth on the altar and knocking a few candles onto the floor, where they harmlessly sputter and die.

Your mouth opens to scream, only to have the breath punched out of you by another merciless thrust. Sanguinius closes His mouth over yours, forcing His tongue into your mouth. You taste your blood on His tongue, and Sanguinius scrapes your lips with His fangs when He pulls away.

“I will not apologize for my rudeness,” He groans, “not when I have been waiting for ten thousand years! I will have what I want, even if I must take it.”

“Take…every-thing…f-from me,” you wheeze, and His growl sends ripples through your body. Sanguinius does not slow down his punishing pace, continuing to rock the sarcophagus hard enough that you are afraid of falling out. His cockhead slams into your womb, opening you up with His piercing in preparation to receive His seed.

You barely feel your second orgasm; you’re only aware of it when Sanguinius’s thrusts suddenly become wetter and louder. Your body has become a vessel for His pleasure, and His alone.

It is the highest honor He could have bestowed upon you.

Or at least, one of them. Sanguinius gathers your wrists under one hand with ease, while His other hand grips your head and forcibly turns it to expose your bare neck to him. “I am yet thirsty,” Sanguinius moans, no longer hiding His fangs behind His lips. He is forced to slow His thrusts as He bends over your body, but Sanguinius compensates by grinding into your cunt so His piercing rubs on your womb and His pelvis rubs your swollen clit.

The overstimulation sends you into a smaller orgasm right as Sanguinius sinks His fangs into your neck. Blood flows from your neck and pools under your hair, staining the silk underneath you. It’s hard to tell which act Sanguinius derives more pleasure from: drinking your blood, or filling your womb with His cock.

Black spots fill your gaze. The last thing you see before you faint from blood loss is Sanguinius hunched over you, lips stained with your blood.

“Oh, my Sweet One…we have only just begun.”

------------------------------------

Your mind and body float through space, cradled in Sanguinius’s arms. At some point He stops pummeling you and lets you rest, though you’re not sure when or why. You’re not sure if He finished, and when you raise your head to ask—

He is gone. Instead, the sterile wall of quarantine greets you, and you blink to clear your vision. Given the deep crimson color, the Blood Moons have not yet reached their apex.

For some reason, your arms are above your head and your blankets have been kicked down your bed.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” Brother Caphriel leans back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head. His helmet sits on the floor beside his computer, revealing his mane of white hair.

“You had an active night for someone with a fever, however…” Popping a sanitized cap onto the thermometer, he puts it into your mouth. After it beeps again, he plugs it into the computer.

“Your fever broke last night, so it seems your fervent praying to The Great Angel was successful.” His eyes cut over to you and you throw the blanket over your head to hide your pink cheeks from his knowing gaze.

[tanadrin]

i'm an astrologer, but only for one astro. it's obvious, right? the entire entropy gradient that powers earth and life on earth and all human civilization is, ultimately, from the sun. plus a minor contribution from the inside of the earth. but the earth a) formed from the same nebula as the sun, and thus its heat is in some sense derived from it, and b) the heat of the earth is steady, from the upwelling of heat of radioactive decay and thus cannot contribute to the dynamism of existence.

no, the thing that determines our fate is the solar energy and its variations. milankovitch cycles drive the economy. sunspots determine the fortunes of nations. napoleon's downfall was heralded by a CME, and the rise of rome foredoomed by a portentious gyre in the tachocline. the planets may have their effects--after all, they glow with the reflected light of the sun--but they are feeble at best. perhaps enough to make a man sneeze on a clear night, or give a ferret troubled dreams.

as the sun has changed over earth's history, so has the nature of its fateful rule. our destinies are hotter and fiercer than in the precambrian past, commensurate with the growing heat of the sun. the telicity of human civilization--of all life--is the working-out of the truth of the heliacal divinity, which one day will attain its ultimate truth, and thus becoming tranquil, will be reduced to a blazing white dwarf ember, cooling slowly in the vastness of space. but all this was anticpated by another spirit. the spirit our sun, being the daughter of another star whose detonation preceded the collapse of the protostellar nebula in which it formed, proceeds from the spirit of its mother-star. in the final moments of that mother-star's existence, in the supernova of that incomparably greater star, that spirit beheld as a vision the spirit of all the stars its death would engender, the culmination of its own fate in a great chain of being that stretched back to the first immense blue population III stars at the dawn of time.

each, in the transcendent moment of their catastrophic apotheosis, beheld all that would proceed from them until the last embers of their last daughters would grow cold. including that time you asked your crush out and they grimaced for a split second before they caught themselves and you realized you completely misread things. that shit was cringe as hell. they were obviously just being nice. come on, bro. you didn't need to be the soul of a dying supernova at the threshold of eternity to behold that truth. anybody could have told you.

[lordbatflash]

Inspired by @teenyturtle reply here

Featuring older!Wally and Bruce who lost everything

________

Seeing Batman („Bruce“) sitting with them at their crisis table made Wally feel like 15 again. Like 18. Like 21.

His memory had never been spotty but seeing this version (younger! and wasn’t that as sight to behold too) let vivid memories come to the forefront of his mind.

He was listening, of course he was. There would never be a time where Wally would not take this seriously but even so. He had time. Every moment, every second he could afford to let his thoughts go somewhere else.

Back to when he took up the mantle of Flash. When he was young and brave (and so stupid, not that much changed if anyone were to ask him) and thought that Batman was the coolest hero (beside his own uncle) ever.

A blink, and he was older. Still young but at home within the bright red suit, capable enough that he had the honor to work together with Batman. Even now, no matter how trivial some of these cases had been, Wally still thought fondly of the man that Batman had been. Strict but kind in the way he took control.

Not many saw it that way, not now or back then, but Wally knew. Wally had seen that kindness and had kept it close to his heart too.

Another blink and Batman had been gone. Sacrificed for the greater good so that Earth my have another turn around the sun. Even now, so many years later, people spoke of Batman with honor and awe. With gratitude and fear of someone who was bigger than life.

Life had never been so difficult after Batman had been gone.

There had been many regrets from many people. Many things Wally never voiced for years (later, he would talk about these things with J’onn, but the regret was still there. Settled but never gone). But life had gone on.

The League had continued, had evolved (would Batman be proud of with how they handled things?), they all had. No one had ever replaced Batman in his chair. Sure, they had had many people briefly sit in it, consult with them, but no one stayed. Not that they wanted anyone to.

They had many allies now, many people who helped them make the world a better place but no one would ever dare to step into Batman’s place.

And now Batman was back and Wally didn’t feel like the man he had become. He felt like he was 21 again. His heart in his throat and his tongue tied in ways that made his throat ache.

The reason why Bruce was here was noble. Tragic. Again, so much lost and even then, Bruce went on and tried to do more. It was so endearing.

Wally blinked once more and a few of them stood up. He looked up at them before following suit and stood up, his eyes moving back to Bruce as if he was a magnet.

He liked to call himself stupid sometimes, a fool even but life had taught him well. Many lessons had been had which made him come to only one conclusion: to not be stupid for once in his life. There was nothing here to gain. Nothing positive anyway.

This was strictly business.

“Flash,” the deep voice sounded almost the same (he still remembered, after all these years).

“Wally,” he corrected easily, without effort as he turned to Bruce, an easy smile on his face despite his chest feeling like it was going to implode. Business.

“Wally,” young Bruce echoed, his face already painted by so much grief and pain that it would have been difficult to look at the man (not for Wally, never for him. He’d preach about Batman’s legacy until his last breath). “Do you have a moment?”

At the end of the day, Wally would always be stupid.

[itstheendofthegoddamnworld]

Swallowed Whole by The Flame (Messmer the Impaler x Tarnished! Reader) 4

MASTERLIST

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Summary: You and Messmer come to some sort of agreement.

A/N: This is a shorter chapter, but I promise to provide something juicy for the next one!

A03 link

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Chapter 4: An Accord

When you're dressed in a cleaner pair of knight's trousers, boots and shirt, you are directed back to the room you dreaded returning to. Messmer's throne room was just as dimly lit as when you first entered, with the Lord awaiting you like an emperor on his throne. 

He was regal and poised, wracking his sharp nails against the armrest as if awaiting your arrival. The other was curled around his spear, an intimidating sight to behold. Once you had been deposited in front of him, his fire knights bowed in respect, taking their spots positioned in areas around the room, eyes directed only on you.

"Tarnished," he announced, his voice booming through the empty hall with the exceptionalism of someone like him, "thou art not much of a beast after all."

He was discussing the matters of being cleaned up, both through your wounds and through being cleaned. Though, if being kept alive was not seen as a sign of mercy from him, there had to be some ulterior motives. 

"Yes, nothing screams relaxation than being drowned in a bath with nowhere to hide." You spoke comically, but Messmer found no amusement in your words. He hadn't since you arrived. You did wonder if he had made friendships in his years, through his soldiers, or did they find him to be some enigma.

You filled the silence with a question. "Now that you so kindly mended me and had me bathed, am I to be on my way?"

Messmer's eye squinted subtly, tapping his fingers impatiently like a cat would swish its tail. You were slowly ebbing your way through to irritating him more and more. "And wherefore doth thee think I wouldst?"

Nerves bubble to your throat, as you're ready to throw up or wish upon his flames to take you out now. "I told you of Miquella's plans. That would make me not your enemy nor your ally." You spoke incredulously. "I am not wanting any part of this, on either side. I am simply telling you the truth so I may leave."

"So thee may betray another?"

"So I may survive." You corrected. Messmer didn't seem convinced. "Do you know how exhausting it is to fight against your family? Your siblings betray and scheme, your mother is imprisoned by some greater will none could even open, and yet, I am in the midst of it all."

He doesn't speak, simply surveying you as do his serpents, all eyes that seem to read right through you, reading whether you speak the truth or not. Truth be told, you do not know if you know what of Marika's whereabouts, only that war after war has been fought, with no sight of a true victor. A Tarnished like yourself could never be loved, nor accepted, it was known. How they mocked you, but still, you endured.

"T'is a shame," Messmer spoke. "It seemeth one of thy friends already knoweth of thy whereabouts."

You held no allies that you knew of who held your trust, alive or dead. None came to your head. "Who?"

"There has't been sightings of one of Miquella's followers, the former follower of Radahn, Freyja." His fingers scratched lightly against the wood of the throne, irking you greatly. "I want thee to deal with her."

You scoff, crossing your arms, glowering back at him with as much fire as he does. So all those things he did rather than kill you were for something. "What would you have me do?"

"Simple," Messmer leans back on his throne, a small smirk on his face. "Kill her and bringeth the proof."

You could only wish he had been joking at this moment, for the urge to laugh washed over you. Indeed it would've been an awkward time to do so. "You wish for me to kill her? Shall I make it clear that she is not the only one? If they hear one of theirs are killed by my own hands, they will not stop until they have me dead. And they will hear of it, one way or another."

"It should not be an issue for you, Tarnished." Messmer holds no sympathy for you, rather he looks even more bored by you. You think if you don't answer him a simple yes or no, he will just catch you alight on the very spot you stand in, imprisoning you again and again.

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration. "Where was she spotted?"

"Mine own soldiers sayeth the Moorth Ruins. It is a two-day ride."

Great. You could only wish you could fly out the highest window and end in a place far from the Keep, riding on Torrent out of here, away from strange cult-like followers and tyrants. "And if I don't do this?"

"Oh, I'm sure thee shall," Messmer rises, his chainmail rattling with each methodical step he takes towards you. "Not only wouldst thee be wanted by me and mine own men, but by them as well.  Wouldst thee rather has't the safety of these walls or the bitter cold world to swallow thee whole?"

Neither were good options, but despite your odds, you'd rather go against each of them individually than face Messmer alone as the full force.

A hundred cuts then to be burnt over and over again.

He has made his way down towards you now, standing in front of you in all his glory. Now that you're not fighting him, you realise up close that behind the scowl, there is a handsomeness to him. You have to admit that the kin of Marika were very comely.

"What doth thee sayeth?" Messmer's voice is a mere whisper, his voice reverberates out and through your chest, and you can't help but shudder at how he enunciates each word thoughtfully. 

Sorry Miquella. You think, signing away your life once again. "I accept."

For the first time, Messmer seems... relieved by your choice. You visibly see the way the lines in his forehead relax slightly, his golden snake-like eye lessens its intensity as if even he is surprised you would say yes.

Messmer gestures for you to follow him. "Cometh, mine own men shalt handeth thee thy weapons and armour."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Your amour feels heavy from how long you have not worn it. In those three days imprisoned, you feel the relief of the 'fresh' air hitting your skin, sighing deeply as you take it all in. Messmer stands slightly off to the side behind you, arms folded behind his back, but you're certain you can feel either his gaze or one of his snakes on you.

His soldiers hand you the necessary things, your bag full of your flasks and the map in case you need it to find the ruins, but you're sure you know where they are. 

There is a tense build-up in the air as you stand before Messmer, dressed and armed with his knights ready to wave you off. How you thought Messmer could trust you to do this, you weren't sure. You still thought this was all some trap, bringing the other into a false sense of security before the other could stab them in the back.

Messmer walked over to you, his red hair was even brighter in the cold outside world. "Shalt thee needeth a horse?"

"No need." You responded, pulling forth your whistle and blowing into it, the high-pitched screech bringing forth the long-awaited Torrent at last. Torrent materialises out of nowhere, startling Messmer's knights as if unsure what it was you had conjured. You greet him as he strides towards you, bonking his snout to you as you chuckle, bringing forth a sweet for him to savour. Messmer watched silently until you spoke to him. "This is Torrent. He has been by my side ever since."

Messmer seemed awkward with the small talk, simply nodding but as if he wished to say more. "Very well." He gave a nod, to which gave the thumbs up for the drawbridge to be lowered. The heavy gate groaned with life as it slowly fell, giving you time to hop onto Torrent, finalising everything you had.

When the bridge was finally opened, you gave a final look to Messmer, and his knights, as if you were waving off a dear friend, not the one who had you imprisoned for so long. It felt odd, to say the least, rather than relief to be going, it felt strange to be sent off only to come back to him when all was done.

Messmer was still towering over you when he tugged on your arm, startling you with how warm he felt even through the leather of your gloves. It could almost be unbearable if he held on much longer.

Now almost at eye level with him, you stared back at him, realising just how close he was to your face and-- since when did he have freckles? And when had he ever looked so calm when looking at you? It brought this unknown heat to rise to your face, thankful that your face was covered. 

It was only when the tension was eased that Messmer leant further, whispering something close to your ears that brought the ripples of a shudder to pass through you. In that very moment, you had wished you hadn't touched the withered arm and stepped forth to get to these lands:

"If thee dare betray me, I shall maketh sure thou art never blessed by mine own mother's grace again."

[about-faces]

Very interested in what you think about child Harvey being characterised as indecisive from the start and using the coin even before the acid. Furthermore, do you prefer to interpret his [spoiler?] surrender to the coin to decide about who to go with about being genuinely torn between the two people or more the actions of a scared child afraid of the responsibility or of potential repercussions? It seems to me like the story is going for the latter, and therefore a departure from the "indecision due to his struggling two sides emotionally pulling him apart" interpretation, but it is also nice to see an abuse victim be allowed to make poor choices out of fear rather than always being strong and fighting.

I think it was a very interesting idea that works perfectly well in the context of this story.

BUT it would have worked a lot better if Ward had been willing and/or able to address the subject of alcoholism and its impact on a child. As I’ve said before, it’s not something I expect anyone to understand if they haven’t lived it, unless they have some other, similar experiences that provide some basis of compassion.

Me, I’ve thought a lot about Harvey being indecisive, but that’s drawing from my own experience. It’s the indecision that comes when you feel like you cannot do anything right, that every choice you make might get you in trouble. It’s the paralysis that comes from living with an adult who is predictably unpredictable, whose moods can change on a dime, who might just decide to be angry at you for no reason you can anticipate, even while you try with all your power to anticipate the things that will trigger that anger.

Furthermore, there’s a crucial factor missing from this take on Harvey that was present in stories like “Eye of the Beholder” and “Two-Face: Crime and Punishment.” In those, it was clear that Harvey LOVED his father. We don’t get that here. We only see the fear from Harvey.

As such, I think his indecision during the divorce would have made more sense if it was clear that he loved his father. That he loved the good periods they had together, either during Christopher’s sobriety or when he was in a happy/lovely-dovey drunk mood. That it would be both love and fear that would make him unable to choose between Christopher and the woman who he loved and loved him but kept looking the other way. Love and fear on one side, love and resentment (and feeling abandoned) on the other.

Unfortunately, even if Ward wanted to explore stuff like this, he wouldn’t have the space. This series is already crammed with so so SO many ideas that can’t be explored as deeply as they should be. Still, I think all this is a great start, and I sincerely hope other writers build on it. Or at the very least, that fans start to have a greater appreciation for Harvey’s backstory.

[catulhu333]

Khaine and Khorne being directly stated to be the same

While this is an often discussed theory, or that the two are at least closely connected, and many hints of it in lore/fluff, there are at least two instances in canon were this was directly stated. First one is very old, from the 1988 article "Witch Elves!" in White Dwarf #108: "The Kryrnaa are an ancient order, founded during the early dark days of the building of Naggarond. They had turned from the worship of Slaanesh soon after their exile from the Elven Kingdoms, and, still drawn by the allure of Chaos, took the murderous Khaine as their new Master. For many centuries the Krynaa were a secret order, their name heard only in the whisperings of dark passages, but their numbers slowly grew. And as the Krynaa increased in strength, there came the inevitable conflict with the Dru Perim. For Khaine is that aspect of the Blood God recognised by the Druchii, and the Blood God, known to other races as Khorne, is the sworn enemy of Slaanesh."

The second time, is much newer excerpt, from 2006's Liber Chaotica:

"Of Pleasure And Rage

Behold! For I speak to you from the Shadows - the Great Darkness, that gives meaning to all Light. At the heart of this Realm, shrouded and unclear, stands the Powers of Chaos, locked in each other's embrace, hated lovers and eternal companions.

These Four are like points upon a compass - none are close and some are opposite. War and Pleasure are two such opposites, facing each other across eternity, hating and warring, two ideals seperated by an impassable gulf of Belief and Purpose. For Khorne is discipline, hardness, suffering and rage, while Slaanesh is indulgence, beauty, ecstasy and lust. Their opposition is carved upon the knucklebones of fate and conflict can be their only recourse.

Yet how mightier is Khorne than his delight-filled sibling! Oldest of gods and greatest of warriors, Khorne's armies stretch from infinity to infinity to infinity and the Pleasure God may not rival Him. But this was not always so. For in the days when the Slaanesh, Last Born and Most Beautiful, strove for existence, His power waxed stronger than all other gods, be they seperate or together, and it seemed as though His spiteful triumph would destroy the Balance in the Warp.

But as is ever the case, Khorne was there to stem the flow of Delight. He saw the growth of His youngest sibling, and hated Him even before his birth. With His mighty arms, Khorne sought to crush the life from Slaanesh before He had even left His womb, but the war god had not counted on the passion of Slaanesh's creators, and the harder He squeezed the greater the pressure became to drive His arms apart.

The war god fought on. He sought to give all mortals time to bring an end to their corrupting decadence - the decadence that fed the nascent Power that was Slaanesh. But mortals are weak as gods are not, and though some used the time bought for them by Khorne to learn from their wicked ways, many others did not and sank ever deeper into indolence and debauchery.

Slaanesh's tempermental screams and self-tormenting nightmares echoed through the Aethyr, and insanity bloomed on every world. Terrible storms raged throughout Heaven and Hell, and rains of fire lashed across Khorne's back, but His grip ever stayed firm around His embryonic sibling. Freezing winds tore at His face and floods of poison crept up His legs, yet still the War God would not let go.

Then His brother came upon the scene. Decay stood there beside War.

"Give up," sighed Father Nurgle. "Give into what must be. It is the nature of things that morals decay and cultures must rot. Mortals cannot leave their destined path."

Khorne turned away from His brother and grasped His wrists all the tighter. Then a gust of coloured light brought there to the brothers the Changer of Ways, and Tzeentch gazed upon the War God with amusement and disdain.

"End this," he hissed. "For it must come to pass. Change is the constant that cannot be changed. We Three must be Four, so the Game has demanded. Be it now, be it later, our sibling must come."

But Khorne would have none of it. He rorared His fury until the universe shook, and the foundations of All That Is, All That Was, and All That Shall Be, threatened to crumble. His brothers left Him then, one with a sigh and one with a chuckle, for both knew that the ending was close.

Upon the Mortal Plane the wars had all ceased. All morals and laws had rotted away, and the change to conceit was almost done. The Three wavered as decadence took hold, and Slaanesh expanded beyond size and beyond measure. But Khorne, unable to see defeat, hung on to His charge though his arms were bent back and His body near-crushed. Then with a scream of release that ripped through the Warp, Slaanesh threw off His eldest brother and burst into being.

Such was the Event of Slaanesh's birth, the metal body that had contained Khorne's essence since He had slain Khaelis Ra, shattered into a thousand pieces that scattered across the dimensions. But though His soul had been freed from its silver prison, Khorne had not the strength to strike a counter blow against exultant Slaanesh, and so the Pleasure God was left to reap the souls of His mortal creators and set His Throne alongside those of His brothers. So it was that the Three became Four and the Eternal Pantheon was complete.

From whenever 'then' was, until wherever 'now' is, the gods have continued their unending dance, twirling each other through the minds and souls of mortals. First one leads and then another, each keeping step in this pavane of peril, a stately measure played out to the beating of human hearts.

None of these powers can ever truly win against its brothers, for, as the Great Conspirator did say, it is the nature of things that change is the only constant - and nowhere is this more true than within the shadow place that is Chaos.

Yet still the gods dance and their bellows of delight shake the universe.

from the 'Liber Maleficarum'. Restricted distribution 2405- I.C. by order of K. M. Eisel, Witch Hunter Captain"

(written down by Dreadnautilus on reddit, as the fragment was in handwriting in Liber Chaotica).

As seen in the fragment describes Khorne fighting and destroying K(h)aelis Ra (the Nightbringer), exactly like Khaine was described in lore from the same period (the short story, and in-universe Eldar myth "The Birth of Fear"). And being, or rather Khaine/Khorne's shell being shattered by Slaanesh.

Does it mean Khorne and Khaine are the same? Not necessarily. Even the fluff from Liber Chaotica implies they are no longer the same, being split by Slaanesh. It's also hard to tell if this fluff/lore is canon, especially seeing multiple elements from the White Dwarf #108 were directly retconned. Still, it does show there were instances were the two gods of war and blood were stated to be same.

combined artworks of Khaine by Jes Goodwin and Khorne by Ian Miller

[conundrumoftime]

Ring-temptation thoughts and Galadriel

The three bearers of the Rings of Power in the late Third Age, upon the suggestion that they should take the One Ring:

Gandalf:

[Speaking to Frodo] 'But you have been chosen, and you must therefore use such strength and heart and wits as you have.' 'But I have so little of any of these things! You are wise and powerful. Will you not take the Ring?' 'No!' cried Gandalf, springing to his feet. With that power I should have power too great and terrible. And over me the Ring would gain a power still greater and more deadly.' His eyes flashed and his face was lit as by a fire within. 'Do not tempt me! For I do not wish to become like the Dark Lord himself. Yet the way of the Ring to my heart is by pity, pity for weakness and the desire of strength to do good. Do not tempt me!'

Elrond:

[Boromir is speaking] 'Valour needs first strength, and then a weapon. Let the Ring be your weapon, if it has such power as you say. Take it and go forth to victory!' 'Alas, no,' said Elrond. 'We cannot use the Ruling Ring. That we now know too well. It belongs to Sauron and was made by him alone, and is altogether evil. Its strength, Boromir, is too great for anyone to wield at will, save only those who have already a great power of their own. But for them it holds an even deadlier peril. The very desire of it corrupts the heart. Consider Saruman. If any of the Wise should with this Ring overthrow the Lord of Mordor, using his own arts, he would then set himself on Sauron's throne, and yet another Dark Lord would appear. And that is another reason why the Ring should be destroyed: as long as it is in the world it will be a danger even to the Wise. For nothing is evil in the beginning. Even Sauron was not so. I fear to take the Ring to hide it. I will not take the Ring to wield it.'

Galadriel, when Frodo suggests it:

'You are wise and fearless and fair, Lady Galadriel,' said Frodo. 'I will give you the One Ring, if you ask for it. It is too great a matter for me.' Galadriel laughed with a sudden clear laugh. ‘Wise the Lady Galadriel may be,’ she said, ‘yet here she has met her match in courtesy. Gently are you revenged for my testing of your heart at our first meeting. You begin to see with a keen eye. I do not deny that my heart has greatly desired to ask what you offer. For many long years I had pondered what I might do, should the Great Ring come into my hands, and behold! it was brought within my grasp. The evil that was devised long ago works on in many ways, whether Sauron himself stands or falls. Would not that have been a noble deed to set to the credit of his Ring, if I had taken it by force or fear from my guest? ‘And now at last it comes. You will give me the Ring freely! In place of the Dark Lord you will set up a Queen. And I shall not be dark, but beautiful and terrible as the Morning and the Night! Fair as the Sea and the Sun and the Snow upon the Mountain! Dreadful as the Storm and the Lightning! Stronger than the foundations of the earth. All shall love me and despair!’

Galadriel, when Sam suggests it:

[Sam speaking] 'But if you'll pardon my speaking out, I think my master was right. I wish you'd take his Ring. You'd put things to rights. You'd stop them digging up the gaffer and turning him adrift. You'd make some folk pay for their dirty work.' 'I would,' she said. 'That is how it would begin. But it would not stop with that, alas! We will not speak more of it. Let us go!'

(Sam's suggestion there is easy to overlook coming right after the much more dramatic 'all shall love me and despair' moment, but I find it really interesting as an insight into her.)

One thing I like about all this is how you can feel the effects of the Ring tempting each of them through the person suggesting they take it. Frodo is telling Gandalf that he's only a hobbit, 'not made for perilous quests', and Gandalf is wiser and more powerful than he is, and Gandalf immediately recognises this for the tempation it is: 'the way of the Ring to my heart is by pity, pity for weakness and the desire of strength to do good.' Elrond gets: the fight against Sauron wouldn't be as hopeless as you fear it is, all the peoples of Middle-earth would be able to come together again and fight him, if we only had the courage which you could give us here by taking that ring. And Galadriel gets 'you are wise and fearless and fair', and then immediately after that, 'you'd put things to rights.'

Another thing I like about this is that Galadriel effectively gets tempted with the Ring twice, in succession, from Frodo and then from Sam, and that Sam's comes immediately after she's already refused it in the most conclusive way possible:

Galadriel: I have been tempted by this for thousands of years and now, finally, I reject it once and for all. I have passed the test.

Ring: okay I hear you, but...

And the third thing I like is how different Galadriel's response is to the other two. Both Gandalf and Elrond know enough to be horrified by what they might do with that kind of power but are quite vague in the specifics: they know how the ring would target them, they know they would not be able to resist its corruption, and they know they'd end up like Sauron, and beyond that it feels very much like an It Does Not Bear Thinking About Further thing.

But Galadriel has definitely thought about it and says as much. Galadriel's response is more detailed, more personal, and much more of a definite future than a vague and threatening hypothetical. (Even the way they describe it: Gandalf: "Over me the Ring would gain a power still greater"; Elrond: "he would then set himself on Sauron's throne, and yet another Dark Lord would appear"; Galadriel: "you will set up a Queen. And I shall not be dark, but beautiful and terrible as the Morning and the Night!")

Galadriel has her Mirror which shows her visions of possible futures, so it makes sense that this would seem more immediate to her; quite possibly she's seen all this. (I have more to say on this re: Galadriel's Mirror but that's for another post because this one's getting quite long enough as it is.)

And finally, I like that what Sam offers her is: 'you'd put things to rights'.

She's been in Middle-earth for thousands and thousands of years at this point, fighting the long defeat; and here's her big temptation of all the power she's sought; and here's the test that she finally passes; and then here's Sam with a little postscript afterwards, and he's not even offering her 'you could defeat Sauron' or 'you could re-establish all the great kingdoms of the elves', he's saying she'd sort out the Shire if she could.

And she says yes! Yes she would, she'd be really good at it, those people would absolutely damn well pay if she was in charge... but, alas, that's her gateway drug to becoming a tyrant, so: thanks but no, Sam.

[thewisaaaaad]

Ok so about that Robo Lamb au. I still need a name for it, but its stuck in my brain

so i did art about it.

BEHOLD! the OG L.A.M.B. unit! this little critter comes with all terrain ball mobility feet, hard light emitting sub-drones that function as hands and multi tools, horn shaped antenna to keep it connected to the Network, and even a handy holographic projector around its neck so that it can display directions or requests to civilians! They keep powered with a mini nuclear engine, meaning they don't need to be recharged for centuries!

And this... this is the poor little fella that got stuck serving the Zealots, the Old Faiths police force. Specifically they serve in the slums, where the forces boss decided it was much cheaper to replace any broken bots than to have them repaired. Leshy, head of security in the old faith, doesn't really care too much; after all, Amidusas is very good at keeping the slums in line. So good ol lambert gets stuck in this state after getting caught in a few riots and being in the wrong place at the wrong time when a prisoner made a break for it.

Still the little bot trucks on, and has become something of a mascot for the small division, even if Amidusas doesn't care for the thing and hopes it just shuts down soon. Good thing Forneus helped patch the thing up, or that broken leg would have been the end of it. She isn't around anymore, and was reassigned to Hekets territory shortly before the latest prisoner arrived. good thing the twins are still here to help.

... I don't think Heket even knew she HAD kits...

oh. Hmm.

It seems that the new prisoner ALSO was interested in fixing up Lambert. and also gave it a few upgrades...

this can only end well.

(hidden notes left in an abandoned cell:

The upgrades worked perfectly. I had to beef up the internal reactor, which was a bit of a trick, but I didn't become head inventor for nothing. Thankfully I had two guards who were willing to help me get the supplies i needed, and kept this whole business hush hush.

I'm so proud of my boys.

The upgraded hard light projectors cut through the Zealots drones like they were nothing, and the juiced up mobility meant that they couldn't even catch em.

The spooky "mask" data i put in gave the mortal guards a bit of a fright too. Hah!

...I only hope I haven't traumatized the poor thing. It hasn't taken the "mask" off yet, and has become a bit... withdrawn. I am concerned that its prime directive of "help others" is coming into direct conflict with my orders.

...And yet it follows my orders nonetheless.

Lambert, if you ever get the chance to read this.

I'm sorry for what I did to you.

Its for the greater good.

Gods, I sound just like S.

-N.

[tinycheesecakedetective]

Potential Swap AU pt. 3(OLD)

I'm still thinking about making this official, mind you. Anyways, welcome to my third blog about this speculative AU project thing. Which isn't so speculative anymore, surprise! I call it Exchanged Fates, and all past and future updates about this AU will have the tag #exchangedfatesau. Today, we've finally reached the last Beast-Ancient pairing, Shadow Milk Cookie and Pure Vanilla Cookie! A fair warning, this one is longer than the others, so be warned. I talk waaaay more here.

Preamble There's a reason why these two are last. Knowledge is a pretty hard virtue to make something out of, and it's even harder when Truth and Deceit are two classic foils. You can make the truth a problem, but lies are always going to be tricky to make a good thing. Initially, Truth would be made into Judgement, but I scrapped it once I realized I couldn't think of anything for Deceit. So I took a break for a bit. I had a birthday and then several historical events just slapped me in the face-

Eventually, I had an epiphany. And I'd like to show you all now, if you'll allow me to. Behold,

Pure Vanilla Cookie, Beast of Despair and Shadow Milk Cookie, Ancient Hero of Hope

...I can feel my Danganronpa phase resurface. No time to waste, let's begin with Pure Vanilla. Throughout the story, he's presented as a paragon character, the most virtuous of the ancients. And it's somewhat true, but there's more to him than just altruism. He's quite sharp, able to discern the plans of his enemies and very emotionally intelligent, but is prone to some self loathing and suffers from an inferiority complex. I'm not *quite* well spoken enough to make a deep analysis on him, although I wish I was. He's so interesting to me and the fandom kind of brushes him off as this sweet old man-twink. Now he is, but there's so much more going on with him. If anyone does a deep analysis into him, I want to know immediately.

Sorry! Got sidetracked there, anyways! Why despair, hmm? Let's head back to his negative traits, the self loathing and the inferiority complex. Pure Vanilla struggles with his self image, blaming himself for how the flour war turned out and feeling as if he failed to protect the ones closest to him. Even after restoring his kingdom, he struggles with these feelings. Granted, it's not as bad as it was before, but you can still feel bits of it in Odyssey and in Beast-Yeast. Despite this, he still pushes onwards, being a beacon of hope for many. But there's only so much the soul can take. Even he can recognize when someone has to be stopped for the greater good, even if they did mean the world to him.

Fittingly, if he was one of the first to gain his soul jam, he'll be the last to turn, how tragic. Pure Vanilla would try everything in his power to save his friends, and when his efforts are unsuccessful, he has to stop them alone. Of course, the former ancients try to turn him to their side, and the battle of wills is long and painful. Since the roles are reversed, Elder Faerie exists and tries to help where he can, but he can see the writing on the wall and prepares for the worst. Eventually, Pure Vanilla falls. Despite everything he's done, nothing changes. He isn't strong enough to save them, and he isn't strong enough to stop them. He's only delayed the inevitable for himself, and even now his soul jam has begun to corrupt. Forced to face his own helplessness, he turns, finally joining his friends in sowing chaos across Beast-Yeast.

The Timeless Kingdom, once a refuge for escapees of the the other kingdoms, becomes stuck in time. Y'know how Blue Diamond emotionally manipulated those around her to make them submit to her will? Imagine that but worse. The kingdom feels like it's frozen in time. Nothing ages or rots, just... distorts. The moment you step foot there, you can feel your strength waver. Walking around, you see people consumed by agony as they stay in place weeping aloud, their bodies warped by a deep sadness as their hollow eyes stare back at you. Unlike the other beasts, Pure Vanilla's palace is open for anyone to visit, almost like he's flaunting his strength. You'll soon understand why. If you make the dumb choice and see him, you'll find him kneeling behind a veil. He'll greet you and talk to you for a moment. But don't be fooled. He's still a beast, and before you know it, you're overwhelmed. Visions of your greatest regrets flood your senses. Every action you've ever taken, every right and wrong choice flashes right in front of your eyes. Fight all you want, you're eventually consumed by it all, and become like the other residents of this forsaken kingdom. Forever reliving your worst moments in a never ending mental purgatory. If some of this sounds familiar, I took some inspiration from Bloozstella's blue diamond swap AU for this, by the way. Go check that out if you have time!

~~~~~~~~~~~

Now... Shadow Milk Cookie. The fandom's new favorite blue gremlin/pos. He's clever, charismatic, perceptive as hell, a lover of the theatre, and very cocky in his abilities. The very first time we see him, he gets to work immediately, corrupting some fairies, tormenting Pure Vanilla Cookie, and taking over the faerie kingdom, and that's just him toying around with them all. Interestingly enough, despite being the embodiment of deceit, he shares more truth than lies with the players and the hero gang, revealing Dark Enchantress' plans and telling them that all the other beasts have been awakened after his temporary defeat. His lies have been fairly obvious for the most part, which is a bit strange. I wonder if there's a reason for that...

So... Why hope? Why in the witch's oven would I make such a menace hope? Because of how he handles the truth. In canon, Pure Vanilla doesn't handle the truth too well. He'll confront it, but he has a tendency to get consumed in himself or worry about how others would take it. Shadow Milk, even before he turned to darkness, feels like he would embrace it without hesitation and keep moving like a runaway train. Pure Vanilla is reactive, Shadow Milk is proactive, and his curiosity and determination could make him overcome any obstacle. Probably why he's so dangerous, asides from the immense power he has.

You can probably guess that my head canon for him is that he was the last beast to turn evil, so naturally he's gonna be the very first cookie to get his soul jam! And he starts in the Blueberry Academy. Kind of, it's not formed yet when he begins. Our shadow menace starts out as an aspiring scholar/adventurer and thrill seeker. He's definitely a nerd, kinda like Wizard Cookie, and begins his hero's journey exploring the world. On one particular expedition, he visits the continent of Beast-Yeast, but doesn't make it that far before passing out. He wakes up in the company of fairy cookies who took pity on him, and is taken to Elder Faerie. Unsurprisingly, he tells Shadow Milk Cookie to go back to Crispia once he's recovered because this place is far too dangerous for him and he'll die. Unsurprisingly he takes this as a challenge, and during his stay he reads up on the place in the library. Far too invested to leave, he starts exploring beyond the kingdom in secret, and finds the soul jam deep within the forest.

Eventually he gets caught, and Elder Faerie wants to take the soul jam away from him, but whoops! It's already attuned to Shadow Milk and there's nothing he can do about it. Realizing there isn't much he can do, he at least offers to train him to use it properly, prompting a few training sessions before sending him off. When Shadow Milk gets back, he doesn't establish a kingdom. Instead he goes to find others like him first. For his research, of course. Eventually he ends up forming the group of the Ancients, and finally establishes his kingdom. He doesn't feel like he'd have a traditional kingdom. Rather, it would be more like the Creme Republic! It's a hub of the arts and sciences, a place where the brightest and most creative cookies can show their talents to the fullest potential. He finally founds the Blueberry Yogurt Academy in his "kingdom", and he, alongside a personal council makes the rules. In reality, the council does all the work and he acts more as a figurehead so he can focus on his own personal projects. He's definitely the most hands on with his subjects, hosting events, mingling with the commonfolk, exploring, etc. At least before the Dark Flour War... But that's a story for another time.

~~~~~

Finally... I'm DONE. No more foundation, now I can just think and edit. Mystic Flour's part is outdated with her release and now I have to rectify that in the future. I hope you all enjoyed this miniseries! I will be taking questions on both this AU and Fading Letters. I'll try to answer any questions a lot quicker this time, and hopefully the rest of this month is uneventful. Please.

This is being posted at like, 1 AM in the morning, so good night everyone! Hope you have a peaceful night!

[thehopelessyouth]

Sinful or Sweet Sunday:

"There is a rumor that you are feuding with the B'andtherion men. Are you threatened by their overpowering masculinity?"

A sharp, incredulous laugh tore from Selithar’s throat, ringing through the air like the crack of a whip. With a flourish, both hands swept up, gliding through the inky cascade of his luscious locks before he deigned to answer.

“Rumor? Sweet shadow, I assure you—the B'andtherions feud with me, not I with them.” His voice dripped with amusement, his smirk a dagger’s edge. “I walk unshackled, free as the wind, while they fumble with the locks on their chastity belts each night.”

He laughed again, pivoting sharply as if to launch into a grandiose display of swordplay—only for his foot to catch beneath him. He stumbled, yet with a flourish, he twisted the blunder into something that vaguely resembled… a dance?

“Ah, but do you not see?” He spread his arms wide, as if presenting himself for admiration. “How fleet-footed I am! How youthful the fire that burns in my veins! Does this seem like a man cowed by an aging wretch who mounts his desk with more passion than his bed? Or an heir who "stiffens" at the mere scent of blood?” He clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “You insult me with the comparison.”

Selithar paused, eyes scanning his surroundings before settling on a nearby rock. With effortless grace, he leapt atop it, striking a pose fit for a statue—one fist planted proudly at his hip, the other stabbing skyward as if reaching for destiny itself.

“For I am Selithar Duskblade! Guardian of my beloved Lioness! Once a captive of the B'andtherions, now the very embodiment of untamed desire! The envy of men! The obsession of women! I am masculinity in its purest, most virile form! My muscles—doth bulge! My veins—doth… also bulge!”

With a theatrical bound, he dismounted the rock, twirling midair. This time, he landed with flawless precision, arms flaring out in triumphant flourish. “And you ask if I feel threatened?”

He leaned in then, his grin a wicked, knowing thing. “But perhaps words alone do not convince you. Perhaps you require proof.”

His fingers dove into his pocket, rummaging feverishly before emerging with a neatly folded piece of parchment. With deliberate flair, he unfolded it, holding it aloft like a herald unveiling a royal decree.

“Behold!” He smirked, letting the words bask in the light:

I still think of you. When can we meet? –S.D.

He snapped the letter shut, his grin spreading ever wider. “Tell me—what greater measure of masculinity exists than the favor of a woman they could only dream of? A woman who craves my coddling codpiece and my affection? And do you know why?”

His voice dropped to a honeyed whisper, rich with indulgence. “Because she sees beyond frugal titles. Beyond empty legacies. She sees the man—a man who can sate her, in both the waking hours and the long, endless night.”

Selithar turned then, as if to depart—before gasping with sudden excitement. “Oh! But one last thing!”

Spinning back, he twirled once more, arms outstretched in a flourish of utter self-indulgence.

“When you look upon Selithar Duskblade, you look upon the very pinnacle of masculinity! Never forget it!”

@themadamelioness and @serenas-dawnsinger mention Letter originally taken from this post

[statementends]

So who do we think is listening?

Last time of course it seemed like the tape recorders were beholding aligned, but turned out to be the Web using the Beholding's need to archive against it.

We're in a new universe now and a new story with new motives behind the recordings. They're just as sinister as the old ones, but now with internet access in a world where everything has internet.

The spying on the employees of the OIAR certainly aligns with Eye Powers, but it might be a redherring. What if the spying is done by humans this time?

Like, oh spooky the technology is listening into them oooo~~~~ but that sort of technology has been around for a long time. The tape recorders were 'analogue.' They turned themselves on and off, but the computers and phones, and things attached to the internet? That happens in real life right now. Someone can hack your computer and gain access to your web cam. We're in sketchy government department of literal horror. Let's tap everyone's phones!

To what end? Probably something that started as 'for the greater good' and has become a monster of its own.

Time for some conspiracy theories!

So. Here's another question. Was the Magnus Archives listened to by someone in the TMAGP universe? Is that why the OIAR was made? Because they heard the tapes and what happened and have used Jon, Martin, and Jonah(?)'s voices to, with a mixture of horror magic and technology, be able to find incidences.

I'm assuming the Voices in the computer are reading out the real statements. Maybe The Archivist's Voice is doing it automatically. It Knows everything all the time but that's useless if you can't see or search for the information. Whoever built the program needed a way to use the Knowing. So it puts in the data and the Archvist sorts it. Archive gotta archive.

My theory is the Archvist's voice is being used as a tool rather than having any agency or mind.

The OIAR needs to find and document horrors. You have three beholding alligned entities trapped in magnetic tape. You put them in a computer program and boom. You have things that can start monitoring the data you're already stealing from citizens and weed out the real horror from the fake ones.

I wonder if this time corporations and governments will be more overtly trying to use and control the dread powers. Like rather than cults and worship it will be people trying to bend the dread powers toward their own end.

Because the biggest question is, if the Voices are sorting real statements, and someone is listening in part for that reason, then what do they do when real ones are found?

Guess we'll see!

Oh and one more thing. It's called the Magnus Protocol

A protocol is the official procedure or system of rules governing affairs of state.

So when something happens, the protocol gets put into place.

So what is the Magnus Protocol? Is it to do with finding the TMA tapes? Or does it have to do with what the Magnus Insitute of this universe was doing with children (see the ARG).

So like Jon was actually the Magnus Archives, is Sam going to be a part of the Magnus Protocol?

Only time will tell.

[epiphainie]

We talk about Karen and Tommy but I’m honestly still salty about Bathena.

Remember how Bobby said that marriage is not working? But then lo and behold eddie got shot and all is resolved.

Or the more recent cruise where Athena was scared to be one on one with him without the job. Lo and behold the ship sank along with any conflict storyline.

So along with Karen/Tommy not being mains Tim is also either scared or doesnt know how or simply doesn’t want to write interpersonal conflicts.

lol i was thinking about bathena while answering the previous question because yes, this show drops interpersonal conflicts all the time. it writes over them or solves them off-screen. substitutes NDEs in place of actual conversations. which is frustrating when you love these characters this much maybe too much for a damn procedural and the thing that draws you (me) in with any type of media is the character arcs and the character dynamics. i only talk/criticize the decisions around bucktommy this much because buck is my favorite character and i want this relationship to be handled with more depth by the narrative despite knowing it won't. but best believe i think this about every single writing choice, i just wouldn't be able to watch this show if i felt the frustration with each of them

also can i say that is why a bathena divorce arc that actually dismantles their dynamic/the greater dynamic of the firefam before putting them back together infinitely would be more gratifying than bobby dying and would open up so many different character interactions