#disjointed? is that the right word?

[countingcorvids]

FINNISHED AOT

FUCKING AMAZING. BUT ALSO ?????

[chaoticsorceress]

The god Gale ending may be a good ending for a Tav who is in a romance with him but it isn't a good ending for Gale. I think that may be where the confusion lies. 

There are themes in BG3 that what you want isn't always what you need. Yes Gale wants godhood to help people but it isn't what he needs. He wants so badly to prove that he is worthy of your friendship or love but he doesn't need to change into a god to do that. He needs to see that he is enough just the way he is. That he is already worthy of so much. That he can help people without becoming a god. That the people around him value and love him because he's Gale not because of the magic he commands. They cherish Gale Dekarios not Gale of Waterdeep and certainly not the God of Ambition.

[xadenviolct]

Men would rather see the realm put to the torch, than see a woman ascend the iron throne.

Needless to say, there are so many quotes from media (books, movies, television, etc.) that have spoken to me today (especially). From Padme to Leia, from Hermione to Katniss, from Aelin and Feyre and Violet, from every single warrior who has fought for a better world and never given up and always hoped for the better--

Media has always been what has gotten me through times like this. When the utter stupidity (which, I feel, isn't even a strong enough word to truly express the severity of the whole thing) is so great, and I've gone between utter and complete disgust and rage to disbelief and numbness.

And run the entire realm of emotions in between.

So forgive me if this post is a bit... disjointed. It's a true "let me get my thoughts down because I need to write them somewhere before my head utterly explodes" kind of thing.

I don't even know where to begin, in many ways. Because how do you truly put into words these feelings? How do you truly express the utter and complete disgust with mankind that you feel, when you didn't even set the bar very high to begin with? When you had it set extremely LOW, even, because of multiple factors:

They are in a CULT. Led by a con man. There can truly be no denying that whatsoever. And cults, by definitions, do not follow logic and reason and sense.

People are stupid. And hateful. And tend to vote "party" no matter what (in a lot of cases).

The American education system (especially in regards to history, civics, literature, etc.) is utterly horrible--and certain Powers That Be want to keep it that way because an ignorant populace is always easier to control.

And those are just SOME reasons I set the bar low. But at the same time, I had the smallest little nugget of hope:

Surely, the hypocrisy will be called out and stopped? Surely, the utter hate & division (and bullying & insulting & name-calling) will make some people open their eyes? Surely, the fact that so many prominent members of the Republican Party (lifelong senators & military leaders, etc) who have openly endorsed the Democratic candidate--as well as spoken on the dangers of re-electing that man--will show people that there are GIANT FLASHING WARNING SIGNS going off?

Surely, America can learn a little bit from history?

Right?

As a woman, it sickens me even more to see this country say, once again, that it will elect a man like that over a woman. For no other reason than the fact that he is a man, and she is a woman.

Because there can be no other reason, no matter what anyone tries to claim.

That this was even a question at all in the first place, and that there were those who were "undecided" at any time over which candidate to choose, proves that.

Because while a lot of the American system needs fixed (and while yes, the two-party system doesn't always give you "the best" options), it is VERY clear that we're not changing that part of the process any time soon.

So the USA really looked at a black woman who was intensely qualified on every single level, who ran a wonderful campaign in a shorter time than any other candidate in recent history, who spoke of trying to heal the division, to work with everyone, to make this a UNITED country--

And the majority of voters really said:

No, we will take the rapist. The felon. The schoolyard bully. We will take the fascist whose entire campaign was nothing but insults and name-calling. Of division and spreading hate. Of basically declaring those who didn't side with them "enemies".

The majority of American voters really looked at Kamala Harris and Tim Walz, and decided that everything they (American people) claim to hate about politics (division, lies, hypocrisy)--in other words, the entire campaign of Donald Trump and JD Vance--was the better option for this country.

Disappointed is not strong enough. Disgusted is not strong enough. Angry, sick-- There is no word that I can think of that is strong enough to fully express everything I've felt today, with this country.

There are times I have been "embarrassed" by America. Many actions in the early 2000s from President Bush. In 2016 when the nation first elected Trump. I thought I was in an alternate nightmare reality then, because I could not believe they were really that stupid.

But to see them do so again? To see, in the last 4 years since he lost in 2020, for him to do nothing but whine and argue and deny the facts like a fucking toddler throwing a damn tantrum*, only for this nation to say, "Yes, we want to elect this man again"--

I want to scrub the blood, the American identity, from my very DNA. I want to never see an American flag again. There is nothing to be proud of in this nation, when that ends up as the majority decision.

*And I would also like to note that Kamala acted like an actual adult, in that she conceded the race. That despite how utterly sick & disgusted we are, the Democratic Party is not whining and throwing some god-awful tantrum and fit, claiming CHEATER?

But hey, America, you wanted the toddler. You wanted the schoolyard bully.

Because god forbid we elect a black woman instead!

And now, I have something to say to all the so-called religious people. To all the so-called Christians.

Every single atheist and agnostic person I have ever met is far, far more "Christ-like" than you will ever be.

And when you die, and you stand before the God you believe in, be sure to tell Jesus just how much you hated your fellow neighbor. Just how much you did not follow what should be so easy:

"Love Thy Neighbor."

Because I know you just love quoting and throwing scripture at people, so have this one:

"For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat. I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink. I was a stranger and you invited me in. I needed clothes and you clothed me. I was sick and you looked after me. I was in prison and you came to visit me. Then the righteous will answer him, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry and fed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?' The King will reply, 'Truly, I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.'" (Matthew 25: 35-40)

So I'm sure your Jesus knows of the hate in your heart. Of the true depth of your hypocrisy. Of claiming to do good in his name, when your actions are the complete opposite of what his words and teachings are.

Because while I may not believe any longer, I have the knowledge and the background and the understanding of what the Christian religion should be. What it is supposed to be.

And it is because of people like you that I do not. That I have seen far more "good people", "righteous people" and "kind people" that are not religious than I ever have of those who tie themselves to a particular faith.

So yes, as you stand all holier-than-thou in your churches, only to spew hate and bigotry every other day, know that your actions speak far, far louder than your words.

And if you truly believe (as you claim), then God knows that. Knows what is truly in that heart of yours.

I am sorry you feel like you must bring the entire country down with you. I am sorry that you feel like the entire world must succumb to your religious doctrine, your religious faith. I am sorry that you cannot grasp that "separation of Church & State" and "freedom of religion" are so integral to what the American society is supposed to be...

Because if you only want CHRISTIAN faith, and CHRISTIAN knowledge and CHRISTIAN doctrine and prayer-- but rebel at the idea that the Islamic faith or the Jewish faith or the Hindu faith or the Pagans or any of the other many, many other religions (and those who do not tie themselves to a particular religion at all)--would have equal opportunity and share and have their faith and "commandments" posted and beliefs made law...

Then you are a big, fucking HYPOCRITE.

But I honestly could expect nothing less.

You have a right to your religion. Your belief. Your practices. You can raise your children as secular or as religious as you wish. You can make your health decisions based on what you believe, based on your personal choices, your personal circumstances.

That is YOUR right.

What so many of you fail to understand is that you do NOT have the right to tell everyone else to live by your religion or your belief. To practice a faith that you hold. To make health decisions based on a religion that has nothing to do with them, or a government dictating what can and cannot be done in health decisions between a patient and a doctor.

The only people that should be allowed such a decision? The patient and the doctor. Anyone else that the patient wishes to bring into the conversation is the PATIENT'S choice.

Not. Yours.

Not the government's.

To finish this off (for now?), I'll say this...

I know it is tiring. It is exhausting, always fighting this fight. To prove, time and again, that we matter. That we (as women, as poc, as lgbtq+, as disabled, as mentally ill, etc) are real and living people deserving of a quality of life as good as anyone else. That none of us should be treated like second-class citizens.

And right now, I'm too utterly disgusted with everyone and so completely depressed-- I have gone in waves of feeling utter screaming rage, insane laughter, and numbness.

But then I go back to the beginning -- to media, to what has always been there:

"It's all wrong. By rights we shouldn't even be here. But we are. It's like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger they were, and sometimes you didn't want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad happened? But in the end, it's only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something. Even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Fold in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn't. Because they were holding on to something. What are we holding on to, Sam? That there's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo. And it's worth fighting for."

So we will fight. Because despite the bad, despite the disgust and the exhaustion that weighs so heavily, there is still that good. There are still those who try to fight for that sanity. For reason. For logic.

“I wish it need not have happened in my time," said Frodo.

"So do I," said Gandalf, "and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”

[hplonesomeart]

Wohoo animation update I guess wow cool fast paced camera pan stuff wowwww

[tangled-wires-and-a-dead-heart]

I have two wolves inside of me: one of those wolves really wants to share my theories/speculations/analyses of scarlet hollow and the other wolf is my intense fear of being wrong and my self doubt that makes me think that no one else wants to hear my rambling.

[insanostyle1231]

gang's all here

[stevethehairington]

book 5 of the year done!!!! im literally one book away from halfway to my goal and the first month of the year isn't even over yet fjsksk i am DEFINITELY going to hit it this year!

[mariocki]

Fat Man on a Beach (HTV, 1974)

"I'm going to read some more poems now. Erm. It may be that if you want to go and have a cup of tea, this would be a good time. I know that's what you masses are like. The mention of poetry and off you go."

[gachaparadise]

ahhh the Penacony leaks are really coming in now.

*chuckles* I'm in danger.

[flowercrowngods]

live footage actually

[lauvra]

The joy from last night has resulted in a pleasure deficit. Typical. It's insane to be this sensitive. Not having slept much lately, this crash more likely born of less interior things. How quickly turns the tide; from highest high of realising, overcoming and honing-- knowing the future was mine-- to a moment ago worrying for my actual right-now life. To feel not-alone then alone once more is awful by the truest definition. It's observably bleak while beyond interesting from a first-person perspective, feels like almost reaching sleep then slipping on supermarket tile. By some profound mutation, my curiosity lives even in the hostile environs of despair, stretches whatever bits it's got to reach out with. The only safe place for me is behind bolted doors and nestled so tight against the corner of two kissing walls I walk different after but it doesn't matter 'cause I'd only need to crawl for my next meal. They deliver. I want to end my life. God, that would be nice. He delivers. That's not the kind of language I trade in so often anymore with myself, but to say that did honestly take the edge off. There's a version of me (two hours ago) who wants to live, and I will because she's the one I'd have to live with after a failed attempt. She'd spoon-feed me gruel and just as soon as submitting to a mouthful, offer another while my mouth's too full of slime to bite back. Bitch. I don't wanna listen to her shit and she's wrestling back the control panel because clearly she doesn't want to listen to mine either. I get it, I get it. Chop wood, yada yada drink water. Carry water! Yeah yeah, but I should fucking drink water, shouldn't I? Holy shit it's interesting to be alive.

[citricacidprince]

Could you draw that "I trust you" scene with Mabel and Stan but with the relativity AU? (The stan twins and pine twins swap ages au)

OF COURSE, I WILL GLADLY DRAW THEM!!! 💥💥💥

I’m gonna post a long winded thesis about my thoughts on this AU, my take on the AU, and two additional arts under the cut because ooooh boy it’s a tad bit long lol. Also, please please forgive the formatting, I’m writing this all on the fly and it’s extremely disjointed, sorry- 💥

I know there’s the ‘canon’ Relativity AU designs and character dynamics, however I don’t really like them that much ngl. I feel like it mostly just ends up with ‘Mabel and Dipper get switched with Stan and Ford with no nuances once so ever’ and that BLOWS!!! There’s so much potential there and no one is playing with it!! YOU GUYS DON’T EVEN HAVE MABEL PRETENDING TO BE DIPPER, WHATS THE POINT????

Not only that but I feel like making Dipper and Mabel’s dynamic just Ford and Stan’s when they’re adults is a HUGE simplification of their characters. Like, Mabel and Dipper fight, but they don’t fight like Stan and Ford, they’re not as hard headed and stubborn. Mabel would commit some crimes yes, but I don’t believe she would get into some of the heavy shit Stan had in his past. I refuse to believe Mr. Dipper ‘Undiagnosed Anxiety Disorder’ Pines would fall for Bill’s flattery as easily as Ford did.

The Pines Twins are very different from the Mystery Twins. Mabel and Dipper didn’t grow up with a father constantly comparing the two and pinning them against each other, outright telling one kid they’ll always be a failure while the other is going to have the burden of making their family rich. They never had that tension. They wouldn’t be walking on eggshells around eachother as adults.

I know that makes the concept sound boring to some, ‘Where’s the fun in the AU if you take away the sibling fighting’. You cowards, you can still have it, young Stan and Ford are RIGHT THERE. During the second half of the show when Dipper comes back through the portal, instead of having the older set of twins, something that doesn’t male sense with their characters, have a building tension that’s going to explode soon and keep it between Stan and Ford, don’t take it away from them. If anything, I think taking away the resentment and anger growing between the two and giving it to Mabel and Dipped is a butchering of all the characters.

Sure that means some of the episodes would have to change or be completely erased, but that’s fine!!! Make up some new ones!!! Get silly with it!!!

Mabel and Dipper talk about feelings, Stan and Ford don’t. Mabel and Dipper can’t stay mad at each other, Stan and Ford will try and stay mad for decades because being angry is easier than being upset.

In my idea of this AU that fight at the end of Weirdmageddon HAS to be between Stan and Ford, and Stan HAS to still be the one getting his memories erased.

💥 Post Not-What-He-Seems Relativity AU Rambling Below 💥

Dipper is a paranoid man, fool him once you’re never going to fool him again. He would never in a million years ever work with Bill again. Ford however is an extremely lonely child, both he and his brother are desperate for any type of positive attention. I think Bill would see him as a potential protege, especially since Ford is a ‘freak’ like he is and the kid is extremely smart for his age. He’s malleable, Bill probably thinks he could shape him uo to be the perfect lackey.

Ford, being the lonely kid he is, probably does fall for the praise initially. He craves attention and Bill pushes all the right buttons and says all the right words, tries and gains his trust even if time has proven again and again that he shouldn’t be trusting the demon.

The tension between the Stan Twins would grow after Grunkle Dipper comes back because Ford is upset that Stan didn’t listen to him (even if it was for the best that he did) and that Grunkle Dipper forgave Graunty Mabel so easily because if Ford was in those shoes he wouldn’t have. It grows more and more as Ford becomes distant and Stan tries to connect with his brother to no avail. Which, of course, comes to a boiling point when Ford says he’s going to stay in Gravity Falls and learn under Grunkle Dipper. Stan is rightfully upset. He can’t go back to New Jersey by himself. It’s always just been the two of them, he needed Ford, he couldn’t handle school or their father by himself. He can’t be alone.

Unlike Mabel who just wanted one more day of summer, Stan wishes that he wouldn’t be alone, which indirectly causes Weirdmaggendon.

Stan’s prison bubble would probably be a fake New Jersey-esc town full of a bunch of little Stans running around. Town O’ Stan. A place where no Stan is left behind.

Ford says some nice words to Stan there to get him outta there but there is still this intense tension between the two.

During the Cipher Wheel Ford is the one who tackles Stan. The two fight, whining out hurtful words neither of them mean and only stop when Bill shows up and captures them. Graunty Mabel and Grunkle Dipper run off and distract Cipher in hopes that they can keep the attention on themselves long enough that their great nephews could come up with a plan to escape.

The younger twins don’t find a way out and instead, finally, have an actual talk about their feelings, one that definitely ends up in tears as the two talk about the pressure that’s put on them or how worthless they feel. After that the boys get a rush of determination to escape when Stanley has a plan. Ford immediately hates the plan but Stan insists that they do it, in his own words, ‘Let me prove I can do something right for once.’

When Bill comes back and threatens to kill either Mabel or Dipper just for the hell of it, Ford calls out that he’d like to make a deal.

He wants to work with Bill, let Bill into his mind willingly. Bill immediately jumps on that offer. Ford is a promising young kid, perfect henchmaniac potential, not to mention it would absolutely devastate Dipper is his great nephew willingly turned to Bill’s side.

He goes into Ford’s head, revealing Stanley just in time to reveal that he was trapped, panicking as he was erased with a swift left-hook along with a kid who was happy to prove he was good for something after all.

Everyone was devastated after Weirdmaggedon of course, a child had his mind completely wiped. Stanford took it the worst, he just managed to finally break down those words that others built in his head, that he was too good for Stanley or that he didn’t need a knucklehead like him dumbing down his brain, and now his brother was gone. Just like that.

We all know what happens after this, Stan gets his memory back, everyone celebrates and the Stan twins are sent home, promising each other that they’ll never let anyone try and tear them apart ever again. Dipper and Mabel stay at the shack, after all, all they could ever want is there, where else could they possibly go?

Sorry this was… extremely rambly and long, I am extremely tired and can’t think straight I have a bunch more ideas and concepts so if anyone’s desperately wants to hear them just ask I guess, sorry you read this dumb of ass essay haha 💥

[gregrulzok]

This is something I love SO much about Kuro, and about Dunmeshi's portrayal of Bilingualism.

Like ... When we first meet Kuro it's so easy to assume he's a dummy. He's a big doofy-looking dog man that only talks about food, and his sentences are disjointed and broken, so you think oh, haha, token dumb character.

But then we swap to speaking Kobold and it hits you like a truck - Kuro is a person, and he has a full and complete train of thought that he can articulate. This is a grown ass man, and in his native language he speaks just as well as anybody - not only that, but here we see that Kabru, who is usually so good with words, speaks Kobold just as poorly as Kuro does common.

It's such an easy, obvious, and common trope to depict broken speech in a characters non-native language as a funny gag at the expense of their intelligence - not even just in fiction! Making fun of non-native English-speakers for their broken English is so fucking common and normalized - and here you have such a clear and simple portrayal that, no, in fact, Kuro isn't stupid.

And the thing is, common is common for a reason, right. In general high fantasy, "Common" means "Language that is effortless for everyone to speak". But in Dunmeshi, it's explicit that Kobolds can't fully learn Common - Common is designed for Humans, but Kobolds are demi-humans with different mouths and throats that don't allow them to enunciate in the same way.

And yet Kuro is doing his best to study it. He's going out of his way to master a skill most others don't even have to think about. Speaking of which ...

We get this exchange between him and Kabru, which I also wanted to focus on.

Because when we first see Kuro, then portrayed as a simple-minded dummy, it's easy to think that Mickbell is taking advantage of him and Kuro is unaware. Here, Kabru even assumes they can't truly be friends unless they speak the same language perfectly.

But that's not really the case - Mickbell isn't taking advantage of Kuro, not in the way we (and the rest of the party) assume - because Kuro isn't as stupid as we assume. He's thankful to Mickbell, he wants to repay him, and the food is a nice perk - but ultimately he cares about Mickbell enough to put this much effort into learning a whole language for him (while Mickbell cares about him in his own way, though since Mickbell grew up without a family or friends, it usually just manifest in over protectiveness and a fear of losing him. His goal in life is to buy a house for them to live in together. Cmon.)

I think generalising Kuro and Mickbell's relationship as unhealthy (whether you perceive it as romantic or not) is doing a massive disservice to Kuro's intelligence due to his speech - something Kui goes out of the way to disprove.

I love these idiots.

[thebibliosphere]

It’s kind of wild watching my brain come back online the more iron I take. I can tell by my writing as I go through edits because I can see, yet again from the start of last year, when my cohesion started to fall apart and I got more and more mired in brain fog that words were getting Hard again. My descriptions were getting clumsy and excessively rambling. Like I can very clearly see I was struggling to find the right words to convey the vibe I wanted and was attempting to use all of them at once in the hopes the correct one would jump out.

And now I’m casually throwing out bangers like “turned his face upward to an apocalyptic sky.” And yes, it’s simple but you get the immediate vibe from the sentence that shit is going down.

It’s not taking me twenty billion disjointed sentences to convey the exact same thing. It gives me more room to go ham with descriptors in other places.

Anyway. Take your god damn vitamins.

[rememberwren]

Just thinking relentlessly about Ghost who meets a clairvoyant (you).

You live life in relative peace and normalcy, but sometimes (something beyond this universe) convinces you to use your gift. When the urge strikes, you usually let it; you are not one to deny the powers of the beyond. Of fate. Of God maybe—who knows.

When you see the tall man outside the train station rifling through his backpack, brow low and angry, something in him calls to you. He’s handsome enough, a little intimidating especially thanks to his stature, but you feel no fear as you change course and cross the street to him.

“Left it on the tube, friend,” you tell him. He stares up at you with fathomless, dark eyes. Eyes that have seen so much brutality, that have shut against so much pain.

“What?” he asks.

You point to your mouth. “Your facemask. You left it on the tube. Rotten luck. Hope your day gets better!”

And while you don’t anticipate ever seeing him again, you’re hardly surprised when you do. That’s the universe for you. Or, more likely, that’s just Simon Riley. When he falls into step beside you the next morning, he’s wearing a new facemask.

“You been following me?” he asks.

You blink. ���No? Think it’s the other way around.”

“How’d you know. About my mask.”

“Ah. Clairvoyant.” You tap your temple.

He scoffs. “What, like talking to the dead?”

“I do that too.”

“Don’t believe you,” he says. Ah, a skeptic. You know better than to argue with one.

“Alright. See you later, Simon.”

And it isn’t until you’ve turned the corner that he realizes he never gave you his name.

The next time he runs into you, he stops you in your tracks. People on the sidewalk flow around you both, irritated at the interruption in their walks, but you don’t care. Not when he pulls out a leather-bound book and hands it to you.

“Prove it,” he says, hand shaking a little. “His name was John. Johnny. He’s been dead for three months. I just—prove it.”

You take the book reverently, sensing how much it means to him. You nod and part ways. When you glance back over your shoulder, he looks disappointed—but sometimes these things take time.

At home, you open the book. It’s a sketchbook, filled with pages, figures unfamiliar to you (Simon. So much Simon), handwriting in a neat curl. You flick through it slowly, learning about John MacTavish the old fashioned way. When you come across the last page, you find it blank.

Perfect.

You pick up a pen—but no, that’s not right. You search for your charcoal pencils. That’s better. Then you begin to write in a neat handwriting so unlike your own.

The next time you see Simon, you hand him the book. He takes it with naked trepidation, mouth set in a frown beneath his mask.

“I’m so sorry,” you tell him.

You both part ways. He isn’t sure what to feel—like a fool, mostly, for believing. Heartbroken, sure. He can admit it. He’d wanted to hear from Johnny one last time, some message that the man was at peace. Some idea, painful though it would be, that Simon’s feelings had been reciprocated.

He goes home and flips through the book, knowing each page by heart by now. The last one is his least favorite, forever blank—except this time it isn’t. And it makes his blood run cold.

Written in Johnny’s handwriting are a number of disjointed words:

help

help me

help me

tunnels

Makarov

help me

head

boom

help me

sos

alive

Next.

[delirious-donna]

The Demon King & His Princess [Sebastian Michaelis]

an: I’ve had this sitting in my drafts for months and it’s time I had a clear out. This demon could tell me stories any night he wants…

pairing: Sebastian Michaelis (demon king AU) x female reader (princess)

warnings: nightmares, storytelling turned steamy, fantasy AU, smut, NSFW

Masterlist

The darkness was pure—heavy and suffocating. It wrapped like a noose around your slender throat and squeezed tighter and tighter. You couldn’t draw air, couldn’t struggle from the iron-tight hold.

You jolted upright. Fire burned in your lungs as if you had been suffocating in your sleep and you touched feverishly at your neck but felt nothing amiss. Disorientation made your head spin, eyes scanning back and forth in an attempt to make sense of your surroundings and what had happened.

In bed.

You could feel the mattress beneath your backside and legs, the heavy weight of a rich duvet covered your midriff. That was at least a comfort. If the only one you could find. The beat of your heart ached against your ribs. It hurt to take each shuddering breath as if you had broken the surface of icy waters. The air froze in your chest, and you clutched blindly at the sweat-dampened nightgown in desperation.

Your saviour was not far…

A presence at your side made you jump anew, but soon your shoulders sagged with relief as two familiar hands held you tight. The touch was cool and soothing. You let yourself be drawn into a strong body whilst you continued to tremble like the last autumn leaf.

Slowly, and with the utmost care, you were lowered back to the sheets. Soft-spoken words sounded distant, called over the crashing waves of your fear but as the seconds ticked on, they became clearer.

“Come back to me… can you hear me, little one? You are mine, come back.”

Sebastian.

It was Sebastian who pressed his face into your hair and whispered gentle yet firm words into your ear. It was he who wound his arms around your chest and lodged his body tightly against your back. His warmth chased away the shivering chill from your skin and the even beat of his heart that settled your own into a normal rhythm.

“Sebastian…”

“I’m right here,” he soothed in his low authoritative voice, barely above a whisper. Deft fingers stroked the apple of your cheek. “Did you have a bad dream?”

Your chin tucked low into your chest, a shy shame washing over you for goodness knows why. A nightmare was out of your control after all, so why try to deny it? Sebastian slid a finger between your chin, bringing your face back up to his. At last, you nodded slowly and averted your eyes.

“Want to talk about it?” He asked.

Whatever had caused such a blinding panic had already mostly melted away, the memories new fleeting and entirely disjointed. In honesty, you couldn’t quite recall the events of the dream, other than remembering the sensation of being choked of breath.

“I… can’t remember. I think I’d rather forget.”

You pressed your eyes shut, snuffing out the lone candle on the nightstand that illuminated the darkness of the bedroom. At heart you wished away the sense of lingering panic that beat just beneath the surface, threatening to surface at the smallest jolt.

The Demon King hummed a faint melody, a tune that seemed reminiscent of one you had heard many years prior.

His long dexterous fingers massaged at your skin through your silky nightdress, the midnight black fingernails a stark contrast against the pure white.

“Shall I tell you a tale? It might help you to… forget.”

In your disarray, you missed the faint trace of heat in his voice. Had you noticed, would your answer have been any different? Not likely. Be that as it may, you accepted his offer regardless and his smile was not merely comforting any longer—not that you could see it with your face tucked into his chest.

With a soft sigh, you rolled back your shoulders to better settle yourself into his protective embrace. The flicker of the candle painted long shadows upon the nearest wall, and you glanced up at your handsome beau without a trace of fear. His hair fell in a black curtain around his face, eyes closed as if at rest–although you knew better–and his smile had returned to docile.

“Once upon a time there was a beautiful princess who loved to roam the lands her family ruled over. Her curiosity was mischievous and might have been considered reckless for she often wandered unaccompanied.”

Sebastian spoke in soft dulcet tones, and you wondered where this story was headed. It sounded rather familiar, intimately familiar…

“One day,” he continued, aware of your narrowed eyes aimed in his direction but ignoring it in favour of speaking calmly, slowly. “The princess came upon another person out in the forests near her home.

Yet, to her bewilderment he was not a person, but a Demon. She should have been scared, fearful of a creature she had been warned was wicked with only evil in their heart, but she wasn’t.”

He smiled indulgently. Reminiscing fondly at how brave you had been that day. In honesty, he would call it foolish, but luckily for you, this particular Demon was instantly enamoured with you.

“Instead, the sweet yet naïve princess befriended the Demon and soon they would spend hours traversing the lands with the Demon showing her places she didn’t even know existed. Sharing secrets that his kind would likely condemn him for brazenly putting his trust in the young mortal.”

Butterflies erupted in the depths of your stomach, flitting around in energetic bursts at the memory of those long-ago days. The hours that easily slipped into days, the warm sunshine on your face and the excitement of newly discovered secrets. You would forever be grateful for the trust Sebastian placed into the cradle of your hands, the knowledge he chose to share when you warned it might be frowned upon.

He pressed a kiss to your temple as if he sensed your gratitude. “It wasn’t long before an attraction grew between the pair, and in short, the Demon was besotted by the exquisite beauty of the princess and the purity of her heart and soul. At this realisation, he revealed himself as not simply a Demon, for he was the Demon King. A Demon King in love with a mortal princess.”

You squirmed against his strong body, heat warming your cheeks. Sebastian wouldn’t allow you to turn in his arms, tucking you further into his hold. He planted his hands on the soft curves of your waist whilst he continued to purr his story into your ear.

“Sebastian…”

He shushed you softly, his lips traversing the gentle slope of your shoulder to press a gentle kiss to your sweet-smelling neck. You could feel his smile against your skin, knowing and growing wider when your pulse began to race faster.

“The Demon King rejoiced in the knowledge that his attraction and love were returned in equal measure, and the night he first took her to his bed was a night he would never forget… Not in all his long years of existence had a night so special occurred and might never again.”

You could only moan, the sound long and drawn out when his hands roamed your plush curves. One palm stroked up and down your side until the fairly modest hem of your nightgown was drawn high enough that his fingertips could ghost lazy patterns on your skin.

The other cupped your breasts lightly through the shimmery fabric, his warm breath caressing and causing you to shiver deliciously from his attention. These shivers were different to the ones caused by your earlier nightmare—now long forgotten. They tingled pleasantly and led to a growing wetness between your clenched thighs.

“The princess was supple beneath his touch and reciprocating to his actions. Despite the power he wielded, the Demon was gentle in his exploration. He whispered of the naughty deeds he wished to enact, and of how he desperately wanted to open her up like a blooming flower to bathe in her arousal. When his touch reached her most intimate area, the Demon King had growled aloud, finding her wet and wanting. His restraint tested in a way he hadn’t experienced to date.”

Sebastian’s melodious words mirrored his actions to perfection. A low growl that sounded like distant thunder echoed within his chest, and you gasped—thrilled. One bold finger swiped over the seat of your cotton panties and found how your lust had soaked it through.

Your eyelids fluttered shut, hips undulating eagerly. Waiting… wanting… just like the princess.

You reached out an arm, blindly searching behind and finally sinking your hand into his long lustrous hair. You played with the strands, tugging them impishly until your fingers delved deeper so your nails could scratch against his scalp.

“His cock had throbbed for the princess, straining against his undergarments and desperate to find solace in her tempting heat. Of course, he had to ensure she was properly prepared for such an intrusion,” he whispered, pausing for a moment to tug on your earlobe with his teeth.

His hips drove upwards, making you painfully aware of how hard and ready he was right now, never mind in the story. A dark chuckle floated to your ear; the amusement halted the subtle glide of your lower half, but it was only a moment until he guided your hips back into a slow rhythm against his clothed cock.

“The Demon King had ripped through the princess’s panties to her shrieks of surprise, for surely she had not known the strength of the male she had allowed to touch and taste her virgin body.” You groaned in memory. How nervous you had been, but so very ready, almost desperate.

“Her breasts were perfection, filling his palms exactly. With pebbled nipples so sensitive to the fingers that played with them, rolling the delicate buds between finger and thumb before tasting them in turn. A firm hand supported her spine which she arched to press herself further into his greedy mouth. The suckling sensation made her dizzy and mewl like a cat in heat. He turned her skin sticky and shiny with his spit, biting and nipping at such tender flesh until the princess tugged boldly on his mane of hair.”

Your fingers twitched in mischievous want to fist his silken black hair, to haul his sinful lips to yours and silence the story in favour of creating a new one. “The lovers spent an age exploring their bodies, learning what made them moan and what caused their toes to curl in delight. When it was time to taste her sweetness, the Demon King felt like a youngster again, worried he might come undone before he could take her fully. Never had he seen a pussy so pretty and perfect–made for him alone.”

On these words, Licht finally rolled you to your back and let your lips unite. The yearning between you was palpable, your fingers grasping and clutching at his strong shoulders until you were twisted like ivy around his lithe frame.

The brush of his cock–still concealed behind his pyjama trousers–against your bare slit was electrifying. The ripped cotton from where his finger had pushed through the fabric clung to your slickness, and you did indeed rub on him like a cat in heat.

Sebastian worked his hand between your bodies, spreading your open and smearing the sticky strands of your arousal over your skin until he was toying with your jittering little clit. His mouth was hungry slanted atop yours, devouring and commanding the space you shared.

You weren’t quite the shy little flower he described in the story; experience had strengthened your resolve and bolstered your confidence. Enough so that you sucked his bottom lip between your own, drawing the skin taut before releasing it with an audible pop. He growled low in his throat, admiring your shuttered eyelids and smug little smile.

Gods, how you wanted him, but he broke away, much to your frustration, to continue his story. A slow methodical finger circled your soaked cunt, grinning when you clenched around nothing but air.

“The enamoured Demon softly stroked over the princess’s unsullied silky folds, so pretty and engorged from the pumping blood of her desire. Slick rushed to meet his fingers and he couldn’t resist sucking one into his mouth for a taste. With that, he was addicted. He knew that he would never get enough.”

Sebastian held back a moan as he spoke the words. He could feel the weight of them, the truth that lay behind each syllable. To this day, he wasn’t certain you understood the magnitude of his love. He was a creature who most believed incapable of loving anyone but themselves, but he could find no other way to describe how he felt about you.

“Please…”

Eyes of regal burgundy flashed in the dark room and it shook a breathy whine from your throat. On a slow thrust, two fingers slide inside to stroke your velvet walls. His honeyed voice deepened, one forearm braced directly next to your head whilst a knee spread your legs further apart and his fingers fucked you with strokes that quickened hastily. Sebastian was losing control and that tightened the desire in your belly all the more.

“Mm, that’s it. You’re sucking me in, can you feel that? Such a greedy pussy, you want something other than my fingers, beloved?” he asked with a smirk.

You rolled your neck against the fluffy pillows, sinking deeper and deeper into decadent pleasure. “Mhm, please,” you admitted, biting deep into your bottom lip.

“The Demon King brought the beautiful princess to orgasm using only his mouth and dexterous fingers. Stretching out her tight walls in readiness for his throbbing cock. How he had hissed when she had tentatively touched it, dainty fingers encircling the girth and giving an exploratory pump with her fist.”

As he narrated, you complied with the words and reached down to free him from the confines of his sleepwear. Your thumb swiped through the beads of arousal and used it to coat his shaft.

Sebastian was heavy in your hold, a groan echoing from the depths of his chest. “Do–do you remember how the story ended?” he asked, thrusting into your grip at the same pace he thrust his slick-soaked fingers into your pussy.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” you managed, sounding far more composed than you actually felt, “But I’m certain that the devastatingly handsome Demon King–you missed that part out–made love to the princess until the sun broke over the horizon.”

With ease, Sebastian withdrew his fingers and sucked them into his mouth until they were clean. His weeping cockhead notched at your entrance and your hips strained to force him inside.

“Mm, indeed. Let’s reenact that part, shall we?”

His pelvis met yours in one forceful push. Your spine bowed off the mattress when his head dipped to suckle on your pert nipples through the taut satin of your gown.

Your eyes roamed his handsome face, his expression veiled as it often was, but it slipped when your legs wound his lean waist to push him even deeper. The mask dropped to expose the control he was struggling to hold on to. The Demon King was leashed to your hand, a power he had never given to anyone else in his centuries of existence. He was yours as much as you were his.

Sebastian remained true to his word; he worshipped you exactly as he had on your very first time together. Nothing could truly portray what had transpired on that fateful night, the unity and promises made, but it still brought tears to your eyes to be reminded. Your Demon lover stole the air from your lungs, the sanity from your mind and the love from your heart.

From that night forward, you made a conscious effort to ask for more bedtime stories and not only on the occasions you had nightmares.

What wicked words could fall from the prettiest of lips…