#get it cause all the sharping levers are up?

[improper-calc]

looking sharp~

…i’ll see myself out-

[sadhours]

Maybe one where she and Steve are arguing and as they get home and get in the shower together they're still arguing and then they start fucking while arguing and they move it to the bed and keep on.. sorry I'm high lol

i’m drunk, i can work with this.

steve harrington x fem!reader

cw: 18+ minors dni, smut, jealous!steve, shower sex, dirty talk, name calling

“so, me talking to a man means i want to jump in his bed?” you ask, voice raised an octave as steve fumbles with his keys. he scoffs, stops mid keytwist as he turns towards you a stern expression.

“that’s not what I’m saying and you know that,” he argues, unlocking the deadbolt and shoving his key in the doorknob.

“well, then, dumb it down for me, Steve because it sure sounds like your saying that,” you reply, voice dropping in condescension.

steve pushes the door open with such force that you have to extend your fist to stop it from slamming in your face. he stomps to the bedroom with you hot on his trail. he tosses his keys and wallet on the dresser, kicking off his Nikes and starts unzipping his members only jacket. he looks at you under his broad brows, brown eyes set on you and fiery with his frustration.

“communication, Stevie,” you sing, “that’s the only way we’re gonna get anywhere!”

you untie your heels, tossing them to the foot of the bed once you get them off your feet, looking at him expectantly.

“listen,” he sighs, hands extended like he’s trying to calm you down but it only ignites the low flame of annoyance, sparking it with fuel that makes you laugh, all sarcastic and mean. “i’m not saying you wanted to fuck him, i’m saying he wanted to fuck you and maybe, just maybe, you liked the attention.”

“oh!” you laugh again, following him as he trails to the bathroom, “now I’m so desperate for attention! isn’t that a fucking you problem?! maybe i wouldn’t be so desperate for it if i was getting enough.”

Steve leans over the tub to start the faucet, pulls the lever to transfer the stream to the shower head. he looks frustrated, like you really aren’t seeing his side of things and starts to undo his jeans. shoves his jeans down to his knees and kicks them off. rubs his hand against his sharp nose a couple of times and shakes his head, looking at you with wide eyes.

“i played one game of pool with a buddy! i give you loads and fucking loads of attention!” he raises his voice at the end, hands going to the hem of his polo and he pulls it up and over his head.

you eyes fall on his chest hair, unable to stop yourself amidst a relatively heated argument. he looks fucking hot standing there in his underwear and you kind of hate him for it. so you try to even the playing field, shuck off your skin tight dress and undo your bra. Steve’s eyes drop to your tits, as expected and you feel like you gained a point.

he recovers quickly, shoves his hand under the spray to test the water temperature. shucks his briefs off and steps into the shower, closing the curtain but you caught a quick glimpse of his cock and balls. makes you quickly lose your thong and jump in behind him in the shower, moaning low at the heat of the water.

“i want your attention all the time,” you settle for as you push past him to hog the warm water.

“not exactly doable but,” he grunts as he pushes against you, “that’s sweet.”

“stevie,” you whine as you lean against him, feeling his cock start to fill out against your asscheeks. “i wasn’t flirting with that guy.”

“i know,” he mumbles, moving his hands to grab your hips as his lips find the skin just beneath your ear, “but you’re a fucking knockout. no way he didn’t want you.”

“he can’t have me,” you reply, tilting your head to give him better access, “only you can.”

Steve groans lowly against your neck, “you’re damn fucking right.”

“so why do you get so jealous?” you ask as you tilt your head back, welcoming his greedy kisses against your neck. his hands move to cup your breasts, squeezing as he grinds up into you.

“‘cause fuckin’ look at you, baby,” he mumbles in between sloppy kisses.

“i’m yours, stevie,” you remind him, moaning softly as he sucks a sizable bruise on the side of your throat. you reach behind to grab his cock, pointing his head as your entrance, sure he can feel the way you’re dripping arousal. “only you can do this to me,” you promise.

unexpectedly, steve grabs your hips and plants you against the shower tiles, lines his cock up with your hole and sinks in. groaning lowly in your ear as your cunt clenches around him and you moan out loudly.

“think you like making me jealous,” he grunts out, lips still pressed to your ear, hands still firm on your hips as he thrusts roughly into you, “think you like how i fuck you after.”

he’s telling the truth, you love steve for how tender and sweet he is but when he’s got some fire in him, he fucks you so good it makes you see stars. he moves his hand up your back, presses so your chest is flush against the cold tiles. hammers his hips into you two times, pointed and harsh. the head of his cock hitting against the golden spot inside you so deliciously, you’re moaning uncontrollably.

“huh?” he grunts again, “s’that true? like it when i treat you like a slut?”

“Steve,” you whine, hands flat against the shower wall, pushing your ass back at him. he thrusts again, pinning you against the wall and holding you there. cock unmoving and it’s torture.

“what?” he pouts, “big, tough girl can talk to strangers at the bar but can’t admit she wants her boyfriend to fuck her like a slut?”

“i like it, yes,” you babble out the confession, trying to wiggle back against him but his hips don’t budge. he’s stronger than you, physically and mentally.

“what? you like what?” he asks, grabbing your wrists and holding them against the wall.

“steve…” you whine again and he laughs, all cruel and loud against your ear.

“i play your game,” he says, “you can play mine. so say it, and maybe i’ll give you what you want.”

you moan and writhe against the tiles, not wanting to give in. you want to push steve, want to make him break. get some of the power back here but it’s all too heady and his cock feels so good sheathed as deep as it’ll fit but you ache for movement. you give in, on the possibility he’ll give you what you want— what you need.

“i like when you treat me like a slut,” you admit, turning your face to look at him. his eyes darken as they meet yours and his lips curl up. he thrusts, gives you what you want but it’s so slow and deliberate. teasing and mean. drags a dissatisfied whine from your lips and steve thrusts forward harshly, quick and deep. prods at that spot so deep inside, the one only steve can reach.

“you’re lucky i like it, too,” he tells you and then he picks up the pace, keeps a steady rhythm. your eyes roll back as the head of his cock hammers against your g-spot. pushes these repetitive uh-uh-uh’s from you. his hands release your wrists, his left grabs hold of your hip and his right comes up to grip your throat, not too tightly and gives him the leverage to tilt your head back. covers your mouth with his in a sloppy, filthy open mouthed kiss. fucks you ruthlessly against the shower tiles.

“you’re my little cockslut,” he says between kisses, “all fucking mine.”

his words make that coil in your stomach tighten quicker and quicker. he doesn’t stop. steve can’t shut up when his cocks inside your tight, sopping cunt.

“aren’t you? my slut, huh?” he drills into you, the water cascading over your bodies only making the slapping sounds of your skin meeting that much louder. “and you fucking love being my slut, don’t you, baby?”

“yes, steve— fuck, i’m your little slut,” you babble, bouncing against him and the wall.

“my dirty little slut,” he pants, “such a good slut, just for me.”

steve gasps, pushes you up against the wall again, hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises and jackhammers into you. god, it’s almost too much, each time his cock slams into your sweet spot your eyes roll back and your mouth hangs open, unabashedly moaning for him. coil tightening and threatening to snap at any second, your voice cracking on the moans, getting higher and higher in pitch. it’s your tell. steve knows you’re close, knows your body better than you do.

he groans lowly, “cum for me, dirty girl. cum all over my cock.”

you wail as it hits you, body seizing in his grip as he fucks you through it. drags every bit of it out of you. you struggle to hold yourself upright, the orgasm spending you almost immediately but steve’s not too far behind. you can tell by the way he’s panting and whining in your hear.

“my fucking— hnng, my fucking dirty little slut,” he whines and then thrusts one last time, deep and hard as he spills inside you. his lips find your cheekbone, kissing tenderly as his orgasm washes over him. little moans vibrating against your face. then he’s slipping out of you and you already miss the warmth and fullness only he can give you. he turns you around, wraps his arms around you and hugs you tightly.

after the pair of you catch your breath, you continue the shower. taking turns washing each other’s hair and bodies, exchanging sweet words and kisses. the waters gone cold but it’s fine, steve warms you up when you finally crawl under the sheets, clinging to you tightly and kissing your face, neck and collarbone.

[contentloadingandstuff]

Halloween Special: Basement Secrets | Hu Tao x Male!Werewolf!Reader

A/N: I know it's late, and I'm sorry for it. I'll still call it a special, since that was my original intention. Enjoy, and sorry for being late again. CW: Smut, sedatives (drugging I guess?), reader in heat, non-human genitalia.

A flick of the wrist causes the lamps to spark to life, illuminating the corridor. The Director stops to appreciate her surroundings. She guides her hand across the wall ornament, feeling the smooth, cold texture. Hu Tao hums in appreciation. The carpenter did splendidly. Maybe she should have the coffin wood polished as well? 

Her eyes gravitate towards the other end of the hallway, where a large bookcase stands. Approaching it, she puts the paper bag under her arm and reaches for one of the books. A firm tug moves the lever, allowing the furniture to be moved to the side. She doesn't need much effort - her ancestors were smart in installing rails into the floor. A gust of cold air hits her through the iron bars, causing her hair to sway slightly. The air carries a hint of fur, sweat and… 

“Ah~” She breathes it in, enjoying the scent thoroughly. Anger. Frustration. Hate. Desperation. 

Without a moment of further delay, Hu Tao slides the key into the slot and turns it twice, opening the gate. The lamps behind it, already lit by the chain reaction she started earlier, cast golden light on the many stone stairs leading downwards. She secures her entrance, pressing a button to slide the shelf back into place. It's best not to spark curiosity, even of her consultant Zhongli. 

“The ninth fell down and cried aloud, the tenth asked ‘Why?’~” She hums, going down with lively steps. She matches her feet to the increasing rhythm of her heart. It demands her to go faster, but she doesn't listen - after all, good things come to those who wait… “For the fifth won't ever come back.”

Another door, made of thick iron. There's a viewport, but she knows well what it hudes. This time, all she has to do is lift the hook and pull the handle to get in. When she does, she makes sure it doesn't close fully. 

“What do you want?” A deep, sharp voice comes from the other end of the room and Hu Tao turns to face it. The room is lit just by the dim flame of the gas lamp, leaving most of the room in complete darkness. A pair of big, yellow eyes stood out on the black backdrop. 

Hu Tao placed the bag on the desk and approached the lamp. “Do I need a reason to visit you, hm?” she says as she turns the dial of the lamp, letting the flame grow bigger. “Can't a girl check up on her-”

“I'M NOT YOUR DAMN DOG!” You lunge forward, but the thick collar around your neck stops you from slamming your body against the bars. Your captor chuckles, not even bothering to turn around. 

“... puppy~?” 

Hearing this, you let out a growl of annoyance. You would have broken out already, got rid of her and ran free if not for this damn inhibitor stuck around your throat. Not only was it forcing you into this unwieldy, overgrown form, but it was also spiked and chained to the wall - any attempt at breaking free resulted in discomfort, turning into pain. 

You back away from the bars to stop it from stinging your neck. Hu Tao withdraws a small, mesh bag of something brown. Your sensitive nose picks up the scent of jerky right away. That traitorous tail of yours starts swaying left and right as the woman presents it to you. 

“Something tasty for you, Y/N. You were such a good boy this week, weren't you?” The bag is moved close enough to the bars for you to extend your arm and hook your claw through the fabric. 

You rip it open as soon as you can, and stuff a handful into your snout. The salty, powerful, smokey taste of meat fills your mouth, finally providing something simulating. You don't notice it, but there's a slightly unusual aftertaste to the meat. You don't notice Hu Tao smiling either. 

“Thank you, Hu Tao.” You sigh in satisfaction. A little distraction was very welcome, even if it was temporary. At least you weren't thinking about the h- 

She rattles her rings on the iron bars, interrupting your thoughts. “Ah, no need to thank me, Y/N. I'm in charge of you after all.” Hu Tao scans your cell, her ember eyes coming to rest over your pillow. You follow her gaze. 

It's… a mess. The innocent fabric was torn in places and thoroughly stained with dark patches of fluid. A thick scent of musk was all over it, contributing to the stuffy air in your cell. You can't help but look down in slight embarrassment. 

“Aiya Aiya~ You've been quite a naughty boy in here, looks like. Hmph, and I have already given you treats…” She scoffs in mock disappointment. “How are you feeling, pup?”

Although your fists tighten at being referred to like a dog, again, you're too tired of it to butt heads with her. “Why are you even asking? Do you enjoy seeing me embarrassing myself here?”

As luck would have it, the Liyue people decided to catch you right before the mating season of wolves. Because of your lycanthropy, you were just as horny and snappy as them - but most of the time it wasn't a problem. You could easily find yourself a seasonal fuck buddy or visit Ying’er for a few hours each week, but with no mate to nut inside of, your instinct remained at an all time high. You had to relieve yourself through any means necessary as the need was maddening, making your cock constantly, painfully erect. The pillow had the bad luck to be around and became the victim of violent, shameless humping as you imagined it to be a welcoming pussy of a she-werewolf. But it still wasn't enough. 

What didn't help either was the fact that your captor was female. A female that, as your nose told you, fingered herself regularly, teasing your nose with her pleasure pheromones. You were almost sure she was completely aware of how big your desire to bend her over was, surely making it all the more entertaining to see you struggle. 

“Ugh. Fine, I'll play along. I'm horny all the damn time, hence the… the state of the pillow.” You clear your throat. “Yeah. And you being here doesn't help it in any way.”

Hu Tao smirks at your embarrassment. “Oh, I see~! But how could that be when you're so happy to see me, hm?” 

Your anger flares up again as she theatrically taps her chin, shamelessly looking between your legs, making you bare your teeth in response. You weren't exactly expecting to get caught, so you didn't bring along spare clothing. Clothing that was made to stretch and fit your werewolf self. It was very expensive and tailor made, so Hu Tao obviously didn't have anything like it, at the end of the day forcing you to talk to her like  the steel bar you call a werewolf cock wasn't always in her face. Guessing by the sheer amount of times she stared at it, she didn't seem to mind. 

Which pissed you off even more. She could really give you a hand right now. Or a throat. Or a cunt. You grab the bars and groan - intimidating, but tired. “Look, please, just… don't make it worse for me. Please?”

Surprisingly, she nods. Hu Tao reaches for the paper bag and pulls out a fresh, pristinely white pillow. Without a word, she passes it on to you. You eagerly swap the old one for it. As your mind anticipates the coming moment of her departure, instead of leaving, Hu Tao continues to stand in front of you. 

Before you can say anything, she moves closer to the bars. “My dear Y/N~ You may not believe me, but I do know how awful you must feel…” Her fingernails tap the steel as she speaks. “All that energy, all that need, all that lust with nowhere to deposit it all feels simply terrible.”

You cross your arms over your chest. “What's your point?”

“My point is, my dear doggy, that I have been feeling something quite similar.” There's a small tint of red on her cheeks as she says it out loud. Upon noticing the smirk on your face, she pouts. “Don't look at me like that! Us girls have needs too, I'll have you know.”

This is the last thing you expected to hear. Your mind opposed taking up the opportunity at, but luckily for you, all the blood supplied to it was quickly directed south as soon as you picked up the implication. 

You push against the bars with one hand, and - as much as the chain would allow you - lean forward. 

“Tsk. And what are you going to do about it, huh?” You ask. Hu Tao now needs to look up to see your eyes, sapping just a little of her confidence. 

“I was thinking we could make a little deal. Just a friendly agreement between pals, hm?” She points at your groin. “You lend me that slimy…” she says, stretching out the word with deliberation, “...smelly thing between your legs, and in return I let you play with my pussy. Are you up for it, big boy?”

By this point, your cock has swelled from its frustrated, semi-hard state to its proper, impressive form. Just the mention of a snatch makes the tip moisten with precum, your feral body already preparing for the mating to come. It may be a trick, though. Why would she-

Your reconsideration is cut short by Hu Tao sneaking her hand through the bars, placing it flat against your furry chest. She trails it down, caressing the bulbous pecs underneath the gray hair. You watch on as she continues, traversing the thickening line of fur as it leads downwards, her finger soon lost in the dense bush of pubes covering your groin. She lightly grazed your cock with her fingernail, dragging it from the base, over the knot and right to the tip of your canine dick, throbbing at her touch. 

“I agree…” You say with a sigh. “Just don't tease me, alright?”

You would swear her eyes sparkled when you gave in, her lips forming into a satisfied, sly smile. “Wonderful~! Good boy.”

Hu Tao walks back to the table and returns with a pair of handcuffs in her hand. Handcuffs… They are more like shackles, made of thick steel and connected with a sturdy chain. Hu Tao throws them at you, perfectly passing between the bars separating you and her. You catch it without issue. “There are only a few ‘buts’, doggie. First, the cuffs stay on. Second, you don’t cum inside. Got it?” You open your mouth to reply. to no avail. “Good. Now cuff yourself to the chair…” Turning around, your eyes lock onto the piece of furniture. You slide it from under the desk and move it to face the door, back against the wall to allow the maximum slack of your steel leash that’s possible. The shoddy wood creaks as you sit your animalistic form down, arms reaching around the headrest. Feeling your way through the process, you secure both loops around your wrists, looping the chain around the beams of the chair’s support. A tug confirms you did well. Her eyes don’t leave you for a moment. Once she sees you’re done, Hu Tao grabs the key from her pocket, as well as something from the nearby shelf you can’t quite make out, and opens up the cell. She cautiously steps in, just in case you tried to pull a funny on her. You grit your teeth in frustration… Why can’t she get it over with? It’s not like you’ll bite her. 

“Hold still.” She raises the object she took earlier, bringing it closer to your wolf snout. It’s a muzzle. As much as you’d love to lash out and bite her, this is not the time. You lower your face, submitting to her safety measures. 

“Nice! And they say werewolves are ‘bad’ and ‘rebellious’. Looks like a little enticement goes a long way, hm?”

You shift in your seat, your lust growing and patience waning. “Get on with it already!”

She sends you a mock offended look, but relents. She snatches the newly brought pillow from your bed and puts it on the stone floor before slowly kneeling down.

Your dick now eye level with her, she wraps her hand around it, feeling the heat against her skin. It's shaped starkly different from your human form’s manhood, being thick, bulbous with a knot near the base. Hu Tao glides her hand over its length, causing you to groan as she touches it. It's been swollen for far too long to be comfortable and, on top of that, it aches more with every throb of your impatient cock. Hu Tao doesn't care, focusing her attention on the bulging veins, dark blue against the furious red of the shaft. Her other hand finds its way down to your sack, cupping the furry, cum swollen balls hanging below. She rolls them between her fingers as if weighing the unspent cum inside. They're heavy, she thinks, perfectly heavy. Bringing her nose closer to the tip, her nostrils fill with the musky stink of your juices, with tangy hints of still fresh cum stuck in your fur. 

“Fufu~ That thing is even more impressive up close…” Looking you in the eye, she giggles as she flicks the tip of your cockhead. You squirm in response, instinctually baring your teeth. “I’m afraid to ask what kind of plans you had for me~”

Soon you feel the slick, hot tongue of the director flick curiously against your head, lapping up the precum leaking from the slit. It tickles more than anything, so you try to inch your hips a bit closer, as much as the chair would allow. But she didn't listen, even if you didn't have to wait long to feel the flat of her small tongue rub against your shaft. It feels good, but it's nowhere near enough. You move your hips backwards, trying to bring the tip closer to her lips, but she grips the base tightly, keeping it in place as she continues to worship your shaft. It's slow, but eventually the consistent grinding of her wet tongue stirs some pleasure in you. You focus your attention on the feeling, praying for it to be enough to make you cum. She feels you throb in appreciation, eliciting a satisfied hum from her. Suddenly, she stops, switching her tongue for her hand and wrapping her lips around your tip. You whine at the sudden stimulation. Finally…! As her speeds up and her wet mouth sucks you deeper inside, pressure starts to build in your knot. A moan escapes your lips as she sucks and strokes, your orgasm drawing closer by the second. Each throb makes her take you deeper, you can feel the back of her throat rub against you when her head bobs up and down. Your thighs tense up in expectation. Almost… Almost… Almost…!

She stops. Hu Tao takes her hand away from you and spits your cock out of her mouth’s warmth, letting it flop down, sad and unsatisfied. You can only whine in confusion as you feel your orgasm fading slowly. 

“W-what…? Why did you stop…” You stutter out, your voice turning angry at her smile. “Oh you-”

“Heh, did I say anything about you finishing?” She dismissively throws her twintails behind her shoulders. “Good things come to boys who wait. And I bet you'll be the best boy, won't you Y/N?”

This. Little. Nasty. Witch. Your thoughts buzz with both anger and desperation as you feel your release slipping away. “I'll be good, just let me cum… I need it…”

She takes off her hat and reverently places it on the bed. “Mm~ Say it, doggie! I want to hear it, and if I like it, I might just give you something better~”

With that, she reaches to the strings of her coat, undoing them with little issue. Your impatience is temporarily replaced by excitement, your tail swishing as she strips her jacket, revealing a short-sleeved red shirt underneath. You can see two points poking through the fabric on opposite sides of her chest.  She looks at you, waiting. 

“I want to see more, please…” You plead, feeling a heat on your face as you say it. 

“You can do better.” She reaches for her coat, now thrown on the bed, causing the beast inside you to flare up in alarm. You try to spring up, only to be dropped by the cuffs. 

“Wait! Please, Hu Tao, I want to see them…” Desperate and horny, you swallow your pride and continue. “I want to s-see your tits, please!”

Just moments ago, you were ready to tear into her. Now, you plead with her for some boobs. And she'll make you beg for her cunt to - you'll do as she wants and you know it. The animalistic heat is too strong to ignore, forcing you to give in to its demands.  

Clearly satisfied with your words, she undoes the buttons holding her cover together. Her hands pull it open, revealing an exceptionally flat chest with two perky, rock-hard nipples. You twitch in excitement, harder still when she guides her hand down to her shorts. She pulls them down, revealing a pristine white pair of panties, decorated with a pink ribbon near the band. Her finger sneaks underneath it and pulls it down just enough to reveal a small patch of brown hair, dense yet neatly trimmed. 

She was preparing for this, wasn't she…

Hu Tao steps out of her pants and approaches you, sitting her half-bare ass on your lap. Teasing, she props your dick against her clothed slit. She presses it down, letting your precum soak into the silk and feel the warmth underneath. She rocks her hips against you, grinding at a slow and deliberate pace. Your eyes are fixed on her steady movements, the words slipping out of your lips going unnoticed by your lust-filled brain. “Please…” You beg. “Please put it in already…!” She smirks. “No way this will fit inside me, pretty boy. Do you see how big it is?” Hu Tao presses it against her stomach. The hefty cock really does look quite intimidating, the tip going way above her belly button. “But I bet you’d like to fuck me regardless, hm?”

Her hand undoes the string holding her panties together, letting them fall open. They are promptly tossed aside, letting you finally see her heat in its full glory, her lips swollen and sticky with lust. Blushing, she continues rubbing herself with your dick and you can painfully feel her swollen, pretty clit gliding on you and her own juice. 

Each stroke of her lips makes you hurt. She’s so close, but so far… Your heart beats faster and faster and faster and faster still as your body writhes in anger. You try to sit still, try to enjoy the feeling as much as you can but the wolf within you demands her. Your canine mind feels the insignificant weight on your lap and feels the cuffs are just a little malleable… How easy it would be to break out and take her properly… It wants it, relentlessly, and your mind soon succumbs. 

Gritting your teeth, you focus your attention on your wrists. You grasp the cuffs with your thumbs and pull with all your strength. Hu Tao is blushed, too focused on pleasing herself to notice the tension in your arms. You feel the steel bending and stretching, doubling your efforts. The edges of the metal dig painfully into your furred flesh, surely leaving painful welts that will last for days, but you don’t care. You almost… can… feel…

Snap!

Hu Tao’s face snaps up to look at you. Her eyes go wide. 

“W-wha-?!” The word gets stuck in her throat as your massive left hand snatches her neck, the other pushing you up as you raise. Your form stands tall, ears nearly touching the ceiling, obscuring the light of the lamp inside and casting an ominous shadow over Hu Tao, currently dangling from your outstretched arm. 

“L-let go of… me!” You don’t choke her tightly, but her words still come out raspy. She hits her small fists on your hand, but they do little against rippling werewolf muscle. Her legs are far too small to reach your chest or stomach, even if those meat stilts could do any damage. “You… b-brute…!”

You lift her higher, bringing up her pussy to your nose. The salty, musky scent of her sex overwhelms your sensitive nose, making your eyes water. There’s no fear amongst the smell, just eagerness, lust and… fertility. 

“Ngah~!” She whines as your rough tongue reaches out and gives her a probing lick, feeling up the willing cunt in front of you. You slide it from her clit down to her entrance. A whimper flees her lips as you push your way in, her mock struggles ceasing as she feels you tasting her. “Mhm…”  

She tastes delicious, making you push yourself further inside. Your hand goes from her throat to her ass, tilting her to the side to allow you better access. With an effortless move, you rip off your muzzle, letting it fall to the floor with a loud clunk. You waste no time and press your nose between her pussy lips, drawing in more of her scent. Her arms drift from your wrist and land on your head, fingers digging into the fur as her legs lock over your neck for support. Hu Tao rocks her hips, enticing you to explore deeper. You oblige and soon you feel her flesh pulsate around your intrusion as she clings onto you for dear life. You take it all in, scent, taste, slick and bumpy texture of her hole… But you can’t take it much longer. It wasn’t made for your tongue. 

You pull back, leaving a string of saliva connecting you to her. She squeaks in surpise as unceremoniously toss her on the bed. When she lands, her eyes immediately turn to you as she flips on her back. “A-ayia ayia…” She stutters out, flushed, watching you slowly approach her. She opens her legs, hoping to buy your mercy. “Please be gentle…” But you have no plans for that. Even if you did, your heat doesn’t give a damn. You grab her waist and flip her around. Before she can regain her balance, you clasp your claws around her ass and pull her closer, dragging the sheet that she’s desperately holding along with her. When she feels your talon drag between her cheeks, you feel her skin crawl and shudder in response. Her back is arched as you examine your prey. You groan as soon as you notice and deliver a rough open palm on her ass. “Waah!” She whimpers, feeling the sting on her skin. She fixes her posture, making proper space for your full length. 

Your tail starts swishing in excitement as you lift up your leg and stomp it down next to her face. You grab your cock and guide it towards her entrance. In a bit of vengeance, you rub the tip between her hungry lips, smearing them with thick precum. Before she can get comfortable though, your ram into her, burying yourself balls deep inside her. 

Both of you moan in joint ecstasy as you fill her to the brim. Unable to control yourself, you start moving. Dictating the pace, all Hu Tao can do is clench the blanket for dear life as you begin pistoning in and out of her. The room fills with a symphony of triumphant growls, desperate whimpers and obscene sounds of your nuts repeatedly slapping against her wet slit. Her eyes roll back as she endures your violent coupling, her eyes crying tears of mixed pain and pleasure. She feels her small pussy being stretched to its absolute limits, feeling herself throb as her body, confused between fear and mindless lust, fights back against the too big intrusion. Her tries to meet you halfway are met with no result as every snap of your hips pushes her back. She can’t think straight with a cock impaled into her so deep, so any thoughts quickly leave her mind with the many moans she shamelessly lets sound out. 

Feeling your much needed release draw closer, you dig your claws into her small ass, eliciting a whine from your mate. You shift into a merciless pace that sends bruising ripples across her body, the beast inside you caring only for the tension in his nuts. At last you strike forward, forcing the knot into her tight hole. She wails, arching her head backwards to meet your eyes. You lean forward and wrap your arms around her torso, keeping her close as you unload, each throb of your cock flooding her ravaged insides. 

Slowly, your mating fury dies down, and an overwhelming sense of exhaustion sets in. Hu Tao remains still under you, still too blazed by the intensity of your fuck. Her pleasure rotted mind still sits between her legs when the clarity hits you, relaxing your muscles and letting your exhausted cock finally soften. With a groan, you pull yourself out with a small noise from her to go along with it. A moment later dense cream emerges from inside her, starting to lazily drip out. 

You feel your head spin, soon followed by a trembling of your arms and knees. You move Hu Tao closer to the wall and collapse next to her, large arms pulling her close to your furry chest. 

A moment later, thoughts start to sprout back in Hu Tao’s fucked out mind. She groans - everything either hurts, is sore, or can’t be felt at all. Especially her hips. “D-damn you..” She mumbles, rubbing the tears from her eyes. Well, she thinks, she deserved it. Could she not have provoked you? Maybe. Was it totally worth it? Hell yes. 

Hu Tao reaches her hand around to touch your nose. No response. She breathes a sigh of relief, thanking herself for sneaking that sedative into your snacks. Looks like she still had some sense in her when her panties were soaked. 

Your arm is quite comfortable. She snuggles her head into the crook of your arm, enjoying the softness of your monstrous form’s fur. Absent-mindedly, her hand glides over her belly. Hopefully lycanthropy isn’t hereditary…

Thanks for reading!

[the-californicationist]

Troubleshooting

For @glitterypirateduck's super fun Oh, Captain! challenge. This is for prompt #8 where our deceptive captain tries to hide a secret from his gunsmith.

She could smell him long before she saw his hulking form stop in front of her office door. The sweet scent of his signature Romeo y Julieta cigars gave him away; a jewel from Villa Clara, Cuba. The tight-rolled tobacco smoldered amber and gold in the dark, its rustic funk and black licorice smoke gently curling out of his parted lips, trapped under his dirty boonie hat.  

When she had been assigned to his team, she’d been dreading the constant relocating and high profile secrecy. It was hard enough to find 5.56 ammo for that mouthy Scot’s Steyr bullpup, much less have it delivered to a black site without a postcode. But, as she let her eyes wander up his mountainous shoulders, tracing the outline of a sharp, scruffy Adam’s apple, watching as his jaw rippled and clenched to bite down on the soft end of his cigar, she admitted to herself that she could deal with a few shipping delays as long as she got to enjoy John Price. Now, just a few weeks into this roughshod operation, she ached to see what lurked under all that gear. 

She cleaned up her station, carefully screwing on the cap to her powder and putting it under the workbench. When he spoke, it was always confident but soft, like a stage whisper, words only she was meant to hear. 

“Smithy,” he took a long drag from his Cuban and pulled the creamy smoke in through his nose, a very casual French inhale, breathing it out and down sharply, purposefully avoiding her face.

He’d never called her by her name, only by his clipped version of her title of Chief Gunsmith. She knew he must be aware of it since he requested her transfer, but she had always been “Smithy” to him. 

“Captain, how are we this evening?” She gazed into his eyes with intent, hoping he would see her desire in them and be pleased. 

“We’re alright,” he took the cigar from his mouth and let it rest between his fingers, smiling down at her as he loomed, his height making her feel small. He removed his hat, placing it on her bench before leaning against the table, his huge hand spreading wide across the stainless surface. He continued,

“You know, this M4 has been giving me a bit of trouble. I cleaned it, but even after a full breakdown, the bolt isn’t sitting flush. Think you could help me get it all the way in?”

She let his quiet rumbling voice wash over her like a wave, lapping at her mind and making her breath catch in her chest. The double entendre was so obvious as to almost be in jest, but his suggestive tone - though subtle - was enough for her to believe in it. 

“Did you use enough oil? A little lubricant goes a long way, Captain, but some parts need more than others. Especially if it was a vigorous cleaning,” she threw him a bone in hopes he would bite it. 

He did, replying with a sly smile,

“Perhaps I went a little rough with her. Think you can take a look?”

He licked his lips, watching as the flush tinted her neck and cheeks, hungry for her attention. She watched him shift his weight, rocking forward towards the bench, flexing his hips. Obviously, she was getting to him. She turned up the heat, pushing her luck,

“Rough is just fine, John, but with the size of the bolt head you’ve got here, you just need to make sure she’s slick enough to take it.”

She smiled sweetly, taking the rifle from him and laying it across the bench. Now that she had turned her attention to the gun, she could only watch him from the corner of her eye. But, she knew she had landed a punch when he had to turn his head away from her and pull at the inside leg of his pants, adjusting. 

Then, as she took apart the barrel from the bolt and its lever, she realized he had been lying to her. He had replaced the trigger assembly before the bolt, effectively causing the problem he was asking her to solve. Price knew this gun better than the back of his own hand, and he had come down to her office with this game, hoping to score. 

Her heart raced when she discovered the error, and she tried her best to maintain a straight face, not wanting him to realize she’d caught him yet. She still wanted to play. 

She rebuilt the weapon, glossing over the false mistake, and pulled the bolt back flush. 

“There,” she sighed, “good as new.”

The ball was clearly in his court and she waited to see what he would do. His voice had dropped into a deep, threatening register, and he was leaning so far over the workbench that she could see his pupils dilate, pushing back the bright blue and revealing the blackness behind it,

“What was the problem, Smithy?”

He began to stalk her around the edge of the table, taking impossibly slow steps toward her side of the bench, eyes fixed on her mouth. She saw his chest rising and falling faster and stronger, lifting his protective vest and causing the lingering smoke between his lips to billow chaotically around his dark beard. She held her ground, turning her body toward his as he walked,

“You made a rookie mistake, Captain Price. One that you’re not capable of making...”

His eyes sparked to life, focusing on hers now, and he knew that he’d been discovered. She continued to dismantle his farce,

“…and I wonder how it can be possible…”

Price rounded the first corner of the table, hanging on her every word. He took his cigar and pulled a long drag.

“...that such an experienced…”

Another step. The leather of his boot creaked as he pressed it down.

“...intelligent…”

Another step. She could smell his cologne now. Vetiver. Musk.

“...diligent soldier…”

He crossed the second corner, letting the smoke fall out of his mouth, pouring like water down his chin and tangling in his beard, holding his breath to let her view the effect. His teeth were clenched together behind his full mouth, and he began to smile in a sinister, pained way. She went on, quieter, her voice betraying her nerves,

“...would somehow forget how to put his own gun back together.”

Price’s cigar had come to an end, and he crushed it out under his boot as he stood in front of her, too close for propriety, just close enough to smell her coconut shampoo. He hummed, playing along, falsifying a sense of wonder and mystery in his tone.

“That is quite the mystery, innit? Must’ve been distracted by…” Price brought his hand up to touch the tip of his gunsmith’s long braid as it lay draped over her shoulder, laying on her breast, “…something important.”

“John,” she whispered, leaning toward him instinctively.

In the half-second between her speaking his name and the silence that came after, he struck like a snake, wrapping the rest of her braid around his fist like a rope, yanking her head back and pulling her to his body, letting their gear and clothes rustle between them, not caring where the vests and belts and buckles twisted and pinched, letting the tension linger. His free hand grabbed her jaw and neck in his wide, open palm, fingers pressing into her skin, warm and callused. 

His voice was so strained and full of his want that it seemed like a growl, rambling in a rushed, fervent monologue,

“You’ve been teasing me again, Smithy. Ever since we got back from that damn operation. You’ve been coming to the gym at night, when I lift, and you wear those fucking shorts and you show off that thick arse, bending over in front of the racks, pulling them up higher so I can how see your wet cunt is soaking right through them,” his hand yanked her head back, making her gasp. He loved that noise,

“Delicious. Your pretty little cunt, ready to eat. Right within my reach. A whole gym, empty, and you pick that spot every damn time. Moving past me in the lockers, letting me smell you, and now I want a taste.” 

She felt the stinging tightness of her scalp as he tugged on her braid, locking her body in place against his, controlling her head, moving it toward his face. He grimaced like he was in agony even though she was the one under his fist. His touch was such a relief. She’d been torturing him for weeks, and she surrendered to him, pliant to his whims, hoping he understood that her lack of resistance was essentially her begging him to forgive her for leaving him starving.

“Alright,” she smiled, still at his mercy, ���If you want a taste, you can have one.” She watched as his eyes grew wide with anticipation as she unbuttoned her pants and tugged down the zipper. She bit her lip and shrugged, “On your knees, soldier.”

AO3 Link

[koisuko]

Imagine:

A ruthless killer shows mercy. (For my best friend❣️)

Tw: blood, pain, chase, gn reader, use of “you”

Could it get any fucking worse?

This was the 4th time in a row that the entity had chosen you as a victim of the trials. The 4th goddamn time. And for the 4th time, you had shocked yourself in the wires of the generator. A quick jolt shot through the bone of your finger, causing you to flinch and gasp, more in surprise than in pain. You sighed, wiping the sweat from your brow. You weren't a mechanic before all this shit started, yet somehow you knew how to get these things running with little thought or recollection of learning prior. As soon as you knelt down by the still and cold hunk of metal, it was like working on autopilot. Several clicks and huffs before the machine began pumping in succession, whirring to life with one last pull of a lever. The light above ignited, illuminating the once dark and eerie area, signaling one step closer to an escape.

You rose to your feet, dusting the dirt from your ruined jeans. Odd, it was unusually quiet, and the peace was becoming unsettling. It couldn’t have been someone like Ghost Face or Myers, you would have felt the hairs on your neck bristle by this point. Yet if it was someone like the Huntress, you’d hear her hums from miles away. So, why was it so..silent?

You didn’t run, instead creeping with featherlight steps towards the next generator. You could see the top of the light peeking over a wooden wall, but you were too scared to bolt for it. Better to play it safe, incase it really was a stealth killer, and the lack of sleep dulling your ability to sense their eyes on you.

After a few careful steps, you made it to the wall, peeking around to reveal the generator. This was the last one, the last barrier between you, and the gate to freedom. You could practically feel the adrenaline coursing through you at the sight of it. You sighed in relief, taking one step towards it before crying out in pain. Your leg had caught in several strands of bloody barbed wire, your foot sinking and squelching in a bulging red substance. You began to panic, struggling against the hold the barbed wire had on your calf. The more you struggled, the tighter it felt, the sharp tips digging deeper into your skin.

You could hear it now, the loud orchestra of a thundering heartbeat, the sound deafening you from every direction. The only sound breaking through, was the heavy breathing approaching rapidly, and the grinding metallic echo of a massive knife. You winced and wreathed, the wire drawing blood. You watched as it trickled down, joining the bubbling red liquid beneath you.

Run, you screamed into your head. Finally, you managed to free yourself from the coils keeping you in place. Thump, your heart was hammering against your ribcage. Thump, the rhythm matching the stomps of your feet against the dirt, your legs carrying you away from the killer. Thump thump, every time you think you’ve gained distance, he’s quick to close it with each stride. You could see him picking up speed, this chase was nothing to him. You were a goner, with no where to hide and no where to run. And you were right to think so. One second you were running as fast as you could, and the next you were face first in the dirt, your body colliding harshly with the cold ground. You had been too busy looking behind you to notice the trail of torment drawn in your path. You pay the price now, tangled in the stinging barbs of your mistake.

He approached, slowly. You could hear his growls and breaths echoing off the walls of his chamber like head. With each step closer, each inch towards death, your heart deafened you with terror. You had no choice, no way to fight back. So you accepted it, closing your eyes to await the burning sensation of a fatal slash. To your surprise, it never came.

It had become silent once again, even his growls had calmed to an extent. Your eyes fluttered open, being met with his towering figure gazing down on you. He didn’t speak, or make a move, just simply watched. It was unsettling, terrifying even, to see him stand so still. If only you could read minds, was he going to kill you? What did he want? A scream had broken you from your thoughts, sounding from somewhere behind you. On instinct, you craned your neck to look in the direction you heard it, hoping to see a teammate coming to your rescue, only to see nothing in particular. With a heavy huff, you turned back to meet empty space where the executioner once stood. You stared off to where you presumed he had gone, a perplexed look in your eyes at the mercy shown from a killer.

[hanmaitani]

Don't Scare Me Like That

PAIRING - Bodyguard!Matsukawa x Reckless!Reader WC - 1.3K GENRE - smut, fluff CW - nondescript mentions of masturbation (both f and m), both reader and mattsun being a lil pervy. second hand embarassment?

PREV PART | MASTERLIST | NEXT PART

You've never been better than Matsukawa. Not in the all of the ways he thinks you are at least.

Socially? Financially? Sure.

Morally? Never.

You're caught up in fantasizing about him in secret almost as much as he does you. Sometimes more.

Sure, you put on a show for the camera and you'd be lying if you said that you didn't think about him more often than not when toying with yourself on screen for others.

But it was times like this when he infiltrated your thoughts the most.

Times where it's dark in your room, only slivers of light filtering through the curtains on your window. When you're tucked into your blankets, safe from the cold air and hand pressed in between your thighs.

Your fingers are trying their best to curl into your own core, hips bucking up to get the angle right as you imagine it's something much bigger. Something belonging to the man just on the other side of the wall.

Although you're aware that the music is meant to hide the soft noises that spill from Matsukawa's lips on the other side of the wall, you hear them anyway. Your practiced ears picking up the pitches and how they drop and heighten as you're sure he's touching himself.

You bite back your own moans so they scarcely even reach the air around you so that you can hear him better.

Your mind carries you away as you try to imagine what he looks like when he pleasures himself.

If he uses a toy or just his hand. If his hips would buck when he's close, chasing after a release. If he'd flip over and thrust into his hand like he was fucking down into-

You let out a sharp gasp as you imagined his hands pinning your hips down, his cock thrusting into you.

You tried to imagine what his cock would feel like, how thick or long, how much it would hurt or feel good. Try to imagine what dizzying spots he could reach so far inside of you. Spots you couldn't even dream of reaching on your own.

It's an accident when you do it. Eyes screwed shut, mouth panting out as you're trying to chase after the peed of his moans from the other side of the wall. Your fingers are eliciting sounds from your body with how much slick they've collected, the lewd sound of it echoing around your room.

You're so lost you barley register the shockwave caused by the inside of your wrist rubbing down against your clit as you try to dig your fingers deeper until you're already cumming.

The sharp yelp of a curse bounces around the walls of your room and your body freezes.

Your ears barely have time to register the clatter of things from the other side of the wall, the footsteps from Matsukawa's room to yours, before the handle of your door is being turned.

You struggle to wrap your sheet tighter around yourself, bunching your slick-covered hand around it by your chest to keep yourself covered, upper body jolting up so you're sitting when Matsukawa barges in.

He looks disheveled, curls wild like he'd been tossing his head around on a pillow.

Your cheeks flare up as that image is added to the collection of thoughts still at the forefront of your mind.

His gray sweats are loose around his hips and you have to force yourself to keep your eyes on his face and not the obvious bulge he hadn't finished taking care of, or the dips his abs create against his torso.

His face which currently looks incredibly distraught, his eyebrows pulled together and his eyes searching the room, and it's then, on his second repeat of the question, that you even realize he's spoken.

"What happened? Are you okay?" He's already crossing the room to you, his chest is still rising and falling in pants as he drops to his knees in front of your bed to be eye lever with you.

"I-" you swallow hard as you look down slightly to make eye contact, embarrassment flooding your face at the way you've almost been caught doing what you just had been. "I'm okay, just dropped my phone on my nose." You sniffle as you say it, scrunching your nose as if to sell the point. "Just being dramatic."

"Let me see."

"Wha-" you're cut off by the way his hands cup your face gently then. His hands engulf the sides of your head, large and hot against your skin and you're sure he's going to feel your cheeks heat up again.

He's soft as he tilts your head side to side for his eyes to scrape over the bridge of your nose. The tips of his fingers are distracting as they dip into your hair around your ears, the palms of his hands easily covering your cheeks as his thumbs brushing against the bridge of your nose, looking for damage.

You're frozen in place as he looks after you with such care, no detail about the area going unnoticed (much to your dismay when you think back on it because you're sure the pores on your face were not doing you any favors that close up).

You can feel his hot breath fanning over your chest as he keeps your head tilted forward towards himself for inspection. Your own breath is barely coming out, panicking too much to fully breathe at how close he is.

Despite your usual forwardness, this feels too intimate, too vulnerable of a position that you're in.

He sighs then. What had felt like a lifetime to you was truly only a few moments. His hands leave your face and you catch yourself before you whine at their loss, your head nearly trying to follow their path. It's a fight to keep it in place.

His thumb brushes over the bridge of your nose one last time before he's releasing you with a soft flick to your forehead.

"Hey!" You yelp and pout at him as he lets out a relieved smile.

"You had me scared for a minute, you dork." You pause for a moment, mouth opening and closing in shock a bit as the confession he gave. "Thought you got seriously hurt."

"Scared you?" You try to scoff but it doesn't hold the indignation you attempt to give it. Your voice is higher than usual, a sign of your uncomfortableness as your cheeks darken again and you look away. "You're the one who came charging in here all crazy."

"Sorry." He mumbles and you're sure, for a split second, you see a blush creep across his cheeks as he scratches the back of his neck. "It's my job to make sure you're okay, thought I failed for a second."

Your heart clenches at the confession but you're cut off before you can reply.

Matsukawa's arms wrap around your body, drawing you forward slightly. Even if you weren't flustered before then this would have made you.

You tried not to make a noise at the feeling of his body pressing against yours. There was nothing but a thin sheet between your skin.

He tried to ignore that learned fact as his hands brushed against the bare skin of your back and sides as he hugged you.

Your thighs, spread just minutes ago thinking about Matsukawa being this close, were now squeezed shut. You could feel the heat of his body radiating through the sheet and you were sure your face wasn't supposed to reach these degrees.

"Don't scare me like that again, okay?" He sighed and pressed a soft kiss to your hairline before pulling back, regretfully parting his body from yours.

You watch him stand up, watch him turn away. He spares you just one more glance before he left your room, shutting the door behind him.

You groaned in exasperation, flopping backwards onto the bed and hiding your face in the sheets. In complete disbelief of your luck.

a/n bodyguard mattsun kills me but i love him

TAGLIST - OPEN

@boosyboo9206 @faumpje @miyamizuna @all-in-the-fandoms @pearl-blue-musings

@qichun

[dalmascan-requiem]

Light's Overture: Magitek

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Cid makes a terrible error.

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Read on AO3 or keep reading after the jump

content warnings: none

Part of FFxivWrite 2024

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The Warrior of Light's ineptitude with technology wasn't originally well-known. Well... Cid learns about it the hard way.

This is for day one's prompt for FFxivWrite 2024, Steer.

“Well, I’ll be. I don’t know how you managed to take the Garleans out while keeping the armor intact, Kris, but I thank you for it.”

Cid flashes the Warrior of Light a grin as Biggs and Wedge give a thumbs up. “Now all we need are the disguises, and you’ll be able to infiltrate the Castrum.” 

The engineer taps a finger to his lips for a moment before continuing. “Kris, you haven’t driven Magitek armor before, right? Why don’t you pilot it back to Revenant’s Toll? While Wedge will be using it at the Castrum, it’ll be helpful for you to know how to control one… in case something happens.”

Kris stares blankly at Cid for a moment. “You want me to…?” A look of excitement spreads across his face as he nods. “Okay, sure! I promise not to break it!”

Huh? What does he mean by that…? Cid can’t help but feel that he made a mistake, but Kris already climbed into the armor and is staring at the control panel.

”Hm… how do I turn it on? Ah, this looks like it—“

“Kris, it’s already on—“

Suddenly, the Magitek armor rears back at an odd angle, threatening to throw Kris out of the driver’s seat. “H-hey! What is—“ He pulls a nearby lever in shock, and the armor shoots its remaining rounds of ammunition into the skies above Mor Dhona.

Oh… Hells…

The Ironworks engineers could only look at the ensuing chaos in horror. Kris starts hitting buttons randomly in a panic, causing the armor to pitch around wildly while he struggles to stay on. After what feels like an eternity, the sound of a sharp crack fills the air as the Magitek armor finally powers down.

Cid watches the smoke rising from the armor in silence, feeling a headache coming on as Kris looks at the control panel in confusion. “Oh. Is… is it okay?”

”Kris, just… get out of the armor. Please.”

He quickly gets out of the armor and watches as Biggs and Wedge access the damage, a slight pout on his face. Well, I suppose the Warrior of Light had no need to learn how to pilot Garlean tech… 

“It’s still structurally sound… somehow.” Wedge shakes his head as he looks at one of the armor’s legs. “One of the components in this leg is busted, but with the right parts, we can fix it. I think.”

”Well, that is a blessing, at least.” Cid sighs, suddenly feeling very tired. “Let’s get this back to—“

Kris perks up as he learns the armor can be fixed. ”Oh, that's good! Do you need me to help with—“

”NO.” The voices of the trio echo in the valley, and Kris looks down at the ground, sulking at the disapproval.

I’d find that more endearing had he not damn near blown up the armor just now… “We all… have our strengths, Kris. Why don’t you secure the disguises? We’ll take care of the armor.”

Kris nods. “Alright, I’ll get it done.” Cid wasn’t sure if Kris was still upset at the incident, but when he was out of earshot, he lets out a deep breath and turned to the others.

”The Warrior of Light is never allowed inside the Ironworks.”

[swayingluv]

Prey of Hell - Chapter 4

Alastor x Buné (OC) Chapter 4: Puns n' Fun

Previous Chapter Word Count: 3387

“Who are you?” Alastor turned his smiling face towards the war machine in the sky, confusion prominent in his voice. His smile beamed in the red light of Hell and his mug reflected the massive pentagram above the hotel. Buné looked back and forth between the strange-looking war machine and her friend, who was completely unbothered by the deadly machine floating above them.

“Who am I? Who am I?” the serpent demon repeated twice causing Buné to giggle at his sensitive behavior. He seemed offended over Alastor not even knowing his name, despite fighting him last week. “I am the great Sir Pentious! Inventor, architect of destruction, villain extraordinaire!” He continued, pointing his finger up and bragging about himself and his abilities. While the slimy demon was busy gloating about himself, Alastor dropped down into the shadows and slid down to the entrance of the hotel. Buné looked down to where Alastor moved, noticing that Charlie, Angel, and Vaggie had all joined Alastor in viewing this attack. Buné thought to herself for a second before jumping down next to Alastor and Charlie, wondering why this guy was still going on.

Niffty appeared out of no where, grasping her hands up to her face in awe. Buné jumped back at this, surprised to see the little demon just appear out of no where. “Niffty! Where did you come from?” The rabbit demon asked, looking Niffty in her one eye. Buné pet Niffty on her head as she responded.

“I heard a bad boy!” Niffty giggled and narrowed her eye with a bright smile, grinning at the idea of a bad boy being right in front of her. Her laugh was extremely mischievous, causing Buné to giggle as well. Niffty had always been obsessed with the idea of a bad boy for some reason, which might be the reason she’s completely okay with being in a deal with Alastor. Buné tilted her head as she thought about this, the sound of static interrupting her thoughts.

“Ha! Well, if all that’s true, you’d think I’d have heard of you.” Alastor shrugged his shoulders with his microphone in his right hand, his red eyes trailing upwards. 

Sir Pentious looked offended and confused once more, his face contorting into one that seemed to resinate with anger. “I attacked you literally last week,” he said, moving his head forward, his hands never leaving the grips of the war machine levers.

Alastor tilted his head, the sound of static and radio leaking from him. His red and black ears tilting to the side and his eyes narrowing, trying to remember the attack that had just happened a week ago. Buné looked at Alastor, then pointed her sharp claws towards the war machine in the sky. “He blew up the wall then, too! He’s quite a hiss-terical excuse for a threat!” She laughed loudly, everyone going quiet at her awful pun. That didn’t bother her, though, she just continued laughing. Even Sir Pentious went quiet, staring awkwardly at the little rabbit demon. Buné cleared her throat, “Anywayssss!” she said, dragging out her word.

“We’ve done battle, like… 20 times.” Sir Pentious lifted his arms in anger, venom lacing his voice. (Get it?)

Alastor closed his red eyes, his crimson eyelids showing themselves. He raised his hand in a half-shrug again, speaking in his usual tone of voice, “Well, you must have been really bad at this.” 

“Silence!” Sir Pentious interrupted, clearly annoyed at this situation. “Now cower!” He yelled, pointing at Alastor, who was extremely unbothered. His hair(?) flared in annoyance. “For when I’ve slain you, the almighty Vees will finally acknowledge me as their equal!” 

Niffty poked her head out again, her mouth forming an ‘o’ shape. “Ooh!” She began, sounding interesting in this group. “Wait, who are the Vees?” She asked, realizing she had no idea who they actually were.

“Oh, nobody important.” Alastor told Niffty, dismissing the idea of the Vees holding any importance. 

Buné held her head up with her hand, thinking for a second. Oh, that’s Vox, isn’t it? I know him! The box-head. She thought, recalling the dispute between Alastor and Vox quite some time ago. 

Alastor then released his black tendrils, grabbing hold of the giant war machine with the slippery demon inside of it. One tendril poked at the pane of glass in the front of the machine, the other two holding it. Alastor laughed manically at this, repeating poking at the war machine to demonstrate his power.

Charlie’s eyes widened, not expecting him to do so much. “Um, Alastor? I think he’s had enough,” she suggested, gesturing towards the violent act against the snake demon.

Angel Dust had a massive smirk on his face, his gold tooth very prominent. “Nah, he’s got a few more hits in ‘im!” He raised an eyebrow, enjoying the show.

Buné tilted her head at the snake demon, watching as he struggled to keep afloat in the machine. “Don’t be so cold-blooded, Alastor!” Buné giggled at her own pun again, causing Angel Dust to give her a glare from the left side of her. 

All of a sudden, a Sir Pentious fell out of the war machine, landing right in front of Alastor’s feet. “Oh dear, seems your machine is quite slippery.” Buné crouched down and looked at him, giving him a bright smile. “I’m on a roll!”

“That you are! I’ve got a slithering suspension that this battle will slip my memory as well. Thank you for another forgettable experience!” Alastor joined in, making Buné laughed loudly at his similar puns. He twirled his glowing microphone staff in the air before leaning on it, the same smile never leaving his face.

An egg fell down from the war machine, splatting right in front of Charlie. She gave a disgusting look at the now scrambled egg, backing up slightly. 

Sir Pentious raised a finger slowly and unsteadily, pointing up to Alastor, probably to get in his last words. “Thank… you…” he began, his raspy voice trailing off, “for letting your guard down!” With that, he raised his torso off of the crimson ground, using his black and yellow tail to grab a bit of Alastor’s precious coat. He tore a bit off and started laughing manically. The radio demon began to grow in size, his antlers becoming more noticeable. The sound of static licked down everyone’s spine as Sir Pentious realized the trouble he had just begun. “Haha! Yah! Oh, shit.” He cowered, trembling with his eyes wide.

Buné stepped back along with Charlie and Angel, knowing this was about to get messy. A giant green explosion made an appearence, sending the snake demon flying away. The sound of his distant screams got quieter and quieter until he was finally out of sight. 

“Well, it looks as though I need a visit to the tailor,” Alastor began, the bright yellow smile still prominent on his face. He turned around, flicking his finger. “Best of luck, chums!” 

Vaggie stepped forward, clearly angry with the radio demon leaving so abruptly. “Wait, you’re leaving?” She questioned, frustration with the man adamant in her voice. “Alastor, we need your help. We need you to do your job.” Vaggie narrowed her eyes in annoyance.

Angel deadpanned at the wall, gesturing towards it. “We need a wall.” He obviously said.

Buné chimed in, walking over to the wall. “I like it! It is shaped like a heart, quite the romantic touch to this hotel,” she beamed, tracing the hole in the wall with her claws.

Alastor turned around, looking over to the giant hole in the wall. “I can’t say I agree! I can’t let my new project fall into disrepair already. What would the papers say?” He joked, snapping his finger. Many shadow monsters and voodoo creatures emerged from the ground, stitching present on almost every one of them.

Angel smirked seductively and shoved Vaggie over to the side, walking with intent over to the small voodoo creatures. “Oh-ho-ho!” He giggled, approaching one. “Hey, sweet cheeks.” He bent over, fluffing his hair and leaning against the monster. “What’cha doin’ later? I love me a man with a giant… tool.” He hinted, rubbing his hand down the shadow creature’s chest.

Buné backed up a little bit, never getting used to the vulgar conversations Angel Dust tends to have. “Well, that was quite the show!” She said, watching as the shadow monsters began working on the wall while everyone else headed back inside. Buné followed along, the sound of her heels clicking against the hard ground of Hell. 

Everyone decided to sit in the lobby area, so Buné did the same, joining them. She decided to sit in the empty chair instead of beside somebody. Charlie began talking about the hotel, discussing possibilites to gather sinners. “I think we just need more sinners to be interested in the hotel! We need to get our word out there,” she said with a sigh, her hand on her chin. 

Buné narrowed her eyes, thinking about any way to help the poor princess fufill her dream of the hotel working. Her eyes lit up, recalling the conversation she had with Alastor before they were interrupted. “Perhaps an event would do well!” She started, suggesting her idea. 

Angel Dust smirked at Buné, leaning forward. “A live event?” He raised one eyebrow, implying something Buné was definitely not.

Vaggie chimed in, shaking her head and crossing her arms into an ‘x’. “Absolutely not. There will be nothing porn related here.” 

Charlie looked over to Buné, her red eyes meeting Buné’s pink ones. “What do you mean?” She asked, holding her index finger up to her chin.

Buné shrugged, closing her eyes. “An event as in an opening ceremony, or something of the sort,” she replied, her voice calm and collected.

Charlie’s face lit up, her eyes sparkling with inspiration. “That’s such a good idea, Buné! If we do that, surely people will want to go!” She cheered, closing her eyes and excitedly putting her hands up. “We could invite everyone’s friends! That will get the word out!”

Vaggie nodded, placing a hand on Charlie’s shoulder. Her smile was soft and gentle towards her girlfriend. “I agree.”

All of a sudden, the sound of Alastor’s charming voice came sounding over the speakers that littered Hell. “Salutations, good to be back on the air!” He rang out, singing the sentence that left his mouth. “Yes I know it’s been a while since someone with style treated Hell to a broadcast! Sinners rejoice!” 

The TV suddenly turned on, following with a static noise leaving the so called ‘picture box’. Buné’s eyes followed to the TV, noticing the demon that was now airing on the television was none other than the box-headed TV demon, Vox, one of the three Vees. “What a dated voice!” He retaliated, anger prominent in his host voice.

Alastor’s transatlantic accent cut through the air again, “Instead of a clout chasing, mediocre video podcast,” he sang back in the argument, remaining as calm as ever.

This made Vox extremely angry, balling his hands into fists. “Come on!” He shouted, frustrated.

“Is Vox insecure pursuing allure? Fitting between this fad and that, is nothing working?” He replied while singing, everyone hearing the smile plastered on his face while he was doing this.

“Ignore his chirping!” Vox argued.

“Everyday he’s got a new format!” Alastor sang, his radio-host voice reaching throughout the entire Pentagram City.

Buné started at the TV, her mouth formed into an ‘o’, surprised to see the old rivalry be rekindled. Everyone else was staring awkwardly at the TV too, watching this argument go back and forth between the two demons.

“You’re lookin’ at the future, he’s the shit that comes before that!” Vox frowned, singing back at the radio demon.

Alastor’s grin was noticeable through his voice the entire time he was singing. “Is Vox as strong as he purports, or is it based on his support? He’d be powerless without the other Vees!” 

Angel Dust peaked his head up from his phone when the Vees were mentioned, looking mildly interested in this small argument now.

Vox huffed angrily, almost sounding like a small child. “Oh, please!”

“And here’s the sugar on the cream, he asked me to join his team, I said no and now he’s pissy, that’s the tea!” Alastor quipped, exposing their past deals to everybody who was listening. 

The TV started flashing bright shades of blue with error text on it, glitching out as Alastor poked at Vox. “You old timey prick, I’ll show you suffering!” He managed to barely get out, his voice stuttering as he tried to continue with the song.

“Uh oh, the TV is buffering!” Alastor ridiculed, the smugness radiating from the vary radio tower he sat in.

“I’ll destroy yo-o-o-ou!” Vox buffered, the TV shutting down immediately after that last delivery. In fact, the entire hotel went pitch black after this.

“I’m afraid you’ve lost your signal.” Alastor taunted, seemingly unfazed at the fact that the entire city just lost power.

The small rabbit demon watching this whole show happen gave a laugh, drawing attention to her in the now dark room. “I hope none of you are afraid of the dark!” She giggled, covering her mouth with her hand. 

“Let’s begin,” Alastor started, “I’m gonna make you wish that I’d stayed gone. Tune on in. When I’m done, your status quo will know its race is run. Oh, this will be fun!” He finished with a terrifying laugh, officially making the entire city lose its power.

───────── ∘°𖤐°∘ ─────────

Eventually the power came back, providing light to the once dim city. Alastor had returned back to the hotel, getting bombarded with questions by Buné. He stood awkwardly next to her as Charlie and Vaggie waved their goodbyes, telling everyone they’d be back soon and they were going to recruit more sinners for the beloved princess’s little passion project.

“Alastor, you really do put on such an amazing show! Bravo!” Buné giggled, clapping her hands with amusement. Her pink eyes were closed, making her purple eyelids noticeable.

“It was nothing, my dear! Simply a dispute easily solved by my own hands,” he admitted, surprisingly charmingly. His grin stayed on his face, never once had anyone seen that iconic smile falter. 

Buné opened her eyes and looked up to taller and much more red radio demon, who was standing next to her with his arms placed neatly behind his back. “I’m quite surprised he became so upset. I know he’s not always the most level-headed gentleman, but that was absolutely koo-koo!” She gave a bright smile up to the man.

Alastor turned to face her, sensing her gaze upon him. “It’s always easy to press his buttons, he is a TV after all! Ha ha!” He laughed, the sound of a laughtrack playing from his now glowing microphone stand. 

Buné gave a laugh at his silly joke, pointing to the microphone stand. “You must teach me how to do something like that! People tend to dislike my jokes for some odd reason.” She tilted her head in confusion. “What if I give them my funny bone?” The rabbit demon asked, her voice sounding almost serious. She turned to look at her shoulder, getting ready to unhinge her arm from its socket.

Alastor bent down and put his hand on top of hers, gently picking it up and removing it. Buné looked at him with confusion visible in her eyes. “I’m afraid if you do that, you’ll lose that interesting sense of humor of yours,” He told her, giving her that same creepy smile on his face.

Buné thought for a moment, putting her head in her hand. “I suppose you are right!” She admitted, shrugging her shoulders.

Alastor gave her a bright smile as he brought himself back up to normal height. “I usually tend to be, darling.” He teased, a small chuckle leaving his mouth.

The pink-haired woman’s eyes then lead to his hair, up to his ears. “Alastor, dear, I have a question,” She began, looking up at his intimidating red eyes. 

The radio demon looked at her confusedly, bringing his hands to his front, resting them on his microphone stand. “And what would that be?” He questioned.

Buné held in a laugh, her bright white teeth practically gleaming in the red lighting. “Do you…” She trailed off, pointing her hand to his coat jacket, “perhaps, maybe, just by chance… have a tail?” She covered her mouth slightly with her hand, containing her laughter.

Alastor’s eyes widened, a large amount of static resonating from him. The whole room went dead quiet, Angel Dust paused his video on sinstagram, Husk dropped his glass, and Niffty stopped dusting just to hear his answer. The overlord then narrowed his crimson eyes, staring at the smaller demon. “Why, what a question! Now, I must take my leave! Do take care, as best as you can.” He proceeded to melt into the ground, leaving with just a shadow.

Buné burst out laughing, pausing at the sudden realization. “Was that a threat? From the radio demon?” She questioned, prodding over to lobby area with Angel Dust. 

Angel Dust winked at her, making an odd growling noise. “Maybe he wants you to find out, babe.” He poked, a smirk on his face. He was sprawled out on the couch, his legs hanging over the edge.

“Oh, perhaps you’re right!” Buné was lost in thought, kicking her legs as she thought about how she would execute this plan. “I’m unsure how I would do that, I fear he might kill me!” 

Angel Dust sighed, facepalming. “Not what I meant, doll. Jeez, what’s with you old-timey folk being so dense?” He rhetorically asked, not expecting her to respond. I mean, who would? “I’m unsure, maybe it’s just because our different fields of work.” Buné speculated.

The spider demon sighed heavily. “Don’t you like, kill people? I think ya’d have to be pretty keen to do that.” Angel Dust raised one eyebrow at her, he had stories about her circus before, but all of the stories were simple just rumors.

Buné’s eyes lit up, an idea entering her head. “Oh, would you like to find out? I have many job offerings! I could call up Cambion for you right now, with your height I could make you an actual star, dear!” She rambled, bringing her hands up excitedly. “I feel as though you’d make an excellent acrobat!”

Angel Dust dropped his phone, shaking his hands in denial. “Absolutely not, I wouldn’t want to be caught double-dead with your freakshow of a circus.” He objected.

Buné pouted, putting a hand over her chest dramatically. “You hurt my heart, Angel!” She fake cried.

Angel Dust rolled his eyes, picking up his phone from the ground. “Like you have a heart,” he said, disagreeing.

The small rabbit demon dropped the act and smiled at him. “I do! I could show you, all I have to do is-”

“No!” Angel Dust interrupted her as her stitches started glowing a bright pink. “Do not rip your heart out,” he interjected.

“So much for amusement.” She pouted again, resting her head on her chin in sadness. 

The door flung open and an exhausted Charlie came forward, flopping onto the other couch. Vaggie followed after Charlie with tired eyes, jumping a bit whenever her girlfriend fell onto the couch. The princess of Hell gave out a long groan.

Angel Dust raised his eyebrows, before going back to scrolling on his phone. “So, how’d it go?” He asked smugly, knowing very well it did not go well.

Vaggie let out a heavy sigh, looking down. “Not a single new recruit,” she admitted while leaning onto the same couch Charlie laid on. 

The spider demon shrugged. “Yeah, well, who wouldn’t want to use their last days not fuckin’ or fightin’?” He asked, a loud banging knock coming from the door.

Buné raised her head and peered over the wall, trying to see who was banging on the door while Vaggie opened it. As she opened the door, a familiar serpent demon stood at the door, his hat in his hands. 

“Why, hello, my dear--” was all he managed to get out before his face was met with an aggressive punch.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Dearest Rollo, if you meet the Righteous Judge himself in person, what would you do?

DISCLAIMER: Whatever I write here does NOT reflect my own opinions about Frollo or any of the beliefs he held. I strongly disagree with and condemn what he stands for. In this post, I am creating through the viewpoint of a character that has a warped understanding of what Frollo was truly like, and thus I am using this perspective to inform my creative writing.

Like Fire, Hellfire.

A spark lit in Rollo's dark, gloomy eyes. His thin lips curved into a semblance of a smile--too small to be considered in full, but enough to register as different from the null expression he typically showed the world.

"My, what a thoughtful inquiry," he mused softly, uncharacteristically enthralled. "How kind of you to ask."

Rollo ran a finger across the red jewel set in his ring. Contemplative. "Were I to be graced with the presence of such a venerable man... Fufufu. I would humbly confess my admiration, confide that I strive each day to live up to his ideals. More importantly, I would like to discuss a great many things with him. Someone of his stature and moral compass would no doubt have a great deal of wisdom to share."

His eyes shone fondly with a newfound fire. Warmth crept into his voice, kindling a controlled excitement.

"I would invite him to walk alongside me in the City of Flowers," Rollo continued. "Surely he would be proud to gaze upon the place he has spent so long protecting and what it has blossomed into. The people prosperous, businesses booming, the peaceful song of the bells every morning, afternoon, and night..."

It was odd, you thought to yourself, how the same person who was once cackling about destroying all mages and pulling trap door levers was now quietly fanboying. I guess we all that capacity in us.

"We would stop at a bakery I frequent, perhaps share a light meal there. Bread, cheese, and grape juice. It would be a golden opportunity to become acquainted with him on a more personal level. Men allow for their true selves to shine over shared food. Beyond history and law, what I wish to discuss with him most of all is..."

Rollo found himself hesitating.

In his imagination, he was seated before the famed figure, prostrating himself. The Righteous Judge silently stared down at him. Watching, listening.

The busy bakery faded away to nothingness, and the table assumed the form of a confessional booth. It was him and the Righteous Judge, parishioner and pastor.

"Sir, I implore you. Please advise me. Guide me. Grant me your insight," Rollo begged. "Truthfully, I am... lost. I thought what I was doing was correct. That it was just. In his name, I dedicated myself to this cause, the crusade against dastardly mages--but I was not able to recognize those ambitions to the fullest."

Tears pricked his vision then. The stony-faced judge said nothing, did nothing.

"Now I am left with only the ashes and cinders of that broken dream, questioning what is right and what is wrong. I fear that my faith is wavering, that those vile villains have somehow tainted my soul."

His voice cracked like delicate glass.

"Your judgment is always absolute yet fair. Tell me then. What must I do to attain salvation? To soothe the fire that crawls and burns under my skin? To finally be at peace...?"

Finally, the judge's mouth moved, Rollo couldn't make out the answer. He was forbidden from that knowledge.

It was all meaningless noise. Garbage sounds. Nonsense. An answer, obscured.

Rollo closed his eyes and held his tongue. A sharp intake of breath. Then--

"... Well, you needn't know the details."

"Whaaat?!" you cried, pouting. "You're seriously going to leave me off with a cliffhanger like that? You were just getting to the juiciest part!!"

"I've already said enough. No, perhaps I've said too much."

"Keep talking!! I wanted to hear the rest of it!!"

Rollo folded his arms. "You already received quite the sufficient response. To ask more of me would be to cave to your greed. Be grateful that I was in a good enough mood to entertain the question."

[oneminutefiftysixseconds]

while fixing my flat tire this morning i pondered the question if and who of the cyclists know how to do it. like not only change a whole wheel, but get the tube out, find the hole, put the little sticker on it, get it back in (be so fucking frustrated bc now the brakes are making weird things and when they come back 20mins later the fucking tire is fucking flat again)? what do you think? which of them would feel me?

this is a SUPERB question and one that merits much consideration 🤔

i'm assuming/hoping they all at one point or other, did in fact know how to maintain their own bikes (hmmm. most of them at least.)

however, after many years of being handed a shiny new sponsor bike every January and spending almost all of their time riding a handful of minutes away from a team car/mechanic/NSV for spare bikes/wheels, it's entirely possible they've forgotten. having a crack team of mechanics servicing your bike's every need will undoubtedly lead to forgetting stuff

okay seriousness over let's get silly!

long gone are the days of pros carrying spare tubes over their shoulders (which is a shame because it's hot), but who, given the opportunity, would be capable of fixing a puncture?

direct evidence:

Wout van Aert ✔️

growing up as a teenager in cross without an eminent father and the connections that brings, bikepacker in the off season, wout can 100% fix it himself and wash the bike at the end of the ride

at the opposite end of of the spectrum, G ✖️

after eighteen years as a pro i'm not sure whether g remembers how to change rim brake pads let alone discs. the team give him a fresh pinarello and he rides it. simple. when it breaks a mechanic gives him another one. though once he retires the knowledge will come back to him

distantly justified gut feelings/completely unjustified Visions:

tadej ✔️ he can change tubes but always forgets the left pedal screws the opposite way

remco ✖️ owns at least one unnecessarily fancy multitool that he has never used. aero nerd but basic maintenance eludes him

mathieu ✔️ but it will take a fair while because he has not done it in soooo long and he doesn't remember to check the tyre for embedded sharps (this could be causing your repeated flat or the tube may be caught between tyre bead and rim)

jasper ✖️ forgets shoes and socks on training camp. has never bought his own inner tubes; begs one from someone else on the group ride and then struggles with a tyre lever for 20 minutes before someone takes pity

jonas ✔️ part time carpenter adept at handiwork, has been given the same unnecessarily fancy multitool as remco (BY remco? at the vuelta?) but it's unused in favour of an infinitely more practical one.

tom (pidcock) ✔️

joshy t ✖️ the lad vaguely knows what an innertube is and that you can pop them by putting the pressure too high but has never had to handle one himself

mads ✔️✔️ father (dads pedersen, if you will) runs a bike shop. not only can mads change a tube in under four minutes but he will show others how to look after their bikes and get irritated at poor maintence

matej ✔️✔️✔️ in another timeline it's moho instead of frank herzegh who invents tubeless tyres

[shapeofallcosmos]

time to get stupid about the king again

seeing this guy on my friend's brother's ps2 right before i moved out of my hometown at age 9 was insane, like it caused such a delayed reaction that took ten years to finally kick in. i'm desensitized now, but this changed 9 year old me in a way that i can only articulate now or something. not my favorite design, but its so classic. so original. so tastefully off putting to normal people. so...katamari. In my humble opinion, his tight clothing exudes subtle yet awesome confidance. no fear, nothing to hide, he wants all of it shown off. it's really cool. And his HEAD. I want a pillow with that pattern. Purple is by far my favorite color (and i think it's his too?) and its so soothing to look at. staring at him on my tv with my already fuzzy eyesight makes it downright hypnotic.

He's stupid, your honor. EDIT:Forgot to mention they took away his chest hair. Let the man be hairy. ok ok, on to we love. (reroll version)

oh yeah baby. oh YEAH. this is the stuff of dreams. so casual. so laid back. so lovely. he's comfy. at least physically. that stupid throne we only see again in touch my katamari. what's that lever for? sorry. tangent. the blue. the flowiness of it. his neck ruff not being sharp but instead soft and gentle. A more gentle King. I love it a lot. I actually bought some pants i saw in a thrift store because it reminded me of this king. It's such a good design. oh my god i love this king. He just looks so gentle. Like he's 20% more father now. Not "king", but "father. I don't know how to describe it. I want this fit so bad. The head is also soothing to look at too! Very nice, yet again a lot more gentle feeling, especially on the eyes. I'm probably just biased because this was the first game i started with. oh well. great design 10/10 i just wish they'd slow down on using it so much in other games (reused in forever as a model, and in touch as a model. im VERY pissed about how it was used in touch.)

ew

this was funny though. though it's kind of terrifying having him smiling when he's that close to you and when you're that small. please dont eat me.

i deeply enjoy when they are shown happy together. this design kind of smells. i actually think it's worse than touch.

I. LOVE. THIS. FIT. It's SO stupid. the stupidest fit he'll ever have. I just need to see how he even walks in it.

as i have said before, this design looks very much like my bed i used to sleep in at my grandma's house. I wanna lay on him and fall asleep. Looks so comfy. i also generally love beautiful katamari and i love how he's written as sort of like a father-friend, at least in how he talks. It reminds me of how my mom talks to me. I know, that's bias, but whatever. Beautiful King is a good dad friend to me. I love him.

man. man why'd they ruin you. i weep for this design. it's over the top in a way i dont really think fits him but it's still super pretty. I'm so mad they wrote him like that in forver. sometimes its funny but most of the time its just upsetting. he's mean yeah, but not THAT mean. (Some dialogue from RoboKing implies that when the King is off doing his own thing and that thing doesn't wind up going how he wanted it to, he'd come back and take his anger out on Robo. We never see it and again, it's just text and Robo could be lying for pity points but JESUS CHRIST. It upsets me so much! How could they do that to King?!

why. why would they do this. I cant enjoy Forever's design when it's attached to that kind of writing. all i can think of is how much of a jerk he is. i hate it. it's so pretty. im mad. on to touch...

I hate you and everything you stand for. And I am also sorry for what they did to you. You didn't deserve this. Or maybe you did.

[skywritingrambles]

Hellooo I just saw your httyd Steddie au idea and I was thinking that maybe Steve is the one who tries to knock down Toothless, and Eddie somehow manages to mess up his aim. Being the best young fighter, Steve would probably have better aim than Hiccup, but I think Eddie somehow managing to intercept his throw would be enough to cause Toothless’s injury without actually killing him. Perhaps Steve being the best young fighter is not enough for his father’s high expectations, which is what makes him want to be the first to kill a Night Fury and earn his father’s love and approval. I also think this would cause a lot of angst and tension between Steve and Eddie, which works really well for the Hiccup/Astrid dynamic. Sorry if this was too much, I just got really excited when I saw your idea I really love it

I actually love this SO much.

The casual rivalry afterwards. Steve had almost killed a night fury. The dragon no one ever saw, no on ever heard. The dragon that never missed he almost killed it. He would have killed it.

If it wasn't for Eddie fucking Munson.

Eddie Munsons who, on the day, happened to pass by. The dragons had come to attack, to steal their livestock. Eddie was leaving. He couldn't stand the screams of terror and anger from both sides he couldn't stand to see the wings fall as terrified dragons were brutally murdered simply for needing to eat. (Though at the time he didn't know how sinister the reasoning really was)

Steve, who was fighting. Staving off dragons and setting off traps in an expert fashion, in a graceful way that no one could seem to resist. A sudden shout, "Night Fury!" He hears scattered screams from where it must be coming from "Get down!" The words are spoken too late, a tower has already been downed and all on it injured.

Steve was near a catapult, it was the only chance he had to take down the beast. He rushes to it, full of razor sharp wire and netting that will down it in the water, so that it will drown.

Eddie sees him, and he can't bear it. He has to do something he needs to stop him.

Without even thinking Eddie is upon him. Steve taking careful aim, so close, when Eddie tackles him. On the way down, his hand slips, the lever pulled. Eddie can ear the razor wire whizzing just past his ear.

Steve starts a string of curses, angry at him spoiling his kill but Eddie doesn't hear him because all he can hear is that poor night fury's scream.

The net secures itself to its black wings, downing him near immediately. It thrashes, more agonized screeches each time the razor wire at the bottom cuts into it. But it's close to shore of Shard's Peak. It's gone.

But it's caught, how could it survive?

Eddie is horrified at what he's just done

[kamy2425]

(Discworld Fanfic) "The Meaning of Death"

Chapter 1- An Introduction

Through the vastness of the cosmic. Between the infinite and everlasting universe, a turtle passes. 

And upon its immense hard shell, stood four elephants. 

Swimming through infinite galaxies, they go onward into the unknown. 

But this story is not about giant turtles and elephants from the stars. 

...

This story takes place on the disc carried by the elephants that stand on the back of the Great A’Tuin, the star turtle. In this Discworld, across the sky and endless mountains... Through the plains and extensiveness of the forests and into a network of forgotten ruins, RINCEWIND, the self-proclaimed WIZZARD…

Was a bit tied up at the moment. 

Just a simple errand, they said. Mumbled Rincewind in the solitude of his mind, Anyone could do it, they said.

He guessed it was his own fault in accepting just another request from the senior wizards of the Unseen University. Just when it feels like it could be just a regular and non-dangerous errand, it appears. He should have been used to it by now. Rincewind always finds trouble and IT always finds him. 

There’s that feeling on the back of his neck again.  

The cold chills of being dragged as a small chess piece across the room and being put onto a checkered surface. The rattling of dice buzzing around his head as if Fate was gambling against the Lady once more. No one could really understand what Rincewind goes through. Not even himself could answer as to why things are the way they are.

Though, maybe he never really gave the time to think about it. He was always busy running.

Speaking of which, Rincewind wiggled to try to loosen the grip of the ropes that tied around his arms. 

He immediately decided to stop.

What if it works and he is set free? Then what? Rincewind will tell you. He’ll probably go about looking for an exit. Just to mysteriously find a particular lever. Then, walls would open up and reveal a secret escape route. Only for him to get ambushed by the enemy waiting on the other side and asking him:

How did you manage to escape?

or

Look at our swords, they’re very sharp aren’t they? Let’s test it out, shall we?

Frankly, Rincewind didn��t want to find out. So he bravely decided to just stay put. After all, some solitude and a bit of bread everyday seemed like his regular times back in UU. Only, there’s no potatoes lying around.

HELLO, RINCEWIND.

“Oh, sh-”

HOW'S IT HANGING?

Rincewind went back to the escaping part of his plans as he shook the ropes at great speed.

“Um...it's-it's not my time yet, is it?” asked Rincewind nervously at the black-robed figure.

UNFORTUNATELY. Death replied.

Rincewind’s pacing slowed down, just a bit. Escaping was still in motion.

“So, why are you here?”

THERE'S A MAN I HAVE AN APPOINTMENT WITH. IT'’S ON IN 5 MINUTES.

“N-no I mean, why are you HERE?” The wizard pointed. At the fact, considering that he had no hands in which to point at the moment.

Rincewind had no idea that Death itself could sigh. Actually, don’t think there would be anyone that knew the fact and survived in order to tell this little info.  Still, Death did a great impression of a sigh, as Rincewind saw him crouch down and sat next to him. Death placed his scythe resting on his skeletal lap. The reflection of Rincewind’s face against the blade, caused him to try to pick up the pace once again.

The struggles of the wizard caused some crates above the shelf behind him to fall down on the floor. Some wood debris, ropes, bottles, and a mace spread all over the room.

ALBERT SAYS I SHOULD MAKE FRIENDS.

"Did he now?" Rincewind replied without really paying much attention. His mouth let him auto-pilot the conversation due to the fact that it would be considered rude not to answer back to Death. The other however, went silent for a moment. Rincewind looked back curiously.

Death was tapping his fingers on the handle of his scythe numerous times. It felt like something was biting an imaginary tongue within his skull.

I DO NOT KNOW HOW TO MAKE THINGS. LET ALONE, FRIENDS. 

"I...figured as much."

SO I GOT TO THINKING…

Very dangerous. Rincewind said in the back of mind as he nodded.

A FRIEND IS SOMEONE YOU SEE VERY OFTEN. 

Rincewind gulped.

He tried to pop his head back and forth against the wooden furniture behind him. Maybe he could make himself unconscious and wake up to a different type of unplanned-adventure. Gods knows he won’t be lucky enough to go back to Ankh-Morpork, but anywhere seemed to be a better choice than staying here.

BUT ANYONE I HAPPEN TO MEET, WILL ONLY SEE ME ONCE.

"Once is plenty, I'll say." Rincewind groaned as his head was hurting from all the popping.

AND YET. THIS ISN'T THE LAST TIME I'VE SEEN YOU.

"Oh...Gods." Rincewind whimpered as the conclusion was getting closed at hand.

RINCEWIND, WILL YOU HAPPEN TO BE MY FRIEN-

"HIPPOS!” Rincewind yelled through his lungs, “BANANAS! Uh….MARMALADE! PNEUMONOULTRAMICROSCOPICSILICOVOLCANOCONIOSIS!”

“Hey!” Shouted a voice from the other room, “Quiet in there!”

Oh goods, an interruption! Rincewind cheered in his mind as the door opened to reveal the man who caused the wizard’s entrapment in the first place. 

“Look, how was I supposed to know that you were after that thing ?” Rincewind asked in utter annoyance.

As a form of intimidation, the man took out his sword from the scabbard around his waist. The wizard coiled his head in return. 

“That thing is said to grant wishes!” The man yelled with a passion, “It is what our organization has stood for 100 years! It grants us the ultimate answer of the universe! It is...the ORB OF KNOWLEDGE!”

“It’s just a ball with notes stuck inside!” Rincewind pleaded, “You shake it and it tells you things that are already written! We use it for parties!”*

“Blasphemy!” The man swung his sword in the air, “I’ll curse you and send you to hell myself!”

The guy launched forwards, his foot caught in a crack on the floor. His other foot landed on a piece of slippery broken wood as his body flew up. The last thing he saw was several pointing bits of a mace.

*The only banned questions the wizards of the Unseen University listed as to not ask the Orb of Knowledge are as follows: Will I get a girlfriend? What about a boyfriend? I’m not picky, just want to cover all bases. Am I a good wizard? And...Am I dead? Most of these questions were banned by majority vote just because it made the whole party vibes to be rather depressing. Apparently, not everyone got the picture and started asking only these questions. It was up to the senior wizards to get rid of the object for good. Being the causers of this predicament in the first place, it was their responsibility that the orb should have been destroyed.

“I died? Just like that?” Asked the ghost as he saw his own body lying on the floor.

YES. MAYBE YOU SHOULD HAVE WATCHED WHERE YOU WERE GOING.

“Well, now I don't have to do that anymore!”

“YES, ISN'T IT GRAND?” Death’s bony jaw cracked into a smile.

“That was sarcasm! What am I going to do now?!”

Death stood back. 

Rincewind leaned into the 1-sided conversation closely. It did not sound good, by the looks of it. Death pondered for a moment in order to find the answer for the ghost’s aching question. His eye sockets shined brightly blue as he became quite pleased with himself. He could not wait to share his discovery with the dead man.

WALK FORWARDS.

Death opened up a portal that led to an infinite gray desert with black darkened skies. He held out his hand on the back of the ghost and led the way in.

Almost half-way inside, Death’s head popped right back for one last time.

I'LL SEE YOU AGAIN, RINCEWIND.

"How much later?" The wizard asked anxiously.

Death chuckled. Chuckled? As he closed the portal behind him, leaving Rincewind alone, confused, and startled. A regular day for Rincewind actually, so back to status quo!

Rincewind looked down at the now diseased corpse and then quickly stared at the sharpness of the blade that the man had dropped. It was exactly in the right distance for him to reach. And exactly the exact sharpness needed for these exact ropes. 

“Fine. Fine alright! I'll escape!” Rincewind yelled out to the universe. He proceeded to brush the ropes against the sword as the grip loosened. The ropes fell down onto the floor. "Are you happy now? Are you entertained?!"

The universe didn't answer back.

Not even chuckled.

CHAPTER 1 / 2 / 3 / ???

[red-fuzz]

The car made a sharp turn to the right and crawled up the steep slope to their point of arrival.

The air was getting too stuffy. At least, it seemed to Jemma that with every dozen meters that passed, the interior of the car was heating up even more strongly and quite noticeably. The fact that she was wearing a heavy fur coat as black as an old raven's feather also did not make any good at all; she was unbearably hot.

Jemma reached for the lever to open the crystal-clear window, letting the cool air make its way into the car interior, like a small stream of sweet smoke from a bakery that creeps into the icy winter air of Zubrowka. Tilting her head to the crack, she took a couple of breaths of frosty air, her curled hair, this time not framed by her ordinary cap, trembled slightly from the wind.

After a couple of long minutes that seemed to her to be the length of a lifetime and a couple of fleeting seconds of afterlife in addition to this, the car began to approach the large and imposing building, which was already visible from the windshield of the car. Jemma hastily closed the window and shifted slightly in her seat, then turned to the passenger sitting to her right:

"Eloise, I'm very nervous. I don't understand what is happening to me!" she held out her black velvet-gloved hands, palms down: they slightly trembled like the delicate wings of a frozen bird. " This has never happened to me, and I can't calm my nerves for the life of me..."

The sparkly wide eyed woman quite immediately snatched her hands similarly to an alligator hunting after awoken from a nap. White gloved petit hands with surprising grasp reached.

"Oh deary no no do not fret. You're utmost perfect in all facets dearest you shan't ever feel the need to worry. Such things purely cause unfathomable wrinkles in your face and those won't do will they?" as if it were invitation one such white dressed hand raised to her cheek, brushing away any dirt that may have hallucinative nature. Eyes focusing on each single detail as the lids lowered in calming manner. Yet darting as though a ghost went by beneath.

"Always keep up that beautiful bewitching smile upon your face, ah! The sun, the hymn of our wretched lives. Such things brought you this attention all after all no? No for not one teensy tiny second you shall be worrying in this pretty little head of yours."

With a light tap onto her forehead she felt inclined to flash her red lipped smile further. The smile of a girl discovering a kitten found on Christmas as gifted. Her hand remains in Jemmas, warmth soothing through the gloves.

"After all, you're our Hermes, our divine messenger of the gods. A utmost wonderful part in our lives which would make it dull without you"

If one may be inclined to look to the side to a rather disgruntled woman squeezing her windy legs adorned with unnecessary high heels into the backseat. Eyes resting on the moving landscape reflected in the glasses. A hand rested on chin in unfeminine manner. Particularly not invested in participation.

[literaldoorbell]

Give a Little - Chapter 3 - Finders Fee

You can also find me on A03: Give a Little - Chapter 3 - MeDonks - Baldur's Gate (Video Games) [Archive of Our Own]

18+, eventual smut, lots of angst, slow burn romance.

After finishing supper alone in her room, Edith changed into a nightshirt before crawling under the covers, journal in hand. The only light in the room was from a lone candle on the bedside table, where it created an island of dim light over her bed.

She had just finished writing a verse in her journal when she mumbled to herself in irritation and crossed out the whole thing. She continued trying to work out the words, whispering them quietly to herself, but no matter how she changed a word here or tweaked the cadence there, she just couldn't make it work.

Frustrated, she tossed the journal aside, where it came to a rest precariously balanced on the edge of her bed. Grunting in annoyance, she kicked her foot into the mattress hard enough to jostle the journal, causing it to tumble over the edge to land with a sharp slap on the floor.

I should just go to sleep. Let this day be over with.

A soft rapping at her door made her freeze and hold her breath. She knew that knock.

Shit. I’m not ready to face him yet.

She lay still hoping he might think she was asleep and leave, but the knock came again, this time a little louder followed by Astarion's voice, “Edith, can we talk?”

Heart starting to race, she felt a wave of anxiety swell within her. She slowly sat up and crossed her legs beneath her while staring at the closed door. Why hadn’t she thought to lock it before she got into bed?

Because I hoped he would come.

His voice called out to her again, “I know you’re awake”

Not moving, she gathered the blankets up in her hands and hugged them to her chest like a child would to keep the monster under the bed at bay.

Faintly, she heard a single muffled word plead through the door, “Please?”

A few more heartbeats passed before she finally called out, “It’s unlocked.”

For a long moment, nothing happened.

Maybe he hadn’t heard her? Or maybe he had already left when she called back. Maybe he hadn't even been there at all and it was her mind playing tricks on her.

She saw the lever slowly turn and the latch released with a soft click. The door slowly swung open, hinges letting out a thin squeal, to reveal Astarion standing just outside the doorway.

The expression he wore on his face was not what she expected to see. It looked as if he was apprehensive and self conscious. The latter of which she had never seen grace the high elf’s face.

Still standing just outside, Astarion looked down to the floor, his mouth twisting in discomfort as he defeatedly asked, “May I come in?”

She blinked once at him in confusion before realizing that he had never been inside her room before. She had always gone to him when it was time for him to feed.

When she had called out to him, all she had done was inform him that the door was unlocked, which was not an invitation. Without it, he could not enter.

Guilt tugged at her heart as she realized that she had put him in the position where he had to ask. A reminder of another freedom he had lost.

“Please, come in, Astarion.”

He carefully stepped across the threshold into her room, and uneasily swung the door closed with a soft click before turning to face her. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other in uncertainty while fidgeting with something that he held in his hands.

Curiosity getting the better of her, she asked, “What do you have there?”

Astarion looked back up to her and hefted the object in his hand, as if testing its weight and said, “You left this when you…” He trailed off, not finishing the sentence as he took a step towards her lifting the item out towards her.

Another wave of guilt washed over her as she realized it was the kerchief he had given her – She left it behind when she fled his room earlier.

“I appreciate the thought you put into it. It’s lovely,” she said while holding her hand out for him to bring it to her.

Relief flickered across his face and he crossed the room to place the kerchief with a flourish and a bow into her waiting palm.

She held it up to look it over again. The stitches were precise and flowed gracefully as they formed her initials and she rubbed her finger over the two spots of blood that had dried and turned a dark brown against the milky white of the cloth.

When she looked back up she found that he was watching her, brows knit together, and mouth set in a hard line. It looked as if he was considering asking her a question.

Instead of a question, he made a measured observation, “I didn't see you with the others this evening.”

So he’s playing it safe then. I can work with that.

“I was tired after my set, so I turned in early,” she said, shrugging with one shoulder and set the embroidered cloth down on her night stand. It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the full truth. “Took some time to work on my music.”

His eyes narrowed as he studied her face, expression contemplative, as if he was trying to make a decision about something. “Shadowheart and Gale were having an argument – practically at each others throats. You wouldn't happen to know what that might have been about, would you?”

You Bitch. We were playing it safe.

His crimson eyes burned into hers as he watched for any reaction and indignation flared up within her. She used it as fuel to challenge his gaze with her own.

“I know they went to the market this afternoon. Maybe something happened while they were out shopping?”

Another half truth.

A muscle in his jaw twitched and his eyes flared with amusement. They both knew that it wasn't enough to deter him from pressing her further.

“I overheard Gale mention something. Hmm. What was it now?” He pondered out loud while tapping a finger on his chin as he mimed being deep in thought. “Oh,” he grinned, eyes gleaming. “Was it something about restoration scrolls?”

Dammit Gale! If you told him…

Her heart started to thrum forcefully inside her chest. Not wanting him to know how close he was to cornering her she steeled her nerves in an effort to keep her expression as neutral as possible.

“Shadowheart wants Gale to make some restoration scrolls for me. That way she doesn't have to worry about being here when I need it,” She gave him a pointed look, “If you weren’t so intent on being surly, they might have been more inclined to help.”

She had hoped that her bluntness would cause him to falter, giving her the upper hand, but he just threw his head back letting out a sharp laugh.

“Darling, with the way those bootlickers fall all over themselves to fulfill your every wish, you will have more scrolls than you know what to do with before the week is out,” he mocked, deflecting her admonishment.

“Well if I had a choice, I’d obviously prefer to be fawned over than manipulated,” Edith snapped back at him.

The smile dropped from his face as he flinched at the sharpness of her words. He clearly understood the accusation.

For once she had managed to get the last word, yet it wasn't nearly as satisfying as she had thought it might be. Instead, she found that getting the last word made her feel spiteful.

With a deep sigh, he sank down to sit on the edge of her bed. “I suppose I wasn't a very good friend today,” he said while focusing on his hands, unable to meet her eye.

“Astarion, you don’t – ” she abruptly stops, realizing that she had started to reach out to him.

The movement drew Astarions attention to her hand where it hovered in the air between them before she let it drop back to the bed.

“I’m just as much to blame for what happened today,” Edith finally spoke softly. “I know how you get, especially when you haven’t fed for a while, and even more so right aft–”

“Darling, Do I need to remind you that it was you who seduced me this afternoon and not the other way around? Bloodlust had nothing to do with it,” Astarion cut her off smugly, flashing an overly pleased grin at her.

“Astarion, I’m being serious,” she said in exasperation as her cheeks turned pink. “What I’m trying to say is that I would appreciate it if you would at least try to not toy with my feelings.”

He reached over and collected her hand from where it still lay on the bed between them. “I distinctly recall having to play with a certain feeling of my own, alone, after you left so abruptly. How is that not the same?”

“How can you say that as if you haven't been taking every opportunity to remind me how easy it was for you to seduce me,” she pulled her hand from his grasp and shot him an offended look.

A moment went by while Astarion eyed her. “I see. Well then, If that's how you feel…” he trailed off as his eyes glazed over with a haunted look.

I’ve gone about this all wrong.

Her feelings were one thing, but to accuse him of being the monster he believed that Cazador had made him to be, filled Edith with immense remorse.

I’m the monster here, not him.

“Astarion, –”

He raised a hand silencing her as he sat up straighter, “No, You are right. I have been taking liberties with you, and that is not something a friend should do. Not when you have selflessly given so much of yourself to me. I’m indebted to you”

When he went as if to stand, Edith stopped him with a light touch on his arm. It was such a delicate thing, but he froze as if she had cast Hold Person on him. Pushing the pile of blankets from her lap she crawled across the bed to sit facing him.

“You owe me nothing.” She waited until he turned to face her before continuing. “Do you hear me? What I give to you, is given free of any tally or expectation. You are not beholden to anyone, myself least of all.”

She held his gaze until the shadow of torment began to fade from his eyes, before she rose up on her knees to pull him into a hug. Without hesitation, his arms wrapped around her waist and his head came to rest on her shoulder, the tip of his nose brushing her neck.

Neither moved from the embrace for a long moment but the bubble of peace was finally interrupted by the sound of Astarion’s sigh – followed by a gust of air flowing down Edith's night shirt.

“You are an absolute menace!” She pushed him away. “I do know that you have no need to breathe, you know.” She said, crossing her arms in front of her chest as she suppressed a smile.

“What? I figured that I shouldn't be the only one enjoying myself, so I thought I’d give you a little something in return. Besides, I had quite the view and I like hearing how it makes your heart flutter,” he said coquettishly.

“How selfless of you,” she said dryly “But in all seriousness, please – just – It wasn't easy for me to close that door with you the first time, and I can't have you coming and going as you please,” she said cryptically, giving him a guarded look.

“Who says I want to leave?” He asked feigning ignorance.

The sly smile on his face told her that he knew exactly what she meant, but he wanted her to say it. Spell it out.

He has me cornered, like a cat with a mouse.

“You know what I mean, Astarion.”

“Can’t say that I do. Please enlighten me,” he said, giving her the same predatory expression for the second time that day.

“Please don't do this Astarion.”

I can’t say it. If I do, there will be no going back and –

An idea came to her. It had worked earlier with Gale, maybe it would with Astarion too…

“I was thinking…” she said, sliding him a hesitant look to draw him in.

His smile broadened as he anticipated her words, “I’m all pointy ears.”

“I was thinking that you might benefit from feeding more. Maybe twice a week instead of just once?”

She watched as his expression morphed through several emotions as he processed her words– confusion, surprise and then finally settling on delight.

“You know, just to give it a try, and – well – only if I can get Gale to agree to making the restoration scrolls for me.” Edith quickly added before he could say anything.

At the mention of the restoration scrolls, he broke out into a beaming smile and Edith realized that even when she managed to escape one of his traps, she had inadvertently fallen into another.

At least this is one I can handle the consequences of.

I hope.

“So you did know what they were on about! Aren't you a cheeky little pup,” he purred.

Bracing herself, knowing that in the height of his perceived victory over her, he would now be launching into another spree of excessive flattery. She crossed her arm in front of her chest and fixed him with an irked glare.

Not easily deterred, he leaned in towards her saying, “I wonder what I could have possibly done for you to offer even more of yourself to me.”

I’d let you do anything you wanted with me.

No! Edie, get your shit together!

She scooted back on the bed, to put some distance between them before she did something impulsive.

Instead, Astarion followed her, leaning on his hands and scooting towards her.

Then something pulled his attention away – on the ground near his feet. He reached down to pick it up, and when he sat back up, she saw what he held – her journal.

“No. No!” She lunged at him gasping.

He was too quick for her though. Lifting it over his head in the hand opposite from her, he peered up to spy the titles of her songs – flipping one-handedly through its pages.

She had landed in a heap on his lap and she scrambled to right herself as she reached for the notebook. Despite her desperate attempts, it was beyond her reach.

“All of Me? Hmm I wonder what this one is about? Give a Little. Why not a lot? Or this one...” he read out loud, voice sounding tantalized. “I Went to Far. Oh now that one sounds very intriguing. Let's have a look shall we?” he said, looking down at her.

Eyes wide with panic, she climbed higher on to his lap to reach the journal, trying to snatch it away before he could see any more. “Please don’t. Astarion no! Give that to me. Don’t read that. It’s private. Please!” she pleaded in distress.

Ignoring her while dodging her fruitless attempts to retrieve it, he began reading lines of the song. “Begging on my knees? Hold your arms around me? Give me some love. Blood was a taste of bittersweet?” He looked back to her saying, “Darling, if this is what you have been wanting, all you have to do is ask. Although, if you really want to do it while on your knees, I could certainly be persuaded to indulge you.”

As he began to read aloud the words she had written that evening, she froze, eyes going wide in horror. At some point in her struggles to reclaim the book, she found herself straddling his lap. She wasn't certain if it was to keep her from falling or fleeing but he had wrapped an arm around her waist to place a firm hand on her lower back – keeping her in place.

Feeling as if she had been stripped bare before him, he continued. All the songs she had written – most of which were about him, would let him know just how much she had been pining for him.

“It looks like that was the most recent entry too. When was this one written? Hmm?” He asked, giving her a knowing wink.

“Just stop. Please,” she said weakly.

“Oh alright. I’ll keep my eyes to myself. However, there is this small matter of a thing called a finders fee if you want it back,” he said looking pleased with himself.

He knows that I’m so close to caving. What does he want from me?

“Astarion, I don’t think –” She was interrupted when he pulled her fully into him making her gasp at the shock of their bodies suddenly fitting flush together.

His hand then dropped to grab ahold of her ass as he rolled his hips beneath her. The burning desire that had been extinguished earlier in the day came roaring back to life in an instant when she felt his increasingly firm arousal pressing against her core.

Oh Gods. I can’t let myself fall for this twice in the same day.

The tips of his cool fingers pressed into her skin like claws just beyond where the fabric of her underwear ended, and flesh began. Realizing that she was only wearing a nightshirt and underwear, he raised an eyebrow at her.

“I don’t recall this being what you wore to bed when we were together. So many layers, but this…” He trailed off while trailing his fingertips along the skin of her back, under her nightshirt, “This is nice”

The tickle of his touch triggered her back to arch, which in turn caused her to involuntary grind against his lap drawing an approving hum from Astarion.

Breath catching in her throat, she froze.

Please give it to me. She thought, but she wasn't even sure if it was the journal she wanted, or him.

Can't it be both?

Astarion looked at her inquiringly, raising an eyebrow while he wiggled the journal he still held aloft in his hand.

She reached up for the journal, but it was still well outside of her reach while he held her against him and she felt his hardness shift against her core again.

“I still haven't received payment, Darling,” he tutted at her.

“You’re a god's damned fiend, Astarion,” she said through gritted teeth.

He chuckled at her insult, and lowered his face towards hers. She closed her eyes in anticipation of his lips finding hers, but when they never came she slowly opened them to see that he had stopped just an inch away.

He was waiting. Watching her. When he saw her eyes open he smiled with the knowledge that she had wanted him to kiss her.

“I know you are capable of figuring something out,” he purred and she felt him flex beneath her.

Edith closed her eyes as he pulsed against her, resisting the urge of her body's yearning to respond. Opening her eyes, she met his gaze again, her breath growing deeper as she continued to deny her growing desire.

I’m weak.

Spineless.

Easy.

Selfish.

“Fuck you,” she snarled at him before grabing him by the face with both hands to roughly kiss him while simultaneously grinding herself down into his lap with all the force she could muster.

Dropping the book to the bed, he wrapped both arms around her, and set the rhythm for their bodies moving together. Taking her hands from his face she encircled her arms around his neck and embraced his head, pressing him into her with a needy desperation.

Without warning, he turned and pressed her into the soft mattress, his full weight on top of her. She let out a whimper as the air rushed out of her lungs and her legs wrapped around his hips, accepting his presence between them.

Lifting himself up onto one elbow he slipped his other hand under her hips to bring her somehow even closer, causing Edith to writhe against him.

He then began to tease at her underwear, slowly working them down over her hips and then to her thighs. Once they reached her knees, she kicked at them before they dropped the final distance to the floor at the foot of the bed.

Now sitting back on his knees between her legs, Astarion’s eyes hungrily took in the view of her sex. She held her breath as she watched him give her slippery folds a stroke drawing a moan from her as her eyes fluttered closed.

As he massaged in little teasing circles around her clit with one hand, he took the hem of her nightshirt in the other to bunch the fabric under her chin revealing her breasts where he softly brushed across a nipple causing it to harden. When she opened her eyes, he was leaning down to take the pointed tip in his mouth.

She went rigid when she saw the look on his face.

His eyes were dark and distant and they were staring right through her.

Miles away.

Shame and rage filled her in unison.

She snapped her legs closed, trapping his wrist between her thighs and quickly pulled him away from her breast to look into his eyes. “Astarion, we don’t have to do this. You don’t have to do this," she spoke between deep breaths as she tried to reign in her arousal, pushing it away in disgust.

He sat up and moved back off the bed to stand, still facing her, eyes darting around the room as a storm raged in his mind. She scrambled up to her knees and reached out to place a comforting hand on his arm. At her touch his eyes briefly snapped to her, face unreadable. There were too many thoughts swirling behind his eyes, preventing any single one to take purchase in his expression.

“Astarion, I’m so sorry. I was being selfish. I never should have –,” she started to say.

Without looking at her, he brusquely brushed her hand from his arm and quickly walked over to the door, yanking it open and swiftly disappeared from her sight.

Not a single word spoken, he just – left.

A moment later, Gale came into view from the direction Astarion had gone. Stopping when he noticed that the door to her room was open and their eyes met.

Gale then turned to look back down the hall in the direction Astarion had gone and his expression went from confusion to indignation.

When he looked back into her room, Edith saw his face twist in revulsion as he caught sight of her underclothes on the floor at the foot of her bed.

Heaving a sigh, he reached for the latch and fixed her with a look of pity laced with disappointment before wordlessly shutting the door.

[tarnishedinquirer]

Case: Deathtouched Catacombs

Well well, if it isn't the psychopomp, once more entering my life. I wonder where he'll point me this time. Oh look, he's pointing me towards the northern meadow, right below where that false-flag knight was patrolling. I wonder if the two are related?

Outside the catacomb was a ghost, so things must be pretty dire in there.

Unthinkable. Our hallowed resting place is violated. To refuse the Erdtree's call to return, to live within Death... Sickening.

Ah. More skeletons. Just what I need.

Indeed, the place was crawling with both skeletons and Deathroot, which means I got out my old trusty Holy Water.

A body in the lever room held a Bloodrose, but I didn't see any other signs of the Lord of Blood's influence. What I did find after pulling the lever was that there were significantly more skeletons than I thought. I also had significantly less holy water than I thought. I ran out of mushrooms and couldn't make any more, so I had to fight them the hard way.

I spotted something shiny on the platform above, so before I headed back to the entrance I looped around to find a way up there.

Uchigatana. A katana with a long single-edged curved blade. A unique weapon wielded by the samurai from the Land of Reeds. The blade, with its undulating design, boasts extraordinary sharpness, and its slash attacks cause blood loss.

Scratch that. The Lord of Blood must've had some presence here, though that might be in the past. If I know my Reedlander, the difference between a katana and an uchigatana was price tag. This was the weapon of a low samurai, maybe even a ronin.

With no more clues, I moved on to the final chamber.

I saw a figure at the end of the chamber slowly rise to her feet. A woman draped in black, wearing silvery armor under her cloak. She fought with a quick and oddly weightless fighting style, almost floating as she jumped around. Yet I could tell from her movements she was already injured, and when she stepped into the light, I could see the blood glistening on her armor.

This was a Black Knife Assassin, one of the hired killers who brought death to the Demigods. She fought like a cornered animal, and I had no choice but to respond in kind. When she died, she dropped a strange, warped knife blade without a hilt, fashioned into a crude talisman.

It was like if a knife had cancer, sprouting extra blades at random intervals. The voice explained:

An assassin's dagger, misshapen and stained in crimson. This charm is modeled after the darkly gleaming blades used in the night of Black Knives. Those which gave the demigods their first taste of death.

Atypical for a catacomb boss, there was a chest at the end of the chamber. In it, I found a bulb of Deathroot. Maybe she had tried and failed to quarantine it in this chest.

Before I left, I looked around this room. I noticed there was no Deathroot anywhere. Therefore, this bulb couldn't possible be the source of the Deathroot infecting this tomb. I also, for the first time, really looked at the dead (and not getting up) skeletons in the Greattree Root Chamber. All of them were clutching futilely at roots, as if they hoped to be absorbed and meet a true death.

Conclusion: One of the assassins who took part in the Night of Black Knives took refuge in this catacomb. She was pursued by a knight of the Capital, disguised as one of Godrick's knights. This couldn't have been too long before I arrived. She must've had some purpose to being here, so far from the capital, but what that purpose was, I don't yet know.

Addendum: I took the root to Gurranq. He granted me a new incantation, Bestial Sling, inscribed on polished stone (nonetheless crumbling at the edges)

Swiftly flings a number of sharp rock shards. It is said that in the time before the Erdtree, stones were the first weapons of the beasts who had gained intelligence.

So... it throws rocks? I mean, I can do that without an incantation. Must be pretty impressive rocks. I almost wish I could use an incantation like this, just to test it out. But no, leave faith to the priests.

Still, more confirmation of a time before the Erdtree. A time of beasts, that had just gained intelligence. Was this contemporaneous with the age of Dragons, the age of the Crucible, or even earlier?

Why was the Black Knife Assassin here?

What was the source of the Deathroot, if not the bulb in the chest?

Who injured her? Was it the false knight, the wielder of the uchigatana, or someone else?

When was the age of the beasts?